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witch-hazels-musings · 5 months

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familiar

Warning -> comfort, SFW - sick fic! (reader is sick: aches and pains, sore throat, general sick descriptions | reader passes out | reader is carried | reader is taken to an unfamiliar location and wakes up a bit disoriented but is safe | Childe: reader is threatened but unharmed, fingers get cut off of random person)

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Your skin was burning. You breathed and the air felt like fire as it passed across your chapped, dry lips. Someone called your name and you turned, lifted yourself from a hunched position to look only for the action to make your head swim.

You smiled anyway.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The patron near the counter slid something toward you. What was it? You blinked and realized there were several items in a basket. You swore they multiplied as you pulled them out one by one. The transaction was the slowest you'd completed in your life but it wasn't the last as several more people stepped in line. You felt a bead of sweat run down your spine.

You smiled and greeted them.

Your head throbbed. Parts of your body you rarely thought about ached, cried out in pain as you rose from the chair.

Finally, you could go home. Could rest.

Unsteady, the world teetering as you made your way toward the door, you caught your breath near the entrance only to realize you'd left your bag and the shop key in the back office.

Coughing, you tried to clear your throat and push through the waves of disorientation as you meandered back down the hall. You labored in the doorway with ragged breaths trying to remember what you went back here for. Pressing your forehead against the trembling and clammy hand that held onto the door frame, you tried to focus.

"What did I ..." you mumbled, scanning the room. A flash of flickering light from outside caught your attention. Pushing forward you grabbed the key and made your way to the front door.

The outside air felt as refreshing as drinking a cold glass of water on a hot day. You gasped at the way it caressed your skin, at the way it soaked into the mist that speckled your brow, that clung to the edges of your hairline. You breathed deeply, welcoming the strain of your lungs before an inevitable cough tore you from the reprieve. You crumbled, caught your breath, then, with multiple uncoordinated attempts, locked the front door.

It was hard to concentrate, but you let your muscle memory carry you through the streets. You did your best to smile and keep a safe distance from those you passed, though most people didn't seem to notice you, even when you staggered and caught yourself on a beam for support.

I just have to get home, you told yourself. Eyes blurry, head swirling and disorganized. The stack of crates next to you served as a useful crutch. You did your best to catch your quickening breaths against them. All you wanted to do was sleep.

You made it through the day like this, what was a few more minutes?

A surge of strength rose in you as you pushed away from the pile of crates but as soon as you took a step your legs crumbled and you fell into a heap at the edge of the street. Your hands burned from the violent contact of the sharp, frozen ground. Puffs of steam exploded from your mouth as you struggled to take in as much air as you exhaled.

You swore you heard your name but when you turned your head to look, the world went dark.

Childe

His smile faded as soon as they left his office. The click of the door was the switch he needed to flip the mask he was so good at wearing. Just like he had learned - like a good boy.

He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and rose from his chair. At least they gave him a window - though perhaps it was more of a tease than a gift. A reminder that he was trapped in a room with suffocating walls. Like a caged animal, whose only desire was to feel the soil beneath their feet.

He hated when they made him do this work. Even if it was a pain, he'd rather be out in the field training new recruits than sitting in this stifling room signing off on peoples debts they'd never repay.

Childe sighed and leaned against the window. He scanned the passersby, hoping, wishing one of them would give him an excuse to leave this cramped office. Though, it was unlikely - Liyue rarely had anything fun. He missed the days before the Archon fell. At least then he had toys to play with.

A knock rattled his thoughts, "We've got three more for you, sir."

"Tell them to come back tomorrow," Childe called without looking at the massive and decorated door.

"I'll be sending in the next one shortly," they replied, clearly ignoring him. He rolled his eyes and looked back down to the street. In the corner, just out of view, he saw someone stumble through a back alley. He would have passed it off as a drunk if there wasn't an air of familiarity to the figure.

Childe pinched his brow as drifting voices spilled in from the hall.

He turned to head back at his desk but gave one last look to the alleyway and saw a small group taking the same path the stumbling person just walked.

"Childe will see you now," the voice said as they opened the door to Childe's office, head bowed and eyes closed as their arm escorted them inside.

"Um - who will?"

The voice snapped their eyes open to see an empty office with an open window and billowing curtains. "damn-it", they cursed and ran down the hallway.

Childe stayed in the shadows. Curiosity leading the way as he stalked the group. Further down the alley something crashed onto the stone ground but he had a hard time making out what it was. The group turned a corner and he could hear their voices echo off the tight buildings. He leapt onto a nearby walk-way hoping to get a good view of whatever was about to happen below, but when he saw who they were stalking their way toward, he finally understood why his body leapt out the window on its own.

Rage filled him as he launched forward so he could land between your gasping body and the oncoming group.

"What did I tell you guys? Easy pickins -- woah!" The group raised their hands as a wave of water splashed against them. They all stumbled, but one fell to the ground. "What the-"

"I suggest you leave."

"Huh?!" The one in the middle stepped forward, clothes soaked, hands fumbling for a knife. "T-this was ours first. So b-back off," he tried to puff out his chest but looked more like a drenched toad than anything to be frightened of. It would have made Childe laugh it he weren't currently seething, and if he hadn't looked back to see you shaking, terrified as you barely held yourself off the ground.

"If you're looking for a fight, I'll happily provide you one," Childe threatened, his blades appearing in his hands and sending out a high pitch whine as they danced in his grip, "See I've been cooped up all day and could really use a good workout."

"H-hey man, let's just go," one of them quivered, grabbing the 'leaders' arm.

"No, this is ours - we need thi-" the leaders voice died out as a slash of water cut through the fingers that had managed to grip his feeble knife in the first place. The man screamed, doubled over while his friends held onto his shoulders to keep him from falling to the ground.

"I must not have heard you correct. Because, I'm pretty sure you just called something of mine, yours?" Childe took a step toward them, his body raging, his blades growing at the thought of them calling you theirs. "So, I'm going to give you another chance to repeat yourself."

The group scurried like rats down the drenched alleyway and though he was half-temped to chase after them, to teach them a lesson, he barely made it a step when something burning grabbed his pant leg.

In an instant, his blades faded into nothing and he turned to scoop you into his still trembling arms. You were on fire, and even though he could tell you had near to no strength, you still managed to wrap your arms around his neck and hide against him.

With a possessive hand cupping the back of your head, he held you close and made his way to where he knew you'd be safe.

You could finally breathe without a protest from your lungs. Only a few areas ached instead of everywhere, and though you were still warm, you felt surrounded by cool waters.

Shifting, you tried to sit up, to open your eyes, but something covered your eyes and you fell back into satin.

"Sleep," a voice told you. It felt stern, but warm. Your tried to push the darkness away but found it hard, even when you curled your fingers around the palm of someone's hand. "You're still sick. So go back to bed."

"Where -- where am I?" you croaked, your voice dry and scratchy.

"You're safe." The voice felt so familiar. You breathed and though your nose was stuffy, you caught a whiff of something that made you turn your head toward the dip in the bed.

"... Childe? What's happening?"

"Don't worry your head over it. You're alright, that's all that matters."

You listened to his voice, felt his palm against your skin, sensed his presence next to you. You weren't sure how you got here, honestly you weren't sure where you even were, but Childe was here - he was right here and, as you moved closer to him and let your forehead press against his side, you felt safer than you ever had in all your life.

Childe turned his head from the book in his hands to glance at the sleeping figure next to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen you so relaxed, so at ease. The first time you'd ever been this near to him - the first time you'd ever been in his bed.

Carefully, he ran his fingers over your ear and let them know the taste of your skin while you slept.

He sighed and wondered how he was ever going to let you go now.

Diluc

The cold air reminded him another season was passing, changing. He'd stopped trying to measure the passage of time years ago, but there was something about cold, night air that felt like a ticking clock. Or maybe it was the reliable pocket watch he kept with him while he worked to help him tell when he could 'respectfully' request everyone leave so he could do more, important, work.

"Master Diluc," Charles said as he slid a heavy wooden box onto the back counter, "I think we've got another in the back."

"Great," Diluc held back a sigh but not the heavy roll of his eyes, and stashed the cup he had just pulled down for a customer. "Finish this up. I'll deal with it."

"Sounds good. What can I getcha?" he asked the drunk patron who didn't seem bothered to repeat their order to the new, friendlier, bartender.

Diluc reached for his jacket as he passed the back office. His hair snagged the coarse fabric as he pulled it from underneath. He adjusted the collar before opening the door to the back alley.

He hated dealing with drunks in the first place, but a sick one throwing up behind his establishment was somehow worse.

Scanning the immediate area didn't reveal anything to him. So he took another step into the chilly evening. Off in the distance, near the stairs that lead to the small docks on the lake, he saw a silhouette hunched over a stack of crates. Ones he had just assisted in unloading earlier that day.

"Hey, don't make it other people's problem if you can't hold your ---" Diluc froze when he saw the blob of dark shadows turn into your shape and likeness. He blinked, thinking he had made it up, but as he drew closer he knew his eyes didn't lie. Normally, you would have waved to him, called out to him - brightened his day - but right now you looked terrible. When he called to you, you didn't answer.

His pace quickened when he saw you stumble away from the crates and he was practically running when you fell to the ground. He let out a breath when he was just in time to catch your head before it careened into the cobblestone.

"... are you ok--?" Diluc turned you toward him but he didn't need to feel your brow to know you were burning up. He could see it in your pained expression, in the moisture of the night as it drifted toward him. When he realized you didn't have anything on you, he took actions into his own hands. "Hold on."

Diluc hoisted you into his arms, made sure you rolled into him as he carried you swiftly back toward the bar. With every groan and whimper he became more concerned. His muscles tensed when your fingers weakly grasped his clothes. Even though it made you whine, he held you closer to him and picked up the pace.

There were only a few sounds in this world that made his heart stop.

He took no time carrying you up the stairs to the third-floor apartment he used on nights he didn't want to make the long walk back to the Winery. As he passed by the confused, and rightfully worried Charles, word was already on its way to the church to bring a healer.

You were so hot. Your back hurt to the point you wished someone would rip it from you. Every breath was agonizing but you couldn't convince yourself to stop breathing.

You felt somewhere between dead and alive, and though you didn't understand it, you found yourself in a bed you didn't recognize, in a room you'd never been in before.

The shapes came and went. A halo of light bloomed in the corner. You coughed, pulled back the sheets but froze when a figure now stood where the halo once was.

"Who --"

"Don't get up," a voice, a familiar voice said. The figure moved closer to you. You tried to lift your hands in defense but they were weak and in your uncoordinated move, you slipped from the sheets. "I got you," the voice comforted you. Gentle words that floated into your ear. Something sturdy and wrapped around your stomach.

The figure, which smelled like barrels of sweetened fruit, carefully helped you back into the bed. Strands of red filled your senses and brushed against your cheek. Kind fingers caressed your jaw as they slipped to the back of your neck and eased you onto your back.

"Try to rest. I've called on a healer." The figure spoke, their deep voice like the rustle of leaves in the morning sun. "You're safe. I've got you," they said like a mantra as their fingers soothed your weary eyes closed. "I've got you."

The warmth of their touch against your skin was soothing, but suddenly it was gone and you cried out, reached out your hand to find it again. "Don't go," you pleaded.

Their touch returned to your fingertips, then your palm as they took your shaking hand in theirs. "I'm right here," the voice soothed and let you hold your captured treasure close to your parted lips.

You found it strange that your sickness would concoct such a vivid and realistic specter in the shape of the man who held your heart.

Thoma

"Hah, not a problem," Thoma waved them off for the third time. "It really wasn't that difficult. So don't worry about it." He took another step back and let out a playful laugh even as the person bowed for the tenth time in front of him.

Eventually, after many more reassurances, he managed to be on his way and - surprisingly - was only ten minutes behind schedule. With speed, and restraining himself to only courteous waves and passing smiles, he hastily walked down the busy Inzuma streets. To save himself more time, he dipped into a less traveled alleyway and doubled his pace.

It wasn't uncommon to see random and sometimes unsightly scenes in the back alleys. Inazuma was safe, but it wasn't immune to crime. So, as he spied a figure hunched over a stack of crates, he debated if the person looked like they did, or didn't, belong there. When he got closer, he started to recognize bits a pieces of the blurry figure.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and growing with each second. When you didn't answer him, and he saw you stumble away from the crates and fall to the ground, his joy shifted to fear.

He swore he'd never run so fast in his life.

When you didn't answer him, or react to your name, he wasted no time in lifting you from the dirty, cold ground and into his arms. He wasn't far from the estate, but he also wasn't close. Normally you had a bag - one he remembered because you'd purchased it with him the last time the two of you went to the markets - but right now you were empty handed. Something was clearly wrong.

With you in his arms, Thoma rushed through the alley. His heart raced at the sound of your labored breathing, at the way your face scrunched with every jostle of his movements, at the trembling hand that gripped his clothes.

"Hold on," he soothed, "Just hold on." Thoma burst through the alley and ran through the crowded streets toward the Kamisato Estate.

Something cold touched your forehead and you let out a gasp at the contact. Instinctually, you tried to push it away with weak hands.

"I know its cold," a voice said. A comforting, familiar voice that called to your heart. Whoever it was took your hand and caressed your skin with a gentle thumb. "You have a fever, this will help."

You groaned, tried to open your eyes but found it hard. Your body ached and though you didn't want it to, it moved uncomfortably under plush sheets.

After a while the covering over your eyes lifted and you heard the sound of water falling. Turning your head, you pried open your burning eyes to capture blurry and unusual shapes. Your heart raced as you tried to figure out where you were, but the longer it took, the more concerned you were.

"I ha --- to go," you tried to push yourself up but swift footsteps met you before you could.

"Easy, you're sick. You need your rest."

Why was this voice so familiar?

You looked up, even though the action made your head throb. Squinting your eyes, the blob of yellow and red in front of you started to take shape.

"T-Thoma?"

The blob made a smile and pushed strands of your hair out of your face. "It's me," he reassured you, his hand cupping your cheek. Like someone who opened up a door to a dark room, his contact breathed new life into you.

He caught you You fell into him He ease you to rest You were finally at ease

"You found me," you said weakly with a thankful smile. His hand brushed the top of your head and the cold returned but, this time, it felt soothing, refreshing.

"I always do," he hummed and soon your uneasy breaths slowed and faded into healing slumber.

#genshin impact #hazels works #genshin impact sfw #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact childe #childe x gn reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc x gn reader #genshin impact thoma #thoma x gn reader

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eloquentreverie · 3 months

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𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: DBF! Ari Levinson x Female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: One night when Y/N, after a harrowing experience at a party, calls her father for help. To her surprise, it's Ari Levinson, her father's best friend and her long-time crush, who comes to her rescue.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: you come and pick me up, no headlights. requested by @brandycranby

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap,(reader is in their mid 20's & ari is 33) reader has strict parents, mentions of assault(not from Ari.), smut, vaginal sex, fingering. ( let me know if i've missed any potential triggers.)

𝐚/𝐧: here it is, re-uploaded! I hope you guys enjoy reading this. It's definitely not my best work but I am proud of this piece.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The cool summer night air sent shivers down her shoulders, her yellow sundress fluttering in the wind. Y/N never wanted to be here in the first place. Parties were never her thing. She would rather be curled up in bed, wearing her pajamas, engrossed in one of her favorite supernatural novels, or binge-watching her beloved TV show while enjoying a bowl of popcorn.

But Eliana, her best friend, had different plans. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” she urged, yanking her inside. After just an hour, Eliana abandoned her to fend for herself amidst the crowd of intoxicated and sweaty bodies. Not wanting to appear too dependent, she attempted to blend in. She grabbed one of the many red cups scattered across the kitchen table and took a sip.

Part of her wanted to feel annoyed, but it was typical of Eliana to leave her like this. Despite insisting that she should step out of the house, Eliana had left her alone to navigate the situation. She took another sip of her drink and settled onto an empty couch, observing the mingling and dancing people, the booming bass from the music reverberating through the lavish home’s walls.

She surveyed the room, taking in the luxurious splendor that surrounded her. The towering ceilings and grand staircase captured her attention, while she marveled at the spacious and open floor plan adorned with magnificent, expansive windows. The elegant furnishings and intricate artwork added to the lavish atmosphere, transporting her to another world.

Despite the luxury, unease settled within her. She was out of her element and unfamiliar with anyone at the party. Thankfully, she had her cell phone with her, just in case something went wrong.

While seated on the couch, a handsome man with a defined jawline, dark hair, and green eyes approached her, edging closer with his arm draped over the loveseat’s edge. He purred, his breath tickling her neck. “Well, hello there, darling. What’s a beautiful creature like you doing all alone?”

A cold shiver raced down her spine, an unsettling feeling causing her stomach to churn. She felt frozen, unable to move or speak for what seemed like an eternity. But amidst the fear and panic swirling in her mind, she finally managed to utter a few words.

“Um... I... I can’t do this,” she whispered. As she began to move, she felt his warm hand grip her leg, his fingertips inching closer to her thigh.

“Aw, don’t be like that, babe,” he grinned, his face mere inches away from hers, the stench of alcohol on his breath. “Come on, you know you want this,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, his fingers digging deeper into her thigh. Y/N swiftly rose from the couch, abandoning her drink without a care if it spilled, and marched out the front door.

As the music from the party faded into the distance behind her, she stood on the edge of the driveway, wrapping her arms around herself against the cool summer air. It had been only a few minutes since she had called her father to come pick her up. She could have called an Uber or contacted one of her friends, but with the incident that had just happened still playing over and over in her head, she just wanted to go home and curl up in bed.

Just before she was about to sit down on the ground, she spotted a familiar red pickup truck. It was similar to her father’s, but when it pulled up to the side of the road, and she saw the handsome, buff man behind the wheel, she recognized none other than Ari. Her dad’s best friend and also her long-time crush.

Her heart started pounding, and now her stomach swarmed with butterflies. The good kind. The kind that made her excited and nervous all at once. She took a step back as she watched him roll down the window, and her breath caught as she saw his charming, big grin - the grin that always made her heart flutter.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ari greeted her, and his voice made her melt even more. “Your dad called me to pick you up. He said he was busy. Go on and jump in.” She stood there for a few seconds, unable to move, but eventually, she mustered up the courage to open the door to the passenger side of his truck and climbed inside.

An awkward silence fills the car as Ari drives down the road, heading toward her house. His eyes are focused on the road, but he can’t help but notice the change in her attitude. She’s usually cheerful, happy to talk with him and joke around but, tonight is different. Y/N’s quiet, shifting nervously in her seat. She watches as the flashing lights of the cars pass by on the road.

After what felt like an eternity, Ari finally broke the silence. He shifted his attention to her briefly before looking back at the street in front of them. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’re really quiet tonight.” He comments, his brows furrowing in concern.

Y/N thought the urge to sigh as she felt Ari’s gaze burning into her, as she continued to look out the window. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” She lied, swallowing hard before she turned to face him, but her eyes never met his. A part of her knew it was a pitiful excuse. She’s never been good at lying whenever it comes to him. She felt a pang of guilt, too. Ari had always been so lovely to her throughout the years. But she was also aware of his temper and how protective he was of her at times.

Ari felt a flare of frustration. He knew she was hiding something—her unusual quietness tonight told him that much. She was one of the most open and cheerful people he knew. To see her this closed-off didn’t sit right with him. “Y/N, I know something’s going on,” he said, letting out a sigh. “You’re clearly upset about something. Do you not trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you?”

He kept his eyes trained on the road but stole a couple of quick glances her way. Hurt creeping into his voice, he pressed further. “I care about you. Please, talk to me.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips before she spoke. “Ari, I know you care…It’s just…” she trailed off, trying to search for the right words.

His jaw clenched when he heard her response, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. He knew he probably shouldn’t press further, but he just couldn’t drop it. There was this pitiful feeling in his stomach, telling him that something had happened. He wouldn’t stop until he got to the bottom of it.

“What? Come on, tell me. I need to know what’s going on with you.” He urged, and his tone shifted from annoyed towards caring again; though whether he liked where things were headed remained questionable.

She winces as Ari’ voice takes hold. Her heart speeding up a little faster as she contemplated if she should really tell him. She shifts uncomfortably in the seat of his car, the hem of her dress rising slightly and revealing the fresh mark on her thigh. As Ari’s voice washes over her, a wave of conflicting emotions crashes within her.

Her heart quickens its pace, the rhythm echoing the tumultuous symphony of her thoughts. She gazes out of the window, her reflection staring back at her, torn between the truth and the consequences it may bring.

The hem of her dress betrays her, rising ever so slightly, exposing the tender mark on her thigh—a silent testament to the unspoken secrets she carries. In the confines of his car, she fidgets uneasily in her seat, the leather beneath her palms growing slightly damp. The ticking of the clock seems amplified, each second stretching into an eternity.

His eyes snap to her legs as she suddenly moves, noticing the small bruise on her thigh that he hadn’t seen before. He gasps in shock and concern, the anger in his chest melting away as he reaches out to touch the bruise gently, but before he has a chance, she quickly tugs down the hem of her dress. “What happened, Y/N? Who did this to you?” He asks softly. For a brief second, he forgets about driving. He looks back down at the road and pulls over to the side of the street.

“There was this random guy, and before you ask, no, I don’t know his name. He tried to have his way with me. But…I left before he had the chance to do more.” Her words came out fast and by the time her gaze met his, Ari’s face had an expression of empathy and anger. Angry that someone would even dare touch her in that way. But he was mostly upset that she had to go through something like this—and he wasn’t there to help her.

He looked away, exhaling loudly through his nose. His strong fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly once more. “I should go back there. What’s he look like?” Ari questioned, his eyes furrowed in concentration while he struggled not to let his anger boil over any more than it already had. His mind filled with a variety of images of how he would make this man. No, this monster regrets ever touching her again.

A chill ran down her spine at his words, a wave of nausea washing over her. She hated the idea of him going back there and hurting someone. Not because she cared about the other man. She couldn’t have cared less about his well-being. But she didn’t want Ari going to prison, or worse, just to teach someone a lesson. That wasn’t him.

She shakes her head firmly. “Ari, please. Just... take me home. Please? He’s not worth it. Come on,” she pleaded, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

His eyes flickered to her touch, his anger simmering. “Alright,” Ari relented. “But if you see him again, tell me.” He says before turning the key in the ignition and starting the truck back up again. All she did was nod in response. The rest of the way home was filled with awkward silence.

She didn’t know what to think. Too many feelings swarmed around in her brain. As he pulled into her driveway, she noticed how some of the lights were still on and there was no doubt that her mother was still wide awake in the office. Before she reached for the car door, Ari’s voice broke through the silence.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

The heat rushed to her cheeks, making her feel embarrassed. She knew her feelings were written all over her face, and she couldn’t stand the fact that Ari was probably seeing right through her.

She could feel the tears prickle in her eyes before she spoke. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Her voice cracked a little as she spoke. She was anything but fine. She just wanted to lock herself in her room and cry, forget that the whole night had even happened.

Ari’s face softened before he leaned in. “Hey, come here,” he cooed, wrapping his arm around her. His thumb gently ran up and down her back, trying to soothe her. “Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

“Um, no, it’s fine...” she started, her voice trailing off. A part of her wanted so badly to go home with him, to feel safe and comforted under his roof. But the shadows of what happened earlier still clung to her, making her hesitant. She stared down at her hands, weighing the internal battle.

“Actually...” She lifted her eyes back to meet his caring gaze. “Do you want to stay for a bit?” she asked softly.

His arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She sank against his sturdy frame, comforted by his steadying presence. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face. Rather than getting lost in thoughts of his kiss, she just let herself feel protected. Safe.

With that, they both exited the truck, and Ari grabbed her bag from the back seat.

The two of them slowly walked inside her house, careful not to wake her mother. Standing outside her door, she hesitated, the weight of Ari’s presence suddenly feeling both nerve-wracking and exciting. Pushing down her swirling emotions, she slowly opened the door, hyperaware of his closeness behind her.

Y/N watched as he set down her bag. She felt the heat rise up from her stomach into her chest, and her pulse quickened. “I’m gonna go get dressed. Just make yourself comfy, okay?” she says softly, making her way toward the bathroom.

“Alright. I’ll just be here, okay?”

The door closed behind her, and the silence that filled the room made her realize what was about to happen. She hadn’t been alone with him since... well, since... never.

