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januaryembrs · 2 days

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WAS I FOOLIN MYSELF | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [5]

Description: The THREE times you can't have him no matter how much you want to

Length. 15.2k

warnings: angst, spencer's addiction mentioned, gory cm cases (medical trauma, removing limbs, human marionettes etc) explosion, broken arm and surgery, slight lemon at end but not actually written just described aftermath, Maeve arc (I'm so sorry), guns, almost dying, blood, general cm warnings, anything else let me know!

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Authors note; I will edit in the morning I just really wanted you all to have the next chapter as promised!!

'I'ma strike these matches, never had control,

I'm ready to let go, no, was I fooling myself?'

The one with the wedding

JJ’s ears were ringing, a high pitched whine like a radio skipping between stations searching for a signal, and she felt the hard concrete against her milky skin before the throbbing in her forehead hit.

“JJ, are you alright?” There were hands at her shoulders, patting her down for fractures, not wanting to move her if her spine had been hit, and it wasn’t until she rolled herself over, eyes frantic and in shock that she saw Morgan.

“Where’s Will? Where’s Bugsy?” She asked, the words blurring into one word. Her legs were struggling to a stand before she could think too much about the concussion she almost definitely had, giving Morgan a quick once over, “Did they get out of there?”

But she hadn’t seen any movement before the blast had shot them back ten feet to the floor. Had only seen the back of the youngest Prentiss woman’s head as she rushed into the building to get emergency medical care to her partner.

“Where’s Emily?” Morgan added, and the two of them realised they were missing perhaps three of the most important people to them with no sign of life from any of them.

It didn’t take much for JJ to take off bolting into where the bank’s entrance had crumbled to the floor, where the dust hadn’t even settled and they didn’t know whether there was a second set of bombs waiting for them. They didn’t know anything.

And it was for that reason JJ dipped straight into the wall of smoke, hand tight on her gun as she went to look for survivors.

Morgan and Hotch were hot on her heels, a dozen firefighters and medical in tow, a similar face of dread in their expressions.

Aaron’s heart was in his throat when they entered the building, the west facing wall almost entirely in smithereens on the floor. The dust choked him the second they ran in, and he coughed before he could even get a word out, hand flying over his mouth to try give himself some kind of filter to the air.

“Bugsy!” He yelled as loud as his dry vocal chords would allow, “Bugsy, give us a signal,”

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of JJ and Morgan screaming for Will and Emily just as loud. And even to that they received no answer.

It wasn’t until they got close enough to the rubble and began seeing the bodies did Aaron start to fear the worst. He called her name again, her real name, splitting up from the rest of his team because it was no longer a mission for the UnSubs, it was now a search and rescue.

He crouched to press his fingers against a woman’s throat, stomach flipping when he felt no pulse beneath them, before he moved onto another one, his eyes darting between the chunks of brick and ceiling to see if he could spot anything that looked like an FBI jacket.

It wasn’t until he found one of the men donned in a SWAT uniform, his gun long since dropped to the tiles that he knew he must be close. It was one of the guys who had gone into the buildings seconds before her.

He felt for a familiar thrum of a heartbeat, his breath thick in his throat when he managed to get a slow and steady thump, and he immediately began signalling for medical attention.

Paramedics came running over with a stretcher between them, but Aaron wasn’t finished, Not until he saw her.

He dodged around the large chunk of stone that piled in the centre of the room, cringing when he saw a splatter of blood on the tiles in front of him, and it was only when he saw a hand splayed out on the floor did his heart truly stop.

His cold eyes were wet with fear as he traced the hand up its arm, the familiar blue he wore himself ripped to shreds, the skin beneath it broken and the bone snapped clean in two. He could barely make out the three letters, F. B. I. that were so covered in blood and dirt it almost matched the navy, before he got the pillow of familiar hair matted against a head that faced away from him.

But it was her. There was no doubt about it.

He thinks he said her name, but it might just have been a sob, because he fell to his knees quickly, scrambling to get to her face to see if she would respond to him at all.

“Bugsy, I need you to wake up,” He ordered, though it sounded like a hiss of pain, his rough hands finding her young face, desperate for any movement behind her eyelids, “Come on, sweetheart, just tell me what day it is,”

Years of training on what to do in a crisis and the correct first aid to give to someone unresponsive flew out of his brain, leaving behind bits and pieces like getting her to talk to see whether she had severed anything in that big, amazing brain of hers that had so much promise.

He leaned his ear down next to her nose, looking down the front of her chest to check for any signs of breath.

This was too similar to what Foyet had done with Haley, like a horrid deja-vu he wouldn’t wish even on their worst UnSub. He had been too slow, too stubborn, too stupid to stop her from getting hurt. He didn’t know what her blood on his hands would feel like, didn’t know if he would ever sleep again knowing he had gotten her killed.

Aaron’s stomach flipped when he saw her ribs rising slowly beneath her vest, her breaths cold against his earlobe.

“Guess it’s my turn to come back from the dead, huh?” A croaking whisper came softly, and he flicked his head around so fast he thought he might have whiplash.

But her eyes were open, squinting and tired, and he cursed the fact he had only then noticed the cut on her forehead, red ichor pumping fast and restlessly down the side of her face.

He gave a breathless laugh, though it pained his own ringing ear to do so, stroking gently down her face with the same care he would put Jack to bed with.

“Gotcha,” She smiled up at him sheepishly, her brows furrowing when she seemed then to notice the tears rolling down the tip of his nose, “Aaron Hotchner crying over me, are pigs flying today?”

He chuckled wetly, and his eyes were the warmest brown she’d ever seen them when he looked down at her. He turned his attention away for a second to call over medical, his eyes landing on Emily who was also frantically scanning the wreckage for her sister and giving her a sign too.

“You gave us quite a scare there,” Aaron said softly, because judging by the bump on her head, and the way blood was pooling in her ears, he guessed her eardrums had been damaged in the blast. Emily was over to them in seconds, looking dishevelled herself, and she gasped into her hands when she saw her sister’s fragile form.

“Bugsy- oh my god your arm,”

The girl’s face dropped, eyes widening as she tried turning to see the damage but Aaron was faster, quickly blocking her view of the mangled mess of skin with hand over the side of her head.

“What’s wrong with my arm?” She asked, and he saw nothing but his son with a scraped knee in her eyes when she looked up at him vulnerably. Emily fell to her knees next to her, taking over from Aaron by stroking her sister’s cheek, because if her adrenaline rose too much, then the numbness of the shock would wear off and she would feel it all.

“I think it’s broken, but the paramedics are going to fix you right up, I promise,” Emily cooed, though she felt herself go a little white at the sight of her sister’s bones so mangled and in pieces.

Aaron looked up when he heard Morgan calling his name, spotting the paramedic team navigating their way back to where the three of them sat, and he waved his hand up to let them know where they were.

He bit his tongue, looking down at where Bugsy was clearly starting to wake up more to just how bad of a state she was in, and she watched him woefully be torn between helping the rest of his team or staying with her.

“You guys can go, I’m no use on the case anymore,” She said, despite the fact she was terrified of what might happen if they left her alone.

“Are you crazy, absolutely not-,” Emily was cut off when two EMT’s rounded the block of concrete and brick that had missed her by a few inches when it had fallen, a stretcher and med packs at their side.

“Good to see you’re responsive, Agent Prentiss,” One of the EMT’s commented, opening his case up to retrieve a neck brace and a splint for her arm before they could move her to the stretcher. Bugsy smiled up at them, though she knew it looked like a wince, taking one more look at her sister and then at Hotch, both of whom looked stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Go, I’m serious. Will needs you,” She said, feeling Emily squeeze her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her hairline, looking down at her in worry, “Go, Emily. Just bring me pudding when you get to the hospital- no Jello-”

She hissed when the paramedics slipped the brace over her shoulders, strapping her head into place to stop her doing any more damage to her spine.

Emily nodded, and her and Hotch took off round the corner to where Morgan was calling them, and Bugsy let the paramedics fuss over her some more, taking the pain killers without a second glance once she realised just how broken Emily had meant when she saw her arm.

It got hazy from there, until she felt the sun on her face and she felt a hand grab her good side. Her eyes were rolling with the fact she was fighting off sleep, or maybe she really had lost more blood than she thought. Either way she managed to flick her eyes open enough to meet hazel hues, distraught and worried, heard a familiar voice calling her name sadly, but she was too far gone by then. Her eyes shut despite her fighting them, and she was wheeled into the back of an ambulance by the friendly EMT’s, and the doors shut before her medicated brain could even recognise the voice as Spencer.

She was asleep before she could protest to it.

–

The air smelled like bleach- no, like floor cleaner had been drenched all around her, like she had been dropped into a janitor's closet and spilled every bottle over on her way in.

Her body felt stiff, and she frowned when she felt cramp in her fingertips, pain shooting up her wrist the second she tried to move them. Her eyes opened blearily, and she groaned in protest at the overhead white lights, burying her face into the scratchy sheet that covered her body. Only then did it click that she was in a hospital.

She moaned again when she tried moving her legs and her whole body protested, her bare legs rubbing against the paper like material in a way that made her cringe, and she felt only the hospital gown and underwear on her body.

“You’re awake,” The voice startled her, and she realised she hadn’t even heard the door open in her haze. Spencer stood in the doorway, three big bunches of flowers and two teddies in his arms, one of them holding a sign saying ‘You’re bear-y brave!’

What got her was the look of worry in his eyes when he took her in head to toe, his eyes lingering on the bright pink cast on her lower arm up past her elbow.

She grimaced, following his eyes to the horror, “Sexy,”

He rushed over to her bedside, all but throwing the flowers and cuddly toys on the space where her legs weren’t curled up under the sheets, pausing for a second to assess the situation.

“Spencer, you didn’t need to get me all of this,” Bugsy said, her cheeks warming when she saw her favourite flowers right at the end of the bed, blooming right in her direction, “Is everyone okay? Is Will okay?”

He nodded, but had yet to say anything, and he fiddled with his fingertips the way he did when he was struggling to get his point across properly. She reached out with her functioning hand to take them in hers, because she hated when he wouldn’t talk to her.

“Spencer, I’m fine, it’s just a broken arm, right?” The woman asked, trying to shuffle herself into a sitting position only to yelp when her side burst into pain. He rushed to put his arm behind her back, to get her to lay back down without putting too much pressure on her sternum, “What the fuck is that? I feel like I got hit by a baseball bat,”

“That’s what happens when you run blindly into a building without waiting for backup,” Spencer said, an undertone to his words she had never heard from him before, “Two cracked ribs; you’re lucky your lungs are still intact,”

Shit.

“Anything else?” She asked, a grim look on her face as his expression soured.

“Almost tore one of your eardrums, moderate concussion. They had to put pins in your arm to fix the fracture, it was transverse before you ask, lacerations to your legs from the glass, and some shrapnel they pulled out while you were in surgery.” Spencer listed, propping a pillow behind her head for her to rest against more comfortably though he still seemed annoyed, “No biggy,”

She paused for a second, watching him like a scolded child, her lips pulling down slightly, “Are you upset with me?”

He sighed, running a gentle hand over her leg that was covered by the thin sheet, and she felt the sting of cuts on her skin just like he’d said.

“I’m not annoyed, I could never be annoyed with you; you just-” He huffed, looking up at her sad eyes and feeling his resolve crumbling immediately, “You can’t just throw yourself in the way of danger, you have people who care about you, people who love you,”

She bristled for a second, looking into her lap and chewing the inside of her lip worriedly, “I just wanted to help Will, I just didn’t want JJ and Henry to lose him the way I thought I lost Emily,”

Spencer’s heart sank, and any telling off he was going to give her for worrying him left him in seconds, and he forgave her embarrassingly fast.

Taking her hand back in his gently and scooching a chair closer to the bed so he could sit with her, he looked up at her with the sweet, puppy eyes she had always loved on him.

“I know, I know you just wanted to help,” He hushed her, using his other hand to stroke her hair behind her ear, “Next time just… wait for your lucky charm, remember?”

She smiled brilliantly, and he almost could ignore the butterfly stitching on her forehead or the bright pink cast on her arm, or the fact her clothes had looked like a crime scene when they’d shoved them in a biohazard bag with how soaked in blood they were.

Her pretty tweed pants and white shirt she’d bought especially for his Dr Who convention to make him happy, wasted.

“Where’s all my clothes?” She asked, like she’d read his mind, but then again she had been known to do that.

He pouted, because he knew she’d hate the answer, “Emily said they had to cut it off to get you into the brace properly; they ran some scans first to make sure your spine was intact.”

“All of my clothes?” She baulked, and he knew she was upset before she could even say so he stroked his thumb over her hand for good measure, “But my lovely shirt- and the pants they were so cute, weren’t they?”

“They were so cute,” He agreed, even though he thought she looked good in everything.

“And- oh my god they got my bra too?” She asked, wide eyed and horrified like she hadn’t had a building dropped on her, like this was the worst part of her day. Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better than to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and he was sure Pen could take her shopping for new ones even if the thought of it made his cheeks flush red, “They got the best one, Spencer, that was my best one with the little bows and the lace at the back- fuck,”

She huffed, rubbing her temple in annoyance seemingly completely unaware of the situation she’d put him in, when JJ slowly entered the room, looking more tired and stressed than she had in months, but there was a little glow in her face that washed it all away.

“JJ, they cut off my favourite bra,” Bugsy huffed, holding an arm out for the woman who came to stand at the opposite side of the bed to Spencer, and JJ quickly leaned in to hug her close, Bugsy’s head pressing against her stomach, “It was the only one that fit perfectly, now look at me. Wasted.”

“I can get you another one on Monday after Will and I have stopped by the courthouse,” JJ said, her eyes alight with mischief like she had a secret, and Bugsy frowned, looking up at the woman.

“Why on Earth would Will be buying me- Wait,” The girl stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she took in JJ’s sheepish blush and girlish grin, “Courthouse? You’re getting married!”

JJ’s smile was beaming, and Bugsy yanked her with her one good arm into a side hug, just about as much as her ribcage would allow, and Spencer’s face lit up equally, though he was quick to usher Bugsy back into a resting position so as not to jostle her stitches.

Spencer drove her home that night after she got discharged, and he helped her get settled back into her own bed, her face still a little bitter at the fact her favourite underwear set was “totally mismatched now”; her words, not his. He put a documentary on for the two of them until it was time for some more of the painkillers the doctors had sent her packing with, and she fell asleep pretty quickly after that.

He watched her breaths rising and falling slowly, the sight of her on that stretcher being wheeled into the back of the ambulance flashing in his head like a horror motion picture. Her face had been soaked in blood, her neck in a brace that looked tight enough to crush her, her eyes were weary and dim from what he knew now was the sedative effects of the painkillers.

He’d almost brought up the fact he’d found a geneticist willing to take a look at his MRI scans to help his migraines; almost brought up that she had finally got back to him with results and a plan of vitamins and dietary changes he could make to help ease his flare ups.

Spencer almost mentioned it, but he fell asleep listening to Bugsy’s breaths, checking for irregularities, before he had the chance to.

–

Hot pink did not match ditsy blue whatsoever, she had quickly decided, but the bluebell, floral dress was the only thing she owned long enough to cover the scratches on her legs and arms, and hid the majority of the hideous cast that weighed down her arm.

Spencer had encouraged her not to come to JJ’s ‘engagement party’, had encouraged her to stay at home and sleep; promised her he would rustle up the best chicken soup she’d ever tasted if it meant she would stay on the couch and rest her marred body.

But then Rossi had said he just simply couldn’t let a nice occasion go to waste. A few phone calls later, a drop in the ocean of his wealth and within two days the yard to his stately manor had been turned into a ceremony, the whole arch, pews and altar style.

“You should worry so much, you look lovely,” Spencer softly chided her when he saw her yanking her sleeve further down her arm, trying to cover the hard shell that protected her radius while it healed. She did, despite the fact he had to help her do her eyeliner because she could only do it with her right hand, or that there was still a nasty cut on her forehead that was scabbing up.

She was still beautiful as ever to him. And it made Spencer’s chest sore.

It felt like something had cracked between them since that night she had been dropped to his, her pupils wide as dinner plates, her inhibitions lowered to zero, and had pecked his lips like it wouldn’t tear him up inside to have her so close to him knowing it was everything he had ever wanted.

He knew if she ever kissed him again he couldn’t keep it in anymore, couldn’t stay in this limbo they had found themselves in where all he could think about was how she smelled when she wore his clothes, a mix of his laundry and her skin together, something he’d found himself purely saturated in since she first lived with him after Emily’s funeral. He loved the way her eyes seemed soft and mellow when she looked at him, loved the way his stomach seemed warm and fuzzy when she held his hand, and he knew it wasn’t in the same way it normally was with other people, when he was worried about how many germs they were spreading to him or if they’d had all their shots or if he’d remembered to pack hand sanitizer. His stomach felt funny, and his skin felt sweaty, and his head got scrambled, and it was somehow good.

He would do anything for her, anything she ever wanted from him and it was hers.

He knew it way surpassed friendship. It felt like she was his girlfriend, which was absurd because he had never asked her to be. Or maybe it was just him trying to wish it into existence, because he knew he would never ask her. She was too good for him, too good for this world let alone a scrawny, know-it-all like him.

She simpered under his words, looking at him with tired eyes, though he could tell she still yearned to fluff up her hair or fix her dress because she felt like a polished turd right now.

“Thankyou,” She said quietly, immediately spotting a waiter carrying a tray of champagne passing by and reaching for a little flute, “Want one? Thank you,”

Spencer shook his head politely, quickly spotting Emily and Morgan moving into the garden with Hotch and Beth not far behind them.

“I’ll be right back, just wait here a second,” He said, gently stroking over her spine with his warm hands, before he darted towards the group. Jack took off running towards Bugsy the second he saw her, and Spencer heard the small ‘ooft’ leave the woman as he collided with her stomach and nearly winded her. He was getting bigger by the minute, Spencer swore.

“Don’t you look dashing, boy wonder,” Morgan teased, flicking his finger under the lapel of Spencer’s two piece suit that Bugsy had told him more than once fit him like a glove, “Someone to impress?”

Spencer blanched, his eyes shooting to Emily who seemed to hide a smile, because his feelings for her sister were about as plain to see as the moon that coated their evening in a blue glow. Hotch looked over the younger agent’s shoulder, to where his son was throwing cents into Rossi’s fountain with Bugsy and making wishes, his eyes quickly falling to the pink cast around her wrist, and his face hardened.

“How is she?” He asked, lips pursed.

They had seen her in turns at the hospital, but most of the time she had been extremely out of it, Hotch had managed to catch her right before they took her into surgery for her arm, and even then he’d been ushered right back out of the room because they were getting her prepped to be scrubbed down.

Spencer bit his lip for a second, glancing over his shoulder at Bugsy fishing through her purse with her one good hand for more nickels, before he looked back at them, “She doesn’t want anyone to make a big deal about it, and don’t bring up her arm or her forehead, she’s a little delicate-”

He was cut off by Penelope squealing behind them, and they turned in unison to see the blonde woman cupping Bugsy’s face, checking herself for more abrasions, stroking over the younger girl’s shoulders as she simply allowed herself to be ragged like a doll.

Because it was Penny. And Penny always meant well.

Spencer flustered worriedly, and Morgan chuckled behind him, wrapping an arm over the kid’s shoulder.

“Can’t protect her forever, lover boy,” Derek said, patting him before he let go, taking Emily’s elbow and walking over to where they were serving hors d'oeuvres.

Spencer knew that, knew she could handle herself just fine without him. That was what worried him the most.

–

JJ looked beautiful in her mother’s wedding dress. Bugsy welled up with happiness, true happiness when she saw her friend walking down the aisle with her son, a spitting image of her, in one hand, her father’s arm in the other.

Will looked besotted, but then again he always did when he looked at JJ.

Bugsy felt the love in the entire yard as they said their vows, kissing each other without restraint under the floral arch as Henry covered his eyes with a little giggle and an ‘eww!’ which made everyone chuckle.

The violinists began playing soft hymns as the couple had their first dance, and Henry migrated towards the woman with the pink hand and the sapphire dress.

“Buggy,” He tugged on the bottom of her skirts, huge, sky-blue eyes blinking up at her behind a mop of blonde furls. “Buggy, your hand!”

She knelt down to hear the three year old a little better, and immediately tiny fingers trailed over her wrist worriedly.

“Your hand, it’s hurt,” He said, and Spencer crouched to comfort the boy who he still remembered holding hours after he was born.

“I know, I hurt myself at work,” She said, letting him run his fingers over the pink shelling, his eyes wide and confused about the new material, “But Mommy saved me, and she saved your Daddy, and she saved you, didn’t she? Isn’t she so brave,”

Henry smiled, like all his thoughts of his mommy being Wonder Woman were true, and he nodded, stepped towards Bugsy while making grabby hands for her neck, “Up,”

Spencer was about to protest, because he didn’t want her to push herself, but he knew she could never say no to kids, especially ones as cute as the boys.

“Alright, big man, up we go,” She put her good arm under his bottom, Spencer holding under her shoulder to help her into a stand with a repressed grunt, “Jesus, what did you eat for breakfast today. You really are a big boy, Henry,”

She put him on her hip, shoving off the way it stung her superficial cuts because Henry seemed happy, grabbing a section of her hair in his tiny hands, and stroking her head gently in what Bugsy guessed was the way JJ stroked his when he was unwell.

“Mommy says you have to have a magic kiss when you get hurt,” Henry babbled, and she smiled, her cheeks hurting because the kid was just sweet enough to eat.

“Oh, yeah? Is mommy magic then?” She entertained, feeling Spencer still a ghost over her shoulder in case she started struggling to hold the pre-schooler. His godson laughed like she told a joke, shaking his golden locks as he answered.

“No, Buggy,” He giggled, patting her cheek as she scrunched eyes shut with a smile, “You get a magic kiss when you get fixed. Like this,” He leaned in, leaving a big wet smooch on her cheek that made her giggle, tightening her hold on him with a shiny jaw. Henry turned to where Spencer watched them with a dazzling smile, pointing up at him, little fingernails waving in his face, “Spencer’s turn,”

His godfather faltered, his cheeks turning red and Bugsy looked between the two of them, amused.

“I can’t, I’m afraid Henry. I’m not magic like you and mommy,” Spencer replied, trying to brush the boy off as kindly as possible. Henry’s face frowned, because he had watched Uncle Spencer pull a coin out of his ear not even half an hour ago and so that statement seemed ridiculous.

“You have to! You have to give her magic kisses or she won't get better!” Henry ordered, trying to grab Spencer’s bow tie with vigour, “You have to!”

“Alright, alright,” Spencer agreed, his hands shooting up in surrender, “I’ll give her magic kisses,”

Bugsy looked at him with a heart stopping smile. She looked soft like butter, syrupy and warm as pudding. The moonlight washed her pupils with something like a cartoonish twinkle, and he hoped his forest eyes didn’t turn to two love hearts the way he felt like it did.

He raised one of his hands to her cheek, the same one Henry just kissed, holding her still. She was cool in the night air, or maybe his hand was just too warm because he was so nervous. He hoped he wasn’t shaking, but her jaw fit into the palm of his hand like it was always meant to be there.

He dipped his head in to give her a long, delicate kiss to her cheek, running a thumb down the apple of her cheek.

He pulled away from her, and they exchanged a look, something in her eyes he had rarely seen before. Figuring it was discomfort, or maybe just the light playing tricks on him, he stepped away, and Henry was quickly distracted by a frog hopping through the mildewed grass, and he set Bugsy on the task to help him catch it.

Spencer busied himself talking to Will and Derek in the hopes his heart would calm down any minute soon, but he had quickly felt himself becoming somewhat addicted to the feel of her skin beneath his lips. He wondered lewdly if the rest of her would feel so soft as her cheek had, and immediately scolded himself for it.

The thought haunted him for the rest of the night.

Penny twirled her around by her good arm, and the two of them giggled like school girls under the fairy-light woven pergola, the string quartet finishing off the fast paced song they had switched up the mood with. The blonde was careful about not jostling the woman too much, she could already feel Spencer and Emily’s worried looks from where they sat together at a table, nursing their drinks mid chat.

But whether it was the fact she had been cooped up for days on bed rest orders (Spencer’s, not the Doctor’s, though he’d argued that was the same thing,) or that last morphine patch had really given her a kick up the behind, but she seemed to be hiding the pain well.

JJ would only have one wedding, she’d argued with Spencer, she could have a hundred days in bed, but there would only be one night like this one; when they were all together, safe and happy, when there was enough palpable love in the air that fell over everyone's shoulders like a warm hug. He’d grumbled that he was usually the optimistic one and zipped up her dress for her with shaky fingers anyway.

Before Penny could spin her round even one more time, a figure appeared two tower over the blonde, and a voice cut in between them politely.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me lead the next dance, I think Reid and Prentiss might just tackle you if you shake her up anymore,” Aaron’s voice was soft, inviting with the one and a half beers he’d had edging at his tone, almost teasing in a way so rare for a man so stern.

Penelope looked over Bugsy’s shoulder to indeed see the woman’s two guard dogs watching her like a hawk, Bug’s already opened purse on Spencer lap where her emergency painkillers were.

“Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spencer frown like that, it’s like watching a puppy resource guarding,” Penelope faltered, looking the woman head to toe as if she was being held against her will to dance by the blonde, “You’re not hurt or anything- you’d tell me if you were hurt, wouldn’t you?”

Bugsy chuckled, throwing her good arm over the woman’s shoulder, “Relax, they’re both worry warts. I’m having fun, Pen. I think Hotch just wanted a turn with the ugly barbie,”

Against Penelope’s better judgement, she gave the woman a kiss on the cheek with a sigh of defeat, though she had been so careful not to push her in fear of her cracking another rib, but she had loved seeing Bugsy smile like that again.

Derek was quick to swoop in to save her, swooping in to steal her for a dance as Aaron gently took Bugsy’s waist and good hand, entirely respectable and gentle in his touch.

“I’m glad you’re okay, your bell got a little rung in that bank,” Aaron murmured, trying not to fret over the gash on her forehead that had a few butterfly stitches pulling it together. He remembered how frail she’d felt in his arms the last time he’d properly seen her, like a baby bird with its wings snapped in his hands. He was worried he was going to be burying her too, just like he had Emily, just like he had Haley, except he knew for her there wasn’t a catch, an escape route to Paris. There wouldn’t have been a do over.

But she was okay. Broken bones and all.

She smiled at him, as if to remind him just how alive she was, and he saw how her eyes were bloodshot and tired, as if it was taking all of her energy to keep her head upright.

“If you knew how many morphine patches are on my butt right now, you’d freak,” She said, and he laughed, because she was always good at getting those from him. Bugsy relaxed in his arms, and he rocked her side to side sweetly, not quite dancing but moving passively to the soft melody the band was playing.

Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t in work mode, or maybe it was because the night air was cosy and light, or maybe she just weaselled out the guilt that had been stored in his chest for nearly a year, but he let himself look at her with a sad, sepia gaze, and it was like she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I’m-”

“Don’t apologise,” She cut in quickly, her own expression falling into something forlorn, “You have nothing to apologise for, Aaron,”

He took a deep breath through his nose, “I do. That wasn’t right how I treated you. You’re not spoiled.”

“I can be, sometimes,” She argued defeatedly, but he shook his head before she could add to it, “You were doing what was best to keep Emily safe, it was her I was more mad at than anything. She’s my sister, she should have trusted me, you and JJ didn’t owe me anything.”

“We owed you a better explanation than we gave,” He said, watching her sigh and rest her cheek on his shoulder. He cursed Spencer for allowing her to wear heels in her condition, though he didn’t doubt that the pretty boy had put up just as much fight as he would have seeing her grab the shoes on her way out, “I never meant to hurt you so much. And we do owe you better, we’re a family. Families fight, and they say mean things and they tell white lies sometimes but we love each other, and I only ever wanted to keep everyone safe. Okay?”

She nodded against his blazer material, dropping his hand in the interest of wrapping both her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, ignoring the dulled ache of her ribcage.

“I love you too,” She murmured, and he gave her a feather-light squeeze back, all too aware of her bones creaking under her skin, “I’m sorry I hit you,”

She let go of him, and he held her hand, the tips of her fingers poking out from beneath her cast that already had Jack’s name scrawled over in black sharpie.

“I deserved it, I was being cruel,” He said honestly. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but the emptiness in her laugh, in the way she’d stormed out, had scared him. He thought even if she lashed out, if she screamed at him or cried that would be better than the silent treatment because at least then he would know where she stood with him. But instead he had driven the knife in deeper, and for that he couldn’t say he blamed her for it, “I’ve had worse, much worse. Maybe you’re not as tough as you think,”

She baulked, and realised he was teasing her, “Maybe we could go round two Monday morning, I bet it would hurt a lot having a hard plaster cast swung at your face,”

“For me or for you?” She smacked his arm with her good hand, and it made him chuckle again, and soon she was laughing too, resting her head back onto his shoulder comfortably, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bug,”

“Did you not hear where I put those morphine patches? I could paper mache with those bastards,”

And they danced between chuckles for another half an hour.

–

“Wait, wait, you’re going to compress her spine,” Derek stopped, Bugsy dipped at his waist where he was supporting her full weight because she’d complained she missed dancing with Penelope. She hated people walking on eggshells around her, and if anyone was going to have fun with her who could still make sure she was safe, it was Derek.

The woman grinned up at him, Derek’s hands safely around her waist and not pressing on her ribs whatsoever, though she had to admit she was ready for another dose of painkillers after a few hours of dancing between Hotch, then to JJ who had swiftly been taken over by Henry who wanted to be lifted high enough he could hold Bugsy’s hands like he had seen the others doing. David had even entertained her with a very slow three step waltz, until Derek had been her next target because he seemed to be having the most fun whirling Emily around the dance floor.

“Spencer!” She said and Morgan returned her to full height once he saw Reid’s fretful expression. She pouted, “Spencer, I was having fun,”

“You know what’s fun? Eating cake is fun, drinking water is fun, resting on the couch is fun,” He said, and Morgan was quick to hand the baby Prentiss over to Reid who rifled around his pocket to produce the tablet version of her buprenorphine, “You need more medicine or it’s going to hurt worse in the morning, remember? Getting ahead of the pain?”

She sighed, nodding, and before he could pop two out of the shiny, metal coated tray, she stopped him, “Wait, dance with me first,”

He looked at her incredulously, eyes softening when she stepped closer to him, her hand coming over the top of his to push the pain killers away, “It’s going to hurt more if you don’t get ahead of it now,”

“I know, I know,” She muttered, nodding docilely, “Look, I promise if you just dance with me a little now, I’ll have my meds and take it easy for the rest of the night, no questions asked,”

He looked unconvinced, because she was known to put up a fight when it came to doing something she didn’t want to.

She sighed, “If I sit down now, I know I won’t be getting back up again for the rest of the night, and I wanted to enjoy myself until I couldn’t anymore,”

Spencer looked at her pleading puppy dog eyes, and broke almost embarrassingly fast, letting her follow his hand into his pocket, putting the drugs away and letting her take his now free hand in his own.

“I’ll have it known I tried to stop this when this catches up to you and you have to go lay down on Rossi’s spare bed,” He argued back, but felt his stomach flip when she laced her fingers with his, pushing herself closer to him as a means of drawing him out of his grumpy mood.

“He has more than enough, just dance with me,” She brushed his attitude off, wrapping her plaster-cast over his shoulder.

He took her waist gently, feeling the plush, softness of her hips and wishing the heat away from his cheeks. She looked divine under the fairy lights, ready to be whisked away by sleep yes, but the sleepy blinks added to her charm, and she was soft and pliant under his touch like a tame cat ready to curl up on his chest.

“I had so much fun,” She said, meeting his adoring gaze, probably because he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. He nodded, worrying then if his hair was sitting right or if hid bowtie needed straightening. She was a goddess in his arms, the colour of her dress matching her skin beautifully, a few wisps of hair falling over her eyes from where Penny had damn near done the quick step with her.

She looked like a dream.

