#I couldn't come up with anything with your oc and I'm so sorry!!!

[trainer-from-unova]

a second

𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 masterlist 𖤐

SHIP: The Void x AFAB!reader (x Robert Reynolds)

SUMMARY: Void started feeling something about you, and when he discovered that Bob was your boyfriend he felt frustrated. Wanting to live what he lived every day he convinced you that kissing him or having sex with him wasn't being unfaithful since they both share the same body.

AU: Void is not sooo evil

C/W: post-canon, feelings realization and denial, love confession if you squint but Void's very bad at feelings, background relationship with Bob, implied cheating but I'm not sure about that, teasing, noncon/dubcon rough kissing, consensual rough sex, piv sex, masturbation, fingerfucking, biting, multiple orgasm, no protection

A/N: this starts like my drabble "Muscle Memory" but obviously it's longer, spicy and ends very different. Also this was written before the movie drops in cinemas because I'm insane and it's post-canon so if you're reading this after watching the movie and something's different or lack something, it's because of that. (At this point Bob and Void are like my OCs and Void's probably going to be OOC af.) And English isn't my first language, so sorry if something's weird expressed. Edited version after watching the movie: 🖤

WORD COUNT: 3622

Everything can change in a second, including him. As a system, one personality may not remember the experiences of the other, but the muscle memory remained. On the few occasions that Void was present he couldn't help but turn his neck in the direction ______ was facing, fix his eyes on her, prick up his ears when he heard her voice, and even feel the urge to take her hand. To make matters worse she was often in his mind, and he didn't know if they were memories that weren't his own or if it was his imagination, which, for some reason, designed all sorts of scenarios with her. Those were things, or rather according to him, distractions that got on his nerves. He wanted to believe that it was more Bob's fault than his, so when he had the chance, on one of the occasions when he had control of his body, he went to ______ to question her.

When the young woman opened the door to her bedroom after hearing a knock on it, she smiled when she saw who it was, although when she saw his serious expression, it was quickly erased.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm Void," he informed her just in case, and she nodded, "Can I have a word?"

"Yeah, come in," she said stepping aside to let him in. As she closed the door behind him he looked around her bedroom, and noticed a cork mural on one of the walls, which had pictures with several of the so-called "Thunderbolts" and other friends, but mostly with Bob, with both of them grinning from ear to ear or pouting; selfies taken by them or full body shots taken by others, in different locations and wearing clothes from different climates. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him turn to look at her, who was approaching him slowly, at the same pace as he was.

"I see flashes... of you, in all situations," and if the young woman was already confused and interested in his presence in the body and in her bedroom, with that sentence the confusion and interest increased. "I don't know if they are memories of Bob or if it's my imagination playing tricks on me. I want to know if what I feel is mine or his."

"...What do you feel?" she asked intrigued, leaning closer to him.

"Weakness," he answered quickly and without any hesitation, very sure of himself as usual. She looked at him in surprise and confusion, though she tried to be discreet and didn't realise that her breathing was hitching with nerves; Void already make her nervous, not because she was particularly afraid of him but for Bob's mental well-being, and this strange conversation wasn't helping. "I feel... a certain favouritism towards you, which distracts me when it shouldn't. Has he said anything to you about it?"

"Um- yeah, well," she said with a shy smile. "We've been dating for a while."

"...Oh."

He understood everything now, including the pictures on the corkboard, but he didn't understand the frustration he felt inside him. He didn't understand what she saw in Bob because, although he hadn't met him (for obvious reasons), it was clear to him that he was better than him or anyone else in every way. It wasn't love, it couldn't be — that word had no meaning for him, and he didn't see himself capable of falling in love with a human, even if she wasn't very normal and ordinary. He could only make sense of what he felt and the fact that he found her physically attractive with one explication.

"I suppose Bob's love for me is contagious," she said trying to hide the smile that formed on her lips.

"What you call love is just a chemical reaction I feel since I have a human body, since I share a body with him," he said, not very pleased with that fact, but unable to stop his eyes from scanning her up and down, from her lips to her breasts as he felt his body heat up, and she realised, "It's just the instinct to preserve the species," and she simply rolled her eyes at such a scientific and unromantic response, but he saw the perfect opportunity to bring up one of the memories he had, and perhaps it would lead him to be able to create a similar one of his own. "Yeah, that's what I remember," he said smiling sideways as he stood dangerously close to her and her face — she didn't flinch, she was used to being so close to him, even if it was someone else, "you rolling your eyes, naked while screaming my name... God," he said almost in a whisper as he slowly approached her lips.

For a second she thought about letting him do what he intended to do, and for a second he almost succeeded — but she averted her gaze and ducked, subtly avoiding him. He froze, processing what had just happened since he wasn't expecting it, while the other one stepped back a little and realised something.

"Well, I think you're..." she sighed deeply and took a quick glance at his crotch, "having a chemical reaction to preserve the species inside your trousers," she said trying to sound as serious as possible, but at the same time the situation was so surreal that she couldn't help but want to laugh.

He lowered his gaze to look at his crotch, though he didn't really need to, because he could feel it, and it frustrated him. It also frustrated him that he felt that his hands and her hips, like their lips, were magnets, but that she didn't want to bring them together — not if it wasn't Bob, apparently.

"Just one kiss," he said trying not to sound too desperate or pathetic, let alone intimidating. "Please," he said approaching her again, taking her hands in his.

"Bob and I have never discussed whether having a relationship with you would count as infidelity..." she said worriedly as she subtly shook her head. And it wasn't that she didn't want to ask, as she was curious about the answer, but she never asked him, as Bob hated to remember the existence of Void.

"Of course it wouldn't be, we have the same body," he said with the same gesture, trying to convince her with his confidence and calm tone. "Besides, he doesn't have to know," he said as he moved closer to her face again, placing his dominant hand on her cheek and behind her neck to lift her face, "nor will he be able to," he said before finally merging their lips and wrapping his other hand around her waist.

She tensed as she felt his lips on hers, but was there anything she could do to resist? He was Void, he was stronger than her — but he had the same body as Bob and kissed just like him. She let him do it, and surprisingly, it felt as good as if he were her boyfriend, causing her to inadvertently put her hands on his shoulders. When they parted they looked at each other's lips and then into each other's eyes — he looked at her hungrily, and she looked at him confused by what she had felt, and uncertain whether to continue.

"I don't think we should," she said, "this is wrong."

"Then why did it feel so right? And why are you still in my arms?" he asked smiling sideways, mischievously. "I can offer something different as well as similar," he said stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She, still hesitant, remained silent and thoughtful as she averted her gaze. He looked at her eyes and then her lips, and from her lips to her eyes, again and again. When he grew impatient he approached her lips again, but this one pulled back again and looked him earnestly and steadily in the eyes at last.

"...Say it," she said unable to keep her eyes from wandering to his lips for a second, but quickly returned to his eyes. He pulled back a little as his smile faded. Now it was he who looked serious and thoughtful, and she knew he knew what she meant. "Why so serious?" she asked tilting her head and the smile forming on her lips, looking for their eyes to meet again and enjoying the fact that she was now the one teasing him. "It's just a shorter way of saying what you've said before," she said as he put his hand from her cheek to her waist.

"I just want to have sex with you," he said wearily.

"Three words, honey," she said as she shook her head, "Even if it's a lie, just say it and I'm yours for a while. This is a barter, it works like this."

"I love you," he said defeated.

"See?" she asked teasingly. "It wasn't that hard."

Wanting to silence her and feel her closer again he moved closer to merge their lips again, and this kiss was better than the last one for she was ready for it.

When they broke apart for lack of air he raised his hand in the direction of the door to bolt it shut like a jedi (or rather, sith), not wanting any interruptions from the others in the house.

The clothes were a nuisance he wanted to get rid of violently. He would have been able to tear the fabrics of her clothes with his bare hands had she not stepped forward and begun to undress. He was in the greatest hurry to undress, and his eyes again scanned her body from top to bottom. Quickly the clothes ended up on the floor, making a path to the bed.