After she had showered, changed into her pajamas, and made herself presentable, she opened the bathroom door. Ari was sitting on her bed, scrolling through his phone. Y/N paused for a moment, questioning if letting him into her bedroom was the right decision after all. But a wave of anxiety clenched her chest at the thought of being alone tonight. She ultimately decided having Ari’s comforting presence nearby would ease her nerves more than isolating herself.

She walked up to her bed and climbed up beside him, initially leaving some space between them. Despite having known Ari for years, being this intimate in her private space felt strange and nerve-wracking. She took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to relax her rigid posture.

As she gradually settled in and felt his warmth beside her, Ari's presence reminded her of the safety he represented. Back in familiar territory, his scent and steadiness calmed her racing mind.

“Thanks for doing this, Ari,” she whispered, scooting down and laying on her back. She let out a soft sigh, staring up at the ceiling and watching the fan spin.

He placed his phone on the nightstand before laying back down on the bed and staring at the ceiling with her. “Anytime. You know I’d do anything for you.” He reached his hand over and intertwined his fingers with hers. He had been thinking about what had happened earlier.

The mere thought of someone harming her ignited a fiery rage within him, while the notion of her being with anyone else left him physically and emotionally sickened. These feelings had been simmering beneath the surface for some time, but now they were reaching a boiling point.

His hand felt warm against hers, and the butterflies in her stomach had been back, fluttering around inside her. The room felt so warm and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were lying on her bed together. Her heart was racing, and she had never been so nervous.

“So, is everything okay?” He asked, his voice deep and soothing.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her hand reached over and ran through his thick brown hair. His eyes were dark, his brow furrowed in concern. “Honestly? No.” she sighed, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just...I keep thinking about that guy and how things could’ve ended badly if I hadn’t...”

She trailed off, her other hand subconsciously running over the bruise on her leg as tears began to trickle from the corners of her eyes. “God, I feel stupid,” she mumbled, trying to hide her face.

“Hey,” he cooed, lifting up her chin with his finger, meeting her tear-filled gaze, “Don’t you dare say that. None of what happened was your fault.” He rolled over onto his side, cupping her cheek gently, and wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Listen. I care about you, Y/N. So, so much. And nothing will change that. Okay? Don’t you ever forget that.”

She nodded, sniffling slightly as she looked down. “I know, I know. It’s just... I can’t help but think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten away.” She was shaking slightly, her skin warming up underneath his touch. “I could’ve done more.”

“Sweetheart, you did more than enough. I promise. I’m proud of you,” He sighed, moving his hand up to stroke her hair. “Is there anything else bothering you?”

“Well. The truth is... I don’t know what I would have done tonight without you, Ari,” she said softly. “Having you here by my side, reassuring me I’m safe...it means more than you know. I’m just so thankful to have your friendship.” She bit her lip, hesitating. Her heart pounded as she debated admitting her deeper feelings. But the weight of the day’s trauma held her back for the moment.

Ari gazed at her, taking in the emotion in her eyes. “You know I’ll always be here when you need me,” he said gently. “Your friendship means everything to me, too. Especially tonight.” His sincerity made her heart swell. It gave her a burst of courage. She took a shaky breath.

“There’s something else,” she confessed, her voice small but steady. “Ari, I think I have feelings for you. I’ve been struggling with it for a while now.”

She fell silent, her cheeks warm. She searched Ari’s face nervously for his reaction.

Ari stared at her in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened intently to what she was saying. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Y/N...” He whispered, his eyes searching hers, trying to find the words to express how he felt towards her.

He took a deep breath before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. His hand moved up from her cheek and into her hair, tangling in her locks, as he pulled her closer to him. The kiss started out slow and gentle before becoming more passionate and heated as time went on. Her hands ran down his sides, gripping onto his shirt tightly as she returned his affections eagerly.

Before he could continue, he pulled away. This didn’t feel right after what had happened to her tonight. He didn’t want to take advantage of her.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologized, looking away from her.

“What? Why?” she asked, confused by his sudden change in mood.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything like that. Not after what happened tonight.”

She sighed, reaching out to touch his arm. “Ari, you’re not taking advantage of me. I want this. I want you.”

He stared at her for a moment before smiling. “Not tonight. Believe me, I want this too, but I want to do it right.” He looked into her eyes deeply, his palm cupping her cheek.

“Okay,” she said softly, nodding. “I trust you.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers once more. This time, the kiss was soft and gentle, full of passion as he pulled her closer to him. Her hands ran down his sides before resting on his hips as she kissed back with equal fervor. She could feel her heart racing faster than ever as they continued to embrace each other.

After a few moments, they pulled away from one another, both breathing heavily. “Let’s get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Y/N nodded, laying back down and pulling the covers over herself. Ari laid down next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat against her ear, and it was soothing. As she closed her eyes, she listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

She had never felt so safe before. She knew that no matter what happened, he would always be there for her. With a smile on her face, she fell asleep, content with the knowledge that she had finally found her rightful place.

When morning came, the warmth of the sun made her skin glow. Ari’s body heat warmed her cheeks and made her feel safe, safe in his arms. She felt his body move before he shifted and turned to face her. Ari smiled at her.

A warm, sleepy smile as his fingertips brushed the strands of hair from her face. Her smile grew as she met his gaze. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Ari murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. Her arms wrapped tighter around him as she breathed in his scent and sighed peacefully. Her hand moved to his chest, feeling his heartbeat softly under her palm. It all felt like a dream.

A wonderful dream that she never wanted to wake up from. Her lips parted, just about to respond, when there was a slight knock on her door, followed by the knob jiggling and her mother’s voice. “Y/N? Y/N, are you in there?

Ari and Y/N both jumped up in shock from their interlude, making sure to cover himself with a blanket while she spoke up. “Mom! Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?” she responded before smirking at Ari and pulling the cover over her head. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a little too big to hide under the cover from my parents,” she whispered in a sarcastic tone.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “What? Do you have an idea or a plan I don’t know about?” She shushed him to keep him quiet as her mother spoke once more. “Are you going to come out anytime soon? It’s nearly noon.”

She tugged on his arm, leading him toward her huge walk-in closet. Ari stood still in complete shock as she tried pushing him in.

He barely moved an inch and crossed his arms with a displeased look plastered across his face. “In there? How the hell do you expect me to stay in there? I could barely fit!” She hushed him one last time before whispering, “Will you just get inside? It’ll only be for a couple of minutes!”

“A couple of minutes? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath before reluctantly stepping inside. He crouched down and sat on the floor, trying not to knock anything over. Y/N shut the door behind him and quickly made her bed. She quickly opened the door, forcing a small smile onto her face. “Sorry. Eliana dragged me to this party last night and...It was really late.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her, “Oh really? Well, I’m glad she finally invited you somewhere other than her house for once.” Y/N’s smile faltered a bit as she nodded. “Yeah, it was fun.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I just came in to check on you. Your father and I are going out for lunch today. Do you want us to bring something back for you?”

Y/N shook her head, “No, thanks. I think I’ll just stay in today.” Her mother nodded before making her way out of the room. Y/N let out a breath of relief before shutting the door and opening the closet door to reveal Ari sitting on the floor with one of her lace panties. She snickered at him as he dropped them immediately and stood up. “Really? You’re gonna go through my underwear?”

Ari smirked at her before stepping out, “Hey, I didn’t go through your underwear. I was just admiring it,” he joked before wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She rolled her eyes and turned around to face him. He smiled down at her before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers for a brief moment. “I should probably get going. Your dad is probably gonna be home soon.”

Later that day, Y/N was lounging on the couch, swiping through her phone. She was startled, however, when she heard her parents walk through the door. “Hey! How was lunch?” she asked them as they walked into the living room. Her father smiled at her. “It was good. We went to that new restaurant downtown.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been wanting to go there,” Y/N replied, smiling back at him. Her mother sat down on the couch next to her. “How was your day? Did you do anything fun?” Y/N shrugged, “Not really. Just stayed in and watched some movies.” She looked up at her mother and noticed a strange look on her face. It almost seemed like she was suspicious of something. “Oh, that reminds me. Did Ari get you home safely last night, kiddo?”

Y/N froze for a second before forcing a smile onto her face. “Yeah, he did. Thanks for asking.” Her mother grinned, nudging her slightly. “Oh? So, Ari took you home last night?” Y/N nodded slowly, hoping her mother wouldn’t pry. Her mother would often tease her about her crush on Ari.

“He did,” she confirmed, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. Her mother raised an eyebrow at her, “And did anything happen between the two of you?” Y/N shook her head quickly, “No! I mean...why would ask such a thing?” She laughed nervously, trying to play it off as if nothing had happened between them. Her parents looked at each other before looking back at her and laughing softly.

Her father patted her on the shoulder gently. “Well, we’re glad you had fun last night.” As if on cue, her phone dinged with a text message from Ari. She smiled to herself as she read it.

Today. | 1:30pm.

Ari: Hey. What are you up to?

Y/N: Nothing much. Just hanging out.

Ari: Cool. So, what are you doing later?

Y/N: I don’t know yet. Why?

Ari: I was thinking we could hang out at my place?

Her heart began racing in her chest as she read his text over and over again. Was he really asking her to come over to his house? She couldn’t believe it! She quickly responded back to him before looking up at her parents, who were still chatting amongst themselves. “Hey, mom, dad?” They both looked up at her curiously. “Yeah?”

“Is it alright if I go over to Elli’s house later?”

Her parents exchanged a quick glance with one another before nodding in unison, “Of course. Just let us know if you’re staying the night.” Y/N smiled brightly at them as she stood up from the couch. “Thanks!

She looked down at her phone before typing a quick reply.

Today | 1:38pm.

Y/N: Yes. I’d love that. Where do you want to meet?”

Ari: Meet me at the docks at 6 PM.

Y/N: Okay. Sounds good! I’ll see you soon. :)

Ari: See ya soon, beautiful <3

Y/N couldn’t help but grin widely at the nickname he had given her. She quickly ran up to her room and began searching through her closet for something cute to wear. After a few minutes of debating on whether to wear a dress or jeans, she finally settled on a pair of black skinny jeans and a white crop top with a black leather jacket over it.

She waved goodbye to her parents and quickly rushed outside, shutting the front door behind her, and headed towards her car. As she arrived at the docks, she parked and walked towards Ari, who stood casually in the moonlight, smiling warmly at her. “Hey, gorgeous,” Ari murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She giggled softly as she hugged him back tightly. “Hey yourself.” Ari pulled away from her slightly before leaning down and kissing her passionately. Y/N sighed softly into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When they broke apart from one another, Ari smiled down at her lovingly before taking her hand in his. “Come on, let’s go,” he said quietly.

Y/N nodded eagerly as they made their way towards Ari’s truck. Once inside, Ari started up the engine and drove off towards his house. She couldn’t help but stare out of the window at all the beautiful scenery passing by as they drove along. After a few minutes of driving, Ari pulled up in front of a large two-story house. He parked the car and turned off the ignition before getting out and opening the door for Y/N.

“Wow,” she whispered as she got out of the vehicle. Ari smirked at her. “What? You like it?” Y/N nodded excitedly as she followed him up to the front door. Ari unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open for her. She stepped inside and looked around in awe at how nice everything looked. “You have a beautiful house. It’s so big too!”

Ari chuckled softly as he closed the door behind them. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.” Y/N smiled brightly at him before turning around and looking at all the different paintings hanging on the walls. “These are amazing!” she exclaimed as she admired each one carefully. Ari walked over to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, my mom painted those when she was younger.”

She turned to face him with a surprised expression on her face. “Really? Wow... she must be very talented.” Ari nodded proudly. “Yeah, she is.” Y/N continued to look around the room until her gaze landed on a framed picture sitting on top of a bookshelf. She picked it up and examined it closely. The picture showed Ari standing next to his parents and sister. They all looked so happy together.

Y/N smiled softly at the image before placing it back down onto the shelf. “So, how was work?” she asked curiously as she sat down on the couch.

Ari sighed heavily as he plopped down next to her. “It was alright, I guess. Nothing special happened today,” he replied casually. She nodded understandingly as she leaned against the armrest of the couch. Ari glanced over at her and noticed that she seemed nervous about something. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head slightly and forced a smile onto her face, “Nothing... I mean... nothing important.” Ari raised an eyebrow at her skeptically, “You sure? You seem kind of anxious about something.” Y/N bit her lip nervously before looking away from him, “It’s nothing, really. We haven’t really talked about last night. And I don’t know where we stand now.”

Ari frowned slightly as he reached out and took hold of her hand gently. “Y/N, look at me,” he whispered softly. She slowly turned her head to face him once again.

He smiled reassuringly at her as he stroked her knuckles with his thumb, “Last night was amazing. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now. I’m glad it happened.” Her face warmed as she gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. “Really?” Ari nodded, “Yes. Absolutely.”

“But what about my parents?” she asked worriedly.

“What do you mean?” Ari questioned. Y/N sighed heavily as she looked down at their intertwined fingers. “They would never accept it. I just...I can’t lose them. My whole life, my family, has always been there for me. And if they find out that I’ve been keeping secrets from them...” Her voice trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes.

Ari reached out and cupped her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb, “Hey, listen to me, Y/N. Your parents love you more than anything else in the world. They would never leave you over something like this.” She sniffled softly as she looked up at him hopefully.

“Do you really think so?” He smiled warmly at her. “Of course I do. Besides, we’re not doing anything wrong. We just like each other.”

Y/N giggled quietly as she leaned into his touch. “Okay. You’re right,” she replied with a smile.

Ari pulled her into a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head affectionately, “Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.” Y/N sighed contentedly as she snuggled closer to him and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

Ari chuckled softly as he tightened his hold on her, “Come on, let’s go make dinner, alright?” Y/N nodded eagerly as they both stood up from the couch. Ari led her into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “How does chicken sound?” he asked.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “Sounds good to me.” Ari nodded as he grabbed a couple of vegetables from the basket sitting on top of the countertop and placed them inside the sink. “Alrighty then. Let’s get cooking,” he stated enthusiastically.

“Do you want some help?” Y/N inquired shyly.

Ari smirked mischievously at her. “Only if you want to help,” he answered. She grinned sheepishly as she moved beside him and helped wash the vegetables while he prepared the chicken breasts. Ari glanced over at her with a grin as she focused on slicing the tomatoes.

She bit her bottom lip in concentration, which caused him to chuckle under his breath. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. “What’s so funny?”

Ari shook his head amusedly as he returned his attention to the task at hand. “Nothing,” he mumbled. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him before focusing back on her own job. “Liar,” she teased, smiling coyly. He glanced at her sideways and winked playfully at her.” Maybe.” After they finished preparing dinner, Ari took the food outside on the patio, setting the table and lighting candles.

As they ate, Ari kept staring at Y/N with an intense gaze. His eyes were full of longing and desire, and it made her cheeks heat. “So. Is this how you usually get the girls? You make them feel special, bring them home to your place, and cook for them?” She asked teasingly, hoping to ease some tension.

He snickered at her remark and shrugged nonchalantly, “Not exactly. This isn’t my usual style, but I admit, I wanted to do something extra nice for you.”

“So, what is your thing, then? What’s your style?” she asked, curiously.

“My thing?” Ari repeated in amusement. Y/N nodded eagerly, “Yeah. Your pick up lines, flirting techniques, that sort of thing.”

Ari leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not really one for cheesy pickup lines. If anything, I’m straight-to-the point. If I’m interested in someone, I tell them outright,” he explained. “Oh? Like when you kissed me the other day?” Y/N shot back with a sassy grin. He grinned in return. “Yeah. Exactly.”

He cleared his throat loudly before continuing on, “As for the other part...flirting techniques? I just use what feels natural to me.”

Y/N couldn’t resist laughing at his bluntness, “And what’s natural to you?” Ari glanced down at her lips and licked his own subconsciously, “For instance, I could compliment your beauty, but I’d rather kiss you senseless instead. I could pull you close to me and hold your body against mine. I could whisper sweet words into your ear, telling you how much I adore you. All of these things come naturally to me when I’m around you.”

Her mouth went dry as she stared into his handsome face. “You...really think that about me?”

“Of course.”

“Then why haven’t you tried anything before?” Y/N inquired curiously. Ari smirked roguishly, “Because I’m waiting for you to take charge first. I want you to feel comfortable enough around me to make the first move,” he replied honestly.

She nodded thoughtfully before looking back up at him, “Can you...show me some examples?” Ari chuckled deeply, “Sure,” he replied huskily. She smiled happily, “Alright! So...what do I do?” She scooted her chair closer to him and gazed up at him expectantly. Ari leaned forward and placed one arm around the back of her chair.

With his free hand, he gently traced small circles against the bare skin of her upper thigh with his fingertips. She sucked in a sharp breath at the intimate contact as goosebumps spread over her entire body. “Well...you start off slow at first,” Ari murmured softly. His hand slowly trailed higher towards the hem of her skirt. Her heart raced erratically as she felt his hot breath brush against the shell of her ear, sending shivers throughout her body.

She instinctively tilted her head back slightly to expose more of her neck. Ari leaned closer to her, allowing his lips to linger close to the sensitive area behind her earlobe. Her eyes fluttered shut as he began leaving light kisses along the base of her throat. She moaned softly at the sensation and reached up to run her hands through his hair, grabbing a handful tightly.

His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt and cupped her ass. “What...what’s next?” she breathed out quietly. Ari responded by lifting his head to look into her half-lidded gaze, “Next, you try to gain control of the situation. You want to assert yourself as dominant,” he murmured.

Her mind fogged up with lust as his thumb started massaging the curve of her rear. “Show me.”

“Gladly,” Ari purred.

She gasped as he suddenly pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him, “Oh...” she muttered weakly, feeling his arousal pressed up against her inner thighs. Ari wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

Her face heated further at the sight of his erection poking at her leg. “Now, you take control, Y/N. Tell me what to do next,” Ari demanded roughly.

She swallowed hard as she placed one hand flat against his chest. “Kiss me, please,” she begged shamelessly.

Ari didn’t waste another second, leaning down to capture her lips in a fierce kiss. Their mouths moved fervently against each other. Their tongues danced wildly, each fighting for dominance. Ari cradled the back of her neck with one hand, keeping her in place while the other rested possessively on her hip, pulling her closer to him. Y/N moaned against his lips as she bucked her hips upward, rubbing her crotch against his erection.

Ari growled low in his throat, pressing himself harder against her as he continued devouring her mouth. Their breathing became labored as the temperature between them grew more intense. She broke apart from him momentarily to catch her breath. Ari quickly dipped his head down, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses along her jawline, traveling lower toward her neck.

“Ahhh... Ari...” she mewled when he bit into her skin harshly, leaving behind a noticeable bruise. “I’ve been dying to taste you, baby. Now it’s my turn to pleasure you,” he groaned seductively. She whimpered pitifully as she grabbed at his shirt desperately, trying to rip it off him, “Please...” she pleaded. Ari smirked smugly at her eagerness, “Whatever my princess desires.”

Her stomach did somersaults at his words and tone, causing her core to throb with need. She dug her nails into his flesh as she tugged on his shirt. “Take it off!”

Ari chuckled darkly before grasping onto the bottom edge of his dress shirt. Slowly, he lifted the fabric upwards until he was completely bare from the waist up. His defined abs and taut muscles glistened brightly in the soft moonlight, making her mouth water. She ogled hungrily at him as she reached out to caress every inch of exposed skin within her reach.

His toned chest flexed underneath her fingers as they roamed along his pecs, tracing downwards towards his six-pack abs. She bit her lip, suppressing a moan as her digits skimmed over the dips of each ridge. Ari inhaled sharply as she grazed her fingernails gently along the V-shape leading down below his jeans, “Mmm...just wait till I have you begging for me.” Y/N shivered pleasurably at the thought. “Why wait?”

Suddenly, he grabbed hold of her hips and hoisted her up easily. “Ari!” she exclaimed, wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively. Ari chuckled wickedly before carrying her bridal style inside his house.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take care of everything from here.” She giggled softly as he carried her through the kitchen and into the living room before bringing them upstairs. When they arrived in front of his bedroom door, Ari kicked it open, not once breaking his stride. He stalked over towards the bed and deposited her down onto the mattress.

She smiled excitedly as he loomed above her, crawling onto the bed himself. Ari crawled on top of her and stared deeply into her eyes. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this after so long,” he whispered.

Y/N reached up and cupped his face lovingly, “Me neither. But I’m glad it’s with you. You make me feel safe, Ari.” He kissed the tip of her nose before leaning back slightly, “May I remove your clothing now?” he requested. Y/N nodded eagerly.

Ari smirked mischievously at her response before grabbing hold of the hem of her tank top and slowly pulling it upwards, exposing more skin to his hungry eyes. After removing the garment completely, Ari carelessly tossed it aside and lustfully gazed at her bare torso. She bit her bottom lip as she covered herself shyly with one arm across her chest.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, baby. You’re beautiful,” he murmured softly. She swallowed hard as he reached out towards her and gently pried away her arm, revealing the rest of her body.

“So perfect,” he breathed out in awe. Her heart raced wildly as his fingertips traced along the outline of her curves, “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.” Ari dipped down and captured one nipple between his lips, suckling gently upon it.

She gasped loudly as he swirled his tongue around the hardened bud, sending jolts of electricity throughout her entire being. He then moved onto the other breast and gave it the same treatment. She writhed underneath him as he continued teasing her sensitive nipples with his mouth.

Eventually, Ari released them with a pop and began trailing kisses down her stomach, stopping right above the waistband of her skirt. He glanced up at her briefly before hooking his thumbs into the sides of her skirt and panties and pulling them both off in one swift motion. Her cheeks became hot when he stared hungrily at her exposed lower half. “You’re so wet for me already,” he stated huskily.

Y/N whimpered softly as he spread apart her legs wide open, “Ari...” she whined pitifully. Ari smirked wickedly at her before lowering himself between her thighs.

“I’m going to devour you now, baby girl.” Y/N panted heavily as he pressed his lips against the inside of her thigh, kissing his way upwards towards her dripping core. She cried out loudly when his tongue swiped across her slit teasingly, tasting her juices. He hummed appreciatively at her flavor before diving back in, lapping eagerly at her entrance.

She moaned uncontrollably as he sucked and nibbled on her swollen clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout her entire being. Ari continued feasting on her until she was trembling violently underneath him.

He lifted his head slightly to look up at her. “Are you ready for me?” he asked huskily. Y/N nodded frantically as she reached down to grip onto his hair tightly, “Yes... please... I need you inside me,” she begged shamelessly. Ari chuckled darkly before crawling back up towards her face and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She moaned against his lips as she tasted herself.

He broke away from her mouth and gazed intensely into her eyes. “Are you sure?” he questioned seriously. She nodded eagerly once again.

“Yes! Please, Ari!” He grinned devilishly at her response before reaching over towards the nightstand beside them and grabbing a condom from the drawer. Y/N watched intently as he ripped open the package with his teeth and rolled the latex over his length. Once he finished preparing himself, Ari positioned himself at her entrance and pushed forward slowly, entering her completely.

Y/N cried out loudly as he stretched her walls apart, filling her completely. He groaned deeply as he buried his face into the crook of her neck and began thrusting in and out of her at a steady pace. She clung tightly to him desperately as he repeatedly slammed into her forcefully. Ari lifted his head from her throat and stared deeply into her eyes, “You feel so fucking good wrapped tightly around me, baby,” he murmured lowly.

She moaned breathlessly in response as he increased his pace, pounding into her relentlessly, “Ari...faster!”

He grunted in his throat as he obeyed, quickening his movements while still maintaining his control over her. She threw her head backwards against the pillows, arching her spine upwards.

The combination of his relentless assault on her sensitive spot and the friction of him rubbing against her clit made her delirious with bliss. He continued driving into her mercilessly until her climax hit. A rush of pure ecstasy overwhelmed her senses. She screamed out his name as she convulsed powerfully around him.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed as he continued pounding away, prolonging her orgasm for several minutes. Afterward, she slumped against the mattress, gasping for air, completely spent. He slowed down eventually before halting his movements completely, staying buried deep inside her.

She whimpered pitifully as he pulled out slowly and carefully removed the condom. He tossed the used prophylactic off to the side as he knelt on the bed between her spread open thighs.

She gazed up at him exhaustedly as she ran her fingertips lightly along his thighs. “That was amazing,” she breathed out with a blissful smile.

Ari grinned proudly down at her as he leaned forward to kiss her lips tenderly. “You were incredible.” She giggled softly as she returned his affectionate gesture before pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, “So...does this make it official now?” she teased, referring to their relationship status. Ari chuckled deeply before wrapping his arms around her waist and rolling them over so that she straddled his lap. “I guess it does,” he replied huskily.