“I never thanked you for everything you did for me when Emily was-” She gulped, her eyes suddenly down turned, like she couldn’t admit anything to the hazel of his eyes, not when they looked at her like that. “You were the only thing I had for a very long time, and I never really said how much it all meant to me,”

“You’re my best friend, I’m always going to be there for you,” He said, lovingly stroking a thumb over her skin, his voice tender as this touch, “That’s what friends are for,”

Even though he was sure he’d never felt this way about any of his friends before, even the tiny crush he’d had on JJ for all of two weeks when he’d first started at the BAU didn’t even make a mark on how she got his chest hammering like a jackrabbit.

Her face flickered with something he couldn’t read, and she nodded, “Right. Friends.” She swallowed heavily.

She slumped against him, like the wind had been taken out of her, her head on his shoulder, but it felt nothing like when she had danced with Hotch.

It felt like everything she’d ever wanted was right in her grasp, like the one person who made her feel whole again was pressed against her, stroking down her spine with an affection she could swear blind was nothing like she’d ever felt before. Like the only air she knew how to breathe was filling her lungs, every note of fresh linen, the hair gel he sometimes used to tame his curls, down to the faint smell of his apartment, so filled with books the smell of worn leather and thin paper seeped into his clothes.

She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew Spencer. She felt like she’d always known him.

He wasn’t just her friend, he was every bit of her that she wasn’t. Every ugly part of her that had always felt so alone, like loneliness was just ingrained into her since birth that seemed to jump up in a strange feeling of longing and home whenever he was near.

She let herself revel in his arms as long as she could, because she knew it was so illicit to be feeling so hungry for something she couldn’t have. She knew he was too good for her; she had never deserved any scrap of kindness he gave her. She could be mean, and rude, and loud, and ugly, and spiteful and he was everything she wasn’t. He was kind, and sweet, and gentle, and loving, and he didn’t deserve someone like her; he deserved so much better.

Bugsy let herself stay against his chest for a while longer, slowly swaying with him under the moonlight as JJ and Will took each other in their arms; a couple that fit together, Bugsy thought, two people who were so right for one another. Who deserved their happiness.

And so she selfishly let herself pretend she could have him as long as she could, silently dancing together under the pergola, until she agreed to go sit down because she would never admit that the ache in her side had started to seep back in, and he fussed over her some more and she told him he was being silly, but she preened under his affections anyway.

They’d reached a stalemate, Spencer would have probably called it.

Bugsy knew she shouldn’t want him, but she did. She shouldn’t want him because he was the pretty boy, the sweetheart that sat untainted by everything he’d seen and endured, the one who had jumped and cleared every hurdle life had thrown at him where she had fallen flat. He had gotten better on his own after Hankel; she had crashed and burned and taken nearly everyone with her. He was strong, and she was weak. She shouldn’t want him, it was selfish, but she did.

Spencer knew he couldn’t have her, because she was beyond anything he had ever dreamed of, beyond his best friend, beyond the girl who kissed him and didn’t ever want to talk about it again. He couldn’t have her because she was still healing, still wounded and vulnerable and rattled from barely recovering her relationship with her sister before she’d had a bank dropped on top of her. It would be wrong, it would be selfish, she would never want some scrawny kid from a shitty home where he was beaten up by girls even smaller than him and wedgied so hard he had to follow the librarian to class. He was a nobody. He couldn’t have her because she deserved so much better, but he wanted her.

They sat at a stalemate for a few weeks longer, until Emily got a job offer in London, and she asked Bugsy to take an internship at Interpol one of her old associates had sent to her. Twelve weeks learning how international databases worked, even some forensic work for Scotland Yard if she played her cards right.

And she took it; without much warning she took it, even if not to give herself some breathing space from how much her chest pined to be back in Spencer’s arms she had that night.

Bugsy headed to London, and didn’t look back.

2. The one with Maeve

Four Months. Bugsy had been in England for four months.

At first, they had called regularly, almost every other day, except the days she was just too tired to stay up until two am to call him when he got home. They had spent an hour on the phone at least; she had asked about the team, the cases, if he missed her yet which he always told her to knock it off because of course he missed her, and he had asked about London, and what England was like, and how Emily was doing.

Until around two months in when her schedule had changed to night shifts, and they could only ever communicate by texts, at which point he had been the one struggling to talk because he had no clue how to work his phone. She had called the odd time on her half an hour lunch break, but it was always rushed, never consistent, usually ending up with her excusing herself and hanging up on him fast because she was needed urgently somewhere else.

Cynically enough, the only time she could ever call was Sundays. Sundays when he was already busy, Sundays when he was admittedly on the phone, only he wasn’t talking to her.

He was talking to Maeve.

The geneticist he had been ready to tell her all about before JJ’s wedding, who had all but cleared up his migraines within a few sessions, who had asked him three days after Bugsy had flown out what had made his head flare up again and so he’d told her. Told her his best friend moved to another country temporarily, that he missed her and had been looking after her cats for her while she was gone because her new landlord wouldn’t let them have pets. And it had spiralled from there, she had asked more about the rest of his life, and he had asked about hers, and suddenly they weren’t just talking about his migraines anymore, they were flirting.

He hadn’t told Maeve that he was in love with said friend who had taken a great opportunity with both hands and fled the second she could. He couldn’t hold it against her, not when he was choosing his calls with Maeve over the only chance he had to speak to Bugsy, and four months really wasn’t that long in the scheme of things.

That was what he’d tried telling himself at least. He missed her more than anything, and the only thing that he’d found combatted the sting of her being gone was Maeve.

Maeve; who he had never seen, whose voice was sweet and alluring, who got his humour the way girls rarely ever did (besides Bug ofcourse). Who liked what he liked, and could talk his ear off about what she’d been reading, and about her day in the lab.

She was Bugsy in every other font, every other manner, and best of all she liked him. She told him weeks ago she liked him, that she wanted to date him, that he was her dream guy.

Call him a cynic for enjoying having a chance with someone, then that’s what he was.

Life since he had tried pushing away his unrequited feelings for one Prentiss girl had been going swimmingly. He liked their new team mate, Alex Blake, the brilliant linguist who warmed to him quite quickly; he had a girl at his heels who returned his feelings, who was everything he always said he looked for in a partner, even without having ever seen her face, and he was rather enjoying having Nico and Sergio around to keep him company.

But as it always did, the contented limbo he’d found himself in where he might actually be able to get a girlfriend came to a screeching halt on Sunday afternoon when he was stepping outside at three forty-five, readying himself for the ten minute walk to the nearest phone booth for their call at four pm on the dot. He had just about locked his front door, turning on his heel with his scarf draped over his shoulders when he had collided with someone’s chest.

“Oh I’m so- Bugsy?”

“Spencer!” She smiled at him wider than she ever had before, and she threw her arms over his shoulders because he had never protested to her affection before, “It’s so good to see you- I missed you so much, there’s so much I have to tell you-”

“What are you doing here?” It sounded like a confrontation, though he hadn’t meant it that way, just that he hadn’t been expecting her back for another two weeks at least and he certainly hadn’t expected to see her today, right before he was about to go call the girl he was sort of seeing, sort of not.

She bristled at his tone, because he didn’t sound nearly as happy to see her as she had expected. Pulling away, she realised he hadn’t even bothered to hug her back, and she tried to shove away the embarrassment that she’d never ever felt in front of him before.

“I- just- I wanted to surprise you. Interpol said I could finish early since I’d finished all my paperwork and could take the exams online in a few weeks,” She stammered, feeling uncharacteristically stuck for what to say. He flicked a look down to his wrist, his brows furrowed like she was taking up too much time, “Is something wrong, did I do something wrong?”

“No, you just-” He breathed heavily out of his nose, running a hand through his hair, “I’m late for something,”

“I’ll drive you!” She jumped at the chance, fishing for her keys in her pocket, “Car’s right out front, I sort of just threw it there because I wanted to see you,”

“I’m walking,” He said, in that frustrated tone again and she stopped looking at her jacket, her eyes snapping to his as he looked past her like she was in his way.

“O-okay, well then do you want company?” She said, her bag heavy with the souvenir she got him, though now it seemed to be weighing her down.

“It’s sort of personal,” He replied shortly, like she was a stranger selling him something on his doorstep, when really he was just cursing his luck that the girl he’d spent months trying to get over was here in front of him like someone was waving a bone in his face and he was a pup being told to sit. He was cursing the fact that he had spent hours and hours dreaming of the minute he’d see her again and she had showed up out of the blue after weeks of little to no communication like a damn hallucination of the senses.

She stopped then, her face contorting into a frown, “Is everything okay, are you sure I didn’t do anything-”

“You could have called, I’m kind of busy, Bugsy,” Spencer replied, even though he knew he was being unreasonable. It wasn’t her fault she was unravelling all of his progress just by being there. He thought he was finally getting over her, and with one whiff of her perfume, of her shampoo mixed with her natural scent, he was remembering just how in love with her he had been just a few months ago, like Pavlov’s fucking dog.

Her face fell then, into something kicked and hurt, “Sorry- my phone died on the plane, I didn’t even think, I just- I just wanted to see you,”

He faltered, the frustration leaking out of him, but before he could really say much else, she’d taken a step away, swung around to head for the stairs, “Sorry, I’ll call next time, sorry I got in your way, Spence,”

And she sounded genuine, not annoyed like he would expect for someone who’d been spoken to like trash. The guilt seeped in almost immediately, but then his mind ticked over the minutes he had left until Maeve would be expecting a call. Nine minutes now, he would need to speed walk.

He could make it up to Bugsy as soon as he was done with the girl who was almost her but not.

–

Spencer felt like an idiot. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the look on her face when she had left his apartment, nor had he not stopped chiding himself for not heading straight out after her.

His phone call with Maeve hadn’t gone how he’d expected, which would have been the only thing soothing the burn of his scathing tone, except she had hung up rather abruptly after he had suggested they meet up, something that had played on his mind for weeks now.

“Are you being safe?” He asked, the payphone hard and cold in his hand as he pressed it to his ear.

She chuckled softly down the phone, a sound that would have made his heart flutter if he hadn’t been feeling so wound up about seeing Bugsy, “Yes, I’m being safe,”

“Do you think he knows about us?” Spencer dared to ask after a moment of silence, because he could tell it was worrying her too. He wondered if the two of them would be dating by now if it wasn’t for the fact she had a stalker who may or may not turn his attention to Spencer if he realised they were seeing one another.

“No, as far as I can tell he doesn’t,” She said, her voice slightly more rigid than what he was used to. Her voice was always honey smooth when they spoke, and Spencer had more than enough time to wonder if it ever matched what she looked like. “And we need to keep it that way,”

The line went dead, and with it the only thing that he’d been telling himself was worth hurting his best friend even the tiniest bit went with it.

Spencer felt like an asshole. He’d tried calling Bugsy’s phone, then when she hadn’t answered he’d tried asking Penelope, who said she’d gone to visit JJ, Will and Henry since he was too busy.

At least that would have lightened her mood, he hoped, as he walked into the office Monday morning, and saw her at her desk, already chatting to Penelope with Derek’s arm around her shoulder.

She was all smiles today, pretty much how she had looked yesterday before he had all but kicked her out, and the sinking feeling in his chest tripled when she looked past Penelope’s shoulder and saw him. Her eyes wavered for a second, head turning downwards as if she hadn’t properly spotted him,

“Pretty boy! Look who it is,” Derek called him over, even though he was already speed walking and he stopped in front of her, looking her head to toe for the first time fully.

He realised then her hair was slightly different, that she’d had it cut shorter since the last time he’d seen her, that she’d gotten a new ear piercing. It made her look older, more mature than when he’d last seen her, or maybe he had just not seen her in so long. Maybe he just hadn’t bothered, he thought painfully.

“I saw him yesterday,” Bugsy said, and he felt caught immediately, Penelope’s head whipping to him, “He was kinda busy though, weren’t you, Spence? More of a passing visit.”

She sounded indifferent to yesterday’s rudeness, like it hadn’t really phased her despite the fact he’d seen for his own eyes the way her expression dropped.

“I was- I had an appointment,” He said, because he felt the need to explain himself even if he couldn’t.

She smiled at him, something dampened and fake, “I leave for a few months and suddenly boy wonder is too busy to talk to me, what is the world coming to,” She joked, and Spencer felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, though Penny and Derek laughed.

“No, really, I had an appointment-” He tried to reason, but Penelope stopped him before he could fret too much, his hands wringing and he tried to lie on the spot without getting caught.

“She’s just kidding, Spence, don’t worry,” Pen shook him off warmly, quickly grabbing Bugsy’s arm tightly, the faint scar where she’d had her surgery trailing up her skin, “Now, to my bat cave, where we can talk all about just how good British guys are in bed without the boy germs getting all over our gossip,”

Bugsy laughed, allowing herself to be pulled along, right past Spencer without a second glance, despite the fact he looked like he was about to throw up.

Why hadn’t he thought about that? Why hadn’t he considered for a second that she would meet anyone, if not seriously, then for a one night stand? What if all those nights she was too busy to talk she had been with someone, someone much cooler and hotter and overall more experienced than he was. He was thirty years old and he had only ever slept with two women, one being Austin the bartender she’d told him to go after despite him lingering around her the whole night, the other being a girl he’d met in O’Keeffes after a hard case when he had been a few months sober, wanting anything, anyone, to take his mind away from going back to the little vial of trouble.

How could he be so stupid? Of course she’d be hooking up with other people. She was young and gorgeous and smart as a whip and single. She’d be any guy's dream.

He knew he was being so, so disgustingly hypocritical. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Maeve for months, and yet here he was seething with jealousy at the very thought of Bugsy being with someone who could love her without feeling guilty for loving her.

Spencer swallowed his pride and set his stuff down on his desk, watching Penelope grab Alex and drag her to her bat cave on her way, the older woman lighting up at the fact she was meeting the Bugsy Prentiss.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and felt a migraine start to ache behind his eyes.

–

“Alex- Blake, where are you going?” Spencer called, shoving his cell in his back pocket as he jogged toward the woman about to climb into the SUV.

Sure enough, Bugsy had been back in the office for one hour before they were getting pulled into another case, and she was more than happy to jump in to help with her new found skills in Interpol.

It was a gruesome case, which was saying something for all the shit they’d seen. The UnSub was amputating legs off one victim to then put onto his next one. There had been one guy waking up in his hotel room with both legs missing below the knee, then another gentleman had walked into an ER room with legs that weren’t his own attached to his sockets.

It made Bugsy’s skin crawl, but that was simply a day's work for them. They were at the most recent victim’s body; a woman who seemed to have been too weak to survive the surgery had been dumped on the street with her limbs switched to someone else’s. They had at least one other victim they hadn’t found yet, the girl thought darkly.

“Hotch called, he wants us back at the station ASAP,” The woman replied, Bugsy at her side.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main, it’s on the way?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest to ignore the frown the youngest Prentiss gave him, confusion written across her face.

“Uh, yeah sure. What’s at 5th and Main?” Alex asked, also confused as to what was so pressing he needed to side track their case.

“I need to talk to somebody,” He replied shortly, the same cut off tone he’d used with Bugsy just the day before, and Alex faltered.

“Yeah, uh, okay. Sure.” She agreed, not wanting to rock the boat considering she was still so new to the BAU. She looked over at Bugsy, who seemed disgruntled as she headed for the passenger side, Spencer climbing into the back of the SUV with a troubled look on his face when their eyes met in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re coming with us?” He asked, looking on edge when he saw she’d gotten into their car and not into JJ’s like she had on their way over there.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Bugsy asked, and he shrugged, playing with his fingertips in his lap.

“No, that’s fine, I just didn’t know you were coming with us,” He replied shortly, his face starting to warm when he realised how rude he’d sounded. He heard her sigh, and look out the window with no more protest in her.

Alex didn’t ask questions as she put the handbrake down, perhaps sensing the tension in the car between the two agents, and she didn’t need to be a profiler to tell there was either a lot unsaid between them or maybe even words that no one could take back.

Either way she did as he’d asked, because Bugsy hadn’t actually protested, just bit at her fingernails that said she was thinking too hard, and stepped on the gas.

–

The car pulled around to where a dimly lit payphone sat, empty and looking like it hadn’t been used in years. Which it probably hadn’t, besides as a dog urinal.

Alex stopped the car, and Spencer was already opening the door before she could even put it into neutral, “Do you want us to wait?”

“Uh, you know what, it might take a while, so I’ll just get a cab back,” He said, his tone clipped and leaving little room for questions. He felt Bugsy staring at him in confusion from the front seat, and he avoided her gaze like the plague, even if there was something sad in them that he was being so distant. “Thanks anyway,” He hopped out the car slamming the door shut, and digging through his pocket for change as he headed for the payphone.

Alex drove off, and he felt his chest get lighter for it, because he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the act.

He hated lying, especially to her. Every morsel of his being writhed in discontent whenever he would lie, like the truth was just begging to slip out one way or another, and he knew he would only feel all the more guilty for it as soon as the case was over and he couldn’t avoid her eyes that haunted him like a wraith or her touch that seemed to have been kept to herself since he had snubbed her hug at his doorway.

He knew he was pulling away, knew she was doing the same thing, and he hated it.

Bugsy sat in the car, her face moody as anything as she glared out the window and Alex took the corner around the block.

“So is it usually like this between you two?” Alex dared to ask, her food steady on the pedal, “The lingering looks, the awkward silences? From what Penelope told me, the two of you are as close as can be,”

“Yeah, usually we are,” Bugsy replied coldly, and within a second she was unplugging her seatbelt, “In fact, pull back around the block. I’m done with him being an asshole without an explanation.”

Alex felt like she had just pulled a pin from her grenade with her delicate question, though she had meant entirely well, and did as the girl told her to, worried just what might blow up in her face if she didn’t.

Spencer had already dialled the number he knew off by heart, with or without his eidetic memory, by the time they pulled around.

His face dropped, knowing the returning call would be coming any minute now and he just hoped Maeve wasn’t too worried about him. But he had no time to think about her, because the second he saw Bugsy getting out of the car he could tell she was pissed.

Pissed in a way she had never been with him, but then he supposed, he had never treated her like that either.

“I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth, Spencer, because I’m tired of the clipped responses and the pushing me away,” She said, walking over to him like he owed her money. Which he didn’t. But he did owe her a good explanation as to what the hell was going on with them, “Did I do something? You can tell me if I’m an asshole, I know I can be an asshole, but you have to tell me so I can fix it-”

“You haven’t done anything, Bug, just please get back in the car,” Spencer cut her off, which was clearly the wrong move as he saw her brow raise at him.

“Something’s not right, Spencer,” Alex agreed, though she held back because hurricane Bugsy seemed to be more than enough intimidation for the guy, “What’s the deal?”

“What do you mean? Why did you guys come back?” He rushed, because he could feel his face warming, and he played with his fingertips like he did when he was struggling.

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Bugsy chided, and he rubbed his palm with his thumb self-soothingly, and that was what tripped him up. Her eyes zeroed on his hands, looking back up at him and he almost went white at the predicament he’d found himself in, “You’re lying about something,”

“No, I’m not, I would never lie to you-” She pulled his hands apart, looking at him with hurt written across her soft features.

“Bullshit, I know when you’re lying, Spencer, or did you just forget that we’re best friends. That seems to mean nothing to you nowadays,” She snapped, and he could only look back at the phone booth, knowing that she would be calling any second now, “Are you even listening to me?”

Her tone was hurt, wounded, because he had to admit he was being inconsiderate.

“A while back, I found a geneticist that helped clear up my migraines, and we stayed in touch while you were in London,” He said, because that was all true, and she couldn’t call him a liar again if he was telling the truth.

“So? What does that have to do with the case,” Alex prompted, her own face scrunched in ire as he hopped around the subject.

“I think maybe my friend may be able to see something we’ve missed.” Spencer rushed out, his eyes puppy like as he willed Bugsy to stop looking so damn betrayed.

“You have four of the best minds I know back at the station, you have a woman with a biochemistry master's standing in front of you who dabbled in medicine for fun, but you need your friend for help?” Alex responded, because there was no way he was getting out of the hole he’d dug himself if she had anything to say about it. She too, as new to the team as she was, had no time for secrets on a job where trust meant everything.

“I know, but sometimes a different perspective helps me think better, okay?” He replied, his hand itching to take his palm back because he knew it still wasn’t the full truth.

Bugsy scoffed, crossing her arms over one another, and shifting her weight to one foot.

“You’re being ambiguous, you always do that when you’re lying,” She muttered, loud enough for him to hear and he gulped, turning his head to the ground.

“All of this begs a bigger question, why did you ask me to bring you?” Alex asked, because she was thinking the same thing.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, but his spine straightened impossibly when the payphone began ringing, and he seemed skittish like a naughty school child.

“You could have asked JJ or Morgan to drive you, but you asked me. You had a problem with Bugsy coming, because you didn’t think she’d be with us, so what’s the deal? Why me?” Alex pushed, and Spencer flustered, his head whipping around to where the high pitched chime continued, and he knew she didn’t have much time before the line went dead.

“Alex, please,” Spencer begged, feeling Bugsy’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he avoided her gaze like the plague.

“Just answer the question,” Bugsy bit out, because she was sick of being ignored all day, of being treated like she was contaminated or like he had never known her a day in his life. Not when she had flown on the first plane back to see him because she missed him more than she could ever tell him.

Not when she had been racing up the stairs to his apartment, her souvenir in her bag, the words on the foreword written in her own hand ready to tell him how she felt.

Because she knew it, after weeks of not seeing him, hours of just missing him and the few texts back and forth, she knew it. She knew she had to tell him, even if they had to brush it under the rug to be friends again, even if it was a shot in the dark she had to tell him.

She couldn’t choke it down anymore.

Only when she’d gotten there, thrown her arms around him, he almost felt like a stranger beneath her hand, almost felt like he never even knew her.

Spencer sighed heavily, looking at Alex because he thought he might just crack if he looked at Bugsy when he said it.

“Because I didn’t want them to know about her, alright?”

And she knew it then, knew it by the way he’d softened entirely when he said her, the way he seemed to melt just by thinking of her, the way he cowered into taking a step back towards the phone booth. It wasn’t just his geneticist, it was someone else entirely. Someone so much more to him.

Bugsy felt a lump in her throat, and she forced with all her might to not let her eyes well with tears. Because friends didn’t feel like they’d been sucker punched in the gut at hearing they were seeing someone else. Friends didn’t feel an all consuming jealousy writhe under their skin at the idea of them being with someone who wasn’t them, feeling something for someone who wasn’t them.

That wasn’t what just friends did.

And Bugsy thought with horror, as he picked up the phone and spoke in hushed, gentle tones that he once did with her, that they might never be friends again.

3. The one with their first date

Things were weird. Really weird. And painful. Really, really fucking painful.

Bugsy and Spencer had never been like this, never been so cold besides the first time they’d ever met, and even then she had warmed him from the inside out. She was sharing her sharlotka within hours of even knowing him, never even knowing he was knee deep in an addiction he was struggling to face alone, and that she had made him feel better than he had in weeks with her smile and her kindness and her quick witted brain.

Things were strange between them, and it was becoming noticeable too.

She boarded the jet behind Alex, the woman taking a seat next to Hotch at the table, the only other seat left being next to Reid, who stopped midway through what he was saying.

“It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes, eighty four percent of stalking victims have some sort of original connection with their stalkers, meaning-” He paused, and so did she for a fraction of a second, debating whether to sit beside him. She straightened quickly, dipping her head down and looking to the floor, and bristling past the empty seat to sit herself next to JJ on the couch.

He cleared his throat, trying to look like his face hadn’t dropped in hurt, and continued.

Hotch and JJ exchanged a look, the same silent message reading clear in their eyes.

The blonde looked up from her file as the others chatted, Penelope piping up from their computer, and glanced at the younger woman who was unpacking her things on her lap, despite there being a perfectly good table next to them.

“You alright, Bug?” JJ asked, trying not to seem too worried, yet she knew she was coming off troubled by the tense behaviour from the pair of them.

It had been three weeks of this, the silences, the uncomfortable pauses, the avoiding each other at all costs. The only time they ever really spoke was on a case, when they were closing in on an UnSub and their feelings had to be put to one side for the moment. Well, her feelings. Because all of his feelings were occupied as of the moment. With Maeve.

She couldn’t stomach talking about the woman anymore, couldn’t stand Derek’s teasing remarks about how lover boy was getting lucky, or Penelope’s thousands and one questions about the geneticist that she knew had come from a place of care, or Alex’s motherly guidance on his love life. The entire thing made her feel queasy, and she stayed quiet most days in the way he’d always hated, the way he’d always tried to pry her out of.

But nowadays he didn’t bother. Didn’t bother much with her at all, really.

“Yep,” Bugsy said, her lips tight, “Peachy,”

JJ knew not to ask any more than that.

–

Human marionettes were a first for her, she had to admit. They had already found two victims stuffed into boxes with craft paper surrounding them, their limbs almost entirely broken out of their sockets ante-mortem. It was a time sensitive case, with two deaths in three days and no sign of slowing down, and so that meant that of course the two brains of the team were assigned together, even if Hotch saw the way her face dropped when he’d said it.

She was drawing the geographical profile on the board, the squeaking of the marker against the screen the only sound in the room aside from Spencer’s flicking of pages.

“Did you get the first dump site?” He asked, even though he knew she more than likely would have done.

“Mhm,” She said, not bothering to actually say anything, because it was a stupid question she knew he was only asking to fill the awkward silence between them.

“What about the store that sold the outfits, did you get-” He started, only for her to cut him off with a clipped tone.

“Got it, and I got the radius around the store, and I got the second dumpsite.” Bugsy replied, capping the lid to the marker pen and setting it down on the desk beside him, “I’m going to get coffee. Want one?”

Though she didn’t stick around long enough to really hear his response. She simply waltzed out of the room to the tiny kitchenette the police station had to offer, in search of anything that would keep her occupied and away from snapping at him.

What had she really got to be mad at him for? For getting a girlfriend? For rubbing it in everyone's face how happy she made him, how perfectly suited she was for him? Except she didn’t think that last one was necessarily true, it just felt that way because it cut her so deep to hear about the girl who was everything she wanted to be. She had no right to be mad at him for anything except being distant with her since she got back from London.

She still made him a coffee half heartedly, swirling in a tonne of sugar the way she knew he would like, because he never changed being so perfectly him in the time she was away.

She used to tell him he didn’t need all that sugar because he was sweet enough as he was, because it was true. He used to be entirely honeyed and saccharine when he spoke to her, now she was lucky if she got a full good morning.

Bugsy bit her lip to stop it from quivering, and took the mugs back to the tiny office they were stationed in, seeing Alex at the door and hearing half their conversation.

“Is this about, uh, phone booth girl?” Blake asked, and Bugsy wanted to snap because what else would they be talking about. Her name was Maeve, she wanted to snarl, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve, Queen of the Fairies and of Spencer’s heart, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve.

She never hated a name so viscerally, though she knew in deep down it wasn’t her fault. Maeve didn’t do anything wrong, she just fell in love with Dr Spencer Reid and his charms. She couldn’t blame her, really. It wasn’t difficult to do so.

“She wants to meet,” Spencer’s voice was soft and nervous, and it was the most she’d heard him talk all day.

Bugsy froze, and Alex’s jaw dropped, “Wait, you guys have never met?” She saw Spencer shake his head just before she rounded the corner back into the office, feeling like she was intruding immediately, “Aren’t you curious what she looks like?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what she looks like, she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me,” She stopped at the doorway, feeling like she’d had the entire cup of hot coffee dumped over her chest in a scalding pain the minute she’d heard it.

Spencer called her beautiful many, many times before, both when she’d been done up to the nines and even when she was running away from a damn wedding in the middle of a storm and she looked like a sewer rat.

But that didn’t matter, because everything about Maeve was beautiful to him, and that was where she seemed to draw the short straw. Because who would find her selfishness beautiful? Or her spoiled nature, or how she could be so crass and rude she had been in more fights before she started the BAU than she’d care to admit. But Maeve was nothing like that. She was sweet and gentle and beautiful on the inside.

Bugsy plonked his coffee down harder than she’d wanted to, and he thanked her, pausing for a second as he looked between Alex and Bugsy, the second woman now sipping her steaming coffee freely and pinning maps to an adjacent board as if she couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” He said, fiddling with his sleeves, “I mean; I slouch, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked,”

“Your hair’s fine,” Alex combats back, watching the girl down her drink in a few sips, “Jesus, do you have asbestos in your throat?”

Bugsy turned to her and shrugged silently, “I’m tired, I needed the caffeine,”

Alex watched her with a hesitant eye, as if she was keeping just as close an eye on her as Jennifer but didn’t want to say, before she stepped away from the doorway, “Alright, I gotta run. You kids update us if you find something out.”

And with that Blake took her leave, leaving the room in silence for a moment, and Bugsy heard Spencer thinking too loud with that big brain of his.

She sighed, tacking a map of the city up next to the other one with points of interest noted on, “You’ll be fine,” She said after a minute, and he froze.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, formally like she asked to sit next to him on the bus or to squeeze past him in a store.

“I said you’ll be just fine on your date with Maeve,” She reiterated, using a purple sharpie to start drawing the routes the victims took to work.

Spencer sighed, shuffling papers around his desk, “How can you be so sure?”

She looked at him then, properly looked at him and he felt his breath almost catch. He’d been telling another one of his half truth’s earlier, because he couldn’t very well say just how many night’s he’d thought about Bugsy being all over him, about kissing her and sweeping her off her feet, about squeezing her close to him in a passionate embrace and never letting her slip away again. He thought about all the times she professed how much she loved him and how good a friend he was to her, and how happy she made him, and how he had spent the first year of knowing her getting to know her for that big brain of hers that rivalled his own.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he couldn’t have her. He could have Maeve though. He could meet her and fall in love with her and marry her. He could do it. But she still wouldn’t be her.

She smiled at him like she had a secret, one she was willing to share with him, one that came at a cost but she would give it to him anyway because it was him and she was so good to him and deserved so much better.

“What’s not to like about you, Spencer?” She said softly, her expression that of a street dog looking for scraps.

He swore he shuddered when she said his name like that, but he tried a smile back at her anyway. But it was too late, she’d already turned away to continue plotting the points on the map.

Spencer felt his chest swell in a way Maeve had never gotten it to do.

–

He felt stupid. Half an hour of primping himself in the BAU bathroom, worrying and fussing over what he was wearing and if his hair sat right and if his face looked too skinny, he had made it to the restaurant only to baulk at the last minute when he’d seen a guy in a booth flicking his head to look back at where he was sat in a window seat, a red rose potted in the middle of the table and an empty chair across from him.

He had panicked and called Maeve, told her to go home because her stalker was there at the restaurant, and she had done just that with little to no question. Only for him to see, minutes later, the guy he thought was her stalker being approached by another guy and he realised he had likely been looking out the window to check for taxi’s parking outside the restaurant.

Spencer had blown it, the one chance he had at meeting her in person, and he felt more like an idiot than ever.

He didn’t care about the weird rift between them at that moment, he just wanted to see Bugsy, because she always seemed to know what to say to make him feel better. Like she had a talent for it, even when he had not been the best friend himself.

He knew he had to fix it, knew it didn’t matter if it was a little unethical to be on the cusp of having a girlfriend whilst also pining after his best friend, he didn’t care. He wanted to set things right with her just to have his best friend back.

He walked up to her apartment complex, the excuse already brewing in his head that he missed Nico and Sergio, that he maybe missed her a whole lot too but he knew the cats were a sweetened deal way of getting him through the door. Because she would never say no to him seeing the boys.

And then he would tell her, that he’d been an asshole the past few weeks, that he’d been struggling to understand how to balance time between her and his almost girlfriend, because that was a much better half truth than the fact he was trying to bury his feelings for her so deep they couldn’t see the light of day or else his life would be entirely ruined.

That’s exactly what he would say.

Spencer felt a little better than he had leaving the restaurant knowing he’d messed up his chance. In all honesty, he was excited to have Bugsy back, even if his night wasn’t exactly going to plan.

He waltzed up the stairs he’d been on a million times. She loved his apartment, she always said so, but he insisted her TV was bigger and so they usually stayed at hers to watch Dr Who when the newest episodes came out.

Spencer hesitated for a second, hoping his plan worked before he rapped on the door with boney knuckles, his hand fingering the strap of his bag nervously as he heard her moving behind the door.