"Look at you... So hungry for sex, so human," she said still with her tone and smirk, already lying on the bed as he climbed over her like a predator over its prey. He was looking at her like one, like a victorious hunter, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't like being looked at in that way — Bob had never looked at her like that before.

"I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing human in me."

Part of her wanted to ask him why a "God" like him needed so badly to prove to a human like her that he was also a God in bed if he supposedly didn't love her and it was just a chemical reaction he wanted to soothe and satisfy, but she assumed correctly that he wouldn't like to be questioned on that score and let him do it.

He leaned over her, and she could feel his erect member brushing against her. Now he wanted to scan her with his sense of touch, so he touched and squeezed with his hands wherever he wanted to touch as she spread her legs and rested her hands on his shoulders.

His face hid in her neck, which he bit and sucked. Then Void's lips descended to her breasts, where he intended to do the same and more. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried away as she felt one of his hands grasp one of them tightly as she felt his teeth bite and stretch the nipple of the other. He wanted to devour her and mark her. He wanted to leave something of his own in her, and hopefully the next time Bob got his hands on her he would realise it wasn't him that did it, making him feel more insecure, sad and angry and thus having an easy opportunity to have dominance over the body and repeat what he was doing again.

When he came back up to her face he kissed her again quickly and intensely, and she was about to discover another difference between him and Bob: he got straight to the point and Bob took his time. He was devouring her mouth with such a relentlessness that it seemed he was actually hungry, wanting to satisfy his appetite with a good piece of meat. Her hands slid from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, slipping the hollows of her fingers through his locks of long hair as he thrust his tongue inside her, eliciting subtle moans from both of them as their tongues made contact.

He wanted to indulge his most primal instincts once and for all, and at this point it was almost a physiological need, but he took pity on her and decided to touch her, to make her enjoy it more and prepare her for what was next. Also, deep down, he wanted to do what Bob was lucky enough to be able to do whenever he wanted.

He settled in on her right and she closed her eyes as Void's dominant hand began to slide too low, seeking her warmth and wetness. His index and middle fingers just stroked over her folds, marvelling for a few seconds at the wetness of anticipation as she felt his erect member against her right thigh and a teasing smile against her neck.

"You're so wet," he said in her ear as he caressed her.

"It's not personal," she said, not wanting it to go to his head. He couldn't help snorting through his nose — to be honest he liked her sense of humour.

Void slid his fingers up to the top of her vaginal lips to caress her clit with an almost unique energy and enthusiasm, without warning and making her moan and writhe instantly. Luckily for both of them the walls of the base were soundproof, and probably by muscle memory he knew exactly where to touch. And even as she tried to move her hips to seek even more stimulation (or maybe try to pull away because it was too much pleasure) his other hand clamped tighter on her, preventing her from being able to move any further. She was a mess who only knew how to moan and talk nonsense, but she really wanted to avoid giving him the satisfaction of hearing the word "God" from her lips, even if she didn't say it in reference to him — he was already getting too much satisfaction out of seeing her in this state because of him.

When she noticed him stop masturbating her there, just as she was on the verge of orgasm, she noticed him slide his fingers back into her vaginal lips, and his fingers made their way inside her as well without warning. She wrapped her arms around his head, moaning at the intrusion. He was merciful only at first, as he pushed them in. Then he began to move them in a steady rhythm, causing the wetness inside her to be heard. When her orgasm came he couldn't help but form a smile of mischievous pride.

Void tried to search inside his mind for any shred of patience or sanity he had left, but he found none of that inside him — he was only burning with the energy of a million suns. He withdrew his fingers to finally massage his member a little, preparing to finally enter — this time the way he really wanted to. As he positioned himself between her legs and almost without thinking (out of habit) she tried to bring her hand towards the member pointing at her like an arrow, but before she could even brush against it he filled the void inside her, ignoring any cordiality but fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. She tried to stifle a great moan as she felt him fully inside her.

His gaze remained fixed on her face as he thrust his member in and out of her — his long, tousled hair falling across his forehead and eyes, his mouth letting out light moans and his breath hitching. Void's hands stayed on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he increased the intensity of his thrusts even more. Quickly the bed frame began to make its own sound, with a very faint metallic squeak and small knocks against the wall that grew louder as he leaned and settled over her. His hands went to her legs, forcing them behind his back, and she too went back to hugging his head and clutching at his hair.

"Say it," he said in his typical deep voice in her ear.

"God," she cried in his. That reminder of what he was was music to his ears, but more than a God he was an animal — a wild dog in heat.

Quickly her mind began to feel increasingly foggy, beginning to feel a great warmth inside her lower abdomen along with the wet sounds of their private parts colliding. She knew she was about to cum, and when she did, he, far from stopping, kept going. Deep down she was willing him not to stop — she begged him, not only with her eyes, but also in words mixed with whimpers. At that moment she was out of her mind, unable to think clearly.

Thanks to his supernatural strength he was able to have a lot of stamina, but the accelerated pace soon took its toll in the sense that he was about to cum too. He didn't want to, he wanted to hold on as long as he could inside her — her insides were still so tight, wet and warm that all he wanted to do was keep going and not stop for a second. He thrust deeper than he should have, stealing her breath for a second, and then he cum inside her, stopping short as he filled her and sighed deeply.

He pulled out and dropped down on top of her, but he didn't have a second to relax, as she pushed him off of her and moved to the side, seemingly annoyed. He knew it couldn't be because he had cum inside her, as he knew it didn't matter to her as there was no risk of getting pregnant.

"No aftercare?" he asked confused and slightly annoyed as he watched her reach over to the bedside table next to her, taking a half-empty packet of tissues between her fingers.

"Do you mind?" she asked now, annoyed and slightly confused as she got out of bed.

"I just told you that I love you!" he reminded her indignantly as he pointed with his arm to the spot where that had happened, where they were standing before, because he did want to do that — he wanted to relax and have her hold him after what they'd done, after what they'd been through.

"Didn't you just want to fuck?" She asked as she bent down and picked up his clothes from the floor to throw them on the bed, letting him know that she wanted him to get up and get out of there as soon as possible.

"I made you cum twice, you have my cum-" he said pointing to her crotch where it was starting to come out, and she grabbed a tissue from the small plastic packet to quickly wipe it off.

"Bob make me cum more and cums at the same time as me," she reported casually and without even looking at him as she threw the handkerchief into a small bin she had lying around.

Where was the passive girl from before, who begged him in every possible way not to leave her side? It seemed that now she was the one who had changed her personality, wasn't he the only system in that house? He didn't understand her — first she refused to kiss him, then she asked him to tell her he loved her, then they fucked, and finally this. Was this how unpredictable and unstable he and Bob were perceived?

"Didn't this mean anything to you?" he asked as he watched her hurry back and forth, picking up her old clothes and grabbing new ones from the wardrobe.

"Did it for you?" she asked stopping short to look at him seriously as she raised an eyebrow.

"...No," he replied, or rather, reminded himself as he got out of bed.

"Hurry up," she said annoyed pointing to the bedroom door with her head, indicating that she wanted him to leave as soon as possible, "and leave Bob alone," she added quickly, and even though she was the weaker of the two, it sounded like a threat.

She would admit that Void did well and had a good time humiliating him for acting like a human (or rather a dog in heat), including when he said "Please" when he asked her for a kiss, when he sort of confessed and when she coaxed the "I love you" that didn't really mean anything to her. Besides, she would never forget the hungry look in his eyes as he watched her, but if she agreed it was because he had the same body as her boyfriend — he kissed with the same lips and after a kiss she couldn't refuse to go on, going for more. But the one she loved was Bob, the shy and respectful boy who looked at her as if she was the Goddess there, who took all the time in the world to caress and kiss her between all kinds of compliments and "I love you"s that really moved her and she responded. And Void, although he didn't understand it, knew it. For a second he forgot that she wasn't really his. He may have felt favouritism for her, but she felt favouritism for Bob. He knew she wasn't lying when she said it wasn't personal. And unlike this one, he was truly alone.