She smiled widely as she placed both hands upon his chest and began rocking her hips against him, grinding herself against his hardness. He groaned appreciatively as he gripped onto her hips tightly, guiding her movements.

“Ride me, baby girl,” he demanded huskily. Y/N grinned wickedly at him before lifting herself up slightly and sinking down onto him slowly. They both moaned loudly in unison as she enveloped him completely. She began bouncing on top of him, riding him hard and fast.

Ari growled low in his throat as he watched intently as she bounced up and down on his length, “Fuck...you’re perfect,” he praised. Her eyes rolled back into her head as his tip repeatedly hit her g-spot over and over again. Ari reached up to cup both breasts firmly, squeezing them roughly as she continued bouncing on top of him. He pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, twisting them harshly.

A small whimper escaped her lips, “Ari...” she whined pitifully. He smirked smugly at the sound. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl?” Y/N nodded frantically as she increased her pace, slamming herself harder against him. Ari released one of her breasts and moved his hand downwards towards her clit. He pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub and rubbed it while continuing to pinch her nipple with his other hand.

“Ahhh! Yes! Yes! Yes!” she chanted loudly, throwing her head backwards. Ari growled ferally as he thrusted upwards meeting her halfway, “Come for me, baby girl!” he commanded forcefully. She cried out his name as she felt her walls convulse around him, milking him. Ari grunted deeply as he climaxed simultaneously with her, spurting his hot seed inside her womb. He groaned huskily as he filled her completely.

Once they rode out their high together, she collapsed upon Ari’s chest, gasping for air. He wrapped his arms around her frame protectively and held her tightly against him as he nuzzled his nose against her forehead. “Mmm...that was wonderful,” he murmured softly. Y/N hummed contentedly as she snuggled closer towards him, “It was...but can we cuddle for a few minutes? I’m exhausted.” Ari chuckled deeply as he pressed a loving kiss upon her head, “Of course. Whatever you wish, baby girl.”

She smiled happily before closing her eyes tiredly, allowing herself to drift off into a peaceful slumber while listening to the comforting sound of Ari’s heartbeat thumping steadily beneath her ear.

When morning came, she woke up feeling refreshed and satisfied. However, a sudden wave of panic washed over her when she realized the bed was empty. Quickly, she sat up and looked around frantically, only to find Ari nowhere in sight. “Ari?” she called out timidly. There was no response. “Ari?” she tried again.

Still, nothing.

Her heart rate spiked as her breathing quickened in fear. “Ari?!” she yelled out louder. Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open, revealing a shirtless Ari wearing only pajama bottoms and holding two mugs of coffee. “Sorry. Had to make coffee,” Ari chuckled as he sauntered over towards the bed with a charming smirk plastered upon his face.

Y/N sighed deeply in relief as her panic disappeared completely. “Oh, thank god,” she breathed out, placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart. Ari handed her a mug before sitting down beside her. “You ok, baby girl? I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized. She smiled weakly, “No, no. It’s fine. I was just worried you’d left or something.”

Ari frowned slightly at her admission. “Of course not. Why would I ever leave such an amazing girl?” he murmured gently. Her cheeks heated at his words before sipping her coffee. Ari chuckled lightly as he pulled her onto his lap and began nuzzling his nose against the nape of her neck lovingly, “I could never abandon you, baby girl.”

She giggled joyfully at the ticklish sensation his action created. “You promise?” Ari lifted his head to look into her eyes. “Absolutely. I’m yours forever.” She beamed brightly as she leaned forward to peck his lips lightly. “Good.”

Two months had passed since Ari had started dating and during those couple months, she felt happier than she’s ever been before. But it was increasingly getting harder to keep her parents in the dark about their relationship.

As much as she hated the idea of having to sneak around behind her dad’s back, it was worth it to avoid unnecessary drama and tension between her father and Ari. They haven’t seen each other as often as she wished, though.

However, today would change that. Her father was visiting relatives in New York while her mother had gone away on a business trip for the weekend.

So, she decided to invite Ari over for dinner tonight so they could spend some quality time together without worrying about getting caught. She wanted to cook something special for him since he’s always treating her so wonderfully.

So, she spent all afternoon preparing a delicious meal for them both: homemade lasagna, Caesar salad, garlic breadsticks, and chocolate cake for dessert. Once everything was ready, she quickly showered and changed into a cute outfit before heading downstairs to wait for Ari’s arrival.

Just as she finished setting the table, the doorbell rang loudly throughout the house. She smiled brightly as she skipped over towards the front door excitedly and swung it open, revealing Ari standing outside holding two bouquets of flowers in each hand.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted with a charming smile. Y/N grinned at his gesture as she stepped aside to let him inside. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers.”

Ari chuckled lightly as he handed her one of the bouquets before leaning forward to kiss her cheek softly. “I wanted to.” Her cheeks heated as she accepted both gifts from him and closed the door behind him. “Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” Ari smirked smugly at her response as he followed behind her towards the kitchen. “Not nearly as gorgeous as you are.”

She shook her head as she placed the flowers into a vase filled with water and set them on the countertop before turning around to face him again. “You’re such a charmer,” she teased playfully.

Ari shrugged casually before pulling her close against him and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. “Only for you, baby girl.” Y/N giggled happily as he dipped down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth as he slipped his tongue inside, tangling it with hers.

After several minutes of intense kissing, they broke apart breathlessly. Ari gazed deeply into her eyes while stroking her cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“I missed you,” he murmured huskily. “I missed you too. So much,” she replied softly. Ari smirked mischievously at her reply before leaning forward once more and pecking her lips lightly. “How long do we have the house to ourselves?” he asked curiously. She bit her bottom lip as she averted her gaze away from his intense stare. “Until Monday.”

Ari raised an eyebrow at her response. “Really? That’s quite a long time. What about your father?” Y/N sighed heavily at the mention of him, “He’s out-of-town visiting relatives in New York for the weekend and mom had gone away on a business trip for the entire weekend.” Ari grinned widely at her words as he cupped both cheeks between his palms and kissed her deeply again. “Perfect. We can spend all day tomorrow together,” he murmured against her lips.

“Come on, I cooked us dinner.” She grabbed hold of his hand and led him towards the dining room where their meal waited patiently for them to eat it. Ari whistled loudly as he took notice of all the food she had prepared.

“Damn, baby girl. This looks incredible.” Y/N smiled proudly, overjoyed by how well everything turned-out. “Thanks. It’s nothing really.” Ari shook his head firmly as he pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit down before taking a seat beside her. “Are you kidding? This is amazing! No one’s ever cooked me anything so extravagant before.”

“Well, it’s not every day that we get to spend alone,” she pointed out as she served him a generous amount of lasagna and salad. “Now enjoy your food. Don’t want it going cold,” she instructed firmly. Ari grinned appreciatively at her generosity as he took a bite out of one of the breadsticks. He groaned loudly in appreciation at the delicious taste. “You made these yourself?”

She nodded proudly as she sipped on her wine. “Of course. Only the best for you.” Ari hummed appreciatively as he swallowed down his first bite with another swig of red liquid, “Fuck me...” he murmured lowly to himself after taking a few seconds to savor the flavors lingering within his mouth, “This is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever tasted.” She giggled softly at his dramatic reaction before scooping up some salad onto her plate. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” Ari glanced over at her briefly with a boyish grin. “Like it? I love it!”

Y/N giggled again as she nibbled on some greens. The two ate their fill before clearing up afterward and deciding to move things to the living room, where they enjoyed a bottle of champagne whilst watching TV. She snuggled closer into Ari’s side as he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. Ari leaned over and placed a chaste kiss against her forehead. “What did you have in mind for our weekend alone?” he asked with a slight hint of curiosity laced through his voice.

“Well, I thought we could stay in all weekend. You know, watch movies, make-out, fuck,” she teased playfully, earning a chuckle from Ari.

“Sounds perfect. As long as we get plenty of time alone together,” Ari replied huskily as he squeezed her arm lightly, “I need you, baby girl.”

The following morning, Y/N awoke bright and early, ready to start her day with Ari. She quickly showered and changed into shorts and a tank-top before heading downstairs to fix breakfast for them both. Ari stumbled sleepily down the stairs shortly afterward, dressed only in loose sweatpants hanging dangerously low upon his hips. He yawned tiredly as he ran a hand through his messy bed head while shuffling his way towards the kitchen where Y/N stood making coffee.

“Morning, handsome,” she greeted cheerfully. Ari grunted groggily as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and buried his face against her neck. “Morning baby girl,” he mumbled against her skin, placing a soft kiss upon her pulse point. She giggled lightly as his facial hair tickled her slightly. “Sleep well?”

Ari hummed deeply as he pressed another tender kiss against her flesh. “Better than ever. It’s been ages since we last shared a bed together,” he remarked sadly. She frowned slightly at his words. “I know. But I do have some good news. I’ve been thinking about getting a place of my own.” Ari lifted his head from her neck to peer down at her with furrowed brows. “Really? How come?”

Y/N shrugged casually. “It’s time to start my life. And I can’t exactly do that with my dad constantly breathing down my neck,” she explained before pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to Ari. “I want my independence.” Ari smiled proudly at her as he accepted the mug gratefully and took a small sip. “I think that’s an excellent idea.

When are you planning on moving out?” She grinned widely as she reached up to caress his cheek tenderly with her palm, “Hopefully next month. Maybe you could help me?” Ari chuckled deeply at her request. “Of course. Whatever you need,” he answered lovingly before dipping down and pressing his lips against hers firmly, kissing her deeply.

She moaned softly into his mouth when she tasted hints of bitterness upon his tongue. Ari growled low as he gripped onto her hips tightly while backing her against the kitchen island.

She gasped in surprise when her bottom came into contact with the edge of the marble countertop. Ari took advantage of her parted lips to slip his tongue past them and delve deep into the wet cavern of her mouth.

She reluctantly pulled away. “As much as I love kissing you, I need to finish breakfast.” Ari pouted slightly at the loss of contact but didn’t protest any further. “Fine.” Y/N giggled lightly as she pecked his lips quickly before turning around and continuing with making pancakes for them both.

Ari watched her intently as she worked diligently on preparing their meal. He admired how beautiful she looked standing there wearing nothing but shorts and a tank-top with her hair pulled up into a messy bun atop her head. He loved seeing her like this: relaxed and carefree.

He couldn’t resist anymore. Ari closed the remaining distance between them, standing directly behind her, and wrapped his arms securely around her waist once again. “I love you,” he murmured into her ear softly. She froze momentarily when his hot breath ghosted over the shell of her lobe, causing goosebumps to form on her skin, “Ari...”

“I’m serious,” Ari stated firmly as he trailed small kisses along the side of her neck down towards her shoulder blade where he bit down on it gently causing her to gasp loudly in response, “Ever since that evening, when your Dad invited me over for dinner, you’ve captured my heart completely.

He pressed his chest firmly against her back as he nuzzled her hair affectionately, inhaling her intoxicating scent of strawberry shampoo mixed with her own sweetness. “I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. Ever,” he breathed out heavily. Y/N spun around in his embrace and gazed deeply into Ari’s sincere blue irises.

“Ari...I...” she began only to trail off, unsure of what to say next. He smiled softly at her uncertainty before leaning forward and capturing her lips in a loving kiss once again. “Say you love me too,” Ari pleaded against her mouth as he cupped her cheeks tenderly between his large hands.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she responded, “Ari, I- “ She was interrupted by a sudden loud ringing coming from above, startling them both. They jumped apart immediately. Ari frowned deeply at the intrusion before sighing heavily and pulling away from her completely to head upstairs and grab his phone off of the nightstand. She groaned internally when she heard his footsteps receding from her sight, leaving her alone once more to continue making breakfast in peace.

What just happened?

Ari walked back downstairs, holding his cell phone in one hand whilst typing away on the device with his free one. “That was your father. He’s calling to check on you since it’s Sunday. Apparently, he hasn’t heard from you since he left town,” he informed her with an annoyed tone evident in his voice.

She rolled her eyes as she placed their food onto plates. “I haven’t answered his calls because I haven’t talked to him.” Ari furrowed his brow as he sat down at the dining table across from her. “Why? What happened? Are you fighting with him?”

“Not really. It’s complicated,” she answered vaguely. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. Then let’s eat.” She nodded her head silently while munching on a piece of bacon, “So...how did it go with dad yesterday? I hope you didn’t cause any trouble,” she teased playfully, hoping to lighten the mood.

Ari smirked slightly at her comment. “Nope. I behaved myself perfectly.” She laughed loudly at his answer before taking another bite out of her pancakes. Ari watched her closely with a serious expression etched across his handsome features, “I’m serious, Y/N. Your father is very important to me. I would never intentionally upset him by getting into an argument with him. Especially not over something so trivial as a simple misunderstanding.”

“Yeah well, dad is a bit of a drama queen sometimes,” she joked lightly. Ari chuckled deeply in agreement. “Yes, he certainly is.”

After finishing their meal together, they moved to the living room where they relaxed lazily upon the couch while cuddling under a warm blanket and watching reruns of Family Guy. She laid her head upon Ari’s chest as she listened to the steady rhythmic beat of his heart beating beneath her ear. She felt completely at ease listening to him breathe steadily.

“So...is there a reason you’ve been avoiding talking to your father? Or are you just being stubborn?” Ari asked curiously. She shrugged indifferently. “No reason. Just haven’t spoken to him since last week.” Ari hummed thoughtfully at her answer. “And what happened last week?”

She sighed, “Nothing much. Just a typical argument between father and daughter.” Ari nodded his head slowly as he ran his fingers through her silky locks tenderly. “I see. And what about?” she remained silent, refusing to give an explanation, “Y/N, please. Whatever it is, I promise not to get upset.”

“It doesn’t matter, Ari,” she whispered quietly. Ari frowned deeply at her stubbornness, “Obviously it does if you won’t tell me what happened.” She sighed again in frustration, knowing that he wasn’t going to drop the subject until she gave him an answer. “We were arguing about moving out,” she mumbled reluctantly. Ari raised an eyebrow at her response as he tightened his arms around her tiny frame. “Really? Why?”

“Because he’s scared that I’m growing up too fast,” she admitted honestly, “And that I’m gonna get hurt or something. Plus, he doesn’t want to lose me.”

Ari chuckled softly, causing her head to bounce lightly atop his chest. “And is that a possibility?” she glanced up at him briefly with an uncertain expression. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, “Maybe.”

Ari shook his head firmly at her uncertainty. “Well, I don’t think so. You’re strong and independent. You can handle yourself just fine.” She smiled gratefully at his words. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you, Ari.” Ari returned her smile with a loving one of his own. “Anytime, baby girl.”

A week later, Y/N and Ari decided to tell the truth about their relationship after dinner one night. She invited Ari over and everything seemed to be going fine. They cooked together, ate together, cleaned up together and then afterward they sat down in the living room together for a nice chat.

“So, dad, mom, there’s something I need to tell you,” She announced nervously. Ari took hold of her trembling hand into his large one and squeezed reassuringly, “It’s okay,” She gulped loudly as she glanced over at her parents’ faces who wore confused expressions, “Mom, dad, Ari and I have been secretly seeing each other for... a while,” she blurted out quickly, waiting anxiously for their reaction.

Her mother’s eyes widened slightly. “What?” She nodded her head slowly. “Ari and I have been together romantically. For some time now.” Her father stared directly into Ari’s gaze with narrowed eyes filled with anger. “Is this true, Ari?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

Ari nodded his head confidently. “Yes, it is. And I care deeply about your daughter.” Y/N smiled brightly, overjoyed by his confession. Her mother smiled too as she reached over and gripped onto Ari’s other free hand tightly, “Well, then welcome to the family Ari,” she said happily, causing her to laugh loudly in relief. She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Ari’s cheek.

“Wait, hold on a minute here,” her father interjected, suddenly gaining their attention. “Are you serious, Ari? You’re dating my little girl?” Ari grinned sheepishly at his friend as he nodded his head. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She smiled widely at Ari. “Dad, please don’t be mad. I love Ari,” she pleaded desperately. Her father sighed heavily. “I’m not mad, honey, but it does concern me.”

She frowned at his statement. “Why? Are you worried that we won’t last long?” she questioned curiously. Her father scoffed loudly at her question. “Of course not, honey. Ari is like a son to me.” Ari grinned proudly, overjoyed at hearing that information. “Thanks. That means a lot to me,” he thanked gratefully.

Her father smiled at him genuinely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go get ready for bed. I need to...process this,” he announced before standing up abruptly and making his way out of the living room, leaving everyone behind.

Her mother stood up next and stretched her arms above her head, “He'll come around. Night you two,” she bid goodnight before walking out of the room and following behind her husband. She waited a few moments after everyone left to finally speak up.

“Well, that went a lot better than I expected,” she teased playfully, making Ari chuckle softly in amusement. Ari turned to face her completely with a serious expression etched upon his handsome face, “So what now?” he wondered aloud, causing her to tilt her head sideways curiously at him, “What do you mean?”

“Now that they know, are things going to change between us?” he asked anxiously.

“No. Not at all,” she answered confidently before adding, “If anything, they will only get even better. Besides, you’ve always known that my dad loves you.” Ari sighed contentedly, “I know. I just had to hear it come straight out of his mouth before believing it,” he confessed softly.

A month after moving into her new home, Y/N had settled in comfortably, thanks to Ari’s help. Living under her parents’ roof, with their disapproval of her relationship, was no longer an option. Now, she was just a few blocks from Ari’s place, which turned out to be incredibly convenient. Ari had practically moved in with her, staying over every night and cooking all their meals. They had become closer and more intimate, learning how to trust each other completely.

Tonight, she was making spaghetti and meatballs, Ari’s favorite. She hummed softly as she stirred the marinara sauce, watching it bubble. From the garage came the sound of Ari working on his old Cadillac convertible, Metallica blaring from the radio.

The kitchen timer dinged, indicating the garlic bread was ready. Opening the oven, she carefully took out the hot dish with potholders, the delicious aroma wafting up to her. She set the bread on the countertop and removed the potholders, smiling in anticipation of the meal they would soon share.

“Ari, dinner’s ready!” she called out, trying to be heard over the music. There was no response; he was probably too engrossed in his work. Barefoot, she made her way to the garage.

Entering, she saw Ari lean over the car’s engine, his shirt off, revealing a sweat-drenched back. His usual black sweatpants and leather shoes completed the look. “Baby, dinner’s done,” she said brightly, her eyes admiring him from a distance. Ari looked up, his attention shifting to her. “Did you say something?”

“Oh shit! Sorry, princess. I was so engrossed in fixing this damn engine I didn’t notice you were there. Give me a few minutes and I’ll rinse off real quick and meet you inside.” She nodded understandingly. “Alright. I’ll get things set up. Don’t be long, okay?” Ari flashed her his trademark charming grin as she turned away and walked back inside the house, leaving Ari alone again in the garage.

After setting aside his dirty gloves, Ari headed for a quick shower while she prepared their spaghetti and meatballs dinner. Minutes later, he re-entered the kitchen, looking fresh and crisp in a white button-up shirt tucked into dark blue jeans, his damp hair loosely falling to his chin. His blue eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, laying out the silverware on the dining table. Ari responded with a deep chuckle, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “Sorry, princess. It took a bit to scrub off all that grease and oil.”

He kissed her forehead gently, breathing in her scent. “You smell great, baby,” he complimented, his eyes briefly trailing over her before meeting hers again. “Mm, I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

Dinner was mostly uneventful, save for their occasional flirting. After their dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Ari wrapped his arms around her and spun her around. “Woah there, big boy,” she giggled. He dipped her gently until her hair hung loose against her shoulders, the tips brushing against the floor. She stared up at him with adoring eyes, her arms encircling his neck.

“Thanks for cooking tonight, baby. It was great,” he whispered against her skin as he placed light butterfly kisses along her neckline, earning a sigh from the woman he loved. “Always,” she responded.

A soft moan escaped her when his lips trailed up to her earlobe where he nipped on the sensitive skin, drawing out a gasp from her, his tongue licking across its edges. Heat began pooling between her legs at his touch and she closed her eyes as shivers ran throughout her body. “Ari, wait...”

“What is it?” he whispered against her skin again.

“Let’s go to the beach.”

Ari pulled back and stared at her, a confused look plastered on his face, “The beach? Tonight? It’s pitch black outside,” he laughed softly.

“So?” she responded innocently, giving him a coy smile. He grinned and shook his head. “Whatever you want, princess.”

Hand in hand, they strolled out towards the beach, arriving at the shore where the waves lapped softly at the sand. Ari encircled her waist, pulling her close as they both gazed out at the ocean. “Ari?” she spoke softly. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Thank you. For everything. Life is so much brighter with you.”

Facing him, her smile grew as she met his gaze. His own smile widened, his eyes tender and warm. The intensity of his look sent a wave of warmth through her.

Gently cupping her cheek, Ari spoke with deep affection. “I love you more than anything, Y/N.” His words left her breathless, feeling the weight and passion behind them.

He pulled her even closer, their bodies pressed tightly. “You mean everything to me, princess.”

Her eyes shimmered with emotion. “I’d choose you again and again, Ari.” His own eyes moistened under the setting sun. Leaning down, he kissed her sweetly, a kiss that resonated with happiness and love. Her fingers weaved into his hair as their kiss deepened, perfectly in sync.

Breaking away after a few moments, she ran towards the shallow waves, laughter trailing behind her. She twirled in the water, feeling free and elated as Ari jogged after her. “Don’t you dare ruin this moment!” he called out playfully, his wide grin matching her joy.

“What ever do you mean, Mr. Levinson?” she asked coyly before splashing water at him. Ari chuckled deeply before chasing after her through the cool ocean waves. They chased each other for several minutes until Ari caught up with her, wrapping his arms securely around her waist from behind.

He lifted her up into the air effortlessly as she squealed loudly in delight. He spun her around slowly in circles while gazing lovingly into her beautiful eyes. “You’re my whole world, princess,” he whispered. “And I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” Sheleaned in and pressed her forehead against his. “Promise?”

“I promise, baby. With all my heart.” Their lips met once again in a passionate kiss, sealing their future together.

#chris evans #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson smut #mywriting

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diejager · 6 months

Text

Scar

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, blood, infanticide, murder, threat, hostage, tell me if I missed any. wc: 4.7k (A/N): request by @ishii03

Whoever this Doc Ock was, with his darker clothes and broodier expression, was an annoyance. He was vicious in his words as he was with his attacks, his arms latching onto the walls of the building as he tried reaching for you. He was brutal but slow - at least compared to yours - his swaying arms mere seconds behind you. Swinging from side to side, webs sticking to every surface, you worked a cage around him. He was too blinded by his anger to see your trap, too blind to see thin, silk-like material that glimmered under the cool, winter air.

He wasn’t dressed for this kind of temperature, his coat too thin and his boots too short, the snow crawled up his calves and buried him in deep snow that hindered his movement. It was clear that he wasn’t from your world, or that he’d never seen this much snow with how unprepared and unfamiliar he was with your New York. It was something you weren’t going to let go of, using it to your advantage to string him up, trapping him in hundreds of webs of your making.

You skipped left and right, panting softly in your graceful dance around him. Your body twisted under his arm, leaping off the ground and into the air, every step you did was calculated, acts you planned to push him deeper into your snare. You were a spider and he, your prey, acted on instincts to catch whatever landed in your web. When he realised his predicament, it was too late, his arms were caught awkwardly, bent and twisted around silky webs that made moving around impossible unless he wanted to find himself in a worse situation. His body fared the same, his clumsy and lumbering form giving you an ease to slip beside him to lay your grounded trap, webs grasping onto his clothes.

He swore and cursed, his lips turning blue and limbs shaking from the cold. It was idiotic to think he could win against you on your own turf, he came unprepared for the weather while your suit had been built to keep you warm even on the coldest nights in a land where the ice age was more of a foreseeable future than global warming. He struggled but got himself stuck deeper, glaring at you from under his black goggles. You watched his mouth open to spit out an insult when his face paled - paler than it was, if it were possible - the crackling sound of something ripping sounded behind you.

Your sense hadn’t tingled, no warning or signs of danger so you hadn’t found the need to turn around. People dropped into the snow, and curses in both English and Spanish rang softly. It must’ve been the others, from your many speculations and hypothetical ideas, they were your counterparts in the other universes, the vast expense that made your world.

