#i swear i love him and his blind support

[miryum]

A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious. 

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter. 

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends. 

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly. 

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree. 

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world. 

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you. 

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother. 

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect. 

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing. 

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright. 

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well. 

Best wishes, 

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours  myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable. 

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated. 

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close. 

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms. 

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows. 

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’ 

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were. 

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.” 

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth. 

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family. 

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?” 

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…” 

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son. 

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy. 

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue. 

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…” 

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger. 

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed. 

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates. 

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care. 

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him. 

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.” 

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour. 

“Goodnight,” you reiterated. 

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you. 

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?” 

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?” 

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.” 

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.” 

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.” 

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him. 

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence. 

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library. 

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?” 

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red. 

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.” 

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm. 

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.” 

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied. 

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene. 

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up. 

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall. 

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him. 

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read. 

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply. 

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?” 

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered. 

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble. 

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly. 

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?” 

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit. 

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer." 

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?” 

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children. 

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less." 

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously. 

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?" 

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you. 

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much… 

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how. 

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune. 

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted. 

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin. 

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.” 

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss. 

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his. 

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!” 

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid. 

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck. 

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes. 

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?”  Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline. 

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled. 

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #reader #x reader #tom riddle #ginny weasley #harry potter #lorenzo berkshire #bellatrix lestrange #hermione granger #pansy parkinson #shes a great aunt #draco malfoy #sirius black #remus lupin #blaise zabini #theodore nott #albus severus potter #arranged marriage #one bed trope #enemies to lovers #greek mythology #victorian au #manipulative parents #Tom isn't Mattheo's brother #hope yall like

[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (Seventeen) | Carrying you to bed comfort | 0.7k | gn!reader

It’s late. You should be in bed, but tomorrow you’re gonna wake up a couple hours later, so you wanna make the most of the day and stay up until the late hour. That’s really an oxymoron because what you’re doing is lying on Seungcheol’s chest. With your ear right above his heart, the soft relaxing sound of lo-fi playing in the background barely reaches you. He’s scrolling on his phone, leg bouncing to the rhythm and occasionally bumping into your leg. 

He’s solid and warm. The scent of his cologne lingers on his skin even after his shower, you can smell it faintly under the soft scent of his shirt. Your eyelids are getting heavy and your mind is foggy. You could fall asleep like this, but the couch is no place to sleep. Besides tomorrow is another day, which means responsibilities that have little to do with what you truly want to do, with what makes your heart and soul feel full. It’s alright, you remind yourself. This is good enough.

Yet it still makes a familiar burn spread beneath your eyelids and you need to take a few deep breaths to chase it away. 

“Oh, it’s getting late,” Seungcheol’s voice can be heard above your head and your hand grips his shirt a little tighter.

“Come on, love. Let’s get to bed,” he whispers, his voice sweeter now that he’s talking to you. When you don’t reply, you feel tension rise through his body. He knows you’re not asleep. 

“y/n?” he calls your name softly. He puts the phone down to rub your back. The burning is back, but you refuse to let the tears spill. It’s so stupid.

“Cheol?” you say and you know he can hear the hint of wobbliness in your voice. He keeps rubbing your back, waiting. “Can you carry me to bed today?”

It’s not far, and he’s strong enough to carry you a couple meters. He likes to boast about it and remind you of the fact by picking you up and spinning you in his arms even if for just a second. Even now you’d swear you felt him perk up. 

“Yeah, of course,” he kisses the top of your head, “No problem.” 

He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t tease you for being unreasonable or childish. You can hear the smile in his voice, the fondness that makes you feel warmth in your soul.

It takes some maneuvering but soon you’re securely in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck as he grants your wish. His hands support your thighs, thumbs stroking your skin out of habit.

He lays you down gently and helps you get under the covers, tucking you in when you settle in one position. Seungcheol sits on the edge and pets your hair.

“I’m gonna get some water, do you mind if I keep the lights on?”

You shake your head no and receive a kiss to your forehead in response. He’s only gone for a minute, but he’s careful when he sets down the glass.

The world falls into darkness behind your closed eyelids and you hear him pull off his shirt. Then he joins you in bed, crawling closer until you feel his body heat seeping into yours. He wraps an arm around you, spoils you with another kiss - this time to your temple - before he makes sure again that the blanket is securely covering your body.

“I think I’m gonna play on my phone for a while, do you mind?” he asks, holding you against him.

“No, but can you have the music on? It helps me sleep,” you murmur, grateful when he nods without any question. Soon enough, you feel him change his position without moving away from you. His body is still warm against yours.

“Good night, love,” he whispers with the sound playing lowly from his phone already. No shame, no questions, only blind hope for better tomorrow. 

“Good night,” you manage weakly, drifting off as his fingers absentmindedly stroke through your hair any chance he doesn’t need both hands to play.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #s.coups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol scenarios #s.coups scenarios #s.coups fluff #seungcheol fluff #drabble #fluff #comfort

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Three.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky get closer. Your choice only gets harder.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au.

Word Count - 6.4k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.

You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.

Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.

You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?

The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.

You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

It's Bucky.

You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.

"Mama, I have to-"

"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."

"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."

White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.

"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"

Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.

Nightmare.

You're having a nightmare.

You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.

"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"

It's Bucky. Bucky's here.

You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"

He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.

"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.

He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.

"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."

"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."

You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.

"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.

"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.

Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.

"Hello?"

That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.

You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.

Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."

Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.

"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"

"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."

You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.

"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."

You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."

"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"

Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.

"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"

"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."

"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."

You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.

"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.

"What time, Mama?"

"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"

"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."

"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes.

"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."

"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."

You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.

"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."

"You offered."

"I panicked!"

"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."

"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.

You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.

"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.

"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."

"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.

Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.

You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.

Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.

"You okay?"

You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.

"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."

You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.

"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."

He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.

"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."

He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."

You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."

You both know that's not true.

"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."

"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."

"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."

He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.

You might be, though.

"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.

He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.

"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.

"Tell me what?"

"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."

"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."

"Right? Hell of a story, too."

"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."

Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.

"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."

You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.

"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.

"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.

"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."

"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.

"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.

You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.

"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.

"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.

But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.

You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.

"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."

"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.

"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."

You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.

"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."

He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You commit your day to baking your feelings away.

As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.

You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.

This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.

Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.

Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.

Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.

Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.

So, you do what you do best. Bake.

The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.

"Hi, Buck."

"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."

He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."

"See you then, honey."

You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.

"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.

"You see something you like?"

"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.

You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.

"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.

You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.

"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"

He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.

Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.

"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."

"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."

His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.

Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.

"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."

He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.

"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.

"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"

"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.

You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.

"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.

"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.

You haven't even made it inside yet.

Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.

"You okay?"

You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.

"It's alright, baby. I'm nervous too. We've got this. We're alright."

You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."

You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.

Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.

"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."

You nod again, and take another deep breath.

"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"My baby!"

Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.

"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."

The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.

"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."

She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.

"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."

She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.

Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.

"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."

"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"

"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."

Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.

"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.

"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your parents backyard looks incredible.

Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.

The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.

Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.

"Hi, Papa."

"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."

"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"

"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."

You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.

"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."

You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.

"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"

"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."

"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.

"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.

"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."

The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.

You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"

She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."

You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.

"So, you remember Stella, right?

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.

You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.

Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."

"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.

"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.

"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"

"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."

"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.

"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."

You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.

"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.

"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.

Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.

"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."

Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.

"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."

Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.

He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.

"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."

You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.

"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."

You're panting against him, vibrating with need.

"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."

"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.

You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"

"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."

Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.

"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."

"You want me to go slow?"

"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"I won't, baby. Almost there."

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.

"So close," you whisper.

"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."

You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.

"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."

You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.

"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."

Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.

Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.

"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.

"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."

"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.

"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.

Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"

You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.

"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"

You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.

"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"

You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.

"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."

Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.

"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.

"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.

"For the big move!"

Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.

"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.

"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."

Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.

"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"

Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.

You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.

You feel a heart break.

You're not sure if it's yours or his.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara   @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #Honey Girl #soulmate!bucky barnes #dbf!bucky barnes #dad's best friend bucky barnes #soulmate!au #soulmate!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky #bucky fluff #soulmate au

[singmyaubade]

No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

A/N: First, I apologize for my time writing this; it just had to be perfect! I am so grateful that you all love my story enough to give it so much love and support and practically beg for a part 3; thank you so much. I had no idea how to start and continue this, so please be kind. I really hope you guys enjoy this part, and I hope it's everything you dreamed of <3

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Shh.. don't wake her up!" You heard Lily whisper in your half-asleep state as the sun peeked at you through the blinds.

"It's Marlene's big oger feet," Mary snorted.

"Hey! My feet are not the size of oger feet," Marlene replied, sticking out her tongue.

"Shh!" Lily warned.

You heard the shuffling of paper and steps as you opened your eyes to see your best friends hanging up decorations, a smile appearing on your face immediately.

"Oh, bollocks," Lily sighed, face-palming, "Happy birthday!" She yelled, half annoyed but half happy there was a smile on your face. She embraced you as you sat upright in bed, glad to see your friend's dedication to your birthday.

The rest of them told you a happy birthday, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Wow, I can't believe you actually got Marlene up this early," You said, opening another card they gave you.

"Well, it took a chicken drumstick," Dorcas replied.

"Otherwise, I would've been grouchy, and Y/n would have had a horrible birthday, so really I did it for her," Marlene said as Mary rolled her eyes.

"I wonder what the Marauders have planned, especially James," Lily muttered.

Every year for your birthday, James would give you a grand birthday party and tons of presents. He usually would sneak into your dorm room and surprise you with cannons and the other Marauders, but of course, this year was different.

And coincidentally, your birthday was the same day as the start of winter break, which always meant you had to pack on your birthday.

And every birthday, you had to go over to James's house for your birthday dinner with your families.

Which you were not looking forward to this year.

"Oh shit, sorry, Y/n, I know you don't want to speak about him," Lily apologized.

"It's alright; I'm sure I'll be reminded of him today many times," You replied, getting out of bed, "I can't believe I don't get to spend my birthday at Hogwarts," You said, grabbing clothes from your closet, setting them next to the trunk.

"It does suck, but you can at least be excited about your birthday dinner," Lily replied, closing her trunk.

"Hopefully, it goes well without James hinting to our parents that I hate him and don't want anything to do with him," You angrily said, shoving your clothes in your trunk.

"Do you really hate him, though?" Mary asked, "I mean, you were best friends with him all these years, and now, you utterly hate him,"

"That was before I realized he was cruel and truly considered me anything but something that he couldn't get rid of," You said, "But enough about James, are we still meeting together after Christmas?"

"Of course, your house, Y/n?" Dorcas asked.

You nodded, "But we can't steal my parent's booze again; I'm pretty sure the elves are scared of Marlene,"

"I didn't mean to scare them with my clown impression; it was just too good," Marlene smirked.

"Yeah yeah, for sure," You said, laughing before packing the rest of your clothes.

Suddenly, your parent's owl flew in from the window, delivering you a letter. You opened the envelope and straightened the folded-up letter, which stated:

Dear beloved Y/n,

Your father and I are experiencing a torturous delay from France; we have fought with the conductor multiple times and even considered apparating or the floo. Unfortunately, because of the horrible mangling rabbit, I TOLD your father not to eat, he has been throwing up all evening, and we can't apparate, and the nearest floo is eight hours away. You will stay with the Potters tonight and tomorrow night because too many wards might injure you in the house that the elves can't disable, but we hope to return before then. We want you to have the most incredible birthday and love you so much; we are incredibly sorry to miss it. Please forgive us.

Sincerely,

Your proud parents.

"What does the letter say?" Lily asked, glancing at you the folding her socks.

"My parents are stuck in a delay and can't make it to my birthday dinner in time, or even tomorrow," You shrugged.

"I am so sorry, Y/n," Lily said, embracing you.

You hugged her back. "It's okay; at least I have the Potters.

"Are you sure you will be okay?" Dorcas asked.

"Yeah, you can stay with me if you want," Mary offered.

"No, it's fine." You sighed, "They will be hurt if I skipped the opportunity to continue the tradition, and my mom would wring my head off if I didn't go," You joked.

"Okay, well, let us know," Lily smiled.

The whole part of you was sincerely upset; you didn't want your parents to not be there for your birthday. Even worse, you weren't on good terms with James, which only made for an awkward dinner with his family.

But you understood and knew your parents would make it up to you, and you know how guilty they felt; you just missed them.

You chose to keep your mind off it and keep packing until it was time to go to the train.

"When does this bloody train come?" Marlene shivered, "I'm fucking freezing,"

"I told you to bring your jumper," Mary sighed.

"I didn't think I really needed it," Marlene replied, gritting her teeth.

"I knew you would be cold," You said, giving her one of your extra jumpers.

"You know, Y/n, I'll kick Potter's bloody ass for you; just remember that," Marlene suggested, causing you to laugh.

"Speaking of the devil," Dorcas muttered under her breath.

You turned around to see James looking straight into your eyes. You had to admit that James had never been so intimidating. His eyes looked as if they had darkened, and he looked as if you were his Slytherin competitor in Quidditch.

"Are you ready?" He asked, his voice sounding deeper.

He didn't even say Happy Birthday.

"I'm gonna sit with them," You blankly stated, not an ounce of kindness in your voice.

"It's better if we sit together," James demanded, "Otherwise, we won't be able to find each other in the crowd when the train stops," He explained to you slowly as if you were a child, which only pissed you off.

"Are you fucking mishearing me, or are you just delusional?" You asked, "I said I'm gonna sit with my friends and not assholes. I don't even consider an acquaintance." You sneered, your voice sounding so harsh that it shocked your friends, "Please do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone."

"Are you really gonna be an uptight bitch?" James asked, a cocky smile on his face, "I mean, Jesus, I like it better when your mouth is shut or perhaps filled." Some of you knew that James was just being an asshole because he was hurt, which is what he always did, even when he was a kid, but the only thing about it was that he only did it to you.

That only angered you more before you slapped him for his rude comment, "Don't you fucking dare speak to me like that."

"Or what?" He stepped closer

"Okay, guys!" Lily stepped in, "We will approach you five minutes before the train stops, and you guys will walk together in peace, hopefully," Lily dragged you away as you glared at James.

"I can't believe you actually slapped him," Marlene said, following after you guys, "I mean, after what he said, I would've punched him so hard in the di-"

Mary cut her off, "Jokes aside, are you okay, Y/n? I mean, I have never seen James so mean and awful towards you or anyone for that matter,"

You sighed, "Yeah, I'm fine, I just don't get why he is so mean to me when he was the one who broke my trust in the first place,"

"What did he do?" Marlene asked.

The rest of the group looked at Marlene as if she had killed a unicorn. Nobody had really asked what James had done but considering your resentment towards him, it must’ve been unforgiving.

You hesitated, “He just didn’t say some nice things about me.” You answered, hoping to move on.

“Like what kind of things?” Marlene pried.

You could tell she was just curious, but you were so humiliated by what James had said that you didn’t even want to tell your closest friends.

Dorcas elbowed Marlene, causing her to hiss in pain before she said, “It isn’t our business if you don’t want to tell us, Y/n.”

“Yeah,” Lily agreed, “Maybe it’s better it is between you and James.”

The rest of the group agreed including Marlene who was hunched over in pain and verbally cursing Dorcas for the hard elbow.

You muttered a “thanks” before heading onto the train. You sat by the window, staring outside to the foggy mountains.

You didn’t want to admit it but you did miss James and how much he cared for your birthday. Sometimes it seemed like it was his birthday with how high he held your birthday.

You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just try to even figure out what he had done or fight for your forgiveness, he just chose to be angry at you.

You didn't even want to think about him. Why does your whole life revolve around him?

"Anything from the trolley dearies?" The Trolley Witch asked.

"Chocolate frogs," Marlene said.

"Jumbling Jellies," Lily answered.

"I'll take Fizzing Wheezies," You said, paying her 10 galleons for you all.

"Y/n, you don't ha-" Lily was about to say before Marlene shushed her.

Lily glared as Marlene spoke, "Bless your heart, Y/n," She smiled as you laughed.

As Marlene started devouring her chocolate frog, you couldn't help but remember how you and James would share Fizzing Wheezies every time on your birthday on the train.

Practically tradition.

You wondered if he thought the same. If he was relishing in the memories.

Your thinking was halted when Dorcas set a hand on your thigh as you smiled, laying your head on her shoulder. You closed your eyes, trying to prepare for the day ahead.

--

"Y/n," Someone lightly shook you by your shoulder as you looked to see Lily. She was waking all of the girls up as the train stopped.

You yawned, getting up to grab your luggage. James was right that there would be traffic, so you had to rush off, saying your goodbyes to your best friends.

"Promise to write?" Lily asked, looking near tears.

"Lils, it's only a week," You snorted as she gave you a stern look.

"A week I won't get to see you," She hugged you tighter as you smiled and returned it.

"See you before Christmas?" She asked.

You rubbed her shoulder, "See you before Christmas."

"Promise me you won't forgive Potter," Marlene sighed, causing you to laugh.

"Do you have no faith in her at all?" Mary asked next to Marlene.

"Do you have no faith in her at all?" Marlene mocked, causing Mary to glare.

"Okay, okay!" You laughed at the both of them, "Only if you promise you both will stop bickering," You hugged them both.

They glared at each other as Dorcas spoke, "Forgetting someone?"

You grinned, "Never," You hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.

You were waiting for her to say, "Give him hell?" You asked as she laughed.

"I think you know what to do," She encouraged before you exited, waving goodbye to all of them.

Even though it was only a week, you still hated being away from your best friends. They were like your third family besides your actual and the Potters.

You saw the back of Sirius's head as you approached him, considering he lived with the Potters.

He turned around before you could tap him, picking you up, "Happy birthday Y/n!" He said, kissing your cheek as you yelped.

"Okay, thank you, Sirius, put me down!" You giggled.

He put you down as you smoothed your clothing, "So where's Potter?' You asked.

He smirked, "Only last name? Ice cold Y/n." You didn't respond, so he assumed you were waiting for an answer, "He went to the toilets,"

You hummed, silently tapping your foot on the pavement, only hearing the ruckus around you both.

"Excited for your birthday dinner?" He asked, partly ready for the drama.

"Very," You sarcastically said.

"Hey, Mom and Dad aren't too bad," He said.

"We both know Euphemia and Fleamont aren't the Potters I despise," You muttered.

"Well, for your sake, I'll make him behave," He sent a charming smile your way.

"What would I do without you, Black?" You rolled your eyes.

"Probably be miserable," He answered, causing you to laugh.

"What are we laughing about?" James said, not even a smidge of excitement in his tone.

Your usual mad facade slipped back in as you grabbed your luggage and started heading toward the car. You could hear Sirius laughing behind you.

You saw Euphemia and Fleamont waiting by the car like they had usually done since Sixth year since James told them to stop coming inside because of his newfound "popularity."

Your face lit up immediately, excited to see two of your favorite people worldwide.

You embraced Euphemia, giving the tightest hug you could and giving Fleamont a kiss on the cheek while they asked about your studies. You could see James rolling his eyes both audibly and physically.

"Okay, Mother, I don't think Y/n likes all the questions," James said, leaning his head on the window while his father drove.

Sirius was in between the two of you, snoring asleep. Considering the train ride, you didn't even know why he was tired.

"I don't mind at all," You said, smiling as James glared at you.

You knew that Euphemia could feel the tension between you and James, but she ignored it, "So Y/n, I have made you something extraordinary." Euphemia said.

"And that is?" You asked, knowing she wouldn't tell you.

"I guess you will have to find out tonight during dinner." She sweetly said, winking at you.

You smiled to yourself, relieved your birthday wouldn't be that bad.

--

You entered the house that you had been over to so many times, admiring it fully.

"James will show you your room," Euphemia said, rubbing your back as you smiled, trying not to show your discomfort about James.

James didn't even wait for you before heading up the steps. Thankfully, he carried your luggage because he knew Euphemia would berate him.

"It's in there," He lazily said, not even opening the door before walking downstairs.

Jerk.

You grunted, lifting your heavy suitcase inside the room.

You admired the room, which looked like it was made for you. It was warm and tremendous for a guest room. It had all of your favorite colors and smells.

It was perfect.

You decided to nap before dinner, considering you had no one to talk to, and you were partly tired after the drive anyway. You knew an elf would get you when it was time.

--

"Ms." A frail voice said as your eyes fluttered open to see Dot, the Potter's elf that had been there since you had first moved in.

"Oh, hello, Dot," You spoke lightly, yawning.

"Ms. Potter tells Dot to inform you it's time for dinner," Her small voice said.

"Thank you, Dot, I appreciate it," You thanked before the elf nodded her head and apparated out.

You stretched, wearing a semi-formal dress, one of your favorites.

You headed down the stairs as you smelt the food radiating from the dining room. It was all of your favorites; it was pretty extraordinary. Ms. Potter was always the type to blow you off of your feet, regardless.

Your face lit up, "This is stunning, Ms. Potter," You looked at the glowing lights.

Euphemia smiled, "I'm glad you love it,"

You sat next to James with Sirius next to him. His face had certainly softened, but he was clenching his jaw when you sat beside him.

"Now," Euphemia started, "I know we usually do gifts after dinner, but we all had such beautiful surprises for you that we couldn't wait."

Euphemia started first, giving you one of your favorite movies since you were a kid, except the movie wasn't available anywhere.

You rose excitedly, embracing her, "How did you get this?" You asked, smiling at the CDs.

"A friend of mine is good friends with the director, and he happened to have one last copy," She answered as you excitingly hugged her before returning to your seat.

"Thank you, Ms. Potter," You looked at Euphemia, "I love it,"

She nodded before Fleamont gave you his gift. It was a beautiful crystal from Bejing.

You thanked him for the beautiful gem before Sirius offered you his gift. He gave you a perfume that smelled of fire whisky but wasn't actually fire whisky.

Part of you wanted to know how he did it, but you decided to save it for later as you thanked him, kissing him on the cheek as he cheered.

Last was James, who picked up the gift from under the table. He had looked you in the eyes, not a set of resentment in them at all.

Your breath hitched as he gave you a stuffed animal your grandfather gave you when you were nine. You had cried for a week because you had lost it and teared up when anyone mentioned it.

He gave it to you as it looked brand new and was cleaner than when you had it when you were nine.

When you pressed on the heart, it always said "I love you" in your grandfather's voice and even had your name on the collar.

You teared up, "How did you find it?"

He stuttered, "I-I found it in the treehouse in the corner,"

"I thought the treehouse was infested with Clockonuts," You said.

He laughed, "Well, I risked my life to get it back,"

Every sense of anger you had felt had disappeared; he had done something that was so out of his actions lately that it made you miss him.

"Thank you," You genuinely said.

He gave you a simple nod before you began eating. Conversations started after, talking about school.

"So, any boys, Y/n?" Euphemia asked as James dropped his fork on his plate, making a huge sound that caused you to look at him.

You cleared your throat, "Well, I am trying not to focus on that right now,"

"Except for Carrows," James muttered.

"Who's Carrows?" Euphemia asked, genuinely curious.

You took a bite of your carrot, "Um, well," You swallowed, "He's just a friend I have."

"I don't sit on my friend's laps," James scoffed, causing you to glare at him.

"Well, I don't call my friends sluts," You spat.

"James Fleamont Potter, what did you call her?" Euphemia added.

James ignored her, "Well, when your best friend is acting like one just because you don't fancy her, I think she deserves it,"

Mate-" Sirius chimed in, but you were faster.

"When have I ever fancied you?" You asked, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of that knowledge.

"Y/n, you were practically obsessed with me," He ridiculed, "I couldn't get away from you, and the only time I could was when I dated Lily; it was the best months of my life," His face looked shocked after he said the last words.

You couldn't tell if he meant it, but it hurt you badly. All those years of friendship were fake; he couldn't tolerate you.

"That's enough!" Euphemia said; even Sirius was silent.

A tear ran down your cheek, "I'm actually not feeling well; I'm gonna go to bed." You said, placing your napkin on the plate in front of you.

You heard Euphemia berating James as you ran up to your room. In some ways, you didn't understand why James did everything he did if he hated you so much.

Why did he give you that gift? Why did he always call you and get mad when you didn't want to be his friend? Did you ever mean anything to James Potter?

And if you did, why did he have to ruin your birthday?

A/N: If you hated this, I apologize.

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[valeskafics]

"(Don't Fear) The Reaper" - Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader Scream AU - Chapter Two: The Grudge

a/n: aemond is legally blind in one eye due to a childhood accident with luke in this fic, but he HAS the eye still and if you are blind in one eye, you are still able to close it/roll it in certain situations - just a note! this chapter is a little shorter bc next chapter is about to get crazy ❤️

Read Chapter One HERE

Summary: Aemond comforts you after your close call with the killer.

TW: profanity, innuendo, mentions of murder/violence/death, afab reader, she/her pronouns, stalking, slut shaming, gaslighting

Word Count: 1,950 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

When Aemond arrives at your apartment, he’s pleasantly surprised by the way you run into his arms, hugging him as though your life depends on it. He pretends to be concerned, running a hand through your hair, shushing you, making promises of safety and protection, that nothing will happen to you. If you were paying closer attention, you might have noticed the glimmer of pride in his eye at your fear. Your desire to seek his protection and his comfort.

“He was so scary, Aem, I mean he even knew what I was wearing,” you ramble, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m just so happy you came…”

“Me too,” he murmurs, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

You’re scared. Desperate for his support. And you didn’t hesitate for a moment in calling him. All the while, you have no idea that he’s the one you should be running from. He cups your face in his hands, brushing the few stray tears that have spilled.

“I’ll stay with you tonight,” he vows, “I’ll protect you, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You nod, mumbling quietly as you avert your gaze, “Sorry I made you ditch Floris.”

