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sumirhatos · 2 months

Text

Photoshoot

Red Velvet - Joy x Male reader

7.3k words

TW: foot fetish, feet worshiping

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This is a continuation of Exposed addiction.

Thanks to Nether Blade for helping me with this chapter. ❤️🥰

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"Miss Bae, but he works at JTBC, and we are not sure if he has any experience in advertisement filming" says the manager, a little bit confused.

"So what? He proved to be very professional last time, what difference does it make?" she says, raising her eyebrow. "Don't you trust my opinion?"

"N-no miss Bae, I'm just-" the manager was about to share his thoughts of disagreement.

"Then it's settled!" she interrupts him, putting on her Aviators and leaving the meeting room.

(Late night 11:26 p.m.) You were watching videos on YouTube until you are interrupted by a call

**BZZ BZZ**

Usually you don't pick up calls when you are off work, but this time you didn't even bother to check who's calling...

"H-Hello?" you answer with a sleepy voice

"Okay, good, you are not asleep, I got work for you" says Joohyun.

"Ummm, what?" you reply getting confused by the voice, but being too tired to recognize the caller, so you check the caller's ID. It's Joohyun?!?!

"J-joohyun? I mean, Miss Bae!" you spill. "Sorry, didn't recognize your voice, I'm really tired right now, I've had a very long day and I didn't get enough sleep either" you explain to her.

The events of last night are rewinding before your eyes.

"W-what kind of job are you talking about?" you ask her to try to change the subject...

"Well, just a regular filming job you will manage. Wait for my message. You can thank me later. Bye!" she spills and hangs up.

"What?" you hear nothing but you've been hung up on...

"What the fuck is wrong with that woman? First she kicked me out of the hotel room. Now she offers me a job all of a sudden?" you curse before going to bed.

The next morning you receive the message from Joohyun.

"You were approved for the job by our managers, I'm absolutely sure Sooyoung will be happy to work with you again.😏"

"Wait, what? I have to film Sooyoung?" you reply to her, not that you mind seeing Sooyoung again.

"She will send you the deets later, you owe me one, pretty boy, enjoy the shooting ;)" she replies.

You initially met Sooyoung and the Red Velvet members a long time ago, the first encounter happened when you had just started your job as a part of a filming crew for MBC, being just 19 years old back then.

Red Velvet had just debuted as a group and were invited as guests on the Weekly Idol Show, that's when you met them for the first time.

The other members probably didn't pay attention to you at all, you were just one of the assistants for the filming crew.

But Sooyoung was different, she noticed a young member of the filming crew, the clumsy guy, who was just trying his best to be helpful.

After the filming she even came up to you and said "Fighting!", which was like a breath of fresh air for you after a long day of work. Maybe she was just trying to be polite? Or maybe she pitied you?

Yet somehow you later became sort of buddies, you were someone she could talk to during work, you were her guy in the filming crew, who helped her with small requests, like messaging her about the filming, sending schedules, and sharing other relevant information. Sometimes you hang out together as a part of a group, telling your stories, sharing your experiences in life and much more.

You wouldn't call it a close relationship or anything, but you became sort of friends, to an extent.

A few years later, life becomes more successful for you. JTBC, another broadcasting channel made you an offer you could never pass on, came with a new team, new place, new crew and new position for you: a fucking filming director! They even made their own show, Idol Room, which featured old hosts, from Weekly Idol.

Right away, you became THE guy in the team, so others finally started paying attention to you. Suddenly more people wanted to hang out with you, go for drinks and attend parties together or stuff like that.

Even idols started paying more attention and trying to suck up to you for different reasons. Sooyoung was not an exception, she also asked you for professional advice here and there.

You hoped she wasn’t trying to become closer to you just because of the new important role you had, but that she indeed considered you an interesting person worthy to hang out with. "Shit...This woman is fucking killing me", you say out loud.

"What's wrong honey?", a voice came from your bedroom, "is everything okay?", she adds coming to the kitchen.

"Well, I just got a message from Joohyun, she got me an extra job... I'm having an ad shoot for Sooyoung", you say with an annoyed face.

"Oh! You can try out a different type of shooting by taking this job and make some extra money as well. Good for you. Joohyun is so nice and generous!", she exclaimed with a smile, "She cares about people she works with so much and even helps them to get more gigs!"

If only she knew what a real bitсh Joohyun is...

"Plus, you have told me that you liked to work with Sooyoung in the past when you had just started your career as an assistant, remember?", she adds.

"Yeah, I guess'', you answer, "but it's Saturday and I wanted to spend the day with you... I should decline it", you add with sadness in your voice.

"Nah", she shakes her head, "It's fine, we can watch Netflix when you come home later today", she smiles. "I know how much you love your job and I don't wanna see you walking around with a sour face all day, feeling bad for not taking this opportunity", she comes to you and pats you on the head.

"Thank you", you simply reply to her, taking her hand and holding it for a moment.

"Okay, chop-chop then, don't wanna be late, right?", she says, clapping her hands.

"Yeah..." you reply to her, still annoyed by the fact that you have to work on a Saturday.

You get up and head to your closet, get dressed into a casual outfit: grey joggers, green loose hoodie with a zipper on top of an LA Lakers print t-shirt.

Then you head back to the kitchen, and see that your girlfriend is munching on her breakfast while watching some news.

"What are you wearing?!?! Are you going to a basketball match? Haha", she says giggling at you.

"Hey it's Saturday, my official day off. I can wear whatever I want!", you exclaim to her light tease, "And who the fuck is gonna stop me? Am I the director or what?!", you say proudly of yourself

"I was joking you little poopster", she says, slapping your thigh.

"Yeah-yeah, whatever", you reply, heading to the door.

You put your sneakers on and head out.

"I'll see you in the evening, I'll try to get home not too late", you say to her heading out.

"Hey, wait. Haven't you forgotten something?", she says, jiggling the car keys in her hand.

She throws them at you and you catch them like Lebron catches the pass from Davis to perform the slam dunk.

"Thanks", you say to her and go to your car.

**BZZ BZZ** your phone vibrates.

"Hello Mr. Foot Fetishist! 😏 I guess we are working again together! I've attached the details. See ya! 😘", was the message from Sooyoung

"Oh god, what is this nickname? Joohyun told you?", you reply to her message...

"Maybe 😋", she replies

You have kept your fetish in secret from her and other idols successfully so far and now Joohyun had to ruin this... And not just anyone, but Sooyoung? Now she’s gonna try to hide her feet from you. Great...

"Hope that nickname doesn't stick for too long though...", you murmur to yourself, while getting in your car.

Heading to the place Sooyoung mentioned in her message, you arrive in about 20 minutes. It's some 3-story building near SM Ent. headquarters.

"I guess bees don't want to get too far from their nest", you say while getting out of the car, you take off your hoodie and leave it inside.

Heading straight inside the building, you go to the 3rd floor, that's what was said in the description Sooyoung sent.

At the entrance to the studio you are stopped by some bodyguard in a suit.

"Can I help you?", he says with a disgusted face. Is it because of your outfit? Probably because you don't look like somebody who might be here for work?

"I'm a filming director from JTBC, here for a Barrel photoshoot with Park Sooyoung.

"Yeah and I'm Lebron James", he mocks you by pointing at your tee.

"Hey listen, I don't want any trouble and I think you don't want any either, right? I'm here for work", you tell him in response. Maybe it sounded like too much...

"The fuck? Asshole

"Guys where is my phone? I need to make a call, Sooyoung asked people walking around her, but then she stops when she sees you at the entrance to the studio.

You are mesmerized... She looks... Well, to say she looks like a goddess would be an understatement... Her makeup has already been done, her beautiful hair is also ready, curling over her shoulders.

She's wearing a white cropped hoodie, a short lavender sports skirt that barely covers her mouthwatering thighs and exposing to the world her long fucking legs, going down, on succulent feet she has light pink summer heels.

Looks like no pedicure today, some toenails might look meh without any polish applied, but that's not the case for Park Sooyoung, her toenails are looking pristine and elegant in their natural color, signaling how well she looks after them. "Oh, there you are", she comes to your direction, "He's with me", she pushes away the bodyguard.

"I was about to call you, but unfortunately I can't seem to find my phone in this mess ", she says, pouting. So fucking cute...

"H-hello Miss Park", you reply, trying to be formal with her around other people even though you are sort of friends... "So um... I suppose it's a summer outfit photoshoot?"

"Yep, didn't Joohyun tell you about the job?", she asks, taking you by the hand and leading you inside the studio. A very bright place, a lot of light from the studio LED lights.

"No", you shook your head, "she didn't tell me anything about the job itself..." you add just staring at Sooyoung stunned by her beauty once again...

"Okay, we should get to work if we want to finish the whole photoshoot today, there are a lot of outfits I need to pose in", she says with a bright smile.

She then leans towards you and seductively whispers into your ear: "I hope you like it, oppa", she said, giving you goosebumps...

"This is gonna be a long day...", the only thought that crossed your mind.

"Um... Okay guys, let's start, shall we?", she asked without looking for an answer obviously.

"I can see that Miss Park is almost ready", you said, pointing to a girl going through her bags, presumably looking for her phone.

"Found it!"Sooyoung exclaimed, holding onto her phone and holding it up in the air.

"Okay, we are set to film in two settings, one is the regular white background and the other one is with the sand & beach theme", says one of her managers.

"Sounds interesting", was your response, "okay, let's begin", you added. While you are usually supposed to instruct the person that is in front of the camera, Joy is a natural, the camera loves her. After all these years of knowing her, you have figured out there is not much direction to do with her, so you let her improvise.

She strikes a few poses, which you capture with the camera. Everyone on set is probably appreciating her visuals. The main thing that you are captivated with though are her amazing legs, her ample thighs, strong looking calves and last but not least, her feet, those succulent toes, the arch, the ankles... Fuck...

"G-Good job Miss Park, you are such a pro", you comment a little bit nervously, getting yourself a smile in response from her. She knows you are staring.

"Okay, we will proceed with the next outfit", her manager said. Sooyoung left for a couple of minutes to the changing room.

Coming back she's wearing another lavender color outfit: long sleeve sporty top and very short shorts, once again exposing her amazing thighs to your eyes, completing the look with a baseball cap of the same lavender color, on her feet she had peach colored sneakers. Whole fit looks very beautiful.

You take a few pics in the setting with sand and a few regular pics, after that she left for the changing room once again.

"Good, next!", the manager said again.

Couple of minutes later, she comes back in a surfing outfit with black tight pants, a tight light blue top and the same peach sneakers.

"Uhh... It's too hot in here", she says waving her hands in front of her face. All of a sudden she takes off her sneakers, freeing her appetising feet from their shackles . Playfully she shows her shoes in the camera and you took a shot of that. Sooyoung giggled at you. If only you could sniff those shoes...

This girl knew exactly what she’s doing, those natural colored toenails are looking so fucking delicious, it drives you crazy. If you two were alone you'd have jumped at her to feast on each of her toes. The thought of it made you sweat even more...

To shake off the intrusive thoughts, you tried to concentrate on taking photos of Sooyoung, while she was posing.

Moving to the setting with sand she looked like a true surfer girl, who just came to the beach and is getting prepared to ride the waves. She sits down and plays with the sand.

You take more photos of her and they come out cute rather than sexy.

"Okay, time for the next outfit, I suppose?", you ask one of Sooyoung's managers.

Sooyoung gets up and leaves to the dressing room once again to return in a very cute blue chequered dress.

"Okay, for the last two outfits we want the beach setting", the manager says.

"Oh, so I don't need my shoes then?" Sooyoung asks the manager.

"If you don't want to, sure", the manager replies indifferently.

Glancing at you, Sooyoung smiles and elegantly takes off the heels that she wore previously at the beginning of the shooting session and then tiptoes to the beach setting.

There is something about sandy feet... Something alluring that makes you desire her feet even more...

"Wish I could see her cute little toes"...

Right that moment as if she heard you, Sooyoung lifts her left leg a little out of the sand just enough for you to be able to see her cute toes.

Those feet need to be worshipped, those toes need to be sucked, those soles need to be massaged and licked... Sooyoung looks at you and giggles once again. Can she actually read your thoughts?

You snap more pictures of her once again, while she is spinning around being playful in front of the camera.

"Okay, last outfit, Sooyoung", the manager says.

You check your watch and to your surprise you’ve already been shooting for 2 hours... It seems the time passed very quickly because of the hypnotizing beauty of Sooyoung, so you lost the sense of time.

Sooyoung heads to the changing room, as she passes you, she runs her finger down your cheek and gives you a hungry glance.

"Uhh... This girl...", you think, "What if somebody notices?!?!", it seems Sooyoung doesn't care.

It took a few minutes for her to return in another jaw-dropping outfit: yellow one-piece swimsuit that tightly hugs all of her curves, denim shorts, once again not covering her thighs and topped off with a blue cap on her head, kind of cute. Another perfect beach outfit.

She sits down in the sand, her butt is resting on her soles, which are covered in sand once again, that swimsuit almost doesn't cover her back, leaving little to your imagination, such an amazing body, and such a pretty face, the face that you have splattered with your cum just a few days ago...

Flashbacks from that incredible night are coming back to your mind making you feel fired up once again... She on her knees in front of you, her face painted with your load... Fuck...

Sooyoung looked at you with a smirk once again, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking right now. You stopped taking pictures, staring at her through the camera, you couldn't take your eyes off...

"Okay, good job everyone", her manager said,"and thank you for helping us with the shooting, sir", she addressed you.

"Uhh... Yeah, thank you guys, good job", you reply awkwardly to the manager and the whole crew, "I'll be happy to work with you next time if I have a chance", you add.

Meanwhile everyone started to pack their things, cameras, lights, screens and etc., Sooyoung gracefully stood up and headed to the changing room.

"Sooyoung we will be waiting for you in the van, to drive you home", her manager says to her heading out.

"Nah, that's okay, I have to discuss something with opp-", she stops mid sentence,"I have to discuss something with the director here", she continues.

"Y-Yeah?, you say with uncertainty, seeing her glare at you, "right, we have to discuss... Yes...", you try to come up with something, but nothing comes to your mind.

"Yeah", she glares at you, "Next shooting for Barrel, remember? I've told you that the contract includes a few photoshoots", she elbows you in the side, signalling to you to play along.

"Oh, yeah! How could I forget this? The next shooting, ha-ha", you say with an awkward laugh.

"Oh, okay, we can wait", the manager replies.

"It's fine, he'll give me a ride home, right?" Sooyoung smiles at you.

"Yeah, I will, definitely, I'll drop off Miss Park at her place, don't you worry", you try to reassure her manager with an awkward smile on your face.

"O-kay, see you on Monday then. Bye", the manager says. She bows to you and leaves the studio with other staff members.

Seeing them out you bow last time. Then you get hit by something on your back, you look at Sooyoung, she has taken off her shorts and threw them at you. That yellow one piece swimsuit barely covers her ripe peach... All of a sudden you are hungry...

"I'll be right back", she says getting into the changing room, "don't peek", she says smirking at you.

"I didn't even plan to", you reply to her. She shuts the door.

One minute later Sooyoung comes out wearing a white dress paired with white sneakers, her hair is tied back in a ponytail to reveal her cute forehead.

"Okay, let's go", she says heading for the exit. You say nothing following her while checking her from the back. In addition to her juicy thighs she has very muscular calves.

Heading to your car you keep staring at her ass and legs.

"Enjoying the view?", she says, turning around all of a sudden.

"Yes", you answered firmly without any hesitation.

"Good", she smiles, "is this your car?", she points at a red sedan.

"Yeah, get in", you say, opening the door for her.

"Oh wow, so there are still gentlemen left in this world!", she exclaims with a grin on her face. You decided to say nothing, just replying with a smile.

She gets inside your car and you close the door for her. After that, you go to the back of your car to put your camera and your bag into the trunk and then go to the driver seat.

Sooyoung has already gotten comfortable in the seat beside you and was waiting for you inside.

"So, what did you want to talk about?", you asked her when you got in, put the key in and started the engine.

"Well, I just wanted to hang out with you, you've been busy not attending any parties, so I was wondering how have you been lately? Plus, my manager would have talked about work all the way, if I had taken the ride...", she says with a weariness in her voice.

"Yeah, I've been busy working on new stuff for our channel", you point out.

"I also don't want to go home alone...", she said with sadness in her voice.

"You should've invited your friends to hang out then", you suggested.

"Yeah? Who for example? My group members?" she asked.

"Yeah, why not?", you said to her calmly

"We see each other all the time", she replied. "So, I've decided to invite you instead. Joohyun told me that you are fun to hang out with", "Joohyun told me, everything", she said, taking off her sneakers, reclining her seat and putting her bare feet on a dashboard.

"A-am I?", you replied startled by it, trying to concentrate on the road instead of her legs.

"Do you like mine?" She asked with a grin obviously meaning her succulent toes which she was wiggling on a dashboard.

"Y-yes, of course", you gave her a short reply, peeking at her feet.

"Good", she said, shifting in her seat and putting her feet into your lap, "oh yeah, that's better", she added.

Moving her feet slowly all over your lap, she provokes an already forming bulge to get even harder, making it hard to concentrate on the road.

"Sooyoung, I'm driving!", you exclaimed, not even trying to get her feet from your crotch.

"You know, I never expected you to be a feet kinda guy, but now that I think about it, there were some hints to it", she smirks, grinding her right foot on your bulge.

"R-really?", like what?"

"Well, whenever I wore some open toed heels, you were complimenting my shoes, I just thought that you actually have taste in shoes'', she replied, still rubbing your bulge through the pants.

"Sooyoung...", you groaned.

"Should I stop?", she grinded her foot on your shaft even harder.

You say nothing... Yes, it's dangerous to drive like that. But what can you do? Are you even capable of telling her to stop? Of course not, you can't tell her to stop. Even if you did, she'd not stop what she's doing.

Smirking at you she brings her left foot to your right cheek.

"So, I need an answer, should I stop?", she repeats the question with a slightly seductive tone.

"No...", you finally reply, so she continues to smother your cock with her right foot and starts caressing your face with her left foot. Next move was kinda predictable. She placed her toes on your lips, you opened your mouth welcoming a few of the toes inside.

"Ooh, Joohyun did mention that you like feet, but she didn't mention you are so freaky about it", she giggled surprised at your initiative.

Her toes tasted weird, somehow you catch some alcohol flavour, so you dare to say: "your toes taste weird"

"Did you think I'd put my shoes on without wiping the sand off it?", she asked, "I used antiseptic wipes, also why would I want to poke you when my feet are dirty, it sounds disgusting...", she continued.

"Well, I wouldn't mind, because it's you", you said, taking her toes out of your mouth and switching to kisses.

"Ewwww, you are a freak", she resented, snatching her feet from you, "why would you want to lick dirt, yikes!", she exclaims.

"Nah, it's not like that, to be honest, but if it's someone I like, I'd do that", you commented on her antics,massaging her feet with your right hand.

"Yeah, it's more like a display of affection that I'd want to worship your feet even though they might be dirty", you reply, gently massaging her left foot with your right hand, rubbing her sole with your thumb, running it along the whole length of her foot from bottom to the tip of her toes, still wet from your saliva.

"Umm, so you like me?", she asks, getting shy from your words, you can notice that her cheeks are getting a little pink.

"Well-, you were about to answer, but you get interrupted **You have arrived at your destination** - the voice from the navigator announced

To your disappointment Sooyoung takes her feet off your lap and sits properly in her seat, putting on her sneakers.

"D-Do you want to come in?", she asks awkwardly, trying not to look at you. But why is she so awkward all of a sudden?

"S-sure", you reply with the same awkwardness in your voice.

You two get out of the car without saying a word and head inside the building, past the concierge desk, into the elevator and to her apartment on the 15th floor. Entering the apartment you are greeted by the sunlight coming from the all floor-to-ceiling windows at the side opposing the entrance door.

"Make yourself at home", she said, putting on some fluffy slippers, as went off somewhere.

"O-kay", you mumble, she probably didn't hear that anyway.

The whole apartment was dominated by light colours, bright curtains, pale walls, it's almost as if the light was radiated by the owner's aura.

You sit on a white chair next to the huge windows, through which you can see the whole city.

A minute later Sooyoung comes back with two beer bottles.

"Here, I figured you wouldn't mind something to drink", she says, sitting right next to you on another chair, she hands you one of the bottles.

"Yeah, thanks'', you reply, "the view is amazing, it's like the city is in the palm of your hand'', you continued, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

"Mhm, that's one of the reasons I chose this place, you can see each part of Seoul from here, the view calms me down", she comments.

You look at her, a gorgeous girl is sitting in front of you, drinking beer, "Yeah, it is indeed a peaceful sight to see", but obviously you were talking about her, not the view from the window.

"Can I take a picture of you? It's a very nice view, it will look good", you ask her all of a sudden, pulling out your camera, good thing that you have a habit of taking it everywhere with you.

"Sure", she puts down the bottle of beer and looks right into the camera "what should I do?", she then asks, acting if it was some other photoshoot.

"Actually, be natural, casual photos are the best, to be honest, I don't want you to be professional right now", you say while taking a photo of her.

"Okay, if you say so", she replies, relaxing in the sunlight, as it pierces her black hair curls, making her shine like the star she is.

You take photos from different angles, zoom in, zoom out. After that she gives you a grin, pointing at her feet, and you gladly take a picture of her soles.

"Do you want to kiss them, oppa?", she asks, looking at you with those sexy eyes of hers, looking at you in anticipation of what you are going to say.

You don't have to be asked twice, so you put down the camera, lean forward and place your lips on the bottom of her toes. First you kiss the toes of the left foot, going from the pinky all the way to the big toe, then on the right foot you go from the big toe to the pinky.

When you are finished you lean backwards, waiting for the next command.

"Cute, now lick my feet", Sooyoung giggles.

So you obey the same way you followed Joohyun's order the last time. You started to lick Sooyoung's feet, first the right foot from the tip of her toes to the bottom and then from the heel to the top of the left foot, savouring the salty taste of her delicious soles.

"Hihi, it tickles", Sooyoung chuckles looking at you, but she doesn't move, letting you do the job, "Now suck on my toes, oppa", she commands wiggling her toes in front of you.

You obey her once again, starting with her right foot once more, you suck on each of her toes, one by one, alternating between sucking, kissing and licking them, trying to clean every bit of her succulent toes.

After that you start licking and sucking between all five toes on her left foot while trying to envelope them in your mouth. Sooyoung's foot is definitely wider than Joohyun's, but you can't complain about that.

"Oh wow. Do you love my feet that much?", Sooyoung asks you, staring at you again with those lewd eyes of hers.

"Mmm, I guess the answer is yes'', she giggles admiring your thorough work, her toes are glistening with your saliva, those are surely clean now.

She leans forward and runs a finger down your left cheek "Such a submissive oppa, do you like it when I command you?", she asks you seductively. You nod in response.

"Get up and undress'', she said, and you don't ask why. Following her command, you take off your hoodie, t-shirt, joggers and socks. Sooyoung bit her bottom lip watching intently as you took off your garments.

Then she leaps at you and begins to touch your body, starting with the chest, she trails to your abs and starts going even lower, to the only part that remains clothed. With both of her hands she gently palms your prominent bulge up and down a couple of times, going lower to your ballsack, cupping it softly as massages your testicles.

"Mmmm, it feels so full, have you not been released for the past few days?", she asks looking right into your eyes and licking her lips, you just nod.

"Let me help you with that", she says, removing your undergarments, freeing your dick from its cover. Your cock springs out and bumps her into the face, Sooyoung bursts into a laughter because of that, which makes you laugh as well.

"Your little friend is a quick one!", she giggles. She spits on your cock to lubricate it and proceeds to jerk you off.

Stroking your now naked shaft with her right hand at a good pace and continuing to grope your balls with the left, she extracts a moan from you indicating your pleasure. That's when she stops.

"Okay, continue oppa, you got one more foot to clean'', she says putting her right foot on the edge of the leg rest so you could have better access to it, leaning back into her seat, she closed her eyes waiting for you to proceed.

You kneel in front of her and do the same amount of worshipping to her right foot, sucking on each of her toes, leaving no dry space.

After that you grab both of her ankles and put the soles on your face. Her toes are on your cheekbones and while her soles rest on your lips. It's so soft, so divine and beautiful. It feels like time has just stopped completely. There is nothing in the world right now, it's just you and Sooyoung soles.

"Khm-khm", Sooyoung clears her throat.

"Oh, sorry, they looked so soft, so I couldn't resist to feel them on my face", you replied to her, kissing her heels

"Oh yeah?", she says, smothering your face with her feet, softly pressing them on your cheeks, "do you like that?", she asks without stopping moving her feet all over your face.

"Yes'', you reply between kisses and nibbles on her soles. Sooyoung produces a soft groan of satisfaction. After a few more seconds you go lower, her heels receive the same treatment of licking, kissing and sucking, making Sooyoung groan again.

Kissing her left ankle you go higher to her calf and to her thigh and then to her-

"S-Stop", she says all of a sudden, withdrawing away from you to sit properly in the chair .

"I didn't tell you to do that, are you impatient, oppa?", she says, her face getting red... Is she shy?

"Yes...", you reply desperately. Of course you are impatient. You want her, you want her so bad it hurts...

"I've noticed, but I'm not done playing with you", she says putting her feet in your crotch, "I think your friend wants to play too", she adds with a smirk on her gorgeous face.

She teases your shaft with her left foot, rubbing the tip between her big toe and her long toe, meanwhile massaging your balls with her right foot. It doesn't take long for you to leak pre-cum all over her toes.

"Fuck, Sooyoung...", you moan her name. She's doing a number on you.

"Lay down", she commands, throwing a cushion at you to use for your head. Then she stands up and goes to the kitchen to grab some unidentified bottle from the counter.

When she comes back you are already in a vertical position ready for your mistress in anticipation. She sits back on the chair and pours some brown-ish liquid substance all over her soles and toes.

"Hope you don't mind honey, I don't have anything else here haha, she laughs and pours it on your cock.

She proceeds to rub it into your shaft and balls with her feet.

"Oppa is so hard for me", she says, pressing your length with her sole against your stomach. She trails it from bottom to the top with her right foot all the way through your length, while pinching your ballsack with the toes of her left foot.