[sqgeism]

so i recently read a post about how aglaea represents divinity through humanity's flesh and blood and anaxa represents humanity through the mask of a porcelain doll.

Soooo this has got me very curious, how would anaxa react to his partner (reader) literally being the human equivalent of a porcelain doll? glassy eyes, long lashes, pasty pale/white skin. maybe they even visibly crack in response to stressors/trauma!! ive totally developed this into my own oc and would love to read your thoughts! ty as always

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

love mail — hii :3 i'm alive again! i had (married) femme reader in mind but honestly could pass as (still married) gn reader ＼(^o^)／ i suuper love this concept nd i hope it lives up to your expectations, anonnie :D kiss muwa ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ also anaxa's is rly long bc i intended for it to be standalone but added the others in the end ;p they're all (except anaxa) rlly short sorry LMAOAOA characters in order : anaxa, mydei, phainon

from the day anaxa met you, to the day of your wedding, and every moment after — he's learned to be careful. he's always described himself as 'experimental', ready to do it all for the sake of knowledge and further understanding. but when he met you, he couldn't be that. he was fascinated with you in seconds, your porcelain skin was delicate, the kind that shatters because of hands like his. you were his opposite, and ever since he fell in love with you, his treasure.

anaxa had built some sort of.. habit with you. when his sister was alive, she showed him different hairstyles that she wanted. anaxa, the loving boy he was, tried his very best to learn. unfortunately, as you've come to learn, he never got to really do them. his own way of healing from that grief was through you, when you first allowed him to brush your hair for you — he found himself tying it into a beautiful braid. he won't forget the glimmer in your glassy eyes, thanking him so softly that he was sure even his cold, dead heart was touched. you had that affect on him, always have.

but that joy was short lived, as when you smiled- your face cracked. his face drops and so does he, falling to his knees right infront of you as his hands cup your cheek. "what happened? does it hurt? how can i help?" there's a noticeable shift in that indifferent demeanor that anaxa's always seen with.

and that makes you smile more, but the emotion is so strong that it causes you to shatter more. anaxa won't deny that he feels himself a little flustered at such a beautiful display that is your smile, but the cracking isn't stopping.

he eventually learns that you two are alike for different reasons. anaxa's nonchalance to most situations is caused by the fact he's lost all ability to care, he's lost everything that's ever mattered to him — why care about losing anything more? it'll make him just hurt all over again. he never wants to remember what it's like to drown in emotion ever again.

but your still expressions are the way they are because you feel too much. an overbundance of joy makes you smile, pressuring your porcelain complextion and causing it to crack. same with stress, sadness, any form of emotion makes you feel like you're breaking. but you wish to experience every single one deeply, you want to turn into nothing but pieces just to know what it's like to completely, and utterly, *feel.

but around each other, there is a balance. while you were used to a disproportion of emotion, anaxa kept you calm in every situation, but still allowed you to feel. you wouldn't crack, no, but you still felt your heart race every time anaxa kissed your fingers or ran his hand through your hair. and so, you can come to the quick conclusion that you allowed *him* to experience what you have had too much of. you bring him comfort, unease, and affection all at once and he's willing to indulge in it. he doesn't want to completely experience it all, but you let him worry just enough to make something else but a thin line and an empty gaze in his expression.

he adores you, really. he'd punish the stars for ever trying to rival the beauty that is sparkle in your eyes.

he has his head on your lap while they brush through your hair, humming a lullaby while you sit there, unmoving but enjoying yourself in silence. the breeze is cool, the grass is green and the flowers that surround you, mydei, and the little ones make the scene feel straight out of a painting.

mydei's in a similar position, but if you allow him- he'd love to bring you around to meet the children. if you're at all insecure about the way you exist as a person, he's sure that they can help. they're too young to understand or villainize you in any way, they're just.. in awe of you. the same manner that he was. a big, life sized doll? with pretty clothes and brushable hair? they're all over you in a moments notice. and mydei adores every second.

a warrior and his muse, his weakness, his heart. everything that you are mends perfectly into an emptiness inside of him, and you fix the scars that have lingered for him to heal.

phainon's in a similar boat, except he's like the children. he ADOOOORES you. buys you outfits every week, learned to do your hair, sits by your vanity mirror with eyes of pure and utter admiration as you do makeup.. he's soo enamored by you, it's insane. though he does tend to worry that when he makes you laugh (which is a lot, he appreciates it), you start to crack. they do eventually heal, but he's noticed you've become insecure about it. growing a habit of wearing veils or large hats to hide that beautiful face he adores.

he likes to call your cracks 'smile lines', since they tend to happen after you laugh or smile. it's a human thing, but he's trying to describe the similarities to you. he'll tell you that when humans smile all throughout their life, they get smile lines.. and while some are insecure about them, phainon thinks they should be proud. that the aeon's have given them the gift of so many happy, special moments, that they make sure all of the world gets to see it. that they know they've lived a good, happy life. and you shouldn't be ashamed of yours either.

nothing could shatter how perfectly imperfect you are to him. to phainon, you embody his every need and want.

[chunghasweetie]

Haiii i've never submitted a request so bare with me.

What do you think about a criminal jk who's been in prison for over a year (don't know what crime u can pick honestly) him and y/n are in a established relationship and she's been waiting all this time for him to get out. Anyway he comes home and yk.. i'm sure you can get the rest ;)

𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐘 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x criminal!jjk

— summary | (sorry it took so long!🩷) jungkook’s been locked up for 4 years and he’s finally back to see you !

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

unprotected sex, cursing, praising, daddy kink, dirty talk, crying, fluff(?)

— word count | 3.5k words

— song suggestion | wrong in the right way — chris brown

It was his first night freed from his 4 year jail sentence. After having a buddy drop off his car on the way to her, he was finally there.

Locked up for assault and battery and countless other charges he was finally free and finally able to see his woman again.

His tatted, muscular body stood at her doorstep, “Fuck,” He exhaled, taking a drag from his cigarette.

He was anxious to see her after endless phone calls and letters for years. He surprised her a day early. He finally stopped thinking about it and knocked at her door.

“Coming!” She hurried down the stairs, not expecting any guests at that hour.

She was in her pajama outfit, hair lightly curled and her face bare beside some eye brightener.

She opened the door, and she had almost gone into shock.

She came to a full body pause, color practically draining from her face when she seen him. “J-Jungkook!”

Jungkook's eyes softened at the sight of her, seeing the tears. He stepped forward, grabbing her in a tight embrace.

“I missed you so fucking much Y/n.” He mumbled into her hair. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her close.

She sobbed, “You bastard! Why didn’t you let me know you got out early?! I would’ve picked you up, done my makeup better, took you to dinner—“ She rambled.

Jungkook pulled back, gazing down at her with a smirk.

“Because I wanted to surprise you, Y/n. And you look fucking perfect just like this.” He ran his hand through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Finally face to face with my queen.”

“Fucking come in.” She sniffed. “All standing here in my doorway.” She hurried him in.

Jungkook stepped inside, his eyes scanning the apartment.

It looked a lot different than what he had remembered. It was a lot more modern and a bit girly. But it still felt like home.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. He followed her to the living room, his eyes locked on her as she walked away from him. He couldn't help but grin.

He was finally home.

“Missed you so much” She sniffed. “I didn’t fucking plan anything— Shit. You gotta be hungry right? Are you cold?”

“Relax baby. I didn’t expect you to be completely ready tonight,” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close to him.

“But yes, I am fucking starving. Even thought I just wanna sit here and hold you.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent.

“No baby— Gotta take care of you first. Probably want to eat good. Prison must’ve been so rough.” She pouted, babying him.

“Yeah, it was. But nothing's worse than being away from you, ma. You know that, right?” He pulled away from her, turning her around to face him.

He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against her soft skin. “I missed your smile, your laugh, your attitude. Everything Y/n.”

“I missed you more than you could imagine Jungkook.” Her lip quivered. “So much.”