Aemond shakes his head, “Nah. Floris is… Without. She said some things about you that don’t bear repeating, but no one gets to talk about you that way. I let Alys get away with way too much and I don’t intend on letting that happen again. You’re my number one girl.”

You decide not to pry about whatever it is that Floris said and instead sigh, “I just… Fuck. I feel like I’m being so annoying right now.”

“You’re not,” Aemond assures you, “I’m going to be honest with you-”

“Jesus, that’s never a good way to start a conversation,” you tease, spirits lifting after being in his company even for so little time.

Aemond snickers at your comment, shaking his head, “No, no. Nothing terrible, I swear. This is going to sound sappy and I hope you don’t laugh at me but,” he pauses, his expression more serious now, “There’s no one in the world I trust more than you. I don’t just like your company. I love it. Because it’s you.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment, giving you a little smirk when you lean forward to kiss his cheek and grin at him, “You’re cute. Let’s watch a movie, yeah? Big spoon or little spoon?”

“I’ll be the big spoon. Got to protect you after all,” he winks.

The two of you lay in your bed and begin watching ‘Halloween’, restarting the film from the beginning, the familiar theme playing as baby Michael Myers picks up a knife and makes his way to his sister’s room. Aemond’s arms encircle you, his body warm and comforting against yours. He tucks you under his chin, inhaling.

“You smell nice,” he compliments.

“Okay, Hannibal Lecter,” you sass, elbowing him gently.

Aemond gives a little huff of laughter, pinching your waist, “You know what I mean.”

His arms tighten around you as he begins to focus more on the movie, only to snort out a laugh at your words, “Uh oh, Judith Myers, your tits are out. Immediate kill. Why does he do that anyway? Fuckin’ misogynist.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Aemond snickers, “That’s a little overboard. He doesn’t kill them because they show their tits. He kills them because he’s a deranged serial killer. It’s not a sociological commentary. It’s Halloween.”

“I’m a women’s studies minor, I can’t help it!”

“Ah, so now we’re getting to the truth. Also, this is a slasher film, not an Oscar winning documentary. Just enjoy yourself,” he whispers lowly, “With me.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and immediately go quiet, feeling him rest his chin on your shoulder.

“That tickles,” you mutter, shivering as his lips gently brush against your skin - you brush it off as a friendly kiss and think nothing of it, “I missed you when you were with Alys. Just hanging out.”

“I missed you too,” Aemond replies quietly, holding you tight, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, hand still stroking your thigh, “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“I’m glad to have you back. I know that sounds really shitty and selfish, but I don’t care,” you say, turning to face him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the soft thudding of his heartbeat.

“It doesn’t sound selfish at all,” he replies, rubbing your lower back gently, “It actually makes me really happy.”

“Good,” you murmur, “I’m glad.”

You fall asleep after a while, clinging to him like a koala he muses, a faint smile on his lips as he glances down at you. When he’s entirely sure that you’re asleep, he grabs your phone, knowing your passcode, and unlocks it. He decides to go through it and is pissed off to say the least when he sees that you’ve been pretty active on Tinder over the last few weeks. Jealousy flashes across his face as he looks at your sleeping form once again.

“Do you know what you mean to me?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your face, smiling as you mumble something in your sleep, “No one’s going to love you like I can, little bunny. No one.”

Your phone goes off and Aemond rolls his eyes at the Kim Possible ringtone you have.

“It’s like you’re still twelve years old,” he snarks to himself before checking the text.

Cregan Stark: Looking forward to our date tomorrow, gorgeous! Pick you up at 8?

His expression darkens considerably and he pulls away from you, laying on his back and glaring up at the ceiling. Why do you do this to him? Surely some part of you must know how he feels about you. Yes, he was dating Alys all this time, but surely you knew it was only because he thought he couldn’t have you?

The next morning, you wake up to see Aemond, laying in bed beside you, long blond hair loose, a few strands covering his face. You move them back, admiring your best friend for a moment, startling as he speaks, eyes still closed.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you reply, watching as he wakes up, slowly yawning, “Thanks for staying with me. You didn’t have to but you did.”

“Of course I had to,” he says, running a hand through your hair, pulling you close, “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone. I’ll always be here. Alwys.”

You lay beside him like that for a long moment before groaning, “We have class today.”

He nods, “Right. We’ll have to get up soon,” he yawns again, caressing your cheek, voice low and soft and so very intimate as he adds, “But for now, it’s just you and me and this bed.”

“I never wanna leave,” you mumble, “Like ever.”

“Then we won’t,” he affirms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, making you laugh, “We can ditch every class, flunk out of school like my brother.”

“Don’t be mean,” you chide, “Aegon never wanted to go to college anyway. It isn’t for everyone.”

Aemond shrugs, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You look at him with a small smile before speaking, “You’re seriously the most amazing best friend in the whole world. You know that, right?”

There it is. Best friend. Aemond stops himself from visibly cringing and gives you an easy smile, nodding.

“Yeah. Best friend. I’m gonna head back to my place, meet you at the campus coffee shop?” Aemond asks, stretching out, cracking his back.

You watch as his shirt rises slightly, exposing his toned abdomen, eyes drawn there despite your every effort to not be a pervert and check out your best friend. You nod, swallowing thickly.

“Sorry again. About Floris. The whole point of the party was to get you some action and you had to white knight for me.”

Aemond shakes his head, “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t go to get a piece of ass. I went to hang out with you. And, all things considered? I’m glad we got to spend time together last night,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, lifting your chin up so that you face him, “I’d die for you. Kill for you. You know that, yeah?”

“I would for you too,” you say softly, resting your hand on his wrist, “See you in class.”

When you meet up with Aemond at the campus coffee shop, you’re shocked to see the entire university crawling with cops. The two of you look at each other in confusion before you find one of your classmates, Jeyne Arryn, and approach her to ask what happened.

“You didn’t hear?” she whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “Floris Baratheon was killed last night.”

Your eyes go wide and you turn to face Aemond, “Holy shit! It must have happened right after you left!”

He nods, face pale, “Shit…”

You grab Aemond’s hand, “Did anyone see you leave with her? They might look at you as a suspect,” you think for a moment, “I don’t think anyone did. Just deny it, okay?”

Aemond raises an eyebrow, “I don’t have anything to hide.”

You look at him, annoyed, “Aemond, just listen to me, okay? Please?”

He nods reluctantly, smirking to himself as soon as you look away. You don’t suspect a goddamn thing.

Was he really supposed to let Floris get away with calling you a slut? No. No one ever gets to disrespect you like that.

After all, he did say he’d kill for you.

The two of you go and take your seats in your Gothic Literature class, near the back of the room. Your professor announces a campus-wide curfew will be going into effect, earning a collective groan from all of your classmates, including you.

“There goes my date with Cregan,” you mumble, slumping in your seat, “I wonder if I can still sneak out…”

Aemond bites back his self-satisfied grin and turns to you, feigning ignorance, “Oh, you have a date with Cregan? That’s new. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You turn to look at him, “I mean, I didn’t think it was a big deal…”

“We’re best friends, I’m kind of hurt you didn’t tell me.”

You pause, biting your lip, “I’m sorry, Aem.”

“It’s okay,” he stops himself from smirking at the fact that he has you on the defensive now, “So you’re going to cancel, right? There’s a curfew.”

“I was really looking forward to it,” you mutter hesitantly.

Aemond scowls, “You shouldn’t go. Who in their right mind would go out right now? Someone was just murdered. Stay away from him, don’t even bother texting or calling. Watch him come up with some bullshit about coming over tonight to ‘console’ you.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Jeez, why so aggro?”

“You want to spend the night alone with a guy you barely know while a killer’s still on the loose,” Aemond says angrily, “Do you want to get murdered? Because that’s how you get murdered. You’re not seeing him. Not tonight,” he realizes how hard his voice sounds even to his own ears and calms himself slightly, “I want you to be safe. I’m scared for you. You’re the most precious person in my life and if anything happened to you…”

You rest a hand on his forearm and nod, “Okay. I’ll cancel the date.”

Aemond nods, thanking you, a smile spreading across his face when you turn away.

Cregan Stark is about to learn what happens when you try to make a move on Aemond’s little bunny. After all, dragons don’t like sharing.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #hotd fic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fic #hotd #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #my writing #don't fear the reaper fic

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (13)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, trauma, regret, depression, mention of a suicide attempt ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Daemon understood better than anyone what it meant to be the second son, the one who would inherit nothing. It seemed to him that, in contrast to Viserys, he was a blazing fire like a true dragon, giving warmth, light and shelter to those close to his heart, burning those whom he saw as his enemies.

Viserys was always blind, soft-spoken, lacking strong character and clear opposition when things got too far out of hand.

This trait of his had been carefully exploited by Otto Hightower over the years, putting himself in the role of his friend and adviser, playing his part with an extraordinary devotion from which he felt like throwing up.

He knew it was pure courtesy, perfectly calculated, taking advantage of the mourning of the entire Red Keep and his inattention after Aemma's tragic death he slipped his brother his daughter under his nose.

Looking at her on their wedding day, standing in a long, ornate gown he thought she looked like a child on whom someone had put layers of cloth and precious stones; overwhelmed by it all she looked down at her feet, around her nails the red wounds he had seen on her hands ever since.

On that one day, knowing what was awaiting her, he truly felt compassion for her.

After that, however, he stopped.

She could have built her independence, committed herself to the needs of the kingdom, she, however, in the company of that cunt, Criston Cole, gave herself over to prayer and mortification, obediently following her father's orders.

As a woman, she was in his eyes pitiful, weepy, whiny, merely pretending to be saintly and virtuous, having in fact nothing to do with these qualities.

His feelings about her and her father moved involuntarily to her children.

He recognised the dragon's blood in them and treated them differently from the Hightowers, yet he was unable or unwilling to bond with them, seeing how they were suckled to their mother's breasts, which did not allow them to think or breathe on their own.

He watched from the sidelines, observing from afar as Rhaenyra and Alicent's children trained together, how a divide formed between them. He knew that once they grew up and understood what was really at stake, they would throw themselves at each other's throats.

He knew perfectly well whose right to the throne he would support.

Aegon was a drunkard and a cunt, Helaena was quiet and withdrawn, Aemond was sullen and vindictive − he thought with amusement that each of them had inherited the worst from his brother and their mother.

However, he couldn't help but show at least a little compassion and understanding for his brother's second son, who had been punished by the gods, left without a dragon of his own.

Some part of him wanted to speak to him, to get to know him, to see through him as a kind of reflection of himself, but on those rare occasions when he was with Leana and his daughters in the Red Keep he never made such a gesture, which he later, though he did not want to admit it to himself, regretted.

Perhaps things would have turned out differently then.

He could see with what admiration he looked at him, how much he longed to hear at least one word of appreciation from him, any gesture of interest.

He knew that if he could decide who his father-figure would be he would choose not Viserys or Cole but him, and he pretended not to notice that.

Once though, he noticed something that surprised him; strolling through the cloisters of the Red Keep he spotted his nephew and Rhaenyra's only daughter standing side by side in the square, leaning over the table filled with the various weapons. He smirked under his breath as he walked closer, wanting to listen to their conversation.

They were betrothed.

A clumsy attempt by his brother to avoid what he felt in his bones had to happen.

He saw his niece point her finger at one of the weapons lying on the wooden tabletop, a steel black spiked ball hooked on a chain to a special handle.

"What is it? It looks scary." She said with amusement, her voice light and pleasant; he thought with surprise that his nephew's grim and stormy nature did not deter her.

Alicent's son grunted loudly, lifting his chin slightly in a gesture of superiority and intelligence that he hated so much about the Hightowers, clearly proud to be able to speak on a subject in which his knowledge was extensive.

"It's a flail. A very heavy weapon requiring great strength and agility in its use. It literally crushes the opponent." He said, forcing himself into a low, mature, masculine voice, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his hair in a slight disarray from the few duels he had already had.

"That weapon looks like the kind you die from in agony." Mumbled his niece, tentatively touching her fingertip to one of the spikes – her uncle pushed her away immediately, surprised by her gesture, grabbing her hand by the wrist.

"Are you insane? What are you doing? It's sharp after all, you could have hurt yourself." He said angrily, but she only blinked, surprised by his outburst, and smiled indulgently, showing him her finger.

"I know, silly. I wouldn't want something like that to hit me in the face." She sneered, raising her eyebrows in amusement, joy in her gaze and embarrassment at the fact that he still hadn't let her go.

She took a step closer to him, but he stepped back quickly and lowered his gaze, he noticed in disbelief that his pale cheeks had turned scarlet.

"Not here. Later." He muttered letting go of her wrist immediately. He heard her quiet sigh of disappointment as she nodded and walked away without another word.

He watched as, a moment later, his nephew cursed under his breath, pulling off his leather gloves and moved after her, grabbing her at one of the side entrances by her arm. She turned to him with a smile as if she was sure he would follow her, her lips placing a quick, brief kiss on his cheek.

He let her go, embarrassed and blushing, looking sideways, muttered something, and she nodded and disappeared behind the walls. His nephew returned to the square as if nothing had happened, a lazy, barely visible smile on his face; Aegon looked at him from afar with a look full of pity, as soon as his younger brother came closer he said loud and clear:

"What a twat you are."

He snarled under his breath as he heard Criston Cole immediately respond to his remark by saying that it was inappropriate for a prince to use such vocabulary, his younger brother only gave him a grim look indicating that he himself was torn internally, ashamed of his weakness.

He thought then, moving ahead, amused, that his brother had inadvertently contributed to something that was certainly not his original plan.

These kids really wanted it.

He felt shame because, looking at them, he wondered how he really felt about his wife. He recognised that she was his companion and lover, whom he respected and cherished, but she was not his friend, he could not allow her into the depths of his heart.

Only when he saw Rheanyra did he feel something more; he had the feeling that the air around them quivered when they spoke, he sensed that she understood perfectly the source and reason of his impulsive nature.

Despite this, he found his life peaceful and prosperous, and the death of his wife in childbirth was something shocking and painful to him. He covered his grief with laughter, the thought that he had wasted years of her life, a wonderful, beautiful woman who deserved someone to love her with all her being, giving her something more than a substitute of affection.

Then, however, his nephew lost an eye and everything fell apart like a house of cards, showing how weak their family actually was.

The events that followed wove together in his mind, the closeness of Rhaenyra and their later nuptials brought him a sense of relief, as if two parts that belonged together had been joined.

He watched her daughter from afar, the sadness and grief painted on her after all still so young and innocent face made her seem to him pale and lifeless, at once beautiful, cool and inaccessible, walking around Dragonstone like a ghost, not speaking to anyone despite how much his daughters tried to get close to her.

She was warm, helpful and welcoming when anyone approached her, but did not raise any discussions herself, eating and drinking little at suppers, immersed in her thoughts.

He knew that she was with them only in body.

He decided not to make the same mistake as with his nephew and offer her his interest, his support in the ironic and mischievous form peculiar to him, the only way in which he could show his affection to anyone.

What surprised him was how much she clung to him, how often she cried during their walks together; despite her innate vulnerability she had a strength of character that he appreciated – she was inclined to rash actions or anger, but she was also not docile or naive, she tried to find order in the chaos that surrounded her.

Only he and his niece had been invited to Aegon's nuptials to Helaena; Alicent had expressed in her letter her concern that the meeting of their children might affect them badly and reawaken old wounds, which his wife took as a reasonable argument, and indeed, albeit reluctantly, it was only the two of them who travelled to the Red Keep.

The whole ceremony in the Great Sept dragged on endlessly for him; he looked around, bored, unwilling to stare at the horrified, sad faces of his nephew and niece, testament to the fact that neither of them wanted this marriage.

The wedding supper held in the fortress was lavish with dancing and music, lords from all over the kingdom descended and gathered in the throne room at large, long oak tables filled to the brim with food. Sitting down in his seat next to his wife, he glanced sideways and noticed a figure looking at him intensely, the One-Eyed Prince staring at him coolly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and admiration, finding that he looked like a man, well-built and muscular, tall, his hair much longer, a black eye patch covering the left side of his face.

He grinned with amusement and mockery, wondering to what he owed his attention, and his nephew only hummed under his breath, looking away, apparently discouraged by his reaction.

He wondered, looking at him, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, if he had shown him fatherly concern then, taken him under his wing, separated him from Alicent and Otto, he would be a different man now.

Several toasts were made to the bride and groom, during each of which Aegon drank his cup to the bottom, clearly intent on fulfilling his marital duty completely drunk.

"Stop it. You've had enough." Growled his younger brother, taking his goblet from him with an aggressive flick of his hand, setting it impatiently far from his older brother's reach.

Aegon slapped him angrily on the shoulder, mumbling something under his breath; his younger brother stood up, towering over him, showing him wordlessly that if he touched him again he would regret it.

"Aemond." Said their mother, this green whore, who was looking at them in pain, her hands folded in front of her as if to pray.

His nephew rolled his eyes and left the hall by a side entrance, furious, unwilling and unable to look at it apparently; Aegon with a wide grin reached for his cup again and to his despair took the empty seat next to him that had been occupied earlier by his wife, now conversing with the King.

"Uncle! So many years." He mumbled, tapping him on the back in a friendly, masculine greeting. He rolled his eyes, amused, smelling the stench of alcohol and sweat from him.

"As you can see, everything stays in the family. I don't know how I'm going to survive this. After all, she'll surely cry. Fuck." He muttered, taking a deep, catchy sip from his cup, tilting it so that he drank it all at once.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip, feeling discomfort at the thought that he felt compassion for Helaena for what was about to happen to her.

"She doesn't seem to fully understand what I will have to do to her. After all, she's my sister. I don't want to hurt her. She's odd and I don't understand her, but I don't want her to fucking cry." He mumbled out covering his face with his hand, his voice breaking with his every word – he drew in air loudly as if he was out of breath, and he looked at him not knowing what to do.

He glanced at her sad, petite figure; she sat gazing off into the distance somewhere, dreamy.

He wondered as he watched her if she realised what awaited her.

What was he supposed to answer him?

"Be gentle and kind. Make her feel as little pain as possible. You know very well that how it will look lies in your hands. If you want her to suffer as little as possible, stop drinking because it will take you a fucking hour." He growled, taking the cup from his hand just as his younger brother had earlier, and wondered if that was what he meant then, if he knew his condition would only worsen whatever was to await them next.

"You pity yourself and you smell of alcohol and sweat. Go take a bath or do you want to lay on her like that? Give her some dignity for goodness sake." He said coolly, looking ahead indifferently; his nephew swallowed loudly, sitting beside him like a little rebuked child, playing with his fingers.

He wondered, looking at him out of the corner of his eye if his brother had ever spoken to him about it, if he had prepared him and explained to him how he should behave.

"All my life I've envied him. My brother. He had someone of his own who cared about him. I think he really loved her, uncle. Now I barely recognise anyone myself. I'm not sure any of us are the same person anymore. Only Helaena has remained the same − innocent and ignorant. That's because she doesn't step outside her mind. If she did, she would have gone mad like we did."

It turned out that he was partly right.

What he didn't expect was that when they arrived all together as a family after several years in King's Landing to defend Luke's rights to inherit the Driftmark these two would be lying in bed with each other on their very first night.

"If you tell me you still want to marry him, I will help you. I'd rather you be his wife than lead you and him into a scandal that could destroy your mother. Your betrothal has never been called off, the king will easily prove that no other plans for you can be in force against his decision. But if you decide not to, I will personally see to it that you never see him again and that no letter of yours leaves Dragonstone. Make a manly, mature decision with all its consequences, and stop wallowing over yourself."

He told her then, wanting her to understand that they could not stand in the middle, that they had to choose, or their decisions would drag them all down.

Watching them in the throne room audience, however, the greedy, desperate gaze of his nephew fixed on her as if he wanted to devour her gave him no illusions.

What this boy was telling himself was one thing, but what he was feeling was another.

It was this thought that made him decide to question Alicent's decision in front of everyone, wanting to hear his brother's opinion on the matter, the only one that really counted. He had expected nothing but objections from both sides, however, against the desperate attempts of their mothers, his nephew and his niece's daughter made a decision that did not surprise him at all.

It was enough for her to get up from her seat and walk out to make him press his lips together in rage and follow her out, exactly as he had done then, in the courtyard, when he had thrown himself after her, and she knew perfectly well that he would do so, knowing his nature.

He wondered if she had kissed him this time too, if the tension between them had eased.

He thought that this marriage might actually calm the emotions a little, especially as his brother was over his deathbed.

This union was forcing both parties to be cautious, which could be mutually beneficial.

"She has decided that she wants to stay in the Red Keep until I return." His wife said to him, putting her black leather gloves on her hands, walking beside him towards the dragon's lair. He stopped, looking at her in disbelief, furious.

This was not the plan.

"What?" He growled, looking at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "You're leaving my daughter in the care of that whore and her father-traitor?"

He saw that she smiled at his words emphasising that in his eyes she was his child, that he had taken responsibility for her and protected her as any true father should.

"She asked me to do this. I imagine they both want to clarify a lot of things with each other. Since the nuptials are to take place as soon as possible there is no need to fret, I will personally take her back in a few days." She replied calmly, and he let out a loud breath, impatiently licking his lips.

It was a bad idea, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn't protest and that was his mistake.

The next day he lost two of his daughters.

Rhaenyra, his brother's heir to the throne fell with a groan when envoys reported to her that her father was dead, that her brother had been crowned king, that they had imprisoned their daughter.

She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at her womb; at first he thought it was despair, but then he saw the pool of blood beneath her feet, her terrified gaze, her lips parted in agony.

They both knew it was too soon.

Their daughter already looked like a tiny infant, but sadly her fate was sealed; she wasn't moving or breathing, she was cold, looking more like a doll than a human being.

He felt that he had to leave the fortress; he followed exactly where he always went out with her, with one of his daughters, to the sea itself, and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily, not knowing what he was supposed to do with the rage and chaos that overtook his mind.

He wanted to mount Caraxes and burn them all.

However, his cousin and daughters had cooled his ardour, recognising that they needed to prepare, gather an army, make a plan of action.

He recognised that it was only female sentiment, a weakness that kept them from making the risky decision that his whole life consisted of.

When his wife finally recovered from her brief mourning, despite his entreaties, she did not listen to him and decided to send her sons as her representatives, wanting to extract the pledge of allegiance from those who had paid her tribute many years ago.

He had thought it nonsensical, however, when Luke returned from Storm's End it turned out that his step son had been a naive idiot.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." He growled, turning away from the table with fury, massaging his face with his palm, not believing he could have done such a thing.

"Daemon." Said Rhaenyra in a voice trembling with despair; she looked at her son, trying to calm herself. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." He muttered, forcing himself into a calm tone of voice.

He turned towards him, looking at him with his heart beating fast.

She had done this for them, so they could attack the Red Keep without fear.

She wanted to make a manly decision, to sacrifice herself, his brave daughter, his little dragon.

"Gods." Said his wife, clutching at her womb, apparently involuntarily recalling the moments when she had carried her under her heart, the maternal tears of pain in her eyes.

"And then?" He finished for her, seeing that she didn't have the strength to get anything else out, Luke swallowed hard, afraid to look at him.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." Said with difficulty, Jace slammed his fist on the table, furious.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He said red with anger and he glanced at him indifferently, sighing heavily.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He asked further, pretending not to have heard his outburst; Jace pressed his lips together, furious. Luke shook his head quickly.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." He muttered, and he sighed heavily, placing both of his hands on the table, leaning over it, and closed his eyes, trying to focus.

He let her see him without any other witnesses and then let him go even though he hated him, even though he could have trapped and humiliated him.

Why?

A memory flashed through his mind, the way his nephew cursed as he fought with himself to finally run after her, her smile full of reassurance as she turned to him knowing he would follow her, his blush of embarrassment and lazy smile as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, her proof of her devotion and affection that he craved so much.

He had never stopped loving her.

This stone-cold, dangerous man had done something for her, surely after she had tried to take her own life.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #daemon pov #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targeryan #daemon prince #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond kinslayer #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #aemond x oc #aemond x female #dark aemond smut #hotd smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #hotd angst #daemon angst #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction

[erinfern0]

no words were needed.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you and simon were friends as long as you remember. maybe that was the reason why the two of you were so blind to the feeling hidden so deeply inside.

warnings: hurt/angst to comfort and fluff. cocky teasing, mention of abuse, swearing, smoking, terrible date, insecurities, self-doubt, jealousy, protective simon.

a/n: based on this lovely request, the only thing I decided to change is that i made the reader gender-neutral, not including any specific pronouns, just a little preference of mine.

You and Simon were always there for each other, since the day you two met. Not only because the two of you were neighbors — living just a couple of houses away from each other, but also because your parents were friends. Both of your fathers served in the military, and mothers always found time to chat and see each other when their husbands were away.

You always adored the tiny gentleman in him, he was like a brother to you, always finding ways to comfort you and help whenever you needed it. And you were there for him too, watching him exorcise or patching up all the little scruffs and wounds he had. You spent hours upon hours in your room just so he could escape from the rough household he had to grow up in.

Your house became his home, and he always felt like a brother to you, protecting you from possible dangers and people you'd rather not deal with. That was until high school, when you realized he's not the cute little boy he used to be. He turned a little colder, focusing on his grades and physique to appeal to his father's wishes.

Watching him lose himself broke your heart, especially after you realized you were catching feelings for him. You hid it well, trying not to get too close to him to not add burdens to his already high pile of them. You brought peace to his life that you didn't want to ruin.

No words were needed between the two of you to know exactly what you were thinking, well, most of the time. You always joked that you shared some braincells as you had the same type of humor and shared some interests.

He was slightly older than you, just a couple of months apart, and as soon as he turned 18, he started applying for the military. He worked his ass off, and you just supported him, reminding him how much he deserves to get in and how well he'll do as a soldier.

And you, too, had to work hard, studying for your exams. Ever since you turned 18 too, you felt the pressure of being an actual adult, having to apply for colleges and part-time jobs to not feel like a parasite to your parents.