As a result of Sooyoung's work you start to moan each time she completes the stroke with her foot.

"You are already leaking, haha", she giggles, rubbing your precum with her toes, griding it just between her big toe and the second toe for a brief moment and then completely stops.

"I'm also leaking because of you oppa...", she says, slipping her right hand under her dress, trailing a slightly darker wet spot on her white underwear.

"Sooyoung let me taste you", you said, starting to get up to help her with her "problem", but she held you back in place with her feet not letting you move.

Instead, she slips her hands under the dress and slips the underwear off underneath. Then she slides it to her thighs, down to her ankles and then off her legs. She grabs them and throws them away.

"Do you like the view?", she asks, rubbing her now exposed clitoris with her fingers, while playing with your shaft with both of her feet this time.

She places your cock between her soles and starts to fuck you with her soft feet, it's not slow this time, in a few seconds she has picked up a good pace, making you grunt almost every time her feet reached the bottom of your shaft.

"Fuck, Sooyoung...", you moan her name helping her motion by thrusting between her soles.

"Do you wanna cum?", she moans, fingering and rubbing herself with almost the same pace of her feet.

"Yes, fuck, I'm getting close", you grunt, increasing the speed of the footjob even more.

"Ah-h, y-yes, I'm close as well, oppa", she moans once again, also increasing the intensity of her hand work.

"Are you gonna cum, oppa?", she asks, "O-oh, yes, yes give it to me oppa, she grins at you.

"Y-yes, Sooyoung, you are gonna make me cum so hard!", you grunt in a low voice trying to resist the urge to release your pent up spunk all over her feet. Just a little bit longer, just a little bit, you don't want this to end.

"Yes, yes oppa, blow it all over my beautiful feet that you love so much", she says staring right into your eyes.

"Gonna cum all over my soles? Or maybe you want to paint my lovely toes and tops white with your creamy seed?, she asks switching from fucking you with her soles to rubbing you with her lovely toes again.

"Fuuuuuck, Sooyoung-", you moan her name out loud, being unable to say anything else.

"I guess I should decide then", she says, coming to a full stop and then gets down on the floor. She spins around so her ass is facing you. She lays down on her stomach and places her feet back on your shaft.

She resumes fucking you with her feet in a reverse footjob.

It doesn't take long for you to reach your limits, bringing you to the edge of your release.

You grab her by the ankles and help her fuck you with her feet till you cross the line of no return.

Sooyoung's name is coming out of your mouth in a moan of pure satisfaction. The volcano has erupted.

First spur is released from the tip of your shaft with quite a high velocity and lands on her right leg, droplets going here and there from the calf down to her sole.

"Yes, yes, give me all of your cum, yes!", Sooyoung demanded, slowly stroking you with her feet.

Second blob released in a string across the whole length of her left sole that you had just cleaned with your mouth, staining her foot from the heel to the toes.

Next spur was not powerful enough to make an "explosion", but as most of the eruptions happen, your hot lava was going down your length reaching sooyoung soles, which are still gently pumping your shaft on both sides.

"Wow. Oppa, if I knew you would have such a big load stored in there I'd not let it go anywhere but inside me", Sooyoung says in a surprise.

She sits up and reaches for your cock, now pumping the remaining cum out of you with her right hand.

The last few weaker pulses of your cock released the remaining cum on her fingers, milking you completely dry.

She flips over on her back, lifting her legs a little to show you her soles covered in your white paint. Then she spreads the cum she just extracted out of you all over her toes, rubbing your load into her skin.

Doing the same with her soles and after playing enough with her feet and your cum, she brings her hand to her lips and licks remaining semen off her fingers.

"Mmm, so tasty", she says with a giggle on her face.

"I guess honey helps", you say.

You are spent, laying there on the floor you feel completely exhausted after an intense high that you just had.

But...

In a blink of an eye Sooyoung is between your legs sucking your cockhead trying to milk any cum that is remaining inside your half erected cock.

"Fuck, Sooyoung, please", you moan her name again, trying to get her off you.

But you are too weak to do anything, she ignores your plea as she’s pumping your shaft with her right hand in a tandem while bobbing her head all over your length.

This magical sudden blowjob on your sensitive cock makes you moan even louder than before.

She brings you to full erection again and with a pop she takes your penis out of her mouth.

"Shall we go for round 2?" Sooyoung asks, getting up and helping you up as well.

But right that instant you are interrupted by an intercom call.

"Oh come on, who could it be? "Sooyoung whines, heading to the door.

"Yes? Who is this?", she answers the call with an annoyed voice.

"Hey, Sooyoung-ah, it's me", you hear a very familiar voice from the intercom, but can't really recognize who it was exactly, definitely someone you know or met before.

"Oh, shit. Unnie, I totally forgot that we are having a slumber party tonight. Come in", Sooyoung replies and presses the button on the intercom, which opens the door.

"Get dressed. Quick!", she says to you slightly panicking.

You take all of your clothes and run to the bathroom to get dressed, meanwhile Sooyoung proceeds to clean herself and the floor with wet wipes she grabbed on the counter.

The bathroom is pretty big, there is a big bathtub and a separate shower, the sink countertop is filled with a lot of different skin care and makeup products. Well, that is expected for a girl like her, her face needs to be perfect all the time.

One minute later you come out from the bathroom and head back to the living room. Sooyoung and her guest are discussing something in the kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here?", a girl with black long hair asks.

"Umm... Hello Miss Kang", you mock her a little by addressing her with her last name.

"Lol, drop this bullshit, we are not at work", she replies.

"I apologise, Miss Kang", you say and all 3 of you burst into laughter.

"Anyways, what are you doing at Sooyooung's place?", she raises her eyebrow.

All of a sudden awkward silence descended in the room...

"Uhh... Did I interrupt something?", Seulgi asked, breaking the silence.

"Not really, we were discussing some work matters", Sooyoung answers, "but we actually just finished, right?", she added, addressing you.

"Y-yeah, we just finished discussing the next photoshoot for the fashion brand Sooyoung is working now.", you replied, adding to the lies Sooyoung just said.

"Oh, right you've had the first photoshoot today, how did it go?", Seulgi asks you two.

"It went very well!", you answered, "Sooyoung did a great job, so photos came out very well", you added.

"Yeah, it was nice, but the painting is as good as the painter that works on it", Sooyoung said, winking at you.

"Well said Sooyoung!", Seulgi said approving her point. **BZZ BZZ**

Your phone buzzes. Incoming call your girlfriend.

"My apologies ladies, I need to take this call, might be important", you say to them, heading to another room.

You go to the guest room and pick up a call.

"Hello, what's up honey?", you reply.

"Hello, we need to talk", she says.

"Sure, what's the matter?", you say curiously.

"Not over the phone", she answers.

"Oooookay?", sure. I'll be home shortly.

"Okay", was her reply and she hung up.

What the heck was that? Uhh...

You head back to the kitchen to Sooyoung and Seulgi.

"Okay ladies, I gotta go home", you said.

"Oh, that's sad, I thought you gonna stay for a little, but it's fine", Sooyung says with a disappointed voice, "Hope we can hang out again like that next time", she winks at you, obviously alluding to continuing what was left unfinished.

"Yeah, sorry, duty calls", you both head to the door.

You put your shoes on and head out. But before you leave Sooyoung stops you and gives you a peck on a cheek, absolutely throwing you off guard.

"I-I'll see you later", she says right after blushing away. And just like that from a fling Sooyoung made this much more complicated.

"Y-yeah. B-bye", you said rushing out.

"Okay that was random, I'll deal with this later", you said out loud going downstairs to your car.

So you just head home, but you are unable to get thoughts of what just happened out of your head. That kiss on your cheek from Sooyoung... What the fuck?

#park sooyoung #red velvet #red velvet joy #joy smut #red velvet smut #red velvet joy smut #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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whispereons · 6 months

Text

Oracle!Reader Part 19

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 18, Part 20

Warning! This chapter has child abuse, neglect, racism/classism and other sensitive topics! This is a imposter sagau so expect these things frequently. Attention! This chapter is extra long as it deals with Y/N's past and present. But I don't want to force a backstory that you guys might not want. Therefore you can read and choose what part of the backstory you want to be 'canon' for your Y/N. Whether be all, parts or none of it. It's your choice.

Your earliest memory was of a hospital. A vase of dying daisies, a child-sized bedding and a window slightly cracked to let in the night breeze were the only things you remember from that day.

A nurse gently knocked before walking in without looking up from the papers in his hands.

"How are you feeling today Y/N? I hope you aren't suffering from nightma-Oh! You're awake!"

The brief exclamation from the startled nurse pieced you in that you weren't supposed to be awake. Or maybe, you haven't been awake for a long time?

Dry cracked lips wheeze out your small plea. "W-Water…" Coming back to himself, the nurse adhered to your request and brought the cup to your lips.

It was a cool relief to your aching throat and the first thing you asked him was.

"Who's Y/N?"

That cup of water and clinically clean blanket was the comfort you had during the next flurry of events.

That day, laying in a bed on the pediatric floor of a hospital, you learned that your parents were dead.

An accident that would have presumably traumatized you had little to no effect on your psyche. When the doctor asked you what happened you didn't have an answer.

You didn't have an answer for most of their questions either. After a series of fruitless questions the doctor and psychiatrist called in, settled on the diagnosis 'Retrograde Amnesia'.

Being stuck in a medically induced coma, you had to relearn how to walk along with other basic info. The photo of your parents, friends and house went ignored on your bedside. Why should you care about people and places you didn't remember? It's not like you were going to go back.

Most of the hospital staff gossiped in poorly concealed whispers as your nurse, Malcohm, walked with you around the floor. It was all the same thing.

"That child's poor parents, to not even be remembered by the one thing left behind."

It didn't bother you much but Malcohm always shooed them away with a scowl. He was kind to you, from helping you remember your name, to remembering what your parents' names were.

It's not like you didn't remember that you had a name or that you had parents. But all the memories you had of them were gone. All your past experiences were gone too.

The doctors were relieved to see that your memory loss was only applied to everything before the accident and not after it too. A date to be discharged was decided and a stoic man came to greet you.

There was no warmth or care in his voice as he introduced himself as Mr. Castio. Not a drop of sympathy as he explained that you would be attending your parent's funeral. That your relatives would be there too, to discuss who would be willing to take you in. All you could do was stare at the newly replaced daisies and nod silently.

If there was one thing you had relearned during your time at the hospital, it was that adults were to be obeyed. With a sad goodbye to Malcolm, you trailed behind Mr. Castio into the shiny black car.

You sat in the first row dressed in traditional and simple black clothing. Multiple people came up to you apologizing for your 'loss'. With a soft nod, you thanked them and they left satisfied. Mr. Castio had already advised you to not bother explaining the situation.

All your relatives spoke fondly of your parents until it came time to name anything they liked about your parents. The whole room went silent before little hesitant whispers floated around the room.

Seems you weren't the only one that couldn't remember.

The silence only got more unbearable once the topic of who you would be going with came up. Older adults volunteering younger family members while they vehemently denied the position.

It was only after one uncle asked what would happen to your parents inheritance that greedy stares bombarded you. Picking at the stray fabric of the cushion, you ignored them all.

Mr. Castio clarified that the money would be untouched until you turned eighteen. Immediately, everyone looked away. No one wanted to raise a seven year old to adulthood without any immediate compensation.

The funeral ended with your parents being incinerated. No one took the urns. It made you wonder why none of your grandparents showed up.

By the end of the day it was your aunt who agreed to foster you. Mr. Castio brought you to your parents house to collect your belongings.

The house was clean and in order but the slight dust showed that it hasn't had a visitor in a while. Entering your room, you noticed how plain it was. Not a single toy, drawing or other personal object in sight.

It unnerved you enough that you packed quick enough to not stay any longer. Curiosity poked at you to find out what kind of parents you had but you were more concerned on what your aunt is like.

She had a son and a husband you haven't met during the months you lived there. Her son was rude but never gave you any personal trouble. It was more common for him to throw a tantrum over one thing or another then bother you.

It wasn't an ideal life, but you weren't miserable. You ate three meals, had a bed and had supplies for school. Everything is fine, life is fine.

That thought was repeated as you sat in school with paper being thrown at the back of your head. The teacher ignored the behavior and your aunt repeatedly told you to not cause trouble. Even as you ate a different meal then your cousin and slept in the cramped closet-like room.

It was fine.

Until it wasn't.

A broken picture frame laid on the ground between you and your cousin, the ball he was playing with rolled to the opposite side of the room. When your aunt walked in, he cried and blamed you for it, saying that he told you not to play indoors.

This wasn't your fault and you said as much, but no matter what you said she just shook her head. You laid in bed with an empty stomach as your cousin’s words echoed in your ears.

"You shouldn't have tried to snitch on me."

School got worse with your cousin instigating more bullying against you. The house got tense as your cousin put all his energy into making you miserable. Day after day your aunt looked more and more stressed.

You still couldn't understand why he kept picking on you. There were no plans of revenge or fights, you relatively stayed neutral and passive. Life wasn't fine but you would have stayed like that until you overheard a conversation.

"-yeah, I'm only getting that much money for fostering Y/N. Shitty, right?"

Inelligle sounds came from the telephone in your Aunt's hand as she stored her jewelry.

"If only my son would stop taking it. He already fights so much with Y/N and I just punish Y/N because a parent should always take their child's side. That child should have just passed away with their parents if they wanted to cause trouble."

Silently, you left back to the closet with the makeshift bed. Staring at the ceiling, you slowly accepted the reality of your situation.

Her wishing you to be dead alongside your parents wasn't the issue. What mattered was that she didn't care about the truth. She knew it was your cousin who started every problem and punished you because you weren’t her kid.

That night, sleep didn't reach you as you spiraled into plans of vengeance.

There was no sadness or shock on your face when you eavesdropped on her phone call with Mr. Castio. You merely noted the date that Mr. Castio would pick you up from your Aunts. You always had a feeling she would give you up, it just took longer than expected.

She and your cousin left to go celebrate whatever made-up achievement he lied about. Leaving you, an eight year old, home alone to your devices. If you ignored the list of chores you had to clean for ‘provoking your cousin into hitting you’, of course.

The house was cleaned to perfection when your aunt returned. The door creaked as she peeked in to see you dusting off the bookshelf in the guest room. She left satisfied as you set a book back on the shelf, covering a broken lock.

That night she told you to pack everything as Mr. Castio would be coming the next day. You simply nodded and left the room as your cousin laughed. You smiled too when he began asking what would happen to the money as your Aunt shushed him furiously.

Breakfast was cold as usual the next day, the mocking jeers your cousin spouted rolled off you with no reaction. Rolling his eyes at your ‘tough act’, your cousin scoffed before opening his lips to spout whatever snarky remark he had. Until the door to your Aunt’s room slammed open. She stormed in and whispered-yelled to him while pulling his ear.

You didn't have to hear to know what was said. All you heard next was-

"I didn't take the money!"

She's too mad to shush him and yells back. "Then who did?!"

He stutters as he glances around the room. His eyes lock onto your stoic face with a frustrated expression.

"It was Y/N, they took it, they took the money!" He points at you as faux tears bubble up, his pathetic little sniffles only earn an annoyed sigh from his mother.

"What money?" You ask, tilting your head. Wide eyed, you stare at them both innocently, confusion emitting from your being all the while.

Mouth agape, your cousin looks back to his mother as she pinches the spot between her eyebrows. "You're grounded until I get back all the money I lost, or until you return it."

He tries to argue more but the ring of the doorbell interrupts the argument. Mr. Castio is let in and he merely motions you to follow him. Your aunt leaves the room with more wrinkles than she came in with.

With no goodbye, you grab your bag and walk to the door. Pausing you glance back at your cousin, a wide smirk is clear on your face. His eyes widen as realization sets in but there's nothing more that can be done as you close the door.

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

The sun breaks dawn as a quill scratches against rough paper. The ink is used in elegant strokes as Violetgrass is grounded and packaged. Yellow-slitted eyes read it over once more before folding it and writing the recipient on the exterior.

Pearly white scales glint with the ray of the sun as the snake is woken up gently. Sleepily, she loops around and climbs the outreach hand to hang around the owner's neck.

"It's merely daybreak, who could be needing medicine so dearly?"

"A fever could kill, you know that as well as I do, Changsheng." A smooth, melodic voice comes from the snake-eyed man as he stands from his desk and walks toward the cabinets. The letter is put into one cabinet and another is opened to obtain an opened vial of medication.

"Herbalist Gui stayed the night to take care of this particular patient so I'll give them the last of the medication so he can go home."

Glasses perched and viridian hair tied up, Baizhu walks into the back room and knocks softly. A tired looking Gui startles as a child sleeps on the bed. Her father is slumped on the bed as he sleeps soundly, his eye bags comparable to Gui's from his many nights spent worrying over his daughter.

"Go home Gui and have a proper rest. This should be the last medication she needs, her fever has lasted over the past few days but she's stable."

"Thank you Dr. Baizhu, I'll get going now. Let me just grab my belongings."

Gui stands from the small stool and ambles around the room quietly to not wake the patient. Baizhu stands at the bedside and pours the medication into an infuser.

A low fire begins to burn as the medication is properly prepared. Soon enough, Gui leaves the room as Baizhu brings the cup to the girl's lips for her to drink. It goes down smoothly and Baizhu turns to retrieve any supplements to aid her when-

"Dr. Baizhu, there's an emergency!"

Gui bangs the door open with a troubled look as the girl stirs and her father wakes up with a start. Baizhu smiles at the father as he takes long strides towards Gui.

Gui wouldn't react this strongly unless there's a real emergency. Baizhu has worked with him long enough to tell when something is out of Gui's expertise or life threatening.

"I'll need to step out for a while to deal with this. Please keep watching Yiran, I can assure you that she's past any dangerous stages Mr. Kuan."

Kuan nods his head sleepily and stays in his seat as Baizhu walks out the room. The door closes and Baizhu follows Gui as he asks "What's the situation?"

Gui speaks as fast as he can while walking toward the pharmacy entrance. "Qiqi was missing most of the night, which isn't abnormal, but she's at the front desk crying inconsolable while carrying a person on her back. They're bleeding out heavily and I saw multiple cuts, bruises and arrows in their body."

"I'm sorry to ask this from you but please prepare the treatment room. Once you do so, I can take care of them as Qiqi runs the front. If anything, I'll close the front until the patient is stable."

Gui nods before turning back as Baizhu steps into the threshold of the front. His eyes scan the room and quickly spot Qiqi and the patient she's holding.

Qiqi stands frozen in place as she grips you on her back. Tears roll down her cheeks without stopping, a stark contrast to her blank expression. Baizhu walks closer and kneels down to her level as his eyes dart over your unconscious body.

"Qiqi, I need you to follow me while carrying them. Can you do that?"

"Dr. Bai… Dr. Bai, they need herbs. Dr. Bai, Dr. Bai…"

Qiqi stares past him as if she doesn't register his words. Baizhu recognized the name 'Dr. Bai' easily as her name for him when she was still learning to remember.

Changsheng lifts her head as she hisses in a cooing way. "Qiqi, you want to save them, correct? We have the herbs but you need to bring this patient to the treatment room."

Baizhu reaches toward the zombie child and carefully wipes away her tears. “There’s no need to worry Qiqi, just do as Changsheng says. Remember I love you most.”

Qiqi nods but she doesn’t stop crying much to Baizhu’s surprise. Deciding to leave that for another time, he slowly walks to the treatment room passing by an exhausted Gui who sends a worried glance at you.

“Don’t worry about it Gui, injured patients aren’t the most frequent but I have plenty of experience caring for them. Just go home and rest.” With a sigh, Gui leaves as Qiqi stands next to the clean bed.

You’re quickly transferred to the bed and positioned to lay on your side for a proper inspection. “You should stay outside. Qiqi. I’ll let you see them when I’m done.” Not looking back, Baizhu changes his gloves before gingerly touching the bloody wounds. Bits and pieces of scrap can be felt inside the injuries under his fingers making him frown.

“There’s quite a range of injuries on them. Not counting the bruising and cuts, there are some deep stab wounds.” Changsheng comments from her perch as she stares down at the zombie.

“Their calves have been pierced too, it’s cold to the touch with elemental traces. Someone used a cryo vision on them. Their back isn’t straight and their breathing is harsh, I’m suspecting some broken bones. They must be identified soon so I can heal them.”

As he pulls his hands away, a small metal arrow tip falls out onto the floor. “That one has hydro elemental energy, different then the cryo one earlier. Two assailants means double the bleeding.”

“Baizhu! That can be dealt with afterwards, look at their head!” Changsheng’s sudden hiss pulls Baizhu’s attention to the area in question. The pillow your head is laying has begun to be stained red as a puddle forms. Blood dribbles out of your cracked lips as your breathing becomes strained.

Dendro glows at the tips of Baizhu’s fingertips as he carefully trails his fingers across the wounds. “Changsheng, they don’t have much time left. Their qi is perfectly balanced so I’ll only need to transfer some lifeforce. That head injury is the most pressing injury but I’ll spare some power to temporarily block the bleeding.”

The puncture wounds shine a soft green and the blood on your loose, shoddy bandages slow down. A pained gasp breaks free from your lips at the accident brush against your cracked spine.

Baizhu and Changsheng both peer down at your head, your matted hair knotting from the blood makes him grimace. “Their skull met with great impact but it’s not fatal.”

“Not yet, at least.”

“This mask needs to be removed for proper circulation and examination. More injuries may be hiding beneath it.” Baizhu speaks absentmindedly as he changes gloves and begins to reach toward the bloody mask on your face.

Your eyes snap open, making Baizhu freeze in surprise until you push him with enough force causing him to stumble. Changsheng hisses in retaliation as Baizhu steadies himself.

You stumble off the bed with a sway as blood rolls down your forehead. With glossy eyes and cracked lips you speak slowly. "Don't… touch it…"

Baizhu and Changsheng share a worried look at each other before focusing on you. Taking a step closer, Baizhu raises his empty hands in an act to calm you.

"Now, now, I'm just trying to help you. That mask is obstructing my care and can cause a serious problem."

"I… said… NO TOUCHING!" Your arm flails to the side, knocking over objects and causing a loud crash.

An animalistic yell rises out of your hoarse throat while your limbs swing around in agitation. Baizhu keeps a safe distance away as he watches you.

"This enraged fool will be the cause of their own death!" Changsheng yells over the sounds of vials and glasses crashing.

Baizhu doesn't respond as he stares at you, your every movement is carefully noted under watchful yellow eyes.

Your pupils blown wide, trembling body, and strange movements weren't lining up with a simple blood loss excuse.

A small hand tugs his pant leg as your rampage slows to an end. Baizhu looks down at the red rimmed pink eyes of the zombie child.

"What is it, Qiqi? Do you have something that can help them?"

Changsheng keeps a watchful eye on your exhausted body as your endless mumbles of refusal continue. Your bag in Qiqi's hands is handed over to Baizhu without a word.

"Is this theirs?" A single nod before she steps away to stare at you with a seemingly worried frown.

Baizhu opens the bag to find it completely empty. Not a single speck of dust or dirt can be seen in it unlike your dirty, ripped clothes. But before he closes it, he spots a tag on the inside of it.

'Property of Y/N L/N'

With that new information, he sets the bag down on a farther table and looks back to you. You stand trembling next to the bed as pieces of broken objects litter the ground. With slumped shoulders and eyes threatening to roll back, your voice cracks with every mumble.

"Don't take it off. Can't take it off.. Won't let you take it off…"

"Y/N? Is that your name?"

No reaction comes from you. He tries again. "Y/N, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"

Again nothing, not a twitch, not a flinch or even a slow in your mumbles. With a tired sigh Baizhu makes up his mind.

"Changsheng we have no other choice, I'll knock them out so be prepared to share my life force with them during the struggle."

"No."

Baizhu looks down at the snake in slight surprise, Changsheng speaks in a wary voice.

"For whatever reason, Teyvat is reaching out to me in warning. Don't take off the mask, keep it on and heal what you can."

Baizhu spares one more glance before sighing. "If that's really what you believe then we will do things your way. Perhaps Y/N's body is stuck in a fear response and may actually kill me."

Baizhu carefully steps past the shards and approaches you with a gentle smile. "Qiqi clean up the mess, lest our patient injure themselves on it. As for you Y/N, you can relax. I will not take off your mask, you are safe here."

Immediately your eyes roll back and you collapse to the ground. Baizhu was swift enough to catch you before any injury but your reaction was enough to cause him grief.

"Qiqi, as soon as you are done, manage the front for me. This will take a long while."

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

Change was something you grew used to during your childhood. You changed schools, caretakers, friends and homes long enough to know the process by heart.

Adapting was another thing you were good at. Shady houses with out of control classmates and unending fights meant that it was a dangerous place. That you had to stay low and be on edge constantly. Everything you owned had to fit in your locked bag or else you would find it missing the next morning.

It was a bit easier in the city where most were working class. Making friends would be too much trouble and fairly fruitless. You were content to stay invisible and deal with any problems outside of public view. Some students just didn't know how to describe you, some were too fearful of what they accidentally saw to say anything about you.

The most and least stressful was the rare times you ended up with a rich family. On one hand every student knew you as an orphan but at the same time, rich kids loved to feel like heroes. All you had to do was play the weak and kind student. Nearly every student flocked to be your guardian angel as you showered them with compliments.

You never lacked lies and stories to tell but you also never stayed in one spot for longer than a few months. Each time Mr. Castio got more and more fed up with you. From a stoic disappointment to a quiet rage filled with belittlement.

It was at 12 years old that you got fostered by your third wealthy family. They already had children, a daughter your age and a son who was barely three. You already knew that you would be their designated babysitter.

After a month of living there, you began to truly enjoy it. There was no mistreatment, obvious favoritism, a nice allowance, and even your own room. Even though you held no love for them, you followed your foster parents requests with no trouble.

Cleaning, babysitting, organization, yard work, sewing and more spontaneous jobs. Not only did they give you a bonus for the work, they also let you buy stuff with it when you asked.

You didn't need to be constantly catered to like their daughter, you were just happy to sleep without fear of getting robbed, an empty stomach or bruised skin.

After a while you began to realize just how much you depended on them. It worried you, you agonized endlessly about getting attached and abandoned. You worked harder at school, gave in to their request full of smiles and got along with their children swimmingly.