“I know, ma. You always made sure I know. You were always the one person I could count on, even behind bars.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and gentle, but it held a depth of passion that only they could understood. “I love you.”

“I love you more. So much more.” She kissed him back, “I’ll cook for you. I’ll show you to our room— I fixed it up for you!”

She led him upstairs, rushing him due to her excitement. “Are you ready to see it?”

“I'm more than ready, ma. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long. I've missed our bed, our room, all of it."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "You look stunning, ma. You've never looked more beautiful to me."

Their room looked more homey and relaxing. She bought him a whole new closet full of clothes and shoes to his liking.

“I bought you some new ashtrays to put on your nightstand.” She told him. “There’s some lighters down there too.”

“You're spoiling me. And I’m more than grateful. I can already smell the smoke wafting through the air. You know me more than anyone." He grinned, running his hand over the new clothes.

"I love what you've done here, ma. You really outdid yourself for me and I couldn’t thank you more.” He added, thanking her once more.

“Anyrhing for you. I wanted you to come home and feel comfortable and relaxed.” She smiled.

“Now go shower, change, whatever you need to do to get all that prison time off your skin.” She laughed. “I’m gonna go downstairs and cook you some food that’ll knock you the hell out.”

Jungkook smiled, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. "You're the best, ma. I love you so fucking much." He whispered, giving her earlobe a gentle kiss before pulling away. "I'll be down in a few.”

“Take your time baby. Really.” She pecked his cheek, hesitant to leave him while she walked down to the kitchen.

Jungkook grabbed her hand before she could walk away, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"Thank you again baby— Seriously." He gave her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand gently.

She left him and headed back downstairs, prepping dinner for him.

“I’ll miss you!” She called out from the kitchen, blushing and giggling in excitement.

She couldn’t believe he was really out of prison.

For years she spent everyday fantasizing and day dreaming about him finally living at home again. For him to actually be here was ground breaking.

She had devoted herself to that man the entire time he’d been away. Her friends would try to encourage her to see other men to fill in the gaps of his absence but she absolutely refused.

She had many opportunities. She was a beautiful woman.

But no other man could ever compare to Jungkook.

She started preparing a quick yet savory meal for them to eat while he was showering.

She had prepped wonton soup for the actual night of his arrival but she had enough ingredients to make it for him tonight.

Jungkook was upstairs. He stripped down to his white tank, revealing his well-built, tattooed body.

He smirked at himself in the mirror, satisfied with how much he had grown during his time.

He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to his liking before stepping in.

After scrubbing and shaving after what felt like forever, Jungkook hummed to himself as he stepped out the shower, feeling refreshed and anew.

He dried himself up before wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped into the kitchen where his girl was. “Smells amazing baby, what is it?" He kissed her cheek, leaning on the counter.

“I made a homemade wonton soup with a side of rice.” She smiled, “You look clean. Someone’s already comfy back home.”

Jungkook chuckled, “With everything you’ve done, you made it easy.” He grinned as his stomach growled, looking down at himself.

“Go put some clothes on and dry your hair. You’re gonna get sick. I laid out clothes on the bed.” She instructed. “Use my hairdryer in the bathroom. Should be hung up in the bathroom.”

She took care of him and she tried his best to always pamper him. "Yes ma'am." He smiled, standing up and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right back, baby."

Jungkook went back to the bathroom and dried his hair then put on the clothes she laid out for him.

He took a look at himself in the mirror and smiled. He had been evaluating their home since he arrived, she had really good taste.

He walked back into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck and inhaling her scent once more.


Couldn’t get enough.

“So much better huh baby?” She hummed, lost in his embrace.

“Definitely, baby. You always make me better." Jungkook whispered in her ear before giving her a soft and lingering kiss.

He reached for the food she was cooking, but she stopped him. “No. I’ll serve you. Go sit down.”

“Body” He obliged, not able to help it but steal another kiss before sitting down to eat with her. "This smells amazing, love."

She served him his soup along with a cup of jasmine hot tea.

She placed his bowl and cup on his side of the table. She served herself after him, sitting across from him. “Let me know if you like it. Too hot, too cold, too spicy, too salty. Anything like that.”

Jungkook blew on his soup before taking a spoon full, burning his tongue a little bit but he didn't care.

He was just desperate for a home cooked meal.

"This is so fucking good, Y/n… like really fucking good." He glanced up at her, giving her a little smirk before taking another bite.

“I’m not just saying that either.” He munched, lost in the taste of his food.

She laughed, “Glad you’ like it.” She enjoyed her soup across from him.

Jungkook finished his soup, but didn't finish his whole bowl of rice.

He sat back and took a sip of his tea. "So how was your day today? Besides making me the best fucking soup I've ever had?"

“I just spent today prepping for you to get here. Cleaned all day.” She exhaled.

“Was the rice not cooked right? You didn’t finish.” She looked at him, concerned a bit at his action.

Jungkook shook his head. "The rice is fine, love. It's just not my favorite thing to eat."

He took another sip of his tea and reached under the table, squeezing her knee. "It’s all I ever ate when I was in there— not really my favorite at the moment."

“Oh my gosh!” Her eyes widened, “I wasn’t even thinking!”

“Baby you make rice with every meal. It’s like muscle memory for you.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You’re too cute to worry.”

“It’s my man’s first night home from prison. Of course your opinion matters to me.” She sighed.

Jungkook smiled at her and looked down at his empty bowl. He reached for her hand and glanced back up at her. "You don't have to care about anything when it comes to me. I’m amazed by everything you do.”

“Mm so sweet.” She blushed, “Go relax.” She seized their bowls, washing them in the sink.

Jungkook laughed, "I just want to make sure you're happy too. Wouldn’t want my baby like that in her own house" He stood, slowly making his way around the kitchen island.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and moved his lips to her neck, giving her a soft kiss. "Smell so good baby. Can’t get away from you.”

She blushed at the close proximity, continuing the dishes.

Jungkook pulled away from her neck, his eyes glancing over her face. He enjoyed seeing her blush more than he thought he did.

"What's going on in your head? You can tell me you know." He leaned against the counter, watching her intently.

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I’m just happy you’re here. More than happy I’m just— thankful.”

She started getting emotional, blinking back tears. “I just thought— I thought you’d have to stay longer.”

Jungkook walked towards her, his finger pushed her chin up, making her look at him.

"Don't cry on me now, damn baby. Making me feel guilty.” He wipes away a tear that fell down her cheek with his thumb. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

“Sorry sorry” She apologized, fanning herself.

Jungkook smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, moving her to clear her teary eyes. "Don't apologize for showing your emotions to me. I love how much you care for me."

“You smell so good too.” She hummed against him. “Better than that nasty fresh out of prison smell.” She laughed.

Jungkook grins, sniffing himself to remind her of the smell she meant, his arms squeezing around her. "If you thought it smelled bad..."

He kisses her cheek, “Imagine when I wasn't this clean for four years.” He teased, laughing.

“Ewww.” She giggled, “I’m okay not thinking about that.”

Jungkook chuckles, pulling back to look at her, cupping her cheek and wiping away loose tears with his thumb. "You're so cute."

He was laughing again. "Y/n, I missed you... I really fucking missed you. I don’t care how many times I told you tonight.”

“I missed you too Jungkook— Writing and calling you definitely isn’t as good as having you here at home with me.” She admitted.

Jungkook smiles, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yeah, I know... I fucking hated the phone. But-" He takes her hand in his.

"Being here now, being able to show up in the morning and see you again and again will make up for it all." He flashes her a wide grin.

“Four years was such a long time.” She groaned, walking out from the kitchen and walking up to their bedroom.

Jungkook nods and follows her, watching her hips sway as his thoughts drift to more primal thoughts.

He felt bad for wanting to get straight to it. But she had been teasing him in those

"It was. But hey-" He says from behind her. He wraps arms around her mid-section. "I'm here now. Should we get to it? Break our bed in together?"