Now, you were sitting in your room by your desk, spreading notes all over it and highlighting the most important parts when you heard footsteps coming upstairs. Not anyone from your family members. They belonged to Simon. Your heart rushed for a split second before he entered your room, hood covering most of his head and face.

“Learn to knock, Riley.” you turned towards him and smiled lightly. “I could have been naked, you know?”

“Wouldn't complain.” he chuckled as he walked to your desk and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Simon earned himself a light smack to his forearm for his comment. His head fell on your shoulder, watching you write over one of the pages. “Still studyin'?”

You groaned in frustration, head falling back against his body as he just laughed and ruffled your hair. Then, he just patted your shoulders and pulled away from the hug to sit on your parapet.

Closing your textbook and spinning around in your chair, you watched him lean against the wall and grab a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, um… How was your date?”

His question caught you off guard, stopping you in your movements and just staring at the ceiling, thinking about the answer. Telling him the whole truth might be hurtful, not only for him and you but also to him and you'd never risk that.

Well, the only reason you even agreed to go was because he was slightly similar to Simon, a tall blonde gym rat who likes books and video games. You were naive thinking that he'll ever replace Simon. By the end of the date, you decided to tell him the truth, that you already had feelings for another man, and you are sorry for possibly leading him.

He turned out to be less sweet than you believed him to be, immediately getting mad at you for, as he phrased it: 'wasting his time'. This made you think so hard, how could you be anyone's type if the only person you truly want is your best friend?

“It was fine until it wasn't.” you claimed, immediately regretting your words as soon as you looked at Simon.

The hood was gone, leaving you to see the expression on his face. The frown of his brows and that spark in his eye made a chill run down your spine. Concern? Worry? Anger? You couldn't tell, but it wasn't anything nice.

“What did that prick do, huh?” he asked and looked at you while blowing out some smoke towards the opened window. That's when the light hit his face, showing you the bruise forming on his cheekbone.

“Again?” you whispered breathlessly, getting up from your seat to appear in front of him seconds later. Your fingers caught his chin, turning his face so you could see it better.

“Don't switch the topic on me.” he groaned with annoyance, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. Seeing your face so upset, analyzing every little scratch on his face, especially the purple mark splashed on his side, he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Answer for an answer?” you asked, recalling a little rule the two of you had since your early childhood. His tongue brushed over his teeth as his mouth was closed, just accepting his fate.

“I asked first.” he barked, forcing a smirk on his chopped lips. His legs part, inviting you a little closer, and allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso. One of Simon's arms rested on your shoulder while the other held his cigarette away from you. “Plus, you already know the answer to your question so...”

“It wasn't that bad, it's just… We weren't a match, that's it.” you started, watching him raise his eyebrow in disbelief, knowing you too well to just believe it was the only reason. “God, you're annoying.” you huff and roll your eyes.

“Proud of it, too.” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the window to watch you squirm and collect your thoughts. That's what you thought he was doing, but actually, Simon's eyes were just wandering over your face to admire you, even if for just a couple of seconds.

Every little detail of your face was mapped in his head, knowing every curve and blemish, every beauty mark or scar that you had. He adored every part of you, especially your eyes that looked so lost in thought, so easy for him to get away with his actions.

“He was nice, we went for a walk in the park nearby. Then I just realized he… Wasn't exactly the person I was looking for, and I told him that.“ you met his gaze, dark browns hazed with nicotine, eyelids heavier than usual. His pupils were blown out, twitching as he looked into your own eyes. “I think I wasn't too gentle with it, he got so upset.”

Your gasp made his body stiffen in alert, the hand that rested on your shoulder gently squeezing it to encourage you to speak. His expression was puzzled, as if he was shifting between different emotions, analyzing the way your eyes fluttered. Of course, he didn't miss the water collecting in the corners of your eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and quieter than before, as if you were a deer caught in the headlights. A dainty, sweet little fawn that he wished he could take care of better. His expression softened, the clench in his jaw relaxing under your touch,

“Not upset like that.” you assured, pulling away to rest your hands on his sides, gripping the material of his hoodie. The material is soft and smells so comfortable. The mix of his cologne and cigarettes, despite how much you hated him smoking, the scent always warmed your heart.

“He said something, didn't he?” he asked, teeth clenching as you nodded your head. “Take your time.” as he soothed your hair, the cigarette was thrown into the ashtray you got for him. His now free hand reached to your forearm, drawing calming shapes on your skin, causing goosebumps.

“Well, he just said that I'm wasting his time, how much he regretted seeing me that day because I turned out to be an 'indecisive little baby'. He…” you let out a shaky breath, trying so hard not to show him how much the guy's words hurt you. “He said I was unattractive and boring anyway. He just left me there.”

“Why didn't you call?” he asked, his jaw clenching again, and you felt the muscles of his back tensing under your fingertips. He shifted uncontrollably, trying to stay calm for you. “He'd have to look for his teeth in the fuckin' ground.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the image of Simon covered in the guy's blood, panting heavily with anger. Knowing how much he cared made you feel even worse for telling him all of this.

Simon's mind was somewhere else. Yes, of course, he'd beat the living shit out of your awful date, but what mattered more, the most, was you.

“You told me not to go, and I didn't listen.” you reminded him, biting your inner cheek to keep your composure. “You were right about him from the start, I just… Didn't want to bother you.”

“You'd never bother me, doll.” he assured, leaning closer to you. His face was mere inches away from yours, eyes scanning from your brows to your lips, stopping there for a second before he got right back to your eyes. “All he said was pure bullshit, I hope you know that.”

Your lack of response, and the nervous swallow you did, made his heart sink in realization. Of course, you'd listen to the man who was so direct rather than your friend who admired you in silence. You couldn't see yourself from his perspective.

You couldn't see how much he looked up to you, your soft and kind nature, how much he adored your voice when you rambled about school, friends, and your hobbies. Likewise, you didn't see your body like he did, as pure perfection. Furthermore, you didn't deserve to hear so many lies from such an insecure little fucker who got upset he wouldn't fuck you, as Simon thought.

The room was awfully quiet, as you closed your eyes to stop yourself from crying. He could see it, and it made him even more mad, not at you. At himself. How could he be so blind?

Now, sitting so close to you, thinking over all the ways he could show you how wrong the guy was, it hit him. He felt it before, the way his heart sped up thinking about you. How you were the first thing he thought in the morning after he woke up and the last thing before he went to bed. You were always on his mind, a fever dream of your touch, words, and smile wandering every time he needed comfort.

That's so obvious. He was stupid to believe the reason he was so mad when you mentioned your date was just because he had a bad feeling about him. He just wanted it to be him. All those years, he was just so blind.

Simon loved you like a madman, worshipping the ground you walk on and feeling lucky he could breathe the same air as you. He craved your comforting touch, you were the reason he liked to be touched in the first place, always pulling away from hugs too soon before he met you.

He swallowed harshly, shifting in his seat again, pulling you closer as he cupped your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, moving up to wipe a couple of tears that ran down your face.

"Look at me, please." his voice cracked, eyelids fluttering as his mouth felt incredibly dry. Licking his lips, he smiled softly as he saw you slowly open your eyes, looking at him with such a questionable mix of emotions. "You deserve way better than that dumb fuck." he spat out, holding back from saying 'I'd treat you better.'

"He was right, Si. I agreed to go even if I knew I didn't want any of it, I didn't want him." you whispered shakily, your hands resting atop his, Despite your state, you melted under his touch, hoping it'd last forever.

"Even if you knew that, he should be lucky you gave him a chance." his comment made the two of you chuckle softly, catching each other's gaze. You felt lost in his eyes, the dreamy brown making your legs feel weak like cotton. "Who did you want then?"

'You were the one I wanted.' you thought to yourself, immediately scolding yourself for even thinking that. His hands caressing your face felt warm, they felt like the comfort you so desperately needed.

You felt your cheeks get warmer as he got closer, and for a split second, you thought he heard your inner voice. Despite your worries, Simon didn't look away or leave, he just stared into your eyes as if they were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

"He's a fool for losing you, sweetheart." his voice echoed in your head, making you feel giddy at the raspy sound of the nickname he gave you. He never called you that before. It slipped so easily off his tongue, sounding so perfect.

Seconds later, you felt courageous. 'Now or never.' the little voice inside your head whispered, taking over your body and inching closer to him. Lips almost touching as you clung to his hoodie, trying to pull him towards you.

Simon was faster, his lips hungrily latching onto yours in a rushed, messy manner. It felt like he waited for this moment all his life, fingers holding your face as close to him as possible. His body slid off the windowsill, standing on his feet and pulling your bodies against each other.

One of your hands rested on his chest, grasping the soft material with your shaky fingers, the other running up his body to find its' place in his hair, tugging on the ends. Your action caused him to groan, deepening the kiss with the way you tilted your head, allowing the two of you to lose yourselves.

It was fast, messy, and greedy. The way he turned you around so you'd lean against the wall, letting him cage you in his embrace made you gasp into his mouth. Simon felt himself growing breathless, but it didn't matter.

That's when you felt it. You felt his love in such a different way than before. It was strong, storming into you like a hurricane to leave your mind a hazed mess. All you could think about was the fast beating of his heartbeat under your fingertips, the way he melted into your body as the kisses slowed down, turning into short pecks.

A string of saliva connected the two of you as you pulled away, catching your breaths. Foreheads touching, Simon's thumb rubbing your swollen lower lip, feeling the mix of spit under the pad of his finger.

You felt heavenly, tears almost spilling again as you realized that your crush on him wasn't just a crush. It was hard for you to admit your love to him, but now you could hear the mean voices in your head go away with the way he held you so close to him.

And for the first time in a while, Simon felt at peace, knowing he was right where he belonged. You were the light he was chasing in the dark tunnel of his life and now he could just have you. He felt your arms wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn't focus on anything else. He felt stronger than ever, cared for, loved.

No words were needed between the two of you as you just stood there, bodies tangled, and leaned against the wall to keep the two of you from falling to the floor from how shaky your legs were.

No words were needed for the two of you to admire the moment of quiet, peaceful breaths syncing with each other.

No words were needed for the two of you to admit how blind you were, not noticing or not admitting your feelings for each other.

No words were needed to express the love you felt for each other, just as it's always been.

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#simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #gender neutral reader #riri writes

[bloatedandalone04]

Screaming Whispers

➪the one where anakin is a musician and you’re his muse.

Warnings: rockstar anakin, modern au, smut, fluff, swearing to the max, pda, unprotected sex, hair pulling, praise kink, small corruption kink, size sink, his bands name is 'screaming whispers' which translates to 'sw' for short...like sw for star wars??? and i didn’t even plan that, it just happened, jealousy (brief), possessive anakin, fingering, oral (f receiving), soft dom anakin, choking kink

Word Count: 6.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The lights were blinding and his ears were ringing, but Anakin wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

He couldn’t see much past the flashlights on the phones and the stage lights that flickered in time with the drums his bandmate, Vinny, was currently pounding on. Live shows were always so much better than being stuck in a recording studio all day, because at least out on stage Anakin could let out all his pent up frustration and no one would bat an eye.

Actually, the way he got so into his performance and really gave it his all had his fans absolutely losing their minds as they, too, fell under the control of the music and the lights and the lyrics. 

Anakin had only been in his band, Screaming Whispers, for just over a year now, but that was apparently enough time to get his and his friends’ names out there. One low budget album later and everyone knew about them, and really, Anakin had you to thank. 

You are his high school sweetheart, and have been his biggest supporter since the day he told you he wanted to do something with music and maybe try to make it his career. 

After writing countless drafts of songs that were all about you and his relationship with you, Anakin asked a couple of his friends who played instruments to rent out a recording studio to record one of the drafts he had actually finished. 

Anakin was the lead singer and guitarist, while his friend, Vinny, played the drums, and his other friend, Theo, played bass.  

It came out sounding decent and Anakin ended up editing it himself before uploading it to his burner account on Youtube, choosing some random photo he had taken of your hand holding his as the thumbnail. 

Within a few days, the video only had about thirty views, and he knew most of them were from you.

When he had first let you listen to the song with a nervous expression gracing his features, he was worried when you didn’t say anything during the whole two minutes and forty six seconds it played for. 

It ended and you turned to him, an unreadable look on your face before you were throwing yourself at him. He had never seen you so needy and desperate for him (unless he counted the very first time you and he slept together), and you spent the rest of the night loving on him because he had written you a song. 

Your boyfriend of over three years at that point had actually made a whole song about you. How could you not tear his clothes off right then and there?

A few more weeks had passed when Anakin randomly decided to see how the video was doing. He was bored and you were at class, and he had grown tired of walking around your shared apartment on campus by himself. 

When he clicked on the video, he was sure he had accidentally clicked the wrong one when he saw that it had gone from thirty views to ninety eight thousand views. It had over forty thousand likes and just under a thousand comments, all of which were praising him and the guys for how good the song is. 

You once again jumped his bones a few hours later when he showed you it, muttering something about how you knew people would like the song once it got more exposure. 

A month later, it had nearly a million views and Anakin was left to assume that the song had gone viral on a different platform that resulted in people searching the song up on Youtube. He didn’t go on TikTok or Instagram as he had no desire to, but was informed by Theo that the song actually did become super popular on TikTok and that was how so many people had found the video on his Youtube. 

Since it had gotten way more attention than he had ever expected it to, Anakin quickly changed the channel name from ‘Manakin 246’ to ‘Screaming Whispers’. It was the first thing he thought of and both Vinny and Theo agreed to call themselves that if they were to ever record another song together. 

Well, just a few days after that, the trio was contacted by a record label and a week later, they were signed onto Dynamic Studios as an official band. 

It all happened so fast. Anakin was encouraged to finish and edit his previous drafts, and that was how he found himself recording a whole album with most of the songs being about you. Vinny and Theo helped out a lot with the songs, but insisted Anakin be credited as the lead songwriter, since the whole thing was his idea. 

The album was called ‘Taking Back October’, and it had been streamed over three million times over various music sites. That, of course, resulted in a tour being booked, and that was where he is now. 

A full year after uploading that song and three months of being on tour, Anakin could safely say he was meant to do this. 

But the best part of it all? He had you watching him from your spot backstage, the biggest smile on your lips whenever he looked over at you from his place on the center of the stage. 

From where you stood, he looked to be having the time of his life. He looked so in his element, so confident and comfortable, and not to mention unbelievably attractive. 

You found yourself biting your lip as you hid away from the crowd. Part of you wondered how he did it, how he was so at home in front of thousands of strangers, but you supposed some people were just meant for the spotlight, and Anakin is definitely one of those people. 

You definitely were not, as just the mere thought of stepping out onto the stage would send you into a full blown panic attack. And Anakin knew that, so despite him wanting to show you off to the world and to his fans - he couldn’t believe he actually has fans - he knew better than to shove you into the limelight like that. 

For now, you were comfortable backstage, two lanyards around your neck that told everyone you were a guest on the tour, and that you were allowed backstage. 

As you watched your boyfriend play and sing his heart out to his song Homecoming Queen, one of the stage crew members came waltzing up to you, a kind yet flirtatious smile on his lips. “Hi,” he said over the loud live music. 

“Hi,” you called back, never taking your eyes off Anakin. 

The guy looked down at your tour and backstage passes, a smirk growing on his lips. “You a friend of the bands?”

That made you glance over at him, and you were immediately uncomfortable at the way he was looking at you. “Something like that,” you answer, and it was true - Vinny and Theo had also gone to high school with you, but they were closer to Anakin, obviously - but the crew member didn’t seem too convinced. “I’m dating the lead singer, this song is actually about me.” You try again and watch as his eyes grow wide before he’s looking on stage and at your boyfriend.

He meets Anakin’s blue orbs, and right away you could see a hint of possessiveness in them, similar to the look he’d give other guys when they looked at you for a little too long back in high school. 

The crew guy just backs away and leaves you alone, making you grin over at your boyfriend. Anakin just smirks before he is back to singing the chorus, all while never falling out of tune with the rest of the band. 

Even though you were buzzing with excitement for what’s in store for you once he’s off the stage and you’d have him all to yourself, you couldn’t deny how attractive he looks on stage. 

The show had been going on for just over an hour, and they would be wrapping up soon. Anakin’s skin was coated in a light layer of sweat, and the leather jacket he had been wearing when he had first walked out on stage had long since been discarded. His muscles flexed under the flashing lights as he effortlessly played his electric guitar and sang his heart out. 

You were sure his throat was raw, but he didn’t stop, and the fans were loving it. You also couldn’t take your eyes off the way the muscles in his neck strained as he reached the higher notes of the song, and you had to press your thighs together to feel some sort of relief for the pressure that had been steadily building up. 

After another ten minutes or so, the band wrapped up the performance and left the stage, leaving the fans still screaming in the stands. After Anakina picked up his jacket he tossed near the drum kit, he handed his guitar to the same stage crew member who had been talking to you, before he wrapped his free arm around your waist. 

Your hands were barely touching either side of his face before he was kissing you deeply, the hand that held his jacket moving to grip your waist. Anakin pulled you closer to him, his adrenaline making his body ache for yours in hopes to find some sort of relief for the energy that surged through him. 

“You were amazing out there,” you praised against his mouth, wanting nothing more than to poke your tongue out and run it up the side of his damp neck. “Like always.”

“Thank you, pretty girl,” he murmured, brushing his lips against yours before dipping his head down to kiss your neck. His hands bunched up the thin fabric of your loose sundress, the flowery print making his want for you skyrocket. “You look hot.”

You laugh, glancing down at the simple dress that seemed to turn him on as if it was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. “You look hot,” you say back and brush his slightly wet hair away from his forehead. You had to crane your neck a bit to be able to gaze up into his blue eyes, due to the sheer size difference between the two of you. The physical evidence of just how different you two are, even down to your height, had you pressing your thighs together again. 

He wore dark clothes, most of which are adorned with chains, and his left arm was showing off a steadily growing sleeve of tattoos of random things - a lightsaber, a  couple quotes, more than a few vulgar images, and most importantly, an outline of a heart with the initial of your first name inside it on his bicep. His wardrobe consisted of jeans, muscle tees, leather and jean jackets, and vintage - though sometimes graphic - shirts. He wore black boots or converse to tie off every outfit, completed with a couple of wristbands, rings and his signature necklace chain with your initials on the small charm. 

You wore light colors, dresses and skirts that allowed you to show off the soft skin of your legs. Your body was bare of tattoos, with the exception of an ‘A’ on the side of your left wrist. Gold and silver jewelry were always on your wrist or around your neck, and you often wore flats or sneakers that went well with the rest of your look.

It was a big difference between the two of you, one that had been there since you were both seventeen, and it was what drew you into one another to begin with. 

He looked intimidating, scary, even, but you found out that he had the sweetest heart, and he had given it to you.

“I am hot,” he grinned down at you, and the double meaning had you shaking your head as he stepped away from you and placed his jacket over your shoulders. He looked you up and down, biting down harshly on his bottom lip as his hands found their home on your waist again. The black leather contrasted against your light dress in such a sinful way, Anakin almost let out a groan at the sight. “Fuck, I can’t wait to take you back to the hotel after this.”

The band was playing two shows in D.C., so their manager went out of her way to book them a hotel for the night. It saved them from sleeping on the tour bus, which was surprisingly difficult to do, and Anakin could usually fall asleep anywhere. 

He once fell asleep sitting down with his back pressed up against a washing machine in the laundry room at your apartment while he was waiting for the load to dry. He probably would’ve been sleeping for at least another half hour, had another resident not woken him up because he was sleeping against the only available washing machine. 

But, for some reason, Anakin found that sleeping on a tour bus was next to impossible, even though he was given the only double bed because he had you with him.

So, in an attempt to get himself tired, he would spend a good hour with you in bed once he and the band got back on the bus after a show. 

He could only imagine how happy Theo and Vinny are at the fact that they won’t have to listen to the two of you going at it for at least one of the two hundred and fifty nights they spent on tour. 

“Yeah? You excited to spend a night with me in an actual room instead of a bus?” You teased, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when his wrapped around your waist and pulled your body right up against his. 

“I’m so fucking excited,” he answered, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as the stage crew walked around the two of you to begin packing up the equipment. He leaned down so his lips were brushing against your ear as he whispered, “We can be as loud as we want. I can’t wait to make you scream.”

You refrain from moaning in a public place, ignoring how dumb that sounded when you thought about how loud you got on a tour bus that had only a single, thin door that separated yours and Anakin’s room from the other guys. 

This man made you crazy in all the best possible ways. “Well,” you say back, tugging him impossibly closer by the hem of his white tee shirt. “What are you waiting for? An encore?”

Anakin groaned quietly, cursing under his breath when he felt your hand slide up the heated skin of his torso. “Fuck no,” he muttered, taking your hand in his and guiding you towards the exit door that would lead the two of you out to the parking lot. “I think if everyone in that audience could see just how good you look right now, they wouldn’t blame me for not going back out there and taking you to bed.”

You smirked a bit as he pulled you onto the bus with him and towards your room to indulge in a makeout session before he would give you the real thing once you got to the hotel. 

A short ten minute drive later, and Anakin was painfully aware of just how hard he’s gotten since your quick encounter backstage, followed by your intense making out that took place on the bus. 

Once his manager had given him the key to his room, Anakin pulled you along with him as he made his way to the elevator, pushing the button for the twelfth floor when he was in it. 

He leaned back against the wall as the numbers above the doors increased with every passing second. His lips were on yours in messy and noisy kisses, his hands sliding down to lift the bottom of your dress up as if you weren’t still in a public place, and were probably being recorded because every elevator seemed to have cameras nowadays. 

Once it stopped at the twelfth floor, Anakin easily picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, his hand placed firmly on your back to prevent your dress from slipping up and exposing you to anyone who might enter the hall while he carried you to the room.

He inserted the keycard for room 1209 with his free hand, before tossing it onto the table in the entryway. Anakin’s hands grip your waist after he sets you down and he turns your body away from him, his fingers sliding up your back and pushing your hair to the side. He unclasps the gold necklace he had bought you a few nights ago from a cute store you and he stumbled upon while you were out sightseeing. 

Anakin gently sets the chain down onto the table as well and places a few kisses to the back of your neck before he guides you forward and towards the king sized bed. “Look at that, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Since you had discarded his jacket back on the bus, his lips had free rein over the skin of your shoulders and neck as he sucked a few light marks onto it. “It’s bigger than our bed we have at home.”

Home. It seemed like so long ago, when in reality, Screaming Whispers had only been on tour for three months now. Anakin planned on using the money he would get from the tour and the shows to officially move in with you, in your own house, not a student apartment that was on the campus of his old college. 

You were still a student there, but had opted to get all your assignments done before the tour so you could save yourself from having to give up the school year. 

Humming, you lean back against his body. “We still need to get our bags from the bus,” 

Anakin sucked on the skin of your jaw as his hands pulled at the thin fabric of your dress. “I’ll get our stuff later,” he promised, sliding his hands up the front of your body, making chills take over you as he gripped your chest. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.” 

You hum again, closing your eyes when you feel one of his hands inch lower and lower until it disappears underneath your dress. “Just for you, Ani,” you whispered as he softly rubbed your clit through the thin lace of your panties. 

He kissed your shoulder in appreciation as his hand slipped past the lace, his ring-clad middle finger dipping into your heat. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he nearly moaned, his free arm wrapping around your middle when he felt your body slump back against his. “So wet for me.”

“Ani,” you gasped quietly, moaning when he began to pump his finger in and out of you. The lace restricted him from going super hard, but he much rather preferred to work you up to that, anyway. “Fuck, it’s all for you. You looked so hot tonight.”

“You look hot, too, pretty girl,” he mumbled and removed his hand from your panties as he spun your body around so your chest was pressed to his. “I saw the way that crew guy was looking at you.”

You moaned quietly when his knee separated your legs, his thigh rubbing against your core through his jeans. “I said I was with you,” you weakly say, gripping his biceps tightly when his hands found your waist and began sliding your body up and down his thigh. “Said I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” he rasped, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before he gently shoved you away. The backs of your knees hit the end of the bed and you fall back onto it, your dress slipping up past your thighs and revealing the pastel pink lace that covered your core. “You’ve been mine since we were seventeen.”

You bite down harshly on your lip when he pulls the lace down your legs and drops it to the floor. “Oh, fuck,” you mumbled when he ran his tongue up your folds, eagerly collecting your wetness. 

Anakin glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing at the way you were refraining from being too loud. “No, Y/n,” he says sternly, bringing a hand up to slide his index and middle fingers into you. “We have this whole room to ourselves. I want you to be as loud as you can fucking get.”

Almost instantly a loud moan escapes you when he sucks on your clit, your back arching slightly when he began to fuck his fingers into you. Those skilled fingers, the same ones that had so effortlessly played the guitar in front of thousands of people just a half hour before. “Fuck, Ani. Fuck,” you whined.

Anakin smirked against you, curling his fingers once they are knuckle deep within you. The calloused tips brush against your walls and make you squeeze your eyes shut, finding it hard to believe that a year before all this, the skin of his fingers was smooth and gentle as he only played guitar in his free time before he made a career out of it.

Over a year of playing it non-stop had hardened his fingers and was a blessing in disguise, as they had never felt better when they were buried deep within you. 

“God, it feels so good,” you whimpered as he traced the letters of his name with his tongue onto your clit. “So fucking good, Ani.”

He hummed, sending vibrations up your core and making your mind go into a frenzy. “Louder, baby,” he softly demanded, moving back up your body and hovering over you while his hand picks up the pace a bit. “I want this whole floor to complain about us tomorrow.”

You were so turned on, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about the sounds your core was making as his fingers plunged into it repeatedly. Not that Anakin ever let you feel embarrassed about it, seeing as he prided himself on how wet he makes you every time he goes out on stage. 

“I know you want it, too,” he continues as he stared down at your fucked out expression. “Admit it.”

