#I also don't think I was exactly clear when I talked to him

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (9) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: sorry this update took forever !!! enj <3

//

there are no words that can describe how incredibly awkward you feel when you wake up.

last night—after you and yoongi crossed that unspoken line and messed around—you two ended up tangled together.

it’s strange because in between soft touches and sleepy murmurs—you actually got to know him in ways you never expected.

you recall it all.

his quiet voice filling the spaces between the darkness and your hushed breathing so you could hear every tone, every word, and every breath of his crystal clear. 

yoongi told you stories and confessions that slipped out between shallow breaths. childish yet meaningful things he probably didn’t even realize he was saying.

you remember him murmuring about the way his mom used to hold his hand when he couldn’t fall asleep as a kid, or how he swore he’d never own a fish again because when he was 11 years old... he had 14 goldfishes and they all died one by one 2 weeks later.

he swears it wasn't his fault.

you tell him you believe him.

(you really do.)

he also talks about his quiet love for early mornings, how at peace he feels when he’s the only one awake in a still-sleeping world. in that half-dazed vulnerability, yoongi let you in. 

just enough for you to see a side of him you hadn’t expected, a part that was softer, quieter, more open.

then, you two talked about baby injeolmi.

how you two don't really care about the gender and just want a healthy baby. so much so that you both agreed to not know the gender and to just be surprised on the day of. oh, and how you do want a baby shower and think hye mi is already plotting that...

then, you two talked about the moving in thing again.

that's when you pretended to go to sleep and actually fell asleep. yoongi only laughed at you, fully knowing that you're just nervous. you're moving in one way or another.

he knows it.

you know it...

but aside from the way the talk ended; it went well.

no, the talk wasn’t everything…

but it was something. 

now, with the morning light filtering through the blinds, reality started to seep back in.

the familiar awkwardness of two people who shared more than they’d planned. you can feel his warmth beside you, his hand still loosely draped over your waist, and a twinge of nervousness fluttered in your stomach.

you glance at him, expecting him to be asleep. but then, his eyes blinked open, groggy but sharp enough to catch the slight flush in your cheeks. 

still half-asleep, his voice rough as he mumbles, “hi…”

for a second, neither of you move, as if lingering in that quiet, unguarded space between sleep and reality. suddenly aware of the intimacy, he clears his throat, his gaze softening but pulling back just a bit.

you offer him a shy smile, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“a-about last night…”

he chuckles softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “yeah… last night…”

then, he pauses to gather his words.

“wait, are you talking about me yapping or me sucking your tits?”

none. you’re talking about pretending to fall asleep regardless, your shy smile breaks as you burst into laughter. he joins your laughter and sighs. 

“i mean, are we gonna talk about any of it or is acknowledging it good enough for now? i don’t know if i’m awake enough for the conversation but i will be if you want to—”

“all good,” you assure him. “i don’t know where i was going with any of it. i guess i just wanted… to know if you—”

“i liked it,” he tells you, not digging any deeper. “you getting to know me, me sucking your tits—all of it.”

as promised, yoongi takes you to the baby store. 

your eyes light up the minute you step foot in it. it’s then that yoongi remembers exactly who he’s having this baby with. 

you and your fucking babyfever. 

the baby store is a mix of pastel colors, tiny clothes, and gentle lullabies playing over the speakers. yoongi trails behind you as you wander through the aisles. one hand resting on the cart as he pushes it along, his eyes constantly flicking to you with a quiet, thoughtful focus.

though you two are pretty good at communicating—the whole physical affection part? that’s still a little wonky. for instance, every time you pause to examine something, yoongi is right there, his hand slipping gently around your waist to guide you to the next aisle or just to linger beside you. it’s so subtle that, at first, you think it’s an accident, a reflex. 

but then it keeps happening.

at first, it throws you off—his casual closeness.

the way he stays so near, like a shadow. you’re not used to this kind of attention from him.. this quiet and steady affection. but strangely enough, you find that you don’t mind it. in fact, there’s something comforting about the way he stays close, attentive to your every move.

when you stop to touch a soft little onesie covered in tiny clouds, yoongi doesn’t even hesitate. he reaches over, gently taking it from your hands and adding it to the cart without a word. 

you shoot him a questioning look, but he only shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips as if to say, whatever you want.

“yoongi, you know you don’t have to buy everything i touch, right?” you remind him, glancing at the growing pile in the cart.

yoongi just chuckles, unbothered, and places his hand on your waist again as you reach the aisle full of toys. his touch is warm and grounding, making it hard to argue with him.

“you’re not carrying any of it home, so relax,” he says with a smile that’s both charming and final. “i like this shit too. they’re cute or whatever—”

then, your fingertips brush as you both reach for a soft, star-patterned onesie. he lets go first, letting you hold onto the onesie.

“this one’s cute,” you say softly, running your thumb along the fabric. then, you bite back a small smile when you realizes yoongi hasn’t moved his hand from your waist.

“yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. his voice is softer than usual, but before you can read into it, he takes the onesie and tosses it into the cart. then he grabs a few more items without asking you, each time ignoring your attempts to peek at the price tags.

“yoongi..."

"what?"

"are you serious?"

he looks at you blankly. "don't we need these things?"

you nod but give him a stern look. "yeah, but we can't buy out the whole store."

"why not?"

"first of all, that's insane... and second of all—a-are you just—"

you reach for a soft, stuffed rabbit, just curious to feel it, and—predictably—he plucks it right out of your hands, tossing it into the cart.

"you are."

"i'm what?"

"seriously?" you huff, barely holding back a grin. “you’re not even letting me decide if i want it. you're tossing it in just because i touched it.”

he remains unbothered by your protests. 

“what if i just think you have good taste?” he says, glancing at you with a hint of mischief. 

and with that, he gives you a gentle nudge, guiding you further down the aisle with that warm hand still resting at your side.

“are you saying that just to flatter yourself?”

“what do i have to do with this?”

“well, you’re my type and my babydaddy—”

“i’m your type?” yoongi tilts his head at you. "good to know..."

you blush, eyes wide from embarrassment. before you can make up some excuse to save face, he leans in and playfully pinches your waist.

“you're my type too, mama.”

you clear your throat and redirect the conversation.

"s-should we pick a crib?"

yoongi gestures his hand for you to lead the way.

as you begin to walk, you turn your head and send him a glare.

"... and be serious about this part, okay? this is the crib we're picking out. read the packaging and make your judgement. i'm gonna end up choosing the prettiest one that might not function as well as the ugly one... so, can i trust your taste on this?"

yoongi nods, pushing the cart with a steady, unhurried pace, his hand resting casually on the handle.

“you can trust me,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

... and so, you do.

you trust him.

when you reach the checkout, you step forward to pay but—

yoongi slips right past you.

casually handing over his card to the cashier before you even get a chance. you cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he signs the receipt, completely unbothered.

the total is easily above $3,000. 

he meets your gaze with a look that’s almost playful, his expression all wide-eyed innocence, as if he hadn’t just ignored your efforts.

"yoongi," you begin, voice firm. “we’re both injeolmi's parents, and it’s not fair for you to pay for everything. at least let me pay half—”

he doesn’t respond right away, just nods patiently, his attention focused on gathering the bags the cashier hands him. his face is calm, listening but clearly not swayed. he loads a big box containing the crib into the cart, then places the bags filled with tiny clothes, blankets, and toys right beside it, adjusting them carefully.

you press on, leaning slightly forward, hoping to get through to him.

“we’re both responsible here... i know i'm not a nurse practitioner like you, but it's not like i can’t contribute, you know—"

“i know.”

yoongi glances over his shoulder at you, his mouth quirking in the faintest smile as he stacks the last bag. he seems unbothered by your scolding, more amused than anything.

“this is my baby too and i feel uncomfortable letting you do this much—”

finally, he turns to you, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back from your cheek in a gesture so casual it nearly makes you forget your own irritation. 

“do what? provide?”

you're tongue tied.

“all done? feel better, mama?” he asks, his tone light, but his eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “if not, go ahead. say what you want. say what you need to say. i’m listening.”

you let out a small huff, crossing your arms more tightly, trying to stay serious.

“you’re not paying for everything, yoongi.”

he raises one eyebrow, his expression softening but still unwavering. 

“i am. i did.” he shrugs, nonchalantly. it feels like he’s teasing you even though he isn’t. “___, i’m all done with this topic now. are you?”

“no, actually, i—” you start, feeling your frustration build.

“great,” he interrupts, his smile spreading into a grin that makes your heart skip. 

he reaches down, taking your hand in his, his grip gentle yet firm, and begins to guide you toward the exit, leaving you no room to protest. 

his thumb rubs lightly over your knuckles as he holds your hand, a grounding gesture that calms you, even as he completely ignores your point. 

“let’s go home,” he says softly, his voice warm, as though it’s the simplest decision in the world.

home.

following yoongi inside his condo, the familiar sight of his place tugging at something inside you. 

it’s been a while since you’ve been here. the memories of that night still linger like a quiet hum in the back of your mind, but you push them aside. 

focus on the present. 

focus on the baby.

he leads you through the hallways, and you try to ignore the way your pulse quickens as you walk past his bedroom. you know it’s silly—nothing’s changed here. but still, the weight of the space feels different, heavier now. maybe it’s because this time, you’re here for something else. 

this time, it’s about the baby.

and the fact that you’ll be moving in soon… fuck, your mind begins to spin.

then, yoongi stops in front of a door, his hand resting lightly on the handle. he opens it slowly, stepping aside to let you in. 

“this is the guest room,” he says, but you can tell he’s hesitating, like he’s waiting for your reaction. “soon to be baby injeolmi’s room…”

you step inside, your gaze instantly drawn to the empty space. it’s clean, quiet, the pale walls untouched by time or use. the sunlight pours in from the window, making the room feel warmer, but it’s still just a room. 

there’s nothing personal about it. 

nothing that belongs to anyone yet.

but you can already picture it—nursery furniture, soft colors, the quiet hum of a baby’s lullaby filling the air. you glance back at him, noting the careful expression on his face. he’s watching you, waiting for your approval. waiting for your thoughts, even if you’re not sure what to say. you wonder if he’s nervous too, if this feels as strange to him as it does to you.

for a moment, your mind drifts to that night—the night everything changed. 

the night you slept together. 

the night you felt something more than just friendship between you two. the way his touch felt, the way his lips lingered on yours, and how quickly it all faded into the awkward silence the next morning.

"i also made space for your things in my room. i'm not finished clearing out my all shit but i will be by next week. does that sound okay?"

"huh?" you blink. "n-next week?"

yoongi nods.

"i think i gave you enough time to think things over... and don't act like this is a surprise. i brought it up last night. you pretended to sleep."

your eyes widen.

"i—"

"move in with me next week," yoongi says. "... you can pretend to sleep mid conversation in my bed from now on."

by an hour and half in, you and yoongi have filled the space with scattered remnants of baby gear—boxes, parts of cribs, and the disassembled pieces of a changing table. they all lay haphazardly across the floor. 

it’s oddly comforting.

the clutter somehow feels like a soft reminder of the chaos and excitement that’s about to come.

yoongi is kneeling on the floor, tools in hand, as he begins to assemble the crib, the sound of metal and wood clicking together filling the otherwise quiet room.

you lean against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him work with a careful, focused precision. his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched as he concentrates on each piece. his sleeves are rolled up, revealing forearms that make it hard to focus on anything else. you swallow, not bothering to hide the way your eyes drift to the muscle in his arms as he works.

and then, almost instinctively, he looks up at you, his gaze meeting yours as if he can feel your eyes on him.

“baby injeolmi’s clothes need to be washed,” he says, his voice low but firm, his hands already reaching for another tool. “you want to do this 50/50? fine. but i don’t want you getting hurt.”

you push off the doorframe, rolling your eyes as you walk toward him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

you’re not used to him treating you like you’re made of glass, but you get where he’s coming from. still, it doesn’t sit well with you.

“i’m pregnant but i’m not fragile,” you argue. “i can help you with the crib—“

he doesn’t budge, his jaw tightening as he focuses on the task at hand. 

“humor me then,” he says, his tone patient, but there’s an underlying edge of stubbornness that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

you’re about to argue further, but the way he’s working—so effortlessly, so damn focused—has you momentarily silent. the way his arms flex as he screws the pieces together, the tension in his shoulders, the occasional glance up to check in on you—it all just feels so... domestic, and so right in this moment.

you step back a little, your breath catching as you take in the scene. yoongi, with his sleeves pushed up, lost in his work, looks so different from the guy you met—still him, but somehow more.

more... grounded. more steady.

your gaze lingers, unable to pull away.

your cheeks heat, a strange flutter in your chest as you realize you’ve been staring too long. When Yoongi catches your eye, his expression unreadable for a split second, you scramble to regain your composure.

