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dontyouworrydaddy · 11 months

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Can you please write about the Task Force 141 boys (and Konig too if it's ok) just casually shopping when a young woman comes to them out of the blue, gently grabbing their arm. She looks absolutely terryfied, whispering a shaky "Act like you know me. Please!" It's clear someone has been following her for a whlie and she's desperate for help. Thank you.

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓

Task Force 141 (+König) x Reader

I‘m so happy I get to write this since I had this in mind for such a long time 😭 so Thank you for suggesting this and I hope you like it xoxo 😚

KÖNIG

As König strolled through the bustling marketplace, his keen eyes scanned the various stalls, his mind focused on the mundane task of running errands. Dressed inconspicuously in civilian clothes, he blended seamlessly into the crowd, his stoic demeanor giving no hint of the dangerous missions he undertook as an elite soldier.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on his arm startled him. He turned to face you with fear written deeply into your eyes. "Please act like you know me!" you pleaded, your voice trembling. König instantly recognized the distress in your voice and the urgency in your gaze. Without hesitation, he nodded, his stoicism giving way to concern.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice laced with a comforting tone. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. You leaned into his chest, seeking solace in his strength.

König's social anxiety has always been a problem for him and it’s hitting hard surfaced in this unexpected encounter. He was a man of few words but possessed an unwavering sense of loyalty and courage. He was calm under pressure, his sharp instincts guiding him through the chaos of battle. Now, faced with a terrified stranger seeking his help, those traits kicked into action.

As König held you, he discreetly surveyed his surroundings. His eyes landed on a man lurking nearby, watching you guys intently. The man's presence and the way he leered at you which made it clear he had been following you. König's protective instincts flared, and he knew he needed to act swiftly.

With a calm yet firm voice, König spoke to the man, his words laden with an underlying warning. "Do you have a problem, sir?" he asked, his tone carrying an unmistakable air of authority.

The man's face paled as he realized he had been caught. He stammered a weak denial, his eyes darting nervously from König to you. Sensing the growing unease in the man, König maintained his grip on the you, ensuring your safety. Without another word, the man hastily retreated, disappearing into the crowd as if he were never there. König watched him go, his steely gaze never faltering. Once the immediate danger had passed, he turned his attention back to you gently releasing you from his protective embrace.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. You nodded, gratitude shining in your eyes. You thanked him for his help but your voice still laced with residual fear. König, ever the enigma, simply nodded in response, his focus returning to the world around him.

SIMON RILEY

Simon strolled through the bustling marketplace, enjoying a rare moment of solitude away from his covert missions and high-stakes operations. As he perused the various stalls, his attention was suddenly drawn to a figure emerging from the throng, walking towards him with a sense of urgency. It was you and you had fear written across your face, approaching Simon with trepidation. Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Act like you know me. Please!" He looked down at you and he wonders why him because you can’t see his face due to the mask covering his whole face but his eyes.

But still, Simon's instincts kicked in, his years of training guiding his response. He swiftly assessed the situation, noting the unease in your eyes and the subtle glances cast over your shoulder. Without a word, he nodded, recognizing the urgency of the matter. With a sense of familiarity, he slipped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer, creating a facade of friendship and protection. “There you are. I thought you got lost in the mall” he replied a bit loudly so the man behind you could hear it.

The man, dressed in a nondescript manner, had been trailing you for some time. His presence was unsettling, and his intentions were definitely clear. Sensing the danger, Simon decided to confront the man head-on. With a calm yet authoritative voice, he greeted the stranger, "Hey, is there a problem?"

The man's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by Simon's intervention. He stammered, unable to meet Simon's piercing gaze. "N-No, there's no problem. Sorry for the misunderstanding," he mumbled before quickly retreating into the crowd, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.

You let out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly releasing from your body. Simon's protective embrace remained, offering you a sense of security amidst the chaotic surroundings. He looked down at you, concern etched upon his face. "Are you alright? Do you know that man?"

You shook your head, grateful for Simon's intervention. "No, I've never seen him before. But he's been following me for a few days and he’s always lurking in the shadows. I didn't know what to do, and then I saw you. I just...I needed help. Because this time I had the feeling something is gonna happen"

Simon's expression softened, his voice filled with reassurance. "You did the right thing, coming to me. We'll figure this out together. You're safe now."

With that, Simon gently led you away from the marketplace, finding a quieter corner where the noise of the crowd was replaced by a sense of serenity. His arm remained around you, providing both a shield and a comfort. The world seemed to fade away as the two of you focused on each other.

He stayed with you for an hour until you were calm and offered to guide you home. You guys started talking and he was pretty good at keeping your mind busy and forgetting about what happened earlier.

Before you leave, you give him your phone number and thank him again. He first didn’t accept it but you wanted to go out and have a drink as a thank you. After a few arguments he agreed and accepted it.

JOHN MACTAVISH

John strolled through the busy shopping center, blending in with the bustling crowd. As an experienced soldier, he had become accustomed to the chaos of war, but today he sought solace in the mundane world of civilian life. It was an ordinary day, or so he thought.

Suddenly, a hand gently grasped his arm, and he turned to face an unfamiliar yet terrified face. It was you, eyes wide with fear and voice trembling as you spoke. "You, please. Act like you know me. Please!" you whispered urgently.

John was taken aback by the intensity of your plea, but his instincts kicked in immediately. With a nod, he masked his surprise and responded, "Hey, how have you been?" He wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, hoping to offer you some reassurance.

Feeling the strength and warmth in his embrace, you relaxed. You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper, "There's a man following me. He's been tracking me for a while, and I'm terrified. I don't know what to do."

John's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings, searching for any signs of the mysterious man. “Don't worry," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I'll handle it."

Just as John finished speaking, a figure emerged from the crowd, his gaze fixed on you. Sensing the tension, the stalker approached, a malicious glint in his eyes. However, his confidence wavered when he saw John's protective stance and you nestled against him.

John's steely gaze met the stalker's, and he spoke with an edge of warning in his voice, "Is there a problem?" His voice, calm and controlled, sent a shiver down the stalker's spine. The stalker faltered, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammered, "N-no, no problem at all." Fear danced in his eyes, realizing that he had underestimated the situation. Without another word, the stalker swiftly turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd, leaving John and you in a newfound sense of safety. John's grip on you tightened slightly, a silent promise that he would continue to protect you.

As the adrenaline subsided, you looked up at John, gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine relief. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

John offered a reassuring smile, his rugged features softened by a genuine kindness. "You're welcome. Just glad I could help. Are you okay?"

A small smile graced your lips, finally feeling a sense of security. "I am now. Thanks to you, …"

“John. My Name is John” he replied with a smile. “Thanks to you John“

You guys stood there for a moment longer until you were calm and talked for a bit before your ways parted again.

JOHN PRICE

John walked through the bustling aisles of a local supermarket, his mind preoccupied with mundane thoughts about groceries and errands. He is relaxed, but his years of combat experience had honed his senses, always keeping his mind busy.

As he reached for a can of soup on the shelf, a gentle yet desperate touch on his arm caught his attention. He turned his head and his eyes met with yours. In that moment, he sensed your fear and urgency. There was no need for words; your trembling form and wide eyes spoke more than words.

"Help me. Please act like you know me" you whispered shakily, your voice laced with terror. You were being pursued, and you needed his help. Without hesitation, Price nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. His personality trait of being fiercely protective kicked into high gear.

His grip tightened around you, offering both support and a sense of safety. "Hey," he greeted, his voice low and comforting. "What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you clung to him. "There's this guy... he's been following me for days," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what he wants, but I can't shake him off."

Price's jaw tensed, his expression growing more determined. "Stay close," he said, his voice holding a steely edge. "Let's confront him."

With your heart pounding, you followed Price as he led you through the supermarket, his imposing figure serving as a shield against any potential threat. As you weaved through the aisles, you caught sight of the man who had been stalking you. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed Price's presence at your side.

John’s voice held a commanding tone as he approached the man. "You got a problem?"

Startled, the man stammered, his face turning pale. "W-What? No no no, no problem at all," he stuttered, his voice trembling. He hastily made his way toward the exit, clearly intimidated by the legendary figure of John.

With the threat seemingly neutralized, John turned his attention back to you. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, his strong arms offering solace amidst the chaos of the situation. "You're safe now," he reassured, his voice carrying a sense of genuine care.

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the weight of the tension slowly dissipating. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

KYLE GARRICK

Kyle was walking through his local yet favorite grocery store. He couldn’t find his favorite candy which was making him a bit mad. Little did he know that his peaceful shopping excursion was about to take a dramatic turn.

Suddenly, a hand gently clasped around Kyle's arm. He turned, his eyes locking with yours. You, with your disheveled hair and wide eyes, looked absolutely terrified. The fear in your gaze pierced through him, leaving no room for doubt. Without a word, you pleaded for his assistance.

"Act like you know me. Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Kyle's training kicked in, his instincts telling him to trust you. He masked his surprise and concern, his face transforming into a warm smile. "Hey," he greeted you, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. The embrace offered you a sense of safety.

His voice, a soothing baritone, held a touch of authority. "Is that guy bothering you? Does he have a problem?" Kyle glanced over your shoulder, his gaze fixed on a man lurking in the distance, his eyes locked onto you with a sinister intensity.

Fear flashed across the stalker's face as he realized he had been caught. His eyes darted from Kyle to you and back again. In that moment, the tables turned, and he suddenly felt the weight of his actions. The man quickly averted his gaze, his footsteps retreating hastily. He was too scared to stay for a minute longer.

With the threat vanquished, you let out a shaky breath, the tension leaving your body. "Thank you," you whispered, gratitude lacing every word. "I don't know what I would have done without you." He released you from his protective embrace, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're safe now," he assured you, his voice filled with genuine concern.

For the rest of your shopping trip, Kyle remained by your side, his presence offering you an unspoken reassurance. Together, you navigated the aisles, filling the cart with groceries while engaging in lighthearted banter and getting to know each other.

After Paying for the groceries your ways split and you were thankful that he helped you out of the situation. He was glad he could save yet another life.

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greenfiend · 17 days

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The Significance of Lover’s Lake and Byler (Theory)

'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact

Yes we're lovers, and that is that (Heroes by David Bowie)

Part 2 here

(Warning: This post has mentions of sex (nothing graphic)… if you’re uncomfortable with that please do not proceed.)

So, Lover’s Lake has existed within the show ever since season 2, when Will mapped out the entirety of Hawkins. The lake is shaped like a heart (keep this in mind for later) thus the name “Lover’s Lake”. Makes sense within the town of Hawkins, but does not provide an explanation on a subtextual level. None of the “lovers” existing within the show has been associated with the lake (you could say Steve/Nancy but honestly it’s a stretch since they never actually rekindled their romance.)

This leads me to the question… why call the lake “Lover’s Lake” without associating any lovers to it?

Because maybe, there will be lovers connected to it… but they aren’t lovers… yet.

Okay, let’s get back to the shape. A heart. ❤️ Hm. Now which character within the show is most associated with hearts? Which character is even referred to as the heart by their love interest?

Mike.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he’s one part of the “lovers” here. Thus ruling out many other romantic pairings within the show. Leaving only two pairings: Mike/El and Mike/Will. I won’t go into detail on why I believe Mike and El will inevitably break up, you can read a lot of different analyses for that. So that leaves… Mike/Will. Not lovers yet.

Okay, here’s the part where I may get crucified. The definition of lovers.

Please put your pitch forks down for this.

Lovers usually refers to two people in a sexual relationship outside of marriage.

With all the subtext (and actual text) around sex and sexuality, and how we see Will struggle with his own sexuality, there is a likely conclusion here. He’s going to confront his sexuality. To do so, he will have sex. With whom? Well, with the one person he loves the most, the one he affectionately refers to as the heart… his best friend… Mike.

Now, where’s this going to happen? What better location than somewhere empty and secluded.

Reefer Rick’s lakeside house.

Now, who is “Reefer Rick”?

Also known as, Rick Lipton, Reefer Rick is a drug dealer who’s closely acquainted with Eddie.

He’s an enigma. We never see him. All that is known about him are the things mentioned by other characters.

He’s currently in jail apparently for dealing drugs. Also, he seems like a town pariah.

Also, he isn’t too keen on Fast Times (returned on time), at least not as much as “Cheech and Chong” (returned late each time.) That shot at 53 minutes and 5 seconds in Fast Times doesn’t do it for him, I guess. Unlike watching two guys get high.

His name choice is an interesting one.

“Reefer” Rick Lipton.

“Reefer” is a synonym for “marijuana cigarette”. Okay, makes sense, he is a drug dealer after all. But why the term “cigarette”? Well… there’s this other word that also happens to be a synonym for “cigarette”…

Then Rick… short for “Richard”. Richard is one of the few names out there with a nickname that is also slang for male genitalia… “Dick”.

Then finally… Lipton.

As Robin says, spelled like Lipton tea. Now, why would the writers use the name “Lipton” and even reference the tea company if there were no significance to it? They wouldn’t. We know this about them.

So why “Lipton”?

Let’s do a bit of research here, shall we?

The founder of Lipton tea was a man named Thomas Lipton.

Thomas Lipton just so happens to have been a closeted homosexual man who had a long term relationship with another man whose name is… *drumroll please*

William Love.

Okay, that can’t be just a coincidence right?

So moving on to Reefer Rick’s house.

We see glimpses of his living room, kitchen, and briefly his bedroom.

Jason and his buds are searching for Eddie and this involves looking under the mattress? As if, Eddie could successfully hide under there? Haha okay sure.

The angle of this shot is interesting too, because the bed is essentially being shown off to us.

This bed with a blue blanket and yellow sheets. Hm. Interesting.

Keep in mind this scene is essentially unnecessary. They could have easily shown Jason et al searching for Eddie without creating an entire new set for a room that’s only used in one single insignificant shot. Therefore, I do not think it’s unreasonable to believe this is used for foreshadowing.

Then we also get this shot from outside the window into the bedroom.

Look familiar? I thought so too.

Okay. Now for my theory/prediction.

As I mentioned earlier, Will is currently struggling with his own sexuality and feels a lot of shame and internalized homophobia. There’s also a lot of evidence that Mike is experiencing the same thing. Unlike Will, Mike conforms to the society’s expectations. He dates El, performing as her boyfriend. This is comparable to Nancy’s arc in season 1. She also conforms, and like Mike, leaves her best friend behind. We all know how that ended.

Now, what better way to wrap up the show than to have Mike correct his sister’s mistake? To have Mike reject societal expectations in favour of his best friend?

Okay so this is my theory.

Mike and Will have their first kiss an episode or two prior to 5x07. Tensions are high, but they’re busy fighting interdimentional monsters along side their friends.

Then comes 5x07 which somehow leaves Mike and Will alone by Lover’s Lake. The tension between them reaches an all time high, leading to a passionate kiss and then… more. Let’s just say it involves that blue and yellow bed.

At the same time as these two become the lovers they were meant to be, another character is being saved, or perhaps being brought back to life. Perhaps another red head, one we all know and love. Yes, a major parallel and contrast to Steve/Nancy’s sex scene in season 1, which featured Barb dying. But because Mike is rejecting conformity and being authentic, another character lives instead.

I mean, what better way to represent the beauty of the love and intimacy between these two boys? Their love is literally bringing back life to the world.

So yeah, basically I’m saying that Mike and Will expressing their love for each other will save Max.

This also wouldn’t be the first time that Max’s survival is correlated with their relationship. As I doubt that it was merely a coincidence that in episode 4x04 we have Mike’s genuine monologue to Will, then we have Max surviving Vecna. In contrast to 4x09, which features a forced monologue from Mike to El, followed by Max losing to Vecna and barely surviving.

So, as their bond strengthens, Max’s life bar goes up (so to speak). If something interferes with their bond, Max’s outcome is more dire.

The writers have also been associating Mike/El with death…

[Tumblr only allows a limited number of images so pretend we have one of El holding dead flowers and another image of the cut scene from 3x05 with Mike/El having a moment cutting to a dead body on the hospital floor]

Mike/Will on the other hand have been associated with life. The birds chirping in the background of their final scene together, the flowers blooming between them as they stand together. Plus, blue plus yellow does equal green after all. Which is the most commonly associated colour with life.

🌿🌱🌳

To conclude, I just want to say that I personally think this would be a nice way to end their arc. I know a lot of people are uncomfortable with associating Mike/Will with anything sexual… but the show has been doing this already. Whether you like it or not, Mike and Will have been shown implicitly and explicitly that they desire each other both romantically and sexually. The fact that they have sexual desire for each other does not minimize or trivialize their friendship and love, it’s an aspect of it… adding another dimension to their relationship.

Do I think or hope they would show anything pornographic? Absolutely not (do I even have to say this?) But explicit like Steve/Nancy? Yes. Do I think they’ll be only 14/15 years old when this occurs? No. This will likely happen after a time jump.

Being authentically yourself and not conforming is overall a major theme of the show. I mean it’s called Stranger Things after all. Will people be upset by the ending of this arc? Bylers included? Absolutely. Many people within the town of Hawkins and people watching the show will both show disgust for it. But that’s the point. It’s not “normal” and that’s okay. Different is good, and can be a beautiful and wonderful thing. We all just need to open our minds and hearts a bit. I’m not just talking about the GA; many Bylers are also closed minded and stuck in their ways too. Let’s all try to work on that, shall we?

Despite the opinions of others, Will and Mike will choose to love each other which will inevitably lead to their defeat of Vecna. Love concurs all. It may be cheesy and cliche but personally? I think that’s a beautiful thing. We all can learn to love more.

Anyway, would love to know your thoughts on this.

Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

Part 2 here

#loverslakegate #byler #stranger things #stranger things 5 #byler theory #stranger things theory #lovers lake

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

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Heyo love, can i request a smut where Mean Aemond fucks his innocent wife on the garden, please? ily ❤️

heya lovely, this idea...this holds a special place in my heart (just like you) 💓 hope you enjoy this x

A Flower to Ruin...

PAIRING: Cruel!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Tyrell!Innocent!Reader

WORDS: 2,516.

WARNINGS: mean/cruel!Aemond, degradation kink, female f*ngering, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, NSFW. MINORS DNI.

A/N - I keep getting carried away, this was meant to be a small blurb, no plot & yet… here I am rambling away.

Having married the notorious one-eyed Prince, was a reality you did not dream possible. Although your House [Tyrell] was a meek one, it could and would gratefully offer endless wealth, a highly valued asset to the Crown, undoubtedly. Your betrothal nonetheless, was planned, a guaranteed means that further heightened the riches now shared with the newly appointed King, Aegon the Second, for the betterment of the realm.

And as romanticised as you'd dreamt of your surreal betrothal to the Prince Regent: such idyllic thoughts and daydreams that contaminated your mind, were vanquished with reality. For your husband, was a cruel man indeed...