“I want it,” you managed to say as his thumb began rubbing circles on your clit in time with his fingers. The coolness from his ring contrasted against your searing heat, making the knot in your abdomen steadily form. 

Anakin smirked down at you, leaning in to run his tongue along the skin under your ear. “Want what?” 

“God,” you groaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace. “I want everyone on this floor to know who makes me feel so good, Anakin. I want them all to complain about how loud we are.”

Anakin was satisfied with your answer, “That’s my girl,” and he leaned down to begin sucking various marks onto the skin of your neck, the sounds you were emitting going straight to his dick that throbbed against his jeans. He didn’t think he could ever get tired of hearing all the sweet sounds you made just for him, and had been making for him since you were in high school. 

“Anakin,” you moaned, lifting your hips in time with the movement of his hand. “Please, please, don’t stop.” Your lips brushed against his as you begged him to keep fucking you with his skilled fingers. 

He hummed, kissing you deeply. “You gonna come for me?” He asked, already knowing the answer as he felt the way you clenched around his fingers every time your walls sucked him back in. 

“Yes,” you nearly whispered, a crease forming in your brow as the coil in your stomach was a mere few seconds away from snapping. “Please.”

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he requested, his voice deep and sultry next to your ear. “I want it all over my hand.”

You were unable to deny him his wish as you came hard, your thighs shaking slightly and your mouth opening to let out a long and loud moan. Your head dipped back into the middle of the bed, your fingers twisting tightly in the soft comforter as he slowed down the thrusts of his hand until you were whimpering quietly. 

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, kissing you once before removing his fingers from inside you. He brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks the digits clean as he moves back down your body. Anakin licked a single strip up your slick core before standing up, smirking at the way your whole body shook at the action. 

You weakly propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him pull his belt from his jean loops. He drops it to the floor, the sound of the buckle hitting the hardwood making your head swim with thoughts of what’s in store for you next.  

“Take that pretty dress off, baby,” he said under his breath, reaching behind him to pull off the white tee and leaving it to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You quickly lifted yourself up so you were kneeling on the bed, your hands fumbling to tug off your dress. Anakin gives you a soft smirk at how obedient you always are for him as you tossed the dress off the side of the bed, kicking his jeans down his legs and leaving him in his tight boxer briefs. 

You gave him a look that nearly had him falling to the floor as he moved forward and kneeled on the bed in front of you, making you crane your neck to be able to stare up at him. Your hands reach up and tug on the hair on the back of his neck, pulling his head down so his mouth could meet yours. 

Moaning quietly against his lips, you arch your back when you feel his hands slide up to unclasp your matching pink bra. He pulled it from your body, leaving you completely bare to his lust filled eyes. He let out a low growl as his hands slid back down to your hips. “Lay back, pretty girl,”

You oblige quickly, laying further up on the bed and resting against the soft pillows. “Please, Anakin,” you whined as he rubbed his still covered dick against your heat. “Fuck me.”

Anakin groaned as he shoved his boxers down, gripping your thighs and tugging them up until they were draped over his. “I’ll fuck you, baby,” he promised, running his tip over your wetness and coating himself in it. “I’ll fuck you so good, make sure everyone knows who made you come.”

“Fuck, yes,” you gasped just as he thrusted himself into you without warning, making you reach out to grip his forearms. Still on his knees, Anakin began fucking into you at a brutal pace, pouring all his leftover energy from the show into the way his hips hit yours. “God, yes.”

Anakin gripped your waist tightly, his eyes drifting from the way your breasts bounced with each thrust to your face as it twisted up in pleasure. “Say my name,” he demanded, burying himself to the brim and pausing there.

Your body tensed up, your stomach muscles flexing as he kept your hips pressed to his. “Anakin,”

“Louder,” he ordered, repeating the action. 

“Anakin!” You shouted, and it was followed by a string of moans as he resumed rocking his body against your own. “God, Anakin, you’re so deep. So deep in me.”

He grunted at your filthy words, the faint sound of the headboard hitting the wall making the whole scene look like it was straight out of a porno. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” he praised, reaching one hand up to pinch at your sensitive nipples. He felt you clench around him as he worked on hardening your peaks, his pace faltering just slightly at the tightness of your walls. “Always take me so well.”

“I love you, Anakin,” you whimpered, arching your back and pushing your chest up against his hand. 

He groaned at your sweet words, placing his hands flat against the comforter on either side of your head from where he knelt above you. “I love you so much,” he said back, speeding up his pace. “I’ve loved you for four years now, baby.”

“Nearly five,” you reminded him with a cry of pleasure. “We’ve been together for almost five years, Ani.”

“I know, princess,” he murmurs, leaning further down to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, a big contrast to the way his lower body was currently destroying yours. “How could I ever forget about the day you became mine?” 

“Best day of my life,” you mumbled when he leaned back again, digging his knees into the bed as he all but railed into you. “Fuck, you feel so good, Anakin.”

“You’re so tight,” he responded, making your stomach twist with a need to please him forever. You were vaguely aware of the loud smacking of the headboard now, and the way the picture that hung above the bed was tapping with each thrust of his hips. It only fueled your desire for him as your hands gripped the comforter once again. 

Your previous orgasm rendered you a bit more sensitive than normal, so you weren’t all that surprised to feel that knot begin to tighten once more. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come again,”

“Yeah? You’re going to come all over me again?” He mocked slightly, only making your head swim with dizziness at how dirty the whole event is. “I want it. Come all over me, pretty girl, nice and messy.”

Your eyes rolled back just a bit when he reached one hand up to press his fingers against the base of your neck. A strangled moan escaped you as you clenched helplessly around him.

You didn’t think you would ever get used to how he was in bed, versus how he  was out of it. He was sweet, kind and caring with you outside the bedroom, but inside it he was rough, loud and determined to get you off in any way he possibly could. The difference was almost too much to handle. 

A few more deep thrusts later and your core was flooding around him, noisily sucking him in deeper and alerting him of your second orgasm. “That’s it, baby,” he praised, watching as his dick became even more coated in your wetness. It spurred him to speed up the pace so he could reach his own release. “Good fucking girl.”

“Anakin,” you struggled to say as your body shook with overstimulation. “Ani, come, baby, please.”

It wasn’t the first time he had you begging him to come in you, but it still had his head going fuzzy for a second or two, as well as made him twitch inside you. “You want it?” He asked through a clenched jaw, his neck muscles straining as he tried to hold off for a little bit longer. 

“Yes,” you answered, powerless against his sharp thrusts as you took each one. “I want it so bad.”

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered, his pace slowing down as his own release flooded through him. With a couple slow thrusts into your greedy core, he fucked his seed deep within you. 

He falls onto the bed next to you a few seconds later, his chest heaving and a light layer of sweat adorning his skin, mirroring the way he looked on stage an hour or so prior to this. 

Anakin was a lot more drained now than he was before, and he knew that if he were to stay in bed for much longer he would probably pass out with you wrapped in his arms. 

He lifted himself up and pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, murmuring an “I’ll be right back,” against it before he dressed himself in his shirt and jeans, grabbing the keycard on his way out to retrieve both yours and his bags from the bus. 

-

The next day, after spending most of the morning wrapped up in the sheets together, you and Anakin finally decided to get up. 

Kind of.

He was currently propped against the headboard, eating a piece of toast with you on his lap. His acoustic guitar he brought with him was placed in your lap as you softly ran your fingers against the strings, leaning back against his bare chest. You were nowhere near as talented as he is with the instrument, and you knew it would sound awful if you were to try and play it without his guidance. 

“Mm,” he hummed when you plucked one of the strings at his request, tossing the crust of the toast onto the plate that was next to him on the bed. He would usually be more careful so there wouldn’t be any crumbs in the sheets, but he was checking out of the hotel before tonight’s show, so he decided to leave it to the cleaning staff as he knew they would be washing the sheets anyway. “That’s the B string, baby, not the D string.”

“And I’m supposed to know that…how?” You asked as he wrapped his arms around your middle. 

“Well, I’ve only been playing guitar for the entire length of our relationship,” he teased as he placed his right hand over yours. He guided your thumb to one of the middle strings and gently brushed it against it. Of course, it sounded a lot better because he was the one who controlled how much pressure and the pace of your thumb against the string. “That’s the D string.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes at the cockiness in his voice as you strummed along the string again, this time sounding a bit better than before. 

“There you go,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as a reward. “That was good.”

You turn your head to give him a small glare. “You’ve never been a good liar,” you mutter. “Especially when it comes to lying to me, it’s why you could never get away with cheating.”

Anakin scoffed, “I would never,”

You shake your head with a dumb grin on your lips as he guides your fingers to strum the tune he had been going over in his head for the past few days. You let him take full control over the way he moved your fingers, noting the soft humming of an unfamiliar song leaving the back of his throat. “New song, Ani?” 

He shrugged from his spot behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, your tank top doing very little to cover your skin from him. “Maybe,” he answers as he begins to kiss up your neck, not even needing to look down at the strings to be able to play them perfectly. 

It made you a bit lightheaded, how hot and talented he truly is. “What’s it going to be about?” You ask, eyes glued to the way he effortlessly helped you play the guitar while also holding a conversation with you. His talent always surprised you, despite knowing early on how skilled he is with the instrument. 

“You, obviously,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. “What else would I write a song about?”

“You’re too much,” you say and he laughs quietly, agreeing with you as he goes back to mumbling potential lyrics in your ear. 

A few hours go by and it’s nearing the time for Anakin and the band to head onto stage. He smoothes out his graphic tee and smirks at the way you cowered behind the large speaker, eyeing him with your lip caught between your teeth. 

“God, Ani, you look good,”

“Me?” He asked and reached his hand out to you, pulling you into his arms once you took it. He played with the end of your pink and white skirt, eye fucking you a mere few minutes before he had to go perform in front of thousands of people. “I bet Vin and Theo are so jealous that it was me who got to take you to bed last night, in an actual room.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders, gazing up at him. “I bet all your fans are jealous that it’s going to be me who gets you all to herself after the show,”

Anakin hummed lowly, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “I’d be jealous, too, if the hottest girl took me home,” he rasped. “Or in our case, took me back to that stupid bus.”

You laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Since you had applied a cute pink lip to go with your skirt, a stain was left on his skin when you pulled away. “Oh, sorry,” you say and lift your hand up, but pause when his fingers wrap around your wrist. 

“Don’t you dare try to wipe that off,” he ordered with a smirk. “I think it completes my look.”

And it really did. A black snapback was placed backwards on his head, a vintage shirt covered his chest and exposed his sleeve of tattoos, dark jeans with a few chains connected to the belt loops hugged his legs, and black boots gave him the daunting appearance of someone who was born to be on stage. 

The pink lipstick mark only added to the whole thing.

“Okay,” you swallow harshly, stepping away once Vinny handed him his guitar. “Have a good show.”

“I love you,” he called out as he placed the strap over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

When he made his grand entrance, the crowd seemed even louder than normal, and you could only hope at least some of them were able to see your mark on his cheek as you hid behind the speaker and watched your boyfriend get lost in his element.

-

Series based off this fic

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #hayden christensen #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen imagine #screaming whispers #screaming whispers au

[agentmarvel]

i've been thinking about this for days, so here y'all go.

part i |♡| part ii

sugar daddy!könig x fat!reader

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

könig, whose bank account contains millions that he has neither the time nor desire to spend himself.

könig, who learns about the sugaring community from stiletto and roze, surprisingly, and educates himself, finding himself quite interested.

newly minted sugar daddy!könig, who joins a website, hoping to meet a sweet, plump little thing to keep him company in his off time, accompany him to events he really doesn't want to be at, and is willing to be patient with him and stay in touch, though spotty, through deployments in exchange for everything she could possibly want.

sugar daddy!könig, who matches with you after several less than ideal encounters, boring conversations, and dozens of left swipes over the course of a year. he finds himself immediately enamored with your photos; you’re stunning, exactly his type.

sugar daddy!könig, who has a hard time talking himself out of sending you a large sum immediately just for a moment of your undivided attention, but ultimately decides against it, lest you only be interested in those deposits off the bat.

sugar daddy!könig, who learns you're a full-time student with limited means of support, given you aren't exactly a local. he could be the support you need, he thinks.

sugar daddy!könig, who is so thoroughly pleased with how you conduct yourself through messages, neglecting the matter of his finances almost entirely while you try to connect with him personally. after nearly a month of exchanging messages, he makes his first offer - daily pictures for payments. nothing lewd, not yet, but he's interested in seeing more than the same six photos he looks at daily on your profile.

sugar daddy!könig, who sends €500 per photo per day. you catch on quick, doubling or tripling up on them after a week; one before you head to class, one before you go to bed. but after the third time he sends multiple payments, you send a message telling him it's not necessary.

>>> I like sending the pictures! Your reactions are always so kind, and it makes my day! 🥰

sugar daddy!könig, who turns bright red at that and insists that he keep up his end of the bargain, but gives extra attention to detail in his responses.

sugar daddy!könig, who grows anxious to meet you face-to-face; broaching the subject proves difficult when he struggles to find the right words. luckily for him, you're a bit bolder, inquiring about events he mentioned, hoping to find chemistry on an actual date of sorts.

sugar daddy!könig, who is all too quick to agree to meet up with you. he warns you that he's painfully awkward, apologizes in advance on a loop, and warns you of his behemoth stature - a factor of intimidation for many, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

sugar daddy!könig, who adores your acceptance of his self-perceived flaws and shuts down the insecurities that you voice on your own behalf. your photos are not deceptive; he can see that you're a bigger girl (exactly what he wanted), and no amount of lighting, angle, or editing that could hide the most beautiful things about you.

sugar daddy!könig, who spends the next several days in a spiral over the date, stressing every miniscule detail until he chews a hole in his lip. his hands shake as he buttons his shirt, leg bouncing with nervous energy during the drive, fidgeting while he awaits your arrival...

sugar daddy!könig, who almost leaves when you're a mere five minutes late, berating himself internally for being blinded by optimism. he has to set his glass down in fear of breaking it in his tense grip.

sugar daddy!könig, who has to pick his jaw up from the floor when he catches sight of the hostess bringing you to the table. you're wearing a shy smile and a gorgeous dress that hugs your curves perfectly, and for the briefest moment, he swears he's in love.

#könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #plus size reader #fat reader #cod x reader #cod x you #jj writes

[alreadyblondenow]

▸ Assassin Jaehyun x Assassin Female reader ▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, MATURE ▸ JAEHYUN SMUT SERIES: FUCK, MARRY, KILL ▸ VOLUME I: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

THIS IS PART 3. THIS IS PART 3. THIS IS PART 3.

VOLUME I: PART 2 WORD COUNT: 10,748k

Warnings: THIS FIC IS FICTION ONLY, Smut, smut, smut, MATURE THEMES, Heavy description of killings because most of the characters are assassins, mentions of blood, character death, A LOT OF NCT MEMBERS WILL D WORD IN THIS FIC, unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, mentions of pill, pregnancy, swearing, mentions of alcohol. Mentions of being an orphan, Not everything is proofread, apologies again. Kidnapping, burning of possession, I hope I did not forget anything.

A/N: I will cut VOLUME I into three parts, PART I AND PART II is posted already. Thank you to my readers!!! Im sorry if it took me so long to post a usual. VOLUME 2 will be posted HOPEFULLY BY THE END OF FEBRUARY :( please understand that I want to support Taeyong's second solo album first.

When Jaehyun needed to let go of your hand and allow the doctors to do their job, everything became silent and he never felt so weak like this before. It was not too long when the others came but Jaehyun already lost himself and kept thinking who did this to you. There’s only one man in his mind though, Kun. 

By the time you were stable and safe from death, Jaehyun couldn’t let go of your hand, even while he was sleeping. But days passed by slowly, and your condition wasn't getting any better, this is where he started feeling angry again, frustrated because he couldn't do anything to wake you up. He didn’t have any choice but to go back to where he’s good at. Killing. 

“Save yourself from the trouble, let us handle this stay here with her, she’ll love it when she wakes up and you’re beside her” Yuta tried to persuade Jaehyun. 

“I’ll do this on my own. Keep her safe for me. When she wakes up… tell her I’ll be with her soon” Jaehyun says before kissing you goodbye, whispering sweet things beside your ear. 

“Please don’t leave me. I will be nothing without you” he says. 

During the days that he’s tracking Kun, Jaehyun promises to himself that from now on, he will be a boss while being an assassin himself, killing everyone that goes on his way, he is blinded by his anger and want for revenge. He will work harder to achieve piece in your lives even tho he needs to bring chaos first. 

When Jaehyun finally met Kun face to face, he did not know why finding and looking for him felt wrong, it was as if the clues that he had never pointed him to Kun’s direction but he kept on insisting on blaming Kun… because he really don’t know who to kill. 

“Do you know why the Phantoms are always ahead of you…. Because you’re stupid” Kun mocks Jaehyun. “I’ll tell you who wanted Y/n dead but I want something big in return”

“You can’t bring money on your deathbed Kun. Come on be creative, ask for something else” 

Kun just gave him a mocking smile. 

“So who wanted Y/n dead?” Jaehyun asked, pointing his gun toward Kun. 

“I think you can answer that question… actually, I think you know the answer already”

It was quiet for some time. Crazy how Kun’s words were true and Jaehyun was just denying the fact that… his father is the one who wanted you dead. He had a hunch already. But blood is still blood. Jaehyun couldn’t swallow that pill. 

“Imagine this Jaehyun… you and Y/n in a faraway place. Get married privately. Away from all the family drama. Build a home. Build a family. Isn’t that what you want? Well… according to Hendery that’s what Y/n wanted” 

Immediately Jaehyun’s world stopped. Kun already knew that he was about to get what he wanted in this life. It's not easy to have a deal with a Phantom, but for you, Jaehyun is willing to risk that.

“Just tell me if I should do the dirty work Jeong” Kun added.

By the time you gain continuousness and finally awake from your deep sleep, you look for Jaehyun beside you but it was Mark you saw first, followed by Yuta who just entered the room with a cup of noodles. Of course, you remember being food poisoned, coughing blood and staining Jaehyun’s clothes, you still remember the horrible memories before you closed your eyes that time. 

“I know you miss Jaehyun even when you’re sleeping— but he just got home from a mission alone… he will be here soon” Mark whispered. “He did it Y/n, he killed Kun. The last of the Phantoms” Yuta added. 

“How long was I sleeping?” You asked weakly. You can’t believe that Jaehyun was back to killing while you were out. He hasn’t gotten his hand dirty for years.

“Roughly 14 days-“

“He tracked and killed Kun in 14 days?” You let out a laugh. 

“Well, we almost lost you Y/n” Mark said and you can only imagine how Jaehyun felt. 

While waiting for Jaehyun to arrive, you fell asleep and dreamt of him kissing and snuggling you under the beautiful sunset, holding hands while enjoying the warmth of the sun, little did you know, Jaehyun was already beside you. Trying to gently wake you up. And by the time you opened your eyes, his lips found yours and you pulled him in for an embrace. He look tired, he got thin in a matter of days. 

“Let’s go far away from this place and live peacefully” he asked of you sweetly. “Do you like that?” His hands found yours, he was cold and shaking, oh how you wish it was warm and relaxed like how you dreamt of him. 

After being discharged from the hospital, he was focused on you. He even discharged you from the hospital himself and drove you home. A new house. Everything happened so fast, and you don’t know why Jaehyun is like this. He never left the house, he’s always by your side but he’s always on his toes, always on the phone, almost not sleeping. What’s happening? 

“Here, you feeling okay?” He handed you your medicine and a glass of water, watching you very carefully as you take everything. 

“Why are you watching me like a hawk Jae?” Your arms immediately wrapped around him. You’re still weak and he can see it. 

“I’m just doing my job” he smiles and kisses your forehead before he returns the embrace. He’s always by your side lately, you’re not complaining but you wish he could be honest and tell you everything. 

“Hmm. That’s my job. Protecting you Jeong Yoonoh” you teased him. He just laughed. 

“Do you know how painful it is to watch you sleep, and talk to you while you were unconscious? I never want that to happen again. I felt so hopeless. It’s like I was ready to die any minute”

Of course you know what he felt. You almost lost him too. “From now on… can you just let me… let me protect you. Let me take care of you. No questions asked?” He looked you in the eye and waited for your answer. 

You just nod. 

After a few weeks of staying in the new house, Jaehyun surprised you with a long vacation in Italy. You already knew that this trip was a secret to the world. A trip between you and Jaehyun only while Taeyong, Mark, and Yuta are on standby protecting you and Jaehyun. “I don’t like this princess treatment. What is going on?” You asked Taeyong sternly. But as per Jaehyun’s request, he did not tell you anything. 

Jaehyun was extremely quiet during the trip. Almost as if his mind is somewhere else but you couldn’t ask him. You feel like he’s somewhere else. 

It was dark when you two arrived at this secluded farm but you trusted Jaehyun’s words, “you’ll love this place” The house was simple. There’s grass everywhere, beautiful garden, all kinds of flowers and shrubs, and you can hear crickets around the place. The moon was shining brightly too. Nothing fancy, when you two walked in. Theres a nice living room, filled with unique furniture and nice trinkets. “Could be better if the family who lived here put up some family pictures,” you said. 

Jaehyun was quiet, but smiling. 

The kitchen was perfect you thought, you remember daydreaming about having your own kitchen like this. Big stove, an oven for baking, a wooden dining table for your future family… its perfect. 

“This place is breathtaking—“ you said as you enter the masters bedroom room and was quickly grabbed by the waist.

“Wait until the morning,” he smiled before kissing you lovingly. 

It was the first time ever again that you two shared a bed. You have no idea what’s keeping Jaehyun away from you but nonetheless, you understand. And since this is the first time you two shared the bed, you noticed that he wasn’t planning on sleeping. It’s either you feel him keep you closer to his body, you hear him text or call someone, and the next thing you know the sun is shining already and he’s making you breakfast. 

“Did you even sleep?” You asked him while he was busy cooking eggs. You hugged him from behind and greeted him ‘good morning’ 

“For an hour, yeah. I needed to take some calls so I couldn’t join you in your sleep. Dreamt about me?” He flirted and kissed you good morning. 

“Yeah. Dreamt about you sleeping beside me… only to find out you didn’t even rest properly” you chuckled and bravely asked, “what’s wrong? If work is so heavy that you couldn’t let go of your phone then why are we here?” 

“I thought you promised that you will never question the way I protect you?” He was smiling but little did he know… you’re already pissed. You couldn’t argue with him anymore because he was on his phone again answering yet another important call. 

For days Jaehyun couldn’t answer your question. He’s not helping you understand him… even though you’re more than willing to. 

It hurts to turn your back on him whenever he reaches out for you. It hurts that you avoid him in this beautiful place that was meant to be enjoyed together. At this point… you just want to go home and leave this beautiful place. 

So you told him. 

“I don’t want to fight. I’m too weak for that. I am forever grateful that you want to protect me but, this is suffocating Jae. You’re not even communicating—“ 

And then Jaehyun get on his knees and took your words away. 

He’s proposing… out of nowhere. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not perfect but I’m really trying to do things my own way. Can you be my wife? And you know… make a man out of me?” He chuckled and waited for your answer. Of course you said yes. You can feel his heartbeat, beating so fast while you hug him tight. 

“I’m working double time and looking for a suitable replacement for my place at the table so we could never leave this place anymore. That’s why” he added and put the ring on your finger. “Wow. You finally said ‘yes’” he teased you and kissed you before apologizing once again. 

Gone are the days that the house was dead silent. Now its full of laughter and sweet whispers, only between you and Jaehyun. 

He changed his ways immediately, making sure you understood what he was trying to do. Soon Jaehyun realized how much help you could been if only he told you a little bit sooner. 

As days go by you two enjoy the place together, you try so hard to make breakfast warmer and sweeter each day, spend the days like a normal couple would do, stroll around the small town and enjoy its uniqueness, swim in rivers and kiss during sunset, appreciate the quiet evening where you can only hear crickets singing while you two sat at the front porch. 

“Good morning,” he hugged you from behind in this cold morning. You were happy he’s back to his normal self and gave him kisses that are long overdue. Innocent kisses that are sweet but wet, you can tell by the way his tongue moves that he missed you too. The way his kisses are soft but you know he’s up to something even more. 

His hands were swift to remove your sleepwear until you’re naked beneath him as the morning sun hits you perfectly. You watch him remove his sweatpants and underwear and he was excited to go back to your lips again. He missed being on top of you, being able to see the woman that he loves like this again. 

“I’m sorry if being like a horny teenager this morning. I really missed you” he apologized and kissed you again, hands reaching both of your legs and spreading them wide while you check your slit with your right hand if you’re wet already and you’re ready for that cock of his. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re not a stranger” you whispered sweetly while you pump his cock and kiss his lips. He didn’t wait for another second to push in. He couldn’t wait anymore. 

He missed your warm walls. He missed your lips. He missed hearing your moans beside his ears he missed your touch. Your hands are around his neck. Never leaving his skin and continuously pulling him back closer to you whenever he tries to pull away for a different sex position. He let out a soft laugh, kissing the shell of your ear and making you weak. The way he fucks you this morning is soft, as if he’s really telling you he missed you. 

The way his cock goes in and out of your hole, slowly but deep. It was addicting. Then he flips you around, putting you on your stomach but never leaving your lips. He pushed in again while your legs are still closed, making your hole tighter to Jaehyun’s liking. This is how he wanted it. Tight and slow, but giving you hard thrust while hitting the right spot. “Fuck,” you said and catch your breath. You felt your high come down already but Jaehyun is still building his. What the fuck you thought with a smile. You feel his lips travel around your back, his strong arms wrapped around your body, touching, pinching and even smacking your skin oh so lightly it tickles you. 

“Marry me”

He suddenly said. 

“Marry me,” he repeated it while thrusting deep inside you. You tried looking back at him to see his eyes but he was quick to catch your lips and fuck you faster. He was near. 