“i’ll, uh…” you quickly clear your throat, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “i’ll get started on baby’s laundry. do you have clothes that need to be washed too? i can do a load—i mean… fuck—y-you know what? how about i make us some lunch first? yeah. i’ll do that.” you say, quickly backing away before your feelings get the best of you.

your steps are hurried as you leave the room, but you can still feel the heat in your face, the warmth of his gaze following you as you retreat.

yet, the image of him—focused, strong, and all yours—lingers, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you step into the kitchen.

in the kitchen, you decide to keep it simple yet comforting. 

something easy to share, nothing too fancy. you settle on making caprese chicken sandwiches with a side of fresh fruit and chips. 

you finish grilling the chicken and layer it on the toasted ciabatta. you add slices of fresh mozzarella, letting it melt slightly, then pile on thick tomato slices and fresh basil leaves. a drizzle of balsamic glaze finishes it off before you top it with the other half of the bread, pressing it together gently when yoongi walks in. 

without a word, he leans against the counter beside you, his presence as familiar as the scent of the meal. he doesn’t wait for you to finish; instead, he picks up a melon slice and takes a bite.

“can’t you wait two seconds?” you laugh, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

yoongi just grins, completely unbothered. he takes another bite.

“fruit always taste better when moms cut them,” he says, his voice teasing but laced with that quiet sincerity of his. “oh, should i say milf? or is that jungkook’s line?”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

the way he stands there, so effortlessly himself, makes your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. he’s always been like this—comfortable, confident, and somehow, when he’s this close, it feels like everything else fades away.

as he pulls away, you notice a small smudge of melon juice on the corner of his lips. without thinking, you reach up to wipe it away, your thumb brushing softly against his skin. the movement feels natural, almost automatic, but something about the intimacy of it makes your heart flutter. you don’t hesitate, bringing your thumb to your mouth to clean it off.

“mhmm,” you moan. “tastes sweet.”

then, the moment freezes.

yoongi stares at you, eyes wide, as if he’s seeing you for the first time, like the simple action has somehow shifted everything. the air between you thickens, and suddenly, it feels like there’s more than just the space in the kitchen separating you.

you stand still, unsure of what to do next. 

your eyes lock, and in that second, something unspoken passes between you. it’s not just the closeness or the warmth of the kitchen—it’s a pull, an undeniable magnetism that makes your chest tighten and your breath catch.

yoongi’s gaze drops to your lips, and you can feel the tension, the quiet yearning between you both. his hand twitches slightly at his side, like he wants to reach for you, but he’s holding back, waiting for you to make the first move.

and just as you’re about to lean in, your belly gives a sudden flutter.

you gasp, your eyes widening in surprise, and instinctively, you reach for his hand, pressing it gently to your belly. 

“oh my god.”

“what?”

“yoongi… i think… here—”

you hold your breath, waiting, and then—

there it is again. 

a small, unmistakable kick.

yoongi’s eyes light up with awe, his fingers curling slightly around your hand as he feels it, a slow smile spreading across his face. he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, his eyes fixed on your stomach, filled with wonder and something deeper that you can’t quite place.

you squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you both.

“did you feel that?” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips. 

yoongi looks up at you, his eyes softer now, holding something deeper than the simple wonder of the moment. 

the air around you two has shifted into something more intimate. then, his gaze flickers to your face, his heart fluttering in his chest as he steps a little closer, his thumb gently brushing over your hand.

… and as he looks into your eyes, his pulse quickens. 

it’s not just the baby’s kick he feels—it’s this quiet, undeniable pull between you two. his chest tightens with the weight of it, and for a moment; this is everything to him. 

everything.

he gulps as he soaks in your presence and sinks into the idea feeling of love beginning. then, slowly and then all at once; he accepts it. 

“yeah,” yoongi says, tone warm and ever so sure. “i feel it.”

as you look up to meet his eyes, yoongi’s lips tug into a smile. dipping his head low, he kisses you.

[ssentimentals]

Hii can i request mingyu + hurt prompt #34? Thankssss

hi sweets! thank you for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

hurt prompts: 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?'

someone is caressing your hand. it's a nice feeling to wake up, especially when you know who is responsible for said action. mingyu's face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes and you smile a little. mingyu doesn't smile back and memories of last night rush in, reminding you why you're waking beside him and not in his arms. before panic rises, you remind yourself that mingyu is caressing your hand gently now, so everything can't be that mad.

'morning,' you whisper, afraid to talk in a normal voice for some reason.

'morning.' mingyu repeats and clears his throat. 'slept well?'

you don't really remember how you fell asleep; probably knocked out from crying and fighting. arguments with mingyu were rare but whenever they did happen, they sucked all the energy out of you, leaving you drained and exhausted. truth to be told, you don't even remember coming to the bedroom, so mingyu probably carried you here once you fell asleep in the living room.

'not really,' you reply, not feeling rested at all. 'you?'

he shakes his head. when you first started dating, you both promised each other to never go to bed angry, so what happened last night is an exception of sorts. 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?' mingyu asks quietly, voice muffled by the pillow.

your mouth opens but nothing comes out. to your horror, you don't even remember about which things mingyu is talking exactly - a lot of stuff was said yesterday and not all of it was said due to anger or frustration. but mingyu is sensitive, always has been in a much more delicate headspace than you, so you tiptoe around the question, looking for the right answer while also staying honest: 'any of the mean and angry words - no. i love you, gyu, i'd never actually mean any of those. but what i said about the whole thing, like in the beginning, what made me upset in the first place.. yeah, i meant that. i stand by it even now.'

mingyu doesn't say anything at first. he just stares at your hands, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking about your answer. you both treasure honesty the most, so he knows you're being sincere. 'okay.' he settles for in the end, taking a deep breath. 'i also didn't mean everything i said after we moved from the kitchen to the living room.'

you smile and hesitantly interlace your fingers together. 'i know, gyu.'

he nods again and squeezes and when he does that, you feel like you can breathe again. if mingyu is not declining physical contact, if he's still here then you two can work it out. 'we don't have to do it now,' you say, not wanting to get up. 'we can just lay here for a while.'

sigh that mingyu lets out on this is full of relief. 'yes. yes- yeah. please.'

you both move in sync, slotting your bodies together until it's impossible to tell where one ends and another one begins. 'sleep a bit more for now,' mingyu whispers, holding you tight. 'i'll be here when you wake up.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[lu-is-not-ok]

A Narcissistic reading of Hong Lu

Yup, I'm actually doing this.

To lay down some facts first: I have NPD, alongside a bunch of other things that coalesce into a nuclear concoction strong enough to kill every dark empath in a five mile radius. If I find you ableisting it up, I give myself the permission to smite you. This is a threat and a warning.

Now, let's talk about Hong Lu. Because as it turns out, he might just be the most difficult literacy check in Limbus Company according to what I've seen.

I could just say "I'm a narcissist and Hong Lu is just like me fr fr so he's a narcissist too" and end the post, but honestly, where's the fun in that? There are, legitimately, things I want to yap about, so I'm going to yap about them, and no chucklefucks can stop me.

So, to start this off, let's make one thing clear.

Hong Lu is not only a good actor, but also a skilled liar. The way he navigates conversations and the methods he uses are just as important to analyze as the actual words he says, if not more so. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that trying to understand him based Only on what he says and not how he uses the things he says would result in an understanding that's not only incomplete, but potentially outright wrong.

Now, this isn't really tied to why I think Hong Lu could be very reasonably read as having NPD, at least not directly. Narcissists aren't inherently evil liar manipulators, and if that's what you take away from this post, that's more of a you problem (and you can go ahead and block me considering I'm one of the evil liar manipulator narcissists according to you).

However, there is a reason why I have to bring it up. And it's because almost all of Hong Lu's narcissistic traits become a lot more obvious once you look at the exact ways he takes control of conversations.

With that out of the way, what exactly are we even looking for?

NPD, in my experience, primarily affects one's sense of self-worth and self-esteem. I personally found that the analogy of a pendulum makes the most sense to me - a narcissist's sense of self-worth can swing between massive highs and massive lows, almost never staying in a middle "balanced" position, with even the tiniest things being able to throw it to one side or another.

The ways this can present outwardly are. Quite frankly, way too fucking many to count. But there are some common threads we can keep in mind:

High sensitivity to criticism

Need for an external source of validation

Tendency to seek out ways to make oneself feel more special, important, or powerful

So, does Hong Lu fit those criteria?

Well. Yeah. This post wouldn't exist if he didn't.

Let's talk about the first point, high sensitivity to criticism. And, immediately, I would like everyone to remember Hell's Chicken, specifically the scene where Meursault begins to verbally roast his team's dish, and in the process laying down a verbal smackdown on everyone involved. That scene ended like this.

Curious, isn't it? The moment Meursault was about to start criticising Hong Lu, he just jumps in and distracts Meursault with a change of topic - something even Dante's narration points out.

Mind you, this isn't an isolated event. This is just the most obvious example of Hong Lu exhibiting this kind of behavior.

Don't believe me? Just look at these.

These are all examples of Hong Lu either backpedaling, changing the subject, or otherwise trying to avoid the acknowledgement of something that criticizes his status, thought process, or (in the last example) which would reveal an emotional vulnerability.

This is a fairly consistent pattern for him, and that's not even getting into the fact that the line he says when hovering over him before a skill check he has a Very Low chance at succeeding in has him suddenly try to excuse himself and leave.

Hong Lu is absolutely highly sensitive to criticism, it's just that his primary emotional reactions aren't ones we're privy to. Instead, what we get to see is how he acts to try and minimize the impact of those criticisms, if not outright find ways to never let them leave someone's mouth in the first place.

Next up - need for external validation.

This one doesn't have as many examples as the previous point, as Hong Lu is a generally closed off person who keeps a certain level of distance from most other Sinners. However, that doesn't mean I don't have any.

One such example comes from Canto 4, where soon after acting out his part in the play, Hong Lu seeks validation from Yi Sang.

Then there's this moment in Canto 6, where Hong Lu, once again, seeks validation for something he's done.

And then there's also these lines from Hong Lu's various Identities.

Aaaand then there's these base Identity voice lines, which, if you ask me, feel a bit like fishing for compliments.

This point is a lot harder to say is a definitive one, mainly due to Hong Lu's more closed off projected personality. That being said, the fact that one can find examples of it despite that is pretty notable.

And for the final one - trying to make oneself feel more special, important, or powerful.

This is one that's a bit harder to provide exact examples for, as again, Hong Lu isn't someone who talks about how he feels often, and when he does it's not always exactly trustworthy. He's not like Rodya, who while still putting on a facade, is pretty open and easy to read about how she actually feels.

But, there's still some non-mutually exclusive interpretations I want to posit here. Two, in fact.

One - I believe that for Hong Lu, the thing he sees as power is control.

See, avoiding criticism isn't the only time Hong Lu steers conversations. In fact, it's something he does All The Time. He's often the one asking questions to get the group moving, trying to gather information that might be relevant to him, and generally taking over the direction a conversation is going in. Chances are, if Hong Lu speaks up, it's likely to alter the conversation he joins in noticeable ways.

This, I think, is one of the ways Hong Lu makes himself feel more powerful. After all, it's not that hard to guess from what little bits of his background we have that Hong Lu lacked agency for most of his life. So, wouldn't it make sense for him that having that agency, that being able to be socially in control, would be the exact kind of thing that would boost his self-esteem?

In fact, the only times we see him rendered completely speechless, seemingly stripped of that confidence in conversations he usually exhibits, are in Canto 7 - specifically in scenes where he's Not In Control of what the others are talking about. Those scenes being when the other Sinners start shit-talking Xichun in front of him, and when Xichun actively tries to bother Hong Lu by alluding to the way he's been treated back at home.

Extremely confident until something external happens that utterly strips him of that confidence... sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Then, there's the second interpretation.

See, with NPD, there are two ways a narcissist can try to make themself feel more deserving of attention. One is the one most probably think of when they think about narcissists - setting out to fulfill extremely high goals to feel amazing when one reached them and then feeling utterly crushed in the case one doesn't. This would be someone like Rodya.