“'m guessing he’s yours?” You asked, crossing your arms, peering at them from over your shoulder.

“Yes, but it looks like you’ve got it under control!”

She had a voice that fit her character, caring and nurturing with a hint of sass that all Spiders had in some way. She looked familiar to you in a way, like a person you’d seen walking down the street with her child by the hand and her husband by her child’s other side, sounding as lively as she had that day on the warmest season of the year. Beside her was a rough-looking Spider, self-deprecating and woeful words slipping from his mouth like a waterfall, he seemed pathetically hilarious, with a hunched back and muscular build. He didn’t seem familiar at all, neither his voice nor his character, he was a completely unknown variable to your world.

Behind them were a dozen of Spiders all dressed and painted in different ways, bright colours and strong accents to their own world and culture. You liked that, the personality in their suit, something to be proud of. They all held something in their hands, some with small, metal cases and others had big, heavy-looking tech. They stood out in your bleak city, monotone greys against the vibrant reds and blues, even compared to your suit, a mix of light blue, white and black to fit your snowy world, but what stood out the most was the imposing figure leading them.

Stock with muscle on muscle, his shoulders broad and his hips slim, his limbs were round and strong, highlighted by the nano suit he wore, gleaming, red lights and a dark navy that made the red pop out even more. He moved as if he owned the place, leg strutting after the other with wide steps for his big stature. He seemed the most out of place in your grey world.

With a single motion, the woman by his side barked orders to the rest, they scurried around, setting machines on the glitched part of the buildings while the giant Spider-man marched towards Doc Ock. He raised his chin, eyes narrowed when he caught the sudden gleam of your webs, and then he saw the hundreds that branched across the walls, the intricately built trap the anomaly was caught in. Perhaps it was in admiration or curiosity, wondering how you could produce so much web. He threw something at Doc Ock’s feet, it burst open with an orange light, forming a triangular cage.

It cut your webs, the loose strings falling apart before it disintegrated into specks of sparkling dust. He stared at it, watching it fade from existence within seconds as if you were never here. He ignored the spitting scowl on Doc Ock’s face, peering down at you with a strange expression on his mask. It looked like he was going to speak, pondering over the words he would tell you.

“He’s an anomaly, I’m guessing?” You cut off any thought he had worked on, tilting your head questioningly. “I’ve had some theories and alternate universes never seemed that far-fetched.”

He huffed, crossing his arms at your blunt tone, that nonchalant way you spoke to him. He was probably used to a certain level of respect seeing that he was leading the Spiders, the need to have someone look up to you after being stared at as a leader for so many years.

“You handled it well,” the Spider-Woman jumped in, her voice ringing out like an enthusiastic voice in the strained tension between you. “This isn’t your first rodeo, is it?”

“First anomaly? Yes. First attack? No.”

She chuckled, raising a hand to you, shoulders loose and body relaxed. You shook her hand, giving her a soft grip and a nod. She called herself Spider-Woman, but her name was Jessica Drew. You gave her your surname, taking the title you were dubbed: Snow Spider. Jessica worked wonders with a man as stoic and strained as him, acting as the buffer in conversations when she saw that it was too tense, but that didn’t seem to bother the man, he shrugged and handed you something. It was a watch, the smooth surface opening up to a screen with different coordinates. It was high and advanced tech you could only dream of in your world, something enviable.

“Miguel O’Hara.”

He was curt and simple, as much as you were cold and blunt, then his mask disappeared, the small nanotechnology retracting to the neck, unveiling him. You knew that face, those high cheekbones and warm, caramel tone, his warm eyes and pouty lips. It was-

“Miguel! Please!” You pleaded with him, palms facing him and fingers splayed in an attempt to coax him to surrender. “Please let go of her!”

Your heart rapped against your ribs, the muscle beating loudly in your ear with an erratic pulse that sent your adrenaline skyrocketing. You stood by the door, blocking the path to the hall with your body. You faced him, teary and dazed over eyes staring pleadingly at your husband who had your little girl in his arms and a knife in the other.

You feared that a single step would make him act out his threat, to plunge the newly-bought knife down into your daughter’s flesh. Terror filled your every pore, filling you with existential dread and harrowing sadness. How could it have come to this? You were a loving family, a working couple with dreams, but never once had you imagined that your little girl would end up under a knife by her caring father’s hand. You had everything, a beautiful family, your dream job, a perfect relationship and powers that could save many with the right actions.

You took a step forward, small and hesitant, but Miguel screamed.

“Stop! Don’t take another step! Stay there!”

You stopped, but you had to get closer, to get into range to take the knife out of his hand and your little baby away from him. You tried reaching him through his eyes, you tried searching for the loving husband you fell in love with, you wanted to see him, but all you saw was the psychotic gleam in his eyes, that deranged monster that seeped into his mind. It was rooted so deeply that it seemed like the Miguel you knew never existed.

“We ca- can we talk this through, Miguel?” You persisted, shuffling forward slowly, hands still raised in surrender. “Can’t we?”

He growled, pushing the knife closer to Gabriella’s throat, the sharp side cutting her soft skin. You watched in horror, the drop of blood that rolled down the knife, tainting the clean metal in a sheen of red. Just a little more and you could bolt towards her, ripping Gabriella from his arms with the strength you recently got.

“Please, Miguel.”

His eyes shone with a knowing and chaotic thought as if he knew what you were doing, what you were attempting. With a sneer, he pulled the knife off and in a swift movement, slashed the throat of your precious girl. You screamed, tears falling from your eyes as you rushed to her. Blood spewed from her wound, gurgling out your name in sadness and fear. She was calling for her mom. You cradled her in your arms, hand applying pressure on the wound. It was useless, her blood slipped between your fingers, wetting them in that rich ichor that first gave her life.

You wailed and shook, staring at Gabriella while you muttered comforting words to her. She didn’t deserve this, the card that life handed her. Her life was cut too short and you were guilty of failing her.

“Oh, it’s okay, sweets. Don’t worry, mom’s here,” you hushed, ignoring the looming figure behind you. “Just close your eyes, mom’ll be there with you.”

You solemnly watched her eyes glaze over, the light in her eyes fading as she did as you told her to, closing her eyes to sleep. It’d be her last dream, her last memory, her last happy smile as you sang her to sleep. You dreamed that you were singing her to sleep in her plush bed, watching her smile and giggle under her blue blanket. You dreamed that you weren’t covered in her warm blood or that you were cradling her on the blood-soaked floor. You dreamed that your husband was holding your hand, his arms wrapped around your waist, kissing your shoulders with sweet promises rather than looming behind you with a bloodied knife.

You dreamed of so much, but none was your reality.

“You- you bastard-”

You turned abruptly, fist aimed at his face. He raised his arm at that moment and slashed down as your fist collided with him. You screamed, blinded by the splitting pain. He crumbled, limp from the hit on his ribs while you backed away, hands cupping your bleeding wound with tears.

“WHY!? HOW COULD YOU?!”

Miguel didn’t - couldn’t - understand you at all. You were blunt to a fault, words coming out with little emotions and reaction to any Spiders, even to bubbly, little Mayday who made even Miguel break his stubbornly-put stoicness. You stared stoically at Peter when he made a blunder that usually made others laugh, you were left unbothered by Lyla’s smile cracking jokes and sassy jabs, and the rambunctious group of teens and young adults were unsuccessful in pulling a reaction from you, even the slighted shrug or a slight flinch.

Another thing he couldn’t understand was the illogical need to keep your face covered at all times and the tenacity you had to always have it on. He, as well as other more serious Spiders, took almost every chance they had to take it off, the reminder that they were a hero and not another human being. You wore your mask as if it were your lifeline, the mask to hide your scars and the pain you lived, the monster you became to live this vigilante-like life for how long you’ve been working.

You pulled yourself away from any social interaction, seeking the dark corners of the base to hide away and observe. Miguel had seen your faraway stare when he walked past a corner, nearly jumping at your figure shrouded by the strange darkness of your solace. You never spoke to anyone else unless you thought it necessary, appearing with this deathly silence to spook every Spiders when you spoke up, your soft but cold voice ringing in their ears like a whisper that they almost missed.

He - with his lack of Spidey-Sense - was as often a victim to your scares as the others, his ears having strained themselves to even catch the quiet pad of your steps or the breathing that your mask hid. He chopped it up to your suit being made for stealth, the colours and highlights matching the gloomy world you came from, to hide in the shadows and pounce like the hunter you were. He could compare you to a wolf spider, ferocious and solitary, stalking and hunting your prey like the arachnid would, stalking your hunt with steady steps and catching it with fast-moving webs.

Although they all seemed like red flags to him, he couldn’t deny that your reports were impeccable, your work and missions done in record time. You might’ve been uncooperative outside of missions, but when you were thrown into the fray with another Spider, you worked in harmony, as if you and your teammate shared one mind, one idea, one wavelength. The quick reaction and synchronised attacks between you, jumping and skipping around the enemy with the same technique, wrapping them in a prison of silk and webs. Every Spider who’s worked with you had taken this strategy to heart, using it whenever they could if the time, the place and the anomaly were right and if they were able to do it without you who’d mastered it.

Miguel got curious, an itch that bothered him incessantly to find out more about you. There was little you shared with Lyla when she first brought you up to open up a file in the archives, adding yours to the rest of the thousands of Spiders that they collected information from. To create a file on your person and your universe would help Miguel understand the vastness of the Spiderverse, to push the limit of the multiverse’s limit and unearth what he had yet to find.

“Lyla.”

She popped up with bright colours, her figure glitching with vibrant pink and blues. She stood beside him, a small body floating in the air beside his head as he gave his orders, her brows lifting and lips pursing in a mix of curiosity and confusion. Hadn’t he shown his distaste and irritability for you? That little annoyance he got from your silent approach and spooking presence that kept him on his toes, or the unresponsive and unmoving mask you always wore around him, those squinted eyes and furrowed brows were the only indication that a human wore the suit.

She swiped on her pad, holographic screens appearing from her hand, each showing some sort of text and reports you wrote to him after a mission or for Lyla to answer her unending list of questions, or captioned video of your filmed conversations when Lyla was cataloguing information about you for the archive. He looked through it all, re-reading your reports, committing to memory the way you wrote and ended your sentences, and watching your consented videos.

Nothing recorded or written down was useful, all data recorded were things he found inconsequential, your skill, your talent, your strategy, your enemies, your universe number, and your measurements. Anything personal or canonical was written down, about your life before your title, of your life during it, or of you as a person, as if you portrayed yourself as a robot and not a human, to detach yourself from the world.

“And from her universe?”

“I got a few, mostly headlines and-” Lyla blew up with a bright smile, excitement bubbling in her eyes as she brought up everything she found about you, some headlines and files about you from the Avengers’ system (your name, your occupation outside of vigilantism, your address and any personal information he would need), but her smile grew placid, grim with worry in her eyes. “Miguel, I think you should look at this… it would explain why she’s so off with people.”

That caught his attention, the grim line on his usually bubbly and teasing AI had him suddenly worried. Had she found a canon event that shook your life in a way no one had expected? Had she found something disastrous involving you? His hand swiped the screens towards him, swiping through grayscale images on the front pages of newspapers and recordings of the event - of the murder. He saw his name - Miguel O’Hara - following the ground-raising words: murderer and infanticide. He read through the first headline on his alternate’s killings, dread brewed in his gut when he saw his daughter’s name and another one, a familiar name, his wife’s. She survived, but Gabriella had unfortunately passed in a gut-wrenching: her throat roughly slit from one ear to the other, leaving blood dried on her neck, face and clothes she wore that night. He, Miguel O’Hara from your world, had killed his daughter and wounded his wife before he was killed in self-defence.

He quickly pushed it away, pulling the recording to his face, wide, bloodshot eyes and trembling lips as he listened to the reporter tell the story with a shaky voice (she probably sympathised with his wife, seeing as the reporter was a mother). He listened to her drone around while the cameraman focused on the scene behind her, two body bags and a small figure hidden under a thermic blanket from the paramedics, back hunched over with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Anger surged in his body, hands balled tightly, his lips parted-

“How dare you-”

He stood stock, flinching away with panicked eyes to see you standing behind him, listening on to the woman reporting on the crime. Your voice was raspy with silent tears and anger, your body trembling viciously as you stomped towards him. He hadn’t heard you come in, he could’ve saved himself from this confrontation if he’d remembered to lock the door, but he could’ve also saved himself from this if he remembered that he was waiting for you to report on your mission.

“You fucking- there’s a reason why I didn’t tell anyone!” You seethed, like lava boiling at the surface, threatening to melt everything in your path.

“He just-”

“Fuck off Lyla.”

She flinched at your venomous tone, gulping before she fizzled out of existence to leave you both on your own. She gave Miguel a small good luck, vanishing without a trace, her warm light leaving the room dark and gloomy.

“Tell me, Miguel,” you started, your harsh sneer visible from under your mask. “What made you want to pry? No, better yet, why do you want to pry?”

His voice stuck in his throat, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to reply. You spoke with so much hate and anger that it made him suspicious, which made him wonder why you reacted so strongly about this case involving another him, another Gabriella and another version of his dead wife. Did you have any involvement in this case? Or perhaps you knew them and felt undignified and mortified for them when his other wife couldn’t be. That might’ve explained why you had some sense of dislike for him, the simple mention of his name brought an unsatisfactory taste to your tongue. Your history with Miguel O’Hara could explain your quiet abhorrence of him.

“I don’t like being left in the dark,” was all he could muster in the face of your wrath, to quell his unease when faced with your vitriol.

“So you thought it smart to dig into my past?”

So you thought it smart to dig into my past? What did you mean by that? He figured you felt so strongly against him digging into this because of your connection to his alternate’s family because you wanted to protect the memory of the dead. If he connected the dots correctly, returning to the first files Lyla had found for him, going back to when he first skimmed over your registered file in the Avengers’ database. He had caught your name in a flurry of quick swipes and your blurry face, he’d also seen your suit in a smaller drawing with detailed remarks and data about it.

It hit him strongly, like fallen floodgates of emotions breaking through his body in waves. Your hate, your anger, your fear, your solitude and your silence spoke to him more than it ever had. How could he have ever hated you? How could he have ever been irritated and impatient with you? How could he be anything but happy and overjoyed when you were within reach, something tangible that he could touch and hold rather than watch from afar or risk the chance of crumbling your world?

He whispered your name, a low hush that lightly reached your ears. He spoke it with reverence, with love and devotion. You were the love of his life, the thing he wanted to give himself to until he withered to ash and dust. You were the light of his life that brought his little girl to his world, brightening it even more than it was. You were a second chance, to relive something he lost, to get back what he lost-

But then, he understood your fears, your terror and your apprehension of him, the alternate version of the man who you loved and the person who murdered your child. It wasn’t something he could force you into, to convince you to stop fearing, it was an instinct. Logic rang in his mind, the reason why you wore your mask as if it were your lifeline, it was, in a way. It protected you from seeing the demons that haunted your mind, it protected your softer, more caring side, it shielded the human part of you from pain and sorrow.

“Oh, corazón,” he slowly approached you, little steps so that he wouldn’t spook you.

“Stop,” you flinched back, voice shaky with something else, hesitation, anxiety or fright. “Don’t-”

You jerked back when he pulled you to his chest, body frozen in place while he locked hands behind you, warm palms holding your waist in a comforting embrace. He cradled you to him, your cheek resting on his pecks, listening to his fast-beating heart, the thud in your ear and the pulse that shook through both your bodies. His fingers drew soothing motions on your back, a grounding act that would stop you from panicking.

“Take off your mask, corazón, let me see you.”

You grumbled lowly, a guttural sound that seemed like a rejection, to decline his demand, but it was a demand. He moved on his own, fingers grasping your nape for the slip of your mask, a button that would make your mask vanish, pixels gleaming in activation as they returned to your neck. You looked older than he remembered, but so had he, ageing from the years of solitude and trauma. Your hair looked shorter, skin was still as healthy but with a tired tint to your eyes. You were the picture-perfect wife of his dreams.

He cradled your face between his palms, thumb running over the pinkish mark over your eye, the straight and strong line that ran from your brow to your cheek. It was a vicious and painful scar that tightened the skin around the scar, it pulled at your face whenever you smiled, you sneered or frowned. He cooed softly, watching you blink furiously, swallowing down whatever threatened to break through your sealed lips.

“Who did this?”

The moment your fist touched his face, the bloodied knife he held skimmed your face, the sharp edge of the silver weapon drawing a painfully long line over your eye. You hissed, hands shaking as you hesitantly touched the open wound on your face, the skin broken and bleeding onto your fingers. It burned as much as it hurt, your face cut open by the knife that ended your precious girl.

You stumbled to him, half blinded, one eye seeing clearly and the other narrowed to a small slit, but all you could see was red. Red from blood and red from rage. You pushed him down, throwing the knife as far as you could with half the strength and the pain you were suffering through.

You wanted to do so much more than straddle him and hold him down until the authorities arrived. Someone had called for you - a neighbour, she was as sweet as candy and as soft as cotton, an older lady with no one to talk to besides you, Miguel and sweet Gabriella - when you were trying to convince Miguel to let your baby go. You wanted to take the knife and stab him where he slashed Gabriella, but you still loved him. He was your husband, you couldn’t hurt the person you promised your life to, so you screamed and cried.

“WHY!? HOW COULD YOU?!”

“You,” you rasped, memories rushing to the surface, eyes teary and tongue heavy.

You pushed him away, your sudden use of strength when Miguel thought you had softened surprised him, and he stumbled back. Colours erupted behind you, a tornado of vibrant shades that led to your universe. He watched as you shrugged the watch and donned your mask before vanishing into the spiral, the portal closing behind you. All he could do was watch in despair and hurt, watching his dream slip through his fingers a third time.

Wherever he went, whenever he was, Miguel saw you in everything. He saw you in the people he met outside of work, in the civilians he saw driving cars and walking the streets with children in hand. The ways the mother held their child’s hand and kissed their cheeks, small, loving pecks that showed them just how much their mother loved them. He saw you in his coworkers, the way they trapped the anomalies in their missions, shooting webs and stringing them around the anomaly. He also saw you in the pictures he kept, the few memories he still had of you.

He saw you everything, but none were you. He swore he could taste you on his tongue, he swore he could smell you in the air, he swore he could hear you in the room, he swore he could see you in the crowd, but it was never you. He might have an inkling of you in his world, in his reality. If he wanted to see you, to touch you and to love you, he could only dream and wish, to close his eyes and incision you in his mind.

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

#x reader #miguel o hara #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #miguel 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara imagine

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

he begs to be taken back.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: angst, hurt/ some comfort ? a little bit of crack?? In this economy?

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ w/c: 9.1k, rip.

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: When hearing his pleading voice for the thousandth time, in the span of this one day only mind you, you slammed the phone on the desk with an irritated huff. The knowledge that people were still even capable of leaving voicemails had cost you dearly. For good measure, hurling the accursed device into the corner, you tightened the shawl around your neck, managed to grab onto the umbrella and lumbered out. Anywhere, to any direction and earth's current, if only you didn't have to think about him.

Recalling Namjoon, the grip on your handle tightened, making it produce a tortured groan.

"Shut up!" you barked at it. Rain pelted harshly on the world below, making it both difficult to see and walk. Rather detrimental to the whole thing to be outside. It took approximately 0.5s and 2 steps for your thoughts to begin curling around Namjoon. Who does he think he is? Does he think he's so unforgettable? Does he think he's some sort of God graced upon the world that you should take him back even after you tried so hard to erase him?! After you put all that hard work to return him back to the sea of strangeness and unfamiliarity?!

"Baby, baby, please, I beg of you, I am begging, just hear me out. Five minutes! Please, just five minutes!"

That was his last voicemail and chiefly the rest of them as well.

It was just five minutes... What were five minutes exactly? A little bit more than your favourite song. A scene in a movie. Passing. Fleeting. Just a slip in time...

No! No, no, no! Five minutes meant meeting his eyes, five minutes meant thousands of good memories, and five minutes meant remembering laying in his arms, reading a book together in quiet content. But Namjoon was gone. All of it was gone. It was down the drain just like this rain pooling around the sewer grates. Useless to remember, useless to yearn for. Just. Gone.

Shaking off the water onto the carpet inside the coffee shop, you were greeted by the pleasant ding of the gold-coated bell over your head and warmly smiling, you greeted the barista.

"One large coffee and a slice of marzipan cake for ____________. To go, please."

The scrape of the chair disturbed the previous mellow of the corner coffee shop with such vibrancy, not a soul was left unstirred. A tall figure, standing in the middle of the floor, gaping like a deer in headlights with mouth flopping open and closed like a fish.

You prayed he didn't see you.

But it was hard to believe given that Namjoon was staring right at you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you turned on the heel and ran into the rain, not even bothering to open up the umbrella again. The rain was cold and unforgiving, making you shudder in practically no time. Yes, it was the cold that made you tremble so.

"Baby! Baby! Please, wait!"

You could hear his voice travelling fast from behind, gaining much-unwanted attention. Namjoon's unfair genetic advantage that had granted him those very same legs you once drooled over, caught up with you in no time and soon enough you were forced to look at his grief-stricken visage. Seeing him up close, without the hindrance of anger and resentment, made your breath catch in your throat. It could hardly be believed you were ever together, given how beautiful he was. Despite his hair stuck to his forehead, bags so blue you'd think he was punched and, quite honestly, the smell he emitted, Namjoon was stunning.

Gorgeous Namjoon. Gorgeous...lying, arrogant, conceited douchebag of a scum!

"Baby," he leaned down to your face. "Baby, please, just listen!"

"I'm not your fucking baby," you screamed. "I told you we are done!"

Pushing past him, you tried to haul yourself away, only to be caught by an elbow.

"Unhand me, sir!"

A glitch of a faint smile appeared on his lips, only deepening your glare. Keeping arms firmly to himself, he began:

"I can't say how sorry I am."

"Then don't!"

"I can't live without you."

"Are you dying?" you scoffed, tossing him a pointed glower. "Right at this moment are you dying?"

Shit...he might just be. Those were definitely two different shoes on his feet.

"Might as well," he cried back. "Please, I'm going crazy! I need you back," you opened your mouth but Namjoon rushed faster. "And I understand I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I understand all of that! But all the same, I'm begging. I'll do anything! Anything! I promise!"

"And how many things you promised before you broke them all?" you asked him trying to sound stern, uncaring but the eternal treachery of your voice betrayed you. You sounded hurt. Just as hurt as he appeared to be. "I will spend time with you, _____________. I would never blow you off like that, _____________. I will never make you feel jealous, ___________!"

You felt your bottom lip wobble whilst he stood like that in front of you - absolutely drenched, gaze lowered miserably at the ground.

"I know," he croaked. "I know I didn't treat you as well as I should have and I'm sorry. I was stupid. I thought...I took you for granted and didn't think that you could leave."

It took a whole half a minute for his words to settle and be recognized for all their meaning but once they did, you turned red from fury.

"You fucking arrogant asshole! Kim Namjoon, you're...You're!" failing to think of anything, you yelped out of frustration. Now people were definitely looking. Who did he think he was?! The man you loved?! The tall and gorgeous lover of your dreams who had dimples and spoke softly to animals and would rather go bike riding than flex the money he had with some dumb overpriced car?! Did he really think that being sorry could tempt you back to him?!

Doesn't it, a faint yet lingering voice whispered to the forefront of your mind.

"Please, if you don't want to listen, then don't," at last he quietly muttered. Chills racked your body upon hearing the quiver in his voice. He was actually crying. The strongest man you knew. Was crying. Over you, no less.

"Just please, read this," from the pocket of his jacket, he thrust a handful of papers at you. "And uhm don't toss it out and uhh just...remember I do love you."

With the long jacket flapping in the wind, he ran off, palm pressed to his mouth.

It was hard to see him like this. Especially considering you always assumed it'd be you who was the only broken one once the relationship had fizzled. Returning back home, now thoughtful and dragging your feet, you poured over the rain-distorted pages. Letters? Pages of a diary? Poems? It was hard to describe what you were reading but nonetheless, it was a strenuous read.

Namjoon had kept a chaotic but remarkably consistent journal that started with the first day you met. You never knew he had to work up the courage to speak to you for whole two weeks. You had merely assumed that the sly handsome idol had no business being shy. Reading about yourself made you blush and paradoxically understand Namjoon better than ever. He did love you. He still does if today's entry was anything to go by. This love overwhelms him

"Like an ocean in the hold of a single cup," he wrote. That night he'd been watching you sleep and had a panic attack, breaking down in the bathroom thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

"Why didn't you just wake me and talk?" you whispered at the pages, feeling the familiar sting of tears. You'd been tired from work, he wrote on the next page, he dared not to trouble you, dared not to ask too much, having in his mind done so already.