He flips you again so he could see your eyes and beautiful face, still waiting for the sweet answer. Hopefully. He was working hard for it, as you can see.

Rubbing his hand on your hard nipples as he fucks you slow and deep. His lips never leave your lips, telling you how much he loves you. He reached for your hand and intertwined it with yours, “Marry me,” he asked again, this time looking at your eyes and left a kiss your lips which made you completely stunned… and all you did was nod your head with a smile as an answer. 

You saw how Jaehyun’s face lit up the moment you answered him. How he was genuinely happy. That you finally said ‘yes’.

He let go of your hand and put on your legs, spreading them wide while he pushes deeper. You watch Jaehyun moan on top of you, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed. He was really hard and you feel it stretch you every time he push right back in. 

Faster he fucks you, making your boobs bounce and making you moan so loud. By the time he reaches his high his thrust were harder than before almost hurting you with the impact. But the hurt was so good it’s addicting. 

He rested his head beside your ear, putting all of his weight on top of you. Oh you love it when he do this… 

“I love you. Thank you for saying ‘yes’ I will make you the happiest girl in the world-“ 

“You already did Jae,” 

He smiled and caged you with his strong arms. It was a good day. A good day to start a new life together. 

A good day to get married privately. 

“Don’t you think this is kinda rushed and impulsive?” You said as Jaehyun drags you to the nearby church and talk to the locals for your wedding. 

Well, he’s Jaehyun. If he wants to get married today, then a wedding is going to happen. 

“Don’t you want to get married soon?” He asked back. 

“I want to but—“ 

“Then today is perfect!” He smiled so big as he hands you your flowers and pick the nicest wedding rings for the two of you. You’ve never seen Jaehyun like this before… but what did you expect? He really wanted to marry you and today, nothings going to stop him from being happy. As you watch him wear his smile that you gave, you can’t help but think about how you couldn’t just kill his joy now. 

The wedding was special. Nothing fancy. Just a the two of you, a witness and your promises to each other. 

“We’ll have a proper wedding if you want. We can invite the others and it will be a big celebration” he says excitedly while kissing you softly, motioning you towards your shared room, not even bothering to open the lights even though the sun came down already. 

Jaehyun was gentle and it was clear what he wanted to do on your wedding night. He was doing everything he can, kissing every part of you, touching you on the right places and telling you the perfect words that make your heart skip a beat.

Nothing can make this day even more perfect. 

“Given that its our wedding night, and you’re basically my wife now…” Jaehyun started with a shy smile. You just laughed at him for struggling to tell you what he really wanted. “Can we talk about having kids?” he finally said it. 

You laughed at what he said and looked him in the eye, you trace his features. His handsome features that made you like him, but when his lips caught your hand and showered it with kisses. You remembered how his handsomeness was just a plus, a bonus, and that his attitude is what made you fall in love with him. 

“Of course we can. Half of me, half of you” you said with a smile. 

“I want daughters” Jaehyun excitedly said, “I will spoil them—“

“Just how you spoil your niece huh? got it” you teased him. 

“But seriously. We’ll play every night, I’ll be their knight in shining armor, I’ll protect them and I’ll make this world a better place for them” 

“Hmm. exactly how?”

“I have a few plans in my mind… you wont like it,” he said with a sweet voice and started kissing your neck. He was putting you in the mood again by kissing your boobs and sucking on your nipples. Of course you like the feeling and you immediately forgot what he was saying. All you did was agree in your weakest state while moaning his name. You told him you cant go again because you were still sensitive but of course Jaehyun has his own ways. 

The days you spend together in this house is even more beautiful, it was not long after Jaehyun told you that he bought this place already and that this is where you will build a family with him. He made it official when he put a framed picture of you and him at the top of the fireplace. It was a good start. Just the way you like it. 

“Hows everything back home?” You asked while he’s typing aggressively on his phone, he doesn’t look pleased. You stood up and try to take a look at his phone but he was quick to turn the screen off and give his attention to you. 

“It’s just work, Im having a hard time but there’s nothing I cant handle” he smiled and reached out for a kiss. “Let’s make dinner?” 

Over dinner you couldn’t help but ask him over and over again about the situation back home. Not to mention… you wanted to tell him that you’re happy and that you’re over the moon but you just cant help but think that everything felt so misplaced right now. You also feel like he’s hiding something from you. 

“I’m afraid I have to leave you here for a few days, I’ll come back as soon as I can. I have to take care of something” Jaehyun explains while he plays with your hand and look at your ring. 

“I’ll come with you. We don’t need to rush living like this… I too have loose ends to take care of. Let me go with you” 

Of course you see right through him. He was hiding something. 

By the time the two of you got back at the headquarters, everything went crashing down and took away your peace. You instantly wished that you hadn't left that place. Nonetheless… everything was meant to happen eventually in the first place. 

Jaehyun’s father had a heart attack and it completely changed everyone's lives. In a bad way. 

“Yoonoh I need you to come with me” Chanyeol said to Jaehyun, signaling him to get in the car. Jaehyun on the other hand, can’t and won’t let go of you because he knew damn well that he needs you and you’re his wife now… you should stay close to him. 

“This is strictly families only Jae, don’t make this harder than it already is” Chanyeol said as he stops you from getting inside the car with Jaehyun. 

This is not the perfect time to announce your marriage. And so as Jaehyun was about to say it, you stopped him and made him follow Chanyeol. “I’ll be here, just come home whenever you can” you said and let Chanyeol take him away from you. 

It all happened so quickly but days went by slowly. It was dark times for everyone even though the sun shines brightly everyday and lights up every color you see. Even though everyday seems to be a gift, but in this world you’re in its just another day for chaos and revenge.

“Jeong Yoonoh’s place as the new head of the family and the new boss cannot be moved or transferred to any candidate….” 

You listened to the lawyer as he recited every last will of Jaehyun’s father. 

This simply means that Jaehyun can’t leave this wretched world and live a quiet life with you.

Privately, Jaehyun made a call. 

A call to someone he thought he could trust with his plans in life. But it ended up giving him the biggest problem he ever faced. 

“The deal was kill him after you replace me. You just made everything complicated. The deal is off. You’re useless to me now. Prepare for your funeral. I will not stop until you’re with your friends” 

As soon as Jaehyun ended the call with Kun. He threw his burner phone and removed his necktie that seems to be so tight right now. He felt so caged at some point. He felt prisoned. 

Only to realize that he doesn’t need to feel this way anymore because… as ugly as it sounds… he’s the boss now and he can do everything. Kill anyone. And no one will stop him now. 

Of course he’s having these thoughts because he’s struggling to get to you. To be with you peacefully. His wife. 

He wanted to tell the world that you are a Jeong now, looking at his wedding ring he remembers the beautiful times you spent together peacefully. And how he’s more than willing to embrace all this power and authority he has just so he could make this world a better place for you. It’s all for you. 

In a matter of days, Jaehyun became the boss of bosses. The head of the Jeongs and fulfilling his birthright. You have no choice but to watch him from the sidelines and be quiet even though you’re already his wife. It was as if you were nobody even though deep inside you’re basically a Jeong too.

That thought… of being a Jeong. Officially … just gives you headaches and heartaches at the same time. It feels wrong.

Ceremonies, gatherings and a lot of business meetings. Jaehyun faced them all and made him grow even more as a leader. You’re proud of him of course, and you’re happy whenever you see him in the news for a quick interview, him cutting a ribbon or whenever you see his face at the morning papers. You’re proud of him. 

And even though all these achievements are all good for his career… everyday, you feel like it’s creating a barrier between you and Jaehyun and it’s becoming thicker each day. 

Ever since the funeral you stayed at the headquarters with the others. You’re back to being an assassin, guarding rich people and providing protection whenever they need it. It’s whatever. Jaehyun insisted that you stop, but you told him that this is the only thing you know how to do even with your eyes closed. 

Maybe everything feels wrong because you’re not yet ready to be a wife to Jaehyun. 

“Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure he misses you too” Yuta said softly and gave you a cup of tea. “He’s been receiving death threats again. I think it was three today,” you just scoffed at that information knowing that Jaehyun wouldn’t be actually threatened by that. 

“People don’t know how he could be such a monster sometimes. Personally I think they should stop” 

You and Yuta just laugh at what you said because its true. For a minute, you and Yuta reminisce how Jaehyun was a crazy assassin at some point. You two also remembered how he used to be a normal person even before all of this happened. He was your friend, but now he’s your boss. Even now that you’re his wife… he’s more of a boss than a husband. 

“We can trade places tomorrow. I’m assigned to guarding Jaehyun’s office. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you” Yuta offered.

“I haven’t seen him up close since we got back” you murmured and looked at your wedding ring. “I wanted to take care of him, I wanted to iron his clothes, prepare him breakfast… like you know…. like a normal wife. Instead… I will guard his office, check every food he’s about to eat for possible food poison, and just… be a wife in my dreams. It frustrates me. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see him… let alone be with him the whole day… as one of his bodyguards”

But even though after listening to your sentiments, Yuta still encouraged you to trade places with him. For him, its better to see him from a far than not seeing him, its better for you to be with him the whole day while guarding his office, than not given the opportunity to do so. “Most wives wanted to guard their husbands 24/7 you know that?” Yuta tried making you laugh, he was talking about the cheating husbands and the wives that became dramatic overtime. 

“You watch too much T.V these days” you said while laughing. 

“Was it beautiful? The wedding?” Yuta asked sweetly only because he wanted to cheer you up. 

“Beautiful. Peaceful. Jaehyun was really happy and I was just feeling things I shouldn’t. He proposed two times already, and I turned him down because I wasn’t sure how can I make him happy… but when I finally said ‘yes’… its the first time ever that I saw him so joyful, so full of life… it was that moment that I realized that I alone can make the man that I love happy, I just need to trust myself” 

“Well, I’m sure you two will find a way back to that place again. Just hold on tight” he cheers you up. 

The next day, you guarded Jaehyun’s office with a happy heart. You left a cup of coffee on his desk with a small note, ‘I’m outside’- wife. It was out of love, and you wanted to know that you’re more than desperate to be with him. 

But Jaehyun burned the note. You saw him do it. 

For someone who is clueless and does not know the truth, it looked like Jaehyun was just burning a piece of paper for fun. Followed by lighting up his cigarette before starting to read the pile of documents in front of him today. Jaehyun didn’t like the idea. After a board meeting, Jaehyun called you inside his office privately. You thought that finally… after all the waiting you did for the following weeks, you will finally get to see him up close. 

“What were you thinking? What will happen if my enemies found out that you’re my wife? My wife. Who’s guarding me so freely. Who works for me” 

It sounded as if you weren’t enough to be his wife… that’s why he hasn’t made the announcement yet.  

Jaehyun wasn’t careful with his words and he didn’t mean it. 

“All I’m saying was, I cant let my enemies see you like this” 

He realized that the more he opens his mouth… the more he offends you without actually meaning it. Jaehyun wanted to tell you that, he wanted to protect you and hide you from his enemies. But that wasn’t exactly what happened. He just offended you. 

He didn’t get the chance to explain himself further or say sorry because you left already. He couldn’t stop you. Afraid that he might make the situation worst.

Driven by concern and guilt, Jaehyun managed to come to the headquarters for you at the end of the day. At least try to talk to you. He wanted to apologize and come pick you up for dinner if you let him. He felt bad about what happened earlier. He was just scared. That’s all. 

Just like a thief, he entered your room uninvited. See you sleep soundly. He wanted to wake you up but he thought maybe you were tired too. So instead of waking you up he just left a kiss on your forehead and made sure you’re all warm. Watching you under the warm light of your lampshade, asking himself, ‘is it really okay to deny you as his wife at this point?’ ‘is this really the only way to keep you safe?’ 

“At least you’re safe” he murmured.  

Of course you felt his presence. And you didn’t care if you were tired or sleepy. You wanted to spend time with him. Even though he broke your heart earlier. You were quick to hug him and kiss him, and told him he’s already forgiven. 

The night carried on beautifully as planned. Even though you two are basically hiding from the world. You two had hot noodles under the moon and stars, you watch your husband eat in front of you and help him wipe his face because he ate too messy. “Sorry. I was hungry” He got shy when you reached for the tissue to wipe his face and help him remove his tie so he could eat comfortably. Deep inside Jaehyun was happy. But he was shy that his ears are so red. 

“Why are you shy? Its not everyday I could take care of you” you said as you put more food in his bowl and pour him another glass of wine. Of course he knew that you wanted to take care of him as your husband, he knew that someday, you wanted to help him and support his and the boss he’s meant to be… but Jaehyun didn’t expect that it would be so hard.

“I’m sorry. I really am. Its just that… I receive death threats everyday. I couldn’t let you get involved in this kind of life that I have now. I’m really sorry, I am. I know you're 100% capable of taking care of yourself and these threats are just nothing... but its different. If the news comes out that youre my wife, the world will not stop until you're dead” Jaehyun explains. His heart breaks a million times because this is not the life he promised you when he asked you to marry him. 

“I’m sorry we can’t go back to our home yet… I sure miss it already” Jaehyun says softly to you. You wanted to tell him that you already forgot about it, that it was just a short dream for you and that the wedding ring that you two shared is the only proof that it actually happened… but you didn’t want to hurt him or start an argument. You’re just happy he’s here with you. 

And speaking of rings… Jaehyun caught you spacing out while looking at his ring. You were actually surprised he’s wearing it. “What if someone dares to ask about your ring?” you asked as if you were suggesting that he takes it off if he really wanted to hide that he’s a married man now.

“This is sacred,” he says sternly and reached out for your hand. “for better or for worse” he reminded you. “Just give me more time…I’ll come to you. As always” he promised.

After eating, he cuddled with you and waited for you to sleep but he was tired too that he slept first the moment he was comfortable in your bed and you couldn’t wake him up or disturb him. He misses your presence, your warmth and your touch. 

The next day Jaehyun met Chanyeol and talked about his enemies and possible enemies in the future. He spent weeks doing background checks, meetings, bribing, and torturing a few people just so he could find who sent the threats. But every time he kills a problem, another problem just pops out of nowhere. It felt endless Jaehyun thought. 

“‘I don’t want to be like my father’ isn’t that your life motto?” Chanyeol asked Jaehyun shamelessly. “I remember when I was just starting to work for the Jeongs… your father loved his family so much, that’s why he had the idea of having his own assassins”  

“Are you suggesting that I use the squad just so I could go and finally come home to Y/n?” 

“No. but the fact that the idea came from you scared me. I’m saying… that you should go on a different path Jeong Yoonoh” 

The next day, Chanyeol officially resigned. Of course Jaehyun couldn’t be selfish this time. His work will be doubled without Chanyeol… but his hyung has his own life too. 

“I have a daughter. She’s 3 years old already and tomorrow I’ll see her for the third time. That’s how much this job has taken from me Jaehyun. That’s the last thing I’ll teach you. You have a wife now. Don’t waste your time” Chanyeol said before saying his final goodbye to his student. 

After hearing what Chanyeol said, Jaehyun tried to be with you as much as he could. But he couldn’t.

He promised to be with you and you wait for him to arrive. But he never did. 

He talks to you but only through phone calls. 

By this time your patience is almost gone. But you can’t do anything about it. You’re married. 

Although, Jaehyun managed to give you your own place as a way of saying ‘sorry’. This way it was easier for him to visit you, but in some way, it became lonelier because you were always alone. Lonelier than ever. Even though, some days and nights were beautiful because you could spend it with him, still… its been lonely for you. 

“Jaehyun has been tiring everyone. Are you sure he’s still sane?” Taeyong complains while you and Yuta watch him do pull-ups. 

“Even you. His own wife. He treats you like shit. No offense Y/n. But… now that he’s the boss now, I think he should grant you your freedom already” Taeyong added. “Instead… he’s sending you to assassinate someone whenever he feels like it” 

“It’s my job” you try to defend yourself. 

“How about his job as your husband?” 

You we’re speechless. 

Changes happened so fast ever since Chanyeol left. The new apartment, new assassins, new people to kill, new bosses, new people to kill, new people to protect. Taeyong was right. Is Jaehyun still thinking straight? 

On the same day, Jaehyun came home and you found him sleeping on the bed with his shoes still on and a cup of untouched coffee on the bedside table. You figured he must have tried battling against sleepiness but couldn’t win because of tiredness. He must be really tired like everyone else, you thought. Even though Jaehyun’s choices in life right now make everyone's lives miserable, you’re sure that Jaehyun must be suffering and struggling alone too. 

“Hey…” he greeted you with a tired voice when he felt your presence, “what time did you arrive? I’m sorry. I tried coming home as fast as I could. I was in Bangkok for days— I missed you” he got up even though its obvious that all he wanted to do is rest. People don’t see this side of Jaehyun. And you’re the only one who could see him weak like this. It pains you. 

“I missed you too?” you said sweetly, he initiated the kiss, you kissed him back, showing him that you still long for him, you still want him every second of the day. But for someone who’s tired to the bone, he sure does have the energy to turn you on and imply that he wanted to have sex tonight. “If you’re tired, we could just lay down and talk until the sun rises” he suggests, he’s aware that he’s been tiring everyone lately too, including you. The suggestion stands, but Jaehyun couldn't stop himself from devouring your neck and kissing you just how you want it.

“Don’t stop my love” you made sure he heard you right. You returned his hungry kisses and quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt. You remember the last time you had sex, it was your wedding night, and the thought of it just makes you want to melt into Jaehyun’s body, grinding on his hardening cock and using each other for your own pleasure. You hold on to him, scratching his back and leaving a few bruises on his skin because you were so so so desperate to keep him close to you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m here now” he managed to whisper. In one swift he put you in all fours, kneading your boobs from behind and pinching your nipples while he enjoys touching your body and making you feel good with his hands alone. Pulling you against his chest, you feel his lips on the shells of your ear, hearing every breath he takes. It sounded sexy, and the sound alone just makes you wet. “Can I be rough tonight?” Jaehyun asks while kissing your body back, hand beside your waist, keeping you still for all the kisses that he’s about to give your body. All you can do is nod and kiss him back with the same hunger. 

From behind, he licked your leaking cunt, you were so wet at the moment only because it has been so long ever since he touched you. Jaehyun can see and feel how you shiver at every touch, every lick he does to you. And he likes what he’s seeing. He decided to be more playful and run a finger slowly to your cunt. Your hole is ready to be fucked but Jaehyun wanted to make you wet even more. Without a warning, he licked your slit followed by his fingers, making small circle on your sensitive bud which makes your knees weak, making you land on the mattress and let out beautiful moan. Jaehyun was quick to pull your waist back up and kiss your back, the tip of his cock sliding up and down on your cunt, which makes you grip the sheets and hold on to whatever you can. You reach behind for his hand, asking him to hold hands with you which he complies before pushing in. You feel his lips on your lips as he slowly thrust in and out but not for long. It was just his way of saying, ‘im going to be rough, if it hurts make me stop’. 

You feel his hand on your waist while he thrust so hard and you hear slapping. Your face is perfectly buried on the mattress as you take every pleasure your husband gives you. You hear him moan and his moans were perfect. It was obvious that you make him feel good and that alone just makes you want more. 

His lips and his thrust were on different rhythms. His thrusts were nothing but hard, to the extent that you let out a small scream here and there, feeling his skin burn yours. Oh youre sure you’ll have bruises when you wake up tomorrow, you’re not even sure if you could walk properly. While his lips bring you comfort, warm like his being. You’re sure that his kisses left marks on your back too. You just smile at every thought running through your head. And Jaehyun caught you. 

“So you seemed to be enjoying. I’m glad” He suddenly stopped thrusting and proceeded to kiss your lips, flipping you once again facing him this time. He caresses your legs for a few seconds, touching your body while he whispers dirty things beside your ear that of course… makes you wet and want for more. When his fingers slide on your wet slit, Jaehyun was amazed at how he made you wet this time. “Can I slap your cunt?” he asks, you nod. 

He slapped your cunt in a way you loved every sting of it. Making your legs closed but your husband was quick to compensate for every sting from a hard slap with a soft touch, a soft kiss, a finger inside or a spit followed by his tongue. And when he was satisfied, he thrusted his hard cock once again and fuck you slowly this time. Looking you in the eye and melting you, making you shy. He just smiles back at you while continuing to make you crazy. When he finally reaches his high, he removes his cock from your hole and came on on top of you. Watching his thick cum paint your pussy and stomach. It was messy but no one cared. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were safe…” he was talking about your pill. “That made me realize, what kind of husband am I… I dont even know if I could cum inside my wife” he reaches for the tissue from the bedside table and wiped every cum on your skin. Kissing lower stomach all the way up until he reaches your lips and stays on top of you. Putting both of your arms on top of your head, and making you swing your arms around his neck. He wanted you to keep him close. 

“Thank you for pulling out,” is all you managed to say. 

“Can you still go for another round? Or a couple more?” He asks while kissing your neck. 

“Yeah just give me a few minutes,” you paused and took this time to express what your’e feeling, “I missed you” 

“I miss you too. You’ve been nothing but patient with me and Im grateful” he kissed your hand which had your wedding ring on it. “everything will be worth it I promise” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Kiss me” You commanded he complies. In a matter of seconds he’s inside you again. You clenched around him kept him close to your body held him tight and kissed him deeply. “Come home more often” you managed to moan, and all he could do is nod and return the favor of what youre doing by rolling his hips slowly and thrusting deeper. Kissing you more and keeping you on your toes.

On the next day, it was a cold morning. The room was painted with blue, and the sun was just about to rise. Jaehyun had the privilege of waking you up early in the morning even though he completely worn you out last night. He just wanted to make sure he doesnt waste his time. “Good morning” he says, kissing you softly, waking you up in the most softest way. When you finally opened your eyes, your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jaehyun’s face. His dimples flashing and a handsome smile. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked, you nod and pulled him in for a hug, making sure youre not dreaming. “I’m thankful for you” he says, making you smile and putting butterflies in your stomach, first thing in the morning.

As you two head on with your day, this is the first time you help him prepare for work as his wife. You picked his clothes, you watch him get dressed, you fix his tie, its perfect. On the other hand, Jaehyun too was happy because he could spend this morning with you, he hugged you from behind while you were drying your hair. And told you that he will try to come home everyday from now on followed by aplogies. Sincere apologies that were whispered beside your ear which sent shivers down your spine. 

“Just give me more time. I love you” 

You were not like other couples, like normal couples and you think its time to face that as a married couple.

Of course the sex suddenly fixed everything. 

He comes home regularly. 

Spend mornings sweetly. 

Spend longer nights together that include moaning his name while his tongue is making you feel good. 

The sex became rougher and its okay because you both love it. 

But of course it didn’t last for long. 

Days become stressful for Jaehyun because of Kun. He’s now working hand in hand with Johnny, planning to overthrow Jaehyun with being the king of the city, for being the powerful man that he is now. But Jaehyun is smarter than all of them.

As an assassin he is used to research. Researching and studying everything about who he needs to kill, and how.

What is their most prized possession?

Who is the most important person in their life?

If Jaehyun were to ask these questions, you are the answer.

Sometimes, he thanks his father for making him an assassin first rather than the heir of this huge company. He'd grow us useless and stupid if it weren't for Chanyeol and the 127 squad. Maybe that’s the reason why his father made him an assassin in the first place. To gain important experience.

Jaehyun played by the book but played dirty too. He made sure his enemies will remember him. For Johnny, Jaehyun made sure that his daughter is safe… but the catch is, Johnny has no clue where Jaehyun kept her hidden. Yes. He kidnapped her. Which made Johnny beg on his knees one afternoon at Jaehyun’s office. Everyone witnessed it, but they have no clue why.

“Kun. Tell me where he keeps his airplanes” Jaehyun demanded as Johnny begged on his knees.

Soon Johnny told Jaehyun where Kun kept his airplanes. It is where he keeps his money and his gold. Knowing Kun, he’s obsessed with his airplanes, and his riches.

And Jaehyun burned them all down with his own lighter.

You have no idea what Jaehyun has done for the past week, you can only see that he’s exhausted but he’s happy.

While you were sleeping, you felt Jaehyun’s hand creep under your sleepwear, caressing your exposed stomach and trying to wake you up with his kisses. He smelled like alcohol, you bet he’s been drinking with his trusted new business partners. Drunken men who cheat with their wives overseas, rich people who make everything and anything happen.

You don’t ask for too much. All you want to do is for him to come home to you and spend time with you as much as he can. Sober.

“I know what you’re thinking.. you probably smelled it already, but I’m not drunk. Was… but not anymore— can we go for a few rounds?” he asked shamelessly. Obviously he’s horny. But you didn’t like how he was asking you to have sex with him, after not coming home for a week. You felt like… you’re someone whom he just uses for adult stress release.

But maybe he was tired and that he really missed you and you’re just quick with your ugly judgment. You dont know anymore.

“Where do you sleep whenever you don’t come home?” It was just a question, a question out of concern, a conversation starter, but Jaehyun unfortunately got offended.

“I am many things. But I will never cheat on you” he said. Sternly. He got up from his comfort next to you and proceeded to remove his tie. You checked the time and it’s almost time to start your day. But for Jaehyun, he was just about to end his.

“I didn’t mean it that way Jae—“

“Then enlighten me” he asks coldly.

You watch him remove his watch, roll his sleeves and face you, while he waits for your answer.

“I feel like… you just come home to me for sex… but I wanted to understand you more. So I avoided the subject, that’s why asked you instead ‘where do you sleep—“

“In a hotel. Alone. Are you happy now?” he answered, crossing his shoulders in front of you as if he was still waiting for you to talk, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. But I guess I’m just one horny motherfucker”

He let’s out a heavy sigh, realizing that his words aren’t right and you don’t deserve to be treated this way. His pride stops him from telling you he’s sorry, even though he wanted to. But Jaehyun turned his back on you and proceeds to take a shower. Preparing for yet another busy day in the office.

What have you done? You told to yourself.

Before Jaehyun leaves you tried to invite him for coffee. But he just kissed you goodbye, answered an urgent call and left immediately.