However, there is also another way, one which I personally have much more experience with - to undersell. To set extremely low expectations, so that it's as hard as possible to fail reaching them, and to feel way better upon surpassing them than one would with higher, more "regular" expectations.

This, to me, is exactly the kind of narcissist Hong Lu is. Think about it. He's constantly putting out this image of an extremely sheltered person that barely understands the outside world, with notable moments where it's made clear he's Just Making Shit Up at points. Wouldn't making one seem unable to do anything, only to then proceed to do things you've led people to not expect of you, make it feel like you're much more exceptional than you really are?

The underselling goes the other way too. When the other Sinners point out something odd about Hong Lu in a more positive way, he's often quick to point out how it's Nothing compared to what his Family expected of him. Wouldn't that make one feel exceptional, to make it seem like whatever effort you're putting in to do well is but a fraction of what else you can do? That you don't even have to try to be able to be special?

...So, there. That's all the analysis and interpretation I find important to do to get my point across.

Just to make it clear, I don't think that the only thing wrong with Hong Lu is the narcissism. There's definitely a lot more shit going on in that head of his. But, I'll be honest, the NPD reading felt so obvious to me that it genuinely took me by surprise that other people don't see it.

Though... maybe I shouldn't be shocked. Some fuckers out there still think Faust is a narcissist when she's literally just autistic.

[disaster-j]

What really pisses me off is people insisting the break-up doesn't make sense as its own thing when it's so clearly in-character for both of them

Buck has been in a serious relationship with a man for six months but hasn't said the word bisexual. We only know that's His Label bc Oliver Stark calls him bisexual outside of the show. Buck has had what seemed to be a perfect fairytale relationship with Tommy bc Tommy made him feel so safe and comfortable and taken care of that he just let everything else about his coming out journey kinda simmer on the back burner.

And, hey, there's nothing wrong with taking your time with that. But considering the scene at dispatch where he still couldn't talk about his sexuality in concrete terms, clearly he hasn't processed it much, if at all. Buck is the guy who dives deep into research at the slightest opportunity, him knowing so little about queerness and queer culture six months into a serious same-sex relationship isn't just out of character but a clear sign that he simply hasn't done any work to explore his sexuality for himself outside of his relationship with Tommy. Whether the writers intended for it read like that or not doesn't matter very much, bc that's exactly what I'm seeing here.

And, again, that alone as a reason to break up with someone is extremely shitty but that's also not what happened.

Tommy clearly has a history of isolating. He's been hurt a lot in the past, we don't need to know the details to know he's a deeply wounded man who spent most of his life guarding his own heart from the world. He told Buck and the audience over and over again, "I look confident. I look sure. I am comfortable. But it took hard work. I wasn't like this before. This is new. This is good but this is scary. I'm working on it I'm working on it I'm working."

He can see that Buck views him as something more, something better, than he thinks he is. Buck loves Tommy, Buck was infatuated with Tommy. Tommy was this perfect guy in Buck's eyes. And that scared Tommy. It intimidated him. But he kept going bc it wasn't a big deal and he could always remind Buck that hey he's just a guy, a guy who had done things wrong for a long time. But Buck never fully grasped it either. Likely bc of how good Tommy made him feel, he struggled to fully grasp that things with Tommy couldn't always be so perfect and good and safe.

They don't talk about that but they keep going bc they like each other bc they're falling in love bc until that six month mark they were both still fairly distracted by how good it felt to be together to really, seriously consider the ramifications of ignoring those not-so-little things they didn't want to face right then.

And then suddenly it's been six months and they're clearly both in love and they're both clearly not ready to be acknowledging that at all. It's been six months and they're just trying to match each other's pace but have never talked about what that pace actually is and then suddenly they're talking about how Tommy used to be engaged to the woman who taught Buck what a real relationship meant and they still aren't even ready to acknowledge they're in love but Buck is already asking to move in together and talking about marriage and they haven't even said i love yous and Buck can't even utter the word bisexual out loud but he wants to jump into living together and fusing their lives together.

But he's not ready for that. As far as Tommy can see he's not ready for that. And if he's asking for something so big when he can't even say the word love then maybe, in Tommy's mind, he'll never truly be able to say it. Maybe they'll keep going like this. Living together and being together but Buck can't face his sexuality as its own thing and Tommy can't face how his trauma affects their relationship and eventually it'll be too much and maybe Buck still wouldn't want to say it and Tommy would push him away like he pushes everyone away and then they'll be right back to that moment, weeks or months or years later, with Buck wanting more but not able to say those words and with Tommy wishing he'd left before it hurt so much.

And sure it hurts to leave now but at least now he's early. Now, Buck hasn't wrapped himself around every piece of his life. Just his heart. At least now he'll hurt but he won't have to move just to get rid of the scent of Evan Buckley perpetually lingering in every corner of his home.

Buck loves Tommy so much he can't imagine a future without him. Tommy loves him so much he can't imagine a future where he gets to keep him.

The break-up makes all the sense in the world. It just doesn't make sense that the break-up wouldn't force them to work on their respective issues and bring them back together stronger in the future.

[oh-no-its-bird]

HELPPP IM CRYING ACTUALLY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THEM???? HONORED TBH????? I love these silly little guys SO much I'm losing my mind over here that u like them enough to write smthn so long ab it, omg don't look at me rn I'm crying

I never thought too much ab Haruka's voice before but tbh now what u described it that way that's just the Official Haruka Voice Take (tm) actually, that is how she sounds now

"I've got nothing better to do, I think she's funny and I want to reinforce her bad habits <3" is so fucking funny and so fucking accurate, this is exactly what is happening in the twins minds actually.

In my notes for their personalities in my notesapp, I just wrote "They're genuinley just the fucking WORST to deal with. Their "I'm going to cause problems on purpose" dials got cranked up to 10 and got stuck that way at birth" which I think sums it up nicely.

I've been writing silly small stuff for them lately to hoard jealously in my notesapp and I think Haru has a genuine mean streak while Hiro is a lot more bark than bite— but also Haru looks and talks a bit gentler while Hiro acts and sounds rougher, so they often give off the opposite impressions. Don't worry Hiro, your brother will do what you aren't strong enough to (crime)

There's all sorts of fun layers to it too, like, considering they're from a clan who tries to shelter it's children— but they're also from the infamously bloody warring states period, who had to bring up their children much quicker and rougher than modern. I think Hiro would have made a wonderful modern day shinobi while Haru is a good example of the inherent violence of the warring states, just buried under good cheer and playfulness. Mmmm phycology,,,

I love their little trio with Shiruka, they are besties and she's also their first real friend their age, while she's kind of but not quite an outcast in her own clan due to her parents poor standing. She's older sibling coded and so tired of their shit but also quietly, perpetually amused by it, which is probably part of why she sticks around. That, plus their clear undying loyalty towards anything and anyone considered "theirs"— a list she's made it on and does her best to reply in kind

They are holding hands and will continue to hold hands together till they inevitably die at ~19 for the good of the village, yippie !!!

At least they'll get to live on in the memory of Hiname,,

Just kidding she dies like 3 years later, whoops!

BUT YEAH THEM !!! I love them so much, I had way too much fun thinking ab just the ecosystem for young shinobi in early konoha.

I have so many more thoughts ab it all tbh, theres no doubt tons of things happening as so many different people and clans settle in to a new normal but I ofc have my focus

I think I accidentally created some sort of little mystery/conflict with my silly meme of Shiruka going "he wants to order break into my clan heirs house" while also stating that she and her family aren't currently in good standing with the Nara main family.

I wasn't thinking ab it too hard when I drew it but now I'm sat over here like "girl why are you helping Haru break into your clan heirs home when you're already most likley on their (or at least their parents) shit list?? Who is the clan heir and why does Haru want to break into their house?? What drama is this??"

I'll probably think harder about it later, I feel like there's potential there

I need to stop thinking so hard ab potential early konoha narrative things bc I refuse to be consumed by it and know I very much will give in to The Voices if I continue

I say that but I'm absoloutley going to continue to think ab them. Actually.

Ough,,, Wolves of the Woods my beloved,,, one day I'll write u,,, one day,,

That said I'm also enamored with Tetsuo as clan heir (someone get him out of there!!!) He's great at it but also really, really does not want the position.

I think when he was younger and Tobirama was visiting the clan, he point blank begged him to take the position— But Tobirama said no, he's a Senju through and through and he's proud to be second to his Anija. A week later, and Tetsuo officially got the title (and maybe cried about it but only just a little and only on the inside)

(Tetsuo is still nursing a tiny grudge over this, though it's lessened slightly since Sakumo's birth)

POV he's in an especially bitchy mood and Tobirama asks him something and he just kind of grumbles, "oh, I'm sorry, are you my clan heir?"

Queue ??????? from like half of those present

He's so cute tho I think he has my favorite design of all of them. He dresses the fanciest for sure— Haruka totally owns similar things (I think the half and half haori is super cute and I want it to be a clan staple) but only wears it on occasions where she needs to, while he's more traditional/conscious of himself and his position, so he dresses like that all the time. He's probably the guy they send to the capital whenever it's necessary and the clan heads presence isn't needed

Random early konoha oc fun fact no one asked for: I have a vague messy fic idea from months ago now that basically amounts to "the Hatake's die before Madara defects to the village, and Kabuto, in practicing Orochimaru's edo tensei in preparation for the final battle, revives them— then manages to lose them in transport before they wake up. Not knowing any better, they flock to Madara to help in his fight"

I love time travel I love drama I love horrible misunderstandings and family/clan drama !!!!!

Uhh take some notes from that:

ANYWAYS THANKS SO MUCH IM SO GLAD U LIKE THEM SORRY FOR MY WORD VOMIT I JUST GET SO EXCITED AB THEM I COULD EXPLODE WITH IT ACTUALLY

Silly, early Konoha lore and oc things drawn while thinking about this post

!!! early konoha my beloved !!! I have so many thoughts ab it, I want to write a fic that's just silly early Konoha things viewed from the perspective of the less important clan members and their everyday lives. I'm aware the audience for that is incredibly small but I have too much fun just thinking ab it to really care!

Ichigo remains the only naruto oc Ive ever actually written for (in one step three steps), tho Haruka has been mentioned in multiple fics of mine now just bc she fills the role of Tobirama + Hashirama's blood aunt that I needed to be filled in my "Kakashi interacts with Tobirama w the knowledge that they are directly related" fics, of which there are now multiple

but yeah, take some silly art and lore comics !! I had fun while making these and will now probably put all these ocs on a shelf where I will not touch them for some more months

[sgiandubh]

Wonder if Sam will take his new legal American bride to Italy? He will be married, although unlike Caitriona's it will be a fake marriage, by 31 Dec. He needs the residency.

Dear Married Anon,

Three possibilities on this one: a) you watched 90 Days Fiancé for way too long and with no attention to details; b) you think I am an idiot, with no legal knowledge or experience; c) you are an idiot, with no legal knowledge or experience.

Your question comes with two strong biases, too: a) that you somehow are privy to such nonsense and b) the old & stale fake vs. organic marriage refrain, regarding C (that, by the way, proves that I did hit a nerve).

I am not very sure to whom exactly do you think you are talking, here. But if I do know one thing is that you, honey, are a Mighty Twat. If you wanted to be consistent with the crap the Gay Crowd spreads around, you could have gone for 'he needs a more solid/credible beard than that', instead of the completely inane 'he needs the residency'. What is he, Burmese? Oh, FFS. And by 'Burmese', I mean exactly this: are his life/personal safety in clear and present danger, in his home country, because of his ethnicity and/or political views? The answer is no, and he could still use his right of asylum. Does he need the US residency in order to secure a better paid job for himself? The answer is no: lots of other avenues can be explored and are routinely being used by thousands of foreign actors/performing artists, in order to legally work and reside in the US. I have even mentioned it before:

(Full October 2023 post, here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/729979831079649280/mordor-says-he-returned-only-for-visa-reasons)

But let's suppose even a nanoshred of what you wrote could technically be correct. When you are an US citizen and you want to bring your significant other to live with you there, you basically are offered two options:

Scenario One: you want to bring your fiancé(e) to the US and get married there. You will need the K-1 visa, as anyone even remotely familiar with that reality show I mentioned knows. That doesn't exactly click with a hastily cobbled 'new American bride' he would marry until December 31 and this is why, according to the US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) own website:

[Source, LOL: https://www.uscis.gov/sites/default/files/document/guides/A2en.pdf]

'You have met each other in person within 2 years before you file this petition'. Who is it, then? The whore? She is French. The chatty influencer? She's 'so over him' (FFS, LOL). Alice 'he's mine and will never be yours'' Panikian? If you think so, you are aff yer heid on cheap gin. Hm? Ashley Hearn? Met her too late and you all know it. A secret lover? ROFLMAO. And psst: Raya girls are just for fun, they don't think homestead. Cross my heart, Anon.