“One second!” She called, and he chuckled, she had probably fallen asleep on the sofa without pants on, or maybe even just gotten out the shower, either way he heard her scrambling to get clothes on and then-

She swung the door open, and his eyes quickly dropped to her neck that had a long row of hickeys trailing down to her collar bone. His small smile at seeing her vanished like one of those magic tricks he liked to do, and he realised her lip gloss was smudged over her chin, her shirt definitely wasn’t her own and he didn’t actually think she had even bothered to put on underwear beneath the large band tee she’d clearly thrown on in the middle of passion.

Bugsy looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Spencer!” She said, her voice choked up like she was exhausted, and he felt his stomach turn. He looked away from her, like he couldn’t stand to even look at her, “I thought you were with Maeve- yo-your date,”

“I had to cancel, it wasn’t safe,” He murmured, tugging the strap of the bag tighter around his shoulder.

He felt like a complete loser. More than he ever had being shoved into lockers, being dipped into toilet water, being led around by the librarian and her damn butterscotch.

Spencer felt like his chest was caving in, which he knew was fair on no one to admit, but it was true.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately, scanning him over for wounds, “Are you hurt- Is Maeve okay?”

He opened his mouth to reply when he heard foot steps and a hand appeared around her waist, tugging her into a muscled body as the door opened wider.

“Who is it, babe?” A deep voice spoke, and Spencer felt his face go green when he saw the adonis of a man who stood behind her, his chest littered with smudged lip gloss and bruises resembling her own neck trailing down to his crotch.

Her face was on fire when Spencer looked back at her, something betrayed in the hazel of his eyes which he knew was entirely illicit to feel in the circumstances, but it was true.

“Fuck off, Renly,” She shoved him back behind the door, looking at Spencer like the friendship between them they were scrambling to salvage hung in the balance with whatever she said next. “You remember Renly, my lab partner at Johns,”

Spencer nodded, the image of her lips on his pubic bone wouldn’t leave his mind, and he wondered what came after that, “I remember him,”

She nodded back, and they went silent.

They’d found themselves back at that stalemate.

TAGLIST:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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drunkhee · 2 days

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lonely beds, different cities ────── ⵌ YJW

pairing: uni student!yang jungwon x afab! reader genre: hurt wc: 1.29k warning !! mentions of alcohol + swearing + vomiting (due to alcohol) , lowercase writing

ft. enhypen members + yujin (ive)

synopsis; you and jungwon broke up as you were going to different universities

long, handwritten note deep in your pocket

‘my dearest jungwon,’ the note began. that was all jungwon had read before folding the letter back up after recognising your handwriting. he shoves the letter deep into the pocket of his jeans as his train made his way onto the platform.

it has been several weeks since you and jungwon’s breakup. weeks of torturous conversations of who ended it and why it ended with your peers. weeks of tears and ice cream. weeks of avoiding each other.

the breakup wasn’t amicable… to say the least. as you both approached the dreaded results day, you both came to the conclusion of a breakup before going into university. it wasn’t uncommon for couples to breakup, especially if they were going to universities hours away from each other.

‘you don’t even want to give it a try?’ you huff at him. this has been the third time this week where you are both arguing about what to do after receiving your results.

‘y/n, we are going to be… hours away from each other. we’ve always been attached by the hip, we’re not going to cope well with this!’ he shouts back.

‘you don’t even want to try and see how it goes? you’re the one who wanted to go to uni far away!’ you yell as he plops onto the couch.

‘oh! so now it’s my fault that the uni i want to go to is so far away! you were the one who said you would be fine with it!’

‘i was going to be! until you pull this shit! i was fine with you being so far away because i know that you going to this university, has been your dream wonie. i wasn’t going to let my selfish needs get in the way of your dreams and i was willing to travel to see you no matter how long the journey. and you pull this shit. i get it now. we should end this.’ you finally say, leaving jungwon before he could say anything.

in dreams, i meet you in warm conversation

‘i love you, y/n.’

‘i love you too, jungwon.’ you smile at him as he held you closer into a tight hug. jungwon gives a small kiss on your forehead as you lay in his small university single bed. ‘i’m so glad you decided to stay close to my uni, baby.’

‘i am too, i don’t know how i’d cope with you being so far.’ jungwon’s replies as you notice a bright light coming out of his window. slowly, your vision was engulfed in white and you awaken from your slumber.

you are back to reality, in your own university room. most definitely not jungwon’s who is hours away. it has officially been 6 months since you and jungwon broke up, not like you were counting anyways. many of your friends have told you that you would have forgotten him by now, but it seems like time sure is taking their sweet time.

is jungwon doing alright? is he eating well? does he have someone new? you have so many unanswered questions, yet no means of getting the answers. you have both cut off all contact and have mutually agreed on unfollowing each other off of all of your social media accounts. you occasionally spot him in heeseung and jake’s instagram stories on how they turn up to lectures almost an hour late or in riki’s who goes up to visit him and flirt with the older women.

you make your way to your university’s café. it was one of many littered around campus, but this one tends to be less busy as its farther away from all the busy buildings. yujin, a girl you met in your course who became one of your closest friends, waves her hands at you as you make your way to her. setting you bag down, she gives you a smile.

‘y/n… you know how it’s almost my birthday…’ she starts, tugging on your sweater. ‘i wanna celebrate back home! i really wanna introduce you and the others to my hometown friends! you can say no!’ she beams at you.

initially, you were really up for the idea, not until you remembered where she’s from. she notices the slight shift in your face.

‘it’s totally okay if you don’t want to come y/n, i know you’re scared of bumping into him…’ as much as you are scared, a part of you also is thrilled with the chance to see your ex. you reassure yujin that it was okay.

‘i mean, your hometown is quite big. i doubt we’d run into him, right?’

oh boy …

and you've got your demons, and darlin they all look like me

another day, another shot of vodka to start a university students day – or whatever heeseung said. exam week has finally come to an end for the boys, and such momentous occasion must be celebrated at their local wetherspoon’s with cheap pints of beer and jaeger bombs.

well, that’s not the only thing jungwon is drinking to tonight.

as the boys pull up to the pub, busy crowds of university students surround the entrance with the security guard occasionally checking ids for those who look underage. with the boys going inside, they try and look for a seat and ended upstairs – barely securing the table due to the busy friday night.

‘first round is on me boys!’ heeseung yells as he makes his way to the bar, god knows what drink he’s gonna bring this time. last time, he brought out some type of thick vanilla liqueur that resulted in jungwon puking out his halloumi fries.

sunghoon and jungwon watch heeseung charge to the bar as more friends join their table, namely jake, jay, and sunoo.

‘while heeseung is getting, probably the most horrendous drink ever, i’ll order us a round of tequila.’ jay announces as he orders on his phone, unlike heeseung who is probably now distracted by the pretty bartenders. thanks were given around the table as they all catch up with one another.

‘ayo, won.’ jake starts. ‘i heard that y/n is gonna be out partying today.’ he says looking up from his phone to jungwon, who now looks confused. his y/n never really went out, let alone partying.

‘well, uhm, that’s not really any of my business, man.’ jungwon shrugs at jake, beginning to feel uncomfortable that the whole table is now paying attention to him.

‘yo, i’m sorry man. i didn’t know you guys were still not t-‘

‘oh look! tequila shots, thanks jay!’ jungwon cuts jake off taking two of the shots. ‘i forgive you jake.’ he smiles at him before downing both shots. as more drinks were ordered and drank, jungwon was almost at his limit.

‘won, you should chill.’ heeseung advises the younger boy, before getting a scowl as a response.

‘god, i’m fine! i’m gonna go take a piss.’ he mumbles as he gets up from his chair. his view was slightly blurry and wobbly, but he made his way to the toilets. he waved at some other students he recognised before pushing the door open to the toilets to do his business.

leaving the toilets, he bumps into a person. a girl?

‘i’m so sorry, didn’t see you.’ he mutters as he meets the girls eye. your eyes.

‘jungwon?’ you looked at him shocked – not expecting to actually bump into the boy.

before you receive a response, he bolts off into a different direction. he looked at you almost scared and… disgusted? you couldn’t quite figure it out.

silence, the train runs off its tracks

lor's thoughts;

hey hey!! this is my first written piece on here and honestly idk what to write here LMAO hope u guys like this tho!! (based on sm of the lyrics of tswifts sad beautiful tragic!!)

#୨ৎ⋆.˚‪‪❤︎‬‎⭒ lor #୨ৎ⋆.˚‪‪❤︎‬‎⭒ lor ‬‎⭒ enha #enhypen #jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #enha #heeseung #jungwon #enha x reader #jake sim #yjw x reader #ni-ki #ni ki #jay #sunghoon #sunoo

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anankos · 1 month

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Def still thinking abt the notes i found on an old discord convo heavily featuring anselma con fire emblem bc i want to pick her brains so badly. there’s a lot of em in these games but damn what a woman to haunt the narrative

#fe16 #i heart morally ambiguous milfs who would do Anything good or bad for their close family #(of all the characters i think rhea could be a genuinely fascinating foil for anselma but i haven’t explored that enough yet #to have a definitive answer since it wasn’t in the notes)#i ALSO heart not fridging fire emblem moms. seriously video game what the FUCK happened to her after tragedy of duscur #also there was an au bullet point of ‘anselma/lambert oopsie baby and the consequences thereof’#esp for the tragedy of edelgard partially- though still Very personally- movitaved by the horrible deaths of every single one of her sibling #and she wouldn’t even know about the sibling ‘left’. nor does she know about her mothers fate serIOUSLY KT WHAT HAPPENED TO ANSELMA-

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k1ngpin42 · 2 months

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You two aren’t dating but she thinks you’re hers.

Note: The fics pretty long so I'll have the smut in bold as per usual. I also take requests. Enjoyy

Warnings: Fingering & fisting, dominant Abby, cunnilingus, thigh riding, rough, restraints, scissoring, possessive Abby, hickeys

You’ve been best friends with Abby as long as you can remember. Her dad loves you, you go on all assignments together and she trusts you more than anyone.

As you’ve grown older, in turn you have also gotten considerably prettier, stronger, and others have definitely noticed. Men and women alike have been flirting with you during and after assignments. Most attempts at courting you were unsuccessful though. Ever heard the term ‘if a look could kill?’ Well if anyone sent so much as a smile in your direction, she would return their affections with a look so intense they might as well be dead.

It had been a few days since you had been assigned somewhere with Abby. You knew she loved doing the more strenuous stuff with Manny, so you had been partnered with a nice man named Ryan for most of your recent missions. He had been helping you adjust to long shipment assignments and high risk activities such as defending areas rich in supplies, but a lot of the time Ryans patrol were assigned to what WLFS call “ghost missions,” (scanning large perimeters of land for trespassers, even when 9 days out of 10, the only people trespassing were infected stragglers.)

The two of you were closer than the other’s in his patrol group, likely because most patrols were so fucking boring and you two needed a way to pass the time. It was becoming clear he had certain affection growing towards you, and after being so…distracted by Abby all these years, you decided the attention was nice.

You made your way to the dining hall for breakfast. You never ate anything that early in the morning as a result of your night-person-only demeanour, however you enjoyed sitting at the table with a hot cup of coffee and listening to the white noise of people eating and chatting before going out into the cruelty of Seattle. The dining hall felt like a sort of safe haven for you in the mornings, a time when there weren’t so many people as to make you feel overwhelmed but just enough to convince you that you weren’t entirely alone.

You were surprised to see Abby and Manny getting trays of food and chatting in the line. Your face involuntary flushed when they approached. It wasn’t noticeable, but you felt the heat under your skin.

“Manny!” You exclaim, happily. You two had always been platonic soulmates. His irritating puns and smooth way of talking was refreshing in a place with so many serious people. You supposed that’s why you liked Abby too. Aside, of course, from her arms that could, and you would happily let, crush you with ease.

“Hey Abs.” You say, more quietly and with less excitement. She smiles widely at you.

“It’s good to see you again, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages!” She remarks, sitting across from you. Manny sits next to her.

“So what’s new?” Manny asks, and before you can answer Abby looks at your empty tray with mild concern.

“You’re not eating?” She asks. You’re taken by surprise a little and take a beat before answering.

“Just coffee.” You reply, still feeling more nervous than you should.

“You should eat before assignments.” She instructs.

“I’ll be fine.”

You notice a reaction of either disgust, irritation, or both appear on Abby’s face and you turn around to see what it could be. You smile when you notice Ryan approaching.

“Ryan! Good morning!” You say. Abby rolls her eyes.

“A lot of excitement for 9 in the morning.” She mumbles to Manny.

“Hey!” He speaks with excitement, pulling out the bench slightly and sitting beside you. Abby practically groans.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was someone sitting there?” He asks politely. Abby grunts.

“Well…no, but-“

“No one’s sitting there.” You reassure him, looking deeply into his eyes as he gets comfortable in his chair.

“I got you some of those packaged cornflakes you love to snack on. I knew you wouldn’t be hungry enough for breakfast but the sugar should you give you enough energy for the day.” He explains, passing you a packet.

“What a gentlemen.” Manny claims with amusement. Abby’s face now depicted an expression that the word “annoyed” wouldn’t even justify.

“She doesn’t eat breakfast.” Abby speaks, almost like a warning. You just smile softly at her, then back at him.

“No, no it’s very sweet, I’ll have some.” You say, peeling off the packaging and taking a small handful of some.

“You’ll need the energy, we’ve got another one of those long cargo shipments ahead of us. It’ll finally just be us today.” He says, pushing a spoonful of some sort of porridge into his mouth from the bowl in front of him.

“Isaac’s trusting us to be alone together?” You ask with delight. He nods his head and Abby gives another appalled look.

“Why wouldn’t you be? Can you two not focus together or what?”

You look at her, confused at where this attitude is coming from.

“Aha…no, it’s just we usually go in a four person patrol, I guess he trusts us more now.”

“Or he just doesn’t want to waste too many men for such long periods of time-“ Ryan tries to say before getting interrupted.

“Actually-“ Abby begins abruptly in a way that seemed to startle even herself. Everyone turns to look at her and she doesn’t let this intimidate her, too deep in it now to stop talking.

“I came to tell you that you’re with me today. Manny’s swapping with Ryan.”

“I’m sorry, what??” Manny starts. Abby gives Manny a pleading look. He sighs.

“It’s true.” He agrees through gritted teeth.

“Oh…” Ryan murmured. You put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s no problem, Manny’s a great ally to have for shit like this.” You offer, now rubbing his arm gently. He nods.

“I was hoping to spend more time with you.”

“Well we don’t need patrol for that.” You say, somewhat flirtatiously. His whole attitude seems to shift and if auras were visible, his would be golden right now.

“Then, do you want to hang out when you’re back?” Once again, your chance to respond is taken from you.

“That’ll be impossible, it will probably be night time by the time we’re back.” Abby explains. His smirk widens, still making eye contact with you.

“Even better.”

This is Abby’s final straw and she gets up and grabs your wrist which appears to vanish completely under Abby’s large fist.

“She’ll think about it.” She says, guiding you away. You look at her, not annoyed, just confused.

“Abigail…” You start, softly. She doesn’t say anything, she seems too angry with life to process words right now.

“I mean no offence by this question, but Abs, are you okay?” She doesn’t respond for a while, still guiding you to the wagons. She sighs before answering.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asks, as if the question were aimed towards herself, rather than you.

You shrug. “Must have been my imagination.” She doesn’t say anything and just lifts you up onto the wagon. There are two other men there and Abby tells them you’re ready, the wagon leaving swiftly at her command.

“So what was with the swap?” You ask. She seem’s happier now, or at least less tense. She lets out a deep breath.

“I missed you.” She replies, nonchalantly. You feel your heart do things that can’t be healthy inside your chest at these words. You nod, trying to keep your composure.

“Cool.” You say, finally allowing yourself the courage to look her into her eyes again.

When you reach a block in the road, you both get out decide to look for alternate ways across. There’s some debris blocking the road that appears almost impossible to clear from this side. You also notice that there are some buildings you could potentially cut through. You walk up to one and a runner runs out at you. You desperately pull it away from your neck, stabbing it with your pocket knife.

Abby runs in at the commotion and see’s the dead runner on the floor.

“Are you bit?” She breathes out, her face consumed with panic. You laugh.

“No.” You say, giving her a comforting smile. “Of course not.”

“Let’s keep mo-“ you start. Abby pulls you in without the faintest of warnings, hugging you tightly.

While blushing ferociously at the feel of her large body against yours, the refinement of the muscles on her arms, the feeling of her chest against yours, you manage a strained.

“I’m alright.”

She doesn’t let you go at this. Instead, she snakes her arms around your body, moving her arms down to your hips. You feel the lower part of your body quiver and you quickly press your legs together, some part of you believing she could know the things you thought about her somehow.

“What are-“ She moves her hands to your ass, then hips, then she runs them back up again.

“I missed you.” She breathed out. You break away from the hug and look at her directly in the eyes.

You search desperately for any indication of deception. This has to be some kind of prank. If Abby liked you back you would know, wouldn’t you?

The thought occurs to you that she didn’t know you liked her, so why couldn’t the same thing apply?

No. There was no way. Abby was straight, probably…

“Abby?” You question. She eyes you slowly.

“Mm…” She hums, clearly in her own world.

“Why…” You pause, and it feels like that girl has taken every breath from your body body before you can take it.

“Why did…you want me to come with you today?” You feel the heat of the air from both your mouths. You’re so fucking close to each other, it would take almost nothing to- no. Focus, you keep telling yourself.

“You’re a good shot, good company too, I missed it.” She declares, matter-of-factly. You nod and she puts a large hand on your face.

“Or maybe I didn’t want you doing assignments with that boy toy.” You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way her hand is making you feel.

“And how is Ryan a boy toy?” You ask, stammering a little.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She demands, and her tone startles you. Her eyes soften when she notices your reaction.

“He clearly wants to sleep with you, I’m just looking out for you cause I mean, men like that they only want one thing, you know?” She asks softly. You give her a provocative look.

“What if I only want one thing from him too?” You watch as Abby’s eyebrows furrow and that same look of disgust splashes over her.

“You CAN’T be serious.” She spits, removing her hand and stepping away from you.

“What’s wrong with that? It’s not like anyone else wants me-“

“I-“ Abby practically yells, her words trailing off.

“He’s not good for you. He wouldn’t know…how to treat you.” You sigh.

“Well, I need to sleep with someone.” You admit “Why does it bother you?”

“Because, you belong to me.” She says quietly, looking down at the ground. You’re stunned at her words.

“What? I…don’t belong to anyone-“

—————————————————————————————

✨Smut✨

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, the question sounding more like an order.

You don’t allow yourself to consider anything else before grabbing her face and mashing you lips against hers.

Still stunned by the situation, you feel her lips part obediently against yours and you gain the chance to suck on her tongue, tasting the inside of her mouth as the kisses became deeper, more intense.

Your head is racing, but you ignore the scrambled thoughts, letting yourself moan slightly into the kiss, feeling her hands tracing your shirt.

“Please.” She says quietly. You don’t know what’s happening, she’s never treated you like this, never wanted you. You’ve heard her say please maybe once- actually, you’re not sure you’ve heard her say that at all, but now here she was, practically begging to see more of you.

It’s Abby fucking Anderson after all, so despite logic dictating that the reasonable decision would be to talk things out and see if her feelings are genuine, you comply without even taking a breath, practically tearing your shirt off for her.

She practically stares at your chest, mesmerised by the way they sit perfectly in your well fitted bra, deep blue and black lace. Once she manages to close her jaw, she gapes, “you wear this on all your patrols?” You shake your head.

“All my others were in the wash…” you stammer. She says nothing, grabbing you forcefully and putting her lips on your neck.

You moan involuntarily, knowing your neck is your sweet spot and now, she knows it too. Instead of just kissing it now, she sucks harshly at your skin like you’re a goddamn lollipop, running her tongue over different areas as she went.

“Take yours off too.” You say, feeling heat grow between your legs at even her simplest of actions. Her smirk makes you go feral.

“Already desperate for me, hm?” She asks. The back of your neck is hot and you feel your stomach doing summersaults.

Deciding actions speak louder than words, you lift her shirt off her shoulders and you could melt right fucking there. In all her glory, a perfect chest covered by a pale coloured bra. A stunning set of Abs with a light shine of sweat from the travel and heat and you can see her arms fully now, and they were just as you had imagined, if not better.

“Fuck, Abs, you’re so-“ You whimper when she bites down unexpectedly at your neck before moving her mouth away. Then, she kisses your stomach, all the while moving her fingers down into your underwear.

“Take this shit off.” She instructs, motioning at your jeans by pulling aggressively at the fabric. You sigh at how obedient you’ve become, kicking your shoes off, then lowering your pants to the floor.

“Good girl.” Abby grinned, putting her whole hand in your underwear with no warning.

“Mm…” A high pitched moan escapes your lips in anticipation, it’s quiet, but in the small room Abby could hear the sweet chorus of your moans in her ear, making her speed up her pace.

She found your clit immediately, using two of her wide fingers to draw painfully slow circles across where you were most sensitive.

“A…Abby” You shut your eyes tight as she feels you, fucking with all of your senses for sport.

‘Look at me when I’m fucking you.” She demands, using her left hand to cover your throat. She doesn’t squeeze though, she doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not yet.

“Stop….teasing me.” You plead as she continues having her way with your cunt, fingers already drenched as a result of her torture. She smirks.

“You shouldn’t have let that slut sit with us.” She says, stopping what she’s doing and putting them inside you this time, moving her thumb quickly over your clit in their absence. She start’s fucking your inner walls as rough as she wants to, not giving a fuck how overwhelming it feels. You lean your head back, gripping at her biceps and clawing them slightly with your nails. She gasps at the feeling of this, and you can tell she’s getting off on it.

“That’s what this ’s about? Mmm….” You moan, still looking into her eyes as best you can. “You’re jealous?”

“Shut the fuck up.” She says, removing her fingers from your neck and putting them in your mouth instead.

“Put that pretty mouth to use and be grateful for the pleasure I give you.” You suck gratefully at her fingers and instead of the slow pace she was doing before, she goes so fast you feel your stomach start to swirl immediately. “MMM” You moan through her fingers. She doesn’t stop, not even when you claw at her arms so hard they make imprints in her skin. You can’t fight the need to close your eyes this time, and suddenly, right before orgasm, you feel nothing. Her long, wide fingers go out of you and your pussy pulses, as if to complain in morse code. She removes her hands from your mouth.

“Why?” You gasp. She kisses you deeply again, throwing you against a wall and protecting your head with her hand.

“I told you, look at me when I’m fucking you, or I stop.” She warns, putting her hand into your underwear again.

You cry out as she does so, you were already so sensitive. She smiles innocently at you.

“Aw, too much baby?” She asks, still refusing to switch up her speed, moving fast and hard in and out of your cunt. The slick from inside you leaks off her fingers, painting the inside of your thighs. She keeps going. And going. Until you are clutching onto her and throbbing as you release on her hand.

You let out a satisfied sigh, but Abby is far from reaching that point herself and looks around the room, spotting an empty couch.

She picks you up effortlessly, your legs clinging onto her. She throws you onto the couch, moving on top of you and ensuring you have no where to go. Once in a good position, she’s moving her knee dangerously close to your cunt.

“It’s too soon…” you breathe out, moving your legs together to protect your dripping pussy. She ignores you, circling your clit and entire pussy with her concealed knee. The tough material of her green cargo jeans manipulating yet another painful orgasm from her is a feeling second to none, and she already has you moaning her name.

“A…Abby…” you cry. She moves faster.

You let out a shaky gasp. “…bby” she moves wider.

“A-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before bucking your hips into her knee and another orgasm floods your body.

“You’re so wet for me baby.” She hums, taking off her belt and pants.

“Put your arms up.” She commands,her expression neutral and portraying that same look she always gets when she has something she needs to get done. You just look at her, admiring her body. Her eyes darken at your behaviour and she grabs your arms, tying her belt over them with one hand, tightening your hands together.

“Don’t want to listen to me, huh? I’ll show you what happens when you don’t behave. While gaping over the fact you can no longer move your hands, Abby pushes her head in between your cunt and you practically scream as she tastes you, flattening her tongue on your clit and moving her head around and around to explore every bit off your pussy like it’s the most important thing she’ll ever do.

She moans out as she does it and your pussy throbs in her mouth at this. You can tell this has swiftly became Abby’s new favourite activity, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this becase a regular hang out routine.

Your confined hands make it harder for you, as you can’t grab on to Abby’s hair or even the leather couch. She continues moaning and sucking sloppily, her hands on either thigh.

“I’m, I’m gonna-“ You start, and Abby takes this as an indication to give you everything she has, putting three fingers into your tight hole all while not coming up for air.

Abby slows down the movements with her tongue, still giving you enough to feel fucking heavenly, but not enough to make you cum just yet.

With every bit of care, Abby slowly puts a fourth finger in and tears dwell in your eyes.

“F….fuck….mmmhm” You cry. She moves her head away so she’ll be audible.

“Think you can take my whole hand baby?” Feral was an understatement of understatements. This question made you feel so fucking insane you probably wouldn’t even remember your own name if you were asked it right now. You look at her hand, her wide fingers, her massive fist you had seen use to bash people’s skulls into the floor, her whole fist would probably cause some sort of damage to you, surely…

“Yea..” you whisper. She smiles widely.

“That’s my good girl.” She says before returning to her previous position, licking your glistening slit as she eased her hand inside you.

“Mmm fu- mmmm Ab- oh m- fuck” The feeling of her tongue was electrifying. To think Abby could have liked you before, to think you guys could have been doing this ages ago, fuck there was nothing like it in the world. You always dreamed of this, always wondered what it would be like if she used those hands for more than just violence or working out, and now you got your answer. Now you truely knew how fucking good she was.

That sensation she had made you experienced several times in the last hour or less was returning and as she continued doing tricks with her tongue and hand, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.

“Abigail….” You moan. She moves her fist in and out slightly faster.

“I’m gonna fucking….Abby~~” You gasp, releasing hard as your body cried out for a break. It takes a while to take back your breath as Abby eases out of you, admiring her now coated hand.

“Was that good, baby?” You don’t reply, blushing ferociously at the site of her hand and fingers.

“Come on,” she says, untying your hands. “You’ve got one more in you my gorgeous girl.” She chants, and now that you can actually see again, you have the opportunity to see her entire body. She’s wearing boxers that look so fucking good on her you want to tear them off with your teeth.

She notices your staring and smiles.

“Like what you see baby?” You nod excitedly.

“God, yes.” You exclaim. She has that cocky fucking smirk on her face again. She knows she good.

“You’re hands are free now, you can touch.” She explains, her voice low. Before you even have a chance to touch her, though, she grabs your arm and does it for you, placing your hand there and allowing you to feel the shape of her cunt through the smooth material.

And fuck. She’s wet. You don’t why you thought she wouldn’t be. Maybe you had assumed she was above that, or maybe you were still in denial she had any kind of feelings for you at all, even if she only wanted sex or whatever the fuck it is Abby wants.

You start feeling her up through the fabric and she tilts her head.

“You first.” You let out an annoyed breath and she laughs at how adorable she finds you.

“You’ve already made me…well…a lot.” You say, your face a deep red.

“Why can’t I let you feel good?” You ask. She picks you up and places you on her thigh, leaning herself back against the sofa.

“Pleasuring you does make me feel good baby. So I’m gonna do anything and everything I want to you unless I hear any objections.” Still blushing, you nod.

“You won’t get any from me.” You declare quietly.

“I’m gonna teach you better than to question me.” She insists, grabbing your hips and moving your clit over her bare thigh. You can’t help but smile as pleasure surrounds you again.

“Fuck Abs…” She keeps guiding your hips, breathing heavy herself at the sight of you.

“Look at you, my pretty girl fucking herself on my leg. I wonder, does it turn you on?” Your still throbbing cunt feels amazing against her quads and you can’t help but wrap your arms around her neck and pull yourself in closer.

“Yes.” You admit in her ear. She kisses you hungrily while increasing the pace.

“Yes, what?”

“A…abby.” You say, and her eyes roll back, her head hitting the wall at how turned on she is. You could cum at the sight of it.

“Will you please let me make you cum?” You ask, just wanting her to feel even a fraction of what she’s made you feel. She takes one hand off your hip and puts it on your neck, her hand fitting almost completely around it.

“Look at you.” She whispers, enticingly. “SO fucking desperate. The way I love.” Abby coos. You roll your eyes.

“Will you at least take your bra off?” She shoves you down onto the couch, pinning your hands down with her over you.

“Do you want to see what happens when you keep making demands before I’m done with you?” She asks.

Still gasping for air from the shock of the situation, you don’t answer, instead you just shake you head. You want her too fucking bad, you can’t wait to be fucked any longer, even if painful and slowly drawn out orgasms with her hands and mouth were arguably as good right about now.

“Don’t make me tie your hands again.” She warns, retuning you to the position before and watching you get off on her thigh. You remain like this for some time, just slowly feeling yourself on her bare thighs.

“Tell me how good it feels baby.”

“S’ good Abs.” You say, and she increases the pace.

“Tell me what you think of Ryan.”

“What? N-now?” You breathe out, already closer to the edge than you should be right now. Before she can make another one of her remarks, you stop her.

“Alright, alright, I- I don’t know, he’s okay-“

“Do you think he’s hot?” She asks, sucking on your neck as she guides your hips. You moan loudly when she does this, fuck you love when she kisses your neck. You would let your entire neck be riddled with hickeys for her, you wouldn’t even care who saw.

“I asked you a question.” “No. No I don’t think he’s hot.”

“So you were gonna use him for sex, then? No attraction?” Abby asks. Fuck you’re so close.

“I….yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Abby, I…was gonna use him for sex.”

“Why?”

“Abby I’m gonna c-“

“WHY?” She yells. Fuck you’re cumming.

“C-cause I n- ugh~” She hugs you tightly, still not removing you from her thigh. You breathe out desperately.

“I needed a distraction from you.” You blurt out, teary eyed from all the sex. She actually looks surprised at this.

“Wait, what? From me?”

“I’ve liked you for….mmm…a while.” You say. She kisses you deeply for a long time, several minutes of just entangling your mouths in each others throats, if that were even possible.

“I…wanted you so bad that I- I thought he would distract me, make it hurt less that you didn’t want m-“ “You shut the fuck up. I’ve never not wanted you. You’re fucking mine.”

“What? But you never said anything.” You exclaim. She shakes her head dismissively.

“Yeah well I’m a fucking idiot. Let’s see if there’s a bed in this place, I wanna fuck you properly.”

You look down at the infected on the floor not too far from you.

“Ah yes, the bed belonging to that dead guy over there, romantic.” She can’t help but laugh at this and you both walk through the building, (you practically limping you’re that sensitive). There’s a bedroom. The bed doesn’t look exactly comfortable, but it’s better than a couch or floor.

In saying that though, you would let Abby take you anywhere on any surface at any time if you were truly being honest with yourself.

She places you carefully on the bed.

“It’s not that bad?” She asks, and you both smile. She takes her bra off and you try your best to keep your composure but in your mind you’re smiling like a little girl.

“Go on then.” She says, and she doesn’t need to tell you twice. You pin her down, (something she definitely let you do rather than something you did yourself) and start kissing her tits, sucking only for a few seconds on each of her hard nipples. The actual flesh there is soft and you let your hand explore her exposed chest too.

She just watches, amused. Your hand reaches into her boxes and she opens her mouth to stop you, but bites her tongue. She’s not used to anything less than rough, quick sex, all of which she was usually the dominant one, but then again, she’s never been with anyone she cared about until now. She lets out a surprised and satisfied gasp when you find her weakest spot quite easily and rub circles over the area with two fingers at a swift pace.

“Mmm.” She speaks, happily. You position your head in between her legs, still moving your fingers and letting consequent moans and gasps leave her pretty lips. You kiss her inner thigh, licking the muscular skin and eventually sucking it too, leaving dark purple marks there. You go to suck her off through the fabric but she puts a hand on your chin and pulls you back up to eye height.