Aemond Targaryen, was very much an unnerving man. Of all the rumours and whispers that would occasionally reach your innocent ears, of the infamous Kinslayer, you were keen to ignore such hearsay, remaining blissfully optimistic about your fiancé. However, much to your dismay, your initial impression of Aemond was one that stirred an internal debate inside: was it terror or lust that made you feel so uneasy around him?

The lingering yet blatant wound of his absent eye, although hidden beneath the feeble leather of an eyepatch, the red trail of a healed scar remained... And was somewhat chilling. Being frank to yourself, it did not falter your attraction towards him, however. He had a handsomely, chiselled face, the ethereal Targaryen features were most exemplified on him. Even from a distance, you could tell that his height would tower over you, his mass lean and toned. Just by his sheer demeanour, one could easily decipher that he was a warrior trained.

And when he spoke, he was stoic and monotonous, it seemed he was not impressed nor was he disappointed. The man was an enigma, impossible to decipher his raw emotions and pure intent. Was he pleased with you? Was he satisfied with this arrangement? Would he ultimately love you?

Overtime, in the following months proceeding the lavish, royal wedding, it remained impossible to say. Aemond, much to your relief, took pride in performing his husbandly duties. However, you'd grown familiar with his approach towards you, it was one filled with almost a sweet bitterness, gaining amusement in intimidating and humiliating you, and yet to some level he remained cautious with you, as though not to completely frighten you off. He kept you lingering for more, like bait on a hook.

It drove you mad, yet you'd never forged the courage to confront him, for fear that you would displease him enough to leave, wounding his ego. In truth, he was not a violent nor terrible husband either, he was committed. You had no plausible reason to complain. And yet, he treated you as though you were an inanimate object, his property, hurrying to his beckon call always, like some lamb to its shepherd.

Even in his absence, you had missed him. Only gone for a few days, for a hunting round with the young lords and knights of the realm, you'd disappointingly concluded that your feelings were one-sided. He did not miss you, how could he miss you? Aemond showed no sentimental attachment towards you, except that you were bound his loyal wife, before the laws of men and Gods... Or so you had convinced yourself.

****

"So I thought I'd find you here, my rose-" The sudden, abruptness of his deep voice had caught you off guard. Startling you, as you hastily cast your attention towards him from the open book resting in your lap. Slowly, he'd strolled towards you, hands firmly placed behind his back, as he found you nestled beneath a hidden canopy, sprawled on a silk, picnic duvet, across a freshly, cut grass-patch, beneath the cool shade offered by the blossom tree above.

"F-Forgive me, husband. I did not realise you had returned... Had I known I-" You stutter, as you attempt to gather yourself to stand.

Aemond stops you, surprisingly insisting you remain where you are, as he himself cowers down instead, laying himself beside you.

A few seconds of sheer silence are exchanged, as Aemond's attention shuffles from the stems of grass he distractedly picks at, to the neat, floral bushes onwards. You observe him longingly, a warmth fills your heart from his much anticipated presence, secretly embracing his return, as a thoughtless, faint smile appears on your face.

"H-How was the hunt, my Prince?" You utter, in a meek attempt to initiate some kind of conversation. Aemond looks onto you sternly, still his face remains stoic, although somewhat irritated, as he huffs in annoyance.

"Abysmal...Most of the bastards drunk, only myself, Criston and a few of the Kingsguard actually went out for the hunt. Waste of time when I could have been-" Aemond pauses, his words stopping in his tracks, as his gaze returns to fall upon you. His only surviving eye, lingers over your body, before resting upon your face once more. You could've sworn you saw a slight upturn curve of a smile, although one filled with that familiar glint of arrogance.

"When I could have been fucking my needy, whore of a wife."

The harshness yet deviousness of his words had caught you by surprise, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet, as you flustered and adjusted in your seated position. You felt a dull, aching pang between your inner thighs, a familiar feeling that you'd grown weakly accustomed to.

Gods, what was only a few short days, felt like long, agonising weeks since your husband had filled you. You were indeed, needy for him, for the sex had always been a pleasurable event, something you'd often looked forward to for many nights to come since your consummation. Although, this being the first since you'd both been spared some time and distance apart, you'd grown even more susceptible for his cock. Desperately craving for him during the dark, lonesome hours in the night, you'd attempt to sate yourself in his stead, however failed miserably...

It was not the same.

Remaining speechless, you’d often found yourself at a loss of words, or stuttering ambiguous sounds as Aemond tended to you. His rough hand slowly reaches up, caressing your clothed thigh, before hiking up the dress where his hand disappears beneath the garment. The flesh of his palm meets the sensitive spot of your inner thigh as he begins to trace soft circles.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you. Surrounded by all those impotent cocks, envisioning you begging for me, was the only thing keeping me sane.”

Your eyes begin to flutter before shutting, the tenderness of his words in conjunction to the lightness of his fingers, sent shivers down your spine. Sensing his hand etching closer towards your entrance, tugging at the undergarment, as the tips of his fingers graze over your moist folds.

"Although, it seems you might have been suffering as well..." His tone was low, yet amused. The smirk now prominent on his chiselled face, however was fleeting, as he returned to yet another stiff expression.

"Part your legs," He firmly uttered. From the early months of the marriage you'd learnt not to disobey, for your husband was a firm believer in justified punishment.

Doing as told, like any meek, obedient wife, you'd obeyed, spreading your legs, distant enough for his arm to snake over your thigh closest to him, where his hand remained over your cunt. Laying his weight over you, as he remained turned facing you, laid by your side, and you still propped up. The novel that you'd deeply immersed yourself in a few, mere minutes ago, now strewed across the grass, its existence no longer of significance.

"Hmm-Needy, little thing aren't you? My deprived whore-"

As he spoke, the tips of his fingers began to plunge in further into your folds, slowly encircling inside.

"Tell me, my sweet, pathetic, little wife, how desperate have you been for me? For my cock, hmm?"

"A-Aemond-" You thoughtlessly stutter, your pelvis motioning forwards, urging for more of his touch.

"Can't even think for herself, look at you. You were wet before I even began... Tell me, whore, have you touched yourself in my absence?"

His fingers delved deeper, now two, long digits inserted, pumping in and out in slow, sensual motions. His fingers massaging your walls within, as your wetness began to pool.

"N-No-" You lie, fearful that Aemond would think less of you, that you were incapable of living freely and dignified without him, even if it was for a few, short days. Aemond relished in how you'd hopelessly yearn for him, dependent on him, a loyal wife vulnerable for her dutiful husband. He loved to remind you repeatedly, growing hard thinking that only he could make you feel this way.

"Lies-" He venomously spat, urging his fingers to plunge in deeper, with a greater verocity and speed than before, causing you to jerk involuntarily, earning a loud, thoughtless moan.

"Quiet, you whore- Should someone hear us, you will be left cockless and deprived. Now tell me the truth-"

Even in the short span of time Aemond had grown acquainted with you, he knew you unlike anyone else in the realm. To some deeper, more meaningful degree, you had appreciated how intimately he had grown to know you, and often, he would use it to his advantage. Reading you like some feckless book in the citadel's library.

"Y-Yes, husband," You quietly stutter, your arms stretched back supporting you, as your legs remained widely apart. Gods, was it destined that you'd found the perfect, hidden spot to read in the gardens this fine day...

"Mhmm- Just as I'd thought. Now tell me... How badly do you want me to fuck you senseless?" Just as the last word had escaped his lips, his fingers shoved in deeper, the knuckles of his hand now grazing the entrance of your drooling cunt.

"So-So very much-" You hiccuped, your breath hitching in your throat audibly, as you attempt to steady your breathing, your chest heaving, accentuating your plump breasts and slight cleavage. Aemond's eye [whenever you granted yourself the chance] you had noticed it flicker from your face to your blatant show of breasts: undoubtedly, most infatuated by them.

"You are going to need to convince me harder than that, that was pathetic, even for you- Beg for me, my insolent wife."

"Hmm-" You'd hopelessly moan, your walls throbbing against your husbands steady, yet swift motions.

"Please, Aemond- I-I need you. It-It's been so very hard, these past few days. Y-You’d been gone for s-so long-" His pacing eases, as he insists on you to speak coherently, eager to hear what you have to say.

"F-Fuck- I need you inside of me. I could not do what you can, I-I cannot satisfy myself, as y-you do so-so very well.”

As your head was lunged backwards, looking upwards towards the rustling leaves, flowers and sky above, you casted your attention once more downwards, gazing upon Aemond, whom remained cockily smiling up at you. Ever so pleased with your honest response, it seemed.

"Hmm."

Shoving his fingers in deeper, his pace now had hasten: shifting in your seat, as your hips instinctively bucked forward. You could feel his fingers just grazing over your tight, sweet spot, with each pump, earning more mindless moans and pleas for his name [or more so indirectly, for his cock].

Without a second to waste, Aemond pulled his hand from your drenched cunt, causing you to moan from the sudden release of the tension. His fingers glazed in your wetness, sparing a moment to take in your scent lingering from his fingers, before seating himself up on his knees, between your thighs. Hiking your dress up, as he eagerly pulled your private garments down, he'd adjusted his position swiftly, undoing his trousers in a haste simultaneously.

Cowering down over you, as he softly laid your back down against the linen and grass, his 'clean' hand reached over towards your face, his thumb gently stroking the side of your flustered cheek. He'd often spare a sacred moment, closely watching you from above, during sex, as you both immerse yourself in each other's attention, taking in all the fine details up close and personal.

"No need to say more, my wife-" Feeling his hardened cock, grazing your glazed entrance, that same potent, aching sensation stirring once more.

"You need not suffer any longer, and neither must I. I have taunted you and myself enough."

In a swift yet vigorous motion, Aemond thrust his long, pulsating cock deep inside, burying it cosily within. Your tight walls had immediately clenched onto him, like a key latched to a lock. You were made just for him, it was undeniable and he knew it.

"Fuck-" He'd breathlessly growled, as you unsteadily pant against his sturdy pace. His backward and forward motions felt unruly, as he heavily laid on top of you, your knees brought up, instinctively wrapping around his lean waist.

"Feels so tight around me, look at how much you crave for me, whore. No matter how often I pry you open, how much I fuck or fill you up. You are always desperate for more-" One hand rests on the ground for standing support, just beside where your head rests.

"Selfish, little whore. Your body still aches for me, and it naturally shows. You cannot hide it from me-"

You could muster no logical words nor any comprehensible thoughts, incoherent and ignorant to any lingering, perverted eyes. You had missed your husband dearly. Each breathless word that spilled from his filthy mouth in this very precise moment, was the honest truth, there was no point to deny or retaliate against him.

"I-I do not intend to, ever," You breathlessly whimper, gripping Aemond's cloaked, muscular shoulders, feeling your nails dig into his dense clothes.

Earning a menacing, short chuckle from Aemond, his raw thrusts grew faster and regular, his breathing heavier and louder. You could feel yourself edging closer and closer until reaching the final, much anticipated peak. Unconsciously lunging yourself closer, burying your face into Aemond's chest, as you continued to grip onto him tightly for support. Feeling his weight, in return falling into you, pinning you down, as his cum shoots itself inside, coating your walls as he satisfyingly fills you up with his seed.

As you both hastily cleaned and redressed yourselves up as best as you could, you'd noticed the grass patches where your weight and hand prints had rested, left a noticeable imprint on the ground, triggering a faint, heartfelt smile from you.

Aemond helping you up form the ground, as you folded the soiled duvet and book, he'd begun to carefully pluck out each of the small, dry leaves and petals that had somehow mingled in your unkept hair. A faint, sincere smile beaming across his face as he longingly gaped down above you, fixing the misplaced strands of hair.

Although, he had often taken pleasure in hurling cruel words towards you, his love was genuine and unrelenting. He was a loyal and dutiful husband, and it was plenty more than what many of the lords of the realm would offer their wives.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen smut #ameond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #cruel!Aemond #cruel!Aemond x innocent!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic request #aemond targaryen lovelykhaleesiii request

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nylpad · 2 months

Text

SHADOWS AND DREAMS

Warnings: none (I think)

In the shadowed alleys of Gotham, where secrets and dangers lurk in equal measure, there lived a young man named Damian Wayne. Heir to the Wayne legacy, Damian was more accustomed to the life of a vigilante than the trivialities of teenage romance. His nights were spent patrolling the streets, his mind focused on justice, not love.

Y/N was a newcomer to Gotham, her presence a mystery wrapped in an enigma. She moved through the city like a whisper, her origins unknown, her purpose concealed. To Damian, she was just another citizen of Gotham, perhaps in need of protection, but nothing more.

Their paths crossed during a rare moment of peace, atop the gargoyle-studded rooftops. Y/N, with her keen observation, had noticed the young Wayne and his nightly escapades. She approached him not with fear, but with curiosity, a trait that piqued Damian's interest despite himself.

As the son of Batman, Damian was trained to trust no one, yet there was something about Y/N that disarmed him. She didn't flinch at the sight of his combat gear, nor did she swoon over his family's wealth. Instead, she challenged him with her intellect, her laughter echoing against the backdrop of the city's chaos.

In the weeks that followed, Damian found himself drawn to Y/N's resilience and wit. She wasn't just another face in the crowd; she was a beacon of light in Gotham's perpetual darkness. Her strength reminded him of his own, yet her compassion opened doors he thought were forever closed.

One evening, as the city bathed in the glow of the Bat-Signal, Y/N shared a poem she had written. It spoke of finding beauty in the unexpected, of love blossoming in the midst of turmoil. Damian listened, his guarded heart resonating with every word.

He had been raised to be a warrior, a defender, not a lover. Yet, as he stood beside Y/N, the city sprawling beneath them, he realized that she had become his confidant, his ally, his unexpected solace.

"I didn't care for you when we first met," Damian confessed, his voice barely above the hum of the city. "But now, you've become someone I can't ignore. You've shown me that even in Gotham, there's room for something more."

Y/N smiled, her eyes reflecting the night sky, and in that moment, Damian Wayne, the boy trained to be a hero, understood the true power of connection. For in a city that never sleeps, he had found a reason to dream.

#damian wayne x fem!reader #yn #damian al ghul #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfam #viralpost #oneshots #Spotify

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angelwoozi · 11 months

Text

silk (m)

pairing: wonwoo x reader (afab)

summary: an enigma, that's what he is. his touch is careful, with conviction — and you can feel it in your bones. his sight has always been sinful. but what happens when your boyfriend insists to obstruct your view, and your free reign to touch him by using his silk? yeah, a lot.

genre: smut, pwp, established relationship, 18+

wordcount: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, kissing, blindfold, bondage, orgasm denial, fingering, use of gendered pet names (my love, queen, pretty), unprotected sex (stay safe!), use of ties, overstimulation.

note: an alternative summary? blindfold + bondage with wonwoo lol. also, minors stay away !!! listen to belong to you by sabrina claudio for mood ;) + thanks to @sluttyminghao , @multi-kpop-fanfics and @lovelyhan for helping me by proofreading this :) thankyou for making me less anxious about this hehe

angelwoozi masterlist

The dull ache between your thighs doesn't help you to act sane, especially when you feel Wonwoo's lips trail down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You want to cry out loud, for god's sake. The fact that your hands can't move on their own accord is infuriating. The silk around your wrist is not tight, but it binds your hands together pretty firmly. With them over your head, and back arching, you are laid down prettily for him to devour you.

Your lips form a gasp when you feel his tongue peek out and catch your hardened nipple between his lips. You are naked, woven in his silk sheets, like a sinful gift. Your toes curl when Wonwoo takes your other boob in his palm, caressing your mound softly.

"You feel so soft." he murmurs around your nub and your feet tremble a little. You wanna smack him for tying your hands, but you can't do that. You want to watch the beautiful sight of him devouring you unravel in front of your eyes, but you can't do that too. As your bastard of a boyfriend has blindfolded you.

One of his ties covers your eyes, letting you see nothing but the faint red and darkness. He had come home quite tired, and when he had removed his tie, you had taken it in your hands and twirled it around – with no intentions that may be the cause of your situation right now.

It was all him, all hot at seeing you in your skimpiest pajamas on the bed, playing with his tie. It didn't take him long to rush to the wardrobe and procure another piece of his silk. He had discarded his shirt on his short way to the bed, and had then proceeded to climb all over you like a man starved. You had gleefully invited his sloppy kisses and jumbled words – filled with praises and groans. When his incoherent words had suggested getting you blindfolded, the thrill had sent a jolt down your spine, your eyes gleaming with excitement.

You almost kick your leg up when you feel his other hand inching towards your center. You know the conviction in his touch, and the heat that spreads through your body is indecipherable.

"Wonwoo please." you sigh out and he grunts against your skin, making you arch your back a little more. "Please take this cloth off." you are proud of yourself for even speaking a whole sentence without slurring.

His mouth detaches from your nipple, and even though you can't see him, you know how he looks. Like a devil bathed in the soft glow of sin, his lips are always wet, and flushed. His hair has always been shaggy, and unkempt – but you doubt this time it is, given that your hands haven't yet found solace in his locks. It's like torture, and you crave for more when you don't feel his tongue on your skin.

"What would be the fun in that, my love?" His voice is hoarse, deep like the ocean, and the laugh he lets out turns everything inside you into jelly.

"I want, I want to see you." you painfully let out, punctuating your sentence with a surprised gasp because you feel his finger rubbing circles right above your center. Your hands thrash and fall back onto the bed, and you moan out loud, keening under him.

"You should look at yourself, not me." he begins and your breath turns ragged almost immediately, at his voice. It's like the sound is seeping through the pores of your skin and shooting a stimulant right down, to your core. You can drown in him, falling in deep forever. Your lips part open in an instant as his fingers trail lower, slowly but precisely, knowing their way around your body like the back of his hand.

"Huh?" is your mindless reply and he laughs, sending shivers through your body.

"You look so beautiful, all laid out for me." his lips start their descent down your body by kissing a soft path, making your insides flutter. The action is soft, but the intensity is wild and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from whimpering in his hold.

He kisses a spot below your navel and nuzzles his nose against your skin, with his hands holding your hips to stop you from squirming,"Do you know what this sight of yours does to me?"

You clench your fists. Stretching your legs and assaulting your lip with your teeth, you let out a meek, "I may have an idea."

He laughs lowly, as if mocking you – and you didn't know you were going to find it so fucking hot. Slowly, you feel him creeping up your body, his hand still dancing at your core, while the other comes to your neck.

It's like dipping your feet in the cold water, wary at first, but then wanting more and more. The feeling drives you, as your fists unclench them and you beckon him to you, holding your hands a little above your head. You hear rustling, and your head shoots up a little, anticipating his next move. The touch of silk on your skin makes you feel luxe, but the touch of your love, as he moves his hands all over your upper body makes you feel heavenly.