Current and official USCIS average processing time for fiancé petitions at their (logically) California Service Center is:

But it could be as long as 26 months and a half, if he decides to settle for a Vermont beauty (LOOOOOOOL).

You should also know a couple of other things, Anon. First thing is he will not be able to enter the US under the type of visa he currently more than probably holds, in order to do so - that would be a heavily punished immigration fraud:

Mhm. Restrictions on his ability to future immigration benefits/permanent residence, fine and imprisonment. I hope I do not need to further develop, on this one.

Last thing you should have taken into consideration before writing this bullshit is that the fiancé visa would restrict his ability to go back to his own home country during all the waiting time. Why would an actor refuse work opportunities in the UK or in Europe for the sake of a fake marriage, as you called it yourself? Oh, if you only had a brain!

Need I say more about the grueling in-person cross-check interviews ? You should watch a wonderful movie starring Gerard Depardieu (a pig alright, but he is perfect, in there) and Andie MacDowell: it's even called Green Card, LOL. Few things changed since 1990, and if anything, the screw got only tighter. Not to mention the fact he will be unable to work in the US during the waiting process and she will have to prove she can sponsor/provide for him! ROFLMAO.

Scenario Two: you get married abroad and want to bring your spouse to the US, afterwards. You will need to file the Form I-130 (Petition for Alien Relative):

[Source: https://www.uscis.gov/sites/default/files/document/guides/A1en.pdf]

All this does, in reality, is put the spouse in line with thousands of other similar applicants. Residency will be granted only after extensive background checks and this is where I would like to stop for a while, Anon. You are with the Gay Crowd, right? Then how does this logically click with your long established talking point about his 'once very public gay life? Ah: he isn't gay? ROFLMAO. You see, being gay is a bit like being pregnant, Anon: you can't be 'just a little bit pregnant' and you certainly can't be 'just a little bit gay', either. Spare me the drivel 🙄. Kindly note those background checks are dead serious and could result in deportation - thought you should know, before you spew idiocies again.

Onwards with that residency thing:

If S were in Scotland/the UK when the 'legal fake bride' would file in the petition, he would not be allowed to come visit or work in the US: why would an actor be forced to turn down lucrative opportunities in Hollywood or elsewhere in the country, for the sake of bearding or circus only? And while S could technically apply for permanent resident status if he already were in the US at the time of the application for I-130, he would still not be able to work and therefore must be sponsored by the 'legal bride'. ROFLMAO, again.

I mean, this is so ridiculous I could cry. He would be invited to come to the US only after the petition is approved, which does not click with your suggested timeline and the seeming 'emergency situation' ('he NEEDS the residency', your ask shouts at the Entire Universe) . Why the haste? Just because you wanted to somehow shoehorn it in, somewhere before Inauguration Day? I have no words, but my paunch hurts with laughing right now.

Finally let's have a look at processing current times:

But it could go as long as...

I cannot stress enough that permanent residency will be granted only after the processing time is completed.

Why, oh, why would someone so inextricably complicate his entire existence in such an idiotic fashion, Anon? And finally, give me and yourself a break and read the damn political room, here, too. I will not elaborate, but I surely hope you do not live under a rock.

I rest my case, thank you, fuck off.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers: Character Interviews (Kant/Bison Focus)

So this proved to be super interesting. Let us see what can be gleaned from these brief little interview segments with Kant and Bison.

Immediately, I'm struck by how serious and stoic Kant comes across. He has a very mature aura, and is quite hard to read (which I guess is a plus considering what he gets up to). I didn't expect this, based on how flirty and forward he appeared to be in the trailer, and that makes me wonder if it's all part of a persona he's playing. That the real Kant is more measured and introspective, or whether Bison brings it out of him.

A notable trait that gets mentioned repeatedly is Kant's care for his brother Babe. I believe Khao has made a similar comment about him being family-oriented. It makes a tonne of sense to me as to why Bison would be drawn to a 'family man'; someone who has strong family values, when Bison's essentially been rejected by his own.

"My goal in life is to make sure my brother grows up into a good man. I want to make sure he doesn't feel like he's lacking anything. We're all we've got right now." "I just live day by day, just keeping with my goal which is making sure my brother grows up well." This is so telling of Kant's mentality. Not only does it suggest that Kant is a stand-in parent of sorts, but that he doesn't live for himself. (Which could be something of a parallel to Bison - who is unable to live by his own rules). His goals centre entirely on his loved ones' needs being met and supporting them. This definitely gives provider with self-sacrificing tendencies.

"I feel like my goal is just to make sure my loved ones get to live their dreams. For now, I just want my brother to have a good life. But one day, if someone comes into my life and I love them, my goal would be to make sure they get to achieve their dreams." This again is such a selfless, touching sentiment. The desire to aid your loved ones to actualise their dreams, possibly before or over your own. I expect Kant will be a very doting, nurturing soul. (Lucky Bison).

I wonder if Kant and Fadel will empathise with one another over their respective little brothers, and the sense of responsibility that comes with it. Bonding opportunity perhaps?

The most mysterious thing Kant says is "One more thing I'm not a big fan of is the beach." (The reason is personal). Curious. First has specifically talked about filming on the beach, where they were able to do a lot more improv. Any speculations on the above are wide open.

Now let's move onto our resident Murder Kitten. Bison comes across as a real sweetie-pie based on everything we've seen thus far. He's very animated and expressive. Khao very deliberately uses a softer, lighter vocal register as Bison, which just accentuates this darling image. A real child at heart who wants to make up for a life he didn't get to lead. "I go out, I'm just trying to live outside the burger shop." His childhood dream about seeing the northern lights is just another example of a boy who has daydreamed of escape, and welcomes any excuse to be as far away from his actual life as possible. He also mentions being fond of a stray cat who resides near their burger bar, who he enjoys feeding and playing with. (Note: I need to have scenes of this in the show PURR-LEASE).

Everything about Bison as a person is so at odds with his violent lifestyle, which seems to be a pivotal conflict of Bison's character arc. It does beg the question of what if Bison had never been adopted, what kind of life would he be living instead? And I think this correlates to Kant's desire for Bison to have a new start.

Another note that's we've heard before in the pilot is "I also don't like liars", no doubt foreshadowing the fallout when he finds out Kant did exactly that. I do think it's likely that whatever drives Kant to take the detective job has reasons to do with his brother. He may wish to clear his record of anything untoward for his brother's sake. Based on this premise, when Bison does find out Kant's underlying motivations for doing this, I think that will help soothe any hard feelings.

On a side note - I've seen a comment mention that Kant apparently calls Bison 'kitten' in the novel. ERM HULLO?!! I will allow one spoiler, and that is whether this is true or not. And if so, I DEMAND that it is a featured pet name in the show, because why on earth would you miss an opportunity like that?

[flover4ever]

first date⋆.˚ ౨ৎ ˚ ˖࣪

a/n: i think abt matt and karen's date in that restaurant all the time. such a perfect scene! i wanted to capture that energy. i've always wanted to write a matt x librarian! oc fic. but times are tough and i can never commit to things lol. here's a snippet of what could have been. also, i am not from new hampshire. but oh my god, how pretty!!!!! im jealous.

warning: matt murdock x librarian! oc

matt didn't think his night could go any better. in front of him, he's got the most beautiful girl of his dreams. she told him that he is wearing a white cardigan and light blue dress, the fabric reaches the ground. she told him that the kids from the library tell her it reminds them of when the sky is clear of clouds, only sunny and blue.

matt takes a sip of his wine. "you got family in new york?"

"no," she shakes her head, taking a sip of her water (when he first asked her out, he wanted to take her to drinks. but marianne has sworn off drinking for life). "moved here three years ago."

matt's eyebrows raised. matt realized just how little he knew about her, despite how marianne was the common thread in nelson & murdock. "where are you from?"

"new hampshire." said marianne, a small smile peaking through her, like the first ray of sunshine. "it's beautiful there, so much color and life."

"god, it's hard to describe it," she said. matt loved how she described things, down to its smallest details. she talks in such a cadence akin to deep flowing rivers to morning birds. she can make her grocery list sound like a love poem. "it's hard to capture that beauty... sense of awe at the life around you, you know?"

matt smiled, so hard his cheeks started to hurt. he was sure he'd grow smile lines by the time he's forty if he keeps this up. maybe it was worth it. for marianne. "yeah," he muttered, almost lost in a trance.

"why'd you come to new york, then?" he's genuinely curious, his head titled to the side. "i mean, you make new hampshire seem like another planet next to New York."

marianne laughs, a giddy and joyous thing. "new hampshire's home. but new york, it never leaves you know? even with the grim and grit, there's something or someone that just makes you want to stay. when I interned here in hell's kitchen, the only thing that kept me moving was the kids. story times, their little faces, their constant questions. all of it. it gave me purpose."

matt hears marianne's heart race, the kind that spoke to one's sense of passion. it was almost melodic, the rapid yet enchanting rhythm of muscle.

"nobody truly understands that they're the future," said marianne. "our future. i want to give something to them, something irreplaceable."

"like reading?"

"yeah," she sighs, like talking about the children of hell's kitchen filled her with such fervor, she couldn't contain it. "exactly."

"but working with the best lawyers in new york is a definitely a bonus," she adds, holding up her glass of water, the ice swirling against the glass.

marianne narrates what she's about to do, matt chuckles as he does the same, their glasses clinking.

"what about you?" marianne rested her head on her hand, her heartbeat starting to race as she met his eyes. though their gaze would never be able to meet, his dark gaze became her favorite shade of brown. it wasn't like hers, like earth's dirt in new hampshire's wilderness-- it was gold, shining like embers.

"me?" matt raised his eyebrows.

"yeah," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, her vegan samosas long gone by now. "what made you want to be an attorney?"

"it was my father really," said matt. "he was a boxer. . . caught up with the wrong people. and when i was nine, he died. i tried giving him justice, but no luck. i guess i just don't want any nine year old matt's to feel the same way i did."

"like what?"

"helpless."

marianne's gaze softened. "you're a good man, matt."

"i think you are good, too, marianne," says matt. "better than me."

and he meant it. for years when darning the suit of daredevil, he feels as if there is a twisted part of him taking over his soul. every punch felt one step closer to that. being matt murdock, keeps him grounded-- but that wouldn't be possible without foggy, or karen, or marianne.

marianne seems like she doesn't have to try. she is effortlessly good and pure. and maybe there is a twisted side to her that she hasn't shown to him. but he's hanging out the hope that this is who she truly is. a person who is kind and good at her core, even if she had to eat through the rotten parts of herself. maybe that's what makes her truly good.

[rawstfish]

did you tell your cishet that you were mad at him and that's why you didn't talk to him for two days? i also think it's good that you aren't friends with him anymore (based on what you've posted about him). if he's not taking your gender identity fr then maybe it's not worth it to continue talking to him

Well he knew I was mad at him, we liked to piss each other off, but sometimes it went too far. But yeah that's why I didn't talk to him because he like really pissed me off, so I gave him the silent treatment because I don't like talking to people when I'm mad. I wanted like a clear head when I talked to him also. Umm, he never knew about me being non-binary. He just knew I was bi. Which, as far as I could tell, he didn't care about. He also never said that he like... had a problem with it. I literally think he got so mad that I was mad at him and that he's having a moment. I'm hoping he comes back 🤞🤞🤞

[unnonexistence]

hermann thoughts: if i discredit newton and his approach enough, the martial won't give him the equipment for his kaiju drift, and i can protect him from himself. if he despises me for it, so be it. there is little i wouldn't sacrifice to see him safe.

newt thoughts: this is a Best Science competition and i have to Win

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[xinganhao]

🪐 boy best friend!mingyu.

@tubasebongs → "I WOULD LIKE MINGYU CLINGY/POUTY BOY BEST FRIEND WHO LIKES YOU AND HE TRIES TO HIDE IT BUT FAILS AND STILL TOO PAINFULLY OBVIOUSLY 🙏🏻🙏🏻"

⌗ ┆threw in another trope because mingyu is childhood best friend coded (⋟﹏⋞) lost the ask in my inbox (i'm so sorry!!!) but i hope this still hits the mark :'-)

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: boy best friend!mingyu, childhood friend!mingyu, fluff fluff fluff!!!, cussing, pining/idiot in love/etc., confession -ish, headcanons under the cut.