“I don’t think so. My turn.” You don’t fight her on this and she pulls her underwear down, tossing it on the floor. Then, she takes off any of your remaining clothes and licks down your entire body. She spits on your pussy, as if it weren’t wet enough, and positions herself cautiously.

She moves her leg up over your shoulder and pulls you into her and fuck. She fits in you like a fucking glove. You both gasp at the contact. Your arms are up straight to support yourself and your head tilts back, both moaning in unison.

“Mmm….fuck, baby”

“A…Abby.” You both moan. You move faster and somehow you both manage to keep a perfect rhythm, feeling heat and various other things between you.

“Tell me I’m…fucking yours.” Abby orders between moans.

“I’m yours Abby.” “You belong- ah~”

“I belong to Abby…Anderson.” You breathe out. She leans her head back.

“Fuck baby keep doing that and I’ll come.”

“There’s no-one else but you Abby.”

“Mmmph~” She replies, shutting her eyes. You can tell she’s so close.

“No one….can fuck me like y- ah~~”

“Fuck I’m c- mmm.” She let’s out, and you both feel each other’s orgasms in addition to your own.

You don’t stop right away though, you ride it out until there’s nothing left and the sheet’s below you are drenched.

When you finally regain consciousness or, at least a grip on reality, you look up at Abby who’s stroking your hair with her middle fingers.

“That was probably my most eventful patrol yet.” You say. She kisses you deeply.

“Sorry I was so rough on you.”

“Yeah, where did that even come from? I mean…do you fuck all your friends when you don’t like someone they talk to?” You tease. She huffs.

“Call me your friend again and I’ll fuck you into next week.”

You grin.

“Deal.”

#abby x reader #abby anderson #smut #abby tlou #18+ content #tlou2 #tlou2 smut #abby the last of us #the last of us #female x female #tlou

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rene-spade · 20 days

Text

miss louisiana i | c. leclerc, a. saint mleux | chase landry

poly! | fem! reader x obsessive! exes! charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux (+chase landry and f1 grid)

synopsis. your obsessive exes refuse to accept your new relationship with a man completely different from them. maybe they should move to louisiana? jk!. . . unless?

note. ok so reader is from louisiana and has cajun roots for context. chase landry is from swamp people 😭✌️ I loved that show when I was younger & I rewatched some recently and it reignited my crush on him sorry

WARNING(s); obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic/creepy exes (I make is as fluffy as I can tho trust), ooc Alex and Charles being a rich and out of touch, a spec of classism, stalking oops, (everyone Loves you)

miss.y/n📍belle river, la

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, jacoblandry, carlossainz55, and 1,006,349 others

miss.y/n back where I belong ☀️🌷🐊🐝🐍🌿🐠

view comments

mariene.y/l/n be safe in the water my baby 🤗

miss.y/n yes maman 🤞😊 you know I’m protected

user oop who’s protecting you miss ma’am

user omgggg how did Charles n Alex fumble so baddd 😩😩🙏 I’ve needed y/n’s cajun french baddie ass since DAY ONE 🗣️

charles_leclerc so beautiful mon ange 😍 but that water is dark and might be dangerous. ta maman a raison!

see translation | your mom is right

user stopp didn’t y/n break things off with them???

user2 currently losing it my fav throuple might be back 💪🗣️

carlossainz55 hope you’re doing well mi dulce ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux yeah no this isn’t happening

user carlos sweetie delete this comment while you still have hands <3

user SHE’S BACK IN LOUISIANA RAHH

user2 how did I not know she was from the middle of nowhere 😭 what is pierre part??

user3 how didn’t you know!!! her dad literally used to hunt alligator before he died and her mom remarried and moved back to France . Her dad was cajun

user this might be a reach but y’all think she knows anybody from swamp people? Love that show 🤣🤣

liked by miss.y/n

♤ ♤ ♤

Alex’s leg bounced up and down nervously as her call went to voicemail for the 7th time in a row. She’d been calling your phone nonstop since hearing the news, anxious to know if it was true or not. It was always something that ate at her; her and Charles’ inability to relate to your childhood in Louisiana. They’d grown up among a higher class than you and in foreign countries. You would just giggle and wave off her concerns, insisting that even though they couldn’t understand your upbringing, that at least you could understand theirs.

“No answer.” She muttered, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. It was a habit she’d had as a child, one that you disapproved of and had trained out of her before you left them.

“She left us for a swamp man.” Charles pathetically finished Alex’s thought as they sat in his car, waiting to meet some other drivers and wags at the high-end restaurant Carlos chose.

“Don’t say it like that!” Alexandra turned her body towards the passenger window, “She didn’t leave us— not in that way! I told you she was homesick!”

Your father was a Cajun man who definitely took his culture to heart, doing a lot of hunting and fishing before he passed away suddenly when you were 12. Your mother was from France originally, and she remarried a rich Frenchman who’d ended up funding your modeling career after your success in pageantry. You moved straight to France at age 14 and found yourself in a completely different culture from how you grew up. You’d visited France before during summers with your mother, but it wasn’t home to you like Louisiana. You’d met Alexandra when the two of you were 19, and instantly bonded. Despite only really meeting briefly, it was love at first sight on Alex’s part and she supported you all the way to when you won Miss Universe after starting out Miss Louisiana.

When Charles had come along and had the same feelings that she did for you, it felt perfect, like everything had finally come together.

“With us is her home.” Charles replied, sucking his teeth.

“I can’t even—” Alex didn’t have to finish, the two had the same thought. They can’t even fathom the idea that you were with someone else.

Daniel was practically cackling in joy while Carlos at least tried to hide his amusement by covering his face. It was no secret that most of the f1 grid was praying for you to leave Charles/Alex so they could get a chance— but this wasn’t what they were expecting.

Bickering around the table ensued, only a few seconds before Alex was rolling her eyes with a groan and putting her face in her hands, “He doesn’t have any recent social media so I can’t even stalk him.”

“So we will just go there!”

“And what? Become swamp people?” Daniel was laughing so hard he was tearing up.

“Cha, that’s so ridiculous.” Alex mumbled.

“It is—!” Kika agreed suspiciously fast, “I just mean the split was recent, so maybe me and Pierre should visit her before you guys?” It’d only been a few months, but that had been enough to drive Charles and Alex a bit off the rails.

They’d only ever been apart from you for just over two days in the last year, up until you ghosted them. Well— it wasn’t technically ghosting when you left a note; a very brief letter in your familiar handwriting that told them you needed some space. They didn’t take it as a break up, although they did panic. Their numbers weren’t blocked, so they naturally took that as a good sign. This was probably because you wanted their attention since all their calls and messages were going through. The finality of it didn’t hit until it reached two weeks of no-contact from you and their photos were removed from your Instagram. The public noticed and so did the rest of the grid despite Alex and Charles’ now 3-month-long denial stage.

“le lieu s'appelle Pierre Part, yeah?” Pierre grinned and Charles sneered at him. (the place is called pierre part)

“They might have a point,” Daniel winced with a wide grin, “I think you’ll just look crazy if you show up. At least, one of us would just look like a friend who misses her, ya know?”

“None of you are visiting our girlfriend!” Alex frowned.

“Ex,” Carlos gently corrected into his fist with a cough before straightening up, “She jus’ is homesick maybe so give her some space and she will come back in no time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Alex slumped with her chin in her hand, “cet endroit est sa maison.” (that place is her home)

“You’ve never heard ‘if you love something, let it go’? If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.” Daniel tried to reassure, but his face was almost a wince.

“We just wanted her close to us is all! We travel so much, we didn’t mean to take her away from her home—”

But Daniel gave them a look, knowing about their behavior with you. As in love with you as they are, Alex and Charles are intense about it. Endearing on one hand for awhile, but then the jealousy got worse and they were pretty delusional about their tendencies. He could understand it honestly— you were lovely. He imagined he’d be in the same state as Alex and Charles if you were his and you left him. Which is why he cut them so much slack, the rest of the table too.

“I don’t understand why she ran away like that!” Charles finished with a huff, running his fingers through his hair. He was starting to sweat. This felt like a cruel joke on your part— a mean way to get their attention.

“His ears are a little big.” Alex whispered, staring into her phone with a pout.

“et cela! regarde nos oreilles!” (and that! look at our ears!)

Pierre lost it at that; Charles pulling at his ears to make a point, “Maybe he’s just a nice guy, man!”

“We are nice!”

“Let me see.” Carlos walked around the table to see Alex’s phone.

She’d googled the name of your alleged new boyfriend— Chase Landry. He had starred on some Southern US reality show ‘Swamp People’; it mainly surrounded cajun alligator hunters in Louisiana. They had known you liked the show, but had never seen it themselves.

“Eh,” Carlos shrugged, “his ears aren’t that big. He is a little old for her though, no? 34?”

“Exactly! He is a pervert! I’m calling her again, actually.”

♤ ♤ ♤

miss.y/n 📍pierre part, la

liked by jacoblandry, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, and 1,014,108 others

miss.y/n me and my dirty swamp man foreva 🤞💛🌷🦆

view comments

user STOPPP SHE SAID THAT’S MY MAN N IMMA STICK BY HIMMMM

user2 stfu 😭✋ the fact that this man most likely has no idea that this is going on

user3 his brother liking her posts and filling him in

miss.y/n jokes on y’all Jacob doesn’t know what’s going on either

bellahadid beautiful lily faery and her dirty swamp bf <3

miss.y/n <3 literally

user BELLA⁉️

arthur_leclerc beautiful view of the water, ma sœur!

see translation | my sister

user THEY SENT Y/NS FAVORITE LECLERC BROTHER IN TO PLAY DAMAGE CONTROL

user2 not “my sister” 😭😭😭 leclercs let her go challenge

user y/n’s harem coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 😭😂🤣

this is part 1 of perhaps 3. I plan on making part 2 much longer and more writing than social media like this one, just for some balanceee

taglist; @alliwantisadonut @splaterparty0-0 @charizznorizz

Ren

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #dark! f1 #f1 grid x reader #obsessive f1 #charles leclerc x reader #poly f1 #f1 oc #obsessive charles leclerc #ex! charles leclerc #Charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz x reader #alex saint mleux x reader #alexandra saint mleux #f1 reverse harem #swamp people x reader #chase landry x reader

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dearlyjun · 3 months

Text

5% tint ☆ c. yeonjun

☆ PAIRING: sugardaddy!yeonjun x collegestudent!reader (f)

☆ GENRE: smut (18+ readers only! dont make me block you)

☆ SUMMARY: you didn't think that doing well on an exam would mean that you would be fucked in the front seat of a porsche; good thing your sugar daddy has 5% tint.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

☆ WARNINGS: gendered terms are used (girl), semi public sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of praise from yeonjun, yeonjun drives a porsche (I think its a valid warning), yeonjun is wearing rings, making out, creampie kink perhaps?, dirty talk, obviously car sex!! lmk if i forgot anything its almost 1am and im an old lady.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: so heres part of the concept that I literally could not stop yapping about if I tried. combining my interests here: a hot man taking care of me and a porsche of my dreams. I am actually considering making this a series, with a backstory and everythingg so lmk your thots :)

a big thank you to @silvergyus @nightlyawnzz @hearts4huening for being my beta readers for this, and I may use your services in the future.

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

walking to the front of your lecture hall, you collected the results from your latest exam. After finding your name in the pile of papers, you could barely contain your excitement when you saw the boldly printed 100% on the front.

Yeonjun would be so happy.

You quickly walked back to collect your things, before pulling out your phone to text him since he was picking you up from class.

you: going to be walking out in a few. I have good results!!

yeonjun: ahh my smart girl. I'm waiting for you out front.

Soon after you walked out through the double doors of the building that you were in, spotting Yeonjun’s gray Porsche parked up front.

Yeonjun had a pretty dark window tint, so you couldn’t see inside that well. You opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat; Yeonjun beaming.

“There’s my girl.” He had the biggest smile on his face. “Look at you, dressed all cute.” He was referencing your plaid skirt and big crewneck sweatshirt that was actually his.

“Did you just come from the office or something?” You asked him, leaning in to kiss him. “You look so nice.” You smoothed your hand over his button down dress shirt, making him smirk.

“Now let me see this test, huh?”

“Okay.” You quickly dug the scantron out of your folder that you had. Handing it over to Yeonjun, leaning over his center console as he examined it.

He was smirking.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” You spoke with a huge smile on your face.

“Ah, see I knew you’d do well.” Yeonjun put his hand onto your jaw to kiss you.

You hummed against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. “I missed you last night, daddy.” You kissed him again.

Yeonjun smirked against your lips before pulling away slightly. “Yeah? You know I want you to focus on your school too.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s easier to study when I’m sitting on your lap. You know?” You reached down to feel Yeonjun’s cock, which to your surprise was half erect.

“With my cock inside of you? Princess, you know you can’t focus.”

You remembered the time you swore that you would sit still and study on Yeonjun’s lap while he worked. You didn’t last five minutes before you were fucking yourself on his cock.

You pouted as Yeonjun moved to kiss you towards your neck. “But I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy.”

Yeonjun practically choked back a moan; if his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely was now. “And I always reward you, don’t I?”

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, then went to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants. You let out an audible noise when he finally lowered his underwear, leaky, pretty cock out on full display.

“Go ahead and sit on it, pretty girl.” Yeonjun spoke, shuddering slightly when he swiped the tip with his thumb.

You felt a sudden tinge of shyness when you took off your shoes. Yeonjun could practically read your mind.

“The tints are too dark; no one can see you.”

“Okay, help me.” You answered, slightly laughing at the fact that you were going to climb over the console of a car that cost as much as your parents' house.

“I got you.” Yeonjun held onto you. Before you sat down on him, he pulled the fabric of your underwear out of the way.

“Oh my- fuck, you’re so wet.” Yeonjun gasped. “I’ll slip right fucking in.”

You lowered yourself onto him, and it was painfully slow; making you feel every inch of his cock.

Yeonjun was seconds away from ruining his leather with his fingernails with the way that he was gripping onto the passenger seat.

“Daddy…your cock. Fuck.” You sighed, dropping your head into his neck; taking a breath of his sweet cologne. He was fully inside of you, nuzzled up into that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby I know.” His hands were roaming your thighs and ass. Your underwear was cutting into you, but you couldn’t care less.

You slowly started to grind onto him, trying to find a rhythm in the limited space that you had. Yeonjun looked ahead, subtly watching if anyone walked by his car.

“You look so pretty, you know.” He spoke into your ear. “My dick inside of you in the front seat of my Porsche.” He suddenly gripped onto your hips, fucking you onto his cock.

“You’re my good girl, you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer, just let out a whimper of a moan.

“Repeat it back to me, baby.” His grip was so tight you thought his rings were going to make marks in your skin.

“I’m your…good girl.” You nearly choked on your words. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yeonjun could already tell by the way that you were clenching around him, and he probably wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Yeonjun turned your face to look at him in one quick movement. “Yeah? I’m so fucking deep in you aren’t I?” His voice was low; you knew what he was doing.

The sounds of your cunt were obscene; Yeonjun loved every second of it. He studied your face as he angled your hips differently, cockhead hitting so deep that your jaw fell slack.

You’ve never looked so pretty to him. Honors student studying biology. Probably going to end up being a doctor. He knew you’d be decorated in cords at your graduation. But now, he was hitting so deep you couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Letting out a rather loud whine when your orgasm finally hit you, Yeonjun kissed you, shushing you. After all, his car only had a tint; not soundproofing.

“Cum in me. Please, daddy.” You were nearly delirious, whimpering expletives. Yeonjun knew you were actually being serious, because you always begged him to. “That’s my reward, right?”

And how could he say no? Not when you were whining, begging as you pulled on his necklace to kiss him.

“You can take it all?” He asked. Stupid question. You always could, even if he had to fuck it back into you.

You eagerly nodded, lips jutting out to a pout before you kissed him again.

“God you drive me fucking insane.” Yeonjun’s last words before letting go of his orgasm that he was trying to hang onto. “You feel so fucking good.”

The fact that he was probably making a mess out of his seat was sent to the back of his mind. He’d deal with that later, because the moan that you let out made it all worth it.

“Fuck.” He was panting. “You have to be quiet.” Grinding his hips with yours; his cock was still inside of you making you slightly wince at how messy everything felt.

“Shit.” You muttered, looking down at where the two of your bodies connected.

“Yeah, I made a fuckin mess.” Yeonjun jokes, his hands roaming your thighs. “We should probably go back to my place….” His voice trailed off like it was a question.

“Hmm?” You were confused. “I thought you texted me earlier that you wanted to go to the Prada store, no?”

“Yes…” Yeonjun bit down on his bottom lip, smirking. “But I don’t think I'm finished with you yet.”

☆ TAGS: @mhasimp666 @yunsbby @sikkkko

(strike through indicates I am unable to tag, please make sure your tagging feature is turned on!)

#choi yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun x reader #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader

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rinhaler · 6 months

Text

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

#rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x you #kunigami smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kunigami x you #rensuke kunigami smut #tw alcohol consumption #tw dumbification #tw size difference #tw size kink #tw dacryphilia #tw praise #tw bullying mention

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spideyjimin · 5 months

Text

Right time | jjk

⤷ part of the timing series

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, nervousness, swearing, mention of sex, sexual tension, teasing, mention of jk being a fuckboy, mention of breakup, mention of heartbreak, mention of death, mention of grief, crying, mention of sadness, dry humping, masturbation, mention of heartbreak, oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, mention of going through a though time, broken hearts, mention of suffering, mention of unhappiness, and heartbreak

⏤ words: 10,724

⏤ summary: following your reunion with jungkook, getting back together seems to be the right thing to do however everything is different. jungkook is a father, running the company you’re working for, and there are still things to be solved. nonetheless, it can’t erase the tremendous physical attraction between you. is it now the right or wrong time?

⏤ author’s note: this part is finally out! it's been quite some work but it's finally out and all yours! since it's finally posted, I can already let you know that there will be a third part called perfect time. the teaser will be posted tomorrow 😬 i hope you like this part, let me know what you think! thanks a lot for your support & for waiting patiently for this part 💛

To say that Jungkook was nervous was an understatement. He’s going out on a date with you. He’s literally screaming on the inside like a 5-year-old that finally got the candy they were asking for. He’s been waiting for this for years and also, he hasn’t been on a proper date in a while. But he’s very much excited.

“Hi,” you say as you step outside of the apartment complex.

A bright smile appears on both of your faces when you see each other. Honestly, having had sex a couple of days ago brought some happiness to your lives. You’ve been feeling more alive than ever, and nothing can erase that feeling. Well, at least, that’s what you thought.

There are still things left to discuss but right now, you’re both on cloud 9 so you don’t feel the necessity to talk. You simply want to stay in your little cloud a little longer which means that you’ll do everything to stay there.

“Hi, yn,” Jungkook offers you the bouquet he’s holding in his hands.

“Thanks for the flowers,” you reply as you take the bouquet.

Your eyes move from Jungkook to the flower arrangement, it’s a very pretty one. This kind of surprises you since Jungkook never bought you flowers when you dated before but you have to forget about the past. Things are different now as you both are very different people today.

“Arya helped me choose them,” the smile on his face grows bigger while remembering being in the flower shop with her.

At first, he was planning to go alone to buy you flowers but then, he was spending the day with his daughter so he brought her up to have her little opinion. Now, she’s staying at her mama’s place for the 3 upcoming days. Jungkook hasn’t mentioned anything about you to Eunji yet but for sure, Arya will mention the bouquet to her mother so he’s very much aware that he’ll have to at least explain something to Eunji.

“Well, you both have good taste in flowers,” you quickly smell the beautiful bouquet.

“She’s my daughter so she definitely has good tastes,” he instantaneously answers.

A little laugh leaves your lips at his words. That’s easy to say when it’s your own daughter, you think but his words also warm your heart. It’s so sweet that he let his daughter assist him in choosing a bouquet of flowers for you. And it’s also extremely sweet how he speaks about her.

“Your tastes can be very much questionable,” you tease him.

With surprise, he raises an eyebrow. He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear you say those words but he’s undeniably liking being teased by the woman he loves deeply.

“If mines are questionable, then yours are dubious,” he doesn’t hesitate to reply, “especially your taste in men,” he adds.

“For sure, it is because I’m still wondering how on earth I could have fallen for you,” you end up laughing.

But the truth is how you could have not fallen for him. It’s easy to love him, and it feels even easier to be loved by this man. There are for sure many things to say about your love for him but it’d take you probably days or weeks or even more to list all the reasons you fell hard for him.

“That’s exactly what I was referring to,” he adds. “Not sure how you fell for me, especially back then.”

Hearing him saying that inevitably breaks your heart, even if he’s joking. For sure, back then, he wasn’t the best person on earth, he was a fuckboy after all. He was very much known on the campus for being the guy who fucks every girl he meets, and for being a heartbreaker. But he was perfect for you. Beyond that image of fuckboy, he was the sweetest guy you had ever met.

“Don’t say that,” you gently slap him on the arm.

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you saw in me when we started dating,” his stare becomes quite sincere.

Now, your heart is very much broken by his words. This man doesn’t even see how pretty and amazing he is. But beyond that, he’s without any doubt the most brilliant person you’ve ever met. Even back then, what charmed you was his mind and heart. It was never about his looks because if it was for that, you wouldn’t have approached him at all. He was a fuckboy, the kind of guy that you hated.

“I saw your heart underneath all those walls,” you say before placing your hand on his chest, right above his heart.

Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. He can’t even express what he’s feeling right now but he’s absolutely sure of one thing, he feels lucky to be with you here and now. His hand caresses yours, both of you with a little smile on your faces. This moment is undeniably heartwarming for the two of you.

“But you were the only person that I let in,” he whispers. “You’re the only one that got to see who I truly was.”

At his words, you inevitably squeeze him in your arms for a tight hug, your head pressed against his chest. It surprises him but he holds you back. While hugging you, it reminds him just how much he missed it. When you were together, you used to hug each other a lot. It brought a lot of peace to the two of you, it was a moment where everything would disappear for an instant. It was a moment of pure happiness.

Just as it is right now.

None of you want this moment to end. This feels extremely good. You hold him even tighter in your arms, you don’t desire to let go of him. You close your eyes to enjoy this moment even more. This is something you also missed deeply. Well, to be honest, you deeply missed Jungkook. Maybe more than you’ll ever admit.

“I love this,” you whisper very low.

Jungkook hears it and can’t help but smile even more. He doesn’t say anything, he’s simply enjoying this moment with you. Hopefully, this won’t be a one-time thing. He’s hopeful that you’ll get to do this more often. Because a hug always heals a heart.

“We should probably get going,” Jungkook says before pressing a gentle kiss on top of your head.

With a heavy heart, you pull away from the man you love. You walk to his car and he opens the door for you. Feeling like a princess, you enter his priceless car. It’s undoubtedly a very expensive car but as a CEO, he can afford tons of luxurious stuff. Your eyes wander around, admiring this wonderful and expensive car.

Jungkook jumps in the car seconds after you. His eyes take in the pretty girl sitting on the passenger seat. That’s a sight he never thought he’d get to see and it absolutely warms his softened heart. Hopefully, from now on, this will be a view he’ll see more often. His face turns to the windshield to start driving.

For the two of you, being here right now brings you back to ten years ago. Your ex-boyfriend would drive you everywhere, it would always be good. Most of the time, you’d sing along to songs he’d chosen but he’d always take the ones you two liked. Some other times, you’d have intense conversations about random topics or yourselves. Tons of talks took place in his previous car, even hard conversations.

Honestly, you’re feeling a bit nervous. It’s exciting to be with him at the moment however, you’re a bit fearful that an unpleasant topic of conversation will be brought up. Even if you’re on cloud 9, you’re still very much aware that there are a lot of things to be talked about. You broke his heart, that’s not something that can be erased with some conversations and sex. For sure, sex isn’t the answer to his broken heart.

But right now, you don’t want to think about it, so you brush away any sour thoughts. You’re on a date with him and you should enjoy it as much as you possibly can. This will maybe help you to get to a better place.

“How have your parents been doing?” he asks, his eyes quickly looking at you.

Following the kind of ‘closure’ conversation you had at his place, he kept wondering how your parents were doing, especially after the death of one of their children. Even though it’s been 10 years since your sister passed away, it must still be very hard for them. He can only imagine how it feels. He’d stop living if Arya passed away, his life wouldn’t make any sense without her, and his heart would be beyond broken.

“Now, they are kind of doing better,” you reply. “But losing a child is something that changed them completely, they aren’t the same and I strongly believe they’ll never fully grieve.”

Your heart breaks as you recall all the times you found your parents crying over your sister. Things haven’t been easy since that tragic day but you’ve always been there for them. They also have been very much present for you. It was hard for all of you because you all lost someone very dear to you. But today, days are better. It’s easier to smile, to enjoy little things in life, and to simply live.

“I lost a sister and it’s already very awful but losing a child…” you start saying while shaking a bit your head. “I don’t even want to imagine the tremendous void that it leaves in your heart.”

You haven’t had a child yet so this is a kind of pain that you cannot understand. But she was your sister. It was still a very painful loss and for sure, something you were never prepared to face. However, with time, you started getting used to the constant ache inside your heart. It’s there, all the time, and some days, it destroys you. During those moments, missing her becomes too overwhelming.

“I’m still very sorry for your loss,” he tells you.

He quickly glances at you. As your eyes meet, you can tell that he’s extremely sincere. When he breaks contact, you stare at the wonderful night sky. Right now, you’re feeling extremely nostalgic. Being in a car with Jungkook brings you back to when your sister was still alive. After a little outing with your boyfriend, you’d come home and find her reading a book in her bed. That thought alone brings tears to your eyes.

Before you can even realize it, tears are rolling down your face. Now all you can see is her face with a bright smile while she’s saying some nonsense that she used to say. She used to make you laugh with the silly things she’d say. She was a sunshine. A shining one. But it’s gone now and it will never come back.

Jungkook immediately stops the car to the side. It breaks his heart to see you like this. Now he’s the one being brought back to ten years ago. Following the passing of your sister, he was the one holding at first. He was the one consoling you when your world fell apart.

“Hey, yn,” he says before pulling you into his arms, your eyes instantly closing.

For sure, it’s not comfortable at all but you manage to put your head on his strong arms. At that moment, you let yourself cry. Jungkook presses gentle kisses on top of your head, his left hand caressing your shoulder while his right hand caresses your back. He’s trying as much as he can to soothe you but he feels helpless. Seeing someone he deeply loves devastated always makes him feel powerless.

Jungkook never meant to cause any pain by asking how your parents were doing but he should have thought better.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers in between kisses.

You hold him tightly while you cry your heart out. This really comes as a surprise for you but it might be due to the fact that seeing your ex-boyfriend has brought back memories from the past. You definitely didn’t think that you’d start crying on your actual first date. You’ve been extremely happy following the very steamy session with your ex and this right now is the exact opposite.

“Please forgive me for bringing this up,” he adds.

This is definitely not his fault. It’s no one’s fault, except for the driver that killed your sister. He was completely drunk, was driving on the wrong side of the road, and around a bend, he drove full force into the car your sister was in. Your sister and her boyfriend died instantly. So, to conclude, it’s the driver’s fault. It’ll forever be his fault.

Slowly, you start to calm down in Jungkook’s arms. They are extremely comforting, just as they were ten years ago.

“It’s not your fault, Kook,” you say.

His lips press another gentle kiss on top of your head.

“We can cancel the date if you don’t feel like it,” he tells you.

For sure, he wouldn’t feel comfortable going on a date with you when you’re feeling like this. Even if he was excited to spend this time with you, your safety and happiness come first.

“No,” you reply, “I really want to go to the restaurant.”

You clean your eyes in an attempt to look presentable but there are no doubts that the makeup you spent hours working on is completely ruined. Probably you ruined everything now. What was supposed to be a cheerful moment has turned into a crying session.

“You’re sure?” he asks with concern.

“Yep,” you directly say.

You take a deep breath before sitting correctly on your seat and parting from Jungkook’s strong arms. His eyes scan your face carefully, trying to understand how broken you are. To his surprise, he’s just watching sadness in your eyes. Ten years ago, the only thing he’d see in your eyes was emptiness. To tell the truth, he was expecting to see that in your eyes but there’s just sadness. In some way, it reassures him because emptiness makes him feel helpless.

Sadness is something he can help you with. He has seen that a lot in Arya’s face and in yours as well. For that, he can do something, he will for sure find a way to cheer you up. He’ll do whatever it takes to remove the sadness he caused in your eyes.

“You’re absolutely stunning, yn,” he mumbles.

Your cheeks blush at his words, your eyes are still teary but a small smile still manages to make its way onto your face.

“How can you find me stunning in this state?” you ask.

Without any doubt, the mascara runs down your face, your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are red from your cries and also from his compliment, and your hair is a bit messy from your hug. However, you look absolutely wonderful in his eyes. This is the real you, and he wouldn’t want to see anything else than the real you.

“You’re stunning under any circumstances, yn,” he answers.

“Don’t say that,” you shyly say.

“I’m just telling the truth,”

A little smile appears on his face, he definitely loves to see you acting all shy around him. That’s a sign that he makes you feel something and he loves to see it in the girl that he always loved.

“Stop saying nonsense and let’s go to the restaurant,” you reply.

Undoubtedly, if he keeps staring at you like you’re some kind of goddess, you’ll kiss him and probably beg him to fuck you in this car. But that will be a way to forget this awful feeling and you can’t use Jungkook to make you stop thinking about your sister for a brief moment. He doesn’t deserve that, not after all that you made him go through for the past ten years.

“As you wish, ma’am,” he answers.

A little laugh escapes your lips while your ex starts the car again. All the way to the restaurant, Jungkook keeps making you laugh, slowly pushing away the sadness you felt earlier. During the entire time, you feel grateful this man even exists. Nobody has ever made you feel this way.

Once you arrive at the restaurant, Jungkook places his hand on your lower back while walking to your table. A table reserved by him the day before. The restaurant is extremely fancy and is without any doubt very expensive. This is your first time in this type of restaurant.

The dinner goes well, Jungkook tries to cheer you up all along, an attention that honestly warms your heart. He purposely tries to avoid mentioning the name of your sister, too scared to make you cry once more. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he ruined the date again.

Spending this time with him was wonderful. He spoke a lot about his daughter Arya, he’s for sure extremely proud of her. From what you got to see and hear, he’s an excellent father to that little girl. They are both lucky to have each other.

Once you’re done eating and discussing, you leave the restaurant. Jungkook doesn’t let you pay although you really insisted on paying at least a little something. However, he promised to let you pay next time. You know for sure that it will never happen, he’s never going to let you pay anything.

Right now, you’re both walking to his car. As you're walking, your bodies are very close, his hand brushing against yours, and you’re just dying to hold it and intertwine your fingers with his. During the entire dinner, you were just craving his touch, wanting his warmth to embrace your body.

“Thanks for the dinner, Kook,” you tell him.

His face turns to glance at you. A gentle and sincere smile appears on his face but what really catches your attention is the way he’s looking at you. There’s so much affectation and tenderness. No man has ever looked at you the way he’s currently doing. Undoubtedly, he’s the one for you. He always has been.

“Do you want to do something? Or do you want to go home?” he asks you.

For a brief moment, you hesitate but you’d love to spend more time with him. You don’t want this moment with him to be over. You simply want this to last forever but it’s not possible. There’s a point in time when you’ll have to go home and sleep. In a couple of hours, this moment will turn into a memory that you’ll cherish deeply but you definitely don’t want it to be a souvenir just yet.

“Maybe we could do something,” you answer.

“Would you like to go to my place and have some cocktails?” he asks. “I’ve become quite an expert at preparing them.”

That definitely surprises you. You can’t imagine him preparing a cocktail but there’s absolutely no doubt that you desire nothing more than to taste one of his cocktail creations.

“Let’s do that,” you say with a bright smile on your face.

The drive to his place goes by pretty smoothly. The two of you are in your own world, it’s like nothing ever happened between you. It’s just like you’re back to loving each other. The crushing reality is quite different but none of you wish to face it at this precise moment. It’s quite obvious that one day it will happen and it won’t be a fun moment for both of you. Being purposely ignorant can cause great pain, more than you can dream of.