Having read that you snapped the book shut and after unlocking the phone wrote one concise message.

"Kim Namjoon, you're an idiot and I love you all too much."

YOONGI: Chapter Three. Paradise Lost. The words and the blinking cursor stared at you with open mockery. Ten whole minutes you sat here and couldn't think of a single word. How could you when you felt the weight of his gaze - lingering, smothering, flattering. Like you were the centre of his whole universe...

Violently you shook your head. Flattering. You were the centre of his whole universe. Lies. Meagre pillows of comfort, you shielded yourself with. You were not his anything, he had made it abundantly clear. Whatever this was...well, it was misguided all the same. You even managed to work up some anger. This was your place, your quiet solitude in the night, a beacon in whose light you could bask when the familiarity of your burrowed apartment was too much to bear. In this small night coffee shop, you could drown. You could forget all about him and yet here he was intruding upon the very sanctity he himself created the need for.

Reddening, you slammed your laptop shut, briefly meeting his gaze. Without shame or inhibition, he stared at you, long fingers twiddling with the cooling cup of black coffee. You knew he knew you knew and so on. Just two idiots both staring at each other without saying a word. With your head spinning from the implications, you stomped your way to the door, chin raised high. Whatever he wanted it was too late now. You hated him. Just like you said.

"I hate you, Min Yoongi!" you yelped, whipping around to tear your hand away from his, tears running down your face. Batting them harshly away, you let the poison out. It was strangely cathartic. As violent as it was there was some peace to be had in the raw honesty, finally fleeing into the aether.

Yoongi recoiled as though burnt, shock painting his features into something you'd not seen before.

"You don't mean that," he breathed weakly. "Please, don't say that."

"You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me! We're done! It's over!"

And alright maybe you didn't hate him. Maybe you still thought, weeks after you parted, did he eat anything at all today, was he tired, but in the face of your own wounded pride, it felt critical to be cruel. Repay his own, even if he hadn't meant it and maybe hadn't even seen it.

He was squirming in his red, upholstered seat; the closer you got, the more anxious he became, like a hamster realizing it was caught in a cage, he visibly flitted between various scenarios. You tried your best to not pay him any mind and continue your escape, out into the cold night. Alone, yes but with your ego preserved.

If that made anything better...

At last, just before you were past his booth, a warm yet roughened palm reached to encircle your wrist. Cautiously, as if he was frightened his own touch hurt.

"Please, don't leave..." fell broken out of his lips. Muffled behind the mask but still loud enough for you to hear. Grinding your teeth, you tried to recall every single night of disappointment. Every night that you cried yourself to sleep because he lied. He had lied when he said he'd be there for you.

"I don't want to hear it," you snapped but it sounded too uncertain; written on a prompt message that had flashed too fast for you to properly read.

"Please, just sit down. Let's talk... even if it's for the last time."

"Funny, you never wanted to talk before."

Yoongi cringed, his gaze darting to sit guilty on the dirtied table. Ah, there it was - the poison. It felt bad to be cruel; before at least it was the steady hand of rage that guided you towards being this person that you truly hated to be, but now...now, it just felt hollow.

Sitting down opposite him, you watched silently as he removed the mask. Kindly put, Yoongi looked like death warmed over.

"You look like shit," you reckoned and he gave a brittle, weary laugh, running a hand through the squished, clearly unwashed hair.

"Yeah, well, a living hell does that to a person."

"Don't exag-"

"I'm not," sternly, he shook his head, briefly closing his eyes as though carding through rows and rows of pain-filled memories. "I've barely slept, barely eaten anything since you left. I...I keep replaying those words in my head," he grasped at the roots of his hair, panting dejectedly at his lap. "I wanted to hate you. No one has ever broken my heart like this."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over chest. If you do this, it'll mean you won't shatter like fine glass.

"Then go on!" you urged. "Hate me! Loathe me! Curse my name and spit on any reminder of my existence!"

"I can't!" he cried out. "No matter how hard I try, I want you more than ever. I want to drag you away from your writing, I want to complain about the half-empty cups you leave across the house, I want to make you that stupid mac-and-cheese you love so much!"

Your breath stuttered.

"Yoongi -"

"I want you to be angry with me, I want you to nag me, I want to be annoyed," eyes shining with unshed tears, he continued to drop the words so fat you could barely make them apart anymore. "Want to wear your scrunchies around my wrist, want to make furniture for you, want to clean the shower because you hate doing it."

Then, he bowed his head, leaving you for the first time ever, utterly and properly speechless.

"Please, take me back. Let me come home to you."

"Music was your home," you argued but with his head still low, Yoongi disagreed.

"It's not anymore. It's just a house now. Just a roof over the head. I'm...I'm not the same as I was before and yes, it scared me, yes, I was a coward, yes, I ran away from you and you have the right to be angry!"

More than the guilt in them, you hated Yoongi's eyes. It was the first thing you notice about him when he was just a masked stranger asking to split the table in a busy cafe. Sitting across each other just like this, you remember being entranced by the way his feline eyes darted all over the place, subtly observing each life going in their own ways. You hated how much you had stared at him that day, so much so, the only thing written down was cat, cat, cat, cat, to appear as though you were working. You hated to remember how happy those eyes were when you finally mustered up the courage to show him your work and how they had squinted in noiseless laughter when he realized that the black cat guarding your main hero was just him reimagined as a feline.

There was so much to be hated about Min Yoongi...so why you couldn't do it?

"Let me crawl back home to you."

"What of your precious pride?" you tried to hiss but it came out like a genuine question.

"It's meaningless," he murmured. "What pride is there to sit staring at the wall, whole days and nights passing by. So, please, take me back. I'll do everything you ask just please, let me be your home again."

"My home?" you echoed, faintly.

"You'll always be mine even if you're gone."

JIN: The greeting got stuck in your throat like a bite of a dry chicken. Grazing just down the windpipe, making it impossible to speak. The sight of him standing there, over the sink of your childhood home, washing dishes of all things and shifting anxiously from one foot to another, was enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

"Hello! Oh, ___________!" your mother chastised. "Why didn't you tell me you had such a lovely fiance?"

Your gaze fixated numbly on Jin. On his stupid face, on his stupid curls on that stupid jumper you gifted him on the first birthday you'd been there to celebrate.

Jin had been many firsts and most of all the first man you failed to get rid of the second things were off. He was like a rash on the butt, definitely nothing more complimentary - an annoying thing making it impossible to live, to have a peaceful breather. He was always there, reminding you that he did exist, making you miserable.

"Fiance?" dumbly, you echoed, too taken aback to even be angry. Being with Jin was another life, one you left behind at that; to see him here was as jarring as having a tree fall on top of your head.

"Yes, he arrived here late at night, yesterday," your mother continued to chatter on, oblivious to the lingering tension. "Introduced him all proper, asked for my blessing, helped me to lug in the Christmas tree this morning. Didn't you, Seokjinnie?"

If the red ears were anything to go by, then your mother had put him through Machiavellian levels of mortification for many consecutive hours now. So why was he here?

Meeting his gaze you wanted to ask just that.

Why are you here? What was this charade all about?

"I see," you, stated flatly. "I'll put my things away."

Quickly, you brushed past him to your bedroom, hearing a vague -

"Seokjin, dry your hands! Don't run off all dripping wet."

"Sorry, ma'am."

- coming from behind. Slamming the doors, you were unsurprised to find Jin's things already waiting for you there, having invaded this corner of your life that he had no business being in. He wasn't anything to you anymore. Just a stranger returned back to the tides of faceless crowds from which he emerged in a moment of delirious, star-stricken fancy. That's all that ever was to it. That's all you ever were to him, just a fleeting fancy he got caught up in too eagerly. The familiar ball and chain that everyone complained about were not as sturdy as they made it seem, engagements could be called off, relationships torn apart and hearts broken with the same ease it took to dust off a jacket.

"________________! Come decorate the tree!"

Languidly, you put one bauble around the piercing branches, ignoring the swelter of his lingering glance. At last, when he'd been drilling in the back of our head for so long you could swear it physically gave you a fever, you hissed surreptitiously at him, pretending to smile so your mother wouldn't have to know of how her precious Seokjinnie was by far the last person on the planet you wanted to speak with.

"How dare you come here," you accused him and he withered, hearing the sheer vitriol in your voice. "How dare you tell her you're my fiance? When we're done?!"

Jin frowned at the tree, haphazardly shoving the silver-coated balls on the needles.

"Please, we can't be done," he replied. "Let's just talk it out, okay?"

"I don't want to talk it out! If me leaving Seoul was not abundantly clear."

"You still kept the ring."

"Oh my god, is that what it's all about? The ring?" you yanked at the chain around your neck. Perhaps you shouldn't have kept it at all but it was an antique family heirloom and by the time you realized it was still around your neck, having grown so used to it, the jewellery felt like a natural part of your body, and the plane had already landed. "Here, you can have it!"

"Don't you dare," he growled, squeezing your palm to be still before falling quiet as your mother entered the living room. Jin was still wearing his own ring, it glistened around his finger in the sparkling Christmas lights.

Your mother's eyes darted between the two of you, clearly confused over the fraught expressions you both wore.

"Seokjin, do you mind helping me with the bean sprouts?"

Hell-bent on playing the role of the perfect upcoming son-in-law, Jin could only nod with a tight smile, unwillingly letting his hand drop.

"Be right there," nasally, he promised and dragged his feet towards the kitchen. As your hands trembled, one of the baubles fell onto the floor. In what seemed like slow motion, you watched it fly through the air, determinately swinging towards its own destruction and then shatter, shards flinging all over the hardwood floor.

"_____________, don't," Jin cried out but you didn't listen, squatting down to pick it up. Just as expected the tremors in your hands though small were enough for the sharpened edge to ungainly scrape against the skin, slicing it open.

Suddenly, it all felt too much and with tears threatening to burst, you ran outside the door, into the sobering winter where nothing was happy enough to pour any more bitterness into your heart. Unlike the ever-present bustle, your home was quiet. It lay on the edge of an unfarmed field with nary neighbours around. It was frighteningly quiet but soothing in a fevered moment such as this. Coming to a stop by an old shed, one you used to sneak cigarettes with a couple of friends in a reckless youth, you leaned against it and panted into the bristling cold. Clumps of snow fell lazily from the sky. Without hurry, completely careless. You yearned for that kind of serenity.

Hearing the crunch of the snow, you glimpsed around the corner, watching as Jin fell face-first into the thick snow, cursing as he did so. You almost laughed at the sight, only to remember that you promised to never, ever see him again.

He found you with relative ease, there was nothing else in the snowed-in field anyhow and he peered down at you with storming judgement.

"What are you doing running out in this weather?" he scolded, throwing a jacket over your shoulders.

"You have no right to reprimand me," you grumbled but he didn't listen and instead reached to examine the small cut on your finger, fishing a band-aid from the pocket of his jeans. Quietly you watched his brows furrow in concentration, treating this scrape as vitally as one would a heart surgery. Circling the band-aid around your finger, he breathed a soft:

"There we go," and pressed your palm against his cold lips.

"Jin -"

"I want you to take me back," he stated honestly, leaving another kiss, this time higher up the arm. "Yell at me if you need to, curse me out in front of your mother if you want to but please take me back."

"Your family -"

"I explained either me and you or no one at all," he murmured, slowly inching upwards and on instinct, your eyes closed, when tepidly he kissed your neck. "I was wrong for not saying so in the first place but now it's clear. If they love me, they'll accept you."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll move here if I must," he grunted, lightly breezing past your chin. Your fingers dug into that stupid green sweater. In the monochrome grey of a desolate winter, it stood out like a blood-curdling scream.

Graceless, he walked with you backwards, pinning you to the broken shed. You felt its wet cold seep through the clothing.

You should really slap this bastard and yet when he kissed you, you moaned, eyes popping wide open. The Jin you knew would never do this - he wouldn't press you up against a wall, so needy, so assured, he wouldn't fly out into the middle of nowhere and charm your mother.

"Have you gone insane?" you whispered, pushing him away and yet he refused to budge more than two centimetres. When he exhaled, you could feel the warmth on your face.

"Quite possibly," Jin nodded, chasing your lips, the glimpse in his eye almost look crazed, desperate - without a doubt. "Please, I'll do anything for you. Take me back and I'll build a home for you. Be it Seoul, here, or anywhere you like."

"You wouldn't be happy outside of home."

"You are my home," he twirled the ring between his fingers, enveloping you in his embrace as you shuddered from the cold. "And won't let anyone ruin that."

HOSEOK: He darted from the seat, the second you were escorted into the private room. Gentle music and easy conversation swayed in the background, illuminated by the soft romantic lights of numerous candles adorning the white-clothed tables which you imagined looked much like the one Hoseok had sat by just a second ago. Tugging at your clothes, you couldn't help but flush from embarrassment. You were so clearly from a different tax bracket but carding through the closet, the best clothes you found were his. His presents to be exact, however, after everything that happened, it felt wrong. Showcasing his numerous gifts on you would just give the wrong kind of signal - that you were still his and that...You weren't anymore. That should be the end of that. Even if he clearly had something to say against it.

"___________," he gasped, appearing shocked. "Thank you for coming."

You waited for the server to leave, and only then you spoke. Calm, collected, without any emotion. You'd been practising the entire week now. But standing in front of a mirror and gazing at it with soul-sapped eyes was not the same as standing in front of the love of your life and keep insisting that it was all over.

"You hardly gave me a choice," you shrugged. "You hounded my co-workers, friends, landlord, my parents, Hoseok. My parents."

He cringed, biting on his lip.

"I know," Hoseok drawled guiltily. "But I was...I was desperate. You were just gone and I was going crazy."

With a sigh, silence settled between you.

"I believe fifteen minutes is what you asked for," you sat down, firmly rejecting his feeble attempts to pull out your chair. "So fifteen minutes is what you're going to get."

"Thank you," he bowed, quickly rushing to sit in front of you. "You're too gracious."

"That I am," you murmured, taking a long sip from the wine glass. Some couldn't hurt. Maybe even a lot. After all, he'd hurt you enough, no amount of alcohol could deal that kind of damage. Whether or not he'd heard you, you couldn't tell, either way, he ignored the remark.

Exhaling, a nerve-riddled breath, he fixed the lapels of his suit jacket and after fixating you with a firm gaze, said:

"I beg of you to take me back."

The wine splattered all over the white tablecloth. Feeling it drip unhandsomely down your chin, you reached for a napkin but Hoseok was quicker. He wiped the wine away, letting his fingers graze past your lips. Your heart hammered and h you wished that it would be from indignance.

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

From the look in his eye, he really was not lying. That sort of cutthroat determination you'd seen on him only once - when he was dancing and trying to beat someone or something. The difference between the smiling, jovial man who asked you out on a date and that one was so startling it took you whole two business days to get over.

Hoseok was like a box of chocolates with the labels all crossed out. You could reach for one candy, expecting a sour tangy filling, of rum, perhaps, or a lemon zest and be met in the end by the sweetness of dripping caramel. It was fun for a while, it kept you on your toes and then...then it was less fun when you realized you never really knew the man you were with. When you couldn't reach for him on the saddest of days and expect assuredness of a well-rehearsed answer. He was always different and what you got, in the end, was no more than just a repainted mask he wielded against everyone else. Chocolates were good and fun but they couldn't substitute meals and expensive presents couldn't buy true love.

"________________, please, take m-"

"Hors d' oeuvres are served," the waiter, literally having spawned out of thin air, stated. Hoseok pulled away, jaw clenching in annoyance. "Tzaziki Shrimp Cucumber Rounds. Enjoy!"

"Thank you," you bid the waiter thinly. When the doors closed behind him, another pause of stilted silence lingered in the air.

"I know I'm asking much," Hoseok began but with a furious shake of the head, you interrupted.

"You're asking the impossible, Hoseok! What even? How did you? I mean, what?" stumbling, upon the words, you suppressed the deceitful sting in the corners of your eyes. "You're just saying these things because you know I'm weak."

"You're not weak!" he argued with a furrowed brow. "Don't you ever say such a thing about yourself!"

"Then why are you asking - "

"Because I love you!"

Your head quirked to gaze at him. Defeated, Hoseok sighed.

"I love you. Madly, utterly, completely. I was shit at showing it and I know you have every right to be mad at me. These past few weeks..." he trembled, glimpsing to the side. "Have been an honest hell. I hate myself for making you feel -"

"Cheap?" you finished, voice quivering. "Like I could be bought?"

"Yes," he swallowed in regret. "I can never fully undo the damage or express how sorry I am enough. But I do love you. I've never loved anyone like I do you," capturing your fingers in his, he continued. "I promise I will learn, I'll listen, I'll do anything you ask of me but, please, let me love you, let me cherish you, let us grow old together. There's a future for us, I know I crave it but so must -"

"You guys enjoying your food?"

This time a scream physically tore from your chest as unexpectedly a third figure simply manifested without any warning beforehand. Hoseok's grasp on your palm tightened and so did his jaw.

"What's your name?" he inquired the waiter, not letting his gaze stray away from your face. Not even a little bit.

"Jae!"

"Jae, do yourself a favour and get lost."

"Okay!" With a hollow smile, Jae scurried through the doors. The third and final bout of silence began.

"I can't be here anymore," you spluttered, detaching your hand from his. It wasn't surgically tied together, so why, why did it hurt so much?

"______________," Hoseok whimpered. In his mouth, your name sounded like a benediction. You couldn't stand to hear so much...love in his voice. Telling yourself he'd never loved you was the only dam that prevented you from crying one lonely night after the next. With the restaurant turning into a blur of cream colours, you rushed out into the street, maniacally looking for any escape. A bus stopped near and you ran towards it, uncaring about where it took you as long as it was far, far away.

You caught a glimpse of Hoseok chasing after you, despairingly trying to find you in the pandemonium that was a Friday evening in a well-known district. Over and over again, he traced every car and window but as you had ducked out of the sight, he couldn't do so, no matter the effort. When the bus rolled away, you saw his shoulders drop, and after pressing a palm over his mouth, he simply sobbed right there in the middle of the otherwise joyful crowd.

JIMIN: Anyone has had those times in their life, right? When you'd done something crazy, something you could only gape at from this point of view, wondering what the hell were you thinking. It didn't even feel like a part of your life at most times, merely a scandalous story you'd imagined, not lived through. You were happy to say that after three months, it had finally come to the point where you could delude yourself into thinking it had not been real. It did not feel real anyhow. Returning back to normalcy had sapped any credibility of the various memories bubbling right underneath your skin. On good days, you thought of Jimin only once, in passing, and then you lived your life. On bad days, however...on bad days you'd be plagued by his visage on every billboard and poster in the city, every radio would have his voice singing, and every innocuous google search would somehow end up in compilations of his laughter. You feared to remember and feared to forget it. But no matter how bad the days were before, it was nothing compared to the clammy dread pulsating with every one of your heartbeats.

"How do you even know who I am?" you licked at your dry lips, questioning if this too was even real. The time on the clock showed 3:26 am and on the phone, with you, there was Kim Namjoon.

"Jimin stares at your pictures all the time. He also mutters your name. In his sleep."

That... that can not be true.

"I...I don't -"

"Listen, __________, frankly, I don't quite know who exactly you are to Jimin or what even happened, I just know that he is spiralling. He's drinking every moment he gets, he doesn't eat, and he sleeps only when he can't stand upright anymore. The only time he's calm is when he's staring at your picture."

You lean into your duvet, feeling much like crying yourself.

"I realize you are not obligated to help him," Namjoon continues, much softer. "But please, I am scared for him and if he meant anything to you, just please, talk to him at least one last time."

This is not real. This is not real, keeps running through your mind as you board the plane, as it takes hours to go back to the one place you thought you'd be done with forever and climb onto the once familiar elevator. Your life is once again a dream. Or a nightmare. Yeah, that felt like it.

When you climbed out onto Jimin's floor, you were horrifically met by Namjoon and Taehyung, both of whom stared at you as though you were a mythical creature, ripped out of the pages of a long-lost fantasy book.

"He's in there," curtly, Namjoon tossed a head towards the doors, dragging gaping Taehyung with him. "We'll give you some room."

You nodded in compliance, pushing open the doors with a bated breath. Dusk had settled deep over the rooms and the air was stuffed full with the stench of alcohol. You wandered quietly through the apartment until at last you stumbled upon a crumpled figure wrapped haphazardly underneath a pile of blankets.

"Jimin?" you called out cautiously and the pile wobbled until a messy head poked through. His eyes were swollen, clearly having been crying for most if not the whole day, and dry spit clung to the corner of his mouth. He squinted at you standing in the middle of his bedroom.

"Go away," he grumbled and turned away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

At the sound of your booming voice, he jolted, gripping the sides of his head.

"How dare you behave this way? How dare you degrade yourself to this level?!"

Blinking blearily, Jimin whimpered:

"___________________? Is it really you?"

"Who else could it possibly be?" you scoffed and he hiccuped, shamefully looking at the floor.

"Dunno...when I drink enough, I see you around."

You cringed, hearing this. No wonder, Namjoon said he was scared.

"And do I yell at you also?"

"No, you just say you hate me."

"I don't hate you," you sighed and Jimin's head whipped up so fast, you swore there was a crack.

"Then take me back," he fought with the sheets, to crawl out of the bed, one leg stuck in his trousers. "Take me back, please!"

"Have you no shame? No dignity left?" you wondered aloud, seeing him on his knees, still drunk most likely.

"I don't need dignity," he cried out. "I don't need pride. I just need you back. I need you," he swayed back and forth, growing hysteric. "You're the love of my life!"

"Don't say that when you're drunk," you snapped, willing yourself to treat him fairly. You'd coddled him before and it was at the expense of your own heart. Not this time. Not even when you wanted so bad it hurt. "They're just lies."

"They're not lies!"

"Well, I still don't believe you! Do you really think by ruining yourself you're making me love you more?! Do you really think that being pitiful is enough to earn my forgiveness?"

He choked back a sob, batting at his wet cheeks.

"I know you hate me..."

"I don't hate you! Why do you always think in extremes?! I'm disappointed! I'm angry! Get your fucking shit together, for God's sake, Jimin! I want you to respect me and respect yourself and not do whatever this is because this," harshly, you gestured over his crouched figure, trembling in the cold air of his messed up apartment. "This is not cute. It's terrifying!"

Perhaps you'd been too harsh but either way, Namjoon thanked you once a week passed and Jimin had returned to some form of normalcy.

Either way, it all began to feel like a dream again once you left, gazing at Seoul through the airplane window, how it shrank smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely. Along with Park Jimin somewhere in it. Dragging your feet into the unmade bed, like the week abroad simply didn't exist, you sighed and numbly looked around. The unnamed feeling that had plagued you for months finally had a name. This was a house, it didn't feel like a home. Home was Jimin's apartment, his stupid kitchen and stupid dishtowels, his stupid gallons of beauty products and his stupid Chelsea boots he'd bought too much of. But you left him in Seoul. It's not like he'll chase you and beg again. Who would even do that? You suspected no one would. Who could possibly love you that much to not only abandon all their principles once but twice?

At a quiet ring of a doorbell, you groaned. Another cat missing?

Dejectedly, you shuffled to the front door, throwing it open and then feeling a stiff weight settle on top of you, enveloping their arms around you like a greedy spider.

You blinked at the ceiling, smelling the all-too-familiar perfume and the gentle, airy voice that came with it.

"Please, take me back."

TAEHYUNG: "Please, take me back."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

The small crowd gasped when he dropped onto his knees, bowing in front of you.

"Have you lost your mind?!" you hissed, trying to drag him up. "Have you no pride left? No sense of shame?!"

It was maybe seconds, seconds until someone recognized him if they haven't done so already.

"No," he replied, muttering at the snow-covered ground. "I have no need for them if only you'll come back."

You didn't know why it was always winter when Taehyung was involved. You met in winter, you broke up in winter, he cried for you to come back in winter and you rejected him during that same winter. A year had passed and once more the ground was dusted with white snow, etching cold breaths into the air. There were no calls anymore, no more texts begging to just talk, to see you one last time. Even the one inquiry about whether or not you wanted your stuff was left on read.

Served him right, the logical part of your brain sneered. He'd hurt you, this was merely a taste of his own medicine. If only this self-righteousness would make you happy.