🪐 headcanons .ᐟ

because of course kim mingyu is the boy next door. your mothers are friends and that's how you meet him, how you essentially grow up with him, even. he's a lively kid— loud and sociable, fond of roughhousing and buying candy at the corner store.

mingyu is the type to have defended you on the playground, his little hands balled in to fists as he plants them at his hips. at the age of six, he's not really capable of inciting fear, but he'll damn well try. as early as then, he's already referring to you as 'my best friend.' "yah, that's my best friend!" "don't make my best friend cry!" "what did you say about my best friend?!"

mingyu's overbearingness wanes a bit as you grow up, as you begin to insist that you can fight your own battles. the title is the one thing that doesn't change. it doesn't matter if you go on to not be classmates anymore, if you run different circles. you are mingyu's best friend and he's yours.

it's a fact that mingyu makes abundantly clear to everyone he meets. hell, even strangers aren't spared by the casual ways in which he manages to bring you up. "excuse me, but your hat is really nice and i think my best friend would like it. may i know where you bought it?" "oh, my best friend loves that artist too!" "you think my shoes are nice? thank you, my best friend got it for me."

mingyu is the picture perfect cliché of the best friend. he lives to annoy you, to rile you up and test your patience, but he also knows you like the back of his hand. it's something that you reciprocate— the cat and dog fights belied only by the deep concern and consideration that you both undeniably have for each other.

if he's honest, mingyu isn't all too sure when things shifted. (the answer: somewhere around adolescence, on an unassuming weekend spent at an arcade.) he just found that he kept wanting a little more. wanted to annoy you a little more so you would keep looking his way. wanted to talk to you a little more so you would think of him, too. mingyu isn't sure when his feelings started, but he knows they're not about to end any time soon.

it drives mingyu absolutely insane, initially, because he's seen how these things go! he's sat through all your favorite romcoms, has idly watched his mother's weekly dramas. falling in love with your best friend only ends well in fiction. in real life, in his life? he's not so sure.

mingyu isn't about to start avoiding you, though. isn't going to run from his feelings like a bunch of other people do. you always say he's dramatic when he says so, but he's at least half-serious when he says he can't live without you. and so he gives himself a stern talking to, a set of rules to follow— he won't tell you. he won't put you in that position, where you have to choose. he'll just go about things as he always does.

and, most importantly: mingyu refuses to look at your friendship as a consolation prize. it is not a silver medal, not a second-best to a potential romantic relationship. it is the best thing, being your best friend, and he's not about to put that on the line.

one thing mingyu fails to take in to account: just how painfully obvious he is. he doesn't have to confess to you. it bleeds in to everything he says and does. everyone knows, from his family to his friends to your family. they're all not so sure, either, when the exactly mingyu went from just acting friendly to being at your every whim without you even asking, but it's as clear as day.

mingyu thinks he's slick. on the rare occasions he's called out, he'll scoff and deny. "me? in love with my best friend? that's crazy." deny, deny, deny. that's mingyu's game for years and years, until people just give up on asking and wait for one or the other: for him to crack or for you to notice.

being best friends with a mingyu who's hopelessly in love with you is a carousel of moments: a dozen pouty selfies a week, incessant texts blowing up your phone, facetime calls where he's drunk and whining to be picked up. and more: the smell of his cologne on almost all of your things, the passport photo of you that he keeps behind his clear phone case, a specific smile that he reserves for when you're not looking.

really, it's just like mingyu for his eventual confession to be unceremonious, unprompted. all it takes is for you to make one offhand joke (time for you to confess to me, kim mingyu) and for mingyu to take that just a little too seriously (holy shit, have i been that obvious).

mingyu thought he'd take this 'secret' to the grave, honestly. or maybe he'd bring it up when you're both old and gray, and you can hit him over the head with a cane or something. but now it's out in the open, now it's something he can't take back— and, well, there's only one last thing for him to do: hope for the goddamn best.

extras 📱 texts from mingyu ➤ friends.

[cuddleprofiler]

FAINTING & FEVER - When you confess your deep buried feelings to your boss in your fever.

Summary: Hiding a fever? Check. Passing out? Check. Confessing your feelings to your boss? Wait woah?

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader, BAU x platonic!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: fever, fainting, rest is good I guess.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This was supposed to be platonic but I didn't feel like it is romantic :) This is my first time writing any non-platonic work. All the pics I have inserted are more clear when clicked if you want to see (Tumblr did something). Positive Criticism is welcomed.

"So, what are you ladies up to tonight?" Morgan asked while driving, his focus on the road. You'd just finished a case, and as usual, Morgan was eager to make plans before another case thrust you back into the world's horrors.

"Well," JJ began with a sigh, eyebrows raised, "I'm going to spend the whole day resting with my boys." She finished with her radiant smile.

"What about you, Prentiss?" Morgan glanced at Emily in the passenger seat.

"No plans yet, but who knows? I might have something by the time we land."

"L/N?" Derek called out when he realized you hadn't answered, lost in your own world.

You sat beside Spencer, staring out the window, oblivious to your surroundings. The heat you felt was consuming every coherent thought.

"L/N?"

"Huh? What did you say?" you asked, turning your head so quickly that JJ and Spencer wondered how you didn't get whiplash. Your voice remained calm and soft.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

"Why wouldn't I be, Spencer?" you replied, mustering a small smile to maintain your façade.

"You just seem...down," he commented, studying you intently. You gave him another small smile, shook your head, and winced. Your head felt as if it had been struck by an invisible hammer. Spencer either didn't notice your wince or chose not to comment.

"You up for some fun tonight?" Morgan asked again, though you were barely aware.

"What fun?" you frowned. The way he said "fun" made you think it might not be the kind you'd enjoy.

"Seriously, sweet girl? You're spending way too much time with Reid. I'm talking about bars, drinks, and if you get lucky, then maybe—" Morgan started with a Cheshire grin, while your eyes widened.

"No," you said in a high-pitched tone, embarrassed at the thought of hooking up with a random guy when you already loved someone.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Come on. We don't get many days off, L/N. You should enjoy them when you can."

"Morgan, I can't," you said, shifting uncomfortably.

"And why is that, sweet girl?"

"Hey! Garcia will take offense if you call someone else 'sweet girl,'" you said with a smile, appreciating his use of a nickname for you.

"Nah. My baby girl will never be offended by this, and you're not just someone else," he replied confidently.

"But answer the question, sweet girl," he prompted, aware you were avoiding it. He assumed your hesitation was due to your reluctance to go out, knowing how you and Reid felt about drinking and socializing.

"I've got some work to do, Morgan. Also, I'm tired," you said, leaning your head back.

Morgan's expression changed instantly.

"Go straight home when we land, Y/N, not to Hotch's office. Whatever files you have to work on can wait. If I didn't know him better, I'd say he's making you do overtime."

"Exactly. Hotch will understand, and there's no need to tire yourself out," Spencer added softly.

Their concern warmed your heart. "Of course, gentlemen," you replied, amusing the others.

The conversation drifted back to their plans while you gazed out the window, watching amoeba-shaped clouds float slowly across the sky. The view was therapeutic, but you didn't tell them how awful you were feeling.

When you woke up that morning, it felt as if hell had descended upon Earth just for you. Your muscles ached, protesting and begging you to return to bed, but you couldn't. Lives were at stake, a case needed solving. Now, the muscle pain had given way to a headache and constant zoning out.

You longed to get home as soon as possible, yearning for your fluffy blankets to engulf you completely, save for your head. You hoped your phone might end up in a ditch for the day, allowing you to remain in your cozy cocoon until you felt well enough to face the world��and potential case calls—again.

Soon, you arrived at the airstrip, where Emily and JJ surrounded you.

"So, where's your mind wandering today?" Emily asked with a mischievous grin. Before you could answer, JJ chimed in.

"In dreams of Hotch, of course. Right, Y/N?" You quickly shushed her, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard.

"JJ, Emily, we're at the airstrip," you whispered urgently. "Someone might hear you. It's supposed to be a secret. Sometimes I think you and Garcia are determined to let Hotch find out." You began trudging toward the plane, feeling drained.

They both laughed and high-fived.

"We do want you two together," Emily said.

"You should tell him yourself," JJ added. "Besides, if he overhears by accident, it'll only speed up your love life."

"By the way, Y/N, will you only go out with us if Hotch is there too?" Emily teased.

"Guys!" you groaned as they laughed.

Your crush on Hotch had started early in your tenure, initially based on his looks. But it deepened into something more profound, to the point where his well-being affected you deeply. You felt terrified when he faced dangerous situations. That's when you knew you were in trouble.

There was no way he'd fall for someone who could barely speak to him. You had your reasons for avoiding him. The days leading up to this decision were hellish. Never had you stumbled over your words as much as you did then. And what did he do?

He always gave you a patient look and nodded softly, encouraging you to speak your mind. It was manageable until you started losing yourself in his eyes or staring at his face constantly. After that, you ensured you were never alone with him except when working on case files. You began doing this so he could go home early and rest, reasoning that a few extra files wouldn't impact your time.

You were startled from your reverie by the memory of Garcia suggesting that Hotch might like you too. You still don't believe her, but a girl could hope.

"If it gets too much, I want you to pull out."

"Sir?" you asked, confused, looking up from your gun at your boss, who was surveying the team preparing to ambush the unsub's house.

"Everyone has off cases, L/N, but with time, most of us have learned to deal with it. Still, we pull ourselves out when needed. You're still new. So, pull out if necessary. Do you understand me?" he said, now looking at you, his gaze sweeping over your shorter form. You looked up at him intently, lost in his eyes until he raised an eyebrow. You could have sworn you saw his eyes soften slightly.

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Hotch, Y/N." With that, he walked towards the rest of the team as you hurried to catch up.

Back at the FBI building, you dashed to Garcia's lair. She was your first friend, and you both had a tendency to ramble about various topics. Sometimes Reid joined in. As soon as you saw her, you hugged her. Hugging Garcia was like therapy—you could feel your worries, guilt, and other negative emotions leaving your body. You felt yourself relax, your body lighter. You called it "Garcia magic”! It was an added bonus that Garcia was fond of physical affection.

When you told her about Hotch's words and your feeling that he was worried and all other incidents where he acted the same—though you thought that was impossible—she flashed her beaming smile, all her white teeth showing. Her eyes, however, held the amusement of knowing something you didn't.

"I didn't know sweet cheeks, he cares for you this much." Garcia mused, clearly pleased by what you'd shared.

This much? And what do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity evident.

"Hmm hmm. He looks at you the same way Will looks at JJ. He's so soft with you and he isn't like this with anybody. Maybe except Jack of course."

“Garcia there’s no way in hell he likes me. Maybe he was trying to be sweet.” you asked her trying not to get your hopes up.

This is a paradox. You are sure. Damn sure! Garcia began laughing while you gave her an incredulous look. She didn’t stop until you threw a teddy at her. “My sweet sweet girl, Hotch is never sweet with anyone. Ask Emily about it if you are unsure but nope nada in my so many years of being at BAU, he’s never sweet with anyone.”

"Maybe you are overthinking this Garcia. Hotch and I don't even know each other.”, you mumbled looking at your hands in your lap.

“That is an argument I will have with you on another day but what I'm saying is that Hotch likes you.", she says with a small almost sad smile.

"If you want you can observe him. You're a profiler baby. Yow will know.", she added gleefully.

Henceforth, you observed Hotch as profiling team members was off-limit. He had a tendency to smile at you softly and he didn’t offer others the same amount of options that he did to you , but you attributed this to being new. You were certain he'd show his more authoritative side once you were no longer considered the newest member. Definitely!

Lost in these thoughts, you suddenly felt your vision blur and your surroundings distort.

"Whoa! You okay?" Emily asked as she grabbed your forearm, while JJ held the other. They exchanged concerned looks when you didn't answer immediately. You shook your head slightly and replied,

"Yeah, yeah. Just slipped."

They didn't seem convinced but didn't press further.

"Be careful," JJ said, patting your shoulder.

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled, trying to regain your composure.

Hotch and Rossi chatted as they walked, their conversation drifting from Jack's football to other topics. Before they knew it, they'd arrived at the airstrip. As Hotch boarded the plane, he froze in surprise. You were seated next to his usual spot—an unexpected sight, given your habit of avoiding him outside of group settings or work situations. Your presence there felt nothing short of miraculous.