“Oh my gosh you’re so annoying” She smacks his arm, “Go put on a movie while I change. You’re gonna be scrolling for a minute. I’ll be back.”

Jungkook laughs and lets go, jumping onto the bed. He grabbed the remote off the nightstand, surfing through the different streaming services.

He hadn’t seen anything like this in quite some time, but he already knew what he was looking for. She was definitely wrong about him scrolling for a minute.

She changed into a pajama set, being sure to show off a bit by leaving some buttons undone.

She knew what was gonna go down tonight, she just wanted him to wait for it.

She made her way back to the bed, resting her body beside him closely. “What’re we watching?”

“Starting tonight we’re gonna watch every Marvel movie made since I got locked up.”

“Are you serious?” She groaned. “That’s an insane amount of movies.”

“But,” He pouted cutely. “Your baby has been locked up for sooo long.”

“I hate you.”

He wraps arms around her mid-section, resting his head on her waist. "You know you love me, ma... and I sure as fuck love you."

“I love you more” She laughed and pecked his lips, playing with his hair as they watched the first movie together.

Jungkook hums in contentment, closing his eyes and letting her play with his hair.

Throughout the movie, Jungkook couldn’t help but grow more and more desperate.

He was on edge for the past few months. In prison they called and wrote letters but recently her letters had been more

Seductive.

Letters that consisted wordy details of her burning desire and unstoppable urge to have him.

“One more? Please? Last time really.” He pleaded.

“Fine.” She pecked his lips.

A few minutes later.

“Please?”

“Okay.” She pecked his lips.

More minutes go by.

“One more? Last time really.”

“Ugh fine.” She groaned, pecking his lips once more.

“Fuck I can’t take it." He groans as she pecks his lips, unable to help but leaning in and making out with her as their movie plays in the background.

“Don’t know how you expected this to go when you look like this.” He mumbled against her lips, mouth getting messier. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Need to make love to you since you got locked up” Her kisses grew more demanding.

Jungkook flips them over, pinning her down onto the bed and kissing her harder in return. "I needed you to fuckin' kiss me that hard when I was locked up.”

His hips buck up against hers, grinding his hardened cock against her thighs. “Dreamt about this every fuckin’ night.”

“I know baby fuck— me too” She grunted.

Jungkook reaches over to unbutton her pajama pants, before sliding them down her legs slowly— trailing kisses down her thighs as he does. "Take 'em off, baby. I wanna see how fuckin' wet you are for me already."

“Wanted dick since you got locked up— Been wet since you got released.” She couldn’t help the bashful expression all over her.

Yeah?" Jungkook grins, slipping his fingers underneath her panties and teasingly spreading her lower lips, his fingers slipping and teasing over her clit. "And how wet are you actually baby?"

“Fuck” She could cum at the contact alone. “S-So wet.”

Jungkook snickers, slipping a finger deep inside of her and pumping it in and out slowly, moaning at the tight and hot feeling around his fingers. "Fuckin' wet and tight girl hm? Huh baby?"

“F-Feels good daddy” The sensual nickname slipped from her lips, making his ears ring at the sweet sensation of her voice.

Jungkook groans at that nickname, thrusting his finger in and out of her faster now. "Shiiit, baby, you know I love it when you call me that."

He then pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean. “Love the way you taste. Needed that for years.”

“C-Can’t take it” She whimpered at the feeling of his retracting fingers.

Maybe it had been too long for her. By herself it took a good amount of work for her to get off but this was ruining her in seconds.

Jungkook smirks at that, pulling his pants down, his already hard length flopping out. "You’re gonna take it good baby?”

“Daddy please—“

“Is that all you got?" Jungkook taunts, teasing her entrance with his tip. "Beg some more, or you ain't getting this dick."

His dominant and demanding voice was coming back into play, almost better than what she remembered.

“Want it so bad. I’ll take it good, I promise.” Her voice cried, “So desperate.”

Jungkook groans at her begging, slowly pushing inside her. "Mmm fuck— so damn tight, just like that baby.”

“Take Daddy's dick." Him fully entering into her in a slow, but deep pace.

Her chest rose as he slid inside her. She swallowed, adjusting herself to his length.

Jungkook smirks at her reaction, gripping her hips as he begins to thrust in faster, a low moan leaving his lips.

“Missed this wet ass pussy” He stared her down. “You miss that, baby? How Daddy fucks you like this?"

“Y-Yes”

“Fat ol’ ass and huge ass tits— And a pretty face. God, you're so fucking hot." Jungkook grunts, picking up the pace, thrusting harder and faster.

The sound of skin on skin filling the room, making sure to hit that sweet spot. "This what you wanted, huh baby?

“All I-I wanted— all I needed.” She whined out. “Fucking amazing.”

“I thought I was desperate." Jungkook growls, slapping her ass hard. “Such a pretty girl. Didn’t try to play me once.”

The room is filled with even louder wet slaps of his hips against her ass and his smacks. His thrusts becoming more erratic, his cock growing desperate for release.

“All for you, all yours. Been with no one but you.” She moaned, truthfully speaking.

"Good girl." Jungkook leans forward, nipping at her neck before whispering in her ear.

"Say my name, Y/n. Who's dick are you on?" He grips her throat.

“Fuck! Yours Daddy! Yours!” She was a mess on his cock, eyes rolling back.

“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” He was watching as her body shudders from his touch.

He admired the way she was breaking down in front of him, going dumb on his dick.

The way her body twitched, he knew she was growing closer.

He watched her, clearly enjoying her lack of breath. The way she squirms, his to control and use.

"Gonna cum on daddy’s dick baby? Gonna let go for me?" He's almost there, wanting to finish strong.

“Want your cum— Need it.” She whimpered, eyes growing teary from the overwhelming pleasure. “Please daddy.”

“So fucking hard to say no to you." Jungkook snorts, pounding into her mercilessly. He was seeking his needed high so he could cum right with her.

The couple both reached their orgasms, moaning each other’s names before giving in and cumming together.

“Fuck— so in love with you.” Jungkook grunts, emptily filling her up. He catches his breath, panting with her.

She could hardly get out of the bed because of him, she was limp.

She was shuttering from her orgasm. Her legs were a trembling mess.

He watches her collect herself, loving the sight of her. The way she looks so used and satisfied, only at his hands.

Once she was all together, she got back in bed with him, kissing and chucking with him as the two panted together.

“I still got it.”

“Goddamnit Jungkook.” She hid her face. “Yes- you do.”

[kryannoy]

can i request a andrew x reader thing where reader is his lover, his girlfriend, and they are like head over heels in love with eachother, and reader is a female, but for some "traumas" shes a bit nervous to lose her virginity to him. shes also kind of insecure, because of the fact she isnt very feminine, and bcuz of her looks.

(if youre not comfortable with writing this its completely fine!!)

genre: nsfw, smut

character: andrew graves x reader

warnings: praise kink, body dysmorphophobia (?), trauma, virginity loss, cum

a/n: thank you for requesting! i can relate to this as i always make my ocs like this. also, sorry it took long, i'm busy with life

It started with the two of you hanging out and enjoying each other's company. Then, a kiss. And that leads to a make out session.

For Andrew, it was hard for both his self-control and his dick. He couldn't help that you got him turned on and horny now. Of course he doesn't blame you, no. Andrew is mature. He knows himself that he is too in love with you. He loves you so dearly that he couldn't bear to think of you with any other guy. He loves so dearly that he gets hard every time you're close to him and he can smell your sweet perfume. And those times, he always excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

But somehow he's always nonchalant about it and you find it attractive. Obviously, you know the reasons he went to the bathroom but you don't really understand why.

Why did he get turned on seeing your body? It wasn't curvy. You don't have big boobs or squishable ass.

His hands always run down your hip and up to your waist, playing with the fat there while kissing. Sometimes even fiddling the hem of your shirt, pulling and twirling, asking for your permission to go further.

You don't say anything nor give a sign. You were nervous. How do you do this stuff? How do you initiate? What do you have to do? So, you let him do his thing.