Jaehyun did not come home for days, he didn’t even said goodbye to you when he left for Macao. At this point, you’re not sure how else or what kind of apology you should do, all you could do is wait for his return.

Without Chanyeol, Jaehyun doesn’t have someone whom he trusts the most when it comes to his armies. Armies meaning… Jaehyun’s assassin. Everyone thought that Jaehyun would pick Taeyong because he is his best friend, but no. Jaehyun hired someone new. Someone who is trustworthy, who isn’t biased, and who will follow and protect Jaehyun with his life. He is Jaehyun’s cousin, Doyoung.

Knowing that he isn’t biased, Doyoung gave the 127 squad equal field assignments while Jaehyun was away. The mission was fine, it wasn’t bloody at all, and it wasn't hard for you, Taeyong and Yuta… but when Doyoung said that Mark is not capable enough to protect Jaehyun and that he needed to finish a field assignment on his own to prove it, everyone protested.

"Mark has been protecting Jaehyun ever since he learned how to hack shit!" you shouted. "Mark can protect everyone through his screens-- are you dumb?"

But even though everyone voiced out their frustrations, Doyoung is still unstoppable.

“I’ve been calling Jaehyun but he isn’t answering” you tried to comfort Mark. He’s been shaking ever since the announcement.

“We will shadow you and assist you secretly,” Taeyong says as he tries to lessen Mark’s nervousness.

“I swear if Mark dies, I’m killing Jaehyun” Yuta jokes, but he was frustrated as well.

“Everyone calm down I’m sure Jaehyun is not aware… no calls have been reaching him” you told everyone but deep inside you wern't sure.

The plan to shadow Mark secretly and assist him went in shambles when Doyoung announced that you, Yuta and Taeyong are supposed to pick up Jaehyun privately from Macao and bring him home safe.

Yes you want to see Jaehyun. Of course you wanted to protect your husband… but Mark needs you and it breaks your heart that you’re so powerless.

When you and the others picked up Jaehyun successfully, no one was talking in the helicopter but everyone is nervous. There was a time that Mark was still reacheable and that he sends signals that he's okay but not for long. And when you guys are back to the headquarters, Mark still hasn't come back.

Until Doyoung officially announced that he failed.

“He got shot and his body went straight to the icy river…” he informed everyone with heavy heart, regret and kept apologizing.

Yuta was quick to start a fight and punched Doyoung too many times, he just let him. Thinking he deserved it. You hear Taeyong punch the wall out of anger, crying and just plainly out of words.

You on the other hand, went out of the room and cried in one space, pulling yourself together, closing your eyes and hoping that this is all a dream. Everyone saw it coming. But everyone did not do anything to save him from the situation. There’s a part of you that blames Jaehyun, but of course, you avoid that thought.

For years of being together, Mark was the source of happiness of the squad. His never ending jokes, his loud voice, his loud laughs over your earpiece. You remember it all and it will never be the same again. He’s the best hacker that you know, and you’re just sad to the core that not everyone appreciates that.

It was dark times, but everything went black out when the days continued and Mark was not with you anymore.

You and Jaehyun constantly fight everyday, arguing, shouting and hurting each other through words you never told to each other before. Of course Jaehyun blames himself for Mark’s death too. It was heavy for him too. You don’t see it, but Jaehyun was looking for comfort too, someone that will tell him completely that its not his fault. But nobody showed up for him.

He did’t showed up during Mark’s funeral. And you got mad at him.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t know!” Jaehyun shouted for the nth time.

It was loud and clear of course, but he didn’t even let everyone who cared mourned for Mark and made everyone work again like nothing happened.

“It’s just how everything goes around here Y/n!!! We live in a deadly world!!!”

“A deadly world that you and your father built Jeong Yoonoh. If you don’t care about the goodness in this world anymore, I don’t want to be a part of it” you said crying.

Your words pierced through Jaehyun’s heart especially you called him ‘Yoonoh’, he was scared to the core that you might leave him this time, and this fight cannot be fixed anymore. Not to mention your freedom is getting near. You have every right and power to leave.

“So where are you going to build a life now?” You were talking to Yuta and Taeyong about their plans when they get away from this prison. It makes you happy, knowing that they can be free and live the life they want.

“Japan. To my family, I’m taking Taeyong with me. He plans on establishing a bakery there” Yuta answered. “How about you?”

You scoffed, “what about me? Did you guys forget that I’m a Jeong now? I cant leave him”

“We all know you love him. But he’s drowning of power now and — I cant even recognize him anymore” Yuta says.

“He’s not the Jaehyun that we grew up with, he’s not the Jaehyun that you loved anymore. Faced that truth” Taeyong said sternly. “You’ve earned your freedom. Think about it. Think long and hard”

When the day finally arrived that Taeyong and Yuta are free from the Jeongs it was a bittersweet goodbye. You’re happy for them, but you were sad for yourself. You remember the first day that you guys met and the first mission, everything was all worth it you thought.

“Don’t act like you’re still not free Y/n. You too, you’re free now. Don’t stay here” Taeyong explains for the last time.

Looking back a few years from now, you and Jaehyun were both excited for your own freedom and were of course, looking forward to finally leaveing everything behind. You remember how fiercely you loved each other during those times, and you remember how Jaehyun literally looked like a ball of sunshine. Who lights up your day and make everything better in a matter of seconds.

Now… everything about Jaehyun is dark. His aura, his eyes, the way he talks… everything. He really looked like a Jeong now. High, mighty and scary.

“So did they left?” Jaehyun asks. He was drinking alone at the kitchen counter, he looked wasted. You noticed he has a new tattoo on his hand, you didn’t bother asking the story behind it. You just nod at his question and avoid him for the rest of the night.

Ever since Mark’s death, you and Jaehyun stopped sleeping on the same bed, and stopped talking to each other dearly, but you sure do want to stay. But on times like this, especially when you’re lonely, you don’t know why you keep on staying with him. In this place. Truth be told you would rather sleep on the headquarters than this cold and dark place. It’s not that you hated seeing him, his presence still make your heart skip a beat, happy because he’s alive and well. And well… physically you could be together. You’re thankful regardless.

Jaehyun hears your cry every night, it breaks his heart too. Knowing that he’s not enough to make you happy anymore even though he’s doing everything he can to make this life bearable for you. But no matter how hard he tries… he’s not enough.

This is his worst nightmare. Watching your marriage fall apart because he can’t give you the life he promised.

Even though you wanted to break free, you stayed and work for Jaehyun. You kill for him, train new assassins for him, but you were never given the chance to become a proper wife anymore.

It was a quiet afternoon when you just got back from a mission that Doyoung rushed you to finish. You don’t know why he was in a hurry but you were so pissed that you showed up in his office with blood in your hands and face.

“What the fuck do you want?” You shouted. You assumed that it was Doyoung who’s sitting behind that chair but no… it was Jaehyun. And Doyoung was the one sitting beside the table.

You never thought that this day would come.

The day when you received a mission from Jaehyun. Not from Doyoung. From Jaehyun directly.

It hurt you so much seeing him all worked up and stressed, he can’t even look you in the eye as he explains what needs to be done. But after he’s done explaining the mission, he put out his handkerchief and wipes the blood off your face. “Can you give us the room?” Jaehyun politely asked to Doyoung which he followed of course.

“I know this is hard for you, because it’s hard for me too” he let out a heavy sigh before continuing… you thought that this time he’s going to say he misses you or say something that will brighten up the mood. But he didn’t.

“I need you to not fail this mission” he added.

And that made you mad. You wanted to shout at him, you wanted to punch him but you knew that staying silent and avoiding him at all costs will hurt him even more.

It was quiet. Jaehyun was waiting for you to break the silence.

“Can I have the name?” You asked without looking at him.

“It’s Kun” he says, and after collecting all the paper work that you needed from the desk you bravely left your wedding ring.

You didn’t dare asked how the fuck is Kun still alive. You have so many questions but you didn’t dare asked him because that small room is suffocating you. Not to mention your little skit about the ring. He didn’t even bother coming after you when you left the room. That’s just means you mean nothing to him.

By the time you started the mission, you thought that he will be hard to find but no. He contacted you directly and gave you an invitation for dinner in the skies. Of course you accepted it, even though you had direct orders from Jaehyun that you are not allowed to have a conversation with him.

“Do you love flying this much?” You asked him. He just smiled.

“This way, there’s no other assassins that could kill me, no people listening, just pure privacy. Just you and me”

You watch him pour another glass of champagne and watch him take a sip, you noticed he was shaking.

“I don’t have anything up in my sleeves too because I’m only here to tell you the truth” there was a slight pause, you wait for him to have the courage but truth be told, you’re not ready to hear what he’s about to say.

“While you were on coma, back then, Jaehyun found me after killing my double. I was afraid to die in his hands especially when I wasn’t the one who poisoned you — it wasn’t me, I promise. It was Jaehyun’s father. And I know that because… well we Phantoms are always 5 times ahead” he joke, you agreed.

“But when I told Jaehyun that truth… he made a deal with me. I kill his father and the Jeongs will not come after me anymore, and I become the boss. I fucked up. I admit. Got excited and killed his father first. Not knowing that Mr. Jeong is as smart as Jaehyun. His final will and testament just made Jaehyun untouchable and impossible to replace. Time passed and the man you love changed and now drowning in power—“

“You don’t need to tell my life’s story. I’m well aware—“ you tried to cut him off but he continued.

“ And here you are. He even sent his wife to clean up his mess. Are you sure you’re married to the right person?”

Kun noticed you don’t have your wedding ring. He thought maybe you left him “Good choice” he added without even asking you.

After knowing the truth while watching the sun go down high above the skies, Kun helped you stage his death and you agreed to let him go because he proved to you that he’s innocent.

When you get back, Jaehyun was happy that you didn’t fuck up… for a short time…but soon found out that Kun’s death was just staged. And so Jaehyun killed him with his own hands. He turned a blind eye about you being a traitor because he knew that you’re already fed up of what’s happening to your lives now.

But on top of it all, he already knew that one of these days, you will decide to leave him.

You on the other hand has succumbed into the darkness of your room and stayed there for days without talking to anyone, and without eating anything. All you want to do is get away from this place and live your life alone. Even if the thought of leaving Jaehyun hurts you so much already.

One night, Jaehyun tried to make everything right by bravely visiting you into your room, he promised to himself that he will do everything tonight just to make everything right. If he gets lucky he will hand you your wedding ring again.

He didn’t knock and just welcomed himself into your room. He found you staring at your window while you’re comfortably laying in your bed. He didn’t want to disturb your peace but he has to do this and try to win you back.

“I’m sorry” he whispers sweetly, and lay on the bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you but it felt like he’s suffocating you instead of comforting you. Suddenly Jaehyun doesn’t feel like home anymore.

“What kind of person kills his own father?” You started.

Shocked that you already know the truth, Jaehyun couldn’t handle what’s happening in front of him now.

“I did it so we could live peacefully—“

“Look at us now Jaehyun. You did this to us. You’re drowning of power—“

“That’s not true” Jaehyun defends.

“Then what is. I don’t even know you anymore, I’m hurt Jaehyun. I’m hurt that we’re fighting right now, I’m hurt that were not together anymore but I felt safe when I turned my back on you. I don’t want to be a Jeong”

“So this it? You’re really leaving me?”

“I believe that I’m not the right person for you”

There was silence. Suffocating silence for both you and Jaehyun. You continue to cry and forget that he’s in the room with you, while Jaehyun just sat there on the edge of your bed. The whole conversation did not include any screaming, maybe you two got tired of screaming already.

Jaehyun has a lot to say. But this is the furthest he can go with you.

This is the end.

Thank you so much for reading this work of mine! If you love what you read, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel! CLICK THIS LINK. I hope we can practice, give and take.

Stay tuned for the next part! -B.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun smut #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct #taeyong #nct hard hours #nct dream x reader #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun imagines #nct u #fmk #nct fluff #nct angst #nct 127 fluff

[hannie-dul-set]

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. when you’re nearly run over by a car, and said car happens to be a porsche 918 spyder, your broke ass knows better than to let this one in a million miracle slip by. 

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. emotionally-stunted idiots to lovers, implied college! au, rich boy x not-so-rich girl trope but neither of them are normal! they’re both not well adjusted! mc is an actual scammer and ricky’s love language is throwing out exorbitant amounts of cash, romance, humor, angst if you squint but i prefer it when things are stupid, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearing, probably a number of illegal things, dubious medical practices, scamming, gold-digging, mild manipulation, a not very healthy dynamic at first but we’ll get there, more tba. WORD COUNT. teaser: 915 | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. within january, maybe. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. hello riyangi nation i have another insanity-driven wip to offer. hopefully i go crazy again and write 4-5k a day like my last ricky longfic HAHAHHAHAH. this one has a bit more plot, a bit more seriousness, but still on the spectrum of unhinged!!! hope u enjoy.

preview under the cut.

IT’S A DOG EAT DOG WORLD OUT THERE. You’ve learned this lesson time and time again, ever since the early age of six— when your father got kicked out from his own start-up thanks to his greedy cousins, when you got in trouble for punching a classmate in first grade because he lifted up your skirt but the fucker was the grandson of your primary school’s dead, and when your high school scholarship got screwed over because “your parents unfortunately don’t support the school enough,” and you flipped off your home teacher all while calling him an ass-kissing, money-grabbing piece of shit.

Well, you were forced to transfer after that.

At least your new school didn’t base their scholarship grants on fucking PTA donations instead of grades.

From then on, you’ve learned that the only way to survive is to screw people over before getting screwed over yourself. There’s no point being nice. You can’t bother being a doormat to people who don’t even contribute a cent to your rent. You’re not wasting your smiles for people you can’t use.

Maybe it’s how you’ve grown to be so opportunistic, because the moment you and a friend were told that only one of you could get a full ride to Yonsei University— you didn’t think twice to cut him off. You stopped sharing your notes. You stopped studying together because why should you be nice to your competition? He was more well off than you anyway. His future doesn’t rely on handouts like it yours does. 

Bottomline, yes, you’re not the nicest person in the world. Sure, you screwed over some strangers opting to go to the same job interview as you by giving them the wrong directions. Maybe you cut yourself off from your parents the moment you turned legal when their debt started getting to them and they started relying on you to get out of the pitfall instead of pulling their own fucking weigh. Yes, you’re not a good person. You’re fully aware of that.

Which is why you can’t exactly say fuck you to god when karma comes to bite you in the ass via a car accident on your way to your weekend work shift.

The dead and quiet road you usually cross is now filled with noises of panic.

“Oh my god— dude! Call an ambulance!”

Your lungs hit asphalt and your head starts ringing. A pained hiss slips through gritted teeth. Something’s broken, you grunt, or at the very least not how it should be based on the sharp pain you’re feeling on the arm wedged between your body and the rough and dusty road. “Are they dead?!” you hear someone yell, followed by a car door swinging and footsteps running closer, yet your eyes remain squeezed shut from the blinding headlights and the aching of your entire body.

But it’s not the pain you’re dwelling on. No. It’s the hospital bills and the inevitable days off you’d have to take thanks to your god forsaken fucking luck.

The car should’ve just killed you on the spot.

“Are you okay?!”

However when you finally open your eyes and recognize the embodiment of your karma body slamming you into the ground in the form of a freaking Porsche, your worries suddenly get washed away into oblivion.

Holy shit, you’re fully conscious now. You’ve just hit the jackpot.

“O—oh, she’s awake, she’s awake! Gyuvin—”

Whoa.

There’s a person hovering above you. Rather, the person’s gold gilded necklace is dangling in front of your face. This is more than a jackpot. This is better that the fucking lottery.

“What—what do I do?”

“Is she responsive?!”

“U—uhm— are you okay?” Pretty boy that you assume is the one who nearly killed you is flitting his eyes in panic and is unsure with what to do with his hands. His face aside, the guy is decked out in designer clothing. You don’t miss the engravings on his jacket, the shiny glints of gold coiled around his panicked fingers. You’re not letting his chance slip away. You let out a grunt of pain and start folding into yourself. “Ahh, I don’t think she’s okay! What’s the number for 119?!”

Half acting. Half actually fucking hurting because ow. Maybe you did break something.

“I don’t know! Taerae, what’s the number for—”

“Are you two stupid?!”

Well shit. The pain stops paining because if they bring you to a hospital different from the one you have in mind, it’d be a loss for you. So you play it up even more. “A—ah, I think something’s broken,” you wince. Pretty boy drops his phone and tries helping you prop yourself up. 

“Crap. I think it’ll take too long if we call an ambulance,” says one of his companions behind him. “H—hey, do you mind if we just take you to the hospital right now?”

Now, this doesn’t sound safe. Around three men in their early twenties with very evidently no first aid experience delivering an injured woman to the hospital with what you think is a two-seater car is a recipe for disaster. You’re still on the dirty ground, arm definitely broken, with a rich guy looking like he’s about to start crying at any moment very hesitantly trying his best to help you sit up.

They’re waiting for your answer. And the answer is pretty obvious.

“Yes, please. Thank you!”

Because if you get even more injured along the way, that’ll simply be an extra bonus for you.

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#shen ricky x reader #ricky x reader #zb1 ricky x reader #zerobaseone x reader #shen ricky x you #zb1 ricky x you #zb1 x you #zerobaseone x you #zerobaseone fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zb1 ricky imagines

[blondwhowrites]

✨My Stiles Stilinski Headcanons✨

Is absolutely enamored by you and he had no idea how to talk to you at first without becoming an awkward mess. When you first met him Scott literally had to pull him away from you because he just kept on staring at you

Helps you with homework and school projects because it gives him an excuse to spend time with you and he also gets to show off how smart he is

You are the only person he shares his food with

He forces you to binge-watch Star Wars with him, and if he finds out you already liked Star Wars he's ecstatic

He is a Percy Jackson reader and prefers it over Harry Potter!!!!!!!

Is always late to dates because of his time blindness but he tries hard to make it on time!

Tells you about his ongoing cases and theories and encourages you to put your input in and is extremely proud whenever one of your theories turns out to be correct

Noah of course has his reservations at first since he obviously worries about his son, but once he sees you two together he instantly loves you

You become a part of the pack almost instantly

Lydia, Malia, and Addison (depending on the season) instantly take you in. You best believe you are invited to all of the sleepovers and shopping trips

Literally, everyone has no idea how Stiles managed to bag you. Stiles has no idea either

Is a mix of sassy men apocalypse™ and golden retriever vibes

No, just because he loves you does not mean you are safe from his witty retorts or sarcastic comments

He gets you a matching metal bat so you can protect yourself

Is wary of taking you along on cases because he worries you might get hurt. He especially worries after what happened with Void

Is the little spoon most of the time because he loves being held. He feels so safe whenever he is in your arms. With you he finally doesn't wake up every night from nightmares

He has a lot of deeply rooted trauma from losing his mom, and from everything that has happened to him since sophomore year

Will talk about random nonsense and then stop in the middle of the conversation because he notices you are actually listening to him instead of just ignoring him like other people do and he swears he falls in love with you all over again 🥹

Has panic attacks, and you are one of the few people who can instantly calm him down by just being near him

Loves talking to you about his mother. He even takes you to her grave and introduces you to her

Later he finds out that you go to her grave weekly and put flowers there and when he asks you why you do that you just say 'Because you love her and that means I love her too' and he sobs.

Noah also finds that out and he instantly knows that you are the one for his son. He is proud to call you his future child in-law

Loves PDA and has no problem holding your hand, or kissing you in public

He always needs to be touching you in some sort of way even if it's just holding your hand or resting his hand on your thigh

You are so supportive of his want to be in the FBI! He loves knowing that you'll always be cheering him on

You go to every single lacrosse game and cheer him on even if he doesn't get put in you are still yelling his name and cheering for him

You wear his jersey number all the time and he secretly loves it

Make outs in the jeep

Everything in the jeep

Overall 10/10 boyfriend

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #reader insert #x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you #hes babygirl #stiles stilinski blurb 🌑

[callsign-novara]

Hi!!

I love the stalker Valeria story so far and would def like to see a part 2!!!!

STALKER!VALERIA x READER PT.2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Content warnings: violence, Swearing, paranoia, stalking, dark romance, wlw, obsessive behavior, stalker territory, breif mention on Offing one self, terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cigarette smoke wafts through the air, the smoke dancing away in the wind. Alcohol on the tounge of the hundreds around, music blaring in the back. Bodies move on the roof of the building, celebrating yet another victory, But she isn't happy, no.

Instead, her mind is filled with frustration, anger, and desperation. Her men are smiling, having fun, celebrating their rightful victory but still..her hearts heavy with hatred. She stands, brushing off her black shirt with her hands, she turns to a gaurd and tells him that she'll be back. She walks through the halls of the well kept building until she's outside roaming the streets of Las Almas, the closer she gets the less anger fuels the flame within her.

Dogs scurry past the woman, tails tremble between their legs. Her steps are confident, eyes calculating. She looks like sweet sweet death, a gorgeous thing but deadly and violent.

Her breaths become heavier when her eyes lock onto her target walking through the slight rain. Her hands are sweaty with excitement as her Prey was about to walk into see the little surprise she left. She's watched you for a long time. Months on end watching your every move, she knows when you leave for work, when you have classes, what classes, when you fall asleep, shower..she knows everything.

She loves how you've become frightened of the night, scared to turn corners waiting for her to pop out of the shadows. But she won't do that, no, she's not stupid. She'll carefully wait, leaving you small little gifts here and there letting you know she's always watching.

She'll make you fear going to sleep without checking your locks a thousand times a night, She'll make you have to check over your shoulder every minute, she'll have you go crazy and then she'll pounce.

She watches from a dark alley way as you make your way up to you apartment. A cozy little place, but it's small.

She could give you so much more. So much better.

She watches you with a wide grin, watching as you freeze when you see her little gift left on you pillow case. She watches the panic, the horror and terror rush through you and she ears it up like candy.

She watches as you check your locks, and close your blinds. She can still see you the gaps of the blinds prominent despite you closing them. The glint of a knife catches her gaze. Pretty and smart, huh? Clever little mouse.

She waits, lurks in the shows outside your apartment for hours on end, just waiting. Soon, she makes her move,stalking up the stairs of the apartment building until she gets yo your door. A couple Bobby pins and a little jiggle and she's in.

Not very safe, no. But nothing can keep her away from you. She glides through the shadows until she's in your room, her footsteps are silent, she's careful not to wake you.

She watches.

Counting the rise and fall of your breaths, you look like a sleeping goddess tangled up in the sheets, and the sight makes her hungry. Hungry for you. Hungry for more.

A smirk crosses her red stained lips, you're just a little mouse running through her maze of fear and Deception. She owns everything in Las Almas Anyway, why shouldn't she own you? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you all so so s much for the support on the first part of this, I wasn't expecting much but it seems alot of you like it. And thanks to the anon above, my first ask!! I appreciate it greatly and i hope this part lives up to your guy's standards, a little POV from Vals view.

This story is going to be dark, and I highly suggest you read all the cw before reading. This story will switch povs throughout it and it might get confusing, so I'll always put who's pov it is in the authors note!

Thank you so much again for the support, and the next part should be coming up soon. 💋

~Nova

#cod #cod x reader #lesbian #valeria garza x reader #call of duty x reader #sapphic #wlw #valeria cod #cod mw2 #valeria garza #dark romanticism #stalker #stalking fantasy #obsessive love #obsessive yandere #actually obsessive #obsession #obsessive thoughts

[yourmomxx]

Family Line

father of mine masterlist

summary: the hunt for the monster starts. We find out what happened all those years ago between Dean and his daughter.

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of murder, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 8,5k

a/n: we did it, guys! this is the last part of the father-of-mine series. I’m really sorry about the late upload, but I do hope it was worth the wait! This might be the ending of this series, but not quite the ending of the story … thank you all so much for sticking around and supporting this story, sequels and prequels about dean and his daughter will definitely come!

pt1 pt2 pt3

Sioux Falls 2007

It was late at night, and in Bobby Singer’s Junkyard, the lights were still on. Accompanying the chirping tunes of the cicadas, a fading pop song from somewhere in the ‘70s was trailing out the windows.

On the small wooden table in the kitchen, Dean and Sam Winchester had spread out a multitude of lore books found in Bobby’s bookshelf, some worn out, some torn, and Sam was currently leaned over a particularly ugly-written paragraph dedicated to the magical use of a pan’s flute.

“Dean, I can hear you being silent.” Sam raised his head to look his older brother in the eye. “What is it?”

Dean shrugged, threw a look at the numerous variations of old books about supernatural creatures laid out in front of them, then at his little brother.

“You’re overworking yourself, Sammy,” Dean pointed out. The keyboard clicked as he typed something on the laptop.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” Sam said. “I’m just trying to find a way for you to not die. You can’t exactly blame me for that.”

“Yes, exactly, we’ve been over it,” Dean countered. “And I told you there’s no way around it. I made a deal, that’s it. Period, no refunds.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Well, I don’t want that to be it.” He muttered under his breath.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when they heard the sound of tiny footsteps over the floor.

Dean perked up and turned his head.

“Hey, my little love.”

A while ago, the soft tone in his brother’s words would have caught Sam completely off guard. By now, he was already getting used to the way Dean’s eyes had a different look in them – one of pure love – and he spoke with a softness as if his words alone should wrap their recipient up in satin cloth.

Sam turned around to look at who Dean was talking to, and was not surprised to see a small girl trutting towards them, little legs still uncoordinated after only just waking up. Her small fists were rubbing her squinted eyes, the light in the living room must be blinding her.

Y/N made her way over to Dean and made grabby hands up at him.

Dean chuckled and picked his daughter up under her arms, placing her carefully on his thigh as she nuzzled into his dark flannel shirt.

Sam smiled at the contrast of Dean’s shirt, and her bright yellow children’s nightgown with the washed out Led Zeppelin-logo printed on.