Not wanting to give Rossi a chance to tease him, Hotch quickly sat beside you. He was certain you hadn't noticed his arrival, as you were deeply engrossed in the case report—something you rarely worked on during flights.

His attention shifted back to Rossi when the older agent began discussing plans for a pasta dinner. From the corner of his eye, Hotch caught you glancing up, offering both him and Rossi a small smile before burying yourself in the file again. It was odd, considering the report wasn't due for days.

He didn't want to finish it quickly, knowing an empty home awaited him. No one would be there to greet him—just silent walls. Jack was on vacation with Jessica's family for the next few days, leaving Hotch alone in the city. He stole another quick glance at you, resisting the urge to look more often.

Hotch was sure he would never fall in love again after Hayley. He loved her from such a young age and so much that loving someone else felt betraying the love he had bestowed upon Hayley all those years. Even after getting a divorce, he didn't stop loving her completely. Sometimes, he liked to believe they separated not because they fell out of love, but because their love was so intense that their arguments became too painful. However, he knew this wasn't the reality. He sighed and pulled out his file.

His thoughts soon drifted to you. Lately, contemplating love inevitably led him to think of you. Sometimes you don't know what hit you until it does. Falling in love with you was the same. He was falling in and never realised until the day he got a letter. From you.

Hotch had slowly fallen in love with you. That was the truth of his life, he stayed away from for a long time. How could he stay away when your every action seemed to win his heart anew? Each time he learned something new about you, he fell a little deeper.

You were a sweet addition to the team. It didn't mean you were all the time sunshine. Everyone learnt that the hard way. He mentally chuckled at the fight you and Morgan had over dark chocolate to the extent you were ready to beat him black and blue. However, your sweet gestures towards everyone on the team always warmed his heart.

He reminded himself to remain professional. After all, he was on a plane with a group of profilers who could decipher his feelings in minutes if given the chance.

"L/N, can you tell me about the—"

"L/N?" Hotch called out again, surprised you didn't hear him the first time. Still, you didn't reply. Rossi also looked up.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He said, touching your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened?" You looked like a deer caught in headlights, making both Hotch and Rossi confused.

"Nothing happened. I was just asking you about the case," he replied, looking at you. You were looking...different. It was as if every laugh and joy had been drained from your life.

"I'll be right back," you said, standing up and moving before Hotch had a chance to stop you.

The moment you stood up, you knew you shouldn't have done that. You were far better sitting down. Now the pounding in your head intensified, along with the feeling of being shaken up to the point where you could see everything oscillating. You tried to keep yourself still, hoping your surroundings would become normal.

The next thing you knew, everything went black.

Hotch saw you swaying and moved instinctively. He caught you, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder, trying to keep you up while you were dead weight. However, it wasn't as easy as it seemed in the movies.

"Y/N? Y/N. Hey, wake up!"

"Y/N!" He squeezed your body against him.

However, his yelling got him nowhere. You didn't respond, lying still in his arms as if you were taking a nap. Hotch would have believed it if he hadn't seen you go down in front of his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out again, softly this time, yet the response was the same. He swept your hair back from your face.

Unable to keep you up, he gently lowered both of you onto the aisle. He moved his hands to your shoulders, gently shaking you, but you showed no sign of waking up.

He didn't notice anyone else until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Rossi sitting beside him, looking alarmed by the happenings. Morgan was above your head. The rest of the team was also hovering.

"What happened, man?" Morgan asked while taking the sweater Reid offered and putting it under your head.

Hotch didn't answer. He himself didn't know what was wrong with you. One minute, you were standing and the next plummeting down like the apple which led to the discovery of gravity. His hand went to your cheeks, where he felt the heat radiating. His frown appeared and deepened as he touched your forehead.

"She's burning up!" Hotch said worriedly, still keeping his tone full of calmness while his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. Having a fever is one thing but passing out from it is entirely another. He couldn't help but feel the small burning sensation in his chest at the thought of being ill, even if it was a fever.

You could hear people talking, but why would there be people at your home? You scrunched your face and blinked your eyes multiple times before fully opening them. Everything was blurry at first, but soon it became clear, along with the horrible pounding in your head. You tried to sit up, but a firm pair of arms pushed you back.

"Hey Bella, don't try to get up. Stay still."

"Wha-what happened?"

"You fainted," Hotch said. The rest of them had dispersed, knowing Hotch would take great care of you and that a crowd wouldn't help much.

"I don't feel good," you groaned, your hand massaging your head.

"Yeah, I gathered that much. Tell me what's exactly wrong, L/N?" Hotch had your hand in his, rubbing it softly to ease the pain in any way he could.

"I don't feel good," you mumbled again with half-closed eyes. You were mostly disoriented from what Hotch could figure out.

"You have a fever."

"I do?"

It was taking you time to gather what was happening. He blamed the fainting and fever. It took you time, but you slowly opened your eyes fully when you noticed Hotch still sitting at the edge of the sofa. He still held your hand, and your legs were on his lap. Being in touch with him felt like second nature; you didn't even notice until you opened your eyes. You quickly tried to pull back your legs and hand, but Hotch stopped you with his hold.

"Don't move so much, Y/N. Relax," his voice soft and calming, as always.

You sat in silence for the rest of the journey, which wasn't very long. You were clutching onto his forearm as he helped you sit up to go home. When you came outside the plane,

"Hotch, I can go home by myself," you began, your voice small, hoping to regain some of the dignity you lost after fainting in front of your entire team.

"Y/N, you can't stand straight, and you want to drive home by yourself?" Hotch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There are other ways to be suicidal than this, sweet girl," Morgan quipped, walking beside you, not that you noticed. You looked up at him and then at Hotch, concern shining in both of their eyes.

"I'm not joking," you huffed.

"Neither are we," Morgan said.

"Y/N, it's final. I'm taking you home," Hotch ordered. That's what it felt like to you.

Hotch had an arm around your waist, supporting you as your body threatened to collapse. He hurried towards your apartment, aware of your rising fever. He couldn't give you medicine without food, but he was grateful for your unfiltered speech—it revealed the extent of your discomfort.

"You know, Hotch?" you began as he fumbled with the door. You leaned against the wall for support.

"Dahlias are my favourite flowers. They symbolize change, dignity, and elegance."

"They're native to Mexico, right?" he replied as you entered the apartment.

"Yeah! You know about them?" you asked, turning your face abruptly.

"Easy, honey. No sudden moves," he cautioned. "And yes, I've picked up a few facts over the years."

"I've always loved them. So colourful, bright, and beautiful," you laughed softly.

Hotch had never heard you speak so freely. He found himself enchanted by your voice, certain you could rival Reid in flower trivia.

After settling you on the sofa, Hotch fetched water, fruit, and medicine. You tossed your shoes aside and reluctantly took the pills, groaning as you slumped back.

"You should change into something more comfortable," Hotch suggested, removing his own shoes.

You looked at him, startled. Realizing his phrasing, he quickly clarified, "I mean, you should put on some comfy clothes."

At his insistence, you changed. When you returned, Hotch had shed his coat and tie, his shirt partially unbuttoned.

"Aren't you going home?" you asked, confused.

"I'll stay tonight, in case you need anything."

"There's no need, Hotch. You must be exhausted from the case. Go home and rest. I'll be fine."

"Y/N, it's better if someone's with you tonight. You fainted on the plane. I wouldn't be able to relax not knowing how you're doing," he admitted, his voice soft.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and pillow. You both decided to watch Star Wars.

Partway through the movie, you turned to Hotch, staring intently.

"You know, Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Like, really, really love you," you said with a lopsided smile.

Hotch froze, completely still. He hadn't been this motionless since he first held Jack, afraid of hurting his newborn son. He never imagined you reciprocated his feelings, but he knew if he didn't get the conversation going right now, he not going to know about your feelings when you are not loopy due to medicine.

“Yea?”

"Mm-hmm. You're so wonderful and adorable and just... so cute. Yeah, you're intimidating at work, but the rest of the time? Totally cute."

"Oh, am I?"

Though your tongue was loosened by the medicine, you were more lucid than you let on. Having suppressed these feelings for so long, you couldn't stop now that you'd started. You wanted to tell him everything—him about all those feelings that you shouldn't have about him but you do, how couldn't help but fall for him slowly and every day seeing him made your day.

He was so handsome! His pretty dark brown chocolate-coloured eyes are swoon-worthy. Whenever you look into them, you feel hypnotized, unable to look away from them but not being present in the time; you often find yourself lost in them, forgetting his words as you gaze at him. Right now, he was looking directly at you, and you were drowning in his gaze.

How does he not realize the effect he has when he looks at someone like this?

Hotch's smile grew with each word you spoke.

"You're so handsome, ridiculously handsome. Have you seen yourself under that table lamp? You look like some movie hero poring over case files."

He blushed and glanced away at your flood of compliments. You cupped his face, turning it back to you, your eyes wide and intent. His smile made your frown melt into the biggest grin he'd ever seen on you. You looked beautiful.

"I just really like you, but I know you don't like me," you said, your voice small.

He frowned at your words.

"I love you too, honey, but I'll give you the full answer when you're well enough to remember it. Word for word," he replied softly.

You squealed with delight.

"You aren't just saying this to spare my feelings, right?" you mumbled a few moments later.

He cradled your face in his hands. "I would never say such a thing just to spare someone's feelings, Y/N. I love you. More than you can imagine."

Your questioning continued throughout the movie, but you refused to turn it off.

"You must have had many admirers in college. How many girlfriends did you have?" you asked, your head resting on his shoulder while his hand on your waist pulled you closer. Both of you kept your eyes on the TV.

"I only had one."

"No, you're lying. You're far too handsome to have had only one girlfriend your entire life."

'You can become the second.'

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, sweetheart."

"Did you just call me sweetheart?"

"You're imagining things, L/N. It's a common symptom of high fever. Of course, I didn't call you sweetheart, honey."

"Oh, but I—you just called me—"

"What?"

"Never mind. I must be imagining it."

"Yes, you're definitely imagining things."

[starsenha]

WET DREAMS / L.H

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x roommate!dom!heeseung

Genre ◊ SMUT, roommates to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), cursing, neck kisses, nipple play, petnames, praising, dirty talk, fingering, kind of needy!hee, oral (f. receiving), bigdick!hee, unprotected sex (wrap it up ppl), rough

Word count ◊ 7,4k

Summary ◊ when heeseung moved in with you, Jake's friend, he knew it was a bad idea the moment he saw you for the first time because you were exactly his type. But it became even worse when he started making wet dreams about you.

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You were just another broke college student trying to survive the semester when your old roommate decided to move out, leaving you with a hefty rent and an empty room. Desperate for a new roommate, you posted an ad on your school's website. Enter Heeseung, a friend of Jake's – and since Jake was a solid guy, you figured Heeseung would be too. From the moment he moved in, it was clear this was going to be interesting. Heeseung was charming and easy to get along with, but there was one tiny problem: you were exactly his type. Beautiful, sexy, teasing, playful, but also cute and funny. After just a week, the tension between you two was undeniable. It would be a lie to say you didn't feel the same. The sparks were real, and living together was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

But everything became weird after that night: the night he had his first sex dream about you.

Heeseung lounged on the couch, a textbook open in his lap, though his mind was miles away. The apartment was quiet except for the occasional creak and hum from the old pipes. Heeseung was drifting off, and before he knew it, he was deep in a dream.

In his dream, the living room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps. He heard the soft patter of your bare feet on the hardwood floor before he saw you. You were wearing nothing but his oversized shirt, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was tousled, and there was a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

"Hey," you purred, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "Whatcha doing?"

Heeseung's breath hitched as he looked up at you, his mouth suddenly dry. "Just… studying," he managed to say, though his voice was thick with desire.

You sauntered closer, a playful smirk on your lips. "Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for a reply, you slid onto the couch, your leg brushing against his. Heeseung's pulse quickened as you leaned in, your lips so close to his ear that he could feel your warm breath.

"You know," you whispered, "I've noticed the way you look at me."

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his thigh, dangerously close to the edge of his shorts. "Oh, I think you do." Your fingers danced lightly over the fabric, teasing him. "I see the way your eyes linger."

His resolve crumbled, and he turned to face you, his hand cupping your cheek. "You're driving me crazy," he confessed, his voice a low growl.

"Good," you replied, your eyes dark with want. "Because I've been wanting you too."