That's when he pulls away, leaving traces of saliva connecting from your lips. His green eyes looked at yours, pleading. You know what he wants but again, how do you initiate? Are you even able to go all the way with him?

He senses your unsure feeling and lifts himself up. The warmth radiating from his body is no longer there. "We don't have to do it, y'know. I'm not forcing—"

You grab his sleeves, even more worried about him than yourself. "It's fine. It's just . . ." You were embarrassed to say that you have no idea what to do yet you know he knows that you're a virgin, but he doesn't know that you were somewhat scared of losing it. It's just the thought of putting something foreign inside you is . . . weird and sounds uncomfortable.

"I'll guide you. I promise I'll be gentle," he says so softly it's soothing. His lips pull into a smile, an endearing one that doesn't show any mischievous hint. He pecks your forehead with thumb strokes on your temple. Despite the soft touches, his dick was undeniably rock hard you can feel it brushing on your thigh.

His hand slips inside your shirt and moves upward, riding up your shirt but stopping at the edges of your bra. If you weren't wearing any, he would've reached your nipples for not even feeling the mounds of breasts from how flat it becomes when you lie down. He stares down at you pleadingly before sliding behind you to unclip your underwear.

You were getting nervous once he sees them. What if he's disappointed? What if it turns him off—?

You hear a moan coming from Andrew once he touches one of your nipples. You also let out a sigh from the touch. He pulls off your shirt and bra together and gazes at your naked body.

"Fuck," he moans again under his breath. Oh shit, does he hate it?

He dives into your nipples and gives a hard suck, proving your point wrong. You whimper and that really seems to motivate him. He licks it, suckles on it, even bites it. Your idle nipple has already been paid attention with his fingers, pinching and pulling and flicking. All of it made your head swirl that you can only think of Andrew and the amazing sensations. You've been moaning for him your pussy is getting wet.

When you whimper, he would look up at you but his mouth is still occupied with your nipples. Sometimes you can even feel him smirk.

Once he's satisfied, he switches to the other one. You find the saliva connecting from his lips to your nipple hot. His empty hand starts to inch its way down to your pants. He slips inside and circles on your clothed clit. You gasp, your body reacting to the attention. Your legs automatically close around his hand it made him open it up again and pinned one of your legs down. You whine when he continues to rub on your clit. Your legs keep thrashing but his smile gets wider and his breathings are labour. Somehow, your reaction excites him.

He fully pulls off your pants, leaving your panties on just to purposely pull it aside. He rubs a few on your clit before diving a finger into your hole. When you feel it prodding at your entrance, your eyes widen and you quickly push his hand away without thinking before realizing what you did. You look at him apologetically, but he was fast to reassure too. He kisses your lips and all over your face to distract you. Andrew tries again, touching your hole and slowly pushing it in. Gladly, this time you didn't squirm away.

"Good girl, that's it. You're doing great," he talks you through it before moving his finger. You gasp again but he keeps whispering sweet nothings and praises in your ear.

"Everything's okay. Just relax, alright?" Another kiss on your forehead and you're melting into him.

He picks up his speed, still focusing on your expressions for any signs of discomfort. He adds another finger in and you moan. Your mouth is shaped into an 'O' and he just has the urge to bite your bottom lip so he just does it, even sticking his tongue into your opened mouth. It was an opportunity, he took it.

He feels you tighten around his finger and it makes him grind down on you, accidentally pushing himself deeper. You whine from it.

Andrew takes out his fingers to pull off his pants, flinging his dick out. Your eyebrows furrow upwards at the sight. It made you drool but the realization that that thing is going inside you snaps you.

He notices your worried expression and kisses your nose. "Don't worry. We don't have to go all the way if you're not ready."

You look down at his cock again, hard and red. Very red on the tip. "What about you?"

"I'll do this—" his cock glides on your wet pussy. "Ngh, if you don't mind?"

Your moan and a nod testifies to your consent and his hips got to work. The rubbing of his dick on your pussy and clit was a whole new level of pleasure for you. You thought that that was enough to make you crazy, he pushes in more of his cock into you with his thumb to get more friction and that makes your eyes roll behind and your back arching for more. Your small tits were displayed for him he had to grab onto it and squeeze. Adding a few pinches to your nipple before letting go.

The cute noises coming from your mouth motivates him to go faster and a teensy bit rougher. "Fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Andrew!"

"Yeah? You're gonna cum? Go ahead, doll. Let go for me. Mmh, fuck! You feel so good."

Your pussy is soaking wet it makes his grinding much easier. And the sight, oh he loves seeing it sloppy. He can't wait to cum on your pussy. The thought makes him close to his climax. "Babe, I can't! I can't— I'm gonna cum!" He whimpers but he didn't know that you've already cummed a few seconds ago.

"I'm cumming! Haa!" He gasps and white shoots out, painting your stomach and your pussy, just like he wanted. He groans as he slowly grinds on you to ride out his orgasm. It took you a moment to notice his cheeks are red and his ears too.

His cum spreads all over pussy and inner thighs now from his slow grinds. Once he pulls away, he can't help but to stare at your messy pussy. Some of the white cum still running down you and it got into your hole. His intrusive thoughts win and he gathers some more cum and pushes them into your hole.

"Andrew!" You gasped from the sudden intrusion.

He chuckles, "Sorry." But his green eyes are still glued to your pussy. "I wanna lick it so bad but I don't want to taste my own cum, haha. Maybe next time."

[tellingtell5]

Stand by me, part 2. 《Invincible, Mark Grayson 》

IIt seems that in the end, it's not such a short story about multiple Invincibles, a bunch of Mark Graysons.

A/N: Sorry for this. I don’t know where it’s going, but I hope it continues. I have some ideas for Olive trapped with so many versions of Mark. Let me know what yours are! (choose your fighter) Thanks for the support.

P.S.: I love the mohawk Mark, that kinky bastard owns my heart.

Pat 1., part 3

Mark Grayson x oc!fmale

"Are you sure about this?"

Mark rested his forehead against hers, and despite the devastation surrounding them, she couldn't imagine a place she’d rather be. She nodded, their skin brushing.

"I think right now I'm the safest person in the entire universe."

Mark let out a low laugh against her skin, shaking his head. The truth was, she had a point. A handful of versions of himself were willing to destroy entire realities just to get her. A strange, gut-deep tug hit him—the same one he’d felt the day Rex had sparred with Liv and made her laugh the entire time. He wasn't the jealous type. Olive always told him how cool it was to have a boyfriend so secure in himself. But this... this made him feel exposed. Especially when she looked at him like she held his entire world in her hands.

He kissed her slowly, deliberately, like time didn’t matter, like the universe wasn’t burning around them.

"Hey, Mark. You're the only one. Okay?"

He pulled back, a little stunned by how easily she read him. Then again, he could usually read her just as well.

"There is nothing, in this world or any other, that they could offer me that would make me go with one of those freaks. I’ll mess with them, keep them busy. And when I’m done, I’ll help you with Armstrong."

She made it sound so simple. And while the knot in his chest loosened slightly, he couldn't shake it completely. Those versions of him might have turned out differently, but their Olives had still fallen for them. So they had to share something... and that scared the hell out of him.

"Go wreck that asshole. Show him not to mess with our dimension."

She gave him a quick kiss and brushed his cheek.

"God, Liv, I lo—"

"No. Don’t you dare. Don’t say it. It might sound like a goodbye. Just finish this, make him send all your psycho copies back to their realities, and then come home to me. I’ll let you finish what you couldn’t earlier."

How immoral would it be to just ditch the mission and run off to a cabin in the woods with Olive forever? Probably very. So with a grunted nod, he tore himself away from her and launched into the sky, heading toward the villain waiting for him. He didn’t look back. If he did, he might not have had the strength to leave.

When she reached the others, Olive froze.

They were... talking. Civilly. Arguing, maybe, but not fighting. They hadn’t noticed her floating above them, so she allowed herself a moment to eavesdrop.