The longer you stayed and obeyed, the larger the possibility of them adopting you or at least fostering you till adulthood became.

But, you really should have known better. You’ve gone through it so many times, yet it seemed you still didn’t learn your lesson on who you can trust. The only person who truly had your back was always going to be yourself.

A normal day, a nice lunch and a polite request to do the dishes, something you were happy to oblige in. The sponge absorbed the soap and water letting you wash the dishes with ease. The chore is second nature to you.

Their daughter was out of the house, probably hanging out at a friend's house. Their son was with them in the dining room as their chatter reached your ears clearly.

“I’m so glad we got lucky to foster such a kind child.”

“As am I. They work hard, get along well with everyone, and help us around the house without complaint.”

Their praise was something you were still struggling to get used to. But it made you happy nonetheless. You couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that it was an exaggeration or a lie no matter how many times you chided yourself.

“That’s true, I never expected a kid with that upbringing could be so smart.”

“What child wouldn’t do well with us taking care of them? They struggled a bit at first but they seem to realize what a good deed we did with fostering one of their kind.”

The water running down your fingers felt colder, almost like ice was traveling through your veins. Was that really what they said? Did you hear them correctly? You held onto some semblance of hope that they weren’t speaking about you like that. But the longer you listened, the smaller your hopes shrunk as your doubts grew.

They spoke about you as if you were a pet. Due to what? Being an orphan? The class difference? Your race? Your gender? Or was it just you? All their past compliments and words that seemed innocent are thrust into a new light. One full of demeaning words hiding as kindness.

The dishes in your hands become like dynamite. Just one drop and it’ll set off a whole chain of events where you can tell them off. To scream insults and obscenities from feeling tricked. Yell at them exactly how you feel, how angry it made you to be spoken as if less than human. As if less than them.

Instead, you set the clean dish onto the drying rack. A deep breath is taken and then two more. Impartial rationality is focused on as your wounded heart is shoved away.

You have a good home, you aren’t being abused. Taken advantage of? Yes, but you get paid for it. This isn’t a family, it’s a job. It’s the best foster family you’ve had by far. They were wealthy and if you played your cards right, you could graduate from this upper class school and get a good job.

It’s a good deal. It’s the best deal someone like you will ever get. You should be grateful, you don’t need their affection, love or attention. You just need to survive long enough to support yourself. You shouldn’t ruin a good thing.

Those words play on repeat as the last dish is set on the drying rack. The sink is turned off before you grip the counter tightly. Water is drained down the sink as you tell yourself that you’re just angry. Your blurry vision is just from anger, you remind yourself over and over again.

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

A strong stench of iron permeated the room as skilled hands continued to work on your body. Blood splatters stained Baizhu’s clothes, sweat on his temple as he carefully traced the wounds with Dendro glowing on the tips of his fingers. Life force was continuously given to you as Changsheng stabilized Baizhu’s weakening body.

With the most pressing injuries taken care of, Baizhu examined your bloodstained back. The broken and fractured bones there were the next in line to be treated. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the bedside, he raised them to the midline of your clothes.

“The blood is keeping the clothes stuck to their body. We don’t have time to pull the clothes off carefully.” The small mumbles left Baizhu as he concentrated on not accidentally nicking your skin.

Once done, he set the scissors aside and pulled the remains of your clothes off. A clean wet cloth is gently used to clean the blood off as your skin becomes visible. Simultaneous gasps leave the contracted pair as the cloth is dropped.

“Those scars! Baizhu, this isn’t a mere coincidence anymore. This person is much too similar to The Creator. Those scars are exactly as described in the scriptures.” Changsheng’s frantic hissing doesn’t reach Baizhu as he stares sternly at the marks in question.

His lips part hesitantly as his eyes never leave your body. “We should leave it be….”

“And what reason may that be?” Baizhu reaches an ungloved hand to thumb the old and faded scars as chills run down his spine.

“While it may be true that they are suspiciously similar to the Creator, there is more to this situation. The most widespread theory on why their blood is gold is that their blood is supplied with pure elemental energy and oxygen unlike everyone else that simply wields elemental energy. Even inhuman beings don’t have elemental energy coursing through their veins.”

Baizhu focuses his attention back on your bones as Dendro is summoned by his vision again. Changsheng rests herself with a tense posture as she waits for Baizhu to continue.

“Y/N is bleeding red and naturally absorbs my Dendro seamlessly. Furthermore, the scars on them have a strange aura on them.” Changsheng gives a look to Baizhu silently conveying her theory.

He shakes his head in response and clarifies. “It’s not god remains, but it’s similar. If god remains are like a natural poison and plague on a body, then this aura is the cure. The best way to describe this is that they are god cores. I believe it’s connected to the reason their qi is perfectly balanced despite the situation.”

Changsheng settles down at Baizhu's words as she watches him continue to care for you. Your breathing hitches as your bones are healed and snapped back into place. A low wail is all that can leave your throat.

“So Y/N is something in the middle? Will you really care for them even if it means taking care of a potential imposter?”

A heavy silence follows the question as Baizhu’s natural smile softens. The medical supplies that were used during all these hours litter the room in a mess. His gold eyes stare down at your pale, trembling body.

“Yes, I will. They are still a patient that was brought to me. If they truly are an imposter then the Millelith can deal with them after they’ve healed properly here.”

Baizhu cleans his hands and changes gloves once again as he examines the remaining wounds on your body. Smiling down at Changsheng, he speaks smoothly “Shall we begin the final stage of their treatment?”

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

Middle school reaches its end and the summer before high school came. You had passed with a high grade from your many long nights spent awake. Long days spent babysitting their son while upkeeping the chores while their daughter played leisurely.

You felt proud of yourself to pass with those grades while dealing with them. As the months went by, your foster parents felt less and less of the need to treat you the same as their children. At the end of the day, they still paid you so everything was fine.

Summer was reaching its end and you were creating a list of items you would need for the new school. Halfway through, a soft knock on your door broke your focus. Your foster parents stepped in and asked you to join them in the living room.

Swallowing down your nerves, you nodded and followed them. Were they planning on giving you up? So close to the new school year?

The moment you sat down, they dropped the metaphorical bomb. "We want you to stay back this year and go to high school next year instead."

That wasn't so bad right? You just need to wait another year to start high school. It's not like you could be thrown out at 18 with no high school diploma, left to fend for yourself after giving up a year of school for them.

It's safe to say that you reacted badly to the news. Every 'Why?' was given a half hearted answer that changed constantly, and when you put your foot down and said no, something about them shifted, as if a curtain had been lifted or a coin had been flipped.

The once kind and gentle gleam in their eyes dulled into something akin to annoyance. As if you were doused with cold water, the atmosphere became tense and you just knew that you messed up. You, who had been so careful to stay on good terms and always abide by their request, was looked upon with coldness.

“A child like you should not be giving us this disrespectful attitude.”

“We’ve clothed you, fed you, provided everything in that room. And it’s now with this single request that you’re rejecting us this harshly?”

The lecture goes on and on. Told how grateful, how sorry, how happy you should be. Cruelty laced every word has their arrogant figures towered over you. There was no chance for you to speak up, the helplessness you felt only pushed you down further.

At the end you were sent to your room with the date of your ‘fostering’ decided. The suitcase you took out and began to neatly fill felt foreign. You truly believed that you would be staying here until your 18th birthday. With the room bare and your eyes puffy, you tried to sleep.

Thoughts of what you should have done came to you in waves. You should have just accepted it. Even if only as a facade and found some way to prevent them from alerting the school in time. You wouldn’t have lost anything, if only you weren’t so stupid.

Tears spring up and it’s wiped away harshly as more replace it. Bitten lips begin to bleed as you hold back any embarrassing sobs that crawl up your throat. It’s only as footsteps are heard outside your room that you freeze.

Eyes wide you listen to the conversation as the sadness turns to bitterness. The bitterness wraps around your heart and squeezes as you learn the truth behind the matter. Their precious daughter had failed her grade and they just couldn’t let their child be upstaged.

Teeth grinding, you sit up from your bed and begin to dig through the stash of objects you’ve found throughout your time in this household. A plan forms in your mind that all depends on what opportunity is given to you.

Your ex-foster parents announced a dinner to be held at a fancy restaurant and dropped the responsibility of watching over their son on you. Their daughter cheers happily at the sound of her favorite restaurant being chosen as you go to your room. Curled up in the bed, you try to ignore the stabbing pain in your heart.

The door slowly opens as the house goes quiet, their son toddlers to your bed with wide worried eyes. Chubby fingers pat your cheek softly “Are you okay? You sad?” The broken sentences are cute as he stares at you sadly.

Sitting up, you pet his head and smile at him. Your eyes are a strange swirl of emotions as you reassure him of your well being. The next sentence is a familiar one, just with different intentions than all the times you’ve asked before.

“Do you wanna play a game of hide and seek?” The smile on his face is so bright that you almost feel bad for your actions.

Mr. Castio picks you up the next day, your ex-foster family waves goodbye to you as you enter the car. Their son cries and begs his parents to stop you as they soothe him calmly. Their daughter is the first to leave as you close the car door.

“How could you fuck up such a good deal?” The harsh words are spoken easily now that privacy is ensured. Wrinkles are as clear as his scowl as he drives away and out of the neighborhood.

“I got you to be fostered in a family like this, and you couldn’t just go along with what they asked? I never had much expectations for you, but did the amnesia take away your brain too? Actually, you were probably born this way.”

Curling your knees into your chest, you try to ignore his demeaning words. Round two of being treated like a worthless child began as you endured the long car ride. The more he spoke, the more you shook.

“-really. Making my life harder than it has to be. All because you couldn’t shut your damn trap. Is your useless pride worth more then-”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up instead?!” That was all it took for the loud argument between you both to begin. You had already tried to play nice with one set of arrogant adults, why should you deal with another?

A pained smirk crawled onto your face as you cursed Mr. Castio out who didn’t hesitate to dish it back. Whether it was being nice and submissive or being rude and blunt, both had the same outcomes.

You sincerely hoped that your ex-foster family would enjoy the gifts you left for them to find.

The drugs you had placed in the nightstand for the strict and uptight breadwinner to find. The photographs of the breadwinners affair you printed and left for the house spouse to find in the cupboard. And finally the positive pregnancy test you set in the liquor cabinet that they never failed to open at dinner time.

By all means, their ‘perfect’ family should fall apart, it was just a shame you couldn’t see the fall out yourself… It didn’t stop the unease and slight guilt you felt for their son who had truly done nothing to you. It’s not like your actions would have too much of an effect on him right? You, you weren’t wrong.

Right?

At the lack of insults, Mr. Castio stopped his verbal abuse. Deep in thought, you stared out the window as the scenery passed by. Where you would go next was not known but it was all right. You would find a way to survive, you always did.

You had to.

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

Calloused hands smoothened the blanket on your semi-healed body as Baizhu ignored the exhaustion setting in. The sun was high in the sky as the afternoon lull began to set in. Qiqi opened the door slowly as she peeked in, her eyes trained on your bandaged form.

“Dr. Baizhu, is it done?” Her hesitant voice was answered with a smooth smile and a calm voice. “It is, but Y/N needs their rest. You’ve been tense since you brought them in at dawn, that’s not good for you. Go to the courtyard and practice your arithmetics.”

Qiqi gives a small nod before walking away. With a sigh, Baizhu cleans up the remaining mess from the long treatment. “You’re exhausted, Baizhu. Stop acting tough and get some rest.”

Changsheng’s snotty but caring tone is clear to Baizhu as he walks out of the treatment room. “I’ll instruct Qiqi to gather some more herbs once she’s done. Before I can rest, I’ll need to check up on the counter. Gui should have arrived an hour ago.”

Opening the door, Baizhu is greeted with the sight of Gui giving a farewell to the last customer. At the sight of the doctor, Gui perks up in interest. “How is that patient? Did they make it?”

“Thankfully they did, but they’ll need to stay here a few days for the more severe injuries. I believe their name is Y/N, so address them by that name until we can ask them ourselves..”

Gui nods in response as Baizhu looks through what herbs they still had to use. Different prescriptions come to mind as he filters what information he knows of Y/N. What could trigger an allergic reaction, what medicine could have been consumed beforehand? What prescription is affordable without having too many side effects?

Those thoughts consumed his mind as Qiqi returned and he mindlessly instructed her on what herbs to gather according to the prescription of his choosing. Gui leaves deeper into the pharmacy as Baizhu finishes and stores the medical file safely.

Did you have any means to pay the treatment or follow up prescriptions? Any family to contact for visiting and support? You wouldn’t be the first patient to have no one to rely on but Baizhu still couldn’t shake off the feeling of something more going on with you.

It was quite perplexing that he, who took great care to focus on being the best physician and on his own contract, was so drawn in by you. With a tired sigh, Baizhu pushed up his glasses as Changsheng raised her head to look behind him.

A knock on the doorframe only urged him to turn around and look at the unexpected visitor. With weary and suspicious eyes Baizhu stared straight ahead, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Lips curled into an ambiguous smile and with a polished voice, the visitor replies. “I hope so, do you happen to have a patient wearing a mask?”

This chapter was fun to write, what writer doesn't like giving a trunk ton of trauma on their protagonist? I get 18 years to configure to my liking, what did anyone expect? But as always you don't need to consider this your Y/N's backstory. In truth I won't have you think back to these memories much as you have moved on from that past. You have for a long time. This is just the 'canonical' explanation as quite a few of you seemed to like my version of Y/N. Which makes me very happy! My editor approved of this idea, and edited it quickly enough for me to pump it out. I deal with the heavy work and don't need to do the annoying work! Also feel free to ask if anything was confusing. One last thing, after I got rid of the spam/porn bots I saw that I reached 1k followers! That's pretty amazing but I'm not sure if a special should be done or not. And if so, what should I do?

Taglist: Check Masterlist for more details but everyone is welcome to join it!

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus

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flowerandblood · 29 days

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (19)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, manipulation, angst ]

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

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

Characters & Series Moodboard

Lady Strong Moodboard

Lady Strong & Aemond Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She didn't have a clue what made her feel an unpleasant constriction in her stomach when she saw the Iron Throne out of the corner of her eye. She stopped, looking at it, standing in the half-light in the distance of the great throne room, illuminated only by the light of the torches.

She thought with pain and bitterness that everything that had happened, everything they had had to sacrifice and fight for, was only because of someone being able to sit on it and declare themselves the only legitimate ruler.

Greed flowed through the veins of Targaryens as much as fire and blood, she thought with dismay.

Sunk in her thoughts, she headed for the throne room, thinking in the back of her mind that even if her father and mother agreed to come to an agreement to build a truce on the foundation of their marriage, if she did not bear her uncle a son, her husband's faction would surely begin plotting against her mother despite the agreement.

Even if her husband remained faithful to her, she could never fully trust him, be sure that he was on her side.

The perpetual thought of betrayal was destroying her from the inside.

She knew that in a matter of days her moon bleeding should begin and she knew what it would mean.

Disappointment and danger.

This was why, every morning for the last few days, before she had even had time to truly wake up, she had sunk her hand between her thighs, feeling her insides clench with fear and terror as she sensed the moisture under her fingers, which then turned out to her relief to be only her wetness mingled with her husband's spend.

It made her draw in a loud breath and smile, for a moment believing that maybe a miracle would happen.

That the gods by making his seed take root in her womb would also indicate to the kingdom that what they wanted to do met with their approval.

Later in the day, however, all it took was for her to feel a discomfort in her lower abdomen, a slight sting or pain, a wetness between her thighs and a cold sweat would fall over her again. She would then lose her appetite and although she ate her morning meal in the presence of her husband, she would later lie that she had eaten a second meal during his training and duties.

She was unable to swallow anything out of fear.

She had the feeling that later when he took her, already as her legitimate husband, something inside her broke, all her terror, her doubts and despair spilled out of her like a rushing river.

She was afraid of his reaction, afraid of his certainty that it was impossible for them not to have succeeded in begetting an heir even though her whole body screamed that it could have been different, that it could be months or years before it happened, and they did not have that much time.

His words, however, took her completely by surprise.

You need to calm down.

Come to terms as I do with whatever the will of the heavens decides.

She didn't know why she suddenly felt burning tears under her eyelids, why her lower lip began to tremble, why her throat squeezed so tightly at the wonderful thought that he understood that no matter how much she begged the gods for their mercy, she had no control over what would happen.

He let her know that whatever would come to pass, he would not blame her.

That he would consider it the will of the gods and not her failure.

She made love to him for the second time that night in his chamber, the embrace of his strong arms tighter than usual, the touch of his hands more tender, his lips finding hers again and again in sticky, greedy kisses as the deep thrusts of his hips forced his swollen manhood into her.

Even though she was a prisoner, she felt free, even though her enemy was taking her, she felt safe, even though some part of her thought it a betrayal, she loved him deeper than ever before.

Her lover.

Her husband.

Her friend.

She hadn't understood when she was still a child how important was the bond they had created then, the long hours they spent at night in conversation, in discussions, sometimes even arguments, after which, however, they always found each other again, realizing that they didn't have to agree on all issues.

She realised, lying with her face cuddled into his naked chest, holding her hand over his lazily beating heart, enveloped tightly in his arms with her legs entwined with his, that although at the time, in the context of their future marriage, what they were doing seemed unimportant, it appeared that it was in fact the foundation of everything that had happened between them many years later.

Had it not been for the trust and affection they had for each other then, they would not have been able to find their way in this reality that faced them now.

"I am truly fond of you, uncle." She said softly, sitting in one of the chairs in his chamber facing him, similarly engrossed in her reading, swinging her legs that did not reach the ground. She realised, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, that she had never told him this and she was not sure he had ever heard such words from anyone.

He lifted his gaze to her and furrowed his eyebrows, as if for a moment he did not understand what she had said; his face expressed consternation and embarrassment, as if he was unsure whether he should respond as a man to such a confession.

However, he apparently decided after a moment that since it was not an overwhelming confession of girlish deep love, but a simple expression of affection, he could also express his opinion on the matter.

"Well…I'm fond of you too." He replied cautiously and grunted, turning back to his book, pretending to concentrate on his reading with all his might – she could see the vein in his neck pulsing rapidly, betraying his excitement.

"What do you appreciate most about me? I, for one, value in you that you know so many things and always listen to me attentively. When I don't know something, you don't mock me but explain everything to me. I like it when you teach me and when you look at my embroidery, when you choose the ones you find most beautiful. I am very grateful then." She said quickly on one exhale, swallowing loudly, overjoyed that he had responded to her words, wanting to take advantage of this and convey to him as much as possible at once, which of course overwhelmed him as he did not look at her for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line.

It seemed to her that he was trying to hold back a smile, but she didn't know why.

He did a lot of things she didn't understand and refrained from emotional statements or gestures, however, it didn't bother her.

That was just the way he was.

She heard him swallow hard, gathering up the courage to reply something, pretending to look at what he was reading, although she was sure his mind was just analysing everything she had told him carefully.

"Well. I must admit that I also appreciate in you that you never mock me and listen attentively to what I have to say. I am fond of your presence, simply put." He muttered, clearly feeling that he was drowning more and more with every word he spoke, settling back in his chair a little, lifting his book higher, not wanting her to look at his face any longer.

She smiled contentedly then, happy, and went back to her reading without disturbing him any further.

She remembered that day exactly, for when she had escaped to him as she did every night, hiding under his bedclothes, she had fallen asleep almost immediately, tired after her long day full of duties. He waited apparently for her to fall asleep, hoping she wouldn't feel it as his hand touched her cheek, as his lips pressed against hers in a warm, soft, tender kiss.

She didn't move or open her eyes, feeling the heat in her lower abdomen, her heart began to pound like mad with delight, for he had never kissed her first before, never kissed her like this before.

She thought of that night and that day as she watched him standing on the other side of the chamber in the morning, his servant helping him dress his black, leather tunic while her maid tied the bodice of her gown.

Their gazes met for a moment and she saw him sigh heavily, unhappy at the thought of what awaited them.

Borros Baratheon.

The Lord of Storm's End appeared in King's Landing at midday, accompanied by his son and his daughter, who it was agreed was to marry her husband. The King called a gathering in the throne room, at which she and her uncle were also to be present, to try to face the consequences of their somewhat joint decision together.

She and her husband stepped into a great hall with tall windows with seven-pointed stars through a side entrance. She swallowed loudly when she caught sight of the silhouette of a postured man, his beard, hair and thick black eyebrows furrowed in disapproval and rage at the sight of her, his lips clenched as much as his fists. Her gaze fled to the right, to the girl standing next to him.

Maris Baratheon lifted her chin higher at the sight of her, struggling to hide the expression of frustration and disappointment in her eyes, clearly hoping that the woman who had stolen her prince would be an ordinary and bland girl, standing in the shadow of her dragon husband.

She, however, had specifically ordered her servants to leave her hair loose, for although when she was a child its colour had driven her to despair, now she saw it as her advantage – her dark and shiny curls fall in gentle waves down her exposed back, accentuating her fair skin and bare shoulders.

Her gown was modest, black and matte, with floral ornaments embroidered in gold threads on her chest, her sleeves reaching all the way down to the ground.

Anyone looking at them from afar could have the impression that her choice of attire was no accident, even more so standing next to her husband clad in a black leather tunic.

They looked alike.

Their evidence of unity and intimacy, a wordless expression of their bond.

She wondered if she could see from a distance the previously red and now slightly purple bruise on her neck, a reminder of her husband's greedy lips, and if she was aware of what it meant.

She pressed her lips together at the thought, trying not to smile and provoke her.

Although she couldn't call her ugly or rejecting, there was something harsh in her facial expression and posture – her elaborate hairstyle with her hair slicked back was perhaps fashionable, but it didn't suit her beauty or her face shape. Her gown, though rich, did not emphasise her assets, whatever they might be.

She thought she wanted to look haughty, to show her that while she was a lady of a respectable house, she was a mere bastard, even if the child of a princess.

Everyone turned their gazes towards the main gates when one of the guards announced the King himself; her uncle stepped into the throne room confidently without bestowing even a single glance on Borros Baratheon, Aegon the Conqueror's crown shone on his head in the glare of light trickling through the stained glass filled windows.

She felt her heart pound like mad as her uncle took his place on the throne, her mother's throne, and she clenched her eyelids, reminding herself that he had extended a hand of truce and that if she wanted the matter of succession to end bloodlessly, she had to control herself and give him respect.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her husband and swallowed loudly, seeing that he stood upright like a stone, all tense, his hands clasped behind his back, his silhouette expressing the same passive aggression she had felt from him when she appeared in the Red Keep after many years.

He was prepared for battle.

He was prepared to kill.

"My Lords. We are gathered here today to address a sensitive matter. Lord Borros Baratheon and his house have suffered an insult and have come to demand justice. My Lord." Aegon nodded, extending his hand, with this gesture showing him that he was allowing him to speak.

Lord Baratheon walked closer to the throne, followed by his heir and his daughter, her gaze full of poison and rage still fixed on her.

She did not look away.

She had no intention of giving her satisfaction.

"I have come to demand that the honourable Prince Aemond keep his mother's word and marry my daughter, Maris, according to his choice. I witnessed his arrival and that he confirmed in my presence my arrangements with the crown. Yet word has reached me that the Prince has secretly married another woman in a barbaric ceremony." Borros growled, his voice tubular and hoarse, full of strength and determination. She swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in her stomach, a shiver of discomfort ran down her spine at his words.

She glanced at her husband feeling him move beside her restlessly, enraged, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He tried to remain silent and not explode.

Aegon nodded at his words with understanding.

"I understand your bitterness, my Lord. Indeed, our mother forced my brother to comply with her will. However, in my presence and that of our entire family, our father, and your King to whom you vowed, during the supper before his death, announced his will to us.

He conveyed to us that he was keeping the betrothal between my brother and my niece in force, foreseeing the division that would occur in the kingdom once he left this world. After his death, my mother imprisoned my niece and ordered my brother to fly to Storm's End.

Therefore, as you understand, my Lord, the case substituted in this light clearly proves that his decision could not have been in force, for as far as I am aware, it is the King's decision, not the Queen's, which is the final one." Said Aegon with a lightness that shocked both her and her husband.

She could not believe how good a speechmaker he was, with what ease he played with facts and half-truths, creating a image in which, indeed, his brother was in a no-win situation and their nuptials were an act of honour and a fulfilment of their late father's will.

Lord Baratheon drew in a loud breath, furious, his face all red with emotion.

"Are we to accept this insult in silence, then? They did not marry in the presence of witnesses, they did not marry in the Sept, so their marriage is invalid. I demand justice for myself and my daughter." He hissed, Aegon raised his hand, ordering him to be silent.

"I understand the source of your anger, my Lord. However, you have a right not to know that last night my brother married my niece in the presence of myself and my wife before the Septon, who prepared the appropriate act, and their marriage is valid in the eyes of the realm.

I recognise, however, the injustice that has befallen you and my brother has decided to donate part of his annual income as a dowry for your daughter. In addition, you or your son, that I leave to you, will be granted a seat on the Small Council in place of my grandfather, whose decisions led to this…misfortune."

He said softly; Borros pressed his lips together at his words, looking at Aegon with piercing eyes, clearly not knowing himself what he thought of what he had heard.

He hesitated.

After a moment, however, a woman's voice echoed in the throne room.

"It is impossible, my King. No one will marry a woman who has already been touched by another man. The Prince has taken my maidenhood."

All gathered began to speak loudly, shocked by her words – she felt her heart leap into her throat, her stomach squeezed so tightly that she had trouble catching her breath.

She and Aegon looked at her uncle at the same moment, her husband standing as if stunned, his healthy eye wide open, his mouth parted in disbelief. After a moment, however, his shock was replaced by an expression of anger and fury, he took a step forward like a lion about to lash out at its prey.

"Lie." He growled, the voices of conversation and disbelief all around them even louder, the King twisted in his throne, completely not expecting this turn of events.

"How can we be sure that it was my brother who deprived you of your…virtue, my Lady?" He asked quickly, wanting to turn her confession against her, in case it appeared that her uncle was guilty, to accuse her of being able to be taken by any other man.

She lowered her gaze, breathing loudly through her mouth, feeling the cold sweat run down the back of her neck, her hands clenched on her womb quivering as much as her body.

No, he would never have done something like this.