Once you arrive at his mansion, he invites you to enter first. Jungkook stays at the entrance, not moving at all. His eyes are devouring you. This is something he never thought he’d ever witness and he feels a mix of emotions. On one side, he’s actually very delighted that it’s happening but on the other side, he’s not very sure this is supposed to happen after all the pain you put him through.

To him, you’re beautiful in every way. The green dress you’re wearing embraces your body perfectly, letting him see how imperfectly perfect your body is. It’s not the first time that he’s checking you out, he did it quite a lot when you were together. However, this time is different. This time comes after 10 years of no contact. It feels like he shouldn’t be doing it.

You turn around to look at the man behind you. The way he’s staring at you catches you off guard and takes your breath instantly away. There’s affection and tenderness. With just one stare, a feeling of love grows inside you. This makes it more real that there’s a possibility of trying again. A possibility that warms your heart and scares the hell out of you at the same time.

“You’re not coming?” you finally ask.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees while entering and closing the door behind him.

The precise moment he closes the door, he gets closer to you. A little too close. His eyes stare into yours, your heart starts beating faster as you realize how close you actually are. There’s barely any space between your faces. His eyes quickly look down at your lips, and unwittingly, yours do exactly the same. Suddenly, the tension between you becomes very tense and sexual.

“Yn,” he whispers as he closes his eyes for a brief moment.

In a matter of seconds, you both end up in the living room. The same room where you met for the first time his adorable daughter. Honestly, you don’t really know how you arrived there. Jungkook simply grabbed your hand before basically running through his house to the first room.

Once in the room, your ex doesn’t hesitate, pressing his lips against yours for a fervent kiss. Even if this kiss is the mere result of the extremely high sexual tension between you, it still feels tender. It reminds you of the kisses exchanged while you were together. In the middle of this sensual moment, this kiss warms your heart.

Your hands find their way to his hair while he kisses you hungrily. His hands are placed on your lower back, slowly pushing you closer to him. This feels like he doesn’t want you to run away from you, even for the slightest bit. For sure, you’re not going anywhere right now. You solely desire to lose yourself in all this lust. Until this flame isn’t consumed, there’s no way you’re leaving this house.

To be honest, a couple of weeks ago, you would have never imagined kissing your ex-boyfriend again. The breakup wasn’t easy, plus, you were the type of person to be convinced that it’s never a good idea to get back with your ex. But oh lord, this is Jungkook. How can you ever resist this man?

Jungkook slowly walks backward before sitting on the couch, causing you to sit down on his lap. He desires nothing more than to sense more friction. This action lifts your dress, revealing more of the skin on your legs. He’s yearning to touch you in every possible way but this closeness between your bodies is driving him crazy. The two of you are gasping hard but it clearly doesn’t matter.

You desire more and more.

As you break the kiss, you quickly unbutton his shirt, revealing his bare skin to your eyes. You enjoy the view, his tattoos in full display just for you. His body is sculpted as a Greek god. His hard work at the gym has definitely paid off. What will forever surprise you is the fact that underneath his perfect suit, his arm is covered in tattoos. It seems so contradictory. But it only makes him even more desirable in your eyes.

Jungkook glances at you. All that he can see in your eyes is lust. Honestly, it’s all that matters to him right now and it swells his chest with pride. You can’t help but touch his soft skin and he lets you do whatever you want. The CEO of Jeon Industries shivers from the feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin. Your lips press against his, needing to be completely intoxicated by him. His tongue licks your bottom lip before his teeth grip it, making you moan. As he hears your sweet moan, his dick twitches inside his pants, he’s growing harder underneath you.

When you open your mouth, Jungkook seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside to finally meet yours. A moan leaves your lips at the feeling, and unintentionally, Jungkook flexes his toned thigh underneath you. You feel it in all the right places, making your pussy clench around nothing and it causes you to whine again.

This unintentional action ends up being a good thing and he can’t help but smirk. His hands move down on your exposed thighs to caress them. Your skin is soft under his palms, his hands feeling so huge on your body. Before doing anything else, Jungkook pulls one of his legs out from under you, making you sit on top of only one leg. As he does so, you adjust yourself on his thigh. Your dress is pushed even higher, Jungkook having now a proper view of your beige panties, your clothed pussy brushing now against his dark pants.

Both of you know where this is going. Probably it isn’t a good idea but none of you wants to stop it. You’re getting addicted to the other more and more, and the thought of stopping doesn’t even cross your mind.

“Fuck, yn,” he groans when you start moving your hips against his thigh.

Jungkook presses his lips on yours for a filthy kiss, his tongue passing past your lips and licking against your own. This feels marvelous, everything about you is addictive, and Jungkook definitely desires to bring this to the next level. Honestly, it is a shared feeling.

As his tongue plays with yours on your mouth, his hands find their way to your waist and guide your hips as you’re straddling his thigh. A small moan leaves your lips but the man in front of you swallows it directly. He pushes his thigh firmly against your clothed pussy and flexes the muscle once more.

“I love the way you’re riding my thigh, princess,” he whispers against your lips. “But I need to feel you properly against my thigh.”

One of his hands slides down on your body and tugs aside the fabric of your panties until your clit is directly pressed against his thigh. A breath falls from your lips as you drag your pussy against his thigh. Jungkook pulls you firmly against his flexed muscle, and once his hands are back on your waist, he quickens the pace of your hips. A trail of moans leaves your mouth, loving the friction of his pants against your pussy.

“I adore to hear you moan, baby girl,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

His tongue licks your ear, a little trick that will bring you closer to the orgasm. A little trick that he learned when you were together. It’s your weakness, and he knows it. Since you’ve been very intimate together, he knows your body by heart and everything he needs to do to bring you down on your knees. However, by doing so, he also brings himself closer to the orgasm. Hearing you moaning and seeing you completely overwhelmed by what he does arouses him a lot. There’s proof of it right now as his length is getting harder and tighter on his pants. He’s definitely about to explode.

Honestly, even if you would try to speak, you wouldn’t be able to form a proper sentence. Your mind is way too consumed by this blissful moment. You can’t even think properly but damn, you’re enjoying every second.

“I will touch myself as you keep riding my thigh,” Jungkook says with quite some desperation in his voice.

Before you can even process what he said, he gently inserts two fingers in your mouth, and with his other hand, he lowers his underwear, allowing his cock to slap against his lower stomach. His cock takes your breath away, standing proud in between your bodies. He’s thick and long, this sight alone gets you wetter.

You suck on his finger, coating them with your saliva, and that alone snatches a groan out of his pretty swollen lips. A proud smile appears on your face. When he feels that they are soaked enough, he pulls them from your mouth. His fingers hold his cock, covering it with your saliva as they go up and down the length.

This man is as filthy as he was before. It clearly reminds you of the beginning of your relationship, when you had your first time together. It was explosive because man, he had a lot of experience due to his fuckboy past. For sure, over time, it got even better because you started to discover each other.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his head slowly going back at the feeling of his fingers on his length and your clit rubbing against him. “You’re doing this so well, baby girl.”

You bite your bottom lip as you stare deep into his eyes. The intimacy of the eye contact with the friction against your clit makes the wave of pleasure grow intensely inside you, and you know that you won’t last long before that wave hits you hard.

“Pleasuring yourself on my thigh while I touch myself,” he growls as his hand keeps pumping his cock. “It’s too hot, baby.” Jungkook runs his thumb over the tip of his cock and grips his bottom lip between his teeth.

He strokes his cock at the same pace at which your hips are working on his thigh, and he also feels like he’s about to cum on his hand.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he growls as he looks down to watch your throbbing pussy rubbing against his thigh, “you’re doing this perfectly.”

You put your hand on his shoulder and circle your pussy faster against his thigh. You’re so close.

“Jk,” you say and his gaze meets yours once again, “I’m so close!”

The hand resting on your waist goes down and his thumb circles on your clit. It sends you over the edge, the orgasm hitting you hard and you feel it in every part of your body. A guttural moan leaves your mouth and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling. The sight of you coming undone makes him come, a deep groan coming from his throat as cum flows on his hand.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, completely surprised that you gave in to temptation. Nobody says anything, you’re just both trying to catch your breath and you close your eyes.

Slowly, you fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from this wonderful night with him. Jungkook feels it but doesn’t say anything, enjoying having you in his arms. This hadn’t happened in years so he enjoys every single second passed with you. As you’re falling deeper, he moves a bit and you groan.

“I’m just putting back my pants, baby,” he whispers in your ear. He does it quickly to not disturb you more. “I’ll put you in my bed, you’ll be better.”

“No,” you mumble half-awake, “I want to stay in your arms.”

Even though he craves nothing more than to have you in his arms, this position is very uncomfortable for the two of you. It’s best to go to his bed, it’s way more comfortable than his couch. Jungkook stands up, holding you tight in his arms. You mumble some words that he doesn’t understand, making him chuckle. Once in his bedroom, he carefully places you in his bed before lying beside you. He crawls to you, holding you again in his arms.

“Have you introduced a girlfriend to Arya?” Eunji asks Jungkook.

A little smile appears on his face. Undoubtedly, Arya has spoken about the flower situation to her mother or maybe she has mentioned the time when she met you at his place. Maybe she even mentioned both.

“What did she tell you?” Jungkook asks the mother of his daughter.

Honestly, Jungkook doesn’t even know how to explain this situation to Eunji. You’re not his girlfriend but you’re not a friend as well. You’re in an in-between situation. It’s a situationship like many people may say.

“Apparently, she met a ‘female’ friend of yours and she helped you choose a bouquet of flowers. A bouquet that I deduced you offered to that said friend,” she tells him.

“Well,” he starts saying, “I’ve been seeing my ex.”

His mind is brought back to three nights ago when you went on a date. The next day, the two of you went completely wild. You stayed at his place and spent almost the entire day having sex. It was wild but definitely amazing. There’s no doubt that the physical attraction is still very much present.

“Yn?” she asks.

Of course, she has heard about you. They’ve been friends for quite some time and he has been very open about his past with you. She knows that you’re the only ex he’d ever see again, that you’re the only ex he ever loved.

Jungkook simply nods, not knowing what to say to her. Actually, he wants to first see her reaction before adding anything else. Honestly, he’s scared of her reaction, he deeply cares about her and her opinion. At the end of the day, she’s the mother of his daughter, they are linked forever.

“Jk, are you sure it’s a good idea?” she asks him.

She’s quite concerned about him. Even if she always knew that he still deeply loved you, she constantly prayed that you wouldn’t meet again. She doesn’t want him to be heartbroken once more. He doesn’t deserve it, he has a golden heart she’ll protect at any cost.

“At this stage, we’re simply talking and hanging out together. Nothing more,” he tells her.

In a way, she’s happy that Arya told her about all this because now, she’ll keep an eye on her daughter’s father. Also, if he gets heartbroken once more, inevitably it will have an impact on their daughter as well. She’ll see her father constantly sad even if Jungkook tries to hide it and she’ll try to cheer him up.

“But would you want to try again?” she raises with concern.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he starts saying. “I love being with her, talking about the past, and discovering what we have become. For sure, everything is different but it scares and excites me at the same time.”

Being around you is a blessing for him but when you’re not together in your little bubble, he thinks about the full situation. It’s extremely frightening. There’s some trust that has been broken, and a heart that aches. Also, your lives are totally different. Jungkook is a father, running one of the biggest companies in the country. You’re his employee, you’ve been engaged and you lost your sister. You’re both totally different people now.

However, this is a situation that he kept dreaming of for the past ten years. Every day, he wished you’d come back. So he believes he can’t throw away this opportunity but if it doesn’t work out, at least, he would have tried. He wouldn’t regret and he’s convinced that he would more easily move on from you.

“It’s normal, Jk,” she says, “so much time has passed.”

He couldn’t agree more with her. Ten years is quite a lot and it’s definitely what also scares him. What if in the end, it’s never the right time? What if you are never meant to get back together? All those questions keep haunting him when he’s by himself. Nevertheless, he tries to not overthink. It’s unquestionably not a good idea, especially since he has so much to think about at work.

“I know,” he answers while running his hand through his hair. “But I don’t want to overthink this situation, let’s take it day by day and we’ll see the outcome.”

Eunji simply nods. Obviously, he’s not comfortable talking about all this right now. She’s not going to force him, it has to come from him.

“Just try to be careful with Arya,” she reminds him. “She’s very young and it’s best she isn’t involved in our relationships before we’re secure it’s serious.”

They established this rule years ago. It has always seemed so easy for Jungkook to respect it since he only had one-night stands but this time around, it appears quite difficult. Arya already met you by accident, she sometimes questions him about you.

“I’m aware of it, Eunji and I’ll make sure they never meet again,” he answers.

She smiles, happy that he’ll ensure that her daughter isn’t involved in a heartbreak. Knowing Arya, she’ll also be sad if suddenly she stops seeing you. She can easily get attached to people so it’s always best to provide her with some stability.

The little girl suddenly appears in the kitchen where both her parents are. She smiles when she sees them, a smile they both return back to her. She’s the person they both love the most, she lights their world in a way they can’t express. This love is what will forever tie them together. They created this wonderful little girl. Jungkook always believed they did a good job when conceiving and educating her.

“Is mommy eating too tonight?” she asks, looking at them two.

Before Eunji has the time to answer, Jungkook proceeds to reply to his daughter.

“Yes, she is,” he says with a bright smile, “We’ll have a little family dinner.”

Happiness suddenly radiates from Arya’s face. Her mother can’t say no now that Jungkook said she’ll stay. Her daughter’s father trapped her but she won’t complain. She adores it when the three of them spend time together. Those moments are rare however they are always filled with joy. What always warms their heart is seeing how content Arya is. Nothing will ever beat that.

The entire night, Jungkook completely forgets about you. There’s just him, Eunji, and Arya. This is a moment deeply cherished that will forever stay in his heart. This is a moment that can heal his broken heart. This is a moment where time completely stops. This is a moment where he’s simply proud of the family he built. He’d do everything to protect them at all costs. For sure, this isn’t the kind of family he expected to have but his family is perfect. At the end of the day, both he and Eunji try as hard as they can to make everything work, which is all that really matters.

At some point, he just looks at them with a big smile on his face.

Eunji and him never tried to be together. They had a one-night stand that resulted in creating Arya but never have they thought of getting involved romantically. They have always been good friends and amazing co-parents. It’s sometimes not easy but what’s important is that they always find a common ground.

There are some moments where he wonders how things would have looked like if you remained together. Would he have started his company? Would you have started a family? Would you be married? Would you be happy together? All those questions will forever remain unanswered but he’s very proud of everything he accomplished with this void inside his heart.

For sure, getting his heart broken made him work hard. So hard that he built the Jeon Empire from scratch. An empire that started with Jeon Industries. An empire that he’ll bequeath to his daughter. This would have probably never existed with you by his side.

But now that he has it all, will he manage to have the one last thing that he’s always wanted? Or will it be too much for him to handle?

For the past month, you and Jungkook have been seeing each other quite often. Of course, it’s impossible when he’s with his daughter, which is totally understandable. She comes first and he needs to spend as much time as possible with her. You would never dare to even say anything about it, you actually even encourage him to spend more time with her. Those moments together are what she will forever remember and cherish.

As you enter the elevator, you notice at the end the man that haunts your dreams. A little smile appears on your face. Without any hesitation, you make your way to the end to be near him. There’s no doubt that you’re not going to be able to say or do anything as there are other employees. But you can be near each other, even for a brief moment. When you get closer to him, he also notices you. Jungkook tries to hide the little smile forming on his face.

“Miss y/l/n,” he speaks when you’re next to him.

“Mr. Jeon,” you reply.

If anyone was truly looking at you, they would notice the way you’re staring at each other. Or should we say, the way you’re devouring each other with your gaze. There’s so much affection and tenderness in his eyes, it immediately warms your heart. Jungkook doesn’t have to say anything, his eyes speak louder than any word he could ever say. Whenever he lands his eyes on you, he always feels loved. Every part of his being feels it. He doesn’t doubt that his feelings are reciprocated.

Scared to be caught, you look away. Being this close while he’s your boss is kind of a tricky situation. Honestly, you’re truly considering quitting the company. This is becoming way too delicate, you can’t stay in this company while you’re clearly in love with your boss. It’s not about what people would say because honestly, you don’t give a shit about it. It’s just that it can create conflicts of interest. He’s your superior, and your relationship might affect any decision he makes regarding you. And knowing yourself, you’ll always believe that whatever decision he makes will always be considered to help your career.

Actually, you’ve already prepared your resignation letter. It’s sitting in a drawer of your desk, waiting for the perfect moment to be given to the director of your department, Kim Taehyung. The excuse you’ll give is that working in a massive company such as Jeon Industries caused you more anxiety than expected. Taehyung will for sure be surprised and will probably convince you to stay. You haven’t been here for a year but it’s most likely the best to do. Nobody needs to know the truth but you can’t stay while this love is blossoming.

Quickly, your eyes gaze at Jungkook once more. It breaks your heart to think that you’ll leave the company any time soon. However, it will be easier for you two. The CEO notices the quick glance you took but he doesn’t do anything. He’s too afraid of what he could do or say in the presence of his other employees. Once you reach the fifth level, you leave the elevator with a heavy heart. You love being near Jungkook, it’s rather hard to be far from him. Your ex watches you walk away from him. Just like you, it’s hard to see you exit the elevator, putting a physical distance between you.

Pretending that there’s nothing going on between you is extremely hard. This is the other reason pushing you to leave the company. As time passes, you both grow confident that this is the right time for you but one day or another, the other people working here will notice it. It will be even harder to quit then. It’s better to take measures before the inevitable happens.

The rest of the day goes by quite fast for you but the resignation letter has been a lot more present on your mind. So it has led you to this precise moment. You’re in front of Jungkook’s secretary’s desk, waiting for her to let you inside his office. Your heart is beating extremely fast in your chest, your hands are shaking, and you’re getting very nervous.

“Miss y/l/n, you can come in,” she says with a little smile while she holds the door.

You nod before walking in her direction. “Thank you,” you tell her as you pass in front of her. She closes the door behind you, leaving you now alone with the big boss.

When you enter the massive room, you find Jungkook walking in your direction, clear concern painted on his face. Your eyes scan him, he’s wearing a white shirt with dark blue suit pants. His sleeves are slightly lifted, he was for sure very focused on his work. Now you feel guilty to be bothering him with your shitty thing. He was probably working on something way more important than you, you think.

What you totally ignore is that the company is facing quite a huge problem. An issue that Jungkook is trying to solve but it’s been hard. He was working on it before his secretary announced your presence.

“Yn,” he speaks, “is everything okay?”

Jungkook is concerned because never before you came to his office. As soon as his secretary said your name, his heart started racing in his chest, his mind imagining the worst happened to you.

He gets close to you, his hands grab your face and his eyes scan your face to make sure you’re doing well. He sees something in your eyes that he can’t quite describe. There’s some sadness, that’s undeniable but there’s something else. A something that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Everything is fine, Jk,” you tell him with a little smile appearing on your face.

“No, there’s something otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” he instantly replies back.

Indubitably, this man knows you, but it doesn’t surprise you. You’ve been spending the last month talking a lot, and you also dated for 2 years in the past.

“I will give my resignation letter to Mr. Kim tomorrow morning,” you inform him.

Before quitting, you wanted to inform him personally. You didn’t want him to find it out through Taehyung that you’ll be leaving. Knowing him, he’ll be very angry.

“Why?” he frowns.

“Because of all this between us,” you immediately reply.

Jungkook takes a step back to look at you properly. To be honest, this surprises him a lot. In his mind, you were never going to quit and you would figure out together how to navigate this situation. But he was obviously wrong.

“I can’t stay here while we flirt together outside work,” you add. “You’re my superior and inevitably, it will be a problem one day. It will be a lot harder to leave at that time so I prefer to do it now.”

“No,” he answers while turning his back on you.

“This is my decision, Jungkook, not yours.”

There’s no way you’re letting this man tell you what to do. Leaving is your decision and he can’t object. Actually doing it will make you quite angry. It's a decision that will benefit you both. Plus, it seems obvious that he can’t leave his company.

“It’s something we should discuss together before making this kind of decision,” he replies. He doesn’t turn around to look at you. He’s still in shock at what he just heard, it feels unreal to him.

“We both know you’ll never agree to it or you’ll try to find a solution but the only reasonable solution is me finding a job in another company,” you explain while walking in his direction.

Jungkook shakes his head. He’s convinced there’s another way but he can’t let you lose this opportunity of working in one of the best companies. He knows how happy you were to join his company, he knows it was your dream because this would be a massive opportunity for you to work with the best people in the industrie. Seeing each other can’t be a barrier to that.

“Look at you,” you say, “you’re completely refusing it but I have to go, I have to work somewhere else if we want to give a shot at whatever we are doing. I choose you over this job.”

Maybe it’s not the best decision you’re making because you should never put a man before your dreams. But that man ain’t any man. With Jungkook, you also speak a lot about work and together, you can help each other. Even if you start working for another company, he will give you his input in whatever you’re doing, if you ask it of course. For sure, you wouldn’t be able to tell him what project you’re working on but if you ask him what he thinks of this or that, he’ll gladly help. At the end of the day, you both did the same studies.

“You can’t do that, you can’t choose me over your career,” he says while finally facing you.

“But think about it,” you start saying. “If I stay, it will generate a conflict of interest for you. We will both be in an uncomfortable position, I will doubt every decision you make that involves me and you’ll also consider me when making a decision. That’s not right, neither for us nor for the other employees,” you argue.

Jungkook has already thought about this all but he knows there will be no impact. He’s way too high in the hierarchy and you’re at the bottom. Taehyung is the one making decisions directly involving you, but still there, there’s your manager, Jimin in between you and Taehyung. In any case, Taehyung’s decisions will be made following instructions that he received from Hoseok, the CFO, and that he directly received from Jungkook. There are some people involved in between. His instructions will only be considered for the sake of the company. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Look, there are Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin between us.” It seems so weird to you to hear the first names of your superiors. “My decisions are made for the sake of the company so I don’t see how it can directly affect you and only you. The three of them follow my instructions but they can adapt them. Most of the time my instructions are simply a result that I expect from a specific department but then how the result is obtained doesn’t matter to me,” he explains.

There’s no need to be a genius to know how a decision can benefit you.

“You’re quite close to Taehyung because he’s one of the best in his area. If he tells you that I did well, you can seize that opportunity to convince him to promote me as manager or whatever you think of. That can be an unfair treatment because you like me.”

You wanted to say ‘because you love me’ but that seems a bit too much since you’re not exactly sure of his feelings for you. However, that’s what Jungkook wanted to hear because he still loves you. But it’s better you didn’t say it.

“You can say whatever you want Jk but I won’t change my mind,” you say. “My decision is made.”

Well, Jungkook is perfectly aware of it. That’s something that didn’t change about you. Once you’re convinced about something, wrong or right, nobody can change your mind. You’re way too stubborn.

“Well, then I appreciate you informing me before going to Taehyung,” he simply replies.

There’s for sure some disappointment in his face but deep down, he knows you’re right. In the long run, the situation will be problematic one way or another. But he would have preferred that you gain some more experience in his company before leaving. It would only be beneficial for you.

“I better be going, Jimin will probably get worried,” you say.

Jungkook nods. Both of you proceed to get back to work without saying anything else. The rest of the day, you don’t speak or text. There’s like a thin wall of ice that appeared between you, and it’s scaring you both. But since you want to try to get back together, you’ll both pretend that it isn’t there. Almost as if you’re voluntarily closing your eyes because you don’t want to lose each other.

Since you didn’t like the way yesterday went by, you decide to show up at his place. Before appearing unexpectedly, you made sure that Arya wasn't there. Jungkook has been making sure that you don’t randomly end up meeting Arya. You couldn’t agree more with this decision.

“Yn?” he says with surprise when he opens the door.

The man standing in front of you is still wearing his suit. Immediately, you understand that he’s still working. Probably something has happened at work which needs to be solved.

“Sorry to come up out of the blue, I didn’t mean to bother you,” you start saying. “I just want to have a conversation with you, especially after what happened yesterday.”

Jungkook nods before letting you inside. As soon as you step inside, he presses his lips against yours. This is very surprising but honestly, it feels absolutely wonderful. Feeling his lips against yours is extremely intoxicating. You’re completely addicted to him.

“Are you okay?” you whisper against his lips.

“I just need you, yn,” he mumbles.

Things have been hard at work for Jungkook. Unfortunately, it has been affecting him in general. Whenever he’s alone, away from you, he wonders if indeed it’s a good idea to try again. He hates himself for thinking that way because he has always wanted to be with you. He never moved on from you. But now that he has you once more, he simply doesn’t know. He’s completely lost.

Before you can understand, you’re in his bedroom exchanging fervent kisses. You’re both intoxicated by each other, lost in your little bubble. In a matter of seconds, you’re both naked, his head in between your legs, eating you out like a starving man. Your moans quickly echo in his bedroom, his name leaving your lips while Jungkook procures you a lot of pleasure. You have orgasms upon orgasms and it doesn’t stop him at all. It’s pleasantly overwhelming.

Throughout the time he eats you out, he strokes his cock. Hearing you moaning and feeling your fluids on his face and tongue excite him more than he can explain. It doesn’t take him a long time before he’s hard as a rock. His mind is fully consumed by lust. All he can think of is to fuck you.

Once he senses that he has tortured you enough, he stands up, placing himself on top of you. There’s no need to talk to understand that he’s going to penetrate you in the next few seconds. On the moment, none of you think of using protection. You’re just completely lost in your burning desire. With no surprise, he penetrates you. It causes an instantly deep moan to leave your throat. Jungkook adores seeing you underneath him in this state. You’re intoxicated by each other.

Sloppy kisses are exchanged while he fills you up with his little monster. He takes you in every position possible, pushing both your limits. You stop counting the orgasms you have, it’s just too much but in a delicious way. You take all that he gives you until your body gives up. Your body actually starts trembling quite fast after he fills you up.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jungkook completely explodes inside you. It’s at that precise moment that you realize that you didn’t use any protection. But you’re too lost to say or do anything about it. Your lover stands up, grabbing a tissue to clean his cock. On your end, you stand up to use his bathroom. It’s always recommended to pee right after sex. You never miss doing it even if all your fluids left your body while having intercourse.

When you come back into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed. He looks absolutely devastated. You haven’t seen him that way in years. You run to his side, taking him in your arms. The second he feels your arms wrapped against him, he bursts into tears. You instantly close your eyes since it absolutely crushes you to hear him cry.

Whilst he cries in your arms, you don’t say anything. You’re simply there for him, trying to comfort him with your simple presence. Seeing such a strong man in this state indicates that he has really reached a low point. This time you’re going to be there for him and help him. This time you’re not going to give up on him. He doesn’t deserve it. He never deserved it the way you treated him in the past.

“I’m here,” you finally mumble while pressing a kiss on top of his head.

His hands on top of your arms hold you tighter, almost as if he’s scared you let go of him. But you’re not going anywhere until he hasn’t calmed down. You’re probably even going to spend the night here with him. There’s no way you’re leaving him alone when he’s like this.

“I’m so lost, yn,” he whispers. “I’m way too lost.”

It breaks your heart to listen to him saying that.

“There’s too much going on at Jeon Industries,” he says. “Having you quit the company is also hard because I feel like I’ve failed everywhere with it. I don’t know what to do anymore, I just want to throw it all away and just stay with Arya.”

You kneel down to see his face. It breaks your heart even more when you see his face ravaged by tears. His weeping eyes find yours.

“You haven’t failed anything, Jungkook,” you say in an attempt to comfort him, “you actually exceed everywhere.”

Your thumbs clean the tears running down his cheeks. You don’t wish to see him like this, it’s way too heartbreaking.

“Remember when you were talking about building your own company?” you ask and he nods straight away. “It was simply a dream back then but you made it happen. All by yourself. It’s even one of the biggest companies in the country. You can be proud of yourself for all that.”

Even if you weren’t together, you felt so much pride seeing him building his empire. He accomplished more than he ever described to you. Times might sometimes be hard but that’s part of life. It would be boring if we didn't face a little challenge. In the end, it is what makes the taste of victory feel even better.

“This is a challenging time for Jeon Industries but it’s temporary, you’ll totally overcome it because you’re Jeon Jungkook. The smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. This warms his heart more than he can even express. Being around feels absolutely good.

“And I’m simply leaving the company so I can be by your side, I’m not going anywhere,” you finish.

He closes his eyes. His life is falling apart in front of his eyes, everything is out of control. Of his control. The only thing secure is his daughter. All the rest is simply overwhelming. Too overwhelming. He needs a break from the world. Even one from you.

A week has passed since the crying incident at his place. You’ve been quite concerned with him but he hasn’t been talking much with you. However, for the past few days, you have given him the space that he needs. He’s not going well so you’re not going to force him to open up with you.

Today, he has invited you to join him in a little park. Seeing that message brought a bright smile to your face because you’ve been excited to be with him. You imagined that he probably prepared a little cute date to just get his mind off work. But strangely, when you reach the park, you find him sitting on a bench, his face looking down at the grass.

When he hears you getting close, he stands up. He doesn’t smile at all. Actually, you can’t read his face at all. It catches you off guard. This isn’t something you expected to see at all and it doesn’t sound good at all. Instantaneously, your heart starts pounding extremely fast at the same time that your hands start shaking. You’re scared of whatever he might say today.

“Thanks for coming, yn,” he starts saying. “I truly appreciate it.”

Jungkook doesn’t move closer, putting a clear distance between you. This man standing in front of you isn’t the man you have been hanging out with lately. This man is barely recognizable.

“There’s no problem,” you reply.

“As I have told you, I’ve been feeling extremely lost lately,” you nod. “Everything is way too overwhelming for me and I simply don’t know what to do. But I know that having you back in my life is one of the reasons I’m feeling this way,” he explains. “I’ve always wanted you back but I never considered the consequences it would have on me. To be honest, I don’t know how to handle having you in my life again. Everything is different. I’m not the Jungkook you used to know. I used the pain you caused to build this new life. Everything I have today is because of all the suffering you put me through so how can I have you in my life with all this?”

Tears start running down his face. This is too hard. It’s hard to realize that the person he has ever wanted in his life is the same one who is causing all this pain. The way he’s feeling right now is mainly because of you. Without you, this issue at Jeon Industries would have been solved quickly and wouldn’t have made him cry like a baby.

“When we’re not together, when I’m not in our bubble, my mind starts wondering a lot. I question all that I have right now and wonder how my life would have been if you had never left me. The only certainty that I have is that nothing would be like this,” he pauses for a couple of seconds. “I keep overthinking everything and it’s driving me completely crazy. I’m currently not happy and this is not possible when I have a daughter to take care of. I have to take care of myself to provide her with the most wonderful life.”

To hear all those words shatters your heart into a million pieces.

“I would like to say that I want to date you again, I truly want to. What we have been having, I’ve been dreaming of it for ten years but it’s too much for me right now,” he continues. “We need to put an end to this right now before I simply explode and destroy everything. I don’t want to hurt you or anybody around me, especially my daughter.”

What you feared most is happening. Jungkook is pushing you away because he’s hurting just like you did ten years ago. However, you’re the person responsible for his suffering. He’s pushing you away because you’re still causing him a lot of pain.

“I need space and time to heal,” he finalizes.

For a moment, you simply stare at each other. Jungkook is waiting for an answer from you but you’re not capable of saying anything. This is way too surprising for you but you need time to process every word that he just said. But this breaks you. More than words can say.

“I’m going, yn,” he says when he notices that you’re not reacting. “Take care,” he says before leaving you. Now, you’re brokenhearted alone in the middle of a park. It seems that in the end, it wasn’t the right time for you and Jungkook.

#bts #bts imagine #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #right time #timing series #spideyjimin

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monzabee · 5 months

Text

bad idea right? – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where seeing Lando tonight is a bad idea, right?

Pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of breakups and also fighting, cursing, kind of a toxic relationship?, allusion to smut, it's criminal how long it took me to finish this fic

Request: this wasn’t requested, but the idea is veeery loosely from this tiktok right here! (i might def write the scenario in the tiktok in the future though)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it has officially been a month since i started my master's programme and i have to say it is absolutely kicking my ass, but thank you all for bearing with me while i adjust! this song has been stuck in my head for the last two-three (?) months and i really wanted to write a fic based on it. i also wanted to say that i've received all of your guys' requests, and i'm working on those, but it's harder for me to get out a request than a fic that just popped in my head because i tend to be more of a perfectionist with those - so, those are definitely on the way, don't worry! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It’s not that you don’t like spending time with your brother and his girlfriend – because you do, but considering the fact that spending a mere hour with them causes you to suddenly question your life choices (of being single), you are very eager to leave them alone for the night. Which brings us to the current situation, with you standing in front of your brother’s apartment complex in one of the hoodies you stole from the sample boxes, waiting for someone you should’ve never hit up in the first place. It was probably not your brightest idea to message Lando to ask him if he wants to go for a ride, especially because a) the last time you saw him a year ago the two of you were yelling and throwing things at each other and b) you’re definitely buzzed from the bottle of wine you hogged upstairs. But you know what they say; absence makes the heart go fonder, right?

So there you are with your phone in your hand, texting Lily in hopes of getting the tiniest bit of reassurance about your decision.

To lily m: i texted lando To lily m: he’s gonna pick me up From lily m: WHAT? NO To lily m: seeing him tonight To lily m: it’s a bad idea, right? From lily m: YES From lily m: DO NOT GET INTO THAT CAR To lily m: yes i know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?

Fuck it, it’s fine, you decide as you quickly delete the last two messages. With a soft sigh, you wrap your arms around yourself to shield yourself from the cold air of the night. And while you could just wait for Lando inside the apartment building, you really don’t want to attract more attention to yourself. You can feel yourself getting more and more nervous as the minutes pass by, and you even contemplate cancelling the whole thing and going upstairs to sleep. Just as you’re about to give up on the whole thing, a car honk grabs your attention. When turn to look at the source of the sound, you see Lando’s unamused face through the open window.

He motions you to get in with his head, his voice as equally detached as he calls out, “Get in.”

Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you do as your told. But you tell yourself that it’s not because he told you to, but because you’re cold. And so you get in the car making sure you slam the door as hard as you can, which makes him scowl as a small smile forms on your lips. “You know, you could really try on being more polite.”

“I’m picking you up in the middle of the night,” he points out as he puts the car on drive and starts driving off, “and put your damn seatbelt on.”

You give him a sideway glance as you put on your seatbelt, letting out a sigh, “Are you okay? I’m sensing some serious undertone.”

Lando doesn’t answer you, mainly because he is smarter than he looks and he knows you’re trying to goad him into another fight. That’s what the two of you had always done, not that he hated you or vice versa, but the two of you mainly got along in fights which ended up in both of you twisted between the sheets of the whatever hotel you were currently staying in. And it had worked for a while, until of course it didn’t, and Lando was mature enough to admit that he had a huge role in fucking up your relationship.

“You changed your car,” you point out.

“Thought you’d appreciate a roof over your head this time,” he replies.

The car is silent as Lando drives down the now empty streets of Monte Carlo, and you find yourself involuntarily checking out his side profile because well, he always looked so good while driving. You suppose it’s only one of the things that didn’t change with time.

“So,” his voice draws you out from your thoughts, “why’d you call me tonight? Are you drunk?”

“I am not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, “if you don’t feel like being here Lando, I can just get off and go home.”

“Now I didn’t say that, I simply asked a question.” He steals another glance at you, but this time a little smirk forms on his lips when your eyes meet and he sees your scowl. “It was a harmless question, really.”

Your voice comes off as clipped as you answer, “I’m not drunk.”

“Your cheeks are red,” Lando points out but the playfulness from mere seconds ago is gone, in fact, he’s more serious than you’ve probably ever seen him, “you either had wine or your rosacea is acting up.”

It takes a moment for you to take in his words, and there is no humour in his voice or on his face when you look at him to see whether he’s joking or not. “I had some wine,” you confess, voice much lower than before as you add, “but I’m not drunk.” One of his eyebrows rise up, and you find yourself mumbling, “Fine maybe a little bit, but not a lot.”

His jaw ticks as he mumbles, “Okay, whatever you say.” And as you try to assess whether his voice is cold or not, you see his hands tightening around the steering wheel.

“What?” You ask, a bit quicker than necessary (in your opinion), “What did I say?”

Now it’s his turn for his voice to be clipped, and his eyebrows furrow as he asks, “Did you only call me because you’re drunk?”

“No,” your reply is truthful to some extent, you suppose, you would’ve texted him even if you had no alcohol in your system. “I wanted to see you.”

He lets out a hum, “Why?”

It’s a hard question, and you contemplate not being a hundred percent honest – but deep down you know he deserves better, even if you had your differences. So, to reveal the truth, you turn your face away from him to look outside the window, “I missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t turn to see what his reaction will be. Everything is peaceful for a moment.

He takes you to a hill, the very one he took you for your first date. Though, it doesn’t carry the same excitement this time around. The two of you remain in the car with the windows rolled down, but the colder air doesn’t make you chilly. It’s silent, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. Neither of you make the first move to start a conversation, and you don’t know if that’s because you’re both obstinate or he doesn’t want to be there. Though, you suspect he would’ve told you ‘no’ if he didn’t want to be there – not that he could ever tell you ‘no’.

It's unnaturally hard, you realise, not looking at him on purpose when he’s seated so close to you. Especially because you haven’t seen him in months. Not that you’d confess that to him, or let yourself have another weak moment where you say you missed him. Because you can’t. Because it’s not the way the two of you operate. Because he broke your heart but you’re not strong enough to let him go. With that last thought, you take a sharp breath, undo your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean against the hood of the car and he soon follows suit. But where your hands are splayed behind your back, his arms are crossed over his chest.

“You’ve not been sleeping.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Because he is not dumb (or blind enough) to let the circles under your eyes slide.

And it’s a statement that might be true. You only give him half of a shrug, “So?”

“It means that something is bothering you.” You’re about to object, but he quickly shuts you down, “I once drove you around for four hours so you could sleep in my car, honey,” his fingers move to gently turn your chin towards him so he can look into your eyes, “and that was because you forgot to bring me back junk food from Australia.”

Even if you’re taken aback by his physical touch, you don’t show it as you stubbornly maintain your eye contact. “It’s the jet lag, I haven’t travelled in a while.” You gulp down a breath as you gently push his hand away, “And don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He turns his body to face you, “You’re just as sweet, aren’t you?”

“Lando,” you warn him, “don’t.”

He raises a brow, “Why not?”

“Because we’re friends,” your response comes off in an instant, “I only see you as a friend.” The biggest lie you’ve ever said.

“Friends,” he repeats, tests out the word, then shrugs, “sure. Now tell me what happened tonight that made you call me. Did you and Daniel fight?”

“What?” an involuntary laugh leaves your lips, and you catch the corner of his lips turning upwards just the smallest bit. “No, we didn’t, it’s not about Daniel. Can we just not talk about it, please?”

He gives you a firm nod, and you catch his grimace as he turns his attention back to the view in front of you. “You can tell me, you know,” he mumbles, “you used to.”

He’s right, you realise. You used to tell him all the little thought that popped into your head, whether it was nice or not, and he’d accommodated your thoughts. It was easier to talk to him, once upon a time, and you’re not really sure why it hurts so much right now that you can’t.

“Why do you care?” The question comes out quickly, and your voice is not as strong as you’d like it to be. “After everything, why do you care?”

“We’re friends, right?” The words tastes unbelievably sour in his mouth, and he has to restrain himself from making any sort of face, but it seems harder than it actually is for him to do and he questions whether it is worth it to

“Friends,” this time it’s your turn to test out the word, and it tastes as bitter as they come, “sure, can we ride around a bit more?”

“Fine,” he gives you a nod and motions you to get in the car, “but I have to get gas first.”

The fluorescent lighting of the gas station is definitely not the most flattering thing. So much so that you’re sure the unflattering light outside is exaggerating the bags under your eyes. But that situation of course doesn’t apply to Lando because even under the harsh lighting, he looks too pretty. And compared to earlier in the night, you don’t try to hide the way your eyes focus on him while he’s driving, though you hope you do a much better job at hiding the thoughts that come to your mind. Even after he’s parked the car in the nearest pump, you find yourself staring at his side profile a bit too long, which earns you a sideway smirk and you try your hardest not to react, but the smile you keep trying to fight is too strong and eventually you find yourself with the tiniest smile playing on your lips.

Lando turns towards you, meets your eyes and leans over the console, “Do you want anything from the shop?”

You blink once, trying to come up with anything, twice, then “Can you get me those gummy bears that I like?”

He gives you another nod, reaches into his pocket and then hand you his phone. Ignoring your questioning stare, he explains, “So that you can play music or something, the password is still the same.” Before he gets out of the car, he does the unexpected and leans in just a little bit more to press a feather-light kiss to your temple.

You watch him get out of the car and walk away from you with your mouth slightly hanging open. You contemplate trying to unlock the phone, because why would he tell you that his password is the same? And why would he trust you with his phone when the two of you have been broken up for over a year? With shaky hands, your fingers put in the password, calling Lando’s bluff. Oh shit, you think when the phone unlocks, now what? Throwing the phone out of your hands onto the driver seat, you grab your own and quickly type a new message to Kika, who of course got the news from Lily and has been blowing up your phone, while ignoring her dozen other messages who went unread in your text thread.

To kika: this was a bad idea kika Tokika: a very *very* bad idea From kika: please tell me you’re going home To kika: um… To kika: sure From kika: GET OUT OF THAT CAR AND GET YOUR ASS HOME From kika: NOW!!

Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes linger on the messages spamming your phone, and you contemplate just getting out of the car and trying to find your way back home. But you also can’t help yourself but think… what’s the worst that could happen if you stayed? Clicking the button on the side of your phone, you place it face down on your lap after making sure you silence it for the rest of the night. With the reminder of the abandoned phone on the seat next to yours, you open your window to let some of the night air in. As your phone keeps buzzing on your lap, your eyes focus on the figure that comes out of the convenience store – and by some grace of God, he doesn’t realise the way your eyes basically undress him as he approaches his McLaren.

There’s no smile on his face, in fact, if you didn’t know Lando, you’d say he looks like an asshole; not that he occasionally doesn’t act like one. He gives you that boyish smirk when he’s next to your window, signalling you to roll it down by tapping on it twice. Lando leans against the car, his eyes locked onto yours. “Got your gummy bears,” he says, holding up the package and handing it to you once you roll it down. “It was the last one too, you’re lucky.”

Giving a tight lipped smile to the man looking expectantly at you, you accept the packet of gummy bears. “Thank you, Lando,” the softening look in his eyes is, ironically, strong enough for you to choke on the next words that are on the tip of your tongue. “I–”

“I’m sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?” A third voice interrupts you, and you find yourself moving your gaze from Lando to the woman who’s excitedly waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he breathes out, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice polite but he’s also very annoyed at the same time – though the way he eyes up the stranger definitely makes your blood boil.

With his attention on the woman, you find yourself feel the tension in the air and quickly look down at the packet of gummy bears in your hands. You start absentmindedly picking at the wrapper, your mind racing with a mixture of emotions. As the conversation between Lando and the fan continues, you steal glances at them from the corner of your eye. She's gushing about a recent race, talking animatedly about the thrilling moments she witnessed. Lando, for his part, is gracious and engaged, taking the time to listen and respond. And despite the polite exchange, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. It's a reminder of the world he's a part of, a world where fans approach him with admiration and excitement. A world you used to share, but now only observe from the sidelines.

You watch the woman place her hand on Lando’s bicep, laughing at a (rather mediocre) joke he made about the understeer of the car. It’s not a funny joke by any means, and you are not scared to admit that the woman’s laugh that fills your ears makes your insides twist uncomfortably. You remind yourself that you're here by choice. You could have left at any moment. But there's something about this night, about being with Lando again, that you can't quite let go of. It's a confusing mix of nostalgia and longing, wrapped in a blanket of uncertainty.

The woman’s voice hits your ears as you hear her ask, “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Without letting them both know that you’re actively listening into their conversation, you attempt to subtly let out a warning cough, but Lando covertly smirks as he leans towards the car with his hand grabbing the lowered window – without caring about the possible finger prints he might leave behind, might you add. Without any hesitation, you let your fingers go of the packaging to thread your fingers with his.

While his thumb gently starts to draw circles on the knuckle of your thumb, he does his best to supress the chuckle building up in his throat. “That’s, um, very kind – but I’m with my girl, you see, and we are both pretty tired.”

Maybe you would’ve given her a friendly smile over a misunderstanding if you were in a better mood, but as the woman looks at you with wild eyes, all you can offer her is an annoyed pout, and soon after she leaves after apologising to you both for interrupting your plans. You watch her leave until there is a good enough distance for her to not hear you, and then turn to Lando and give him a glare as you hiss, “I am not ‘your girl’.”

He finally lets out the chuckle he’s been holding as he watches you letting go of his hand with an exaggerated push, and then diverts his amused eyes towards you, “Sure, whatever you say, jealous girl.”

“I am not– I wasn’t jealous!” you exclaim, eyes narrowed. When he starts walking towards the driver’s side, you can’t help but call out, “I’m not jealous!”

Lando is still chuckling to himself when he gets in the car, and even as he starts driving, completely ignoring your whining complaints. “That’s alright, honey,” he says, voice full of condescension, “it was very cute.”

“You are an ass.” You roll your eyes as you cross your arms across your chest. “Maybe I should’ve gotten off when I had the chance, that way you could’ve fucked her in the back seat.”

“Bold of you assume she’s the one I’d want to fuck in my back seat,” he raises an eyebrow, then shrugs “but sure.”

Your face scrunches up in disgust, “You’re, ugh, you’re just the worst, Lando.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you add, “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you over you fucking girls in your car.”

Lando manages to get out a disapproving tut, and then contends, “I never said I’d fuck girls in my car, I’d said I’d rather fuck you in my car.”

Completely baffled by this revelation, not that you should’ve been, you turn to him in disgust, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs again, noncommittally, and without paying you any mind continues to focus on the road.

“Well,” you laugh, breathlessly, “good thing that’s never happening.” Gently clearing your throat, you later can’t help yourself but add a silent, “Again.”

“If you’d rather a bed, that could also be arranged, honey.” Lando assures you, and you realise the little fucker has a smirk growing on his face.

“As if I’d sleep with you willingly,” you scoff.

A boisterous laugh is what you get from Lando, who tilts his head towards you, “Come on, I’m a good-looking bloke.”

“And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter man,” you sing, but you just can’t remember when. So deciding to block out what Lando is rambling about, you pull out your phone to message someone who has the answer for you.

To lily m + kika: can you tell me someone who is hotter than lando? From lily m: alex From kika: pierre To lily m + kika: ew, be serious please From kika: what about the guy with the accent, from hungary? From lily m: the doctor? To lily m + kika: i think she meant the reporter From lily m: god no he was a creep From lily m: what about the surfer? From kika: oh yeah he was cute too To lily m + kika: i need someone hot, pleaseee From lily m: THE MODEL FROM MILAN From kika: WITH THE ABS From kika: and also porche From lily m: BUT ALSO THE ABS To lily m + kika: okay thanks To lily m + kika: love you guys

Getting lost in the conversation, with the aid of your ambition to prove yourself right and, naturally, Lando wrong, you don’t realise that he’s actually driven you back to his apartment instead of a bar or literally some other place that sells alcohol in that ungodly hour.

“This isn’t a bar.” You point out, eyebrows furrowed.

Lando dignifies your comment with a scoff, “Well aren’t you quite the detective?”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you basically hiss at him this time, “This is basically kidnapping.”

Lando glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Kidnapping? Really? I thought we were just catching up.”

You shoot him a sarcastic look, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, sure. Catching up in the middle of the night at your place.”

He parks the car and turns to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Well, here’s my proposal. I’ll go to my apartment and you’re free to either join me or drive my car back to Daniel’s – I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.”

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options as you watch Lando give you an assuring smile and handing you the keys before getting out of the car. Going back to your brother's place doesn't sound all that appealing, and Lando's offer, as questionable and a bad idea as it may be, seems like the lesser of two evils. Though, there is also the reality that if when you go up to his apartment, you’re probably going to do something that either you or your friends will regret tomorrow morning. Watching Lando’s retreating figure move further into the apartment building, you think, fuck it, it’s fine.

So, you wait for a few minutes, anxiously twirling the car keys in your hand to make him wait – but you’re pretty sure it makes you suffer just as much. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then climb out of the car. Locking it behind you, you follow Lando into the building. The familiar scent of his cologne hits you as you step into the elevator, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. The elevator ride going up to the second floor is pure torture, and it leaves you squirming in your place the whole time. Basically throwing yourself out of the elevator once it lands on the second floor, you realise that Lando has been waiting for you, standing and smiling at his door.

He gives you a teasing look as you approach, clearly amused by your slightly dishevelled state. “Took you long enough,” he remarks, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. But instead of saying anything or retorting back, you quietly follow him inside his apartment. Lando closes the door behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The dim lighting casts a soft glow, creating an intimate atmosphere. The first thing that catches your eye is the helmet collection he keeps in the living room. Without saying anything, you quickly make your way over to the shelves that display the helmets, trying your best to avoid his approaching footsteps behind you. The familiar design of a particular helmet has you instinctively tracing the number at the top, and the arms that hug your waist from behind makes you freeze for a moment. Lando's touch is both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions you thought were long buried.

“That's from Monza, 2021,” he says, his voice close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

You clear your throat, attempting to regain composure. “I remember,” you reply, your fingers still lingering on the helmet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present hangs in the air. Lando breaks the silence, his voice low and measured. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come up.”

You turn to face him, meeting his gaze, but don’t attempt getting out of his arms. “I didn't think so either.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours. It's a tentative touch, a testing of waters, and you find yourself responding to the familiarity of the kiss. The taste of the past lingers, and for a moment, it's as if the years haven't passed. But reality crashes back in, and you pull away, the distance now a necessary boundary. Lando looks at you, a mix of emotions playing on his face. There's longing, regret, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the complexities that bind you.

“I thought we could just catch up,” he says, his tone a mix of apology and yearning.

You turn in your place, facing him. “Catching up was never our strong suit, was it?”

“Not really,” Lando shakes his head, “no.”

You bite down on the corner of your lip, threading your fingers through his curls as you pull his face down to meet yours as you rise on your tiptoes, “It’s a bad idea, right?”

Lando lets out a supportive hum as he lets his lips softly brush against yours, “The worst.” And maybe he should have been the gentleman and pull away, but when he sees your eyes closing, he just leans in further to press his lips against yours – and the way you respond to his kiss? It's as if the world outside ceases to exist. The kiss deepens, each brush of his lips against yours reigniting a long-buried flame. Lando's hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, erasing the physical space between you.

You don’t complain as he pulls you towards his bedroom, or when he gently throws you on his bed, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. As he hovers over you, the weight of the past and the intensity of the present converge. His hands trace the contours of your face, memorizing every curve as if committing it to memory. And when the two of you get lost between each other within his sheets, the only thing that ends up coming from your mouth is either his name, or some sort of encouragement to keep him going. After he manages to wear you out, Lando decides that you’re definitely not going anywhere as he wraps you in his arms around you. The room is filled with the soft sounds of breaths syncing, hearts beating in tandem. Lando's fingers draw absent patterns on your skin while you check the messages that have accumulated in your phone. The glow of your phone illuminates the dim room, creating a subtle contrast to the warmth that envelops you. Lando's presence beside you adds an extra layer of comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy that unfolded moments ago.

From danny: please tell me you didn’t get kidnapped by the organ mafia From danny: wink twice if you’re alive From danny: this is not funny, where are you? From danny: fine i’ll ask alex to ask lily

Rolling your eyes before sending him a text to let your brother know you’re okay, you decide to turn your attention to the group chat with Lily and Kika.

From kika: did you get home safe? From lily m: daniel is pretty stressed about it From lily m: please for the love of god tell us you’re home and not with lando right now To lily m + kika: omg just calm down i’m in bed To lily m + kika: and i’m going to sleep To lily m + kika: love you guys

You catch a glimpse of Lando’s grin over your shoulder as you click your phone off, but he only chuckles as he buries his face into your neck as he leaves small kisses to the skin there. “Well, I’m not lying, I just didn’t specify where I was.”

“Or in whose sheets,” his laugher gets louder as you jokingly slap him on the arm, “go to sleep, honey, we’ll be tired in the morning.”

And it might’ve been a bad idea to message him in the first place, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff

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lure-of-writing · 29 days

Text

Little sister: Knock before you enter

Summary: Maybe Rhys should knock before he enters

Word count: 1.6k

Rhysand had many titles and jobs he was required to upkeep and fulfill. The most daunting title of all; your brother. And as your older brother it was his job to keep you happy and safe but how is he supposed to do that while being high lord, tending to his court, being a new father and a good mate. It was safe to say that he had been falling behind in that area of his life and by no means were you upset with him. Truthfully if Rhysand was willing to admit it to himself you were probably happy to not have him breathing down your neck every two seconds but as your older brother he couldn’t let his lack of time keep him from checking in on you.

Flying to the house of wind he greets Cassian and Nesta in the kitchen having breakfast after what he could only assume was a long training session. Of one kind or another. “Good morning, have you seen my sister by chance?” He stopped to grab a piece of fruit that sat in the basket on the counter. Nesta shook her head in a no motion while bringing her cup to her lips to take a sip. “She wasn’t at training this morning.” his general responded. It wasn’t unusual for you to skip training every now and then but since befriending Cassian's mate you made it more of a point to be consistent in your routine. Something most definitely had to be off. The high lord nodded at his family members and silently made his way to your bedroom and once your door handle was within reach he pushed the door open without any thought.

The second his eyes took in the scene before him, he really wished he would have knocked. At least to give Azriel the chance to winnow away before he caught the two of you in a compromising position. “Well good morning to you too.” Your light laughter felt like a slap in the face and your brother directed his gaze to the ceiling. Azriel said nothing as he continued tightening the lace of your corset as if this was another normal day for the three of you. It in fact was not another normal day for the three of you.

In the middle of the room stood you and Azriel. Your back facing him while he gently pulls the strings of the fabric together in hopes of tightening the fabric to be flush with your body. Neither you nor Azriel seemed fazed by this arraignment. Rhysand made a mental note to ask his shadowsinger about that later. Right now he was trying to find a reason as to why you felt comfortable wearing nothing but this corset top and underwear in front of the man he considered a brother. He would also have to ask about that later.

Coughing Rhys found the bravery in himself to look at you again for a mere seconds before shifting his gaze to literally anything else in your room. “Azriel, why are you helping my sister get dressed?” Before his friend could answer you jumped in to answer for him “Because I can’t tie a corset by myself, obviously” for a few seconds you watched while your brother tried to find the right words but by the time he had found them you were already strutting across the room and into the closet to grab the skirt that matches the outfit. Putting it on before him and the spymaster. Effortlessly you pulled it up and around your waist while turning once again to give Azriel access to tie the strings of your skirt together and complete your outfit. “And where exactly are you going where you need an outfit like that?” nothing about your outfit was revealing but it was definitely one of your nicer outfits for sure. Once again your laughter rang out into the room filling it with undeniable warmth. “Fatherhood sure has made you quite forgetful hasn’t it?” Rhys tried to rack his brain for any reason you would need to be dressed up and he couldn’t find any. Maybe fatherhood has made him forgetful. “I’m going to visit the summer court and try to fix our relationship with them and since you are quite forgetful today, here is your reminder that Az is coming with me.” Silently the two male lock eye contact and Rhys raises a brow in questioning. Az titled his head slightly in a questioning manner. “You really want your sister going to another court alone?”

Sighing a hefty sigh which Rhys was sure would be the first of many today he shook his head. “Of course I don’t want her to go alone. I just don’t recall telling you to go with her.” Confused, Azriel asked “Who else would go then?” And honestly Rhysand had no idea.

After one week which felt like forever knowing you were alone with his shadowsinger the two of you had finally returned. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust the two of you but he couldn’t help but remember you curled up a little too comfortably in the spymaster's lap during the family dinner and now he walks into your room and there is Azriel helping you get dressed while you're basically naked. Something about that made his stomach queasy.

After you had debriefed with your brother about your week, your very exciting week at that, you had made your grand exit to your room to wash away the day of traveling you had endured while Azriel gave him his report of your experience. After explaining everything the two males once again found themselves in the same situation as a week ago. Silently observing each other waiting for someone to make the first move. “Would you like to explain why you were in my sister's room helping her get dressed last week?” Az said nothing for a minute while staring at his high lord. “Like you said I was helping her get dressed.” Rhysand couldn’t help the scoff that slipped from his lips in disbelief. “Az I’m not stupid. I know something is going on between the two of you just please be honest and tell me. First she sits in your lap which sure isn’t unusual for her but then when I go to get her up from you, you don’t let me. Then at the court of nightmares, which don’t get me wrong I am eternally grateful that you protected her but then she kisses you like her life depended on it and leads you off to gods know where and now I find you in her room quote unquote helping her get dressed while she's basically half naked. I would be lying if I said this didn’t make me mad but I really just want you to be truthful with me.”

Azriel knew just how bad it seemed to anyone but the two of you but listening to Rhys list off all the stuff he had seen you two do, did seem a little suspicious. But truthfully he could say that nothing was going on between the two of you. Sure you liked to push the boundaries of friends to lovers quite often but it was always with Azriels concent and permission and nothing more ever happened then what Rhys had witnessed. Azriel respected Rhysand in more ways than one and part of that meant never crossing the in your relationship into something more as much as Azriel really wished he could. Some part of Azriel knew that you were meant for him but he knew his high lords stance on either him or Cassian dating his little sister. And it was never an option because Rhysand would never allow it to be one.

“Rhys, I respect you which means I also respect you that don’t want me to date your little sister. I would never do anything to cross that line and I honestly try not to but you know you sister. She likes to get under your skin and since Cassian can’t help her achieve that goal anymore she comes to me. If it truly bothers you that much I will talk to her and put it to a stop. As for last week, after training I was the first one back down into the house and she simply asked for my help. At first I denied but once she brought the corset out to show me how complicated it was I agreed to help her, nothing more was going on I promise.”

After a long and much needed talk with Azriel, Rhysand had finally made it back to his bedroom and his wonderful mate. Once the couple had caught each other up on their day things started to escalate and before he knew it he was starting to undress Feyre. Suddenly the bedroom door slammed open and there you were standing in the entrance of his room staring at him expectantly. After a very lengthy pause of the three of you glancing at and forth at each other you finally speak. “Rhys what are you doing? Feyre is a grown woman she can undress herself. She doesn’t need your help.” with an exhausted sigh you watch as your brother rubs his weary face. He knew exactly what this was about. “Maybe next time you'll knock before entering.” Feyre watched as you turned around and left as if you had not just barged into their room. Without saying anything to her mate she raises an eyebrow in question as if to say “What was that about?” Sighing once more Rhysand just shakes his head before face planting into their bed. Exiting his house you make your way to where Azriel was waiting to fly the two of you back to the house of wind “Maybe next time he’ll actually knock.” The gentle laugh of the shadowsinger caressed your heart as he scooped you into his arms and took off to the sky. That was not before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger

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withwritersblock · 13 days

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More Hearts Than Mine-Their Families Find out They are Moving in Together

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: N/A Summary: Luke and Y/N move in together Warnings: Swearing, Implied Smut Word Count: 2,078 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke knocked on Jack’s door, waiting for him to be granted entrance. A dramatic groan left Jack’s lips, allowing Luke to walk inside the bedroom. “So,” Luke started unsure of how to fully say what he wanted to say.

Living with his brother has been amazing, except he’s practically lived with Y/N the entire time he’s been in Jersey. He thought that now it would be time to make things official. He was added to the lease and they were planning on starting the move later this week. He has yet to tell anyone in his family about the whole idea.

He wants to avoid talking to Quinn about it since he’s so dramatically focused on the whole it’s your rookie year don’t get distracted, a girlfriend right now probably isn’t the best idea. So telling Quinn that he was planning on living with said girlfriend, would probably cause him to implode.

Jack, on the other hand, adores Y/N. He loved the idea of living with his brother but he also loves the idea of his little brother being happy.

“So spit it out,” he muttered, lifting his gaze from his computer.

“Uhm, I’m moving in with Y/N this Friday,” he said, waiting for his brother’s reaction.

“That’s great, I mean you practically live there anyway,” he mumbled, shutting his computer screen. Jack’s eyes widened, “Did you tell Mom and Dad? Quinn?” he questioned. Luke shook his head. “Good luck with that,” he mumbled before opening up his laptop.

Luke stared towards Jack expectedly, waiting for him to say something about his objections. It never came. “Who’s going to be easier to tell?”

“Definitely Mom and Dad, they adore Y/N,” he explained. Luke nodded nervously. “You could also wait to tell Quinn until after the season is done. You know how he gets,” Jack said, meeting Luke’s gaze. Luke nodded as he pressed his lips together.

Luke sighed as he left Jack’s room and walked towards his room, the room that was now returning to a guest bedroom. He flopped down onto his bed as he pulled open his laptop. He began to FaceTime his Mom, hoping his Dad would be there too. Not wanting to have this conversation more than once.

It wasn’t really a conversation. It was more him letting them know what the plan was. It only rang twice before his mom answered. His dad was sitting beside her with a wide smile. “Hey honey,” his mom said as she answered the video call.

“Hey guys, I wanted to tell you guys something,” he said nervously rubbing his hands together. Their faces both fell as his dad’s eyes widened.

“Y/N’s not pregnant is she?” his dad questioned. Ellen’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open.

Luke shook his head dramatically, “What? No! No! Dad, I’m not stupid,” Luke said, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Both of his parents let out a sigh of relief. “I am moving in with Y/N though,” he said biting his bottom lip nervously.

They nodded slowly, “So it’s been decided then?” his mom questioned. Luke nodded. “Are you sure, Lukey? I mean you guys are fighting for a playoff spot. It’s your rookie year, it’s a lot to handle right now,” she expressed.

Luke nodded, prepared to hear those words from Quinn, not from his mom. But in hindsight, he should’ve expected it. He looked towards the ceiling as he clenched his jaw.

“I mean, I practically live there anyway,” he began pouting his lip, “I mean, the only time I’m back at Jack’s is when we have to travel for games. I’m never there, I’d rather have all of my stuff at Y/N’s since I’m always there,” he explained.

“Son, it may seem like it won’t be different but it will. Once all of your stuff is there, it’ll be different,”

“Good!” Luke expressed, a smile forming to his lips, “She’s-” he paused as he shook his head, “She’s the one, Dad, what’s the harm in starting the forever process now?” he asked. Ellen tilted her head back as she began to tear up.

Jim nodded as he smiled slightly, “Alright, I can’t wait to see what you guys do with her apartment,” he said. Luke nodded his head as fought the smile on his lips.