It's all of a sudden that you feel his hot breath against your lips, and the ghost of his forearms beside your head. Your chin tilts towards him on its own accord, and a single exhale of his, against you makes your brain go haywire. Especially when he takes you by surprise by moving smoothly, sly like a fox, and gracefully like a swan.

You move your tied hands, but he pins them down with a single movement of his. His fingers intertwine themselves with yours, and he presses down on your palm lightly, directing you to stay still. You keen under him, opening up your lips in a silent invitation, but what he does next pulls all the breath out of you.

He presses his hips against yours, his pelvis on yours, and the sudden feeling of his length against your thigh makes you moan against his lips.

"Now do you know what you do to me?" is his deep grunt, and he grinds against you, making you arch your back and pant in all your glory.

"Y-yes." you stutter and immediately feel his lips on your jaw. Albeit the touch of his plump lips against your skin is feather light, it ignites a fiery glow within you, all from your bones. His free arm hovers beside your boob, and he traces a finger all down to your center, again, leaving fire in its wake.

"Wonwoo, please," you sigh out and he leaves a meek kiss beside your lips, urging you to speak, "Please, fuck me." You almost forget the fact that you can't see, his actions not letting your mind linger at one place for too long. He is a devil in between the sheets, and it should be pathetic how gone you already are, when he has hardly touched you. But you feel no shame, still folding towards him, like a metal in his magnetic field.

"As you say, my queen. But won't we need to get you ready for me?" Yes, God yes. You know what needs to be done in order for you to take him, and you thrash your hands, again getting pinned down by him. The excitement and anticipation is through the roof for you to stay sane anymore.

"Relax, baby." is his reply and you don't know when, or how, but suddenly a finger is parting up your folds.

Your legs spread instinctively, and he settles between your thighs like he belongs there. His longest finger traces a path from your clit to your cunt, and you whimper, shuddering like crazy. You think you hear him laugh, but your mind is too hazy for you to make sense of anything at all.

His lips find the valley of your breasts, and he licks a path up. You think he might be looking like a stealthy beast, eyes shining with lust, set on you, and tongue flat on your bones, making you shiver. You tilt your head, your eyes pressed tightly with a painful countenance. His finger finds your clit and he rubs circles over it, making you hiss and preen.

His mouth is hardly an inch from your neck, his finger still moving languidly on your nub. The fire that awoke beneath your skin was relentless, making you crave for more. You purr under him, kissing his skin with yours as you shift in a way that your breast brushes his clavicle.

You thrash your hands when he presses down on your clit, eliciting a moan from you. The insensitivities slip past your lips, and he groans when your legs tremble.

"Baby you are so wet." is his word and you revel in it. You want to say 'for you, only' but your clouded brain only allows you to manage a weak nod. The air that you take in is heavy, and hot and your skin burns, making you gasp for it.

Soon, his finger finds your cunt, and he plunges it inside, making you moan out loud. It is madness, the way he curls his digit inside you, causing a wave of pleasure to gush at your center. He groans when he feels your wetness soaking his hand, and you clench around him. He lays a kiss on your jaw, and starts moving his finger at a painful pace.

"Wonwoo." you try to open your eyes, but your eyelids fall back again. You writh under him and he sensually kisses your skin, his tongue licking stripes over your beauty.

"It's like you are sucking me in," he says and you clench around his fingers again. Rightfully so. His lips form a breathless laugh and yours get clamped under your teeth, as you stop yourself from uttering insensitivities. His finger works smoothly, and his thumb presses down on your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you – making you throw away all your previous thoughts of staying quiet out of the fucking window.

His lips are still on your torso, making you squirm in place, and your breaths get heavier as you hiss. The pleasure clouds your brain, and you feel him press down on you eagerly, waiting for you to unfold for him. You bring your hands in front of your chest, brushing them over your skin and shuddering at the cold touch. The feeling of his digits inside you, and the sheer intensity of his lips worshiping your form has you on the edge, almost tumbling. You cry out loud, and just before you tell him that you are close, he pulls away, your cunt empty and devoid of his touch– devoid of him.

"Wonwoo?" you squirm, your chest rising and deflating with disappointment on being left high and not so dry, "Why did you stop?" your whisper is weak, a sigh breaking through the heavy air.

"Because I'd like you to come around my cock, my love."

That's like a knife to your gut. Except– its sharp edge is covered in the sweetest of nectar, and as it twists inside you, the nectar spreads through your veins, entrancing you in the sweet, exciting rush. Your lips exhale a breath and you fall back on the bed, your hair wound around you in shapes, and strings of beauty. The anticipation is through the roof at this point, and you are yearning for him like a parched person, walking in a desert.

Your eyes still face darkness when you feel his lips ghost over yours, a silent invitation to entice you into him– if you hadn't already been. You tip your head up and find him, causing him to press down and make you fall on the pillow again. His lips move against yours like they have their own mind, a practiced routine, a drop of love. There's a lingering touch on your waist, and you register his body moving up, trying to adjust himself between your legs.

"Spread your legs for me, pretty." he voices against your lips in a breathy sigh and your mind reels as you instinctively part your legs, allowing him solace between your thighs. You don't know when he got rid of his garments, but it's soon that you feel his tip poking your entrance, making you gasp against him.

"Ah, so wet. You wish you could look at how my cock is already drenched because of you, don't you?" he groans and you almost shout out loud. The sensory deprivation is making you run miles an hour, and making your other senses at an all time high. His tip nudges your folds, making its way inside you and you moan out loud– a pathetic nod to reply to him, because you are rendered way too speechless for your own good.

Of course, you would like to see the point where you two meet, a filthy promise. Your wrists still don't feel the pain, but your mind, which yearns to touch him, and to see him, sure as hell does.

"Only your sight and hands are restricted, baby. Not your tongue." he says, and bottoms out in one go, making you cry out loud and tighten your fists around nothing, your pussy clenching around him, while you attempt to register the sudden shock.

"Yes, yes, Wonwoo." you moan out, and you could swear he smirked, even if you can't see it.

Soft whimpers fall out of your lips like petals as he starts moving, his pace sure and slow. His hands pin you down as they travel up to your palms and interlock his fingers with yours, pressing down as his forehead stays on yours, his hot breath mixing with yours as his hips work.

The intimacy has butterflies flying in your stomach, and the curve of his cock inside your cunt has you fighting for your breath. You take him in, you drink him in, and a prolonged groan reverberates against your lip when your love increases his pace, his length hitting you at all the right places, making you mewl under him.

You tightly hold onto his fingers, scared that you'll slip away if you let go. Your voice breaks, and the slick sound of skin hitting skin echoes across the quiet room, enhanced by your whimpers, "Please, baby."

"Please? You would like me to go faster?" is his question, and you nod eagerly, hoping he has his eyes open and set on you.

You think he did have his eyes open, because the next second his hips snap into yours, sending your whole body up the bed. You suddenly shout out, your nails digging into his hands as he laughs low– before beginning the most ruthless pace ever.

"Oh my god, Wonwoo," you moan, and his lips start peppering kisses on your skin, the fire burning faster at the wet touch. His lips stay at a place above your eyebrows when you feel his hand on the tie around your wrist, him fucking into you like a man starved of sex. Your walls clench around him, and he sighs out your name, the sound catching your attention like a firefly in the darkest of nights – it relights you.

"Do you know how sinful you look right now?" his voice is deep and low against your skin, and you would've missed it if your senses hadn't been on an all time high, catching the faintest of squeaks. You whine at his words, thrashing your hands of only to tell him to stop saying things so harmful for you, but he still carries on, "Like a work of art, woven in my silk, for me."

That's the meanest thing he could ever say to you, especially when you can't touch him, can't see him. It's like torture, the way you love him. You clench around him again, before speaking, "Please untie me, I wanna touch you."

He thrusts into you, quick and deep and you feel a familiar knot building up in your core– yet one more knot which makes your pleasure skyrocket. He just laughs at your words, his thumb inching closer to the silk, yet never touching it– testing you and your already barely there sanity.

"You can touch me later all you want, my love. I am all yours."

Fuck.

You are sure there are marks on his skin, because of the insensitivities of your nails digging in it, his words just making you feel more. His cock fucks you like a beast, and you had a thought you'd see red even if your vision hadn't been obstructed.

Behind closed eyes, you also see the edge nearing, and between moans and the sound of the bed squeaking, mixed with the continuous slapping of skin against skin– you tell him that, "Wonu, I am close."

"Hold up for me, baby. Just for a while." he groans and your body jerks with his force, him easily bottoming inside you with each and every snap of his hips.

"I can't," you cry out, on the verge of tears as your body tries to hold on tight to anything it can find, "Please let me come."

There's a long lasting moment wherein you feel like your guts are being rearranged by his now sloppy thrusts before he speaks, "Let it go, come for me." in a sigh against your lips and you quite literally melt.

You come around his cock– just like he had wished, and your body falls limp on the bed as your high takes over you, making you see stars and even try to reach out for them, if you could move your hands then. If you could reach out to him, you would, and exactly when that thought hits you, you feel a weight on your hands– one that unravels another knot of yours, this time making you almost scream out with joy.

You tiredly flex your hands, before bringing them above your head, slowly, cautiously. You know he is still moving, the feel of his thick cock inside you succeeding at keeping your body on fire, and barely controlled whimpers. As soon as you bring your hands above your head, they touch his skin, and it's as if your touch is a trigger for him, because he immediately sighs out,

"Y/N,"

Oh how sweet it sounds. You wrap your hands around his neck and Instinctively bring him closer to your face, hoping your movements to be precise as you feel his breath fan over your hot skin.

"Kiss me, please."

The quietly whispered plea, and the slight touch of his lips against yours is all that takes for the man to break down, and spill inside you. His cum is hot, coating your walls, and he moans your name loudly against your lips, you feeling the ghost of his hands bracing themselves beside your face as he steadies himself.

He rides out his orgasm, and you feel a slight twinge as you feel it overbearing for your pussy– his cock overstimulating you.

"S-stop, it hurts."

He immediately stops moving and rests his forehead against yours. You feel his chest brush yours with each heavy breath you both take, in a harmony.

"I love you." he says, and it's music to your ears, completing the incomplete song and making you sigh– all while you try to calm yourself down.

It's when you say those words back that he pushes the cloth blinding you over your eyebrow, causing you to squint your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. But when your eyes open fully, the only red that you see (which you had thought you would), is if you colorize the emotion which reflects in his eyes as they stare deep into yours–

Love.

💌 thankyou for reading this! i would appreciate any and every kind of feedback— be it comments, reblogs or asks.

#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svthub #jeon wonwoo #k labels #kflixnet #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #jww #wonwoo x reader

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ynjeonghoney · 1 month

Text

in this lifetime and the other — yoon jeonghan (A)

Sypnosis: Growing old with your significant other is a life goal. Your secret? Spending time with each other, cherishing every moment as if it were your last. But as the years passed, you begin to realize that remembering these moments was becoming increasingly difficult.

✦ pairing: husband!yoon jeonghan x wife!reader ✦ genre: heavy angst with a sprinkle of fluff ✦ word count: 8k ✦ warnings: reader has dementia, major character death

A gentle hush enveloped the morning in the heart of a serene nursing home. Within its comforting walls, the residents engage in activities — seasoned hands delicately weave intricate patterns in a tapestry of memories. Nearby, the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air as a small gathering eagerly absorbed the secrets of the kitchen. In a sunlit corner, brushes danced upon canvases, bringing to life vibrant hues and silent narratives.

Each of these elders bore witness to history, and their stories carried the weight of generations. It was a humbling experience, conversing with individuals who had traversed the many twists and turns of life, each one holding a treasure trove of meaningful anecdotes and invaluable wisdom. It was something that would make someone stop in their tracks, compelled to listen to their stories.

The nurses moved about the nursing home with efficiency, their kind smiles and warming presence a constant reassurance to the residents. As the day unfolded, families visited, filling the halls with laughter and warmth. Children darted around, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the slower pace of the elders. Amidst the hustle and bustle of visitors coming and going, there were quiet moments of tenderness – a grandchild holding their grandparent's hand, a daughter brushing her mother's hair, a son sharing stories from his own life.

"Good morning, my love," the old man's voice, gently broke the stillness of the morning. His eyes, soft with affection, met yours as you stirred awake, the unfamiliar term of endearment sending a ripple of confusion through your mind. You searched your memory in vain, trying to place him in the of tapestry your life, but he remained a stranger in your memory.

As you lay in bed, a faint sensation tickled the inside of your nose, a subtle reminder of the apparatus supporting your breathing. With a gentle touch, the old man reached out, his weathered fingers brushing aside strands of your hair that had fallen across your face.

"Who are you? If I may ask?"

Blankly, you stared back at him, searching the depths of your mind for any semblance of recognition. But try as you might, his face remained a puzzle, an enigma shrouded.

Your voice grew faint, barely audible in the quietude of the room, yet the old man's keen ears caught the whisper of sound. A gentle smile graced his features as he gazed back at you. For him, you were not just a stranger lost in the labyrinth of forgetfulness, but a cherished figure, a memory preserved in the amber of his heart.

And as he looked upon you, it was not with the eyes of a stranger, but with the eyes of a lover, whose heart still beat with the fervor of a long-cherished romance.

"I'm your husband." He reached out for your hand, cradling it in his own palm, his touch a soothing caress against the back of your hand.

Staring at him in disbelief, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the fragmented memories that flickered dimly in the recesses of your mind, "I'm married?"

You added, voice lacing with confusion, "How long have I been married to you?"

A sudden impulse drew your gaze to your hand, and there, resting on your finger, gleamed a simple yet elegant wedding ring. With trembling fingers, you traced the contours of the ring, feeling its weight against your skin.

"73 years. October 1951."

"What year is it now?"

"2024." As your husband spoke, a wave of disbelief washed over you, rendering you momentarily speechless. You glanced at him, unable to comprehend the gravity of his words. His expression was etched with sorrow, lines of concern creasing his face.

You felt a pang of desperation clawing at the edges of your mind. You struggled to recall the name of the man before you, the one who claimed to be your husband. It felt like grasping at fleeting shadows, trying to hold onto something that slipped further away.

But then, like a bolt of lightning cutting through the darkness, his name surged forth from the depths of your memory.

"Jeonghan."

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, forming a gentle curve. In that moment, any shadow of sadness seemed to vanish from his face, replaced instead by a glimmer of hope that danced in his eyes.

He gently cupped your cheeks. With a softness in his gaze, he leaned forward, closing the distance between you, until his lips met yours in a slow, tender peck. It was a moment Jeonghan wished could last forever. "Yes, sweetheart. It's me."

You smiled back at him, a flicker of warmth lighting up your face, but behind the facade of calmness, a whirlwind of questions still raged within your mind. Despite the tender moment you shared, there were still countless uncertainties gnawing at your consciousness.

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door, and your nurse entered, a tray of breakfast in her hands. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and warm pastries filled the room.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Yoon." She set the tray down on the bedside table, arranging the food with care before turning her attention to you and your husband by your side.

"Thank you, Nurse Kim. I hope you have a great day ahead." Jeonghan said to the nurse, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. Nurse Kim's face lit up with a smile at his words.

"I wish the same for you both. And by the way, your children will be visiting at lunchtime. They're bringing your grandchildren as well."

In an instant, a flood of emotions surged within you – disbelief, confusion, and a profound sense of wonder. How could it be possible that you had children with your husband sitting beside you, whose name you struggled to remember mere moments ago?

"How many children did we have?" You finally managed to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. The question felt surreal. How many children had you brought into the world together? How could you have forgotten such a fundamental aspect of your lives?

Jeonghan, the old man whose hand she had held through the trials and triumphs of their marriage, looked at her with a mixture of sadness and understanding. Closing your eyes, you tried to conjure up memories of laughter and tears, of tiny hands, but all you found was an empty void.

"Three children and eight grandchildren."

As you struggled to make sense of it all, there came a strange sense of euphoria wash over you. It was exhilarating, overwhelming even, to be confronted with the gist of your adventure with him. Each revelation felt like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place, painting a clearer picture of who you both were and how you both came to be.

"I want to know more, Jeonghan."

"About what?"

"Us."

June 28, 1947 — Santa Monica, California

Summer had arrived in all its glory, painting the world in hues of warmth and vibrancy. For you and your friends, the promise of adventure beckoned from afar, carried on the breeze that whispered through the trees. It was a day like any other, yet tinged with the anticipation of something extraordinary—a trip to the carnival.

As you walked along the path leading to the fairgrounds, you couldn't contain the excitement bubbling within you. The sun cast a golden glow upon the landscape, illuminating.

"It's been too long since we've had a day like this." Jihyo remarked, her voice filled with excitement.

Nayeon nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling, "I've been counting down the days until we could finally come here together."

"And just imagine all the rides and games waiting for us." Sana chimed in, her enthusiasm contagious.

With each step, the sounds of laughter and music grew louder, mingling with the sweet scent of cotton candy and popcorn that hung in the air. The carnival beckoned to them like a beacon of joy.

As you stepped through the entrance gate, all of you were immediately engulfed in copious sights and sounds. Colorful booths lined the pathways, each one offering its own array of delights and attractions. The air was alive with the melodies of carnival music and the laughter of children.

You begin to reminisce, "Remember when we were in preschool, we used to come to the carnival with our parents every summer and see who could eat the most cotton candy?"

Jihyo nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's amazing how something as simple as cotton candy can transport us back to our childhoods."

But amidst the laughter and sugary treats, a more serious topic lingered in the back of their minds—college plans. With graduation looming on the horizon, the future weighed heavily on their minds, each of them grappling with their own hopes and dreams for the years to come.

"So, have you guys thought about what you want to major in?" Sana asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

Jihyo nodded thoughtfully, her expression contemplative. "I've been thinking about being a teacher. There's something incredibly rewarding about teaching kids."

"How about you, Amelia?"

"That, I still don't know," You admitted, tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "To be honest, I'm still figuring out what I want to pur-"

As you were engrossed in conversation with your friends, you felt a something hard and heavy beneath you. Startled, you came to an abrupt halt as you see a football nestled at your feet. The impact was gentle, and you felt no pain, but the unexpected interruption had caught you completely off guard.

"My apologies if I've caused any inconvenience." A young man approached you, exclaiming breathlessly with a sheepish grin spreading across his face. You glanced down at the football in your hands, realizing that it belonged to him.

You handed the football back to him, "It's quite alright, not a major concern."

Both of your eyes met in a collision of worlds. His eyes, like rich orbs of deep, soulful pools of brown, bore into her, delving into the very depths of her being. They were more than just windows to a universe unknown; they were gateways to unexplored realms. How could someone have eyes so irresistible, like this young man standing before you?

Your mind raced with memories of high school football games and cheers that echoed through the bleachers. It was then that you remembered him—a key player on the team. Despite the familiarity, you couldn't let the conversation falter into awkwardness. With a gentle smile, you decided to break the ice with an obvious question.