He wouldn't deprive a woman of her maidenhood knowing he wouldn't marry her.

Was she sure of that?

Maybe he took her as his wife that night because he felt remorse after betraying her?

She felt tears of despair welling up under her eyelids at that thought, feeling that for a moment she was in the throne room with only her body, no longer seeing the proud look of Maris who grinned seeing the expression on her face.

"I ran after the Prince once he wanted to leave. He took me in one of the corridors of our fortress against my will." She said without a shadow of embarrassment, as if dragging him down behind her was more important to her than her own honour.

She wanted to become his wife, the Prince's wife at any cost.

"Maris, good gods…" Mumbled her father, looking at her in disbelief, all red with shame at her confession, shocked as the others by what had left her mouth, knowing full well that she was not telling the truth.

"Disgusting lies. I followed my nephew out the stronghold and returned to the Red Keep to fulfil my duty to my father that same night. It was not your maidenhood I took then, shameless woman." He growled, and she felt heat in her heart and a burst of pride at his words.

Even though he had used lie against lie − after all, she was no longer a maiden then − the way Lord Baratheon's daughter swallowed her saliva, the way her body shivered under the weight of his words made her lift her chin, looking at her with superiority.

Insolent whore.

Aegon raised his hands in the air, clearly amused by the situation, ordering everyone to remain silent.

"As I see it, opinions are divided on what happened. Lord Baratheon is a party. Is there anyone else who could confirm your version of events, my Lady?" He asked lightly; the girl looked at him breathing heavily, her hands clenched on her lower abdomen. Aegon looked to the side, directing his gaze to his brother.

"And you, brother, can anyone confirm your words?"

"My nephew." He answered without hesitation.

She swallowed hard, reminding herself that he had, after all, allowed her to meet her brother, and the king wasn't aware of it.

That he could be accused of treason, lose Aegon's support.

"We exchanged a few unpleasant sentences before I returned to King's Landing. Only a brief moment passed between the time he left and our conversation. Certainly not enough for even the most desperate man to possess a woman."

"Who will believe the words of a traitor? Was it not he who took away your eye, my Prince? Did he take something else from you along with it?" She asked mockingly, her father looked at her in horror, his lips forming a silent, warning 'enough'.

She heard her husband draw in his breath loudly, his knuckles clicking in his fingers as he squeezed them as hard as if he wanted to break them himself.

"You were there, my Lord. You know that she did not run after me, and even if she had, she would have gained nothing. I chose her because she was most different from my wife. Lest she might ever think that I could lust after your daughter." He replied with a cold, deep hiss that echoed through the throne room.

She felt a wave of delightful satisfaction run down her body, and though she knew her husband's cruel words might have cost them everything, the look of disbelief on Maris' face was more than worth it.

Did she really believe that he had chosen her because she was the most beautiful of her sisters?

That he could ever desire her when she, his childhood friend, his confidante and lover was by his side?

"I do not know what I saw." Borros replied, however, without his previous confidence, not looking at him or the King, apparently trying with his last strength to protect his and his daughter's honour. Her husband snorted at these words.

"Pathetic." He sneered quietly, not daring to say it out loud; it seemed to her that his whole figure was trembling.

He was furious.

"If I were your daughter, I would be wary of such far-fetched accusations without any evidence or witnesses, my Lord. Some might call it as treason." Aegon replied, spreading out comfortably on his throne.

She couldn't believe some part of her admired him for how he was playing with the situation while still keeping what was happening under control.

Lord of Storm's End did not respond to his words.

Aegon's words were the nail in the coffin of whatever plan Lord Baratheon's daughter had in her head, and after her humiliating outburst, Borros agreed to the terms set by the king himself and the amount of her dowry, which her uncle-husband would pay out of his purse.

She watched with satisfaction and an involuntary smile on her lips as Lord Baratheon and his daughter were forced to sign the terms of the agreement imposed on them by her uncle.

Borros left the throne room like a storm, furious, without even bowing to Aegon, to which he only responded with an amused expression on his face.

Maris didn't dare look at her anymore, her face pale, from a distance she could see how red her eyes were from tears.

She wished to be a princess in a beautiful castle.

She could be his Rhaenys, but she had no intention of allowing any Visenya into their lives.

Even if it was one night in ten, she couldn't bear the thought of having to share him.

Fortunately, her husband was as possessive as she was.

The smile disappeared from her face as she felt an unpleasant, familiar stinging sensation inside her lower abdomen.

She clamped her hand over her womb as something warm and sticky ran down her thigh, a whine of despair and pain stuck in her throat as she pressed her lips together.

She took a step backwards, revealing the stone floor under her feet, and noticed a few drops of crimson liquid on it.

She was bleeding.

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littlemorsel56 · 3 months

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Spoilers for Poppy Playtime CH3

Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 (Updated)

Here are some of my theories.

We're playing as Richie. He cares about these kids, complaining about the environment of the work, he's a loving man with a good heart, and DogDay called him an angel. Could have been the only person who knows more about Playtime Co. but never about what is actually happening to those kids in Playcare or the fact they were tested. Huggy Wuggy, Mommy Long Legs, they all saw him in the background, but they never knew he was a kind man who cared about kids, only in they're view, they see him as the rest of the Playtime Co. employees who experiment on them. Miss Delight remembers him. Remember him working here and asking how is he alive. Make sense because no one else is alive in the Playtime Co. She even wanted him to leave before CatNap finds him for his own safety. Richie cares about his co-workers, his friends, and the kids, never his job. Not like the other humans. He's not like everybody. In Bijuu Mike's playthrough (I usually just watch randomly if someone finds any secrets or hidden messages in the game), he had one of the audio reversed through the edit. "Why weren't you here. You missed the event. You missed the meeting. You miss the party. You have no right to be here." Honestly, clever idea during the terrifying environment to put that secret message there. It happened, on 8/8/95, August, on a Tuesday, 11:01 Am in the morning, there was a meeting that morning before the Hour of Joy suddenly happened and Rich missed that event. Every employee was possibly there and except one survivor and that's the character we're playing. Rich possibly witnessed something before that day. He discovers the truth and instead of reporting it to the authorities or helping the kids, he stays home, not telling anyone as the guilt haunts him. He didn't know if what he saw was real or not, and probably even quit afterward that day when he found the truth, he stayed silent for 10 years, until the note told him they were still alive, only for it to be a lie. In Project Playtime, Leith Pierre (I'm putting my bet he's the real antagonist of the story who started all of this), sent survivors, or the Resource Extraction Specialists, to make more toys, knowing they were going to die when they stepped foot into that place. He's possibly even alive in that place or escaped there when it happened, continuing the project that has killed everyone, 1006, the Prototype killed everyone, and he's watching through the cameras, studying it from a safe distance. Remember the tap of the audio during the first chapter at the end of the game. "One breakthrough and I'll be back. We must forge onward in the name of science, whether those who are beneath us understand it or not."

Rich is one of those who are lower-end employees and saw something he shouldn't have seen. Rich was about to become a higher-up of the Playtime Co, a replacement that Stu offered him. Rich took it, he saw the truth, ran away, and stayed quiet.

Update Forgot about another person who could be behind this besides Leith Pierre, that would be Harley Sawyer, the doctor. Wants mascots to come alive, Playtime Co is low on money, is also a high-up employee, and could be the actual creator and the mastermind of the Prototype, Not Leith Pierre and the one who escaped (Got ahead of myself with the theories and I'm loving it. I also have several other theories about Elliot Ludwig and will probably post it later on.)

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #playtime co ex employee #project playtime

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wood-white-writer · 6 months

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"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [6/...]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“On sunny days I go out walking, I end up on a tree-lined street. I look up at the gaps of sunlight. I miss you more than anything."

— Mitski, "Francis Forever"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. The crew arrives at the Baratie, and several things go down in a matter of hours. Decisions are made, both stupid and not so stupid. Old and new faces come back into your life, and unable to deal with the events in Orange Town, you handle it in the worst best way possible: through the bottle.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, alcoholic indulgence on a catastrophic scale (drink responsibly ppl), blackouts, morally grey reader, violence, mentions of everyone (marine, fish people, pirates, etc.) having a past beef with Reader/"Cross-Hairs", Buggy POV in the end,

A/N: So, since this chapter was delayed, I think it compensates due to the fact that it is approximately 7k words long. The chapter jumps a little between the events of the Baratie, but there's a reason for that: the reason being that the Reader is shitfaced for most of the time during this chapter. Also, shout out to @ay0nha for putting up with my rambles during this period, really appreciate it XD

It hurts. Everything hurts. That’s the first thing he feels.

His feet, his back, his torso, but especially his head. It’s like a hamster is running on a wheel inside the bones in his skull, squeaking, chirping, driving him insane from the inside.

The wheel is pounding, and pounding until all he wants is to chuck that fucking hamster into–

“Hey, he’s waking up!”

Shanks? Why is he in his head? Fuck, he takes it back. The hamster can stay, rent-free, for as long as it fucking wants to, as long as it isn’t fucking Shanks—

“Buggy?”

On second thoughts, that voice doesn’t strike any sense of irritation with him. In fact, he finds it comforting, like the morning sun shining atop the ship deck. He doesn’t mind listening to that.

“Buggy?”

His eyes open, and he thinks he's seeing the sun for the first time. The sun and the moon, in fact, at the same time. Golden, blinding, warm, and cold, but he wants to watch them until his vision turns white and all sense of sight abandons him.

It’ll suck to be blind, but damn, what a hell of a way to go.

The more he stares, however, the more everything else falls back into place. He realizes it’s not suns he’s staring at, but two sharp eyes and a concerned face that makes him feel just as warm.

He’s in a bed, he finally discovers. There’s a pillow under his head, a fresh sheet up until his midsection which strangely smells of vinegar, inside a room he just now remembers is the Oro Jackson’s de-facto ‘infirmary’ which really is just an old storage space that was refurnished when they first got the ship.

There’s something wrapped around his head, tight but not too tight that it’s squeezing. It’s been done by precise and sturdy hands; a professional, someone who knows what they’re doing.

He blinks once, then twice, and everything around him finally settles. Including everyone perched around the bed.

“Ah, Buggy, my lad!” It’s hard not to recognize the booming voice of his captain, who proceeds to lean over him with his hands pressed around his biceps until the massive mustache trickles his chin. “Thought you were a goner for a moment!”

He kind of wishes he was one because the strength of Gol D. Roger is not to be underestimated. His ribs squeeze and it's hard to breathe, but out of respect for his captain, all that leaves his throat is a guttural groan that he hopes conveys the message clearly enough.

Gol D. promptly removes himself from his poor apprentice with his hands raised, and when he steps back, Shanks takes his place next to the bed. “Gods, Buggy! What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed! Rayleigh said you were lucky it was just a concussion!”

That’s when it dawns on him. Riiight, there was a scuttle. Some asshole pirates trying to ambush them, they picked the wrong fucking targets. Some … guy was flying over him? Did that happen, or was it just a fever dream?

He remembers kicking someone in the balls, and then … and then …

Lightning. Making its way for him as the darkness embraced his vision. A line of gold, straight as a sword, narrowing in on him.

Did it catch him before the darkness did?

He hopes so.

“Lay off me, will ‘ya!” he shouts at his friend, trying to get up. However, the fucking hamster wheel in his head keeps spinning until he settles back down against the pillow. “I was doing good!”

“Yeah, until you weren’t!” Shanks disputes and grabs his fellow apprentice by the collar of his sleeve. “I told you to fucking move, but it’s like you spaced out! She had to carry you all the way back here with your head all bleeding!”

Carry him?

He glances at you, finally. You’re sitting there, hunched slightly over the bed with those eyes looking at him, and he’s thinking you fucking carried him? It’s not that he’s ashamed, not at all, but if anything, he was always hoping the roles were switched.

He’d be the one carrying you. With your strength, he imagined it would be quite the weight to uphold, but he would do it. For you, he would move the seas if he could, Devil Fruit or not.

“Buggy, are you alright?”

You’re the one talking this time. Not the captain, nor Shanks, just you. The lighting is here, and he feels his skin prick. It’s electric. Cold. Warm. All and nothing combined. He could listen to it – feel it – for hours, days, maybe even years without ever growing weary of it.

He puts on his best brave face and scoffs, forcing his arms to cross themselves despite the surge of aches that rush through his body doing so. “Of course I’m alright! I’m Buggy! I bounce back, always!”

“Still,” your hands fall on top of his, and he feels his body freeze. “I was worried.”

“’Worried’?” Shanks cackles and gestures to you with his thumb over his shoulder. “You should’ve seen the damage she left behind. The entire place was smithereens, I tell you, Buggy! She knocked over those assholes like frickin’ chessboard pieces!”

“What did I always tell you?” Gol D. slams a hand on top of your shoulder, knocking you slightly forward. “She’s got eyes sharp enough to cut through steel, and pirates too, apparently.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I didn’t cut through them, really. I just … knocked them a little over.”

Shanks cackles. “Don’t be humble. You should’ve seen the guy who knocked you out. I swear, none of his bones were where they were supposed to be. He won’t be walking, or doing much of anything, ever again.”

Buggy can imagine it, but also not. He looks at you now, and he sees his concerned friend with those kind eyes that contain both the sun and the moon. He’s always known you’re strong – the strongest person he knows of save for his captain, but not unkind. Not cruel. Not sadistic.

Yet, if what Shanks just said carries any weight, it confirms what he’s always known.

You’re a beast, and beasts only follow their prime instincts. They don’t allow others to harm what or who they consider theirs.

And it means that you consider him yours.

Maybe in a different way than he’d prefer, maybe in a way that’s different from the kind he harbors towards you, but it still confirms he’s yours.

He will never want to find himself on the opposite side of that. Of you. Never you.

When he looks at you again, looks down at where your hand is pressed on top of his, he takes it in his own.

“I’m fine,” he finally says, his lip tugging in what is supposed to be a smile. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, though.”

You chuckle softly, and he smiles. Fuck, how can he not? He remembers it all so clearly. The way your dimples are shaped, the length of your hair, the soft tint of your lips.

“You? Never.” You finally say. “Never you”

---

You reflect on how it's weird that some things change whereas others don't.

Flowers prosper and bloom and die. The sun ascends, stays up for a few hours, then descends back into the horizon.

Friendships grow strong, stay strong, then they aren't.

Some things change, some don't.

Baratie being among the latter.

It's bright enough inside to momentarily blind you, just like it was a little over ten years ago. Save for new faces with the employees and some design choices, the overall place has stayed the same.

There are people there of prestigious backgrounds - both pirate and not - and you think of how receptive the restaurant must've been to make both parts come together without any regular scuttles.

A neutral ground for all to come and enjoy the feast. Well, that is the principle, but not everyone abides by it.

It’s been a while since you last visited the establishment, and last time, you were banned for life.

Frankly, you don’t recall much of the events; too drunk on rum at the time.

What you do remember is that it involved a few broken bottles of Baratie’s finest wine, some mashed-up furniture, and cutlery, a rival captain who wouldn’t take a “fucking get lost” for a “no”, and it ended with you standing surrounded by a bunch of broken bodies of your own making.

Needless to say, Zeff was pissed.

More than pissed, actually. He was fuming.

He probably still is.He has a thing for grudges if he’s still alive.

Maybe … Just maybe the old man’s chewed off something more than his leg and kicked the bucket? That’d be a sight to see considering he only has one remaining foot.

"My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

The waiter - Sanji - is fine, not going to lie. A good fighter, too, if his little display seconds ago is a testament to that. A bit too young for your preference, with a nose too small, and hair too bright and blonde. Not quite blue colorful enough.

All in all, not a bad look at all. Just for the aesthetics, though. A solid 7/10, you conclude.

"One of everything, please!" Luffy requests enthusiastically.

For whatever reason, Sanji does not seem to share your general affinity for the restaurant. That’s odd. Most people who work here tend to boast about their occupation in the famed restaurant.

Though, if you have to make a guess, Zeff is likely a contributing factor behind that disdain. He’s tough on people, even tougher if he likes someone.

As discontented as Sanji seems, however, it does not keep him from trying to withhold his flirtatious demeanor with Nami. A Casanova, it looks like. Funny.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?" Zoro asks, fed up with the one-sided dalliance going on between your shipmate and the waiter.

"Two beers!” Usopp promptly adds. “though, I usually have three."

"And one milk!" Luffy chimes in.

"Three beers and a milk," Sanji notes. His eyes land on you, and that signature smile falls to his lips. "And for the ladies?"

You’re already here, you think to yourself. Why not make the most of it? For nostalgia’s sake.

"A bottle of Baratie's Finest," you request, your chin resting in your palm. "Not the kind you keep for customers, though. Pick one from Zeff's private stash, if you can afford to smuggle it past his bushy nose?"

"A classy beverage for a classy lady, I see." A mischievous glimmer shines in his eyes and smile. "Although that stash is off-limits, what kind of a man would I be if I refused a lady her desired beverage?”

You tilt your head a fraction to the side. "I'm sure he won't mind. At his age, he needs to watch his liver."

"That is true,"

Quite frankly, everything else evades your attention the second the waiter arrives with your order. Sanji brings you your meals, and your pricey bottle of Baratie's Finest, and it’s the Red Apple edition.

Perfect.

You eat, and eat, and drink, and then drink some more, not even stopping to concern yourself with the price tag.

The food at the Baratie's has not been in decline when it comes to quality above all else. It's delicious, and not a lot of places have earned that kind of claim in your life.

The food is good, but the drinks are ethereal.

One glass turns into two, and two promptly becomes three. So forth, and so forth. Anything to dull the tightness lodged in your chest.

A tightness that has not left you alone in the past couple of weeks.

You've developed a pretty good tolerance over the years, and after several more units, you begin to feel the tickle on the edge of your hands. Baratie’s Finest indeed.

After five, the feeling settles on the tip of your spine.

After seven, you start to wonder what went wrong. It's a dangerous area to indulge in, especially if liquor is involved, but you don’t stop.

What went wrong?

What did you do wrong?

In another life, you would've traveled the world with them, doing nothing but drinking, fighting, exploring together.

Instead, you’re here, drinking with a crew yet still feeling like the loneliest asshole in the world. It’s not your crew.

You lose a smidgen of focus, and in the grand specter of things, focus is something you could do well with less off.

You can afford to think less, feel less, and know less. Life has been full of ups and downs, and quite frankly, you've grown weary of it all.

Fuck, maybe Luffy’s onto something? Maybe you are sad?

… Nah.

Once Zoro orders another beer, you go as far as to share your bottle with him. His face scrunches at the taste and he coughs several times, but he admits that it’s good.

As you sit there on the edge of the couch, sipping your beverage and tasting your food, Sanji arrives to collect the bill. You know Luffy doesn’t have a berry to his name yet, and so you wonder how long it'll take before Zeff notices.

More specifically, how long it’ll take him before he realizes he's missing something from his private collection?

“Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?!”

Speak of the Chief… and he shall appear.

This time, you do not interfere when Luffy attempts to bargain for his lack of cash. You simply sit back and observe.

As much as Luffy tries, he does not have the words or mind suited for this kind of business yet. It’s Capitalism at its finest.

“You eat, you pay!”

Thoughts and dreams can only get you so far in life, but at the Baratie, it’s coin.

When Zeff grabs Luffy by the front of his shirt, the chief's eyes turn to you, and holy hell, is he furious.

“And what in the blazing hell are you doing here?!"

“Zeff,” You greet him and raise your beverage his way, a tilted smirk on your face. "It’s been too long."

"Not long enough! I thought I told you to get fucking lost last time? The damages you did cost a fortune!"

“In my defense, it was the other guys that started it.”

He gives you such a dirty look that his jaws clench. “Don’t give a shit. Why are you here?”

You twirl the bottle around in your hand. "Just enjoying the ambiance, as always. I was in the area, and so how could I pass up the chance to try your scrumptious meals again? Or drinks, for that matter?"

On cue, you raise your - or rather his - bottle closer up to him.

It’s stupid, the rational part of your brain argues. One does not fuck around with the Chief of the Baratie, but among the few joys you have left in life, this remains one of them.

His eyes narrow in on the bottle and there he is.In the blink of an eye, he snaps it out of your hand with such fast precision that you're almost caught off-guard.

Zeff narrows in on the mostly empty flask like it's personally insulted him and his entire lineage. “Where did you get this?"

"It was on the menu."

"It sure as shit was not! How could you—" He freezes like a thought suddenly dawned on him, and if a man can become purple from anything other than oxygen deprivation, Zeff's current mood is the closest thing to it. "Sanji. Why that snot-nosed, little—! ... When I get my damn hands on him."

It seems that whatever vendetta Zeff has towards his employee, it outweighs the one he has for you tenfold, which says something. Without another word, he yanks Luffy by the scruff and all but drags him with him to the kitchen.

Ordinarily, you would’ve intervened on behalf of your captain, but with Zeff now preoccupied, it’s your chance to rob the bar of a few more beverages.

And in your dictionary, “a few” is the equivalent of “a shitton”.

"Wow," Usopp murmurs with a low whistle. "That guy really hates your guts."

"What are you talking about? I’m his favorite customer." You raise what remains in your glass to them. “Anyone want another one?”

"I do," Nami relents.

Zoro laughs, probably for the first time since you’ve met him. "Now you're talking."

Maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to like these people.

With a couple more drinks, maybe you’ll be able to tell.

———

“You know, I kind— I kinda assumed you were an asshole when we first met?”

Usopp’s struggling to stand on his feet, legs bent slightly forward as he makes a half-assed attempt at ordering another drink. You can’t tell if the bartender is electively ignoring him or not, and truth be told, you don't blame the guy if the former applies.

Between the two of you, you’re more adept when it comes to dealing with liquor. Sure, your lips are a little looser now and the bright lights are starting to hurt your eyes, but all in all, you’re not even half as drunk as you want to be.

Seriously, fuck me sometimes. You just had to go all out when you were younger. Days and nights spent pouring bottle after bottle left your liver hardened rather than weakened.

Now, because of the high tolerance you stupidly developed, it's come here to bite you in the ass and keep you from getting wrecked.

“Oh?” Your sarcasm couldn't be any more discernible than it is now as you eye your crew mate. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

Usopp twirls around, horribly off-balanced, and slaps a hand over your shoulder.

A little too personal for your liking, but you let it slide for now.

“I mean, for starters, you—,” he hiccups. “You always have that look about you. Like someone just pissed in your ale.”

You give him an unimpressed but vaguely piqued once-over. “Descriptive. Go on,”

“And soso— And so I and the guys are wondering if you’re like that because some clown broke your heart or—,” he hiccups again. “Or some— something? Did he piss in your ale?”

You shrug his hand off at once. You don’t want to think about him, now least of all. "No.”

Not even a second later, his arm his back over your shoulder and he leans closer. It's probably meant as a comforting gesture, but given how absolutely wasted he looks, you perceive it with a grain of salt.

"Y-You can tell the great Capt— I mean, the Great Usopp, alright? We've all been there before, I—I'm ssssure. I mean, Zoro doesn't strike me as much of a ladies' man, but he's probably got stories, too."

The bartender finally stops by and leaves a beer bottle in front of you on the table, completely ignoring your companion, and disappears to make his next rounds.

You take the flask and flick the cork off with your thumb. "Well, if you really want to help, —"

You turn around so that your back hits the bar counter, twirl Ussop around with the guidance of your hand and shove him lightly towards where Nami and Zoro are sitting. "— Talk to the others first about their heartbreaks."

If he wants to object, he's too drunk to for it. Instead, he recollects his limited stance and all but wobbles over to the corner where your other companions are seated.

He’s their problem now, but it’ll be an interesting display.

You recline against the bar counter to chug your beverage in peace when a voice suddenly speaks up from next to you.

“I thought you were retired.”

With how loud the music is, it might have slipped your notice completely. Then again, the owner of said voice has always had that thing about him.

He could whisper, and the entire room would’ve heard.

You glance up at your side, and you’re halfway tempted to smile when you see who it is.

“It’s been a while, Hawk-Eyes.”

Everything from the feather on his hat to the cross around his neck and the pointy way his beard is trimmed has stayed the same. Not a scar, a bruise, or blemish to spot on him.

In ten years, he looks to have aged only one. Some people are fortunate in terms of youth, and you would definitely consider Dracule Mihawk one of them.

“Cross-Hairs.” He inclines his head to you, a silent courtesy reserved only for those whose company he tolerates. “I believed you abandoned your life behind the mast years ago.”

You take another generous gulp from your bottle before you respond. "So did I, but life finds a way, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." He peeks over his shoulder to where your companions are seated, his countenance less than impressed. Then again, that's just his face by default, so hard to tell with him. "And last we met, you were a Captain."

"Last time we met, you almost cut my right arm off." For emphasis, you pull back your sleeve to show off the straight scar that separates your upper arm from the rest. It's faded, old, and never noticeable unless you decide to wear anything short-sleeved, but it's there all the same.

He doesn't apologize. Of course, he wouldn't. Instead, he raises his sparse glass of wine to you. "Nothing personal."

You raise your bottle to him in turn. "Of course not,"

Clink!

You drink your respective beverages in companionable silence. However, even with your halfway inebriated state of mind, you can't help but think of the reasons for his presence.

You have your suspicions, and you're not shy about voicing them.

"This isn't your usual scenery." You say. “What makes one of the great Warlords of the Sea seek out a place such as this? Business or pleasure?"

"Business," he answers curtly, as though he'd prefer to do anything but. "I'm looking for a captain."

“It’s not Shanks, I take it?”

“No, it’s not. It’s a captain by the name of Luffy.”

It doesn't surprise you. It should, but it doesn’t.

The lengths the vice-admiral is willing to go to retrieve his grandson, which apparently includes hiring a Warlord to do so, doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Unbreakable willpower is a family trait, after all, if you've learned anything from Luffy.

It wouldn’t suffice with a gun; he had to send the entire fucking arsenal.

Still, at least it’s Mihawk of all people. It shouldn’t be a source of relief, but had it been anyone else, be it Kuro or Axe-hand or Bu-...

Your fingers subconsciously dig into the fragile, empty bottle you’re holding.

The point is, had it been anyone else, you would've intervened. You have intervened, several times by now, but not tonight.

Tonight, you're here to drink and forget, then drink some more. You don’t have the sobriety to worry about much of anything anymore.