“Don’t tell Quinn anything yet, he’s just going to get pissed,” he asked and they nodded. They spoke for a few minutes longer before he hung up.

~~~

She sat on her bed, staring at her computer screen. She needed to tell her parents, she needed to tell them that in less than forty-eight hours her boyfriend would be moving in. Her dad may explode at the idea and she was terrified. Luke had texted her that he told his family and they approved. She quickly pressed the FaceTime button and waited for her mom to answer the phone.

She messed with the end of her t-shirt as she waited for them to answer. After a handful of rings, her mom answered. Her dad was sitting beside her. “Hey sweet pea!” she answered excitedly. Y/N smiled nervously as he stared towards her parents through the video screen. “Oh what’s wrong?” her mother asked, her face falling instantly.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” her dad questioned. Her mouth fell open as she shook her head dramatically.

“Are you crazy!?” she asked as she took in a sharp breath. “You really think I would tell you that over FaceTime? I’m barely twenty!” she let out. They nodded, sighing.

“What’s going on sweetheart?” her mom pressed.

Y/N took in a deep breath as she smiled softly, “I asked Luke to move in,” she muttered. Her mom’s eyes lit up with so much joy but her dad remained stoic as he furrowed his eyebrows harshly. “He’s moving in Friday,” she mumbled.

“Oh wonderful, honey! That’s so exciting!” her mother expressed, her dad remained silent. Her mother nudged him slightly, practically begging him to say something. Instead he stood up and walked away from the couch, out of the view of the camera.

Her mother’s face fell as she stared towards her husband walking away. Y/N’s eyes began to tear up as she watched him walk away. She clenched her fists and unclenched them as she looked towards her mom through the camera.

“Sweetie, its just a lot for him,” she paused as she saw him take a glass and began to pour himself some whiskey.

“No,” her dad let out grumply, “It’s too soon,” he continued, swallowing the whole glass in one swig.

“Honey, they’ve been together almost a year, that’s a long-”

“We didn’t move in together until after we got married,” he said, pouring more into the glass.

Y/N fought the tears filling her eyes, hearing her father’s harsh tone. “And how many years ago was that? Your daughter is in love, she wants to take the next step. Stop being an ass and be happy for her,” her mother defended.

“She’s my little girl!” he shouted back. Her mother tilted her head back.

“I thought you liked Luke,” Y/N mumbled, her voice cracking. Her mother tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows towards her husband. Y/N could hear her father take a sharp breath.

“I like the kid, Y/N, I don’t think you too should be living together. It’s too soon,” her dad said one final time before he stomped out of the kitchen and living area.

Y/N sniffled as she wiped a tear that fell on her cheek. Her mother looked back towards her, frowning slightly. “What do I do?” Y/N asked, a sob climbing her throat.

“You-” her mother paused, smiling kindly, “You two should move in together. Live in bliss, I’ll work on getting your father up to speed.” Y/N nodded as she met her mother’s gaze through the computer screen. “It’ll be alright, my dear, I love you. I’m going to go talk to him,” she winked towards her.

The doorbell rang throughout her apartment before it was being pushed open, “That’s Luke, I gotta go,” she mumbled before ending the call with her mom. She shut her laptop as she stood up from the bed.

She pushed open the bedroom door to see Luke walking down the hall. He had a smile on his lips, it quickly faltered into a frown as he saw her teary expression. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he quickened his pace. He engulfed her in a hug. Running his hands up and down her back as she cried into his chest.

“My dad freaked out about us living together,” she muttered into his chest. He clenched his as he shut his eyes.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled as he rocked her side to side slowly. She shook her head as she lifted her head from his chest. She met his gaze.

“Don’t be, we’re going to do it,” she said, a sad smile forming on her lips. “I don’t need his approval,” she mumbled. Luke tilted his head to the side before he brushed a piece of hair away from her face.

“Yes, yes you do. My love, I know how much your dad’s opinion matters to you,” he let out as he scanned her features. She clenched her jaw, “If he’s not ready-”

“I’m ready, I’m ready for this,” she delicately hit her hands against his chest. “He’ll come around, I need this to happen. I need to wake up to you every morning. I need to know that this is for real. I can’t know that until we live together,” she expressed. He nodded as he pulled her towards him again, hugging her tightly.

“Okay, my love. We’ll do it,” he muttered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She hummed against his chest. “Wanna hear something funny?” he asked, wanting to lighten the mood. She hummed again, “My dad asked if you were pregnant,” he said. She pulled away, her mouth agaped, his eyes widened teasingly.

“My dad asked the same thing!” she said. His mouth fell open.

“No way,” he said while laughing.

~Friday~

Jack dropped the last box into the living room and let out a heavy sigh. He stared towards the pair, a soft smile on his lips. “I’ve got two rules for you Lukey,” Jack muttered.

“Here we go,” Luke let out rolling his eyes as he pulled Y/N to his side.

“Rule number one, never be late to anything. I’m not your ride anymore so you better show up on time and don’t make yourself look bad. Rule number two, don’t have unprotected sex; I’m not ready to be an uncle to my younger brother,” he said, a dry chuckle leaving his throat.

Luke nodded as he pressed his lips together fighting the smirk toying to his lips, “Alright, are you done?” Luke asked as he swallowed hard. Jack nodded as he rested his hands onto his hips. “Okay,” he said while nodding slowly.

“Oh,” Jack mumbled as he looked behind him before he met Luke’s gaze again, “You want me to leave?” he asked. Luke nodded encouragingly, “You don’t want me to help you unpack or you know decorate a little bit. I mean your first apartment where you are actually paying for things, I’m just checking to see if you-”

“Jack!” Luke said while he tightened his grip around Y/N’s waist. Jack chuckled as he nodded.

“Fine,” he dragged out as he took a step backwards, “You better be at Morning skate on time, big game tomorrow,” he mumbled as he quickly walked out of the apartment.

Soon, Luke and Y/N we're alone in their apartment. An apartment they share, just them. It was bliss and it was everything they had wanted. Sure, it was her apartment but now it was theirs. “So what do you want to do first?” she asked, staring towards the collection of boxes scattering their living room.

She met his gaze, his eyebrows were raised as he was fighting off a smirk on his lips. “Oh,” she let out while smirking. “Okay,” she muttered as they leaned towards one another kissing each other with so much intensity. She jumped into his arms as he took a hold of her thighs, guiding her backwards towards their bedroom.

#luke hughes series #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #hockey #nhl fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 month

Text

What is Broken III (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity.

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Definitely a good thing I split the last chapter into two, this baby is 13.3k lol

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

Aemond was still holding her when she woke, his arms wrapped around her chest and his face pressed into her neck. Though the bed was little more than creaky slats and the blankets rough and worn, it had been months since she had been so comfortable—longer still since she’d slept so well, even if it was for only half the night.

As furious as she was with Aemond, her body still craved him. So much so that she could not gather the strength to pull away from him, much less stand from the bed. It felt so right, even if they weren’t in their own bed. Even if they hadn’t shared a bed for more than half a year. And even if they were only in thisbed because they were traveling north to reach the very place where her husband had betrayed her.

When one of Aemond’s arms fell to cradle her belly, she tensed. Was this how he slept with Alys beside him? Did he hold her this tenderly? In his dreams, was he holding his wife or his mistress?

Warily, she looked at his hands. Like his face, the features she was once so familiar with had changed. There were new callouses, new scars, and new veins and tendons that had not been visible before. He’d always had the hands of a skilled swordsman, but now he bore the hands of a battle-hardened warrior and commander.

Curious, she tilted her head as she examined one scar, which started on his palm before passing through the space between his forefinger and thumb and cutting across the back of his hand like an angry slash of a whip. She was so focused on examining the wide red line that she did not notice when her movement stirred Aemond awake.

Not until he spoke with a rough, sleep-heavy voice, his breath fanning the side of her neck. “Did you sleep well, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She did not want to admit it, for doing so felt like conceding some kind of battle. But to argue would take more strength than she was willing to give to something so small. “Yes.”

“As did I,” he pulled her tighter against him as he had once done each morning. How well she had once loved waking up in his arms. She could sense his soft smile and braced herself for what she knew was likely coming next.

But Aemond did not press a lazy kiss to her neck as he once did. He lightly trailed his hand over the swell of her belly until he reached her chest. She tensed, thinking his aim was for her breasts, but his hand stilled atop her ribs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked as he traced the length of the protruding bones. “That you were still sick – that you were suffering like this.”

She grabbed his hand, pulling it away from the evidence of her illness. While she waited to answer, she again studied that new scar, so bright against his pale skin. It wasn’t like his other scars, which were faintly pink and smooth. This one was red as blood and rough like worn stone.

Aemond let her study the scar without protest and without pressuring her for an answer. She knew he was nervous with anticipation – she could feel how his body stiffened – but she didn’t care.

“How did you get this?”

He made a soft sound of confusion. “Ābrazȳrītsos, please – ”

“Why do you not want to tell me?

“It is not a pleasant story, I…” An exasperated sigh. “I see.”

Holding his hand steadily in front of her, he began his answer. “It is new. I got it during my battle with Daemon.”

Gods, she had hardly thought about the battle. About what had happened to him and Vhagar. Did he have any other injuries? Did Vhagar?

“Caraxes was dying,” he explained, a hint of remorse in his voice. Not for Daemon’s death, she knew, but for his dragon’s. A mount should not perish for the crimes of its rider, especially when there were so few dragons left. “He was falling toward the lake. He’d tried to bite Vhagar’s throat, but she sensed him coming from behind the clouds and struck him instead.

“Daemon knew he had lost and would likely die. But he wasn’t going to just accept it. As Caraxes fell past us, he leapt from the saddle, Dark Sister drawn and… pointed at me. My eye. My good eye.”

Even with her anger, panic seized her heart as she realized how close Aemond had come to death.

“Vhagar angled herself, so instead of going through me, the sword embedded itself into her side. She’s fine,” he assured her after she tensed with worry for the old beast she loved so well. “Even a great sword like Dark Sister is hardly more than a pinprick to Vhagar.

“Daemon lost his grip on the sword but managed to grab my leg before he fell. His weight began dragging me down,” he said, turning his palm toward her. The rein bit into my hand. The maester said it was like a burn.”

Yes, she could see it clearly now. The size and position of the red mark looked precisely as though the rein was still in his grip. Not a scar, then, but something that would possibly become one. One of many.

Aemond did not continue his tale. But she knew what came next – Daemon realizing he was doomed and telling Aemond with his last words that he’d sent a letter exposing what he’d done.

He had still told the tale, knowing that it would again remind her of that damned letter, renewing her ire. After that, she knew he deserved an answer – for this at least. Her health was bound to that of his children, after all. They had been at risk, too.

“Mother and I wanted to tell you. She was distraught.” Her breath hitched as she remembered how her mother had wept and screamed, swearing that she would not lose another daughter. “But Grandsire forbade it.”

Aemond huffed, his body trembling with rage. But he held her no tighter.

“The Small Council agreed with him—that it would distract you too much, that you would return the moment you read the message no matter the cost to the war.” In truth, she understood the logic behind the decision, but her need to have her husband there to comfort her far outweighed her rational mind. “Mother and I tried to send a raven in secret, but Grandsire had anticipated that and had the Rookery watched. The raven carrying the message was shot down.”

After that, she fell silent. There was nothing more to say than that. Only a fortnight later, Daemon and Rhaenyra seized the city and executed Otto, among many others. Daemon had half-heartedly suggested killing her, too, to “send the kinslayer a message” he couldn’t ignore. But Rhaenyra refused without explanation. Perhaps she still extended the same forgiveness to her as when the conflict first began, or she did not wish for the sin of kinslaying to weigh on her, too.

Whatever the reason, she was grateful. For herself and her children. And for all those who would have suffered and died as a result of Aemond’s rage.

The rage was building in him now. “Were he not already dead, I would kill him myself,” he hissed. “And I would not be so merciful as our sister was to kill him quickly.”

“Does it really matter now?” She sighed, dropping his scarred hand.

He flinched as it hit the bed. The wound still hurt, then. “Of course it matters! If I’d known, I – ”

She was glad she couldn’t see his face as she shut her eyes and buried her face in her pillow, pulling out of his grasp. “No more ‘if,’ Aemond! It does not matter what you would have done, because you didn’t do it. The past is past, and you cannot change it. You cannot change what you’ve done, no matter what you say now.”

Silence fell, interrupted only by muffled noises from the awakening town beyond the window.

“I know I cannot change the past,” Aemond said, his voice cracking as if he were near tears. “But I don’t know… what can I do? What can I do to show you how much I love you? How much I have always and will always love you. How much I regret what I did, and how much I wish I could take it back? I don’t know what to do, ābrazȳrītsos. Please. Tell me what to do.”

She said nothing, and Aemond wrapped his arms around her again. “Please, raqiarzītsos, tell me what you want.”

What did she want?

She wanted to pretend nothing had happened. She wanted to be able to forgive him. She wanted their lives to go back to the way they were.

She wanted to scream at him until her voice failed her, then tear him to pieces with her bare hands. She wanted him to suffer for eternity for what he did to her.

She wanted every trace of his betrayal erased entirely. She wanted to have him burn what remained of Harrenhal to ashes with his mistress inside. Better yet, she wanted him to kill the whore himself and mount her head above their children’s cradles.

No, not that. Never that. Even the thought required a prayer to the Father for forgiveness. She did not want blood on her hands or more death. She just wanted to understand everything that happened so she could decide whether she could forgive Aemond – if she wanted to.

“I just want this journey to be over,” she whispered, “so we can go home.”

Aemond’s arms went slack, but he did not let her go. “I… yes, I want that too. I want to go home – with you. Everything will be better once we’re home.”

It was a lie, she knew. But it was nice to let herself believe the lie, if only for a moment.

It was easier, she decided, not to fight.

Easier to let Aemond help her dress, his fingers skimming lightly on her skin in a cruel imitation of past worshipful caresses. To let him serve her food and to eat it all to please him and avoid his pleading for the sake of her and the babes. To let him arrange the pillows and furs in the wheelhouse until they were just so before he sat beside her, holding her in his arms so she could find comfort and rest.

So much easier to not constantly be on guard, ready to snap at his every word. To not constantly fight over every little thing. To find some measure of peace, despite the circumstances.

It was a peace as fragile as spun sugar, but it was peace nonetheless.

At the very least, she could sleep again—without waking to be sick, without fumbling in the sheets to try to find comfort, without reaching across the bed only to find it cold and empty.

After again fussing over her at supper, Aemond would help her prepare for bed. While a bath was being drawn, he would help her disrobe and remove the braids in her hair, brushing out tangles with the singular focus of a holy man studying his texts. When he led her to whatever bathing room their accommodations provided, he did not touch her more than absolutely necessary – a hand to help her stand, a gentle grasp on her elbow as she walked, and his arms around her when she stepped into the bath. Then, he left her alone.

Before, he would never have done so. He would either join her in the bath, touching and teasing her so much that the water went cold by the time they actually washed themselves, or sit beside it while he read to her.

It was odd to bathe alone, with neither husband nor servants to attend her. The quiet made the room seem infinitely larger. And lonely, even with the babes in her belly. She made a point of bathing as quickly as possible so she did not have to endure it for too long.

When she called for Aemond, she would listen to each of his footsteps before he paused at the door, knocking softly. He would not enter unless she allowed it and affirmed it twice. When he helped her out of the bath and dried her, he hesitated before moving to certain parts of her body – her chest, her face, between her legs – and his touch grew even gentler, like he was afraid she would break if he pressed too hard. She was both grateful for it and incensed that it had become necessary.

He brushed and braided her hair once more and dressed her in her nightgown before tucking her tightly into bed and crawling in beside her. He took her in his arms and pulled her close, softly singing Valyrian lullabies into her ear until she fell asleep.

On the twelfth night after leaving King’s Landing, neither acknowledged aloud that their peace would irreparably shatter the next day – when they arrived at Harrenhal at last.

Night had long since fallen when the towers of Harrenhal appeared over the tops of the trees. Aemond brought his wife closer to his chest, careful not to wake her. He knew that with their arrival, the relative harmony – the precious near-normality – of the last few days would soon end, possibly forever.

He dreaded seeing her at Harrenhal. It was too broken, too dirty, too dark for her. She would stand out like the moon against the night sky. And when she looked at those ruined black walls… he would have to see the pain on her face as she looked at each room and alcove, wondering if it was one of the places he’d been with Alys.

That would be the worst – seeing her face Alys. Each time he tried to convince her not to meet the witch, she refused, saying she wanted ‘answers.’ It wounded him deeply to hear her say that, but he understood. He had betrayed her trust. Destroyed her trust in him as thoroughly as he had all those towns and villages during the war.

Still, he would not give up trying to change her mind. He would not push her, but he would say whatever he must to protect her.

As the walls of the fortress loomed taller and taller, Aemond knew he needed to wake her soon. But he wanted to savor their last moments of peace, for it very well could be the last they would ever share.

He leaned down to kiss her temple, lightly brushing his knuckles over her cheek. She stirred slightly but did not wake. “Avy jorrāelan, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered. “Mīvojughilās jāla dōrī. Ao mirro rȳbilun.” I love you, ābrazȳrītsos. Never forget it. Whatever you hear.

She did not wake until the wheelhouse rumbled over the uneven stones at Harrenhal’s gates. The moment they passed through the thick black walls, she pulled away from him as if his touch would burn her. He felt sick, and forced himself to look away from her.

The fortress appeared just as Aemond remembered, yet it had changed monumentally in the mere days since he had last been within its walls. The towering palisades of melted stone had once seemed strong and imposing but now struck him as decrepit and hubristic. And its inhabitants – now standing in a line to greet the closest thing they had to a lord and master – he had once seen as a mighty and determined army, people he was proud to lead. He saw them for what they truly were now – tired, hungry, and desperate.

As he scanned the crowd, looking for a face he knew would enrage him, he recognized the wide-eyed look he once thought was reverence as something far different. It was fear. These people were afraid of him. He couldn’t allow himself to think too hard on that, not when he still had not seen those sickly green eyes.

Part of him hoped she wasn’t here so his wife could sleep well for one more night. Part of him hoped she was so he could strike her down in front of this crowd of hundreds and prove that she meant nothing to him. Though the babe she carried…

Those eyes weren’t there. Alys wasn’t there. He gave a prayer of thanks for it despite his bloodlust. His ābrazȳrītsos wanted to meet her, yes, but it shouldn’t be here. Not in front of so many people, not when she was exhausted from a long day on the road. And displaying such violence before her, when he knew how she despised it, would break her forever.

He glanced at her and fondly remembered how she had clung to his hand throughout their wedding tourney. What they had done each night after the games to help her forget the violence she’d seen.

It seemed she felt his gaze on her and turned to him. His smile faded. Her eyes, which he had always thought to be full of light and warmth, like a burning hearth, were dull and cold, like the very stones of Harrenhal.

“Is she…” She swallowed thickly. “Is she here?”

She did not face any of those gathered, as if afraid to accidentally look at the witch. He stepped toward her, subtly blocking them all from her view. “No, raqiarzītsos.” He raised a hand to cup her cheek, as he had so many times in the last few days, but now, she moved out of his reach. “She’s not.”

“Can we go inside, then? I’m tired.”

“Of course,” he said as he took her arm – grateful that she still allowed that, at the very least. “But you should eat something before you retire for the night. You have not eaten since midday.”

She blinked, though her face showed no emotion. “I am not hungry.”

Aemond sighed as he guided her to the keep’s entrance. “That may be so, but the babes need you to eat for their sake if not yours.” She gave no reply, but before he could press for an answer, they came upon Ronnel Cratter, the slight, anxious man Aemond appointed to serve as Steward of Harrenhal after Simon Strong had met his fate alongside all others of their line… almost all.

“My prince, how wonderful it is to see you returned!” The poor man was already sweating. “And to at last meet your lovely lady wife. Your husband has always spoken very highly of you, princess.”

She lifted her head to examine Ronnel, her eyes sad yet appraising. Her lips parted slightly but closed again as she inclined her head. He understood the flicker of wariness that passed over her face. She wondered whether the man in front of her knew what her husband had done—if he was complicit in it.

He needed to turn her mind to something else, quickly. “Is everything prepared for the negotiations?”

“Oh, um… yes, they are,” Ronnel stammered.

“When will Stark arrive?” Aemond asked, thankful to have not seen the Northman or any of his forces among those that came to greet them. Their absence would give him time to sort out what to do with Alys before the negotiations demanded his full attention.

Ronnel winced, his rough cheeks turning bright red. The man had never been able to conceal a lie—it was the reason Aemond chose him as steward of Harrenhal. “Lord Stark arrived three days ago, my prince.” He shrunk into himself slightly, rightly anticipating his master’s anger at his words. “He claimed it was too late to greet you and the princess and asked that I tell you he looks forward to meeting you at the negotiations tomorrow morning.”

The sheer fucking disrespect. To be in what was his keep in all but name and refuse to greet him upon arrival? Somewhere in his mind, Aemond knew why Stark had done it, to establish his dominance like the pissing dog he was. But he could only truly think about the insult of it. His very bones sang with bloodlust, negotiations and peace be damned.

But then, a gentle hand on his arm. Warm, even through his thick leathers. Her hand. Her graceful, soft, beautiful hand. She looked at him, gaze never wavering.

“I’m tired, Aemond.”

Only she could have stayed his hand. He had grown so accustomed to bloodlust in the months he’d been here that any other solution seemed folly. But to kill or even maim Cregan Stark would likely reignite war and, worse, deprive him forever of his wife’s love. If he hadn’t lost that already.

So, Aemond turned to Ronnel and fought to control his breathing. “Take us directly to our rooms.”

As they followed the steward through the dark stone halls, his wife looked at him from the corner of her eye but swiftly looked away. Her eyes roved every hall, alcove, and doorway, fear and hurt in her eyes. Did she think she could somehow see where he had been with Alys? Could she see the lingering ghosts of his betrayal?

He was certain he could—he would. That is if he were to enter any part of the keep where he had been with Alys, and he certainly had no intention of doing so. He had sent a raven to Ronnel with specific instructions to prevent it, although his ābrazȳrītsos’ request to meet Alys might require it…

“Here we are, my prince,” Ronnel said as he opened the door to a well-appointed, if somewhat small suite in the guest’s wing. “And princess!” he added hastily. “Forgive me, princess. I have become quite used to only addressing your husband…”

She ignored him entirely, walking to the center of the sitting room as she surveyed the space. The rooms were less than half the size of those Aemond had occupied before. But he could not bring his wife to those rooms or that bed. Perhaps he would have them burnt.

He watched as she crossed the room, headed directly for the bed. She brushed a hand against the blankets before recoiling as if the bed would bite her. Slowly, she turned to face him with such a look of desperation that he came to her side immediately.

“What is it, my love?” He crossed the room and took her hands in his own, holding them close to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

Tears formed in her eyes as she looked from him to the bed and back again. “Is this…” She took a shaky breath. “Was she in here? With you?”

Ronnel’s eyes went wide before he made a hasty, silent exit.

“No!” Aemond answered nearly before she finished her question. He leaned forward, pressing their brows together. “Of course not, ābrazȳrītsos. I promise, I – never, in this room. I swear it on my life.”

There was still mistrust in her eyes, but she nodded. “I don’t like it here.”

Once, he did. Once, this was his domain, his kingdom. Now, it was a barren wasteland occupied only by regret and shame. “I do not like it, either.”

She looked at his chest, but he knew she was somewhere far away. “I want to sleep.”

“I know,” he pulled away, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Though it had only been thirteen days, he was sure he could see a new fullness to her cheeks, a new softness around her waist, and a renewed light beneath her skin. He would not allow that progress to falter. “But you must eat, remember?”

She sat at the foot of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I really am not hungry, Aemond.”

“You needn’t eat much,” he countered, sitting next to her and trying not to flinch when she angled herself away from him. “Some broth? Perhaps with a little bread? You must have something.”

He watched as her hand cradled her belly, stroking softly as if to soothe the babes with her touch. Resisting the urge to put his hand over hers was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he understood full well that to do so was a privilege he did not deserve.

“Very well,” she said at last. “But just a little.”

“Of course.” Aemond held his hand out for her to take, but she hardly glanced at it. “Is there anything else I can do, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She thought for a moment. “I would like to bathe before I retire.” Aemond immediately rose and positioned himself to help her stand, as he had for days now. “Can you summon servants to help me?”

A simple request shouldn’t have wounded him so deeply, yet it did. The bond they had begun to reform was gone, perhaps forever. Being denied this – the mere pleasure of helping his wife – felt like a mortal wound.

“Yes, I will fetch them now.” His voice was wavering. He could hear it as he could feel his composure teetering ever closer to breaking. He lingered a moment longer, hoping she would say something more, that she would change her mind and let him help her, or that she would say something to suggest that she still trusted him, still cared for him.

She said nothing.

Aemond almost wished she would scream and rage and roar at him as she did that first night in King’s Landing. It was better than this, the half-life she seemed to be living. The exhaustion and indifference. Let this be because of her pregnancy, he silently begged the gods. Let us finish this, go home, and be well again. Let her be well again.

“I love you,” he whispered before exiting the room.

He did not expect her to say it back, but the silence still stung.

The servants arrived before Aemond did. It caused no small amount of unease in his wife’s chest. As the servants he sent undressed her and prepared her bath, all she could think of was where he could have gone and why he’d left her for so long. Had he gone to fetch food himself?

It didn’t help that the servants were utterly silent. It wasn’t like the light quietness that sometimes settled over her own servants at the Red Keep. This was a heavy, cloying silence. None could hold her gaze for more than a moment before looking sheepishly away.

They know, she realized. They all know what Aemond did.

Her mind started to race. They probably even helped him. Alys is likely their friend. After all, she was a servant before. When they leave here, they’ll probably run straight to the witch to tell her how pathetic she is and how Alys is far more beautiful than her. They’d –

She could stand their presence no longer. As one of them brought a dampened cloth to wash her shoulder, she flinched away, splashing water over the edge of the copper tub. “Get out!” Her voice was foreign to her as she screamed, cruel and hoarse with desperation. “All of you, leave! Now! Get out, get out, get out, get out!”

She continued shouting, covering her ears with her hands and scrunching her eyes shut. The babes protested, kicking frantically against her stomach. But she could not stop screaming.

How could she do anything other than scream? And cry? And rage? She was trapped in the very place where the worst thing to ever happen to her had occurred.

This was hell. It had to be, for being in these walls was torture. What had she done to deserve such a thing? What grave sin had she unknowingly committed? Why was this happening? Why? Why? Why? Wh –

“Ābrazȳrītsos!” Aemond’s voice was accompanied by the feeling of his large hands wrapping around her wrists, gently prying her hands away from her ears. “Ābrazȳrītsos, look at me! Please, my love, you must calm down.”

His words did no such thing; she barely even registered that he was speaking to her or touching her. This was just another torture, to be constantly with the man she both loved and loathed.

“Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos, kostilus.” The words, now spoken in their mother tongue, finally began to slip through the whirling thoughts in her mind. “Āmāzin. Tolvȳn sȳri issa. Ao ȳghāpa iksā, jemot kīvio ñuhe tepan. Yn ao lykemās bēvilās, iā jāla riñari ōdrikōt.” Calm down, ābrazȳrītsos, please. I am back. All is well. You are safe, I promise. But you must calm yourself, or it may harm the babes.

“Kostan daor,” she pled. I cannot.

Aemond tightened his grip on her. “Ao bēvilās, kostilus!” You must, please!

She shook her head as her entire body began to tremble, and a chill numbness crept into her fingertips. “Jeme gīmīt, Aemond. Jeme līr nyke istan gīmīt.” They know, Aemond. They know what you did.

“Gīmin, ābrazȳrītsos, drējī usōven.” He leaned closer to her, his elbows now resting in the bath, water creeping up his sleeves. “Drējī usōven.” I know, ābrazȳrītsos, I am so sorry. I am so sorry.

She curled in on herself as tightly as she could. “Ao ōdrittan yne. Ao qrimpāletan yne.” You hurt me. You betrayed me.

“Gīmin. Jāle hegnīr daor jaelan. Tolikta mirroso.” He was half in the bath with her now. I know. I regret it. More than anything.

“Istan aōha riñari nevīlen,” she cradled her belly protectively, “se vasīr toile ābroma ēdan ojenille hēnkirī.” I was pregnant, with your children, and you still fucked another woman.

“Gōntan.” I did.

“Ao yne pirtra ivestretan, avy hen yne hēdrȳ ruartan.” You lied to me, hid her from me.

“Gōntan.” I did.

“Ao īlē nevīlen aōha ilībōño gōntā. You let her carry your bastard.

He flinched then. Unlike before, seeing him hurt didn’t make her feel any better. “Gōntan.” I did.

“Lo Daemon ivestretaks yne gōntē daor, nyke dobotēdāvī iemnȳ glaesilun. Ao yne ivestrilū gaomilū daor.” If Daemon hadn’t told me, I would have lived forever in ignorance. You were never going to tell me.

“Istan.” I was.

“Skorȳso?” Her voice failed her, morphing into a wordless cry, and it became painful to speak in the language of their ancestors – yet another thing she and Aemond shared. Had it been tainted by Alys, too? “Why? Have I done something to displease you? Am I not enough for you? Do you not love me the way I love you? Do you hate me?”

“No! No, my dear, I – ” He swallowed a choking sob as he stammered. “I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved another. You are my very soul, ābrazȳrītsos.”

There was no hint of falsehood in him. But how could that be true? How could he love her so much and hurt her so deeply? She lifted her head to face him. She had never seen him so distraught, even the night his secret had been revealed. “Then why?”

“I…” He dropped his head, his brow coming to rest on the edge of the copper bath. “I don’t know. I cannot explain it. I was foolish. And weak. But know I will do anything to show you how sorry I am. I will be your eternal servant. I will go into exile if you ask it of me.”

He pulled away from her, drawing his dagger and positioning it before his heart, the tip biting ever so slightly into his leather surcoat. “I will end my own life if that is what it takes to make you happy.”

“No!” Her reaction was immediate, a tug on some unseen string that connected them soul to soul. What would she become if that line was cut? “I don’t want that. I just – I want to sleep.”

Aemond’s dagger clattered to the stone floor. She didn’t know if it was relief or regret that painted his face. She didn’t know which she would prefer.

“Let’s get you out of the bath and dry first,” he sighed as he stood to fetch a towel. It was somewhat irritating that he did not ask if she wanted his help. But even if she had, she would have said yes. She would much rather endure his presence than the servants who looked at her as if she were a freak in a mummers show.

With the towel slung over his shoulder, Aemond extended his hand to help her stand. His touch was again hesitant and respectful. His eye turned as far away from her as he could allow it while still being able to help her.

“Where did you go?” Her question caused him to freeze with his hands on her shoulders as he softly dried the lingering water from her back. “After you summoned the servants, where did you go?”

He sighed. “I was waiting in the hall, ābrazȳrītsos. I thought you would not want me to intrude while you were…” another sigh. “I was only in the hall, I promise.”

Begrudgingly, she believed him. He had arrived quickly after she started screaming. But knowing he had not sought out Alys made her feel little better. She did not know why.

A dark seed of mistrust had been planted in her heart, strangling it with thorns of anger and spite as it grew and grew. Would that it were only a plant, she would tear it out of her chest with her own hands with no thought to the blood and thorns that would shred through her. It would still be better than this.

That terrible, unnatural silence again fell upon them as if it were a specter haunting their every thought and movement—a shadow larger and more terrible than Vhagar herself that turned each glance into a piercing shard of ice and each touch into the grating pain of fingernails digging into stone. It vanished only when Aemond slid into the bed beside her and moved to embrace her.

“No!” she hissed as she pulled away. “Not… not tonight. Not while we are here.” She felt Aemond’s hand pulling back as if the limb were her own. Felt the shifting of the bed as if it were the earth quaking and rending beneath her.

“I understand, ābrazȳrītsos. Drējī usōven.”

She could see him in her mind’s eye, lying next to her like a corpse prepared by the Silent Sisters – his legs straight and arms folded over his ribs. She could see the pain on his face, the tears likely spilling over his temples and into his hair. She could see his fingers trembling as he fought his body and soul’s command to touch her, hold her, love her.

Cruel visions sent by the ghost Aemond had created the moment he took Alys to his bed.

They followed her into her dreams.

Aemond did not sleep.

Though he lay in bed, he found no rest. From the moment his wife closed her eyes, he was haunted by demons of his own making – memories and visions of his sins.

He saw the first night he fucked Alys. Saw how weak and small he looked as he sat before the fire in his chambers, staring at the black sky outside the window. Saw the fear and doubt on his face as he thought about leading men into battle when the sun rose. Saw himself as a pathetic little boy, not a prince or the rider of the largest dragon in the world, certainly not like a man who could win a war.