You began, "Hey, aren't you…?"

He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's me."

"I thought I recognized you from somewhere." You admitted, a playful twinkle in your eye.

--- end of flashback ----

"The summer of 1947?" Frustration welled up as you struggled to grasp, eager to piece together the sentiments of your high school years. Yet, despite the efforts, not a single memory replayed in your mind. Instead, you found herself hanging onto every word as your husband regaled you with stories from your past.

Jeonghan nodded. His tales painted vivid images in your mind, with each word that flowed from his lips, his voice filled with warmth and nostalgia.

You felt a sense of wonder and fascination, as if you were discovering a part of yourself that had long been forgotten. It was as though through his eyes, you were able to glimpse a version of yourself that you had once been.

"The day after that, and the day after that, we went on dates."

August 3, 1947 — Malibu, California

Jeonghan led you to a secluded spot just near his family's beach house. Despite the bustling crowds that filled the shoreline, he guided you to a hidden spot known only to him.

As you followed him, his fingers intertwined with yours, the cacophony of laughter faded into the background and was replaced by the soothing rhythm of the ocean lapping against the shore. In this secret sanctuary, you found yourselves surrounded by the beauty of nature—a pristine stretch of sand framed by towering cliffs and swaying palm trees. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea breeze.

"Do you bring your friends here?" You asked, your voice carrying over the gentle lull of the ocean.

"It's the first time I brought someone here." Jeonghan's words stir a flurry of emotions with butterflies fluttering in your stomach, their delicate wings dancing to the rhythm of your racing heart.

"I always go here whenever I feel the happiest." He confessed, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "And I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather share it with than you."

You couldn't help but smile at him, "It's beautiful."

"Just like you, Amelia."

The sand felt soft beneath your feet, and you relished the sensation of the grains slipping between your toes. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape as it began its descent towards the ocean. You stole a glance at Jeonghan, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.

He returned your gaze, his eyes shimmering in the golden rays of the sun, casting an ethereal glow over his glorious face. It was as though he was painted by the very hues of twilight, his presence captivating and mesmerizing. You found yourself getting lost once more in the depths of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from the magnetic pull of his stare.

Without a word, you and Jeonghan dashed across the sandy shore, your laughter blending in with the salty sea breeze. As you danced along the shoreline with him, the cares of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you, and the endless expanse of the ocean stretching out before you.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you scooped up a handful of seawater and flicked it at Jeonghan, your laughter ringing out like chimes in the breeze. Not to be outdone, Jeonghan retaliated with a playful splash of his own, the cool droplets landing on your shoulders.

Jeonghan's strong arms cradle you, his touch igniting a sense of security. As you wade deeper into the embrace of the ocean, the cool water envelops you, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. The waves rise and fall, each one cool and refreshing against your sunkissed skin.

Together, you and Jeonghan venture further into the deep waters, your bodies swaying effortlessly with the gentle currents. It is as though the sea itself has come alive, enfolding you in its embrace.

A tranquil stillness enveloped the ocean, and the tumultuous crashing of waves gradually subsided as Jeonghan delicately moved your hair aside. His gaze conveyed nothing but love and tenderness. With trembling anticipation, you watched as Jeonghan's gaze lowered to your lips, his movements deliberate and unhurried as he bridged the gap between you.

As your lips met in a kiss, time seemed to freeze, momentarily suspending all else—the roar of the waves, the whisper of the breeze, and the worries of the world. In that fleeting moment, there existed only the two of you, locked in an eternal embrace, your hearts beating as one.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Amelia."

The water feels like silk against your skin, a lover's caress that soothes your soul. You lose yourself in the sensation, in the sheer bliss of being alive in this moment with Jeonghan by your side.

And as the sunset dances upon your faces, you know deep in your heart that this is where you belong—by his side.

December 24, 1948 — New York City

Christmas in New York had always been a cherished dream for you ever since you first set foot in the city during your college years. The twinkling lights adorning the streets, the festive decorations decking every corner, and the palpable sense of joy in the air—it was a magical experience you looked forward to each year.

And of course, having Jeonghan alongside you in the bustling city, only added to the excitement. Together, you navigated the crowded streets, hand in hand, soaking in the holiday spirit that permeated every inch of the city.

Perched on a bench nestled on the enchanting landscape of Central Park, you and Jeonghan found yourselves entranced by the captivating scene unfolding before you. The tranquil atmosphere of the park was alive with the mirthful laughter of children, their gleeful voices echoing across the ice skating rink.

A comfortable silence surrounded you, broken only by the occasional soft murmurs of conversation from passersby.

His hand found yours, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Jeonghan seemed unusually subdued, his typically vibrant demeanor overshadowed by a veil of quiet contemplation.

You stole a glance at him, noting the furrowed brow and the distant look in his eyes. Concern gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to reach out, to break the silence that stretched between you like an unspoken barrier.

"Is everything alright?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken worry.

"Sweetheart, I'm leaving for London in a week." He said, his voice tinged with sadness.

On one hand, you couldn't help but feel overwhelming joy and pride as you watched him bask in the glow of his achievement—a scholarship to one of London's most esteemed universities. It was a dream come true, and you couldn't be happier for him.

Yet, beneath the surface, a wave of melancholy threatened to engulf you. The reality of his impending departure loomed. "Well, isn't that great news, my love?"

You tried to push aside your fears, to focus on the positive—the opportunities and adventures that awaited him in the bustling metropolis of London. But deep down, the prospect of a long-distance relationship lingered on your mind.

And as the day of his departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—joy and sadness, hope and despair. But through it all, one thing remained constant—the bond that connected you, heart to heart.

He sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. There was no turning back now, "I don't know if I can bear to be apart from you for who knows how long."

That was his greatest concern—the uncertainty of what would become of the moments when you two were miles apart. With only letters as your primary form of communication, the distance between you would feel insurmountable. You knew that it was his dream, his aspiration to pursue his studies in London. Who were you to stand in the way of that?

The snow began to fall gently, swirling and twirling in the crisp winter air. The children, with their laughter echoing through the park, paused in their play to gaze up at the sky in wonder. Their faces lit up as they reached out to catch the falling snowflakes, their breath forming small puffs of white in the chill of the evening air. It was a moment of pure magic.

"Don't let this slip through your fingers." You reached out, your hand trembling as you tried to comfort him, but deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of him leaving. Every aspect of your existence rebelled against the idea of him being so far away.

You knew deep down that you had to accept this chapter of your lives, as painful as it may be. As much as it hurt you to see him go, it was a part of life, and it won't be like this forever.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as if trying to merge your souls in a hug. He nestled his head against your shoulder, his tears trickled with the falling snowflakes.

You held him for what felt like an eternity, cherishing every heartbeat, every breath, every fleeting moment you had left together. With a reassuring smile, you whispered, "I'll be waiting for you, my love." Your voice echoing with the weight of a thousand lifetimes.

"I'll come back for you, sweetheart." The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heartstrings.

May 8, 1949 — New York City

Ever since Jeonghan left for London, you had been receiving letters from him every month without fail. Every month, like clockwork, each envelope carried a piece of his life in London, his experiences, his struggles, and his triumphs. But amidst the vivid descriptions and anecdotes, there was always one recurring theme—his unwavering love for you.

In his letters, he conversed his soul, seeking solace in the thought that you were there, waiting for him on the other side of the world. It was a promise that echoed in every sentence and sentiment.

January 2, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, How are you, my darling? I hope this letter finds you well and wrapped in the warmth of our love, even from miles apart. It's only been a week since I left, but it feels like an eternity without you here with me. The days stretch on endlessly, each moment aching with your absence. Yet, amidst the longing, the thought of you—your smile, your laughter, and your love fill the empty spaces in my heart. London is a breathtaking place. And as I wander through its winding alleys, I can't help but imagine you by my side, your hand in mine as we explore this beautiful city together. I long for the day when I can take you here in London, to show you all the wonders that await us in this place. But until then, my love, know that you are always in my heart. Distance may keep us apart for now, but our love knows no bounds. My heart is yours. I love you, my darling Amelia. Love, Jeonghan

February 28, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, As I sit here in my room, surrounded by the bustle of university life, thoughts of you fill my mind and heart, bringing me peace and comfort in the midst of my studies. I must say, studying biology here is an enriching experience, my love. The professors are truly dedicated, and the training is rigorous. I want you to know that I am not taking any of these experiences for granted. I want nothing more than for this dream to be successful, not just for myself, but for us. I want to build a future that we've always dreamed of. I want to give you the life you deserve with me, sweetheart. Sometimes, I find myself having slow mornings, and I must admit, I love it. There's something magical about the stillness of the early hours. It's in these moments that I feel most alive, most at peace with myself and the world around me. How wonderful it would be to share these quiet mornings with you, to bask in the sunlight together and savor the simple pleasures of life. Just hang in there, my darling Amelia. Until the day we can be together again, know that I carry you with me always, in every sunrise, in every cup of coffee, in every beat of my heart. I love you. Love, Jeonghan

March 24, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, My heart is overflowing with emotions, and I find myself compelled to share with you that I am top of the class. Your unwavering belief in me fuels my determination. Your love and support have been my guiding light, a constant source of strength and inspiration. I can't help but long for you, my love. I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms, to hold you close and celebrate this momentous occasion together. Your presence is the missing piece that would make this victory complete. Just a bit more patience, my darling Amelia. Always keep in mind that I love you dearly. Love, Jeonghan

April 11, 1949 Cambridge, England To the love of my life, I applied for a spot in a football team, and I am overjoyed to tell you that I have been accepted. My training is scheduled every Saturday, and I am eager to dive headfirst into the challenges and victories that await me on the field. However, I must admit that not everything has been smooth sailing. One of my teammates and I recently had a misunderstanding, but I want to assure you that it is nothing to worry about. I want to let you know that my schedule is about to become quite hectic in the upcoming months. Between school, football, and other obligations, my days are quickly filling up with tasks and responsibilities that demand my attention. But amidst the flurry of activity that threatens to overwhelm me, there's something I want to promise you. I will do my best to make time for you, to carve out moments in my busy life to sit down and write you a letter. You see, my love, you mean the world to me, and no matter how busy life gets, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Writing to you, sharing my thoughts and feelings with you, is a priority for me, one that I will never neglect or take for granted. So please, bear with me during these hectic months, Know that even when I'm not physically present, my love for you remains unwavering, steadfast and true. Sending you hugs and kisses! Love, Jeonghan

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, it became increasingly rare for you to find a letter from Jeonghan waiting in your mailbox. At first, you eagerly anticipated each delivery. But as time wore on, the letters grew scarce.

Your lives were like ships passing in the night, each of you navigating different paths, pursuing separate dreams. Jeonghan was immersed in the demanding world of medicine. Meanwhile, you were fully engrossed in your own studies, chasing after your aspirations in education, much like your close friend Jihyo.

"The mailman rarely comes by our place anymore. Has something happened between you and Jeonghan?" Your mother's concerned gaze pierced through the air as she spoke, her voice tinged with worry. She was used to seeing the mailman's familiar figure, always arriving with a handful of letters from your lover. But now, he seemed to be everywhere but your home.

The absence of his letters weighed heavily on your heart. It had become routine, almost expected, to not receive any letters from Jeonghan. At first, you had held onto hope, clinging to the belief that perhaps this time would be different, that a letter would arrive bearing news of his adventures and endeavors. Hope began to wane, replaced by resignation and acceptance.

You had grown accustomed to the silence. Deep down, you still held onto the belief that someday, somehow, Jeonghan would reach out to you, that your paths would cross once again, and the silence would be broken by the sound of his voice.

--- end of flashback ----

You listened to Jeonghan, "You thought I was cheating on you."

"But believe it or not," he continued, his voice softening with sincerity, "I always talked about you to my friends. You were always on my mind, your name constantly on the tip of my tongue. I made sure everyone knew you were my girlfriend."

In the depths of his soul, you were the epitome of beauty, a vision of grace and elegance that captivated his heart from the moment he laid eyes on you. Despite the distance that separated the two of you, he made it his mission to ensure that the world knew you were his, that you were loved beyond measure.

For Yoon Jeonghan, you were not just a fleeting fancy or a passing infatuation, but the anchor that kept him grounded in a sea of uncertainty.

You struggled to recall so many details of your shared past. But despite the fog that clouded your mind, he made sure you knew one thing with absolute certainty – you had spent seventy three years of love with this person.

To you, it felt like a lifetime.

"When did you come back?" You asked, drowsy.

November 15, 1950 — Boston, Masachussets

The bell rang, a familiar sound echoing through the halls of the prestigious private middle school, signaling the end of another day of classes. With a sigh of relief, you gathered your belongings as you made your way towards the exit.

The halls were bustling with activity as students hurried to their lockers, chatting excitedly about plans for the upcoming weekend.

However, the dreary sight of raindrops pelting against the glass windows dismayed you. The once sunny skies had transformed into a gloomy expanse, the sound of thunder echoing in the distance.

To make matters worse, you realized with a sinking feeling that you hadn't brought your car along. Just when you needed it the most, the weather took a turn.

"Miss Park, someone named Yoon Jeonghan is looking for you."

A chill ran down your spine as your colleague uttered his name. It was a name that once held so much significance, evoking memories of love, shared dreams, and whispered promises. But now, it sent a wave of uncertainty crashing over you.

Your body tensed as you processed the information, the mere mention of his name causing your heart to ache. You proceeded to the to clock out, each step weighed down by a mixture of trepidation.

There he was, sitting on one of the benches just outside the main exit.

The pain in your heart is excruciating. It's unbearable.

You had finally found peace in letting go, in moving forward without him by your side. But now, his unexpected return threatens to upend the fragile balance you've worked so hard to achieve, just when you've come to accept everything.

Jeonghan came back, but at what cost?

"I am so sorry, sweetheart." He approached you, and those were the first words he stated. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for a glimpse of the man you used to know.

Was it really that easy to go back to how things were after he left you hanging for a year without a word? It wasn't just about forgiving him, but confronting the unresolved feelings and unanswered questions that had haunted you for so long.

You knew deep down that you couldn't jump to conclusions without first hearing his side of the story. After all, you hadn't walked in his shoes or experienced firsthand whatever trials he had faced during his time in England. It wouldn't be fair to assume the worst without giving him the chance to explain himself.

But even as you grappled with your own doubts and insecurities, a part of you longed for answers, for closure, for the opportunity to lay bare the raw emotions that had festered in your heart during his absence.

The weight on your chest felt suffocating, and a dull ache began to throb in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your blurry eyes. It felt as though the weight of the world was bearing down on you.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, to suppress the rising tide of tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, but it was futile. The emotions pent up inside you demanded release.

And so, you walked on, the rain pouring down with increasing intensity, drenching you to the bone. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the burden of your emotions and the relentless downpour that seemed to mirror the turmoil within your soul.

There was nowhere to go, no destination to seek refuge from the storm raging both inside and out. You could have hailed a taxi, sought shelter in the warmth and comfort of your home, but something held you back.

You allowed your tears to fall freely, merging with the rain cascading down upon you. Each droplet was a testament to the pain and sorrow that weighed heavily on your heart.

"There is nothing to apologize for." You came in defense. Each recollection of those desperate moments, waiting for a letter that never came, stabbed at your heart like a dagger, reopening wounds you had thought had long since healed.

Once again, his touch enveloped both of your arms, but this time, it lacked the warmth and reassurance you once knew so well. His eyes, once bright with joy, now mirrored deep sadness and melancholy.

"The years that I was gone, shouldn't that be something that I need to apologize to you for?"

His thumb brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, "Hear me out, please, darling?"

Your heart fluttered at his endearment, the familiar term of affection stirring emotions long buried beneath the surface. It had been so long since you had heard those words from him.

You missed it.

"School has been demanding lately," he confessed, his voice laced with regret. "I hardly could find time to write to you."

You whispered, "I know, you told me that in one of your letters."

He nodded in response, a weary sigh escaping his lips, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion radiating from him. You could see the fatigue etched into the lines of his face, the weariness in his eyes that spoke volumes of the pressure he was under. It was evident that school had been taking its toll on him, demanding every ounce of his energy and focus.

"And this, my love, I never told you…"

"My scholarship almost got revoked because I was involved in a fight."

He added, "That one guy in my football team…"

"You also wrote that in your letter, sweetheart." You replied.

He breathed heavily, the weight of his fatigue evident in the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. As he pulled you close, you could feel the tension in his muscles. His arms wrapped around you with a desperate strength, seeking solace and support in your embrace. And then, he buried his face against your shoulder.

"Life is so difficult without you." Jeonghan uttered a wistful response.

You stood together in the midst of the downpour, raindrops cascading around you like a curtain of silver threads. Your clothes clung to your skin, drenched from the relentless deluge, but neither of you paid it any mind. All Jeonghan wanted was for you to hold him tight, to drive his fears away, and to be with him.

He gazed into your eyes, and then, without a word, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a gesture you had both yearned for.

As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. With a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, longing to feel every part of him pressed against you.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

"Oh darling, I missed you so much," Jeonghan whispered, his voice filled with longing and sincerity. His arms tightened around you, as if afraid to let you go, as if trying to make up for all the time you had been apart.

"Please, don't ever leave me again." You implored, voice carrying the weight of your vulnerabilities.

He paused, interrupting the moment, "I won't."

"Because I'm taking you with me."

His hand delved into his pocket to retrieve a small, intricately decorated box. Your breath caught in your throat as he opened it, revealing a ring nestled within the cushions of the box. In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. Everything suddenly became clear, as if the universe had been guiding you towards this moment all along.

"My darling, Amelia. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Let's do life together."

"You know that it would always be a million times yes, Jeonghan."

---- end of flashback ----

"Oh my god." You whispered, a frail smile forming on your lips. It was as though you were reading a novel. With bated breath, you hung on to every detail, feeling the warmth of his voice wrap around you like a comforting blanket. "She must have had the best life with you."

"She did, darling. You had the best life with me."

The scene he described was so vivid, yet, you felt like a bystander in your own story, unable to grasp the memories that Jeonghan so fondly reminisced. It was as if his words belonged to another lifetime, another version of yourself that you could no longer access. You strained to remember the moments he shared, but they remained elusive.

"And then...what happened?" Keeping your eyes open proved to be challenging, and each breath felt like a burden, despite the equipment tethered to you.

"I married you, Amelia."

"Come again?"

"We're married for 73 years."

You found it difficult to keep pace with the man's words, each syllable feeling like a foreign language to your confused mind, as if your mind had been reset and you couldn't comprehend why. You searched his face, desperately seeking familiarity. Unfortunately, he was a person that your mind couldn't recognize.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?"

Jeonghan's patience was unwavering, a steadfast presence amidst the chaos of your fading consciousness. Each day seemed to chip away at the fragments of your memories, leaving behind a hollow shell of the person you once were. It was a heartbreaking ordeal for him to witness, like watching a beautiful painting slowly fade into obscurity.