"Garp must truly be at his wit's end if he employs you for his endeavors." Once you retrieve the bottle at your disposal, you pluck off the cap and swirl it lazily in your hand. The lights from the bar dance around the transparently brown rim, like a shooting star with no exit and no entrance to the rest of the universe. Forever stuck. "Seems excessive to send you of all people after something so seemingly simple."

"From what I've heard, this particular quarry is something of a wildcard."

"If you’re here, I’m sure of it."

Mihawk tilts his chin up, eyeing you curiously in your peripheral vision. "Are you saying that you're acquainted with this Luffy?"

"I'm saying no such thing. It's just mere speculations on my part." Another fistful of alcohol travels down your esophagus. "You're only employed when it's truly serious, and the vice-admiral is known for only getting involved in those kinds of matters. It adds up, is all I’m saying."

“I hardly consider it dire. It's more a means of killing some time on my part." He does not take his eyes off of you, and even in your current state, you can tell that something is brewing beneath those sharp eyes. "However, if said captain has you in his arsenal, then I feel like some investigation is warranted. After all, the Captain of the Cross-Haired pirates is not particularly known for her tendency to submit to others."

You quirk an eyebrow at him and circle your finger around the bottle rim, pondering on the subject yet not biting at the metaphorical carrot he dangles in front of you. "Technically, it’s just like you said: I'm retired, and the Cross-Haired pirates are no more. I’d think most people are aware of that.”

"The Marines believe otherwise,” he counters calmly. “The Cross-haired pirates may be disbanded, but their captain’s bounty remains on the posters. The vice-admiral was quite adamant that, while he wants the boy alive, he’d prefer it if you weren’t."

“I see.” The vice-admiral should learn to take a fucking number. “Tell me, have you elected a means of execution, or is it the dealer's choice?"

"I recall he mentioned something along the lines of wanting your head on a spike."

"Crude."

"I agree."

"Then," you raise your glass. "Am I to have my last drink here tonight?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm here for the boy and nothing else."

You'd expect him to be forward with his line of questions; demand you just give Luffy up and be done with it, not side-stepping the subject like he's doing now.

If he suspects something, he'll sniff it out like a bloodhound until he gets what he's searching for, regardless of how many cards or people fall around him. You’ve not exactly been subtle about your affiliations with his quarry, something you’ll berate yourself for come morning, but it all depends on how this plays out now.

"I won’t give you the answer you seek. You’ll have to do that on your own.”

You're not friends, but you're not necessarily foes either.

For as long as you’ve known the swordsman, Mihawk's only ever had a beef with Shanks for reasons undisclosed even to you. Even after you parted ways with your red-haired crew mate, Mihawk never seemed to have anything personal against you despite the rather brutal nature of your previous encounter.

If anything, there's a certain level of respect veiled between you, one former pirate to another semi-former one, and it’s something you hope he'll honor just this once.

To your relief, he decides to not push the matter, but the interest lingers in his eyes.

It's not easy to notice, but you make it a habit to take note of limited details. "The boy must be something special to have earned your loyalty like this, Cross-Hairs."

"I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself."

"Perhaps so," he concedes.

You chug the rest of your drink in one go, put the empty bottle on the tabletop in the space between you, and push yourself off the counter. "For what it's worth, I wish you good fortune with your endeavor. However, I’ll warn you; if anything happens to the kid, I'll get involved.”

“Duly noted.” Once again, he dips his head to you. "And Cross-Hairs,"

"Hmmm?"

You glance at him from over your shoulder, but his gaze is fixated on something else this time. Something on the other side of the bar, to the borders of the waters. If he sees anything, you can't tell what it is, and he doesn’t share.

Not explicitly.

"There is unrest brewing in the seas," he finally reveals, casually as if he's discussing the current state of the weather. "I'd suggest you keep your feet dry for now, at your convenience."

You don't know what he speaks of, but whatever it is, you'll follow. He is not a man who prides himself on his capacity to proclaim falsehood. If he tells you that the sun is green, you'll believe it, and you make it a habit not to believe in a lot of people.

That applies to this warning too.

"I'll see you around, Hawk-Eyes."

You need another drink.

———

You slip in and out of consciousness a couple of times throughout the night, never coming to the same places twice, with a belly full of rum, beer, and whatever else with enough alcoholic percentage to knock out a horse.

At one point, you're in the restaurant munching on some bread rolls.

At another, you're puking your guts out in the bathroom stalls.

At the third, you're chugging even more liquor straight out of the bottle while a bunch of people cheer you on.

The circle goes on and on and on until it spins out of control like a zoetrope. Faces flash in front of you, one after the other, never the same two times in a row.

It's alright, you tell yourself, as long as you forget.

You forget about blue eyes, blue hair, and red noses.

You forget about Gol D. Roger and the time you spent on his crew.

You forget it all, if only for a few hours.

Next time you come to, you're still miraculously standing on your feet. You’re currently in the kitchen on the Merry, and currently listening to Nami telling a ridiculous story about how Zoro challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel.

What a funny story.

In fact, it’s so funny and so outlandish that you can't help but snort. Since when has Nami been the kind of person to tell jokes?

Maybe Usopp's tendencies have rubbed off on the standoffish young woman, or maybe she's smoked something along with her drinks?

Fuck, you have to ask her where she got the stuff.

It takes a few moments of awkward silence until you realize that no one is joking, Nami least of all. The room is still, and as if all alcoholic content has left your blood, it dawns on you last of all.

Oh hell no.

You slowly turn to Zoro with a deadpan look in your eyes, and despite the urgency, you ask him as calmly as you can, "You challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel?"

He bobs his head and continues polishing his swords. "Which he accepted,"

You blink, and blink, hoping that this is just a fragment your beer-and-bottle-drenched brain has conjured to fuck with you, but Zoro remains where he is and so is everyone and everything else.

Fuuuuuuuck…

You thought he was one of the smart ones, too. His sense of navigation doesn't work for shit and if anyone can get lost on their way to the lavatory, it's him. Still, you withheld some semblance of hope that he would exhibit the same kind of recklessness as his captain.

Turns out, it has all been for naught.

You rub your temples hard enough to sting. With a nasty headache developing, you decide to pop the question. "Cremation or burial at sea?"

"... What?"

"Pick one or the other, I'll see to it that arrangements can be made."

"I'm not going to die.”

"You are a fly to him." Nami grimaces. "Something to be swatted and forgotten,"

"Not if I win." Zoro is steadfast and determined, like every new pirate on their first voyage.

It’s a look you remember well. In a way, the young swordsman kind of reminds you of Mihawk himself, and if there's one thing you can link to both, it's that annoying stubbornness that never yields. Even when the odds are against them.

"You're not going to win," Nami tries.

Zoro remains infuriatingly unconvinced. "You don't know that."

"You won't." This situation, to your chagrin, sobers you up enough that you can't blame the liquor on your next actions or words.

You take a step towards him, and with an iron fist, grab him by the front of his shirt and force him to face you. He's unamused. “I think I liked you better when you were drunk,” he murmurs.

"I want you to get this, really��get this.” You snarl. “Once you go against Mihawk, and there's no coming back for most. He's not known as the World's Greatest Swordsman for no reason, and as good as you are, take it from me. He'll end you."

He inclines his head to the side with deep-rooted skepticism. "Sounds like you really know the guy,"

"It doesn't matter whether I know him or not."

"Everywhere we go, we make enemies, and for some reason, they've already got a grudge against you, Captain Cross-Hairs."

With one hand clenched against your offending wrist, he starts to list off his other hand. "Since you know just about every asshole we come across, you might as well tell me about Mihawk's preferred method of execution. Will he chop me in half, or is he excessive like the damn clown and goes all the way with splitting someone into pieces?"

You feel your nails begin to pierce through the fabric of his shirt, inches away from leaving open gaps. You're not their guardian or their mentor. You're not the one supposed to keep the crew at ease or lead them towards certain victories.

That's the captain's role, and you're not it. Not on this ship, with this crew.

Your only purpose here is to keep them from killing themselves on their first voyage, but if they're so determined to do it themselves despite the warnings you provide, then it's not on you.

Pulling him a few inches closer to you, you look him straight in the eyes, and that's when you see it. The aforementioned stubbornness that follows each and every young pirate you've come across in your life. The notion that they're invulnerable; unkillable.

Nothing can hope to end them.

You remember what it was like, that feeling, and it almost breaks you to see it in front of you like this.

You know aggression won’t do it for him, so you try an approach you haven’t tried in years. Bargaining.

“What will it take for you to pull back from this?”

“He’s coming for Luffy. I’m his first mate, it’s my duty to protect the captain.”

To protect the Captain…

That's how you know that there's no convincing the young swordsman to stand down, not this time.

He's persistent, exceedingly so, and if there's one thing you've learned during this voyage with these people it's that hell hath no fury like a straw hat pirate determined.

This is not on you, yet it doesn't make it any easier to let go of him. But you do.

Taking a deep breath, you uncurl your fingers and let him step back.

"Fine."

You need another drink.

Glancing over your shoulder, you meet Luffy’s concerned gaze. “This is your call, captain.”

You don’t need to be here for this. You’ve done your part, and now it’s his turn to do his.

You give Zoro a pat on his back, just one. It's not meant for comfort, it's not an act of sympathy either.

It's just a pat, like the kind you give your friend when they're about to gamble away all their savings over a game of cards. It’s the “fuck around and find out, but do it yourself”-kind of gesture.

Heaving a sigh, you sidestep him and let your fingers fall off his shoulders. "It's been fun, Zoro."

And the worst part about this all is that you mean it, truly. It has been fun to sail with them, share a few beers, and joke at the expense of others. Your time on this ship has been fun.

Like old times.

You won't go as far as to call Zoro a friend, you never do, but it's close enough that you'll probably miss him in the long run.

Zoro looks at you, his countenance indecipherable. "Say that to me again when I win this fight,"

"I can't." Because you won't.

---

The water forces its way into his lungs at such speed that it feels like he's swallowed buckets by the time they finally come up for air. He harks and coughs and tries to get as much of it out, but he doesn’t feel any lighter.

Get it? Lighter, because he’s just a head now and— alright, forget it.

For once, he's happy his head is disjointed from the rest of his body because if it wasn't, he'd probably sink to the bottom of the ocean from the fluid in his belly alone.

The taste of salt and sand stays like a sour afterthought on his tongue, and as much as he tries to spit it out, he can't be rid of all the grains. "Fuck! Give me a warning next time, will ya?! Kinda vulnerable to seawater and all that!"

Whatever fish-guy has him strapped to their back this time does not dignify his complaints with a verbal response. Instead, all he hears is a couple of snickers, like their humor is fuelled at his expense.

Assholes, the lot of them.

It takes some time for the tangy scent to abandon his nostrils, but once it does, it's immediately replaced by the fine scent of something divine. Something delicious.

It smells of food. Actual fucking human food. Not whatever Arlong and his litter gorge on, which he personally believes to be carcasses of dead sea animals they happen to catch on the shores of their island.

It's honest-to-god cooked, seasoned, edible food.

Buggy can feel his mouth water, and for once, he cannot blame it on seawater.

They're finally at Baratie.

The finest restaurant in all the East Blue, renowned for its excellent taste and unrivaled quality. Only the richest of the rich get to dine here, and while he's not exactly flowing with berries at the moment, he’s famished.

“Hey, Lips!" he yells out as loud as he can through the shitty bag. "How about you order me some hot dogs once we get a seat? A clown's gotta eat!"

The only sort of response he gets is an elbow to the bag, which incidentally clashes right into his nose. "FUCK!"

"Shut up!"

There's scuttling to be heard, doors opening, and a shitton of gasps echo from all around him. They have an audience, he deduces, and not a particularly receptive one at that.

Arlong makes a spectacle, something about "serve" and yish and yash about dinner and last meals as they get a seat.

Fuck, what he would give for a meal.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels solid ground settle under his neck. Though it's a pleasant reprieve from being thrown back and forth like a yarn ball caught in a cat’s game, he won’t consider it much of an upgrade. He's fucking hungry, damnit!

"Who are you, old man?" Arlong speaks, and Buggy hears uneven steps approach them.

An unfamiliar voice answers. "My name's Zeff, and I own this place."

Right, the Chief. Maybe he can ask him for some crumbs since his captors aren’t exactly on the generous side.

"Well, I'm Arlong, and I own the East Blue."

"No one owns the sea. Not even a fish man."

Ooooh, burn! Suck on that, shitface!

"Listen up!” Arlong exclaims when the chief’s negotiation tactics fail to appease him. “I'm looking for a pirate in a straw hat! Goes by the name of Luffy!"

The saw-nosed motherfucker truly has to be even more extravagant than himself, Buggy admits to himself with no short amount of begrudging compliance. Fishface even goes as far as to threaten the poor diners with having them for dinner instead, by the sounds of it.

Buggy can appreciate the message it conveys; he’s used it himself, but he refuses to find any common ground with his captor, so he buries the sentiment ten feet down into wherever the hell his body is.

He listens as the diners lose their appetite, all the while Arlong begins to gorge on whatever he has on his plate. For a while, all he can make out is the sound of meat being torn off something and the occasional cry from one of the diners in the distance.

Even from miles and miles away, Buggy can feel his stomach twist painfully due to the lack of food in it. Oh, it’s hell on earth to smell everything you want yet being unable to even grasp it. And here his captors are, toying with him, torturing him with it.

Seriously, fuck them.

He’s about to demand to get something to chew on when Arlong’s other henchman — Kuroobi or some shit like that — beats him to it. "Hey, boss, I'm feeling for a bottle right about now."

Arlong laughs. "Don’t have to tell me. Take what you please. I don’t think that one will mind sharing one of hers.”

“And get one for me too while you’re at it,” Lips supplies.

The henchman cackles and gets up to his feet to retrieve what he’s looking for, but not before lightly kicking the bag that is Buggy’s current prison cell in the side.

“HEY!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes unapologetically.

Buggy grinds his teeth together and tries to think of something — anything — to keep his mind off his ever-rising hunger. When he gets his body back, he'll take some bottles and shove them right up these fuckers a—

CRASH!

Buggy hears the sound of something breaking from the opposite side of where the fish man just headed. Countless gasps ring through the restaurant’s interior, bouncing on the walls, and he hears the henchman’s painful wails from a distance away.

He’d laugh - he does laugh, because it seems like someone didn’t want to share their precious drinks and decided that full-on attacking one of the fish people was the appropriate kind of response.

It’s impressive, he thinks. Very much so. Oh, he’d pay to see that again, and he’ll have to give that person a fucking kiss, just for making his day a little bit better.

It’s a shame he can’t see the—

"Fucking get lost."

Buggy feels his head freeze in the bag.

He recognizes that voice. The morning sun shone atop the ship deck. Warm. Cold. All of them at once.

He's finally found you.

---

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy x you #one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #DMTMYHB #didn’t mean to make your heart blue

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 7 months

Text

The Pumpkin Patch.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here, huns!

authors note - in honour of finally approaching october, enjoy this little mess that my brain magically comes up with when i’m bored…and lhh as a dad because that is simply girl dinner.

word count - 2k

in which, you and harry decide to take your son teddy to the pumpkin patch in honour of it finally hitting october, the three of you decide to make a day of things, and let’s just say the day doesn’t exactly turn out how you all expected it, a series of unfortunate events occur and that all starts out with your fiancé getting annoyed that the sat nav isn’t helping him very much.

trope: fiancé!harry x reader

October holds a special place in your heart, like no other month ever could. It was the month when you first embarked on a life-changing journey, leaving your homeland to pursue higher education in the United States. It was a time of excitement and trepidation, but little did you know that it would mark the beginning of countless beautiful memories.

During those university years, October became a symbol of friendship and camaraderie. It was when you met your lifelong friends, people who would stand by your side through thick and thin. Together, you navigated the challenges of academia, celebrated achievements, and forged bonds that would last a lifetime.

One particular October stands out vividly in your memory. It was the month of your graduation, a momentous occasion that your family didn't want to miss. They flew out to share in your joy and celebrate your accomplishments. Their presence made the milestone even more meaningful, filling your heart with warmth and love.

But the most extraordinary chapter of your life was written in the pages of an October. It was in Los Angeles, while browsing through a record shop, that you first laid eyes on Harry Styles. The connection was instant, as if fate had brought you together. In the midst of music and conversation, your love story began to unfold.

It was in October when he first whispered those three magical words, "I love you," after a night of watching a scary movie that left you clinging to his chest, finding comfort in his embrace. That moment of vulnerability deepened your bond and solidified your love for each other.

During a serene picnic in the park, surrounded by the beauty of autumn, Harry surprised you with a question that would change your lives forever. He asked you to move in with him, a gesture that symbolized commitment and a future together.

The circle of life continued to expand in October when your son, Theodore, affectionately known as Teddy, was born. The joy of parenthood brought immeasurable happiness and completeness to your lives, and the autumn leaves seemed to dance in celebration.

And then, in an enchanting October evening, Harry knelt down on one knee and proposed to you. Under the starry sky, he presented you with a ring, promising a lifetime of love, happiness, and adventures together. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you said yes, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

October, with its vibrant colors and meaningful milestones, had become more than just a month on the calendar; it was a testament to the beauty of life, love, and the incredible journey you had embarked upon. It was safe to say that October had etched its place as your favorite month, forever holding the key to cherished memories and boundless love.

As you, Harry, and your almost two-year-old son Teddy set out for the pumpkin patch in Harry's sleek black Range Rover, there was an air of excitement in the car. The vibrant colours of autumn and the promise of pumpkin picking had everyone in high spirits. However, it didn't take long for things to take an unexpected turn.

Teddy, safely strapped into his car seat, began to cry, his little arms reaching out for his father. Seeing as Harry had been up all night comforting his baby boy who appeared to be getting his molars growing, he had tried everything, and the only thing that seemed to help the poor boy was to be cuddled up with both parents in their bed, with a teething toy in his grasp.

So, when the two of you woke up this morning, you had decided to take everyone’s tired minds off of things and have a fun little day out, but that didn’t seem to be going the way you had originally planned.

Harry couldn't easily comfort him, as he was engrossed in a battle with the aggravating sat nav system that seemed determined to make the journey anything but smooth.

You turned round in your seat and leaned over to Teddy, offering him a soothing voice, "Hey, ted. Daddy's driving right now, but he'll be with you soon. Look out the window, see the pretty leaves?"

Harry, growing increasingly frustrated, muttered, "S’thing is driving m’nuts. S’like a maze."

Teddy's cries persisted, and you rummaged in the bag for a toy to distract him. "Teddy, how about this colourful toy? Can you play with it?"

Harry let out another exasperated sigh, his eyes fixed on the sat nav screen. "All I want is t’find that pumpkin patch."

The journey went on like that for about another ten minutes before Harry finally got the hang of where the sat nav was trying to take him, and Theodore succumbed to silent sniffles when your fiancé reached his hand back and let his son hold onto his finger like he was a newborn all over again.

Theodore Styles was born just a year into the two of you officially dating, on October 18th, 2013. You and Harry were only nineteen. Although both of you were only young, you both had support from your family and friends and even though Harry’s job was a very demanding one, he always made sure to put the two of you first, so fast forward to October 2016 you were the perfect family unit and you were one step closer to becoming a Styles just like your other two boys.

As you, Harry, and Teddy finally pulled into the sprawling pumpkin patch, a sense of excitement filled the air. The fields were covered in a sea of vibrant orange, and the prospect of a fun-filled day lay ahead.

Driving through the muddy terrain, Teddy was securely strapped into his car seat, but his little face was pressed against the window. His bright eyes were wide with curiosity, and he couldn't contain his delight as he pointed at everything in his limited vocabulary, his baby talk filling the car.

"Look, Teddy," you exclaimed with enthusiasm, "those pumpkins are huge, aren't they?"

Teddy responded with bursts of infectious laughter, his tiny finger continuing to point at the pumpkins, each one seemingly more fascinating than the last. His joy was like a contagious wave that washed over the car.

Harry, his long hair falling in front of his eyes, expertly navigated the muddy path. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh, occasionally glancing at Teddy's adorable antics.

"That's right, Teddy-Bear," Harry chimed in, his voice filled with affection, "those pumpkins are as big as y’are!"

The car rolled on, winding through the pumpkin-filled fields. Teddy's laughter and baby talk were a constant source of amusement, brightening the atmosphere in the car.

You couldn't help but join in the excitement. "Teddy, do you see those scarecrows over there? They're guarding the pumpkins!"

Teddy's laughter escalated as he looked at the scarecrows, his tiny hands reaching out toward them. His innocent joy made the entire journey worthwhile.

Harry put the car into park and turned to you. "Alrigh’ m’love,"

As you worked on getting Teddy out of his car seat, Harry made his way to the trunk. He looked at you, holding the baby bag, and asked, "Do y’think we'll need t’stroller?"

You considered for a moment, remembering that Teddy hadn't slept well during the night. You nodded, knowing that he might get tired later. "Yeah, H, I think it's a good idea. Just in case."

Harry nodded in agreement and began setting up the stroller while you gently unstrapped Teddy from his car seat. He wriggled out of your arms, his little welly boots and beanie adding to his adorable appearance.

With Teddy on the ground, you smiled down at him. "Look at you, ready for some pumpkin picking, little man!"

Harry, now with his hair tied into a man bun to keep it out of his face, locked up the car. He glanced at Teddy and then at you. "Alrigh’, s’make some pumpkin memories."

As the three of you approached the entrance to the patch, The stroller stood empty as Harry navigated it through the muddy pumpkin fields.

Teddy, in his infectious excitement, was far too eager to explore on his own. Instead, you held onto his tiny hands, and he practically pulled you along, his chubby legs wading through the mud, creating tiny boot imprints with each step.

The pumpkin patch sprawled before you, a vast sea of orange and green. Teddy's eyes danced with wonder as he darted from one pumpkin to another, each one seemingly more fascinating than the last. His little voice bubbled with delight, even though his words were a jumble of baby talk and giggles.

Harry manoeuvred the stroller skillfully, occasionally glancing over to check on Teddy's progress. Teddy's tiny boots splashed through puddles, his beanie bobbing atop his head as he explored this pumpkin wonderland.

You marvelled at the sheer joy radiating from your son. Holding his hands, you let him lead the way, following his excited tugs and twirls. The mud-splattered boots and the occasional stumble didn't dampen Teddy's enthusiasm in the slightest.

About fifteen minutes into your visit to the pumpkin patch, you found yourselves standing in front of a scarecrow, admiring its rustic charm. Teddy, so far, had been on a mission to pick up every pumpkin he walked by, not quite grasping the concept of a pumpkin patch and getting upset when you told him that you needed to find the perfect pumpkin before heading home.

As you were enjoying this quaint moment, a friendly woman from another family who was passing by noticed your trio. She offered with a warm smile, "Would you like a photo of the three of you by the scarecrow?"

Harry didn't hesitate for a moment. He beamed and said,

"Yes, please!" as he quickly handed the woman his phone, which was already open on the camera. He gently scooped Teddy into his arms, holding him on his hip, and then wrapped his free arm around your shoulder.

The woman skillfully captured the moment, ensuring you were all framed by the scarecrow and the vibrant pumpkin patch behind you. Teddy, still clutching a small pumpkin in his chubby hand, looked at the camera with curiosity, and his innocent smile added an extra layer of charm to the photo.

After the picture was taken, you thanked the kind stranger, and Harry, still holding Teddy, shared a grateful smile with her.

Ten minutes after Teddy's encounter with the scarecrow, the pumpkin patch adventure continued, with Teddy now running ahead of you and Harry. His tiny legs carried him with an uncontainable exuberance as he darted between pumpkins, each one a new discovery in his eyes.

You pushed the stroller, its wheels rolling through the earthy paths, while Harry walked beside you, holding your hand. Both of you watched Teddy with hearts full of fondness as he explored this autumn wonderland. His laughter was a symphony of joy, filling the air and brightening your day even more.

The pumpkin patch seemed to be Teddy's playground, a place where he could express his boundless curiosity and energy.

About five meters ahead of both you and Harry, Teddy suddenly stopped in his tracks, captivated by a rather large pumpkin. It seemed to be the biggest one he had seen so far, and his little hands eagerly reached out to try and pick it up. However, it was a challenge even for his determined efforts.

Harry and you shared a chuckle at Teddy's determined endeavour. He didn't give up, though, and instead, he called out to Harry in his adorable baby talk, "Dada, hep! Hep, Dada!"

Harry couldn't resist the plea, and with a playful grin, he made his way over to Teddy. Together, father and son wrestled with the pumpkin, their laughter filling the crisp autumn air.

While they worked on the perfect pumpkin, you put the brakes on the stroller and crouched down in front of your little boy. You asked in a sweet baby talk, "Is this the pumpkin you definitely want, Teddy?"

Teddy nodded his head vigorously, a bright smile on his face. He wrapped his little arm around your neck, expressing his delight and contentment with the choice

“S’settled then,” Harry grinned up at you, holding the pumpkin in his tattooed arms. “Fancy grabbing a coffee at the lil’hut before heading off? God knows we need it.”

400 notes · View notes

crueisummer · 10 months

Text

𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Hello everyone! Please be patient as this will be my first fanfic/au. Anyway, this would be part of a series, and each song from the playlist above would be the title of a chapter. I still don't know what to call the series, so if you have any suggestions, please send them my way. Anyway, thanks for reading, and enjoy the story! ✧･ﾟ:૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა✧･ﾟ:

chapter warnings: a lot of swearing.

word count: 1.7k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

01:58 ━━━━●───── 03:29 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

Your car pulled up in front of the restaurant’s door. Your security guard got out of the shotgun seat and opened your car door. Everyone started to go crazy when they saw you. The lights of the paparazzi’s camera flicking every millisecond, trying to get a photo of every move you make. There’s security on your left and right, protecting you.

The door to the restaurant opened and there was a receptionist holding a clipboard.

"Y/F/N Y/L/N." You smile as you look at her. Their eyes widen and mouth gaped before gesturing for you to go follow the usher. You took an elevator and got off on the rooftop. You walked in and looked around, amazed at the beauty of the place. There were a lot of tables and booths, some afloat on water. There's a lot of people and caterers walking around with food and drinks.