He watched as his attempts at resisting Alys became quickly feeble. That night, he was desperate for anything to tether him to himself, and his Ābrazȳrītsos was so far away… he was little better than an animal. He was an animal. The way he touched her, clawed at her, bit her was no less than beastly.

Everything that made him a man – made him worthy of his wife – vanished the moment he touched her. To gain it back would not be so easy.

It would begin with the peace negotiations. Putting an end to the war that had driven this wedge between them would be the first step, not only in saving his marriage but also in healing what would soon be his realm—their realm.

He turned his head to look at his Ābrazȳrītsos. His queen- his dārītsos. It was a pleasure he had not allowed himself since lying beside her.

She was so beautiful. She would always be beautiful. Even when she was so thin, and her brow was creased with sadness, she was beautiful. How had he ever thought that he deserved such a perfect wife?

Perhaps it would be best if he agreed to what Aegon had threatened. Exiling him and Vhagar would undoubtedly put many who supported Rhaenyra at ease. Then, she would marry Aegon and become the queen she deserved to be, at least for a while. None could protest the legitimacy of their babes’ claims to the throne if she were the crowned queen.

In his exile, Aemond could travel to the ruins of Old Valyria to let whatever horrors his ancestors left behind mete out the judgment for his sins.

But Aegon would die soon, leaving her a widow. A widowed queen could never remarry. She would become little more than a decoration, the poor dowager queen forever standing in the shadows. And she would not be allowed to serve as regent for their heir – nor would their mother, despite having governed the realm for years while their father was infirm.

Who would speak on behalf of their child? The Small Council was filled with vultures seeking their own advantage. Larys Strong and his ilk slithered like snakes into every and any ear they could to try and advance their positions. Traitors who had only sworn loyalty to Aegon when it became clear Rhaenyra’s claim was doomed.

The only people he trusted to guide the children would be Grand Maester Orwyle, newly freed from the Black Cells, or Tyland Lannister. But that wasn’t enough. Who would protect her from those who would seek to take advantage of her?

No, he could not leave her. Despite her feelings toward him, he was the only one capable of keeping her safe. He had to stay, for her sake, he told himself.

Though in his heart, he knew the decision was selfish.

Aemond stared at her until the first rays of sunlight shone through the eastern window, imagining her perfect features on their children. Her dark eyes, the curls in her hair, the soft innocence of her smile. He nearly wished that he would see nothing of himself in the babes.

Then, those dark eyes opened, looking blearily at him. He swore there was a flicker of unabashed joy and love in them before they again went cold. At least the rising sun still gilded them with gold. Yes, the babes should have those eyes.

She turned away from him and tried to stand.

“Don’t wake, my love.” He said gently, a hand hovering just above her shoulder to stop her from rising. “Stay and rest, please.”

“No, Aemond.” She frowned, that sweet mouth set in a hard line. “I do not want to sleep. I wish to go with you today.”

She had been so upset by his leaving the night before. Had she not believed him when he gave his answer? Did she want to monitor him to ensure he did not betray her again? He shook his head. “I promise I am not going to see – ”

“I know you aren’t.” She sat upright, facing away from him. He wanted to embrace her, to hold her against his chest, but she hadn’t wanted that last night. He had resisted touching her since then. He could remain strong. “I wish to accompany you to the negotiations with Lord Stark.”

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. She had never shown an interest in such things before. “Whatever for?”

She pouted in response. “If I am to be your queen, I must be prepared. Mother ruled alongside Viserys. I intend to do the same.”

Their mother had not only advised Viserys but ruled in his stead when he was too ill to sit the throne himself. It made sense that she would want to follow the path Queen Alicent had made. She knew little of what it took to rule a kingdom, but she was smart, she would learn.

“Very well.” He nodded as he stood from the bed to help her stand. His heart almost burst when her hand touched his. “I must admit that to have you beside me will fortify my resolve.”

He expected that would make her smile – hoped it would.

She dropped his hand. “And after, you will take me to see Alys.”

Damn it. Damn it all, especially that witch.

“Ābrazȳrītsos…” she scoffed and turned away from him, ignoring his outstretched arms. He followed her into the dressing room. “Raqiarzītsos, please. I beg you, do not insist on this.”

“I need answers, Aemond.” She hid her face in the mass of dresses that now hung on racks, but he could still hear the wavering determination in her voice.

He understood well what she was too polite to say plainly. She needed answers from Alys because she did not trust that Aemond told the whole truth. Even the implication stung deep in his chest. On that, he knew he could not change her mind.

“I understand,” he said carefully, remaining in his place by the door. It was the truth. “But Ābrazȳrītsos… can it not wait until you are stronger? Until the babes are born and you have recovered from the hell they’ve put you through? Then I can fly you back here on Vhagar so you don’t have to stay here and wonder…”

Only once had she acknowledged her curiosity about where in the keep Aemond had been with Alys – when they first arrived in their rooms. But he had seen it from the moment they passed through the walls. That uncertainty made her seem even frailer than she already was.

Her hand tightened on the velvet of a green dress. “I don’t want to come back.” He took a step forward, but she faced him. The tears in her eyes halted him immediately. “I don’t ever want to come back to this place again, so it must be now. Today.”

Aemond’s heart had shattered days ago, but the pure agony in his ābrazȳrītsos’s beautiful eyes then trampled the remaining shards to dust.

“Today it will be, then.” He could not banish the worry from his face, but she smiled anyway. “Tomorrow, we will go home. If Stark still has anything to say, he can follow us back to King’s Landing.”

Cregan Stark was already in the great hall when they arrived, along with what seemed like the bulk of his forces. Of course he was. After his absence at their arrival last night, Aemond was a fool to think he’d do anything else.

The Lord of Winterfell was every bit a wolf.

He certainly smiled like one as Aemond walked through the doors, standing to bow only his head. He seemed to think his prideful displays of irreverence would somehow give him an advantage in the negotiations.

But a wolf was nothing to a dragon.

“My prince,” the lord’s voice was anything but respectful. Perhaps he still held a grudge for the death of Jacaerys. Not that anyone was to blame for that but the bastard himself. “You have joined us at last.”

Aemond adopted a similar arrogant countenance. His was far more deserved. “Alas, my wife’s comfort was of greater importance to me than your patience, Lord Stark.”

Stark’s eyes slid behind Aemond to his ābrazȳrītsos, the feral glint within them softening, then sharpening in something like concern. “Princess,” he said with a deep bow—far deeper than what he gave Aemond, his Prince Regent. “I was not expecting to meet you, but I am very glad of it. I hope you are well?”

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, quiet yet confident. “The journey was long, but I fared well.”

“That is good news.” Cregan arched a thick black brow as he thoroughly examined her, his eyes landing on her belly. “I hope your condition is not giving you too much trouble.”

“She is perfectly well,” Aemond snapped before she could even open her mouth. He did not like the way the wolf looked at her like she needed protection. She was his wife, his to protect. He would not endure the suggestion that he had failed in that duty. Despite what he’d done, she had remained safe.

Her eyes found him, then turned to Stark. She nodded primly, the barest remnants of a smile on her lips. Even as he recalled her old smiles, wide, bright, and perfect, seeing her lift her lips made his heart swell with affection. Perhaps one day, he would see her truly smile once more.

“Let us begin, then.” He led her to the table, seating her at his right hand before taking his place at the head of the table. Stark regarded him with barely disguised disdain but was silent as he continued. “You have been chosen to represent those who foolishly supported my half-sister. By my brother, King Aegon’s grace, you have been granted your lives despite your treason. But our concern now is not revenge, but peace.”

He glanced at his wife, his reason for peace. He would do anything he could to ensure she and their children never again faced war—even this. “What is it you and your allies require to ensure peace?

Stark again donned that wolfish smile, though it faltered slightly when he, too, looked to Aemond’s wife. “We thank you for your… generosity, my prince. But, before we begin any negotiations, I would ask for assurance that whatever terms we agree to will be upheld.”

The nerve to ask for such a thing as the defeated traitor was astounding. Aemond had half a mind to simply kill the man. It would send a message to those who had supported Rhaenyra. Scare them away from further rebellion.

Though perhaps it was not the message he wanted to send. Not the way he wanted to begin his reign.

Not something he wanted his wife – his queen – to witness.

So, he took a deep breath and summoned a matching cocky grin. “You have the assurance of the crown and throne, Lord Stark.”

“And how am I to trust that?” Cregan said, tipping his head so far it rested against the back of his chair. “With your brother… as he is, you are the crown and throne, Prince Aemond. I expect you will have them for yourself soon rather than borrowing them from Aegon. How am I to trust you?”

Cold suspicion crept up Aemond’s spine as Stark again looked at his wife, something like an apology on his face.

It disappeared when he again looked at Aemond. “How am I to trust that you will uphold your promises to me, when you cannot even be trusted to honor your vows to your wife?

He fucking knew. Somehow, he fucking knew.

Aemond would kill him.

He would sew that wolf’s smile shut so he could not scream. He would tear out his eyes and rip out his fingernails. He would use every method of torture he had ever learned of – through his books and his own practical experience – to kill Stark slowly. He may even invent some new techniques of his own.

He would find the person who told him – likely one of the servants in the keep he’d bribed while waiting for Aemond’s arrival – and do the same to them, as he would to anyone who ever spoke a word about it in his wife’s presence. He would –

The burning rage inside him cooled in an instant, as if smothered by a northern wind. But it was not a cold wind that brushed against his hand – it was the warm, smooth skin of his wife.

While he had become blinded by his anger, she had reached across the table to entwine her fingers with his. Her grip was stiff and too tight, and he could feel her shivering, but she had done it.

She had touched him.

Of her own free will.

Even with all he had done, all the ways he had wounded her, she was still there – still with him, offering her support.

He did not delude himself into thinking it was forgiveness or even a gesture of love. There was no hint of affection in her eyes. For all he knew, she may never touch him again.

But she still stood by his side as his wife. His future queen.

And that simple gesture was enough that the corners of Stark’s mouth turned down, and his swaggering lessened. Aemond beamed at his wife, letting her see all his gratitude and love. She nodded, and he decided that was enough, at least for now.

He turned back to the wolf at the end of the table. “State your terms.”

The negotiations were still a battle, though they never again came close to physical blows. An agreement was reached, with the crown conceding more than Aemond wanted but less than Stark wanted. No one was happy—a perfect compromise.

When it was over, and Stark rose to leave, Aemond turned to Ronnel, who sat at his left, to make preparations for their departure tomorrow. He wanted everything ready so they could depart at dawn and leave this wretched place behind. But a low voice began murmuring to his right.

Cregan godsdamned Stark was whispering in his wife’s ear.

She did not smile, but her cheeks were flushed. When Stark finally closed his bastard mouth, she whispered something back. The thirst for murder slowly crept back into Aemond’s heart. But then Cregan was walking away, and his wife held his gaze.

“He was only apologizing,” she whispered cautiously. “For what he said, and how it hurt me.”

Of course, Aemond received no such apology. He didn’t want one anyway. He would much rather have Stark’s head on a spike while his body was fed to Vhagar. Fulfilling that wish could wait, if it would ever be possible. Now, she was his only true concern.

“I’m sorry as well, ābrazȳrītsos. You should not have been put in that position.” He reached for her hand, but she stood—without aid, he noted.

She tried and failed to smile. “It wasn’t me he was insulting. Can we go now?”

Ronnel laughed slightly, a paltry attempt at ridding them of the tension. “I’m afraid the horses and wheelhouse won’t be ready until tomorrow, my princess. I can – ”

“That is not what I mean.” He could see her breath quicken as she looked directly at him. “Aemond, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but ask, couldn’t let this one last opportunity pass him by. “You don’t have to, love.”

Her mouth tightened, and her brows set. “I know, but I want to.”

There was an open door at the end of the servants’ hall, a fire flickering within.

Alys was expecting them. Had she seen it in a vision, or had the servants from the night before told her?

It didn’t matter, she knew. This would be unpleasant either way. But the thought of Alys knowing how pathetic she’d been the night before still haunted her.

When they were mere paces away from the open door, Aemond said his first words since leaving the great hall: “You do not have to do this, ābrazȳrītsos. We can still turn around.”

She didn’t reply. She had already locked eyes with her husband’s whore as she stepped into the doorway.

Alys was beautiful. Of course she was beautiful. And so different from her.

There was not a single similarity she could find other than the swell of their breasts and bellies from carrying Aemond’s children. Where her hair was pale as the moon, Alys’ was as dark as the night surrounding it. Where her eyes were a warm, deep brown, Alys’ were the cool green of fresh grass. Where she was but a little girl of 17 pretending at womanhood, Alys’ was a woman, with wisdom in her gaze and elegant, dignified lines framing her face to prove it.

Most men would have slighted her in favor of Alys. She just wished Aemond had been stronger than most men.

“My prince,” Alys curtsied as well as she could with her in her state, then turned her eyes to her. “My princess, what a joy it is to meet you at last.”

“Alys,” Aemond growled, stepping between the two women. He began whispering to his mistress so softly that his wife could not understand. It angered her.

“I said –” her voice came out louder than she intended, and the distant noise of conversation from the other servants quieted. That, she had not intended, but at least Aemond and Alys now faced her. “I said I wanted to talk to her, Aemond. Not you.”

His mouth tightened, but he nodded, retreating to stand behind her, still close enough to defend her. Alys smiled at her—not a viper’s smile, leering and poisonous. It was open and kind, as if she were a dear friend rather than the woman who’d slept with her husband and destroyed their marriage.

“Please, come in, princess. I know you must be more comfortable sitting than standing in a hallway.” Though she hated that the woman would dare to make assumptions, it was accurate. Her legs and back were already aching from the walk from the great hall.

Alys opened the door further, ushering them inside. It was a quaint room. Unusually well-appointed with a hearth and seating area, but still obviously a servant’s quarters. Perhaps it had once housed the steward until Alys had become so important to Aemond.

Aemond led her to one of the two stuffed chairs by the hearth, extending a hand to help her sit. She recoiled, eyes flitting to the bed. Had they…?

“Not here,” he whispered, his mouth curling into a frown. “I never… she was always the one to come to me.”

He called her to him like any other servant. He had not sought Alys out himself. It made little difference—he had still summoned her. But it was enough that she accepted his hand and sat, pulling away from him the moment she no longer required his aid.

Alys sat in the chair opposite her, again with that same kind expression. “You have questions for me, yes?”

She nodded, unsure of how else to answer. Alys was not at all what she expected. This was Aemond’s mistress. She had expected a cruel, vain woman who would laugh at her, mock her, and boast that she’d stolen Aemond from her. That was the image she saw when she imagined asking her questions, not this.

“That is quite understandable, dear.” Alys reached out, placing her hand on the arm of the opposite chair, their fingers nearly touching. “I will answer your questions. And I swear, by my own life and that of my child’s, that I will answer truthfully.”

Aemond scoffed quietly, his hand wrapping protectively around the back of the chair. Rage radiated from him, hotter than the fire they faced. She ignored it, and him, entirely.

She believed, once, that she could always trust Aemond. The woman across from her proved otherwise. If the world made so little sense that she could not trust her brother, her husband, her soulmate, then why couldn’t she trust a whore and a witch when she swore on the life of her bastard?

All her questions, all the loose threads she plucked from the story Aemond had woven for her, raced in her mind. Her head began to pulse under the pressure of the storm of anger, devastation, and sadness that raged within her.

But one question returned, over and over again, until it at last reached her lips.

“Did you know about me?”

“I did, my dear. Everyone in the realm and beyond knows of you. The ‘Little Princess,’ they call you.”

“You knew I was – I am – Aemond’s wife?”

Behind her, Aemond stepped forward to stand at her side, a hand extended in question and offering. Offering his support, the strengthening knowledge that he was there for her. The same thing she had given him only hours ago when the peace of the realm teetered on the edge of war.

This time, she did not take his hand.

Alys’ soft smile fell, and what looked to be genuine regret passed over her perfect face. “I did.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“After Aemond gave the order for every man, woman, and child carrying Strong blood was to be killed, my choices were to die with the family who had only ever done precious little for me,” Alys scoffed, as if the possibility was utterly ridiculous, “or to save myself by being whatever your husband wanted me to be. Can you truly fault me for wishing to save my own life?”

No, she couldn’t. If she had been in Alys’ position, she may well have done the same. Had considered it, even, when Rhaenyra and Daemon had taken King’s Landing. To save her children and mother, and to survive until Aemond could rescue them. Fortunately, her uncle had shown no interest in her. Still, she’d been willing to give up that part of her – if it meant keeping the people she loved safe.

“I understand your motivation to save your life,” she said slowly, wetting her lips with her tongue as she glanced up at Aemond, who looked at Alys like he was only barely holding himself back from strangling her. The hand he had not offered her was fisted at his side, knuckles white as bone.

Did hearing how he had been so easily manipulated humiliate him? Did it sting to know that Alys had only truly desired her freedom, not him? That she had used him as much as he had used her?

“I will assure you that I did resist. At least at first.”

In the story Aemond told, Alys was the one who pursued him. He said he spared her because of her visions, not her beauty or any lust for her. Alys was implying she only lain with him because he wanted it, that he was the one who began the affair.

Which was true? Was Alys lying, or Aemond?

Something in Alys’ keen eyes made her think the witch knew her thoughts. “Was he not satisfied with using your powers to aid him in winning the war?”

“My visions can provide guidance, but they are not infallible. And they are not always pleasant. I needed assurance that I would not be killed if the future was altered or if your husband was displeased with what I told him.”

“Surely you could have simply explained this to him,” she mumbled. Aemond was a reasonable man. He would not blame someone for something out of their control—or at least, he had been once.

Alys laughed, quiet and cackling and full of pity. “Oh, my poor dear, you have no idea what your husband became within these walls, do you?”

Aemond stepped forward, a hand on his sword. “Alys…”

She ignored him pointedly. “I know he didn’t tell you in his letters – I was there when he wrote many of them.” A small smile and a smug hum pointed at Aemond as she revealed a piece of what he’d hidden. “But I assumed since he’s now told you about me, he would have told you everything else.”

“Stop, Alys.” Aemond’s voice had grown lower and angrier than she’d ever heard—the voice of the man who had won the war nearly single-handedly, not of her beloved husband and brother. It frightened her. Even when he put a hand on her shoulder, she could not face him, fearing what she would see in that once familiar face.

There was a sickly glint in Alys’ eyes and a curling grin on her full lips. She looked only at Aemond as she spoke. “Did he tell you that he not only gave the order for the entire Strong bloodline be wiped from existence, but that he killed them all himself? Old men, women, and children all died by his sword. No matter how much they begged to be spared or how much they screamed and wept. He was wholly without mercy.” Her mouth hung open, ready to say more, but she glanced back at the princess and quieted, seeing the pain in her eyes.

No, she wanted to say as her stomach turned to burning cold lead. Aemond isn’t so cruel as that. He told her violence was only ever a necessity, not something to be enjoyed. At their wedding tourney –,

Aemond was silent. No rebuttals or denials. Not even an attempt at explanation. He slowly lowered his hand from his sword, as if ashamed to touch it.

That may have been the worst of it, for it meant what Alys was saying was the truth.

Pulling herself out of his grip, she ignored his small grunt of hurt and disbelief, blinked away tears, and fought to keep her voice steady. “Yet he spared you. Because you offered him your visions?”

“Yes, dear.”

She chafed under the seeming affection in Alys’ gaze. This was the woman who had seduced her husband, shared his bed for months, and carried his bastard. Why was she being so godsdamned kind?

“Was it true, then? Your vision about his first battle? That he would need to be fearless going into the battle.” She could feel her entire being trembling with fearful anticipation and guttural rage. “It was because of that vision that you convinced him to bed you, wasn’t it?”

Alys’ eyes flicked to Aemond for the first time since she’d sat down. He tensed behind her with a soft gasp, then a growl.

“It was,” Alys finally said.

“And all the times after?” She heard leather creaking behind her and knew Aemond had dropped his head. “Were there visions for those?”

“I wish I could say there were, if only to spare you from this pain,” Alys sighed, pity practically dripping from her, “but no. I still had visions and shared them with your husband, but none required continued intimacy.”

The stinging tears in her eyes began to fall, and Alys winced at the sight. “I am truly sorry, princess, for the hurt we have caused you. But I cannot regret what I’ve done, for I do believe it saved my life.”

Saved Aemond’s life, as well, if those visions had indeed kept him safe. She again felt that slight tug of gratitude in her chest, only for it to be swallowed by the raging deluge of anger and grief. It threatened to choke her. “And the babe?”

Alys sat back in her seat, absentmindedly stroking where that babe lay. “An unexpected, but not entirely unwanted consequence.”

“You did not drink moon tea?” It was a stupid question, she knew. The evidence that she didn’t was quite visible.

“Such things are luxuries when living in the heart of a war. Those herbs were better used for those who needed them to survive.” Alys’ gaze dropped to where Aemond’s other babes lay. “It took some time, after your wedding, for his seed to take, yes?

Aemond growled again, little better than a guard dog at this point.

Her cheeks flushed. It had taken nearly two years, so long that the maesters began to worry, and the court started whispering. She knew that their grandsire had brought it to the Small Council more than once, and was thankful she was not present – the gods only knew what solutions those men had devised.

“It takes longer for some women than others,” Alys said through a grimace. “It is no shame, merely the unknowable will of the gods.”

“It happened very quickly for you.” In the end, the bastard only proved that whatever had prevented her and Aemond from conceiving was her fault, not his. Perhaps the gods had seen the man he was to become, and those two years were their attempt to push them apart.

Alys thought for a minute, her gaze drifting to the fire between them, turning her eyes into something that did not seem quite human. She frowned, “A stroke of fortune. Good or ill, I cannot decide.”

The witch – for she was indeed a witch, those eyes proved it so – continued to stare into the flames. Aemond again set a hand on his wife’s shoulder, and she wondered whether he considered the bastard to be good fortune. He had not said anything to suggest he was glad of it, but there were memories that suggested he was.

He had learned things from Alys that he tried to use on her. How to hold her to relieve the weight of the babes, and how to cushion her belly when in the carriage. She was sure there was more, perhaps he had done them, and she just hadn’t noticed. But he had held Alys and taken care to protect her child.

It was intimate in a way that suggested they shared more than just sex.

“Does Aemond love you?” Even the crackling of the fire seemed to quiet as the words left her mouth unbidden. But this was the most important question. How deep did Aemond’s betrayal go?

Alys’ answer was just as sudden. “No. Nor I him.”

Her heart pounded to hear those words. Alys had taken so much. Half a year of their lives. Aemond’s touch. The trust between them. But she hadn’t taken Aemond’s heart. That belonged only to her.

Even if she wasn’t sure she wanted it.

She fell silent, considering all she had learned. Aemond fucked Alys, but he didn’t love her. He called her to his room, but her comfortable quarters suggested she didn’t stay with him. He spilled his seed inside her, but took no precautions against siring a bastard. He knew he was to have a child by Alys, but planned to return to his wife. He…

He kept her and the child secret. He had commanded that all those who knew of the affair remain silent, if Ser Willis’ words could be trusted.

Why would he go to such lengths to uphold the secret if he knew he was coming home rather than staying at Harrenhal?

A chill wind passed through her despite the heat of the fire, numbing her, body and soul.

“Did you know Daemon was going to tell me?”

“Ah,” Alys looked ashamed for the first time she had seen. “No. That escaped my vision. It was likely a decision he made just prior to departing for the God’s Eye after I had my initial vision of Aemond’s triumph. And oh, what changes that decision has made.”

That meant… “You believed I wouldn’t find out?”

“Until Aemond returned from the battle, yes.” A humorless laugh. “I was nearly as shocked as him.”

“Then you saw a future where you and your child remained hidden from me.” A statement, not a question, as the truth began to take shape in her mind.

“Yes.”

“Alys, stop.” Aemond had gone entirely still and silent since she asked if he loved Alys. Now, he was frantic and panicked.

She paid him no mind. The truth was in hand, and she would not let it go. “What would have happened? If Daemon hadn’t written that letter?”

“Many things, little one, be more specific.” Alys seemed amused by the turn the line of questioning had taken, almost like a parent helping their child with a logic puzzle.

“Would Aemond…” The words burned in her throat, not the hot burn of anger, but of deathly cold of impending heartbreak. “With you…” she was going to be sick. She could have asked anything else and been fine, but this? She would rather ask how well Aemond had fucked her. “Would it have continued?”

“Ābrazȳrītsos —” He was begging. The man who had slain dragons and burned entire villages was begging, but he did not beg for long.

“Your husband would have taken me back to King’s Landing and brought me into the Red Keep’s household as a wet nurse. I would have nursed your babes and mine, and Aemond would be able to know all his children.” There was no trace of pride or gloating in Alys’ voice, just the truth. The horrible, horrible truth.

Her tone turned reassuring. “Though, our physical intimacy would not have continued. "When he was finally by your side again, he’d have no use of me in that.” Alys paused, looking once at Aemond. “He does love you, princess. Very much. I’m sorry that I have made you doubt that.”

The bastard would have lived with them. Drank the same milk as her own children. Perhaps even played with them, learned with them. It might even look like them, if it took after its father.

For the first time, she was truly glad for what Daemon had done with his final breaths.

“It was just for the child,” Aemond whispered, his voice utterly broken. “I swear, I… I just wanted to know my child.”

She faced him, feeling nothing at the horror on his face as he fell to his knees beside her. “What about our children? What about me?”

“I thought…” he shook his head as if he did not believe his own words. “I thought that I – ”

“I don’t care, Aemond.” A lie. She cared so much. For him and the love they shared. For the family they were soon to have. For herself. She cared so deeply it felt like a star in her chest, burning with how much she cared.

That star blinked out.

“I don’t care,” she said once more. Then she stood and left the room.

“You lied.”

“Did I?” Alys’ veneer of benevolent politeness was gone the moment they were alone. She looked at Aemond with cold eyes, not a hint of the affection he once saw, feigned as it was. “Your little wife – ābrazȳrītsos, I believe is the term? – is such a charming little thing. I swore to her that I would tell her the truth. Why would I lie to such a sweet girl?”

This was insufferable. She was insufferable. “When you told her about the vision – your first vision. About Darry. I didn’t notice it when you told me then, but I know you better now.” Fear rose to match the anger in his veins as he stood. “That was a lie.”

Alys looked away. The bitch looked away from him to hide the twist of her lips as she looked into the fire. “You won the battle, didn’t you?”

It was a lie. A lie that had destroyed him. Destroyed his life. Destroyed his ābrazȳrītsos. And it was all a godsdamned lie.

He would never have pursued Alys himself. She pursued him, told him that he needed to be relaxed and without fear to win the battle and spare the bulk of his men. When he had not been able to calm himself, it was she who offered her aid.

He had not known what she meant by that, pushed her away when she first tried to kiss him. He’d wrapped a hand around her throat when she first reached out to touch him. He was going to choke her, kill her.

“It won’t mean anything, my prince,” she said when she snuck her hand between his legs. His body trembled at the touch—it had been so long since he had been touched this way. His ābrazȳrītsos had been too ill from the babe she carried, and he would never force her. He had to admit the pleasure cleared his mind. “I merely wish to help you.”

She only ever meant to help herself, not him or his men. And he had been the fool who fell for her act. Again and again.“How many of your ‘visions’ were lies?”

Alys didn’t even play at coyness. She outright grinned as she poked the fire. “Perhaps half. Perhaps more.”

“You vile whore,” he spat with all the venom he could summon.

“Careful what you say, Aemond,” her tone remained sickeningly sweet, her eyes fixed on the fire. “After all, you are the man who fucked this ‘vile whore.’ Over and over again, while that sweet thing,” she pointed her chin at the door, “was frightened and alone.”

Aemond’s breath left in a rush. “You knew she was sick?”

Alys scoffed. “She’s not sick, you stupid boy, just pregnant. It is more difficult for some women than for others. Although the stress of the war likely did not help.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” If he had only known… if, if, if, his entire life reduced to two letters. Damn the word.

“You would have left if you knew, leaving me to fend for myself.” She shrugged casually, but it did not belie the slight sagging of her shoulders. “Besides, I knew she would be well again.”

“A vision?

She smiled wistfully. Any other man would find it a beautiful sight. It made him want to kill her slowly. “Oh, what a lovely vision it was. You arrived home late in the night while she was brushing her hair. I’ve never seen such happiness as when she saw you in the mirror. Your presence alone restored her vitality. When I saw her again after she’d birthed your sons, she was strong and radiant. From Maiden to Mother.”

A crushing in his chest, pain and joy joined as one terrible whole. “‘Sons?’”

Alys looked at him then, no malice or disdain in her gaze. “Yes, she will deliver you two sons.”

Two babes. Two sons. Two heirs.

Their line would be secure with two trueborn princes. The people would take it as an omen that the gods had blessed them, and few would dispute their rule. There would be no need for further children unless something should happen to the boys. Aemond would never let anything happen to them.

There would be no need for his wife to remain in his bed.

It was his punishment, he supposed. He would have the throne and the family he always coveted at the cost of his wife’s love.

“Will they be healthy?” It was good, he told himself. He deserved this punishment, after all, and she deserved to be free of him, as much as a queen can be free of her king. So long as their sons – their bloodline – were strong.

“They were in my vision, but now that future is changed,” Alys looked back at the fire, poking at it as if searching for something. “I have not seen what will now be.”

“Try.” The babes had to be healthy after all they’d put their mother through. She must not suffer any more than she already had – at their hands or Aemond’s.

She could not bear the loss of a son. Neither could he.

“You know it doesn't work like that, Aemond. I swear, if I could see it, I would tell you.” Again, she scoured the wood and ash and flame. “But when I looked into the fire after you flew south, all I saw was smoke.”

“You lied then. You could be lying now.” He knew she wasn’t. He prayed she was.

“I give my word that this is the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Aemond, this only means I cannot see what will happen. It doesn’t mean that they will not –”

“Do not speak to me!” He roared as he hadn’t since he was told Daemon and Rhaenyra had taken King’s Landing. It felt like fire was trying to burn its way out of his throat. “Do not speak to me ever again or show your face before me. If you do, I…”

Alys laid a hand on her belly, and he recoiled in shame. To banish her would also be to banish her child—his child.

He shouldn’t care for a bastard, he knew. It was a stain on his honor, a permanent reminder that he was not the man he hoped he would be, the man his ābrazȳrītsos deserved. But it was also his child—his blood.

His eye burned in such pain he could hardly feel his zaldrīzītsos squeezing his hand while she wept. But it was nothing to the gaping hole in his chest where he once hoped his father would lay.

The old man would not even look at him. He appeared as if his greatest concern wasn’t the damage to his son but that he longed for his bed. When Aemond’s mother begged for justice, his father looked on her as if she were mad.

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.”

Aemond swore he would not be like his father. He knew what it was to be neglected by those he shared blood with and couldn’t stand the thought of doing it himself.

Yet he had also sworn to do anything for his ābrazȳrītsos’ happiness.

“I will send funds for the child’s care,” his voice was weak now that his inner fire had faded. “But I forbid you from naming me as the father to anyone on pain of death.”

“You would condemn your child to fatherlessness?”

The fire roared back to life, as large as the swaths of destruction he had laid across the Riverlands.

He approached Alys with his dagger in hand, unaware of when he had drawn it. “It is only because of the child that I do not slit your throat here and now. Be grateful for what I am giving you. It is well beyond what most whores receive for their bastards.”

Aemond stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He shut his eye and breathed heavily. In. Out. In. Out. Only when he had calmed – enough that he was no longer on the precipice of violence – did he look down the hall, only to find it empty. “Ābrazȳrītsos?”

There was no reply. Until –

“Aemond!” Her voice was strained, desperate, and, worst of all, followed by a long moan of pain.

He screamed her name as he ran toward her voice. Why was she in pain? Was she ill again? It had never happened before night fell, as far as he knew. Had someone hurt her? Alys? Stark? He’d kill them – slowly, painfully, without mercy. He’d –

She was slumped against the wall. Her sweet face was flushed and scrunched with pain, her mouth open as she moaned. But there was no hint of injury. She looked whole.

Then, Aemond saw it.

There was a steadily growing pool of liquid surrounding her. Not blood, thank the gods, but… Alys once said there was a release of fluid when a woman began her labors.

No. No. It was too early. The babes were not ready yet. If they were born now, they would not survive. They would be like Rhaenyra’s daughter Visenya – weak and deformed. They would have scales or horns or tails or talons, perhaps even malformed wings.

They couldn’t come now. They couldn’t. Not only for their sake, but if they had those horns or talons, they could kill their mother as they ripped their way out of her.

Aemond couldn’t let it happen. There had to be something he could do, some way he could –

She screamed.

It was the worst sound he’d ever heard. It tore at his chest like a storm ravaged a ship. He could not move, not until he saw her legs wobble as she braced herself against the wall. She was going to fall. He ran forward to catch her, screaming himself.

“Ābrazȳrītsos!”

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