You found yourself lost in a disorienting haze, where time seemed to ebb and flow like the tide. People and places blurred together in a jumble of indistinct shapes and sounds. It was a harrowing experience, to feel every part of you slowly succumbing to the relentless march of time. Memories faded into oblivion, leaving behind an empty void one could no longer fill.

"Yoon Jeonghan. You're my wife, and I'm your husband." He whispered softly, his voice laced with a mix of tenderness and longing.

"Did we have children?" You asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"We have three. Two girls and one boy," he replied, his words carrying a weight of reminiscence. "You have eight grandchildren, as well."

Jeonghan added with a smile, "We promised that we'd finish college first before starting a family."

March 7, 1953 — Portofino, Italy

"Good morning, sweetheart." A faint whisper tickled your ear, and then, almost instinctively, you felt the embrace of Jeonghan's strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

Immediately, you shifted, turning to face him and melting into his embrace. His bare chest pressed against your own, the warmth of his skin radiating against you. You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, letting it wash over you like a wave of tranquility.

You felt the tender press of Jeonghan's lips against your forehead, a gentle caress that sent ripples of warmth cascading through your weary body. Despite the early morning light filtering through the curtains, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Time itself had slowed to a standstill, allowing you to bask in the serenity of this intimate moment with him.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan savored the precious seconds ticking by, cherishing every fleeting instant he had with you, his heart swelling with love as he traced the contours of your face with his gaze. In the quiet of the room, he allowed himself to be fully present in this moment, indulging the joy of holding you close.

Unable to resist any longer, he found himself captivated by your beauty, his gaze lingering on your naked form. Every curve, every line of your body seemed to radiate with an otherworldly glow, sending him into constant euphoria.

He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch feather-light against your skin as he leaned in, his lips seeking yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a slow, deliberate gesture, a silent plea for you to awaken from your slumber.

You moaned softly, your voice a whisper in the dimly lit room, but you knew you had to stop him. "Mmm, I'm afraid I don't have it in me for another go, darling. I'm sore from last night, and it's because of you."

Jeonghan chuckled, "I can see how you rather reveled in last night's affair."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He added, a proud look painted on his face.

In the comfort of your new home, nestled snugly beside your husband and the whispering ocean, you find yourself waking to the sight beyond the right window. There, you awaken to the serene expanse of the sea, tranquil and unyielding in its beauty.

Amidst the tender beginnings of your marriage, a dream materialized into reality as you and your husband diligently saved for this cherished abode, knowing all too well of your deep affection for the ocean.

"Thank you for this, Jeonghan. I just love the ocean so much."

"And I love you most, Amelia."

December 29, 1953 — Portofino, Italy

In the moments of your firstborn's arrival just a week prior, every ounce of fatigue and every sleepless night seemed a small price to pay for the tender care your child demanded. The longing to return to your profession, to teach and impart knowledge, nags on you incessantly.

Yet, despite your decision, Jeonghan, your husband, insisted that you take the time to rest and recuperate.

As you stirred in the early hours of the morning, your fingertips brushed against the cold, empty space where your husband had lain just hours before. Heavy with sleep, your eyelids resisted the call to wakefulness, clinging stubbornly to the remnants of slumber. The night enveloped the room in a profound silence, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the rhythmic cadence of your own breathing.

Your gaze wandered towards the bassinet where your newborn daughter usually slept until your eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Jeonghan.

Drawing closer, the soft glow of moonlight revealed the silhouette of your husband, his figure bathed in a gentle luminescence as he sat in his usual spot. His arms enveloped your daughter, cocooning her in a protective embrace, while the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest mirrored the steady beat of his heart.

Jeonghan's gaze met yours, his eyes alight with warmth and affection. A soft smile graced his lips, tender and reassuring, and he continued to cradle your daughter in his arms. With gentle motions, he coaxed her into the peaceful embrace of slumber, the rhythmic swaying of his movements lulling her.

"Sweetheart," you called your husband.

"Hm?"

Your desire to return to work intensifies with each passing day, a persistent tug at the core of your being. You feel confident in your ability to manage yourself effectively during your maternity leave. Driven by a desire to reclaim your productivity, you are resolute in your decision to return to teaching.

"What if I told you that I want to return to work after the holidays?" As the words left your lips, Jeonghan's brow furrowed in contemplation. His mind raced, mapping out potential schedules and arrangements to ensure the well-being of your little one while the both of you were at work. "I want to provide more for our child."

He muttered, "Let's discuss that first thing in the morning. But for now, get some rest, darling. I'll tend to our daughter." He held your child as if she were the most precious and fragile thing in the world.

---- end of flashback ----

Jeonghan's heart breaks at the sight of your weakened state. Despite the weight of the world bearing down upon your chest, you fought to catch your breath, clinging to his words as if they were the very air you needed to survive.

With each passing moment, the urgency to spend this precious time with Jeonghan swelled within you, a desperate longing to imprint his presence upon your heart. Every word that fell from his lips wove a tapestry of cherished memories, a mosaic of everything you held dear in life.

"Did you know that we used to dance together as soon as the sun sets?"

You shook your head, unable to recall. But you found yourself more than eager to hear what he had up his sleeve, to replay the episode when the two of you were dancing amidst the golden rays of the sun, somewhere near home.

"Can I dance with you?" You asked Jeonghan, your heart yearning for the familiar rhythm of movement, but he hesitated, reluctance evident in his eyes as he glanced at your fragile state.

Just as the moment hung in delicate balance, Nurse Kim entered, her presence a timely interruption to the silent exchange between you and your husband. With a compassionate gaze, she inquired about how she could be of assistance to both of you.

"I'll do the best that I can, Mr. Yoon."

Nurse Kim swiftly removed the blankets covering your abdomen, and with care, she supported your head and back, ensuring that your position posed no risk. She then lifted you from the bed, each movement was slow and steady. She held onto you until your husband was able to reach out, allowing you to be securely wrapped around his arms.

How he yearned for your touch, his heart soaring to the heavens at the mere thought of holding you close once more in his arms.

Jeonghan whispered, "Rest your head on my chest, my love."

February 14, 1954 — Los Angeles, California

Valentine's Day held a mundane charm in your world, for your husband had a remarkable way of weaving romance into the fabric of everyday life, rendering every moment akin to that celebrated day.

As the afternoon waned, the gentle melody of the day was interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. There stood your husband, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he concealed a bouquet of flowers behind his back.

He approached you slowly, each step deliberate, and gave you this large bouquet of red roses, "Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman."

Being married to Jeonghan felt like stepping into the shoes of a protagonist in a romantic movie. Every moment with him was like a scene straight out of a love story, where he effortlessly embodied everything you had ever dreamed of in a partner.

He proceeded to take a gentle look at your firstborn daughter, who was in slumber, nestled peacefully in her bassinet, her tiny chest rising and falling with each serene breath.

Once again, it was the golden hour, with the sun's rays breaking through the kitchen windows, casting warm, honeyed hues across the room.

Jeonghan beckoned you into his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace as the music from the radio filled the air. Together, you both swayed gently, lost in the moment, as if time itself had paused to savor the sweetness of your love. His hand rested firmly on the small of your back, the other one holding your right hand.

You softly rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to be enveloped by the warmth of his love. In that tranquil moment, every worry, every fear melted away, leaving only the profound sense of security that came from being held in the arms of someone who cherished you unconditionally. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in your ears, a comforting lullaby that eased your troubled mind and filled you with peace.

It was only you and Jeonghan, lost in each other's arms as you slow danced the golden hour into twilight.

But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me

---- end of flashback ----

In the present moment, you found yourself caught in a slow dance with someone whose features blurred in the haze of memory. Though Jeonghan's face was no longer clear in your mind, you knew he had been a significant part of your life. And as you moved together, guided by the melody of the music, you couldn't help but wonder about the chapters of your life that had slipped from your grasp, lost in the passage of time.

His touch and embrace felt achingly familiar, like pieces of a puzzle that once fit perfectly together but had since been scattered by the winds of time. Though you couldn't recall the specifics of your marriage, there was an undeniable resonance in the way he held you. In that fleeting moment, you were certain that this dance held echoes of a love story you had lived and breathed before, a love that had ignited your soul and left an indelible mark on your heart.

You knew, deep within your heart, that this man had loved you beyond measure. It was evident in the way his eyes softened as he recounted shared memories, in the tremor of his voice as he spoke your name.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you, your breaths growing shallow. In the stillness of the moment, you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of fading, of slipping away from someone who stayed with you for a lifetime. It was a heart-wrenching realization, knowing that even the deepest love couldn't protect you from the flux of time.

You mustered the strength to caress his chest, your touch so weak. In that fleeting moment, his name danced on the edge of your consciousness, a whisper from the past that stirred the depths of your soul.

"Jeonghan..."

He looked at you with eyes filled with love and sadness, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face as he gazed down at you. Your head rested against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while your arms clung to him.

Despite the palpable frailty, he remained by your side, a steadfast presence in the midst of your struggle.

Tears gathered in Jeonghan's eyes. Each shimmering droplet mirrored the ache in his heart, a silent testament to the depth of his love and the agony of impending separation. With every breath, he struggled to contain the tempest of emotions raging within him, knowing all too well that the time had come for you to leave.

With all the remaining strength coursing through your weary body, you summoned every last bit of resolve to convey the depths of your love to him before drifting into the peaceful embrace of eternal slumber. Each word felt like a laborious effort, but the urgency of your heart spurred you on.

Jeonghan was more than just your husband; he was your confidant, your best friend, and, above all else, the love of your life.

"I love you." You whispered, the weight of those words heavy with the finality of goodbye. It echoed the solemn promise you both made at the altar, in the hallowed presence of God, to love him until death parted you. For the last time, you declared your love to your husband.

As you felt yourself fading away from the world, you realized that you were leaving life behind. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the anguished sobbing of another person, but you couldn't quite locate where they were.

Slowly, the grip of the person holding you began to loosen, their touch growing fainter with each passing second.

Through blurred vision, clouded by tears cascading down his cheeks, Jeonghan saw you resting peacefully in his embrace. Your lifeless body remained cradled in his arms, the pallor of your skin stark against the backdrop of his trembling form. You appeared as if in tranquil repose after a lifetime of adventures.

He was aware of the exhaustion, the countless machines tethered to your frail form in a desperate attempt to sustain your dwindling vitality. In the midst of the medical apparatus, he couldn't help but wonder if their purpose was to prolong your life or merely to delay the inevitable death.

And as Jeonghan held you close, he found solace in the knowledge that you were finally at peace, free from the pain and suffering that had plagued you.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly since the moment you fell in love with each other, yet it passed by in the blink of an eye. The world moved slowly, but time raced by at an unfathomable pace.

Not once did he ever regret loving you. Despite the imperfections that marred your relationship and the hurdles you both had to overcome, Jeonghan never wavered in his love for you. He knew that you had felt his love and presence throughout the years.

He loved you not only in the right way, but in every way you needed and desired.

With a heavy heart, Jeonghan whispered words of farewell, pressing a final kiss on your forehead, "I love you most, my darling Amelia."

"Rest easy, my love."

---- end ----

author's note: hello, everyone! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it. this is the first time i've written some heavy angst here, and as much as i enjoy writing smut, i'm really a big sucker for angst.

this tugged my heartstrings so bad. (brb, sobbing)

send an ask and let me know what you think!

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hisui-dreamer · 6 months

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ode to the scheming eel

Pairing: Jade Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: the world would never know how wonderful he is, but he was a treasure beyond compare

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for jade

Word count: 604

Notes: double posting for floyd's too!!! eel birthday fics wooo!

yes it's been a few days but im still celebrating (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Masterlist

Your lover often keeps himself wrapped in layers of soft-spoken charm and formal eloquence. The world sees him as a meticulous vice housewarden, yet, there's more to him than meets the eye. He revels in the art of deception, a master puppeteer manipulating the strings of those around him. Words, for him, are the weapons of choice, and he wields them with a finesse that leaves others bewildered. They dance with a subtle wit, each sentence a carefully crafted tapestry of indirect barbs veiled in layers of politeness, but cut sharper than any blade.

Your lover possesses a subtle artistry in the way he observes you. His keen eyes, like an ever-watchful guardian, seem to unravel the intricacies of your being with each passing moment. His enjoyment in watching you is not invasive; instead, it's a delicate dance of understanding, an appreciation for the nuances that make you who you are. In his gaze, you feel a sense of acceptance and fascination, a warmth that borders on admiration. And though he may be admit to being uncomfortable when it becomes your turn to observe him, there’s no denying the blissful smile on his flushed face.

Your lover possesses a remarkable capacity for care and an unparalleled attention to detail that extends beyond the bounds of ordinary affection. It's as if he holds an intimate map of your well-being, meticulously navigating the subtle shifts in your mood. His eyes, sharp and perceptive, catch the nuances of your expressions, and his gentle inquiries are a testament to the depth of his concern. Whether it's a fleeting illness or the weight of a difficult day, his caring nature unveils itself in the subtle gestures—a comforting touch, a jacket on your shoulders, a few words of motivation, or simply a quiet presence that speaks volumes. His attention to the nuances of your emotional landscape is a testament to the genuine and compassionate love he harbours for you.

Your lover takes immense pleasure in the teasing you, delighting in the subtle dance of words that elicit reactions from you. He possesses a mischievous flair, savouring each moment as he skilfully weaves playful banter into your interactions. The sparkle in his eyes betrays the satisfaction he finds in observing your responses, a testament to his mastery in the delicate game of verbal sparring. However, the tables turn when you successfully tease him back. In those moments, a subtle flush colours his cheeks, his usually eloquent words falter, replaced by a silent vulnerability that reveals a side of him he keeps well-guarded. It's in these instances that the power dynamic shifts, and you catch precious glimpses of your tender, unguarded lover beneath the veil of his composed exterior.

Your lover's unusual obsession with mushrooms may be slightly concerning, but you can’t find it in yourself to deny him when his eyes shine with delight. There's an undeniable allure in witnessing his fervor, and you find yourself incapable of withholding support. Your scavenging hikes become cherished adventures, traversing landscapes in search of the elusive fungi. Throughout the journey, he remains attentive, ensuring your well-being at every turn. In embracing his passion, you discover a shared joy that transforms any reservations into moments of bonding and shared experiences.

Your lover, with all his complexities, is the masterpiece you've chosen to love, a canvas painted with shades of eloquence, mischief, and a profound appreciation for the beauty that others may overlook. You find yourself captivated by the enigma that he is, drawn to the uncharted territories of his thoughts and the subtleties of his actions.

Your lover, is none other than Jade Leech.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland jade #twisted wonderland jade leech #jade leech #jade leech x reader

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yurababy · 2 years

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don’t listen in secret

imagine being best friends with idol group seventeen! very fun! and you get to sleep with them as a friendly favor! yay... hold on,

in order words, adventures as all of seventeen’s fuck buddy organized into a series masterlist

started with jeonghan and plans to end with jeonghan. plans can always change ... open for links to each member’s story & be sure to request more parts if u enjoyed <3 no specific order for posting so just lmk who you want next!! hmu anywhere to be added 2 the taglist

taglist ♡ @zen003xx @seung-sungs @angelwonie @rubyreduji @vvsmydiamonds127 @shualicious @whyokoa @dreamhannies @313hwa @minnie-mouser22 @knucklesdeepmingi @lenireads @oolanderr @bestboysvt @misssugarlips @whereisgyu @kodzukein @i4kt @wonushuasworld @aurumness @bibinnieposts @venusprada @ikissvernon @listxn @starlight-nightz @svtrbi @bakugosbottombitch @kooklovesu @alluringlino @hiddlesdweeb

Choi Seungcheol; the sanctuary

read “Your Touch, my Lullaby” here!

Yoon Jeonghan; the enigma

read “Angel or Devil” here!

Joshua Hong; the gentleman

coming soon! (joshua, sweetheart, listener, kind hearted joshua is pissed off so you let him take it out on you)

Wen Junhui; the light

coming soon! (all of junnie’s acting experience has him as a real life manic pixie dream popular school best friend who pins you against walls)

Kwon Soonyoung; the keen

coming soon! (hoshi who would drop everything for you)

Jeon Wonwoo; the seasons

coming soon! (24시 gamex13 boi sorry he’s such a lil nerd i love him)

Lee Jihoon; the artist

read “You’re a Whole Constellation” here!

Kim Mingyu; the cupid

coming soon! (mingyu who tries to play matchmaker.. think his heart wink from hot mv)

Lee Seokmin; the dream

coming soon! (who wouldn’t have a crush on dk honestly. and he’s so clueless but not even in a dorky way he’s just so hot)

Xu Minghao; the shadow

coming soon! (haohao watches you with the other members because he’s too shy to make a move but desperately wants your attention)

Boo Seungkwan; the observer

coming soon! (not sure but reader will send him a nude on accident and it’ll all go from there bc sly seungkwan is hot)

Vernon Chwe; the eye candy

coming soon! (exactly what eye candy means 😭)

Lee Chan; the determined

coming soon! (i have a very specific scene in mind)

☆ will update the lil mini descriptions as time goes by & when i make the headers.

#seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut #junhui smut #hoshi smut #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #minghao smut #mingyu smut #seokmin smut #seungkwan smut #vernon smut #dino smut #seventeen x reader

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saradika · 4 months

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DIN DJARIN - 2023 FIC RECS

this year has been filled with so many beautiful fics, I wanted to make a rec list to share & support everything I read. please check these out and support these creators, they are all incredible! 💖✨

— A Kind of Demon by @fettuccin-e

Kinktober Day 3: Monster AU | Incubus!Din Djarin

— A Rule Of Threes by @5oh5

after not celebrating your birthday for many years, din djarin makes sure this is one you'll never forget

— Betrayal by @againstacecilia

Bounty hunting, not a happy ending, feels.

— Brown Eyes by @mandoisapunk

Din comes back to Nevarro only to find his favorite soldier acting as an interim Marshall, and the reunion is everything he could’ve hoped for.

— Coming Home by @whataenginerd

Din has just arrived back at the Sundari palace after a long and boring diplomatic trip.

— Consummating The Riduurok by @beskarandblasters

You just got married to Din in a large celebration on Mandalore. At the end of the night it’s time for one thing only; to consummate the marriage.

— Coporal by @pentechnics

Your new job is more or less a cinch; you’re the secretary to the COO of a big manufacturing company. Day in and day out you balance calendars, prepare morning coffee, and send a variety of emails. / But you also fantasize about your boss. In every which way. And it doesn’t take long to find out that his mind is just as filthy as yours.

— Denser Than Beskar by @floral-force

Your beskar-clad taxi pilot is an awkward man, and you decide it’s due to his limited social interactions. Under the armor, a nervous Din Djarin thinks his flirting and hints are obvious. Will he be able to share his feelings before you’re lost to the sands of Tatooine?