Dean’s big hand was rubbing circles on her back, as he craned his neck to bow it down to her.

“What are you doing awake so late, sweetheart?” He hushed.

Y/N nuzzled her nose into his neck. “’d a bad dream,” she mumbled.

Sam could see the emotion cross over his brother’s face for a brief second as he made eye contact with him.

They both knew that this could – would – happen. That little girl had been through so much already, at her young age, had seen and lost things no child should ever see or lose.

They both had known that nightmares would probably eventually start haunting her, but yet, they had still not been prepared for when it was the time.

Dean didn’t know what he should be feeling, his daughter had had a nightmare, and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, keep her there, and kill everything in her way to becoming happy.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. And that’s why he wanted to, so much more.

“Really?” He asked instead, hand not leaving her back. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Everybody was leaving me,” Y/N sniffled, small fist rubbing her nose. “You, Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam, Grandpa Bobby.” Another sniffle.

“I was all alone.”

Dean felt like sobbing. A heavy weight had latched itself on his heart. Oh, his little girl. How much he loved her.

“Sweetheart, it was just a bad dream,” he promised to her. “We are not going to leave you alone, I swear.”

Y/N pulled her face from the crook of his neck and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Pinky promise?” She asked.

Dean lifted his free hand and linked his pinky finger with hers. “Pinky promise,” he said.

Something told him he had made a mistake. But he couldn’t care right now.

Still, he felt like a liar.

“Now,” he said, a conspiratorial tone in his words, “What do you say we get you back to bed and I stay until you fall asleep, hm? How does that sound?”

Y/N didn’t fuss long about it, she just nodded her head and nuzzled closer to him.

Dean understood the silent command, and lifted her into his arms as he stood up. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Sam looked after them as they disappeared up the stairs. Now alone, he turned his attention back to his research. Why he was reading everything about the dog Cerberus right now, he couldn’t quite decipher, but he was grasping onto every straw.

A few minutes passed by, and Dean was still not back. Another few, another few.

Sam frowned as he looked at the clock on the wall. 5.13 in the evening. Sam realized now that the clock was broken.

Curtly, he stood up from the table and climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.

The door to Y/N’s room was open, hiding the colored sign she had written her name on (with Dean’s help) to inform everyone of her territory.

Careful to be quiet, Sam stepped closer to the threshold, peeking into the dark room. A dim night light in the form of a crescent moon was burning on the nightstand. In the bed laid a small bundle of blankets and stuffed animals, which Sam could only guess was Y/N.

Next to her, holding the girl in his arms, Sam spotted Dean, probably holding on for dear life on the edge of the narrow bed.

Sam smiled at them.

Through the silence, a soft, hummed melody reached Sam’s ears, and he perked up.

He knew that song from somewhere, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Na-na na na. Nana na-a.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, are you singing her Smells like Teen Spirit?”

Dean looked at him, grinning. “Yeah. It’s a classic.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Sam was the stupid one.

“I mean, look at her,” he said, his gaze shifting to his daughter again. “She’s gonna be a badass one day. Right? One day, you’re gonna be as badass and cool as your daddy.”

Oh yeah, that girl was out like a light.

Sam just shook his head chuckling. “All right, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Dean didn’t answer him, but he knew he heard him.

A few minutes after Sam had left, currently sitting at the kitchen table again, starting a new chapter of the same book, Dean came downstairs.

Wordlessly, he took his seat across from Sam, and pulled one of the lore books closer to him.

And though he had an idea where his brother’s new sense of determination came from, Sam didn’t say a word when Dean started reading.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

When you called, for a brief second Sam was worried that Dean was gonna crash the car. The way his face morphed into shock, concern and then anger, while he was talking to you on the phone had his little brother worried.

After you hung up, Sam pretended not to notice the way Dean pushed further into the gas pedal.

The first rays of the morning sunlight made their way over the hills, when Sam and Dean arrived at the Group Home. Dean didn’t bother with a neat parking maneuver, and just turned the motor off, then made his way with fast steps over to the castle.

Sam trailed behind.

They had no problem entering the building, Maria had given them an official key card for their investigations. Dean stormed down the hallways with a fast step, as if he had memorized the entire way by heart.

Sam wouldn’t blame him.

You were sitting on your bed when they came in. Or more, cowering there.

Sam was all too familiar with the look of disturbed terror in your eyes, even when you firmly avoided looking at either of them.

“Y/N?” Dean moved a step forward, stretching his hand out towards you as if to soothingly touch your shoulder, but hesitated in his movement and pulled away.

Sam threw him a worried look that Dean didn’t seem to catch.

“What happened?”

Your fingers were continuously drumming against your knee pulled close to your chest.

“’d a bad dream,” you mumbled. Sam could hear the fear in your voice. Dean sat down in your chair opposite the bed.

“When I woke up, there was …” You swallowed and hardly squinted your eyes. “I don’t know what it was. Looked like two yellow … eyes.”

Sam couldn’t help the disgusted twist his face made at the word. He couldn’t imagine waking up to something like this.

Dean exchanged a look with him. Your story confirmed their theory even more.

On the bed, you had gone quiet again. Your fingers were still drumming an uneven pattern on your skin.

This didn’t make sense. This didn’t make sense. She was dead, Cass was dead. Roy was dead. Dean Winchester was here. He left you, and now he was here, but not for you, no, but for Roy. They were all dead.

And you were next.

“Have you ever heard of an alp?” Your head snapped up as Dean’s question pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“An Alp?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean - yes, I came across that lore when I was still taking German literature.”

“You took German Literature?” Dean regretted his question as soon as he asked it.

“Yes,” you answered, but something had shifted in your tone. It was low and pressed. Shit. He knew he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Sam felt like smacking his brother across the head.

“So you know what they are?” He asked instead, and you shrugged, looking at your feet again.

“Yes, well, I know that the Germans believed that an Alp would sit on their chests while they slept, and it would feed on their good dreams - plaguing the sleeping person with terrible nightmares. That’s why they used to have shortened beds, because if they weren’t lying down, the alp couldn’t sit on their chest.”

While you talked, realization hit you like a brick. Or more like a huge wave, rather, if the feeling of being violently ripped of all air was anything to go by.

“Oh my God,” You breathed out. “Cass and Roy both had nightmares before they died.” You looked between Dean and Sam with shock-widened eyes. “This Alp thing was the reason for all of this, right? I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Not if we have a say in it.” Dean’s jaw remained stoically clenched as he spoke his promise.

“What did you dream about?” Sam asked.

You ducked your head even further into yourself and picked at the skin next to your nails. “’s it important?”

“It could be.”

You took a deep breath and bit the inside of your cheek. “Same as Roy,” you simply said. “Worst day of my life.”

And, okay. Sam didn’t get into college for being slow, he knew exactly what day that was. And judging by the brief flicker of emotion crossing over Dean’s face, he knew, too.

But he didn’t address it and only cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, if it really is an Alp – which it probably is – then we already know how to get rid of it.”

“We would lure it into a trap. You know, get us some … bait and then just –“ Dean symbolically dragged a finger across his throat.

You raised your eyebrows in concern. “And how do you think that’s gonna work?”

Admittedly, this hadn’t been your smartest moment, but given the circumstances you were in, you figured you could be forgiven.

Sam dipped his head. “That’s where you come in.”

“You can always say no,” Dean carefully offered. “If you don’t want to do it.”

You lifted your chin in the air. “This thing is the reason two of my best friends are dead,” you said. “I want to pay back the favor.”

Sam nodded. “Alright then.”

“So you guys got a plan?” You asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we do.”

—

It was loud in the cafeteria. It always was. Today, though, you were especially aware of it, because most of the noise was heavily directed towards you.

Or rather, about you, which had just the same effect in your opinion.

You had barely entered the big room and had already felt a few dozen eyes fixated on you. The whispering had started when you got closer to the buffet, and the occasional double-take and looking-fast-away-when-she-is-looking had continued when you had sat down.

Of course, how else should it be, you had been given the rehearsed “My condolences” or “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

Long story short, to you it felt like the day of Roy’s death all over again.

Except this time, they were serving pasta, and not chicken with rice.

It was days like these (which, in your opinion, had been happening far too often over the past few weeks), that made you hate this place even more. It’s not like you had had a reason for that before, the supervisors were nice, so were the helping staff and, of course, Maria.

Maria, who had taken you under her wing from the first day you arrived here. She had acted like a mother towards you, the one you had never had, no matter how hostile you had acted towards her.

Still, as you grew older, the whole thing felt simply more washed out and sickening.

Maybe this really was just a side effect of puberty, as your gynecologist had said.

As you let your gaze travel over the many familiar faces, you couldn’t help but notice that Finn wasn’t under any of them.

Finn, your beloved Finn. You then suddenly remembered the text conversation the two of you had had the other night. Before, well – everything. You still needed to stay true to that.

Silently, you made a note to yourself in your head, to drop by his room straight after lu-

A broad silhouette squeezing into the seat opposite you blocked your view over the hall, and your eyebrows shot up as you realized who it was.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked as Dean folded his hands on the table.

“You told everyone I was dead?” He asked, purposely skimming over your question.

You frowned and opened the small package of parmesan. “Well, aren’t you? About six times?”

Dean frowned and you caught him counting something under his breath with his fingers.

You shook your head, making a point of ignoring him and poured sauce over the dry spaghetti.

“That’s not even my point.”

“What, you’re saying you didn’t barge into the middle of my lunch – after the night I had – to scold me over the inaccuracy of your death rate?” You clicked your tongue. “Surprise.”

Dean apparently didn’t deem it necessary to address your sarcastic tone. That, or he knew just how much he deserved it, which you were fine with, either way.

“Look,” he started, and Jesus, this was going to be serious. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”

Confused, you tilted your head.

“I mean about the dream,” Dean quickly added. “I mean, we both know what it was about, and I just …” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and let out a short breath that was probably supposed to be failed attempt at a laugh.

“I’m not a big … talking guy, you know? But I just … I always told myself, if I ever had kids, that I would be different then. That …” He stopped again.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “You’re a bit late for that,” you spat. “I mean, it’s been what, almost a decade? ‘Sorry’ travels far, but not that many years.”

“I know that,” Dean said, “But I want you to know, that-“

“Well, I don’t want to know!” You interrupted him. Maybe too loud, if the simultaneous turn of heads was anything to go by. “I don’t want you to tell me anything. No excuses, no explanations, I want, and I need absolutely nothing from you, you understand?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

“Believe me, I do.” He said. “But still-“

“No!” The dishes clattered as you slammed your hand on the table. “Dean, you don’t understand! You just left me here, at this orphanage –“

“It’s a group home.”

“Same thing, Dean!” You snapped. “Just a fancier word.”

Dean carefully pulled his hand away from the table, folding it with his other in his lap. You could feel him watching you, but you consequently avoided his gaze.

“Look, I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” You decided. “I am going to go talk to my best friend, and when I go to sleep, I’ll try not to get killed! So goodbye.”

And with that, you picked up your still full lunch-tray, dumped it on one of the cleaning wagons, and made your way out of the cafeteria.

You never turned around to see Dean looking after you.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

St. George, Louisiana 2012

Dean Winchester was standing by a window. Through the clean glass he had a clear view of green gardens, well-kept flowers and trees leaning in the soft breeze of the wind.

Further away, he spotted the tall hedge walls of something that had to be a garden maze.

“I hope you know just how grateful I am for what you and your brother did for me.”

The voice of Maria Whitlock lifted Dean out of his thoughts, and he turned around to face the older woman.

She spoke in a soothing tone, one that reminded him of a mother he never had, but learned to long for.

Dean nodded. “That’s our job.”

Maria gave him a look and tilted her head. He was standing in her office, a neatly tidied room with a shelf for books and files, and a rather expensive looking desk. Very clean as well.

“What you decided to do was probably very hard,” she continued. “But I can assure you, in most cases, it turns out to be the better option for both parties.”

He didn’t like the way she talked about his plan like it was a good thing, when it wasn’t. It didn’t make him a good person for doing it.

“I’m sure, Dean, that there will be a lovely family out there who will take care of her –“

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly interrupted her. It was the first time in here he had spoken more than for words. “I don’t … I don’t want someone else to take her in.”

Maria raised her skeptical eyebrows at him. “Do I understand correctly, Dean?” She asked. “You want her to just - stay here?” And her tone was implying exactly what she held of that idea.

“Look, I know how that sounds.”

“I really hope you do.”

“But my job doesn’t allow me to properly take care of her. When Bobby was still - well, she stayed with him, and we visited her from time to time.”

Maria nodded. “I understand. But what you have to understand, is, that this will surely not be easy for her. Whereas many of the elder children indeed do live here, the younger ones are usually adopted by a foster family who can take care of them. Who can love them,” she added.

Dean looked out the window again.

“I understand that,” He said. “But this is how I want it.”

He couldn’t see Maria behind him, as he was turned away from her, but he could well sense the way her observing, maybe judging gaze was burning between his shoulder blades.

“Well, then.” She sighed.

And as Dean watched the flowers dance in the wind, listening to Maria shuffling through her papers, he couldn’t help but think that this might be one of the most selfish decisions he has ever made.

—

Soft wind was tugging at Dean’s hair. Somewhere in the distance he was aware of the rippling water of a small fountain.

Dean tried to not actively think of what he was doing here. Of the consequences his actions would inevitably cause. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Y/N’s hand was holding his in a strong grip, as they walked up to Maria and he greeted her.

Maria leaned down to be on eye level with his daughter and smiled at her.

“Hello Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you. Your Dad has told me so much about you! I’m sure you’ll settle in here just nicely.”

Dean crouched down and placed both his arms on Y/N’s for her to look at him. She had been eyeing Maria and the castle suspiciously.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he started. “Maria is really, really nice. And because Uncle Sam and I have to work so much, she is going to take very good care of you.”

Y/N averted his eyes and stared at her shoes. Then, sh burst forward, slung her small arms around Dean’s neck and buried her face in his chest.

“I wanna go with you,” she mumbled into his jacket. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart, be broke out of the embrace. “I promise I’m old enough, I want to go with you!” She pleaded again. With every word, Dean’s heart shattered just a bit more.

“Look, you remember when you stayed with Grandpa Bobby for a while when me and Uncle Sammy had to work?” She nodded, sniffling.

“This is gonna be just like that. I promise.”

Y/N sniffled again. Then she held out her hand to him. “Pinky promise?”

I promise that we’ll be fine.

I promise that we’d never just leave you alone.

I promise that Grandpa Bobby will be alright.

Dean pulled Y/N into his chest again. He breathed in deep, as if that would somehow help him savor this moment, savor her to be engraved in his brain to never forget. His little girl, the only thing good and pure in his life.

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart again.

He stood up, and even though he wasn’t that old, everything in his body hurt at the movement.

“But I don’t know anyone here!” Y/N said again. It has been her go-to argument the entire car ride to the castle.

“I want to go with you and Uncle Sam!”

“Y/N!” The sharpness in Dean’s tone felt like it was cutting him. “I said you can’t.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, before a big tear rolled down her cheek. Then another one, and another one, until she was full-on sobbing.

“Please, Dad!” She cried, and Dean’s heart shattered.

Behind her, Maria put a caring hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, sweetie, say goodbye to your dad.”

Y/N violently shook her hand off her body. “No! No, I don’t want to go with you! I want to stay with my dad!”

Maria and Dean exchanged a look. In her eyes, he recognized something that told him to change his mind.

It took everything in Dean to turn around and walk away.

He fixated his eyes on his car a few feet away from him. He wasn’t walking very fast, but with the weight that felt tied to his feet, it was the best he could do.

Behind him, Y/N kept crying. And as she was pleading and pleading, for him to come back, for him to stay, the feeling of realization started heavily sinking in, that he was really waking away.

Not only from this situation, from his daughters cries, but from her. From his child.

His feet felt even heavier.

When he reached the car door and opened it, he didn’t feel anything. Everything happened in a haze. He vaguely registered starting the car and pressing his foot on the gas pedal.

His daughter’s sobs were still replaying over and over in his mind like the sounds of a broken vinyl, as the naked road flew by the dirty windows.

Sam didn’t address the single tear that rolled down his brother’s cheek. And Dean just kept driving.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

Since forever on, you had never been quite good with your emotions. Portraying them, talking about them, feeling them.

It was an obstacle.

Looking back at it, you figured it was probably somehow running in your family, the whole being emotionally unavailable thing.

Could that be inherited? According to your biology teacher, yes, but you didn’t know how well you believed that.

Nevertheless, as you knocked on the cold door that was the entrance to your - only left – best friend’s room, emotions welled up in your throat as choking as a tidal wave clashing its weight over your head.

It was dark in there. The curtains had been pulled closed and the thick material wouldn’t let a flicker of daylight in the room.

A smell hung over the entire place, of stale air and leftover food, and the sensation of hopelessness. Finn was sitting on the edge of his bed, a dark silhouette staring crooked at his hands in his lap, only illuminated by the weak light of the bedside lamp.

Without properly acknowledging him, you took quick strides to the other side of the room, and without further ado, ripped his curtains open.

The sun was already lowering down the horizon again, but the leftover light was still enough to turn the dark silhouettes in the bedroom into concrete shapes, of dirty plates, glasses, and clothes scattered all over the floor.

From his place on the bed, Finn groaned lowly, like a small bear being awaken from hibernation.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as you sat down next to him. The bed dipped under your weight and you moved over a few study sheets that laid on his duvet.

“Hey,” you said.

Finn dropped his hands into his lap again and turned his tired gaze on you.

“Hey,” he said back.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Finn’s eyes tiredly scanned the room around him, the mess it was in, and then shook his head.

“Nah.”

“Alright.” You weren’t, really, but that conversation could wait until another time.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Finn tilted his head to you in a way that said ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ and you shrugged in response. “Stupid question, got it.”

Finn sighed.

There was a silence building between the two of you that you didn’t like. You kept yourself from fidgeting impatiently on the sheets.

“I just-“ Finn cut himself off and ruffled his hand through his hair. “Ever since – well, yesterday – I’ve been thinking about …”

He broke off again, blinking with his face towards the ceiling to avoid the falling of tears.

“Y/N, the last thing I said to her, was – we fought.” Finn’s confession was almost a whimper as he looked at you, awaiting your reaction.

Your heart broke at the look in his eyes, so clouded full with guilt and self-loathing, you almost didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, Finn, she loved you.” You sighed, and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his arm. “She knew what you were going through, what we were all going through. And trust me, she never, not for a second, held it against you. That was one moment out of almost ten years we all spent together. It didn’t mean anything, not in the long run.”

Finn sniffed and rubbed his nose, diverting his gaze to his hands again.

“Finn, she didn’t die hating you.” You put emphasis on every word as much as you could, because you wanted him to hear you, to understand, to believe. You didn’t want to let him wallow in his own self-destructing thoughts about something that wasn’t even true, not in the slightest bit.

Finn just hummed, but didn’t meet your eyes, just kept them trained on his lap. You sighed and let your hand slowly slide from his arm.

For a while, it was quiet again.

“My father is here,” you then blurted out.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that died?”

“Yeah.” You weighed your head. “In my defense, I thought he died too, until he showed up in a fancy suit, investigating my best friend’s murder.”

The typical phrase of ‘seeing gears turning in someone’s head’ was the only way you would describe what you were seeing displayed on Finn’s face right now, just before the realization hit him.

“Wait, your father’s one of the hot FBI agents?”

You pursed your lips and nodded.

Finn blinked in disbelief.

“Wow,” He breathed out.

“Yup.” You said, popping the ‘p’. “Just got a lot less hot, huh?”

Finn raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. “For my own safety, I’m really not gonna answer that.”

You let out a laugh and playfully shoved him with your shoulder.

“Idiot.”

Finn grinned. “You love me.”

You hummed. “You’re right, I really do.”

A long while later, the door closed behind you again with a click.

Finn had to promise you to get in touch with you if he felt the need to, and to at least try and keep his room in order. After a brief conversation of how his view of himself and his ‘need to call you’ was very different from yours, you had hugged him and decided to leave.

Before you had walked out, your hand had rested on the handle, and you had turned around to Finn, not quite looking him in the eye.

“You know I love you too, right?” You had said. “No matter what happens.”

Finn frowned, but if he got suspicious, he didn’t mention it. “I know. Same here.”

You swallowed and nodded.

Then you left the room.

Now you were standing outside of his door, gaze drifting into the distance, and the same weight that had been lifted off your shoulders replaced by another one, just as heavy.

Funny, how, even if indirectly, saying your Goodbyes, made the lingering presence of death looming over you like a dark shadow much more real. If only one thing went wrong tonight, then-

You shook your head at the thought. No, Sam and Dean were going to take care of it, they promised. You had to put their trust into them with this.

But if tonight really was it, then you were content with the feeling that the last conversation you had, had been with Finnegan Beckett.

The walk back to your room stretched longer than usual.

--

Sooner than you would like it to, the sun disappeared behind the hills and night reigned over the land.

Sam and Dean were standing in your room, rehearsing their – honestly, pretty vague – plan with you, making sure you knew exactly how everything would go down. To be fair, you didn’t really play a big part in the whole thing, but it was nice having some sort of reassurance.

“Alright, so you know what to do?” Sam questioned once again.

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Lay still and look pretty,” you joked. “And try not to get killed.”

“Leave that last part to us,” said Dean. “You don’t have to worry about anything. By the time you wake up, everything will be over.”

You nodded.

You had seen it in Dean’s eyes, that he wasn’t all in with the idea of using you as bait, but you had done it nevertheless.

You weren’t a little child anymore, especially not his, he wasn’t going to decide what you wanted or not wanted to risk.

You took a deep breath that lifted your shoulders and huffed it back out. You were going to do this. It was easy.

—

Like hell it was.

Whoever told you you had the easiest part of the plan had been fucking lying to you. Turns out, sleeping is way harder with the knowledge of probable death hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

Every time your eyes slipped closed, a glimpse of doubt squeezed its way into your mind. What if Sam and Dean didn’t make it? What if everything went wrong? What if, in the end, you did die?

The sheets were already pooling crumbled by your feet when you slipped out of consciousness.

--

The mass of hot bodies pressing together and towering over you was clamming. A figure was running away from you, you were chasing after it. You smelt old leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted. You wanted more of it.

Gravel clattered underneath your boots as you got out of the car on your own, like all the big girls would.

“Look, Daddy!” But Daddy wasn’t there.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” There she was again, the nice girl with the black hair. She held out her hand and you went to grab it, her warm presence looming you in, and then the floor opened up under your feet and you were falling into nothingness.

--

Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, as you startled awake in your bed, feeling your lungs tighten up and making it hard to breathe.

Your panicked gaze flew to the door of your room – wide open, the light of the hall casting a dim shadow into the room.

“Wha- Sam! Dean!” Hastily, you pulled the covers off your body and hurried out the door. Something must have gone wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

You followed the sound of footsteps and scuffle down the hallway, turned the lights on where it had gone off at a few junctions.

Your breathing was still shallow, but you pushed through that and your still dazing mind, adrenaline pumping through your veins with every step you took.

Rapidly turning around another corner, you almost stumbled over the long legs of Sam’s body on the floor. You came to an abrupt halt and kneeled worried next to him.

“Sam? Oh my God, are you-“

Sam groaned and moved his head, eyes still pressed shut. “’s strong,” he babbled, and you tried your hardest to understand what he was saying.

By the way he was slurring his words, you had well reason to think he had suffered a concussion.

“It’s alright, stay here,” you ordered him, as he tried to sit up.

Only then, you first noticed the struggling noises a few feet away from you, and lifted your eyes away from Sam to check where they were coming from.

What you saw almost made your heart drop into your stomach.

Not that far away from you, maybe a few armlengths, was Dean, laying on the floor on his back just like his brother. But he was wrestling with something sitting on his chest, something small and hairy, hunchbacked like an old witch but only with the size of a cat.

The thing, which had to be the Alp, had long, bony limbs, and was fighting tooth and nail, hissing, biting and scratching, against Dean.

It reminded you of a gremlin, of sorts.

In your head, you heard Roy’s voice scold you, “There’s a distinct difference between all supernatural creatures. Elves don’t equal fairies, and gremlins don’t equal goblins, because while gremlins are fuzzy and cute in the beginning and only bad later when they turn, goblins have always been known for harassing humans.”

Alright, so no gremlin then.

Near you, Dean was still rolling around on the floor, fighting for the upper hand with the Alp.

Your heart sped up as you realized that something had to be wrong. Because why wasn’t he just killing it?

--

“So how do you kill it?”

Sam pulled something out of his duffel bag and turned it in his hands, the dim light of your lamp reflecting on the material. “Silver dagger dipped in vampire blood.” He spoke.

“Wait – vampires bleed?”

Dean scoffed. “This isn’t Twilight, kiddo. Yes, vampires bleed.”

You shrugged and inspected the phial he had laid into your hand. “I was thinking more of Fear Street, but alright.”

Dean ignored that he didn’t know what that was, but made a mental note to look it up later.

Sam stuffed the dagger back into his arsenal.

“You don’t have to worry about that part, though,” He assured you. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Dean nodded. “He’s right. You just dream sweet, and we’ll handle the rest. Fool-proof.”

You nodded, passing Dean the blood back. You could only hope they were right.

--

The shining silver of the dagger caught your eye. It had most likely been scattered away from Dean and landed near a wall, far out of his reach.

You took quick steps over to pick it up, Dean’s struggling grunts making you alert, and probably the reason why you didn’t think about what you did next, you just did it.

The silver dagger felt light in your hands, coated in the dark fluid of what had to be vampire blood. The blade reflected the clinical white light from the hallway as you lifted it up over your head, and, using the strength of both your hands, pushed it with force into the monster’s upper torso.

The squelching sound it made, as it penetrated bristly fur, skin, and organs, would later make you feel repulsed and gagging, sort of like nails scratching on a blackboard, but in this moment, you just clenched the dagger tighter and pushed it further into the monster’s chest.