Walking past his billboards plastered towering and unattainable over the hustle of streets below, you couldn't help but linger, staring at his soft smile, promising the release of his album in a week's time. What a strange date. It was the same one you met it. It was fake, you could tell. His smile that is. When Taehyung smiled for real it inspired others to do the same, not walk past him, uncaring. You wondered where he was...a whole year had passed since he begged you on the knees...

"I'm right here," a deep voice spoke against the shell of your ear and you yelped, turning around. His hand shot out to steady you against the slippery pavement, keeping it around the padded material of your jacket for far longer than necessary. You decided not to remark upon it, selfishly absorbing this scrap. Where was your own dignity?

The little part of his face that you could see was wholly indecipherable, the only feature you could make out through the falling snow and his mask, were the dark of his eyes, staring fixedly at you.

"Hello," you breathed faintly.

"Hello."

You'd forgotten just how warm his voice was.

"Have you been doing well?" he asked, ignoring the mass of people trying to squeeze past you, grumbling in annoyance.

"...yes," you lied. "You?"

"No," he answered honestly, before adding softly. "I miss you."

"Taehyung -"

"I'm not going to lie, ____________," he shrugged. "I've been doing awful since you left. I still love you. What more is there to say?"

Your eyes flitted down at the familiar red around his neck.

"Is that my scarf?" you pointed out and he glanced down at it.

"Yes, it is," he drawled simply. "I found it among your old stuff. I've been wearing it ever since. It's lost your scent now," he sighed ruefully before sobering up. "Is that a creepy thing to say?"

"I -" you stammered. "I don't quite know."

He hummed.

"I saw you're about to release your album," you began, swaying awkwardly on the heels. You know you rejected him but...but couldn't you also want to see him? Let the faceless crowds of judgment ridicule you for your indecisiveness but you had shared a life together with Taehyung, seeing him, just like the first time you met, in the winter, made your heart ache with longing.

"I can send it over for you to listen," he casually suggested. "You might find it interesting."

"Oh," you dragged. "Don't you have strict protocols about that sort of thing?"

"I don't care," he stated. "It's my album, my heart, if I want to give it to you I will. Even if..." he trailed off, finally removing the hand that had been squeezing yours all this time. "Even if you don't want anything to do with it anymore."

When you saw him turn and leave, you floundered, but couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say. Nothing meaningful, nothing...honest. Brutal, bold honesty was always his forte, yours was to pretend.

"I haven't changed my address!" you called out after him. "I still live -"

"I know," Taehyung replied, glancing over his shoulder, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his brown coat. "I remember."

When the postman knocked on your door with the package marked as from KTH, it took all your courage to unwrap the blue ribbon, it may have taken it a bottle or two to even put the CD and listen. A card sat attached to the plastic case.

To my only angel, I loved you yesterday, love you today, and will love you tomorrow. Forever Yours, Kim Taehyung. It had dragged a deeply ugly sound from your throat - something between a wrecked sob and snorting laughter. As if you didn't know who he was.

The album itself was deeply melancholic, something one would expect of Taehyung but this was different. How you could not say, it just was. There was almost an anxious feeling about it. It seemed to weave through the various melodies like a thread across different-sized buttons. It wasn't until the last track which ended almost on a note of a piercing scream did you put together the pieces of the puzzle why it all seemed so familiar.

To my angel,

I always believed you were in the far, far sky

Turns out you're the face next to me

And in all that ever was or is meant to be,

I'd give anything to hear your dry, dry sigh

I know what you're going to say

It's been a year, you fool

But if only you gave me a chance you would see

A year, ten, twenty?

Means no difference to me,

My lonely angel.

Here it all was, the life you lived together, the life he lived after parting, all displayed in neatly aligned 12 tracks, meaning nothing to anyone and yet bearing everything to you. Each opaque reference lyricists would brush off as wordplay were snapshots of a mourned past. You had to...You had to find him. With a sudden urgency, you felt your body tremble, seized by this one, unshakeable impulse. You had to find him. To do what exactly? Who knows. But you couldn't sit here this night alone. Jumping on one foot, you got a boot over your foot and a scarf over your neck, yet when you yanked open the doors, there he already stood, hand raised, prepared to knock.

"Hello," you breathed faintly.

"Hello," he greeted and then to your shock, surprise and heartbreak, sunk to his knees, peering up at you, both solemn and terrified out of his mind. "Take me back?

JUNGKOOK: "That guy is staring at me."

"No, he's not. Shut up and eat your food."

Your date pouted unkindly.

"You're mean and bossy," he complained. "I'm not asking you out ever again."

"I'm practically bursting into tears," dryly, you retorted, taking a long drag of the shitty white whine he'd ordered. "Keep smiling, Jack, lest you want that guy to fashion you into a skin suit."

"My name is Jake."

"Hmmm whatever."

As you met gazes with the shadowy figure sitting and glaring pure hellfire from the corner of the restaurant, you wanted to cry. Laugh? Both? It was hard to say. But either way, Jungkook was a fucking dick who made your life a living hell. It was supposed to end with you victorious, slamming a door into his stupid nose, you were meant to walk away from this whole mess with your head held high, ego unbruised and heart absolutely detached. Or at least that's the promise you made until you saw the intense brown of his eyes, tracking your every move. He was absolutely full of his own shit.

By now you knew what he wanted, what was running through that fantastically mangled piece of meat he called a brain. He wanted to be taken back - into your bed, into your arms, into your home. Like a skinned mole, he'd burrowed his sneaky way into those forbidden places, with his stupid Elmo laugh, his golden heart and his...well, it all had made you a little bit stupid. It all had made your hand shove away all concerns and throw yourself head first into what must have been the most torrent love affair this side of the globe.

You knew every dirty part of his, the flaws he was so deathly afraid of showing, the embarrassment he'd rather first chew his own tongue off instead of revealing; in your hands, he'd bloomed like a beautiful flower and despite his mountain of problems, you still want him.

Wanted him, you amended in your mind, you wanted him, now you don't. Case closed. Pinatas for all.

But if you knew Jungkook down to every sinewy muscle and vein, so did he. He knew from the first meeting of your eyes that you didn't want to be here, you'd dragged yourself out here to be with Jacklyn, kicking and screaming, with the sole goal of fruitlessly showing yourself you could live on after every man had been ruined by this dopey kangaroo.

He knew that just beneath the tongue you were itching to get back with him, to go on those ridiculous dog playdates, to have him bouncing around the room, trying to dance all sexy only for his oversized clothes to remind you too keenly of a flag rather than a human. He knew you wanted to press your face into that chest, drag him down on top of you by his body chain, and be annoyed when he wouldn't fucking stop bumping into you.

But damned if you ever admit that out loud.

Too preoccupied with various musings of intimacy, you failed to see Jungkook grab an apple, draw his hand back like a bow and launch the apple at Jacob's head.

Falling on the floor, your brave date muttered "fuck this" and scrambled off.

All too smoothly, Jungkook took the now free seat.

"Hey, babe," he said, winking. "Missed me?"

"Fuck you!"

Storming off, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself to protect yourself from the harsh wind but fuck all it did and fuck all your legs did against the fresno nightwalker known as Jungkook. It took five maybe six long strides for him to be right up in your face.

"Baby, let's just talk about this."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm so so sorry, I was wrong, you were right; always are. I bow my head in shame."

"Fuck you!"

His expression tightened, lips pursing in annoyance.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Another date. Another day. Another time your gaze trailed to Jungkook, waving at you from the bar.

"You're really beautiful," the new date choked out. "T-Though I can't help but feel you're not listening to me at all."

Your gaze darted to sit guiltily upon the tablecloth. Averys was a good guy, he'd been nice, just all right and yet...yet it was not enough. And you knew that. And Jungkook knew that. And it was all so very annoying.

"Listen, Alec, you're cute, I'm just in a...weird situationship."

"My name's Alex."

"Oh," your mouth popped open and against your will you found Jungkook's eyes, staring at you with this longing across the floor. "My bad."

"Does he make you laugh?"Jungkook's arm wrapped possessively around your waist, pushing you into his chest when you tried to escape him after Alex had left, leaving you alone against Jungkook in the middle of the street. "Does he make you cum?"

"You're vulgar!" you snapped.

"So, does he?"

"No, but at least," your lip wobbled and from the sheer shock of seeing your tears, Jungkook's grip loosened. "A-At least he doesn't make me cry."

Scuffing your shoes against the gravel ground, disinterestedly you swayed on the rusty swing, hearing it screech painfully with every movement. Somehow you could relate to that sound. There was no one for you but Jungkook but he was...he also was not an option. Not anymore. Like your relationship it'd been funny at first and then it stopped. It stopped being funny when the time came to be serious, to take responsibility and he just couldn't do that.

Wiping away your tears, you jolted when someone sat beside you. Jungkook, gazing mournfully at the ground, echoed the same pitiful swinging, having no more energy to put behind it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I never did."

"But you still did," you pointed out and he nodded sadly.

"I still did."

Sigh.

"Nothing I ever say will make it enough, right?" he clarified, reaching to gently hold your hand as you swing. "You won't believe it."

"Promises are just words," you sniffled. "Everyone says words. Most don't mean a thing with them."

"But actions speak louder than words, don't they?"

With your hand in his, it felt right but no matter how good it was, it didn't change the fact he disappeared. With a postcard in the mail, he disappeared, leaving nothing but "one day you and I will love again."

And five years passed. Five years - you're a new person, it's an all-new world, everything has changed but your heart fluttering, stumbling drunkenly in your chest remained all the same. When you opened the door Jungkook gasped, face partially hidden behind the flowers. He was changed as well, with hair much longer, tattoos covering his arm, and piercings littered across his face yet his eyes were the same and the way they stared at you brought you all those years back - when you've felt the most wanted in your entire life.

"_______________," he breathed like a prayer. "Can I come in?"

Mutely, you nodded, failing to grasp both your voice and reasons why this was a very, very bad idea. Twirling around, his eyes flitted between your private pieces, the bits of your heart displayed all around the temporary home. Every home had been temporary since him but such a thing should never be spoken aloud.

"What are you doing here?" tiredly, you asked and Jungkook reached to hand you a paper. Squinting at it you read, growing confused, messed up, teary and frightened all at the same time.

"Due to the client's personal wishes, ____________ ____________ is criminally and lawfully free of any non-disclosure agreement made between ___________ _________, the client and Hybe/Bighit Entertainment. ____________ _________ is hereby granted public and private freedom to discuss any and all information about the client. The client has been made aware of all pertaining possibilities of such an act and has consented to have this statement be signed and all of its subsequent consequences."

With the paper shuddering in your hands, you peered at him.

"Actions speak louder than words, right?" Jungkook chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of his neck

"Why would you do such a thing?!" you yelped. " I could...I could destroy you!"

Yet he merely shrugged.

"Why not? I'm already ruined without you," his expression darkened, a frown marring the lovely features. "Five years had passed and not a day hasn't gone by without me thinking of you. You don't know how long I've stared at your pictures with Alex and wished that it was me," he sighed. "How many nights have I cried myself to sleep, praying I could just get five minutes with you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

After a moment of silence, you spoke faintly:

"We broke up. Alex and I."

"I know," Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. "I saw you get together and waited."

"What if we hadn't broken up?" you whispered, not noticing that he'd taken a step closer. Those damn eyes of his always entranced you. "What if we got married?"

"I'd still wait for you," he mumbled, glaring at his shoes. "I'd wait for you my whole life. When I left, I realized I needed to grow up. For you. So I did all I could and when you...when you were with him...well, I didn't want to make life hard for you. Didn't dare to make you cry again. I was good," his voice quivered. "I was really good for you, baby. All grown up now. So, please, if you can, take me back. I'll be good, I promise."

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dameronology · 1 year

Note

Here is a Din request!!! How would he confess to Reader he has 🌸feelings🌸 for them?

absolutely we love din and his hesitant feelings

Din had come to learn since losing the Razor Crest that home wasn't so much a place as it was the people he was with.

It had been an important lesson; one that had sat heavy on his shoulders ever since, along with the realisation that you hadn't strayed from his side once in all of this. Even when everything had been crazy, even when it felt like the entire galaxy had been against him and should have pulled you away...you stuck with him. And not only did you stick with him, but you somehow stayed more resilient and bad-ass than Din could ever dream of. You hadn't faltered once. He'd quite literally seen you stare death in the face and then clap to make it blink. It was impressive.

The Mandalorian was a man who had always been a little confused by his own feelings; he rarely felt much, but the emotions that had crept up from your companionship were unfamiliar. Attachment, admiration, this constant need to keep you safe and make sure you were looked after. He'd put you on the same level in his life as Grogu.

And that's how he knew he was fucked.

It was a cold evening in Coruscant; Din had managed to barter his way into a cheap hotel room for the three of you for the night. Being constantly on the move had become tiring now; the Crest might have been a little rusty, but at least it had provided a bed and refresher when you needed it. That was something you missed now; Din even more so. He just wanted to settle somewhere now. Maybe spend more than five minutes in one place.

"There you go, kid," you gently placed Grogu down, giving him a small smile as he settled into the bed. "Don't forget to leave room for your dad."

"It's fine," Din said. He was stood behind you, glancing out the window. "You can have the bed. I'll take the floor."

You rolled your eyes. "You paid, Din."

"The floor is fine," he repeated.

He was always so deadpan. None of his sentences were ever more than ten words. Clearly, verbal cues weren't his strongpoint but you knew he cared for you from his actions alone. As a friend and companion, he'd always provided for you; made sure you had a place to stay and food to eat, sometimes even before he had the same himself. How many times had he stepped in front of a blaster for you? Or pushed you aside so that he'd take the hit instead? He always insisted on sleeping by the door, more often than not facing you so that he could be the first to jump up in the night should an intruder come in.

"You always take the floor-"

"- it's closest to the door," Din cut you off, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I can both of you from there."

"We're safe here. You have no reason to need to be close to the door," you replied. "There's no way sleeping down there all the time is good for your back."

"I have to be," he said. It was simple and curt, and clear that there was no more arguing.

"Fine," you held your hands up in defence.

Throwing your bags into the corner, you kicked off your shoes and began to climb under the sheets. You glanced over at Din, throwing him a pillow. He looked at for a moment, before peering back at you.

"You won't have one if I take that."

You let out an audible groan. "Din! I have an entire fucking bed!"

"And I have the entire floor."

"You're so annoying!" you exclaimed. "You act all chivalrous and protective but you have no reason to-"

"- it's just in case," he cut you off again, just as curt as before. "If something happened to you or the kid, I don't know what I'd do with myself. I can't sleep knowing I haven't taken every step to ensure your safety."

You softened a little, smiling. "We appreciate you, Din."

"And I appreciate you too," he replied. "I'm not sure you know how much."

"Don't worry, I do."

Din reached out a hand to you. You were surprised for a moment, but you took it; he gave your own hand a light squeeze, thumb momentarily ghosting over your palm. You'd had close moments, but this was the most intimate he'd ever been with you.

"After this job is done, I want to settle somewhere," Din said. "Be a proper clan. Have a home, and a family and...."

He paused. Was he finally going to say more than ten words?

No, but seriously.

"...I'd like it if you were there with me. You and the kid."

You smiled. Reaching up, you pressed a kiss to the side of his helmet. "I'll be there."

#asks #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin x you #din djarin reader insert #din djarin fluff #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic

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tainted-liquor · 8 months

Text

'Cuddle Monster(s)☾‧₊˚ ⋅

E42!Miles Morales x Witch!BlackFem!Reader ┆˚✧Ingredients: Crack, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! ┆∘⋆TWs: Cursing, Reader being a menace, n I think that’s it? ┆⁺˚⋆W/C: I’ll fix this later😭 ┆`✦A/N: I lowkey used this as spanglish practice

"Miles? Can you get me some basil and patchouli while you're out?" You called from your bathroom as you heard your front door swing open. "I'm only going to the bodega, but I'll see what I can find Mami!" he shouted back from downstairs before swiftly exiting out your house. You smiled to yourself, thinking about just how much you loved your boyfriend as you threw a slew of items and herbs into a small jar. For the past 5 months, you've been perfecting your new craft of spirit-raising, the art of manifesting a living vessel from the hole between your world and theirs. These spirits, or "monsters" as many people would call them are...usually grateful when you raise them, often repaying your kindness by offering protection and energy in exchange for being their path to this world and theirs.

Since these spirits can be seen as an extension of you due to bringing them into this world, they tend to be in tune with your emotions. When you cried, they cried, when you yelled, they yelled, and when you loved, so did they. When Miles first learned about your ability to pull spirits through that invisible portal, he didn't really care. He's murdered people before, so what's a little witchcraft? After all, he hadn't actually seen exactly what came through that portal just yet.

You casually dumped more herbs and tiny crystals into your jar, maintaining perfect focus on the task at hand as you slowly dumped almond oil into the jar. When everything was finished, you sealed the jar with purple wax before throwing it rather aggressively into your full bathtub. You closed your eyes, silently hoping that you didn't do shit wrong as you kneeled down next to the tub, dunking a hand into the numbing and cold water for a couple of minutes. When you didn't notice anything happening, you sighed to yourself and went to pull your hand out of the water. But no sooner than you moved, you felt something unfamiliar and cold grab your hand.

You felt a harsh tug, then watched as what appeared to be an all-grey horned creature emerged through the tub. It was around 8 feet in height and looked like something straight out of a horror fantasy movie. It had no face, only one massive pitch-black eye where what would be a nose. It stared at you unblinkingly, processing its surroundings before emerging from your bathtub and standing behind you. It looked more afraid of you than you were slightly of it, so you gave it a small wave and a pat on the...knee? to calm it down.

It sat down motionless and limp in the bathroom, radiating content as you heard the front door open. It wasn't even a fraction of a second before the creature came darting out of the room, you following quickly behind it as it advanced toward Miles. Miles didn't even get the chance to scream before it scooped him up, hugging him like the tiniest of babies as its eye closed in joy. "WHEW. OKAY. MAMI, QUÉ ES ESTO?" He shouted with wide eyes. "It's...my new protector! I just raised it...It's not gonna hurt you it just loves you" you quickly explained as Miles froze up in the monster's hands. "Shit...warn me next time" he huffed, slowly relaxing as he processes what was happening.

From that day forward, he learned to accept the sudden appearance of various creatures in his house. A bone dog, a very very long horse, several people that weren't quite people, and various spirits that took on many many forms. He wasn't gonna pretend like it never caught him off guard or scared him, occasionally stepping out of the shower to see a monster or two staring at him silently always managed to raise his heart rate by a couple beats per minute. He knew they loved him with the same affection you always gave him, so he was never truly terrified by them. He had been told it was rude to not speak to them, so he always gave them a rather quiet and shaky "Hola..." whenever he saw them.

"Mama, te amo tan mucho...pero, por favor dime cuando tus 'spirits' will be watching me shower."

"Sorry love!"

And it never quite stopped there. Whenever you were outside of the house and a few entities decided to loom and fawn over your boyfriend, he always knew how you felt in the moment. There were times when he would be sitting on the couch, eating a nice bowl of cereal and a sea of non-human crying could be heard. He immediately jumped up from whatever it was he was doing, running to his phone to check on you. Whether you were minor stressed or full-blown crying, he was able to tell how you truly felt at the drop of a hat. In some sense he was grateful because it allowed him to further understand and navigate...you!

"Mami are you mad at me?"

"...no"

"Tell me the truth, c'mon muñequita"

"What makes you think I'm mad?"

"You deadass?" he huffed as he pointed at the strange thing hovering above him, staring at him with crossed arms and an annoyed grimace.

"okay maybe..."

#across the spiderverse #atsv #into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x you #miles 42 #miles g morales #earth 42 miles morales #prowler miles

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selarina · 9 months

Text

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a guy asks for your number, you sternly insist on a condition that leads to unexpected love.

Content Warning: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Highly Suggestive, Canon-Compliant, Swearing, Social Media AU

Taglist: Open

Series Masterlist

Chapter 11: (Surprise) Birthday

Written Portion

“Stop yelling, dumbass.” At which Atsumu starts yelling louder, his voice coming out a bit more squeaky this time.

God, you groan. He can be so annoying sometimes and you’ve met him only thrice. “Atsumu. No cake for you.” You say, your hands coming to soothe your brows.

“Huh! You can’t make that decision.” he practically whines, no less akin to a dog.

He pouts but eventually mellows down a bit and you can’t help but think he’s taking your loose threat seriously. But you watch as he got still a bit too suddenly. You watch as he stares behind you, across your shoulders.

You turn around, and see Suna already standing there. His hands are crossed as he lightly leans against the frame of the door. You frown.

Suna who was donning a smirk now mirrors your frown. He ignores the greetings and the wishes, as his hand comes to gently loop around your elbow, as he quickly whoosh-es you into the balcony.

“What’s wrong?” You hear him, but his words come out a bit muted against the loudness of the chatter coming from the living room. And just on cue, you hear Atsumu hollering something about a penguin?

Suna’s brows cinch hard when he doesn’t get a response. He takes a step forward, stepping into your space just a little, but he’s clearer now when he speaks, "Are you okay?"

Your hand reaches out to slowly run your finger down his brow — a habit you’ve picked up just recently. It’s a new one, but sometimes it’s natural, and it almost feels like routine.

Your frown deepens.

"Yeah, 'm okay Rin. It's just—" You pause, and you notice how he's been gradually leaning more and more towards you to make it easier for you to run your finger across his brows. It lets you allow a soft smile to take its seat on your face.

He hums, nudging — imploring you to continue.

"We were supposed to hide and surprise you and stuff,” you tell him but truth be told, you don't really feel too bad about it. You're just happy you managed to put this together really. It was hell trying to get his friends together, all of whom happen to be scattered all over the world. But somehow, they made time, and they made things easy even if you did all the leg work.

"I can go back and we do it over again,” he says, frowning. He sounds painfully genuine. "I didn't know you planned all that for me."

"Did you... like it?"

"I like it a lot. Promise," he says as he trails off looking into the living room where the chatter has dialed down. Instead, muted unfamiliar voices come from within to meet your ears, they must be on the TV. "What I don't like is how I can't send them home, so we can you know..."

You fake a frown, "They all came from different states and countries for you."

"Ah?" He chuckles, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Don't let them fool you. They've all been here for almost a week now because of practice camp.”

You raise your brows in understanding, as you nod. "That makes a lot more sense now."

His hands come to take yours into his own hand, it engulfs you and his rings sit cold against your palm but you feel warm as you stand here on this chilly balcony.

"Besides," he says. "As I said, I'd much rather celebrate with just your next time."

"Just me?"

"Just you."

"Next time?"

He doesn’t say anything, and you think maybe it was a slip of the tongue. Maybe it was the common way of saying these things. People say things all the time.

"Yeah, next time." He says. "If you want to that is."

You hesitate, a long list of questions and doubts running like a quick PowerPoint presentation in your head. But then, you feel the rough smoothness of his thumb caressing your palm, and you think maybe it's okay to let yourself dream. Even if it's just for a bit, or longer.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asks, his eyes peering into you as he inches closer. He looks unsure but maintains steadfastness. He wants more.

"Yeah." You softly smirk, as you look away. "I'll be your girlfriend, Suna Rintaro."

"Woah woah,” He says as he backs away from you. "Girlfriend? I was just talking about birthday celebrations. Now, come o—"

"Shut up, you dick." You smile harder as your hands come up to tug him closer.

His hands come up to cup your face, and it sits warm against your cheek this time. You tug once again against his collar, imploring him to hurry but you feel a soft resistance from him like you could pull him and he'd crash into you. And so, you do.

A/N: Sorry I've been MIA, look how far my babies have come <3

Also!! Thoughts on a rockstar!suna and actress!reader au? I've been working on it, but it's fully written though

TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @tenaciouswritersheep @90s-belladonna @alienvarmint @kodzuchim @themoonreflectsthesun @baramii @haruskatana @rukia-uchiha-98 @aimno256 @userwithlotsoftime @the-moonandthehermit @alldaladiesloveleooo @iluv-ace @noideawhothatis @vivian-555 @buggy-cj @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @cloudsvna @zukowantshishonourback @rory-cakes @shookykookie30 @2baddies-1porsche @thechaosoflonging @rntrsuna @ahnneyong @saiewithakatana @sukunasrealgf @reveusecherie @tkooooop @k0z3me @riiceandsoup @weird0o0 @toomanygoldfish @seiamor @thebrownemo @breakmyheartlater

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

Maybe on a mission, Ghost gets knocked out and somehow (I dunno freestyle) Soap has to go into his mind to get him to wake up

At some point Soap comes across a memory of Ghost and his dad and he yells at his dad <3

Heavy on the angst pls and thanks

I've been thinking about this so long, I've been waiting for an excuse to write something like this. Kinda got long so the second half will be separate.