— Don't Hold Your Breath by @bits-and-babs

forced proximity smut

— Fear Not The Abyss by @psychedelic-ink

din initiates you into the cult.

— Forbidden Cravings by @inklore

stay in your room; that’s all you had to do. a simple demand that you planned on following until something goes bump in the night and you’re trapped between two monsters. | din x reader x bo-katan

— Hex Code by @bits-and-babs

given the task to hunt down an enchantress renowned for her deviancy, din fails to understand just how hard this mission will be to complete.

— Home by @beskarandblasters

A little drabble about domestic life with Din at his new house on Nevarro

— Home Is Where You're Mine by @/inklore

in nevarro you and din can finally breathe and spend your days christening every surface of your home.

— Ichor. Blood. Water. by @cherubispunk

stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the ‘man made from metal’, forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.

— Keen by @/bits-and-babs

the child has been getting in the way of you and mando spending time together. after weeks without your touch, he’s finally reaching his limit.

— Love, Intertwined by @lowlights

Once upon a time...no, that’s not how your fairy tale goes. Din might have saved you that fateful day, but he was no knight in shining beskar armor. But the universe has a funny way of pushing people apart and bringing them back together again.

— Love Is a Fire That Burns Unseen by @moonlight-prose

on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn’t included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

— Misjudgments by @floral-force

Din Djarin reluctantly agrees to work with a partner on a hunt, and they turn out to be incredibly skilled in bounty hunting. They make him a nervous wreck, something that never happens to him. But, maybe there’s more to Din’s mixed emotions than he realizes…

— Never Break The Chain by @/moonlight-prose

years after you lost contact and parted ways, he comes back into your life. in the most drastic way possible. | jurassic park!au

— No Words Needed by @againstacecilia

“Din, can I ask you something?” / His helmet turns to look in your direction. / “What does cyare mean?”

— Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies by @floral-force

When a new man storms into the saloon you work at, you're instantly terrified--and captivated. But as he lingers in town and stirs up trouble with every step, you question who the brown-eyed man is underneath the poncho, and if he really is just a bounty killer at his core.

— Of Shadows and Roses by @the-scandalorian

You're engaged in an illicit affair with your bodyguard.

— One Night Only by @mondaychildsworld

You and Din get down and dirty in a fancy hotel room in Coruscant.

— Pearl Rosary by @sweetercalypso

Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession

— Permission by @javier-pena

You belong to Paz … but there’s something about Din Djarin. He’s on your mind constantly. | din x reader x paz

— Petals by @mandelirious

“When did you know?” / “Ithor.”

— Potter!Din by @silksaddle

A collection of drabbles and oneshots that surround your life with Din, who works away in his pottery shed.

— Raising Cain by @hier--soir

at a private gala in berlin, two agents slip inside, uninvited. unbeknownst to one another, and working for seperate agencies, they prepare to bring the same target to justice. the only problem is - one of them wants him dead, and the other wants him alive. who will succeed? will the strange connection they feel stop them from completing their mission?

— Return The Favor by @galactic-basic

din and reader share a moment in their newfound quiet.

— Rite by @bits-and-babs

Traditions form after Din removes the mask.

— Salt Water by @5oh5

din carries you in his mind, in his body, the way waves carry the salt of the sea: unforgettable, inextricable, forever.

— Still Of Your Hand by @/moonlight-prose

"din was always scared he would hurt you. always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. his life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that."

— Tales of the Heart by @lavendertales

Joining Din on his missions carried no expectations from either side. You simply provided him with medical assistance when needed and tended to the ship while he was gone and nothing else. / But several situations arose where you truly believed something might happen between you and Din.

— That's Not My Name by @theidiotwhowritesthings

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” - Shakespeare

— The Art of Failing by @theidiotwhowritesthings

The Division of Mythological Affairs was created to protect and serve the supernatural community while keeping the knowledge of their existence a secret. / You hoped to become an Agent of the DMA like your mother before you. Just as your dream begins to fall apart at the seams, you stumble across a missing persons report that could change everything. | Werewolf!Joel Miller & Vampire!Din Djarin

— Unearthed by @grippingbeskar

you are the new leader of your planet, but you lack an army. lucky for you, a new king has also recently ascended the throne.

— Unseen Smile by @beecastle

It’s your first anniversary and Din wonders if he should take his helmet off

— Velvet Mand'alor by @outercrasis

State functions are boring - certainly there are better ways to occupy your time

— Woven In Stars by @ilovepedro

Instead of navigating the galaxies, Din is navigating his new home life with Grogu on the ourskirts of Nevarro. In doing so, he meets you - a seamstress in town. The two of you form a beautiful bond through helping him adjust to domesticity in his secluded cabin. Throughout the time you share together, the bond you have flourishes into something more that can no longer be contained.

— Your Heart Got Teeth by @/moonlight-prose

horny thoughts about din’s necklace.

if you haven’t read these, you need to! and please support these amazing fics & writers by reading, reblogging & commenting! 💕

#fan fic recs #fic recs #please support these creators!#din djarin x reader

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keen-umbreon · 1 year

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Updates, Figy, and Enigma!

Some nice folk on the ol pokereddit helped me calm down and not dye my hair red. Yay for avoiding relapse!

Since they reassured me that Figy using moves with recoil and a toxic orb and choice band aren’t abusive because it can consent, and that our Pokémon partners need to fight as a biological fact, then I am going to try to sign up for battling classes so I can meet her needs.

Oh and some good news, Nurse Joy said Enigma doesn’t have a urinary blockage! He just has a UTI and we are starting antibiotics for him soon. I might end up posting some pictures of him later when he feels better.

I think I’m going to go over my parole details on here later, idk. My identity is public anyways because of my mugshot being in the newspapers. And all my details are available as part of the criminal team registry. So it isn’t like posting my trainer card or town or details or anything is anything different.

#pokereality #pkmn irl #real pokemon #pokemon rp #pokeblogging #pokeblr #pokemon irl #real pkmn #pkmn rp #pkmn oc #keen-umbreon #keen figy #keen enigma #unreality

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perfectsunlight · 8 months

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( 𝟭𝟱 ) ✏ 𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗳-𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: language

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

minjeong’s steps propelled her forward with a swiftness that seemed almost supernatural, outpacing her own thoughts as she zeroed in on the sight of your brown locks, adorned with a pristine white bow that sported a very distinct logo.

the crowded corridor parted like the red sea before her, students instinctively making way for their determined president on a mission.

a vice-like grip on your arm yanked you away from your ballerina best friend, steering you toward a secluded corner within that corridor.

“what are you doing?!” your voice escaped in an exasperated whisper, your arm breaking free from her grasp as she came to a halt. “where have you been?” minjeong inquired, her breath steadying as her keen eyes scrutinized your puzzled expression.

your brow furrowed as you attempted to unravel the enigma shrouding her words. “what are you talking about?”

a weary sigh escaped minjeong's lips, her gaze drilling into you with purpose. “you haven’t attended tutoring in three weeks.”

“oh, i have been.” your response was swift, and your body relaxed, standing firmly against her interrogation. “i haven’t missed a single session, actually.”

a disbelieving laugh escaped minjeong's lips, her disbelief palpable. “come on now, y/n. stop it. why haven't you been going?”

“but i have been attending,” you retorted slowly, your gaze never wavering as it bore into the president with a hint of knowing. “did wonyoung not tell you?”

in that precise moment, the revelation hit minjeong like a bolt of lightning. a peculiar sensation stirred within her chest as she realized what had been happening all along; you were seeing wonyoung instead of her.

but you were her student, not wonyoung's.

the shock slowly gave way to a complex mix of emotions—frustration, jealousy, and a touch of embarrassment. minjeong, accustomed to being the center of attention and the academic leader she was, had mistakenly believed you were avoiding her, allowing envy to color her actions.

but the mere mention of wonyoung, her academic rival, added fuel to the fire burning inside her.

“are you seriously telling me that you've been meeting with her instead of me?” minjeong's voice, tinged with annoyance, cut through the air.

your eyebrows shot up in response to her tone, your curiosity piqued. “well, yeah. she's been helping me and i’ve been doing well. what's wrong with that?”

minjeong bit her lower lip, masking her irritation. “i thought you were ditching, and now i find out you're seeking help from her instead of meeting with me for the past month.”

a flicker of emotion danced in minjeong's eyes, and you couldn't help but take notice.

“is there a problem with that, president?” you inquired, your voice layered with mockery.

the president's competitive spirit surged to the forefront as she couldn't bear to appear second-best, especially in academics. “no, of course not. but i am your designated tutor, and i firmly believe i’m better at tutoring than wonyoung is.”

a sly grin curled upon your lips, seizing the chance to stoke the flames that were growing. “well, i appreciate your offer, but i'll stick with wony for now. she's been doing an excellent job, and i even scored my first 100% because of her.”

minjeong's jaw clenched, and she struggled to maintain her composure. she couldn't believe you were dismissing her in favor of wonyoung. granted, your academic progress was remarkable, but she harbored suspicions that this newfound success was not solely attributed to wonyoung's efforts.

after all, she knew well about the generous donations the jang family had made to the university.

with a scoff and a shrug, you casually brushed off minjeong's irritation, relishing the opportunity to provoke her further. “i won't, president. thanks for checking on me, though. if you weren't so boring, i might've found it sweet.”

the mentioned girl’s eyes narrowed at your parting words, her irritation simmering just below the surface. she was not accustomed to being labeled “boring” or having someone toy with her like this. your dismissive tone stung, further fueling her determination to prove her worth.

she knew she was more than just a “boring” tutor, and she was determined to show you her true capabilities.

with a cryptic remark, minjeong spun on her heel and departed, her thoughts consumed by plans to make her tutoring sessions not only productive but also unforgettable.

a spark of competition had been ignited, and she had no intention of backing down; especially when it came to proving herself.

retrieving her phone from her bag, she unlocked it and dialed the first name that came to mind. as she made her way past students bustling down the corridor, the ringing on the other end echoed in her ear until, after a few rings, a voice answered.

“what is it? i'm busy getting my nails done.”

minjeong couldn't help but roll her eyes at the whiny response, shaking her head as she pushed through the glass doors and stepped outside.

"i need your help, ning."

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: @silantryoo @forever-in-the-sky2 @rosiehrs @urfriendlylocalidiot @chaewonluvsme @zhivaxo @baebeefyburrito @jisooftme @winterlve @mina1vr @rgxjsss @uzumakioden @bexisbomb @tzuyuscloud @cwpiqwon @dream-chasers-things @demtions @sewiouslyz @jeindall777

@writingficsblog @ad0rechuu @lauxymy4 @awkwardtoafault @popstaryunjin @hibernatinghamster @tocupid @myothegreat @yerevies @alexxis10 @sighsam @ddeulgiheree @kikelikesmc @ddoxhan @justalittledissociation @jenaissantex @captivq @lea-pg @skisk1 @justme-idle @neuftaeng

CLOSED.

#smau #kpop smau #aespa smau #aespa x reader #winter x reader #minjeong x reader #wlw #crack fic #kpop crack #fluff #the variable masterlist #the variable #perfectsunlight

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

aemond falling in love with a musically gifted woman and every time they’re getting ready to sleep he asks her to sing to him 🥺 this thought JUST popped up in my head. like imagine he hears her before he sees her. like she’s singing for some event or something but aemond gets there too late and only sees the back of her head. it could be a whole thing where he’s trying to find her because her voice intrigued him that much.

Beneath the Mistletoe

This fic took ME on a ride

I have been waiting to do this one for too long and I made it Yule-themed as well...reader introduces Aemond to some winter traditions hehe

Aemond x fem!reader | Aemond reluctant to take part in festivities | harpist!reader | cheeky banter | mistletoe kiss

You fingers plucked the strings of your harp, constructed of the finest walnut wood, filling the dining hall with lovely music as you accompanied the other musicians. Your keen eyes swept the dance floor, taking note of all the noble lords and ladies swirling about, strung to the music you were creating.

All were dancing and making merry, save one obvious exception.

Aemond Targaryen. The silver-haired enigma. The young man who had all the ladies gossiping and giggling as they whispered behind hands, surreptitiously glancing at the rigid form of the prince.

As if he felt your gaze upon him, while he sat at the long table, his eye flicked to meet yours. Neither of you broke eye contact, you watched as he studied you and the instrument you played. A pleasant shiver prickled the back of your neck, he seemed interested in you. A small smile tugged at his lovely lips, curved and plush as they were. You longed to run your fingers along the shape of them.

Your fingers stumbled, you lost the beat of the music and faltered.

"Come on now, Y/N." The fiddler beside you chided. "Keep up! Don't let pretty princes distract you."

You mumbled a curse at him, steadying your fingers upon the harp strings once again and reentering the melody. You shot a quick glance back at the table, Aemond was grinning slyly at you now.

Your face burned, and you had to look away before you messed up the song again.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

She was quite a lovely sight, seated before the wooden harp, fingers so dexterous as she conjured music as though it was magic.

Aemond was loathe to admit it, but he was entranced at the sight. The harp perched between your legs, a rather intimate instrument he mused.

With long fingers grasping his pewter goblet, Aemond raised his cup to his lips, pretending to drink the wine therein, still observing you over the rim.

"See something interesting, brother?" Aegon prodded his shoulder, rousing Aemond unpleasantly from his contemplation of your form.

"Is there no one else for you to bother?" He cast an annoyed look at the elder prince, appraising his unkempt state. "Did mother not instruct you to wash before the Yuletide feast?"

"I'm presentable enough." Aegon defended, tucking a greasy strand of silver hair behind his ear.

"You look like an urchin."

"You have the look of a man who sees a woman he likes." Aegon wiggled his eyebrows at Aemond, his cheeks ruddy from all the wine he'd consumed. "Go talk to her."

"She's busy at the moment." Aemond actually took a sip of wine this time, almost choking as Aegon clapped him hard upon the back.

"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere."

"What are you-?" Aemond's eye narrowed as he watched Aegon cross the dance floor, almost getting clotheslined by a waltzing couple as he did. "Oh no." He murmured, rising to stand, bemusement and bewilderment furrowing his brow.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

"Excuse me. Harp lady. Stop playing a moment." You looked around, your hands stilling upon the vibrating strings. The last person you expected to be speaking to you was Aegon Targaryen, the eldest son of Viserys and Alicent. Yet here he was, his cheeks red from the influence of wine as he grinned down at where you sat. "My brother would like a word."

"I'm sorry my prince." You bowed your head. "I have been commissioned to play for the royal feast."

Aegon was having none of it. You made a disgruntled noise as he took you by your elbow, guiding you ungently to your feet. You steadied your instrument as it teetered, jostled by the abruptness of your movements as Aegon practically steered you away.

You looked guiltily over your shoulder at your fellow musicians, giving them a little wave of apology as you were dragged toward the long dining table.

Aemond stood as Aegon approached, his hand still gripping your arm.

"Let her go, Aegon." Aemond's voice was terse but still held a quality that made your skin tingle pleasantly.

"Talk about a first-class delivery." Aegon chortled, smacking you between your shoulder blades, making you stumble slightly forward.

You noted how Aemond raised his hands as if prepared to catch you should you need assistance. Luckily for you, Aegon wasn't that rough.

"I'm not a Yuletide package." You grumbled, straightening your skirts and giving Aegon a displeased glare before curtsying to Aemond.

"Indeed not!" Aegon agreed, crossing to pour himself another generous glass of wine. "Aemond here is the one with the package for you."

"That is quite enough." Aemond hissed, his jaw clenching as his lilac eye cut from you to his brother. "My lady." He gave you a curt bow and held out his arm for you to take. "Allow me to escort you elsewhere, the better to escape my inebriated brother."

"You can thank me later, Aemond!" Aegon called after the two of you as Aemond guided you away.

You had to remind yourself how to breath properly, the feel of Aemond's leather jerkin smooth beneath your fingertips as you entwined your arm with his. He smelled lovely, a combination of smoke, leather and spiced wine.

"I do apologize." Aemond intoned, inclining his head toward you as he spoke softly. "I do not even know your name."

"Y/N." You answered, your voice almost catching in your tightened throat.

"Y/N." He repeated, your name sounding sinfully good on his lips. "My brother gets certain...ideas in his head and will not be dissuaded once his course is set."

"What idea inspired him to lead me to you?" You asked, a mischievous spark lighting in your chest. "My prince." You remembered your manners at the last second.

"Please, call me Aemond." The two of you stepped together out onto a moonlit terrace, complete with rosebushes and archways covered in vines.

The night air was brisk, you subconsciously pulled Aemond's warm body closer to your own. You noted how he had not answered your question. "Aemond, then. I noticed you didn't seem a fan of the festivities."

"I enjoy feasts well enough."

"But not dancing?"

"No, not dancing."

You stood at the railing now, under a mossy archway, overlooking the red roofs of King's Landing, now bathed in silver light under the night sky. The waves of the sea far away sparkled merrily, catching your eyes momentarily before you turned to face the silver prince.

"What do you like, then?"

Aemond clasped his hands behind his back, his profile sharply illuminated by the moonlight. His eye flicked to your face, he was very close to you, closer than you had ever imagined you would be to a prince let alone a Targaryen.

"I enjoy reading. Swordplay..." He hesitated, turning away from the urban vista to give you his full attention.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing along your lips. "And?"

"Hmm." He tilted his head at you, shining silken hair falling over his shoulder. "I enjoyed watching you play your harp." His eye widened slightly, as he straightened, catching himself leaning closer to your enticing smile. "That is to say, I enjoyed the music you were making."

"I'm surprised you heard it." You leaned an arm on the balcony railing afraid your knees were about to give out. "Harps are notoriously hard to hear in a setting such as a feast."

"I heard you." Aemond was still studying your face, seeming to like the little changes in expression he saw as your lips quirked up, your eyes crinkling at the corners, the scrunch of your nose. "You are quite skilled. Perhaps you would play for me sometime?"

"So long as Aegon isn't there."

Aemond chuckled at that. You wanted him to laugh again, it was a sound that sent shockwaves straight to your center.

"You're biting your lip, Y/N." Aemond's eye had found your mouth, lingering upon your lips as you wet them with your tongue.

"I just noticed something." You pointed to the space above your heads, a strand of foliage hung from the apex of the archway, white berries nestled amongst sprigs of green.

"What is that?" Aemond asked, looking up to where you pointed.

"You don't know what mistletoe is?" You looked aghast, pressing a dramatic hand to your heart. "It's a Yuletide tradition."

"I believe we've established I don't give much credence to festive traditions, Y/N." He seemed to like saying your name, waiting for you to explain what it was.

"When two people stand under a bundle of mistletoe they have to..." You trailed off, your boldness turning to sudden shyness as you realized what you were about to say and who you were speaking to.

"They...what?" Aemond prompted, looking again at the plant, sudden wariness upon his features.

"Kiss."