He crashed his lips against yours, a hungry, desperate kiss that spoke of all the pent-up desire between you. You moaned into his mouth, your body pressing against his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you.

Heeseung's hands roamed over your body, slipping under the shirt to feel the smooth skin beneath. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The air was thick with the scent of arousal, and Heeseung was lost in the sensation of you.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding up to cup your breast.

You whimpered, your back arching as you pushed into his hand. "I want you, Hee. I want you to take me right here."

Heeseung growled in response, his hand slipping between your thighs to find you wet and ready. He stroked you lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he muttered, his voice rough with need.

"Only for you," you whispered, your hips bucking against his hand.

With a low groan, Heeseung positioned himself over you, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you. He entered you slowly, savoring the way you stretched around him, your moans music to his ears. "God, you feel so good," he breathed, his forehead resting against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Faster, Heeseung," you begged. "I need you."

Heeseung complied, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The couch creaked beneath you, but he didn't care. All that mattered was how delicious and incredible you felt around him. Your nails scratched down his back, leaving marks that would linger long after.

"You're fucking mine," Heeseung growled, his pace relentless. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your body trembling as you neared the edge. "Only yours."

With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung sent you spiraling into bliss, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. He followed soon after, his release mingling with yours as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard.

Heeseung jolted awake, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His body was slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs. He groaned softly, feeling the unmistakable wetness in his shorts. He just came in his dream. His mind raced, the vivid images of you still fresh, your breathy moans echoing in his ears. He covered his face with his hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "God, what's wrong with me?" he muttered to himself. "She's my roommate." Heeseung sat up, the room dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the blinds. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering arousal. But as he glanced at the closed door of your bedroom, he knew resisting his feelings for you was going to be harder than ever.

The next morning, Heeseung reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, the remnants of his dream still clinging to the edges of his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to push it all aside, and headed toward the kitchen, hoping a cup of coffee might clear his head.

As he turned the corner, the scent of something delicious hit him, and he saw you standing by the stove, humming softly as you flipped pancakes. You were wearing an oversized shirt that fell just below your thighs, the fabric worn and soft, clearly not yours. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was probably Jake's shirt. The thought made him gulp, his throat suddenly dry as the dream came rushing back in vivid detail.

You turned when you heard him enter, your face lighting up with a smile that made his heart do a somersault. “Good morning, Hee,” you chirped, your voice sweet and playful as always. “I’m making breakfast! I hope you’re hungry.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool as he forced a smile. “Yeah… morning,” he mumbled, his voice embarrassingly shaky. He couldn’t meet your eyes, afraid that you’d somehow see right through him and know exactly what had been running through his mind all night.

You tilted your head slightly, noticing his unusual shyness. “Are you okay? You seem… off,” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Heeseung stiffened under your touch, his pulse quickening as the warmth of your fingers seeped through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m fine, just… didn’t sleep well,” he lied, hoping you wouldn’t press further.

You gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go. “Well, breakfast will help, I promise,” you said, gesturing to the pancakes with a grin. “And coffee’s ready too.”

Heeseung finally managed to meet your eyes, the sincerity and care in your gaze making his guilt twist even tighter in his chest. “Y-you didn’t have to, really,” he stammered, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee, hoping the familiar routine would steady his nerves.

“I wanted to,” you replied simply, your voice warm and kind. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I figured you could use a little pampering, seungie,” you added, using the nickname you’d given him that always seemed to melt his defenses a little.

Heeseung took a sip of the coffee, trying to hide his flushed cheeks behind the mug. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, the words half muffled by the rim of the cup.

You laughed softly, the sound light and cheerful, easing some of the tension in the room. “You deserve it,” you teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully. “Besides, it’s fun spoiling you a little.”

Heeseung’s heart raced at the casual affection in your touch, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you were doing to him. “Th-thanks,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat down at the small kitchen table.

You joined him a moment later, sliding a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of him. “Eat up, Hee,” you said, sitting across from him with your own plate. “And don’t think too much today, okay? Just relax.”

Heeseung nodded, but as he cut into the pancakes, his mind was anything but relaxed. The sight of you in that oversized shirt, the smell of the warm breakfast you’d made just for him, and the way you called him “Hee” so sweetly—all of it was making it impossible to forget the dream.

He desperately needed a distraction. Anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the dream that was now seared into his memory. As you dug into your pancakes, he forced himself to speak, his voice a bit too loud as he asked, “So, um, how are your classes going?”

You looked up at him with a smile, happy to share. “Pretty good, actually! I’ve got this new project for my psychology class that I’m really excited about. We’re studying—”

But Heeseung barely heard a word. His eyes kept drifting to the way your shirt clung to your body, the soft curve of your waist, the smooth skin of your legs peeking out from under the hem. Every time you shifted in your seat, his thoughts betrayed him, flashing back to the way you felt in his dream, warm and soft beneath him. He could almost feel the ghost of your touch, the way you whispered his name in that breathy, needy tone.

“—and so I think I might need to interview a few people on campus,” you continued, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m really looking forward to—Hee? Are you even listening?”

He blinked, realizing too late that he’d been caught staring. His cheeks flushed, and he quickly tore his gaze away, focusing on his plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Y-yeah, sorry, just… zoned out for a second,” he stammered, trying to play it off, but his voice betrayed him.

You smirked, sensing something was off but not quite sure what. “Uh-huh, sure you did,” you teased, leaning in a bit closer. “What’s up with you this morning? You’re acting kinda weird.”

“N-nothing’s up!” Heeseung blurted out a little too quickly, his pulse spiking as he forced a shaky laugh. “Just tired, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but you decided to let it slide. “Okay, if you say so, Seungie,” you said, still smiling but with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “But you know, if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Heeseung nodded quickly, trying to avoid your gaze as he took another bite of pancakes, barely tasting them. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he muttered, though his thoughts were spiraling again. He could feel your eyes on him, and when he glanced up, the sight of you, all sweet and concerned, sent a jolt of heat through him.

His eyes betrayed him, lingering on your lips, imagining how they had felt against his in the dream. He was falling back into that dangerous territory again, and his body reacted almost instantly. He felt the blood rushing south, his breath hitching as he realized he was getting hard just from looking at you.

Panic set in, and he knew he had to get out of there before you noticed. “I-I gotta go to class,” he stuttered suddenly, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Don’t want to be late!”

You blinked in surprise at his abruptness. “But, Hee, it’s only 8:30. Your first class isn’t until—”

“I need to, uh, review some notes!” he interrupted, stumbling over his words as he stood up, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Before you could say anything else, he turned on his heel and practically fled the kitchen, his face burning with embarrassment. You watched him retreat to his room, a little confused by his behavior but deciding not to pry. “Okay, then…” you muttered to yourself, shrugging it off as one of those weird morning moods.

As Heeseung shut the door to his room behind him, he leaned against it, exhaling sharply. His heart was pounding, and he cursed under his breath. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. But deep down, he knew the answer. It wasn’t just the dream—it was everything about you. And the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they seemed to become.

The entire morning, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back to you. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his classes, his mind kept replaying scenes from his dream, the way your body had felt beneath his, the sound of your voice whispering his name in that sexy, sultry voice. He just couldn't you out of his head and that was driving him crazy.

By lunchtime, he was a mess of pent-up frustration and confusion. He had barely touched his breakfast, and the thought of seeing you again made his stomach twist with a mix of guilt and desire. So when Jake texted him, suggesting they grab lunch together, Heeseung jumped at the chance to get out of the apartment, hoping that his friend could help take his mind off things.

They met up at a small café near campus, Jake already waiting at a table with his usual easygoing smile. “Yo, Hee! Over here!” Jake called out, waving him over.

Heeseung managed a weak smile as he sat down, trying to seem normal. But Jake was too observant, and the moment Heeseung dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh, Jake’s smile faltered slightly. “You okay, man? You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” Heeseung lied, picking up the menu and pretending to scan it. But his hands were a little shaky, and Jake wasn’t buying it.

Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Uh-huh, sure you are. What’s going on?”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, but his voice lacked conviction.

Jake grinned, sensing that his friend was hiding something. “Come on, man. You can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Let me guess… you had one of those dreams, didn’t you?”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening as he looked up at Jake, who burst into laughter at his reaction. “I knew it! Dude, you’ve got ‘I had a sex dream’ written all over your face!”

Heeseung groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Seriously, Jake? Can you not?”

The younger chuckled, leaning in closer. “Oh, come on! You can tell me! Who was it with? Someone from class? Maybe that cute barista at the coffee shop near your place?”

His face burned with embarrassment. He shook his head, hoping Jake would just drop it, but his friend was relentless.

“No way, man. You’ve gotta tell me now,” Jake teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not getting out of this one. I won’t judge, promise. Unless it was, like, a teacher or something, then maybe I’ll judge a little.”

Heeseung squirmed in his seat, trying to come up with an excuse, but Jake was too good at this. Finally, he gave up, knowing that Jake wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. “Fine, okay! It was… it was with her,” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

Jake blinked in surprise, his grin faltering as he processed what Heeseung had said. “Wait… with who?”

Heeseung exhaled deeply, his heart racing. “With her… you know, my roommate.”

For a moment, Jake just stared at him, and then a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. “No way. You had a sex dream about yn?”

Heeseung buried his face in his hands, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Yeah, okay? I did. And now I can’t even look at her without… i don't know, thinking about it.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, dude. That’s intense. No wonder you’re all messed up this morning.”

Heeseung groaned again, feeling like he wanted to disappear under the table. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Jake. Every time I see her, I just… I remember how it felt, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m either embarrassed as hell or… or horny or something, and I don’t know what to do.”

Jake took a sip of his drink, clearly enjoying Heeseung’s misery a little too much. “Well, you know what they say,” Jake said, leaning back with a casual shrug. “You’ve got to fuck her to get it out of your system.”

Heeseung choked on his water, sputtering as he set the glass down with a clatter. “W-what? Jake, are you serious?”

Jake grinned, shrugging again. “Hey, I’m just saying. Sometimes the best way to stop obsessing over something is to just… do it. Maybe it’s your brain’s way of telling you that you need to, you know, make a move.”

Heeseung’s face was practically glowing red at this point, and he could barely meet Jake’s eyes. “I can’t just… I mean, we’re roommates! And it’s not like she feels the same way.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, giving Heeseung a knowing look. “You sure about that? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, man. She’s always so playful with you, always teasing. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the first move.”

Heeseung shook his head, his mind spinning. “I don’t know, man. It’s just… it’s complicated. And I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening a bit. “I get it. But you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. If you really can’t handle it, maybe you need to talk to her. Or, you know, find a way to cool off before you drive yourself completely insane.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he admitted, though the thought of actually doing anything about it made him nervous as hell.

Jake chuckled, giving him a pat on the back. “Whatever you do, just remember I’m here to help, even if it’s just to give you shit about it later.”

Heeseung managed a small smile, grateful for Jake’s support despite the teasing. But as they finished their lunch, he couldn’t shake the lingering tension inside him, knowing that sooner or later, he’d have to face the feelings he was trying so hard to ignore.

The day wore on and he just couldn’t get Jake’s advice out of his head. The idea of just taking the plunge, of letting himself have what he so desperately wanted, seemed almost logical in his mind, twisted as it was with frustration and desire. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave in and finally fuck you, he could finally get you out of his system and things would go back to normal. But every time he even thought about it, an overwhelming sense of dread and guilt would wash over him.

The next few days were torture. Every time Heeseung saw you, you were just so effortlessly hot and beautiful, it made his resolve crumble. Like when you walked around the apartment in those tiny shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves perfectly, or when you’d smile at him, that playful, teasing glint in your eyes that drove him crazy. He couldn’t bring himself to make a move, not when the thought of losing your friendship or making things awkward between you weighed heavily on him.

So, instead of facing his feelings, Heeseung did what he thought was the next best thing—he avoided you like the plague.

Whenever he heard you coming down the hallway, he’d quickly retreat to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. If you were in the kitchen, he’d grab a snack later, waiting until you left. If you sat on the couch to watch TV, he’d suddenly remember something he had to do in his room. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

You, of course, noticed almost immediately. The first time you called out to him as you walked into the living room, he barely acknowledged you, muttering a quick “hey” before disappearing into his room. You frowned, staring after him with confusion etched on your face.

At first, you thought maybe he was just busy with schoolwork, but when it happened again and again, you started to worry. Heeseung wasn’t the type to just ignore you. You two had always been close, laughing and joking around, but now it felt like there was a wall between you that hadn’t been there before.