Tw: child abuse, self depreciative language (including slurs), talk of suicidal ideation and very mild homophobia.

~~~~

Soap knew what he needed to do. He needed to go in Ghost's mind and find the door to wake Ghost up. In the normal plan, Price would be doing this as Ghost's must trusted ally, but he was also injured, leaving just Soap to do it.

Soap had laughed. “I promise not to violate his privacy while I’m looking for the way out.”

“Johnny.” Price had said to so seriously. “Ghost has a lot of stuff in his past. You’ll see something you don’t want to. Let him show you around, understood?”

Soap frowned, sobering a bit. “Okay. I won’t. What his way out?”

“Simon is one of the easy ones. Its just a door. Red with a black handle. It’ll be hidden, you’ll have to go through some of the rooms, but like i said, let Ghost lead.”

“How dangerous is it? I know some people have things up there.”

“Not dangerous at all.” Price shook his head. “Nothing there but a few ghosts.”

The process was shockingly simple. Soap closed his eyes in a hospital room and opened them somewhere else.

An unfamiliar home. It was… old. Slightly run down but the living room, he was in seemed cozy. Full of dark blue and green with blankets scattered on most of the furniture. A smell circled the home. After a moment, he identified it as the scent of something like copper and cookies. Odd blend.

The cold hit him suddenly, the freezing chill of Manchester. He threw one of the blankets around him and went looking around for…

Simon stood in the kitchen, well he was perched on the counter, eating a thinly iced cookie. Supplies were scattered around, bowls of dough and icing. He looked up at Johnny and smiled, stepping down.

He was… wrong. For one, there was no mask, but two, he was clearly young. Barely 18 it seemed. He was tall still, but lanky, like he didn’t quite eat enough or maybe just hadn’t finished filling out.

“Johnny.” Simon smiled at him and Soap’s breath caught. He looked adorable.

“Hey, Ghost. Where… is this?” Soap tried to remember what Price and the doctors had told him. The person was different In their mind.

“Where i grew up!” Simon bounced on his toes. “I can show you some of the places? You want to know more about me, right?” He batted his eyelashes, looking….

Fuck was he shy right now? He looked like a teenager around his crush.

“Okay. And after that, we can leave right?”

“No.” Simon handed him a cookie and started walking away, humming softly. It didn’t leave much room to argue, but Soap decided it could wait a minute. Time here was a lot faster, a couple hours here were barely minutes out there, so he had all the time in the world.

The cookie tasted amazing. “Did you make this?”

“Yes. I’ve been trying to get Ghost to let me do it but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh. Are Ghost and you… separate?”

“No. Ghost is… a set of rules. A blanket i put on so pain doesn’t hit as hard.” Simon explained. “Personifying it makes it easier, but Ghost isn’t a person, I am.”

Soap wasn’t sure he understood but he nodded regardless. “Do you like baking?”

“I love it! My mom taught me.” He smiled again. “I used to hide in the kitchen with her when my dad got drunk.”

Oh. Oh that was…

Soap stared at him quietly but Simon didn’t seem to be bothered. “I wish i could do it more. Sometimes, on leave, I make some. I shouldn’t, I don’t eat most of it, but a couple of my neighbors are stoners so I just give it to them.”

Simon tidied as he talked, fixing things so they were military straight. “Be careful what rooms you go in, yeah?”

“You’re interesting.”

“Less of a filter here. That’s what Price says. I like Price. He acts a bit too much like a dad to me, but I let it slide because he’s nice.”

Soap smiled. He shouldn’t but… “What do you think of Gaz?”

“I like him. A bit wet behind the ears, clumsy, but he’s a great soldier.”

“And me?” Soap Maybe posed a little seductively.

Simon looked at him briefly and blushed before looking at what he was tidying. “You’re fine, I guess.” Something flashed over his head, just a little too fast for Soap to read it.

“Ouch.” Soap laughed. “You really don’t care about me huh?”

“That’s not very fair of you, ya know. Prying into me. Didn’t they tell you it’s impolite.” Simon… pouted. Honest to god pouted. His face was softer, not scarred yet besides an odd mark around his lips, like a burn. It was odd. It felt like his face was distorted, but maybe that’s just because Soap hadn’t seen it for so long.

“Hmm. I’ll let you pick my brain next time.”

“I wouldn’t let you get hurt enough to need this.” Simon said solemnly, catching his gaze. “Never.”

Johnny blinked. “Come on, Simon. Let’s get out of here, yeah? We can get some bourbon. I’ll even drink it with you.” He suddenly very much wanted to not be there. To be in the real world where Simon was older and didn’t just say things like that.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t want to leave yet.” Simon stretched, shoulders rolling.

“Do you know where the door is?”

“No. You can look in the rooms with yellow doors if you want to start searching. I need to clean first.”

Soap had half a mind to argue that he had been told explicitly not to do that, but then decided it would be fine.

Johnny noticed the room was rather dusty, but he brushed it off. He walked away from, looking down the hallway. No red doors, but that was usual. It would be hidden somewhere. Two yellow doors, two red, four blue and…

A creepy metal door at the end. How lovely. He’d come back to that.

He went into one of the blue ones, surprised to find party music. Ghost went to high school parties? That was an odd idea to think about.

He was so tiny. Soap had never considered Ghost as being short. I mean technically he wasn’t, he was still 5′8, but he looked so tiny. His hair was dark instead of the bleached look he was accustomed to. It fell in his eyes and...

He had pierced ears. Simon was just wearing some simple studs, but his ears were pierced.

“I’m going to bully you for that one LT. Just you wait.” He followed him, watching him drink a can of beer, the shitty kind that you only drink because you’re at a party.

One person was so much clearer than everyone else, most of Ghost’s attention on them. They were about Soap’s height, shaggy brown hair and a permanent smirk on his face. Soap watched them make eye contact and Ghost quickly looked away, blushing.

Oh.

Soap already had a feeling about Ghost’s sexuality. The man didn’t talk about it much, but he showed zero interest in women. He was always the first to start beating a man for trying to spike a drink or take an obviously too drunk girl home, but when flirted with, he’d just turn them down. It was an open secret that Ghost was not straight.

Still nice to have confirmation. He glanced around, not seeing the red door or the door to go back to the hallway, so he decided to just keep following him. Eventually the memory would end.

The two boys ended up just a little too close on a balcony.

The other guy hummed. “Cold?”

Simon nodded mutely, blushing hard. Instead of offering his jacket, the guy moved closer.

The kiss was clumsy. Their teeth clacked but eventually, the guy’s arms ended up around Simon’s waist and they slowed down a bit.

Someone made a noise and they sprang apart. Both blushing hard.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, yeah Riley?”

Simon nodded immediately. “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.” It was said with a grin, but Johnny couldn’t help how much that hurt to hear.

Poor kid.

The guy nodded and awkwardly punched his shoulder before leaving him there. Simon finished the can and smiled to himself, that soft blush still across his face.

“It was my first. Had a lot of better ones since then.” Slightly older Simon appeared again.

“Ever tell your family?”

“My brother found out by looking through my room. Found some... magazines I had.” Simon turned bright red. “Luckily he never told our parents. Dad would’ve killed me.”

“Oh. Forgot you’re quite a bit older than me. Still looking at magazines.” Soap teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m only 29, you know that right?” Simon smiled at him.

“What?” Soap turned to him. “The fuck do you mean??”

“Yeah, just 29.”

“I’m 24. I didn’t realize we were that close.”

“How old did you think I was??”

“Like Price’s age.”

“You know Price is 37 right?”

Soap rubbed his temple. “This is too much information for me.”

Simon laughed and something flashed above his head. Like a cartoon with flashing light and an arrow.

“Murderer.”

Soap flinched but Simon didn’t notice. “Let get out of here. The door isn’t here.” He grabbed Soap’s hand, his skin warm against his own. Soap followed him, getting pulled into a new yellow door.

It was a butcher shop.

Simon hummed. “Nothing interesting happens here. Just hurry up and look around.”

“Why were you in a butcher shop?”

“It was my first job!” Simon said excitedly. “This is how I learned most of my knife skills. The butcher taught me a couple of knife tricks too.”

“Cool.” Soap nodded. Made a lot of sense actually.

Simon showed him around the small building, including the freezer. There wasn’t another version of him like in the previous place. Now that he was really looking, there was no one.

No red door. They stepped back into the hallway.

Simon sighed. “I don’t want you to look through the other rooms. I can’t convince you to just stay in my head forever, can I?”

“Nope!” Soap picked a blue door at random and went straight in.

It was of him. More specifically, him training with the rest of the 141 for their yearly assessments. He hated those.

After a moment, he picked up on it. Everyone else was in color, but slightly fuzzy like Ghost hadn’t been focusing on them. But just like the guy from the party, Johnny was in sparkling 4K resolution.

“you pay a lot of attention to me, don’t ya, LT?” Johnny smiled and looked above Simon’s head just in time to see it.

“Faggot.” This time with several arrows pointed to him.

“You’re loud. Draws my attention.” He was clearly lying, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Why is this door blue?”

“Everything after the accident is blue.”

“What was the accident?”

“When my entire family was murdered. Obviously.” Simon looked at him. “I know you read my file, Johnny.”

“Didn’t include anything about that.” Soap mumbled.

“Ah. Oh well. You would’ve found the memory eventually anyway.” Simon leaned into him suddenly, his head falling on his shoulder. “The red door is there sometimes. I get lucky occasionally and its behind one of these.”

“This happen often?” Johnny tried to pretend the amount of contact wasn’t making him flustered. He was pretty. He’d choose his Simon over this past one, but he wouldn’t deny they were both gorgeous.

“Yeah. I tend to be rather reckless. Price thinks I’m suicidal.”

“Are you?”

“Definitely. I try not to make him worry though.” Simon saw the face Johnny made and backtracked slightly. “You don’t have to worry either. My therapist knows. I’m not actively. Just don’t try to keep myself alive as much as the average person does.”

“Oh.” Soap stared at him and he could see him getting uncomfortable.

Simon went to pull away and Johnny turned, pulling him back so they were hugging now. He melted in Soap’s hands and wrapped his arms around him tight.

They pulled back in tandem and avoided each other’s eyes before fumbling to a new door.

Johnny went to the red door directly across the hall. Simon grabbed his arm tight but didn’t stop him. He buried his face in his back as they went in.

A man who looked a lot like Simon was sitting in the living room of the same house Soap had first appeared in. Simon and a small, darker haired child sat at the table with him.

“Frank.” Ghost mumbled to him. “The man’s name.”

Frank had a snake, an extremely large one at that, wrapped around his shoulders. It moved slowly as it trailed along his arm.

“C’mon Simon.” His voice slurred and Soap could see his pupils were far too big.

“What’s he high on?”

“Heroin probably.” Ghost hid his face in Soap’s hair, pulling him against his chest.

Frank hummed. “Not scared are you?”

This Simon looked even younger than the other. Probably only 8 if Soap had to guess. He shook his head but Soap could see his hands shaking where they were pressed to his thighs.

Frank moved the snake closer, its head coming so close to the child in that seat. Soap didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it was going to be bad. Ghost trembled against him, the strongest person he knew, trembling at the sight of this fucking asshole.

“Dad.” Simon said softly, unable to keep the tremble out of his face. Frank moved closer and before Soap even realized what he was doing, he backhanded Simon out of the chair and to the floor. That tiny fucking kid.

“You’re so fucking annoying. It’s a snake. It’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just a goddamn animal.” He grabbed Simon by his shirt collar, yanking him up he was dangling half on the ground, unable to get his feet under him. “Your bitch of a mother ruined you. Made you such a fucking pussy.” He shook him while he talked.

Simon didn’t flinch. Just stared up completely blank besides the tiniest wobble of his bottom lip.

“He’s a fucking child.” Soap snapped, but nothing happened.

Frank grabbed the snake, suddenly pushing it closer and closer to Simon’s face. It’s mouth opened, venom clearly dripping.

The burns around his mouth. Venom would leave those burns.

“You’re such a useless kid, you know that?” It was stupid of Soap, but he couldn’t just watch that. He shoved him, surprised to find Frank was solid. The man looked at him, dropping the kid.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re a shit dad.” Soap stared at him. Ghost might find him scary, but he had been a kid. Soap could see him for what he was. “You’re a fucking junkie and that’s it.”

Frank stared at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“His...” Soap didn’t have a word. “I’m his. That’s all that matters. And you’re not going to fucking touch him.”

Frank blinked before just disappearing. They were thrown back into the hallway this time.

Simon leaned into him, his chest to Soap’s back to hide his face. He shook hard.

“You’re okay, Ghost. I promise.”

“I want to go home now, Johnny. Want that drink.”

“I’ll get you out of here buddy. Promise.”

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

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biggestxsimps · 11 months

Text

Top Priority

Dad!Tony Stark x Son!Male Reader (PLATONIC!)

A/N: This was requested over on our Wattpad! I surprisingly enjoyed writing this. It’s been about a year since I’ve watched the Marvel movies so my memory is pretty rusty, please let me know if I’ve mixed anything up and I’ll give it a quick fix. Also, I’m not from America so I’m not sure with their states/cities so please point out any mistakes I might’ve made.

Y/N's POV:

Things used to be good between my dad and I, but ever since Peter had shown up, all his attention had stuck on him. It wasn’t all too noticeable at first, we would still hang out when he was free, spending our Saturday nights watching movies together.

Though it only took a few weeks for him to start to brush me off more. Similar excuses each time he rescheduled our weekly plans. “I have improvements to add to Peter’s suit.” “I’ve got work to finish with Peter.” “Peter needs help getting used to the suit.” Peter this, Peter that.

It was like Peter was his son and not me. Just like that, I was thrown into the background, a minor thought in the back of his mind, it was like he no longer cared for me.

~~~

We had a recital coming up really soon, one I had expressed my excitement to my dad before for. He used to be so proud, so ecstatic to eventually see me up on stage. I hoped this would be the push he needed to give me the attention I had so easily and so quickly lost.

Dad was downstairs in his workshop, that’s where he usually was, always working on something new to dazzle the public with. I slowly open the glass door, stepping in as he speaks up. “Peter, you’re finally here. Here, try this-” He turns around, a metal plate in his hand as he props it towards me.

“Oh Y/N. Sorry about that, what do you need?” He turns back around, placing the metal back down, keeping his attention on his creation. I silently sigh as I walk over to him, taking the folded poster out of my pocket. I hand the piece of paper to him, his eyebrows raised in confusion before reading through it.

“The recitals in a couple days, I know how excited you were to come see me, and I’d love for you to be there” He smiles, stuffing the paper into his shirt pocket. “Of course I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kid.” I can’t help the smile that grows on my face, “Thanks dad. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Dad sent a smile back my way before I swiftly left his workshop, excitedly practising my songs in my room for the upcoming day.

~~~

The day I had longed for had finally arrived. It was around 6:30pm and I was currently backstage, I was going up on stage in only half an hour. I had been practising the whole year for this recital and I was determined to perfectly execute it. I couldn’t wait for dad to see the progress I had made.

Some time had passed, the curtains would open in 5 minutes, parents and friends of the people performing with me had started to fill the seats. I looked out from the slight gap in the curtains, hoping to see my dad amongst the growing crowd.

My eyes darted across the plethora of seats, filled with unfamiliar faces. I deflate as I can’t find him, hoping, praying he was just running late.

We got into our places behind the curtains, a countdown being played in our headsets before the curtains swung open. I noticed my friends looking around for the people they invited, their faces lighting up when they did. I followed suit, taking another quick look over the crowd, never finding my dad though.

My heart pangs at the realisation, he wasn’t here, he didn't come to see me perform. Whatever. I could do this without him, I didn’t need him to make this my greatest performance. And so that’s what I did, I put my all into everything. Making it a performance he would regret not coming to see.

~~~

The recital lasted about an hour, my friends walking out with me into the cold night. The fresh air was a stark contrast to the heating anger I felt in the enclosed room. As my friends split up, they waved goodbye as they hopped into their parents cars, driving off to their homes.

I sat there, sitting on the staircase leading to the doors of the building. Usually dad would send Happy or even Pepper to come pick me up from things he wasn’t able to. But after sitting out on the chilling night, it became apparent that he wasn’t coming, no one was. I take one last look at my phone, the lack of notifications making me sigh.

Defeated, I picked up my belongings and started my journey among the dark streets of Manhattan. I dragged myself back home, walking almost sluggishly as my mind raced. Did he care? Why else wouldn’t he come? Did I do something wrong? Anger him? Maybe it was my fault he didn’t show up. Maybe something came up. But why didn’t he message me to let me know.

I’m brought out of my thoughts at the feeling of something escaping my eyes, and the taste of salt falls onto my upper lip. Fuck. I wipe my cheek, setting my mind on making it home, not wanting to fall apart on the side of the streets. I wasn’t far anyways, only another 20 minutes until I would be back home.

~~~

As I reach the front door, I unlock it with my spare keys before walking in. “Good evening, Y/N.” I hear F.R.I.D.A.Y’s robotic voice shoot from the speaker beside me. I smile slightly. “Hey Friday.” I walk to the kitchen to pour myself some water, after taking a sip I ask. “Friday?” “Yes Sir?” I look around the lit house. “Where’s dad?”

It takes a second for her to answer. “He’s in his workshop.” I nod, thanking her as I start to make my way there. Before reaching the stairs though, the sound of two voices makes its way through the glass. Dad’s laugh booming as a young boy’s follows. I didn’t even have to see him to know who was down there. Peter. I sigh, I guess I knew why dad didn't come now.

I step back up the stairs, ignoring the two as I bee-line to my room. I throw my bag onto the floor, changing my clothes as tears start to well up in my eyes once again. I curse myself, putting my clothes away before falling into bed, muffling my sniffles with one of my pillows.

“Friday. Lock my door please.” I hear her voice once more “Of course.” before the sound of a ‘click’ comes from the mechanical door. I groan into my pillow, lying to my side as I closed my eyes.

~~~

The whole night, I had thought long and hard, messaging one of my closest friends about what was going on. He offered to let me stay at his place, for as long as I needed to. We spoke about it all last night, planning for him to come pick me up tonight. It wasn’t too long of a drive, less than an hour. He lived in Hillsdale, a nice change in scenery.

I stayed in my room, packing my things in a suitcase I would use when dad and I went on his “Business trips”. Once packing all the things I wanted to take with me, I stuffed the case under my bed. I groggily walk into the kitchen, look around and not see dad anywhere. I mutter before cooking breakfast for myself.

He was probably in his workshop, working on god knows what now. He hadn’t bothered to check up on me last night, not even to make sure I made it home safely and now he hadn’t bothered to greet me. Finishing my food, I stomp back into my room, eating my food as all I can think about is how much I can’t wait to leave this stupid house.

~~~

When night arrives, I sneak to the front door, suitcase and an extra backpack in my hands. It’s not like dad would’ve noticed anyways, he was still busy ‘working’ I sigh as I open the front door, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice stopping me. “Where are you going this late at night, Y/N?” I checked my watch, it was only 9:30.

“I’m having a sleepover at a friend's place.” F.R.I.D.A.Y replies with something along the lines of “Have fun.” I scattered out the door and looked around for the car my friend drove, once it came into view, I made my way to it. “Hey man, you got everything?” I nod as I place my luggage in the back seat, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, thanks for this.” I buckle my seatbelt before turning to him. “Of course, I’m here for you man.” The ride to his house is mostly silent besides the quiet music playing from the car’s speaker. I lean my head back, taking out my phone as I distract myself on the long drive.

~~~

A week had passed when my phone started to blow up, messages from friends and people from school filled my inbox. “Hey, are you okay?” “Where are you?” “I haven't seen you in a while, are you alright?” However, nothing from dad. I make sure my location is turned off before continuing with my day, sitting down to watch some T.V. I scroll through channels, my eyes landing on my name on a news headline, I put down the remote as I read the whole heading.

“Y/N Stark, Son of Tony Stark, has been reported missing.” An explanation of the time of my ‘disappearance’ was reported, including the places I would most often hang out and where I was last seen, at the performance theatre our school had rented out for the recital. Shit.

I hear my friend’s footsteps behind me, “I think it might be time for you to go back, everyone’s worried sick.” My phone rings over and over again with messages, calls, mentions on social media. Everyone asked about the news and if I was okay. I shut down my phone, shoving it in my back pocket. “Yeah, maybe.”

I hear a familiar voice play on the T.V behind me, I shoot back around to face it as I see my father being harassed by paparazzi. Microphones and cameras in his face as he tries to get into his car. “Do you have any idea where he could be?” “Do you have anything to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” “Is he alive?” “Do you have any information on Y/N’s whereabouts?” A frown appears on my face as he looks at the camera, his eyes sunken and dark and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I know as much as you guys do.” He aggressively replies. “And if the lot of you don’t leave, I’ll have you all jobless by tomorrow.” The voices quiet down, interviewers walking away from the car he got into, the engine starting with a roar.

I sigh, I never meant for it to go this far. “Let’s go” I leave to pack my stuff back up again.

~~~

It’s late at night as my friend parks in front of my house, I see extra security put up to keep the paparazzi out. I turn to my friend, thanking him before stepping out of the vehicle, I pull out my luggage, walking towards the gate. As I open it, I trudge up the long driveway to the house. Making it to the top, I drop my bags beside me, taking deep breaths as the steep walk winded me.

I bring them back into my hands, pulling them to the front door. I try to quietly open the lock, keys jingling as I hear the slight ‘click’ to indicate the door unlocking. I push against the handle, pulling my bags in as I hear shuffling in the room near me.

I looked over to the living room, my dad curled into himself, maps, documents and holograms covering the table. My heart wrenches at his appearance, the lack of sleep evident on his face and scruffed hair.

I pull my bags over to the staircase. “Y/N?” Fast footsteps approach me as I turn to the noise. I can’t help the bittersweet smile that makes its way onto my mouth as he grabs my shoulders. His eyes darted across my face, looking for any sign of injury. His arms wrap around me, tightening as I feel his relieved breaths escape him.

I hug back, head shoved into his chest as I hold onto him. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean for this-” “No, no, no, no.” He repeats sullenly “It’s my fault, I shouldn't have done what I did, I’m so sorry.” I chuckle as I shake my head. “Please forgive me Y/N.” I let out a short breathy laugh. “Of course, I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you about it, I never wanted to worry you.”

He smiles, “I never wanted to make you think I didn’t care about you. You’re my son. So much more important than anyone, especially Peter.” He rubs a hand against my back. “You’re my top priority, and I’ll make sure you never doubt that again.” “Thank you.”

That night was spent in the living room, we spoke to each other, explaining how the situation affected us both. The both of us understanding the other’s view, making sure to talk about what’s going on next time. We talk for a while, sleep only falling upon us hours later.

As I start to yawn, dad brings my head to his chest. My eyes drift shut as I fall asleep in his arms, the same way I used to when I was younger.

~~~

It had been about a month since the whole ordeal. News of a new recital making its way into school newsletters and I was beaming. I couldn’t wait, this time being able to truly showcase my abilities with my dad being there to witness it.

Once arriving home, I quickly threw my bag on the floor in front of the door. I rush down the stairs after, opening the door with a little more patience so as to not startle my dad. “Hey dad!” I close the door behind me, making my way to his workstation.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” He turns from his work, leaning back against the table as he looks at me. I handed him the poster I had borrowed from one of the drama students. He reads through it, eyes tracing each word before lifting his head back up to me. “Another one?” He holds a wide smile on his face as he drops his hand down.