Aemond looked at you in surprise. "I'm sorry?" He chuckled. "That's a tradition? You're having me on."

"I promise you I'm not!" You blushed furiously.

Aemond seemed to be enjoying making you squirm. "You're making this up."

"I am not!"

"A clever scheme."

"I will bet you money that it's true." You felt lightheaded from the embarrassment. "Ask anyone inside."

"Kiss me then."

"I am not lying-what?" You must have misheard, you had to fight not to gawk up at the prince as he looked imperiously down at you.

"Since you're so adamant this mistroe forces two people to kiss..."

"Mistletoe." You corrected quickly.

"Then make good on your claim." He leaned into your space; you felt his breath upon your face. "Or else I suppose we will be stuck here for eternity, held captive by this plant."

"Aemond, we don't have to..." Your words caught in your suddenly dry mouth as Aemond hooked a slender finger beneath your chin, pulling you gently forward.

"I want to." He breathed, waiting for you to close the final distance separating you.

Your eyes roved across his angular features, his lilac eye turned silver in the moonlight, the leather eyepatch covering his other eye, a vertical scar running up his forehead and down his cheek. Your gaze fell to his lips, the very lips you had been daydreaming about not an hour earlier.

Your eyelashes fluttered, a sudden rushing sound filling your heated ears as you leaned forward, Aemond's finger on your chin moving trace your cheek as his lips parted.

As if guided by an invisible force your lips brushed against his, a wanton moan escaping your mouth that he captured as he pressed harder against you, pulling you by your waist flush against him.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You tasted like starlight and mulled wine. Your body warm against his. Aemond could feel the soft well of your bosom flush to his chest, the enticing scent of you filling his lungs as he breathed you in.

Thank the gods for mistlewhatever, his mind was too full of you within his arms for him to think clearly. Aemond drank down your sighs of pleasure as he greedily moved his lips with yours, only pulling away slightly when the both of you needed to catch your breath.

"Did we satisfy the tradition?" He asked, his eye crinkling as he smiled at your eager expression.

Your hair was a little mussed from the intensity of your embrace, Aemond smoothed an unruly tress and tucked it behind your ear.

"I'm tempted to say 'no'." You quipped, finding your voice at last.

"I would like for you to play your harp for me later this evening, before I retire." Aemond kept his hands upon your waist, loathe to let you go. "Perhaps we can revisit this," he reached up, plucking the sprig of mistletoe from where it hung. "later." He pocketed the plant, relishing the way your cheeks flushed pink as your lovely intelligent eyes followed his movements.

"Where should I find you, my prin-Aemond?"

Aemond let his hands fall away from you at last, only to clasp your hand formally and press a warm kiss to your knuckles. He lingered there, enjoying the feel of your soft skin on his lips. He had to suppress the urge to flick his tongue out to taste you.

"The sitting room adjacent to the library. I will find you there after the festivities adjourn."

His gaze lingered on your upturned face, softly taking in your lovely expression.

"You're not going to ask me to dance?" You gave a mock pout, drawing his attention back to your enticing lips.

"Oh no, my lady." Aemond chuckled dryly. "Enchanting as you are, I do not indulge in dancing."

"Maybe I can change your mind one of these days."

He gave a pause, feeling the bundle of mistletoe inside his jacket. "I wouldn't rule that out as a possibility." He extended his arm to you. "May I escort you back to the feast?"

You shook your head. "Thank you, no. I need a moment...that is, I would like to enjoy the view a little longer."

Aemond watched as you turned back to the scenic vista of the sprawling city below. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, his eye trailing down along your body, taking in the way your skirt shifted in the light breeze, accentuating the curve of your hips and your full...he needed to depart.

With a final shallow bow Aemond turned briskly upon his booted heel and strode back toward the Yuletide festivities, silently wishing he could get away with remaining at your side for the rest of the evening and perhaps even longer. He had been gone from your presence for mere seconds and already craved you.

Aemond would never admit it out loud, but Aegon had been correct.

Aemond desired you.

And what he desired, he claimed.

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say-al0e · 1 year

Text

Enterprise

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, minors, DNI!

Summary: Bob likes to keep his personal life and work life separate. But returning to San Diego has been difficult so what better time to introduce you to his new friends than Halloween. It is a night for surprises, after all. | Ft. Anon Request for: “Keep your voice down. There’s still a party going on.”

Warnings: A little anxiety, a little insecurity, some teasing from the squad, public oral (fem receiving), Bob’s adorable and the squad is supportive. Anything else, just ask and I’ll tag.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x fem!Reader (wife!Reader)

Word Count: 7.7k Words (...yeah, I know)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

Despite popular belief - or unpopular as he was never very well-known - Robert Floyd wasn’t really that awkward. In fact, he wasn’t really that shy, either. He’d been called a litany of things throughout his life, in the Navy and otherwise, but very few of them were words he believed to be apt descriptors of who he really was as a person.

A high school guidance counselor once called him reserved, if a little timid, and those who knew him - well and truly knew him, saw beyond the glasses and hesitant smiles - would agree. He never loved the limelight, had never been one to seize the opportunity to settle into the center of attention, and always preferred to hang around the periphery. He always allowed his actions to speak for themselves and realized somewhere around high school that the role he played fit him well.

Somewhere along the way - around the time he enrolled in the Naval Academy and moved far away from the only life he’d ever really known - he gained a reputation for being quiet, shy, awkward, invisible. The reputation was one that never really bothered him and, over the years, he began to lean into it. He let his teammates, officers he met in passing, aviators who’d never even met him, believe what they wanted.

Any fight he threw at them would be met with laughter and rolled eyes, anyway, so why try?

What others thought about him never really bothered him - apart from that one girl in grade school, his first crush, whose observation that he was odd really did hurt his feelings. And, if he really thought about it, it was no secret as to how he garnered his reputation.

While those around him spoke freely about their personal lives - plans for the weekend, exciting family news, the things they left behind to join the Navy - Bob kept relatively quiet about his personal life. There was never any shame in where he came from or what he did on the weekends, there was no conscious decision to hide his life, he’d just never really been included in those conversations. His quiet demeanor often saw him forgotten, left just on the periphery, and when he was included, his answers were always only politely considered for a moment or made the punchlines to jokes.

When he was finally invited in, given real friends who truly wanted to hear his answers to those questions, quiet had become a reflex. The Dagger Squad learned a little, was given a handful of answers as to where he came from and why he joined the Navy, but Natasha became the only person who knew anything deeper than surface level.

Robert Floyd was an enigma to those around him and, for the most part, he never even realized others were curious. What he did on the weekends, why he was so keen to flee the Hard Deck after only half an hour, why he lived off-base when nearly everyone else lived in the barracks; those were things only Natasha knew and he hadn’t made much of an effort to change that.

The division of his life, professional and personal, served him well.

That division only really became a problem when it began to take its toll on the one person he hoped to never burden with his career.

As excited as he was to return to Top Gun, to return to San Diego, that return meant uprooting the life he’d spent three years building. There was always a possibility that he’d have to pack it all up and move along to the next base - something he’d come to accept, just as you had - but Lemoore had been home for a little too long.

Though Bob left only a handful of friends in Lemoore, you left the life you spent three years building - a life you’d already left one city to start. A job, a support system in the partners of other Navy officers, new friends, a favorite cafe and bookshop; all were three hours away now, just because you packed up the little house you both spent your weekends fixing up to follow him to San Diego.

Bob knew that allowing his lives to blend, just a little, was the only way to lift some of the weight he’d inadvertently placed on you. So, he started simply.

Natasha was the first - and only - member of the Dagger Squad he introduced you to formally, one-on-one. She was important to your husband, the person he trusted with his life and the person who trusted him with hers, and he knew just how much you’d like her.

There was no surprise that you took to her immediately, falling into an easy friendship that saw you and Natasha enjoying a bond Bob could only hope continued, but one friend outside of work was only the beginning. And when he caught wind of the Hard Deck’s annual Halloween party, Bob decided that your favorite holiday would be the perfect time to truly allow his worlds to collide.

The excitement he saw in the days leading up to the party was enough to quell any remaining anxiety he felt about introducing you. There was never any doubt that you would get along with the rest of the squad, never any shame in introducing you as the love of his life, but seeing the joy with which you prepared reminded him that these people were different - there would be no malice in the teasing they leveled him with, no real question as to how you met that wasn’t genuinely asked.

When the night itself finally arrived, Bob found himself wondering why he ever thought keeping you from the people who were starting to become something of a second family was a good idea.

Regardless of how he felt about introducing you, Bob knew that, if asked, there wasn’t a single soul who would’ve guessed he was seeing someone - aside from Natasha and Bradley, who he was beginning to suspect knew more than he let on. If they had, and if he’d disclosed your plan to attend the party in a couple’s costume, several assumptions would’ve been made.

Any number of guesses would’ve been made - and someone likely would’ve gotten it right - but if he’d disclosed your costumes were from Star Trek, you would’ve been dubbed Bob two-point-oh before ever stepping foot in the bar.

As he’d remained quiet, there was no hiding the surprise on every face - save for Natasha’s - when he stepped into the Hard Deck with you by his side. The reaction was warranted, despite his own costume’s simplicity, and he knew it. He knew that all eyes would’ve been on you, regardless of who you entered with, but his presence at your side only served to garner more attention for both of you.

Of all the patrons in the bar, Mickey seemed to be the only person who had even the slightest clue who either of you were supposed to be. Once the initial shock of seeing Bob with someone wore off, there was a look of dim recognition in his eyes. But recognition was never really the point of the costume and, honestly, no one seemed to be paying that much attention to the clothes themselves as you approached the bar in search of a drink.

Everyone in the vicinity was too focused on the fact that Robert Floyd was not alone and was, instead, accompanied by a woman they deemed well and truly out of his league - a fact he had no intention of arguing with.

It was unnerving and he felt a strange flurry of emotion - a little pride, a little ire, a lot of insecurity - as he struggled to keep from shrinking under the weight of nearly every eye in the room raking over the pair of you. They would all get bored soon, he knew, but it didn’t help that he could practically hear the whispered conversations wondering just what you were doing with him.

Bob’s flight suit, an old one he’d nearly tossed out that had been dyed navy and adorned with custom patches, was straight from the first iteration of the starship Enterprise. Combined with the slicked back hair, it could’ve been something plucked straight from his daily wardrobe. His inner Trip Tucker had yet to be channeled, though he knew it would take a drink or three before he felt compelled to lean into the accent he did his best to hide.

You, on the other hand, leaned fully into the roll of mirror-verse T’Pol the moment you donned your costume. It was bold, a navy crop top and low-waisted pants, and completely out of the realm of comfort but it was fun. And, though he still managed to flush each time you caught him, he’d lost himself eyeing the vast array of exposed skin more than he cared to admit.

Still, as much as he found himself enjoying the costume - and he’d made sure to let you know just how much before leaving home - he could feel himself beginning to spiral into the same self-doubt he tried so desperately to combat. But regardless of how he was beginning to feel, he did his best to swallow those feelings as Penny approached.

Bob’s reputation was not your fault, neither was the subsequent surprise at your appearance, and it didn’t seem that you even noticed the attention as you took in the decor of the bar.

“This place is really cute.” Bob smiled, not at all surprised by your bright-eyed cheer when he needed it most - because you had noticed the attention, as well as the discomfort it brought - and hummed as you waited for Penny to fish out a beer for the patron in front of you. “I get why you guys like it so much.”

“It’s one of the better Navy bars I’ve been to,” he agreed, not bothering to hide his fondness as he removed his hand from the small of your back to step a little closer. He was careful to leave just enough space between you - not so much as to invite any unwanted attention, but enough to feel the warmth of your skin if he turned just so - and tipped his head to smile at you. “But it’s better with you here.”

Bob’s hand found yours then, fingers intertwining with yours, and you sighed quietly at the warmth of him. It was easier to think, to feel grounded in the moment, with his hand in yours and you knew that he felt the same.

A smile, bright despite the warmth of so many gazes settling on your skin, lifted the corners of your mouth as you tilted your head to hide your face. Bob could see it, that same bashful grin you’d always gotten when he laid on the charm, and felt his mood improve as you shook your head fondly.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Robbie.”

Though the novelty of your appearance was beginning to wane, Bob could still feel the weight of a handful of gazes pressing on his shoulders. You were well aware of them all, noticed them the moment you wandered in, but the only gaze that mattered to you was his.

Bob was careful not to leer - despite the ease with which he could’ve done so, and the permission you gave him to do so - though his gaze continued to fall to the exposed expanse of your chest. Despite the years you’d spent together, the countless times he’d seen you naked, his cheeks still flushed a little brighter pink each time and you resisted the urge to coo as Penny approached.

Though Bob imagined Natasha would make her way over the moment she saw you, Penny was the first to greet you both. Her smile was bright, friendly, and she managed to hide her surprise, even as she caught sight of the silver band adorning his ring finger.

“The usual, Bob, or are we switching it up for Halloween?” The question was teasing, a thinly veiled prod at the very obvious departure from his usual, but not unkind and he took it in stride as you squeezed his hand.

Usually, when left to his own devices - and dragged to the Hard Deck instead of being allowed to head straight home to you - Bob opted for soda. It was easier to make the drive home then, faster than having to call an Uber or rely on a friend, and gave him an easy out when he bid his goodbyes after less than an hour.

Bob indulged, though he was never fond of getting truly drunk, but only when you were by his side. Drinking with you was more fun - and usually ended with the pair of you tangled beneath the sheets - but Penny didn’t know that. Instead, she’d taken to stocking a few extra glass bottled sodas and offered good-natured encouragement for him to try something new every now and again. He rarely did, almost always opting for a coke, but tonight was a night for changes, it seemed.

“A beer, please, Penny.” Try as he might to hide the accent, a hint of that drawl you loved so much escaped - evidence of just how comfortable he was with you, able to be a version of himself few saw. Penny seemed to notice and pulled a beer from the ice with a grin before raising a brow at you. Before you could open your mouth, however, Bob squeezed your hand and smiled. “And a vodka soda, please.”

Another smile from Penny, one that painted a veery clear picture of her enjoyment at seeing another side of Bob, as she turned to begin your drink while you fixed him with a fond look. “I would’ve been fine with a beer,” you assured him, taking a half-step closer to allow another person easier access to the bar. “It’s busy.”

Bob shrugged, easily accommodating your sudden closeness with a half-smile, as he lifted the bottle from the bar. “But is a beer what you really wanted?”

Just as he had a tendency to diminish himself for others’ comfort, to go with the flow and avoid drawing too much attention, you had a habit of settling. In a crowded bar, a busy restaurant, a bustling cafe, you tried to avoid making a fuss, despite knowing what you really wanted, and he knew that. Something as simple as ordering a drink he knew you’d like rather than one he knew you wouldn’t care for was a small gesture, easily lost in the chaos of your shared lives, but one that managed to warm you from within.

A small ache, pleasant and bright and light and lifting the weight of so many eyes pressing into your skin, settled in your chest as you squeezed his hand three times. “I’m very fond of you. You know that, right?”

Bob laughed quietly as he nodded, that soft smile never leaving his lips as he returned the quick squeezes, but that amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. It wasn’t immediately noticeable - he did a damn good job of hiding his feelings, for the most part - but you’d known him your entire life. There was a depth to those blue eyes, a brightness, that was missing and it gave you a moment’s pause as you tipped your head to study his face.

“You okay?”

Lifted eyebrows displayed his surprise at having been caught - there were moments of doubt where he still seemed caught off guard by your attention, your affection, your love despite having been in love for most of your lives - but he was quick to smile and nod.

“Mm, m’fine.” The reassurance was softly spoken, barely audible over the din of the crowd, and you didn’t exactly believe it. Even as his smile grew a touch brighter, as his eyes lightened a half-shade, even as he lifted his beer and took a sip, your brows furrowed.

Bob’s shoulders were tense, easily visible through the thin material of his flight suit, and you could see the way he chewed the inside of his cheek as he glanced around the crowded bar. His gaze never settled for long, never lingered in one spot for more than a few seconds, and you knew that it had at least a little to do with the attention you were both on the receiving end of.

When he nodded once more, hand slipping from yours to return to the small of your back as Penny placed your drink on the bar, you shot him your own smile - one you hoped looked as reassuring as you meant it. “Whenever you decide you’re ready to leave, you know I’m always down to go home and get comfortable.”

Though he wasn’t one for public displays, Bob tugged you a little closer to press you into his side as he nodded. “One of the many, many things I love about you. But I’m okay,” he assured you, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself more than you. But he didn’t give you time to dwell as he asked, “Ready to meet everyone?”

There was a time and place to dwell on the feelings you knew were beginning to bubble - it wasn’t that hard to tell. Where at least a little of the tension was coming from as a group of men to your left glanced at the pair of you and began to snicker - and the Hard Deck was not it. So, you simply nodded. “Lead the way.”

As you shuffled through the crowd, headed in the direction of the pool table in the corner, you caught sight of Natasha.

While you were skeptical at first, uncertain as to how well your husband would adjust to life back in Fightertown and being her WSO, you found yourself thrilled to have her in your life. She respected Bob more than anyone he’d ever flown with, and received his respect in turn, and took the time to get to know you both personally. After he introduced the pair of you, you’d started seeing her at least once a week - with and without Bob - and had come to love her almost more than your husband did.

The sight of her was a welcome one, a certainty in the midst of a storm, even as she blinked in surprise at your costume. And though you were half-expecting her to be the first to speak, to break the silence that fell over the group with your approach, it seemed as if no one was really sure what to say.

For a split second, everyone paused before the man you recognized as Hangman - easily identifiable with nothing more than Bob’s stories to help you pinpoint him - beat them all to it.

“Well, well, Baby on Board,” he drawled, cowboy hat tipped back on his head and brows raised as he eyed the pair of you. “Who is this?”

Bob had always been good at hiding his annoyance - or maybe no one ever really cared enough to notice it - but you could see the tic of his jaw as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Hangman got under his skin, despite Natasha urging him to ignore the Texan, and you knew that the teasing question would only add to the ire he already felt.

Still, he managed to swallow whatever quip lingered on the tip of his tongue with a sip of beer, even as his fingers pressed a little harder into the warmth of your skin. “This is my wife.” His announcement was followed by your name, spoken into the relative quiet of the group, and saw everyone blinking in surprise. Someone - Fanboy, if the Mandalorian costume was anything to go by - sputtered a sip of beer as another laughed incredulously.

Hangman was the first to recover, lips parting in surprise and grip loosening on his darts as his gaze darted between you both. He allowed himself a real look, gaze sweeping your exposed skin, before he laughed. “Sorry, I think Rooster’s singing has finally ruined my hearing,” he teased, earning an unimpressed glower from the mustached pilot dressed as a rooster. “Did you just say wife?”