The screech it let out could not be compared to any animalistic sounds you had ever heard before. In a swift move, you pulled the weapon out of the Alp’s body, and the small creature slumped to the floor right next to Dean.

You waited for a second. Two, three panting breaths. Dean was the first to move. He put a hand somewhere where the thing’s neck should be.

Then, swallowing in-between his hard breaths, he nodded. “Done,” was all he said. But it was enough for a sigh of relief to leave your tired lungs, and you sunk to the ground right next to him.

Looking closer at its lifeless body, the Alp had more similarity with one of those dead, stuffed animals that hunters hung in their houses as trophies. But maybe that was just rigor mortis.

Through your haze, you barely registered Dean clapping a firm hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy as the adrenaline was wearing off. Like sucking air out of a balloon.

“You did good today, kid.” He said, and though you were tired, in his eyes you could see that he meant it. It filled your chest with a warmth that hadn’t been at home in there since … God knows when, and it made you smile.

Near you, Sam staggered closer, still holding his hurting ribs, and tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at the lifeless Alp before you.

“Is it just me or does it … look like a cat?”

You and Dean both looked over at him, and then at the dead monster on the floor.

“Looks more like a gremlin-goblin hybrid,” You panted. “A gromblin.”

Sam threw you a look of pure confusion, while Dean was grinning proudly. You smiled back. It felt honest.

And very likely, it was.

-- It was quiet again.

From the fight and struggles a few days ago was no trace left, as you stood by your desk and sorted through some old photographs you had replaced on your wall.

The pictures you were sorting through mostly showed you, Finn, Roy and Cass together.

At school, at the movies, going out to eat.

You sighed and plucked some tape from the back of another one.

Right at that moment, a knock sounded from your door. Without even looking up from Cass and Roy smiling at you, holding a stray cat, you let out a “Come in,” at the person on the other side of the door.

The familiar sound of the hinges creaking signified the opening and closing of the door. And then, Dean Winchester was standing in your room.

“Uhm …” He was rubbing his neck awkwardly, as you looked at him expectantly.

“Hey. What’s up?” You asked, and put the photographs in a drawer.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at you. He wasn’t wearing the same casual clothes as he had been that terrible night, but had settled on his FBI suit again. Maybe for effect.

“Look, I was just-“ Dean fumbled for a second and then took a seat on the small chair that was standing around. “We should talk. This time for real.”

You tilted your head, and avoided looking at him.

Dean didn’t wait for any response, he simply kept talking. Maye rambling.

“I know I already tried, but it wasn’t my best, so I …” He sighed.

“I never explained anything to you. why things went down how they did. Y/N, please look at me.”

You had sat down in your deskchair, pulling your legs to your chest and now did your best to fix your eyes on Dean.

“What we do, the hunting … it’s no way to grow up for a child. I know how that is. And I never, ever, wanted that for you. I already had plans to end things sooner than they did, but then ..” He shook his head. “Didn’t work out. So, when Bobby died, I saw no other chance than to get you somewhere else. And I took that chance to just … remove you from my life, as hard as it was.”

“But I promise you, Y/N, it was all just to keep you safe. I never would’ve done it if there had been another way. And I wanted you to know that.”

Dean stood on his feet again and placed the chair back on its original spot. You looked away as he reached for the door handle, to get out of your life, again.

“So you’re just gonna leave? Again?” Your words were accusing and they were meant to be that way, but still you almost felt bad, as Dean dropped his hand by his side and let out a sigh.

“Like I said, it was for the best. Still is, in my opinion.”

“What, to remove me from your life again?” You jumped out of your chair, fury burning in your eyes and voice growing louder with every word you spoke.

“Y/N, you don’t get it-“

“No, you don’t get it!” You jelled at him. What was burning in your eyes were now more tears than anger, but it didn’t matter.

“For years, I’ve been trying to … to figure out what I did wrong. For years, I’ve been trying to do better, every day, I wanted to be better, because I thought —. I thought that if I had good grades, and if I started working out, and if I was always on my best behavior … I thought that you would come and get me. But somehow you never did. And I just … I don’t understand, I want you to tell me, what did I do wrong, what made you leave, because I swear, I’ll change. I’ll change, and I’ll work on it, just please…” A begging undertone accompanied your tear-choked words. “Don’t leave me here again.”

Wordlessly, Dean quickly crossed the room and put his arms around you. it took you a second to realize what was even happening, before you clung to his suit jacket, digging all your strength into it, as if the fabric was the only think that kept you from drowning in black water.

You felt the shadow of warmth, as Dean turned his head to press a featherlight kiss into your hair.

“I regret having to leave you.” He murmured next to your ear. “But what I do not regret is keeping you safe. Even if that meant leaving you.”

You sniffled, and pulled away from him. Dean’s own face wasn’t full of fresh tear stains, but still you could see the sincerity and something like sadness on his features.

You wiped your cheeks to clean them off the drying liquids.

“I’m older now,” You said, and Dean scoffed, already knowing where this was headed. “No, please, listen to me! I’m older, I can make my own choices, take my own risks. You saw how great I was a few days ago!”

“Yes, but that was one monster!” Dean countered. “Out there, there are hundreds of those things. We don’t get enough sleep, no nice food, not even nice beds! Trust me, Y/N, compared to this-“ he gestured around your room, “what we do has nothing on it.”

You shook your head. “But you’re together when you do it. You and Sam. And I just want that, I want to be with you.”

Dean sighed and took a step back.

“Please, Dean, I’m begging you!” You urged. “You said you never wanted to come back here, but now you had to, I mean – don’t you think that’s some sort of … sign or something?”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Well, screw signs, I’m here!” You pointed to yourself. Your voice was desperate, but so were you.

“I am here, and I want you to take me with you.” And in a whisper, you repeated, “Please, Dean, this time – let me come with you.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Dean heavily sighed and pulled the chair closer to him to sit down.

--

The church bells were tolling a loud, fast tune. It was ironic, you thought, and you didn’t know if you should cry or laugh about it.

You watched as two dark caskets were lowered down into the earth, into two separate 6-feet deep holes right next to each other.

The gravestones had not yet been prepared, but you didn’t exactly need those anyway. If the huge pictures were any indicator on who was getting buried here.

This was your last time saying Goodbye. To Cass and to Roy, and, unfortunately, to the last one remaining.

Funerals weren’t for the dead, you had once read somewhere, they were for the living, for those seeking closure in their desperate times of grief.

You had thought it to be bullshit, what difference would a burial make in a journey of overcoming the loss of someone so important?

But, as you threw a full hand of dark earth onto each of the dark caskets, you somehow understood. It was one weight less.

They were still here, some part of them. Something you could always come back to, they hadn’t just vanished off the back off the earth. That thought was, indeed, comforting.

Damn life lessons that are right.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard a voice next to you, and were a bit surprised to see Finn standing there.

You had been too lost in your own thoughts to even notice him approaching. The lack of sleep probably didn’t help your attention skills much, either.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Look, I need to tell you something,” you started, just at the same time as Finn said, “I know what you wanna say.”

Both of you let out quiet laughs.

“You first,” He said.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him, scanning the gravestones before you as if you had known everyone buried under them personally.

“Sam and Dean,” you started, “I mean, they’ve been here for a while and honestly, I never even thought I’d see them again. So I never really thought about what would happen if they would just – show up, you know?”

Interesting, Peter Gravill only lived to be 57 years old.

“But now they’re here, and I just-“

“I get it.” Finn suddenly interrupted you. Your head whirled around so fast you were afraid you were gonna get whiplash.

At your confused look, he added, “I mean, if my parents suddenly showed up on my doorstep and gave me the option of going with them –“ he shrugged his shoulders. “-I would most definitely take it.”

Before you could even think about it, you already lunged forwards and wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck and holding him tightly.

The hot feeling of tears burned behind your eyes, but you managed to put them away. You pulled Finn even closer.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

“You’re still younger than me.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

The hug lasted endless, but endless went by way too quickly. You fixed Finn’s suit jacket, apologized for the tear- and make-up stains you had gotten on the expensive material, and waved him a last Goodbye.

Down by the parking lot, a black car was already waiting for you, two adult men leaning against it. They had been watching the entire thing go down from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere in either the funeral, or the emotional Goodbyes.

Sam tried not to think about what laid ahead of them, or behind them, as his niece walked towards them, away from the graves of her best friends, and leaving the only one that was still alive, behind.

His niece. How long hadn’t he said that title, let alone thought it.

He liked the familiarity of it. The rightness.

Dean opened a creaking car door for you, as you reached them.

“You ready?” He asked.

Sam could see your shoulders tighten, as you lifted your chin, and looked his brother straight in the eye.

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded, and you got in the backseat. He slammed the car door closed behind you. With one last look at his younger brother, Dean rounded Baby and took his place as the driver, Sam claiming shotgun.

Behind them, you leaned your head against the window as the engine roared and you drove off.

The car smelt like leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted.

And in the backseat of an old 1967 Chevy Impala, listening to the music that was a mix of Metallica, Kansas and Billy Joel, you slept the best night’s sleep you had had in weeks.

taglist:

@psycho-magnotheric-slime , @openmindedperson2200 , @emily-roberts

#Spotify #father of mine #yourmomxx #family line #dean winchester au #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x child!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x reader #female reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural

[feelbokkie]

Let’s Fall in Love, IRL | Chapter 1

pairing: Jisung x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, Pen pals to lovers, friend of a friend to lovers

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food, humor as a coping mechanism

summary: When she was a child, L/n Y/n was in a horrible accident that left her face disfigured.  After getting bullied relentlessly by her classmates for her appearance, Y/n escaped to the digital world where she meets Felix. Now an adult, Y/n has be come a complete social recluse, only talking to her 4 childhood best friends and roommates and her only friends. When Felix goes AFK one day in the middle of a game, Felix’s roommates decides to step in. Is this the start a new relationship or will Y/n’s crippling social anxiety get in the way?

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 1,254

screenshot count: 14

previous | masterlist | next

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Hey, Lix, when you're doing fucking around, do you think you could haul ass The Meridian and heal me? If it's not too much of a bother to do your job." You groan as you take more damage. You turn and try to take out the other team's tanks as fast as you can, but you're being flanked by two of their damages. You'd take out their damages too, only you have no idea where they are.

"How did you get all the way on the other side of the map?" He panics.

"I thought you were following me since you're supposed to be pocketing me."

"You fucking ran off without telling me. Do you want me to read your mind?"

"That'd be great." You laugh, "Just get over here. And be careful. The other team's tanks and damages are still around." You keep an eye on your health bar as you keep your back against the wall, not allowing yourself to get ambushed again.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you suck at damage? I just healed you not that long ago."

"Did you not hear me screaming that I was getting ambushed?"

"You're always screaming. I've learned to tune you out."

"Chat, did you hear me screaming for help?" You quickly look over to the monitor where you're stream is. "See? Chat heard me. You're just a shit support."

"Maybe you should be support next game." He mutters.

"Why? Because I'm a girl?" You tease.

"No! Are you trying to get me canceled?"

"Aw, Lixie, you don't need my help with that. Just keep talking and you'll get yourself canceled in no time."

"I hate you,"

"That's not what you were saying earlier. Chat, Felix proposed to me earlier because I sent him food."

"Y/n, shut up!"

Your eyes shift over to the monitor on your left that's displaying Felix's stream. His face is noticeably redder than it was before. His dyed blond hair is in a messy ponytail. His freckles perfectly scattered across his cheekbone and nose. You remember how he used to cover his freckles with makeup when he first started streaming. You don't remember when he stopped, but you're glad he did. It may be hypocritical coming from you, you don't even stream with your camera on. Even if you did, you can't use makeup to fix what's wrong with your face like he can. People aren't going to find you cute or hot because of the scars on your face. For that, you're kind of envious of Felix. What he considers to be flaws are actually blessings while for you, your flaws are just that. Felix gets praised for showing his bare face while you'd be crucified for showing yours in general.

"Y/n!"

Your eyes shift back to the game, just in time to see the bright red "Defeat" pop up on the screen.

"They walked right to you. Are you fucking blind?" You watch as Felix puts his head in his hands.

"Yeah, in one eye, actually. Chat, Felix is an ableist."

"Don't you start. Chat, Y/n is being manipulative."

You laugh, reading all the comments from your chat shipping you and Felix. It used to give you anxiety, all the comments. You'd stay up late at night, stressing about them. You used to think that it was impossible for Felix to have any sort of feelings for you. He's never even seen you. Any time you've ever chatted on call, your camera stayed off. And even if he did, you knew that one look at you and any romantic feeling he had would just, dissipate.

"Pharmercy again?" Felix asks after taking a sip of the coffee you ordered him earlier.

It's more chocolate milk than it is coffee. You know how much he hates the bitter taste so you ordered one loaded with chocolate so he would drink it. It's still healthier than the energy drinks he's been drinking since yesterday.

"Yeah, but only one more match. I'm starting to get tired."

"Imagine being tired."

"You only have an hour left of the marathon."

"Stay up with me? Please? It's only an hour." You turn to Felix's stream just in time to catch him sticking his lower lip out.

"Hm, yeah okay. But you're going to owe me." You sigh, leaning back into your chair.

"I can live with that." You don't have to look at his screen to know that he's smirking right now. You can already tell that the two of you are going to be trending later.

***

The two of you successfully play through 2 rounds with your team. Felix working well as your support while you two sit on the front line. It's the calmest you've been all day. Inuyasha, your service dog, has been hovering around you all day. A few times, he's had to paw at you to warn you of an oncoming attack. But now, despite your yelling, he's calmly resting by your bed.

"Shit," you hear Felix mutter under his breath.

"What?" You ask, looking at his screen. Nothing is going on that should warrant that reaction from him.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Felix says sheepishly.

"Then go,"

"We're in the middle of a match!"

"Love your priorities, Lix."

"I'm trying to think whose home. Oh!" You quickly take out an enemy as you you watch Felix fiddle with his phone.

"What?" You hear an unfamiliar voice whine.

"I need a favor. A really big favor. And quick."

"Aren't you in your room? I thought I heard you screaming."

"I am, just come here quick. I need you to take over for me for 10--20 minutes tops."

"Your stream? No way!"

"Han, I am begging you. I will give you anything you want. Just, please. I'm in the middle of a match and I can't forfeit."

"How much?"

"Name your price later. Just get your ass to my room,"

"Okay, okay,"

A few minutes later you hear Felix's door open. Too focused on the game, you don't look at his screen to see who. You try not to take too much damage while Felix is distracted.

"Hey, you didn't tell me you were playing a game. I'm out,"

"Han, it'll be easy. Y/n will talk you through it. Just--please? I really have to go to the bathroom." Felix pleads.

"Fine,"

"Oh thank god! Chat, Y/n, this is my roommate, Han. He's going to take over for me while I...drop the kids off at the pool." Felix says quickly before he runs off the screen.

"That's disgusting." His roommate mutters.

"Literally could have just said he had to use the bathroom." You whine.

You glance over to Felix's stream to find a brown-haired man you've never seen before in Felix's spot. His features are soft and warm. His eyes are wide, almost as big as his cheeks, as he stares at the screen.

"Hello everyone, I'm Felix's roommate, Han. I'm a musician, not a gamer so bear with me." He says calmly.

"Lix is barely a gamer so your skill level should be about equal." You joke, trying to calm yourself down. If Inuyasha was awake, you know he'd be pawing at your leg to tell you to calm down.

"Fuck that scared me," Han says quietly as his eyes scan the screen.

"Sorry. I'm Y/n, I'm one of Lix's friends." You explain.

"Ah, okay. Nice to meet you Y/n. Please take good care of me."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @phtogravi @lilcutieana @veedoesntknaur @yongbbokkie @brain-empty-only-draken @thisisnotjacinta @thefangirloncrack @chlodavids @heartz4chuu @sunshinessky @reverse-soe @its-hannjisung @angelsandtimelords @zeejones @liknws @marked-unknown @sansona @aaasia111 @jhstayy @aslou @hyunbae-35 @kangaracharacha @skz-streamer @btskzfav @weird-bookworm @jihanniee @everglowdaisies @puppysmileseungmin

#feelbokkie writes #lirl smau #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau #skz smau #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #han smau #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin

[omgrachwrites]

The Night We Met (Chapter Three)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin’s mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year

A/N: Soooo, this is up a lot later than intended so I have made it a lil longer to thank you guys for your patience. Alsoooo thank you so much for all your support on this series, it truly means the world to me! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know if you would like to be tagged. I love you all very much! xxx

Chapter Three

The Great Hall was especially rowdy one blustery Thursday morning as you went to meet your friends for breakfast, opting to sleep in for an extra ten minutes. The cause of the noise was coming from the first years panicking about their timetables and the older students who were practising their spells for class. Hermione grinned at you when she noticed you, her curly hair in a braid down her back.

“You look especially lovely this morning, Y/N,” she smiled as you sat down.

You flushed at her words, “why, thank you. My mum would say it’s the fresh air, does wonders for the complexion she says.”

Ron, who had been listening to the conversation looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “and, what would you say?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I would say it’s a happy accident.”

Ron snorted into his breakfast at your reply while Hermione shook her head fondly as she poured some milk into your tea, “you are completely ridiculous.”

You laughed, taking the milk from her and pouring it into your bowl of cereal as you looked up at your twin who looked as though he was trying not to fall asleep in his cornflakes.

“What’s up with Harry?” you asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “probably too busy poring over that stupid potions book all night instead of sleeping.”

It was in the first potions lesson of the year that Harry had found the mysterious book that had transformed him into a potions expert. Hermione regarded the book as a form of cheating and you weren’t inclined to agree with her until he won the tiny bottle of liquid luck. The former owner of the book called themselves the Half-Blood Prince, and none of you had any clue who it was. Though, you were sure that you had heard the name somewhere but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Harry seemed to wake up halfway through breakfast, “what have we got first?” he asked, concealing a yawn behind his hand.

“It’s Thursday so it’s Defence Against the Dark Arts,” you replied and Harry’s face fell.

Defence Against the Dark Arts used to be Harry’s favourite lesson but now with Snape teaching the class it was quickly becoming his idea of hell, “great,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, “I wonder what fun we’ll have today,” you rolled your eyes, he was so dramatic.

“Just don’t piss him off,” Ron laughed but that was almost impossible because Harry’s mere presence seemed to piss Snape off.

Finally, the bell went and you all traipsed to your lesson, it was pitch black in the classroom, as usual. Snape preferred to teach with all the blinds down on the windows, once again fuelling the rumour that he was a vampire.

“Everyone get in and sit down,” he hissed, there was no time or room for any pleasantries in Snape’s lessons.

When everyone had found their seats in silence Snape started the lesson and you quickly learned it wasn’t exactly a cheery topic that he would be teaching today, “we’ll be covering the cruciatus curse today. You will be required to explain each unforgivable curse in detail along with their characteristics for your NEWT exams next year.”

Your NEWT exams was the focus of all professors this year it seemed. You fidgeted nervously as you tried not to look at the very graphic photograph of a wizard being tortured that was hung on the wall. You missed Remus. Everyone had tried to convince Remus to come back to Hogwarts but he didn’t seem to be interested.

“Now,” Snape continued in a dangerously quiet voice, “what are the characteristics of the cruciatus curse and what is it used for?”

The room was silent, even Hermione didn’t raise her hand although you knew that she knew the answer. She was staring very hard at the blackboard, hardly blinking. A soft voice made everyone jump and you were surprised at who it was that spoke.

“The curse is used to inflict excruciating pain on the victim, though it leaves no physical mark and you have to mean it for the curse to work. It’s like your nerve endings are on fire,” Mattheo stared at his piece of parchment as he spoke before he finally looked up and cleared his throat, “or, that’s what I’ve read anyway.”

Snape nodded at him before turning to write it up on the blackboard, “5 points to Slytherin, Riddle.”

You looked at Mattheo, horror rising in your chest. What he had said didn’t seem to come from someone who had merely read about the curse. Snape lectured for about twenty more minutes before he made you all start an essay on the cruciatus curse in silence. It made for a very depressing lesson.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the next lesson, Mattheo practically flew from the room without waiting for his friends, and you followed behind him. The hallway was practically empty due to how quick you both left the classroom and you called his name. You had expected him to keep walking but he didn’t. He turned to look at you.

“How did you know all that stuff about the cruciatus curse?”

He laughed humourlessly as he walked closer to you with an anguished look on his handsome face, “how do you think I know it?” the look on his face wasn’t the look of someone who had cast it, but someone who had been on the receiving end of it.

You forced back the gasp that threatened to spill from your mouth, you knew that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate that form of sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “why the hell do you even care? We agreed to carry on like we don’t know each other.”

“I know that’s what we agreed but Theo, I can’t pretend like I don’t know you. It’s not like I can turn my feelings for you off just like that. Can you?”

Mattheo swallowed as he looked at the floor before he looked back at your face, “it was never that deep for me, Y/N.”

His words hurt you, they were so cold and calculating but before you could muster a reply, you felt someone wrap an arm around your shoulders, “is he bothering you, Y/N?” Harry asked.

Mattheo never took his eyes from yours as he raised an eyebrow. You tore your eyes away from his as you looked at your brother, “no, he’s not. C’mon, Harry, let’s get to potions.”

Harry glared at Theo as he shoved past him, hissing beneath his breath, “stay the fuck away from my sister, Riddle.”

As you joined Ron and Hermione outside the dungeons, Ron narrowed his eyes, “and where were you two?”

“Nowhere, doesn’t matter,” you said quickly before Harry could say anything.

As far as you were concerned your dad was the only one who knew about you and Mattheo, and you weren’t going to start broadcasting it now. Thankfully, Slughorn came out and greeted the class, letting them inside before Harry could contradict your words.

When you walked into the dungeons, you were immediately hit with the smell of fancy French cologne. You knew it was coming from the steaming cauldron on Slughorn’s desk. For the past couple of lessons, you had been learning the theory of Amortentia – the world’s strongest love potion – you didn’t pay too much attention to the scent of the cologne.

Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Mattheo, you really wished you could just get over him. Maybe you should start dating, though unfortunately you knew that most of the male population at Hogwarts were complete idiots.

Slughorn grinned at everyone as he ushered them all inside, “welcome, welcome. Please take your seats,” it was a vast difference from Snape.

Slughorn started the lesson about five minutes late as he waited for everyone to make it down to the dungeons from their previous lessons. When everyone had taken their seats, Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands together, “right, as you all know for the past couple of days we have been learning about Amortentia. Some of you may have realised that this,” he tapped the cauldron with his wand, “is full of Amortentia. Now, who would like to tell the class what they smell?”

When nobody volunteered, Slughorn looked at you with a smile on his face, “how about you, Miss Potter?”

A couple of your classmates snickered while Mattheo looked at you, the expression on his face was very guarded. You bit your lip as you looked back at Slughorn, shaking your head, “I’d rather not if that’s okay, Professor.”

“Of course, I know it’s no small thing that I ask,” he said kindly and your body flooded with relief. Slughorn turned his attention to Mattheo, “how about you, Mr Riddle?”

To your surprise, Mattheo nodded, “yes, Sir,” he walked to the front of the classroom and took a deep breath as he drank in the scent of the steaming potion. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he did so, “I don’t smell anything, Sir.”

Slughorn looked hugely disappointed, “nothing at all?”

“No, Sir.”

Although Slughorn looked disappointed he didn’t look surprised, “very well, please take your seat, Mr Riddle.”

Mattheo found his seat and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. There was nothing in his eyes, they were stone cold and the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t lying, he really couldn’t smell anything. But what did that mean? The lesson passed in a blur and you didn’t exactly listen as your mind was elsewhere, you did feel bad but you knew that you could easily catch up with the notes at a later date.

At dinner that evening the thought was still bothering you so you decided to ask Hermione, “why couldn’t Riddle smell anything in the Amortentia?”

Hermione looked at you in surprise, “have you not heard the rumour?”

“What rumour?”

“There’s a rumour that Voldemort was conceived because of a love potion,” Harry replied, butting into the conversation.

“So?” you asked wondering what his point was.

“People who are conceived because of love potions are incapable of feeling love, and if it runs through Voldemort’s veins then it runs in Riddle’s too,” Hermione explained.

You looked up at the handsome boy who was laughing with his friends on the other side of The Great Hall. You didn’t know who his mother was but you knew that he wasn’t conceived from love, presumably Voldemort was desperate from an heir.

“So, he can’t love either,” you said to yourself.

It was like some sort of Greek tragedy, having feelings for someone who was incapable of returning them.

“Why are you so bothered?” Ron asked.

“I’m not,” you lied, missing the way Hermione looked at you with suspicion.

A couple of days later, Hermione cornered you in the changing rooms when you had showered after Quidditch practice. She was slightly breathless and her cheeks were pink, it looked as though she had practically ran to get to you.

“What are you doing here?”

She shook her head, “I was racking my brain, trying to figure out why you were so bothered that Riddle couldn’t smell anything in potions. Then it came to me, he’s the boy you met over the summer isn’t he? Please don’t lie to me.”

You sighed, “yes,” you whispered, waiting for the judgemental look or the burst of outrage but she simply took your hand and waited for you to continue, “we got to know each other over the summer and I thought he was a dick at first, but when I really got to know him, I realised he’s different than the front he puts up at school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, looking hurt.

“I didn’t want you judging me.”

“Y/N! I wouldn’t have judged you, I would have been there for you through it all, through the break-up. In fact, I will be there for you, it’s clear that you still have feelings for him.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Theo’s dad was the cruellest wizard that had ever lived, he’d been especially cruel to people like Hermione. She should hate you, but she didn’t.

“Because you’re my best friend, silly girl,” she laughed as she pulled you into a hug.

You hugged her back tightly, “please don’t tell anyone, especially not Harry.”

Hermione laughed into your hair, “I don’t want you to get murdered, of course I won’t tell Harry,” you smiled at her response, relieved that at least someone knew your secret.

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

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