Everyone is dressed in semi-formal attire which made you sigh in relief for your outfit. You are wearing a sparkly sleeveless jumpsuit that showed off your curves and just a bit of your skin.

As you made your way into the party, there were a lot of familiar faces. Celebrities, actors, athletes. You saw Kika and Pierre in a booth in the middle.

"Show me the ring!" You scream as soon as you see your best friend. She turns around and laughs at you.

"Well, hello to you too!" She giggles as the two of you hug. You pull away quickly to see her left hand. A big diamond rock sitting on her ring finger.

"Wow. You sure have taste, Gasly, I'll give you that." You smirked at Pierre and hugged him too.

"Congratulations, you guys! So, am I a bridesmaid?" You joke at Kika, fluttering your eyelashes. You have been best friends for 3 years now, having met at a Louis Vuitton fashion show during Paris Fashion Week. Since then, you and Kika were inseparable. You both understood and supported each other.

"Cut the crap. You know you're maid of honor." She says smirking.

"Oh my god! I love you so much!" You scream and wrap your arms around her. You’ve never been a maid of honor and somewhere in the back of your mind, a memory clicked. You remembered that you and Kika promised to be each other’s maid of honor.

The couple laughs at your reaction and Kika tells you she’ll set up a meeting soon about the wedding, she’s going to be needing help. You nod right away. The grooms are always no help when planning a wedding. Just then, a guy comes up from behind you and greets them.

"Speaking of, here's the best man!" Pierre walks closer to him and does that guy hug thing. The mysterious man was slightly taller than Pierre and was wearing a white unbuttoned shirt and some khaki shorts. He looked good.

"Charles!” Kika greeted. Charl? Is he French? It's the French that don't pronounce the "s" at the end of their names, right?

He kisses Kika's cheeks while he and Pierre talk a bit in French and laugh. You didn't realize you were staring until Kika introduced you to him.

"Y/N, this is Charles, he'll be Pierre's best man." Kika says and you turn to face him. He kind of has a boyish face but his piercing green eyes and stubble that ran from chin to jaw makes him look mature. He looked gorgeous.

"Hi, I’m Charles." He says while extending his hand. He looks into your eyes while talking to you and you almost melted. You shyly look at your hands and look back again at his eyes, to see that he didn’t remove his gaze. Those eyes. How wonderful it would be to get lost in them.

"I’m Y/N." You smile shyly. You were getting shy. You never get shy. You always had the upper hand and was very confident in yourself when meeting new people. But somehow, someway, you can’t say anything.

You take his hand and shake it. You felt like you were drugged when your hands met. It put you on a high, one you want to be in for the rest of your life.

“So happy to finally meet you. You know, they always talk about you and sing your songs, especially Pierre.” Charles says, to make small talk and show that he is friendly and approachable.

“Oh, does he know? He always says my songs are cheesy.” You say while smirking at Pierre, Kika laughing her ass off. “Although I do have a video of him dancing to You Belong With Me.”

Kika’s eyes widen immediately, and the couple looks at each other. Pierre’s face is red from embarrassment. He exclaims, “You told me you didn’t send her the video!”

While the two bickered, you didn’t notice Charles was now standing closer to you. “You know, I would love to have a copy of that video,” He whispers. He was so close that you could smell his perfume.

Before you could reply, Kika is shoo-ing the guys. “Anyway, me and Y/N are gonna do some girl talk now.”

“Look for me later if you want the video.” You whisper to Charles, and he smirks before leaving with Pierre. Charles turns around and winks at you. It caught you off guard, but you smiled. When he looks away and turns back around, you look at Kika and see she was on her phone. Oh my god. The greatest thing that has ever happened to you and your best friend was on her fucking phone.

Kika looks up on her phone and was about to talk to you when she gets dragged into another booth. She looks at you and mouths, “Later.” But you wave her off, you know you can’t hog the host of the party.

You roamed around the party talking to everyone but Charles. You caught up with Kika’s friends; some you met before, some you haven’t. You got along with the other bridesmaids which erased the worry from the back of your mind that you might not get along.

One group of girls were calling themselves “WAGS” and laughing. It seemed like an inside joke, so you whispered to Kika, “What the fuck is a WAG?” and she laughs.

“Wives and girlfriends of professional athletes.” Your face scrunched up in disgust and she nodded her head. “I know, right?”

Good thing Kika was there to tell you that the girls who were calling themselves WAGS are in a relationship with F1 drivers. Kelly and Max, Carmen and George, Heidi and Daniel, Sara and Lance, Lily and Alex, Louise and Kevin, and Egle and Nico.

Some of Pierre’s single friends did try to hit on you, though. But you brushed them off and established being friends with them when they tried to ask you out.

While talking to everyone, you forgot to count how many shots and drinks you’ve been taking. You realized that you were drunk when as you were going to the bathroom, you didn’t take time to adjust to the dimmed lighting and you missed a step and almost fell. Thankfully, a pair of arms came out of nowhere and caught you.

“Est-ce que ça va, mon amour?" Are you okay, love? Charles. You talked to everyone in this party, and this voice you only heard for five minutes but instantly recognize it. He picks you up and you both try to steady yourself.

“Oui, merci.” Yes, thank you. Based on the context of you falling, you assumed that he asked if you were alright. You giggled as you tried your hardest to copy his accent, even though you were flat out drunk.

You lost your balance again and Charles gently set you down to sit on one of the steps. One of his hands going to the small of your back, careful not to hit your back.

Once you were settled, he squats in front of you, a shocked look on his face. He asks, “Tu parles français?" You speak French?

With the dimmed lighting and how close your faces are, you can see just how perfect his face is. He looks like a god.

“What?” You gave up. Your knowledge of the French language only limited to “yes”, “thank you” and “I love you.”

“You understand?” His Monegasque French accent lingering when he talks in English. His grammar is fucking adorable.

“No, I just know a few phrases from travelling to France.” You smile sheepishly. Leaning your head on the wall, “Is it good, though?”

“Yes, yes. Your accent almost fooled me.” He smiles at you. Your stomach is feeling crazy. Is this what it feels like when they say they “have butterflies in their stomach?” Because this feels like a fucking zoo.

“So, I haven’t seen you all night. Have you been ignoring me?” He asks you. You can’t tell if he’s flirting or if it’s a genuine question.

“Hmmm, maybe?” You took a chance and flirted with him. Pretending like you were ignoring his eyes and then looking at him and laughing.

“Why? What did I do?” He pouts. I think he knows that he’s beautiful. Otherwise, he would not have any confidence in pouting in front of a girl, right?

“Hmm, didn’t I tell you to look for me? And not the other way around?” You reminded him.

“Ahh, yes. My apologies, cheri.” He apologizes. His metallic rings startling your warm skin as he takes your right hand and kisses it. You were shocked, eyes wide.

“Can you forgive me, mon amour?” He takes your left hand and kisses it too. With his puppy eyes, he leans closer, still holding both of your hands near his lips.

“I- I-” He looked so gorgeous; you couldn’t say anything. He caught you off guard and your tongue couldn’t form any word. Your brain having a hard time comprehending what was happening.

You nodded your head and he smiled at you. You knew that he was thinking that he had the upper hand, but right now, while he is holding your hands and his face so close to yours, you didn’t mind.

"Apology accepted, mon amour." You try to copy him. His eyes shine when he hears you talk in his mother tongue.

"I have to ask, do you really want Pierre's video, or do you just want my number?" You smirk at him. You try to catch him off guard but he chuckles and smirks back at you.

"Can't a man have both?"

...

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

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dreamlandcreations · 9 months

Text

• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen •

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: Daemon is about to meet his match...

Warnings (and some ramblings): physical description vaguely (?) described and implied by relation, not gonna spoil the plot but there's gonna be targcest (come on, it's Daemon), other canon stuff (violence, death/murder, sex, misogyny, calling children bastards), Daemon is about 21 (according to canon, you'll see what I mean), reader is younger by at least two years; twisting up canon: Alyssa died within the year of Daemon's birth, Queen Alysanne is still alive and the Daemon-Rhea wedding has not happened yet, the fight is basically the Geralt vs Renfri fight (if you want visuals bc I suck at describing it 😅), bit of insta love, enemies to lovers (sort of), it's mostly from Daemon's POV, not proofread at all

Series masterlist • next chapter

• 102 AC • Winterfell •

Daemon was warned to behave before most of the House of the Dragon parted from King's Landing but he was called the Rouge Prince for a reason.

The tourney was held on the second day of their stay and he had not shown himself in public until then, content to spend his first day in the North reading under the heart tree.

Daemon always loved dramatic entrances, always seeking attention that he seemingly only gets when he is misbehaving. So he was ready to wreak havoc during the event that was supposed to be a friendly match between the great houses.

As a prince, he got to choose his first opponent, and who else would it be than a Hightower. He spared a smirk to that cunt of a Hand before he marched ahead to win with brutal precision, sending his opponent's horse and the knight himself to the ground.

The horrified gasps and then the loud cheering from the crowd only made his smirk wider. Daemon looked over the high seats from where the Targaryens, Velaryons and Starks watched the show. He immediately noted three empty seats, two besides Lord Stark - no doubt one of them was his brother's or cousin's whose helmeted figure Daemon had seen in the line of knights - and one by the King.

Since his grandmother, the Queen, was not present due to her illness, the only one who was sending him scolding glares was his brother, Viserys. The old king just sighed at the scene, while Corlys and Rhaenys sat there, amused, like parents watching a naughty child.

The next challenges were won just as easily as the first, although none of them was even remotely close to that savage end the Hightower boy had to suffer.

While the Prince usually didn't bother to watch the others, this time that Stark was drawing attention with his effortless wins. Prompting the people to make guesses and bets if a wolf could win against a dragon. Well, they were about to find out.

The first round shattered his opponent's shield but, to his astonishment, he stayed upright in the saddle. Daemon was smirking as usual but this time a tiny bit of admiration made his eyes glint in a softer light.

He could tell the little wolf would go down in the next round but he didn't expect to be taken with him too. The dragon prince's blood was singing at meeting a worthy opponent who was just as determined to win, no matter the cost.

The boy must have known he had no chance to stay on the horse, so instead of attacking Daemon as would be proper and expected, he somehow hooked his spear under his arm, yanking him back with the force of his own fall.

Both of you heavily landed on the ground, the impact crushing the air from your lungs and making it unable to move for a long moment. The spectating people were holding their breath, waiting to see if you were, well, alive or not.

The cheering was deafening as you got to your feet and proceeded to fight with swords.

Without wasting another second, you marched forward. Stabbing in his direction, aiming for his head and swinging at his neck with the same momentum once your initial blow missed its target.

The prince leaned away from each attack and his sword met yours at the third strike. He let you lead the fight for a few more clashes but he paused to assess you as he blocked a blow that meant to hit his legs.

Daemon straightened and stepped back, pushing your sword away with his and striking down with a high swing of Dark Sister. Your sword met his again, protesting under the finer steel.

To spare your weapon the worst of the hit, you focused on meeting the side of the blade while avoiding the edge and rolling the swords, trying to dislodge the weapon from his grip.

To unsuccessful stabbing attempts later you made a move at his head again. He ducked down, then didn't hesitate to use the opportunity of the few seconds you left yourself open.

You didn't expect a hit by his other hand and certainly not the following kick that sent you to the ground. Unfortunately, this resulted in losing your helmet.

Daemon paused at the sight.

It was no brother or cousin of their host, not even a boy as he suspected from the lighter build of the armour but a girl with the features of a Stark, the infamous wild beauty of the North, Lord Stark's niece by his late sister.

For the second time during this event, a unanimous scandalized gasp was heard from the crowd right before loud the protests of his brother and your uncle reached the two of you as they forbade you to continue the fight.

At that, your still bewildered expression turned into something Daemon was extremely familiar with. Blinding, all-consuming, untamed rage at being denied.

The Targaryen prince grinned wickedly at you but before you could turn your anger on him, he tore off his helmet, throwing it away and subtly nodding at you, giving you the approval to attack him and continue the fight. The answering spark in your eyes before you charged at him made his heart skip a beat.

It was similar to how you started the first time. He let you advance, then half-heartedly attacked back, ending the session with another backhanded slap before he pushed you backwards until your back met the edge of the fighting arena.

"You are holding back." You practically spat the accusation at him through gritted teeth while holding your sword to block his. Although with the way he took hold of your hand, making sure that your blade did not cut into your throat proved that you might as well let go altogether and would still be safe from any harm.

The world around you seized to exist as the prince pressed a little closer. Answering with an infuriatingly smug grin. "It would be unforgivable to hurt a little lady like you."

"You just hit me," you scoffed.

"You'll live."

"If you won't start fighting properly, you will not." The menacingly low threat made chills run down his spine, eliciting a low chuckle out of him that was definitely a mistake.

Then 'the little lady' pulled a knife on him.

Daemon grunted at the pain of being stabbed in his side. He looked at you with disbelief, the blade went through his armour like it wasn't even there. Valyrian steel.

It was enough distraction. You pushed him away, attacking with the dagger and the sword simultaneously and if you were a little less aggravated, you'd be impressed with the way he blocked your attacks with not just his sword but bare hand fight combined before he started to use his sword more like a shield.

Swords crossed, you paused.

Daemon could have swiped your legs, and you could have stabbed him with the dagger again but you were too busy trying to make it a show that you could overpower him and he was just too pissed to let you go easy.

In a blink of an eye, you were kneeling on the ground with your opponent's blade digging into your shoulder. Although he was careful not to cut too deep, he was not above the pettiness of giving you a scar in return for his.

A half groan, half gasp sound was the only indication of your pain and Daemon felt a moment of regret before he was consumed by flames from deep within that seemed to be seeded in the pull he felt towards you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He found your rage and your inner fire, which was clearly visible in your determination and anger at the present, mesmerisingly beautiful.

He became distracted again. It was enough for you to be able to move and swipe at his leg, cutting him with the dagger before you stood and faced him with a challenging stance.

A few seconds of silent discussion followed, with him letting you know he will give you what you wished for if you continue, warning you that he will not hold back anymore.

You grinned, attacking him, again using both weapons, with some moves applying them like a single extended weapon.

Then he put you in a difficult position. Stopping the dagger by grabbing it, he was forcing you to stay still not by strength but by thrusting you that you would not want to permanently damage him.

If you pulled away now, he would lose at least a few fingers if not his hand altogether. Both of you gritted your teeth, mostly in pain but it showed more like anger, which made it seem like you were practically snarling at the other.

With barely clutching the handles, you pry his hand off enough to only graze him. And it leaves you vulnerable.

You almost lost your weapons when he immediately attempted to disarm you. Then he truly advanced, forcing you to defend yourself and back away. He was relentlessly stabbing and swinging with Dark Sister in your direction.

Then it was over, he took your sword. Holding you at the end of his blade, telling you to yield.

It was only then that you heard the crowd again. Cheering at the incredibly fast and hard-to-follow battle they just witnessed.

Despite the loud audience, Daemon still heard as you sighed with annoyance, keeping eye contact with him as you threw your dagger to the ground, refusing to do more or say the words.

He smiled, this time with pure amusement only. He stepped away, letting you breathe freely and to his further entertainment dropped to the ground to sit and rest or pout like a child. It was hard to guess and that made him enjoy the scene even more.

You were so busy with pealing away the suffocating armour where you could reach and the impending scolding that you knew was coming the moment you tied up your cousin and took his place, that you didn't pay attention when the prince received the flower crown or what he was planning to do with it.

Feeling the crown of winter roses placed on your head, you look up, wide eyes meeting with the Rogue Prince's mischievous gaze as he offers his hand and helps you stand. Without letting go, he bends a little, kissing the back of your hand as he murmurs, "My queen."

Series masterlist • next chapter

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon #prince daemon x reader #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x reader #daemon x you #stark!reader

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) I ch. VII

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6,656

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), cute date on the back of jk's car trunk, jk nervous, jk gives lots of gifts & flowers to oc, oc is obsessed with clearance chocolate, auntie oc and uncle kook take care of yoongi's twins, jk & oc become guinea pigs for yoongi's kids lmao, mention of dentist!yoongi, jk's mommy issues get mentioned, jk has personal daddy issues but he working through them, jk being good hubby to oc, just a rollercoaster of emotions ngl

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hello! thanks for being patient with me guys!! Important: the flashback for this chapter follows events of chapter V and will refer to it. And yes it's thier first date! Kind of 👀👀 that will be for you to decide. Then we have present day jk and oc being guinea pigs for Yoongi's crazy twins hehehe. Ok pls, enjoy 💞

<< ch. VI ༓ ch. VIII >> ┃series masterlist

You know how some couples have multiple weddings that lead to disagreements over their real anniversary date? Or maybe it’ll be when the relationship was made official or what the first sign of attraction was? Yeah, that’s you and Jungkook when it comes to pinpointing exactly when your first date was.

If you ask your husband, he’ll tell you it was weeks after you were discharged from the hospital during your postgrad studies. But in your opinion, it was far before his timeframe.

You see due to a group of overly eager college freshmen, you had sprained your ankle and cracked a rib. Jungkook stayed with you the entire first two weeks of the recovery period. He'd bring study notes to you, your favorite food, hell even art supplies he bummed off Taehyung to help break up your mundane days in the hospital.

When the time finally came that you were well enough to finish the healing process at home, he suggested a dinner out would be an excellent way to celebrate.

"...do you wanna go out to dinner?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected.

"Are you asking me on a date…?"

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well…let's go with hang out like friends do."

You’re convinced that this was the first time he asked you out, thus leading to your first date. Your husband, however, thinks it was too vague to tell. He prefers to see it as more a pre-date instead.

So, was it a date?

Was it an unspoken pre-date?

The jury’s still out about this one.

4 years ago

It’s a gorgeous day with the way the sun beams on the hood of his car. A few scattered clouds, fluffy and white, float across the sky as well, offering shelter from the heat. You were discharged from the hospital only yesterday and Jungkook was already insistent on going out today, saying that a little fresh air and a change of scenery would be good for you.

“Where are we going?” You turn your head from the passenger window to look at the man inquisitively. It’s a simple question but the tension of the unknown nibbles at you from inside.

“One of my favorite spots,” Jungkook replies with his eyes set on the road. “Hope you don’t mind the drive. It’ll be another fifteen minutes.”

“It's fine. Why can’t I know where we’re going though?”

He hesitates to answer. “Do you not like surprises?”

You shrug. “Sure I do, as long as I know about them ahead of time.”

A hearty laugh follows your words and it sends one of the warmest feelings through your whole body. You didn't think you were being funny, but after being stuck in the hospital for two weeks, it's nice to feel something other than dismal. Jungkook is good at lifting your spirits at the most unexpected of times, you hum to yourself.

He looks handsome today too.

You can’t stop yourself from thinking about it as you watch a few strands of his dark hair blow over. He has his window cracked to let in a gentle breeze and though it causes him trouble here and there, he remains mostly unbothered.

The oversized white T-shirt he chose to wear is something you're still taking time to adjust to. Much more casual compared to what he wears during his lectures. But you like it with the loose-fitting pants he's paired it with.

"If it's necessary for you to know where we're going then I guess I have no choice." Jungkook looks in your direction but your gaze lingers down his torso. "__."

"Yes?" You immediately blink up at him, hoping you don’t look too flushed. Once he directs his attention back to the road you'll make sure to check yourself in the side-view mirror. Using your phone camera might look a little too obvious.

"I was saying if you need to know where we're going I'll tell you," he repeats. "But if it's possible I'd really like for it to be a secret until we get there."

"Alright," you concede. "I guess I could stand the wait this one time. This is your only freebie though. No more surprises after this."

"No more checking me out," he mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"No." Jungkook opens his door and hops out of the car. "I'll be right back."

"Wait where are you going?" You know he wants whatever this is to be a surprise but you've been told to keep your eyes shut for the last five minutes. You're a little nervous to say the least, especially if he's about to disappear somewhere. "Jungkook?"

No response.

"Hello? Jungkook?" You're tempted to open your eyes when you hear the trunk of his car suddenly pop open. Several rustling noises follow as he digs around. "What are you doing back there?"

"You'll see soon. I'm almost done so just sit tight for a moment." He unzips a bag and then pushes said bag around the floorboard. The sound of something crashing on the ground perks up your ears in the moments following, earning a tiny 'shit' from Jungkook.

"Everything alright?" You're seriously getting antsy now.

When Jungkook swings your door open, a cool breeze hits your legs. "All good __. But now, I'm going to need you to trust me because I'm going to help you out of the car."

What?

"Um, I do have crutches I can use you know. You don't have to carry me anywhere like before. Dr. Kim said I should–"

"You won't need them this time. We're not going far okay?" He ducks his head inside and guides your arms around his neck. "Can you scoot forward a little?"

You do as he says until he tells you to stop. And with one arm supporting your lower back and the other firm under your legs, you're lifted out of your seat.

"Okay." The ground underneath his feet crunches as he straightens himself back up and out of the vehicle. "Now you can open your eyes."

As soon as you do your jaw drops.

"Surprise!"

Jungkook watches your stunned face as you take in all of Seoul from your perched position.

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't take us to a traditional restaurant. This is an overlook I happened to stumble on years ago when I first moved here. Not many people know about it because it's kind of off the beaten track but I get a bit adventurous sometimes."

He carries you around to the back of the car.

"Since you're still recovering I won't make us sit on the ground but I brought food that we can eat in the back of my trunk. There's a pillow there you can lean against too. And I made sure to park at an angle so we can watch the sunset."

"Wow...Jungkook I don't know what to say."

"It's cheesy isn't it?" His previously eager tone drops and you can't help but feel a pulling at your heartstrings. "I'm sorry if this isn't your thing. I probably should have asked."

"I love cheesy." You crack a small smile and Jungkook breaks out into a grin again, causing both of you have butterflies in your stomachs. "You're very thoughtful for doing this. I'm sorry about my initial reaction. I'm just shocked."

"Well, we're friends now, aren't we? You should get used to this kind of stuff from now on." He walks up to the trunk and carefully sets you down. "Here, lean back." He fluffs the pillow and then gestures for you to lay back.

Once you're comfortable, he hops in next to you and grabs the baby blue gift bag from the corner of the trunk. You don't know how you missed it before given its size and very decorative packaging.

"Before I give you this to you please know that I don't expect anything back okay?" His hands are shaky as he holds the bag on his lap. "This is just something I wanted to give you after your injury and having to be in the hospital for so long."

You nod your head in understanding but are not fully convinced. "And you're giving this to me as a friend, yes?" You take the bag from him and slowly open it.

"Mhm."

You narrow your eyes at him before reaching into the bag. You take out a very large, sturdy box. "God, Jungkook. This is so heavy. What's in here?" You tear apart the wrapping paper and open the smooth lid. "Oh my god, you didn't?!"

They're chocolates from the dessert shop you told him about last Sunday night. You had mentioned it in passing because you were craving sweets but not in the slightest did you think he'd take it to heart. The shop was at least an hour's drive away.

"Don't worry." He sees the pressure creeping on your face. "I was going that direction anyway. But I saw it on my way back and was reminded that you were craving it the other night. Uhm, there's also a coupon in there too. They included that in the purchase."

"Jungkook....you really didn't need to do any of this for me." You grab the small card laying at the bottom of the bag that reads 20% off. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, I almost forgot!" You're taken aback when he jumps off the trunk to scurry to the backseat. He returns in mere seconds with a generous bouquet of pink and purple hydrangeas. "These are for you too."

You shriek and grab them out of his hand, feeling a little giddy. Hydrangeas are your absolute favorites. "Sorry, that was really rude of me. These are so beautiful, though. Thank you. I don't know what to say."

Jungkook sits back down and pulls forward a freezer bag. "Seeing you this excited is enough. I brought us a lot of food too so, we should probably eat it before it starts going bad. This bag can only do so much preserving." He digs out box after box of yummy food from fresh strawberries to sushi. There are drinks too; banana milk and soju.

Your stomach growls as you watch him set the food between you both.

"Well, don't be shy." He hands you a plate with chopsticks. "Dig in."

"You look very pretty in that blouse..." He stabs his straw into his milk and takes a large sip. "The color really suits you."

"Oh, thank you." You manage the words once you swallow the strawberry you're eating. "Yours too."

Jungkook combs through his hair with his fingers. "Thanks, this t-shirt really brings out my eyes don't you think?" You laugh and shove his shoulder lightly.

"Stop, I'm being serious. I don't see you in this type of style often. It looks good."

He gives a playful shake of his head. "Where did you get that shirt anyway?" He gestures at your top again.

"At a store," you reply dumbly. "It was on sale. Gotta love a good deal right?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Never pay full price."

"That's exactly what I try telling my roommate. She only buys the best of the best but I think she could get the same thing 50% off if she waited long enough."

"You know Taehyung's the same way. Nothing but luxury from head to toe. I'm surprised he paints in a basic t-shirt and jeans some days."

You chuckle, feeling the air light and fresh. "Painting gets messy so it's better you not wear your best and brightest clothes. Sometimes I'll just wear a giant t-shirt that already has paint stains and nothing el–"

Shit.

You cringe at how quickly you can run your mouth. Jungkook doesn't need to know your painting attire evident from his sudden frozen up form.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be. I've heard worse." Jungkook clears his throat and looks out to the view in front of you. "This really is a beautiful spot is it not?"

Thank you for the deflection, you silently say to him.

"Yes, it's the best view I've seen in my life. I can't believe you found this place. It's like seeing everything for the first time again."

"__."

"Hm?"

"Is it weird that I–" He stops mid-sentence, hands rubbing his thigh. "Is it weird that I brought you here?"

"Of c–"

"No wait, wait that's not what I wanted to ask." He runs his fingers through his hair again, doing his best to keep eye contact. "What would you say if someone were to ask you out?"

You relax into a tight-lipped smile and quirk your head to a slight angle. "I'd probably say no because I'm on a date with you right now."

At this Jungkook's milk slips from his hand, spilling on his pants. You grab some napkins next to you and help him wipe the spillage off.

"We're on a date?" He stands the milk upright. "This is a date?"

"Yes, it very obviously is. I don't wear this top for just anyone you know." You close your mouth instantly and sit up straight. "You weren't meant to hear the last part."

"Wait, go back. I thought this was us hanging out. Remember? At the hospital, I said–"

"C'mon the flowers, the specialty chocolates, taking me to one of your secret hideouts. Not to mention packing all this food to share. It is most definitely a date. Do you not want it to be?"