The moment the word rippled through the small group, uttered just a little louder, it seemed as if every eye fell to Bob. The silver of his ring glittered in the dim light, bright and eye-catching now that it had been pointed out, and you swallowed your amusement with a sip of vodka.

Though neither of you particularly enjoyed being the center of attention, this was almost to be expected. It had happened more than once, would likely continue to happen, and you found a way to enjoy the surprise on every face as you hummed.

“We’ve been married almost three years now.” As you spoke, you lifted your left hand to his chest - not bothering to hide your grin as their attention fell to your own ring - and patted the Enterprise insignia sewn into the fabric.

While the men blinked, lips parted and brows raised high as they attempted to process the information they’d been dealt, Natasha nudged her way through a set of them.

“I would make a joke about stealing you from Bob if he’s not careful, but the two of you just look too damn good together.” A teasing grin accompanied her words even as she pulled you into an embrace, careful not to spill either of your drinks. “It’s kind of annoying how perfect you look.” It was light, playful, but you both still managed to flush under her scrutiny as she eyed your costumes.

“Us? Look at you. Giving a whole new meaning to sinful thoughts,” you teased, grinning when Bob laughed at your side and shook his head. “Everyone looks great,” you complimented, smiling genuinely when the others preened. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to tell who’s who in the costumes.” As you glanced around the small group, eager to observe the people who had become Bob’s closest friends, you were met with nothing but a pleasant intrigue. “Robbie’s descriptions have made it pretty easy, though.”

“Aw, Robbie.” Hangman grinned as he reached out to pinch Bob’s cheek, laughing all the while. Even as the others rolled their eyes, clearly seeing where his teasing was going, Hangman continued, “You talk about us? That’s so sweet!”

“Don’t be a dick, Bagman.” Natasha’s huff was lightly scolding, though it lacked the venom you expected, even as she rolled her eyes. She implored Bob to ignore Hangman’s taunts, to not engage - even when he wanted to - but you were grateful she attempted to keep him in check.

Rooster - who you suspected knew about your existence before tonight, whether he was told by Natasha or had simply put the pieces together himself as he looked wholly unsurprised by your presence and displayed a sort of brotherly pride when he regarded Bob - scoffed a laugh.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he warned, partially under his breath.

Hangman, who looked entirely unbothered by the exchange, waved them off with a dismissive hand as he leaned against the pool table and eyed you both. “Anyway,” he drawled, gesturing to the pair of you with the tip of a dart, “how’d you and Baby on Board meet? Library, bookstore?” When you simply raised a brow at him, unimpressed, he shrugged. “I was under the impression he only existed at work and in this bar."

Though he made an effort to conceal his annoyance, from the corner of your eye, you could see Bob roll his eyes. Hangman never truly got under his skin - not in the way he intended, anyway - and the group had even come to like him. There were no ill intentions, not really, but you could tell his line of questioning was not helping the ire Bob began to feel the moment you stepped into the bar.

The more you thought about it, the easier it was to realize that discomfort from the influx of attention was not the only thing bothering him. Though his friends were clearly happy for him, it was easy to see the same look reflected in their eyes that you’d seen in others. They wondered what you were doing with Bob and how they’d gone this long without knowing you existed.

And while he wasn’t the most confident man, Bob was secure enough in your love that he rarely allowed that question to bother him. Tonight, however, it seemed as if he’d fallen victim to the insecurity that sometimes haunted him.

With a sigh, careful to keep your gesture light rather than outwardly comforting - though that was exactly what you intended it to be, a grounding touch to quiet the noise inside his head - you shifted your hand to gently squeeze his bicep. The entire group was wanted an answer, and likely would’ve asked the question in a more polite way, so you directed the reply to them.

“We grew up together.” A soft smile lifted the corners of your mouth as you spared him a glance, easily remembering the doe-eyed boy with the crooked smile who lived in nearly every childhood memory. “He lived a few houses down from me and our grandmothers were friends. We did pretty much everything together for the longest time. Nothing really happened until he asked me to Homecoming our freshman year of high school, though.”

Everyone, including Hangman, visibly softened at the revelation. The knowledge that Bob married a childhood friend, his high school sweetheart, was wholly unsurprising but enough to pull a simultaneous, “Aw,” from them all.

“We were high school sweethearts,” he confirmed, smile now reaching his eyes as he tipped his head to meet your gaze. The look softened, if only slightly, and grew a touch melancholy as he laughed quietly. “I would’ve married her then but we decided to take a break and went our separate ways when I got into the Academy and she went down south for school.”

Surprise was evident at the softness of his voice, the ease and confidence with which he declared he would’ve married you a decade ago, but it prompted a fond smile as you shook your head. You would’ve married him then, too, and you could feel your cheeks heat with a pleasant warmth that made you feel just a touch bashful - as it always did when Bob looked at you like you were the only person he could see.

“Worst decision of my life.”

The declaration was teasing, light and exaggerated, but neither of you truly regretted it. Though you were confident Bob was it for you, just as you were it for him, the years you spent apart gave you time to grow. You learned, matured, and became adults without fear of hurting one another along the way. That would’ve been significantly harder with the added worry of a long distance relationship and the first few deployments Bob endured - even if you worried about him, anyway.

It still managed to prompt a laugh from everyone, including Bob, as you returned your attention to the group. “We both came home for the holidays a few years ago, the first time we’d been there at the same time since we stopped seeing each other, and well… You know what they say. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

Natasha, who knew you were high school sweethearts but hadn’t heard much beyond that, groaned as she gestured at you with her beer. “Ugh,” she scoffed, exaggerated and unable to hide the smile that lifted her lips. “I really want to be annoyed at how that sounds like the plot to some romance movie but it’s too cute to really be upset.”

Hangman, who had - surprisingly - remained quiet for the duration of the story, nodded his agreement. “It’s so cute,” he began, pushing away from the pool table, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“I think it’s nice. We’re all happy for you, Bob” Rooster declared, smile soft as he met your eyes, “and very glad to meet you.”

“Definitely,” Fanboy confirmed, smile bright as he nodded - seemingly uncaring that his helmet began to fall into his eyes. “And you’re a Trekkie! We’re growing in numbers every day.”

The conversation began to dissolve then, breaking apart into a series of side conversations you were no longer the center of as Payback urged Fanboy not to begin a conversation about which series was best. There was no telling when the novelty of your appearance would begin to wane - especially as Hangman and Coyote continued sparing you and Bob cursory glances - but their attention was beginning to wander.

That brief lull gave you a moment to tip your head and meet your husband’s eyes. The look in them was an endearing blend of concern and amusement as his lips curved into a thoughtful frown. “Are you okay?”

Bob’s concern was genuine and you could tell that he was worried his new, boisterous friends might be too much, but it was for naught. Though this was the largest group he’d ever introduced you to, the largest group he’d been content to be part of, you were glad to see that they all clearly cared for him.

Despite the initial teasing - and surprise - it was evident that they were all happy to see that he was loved. Natasha once confided that she’d been worried Bob was going home to an empty house after a night out, that they all worried he was lonely, but knowing that he had you eased that concern.

“I’m good.” The reason you worked so well together came down to a handful of similarities but a world of differences. Though you disliked being the center of attention as much as he did, you were fine with the weight of their intrigue so long, just as long as it meant his world was a little less money when you weren’t around. You lifted a hand to gently squeeze his bicep once more as you spared the group a glance. “I like them,” you assured him. “I’m really glad things are working out here.”

In that moment, you knew that he wasn’t as thrilled as he could’ve been. With the noise of so many thoughts racing through his mind, his mood soured slightly by overthinking and a little insecurity, he’d gone a little quieter than normal. Still, you knew just how relieved he was that his return to San Diego could be good for both of you.

“I am, too.” He drew you in closer then, wrapped an arm around your waist to squeeze you gently, before allowing Natasha to reclaim your attention. “Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, crooked smile on full display as she gestured to the small table with a few others.

Bob had never been one to really belong, to fall readily into a group and be at the heart of it rather than the periphery, but this time seemed different. He was still quiet, sometimes forgotten in the fray, but it eased your own anxiety to see them casually toss out questions or pull him into moments of conversation.

Watching Rooster and Bob converse easily, watching him toss out a few quips at Hangman, watching him laugh with Fanboy; each moment was small in comparison to the grand scheme of things, but each was a great moment. Seeing him find that camaraderie made the move worth it, the stress and the anxiety of building your life from scratch all over again, and you were glad to join him for the ride.

And as you watched him interact, laughing as Payback and Fanboy each attempted to sway him to their side of an argument, you couldn’t help but smile. Though there was still a tension in his shoulders, you could tell he’d calmed enough to start pulling out of his head and returning to the Robbie you knew and loved.

The novelty of your appearance was gone, no longer a thought to those who had no interest in Robert Floyd, and with the weight of so many gazes gone from his shoulders, it seemed as if he could breathe freely once more. He looked as relaxed as you’d ever seen him in the presence of so many people, as at ease as he could be, and you took advantage of the moment of calm.

A soft press to his shoulder distracted him momentarily, drew his full attention from the conversation he’d been in with Rooster, as you offered him a smile. “The buttons are still being weird,” you informed him, gesturing to the top he’d heard you complain about a handful of times already. “I’m going to see if I can fix them. Didn’t want you worrying I got swept out to sea,” you teased, grinning as the apples of his cheeks flushed pink when his eyes fell to your chest.

Without sparing a glance over your shoulder, you knew that Bob refused to let you out of his sight until you disappeared into the small corridor housing the bathrooms. Anywhere else and he would’ve offered to walk with you, to settle at a table near the doors until you were done, but he trusted the Hard Deck a little more than anywhere else he’d taken you - and trusted that you could handle any unwanted attention. He still kept a watchful eye on you, ready to race to your side should you need him, and the thought made you smile, even as you fiddled with the buttons of your top.

When you managed to pull yourself together as best as you could - the top was not one you cared that much about saving as there was no other occasion you could see yourself donning it - but before you could step back into the hallway, a warm set of hands fell to your biceps and gently nudged you back into the room.

The familiar scent of citrus and pine, warm and bright, hit your nose just as the only voice you wanted to hear calmed your now racing heart. “Just me,” Bob assured you, crooked grin softening when you lifted your eyes to meet his. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

As you lifted a hand to your chest, fingers pressing against warm skin, you laughed quietly. “You did,” you teased, voice a touch breathless. The rapid thrum of your heart, a split second of shock and adrenaline coursing through your veins, earned a light laugh from him as you shook your head. “But it’s fine. It is Halloween. Everything alright?”

Bright eyes darkened slightly, a touch stormier than his usual blue, but his features were more relaxed than they had been only moments earlier. The smile on his lips was real, soft and small but genuine, as he hummed. “Fine,” he assured you, nodding as he reached behind his back to lock the door. “Just wanted a second alone.”

When things got a little chaotic, crowd too hectic to. Handle for long moments, he had a habit of stepping away for solace. More often than not, you were pulled along and you couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’ll never catch me complaining about that.”

Some small part of you assumed this would be like any other moment of quiet, a brief reprieve from the noise and the crowd just outside the door, but it seemed as if Bob had other plans. His fingers began to brush along the exposed skin of your hips and stomach, touch feather light but leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as you searched his face.

There was a look of determination there, a resolve that you didn’t quite understand, but before you could question it, he dipped his head to press his mouth to yours.

The kiss was light, a soft embrace that had you sighing quietly and pressing yourself just a little closer, but you could feel the emotion behind it as his hands stroked your sides. While he wasn’t one for public displays - and while he was able to beautifully communicate his feelings with you - he had a habit of allowing his actions to speak for themselves.

It was rare that he got in this mood, a little anxious and a lot determined - to do what, you weren’t sure; prove himself, remind himself that you were his, quiet his anxiety with the taste of you on his tongue - but you allowed him to take what he needed as he slowly began to walk you backward.

Regardless of the tone set for the night, there was always a gentleness to Bob’s touch. Even when his fingers dug into your hips, short nails biting at the skin while he urged you back against the counter, he was careful to avoid hurting you.

There would be marks there tomorrow, a memory of his touch branded into your skin, but the way he caressed the tender spots always made any momentary discomfort worth it. And any future annoyance - minor, in comparison to everything else - remained far from the forefront of your mind as his hands began to wander.

Under any other circumstances, Bob’s hands would’ve found their way beneath the hem of your top. But given the time you’d had with buttons - and the knowledge you’d given him beforehand, that when the night was over, he could remove the top from you himself - he was careful to stick to teasing brushes of his fingers along your heated skin.

“Robbie.” The sigh of his name was muffled by his mouth, spoken into the relative quiet of the bathroom, and his answering hum drew laughter from you. “Not that I’m upset at all by this turn of events, but where is this coming from?”

Bob pulled away then, lips parted and glasses slightly askew, to smile at you. His hands remained on your skin, lightly caressing the expanse of skin just above the waistband of your pants, as he dipped his head. “I don’t know if I’ve already said this tonight, but you look amazing. I… it’s been hard to think about anything else,” he admitted, flushing slightly as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “Just really wanted to kiss you.”

It was almost impossible to count how many times he complimented you before leaving home - how many different ways he declared his affection, his pure adoration - but his confession brought a smile to your lips as you raked your fingers through his hair.

“You might’ve mentioned it a couple times, but it’s still nice to hear.” Bob hummed, voice catching in his throat, as you scratched lightly at the base of his neck. He leaned into your touch, eager to lose himself in you, as you grinned. “Kiss me again, please.”

One of the features of your relationship - something you treasured beyond words - was his comfort with the give and take. Despite his reserved nature, Bob was comfortable with you. You’d been there from the beginning, had the experience of being one another’s first and, hopefully, last. There was no room for judgement and he knew that.

Bob could take what he wanted - knew that you would give it freely - and pin you to the nearest flat surface in search of it. He could be domineering, take charge and leave you breathless and desperate, but he could also hand over the reins with no qualms.

Tonight, you imagined you were both on equal footing. Bob wanted to take, you wanted to give. He needed a light push, a nudge in the direction he so desperately wanted to go, and you were happy to give it to him.

The second kiss grew more intense, much faster. There was no secret what he wanted - you could feel the evidence of his desire pressed to your thigh, just as you could feel your own desire beginning to gather between your thighs - and you were happy to give it to him.

Instead of allowing him to continue brushing the waistband of your pants, you popped the button before taking his hand to slip it beneath the navy fabric. You could feel the corner of his lip quirk in a lopsided smile, glad that you wanted the same thing he did, as he complied and slipped his hand between your thighs.

Bob wasted no time nudging the fabric of your panties aside, fingers gathering slick as his thumb bumped your clit. His mouth remained on yours, tang of beer barely noticeable over the mint gum he’d popped the moment you disappeared into the bathroom, as you inhaled sharply at the touch.

“We have to be quick.” Your reminder was muffled but understandable, easy to follow given the circumstances, and Bob hummed his acknowledgment. Public displays were not his favorite, but this was not the first time you’d found yourselves locked in a bar bathroom.

Instead of replying, Bob was quick to remove his hand from between your thighs. He swallowed your huff of disappointment with a laugh as he began to tug the fabric of your pants and panties down and only broke the kiss to follow.

When he fell to his knees, blue eyes lifting to yours, you let out a noise half-way between a whine and a laugh. Bob lifted a finger to his mouth and shushed you, crooked grin growing brighter as he placed a hand below your knee to hitch your leg over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down,” he urged, though it was uttered amidst a quiet laughter. “There’s still a party going on.”

Even as he turned his head, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh - tracing a path he’d committed to memory over the years - your fingers fell to his head as you spared the door a glance. “You sure about this, Robbie? Any of them hear, they’re never going to let you live it down."

“Hate to break it to you,” he hummed, hands smoothing over your skin as he inched closer to where you wanted him, “but I’m already not going to live this down. Everyone knows I have a hot wife, completely out of my league. They’re never letting this go.”

Before you could refute his claim, roll your eyes and chide him for allowing their line of thinking to taint his thoughts, he leaned in and dragged his tongue through your folds. He licked a broad strip, tongue flat and mouth eager, and you could only do so much to keep yourself quiet.

The sight of him alone was enough to have you keening, desperate and eager for him. Those bright blue eyes, blinking up at you from between your parted thighs; hair mussed, curls breaking free from the hold of gel with every drag of your fingers; glasses knocked askew, fogged with the heat of your body and his cheeks as he presses even closer.

Bob had never been one to half-ass your pleasure, always eager to give you exactly what you deserved, and the space made no difference. His fingers dug into your hip to keep you in place, to drag you closer to his mouth as he moaned into you. His tongue swiped, lapped at the aching bundle of nerves, as those eyes searched your face for any hint of discomfort. When he found none, he asked, “Good?”

“So good, Robbie.” Over the years, he’d gotten it down to an art. Bob knew you better than anyone, could read your body better than you at times, and you were reminded of just how easily he could send you soaring the moment he began to alternate between soft flicks of his tongue and broad strokes.

You lifted one hand to your mouth, eager to keep quiet, while the other fell to his hair. You tangled the curls between your fingers, no longer caring about the gel you were ruining, and tugged lightly with every flick of his tongue. Bob gave his all and you took all that you could, grinding your hips and chasing your pleasure.

It was almost embarrassing, just how quick he was able to work you over, but when he knew your body this well, it would’ve been hard for him to do anything more than have you seeing stars. He knew the signs of your impending orgasm, could tell the moment you began to whine and shift in his grasp, and he encouraged you to come with a moan as his eyes lifted to yours.

As you barreled over the edge, Bob helped you through, never stopping his kitten licks as he swallowed all you had to give. Soft hands caressed your skin, touch gentle as you came down, and those blue eyes never left your face as you attempted to catch your breath.

Silence lingered for a moment, your ragged breathing the only sound aside from the dim noise of the party outside the door, before you laughed and shook your head. “I think I’m fine calling it a night if you are.”

Bob grinned, expression bright and eager, as he helped you back into your pants. He took the help you offered for his hair, despite how impossible you both knew it would be to flatten the curls now that they’d been destroyed, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your mouth.

“Lead the way.”

As you made your way through the crowd, back to the bar to pay your tab, all eyes fell to you once more. This time, however, Bob didn’t shrink beneath the weight of their gazes. Their looks were knowing, easily picking apart the pieces of you both that clearly displayed what you’d been doing. But instead of rushing out, he kept a hand on your hip and hid his smile.

Sometimes, even if a little embarrassment bloomed in the pit of his stomach, the attention was worth it. And even though he knew he’d never hear the end of it, Bob wasn’t quite so sure he minded. Because at the end of the night, he had friends he cared for and the love of his life. And, really, what more could he ask for?

_____________________________________________

Author’s Note: The first time writing for someone new is always a little nerve-racking. Also, the costume might not be realistic for everyone (I wouldn’t wear it) but that’s my dream costume and Bob strikes me as a Trekkie. I’m not sure if this is totally in character for him. He'd be fun to write angst for, though, I think.

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