One evening, after another day of dodging you, you finally cornered him. Heeseung had just come out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower, when you caught him in the hallway.

“Hee, what’s going on with you?” you asked, your tone a mix of concern and frustration.

Heeseung froze, his hand still on the doorknob of his bedroom. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered, not daring to look at you.

“You know exactly what I mean,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you took a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now. Did I do something to upset you?”

He finally looked at you then, and the sight of your worried expression made his heart ache. “No, you didn’t do anything,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not you, it’s… it’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That’s the oldest excuse in the fucking book, Heeseung. Seriously, what’s going on? We used to hang out all the time, and now it’s like you can’t stand to be around me or something.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say that would make sense. "Look, can we talk about it later? I'm really tired right now," he started making his way to the kitchen.

“No, don't you run away from me, Lee Heeseung,” you called after him, your voice tinged with anger as you followed him into the kitchen. “I’m done with the vague answers and the weird behavior. I want to know what’s really going on!”

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, his hand gripping the counter's edge as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I told you, it’s nothing; I'm just tired,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

“Tired? Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?” You stepped closer, your frustration boiling over. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, acting like I’m some kind of stranger, and now you’re telling me it’s ‘nothing’? What the fuck?”

Heeseung turned around to face you, his jaw clenched as he tried to find the right words, but they kept slipping away. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I just… I can’t…,” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You can’t what?” you pressed, your patience running thin. “What’s so horrible that you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore?”

Heeseung’s frustration finally reached its breaking point. The tension, the guilt, the overwhelming desire—it all came crashing down at once. “I’ve been avoiding you because every single time I lay my fucking eyes on you, I just want to fuck your brains out!” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process what he had just said. Heeseung immediately regretted the outburst, the rawness of his confession hanging in the air like a storm cloud. He sighed deeply, cursing under his breath as he ran both hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at you.

“Shit… I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he muttered, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and regret. “It’s just… it’s been driving me crazy. I had this dream, and it was so real, and ever since then, I can’t stop thinking about you like that.”

You finally found your voice, though it was tinged with disbelief. “You’ve been avoiding me, acting like I don’t exist, just because you had a sex dream about me?”

Heeseung nodded, his shoulders slumping as he braced himself for whatever you might say next. “Yeah… I know it sounds messed up, but it’s true. And every time I see you, it just makes it worse. I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but I ended up doing exactly that.”

You let out a laugh, but it was devoid of humor, more of an expression of sheer incredulity. “So let me get this straight,” you said slowly, needing to confirm you weren’t misunderstanding. “You’ve been avoiding me, treating me like I’ve got the plague, all because you want to fuck me?”

Heeseung winced at your bluntness, but he couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to you. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You shook your head, your emotions a chaotic mix of anger, frustration, and something else that you hadn’t fully processed yet. “You know, hee, you could’ve just asked,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Heeseung looked up at you, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. “Wait, what?”

“You could’ve just asked me,” you repeated, crossing your arms and looking him dead in the eye. “And I wouldn’t have said no.”

For a moment, Heeseung just stared at you, his mind struggling to comprehend what you were saying. “You’re kidding… right?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, your tone steady and serious. “You’ve been making things weird all by yourself when you didn’t have to. If you’d just been upfront with me instead of avoiding me, we could’ve dealt with this a lot sooner.”

Heeseung was at a loss for words. The idea that you might actually want him too had never seriously crossed his mind, not like this. “I… I didn’t think…” he started, then trailed off, still trying to wrap his head around it.

You sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement coloring your expression. “Well, now you know. So what are you going to do about it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the door you’d just opened for him. The air between you was thick with tension, but this time it wasn’t just from frustration or anger. It was something more, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, needing to know that you were serious.

You nodded, your gaze steady and unwavering. “I’m sure, seungie. But only if you’re ready to stop running away and actually talk to me about what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thoughts racing as he looked at you, really looked at you. The playful, teasing side of you, the warmth and care you always showed him, the way you were looking at him now—it all made his desire for you flare even hotter.

“I’m done running,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “But… can we take this slow? I don’t want to screw things up.”

You smiled softly, the tension easing just a little. “Slow is good,” you agreed, stepping closer until you were just inches apart. “But maybe, just this once, we can forget about slow?”

Heeseung’s pulse quickened, and with a shaky breath, he closed the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with yearning.

“Then stop fucking talking and show me,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you finally closed the gap, giving in to the moment that had been building between you for far too long.

The moment your lips met, it was as if a dam had burst, releasing all the tension that had been building between you two for days. Heeseung wasted no time, his hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you gasped into the kiss, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen it.

He took control, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that left you breathless. He tilted his head slightly, angling the kiss just right as his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that made your knees weak. You moaned softly, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he backed you up against the kitchen counter.

The edge of the counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Heeseung was kissing you, his lips demanding, yet so incredibly soft against yours. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You taste so fucking good,” before diving back in, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You responded eagerly, matching his intensity as you kissed him back, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Heeseung pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the counter, the heat between you growing with every second. His hands roamed up your sides, brushing over your ribs before settling on your waist again, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your skin.

“Fuck, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Heeseung muttered, his voice rough with desire as he broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I think I have some idea,” you whispered back, your voice just as breathless as you stared up at him, your eyes half-lidded with want.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, and with a low growl, he claimed your lips again, his kiss more demanding this time. He pressed you harder against the counter, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you slightly so you were perched on the edge. The movement made you gasp, and Heeseung took the opportunity to kiss down your jawline, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access as he nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “Hee…” you moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

Heeseung groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed his way back up to your lips. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. He took his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, his tongue teasing yours in a way that made your heart race.

You could feel the hard edge of the counter digging into your thighs, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. Heeseung’s hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mixture of reverence and desperation, as if he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. When his hands found their way under your shirt, brushing against your bare skin, you gasped, arching into his touch, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick and low. "All shy and putty in my hands, and I haven't even touched you." You shivered at his words, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. He kissed his way back to your ear, biting softly your earlobe. "What's the matter, baby? I thought you were the confident one," he smirked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You wanted to answer, but before you could, his lips found your sweet spot just below your ear, and a loud moan escaped from your lips. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he started nibbling and sucking that spot. You closed your eyes, your head tilting to the side to give him all the room he wanted to do whatever he wanted. "God, you're so sensitive," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot and rigged.

You whimpered, arching your back to press closer to him. "Hee, please..."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over your inner thighs, teasing you. "Please, what, baby?" Use your words."

You shivered at the pet name, your teeth capturing your lower lip to avoid any more moans slipping from your mouth. "Please, touch me," your voice came out more whiny than you intended, but at that point, you didn't even care.

His eyes darkened, and he captured your lips once again in a hard kiss. "Good girl," he murmured against your mouth, his hands slipping your shirt before finally pulling it over your head, revealing your bare chest to him. His hands immediately flew to your tits, caressing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing down your jawline. "So perfect for me."

Gathering your courage, you reached out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms, allowing you to pull it over his head and discard it on the floor. Your hands roamed over his toned torso, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. You marveled at the contrast of his strength and the gentle way he had been touching you moments before.

Heeseung's breath hitched as your fingers traced the lines of his abs, but he quickly regained his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory gleam. "Enjoying yourself?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your hands still exploring his body. Heeseung smirked, leaning in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. As he kissed you, one of his hands slipped between your legs, finding your core outside of your shorts. He hissed, finding you already wet and ready for him.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your lips, his fingers brushing over your sensitive folds. "I barely have to touch you, and you're already this fucking needy."

You whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you. "Heeseung, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

He finally took your shorts and panties off, his fingers finding your bare cunt. His index parted your folds, his eyes fixed on your face to catch every little reaction. Then, without a word, he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb finding your clit. He started moving them roughly, setting a relentless pace as you gasped for air.

"Is that what you wanted, baby?" he asked, his voice a low growl as the wet sound of your pussy filled the kitchen.

"Fuck, yes, hee, just like that," you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your brain quickly turned to mush, and you found it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Every time you tried to speak, it came out as a garbled moan.

"Fuck, look at you," Heeseung mocked gently, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and amusement. "You're already a mess, and I'm just using my fingers. What are you going to do when I'll have my cock inside you, mmh?" You whined in response, your hole sucking him in even harder as you clenched around him. He smirked at that, his lips dropping beside your ear as he whispered. "You like the idea of my cock stretching your little hole, yeah?"

You let out a loud moan, your eyes closing shut as you threw your head back. Your body started to shake as he continued to work you over with his fingers. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered, his thumb circling your clit with increased pressure.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment. And with a final rough thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to move his fingers inside you, drawing out every last bit of your release.

Heeseung smirked, watching you come undone beneath him. "So beautiful," he murmured, finally slowing his movements. "I love seeing you like this."

He looked at you, eyes filled with an insatiable hunger as he licked his fingers clean. You were still reeling from your orgasm, your body trembling with aftershocks when he suddenly knelt down in front of you, his hands gently parting your thighs.

"Hee, what are you—" you began, but he silenced you with a heated look.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "I need to hear those beautiful little sounds you make, you can do that for me, right?."

Before you could respond, Heeseung's mouth was on you, his tongue parting your folds and delving into your sensitive cunt. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as a surge of pleasure shot through you. His tongue moved with a skilled precision, flicking over your clit before dipping back down to slurp all your juices.

"Oh my god, Hee," you moaned, your head falling back as you surrendered to the sensations.

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. He was like a starved man, devouring you with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every inch of you. You'd never had someone eat you out like this before, so focused, so determined to bring you pleasure. Heeseung's mouth was relentless, his tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"You're so sweet," he murmured between licks, his voice filled with admiration. "So perfect."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the waves of pleasure he was giving you. "Fuck, please don't stop," you begged, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss.

Heeseung's response was a deep, guttural moan, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. He was already addicted to your taste, the way your body responded to his every touch. Your moans and whimpers were music to his ears, driving him to push you further, to see just how much pleasure he could give you.

Heeseung's hands moved from your thighs to your hips, lifting you slightly to get a better angle. His tongue plunged deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, sending electric shocks through your entire body.

"Oh, God, hee!" you cried out, your back arching off the counter as you felt another orgasm building rapidly. "I'm so-so close."

Heeseung groaned again, his mouth working more fervently, his tongue lashing against your most sensitive spots. "Come for me, baby," he murmured against you, his voice a low, sultry command. "I want to taste you when you come."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Heeseung didn't stop, his mouth continuing to work you through your orgasm, drinking in every moan, every whimper.

You were a quivering mess, your mind blank with ecstasy as Heeseung finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He stood up, his hands firmly gripping your hips, and you could see the raw need in his gaze. He tugged at his sweatpants and boxers, hastily pushing them down in one go, and your breath hitched when you saw him. He was big, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes wide with a mix of desire and apprehension.

He noticed your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, his confidence bolstered by your response.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're... you're so big, Hee."

Heeseung's smirk widened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his hands trailing down to position himself at your entrance. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it fit," he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with promise.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Are you sure? I don't know if..."

Heeseung's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I'm sure," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I'll go slow at first. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he began to push inside you. The initial stretch was intense, and you gasped, your hands clutching his shoulders. Heeseung moved slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Just relax for me, baby."

You took a deep breath, willing your body to relax as he continued to slide into you. The sensation was overwhelming, but the look of pure desire and care in his eyes made you feel safe. Finally, he was fully seated inside you, and he paused, giving you a moment to adjust.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight."

You whimpered, your body clinging to him, feeling so full. "You're so big, seungie."

He kissed you softly, his hands caressing your sides. "Just tell me when you're ready, baby."

After a few moments, the initial discomfort began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching need. "I'm ready," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Heeseung's eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you with a powerful, rough stroke. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "F-fuck," you moaned, the intensity of his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

He set a brutal pace, his hips pounding into yours. "You like that?" he growled in your ear, his voice rough and filled with desire. "You like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, f-fuck," you gasped, your mind going blank with pleasure. "So good. So fucking good."

Heeseung's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice possessive. "Only mine. Say it."

"Only yours," you echoed, your voice barely more than a whimper.

"Good girl," he praised, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. "You're taking me so well."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you felt yourself spiraling out of control. "Heeseung, I... I can't..."

Heeseung's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for breath. Heeseung followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Heeseung held you close, his forehead resting against yours. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath.Heeseung chuckled softly, his hands gently caressing your sides. "We should definitely do this more often."

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection for him. "I think I'd like that."