"...so the quadrant would look like this," said one of them, holding up a color-coded chart. Where the hell had he gotten markers and paper? Was this why they hadn’t chased her? Because they were splitting her up like she was some class hamster?

"Why do I only get 10 days?" asked one of the Marks—the one without goggles, the one who’d tried to kill her.

"Be grateful you get anything. You tried to murder her. You’re batshit. And that’s saying something, considering the rest of us."

"Speak for yourself," muttered the dark-suited Invincible, voice heavy with regret.

Maybe she didn’t need to distract them. They were doing that all by themselves. She felt a flicker of amusement. This was such a Mark thing—arguing instead of doing.

"You’re one to talk. You have mommy issues."

"What? Liking mom doesn’t mean I like her like that."

"Sure. Good for you. You didn’t kill Debbie. Gold star."

Another Mark, one with a mustache far too close to Nolan’s, raised his voice.

"I refuse to share Olive. What if she gets pregnant? I’m not letting any of you near her."

Silence.

"Whoa there, stud. Nobody's knocking her up."

She realized there were more of them now. Had they called a meeting? Christ. She was starting to understand how dangerous Mark could be if he ever snapped. But not her Mark. He always tried to do the right thing. He was trying now.

"What if..." said the one with the mohawk, clearly teeing up something awful, "we all shared her. At once."

Another silence.

"Come on, I can’t be the only one who's thought about hooking up with himself. Imagine it. A threesome... or more. She's strong. Maybe she can handle a few of us at once."

Yup. There it was. The Mark with every single one of his perversions turned up to eleven. Her body betrayed her, a rush of heat pooling low in her stomach. Focus. They're not him. They're sociopaths. Jesus, Liv, get a grip.

"You're disgusting," said Omni-Invincible, glaring.

"And you're a prude. I saw you adjusting your little package earlier, repressed freak."

He got punched in the face, hard. He laughed like that proved his point.

"You’re all losers," said the Caped Invincible. "You’re missing something important. She’s gone. She left with this world’s Mark. No Olive, no schedule."

Everyone went still. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"That’s not a problem. She’s right there. Been listening for a while."

They all turned at once. She flinched.

"Why didn’t you say anything, dumbass?"

He shrugged.

"Dunno. Thought it was funny. Let her hear how stupid you all sound. Thanks for softening the ground."

He flew toward her, wrapped an arm around her waist. Too confident. Olive froze.

"Let’s go, babe. Let’s find Armstrong and go home."

She never thought Mark's touch could feel like molten lava. She felt sick just being near him. But she forced a smile, resting her head on his shoulder, laughing like an idiot.

"Yeah. Though you seem a little dumber than my Olive. Nothing time won’t fix."

Her blood boiled.

"Guys," she called sweetly, and all their rage focused back on her. "I think I want to change the quadrant. I’ll stick with this Mark. He seems the strongest, don’t you think?"

She had a plan. She just didn’t know if they’d fall for it again. Before she could second guess herself, the veiled Invincible shot out and tackled the pretender, knocking her loose.

Hands caught her shoulders.

"You okay?"

Dark Mark, he always sounded so worried. She hated what she was about to do to him, but she had no choice. She lifted her knee to drive it into his chest—but a blue-and-black blur beat her to it, fists flying.

"Don’t touch her like that. Your turn isn’t for six months, asshole."

The mohawk Mark. He looked at her.

"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Liv. Pitting us against each other so we’ll do your dirty work. Smart."

He turned back and clapped his hands on either side of his target’s skull, knocking him cold.

"I don’t give a shit. I’d kill all of them if you asked me to."

There it was again. That low ache. How could she explain to her body that this wasn't her Mark? His eyes darkened.

"You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you, Liv?"

She was about to clock him when a muscle-bound prison wrapped around her. She looked over her shoulder and saw a Viltrumite-suited Mark. Damn it. That suit looked good on him.

They soared upward. She started to fight, but he held her tighter.

"No, Liv, stop." There was urgency in his voice—not anger. It wasn’t even a command, more like a plea. "Don’t do this."

When he rested his head on her shoulder and pulled himself closer, she understood what he meant. He wasn't even trying to hold her back anymore, like he’d forgotten what he came here to do. His mind was hazy, his purpose blurred. A soft gasp escaped her as he leaned fully into her, deliberately rubing against her.

"I missed you so much." Her legs trembled, and if they hadn’t been floating midair—if Mark hadn’t been holding her like his life depended on it—she might’ve collapsed. Then she felt it—a warm lick at her neck, followed by a desperate, satisfied moan.

"Fuck... you smell like me, Liv."

Of course she did. Just a couple hours ago, she’d been in this same position—with her Mark. Her Mark. She had to force her body to understand that this familiar weight, this comforting heat, wasn’t him. Her body resisted the truth. This felt like everything that was right in the world. Her hips moved on their own, and she cursed herself for it.

"I can’t wait to get home. I’m gonna give you a baby—and you’re gonna thank me for it."

Something snapped in her mind. Holy shit—she had to get him off of her.

She tensed, pressing her forehead against Mark’s, the one still buried in her neck. Then she started pushing upward with her shoulder, using all her strength. At first, the Viltrumite Mark didn’t register what was happening—but when he did, it was too late. Olive heard the sickening crunch of bone and a groan of pain. She didn’t stop. Not until his grip loosened.

She pulled away, watching him stagger, blood pouring from his ears and eyes. She hadn’t killed him, but she’d definitely given him a concussion—his eyes rolled back and he started to fall.

She hovered in place, catching her breath, when another Invincible found her.

"Finally. There you are. Damn, you really stirred up a mess down there. They’re tearing each other apart over you, you know that?"

A shiver ran down her spine. It was the Mark without goggles—the one who’d actually tried to kill her.

"Seems like I’m in high demand, huh?" She tried to gauge his angle.

"You are. You're the only Olive still alive. In every universe... you’re dead."

He floated toward her slowly, like a cat playing with its prey.

"How did your Olive die, Mark?"

She braced herself for cruelty, for a fight.

"Debris killed you while I tried to protect you from my dad."

Her heart clenched at the sorrow in his voice—but then he laughed. That bastard started laughing.

"You believed that? You’ve always been so naive. I killed you, Liv. In my dimension, you had powers too. Didn’t hold up quite as well as you’re doing here. And guess what? The mohawk idiot’s not the only one turned on by how strong you are."

He was insane. Before he could touch her, the caped Invincible tackled him mid-air, knees slamming into his back, sending him crashing like a wounded bird.

"That asshole shouldn’t even be in this quadrant," he muttered to himself. This one seemed more sane, but something dangerous shimmered beneath the surface.

"Hi, Olive."

She raised a trembling hand and waved awkwardly. He gave her a crooked smile.

"You’re coming with me. We’ve got things to do."

"Like what, exactly?"

He scoffed.

"Conquer the universe. You’ve got a throne waiting beside mine. We’ll wipe out every pathetic insect in our way, and then we’ll keep going until it’s just you and me."

Her jaw dropped. She’d been wrong—he was the worst. Or at least the creepiest.

"Yeah, I think I’ll pass."

"That wasn’t a request, sweetheart."

He lunged—but she punched him square in the jaw, sending him flying. She used the moment of confusion to bolt. She picked up speed—until a voice stopped her cold.

"OLIVE!"

The pain in the cry struck something deep in her. That wasn’t Mark—but it was Mark.

She approached cautiously, hovering a few feet away from a bloodied Mark. His nose was gushing, shirt ripped open to a jacket. He was sobbing.

"Liv, please... help me. It hurts."

Tears welled in her eyes. Seeing him like this—it hurt like hell. She’d smashed a few of them without flinching. But this Mark? There was something heartbreakingly human in his eyes. She knew it was a trick. Still, she knelt beside him, hand brushing his cheek. He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes.

"You always been this dumb?"

Her brows furrowed. When he opened his eyes, they sparkled with cruelty. She knew it—but didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. She was about to ask what he meant when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her skyward. She screamed—then saw the mohawk Mark.