“Yeah, you better come to this one.” He laughs at my playful jab, nodding as he holds the poster close to him. “I’ll be there, I promise.” I nod. “Thanks dad. I really appreciate it.” “Of course.” He lightly responds, pulling me into a hug.

~~~

It was yet again, time for me to perform. I couldn’t wait, knowing my dad would definitely be out there this time. As we get ready on the stage, I take a quick glance at the crowd, my eyes landing on my dad, sitting in the middle of the front row. I chuckle to myself, of course he was.

As the curtains draw open, I can’t help but smile at the proud look he gives me. As the group starts to sing, I look down at him, both of his hands presenting a thumbs-up. My heart warms at the action. He turns to the parent to the left of him, whispering something. I only catch onto a couple words “That- -y son-.” He points up to me, a look of admiration plastered across his face.

A/N: I wrote this entire thing in one day, it only took me about 5 hours. And it’s somehow my longest fic yet. It's not proof-read tho so apologies for anything that doesn't make sense or anything like that.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

Text

The Colour of Blood

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Sylva Martell) Warnings: Canon typical sexism. Canon typical violence. Enemies to lovers. Smut. Word count: ~5.3k

Summary: Unity between Dorne and the realm is long overdue. While Qoren Martell is not prepared to yield his beloved country to the rule of the Targaryens, he is willing to compromise with peace. In exchange for Daeron being sent to live as a ward of House Martell, Qoren surrenders his youngest daughter, Sylva, to House Targaryen. Peace, however, is the furthest thing from Sylva's mind. Based on this request.

Moodboard by the wonderfully kind and talented @ruby-dragon

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

“Go to King’s Landing and make me proud.”

The words of her father repeat over and over again in Sylva’s mind as her carriage and the accompanying entourage make the long journey from one capital city to another. She already misses Sunspear, the air grows colder the further north they travel. The gooseflesh prickling the tawny flesh of her arms serves only to stoke the anger that has been simmering inside of her ever since her father broke the news that she is to be a ward of House Targaryen.

Since the Dornishmen helped the Triarchy to beat back the realm’s defenses in the war for the Stepstones, King Viserys has been desperately trying to unite Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Sylva knows her father will never bend the knee; Qoren Martell is too proud, but she is less than pleased with the compromise that has been struck.

A bid for peace between the two kingdoms has been proposed. Prince Daeron Targaryen is to travel to Sunspear to be hosted by her family, and in exchange Sylva will be housed under the roof of the Targaryens. A prince for a princess. Sylva hates it. She knows being the fourth and youngest child puts her in a tricky predicament. Aliandra is set to inherit her father’s position as ruler of Dorne once he passes, while Qyle and Coryanne are in the midst of being partnered with highborn suitors. She has never felt more like a spare part, something disposable to be traded like livestock in her father’s politicking.

Sylva blinks back her tears, hardens her heart and allows her fury to consume her. She decides she hates King’s Landing the moment she steps out of the carriage. She wrinkles her nose at the unfamiliar smells and shivers at the chill she feels in the air. The people are pale faced and ugly, their manner of dress looks frumpy and uncomfortable. Her heart aches for home, she wonders when she will see it again, if she will see it again.

As she is guided around the Red Keep she is startled by the lack of imagery of R'hllor. It appears to her that everyone here follows the faith of The Seven, the lack of reverence towards the Lord of Light makes her uneasy. She is shown to her quarters and immediately struck by how dull and grey everything seems, she longs for the vibrant hues of the tapestries and furnishings of Sunspear. All of the colour has been sucked out of the world here.

She is grateful, however, for the furs she finds tucked away in the armoire of her bedchamber. She keeps one clutched tightly around her shoulders throughout the welcome feast that’s held in her honour that evening.

“Are you not too warm in that, dear?” Alicent leans across, brown eyes filled with concern as she touches Sylva gently on the arm.

Sylva does her best to bite back her resentment, Alicent has been nothing but kind to her since she arrived and none of this is her fault, yet she cannot help her sullen tone as she responds. “No, I find it rather cold here, compared to home.”

Alicent nods in understanding, retreating back into her own space and continuing her meal.

The food is bland and tasteless in Sylva’s mouth. The spice of snake sauce, mustard seeds and dragon peppers are alarmingly absent on her tongue. She picks at the food on her plate, unsure of how she will struggle through it.

She is broken out of her train of thought when she feels the hot sourness of wine upon someone’s breath fill her nostrils. She turns to see the Queen’s eldest son, Aegon, leering at her.

“You know,” He slurs. “If you are cold, I have ways of warming you up.” He winks, raising his wine cup to her before taking a long drink.

She grimaces, turning away as he titters beside her.

“Oh come now, I was jesting. I thought your people were supposed to be promiscuous.”

“Enough.” Alicent warns him sternly. “Go back to your seat, or I will have Ser Criston return you to your quarters.”

Aegon huffs, obviously deflated, and slumps down into his chair.

When Sylva looks up she notices the single eyed gaze of Alicent’s second son, Aemond, upon her. It is intense and unblinking. She expects him to avert his eye, embarrassed to have been caught staring, but he continues, his expression passive and unreadable.

She is overwhelmed by the sense that if she looks away then somehow she will lose in this exchange, and so her dark eyes lock with his blue one, until Otto announces that it is time they all retire for the evening, and they shift their focus away from each other.

Sylva is glad that the day is finally at its end. She is exhausted from her travels and utterly miserable. She is unsure of how she will ever get used to it here.

As her hand reaches for the handle to the door to her bedchamber, she feels a presence lingering behind her. She turns to see Aemond hovering behind her, stoic and unreadable as he has been all evening.

She is about to ask him what he’s doing when he speaks. They are the first words she’s heard come out of his mouth since she arrived and she is surprised by the softness of his voice, a contradiction of how intimidating he appears.

“I wanted to apologise for how my brother spoke to you earlier.”

Sylva nods, giving him a tight lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “It is fine. I have heard worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” He says smoothly, keeping his arms clasped firmly behind him. Sylva wonders if perhaps there is a rod of sorts inserted down the back of his tunic, such is the rigidity of his stance. “But now you are here you will learn what it is to be a proper lady.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asks, as her eyes narrow with a combination of confusion and mild irritation at the direction this interaction is taking.

Aemond tilts his head as though thinking carefully about his response. “There is a certain depravity that is common among your people. You’ll learn what it is to be civilised here.”

The anger that has been simmering inside of her all day finally reaches its boiling point. “My people?! Isn’t it your people that marry off brothers and sisters?! I would rather hail from a land that celebrates depravity, as you like to call it, than one that operates under the illusion of propriety while brothers and sisters fuck behind closed doors!”

It is the first time she sees any visible trace of emotion on his face as his eye widens, he opens his mouth to speak but she holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I have heard enough from you. Have the evening that you deserve.”

She storms in her chambers, slamming the door heavily behind her. Her sleep is fitful that night, her surroundings too unfamiliar for her to ever drift off properly.

The next morning when she awakens, she is saddened not to be greeted by bright sunshine when she looks out of the window. The sky is overcast and bleak looking, a sight she is not used to. As her eyes scan the surrounding area of the Keep, she notices a group of men sparring and for the first time since she arrived in King’s Landing, Sylva feels excited.

Her father had trained all of his children in the use of a sword, ensuring they were all proficient fighters. It was one of the things she enjoyed most in the world. Wielding a weapon made her feel powerful.

Hurriedly, she braids her long, dark hair and dresses in breeches and a loose fitting shirt over her underclothes, before pulling on boots and rushing her way out of the castle, towards the training yard. She approaches the man she assumes to be in charge; a Knight that Alicent had introduced her to as Ser Criston Cole. He stands watching the fighting while delivering instructions.

He bows his head when he sees her. “Good morrow, Princess. Have you come to watch?”

“I’ve come to join. Where may I find a sword?”

His eyebrows raise as his mouth parts in shock. “Princess, ladies cannot join. You could get hurt.”

Sylva rolls her eyes at this. “In Dorne, women fight alongside men. There is a higher likelihood of me hurting someone than the other way around.” She folds her arms, looking at Criston indignantly.

“I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?” He says with a sigh.

“No.” Comes her flat response.

“Very well. If you can find something that fits, there’s light armour and blades over there.” He points to a shed on the other side of the yard.

Sylva nods and goes to retrieve what she needs. When she steps out she is immediately met by the sight of Aemond. He visibly bristles when he sees her.

“Cole! Surely you are not allowing her to spar? She is a woman!”

“The Princess insisted, Aemond. Who am I to deny her?” The Knight responds with a perplexed shrug.

“Well, I’m not sparring with her.” He says indignantly.

Sylva laughs, though it is mocking and without any genuine mirth. “Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“A fight against a woman would be little challenge.” Aemond says haughtily.

“Prove it.” She counters. “Unless you really are scared?”

Aemond’s nostrils flare as he exhales with irritation. “Fine.”

He raises his weapon, and widens his stance. Sylva does the same.

Aemond swings at her, always ensuring to keep her clear of his blind side; he is quick, but not quick enough for her.

Sylva laughs as Aemond's eye widens in surprise as she rounds on him with her sword, beating him backwards.

"No wonder your uncle lost so spectacularly to my father if this is how you Targaryens fight." She hisses.

Aemond's nostrils flare again, a noise low in his throat rumbles, indicative of anger. "I am not my uncle!" He seethes, charging at her.

She blocks his attack with her shield, discarding the now useless wood as it splinters beneath his blade. The impact causes Aemond to stumble back a little and Sylva seizes the opportunity to square up to him in his vulnerable position, the tip of her sword mere inches from touching his throat.

"Well met, Princess." Criston calls from across the training yard, signalling the end of her and Aemond's sparring.

"That isn't fair!" Aemond calls out to him. "She didn't best me, I tripped!"

"You didn't trip, you lost." She smirks, bumping his shoulder with hers as she moves past him towards the training yard shed to discard her light armour.

She hears Aemond enter behind her a few moments later and begin to remove his own. Feeling his gaze upon her now she is just in her undershirt, she turns to face him, eyes narrowed.

"What are you staring at?"

Aemond huffs, facing away. "Nothing. Merely surprised there isn't the body of a man hidden beneath your armour."

She scowls, snatching up her clothes and moving to leave, she will dress in her quarters she decides. She pauses as she reaches the door, casting a look at Aemond as he stands in a similar state of undress.

"I am surprised to see there is the waist of a woman hidden beneath yours."

As she bathes in preparation for dinner that evening, she casts her mind back to how Aemond had looked at her earlier. She smiles at the thought, knowing she had clearly flustered him. She wishes to rile him further.

Braving the chill she feels in the air, she opts to leave her fur behind when she heads down for the evening meal. Her long, flowing silk gown cuts in at the waist and leaves her shoulders bare. It is a style that is common in Dorne, but Sylva knows it would be considered entirely inappropriate in King’s Landing. The only reaction she cares about though is Aemond’s.

She sweeps into the dining hall, her raven tresses loose around her shoulders, as the skirt of her dress billows behind her. She smirks, feeling all eyes upon her as she takes her seat.

“It is good to see you aren’t feeling the cold so much today.” Alicent offers with a tight smile.

“Yes, I worked up quite a sweat beating Aemond in the training yard earlier.”

She turns from Alicent to him, catching the way his eye flashes up from her chest towards her face, the faintest tint of pink in his cheeks.

The dress was clearly having its desired effect. Good.

He clears his throat, turning his attention to his plate, ignoring his mother’s questioning stare. The rest of the meal passes in silence, though every time she glances towards Aemond, his eye is fixed upon her. He doesn’t dare to entertain the notion of yesterday’s staring contest, this time whenever she catches him he looks away.

Sylva goes to bed that evening with the smug satisfaction of knowing she has bested a Targaryen Prince twice that day.

Disappointed to see the training yard empty from her window the next morning, she decides to explore the Red Keep. She remembers little from the brief tour she was given on her day of arrival, her mood was too sullen to listen properly.

Her fingertips trail along the cool stone of the corridor walls as she wanders, until eventually she finds a set of large oaken doors. She pushes one open, slipping through to be met by the sight of floor to ceiling rows of books. She studies the titles on each of the spines, awed by the sheer number of tomes a single room can encompass.

“What brings you to the library?”

She startles, broken from her thoughts and looks to see Aemond seated in an armchair by the fireplace, a book cradled in his long fingers.

She scowls. Sylva does not enjoy being taken by surprise. “I don’t see how that is your business.”

“I hadn’t realised you Dornish could read.” He says with an amused smirk.

“Fuck off.” She spits, turning to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond stands from his chair. “I…owe you an apology.”

Sylva quirks an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“For…everything, I suppose. The manner in which I have treated you since you arrived has not been befitting of a Prince. Forgive me.”

“I’ll try.” She says, a hint of a smile playing upon her lips.

She is certain she sees the faintest flicker of one of his own tug at Aemond’s mouth, and then he speaks again. “You fight well, Princess, your father must be proud.”

Sylva sighs, chuckling bitterly. “If my father was proud of me he wouldn’t have sent me a thousand miles away to live with strangers.”

Aemond softens. “At least yours notices you. Mine doesn’t seem to realise I exist.”

“I am a spare.” She shrugs. “My oldest sister will rule Dorne in my father’s wake, my other siblings will marry into highborn families. I have been sent here purely for my father’s benefit, he doesn’t care about me.”

“Then perhaps we have more in common than we realise.” He concedes. “My brother will sit the Iron Throne once my father passes, an obligation he doesn’t want or deserve. Meanwhile, I study history and philosophy, train with the sword and ride the largest dragon in the world and I am overlooked.”

“Why aren’t you using any of that to your advantage?” She steps closer, her eyes never leaving him as she becomes more animated. “Like you say, you ride the largest dragon in the world and yet you allow yourself to be fettered here, when it serves no benefit for you to do so.”

Aemond hesitates a moment, looking uneasy. “It is…improper. I have a duty to my family.”

Sylva throws up her hands. “Who cares what is proper? Well behaved people seldom make history, you claim to study it, you should know that.”

“And what about you?” He counters. “You could have fought against your father’s decision to send you here, why not take your own advice?”

“If I’d have done that I’d have missed my opportunity to torment a Targaryen prince, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

She grins and the smirk he returns is genuine. From that moment on, something between Sylva and Aemond shifts.

An unlikely kinship is struck between them, forged from an understanding of knowing they have rank without any real place in the world.

Over the course of the following month Sylva and Aemond grow closer. No longer does he object to her joining in in the training yard. Instead he asks to be paired with her, and the two learn from each other’s differing fighting styles, enjoying the challenge of attempting to best each other.

He sits beside her at meals, helping to fend off the unwanted attention of Aegon. They read about Dornish history together in the library and Aemond recites to her what he already knows, while Sylva entertains him with stories from her own personal experiences of her homeland.

Eventually, Aemond introduces Sylva to Vhagar. She has never seen a dragon before and the sheer enormity of Aemond’s leaves her speechless. She gasps at the roughness and warmth beneath her palm as Aemond guides her palm to stroke along her flank.

“You will need to meet her a few more times before she is comfortable having you on the back of her, but perhaps we could go flying together once she is?” Aemond suggests, not pulling his hand away from hers as it moves over Vhagar’s scales.

Sylva’s eyes light up with excitement. “Really? Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you like.” He smiles down at her.

“Could we go to Dorne?”

“Are you really so eager to return?”

“No.” She replies, and is surprised that she actually means it.

Her friendship with the One-Eyed Prince has brought colour into her life in King’s Landing, where previously it had been dull. The food no longer seems quite so bland. The feeling of homesickness that has sat heavily upon her chest feels like less of a burden to carry. For the first time since her arrival at the Red Keep she feels happy.

However, as the weeks press on she begins to suspect that Aemond is not fighting to his full potential when paired with her in the training yard. She no longer has to make an effort to disarm him, his attacking blows are not quite so aggressive as they once were. She is sure this is deliberate.

“Well fought, Princess.” Aemond says cordially as she knocks his sword from his hand yet again.

She throws down her own in frustration. “No, it wasn’t!” She snaps, before stalking back towards the shed. She has had enough for today and is tired of Aemond not taking it seriously.

She groans in irritation when he follows her a few moments later.

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, a trace of uncertainty in his tone as she keeps her back to him.

“Do you not think I am a worthy opponent?” She asks, peering over her shoulder at him.

“You are one of the most capable fighters I have ever seen.” He replies without hesitation.

She turns to face him fully. “So why are you letting me win? I have seen you train properly Aemond, you aren’t even trying.”

He takes a deep breath, directing his gaze towards the ground before back up to her. “You’ve never once mentioned my eye.”

Her brows pull together in confusion. “So? Why should I? It makes you no less of a man, you wield a sword better than most with the full power of sight.”

Aemond draws closer to her, the way he stares at her makes her breath hitch. In her relatively short life no one has ever looked upon her with such reverence before. “That is why I cannot bear to hurt you.” He admits softly. “No one has ever cared for me so deeply before, and I must confess, I…care for you too.”

Sylva is unsure of who moves first, but their lips meet and she feels a flutter of excitement in her belly as they kiss. His movements are uncertain to begin with, and she wonders if this is the first time he has ever kissed anyone. He learns quickly, however, a hand moving to the back of her head to tangle into her hair as his mouth works with more urgency against her own.

When they finally break away from each other, he rests his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy.

“I have wanted to do that for so long.” He whispers. “Our union will be what finally unites Dorne with the realm, and secures my brother’s succession.”

Sylva feels as though she has been submerged in ice water, she pulls back from him, hurt and anger contorting her features into a snarl. “You are no better than my father, I am just a political asset to you. I trusted you!”

She pushes past Aemond, leaving him to stare after her as she stalks back towards the Keep, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

She shuts herself away in her chambers and finally allows herself to fall apart, grieving for the life she has left behind in Sunspear, for the loss of her only friend in King’s Landing and for how utterly humiliated she feels for allowing herself to be fooled by him.

Aemond knows how much she resents being used as a pawn by her father and yet it seems to her he has had the same intentions all along. The betrayal of this stings more painfully than being passed off to the Targaryen family in the first place.

Sylva spends the next two weeks avoiding Aemond. She keeps away from the training yard, despite wanting nothing more than to run him through with a blade. She knows that would be unwise and likely cost her her own life. Dinners are an awkward affair, she keeps her eyes fixed firmly on her plate, refusing to look at him. The library becomes an area of the Red Keep that she no longer sets foot in, eager to avoid being in close quarters with the man who has broken her heart.

As the days drag on, Sylva hates that she is missing Aemond. She has no one to confide in, all of the colour has drained from her world once more, food is bland upon her tongue again. Everything that ever brought her joy in this wretched castle is so deeply entwined with him, she cannot bear it.

Apparently neither can he.

The hour grows late and she is about to climb into bed when she sees the parchment slip beneath her chamber door. Gingerly she picks it up, unfolding it and beginning to read.

My dearest Sylva,

I have never been good with words, at least not ones that are spoken, it is often why I elect not to speak at all. You must forgive me, but I was a lonely child and have not had the practice of conversing quite so eloquently as I can when I put quill to parchment. It is why I have chosen to write you this letter.

I have been raised with a strong sense of duty and honour to my family. It was not my intention to hurt your feelings when I foolishly said what I said - I shan’t repeat the words, you know of what I’m referring to. I said what I thought I ought to, not what I wanted to.

If I had been able to speak my mind I would have said that you are all I think about. You drive me to distraction. My underperformance while sparring is not entirely due to my desire not to cause you harm. When the sun catches the beautiful brown of your eyes, they turn an amber colour that looks like liquid gold, I am unable to look away and so I falter in my movements. The exceptional shade and warmth of your dark hair leaves me longing to run my fingers through it. When I touched it for the briefest of moments when we kissed, I had never felt anything softer.

I do not want our union to be a political one, though I would be remiss to deny its advantages. I am a Targaryen Prince. All my life I have never considered the possibility of existing outside of that, but you see me exactly as I am. You see beyond my title, you see all that I could ever dream of being. And I want to be all of that, for you. I see you too, and I have grown to love the hot bloodedness that comes with your vivacious nature, the stubbornness that accompanies your unwavering integrity.

For me, it is not a want to be with you, it is a need. I hope you need me too. We will have whatever future you see fit for us. The last two weeks without you have made me realise that whatever path I take in life does not matter, as long as I have you by my side. If you will allow it, I will spend an eternity earning your forgiveness for my careless words. I hope the ones you are reading at this moment serve in some way to bring you comfort.

Yours faithfully,

Aemond.

Sylva clutches the letter to her chest when she is finished reading, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage. There is only one thought in her mind; she needs to see him.

Abandoning all thoughts of sleep, she hurries from her quarters towards his, throwing open his door without bothering to knock. He hasn’t begun to ready himself for bed yet and she sees him turn towards her, startled by her sudden appearance in only the shift she wears to sleep in.

“Whatever future I see fit for us?” She repeats the line from his letter back to him.

He nods, his face hopeful as he stares at her.

“What if I want us to abandon our duties and travel the world?”

“Then we have Vhagar at our disposal to do just that.”

“What if I wish for us to remain unwed?” She steps closer towards him, eyeing him carefully.

“My love for you is more infallible than any marriage vows.”

Closing the gap between them, Sylva places her hands upon Aemond’s chest, his flesh is warm against her palms through his undershirt. “And what if I want to fuck simply for pleasure, and drink moon tea afterwards?”

His breath hitches, as his eye widens. His fingers wrap around her wrists, holding her in place against him. “If…if that is what you wish.”

“I thought you were going to teach me to be civilised?” She whispers.

“You are infuriating.” He mutters, before his mouth descends upon hers.

Desperate for each other after weeks apart, it is a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue as they move towards Aemond’s bed. As they fall back against the mattress, Aemond breaks away to kiss down the expanse of her throat and chest.

Sighing in pleasure, Sylva threads her fingers through his silken hair, shrugging her shift away from her shoulders.

Aemond seizes the opportunity to pull it down, his hands smoothing over the supple flesh of her breasts. “You are beautiful.” He breathes.

“I want you, Aemond.” She murmurs.

Each of his touches feels like it leaves a trail of fire against her skin in its wake. Desire pools, sticky and warm between her thighs. She has not felt this kind of heat since she left Dorne, it is a sensation akin to the taste of fresh fruit after weeks of starvation.

“May I touch you?” He asks timidly, his fingertips grazing the inside of her thigh.

“Please do.”

He exhales a shaky breath as the pads of his fingers make contact with the warmth of her center. “You are so soft here…”

“Have you ever touched a woman like this before?” She asks, as he drags his fingers experimentally through her sodden folds.

“No.” He admits, embarrassment heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sylva smiles, cupping his jaw and kissing his lips softly. “Lay back. I will make it feel good for both of us.”

Aemond does as he’s told and Sylva makes quick work of undressing him, tugging his undershirt over his head and pulling his breeches off.

Her mouth runs dry at the sight of his hardened length. The tip rests against his lower abdomen, flushed pink and glistening with pearlescent fluid. She wraps her hand around the shaft, stroking softly and Aemond hisses through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Gods…” He grits out. “You know it does.”

She giggles. “It will feel even better inside.”

Sylva straddles him, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down slowly. Aemond’s eye goes wide as his jaw slackens at the sensation.

She gasps at the stretch of him inside of her and once he is fully sheathed within her, she leans forward, pushing Aemond’s eye patch away from his face with her middle and forefingers.

She marvels at the way the sapphire within the socket glimmers in the candlelight.

Aemond swallows thickly. “Do you wish to stop?”

“No.” She replies with an experimental roll of her hips. “Just admiring you.”

Aemond leans up, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down to him in a passionate kiss. “You are remarkable.” He whispers into her ear, once he pulls away.

Sylva sits back up, bracing herself against his chest with the flat of her hands as she begins to rock herself against him. Every drag of his length inside of her makes her feel light headed as her breathing becomes more laboured with the effort.

Clearly growing impatient, Aemond seizes her by the hips, meeting her thrust for thrust, the pace suddenly becoming much more intense. There is an insatiable hunger within his seeing eye, Sylva can see none of its usual blue as she stares into it, it is utterly eclipsed by the dilation of his pupil.

She snakes a hand between their bodies, circling her pearl as Aemond plants his feet flat on the bed, continuing to drive up into her.

“Fuck…I think I’m going to…” Aemond trails off, screwing his eye shut and biting his lip.

The sight of him so wanton with desire beneath her, causes Sylva to clench around him, her own climax steadily approaching as she continues to work at her bud.

“Let go for me, I’m close too.” She coaxes.

His strokes become sloppier as he nears his end, his stomach muscles contracting, with one last push up into her, he stills, pulsating inside of her with a groan.

The sensation provides the added stimulus that Sylva needs to fall over the edge and she comes apart around him with a strangled cry, tightening and spasming as he spills himself inside of her.

She collapses against him, panting for breath, and they lay together in silence for a few moments, simply holding each other and recovering from their respective highs.

“You have made me the happiest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.” Aemond rasps, pressing a chaste kiss to her hairline.

“Dornish depravity will do that to you.” She says with a lazy smile.

“You are infuriating.” He chuckles, pulling her tighter against him. “But I would have you no other way.”

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