"No! I mean of course, yes. But I would have dressed a lot better." He looks down at himself, embarrassed. "I just threw these on before I left the house."

"And what else would you have worn? I see you in dress shirts and slacks twice a week at the school, if not more."

"Oh, I guess you have a point." He lets out a sigh. "To be honest __. We don't have the most proper relationship for that kind of thing, do we? It's annoying that I keep saying it but I am still your professor until the end of this semester at least. Us dating would be kind of a breach of contract."

"So you won't call this a date because you think it's forbidden?" You cross your arms.

"Well not entirely. It's just...I'm scared. There it is. And if we plan to do any sneaking around business I need to know you...shit, this is going to sound so middle school of me...I need to know you're interested in me __."

"For fucksake Jungkook, I wouldn't have agreed to come if I wasn't interested." You move closer to his side so you're inches from his face. "You're the kindest person I've ever known and I'd like to know you more like you've been doing for me the past two weeks. You've gone out of your way so many times for me that I seriously can't keep up. And while I can't say that I'm in love with you since it's much too soon, I've become very attracted to you. It just sucks we're in a bit of an odd position with school and all. But we can make this work. I'm also in post-grad so I don't think we're doing anything that risky."

"What about Taehyung?"

"That's all you got out of what I just said?"

"Sorry, I'm just asking because you seemed into him at the art exhibit. You're both artistic after all." He fiddles with his fingers. "I'm just the guy who you got stuck with this year because you couldn't major in art."

You feel compelled to take one of his restless hands in your own, so you do–holding it loosely.

"Kim Taehyung was simply a visual interest," you say. "I never thought about anything serious with him. He's also faculty so unless he saves my life or something, I'm not really considering anything beyond a friendly report."

A moment of silence is exchanged as Jungkook lets your response sink in. And as long as your eyes aren't fooling you, you'd say he's more than pleased with it.

"So...you really wanna do this?" Jungkook asks with more anticipation than nervousness this time.

"Yes." You nod.

"Wow, okay um, well when do you want to go out?" He kicks his feet back and forth. And when he reflexively squeezes your hand you can't help but grin at his eagerness. "I'm free every weekend if that works for you."

"We should probably get to the end of this date first Dr. Jeon."

"Nooo, I like Jungkook. Can we stay with Jungkook when it's just you and me? Also, this isn't a date. We need a do-over."

You laugh, seeing a new side of him. He's more, hm, whiny than you thought–it's cute.

"Jungkook, we don't need a do-over. This can be a date if we want it to be. It's got all the elements already. Look." You lift his hand in yours. "We're already holding hands.

"Nope. When are you free?"

"How about this coming Friday after 4pm? Is that too far out?"

He shakes his head fervently. "It works perfectly for me. Let's do 4:01pm." Your baffled expression causes his own eyebrows to knit together. "What? You can't do 4:01?"

"I–yeah sure I can but I didn't expect you to suggest a time so soon."

"Well, you said you'd be free after 4pm right?"

You nod.

"Then it's a date!"

He smiles wide and you do the same.

Present

"Kook, grab us a cart. You won't believe what's on sale!" You stuff about five gold-foiled boxes under your arm. The yellow tag next to the price says 75% off which means you are for sure buying at least ten of these.

It's times like these that your husband enjoys watching you most. You can barely reach the self where the clearance chocolate is, nevertheless, you're on your tip-toes with arms fully extended above your head to grab at every box of sweets you can.

His inner hero wants to help but he's learned early on not to get in the middle of you and your favorite snack. It's better he listens to your request to get a cart instead.

"Don't hurt yourself in the five minutes I'm gone okay honey?"

"Mhm," you mumble, not really paying attention. "Kook this chocolate has caramel and orange inside. Oh my god, look." You show him a box of chocolates with cherry filling. "These are to die for. I need like six of these."

"Here give me some of those." Jungkook takes the boxes of chocolates from your arm when he sees them slipping from your hold. "I'll put these in a cart while you keep digging. But if someone else comes along, let them have at least one this time."

He knows how much of a little hog you can get with your candy.

"Are you kidding? Finders keepers." You reach for another box, the ones in the back are always the best.

"__."

"What? I'm doing all the hard work here which means I get to keep all the chocolate."

"Fine, fine. Be sure to check the expiration date too." Jungkook turns around to stalk toward the front of the store. If he doesn't get his butt to a cart soon, his wife is going to turn into a grizzly bear.

A very cute grizzly bear.

But a grizzly bear nonetheless.

"Did we really need thirty boxes of these?" Jungkook dumps the grocery bags on your kitchen counter. "I love you but this is insane. Who's going to eat all of this chocolate?"

"Well, I was planning on sending the twins home with some." You rummage through the bag then move to stack them in the pantry. "They'll be here in an hour so it can be a surprise from us."

"Yoongi's twins? You're going to send the two children whose father is a dentist a whopping bag of chocolate?" Jungkook hands you another box to put in the pantry. The little assembly line works well when putting groceries away.

"I'm only giving them one box okay? So Yoongi can shove it."

You hear a snickering behind you.

"Honey don't push the man who could likely yank all your teeth out of your head and end with, 'will that be all?'"

You roll your eyes. "Yoongi doesn't scare me like he scares you. But if you're so worried I will get his permission ahead of time."

Jungkook's mouth opens in response until he feels a slight vibration in his pant pocket. When he takes it out to check his initial good mood drops about ten degrees.

"Kook?" You watch as he reads whatever it is on his phone.

"Nothing." He switches off the device and places it face-down on the counter. "It's just dad."

"Something about your mom I'm presuming?"

Being Saturday, it's been a few days since Jungkook had his fallout with his mother. They were originally planning to stay in town until Friday but left Thursday morning instead due to Mrs. Jeon feeling "unwanted".

Your husband's been in close contact with his father ever since.

"Yeah," Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh. "She's journaling again apparently. It's what she does to cope with frustrations like me."

"I'm sorry Kook." You rub his arm soothingly. "Maybe she needs some time to think about everything that's happened. I know you want her to talk to you but maybe it's not all bad that she's jotting things down first."

"Yeah, maybe." He takes your hand and presses a light kiss against the back of your knuckles. "It's whatever though, Mom can have her fit. I'm not going to let her ruin one of the only free days I get with my wife."

You smile and quickly peck his soft lips–something Jungkook wishes would be longer.

"Love you," you say and return to your original task of putting groceries away.

"Listen to me you two gremlins," Yoongi says on a bent knee. "Eomma and I will be back by 8pm. Until then your uncle Jungkook and Aunt __ are in charge. You know the rules, no jumping around on the sofas, don't into Aunt __'s paints, stay out of Uncle Jungkook's office, and under no condition are you to get into sweets."

He flicks his eyes to you for a brief moment then sets them back on the two seven-year-old girls in front of him. They look adorable with their matching space buns.

"But Appa–"

"No Eun-ji."

"Can't I just have one? Pleaseee?" She stares up at Yoongi with large eyes, hands clasped together. His second daughter Ari quickly does the same.

"We promise we'll brush our teeth right after."

Yoongi's face remains unmoved at his twin's relentless need for chocolate. Sure, he may be the one more likely to cave to requests when it comes between him and his wife but sweets were definitely off the table. His girls just got their teeth cleaned a couple days ago too, cavity-free, and he intends to keep it that way.

"Did you even bring your toothbrushes?" He knows for a fact they did not being that they weren't staying the night.

The twins exchange looks before breaking into a goofy grin. Mrs. Min leans down next to her husband at the moment and draws her girls into a hug.

"Appa and I will bring you back something better than chocolate tonight, okay?" She kisses her daughter's cheeks and then stands up. "Be good."

"K..." The twins let out a small huff then turn to set their backpacks on the living room couch.

"Hey," Yoongi calls after them. "Where's my hug?"

You let out a snort when you see Eun-ji face her dad again, tongue sticking out. Her sister gives a similar attitude with her hands on her hips and scrunched-up face. These girls might be in elementary school now but boy, those teenage years are sure to be rocking.

"Turn." You hear Ari from across the living room. She's standing on the sofa with her small hands holding a chunk of your husband's hair.

"Like this?"

"No the other side."

With his legs crossed on the floor, Jungkook shifts his head toward your direction with widened eyes. At this point, most of his hair has been pulled back into tight braids and finished off with yellow and pink hair clips. The only section left to do now was the underside.

"How do I look?" he asks you.

"Oh, you look breathtaking honey." You feel a soft makeup brush swipe across your cheek, courtesy of Eun-ji who's decided you needed a 'makeover'. You're not sure if that means a seven year old cramped on your style or what, but either way, you're getting bronze cheeks and glittery eyeshadow.

It's only been half an hour and the twins were already making you and your husband do their utmost bidding.

"Ari honey," you coo. "You should become a hairstylist when you grow up. You're doing such a good job with Uncle Jungkook's hair."

"I know," she sasses. "I'm good at this stuff Auntie. Everyone says that I am the queen of doing hair."

You and Jungkook giggle from the small child's gumption. It's good she's confident, you mouth to your husband.

He nods back. "Eun-ji's doing a great job too. You should see the glitter she's chosen for you."

"Not yet Uncle Jungkook," Eun-ji pipes up. "She can't look yet. It's a surprise!"

"Ah okay." He throws you playful eyes, eyebrows bouncing up and down suggestively. "A surprise huh?"

You flutter your eyes closed when you see Eun-ji dab her palette and reach forward to paint the eyeshadow over your lids. "Yup." she nods her head. "I'm giving Auntie the best color ever."

"Wow I can't wait to see honey," you say. "This wouldn't happen to be your favorite color would it?"

The tease in your tone makes Eun-ji grin. Of course, you can't see it but Jungkook can and it causes him to break out into a boisterous chuckle.

"You're so cute Eun-ji," he says, clapping his hands together.

"What about me?" It's Ari's sassiness making a comeback as she pushes the final yellow clip into Jungkook's hair.

"You're cute too Ari." You reassure the child and open your lids once Eun-ji gives you the okay. Not a second following that you're thrusted forward a hand-held mirror.

"What do you think?"

You glance at yourself in the reflection, blush blue eyeshadow that covers up to your eyebrows and bronze blush. You have ruby red lipstick on as well, Eun-ji's personal favorite.

"I love it, sweetheart. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." She gathers all the makeup containers and tools she can fit in her hands before making her way to your husband. "You're turn Jungkook."

"Okay, but can I pick what color this time?" Your husband smiles at the child with mirthful eyes.

"No." She sets the make-up in front of him and pops open a bright, Barbie pink lipstick.

"Anti-ti-ti-ti fragile, fragile!"

You watch from the kitchen as the twins jump around in the living room. After your makeover, the girls felt like a karaoke session was in order. They convinced Jungkook to join them so there he is with a microphone in his hand, belting the lyric of 'Antifragile' by LE SSERAFIM.

"Come on __!" Ari calls to you, breath heavy from all the rambunctious dancing. "Sing with us!"

You laugh and whisk the bowl of flour and sugar in front of you. "No you guys keep going. I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Doing what?" She runs up to the kitchen island where you stand, trying to peek inside the bowl.

"I'm making cookies."

"Really?" She rushes to the other side of the island to pull out the stool from underneath. Once she settles herself in the chair she looks at you with eagerness. "Can we eat them?"

"Hmm..." You pretend to think. "Didn't your dad tell you no?"

"Yeah, but you always give us sweets. Even if he says we can't have them."

The child has a point.

"How about this, if you help me make these you can eat them. But you can't tell your dad okay?" Ari nods. "Good, you can stir this for me while I crack some eggs."

"Just what are you doing?" You jump when Jungkook walks up behind you. "You wouldn't be giving these sweet girls something their parents told them they could have, would you?"

"Dad will be really mad if he finds out," Eun-ji joins in on the scolding. She turns down the music from the tv and folds her arms.

"Well I–"

"If you're going behind Yoongi hyung's back you're going to need some help, honey." Jungkook slides one of the kitchen draws open and reaches to take out a small plastic bag. He throws out two brand new kid-size toothbrushes, orange and blue. "Had a feeling we'd need these tonight after seeing you stock up on all that chocolate today."

"Now girls..." He turns to look at Ari and Eun-ji who seem to be busy mixing the bowl of flour and sugar together. "Hey girls."

They lift their heads.

"Make sure to brush twice before your dad gets back. This stays our little secret, understand?"

"Okay," they say in unison.

"Thank you Kook." You lean your head against your husband's firm chest, resting for a moment. This whole situation is kind of funny if you think about it. But you really hope you don't get beef from Yoongi later.

"Anything for you," Jungkook quips and kisses your head gently.

"Ew..." You hear Ari say.

"No it's not," Eun-ji bites back. "It's romantic, like the movies."

Ari scrunches her face at her sister. "No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Nope."

You and Jungkook wait for the two of them to simmer down but they keep going at it. Yes, no, yes, no...back and forth until one of them scoops up a handful of the flour in the bowl and tosses it at the other.

"Uh okay, no more! No more." You and Jungkook lunge forward to sweep the bowl out of their reach.

"How about you let Auntie and Uncle finish making the cookies and you two go back to karaoke?" Jungkook successfully persuades the twins and they run back into the living room in search of the next biggest hit to jam to.

You lock eyes with Jungkook now, wordless.

"Hm?" He hums at you.

"Mm." You shrug your shoulders and move towards the fridge but not before you're flicked with some of the flour yourself–your husband's hand powdery from the mixture. "Kook!"

You wipe your face, and light laughs fall from both your lips.

"Okay girls, get brushing!" Jungkook guides the twins to the bathroom. "Your parents are going to be home in fifteen minutes and that means these teeth need to smell like nothing my fresh mint." He squeezes the toothpaste on each girl's brush.

"Bursh, brush, brush," he chants and you shake your head as you wash the cookie sheet in the kitchen sink.

The twins have eaten about three cookies each and with chocolate stains all over their faces, they're going to need more than a 2-minute teeth brushing.

"Honey, I'm cracking the windows open and lighting my candles." Jungkook rushes around the house in search of his vanilla bean scents.

"I don't think that's going to take away the smell in such a short time. We should probably just take the beating Kook," you holler back.

"Oh, we're definitely getting dragged out tonight." He yanks the candle jars open and lights them. "The smell of freshly baked cookies is still too strong to hide but I'm hoping these candles will act as a distraction."

You hit your husband with the kitchen towel, the snap of it making him throw you a startled look. "Shit–do you not see the lighter in my hand?"

You roll your eyes. "Relax drama queen, you didn't have it ignited yet. Anyway, the candles aren't necessary if we're opening all the windows."

"It'll help though."

"Not really."

"Well, I think they will."

Jungkook goes back to lighting his candles and once he has the twentieth one lit, he's thoroughly pleased with himself.

As soon as the twins finish cleaning themselves up, they help scatters them throughout the house, leaving them in as many corners with surfaces as possible.

"Okay, that's it! That's the last one." Jungkook high-fives the twins and you toss the last dish in the drying rack.

"Good job team." You laugh and join them in the living room.

Eun-ji plops herself on the sofa with her backpack in her lap. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

Ari joins her on the couch with her own backpack in hand. "Me too." She pauses and then says something that you and Jungkook were very much underprepared for.

"You would make good mom and dads."

"You think so?" Jungkook shocks you by responding first.

Ari nods. "If you had kids, we could all play together. And we can have all the cookies we want because we'll be best friends. And best friends share everything!"

"So you want Auntie and I to have kids so you can keep hiding cookies from your dad?" Jungkook lunges forward to tickle the child mercilessly. "You little cookie monster!"

Ari rolls around on the couch, giggling repeatedly. You can't help but feel the thumping of your heart as you watch the scene unfold. And for the slightest moment, you imagine what it would be like with your own child.

All those thoughts are put to an abrupt end however when the doorbell rings.

Jungkook flies to the door to let Yoongi and his wife in. He flashes you a little smile before opening it, ensuring you that whatever happens he's got your back.

"Were you guys baking in here?" Are Yoongi's first words as he and the Mrs step inside the entryway of your house.

"Um, no? No, I don't think so." Jungkook feigns ignorance. "It must be coming from our neighbor's house."

With the twins home with their parents, you and Jungkook curl up together in your bed. You nuzzle your head in his inner shoulder and his arm holds around your waist.

"Those girls are a lot," Jungkook says. "But you know, I have to agree with them this time–it was kinda fun."

"Yeah?" You aimlessly trace circles on his chest.

"Still crazy, but yeah. I felt like I had a lot of good energy inside me tonight. And you know something else?" He looks down at you.

"What?"

"We'd make pretty damn good parents."

You bolt up from your reclined position the second the words drop.

"You can't keep doing this to me Jungkook," you say, your hands gripping the soft comforter. This isn't the first time he's teased you with having a baby and every time he does, you don't know what to take it as.

Is it a joke, is he serious, or just talking?

"You know how I feel and–"

"Hey." Your husband leans up to stroke your back with warm hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry honey. I don't mean to confuse you. I really am thinking about it you know? With everything that's been going on with my parents lately, I know I've been hard to pin down but I really am serious when I say we'd make good parents. Or when I say we might have a possible baby to make one day."

"Might. Could make. Maybe." You stare straight at your husband. "I know you're warming up the idea but you're still talking in such vague terms. I'm not at all trying to rush us to decide on a baby or not. But I just don't want to get a false sense of hope...that you'll say yes."

"Come here." He draws you into an embrace and kisses your cheeks, both of them. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I admit the first few times I was more loose with what I was saying than I should have been. But I swear I, it was never my intention to be leaving you guessing. I'm so sorry."

"I just want to know what you really think Kook. So I can be sure where you're at through this whole thing. The last few days have thrown a wrench at us with all the stuff your mom's been doing. But I'd still like to be in the loop of things."

"Yes, of course. I'm going to tell you everything right now okay?" Jungkook takes a breath. "I want to give you a baby so bad and I think I'm 70 percent there. But I'm also 60% not there because I'm terribly scared that once it happens, once we have a baby...that I'll revert back to my original mindset of not wanting one."

"Kook–"

"Hold on a second."

You close your mouth and allow him to continue.

"I've already started seeing and feeling being around kids differently than before. So much so that I think we could be happy if we started a family together because I'm so happy when I'm with you. And if there's anyone I could do that with, it'd be you and only you. So yes, I want us to have a baby, as many as you want, but I want to be 100% there first."

"Okay, that's fair. I'm not going to lie that I don't feel a little out of body from what you just said. Just to clarify, you're saying yes to how many babies?" You shine your eyes at him. "You said you want to give me as many babies as I want right? How many would that be?"

"My limit is yet to be determined." He grins at you. "It seems I might need to repeat some things if all you got out of what I just said is that I'll give you as many babies as you want."

"No, actually." You grip his hand. "I heard what you said and thank you. I feel a lot better knowing your thought process through this whole thing. We both need to be 100 % in before deciding on this next step in our lives. And about you being worried that you'll revert back to not wanting children. I'm no expert but I don't think that'll be true given your recent exposure with kids has made you feel better than worse. You said it yourself–you had a lot of good energy inside you tonight."

"True. You make an excellent point there. I think I still need some more time though. I was even thinking that maybe I'll....talk to Hoseok about this."

"I'm glad to hear that Kook. Hoseok is an amazing man and I know talking to him about all this will be nothing but beneficial for you."

"Thank you for being patient with me." Jungkook pulls you both down on the mattress, closing his eyes when his head hits the pillow.

"Same to you." You snuggle back into his chest. "I really hope we can have a family together."

"Me too," you hear him mumble before you close your own eyes.

A/N: Yup I told you this would be a long one. Ty for sticking with me! Also, what do you think? Was it a first date or not? LMK your thoughts 🥰

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mishy-mashy · 11 days

Text

Something I made in a post that I think'll be lost in the texts + expanded a bit more

These panels are chronological events following AFO's pursuit of Yoichi's Factor.

AFO could tell if people were related through a Quirk. AFO and OFA also are connected to each other. In Kamino, AFO could confidently tell All Might that OFA had been passed on, so all that All Might had left were leftover embers.

When AFO killed Kudo, he asked where Yoichi was. He knew Kudo wasn't the holder of Yoichi's Factor at that time. He also realized when looking at Yoichi's hand that Yoichi's natural Factor was so weak he hadn't registered its existence. This implies AFO could sense Factors since he was young, and Yoichi's natural Factor never stood out to him.

Below are three panels of Bruce (right to left). Bruce fought, AFO killed him, and looked away in disinterest.

When he beat down Bruce, he already had a sense that Bruce didn't hold the Factor anymore. That's why, rather than yell in his face to figure out where it is and interrogate for a long time, he pulled up his corpse to inspect him better.

Bruce's corpse isn't resisting anything. Look at his feet; AFO literally dragged him. Bruce is already dead. Yet he's looking for something from him.

Bruce doesn't have anything for him. Nothing AFO wants.

When he looks away, he's dismissing Bruce, because Bruce doesn't hold Yoichi. AFO is wondering where Yoichi is, because he knows now that he's out there somewhere. Thus the pensive look to the wind.

After Bruce is killed, AFO and Garaki meet for the first time. Shinomori has Yoichi at this time, and AFO never comes close to him, so AFO is lost. He doesn't have any leads, and Yoichi has vanished.

Now that he knows Yoichi can transfer, it's possible for Yoichi to be kept out of his reach for the rest of his life. So meeting Garaki and having access to Life Force gives AFO more time to search.

Yoichi is still missing for 18 years though, because Shinomori is in hiding. AFO couldn't find him during the Fourth's turn.

This is why, when he encounters Banjo, the Fifth and active wielder of OFA [Yoichi], AFO is smiling.

It's been a long time, but Yoichi's in reach again. He knows where he is now. And this is the first time he's encountered the current holder.

Thus his shock.

[Yet... you never behave as I wish.]

It was the first time a Quirk wouldn't let itself be stolen. This was AFO's first encounter with this wall: it doesn't transfer without the holder's consent, and requires willpower stronger than all the holders combined to override that.

The holder is never going to give him that consent. To override the collective willpower, he's going to need something greater.

Meanwhile, look at Banjo's arms. Shinomori is the catalyst to tip OFA over the edge, that an unprepared vessel will be destroyed by how strong the Quirk is.

Banjo's arms are both messed up below the shoulder, just like Midoriya used to be. And like Midoriya uses Blackwhip to reinforce himself and stay standing, Banjo uses Blackwhip to hold his fist / arm together. His hand is being wrapped to stay in a fist.

(What I think is) The reason the limbs turn red, and then purple, from breakage, is a matter of blood vessels. Small, itty bitty, fragile things.

Using OFA breaks the whole area, from bones to blood vessels, causing internal bleeding. Thus the redness. But breaking those vessels again in a second go turns the area purple, because it causes instantaneous internal bruising.

But En wasn't ripped apart by using OFA. There's a cut on his thumb that lines up with the path of destruction; AFO sliced him in half. Otherwise, he wouldn't have that cut if it were just OFA.

It's hidden by the text in [... you never behave as I wish], but depending on where you see this chapter, you can see he got cut on the thumb. It's clearer where we see Nana take his hair from him, in [I only want... to make you mine!]

I have a post in drafts about En being cut in half rather than it being because of OFA, but I also hit an image limit, so I'm gonna end here. Ta.

#from the [hood shouldve been shinomori] post #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #spoilers #afo #ofa #all for one #one for all #bruce #banjo daigoro #hikage shinomori #yoichi shigaraki #izuku midoriya #kyudai garaki #please s7 be graphic over the ofa users deaths #dont sugarcoat it let the viewers see what afo did to the vestiges because he wanted yoichi #poor bruce got ignored by afo #en tayutai #analysis #manga #edit: the thing about ofa and blood vessels is based off of when i would play sports #i keep debating on if i should say where i got the idea from so im just gonna put it down here #i break the blood vessels and create little spots of internal bleeding. i keep playing.#the bleeding spots disappear for huge bruises that cover half of the limb instead #look at midoriyas hand. the uneven discoloring. thats bruising #but while i break tiny areas for little blood spots MIDORIYA BREAKS ALL THE VESSELS BONES + EVERYTHING ELSE FOR THAT MESS REPEATEDLY #midoriya RAN with it (you say run)

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regretmedaisy · 6 months

Text

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded.

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.”

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her.

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat.

She quickly hid the message in her purse and he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out.

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him.

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up.

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess.

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so.

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him.

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage.

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy?

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth.

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt.

Merlin, it was finally happening.

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features.

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her.

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart.

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back.

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped.

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave.

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question.

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her.

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked.

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement.

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands.

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag.

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her.

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them.

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before.

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her.

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae.

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it.

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away.

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple.

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis.

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again.

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face.

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for.

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe.

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table.

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper.

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee.

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.”

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.”

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving.

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

#tom riddle x fmc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter #hp fanfic #tom riddle x oc

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flowerandblood · 1 month

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (15)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, mention of sex, violence, swearing ]

Characters & Series Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

For a long time after her uncle had left her chamber she could not recover; she sat on the table top exactly where he had left her, staring dully at the floor where the rolled up parchment lay, feeling his warm spend running down her buttocks. She thought about what was written inside, about what her stepfather really wanted.

I wish to speak alone with you and my daughter, nephew, tonight at the former Vhagar liege. You know the place. Come, if you dare.

She closed her eyes, swallowing loudly, calming herself slowly, feeling that her body was still trembling with terror. Never before in her life had she seen him in such a state, so distraught and broken, and she had no idea what she should do, what she could say to make him believe her – it seemed to her that although he had finally stopped crying, he didn't trust her.

She herself wasn't sure if meeting Daemon was a hope or a trap.

She finally slid off the table, settled on the floor and hissed quietly, clenching her eyelids, feeling the discomfort between her thighs after how brutal their approach had been immediately after their nuptials and now. She sighed quietly, moving slowly ahead and lay back on her bed, staring blankly at her door, recalling in her mind the conversation between her and his mother.

When she and Haleana walked into her chamber, she was already waiting for her.

Dressed as usual in emerald green, she stood up, her hands folded over her womb, the cuticles around her nails plucked and reddened. She looked at her with her big dark eyes, in her gaze pain, regret, remorse, but she wasn't sure what they were caused by.

"So it's true." She whispered in disbelief, looking at her cut lips, at her hand wrapped in a light cloth. She lifted her chin higher, not answering; Helaena stood behind her, silent.

"Gods, what have you done." She sighed, falling helplessly into the chair, covering her face with her hand, as if all that was happening was overwhelming her.

"There's no turning back now, then." She said at last, more to herself than to her, lowering her hand, looking ahead of her with empty, tired eyes. Seeing her bent, thoughtful figure, she lowered her gaze, unsure of what she should say.

After her guards poured the moon tea down her throat, she had nothing more to convey to her.

She was only her husband's mother to her, nothing more.

"He forced you to do this?" She asked at last, and she looked at her surprised, wrinkling her eyebrows and grunted loudly.

"No."

Silence fell again, longer this time. Alicent looked down at her knees, shaking a fleck of dust from her gown, sniffing quietly.

"When Viserys announced your betrothal, I was heartbroken. When Aemond agreed, I thought he did it so that his father would finally notice him. So that he would finally hear any kind word from him. Then Rhaenyra took you away and Aemond declared that he didn't want to see you. I thought it would be better that way. I was sure you had both moved on during those eight years." She said in a trembling voice and looked at her, shaking her head.

"I shouldn't have made you do this. I shouldn't have made you drink moon tea."

She sighed quietly, twisting to the other side, thinking about his mother telling her that he really didn't know anything about what she was going to do, that he was furious when he found out, yet that they had made a mistake by marrying each other that would cost them everything.

For some reason her words did not move her.

She was not afraid of Lord Baratheon's wrath or his daughter's disappointment when they finally found out what had happened.

The truth was that some part of her had been eagerly awaiting it.

Now, however, she couldn't think of anyone but her father, and although she knew it was Harwin Strong who had brought her into this world, Daemon was the one who had truly raised her.

She knew his unpredictable nature and was afraid of what he might do.

She became concerned when her uncle did not return for a long time, guessing that he was now discussing about the letter with his family. She was sure that his mother, grandfather and Criston Cole would be convincing him that it was a trap and suggesting that he let go of the idea that their marriage was in force – that she was a spy and if he backed out of it now, things could still be put right.

For some reason she felt that even if he had doubts about her loyalty, he would not disavow their marriage.

She shuddered when he finally stepped into her chamber – the sun was leaning lazily towards the horizon, if they were going to make it, they had to leave now. The door closed behind him and he stopped in the middle of the room, looking at her with a empty gaze, tired and pale.

"My brother has given his consent for us to negotiate with Daemon on his behalf."

She asked nothing more; her husband ordered them to bring their riding attire, which they changed into quickly. They left the keep in a hurry – she felt a hit of adrenaline and joy when she smelt the pleasant, fresh air around her.

For the first time in long days she was back outside, stepping on the soft grass, hearing the sound of the trees; she felt her uncle walking beside her glance at her once in a while, pondering for sure if she would try to escape. She stopped, surprised when he turned in a different direction than he should have, not understanding where he was going.

"We need to get Larax first." She said to him, turning her head towards Dragon's Pit, which she could see in the distance.

"No. You will fly with me on Vhagar." He replied coolly, without stopping; she looked at his silhouette in pain and moved after him with her heart beating fast, disappointed, for some reason naively believing that he would allow her to ride her own dragon.

However, her whole body was quivering in anticipation, for she had never seen Vhagar with her own eyes before.

She spotted her from afar; she seemed to her as big as a fortress, coiled, sleeping a sound sleep, her scales grey and brown, hot steam gushing from her nostrils once in a while, which dissolved into the air. She stood still for a moment, stunned, wanting to look at her from a distance; her uncle snorted at the sight, amused.

"Are you speechless?" He scoffed with some kind of pride and satisfaction, as if he had dreamed of this moment all his life; he, the second son, with no dragon and no heritage, could finally show her the great beast he had ridden in all its glory.

She heard his shuddering sigh as she snuggled into him, embracing him at the waist, the setting sun and a pleasant warm breeze all around them; his hands cuddled her into himself, his forehead pressed against the top of her head.

He furrowed his brow, surprised when she approached him; she tightened her hands on his leather coat, rose on her toes and kissed him, just as she had when they were children, merely pressing her lips against his. She pulled away from him with a quiet click of her saliva.

H looked at her with big eyes – it seemed to her that he had completely not expected this, still angry with her for what had happened.

"Am I flying towards my own doom?" He asked in a whisper, and she shook her head.

"No."

He sighed heavily, pale, frightened and uncertain, knowing that he was facing the destiny he feared, surely wishing he could now look deep into her heart and know her thoughts.

Whether betrayal lurked behind them.

He let her go, moving towards his dragoness, who raised her head sensing their scent – the ground trembled around them as she caught sight of her, rising restlessly on one of her paws, anxious.

"Lykiri, Vhagar. Ziry iksos ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha ānogar (Easy, Vhagar. It's my wife, my blood)." She heard his loud, deep, calm voice and felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that just a month ago, when she was just a bastard to him, these words would not have passed his lips.

Ñuha ānogar.

My blood.

She was more than his wife, and he was more than her husband.

She dared to come closer when he nodded at her, watching vigilantly the behaviour of the giant beast lying in front of her, its lizard-like, dark eyes watching her with curiosity.

She thought that her uncle had not allowed anyone but himself to approach her for years.

Her husband explained to her that she had to climb up the ropes to her back and sit in the big saddle, belaying her from below, a task that proved difficult and required great strength in her arms. He grasped her buttock several times with his hand when he saw that she was losing strength, and she wondered if he was watching over her safety and that she should not fall, or if he was simply taking satisfaction from it.

Both, she thought, sighing with relief as she finally got to the top and sat comfortably in the large leather saddle; her uncle sat behind her, breathing loudly. She felt him hesitate, his hand embracing her waist, the other gripping the ropes, his face melting into her soft cheek.

"Iksā ñuha vējes (You are my doom)." He whispered, clearly thinking she wouldn't understand; she, however, had spent hours with Daemon reading the same books he'd flicked through then, in the library, before he'd taken her for the first time.

"Hae iksā ñuhon (As you are mine)." She answered him quietly, felt him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his hand involuntarily tightening on her leather coat.

"You were mocking me. Then, when you told me to teach you." He said lowly, disappointed as if he were a small child who had been fooled.

She knew he was saying this because he wanted to put off as much as possible what was about to happen.

She sighed quietly at his words, tilting her head back, resting it on his shoulder, the pleasant, warm evening breeze enveloping her face.

"I imagined you sitting next to me when Daemon teached me. That we were children again. I was trying to get back what I had lost." She said finally, placing her hand on his, large and cold. She sighed as he pulled her tighter to him, his hand from her stomach rose to her neck, clamping around her – she felt his manhood throbb behind her, pressing against her buttocks.

"I know."

"If you try to escape, if you betray me, I will kill you with my own hands." He hissed into her ear, but she felt no fear or discomfort, expecting those words for some reason.

His desperate attempt to threaten her, to stop her from whatever he was accusing her of in his head.

Flying with him into the dark skies, feeling the wind in her hair again and that wonderful freedom, she felt some kind of relief. She pressed her body against the front of the saddle and he embraced her tightly from behind, his cold cheek pressed against hers, his hands holding the ropes embraced her waist.

They both shuddered as they caught a glimpse from below of the fortress they both remembered so well, and on a hill not far away the figure of a red, long-necked dragon – beside it a lone, white-haired figure strolling along the edge of a cliff.

Her uncle commanded Vhagar to land; the ground around them shook from her weight as her great paws hit the ground, sand and dust rising high around them.

Her husband slid down the ropes first and she followed him, squealing loudly as he caught her before she fell to the ground, putting her safely on her feet.

"Don't try anything." He growled, checking her body quickly with his hands to make sure she didn't have a sharp tool hidden anywhere, which she allowed him to do without a word despite the fact that he had already done so before they even left the Red Keep. "Come."

She moved a few steps behind him towards her father, sighing loudly at the sight of him with emotion – she felt her whole body tremble, her lips parted in an involuntary smile.

She thought she would never see him again.

Her husband stopped, and she stood behind him. Daemon looked at her as he unsheathed his sword and dagger from his leather belt, laying it slowly on the ground. She heard her uncle swallow hard, distrustful, and after a moment he did the same, tense, letting the air out loudly as he straightened back up, looking at him expectantly.

"Speak, uncle." He ordered, however, Daemon wasn't looking at him but at her.

She realised he had noticed what was clearly visible on her lower lip.

"You married him." He said offhandedly, looking at her with a gaze that made her shudder, the one that always recognised when she was lying or trying to hide something from him. She nodded.

"He forced you?"

"That's enough. Did you summon me to mock me, uncle?"

"He forced you?"

"No." She heard her own trembling voice, looking at him pleadingly, unsure if he would understand why she had done this, or if he would see it as a betrayal.

Daemon looked to the side, pressing his lips together, and sighed heavily, as if he was very tired, a light breeze blowing his white hair partly pinned back as he finally turned to her husband.

"So you know what duty is. What family is. And yet you support your brother who stole his sister's throne." He said coldly; she looked uncertainly at her uncle-husband, who clenched his eyelids and chuckled under his breath, as if something in his words amused him.

"Why should I support my sister, the same one who, when I lost my eye, wanted to interrogate me thoroughly because I told the truth out loud? Why should I support her children, who have no claim to the throne?" He hissed; he and Daemon looked at each other warily, fighting for glances, for dominance, for who would have the last word.

"You married a woman you think is worthless? Like her brothers?" He asked dryly, Aemond snorted loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She is my wife. Who her father was no longer matters, for she belongs now to my family, for our children will bear my name." He growled loudly, hitting his index finger against his chest, as if he could finally get out what he really felt.

She looked at him in disbelief, surprised that he wasn't holding back, that he wasn't limiting himself to conveying his brother's will, whatever it might be, but saying what he himself was thinking.

Daemon stared at him for a moment and snorted under his breath, shaking his head, looking at him again.

"What does your drunken brother-cunt have to convey to my wife as his justification? I lost my daughter because of him." He said coldly and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling cold sweat on her back, her husband gave her a quick, horrified look.

"What?" She muttered, looking at her father, then at him. She furrowed her brow, feeling that she was having trouble breathing, taking a step back. "You knew?"

"Calm down. You were suffering. I didn't want to add to your pain." Her uncle said quickly, looking at her pale, Daemon laughed out loud, burying his face in his hands.

"Look at you two. The future of the kingdom." He sneered, his nephew's lips tightening, throwing him a sharp, warning look.

"My wife is to pass on her rights to the throne to a child that does not yet exist? What if a girl is born? What if you have no children?" He asked with disapproval and mockery, as if he had never heard a greater foolishness before.

"My brother has agreed to relinquish his rights to the crown, in favour of my and my wife's future heirs. He knows, exactly as you do, that both his rights in light of previous Lords' oaths, and your wife's in light of her being a woman, will always be challenged, and by extension the rights to the throne of their children and grandchildren. No one, however, will challenge the rights to the crown of my and my wife's offspring." He said in one exhale, trying to remain calm; she looked at him in disbelief, her heart pounding like mad.

Grief, hope, disappointment and relief mixed in her heart making her herself not know what she felt.

"Then second to the throne will be your and my sister's children. Children from the rightful bed, pure Targaryen blood. If my wife and I do not beget a son."

"That is not enough. I want the head of your mother and your grandfather."

"Then I want Luke's head. I will gouge out his eyes with my own hands."

"Enough." She said, clutching her stomach, feeling everything around her start to spin – her husband taking a step towards her, frightened, seeing the look in her eyes, blank and furious.

"Enough, or I swear I'll throw myself right off this cliff." She mumbled, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head. She felt her uncle's hand embrace her neck, cuddling her into his chest, trying to calm her, Daemon watching them from afar.

"You will release my daughter as an act of goodwill. She will return with me to Dragonstone, and perhaps I will consider passing on your proposal to my wife. A daughter for a daughter." He said impassively; she felt her husband's hand clamp painfully tight on the nape of her neck, felt his heart pounding like mad under her cheek.

"Never."

Her father looked at her, certainty and impatience in his eyes.

"Tala (Daugther)." He said in an unobjectionable tone, wanting her to choose rightly, to choose her family, her kin.

"Don't you fucking dare." She heard him hiss, his free hand clenched helplessly in her hair, his forehead pressed against the top of her head, his breathing loud, shaky, terrified. "You promised me."

Part of her longed to stay with him, and part of her craved to be free, to go home, to see her mother, her brothers and sisters, to lie in her bed in her chamber.

However, Larax would stay in King's Landing, and with her her husband, who would never again trust her, who would never again look at her as he did then, the day he took her as his wife.

Kill me or marry me.

"Tell my mother that I will always be faithful to her, father." She said quietly, lifting her head, looking at her husband, his wide-open eye red with despair and horror; her hand rose to his cheek, her thumb stroked his clearly defined jaw. "Take me home, uncle."

She didn't appear to have time to finish her sentence, and his swollen, full lips pressed against hers in a passionate, greedy kiss – she felt tears of relief, grief, anger, joy and pain run down her cheeks as she reciprocated his caresses, his hands clenched tightly on her body.

"My sweet Rheanys." He whispered in a trembling voice into her mouth, placing a quick, hot, wet kiss on her forehead before turning towards her father, the satisfaction and confidence on his face from which her heart beat harder.

"She is mine."

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simplyreveries · 4 months

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Finally found a TWST writing account with their requests open (trust me it’s rare these days to find TWST writing accounts that are taking requests when I need them)… hehehehhe time for a silly request!!

Characters of your choosing (I can’t decide so you get to) with a reader who is self-aware about being in a game. Platonic or romantic, I don’t really care too much. :3 no pressure if you don’t wanna :D

self aware; riddle, azul, malleus

this concept is so interesting to me, thank you!! i did characters i was in the mood to write for!!

riddle rosehearts

he's confused. he doesn't understand you, but he already knows you're from another world, so he doesn't exactly question it. i mean, of course you're going to be different. he admires your seemingly fearless attitude when dealing with what events come your way but hasn't grasped the concept that it's because you already know what's going to happen, so it doesn't exactly phase you when it comes things such as the overblots.

riddle has the befuddled look whenever you compare him to the queen of hearts. though he is flattered because he looks up to her greatly, he doesn't understand why you're so adamant on telling him it all the time. like whenever you laugh and point out he's "based off of" he's so?? what?? or compare the other dorm members as well. he thinks you're trying to be funny or something and not being serious.

whenever he has history class with you, he's always caught off by surprise when you're able to suspiciously answer most of the questions regarding not only the great seven but other figures and places as well! he thought you just studied well and thought it was rather intelligent of you, not that you already knew.

azul ashengrotto

he finds you peculiar, at first, he thought you were easy to manipulate into signing over the contract during the events of chapter 3 and he tried to take over ramshackle away from you. when you did it without much care or thought, he thought was amusing to see! he was too caught up in being able to successfully "deceive" you that he didn't seem to notice the lax "ohh i know what this part is" attitude from you.

azul has only heard of idia at the board game club they're in together talk a little about his favorite tropes "isekai" and stuff like that. he is curious about the world you're from, but whenever you talk about it, it feels so strange to him. and you keep comparing him to the sea witch! which he thinks is nice but believes he has a long way to go with how great she was.

he feels kind of frustrated when you can almost be one step ahead of him because you know how things are to play out! and even how to talk to people around you. he thinks its impressive though- he thinks you can just read other people well.

malleus draconia

he sees how keen you are on things in twisted wonderland, for someone from another world. but doesn't say anything about it for the most part. whenever you talk and almost get excited, talking about the stories of characters like one of the great seven he quietly listens and adds onto what you're saying. it's interesting, your knowledge is abundant, and you've only been here for a few months.

malleus likes by the way you act. though he isn't entirely sure why you're so confident on knowing how things are going to play out he finds your attitude amusing for a human. you commonly would compare him to maleficent and he'd chuckle shake his head and proceed to tell you stories of just how powerful she was.

he tilts his head slightly, looking down at you confused when you seem deep in thought during your nightly outings before the events of chapter 7. you usually seem so calm and collected but he seemed curious as to why you seemed worried and stressed for once about what's to come in the future. still unknowing what you know. he'll smile softly and tell you, "you need not to worry, child of man."

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #riddle x reader #azul x reader #malleus x reader

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lettersofgold · 5 months

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in my head — trent alexander arnold

trent alexander arnold x singer!reader collaboration with @808heartz

genre: angst | warnings: mentions of infidelity, cursing, drinking

smau link -> 🖇️

“You are so selfish!" Trent quickly turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, his jaw clenched. "I'm selfish?" "Yes, absolutely!" you replied without hesitation.

Trent retorted, "If that's the case, why are you here, huh? What's keeping you here?"

"Because I love you!" you said with raw emotion. Trent didn't seem convinced and retorted, "Maybe you should start acting like it, for fuck's sake! All you do is yell at me."

"It is embarrassing for me to repeatedly explain that you are always 'busy' and can't show up to support me. Yet here you are, sitting on your ass without a care in the world."

"I couldn't be bothered with your event. Wanting the cameras to see us together? Real convenient, that.”

As you stood there, stunned and tears rolling down your face, you took two steps back. You didn't realize just how close you were: you were screaming in Trent's face, feeling his breath on your skin. His words knocked you backward, and you felt the instinct to run, but not before saying your piece: "You're such an asshole," you whispered.

"And you're a needy bitch." He replied.

You fell for Trent so quickly that it made your head spin. He had a way of building you up and tearing you down in the blink of an eye. At first, you thought the arguments were just passionate discussions, but soon enough, they turned into shouting matches - him saying you were too controlling, you saying he was a constant flake. Even during intimate moments, there was a coldness in him that you chose to ignore. He would cut you off and ghost you for days, then appear as if nothing happened. You justified it by telling yourself that Trent was silently processing his emotions - he was merely clearing his head. For Trent, that looked like getting cozy with the girl he said was never someone you had to worry about. It was blasted over social media, and the news blinded you. He admitted to it because he was caught red-handed, holding hands with his new fling on holiday.

You thought you knew Trent - his fears, heart, and passions. You loved all the parts of him, especially the parts that the world didn't see. You had crafted an elaborate and beautiful image of him in your mind. But when cracks started to show, you were confronted with the harsh reality that he wasn't who you thought he was. You sat there, drinking and mourning the man you thought he was - staring at them, hand in hand so publicly. It was the one thing you wanted and he refused. He kept you a secret so he could be with whoever he wanted and clearly, it was a girl who you shook hands with, a girl who smiled your fucking face. Your sobs were so loud that when your best friend stepped through the door, he dropped the bags he was carrying and rushed to you. He took the glass from your hands, wrapped you up, and held you. You felt hollow, betrayed, and unsure how someone who claimed to love you could choose to hurt you

It took a whole year, but finally, you had completely recovered. You were feeling happier. A few months back, you teased the release of your upcoming album, and fans were eagerly anticipating the first single. As you were in the process of creating the album and picking out the lead single, you decided to give Trent a heads up on his name being mentioned in your upcoming single, "Thank u, next."

You: [mp4 attached] You should hear it first - if you don't want me to add it to the album, I understand. Trent: I don't care. Do what you need to do.

Trent's blunt and swift response showed you once again how much he did not care. You refused to feel guilty loving him. You released your second album with that chapter of your life firmly behind you. The reception it received was unexpected. The label was worried about its sales potential, given that it was only your sophomore album. However, to your immense joy, your single charted at #1 for more than two months, and the album broke records in terms of sales - you cried tears of happiness. The press requests kept coming in, but you held back. You trusted only one source enough to open up completely to, knowing that any other interview would only add to the confusion about who exactly you were referring to in your songs. You made multiple references to your relationship with Trent but doubted that it could be confirmed that it was him. You were in the same places multiple times but never explicitly pictured together. The closest could be you at Anfield earlier in the year, but you were relaxed. Your interview with Zach Sang changed that overnight.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about this, but what was the inspiration for "thank u, next"? Or, who rather?" Zach Sang asked, earning a chuckle from you.

“The inspiration? Oh god,” you laughed. “Probably getting cheated on by a stupid soccer player.”

"Oh, that'll do it! That's horrible."

"Yeah. It ruined me last year, and I was in such a bad place, but I've grown from it now, definitely. Writing the album and taking time for myself really forced me to look inward and choose myself."

“Before we go, I would love to know your favorite song or part of the album.”

“Oh, that’s a hard one. Besides Needy, it’s the voicemail my best friend sent me at the beginning of In My Head. I was in the studio bawling my eyes out when he left that voicemail - once I played it back, I knew it set the tone for that song.”

Trent said what he said and stood by it: He didn’t care, and you needed to do what was best for you. He saw the tweets about the album from the fan accounts that tagged him but he didn’t overthink it. You stopped posting altogether after the breakup; radio silence. But after “thank u, next”, things were awkward for him - it was becoming evident to his friends and a few teammates that you were talking about him specifically when you said: ‘Wrote some songs about Trenty, now I listen and laugh.” He ignored it and shut down any related conversation, thinking one song and one line was the worst of it. It was far from it, and the whole album was about him. Trent could not escape you even when he was with another woman - he was sprawled in her bed as she was getting ready when he heard your voice. The lyrics sent a chill down his spine.

Yeah, look at you, boy, I invented you Your Gucci tennis shoes runnin' from your issues Cardio good for the heart (for the heart, for the heart) I figure we can work it out, hmm Wanted you to grow, but, boy, you wasn't budding Everything you are made you everything you aren't I saw your potential without seein' credentials Maybe that's the issue (Yeah, yeah) Said maybe that's the issue, ah Can't hold that shit against you, ah Yes, I did it to myself, yeah Thought you were somebody else, you

Trent ran to his phone scouring your spotify to see if that was an old song. The cover of the album with the words just released made his stomach drop. His night was filled with anxious energy. Trent’s focus was on you while he was eating with her. His phone was overheating with mentions and comments. He felt tormented by it. Twitter and Instagram were flooded with mentions about him being the inspiration behind his ex's album. Trent was overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. He thought about talking to his public relations manager but ultimately decided against it, knowing that the news would eventually reach her. Trent thought about his teammates and how embarrassed he would feel entering the locker room after his face was plastered everywhere. Although it appeared to be a blow to his ego it was more than that. It was because he had treated his ex poorly. He couldn’t change the past but it didn’t feel as if the future would be better. His mind raced as he failed to sleep, reflecting on a conversation they had in the very bed he was in.

“What was it like?” You spoke softly. You were breathless after spending countless hours entwined in his sheets, the sound of your breathy voice still echoing in his mind. You felt uninspired and utterly stuck in writing your second album at that moment. You always told him that winning a Grammy was your ultimate goal since you entered the music industry. Trent found it endearing how much you respected him as a person and as an athlete who had achieved so much so quickly in his football career.

“Most incredible feeling ever. I’m just a boy from Liverpool ya know? And all my dreams came true. The fans, my boys, my brothers…. Nothing like it.” After a long while of silence, he could sense your growing frustration. Trent leaned closer to you, bringing his lips within inches of yours, and drew your attention away from those thoughts towards him.

“One day, you will be on that stage, crying and thanking everyone.” He kissed you softly on the lips, deepening it as you giggled. Your lips were soft and wet against his and he was obsessed with the feeling. He pulled away, determined to boost your confidence. "When you're on stage and I'm in the crowd, you can say, 'To the man who told me I could do it, thank you,' and then we can celebrate all night long, yeah?"

You smiled and climbed on top of him, kissing him in a way that made him feel alive. "I love you," you said as you leaned in to kiss his neck, sending a wave of heat through his body. He was unsure of what to do because he knew you weren't the only one with a hold on him. He simply hummed in response, "I know." He didn't waste time before diving back inside you, drawing out endless sweet sounds. He knew this relationship with you was doomed from the start.

Trent was emotionally distant and unfaithful, which was a recipe for heartbreak - and it wasn’t going to be his. He gathered the courage to sneak into his bathroom and call you, but the call went straight to voicemail. Despite feeling embarrassed, Trent called again, determined to at least leave a genuine apology in your voicemail. His heart thumped so hard that he feared his girlfriend could hear it from where she slept.

“I know what I did was awful… I’m sorry. I am, and uh, I hope things are going well for you. I listened to the album, and it was great - I hope it gets you the Grammy you always wanted. I hope it’s everything you ever dreamed of…just call me or not. I don’t know, I’m sorry..” He hung up the phone awkwardly, refusing to listen to it again, and waited for a response that didn’t come until early the following day.

You: You did what you needed to do. Please don’t contact me anymore. I’m not interested in any apologies or reconnections. Treat them better, Trent.

“Pete,” you whispered quietly to your boyfriend. The Grammys was nerve wrecking theory but actually sitting the audience after waiting so long made you question if you were meant to be there. “I’m going to be sick, best pop vocal album is next.” Pete nodded and reached for you, giving it a squeeze. “You've got this in the bag, baby.” Pete - the light in the darkness that Trent created. Pete made it known how attracted he was to you but you turned him down almost immediately. You couldn’t trust anyone. So he waited, never forcing his feelings on you - simply being a friend to you. He made you laugh, and sat with you for hours in the studio, making sure you rested and were well-fed. Pete was everything you wanted Trent to be. Pete was the man you created Trent out to be in your head.

The presenter stood on the stage and rattled off a few jokes as the cameras began to crowd around the nominees. Your name was called and you dipped your head with a deathly tight grip on your boyfriend’s hand. You didn't even realize it but it was you - you won the Grammy. Pete said your name multiple times before it dawned on you. You were reluctant to move from your seat because surely it was a mistake. But no, you did it. Your dream has just come true. Pete squeezed your hand three times, the silent code you created to say “I love you” to one another in crowded rooms and events. His watery eyes met yours and you couldn't hold your tears.

The microphone was shaky as you began to thank each and every person you could remember. The clock was counting you down but you didn't care - this was your moment. You talked for a full thirty seconds before wiping a few tears, standing up straighter to stare directly into the camera.

“I wasn't expecting to win tonight, so this is.. a little crazy. I just want to thank everyone who's supported me and the album, it's been such a journey from then to now. To my fans, to my management, my friends, and Pete - I love ya’ll. Thank you again.” The crowd cheered for you and for a moment they thought it was over. But you had one more thing to say.

“And to the person who broke my heart, thank you for helping me win this Grammy.”

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