"Thanks, dude! I owe you one."

"You said we’d share!" the bloodied Mark yelled from below like a child.

"Yeah, well. I changed my mind." He shrugged, grinning.

Olive thrashed again, yanking her arm like she could tear it off. Pain ripped through her shoulder—it dislocated, and nausea hit hard. She went pale. Then they stopped midair.

"No self-mutilation," he warned, concern flickering through the twisted look in his eyes. None of them had really tried to hurt her. Just keep her. Except the psycho without goggles.

He floated closer, gripping her injured arm.

"Not into that kind of pain, babe. Deep breath. This’ll suck."

A sharp twist—pop. Her bones reset. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, tears falling as she trembled. She nearly passed out, but the pervy Mark held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head.

"Got you, Liv," he whispered. And this time, he sounded... hurt.

She cried into his neck, exhausted. Fighting Mark—any version of him—was killing her. Even twisted, deranged, or dangerous, he was still Mark.

She noticed the mohawk one was still holding her. Around them, other Invincibles had regrouped—bruised, bloodied, but all visibly concerned.

"Is she okay?" asked the veiled one, reaching out.

The grip around her tightened protectively

"Can’t you see it, you idiot?"

"What the hell did you do to her? I thought the only one we had to worry about was the maniac without the goggles."

The one with the mohawk tensed. "I didn’t do anything to her. I don’t even think it’s physical, you emotionally stunted morons."

Olive sobbed again, burying her face into the crook of his neck, trying—failing—to let his scent calm her. Because this wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be villains. Predictable. Easy to hate. She hadn’t expected to see in each of them some warped echo of her Mark.

"Olive, what do we do to make you stop crying?"

She pulled back from the Mark holding her and looked at them, one by one.

"For starters, maybe you shouldn’t have destroyed my entire world."

"Come on, Liv. They were insignificant, they were just hum—"

"Enough. They weren’t insignificant. None of them were. They had lives. They mattered. I’m human. Don’t I matter too?"

"You were the only thing that made that miserable planet worth anything," said the Viltrumite Mark, his voice slower now. Her words hit him harder than she'd meant them to.

"Then make up your minds. Either you’re merciless world-killers or there's still a shred of something left in your broken hearts. Because you can’t love me and destroy me at the same time. You wipe out everything I care about, you wipe out me too."

Her breathing was ragged, like she’d just sprinted through a war zone.

They went silent, glancing at each other, lost. One opened his mouth to respond—but a green light cut him off.

Olive turned to find Angstrom. Furious.

The Mohawk Mark immediately stepped between them, shielding her from Angstrom’s burning gaze.

"So that’s why you haven’t finished the job. You found her. You’re even dumber than I thought."

Olive stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t hit him. Not yet. Not until she knew her Mark was okay. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other Invincibles take up positions behind her. For once, not against her.

And for the first time, she felt powerful.

"Where’s Mark?"

"Greedy little thing. You’ve got a whole crew of him right behind you and still want more. Want all of them, huh?"

She glared at him. "There’s only one I care about, Angstrom."

She heard a few murmurs behind her. She didn’t give a damn.

"He’s busy. Fighting for his life in another dimension. Hopefully losing."

She wanted to beat Angstrom into the ground. Not metaphorically. Fist to face, over and over.

"Look at yourself. Just as unhinged as the rest of them. But you know that, don’t you? Afraid your precious Mark might see how rotten you really are inside?"

"What?"

"You choose him. Every time. Always by his side." His face twisted with rage. She flinched as if he’d slapped her. "You abandon your entire species for an unstoppable psychopath. What does that say about you?"

She couldn’t speak. Dread filled her lungs like concrete. Because he was right. She would choose Mark. In this life, in any other.

"Hey, ease off the psychological warfare," said the one with the cape—the one who’d seemed the most threatening at first. He stepped in front of her too. "We had a deal. If you break her, there won’t be anything left for us."

"Yeah, send us back to our timelines already, or we’ll end this right here."

"Idiots. If we kill him, how do we leave this dump with Olive?"

"What if we just torture him?"

"That works for me." Nods all around. They didn’t see it coming.

"Wait, no—"

"Yeah, Olive. We’ll be good. We’ll redeem ourselves. But first, we’re dealing with him."

"That’s not what I—"

Too late. Dozens of portals opened behind each Invincible. Drones appeared in front of every one of them and shoved them through the dimensional rifts. Olive gasped as a broad back slammed into her, dragging her through as well.

When she came to, eyes were all around her. Watching. She tried to sit up, groaning. Voices floated above her.

"...this damn place."

"At least we got Olive."

They all turned to look down at her.

Please be a concussion dream.

"What...?"

"Liv, welcome to the ass end of existence. You’re stuck in the interdimensional dump. Lucky for you... you’re stuck here with us."

No. No, no, no.

A chill tore through her as she looked around—a wasteland. Her breath came shallow. stretched a scorched desert. Nothing but dead wind and sunburned rock. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Could she fight them off forever?

No.

"Well... guess we’ll have to kill time somehow, huh?" said the Mohawk one, eyes darkening.

"What did the quadrant say again?"

Shit.

"Hey! Weren’t we talking about redemption? About being good boys?"

Smirks crept across every single face.

"How about you call us good boys for something else, Olive?"

The world collapsed around her. She was trapped. Trapped with a thousand versions of her boyfriend—all broken in different ways. All with the libido of a supernova.

"Tell us, Olive. Are you just strong... or can you take it, too?"

They began to close in like predators.

Mark, please... find a way out of here.

[servicpop]

Deliquent oc Adrien hcs + visuals!

— contains one nsfw hc!

Adrien who works out with how much you weigh. Anything involving weights he'll adjust them to your weight or higher because he wants to be able to hold and carry you with ease.

Adrien who has a rocky relationship with his parents but always talks about you to them in a good light — his parents love you because you're a good influence.

Adrien who always refers to you as his boyfriend even if you aren't actually dating him. Yet.

Adrien who overhears people talking behind your back and he has to resist doing something about it because he couldn't let anyone know about your "relationship" with him. So he stalks that person after class and makes sure to teach them a lesson.

Adrien who purposefully comes over to your house without an invitation just so he can breathe in your scent when he goes into your room. That explains why he always sleeps in your bed when he's over.

NSFW : Adrien who is in the middle of relieving his stress through masturbation, sees your text pop up on his phone, and now all he can think about is pounding into you. He can't even last a second when your face flashes in his head before he's a groaning mess. One day he'll send a video to you.

Visuals

I imagined him to be definitely bulky, tattoos, and slightly tan! I collected some photos through pintrest that I was like "that could be adrien" they aren't real images, if you don't like drawn face claims(?) then i'm sorry, feel free to find your own image that suits him, he's fictional after all!

Im not too sure though! If you guys have some photos you wanna share with me my inbox is open w/ images ♡

Some texts I thought gave off Adrien:

notes ,, this is a little filler post while i tackle my current Adrien fic

[fanbasetwo]

TIL DEATH DO US PART , RICKY

PAIRING: husband ! ricky × wife ! afab reader

SYNOPSIS: In an arranged marriage where sparks never flew, you finally chose divorce as the only path to freedom. But when your husband died in a sudden accident, life took an unexpected turn, binding you to a reality marked by guilt, grief, and the shadows of unfulfilled words. Now, you must navigate a world that holds him forever gone.

GENRE: fluff + angst

WARNING(S): not proofread, kissing, dirty jokes, a little bit suggestive, mentions of suicide and death, insecurities, mentions of pregnancy. lmk if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 16.2K

FEAT: JAY from ENHYPEN + some ocs

MASTERLIST !!

NOTE FROM SENA , this kinda flopped on my enha blog but I still wanted to reach more people, so here it is. an ricky version of the same fic, if you find ‘jake’ instead of ‘ricky’ in some paras please mention so that I can edit it out. hope you have fun reading this <3💗

DEAR RICKY,

I'm sorry, but I can't continue living like this. I'm leaving. Our marriage has become a constant battle, and I believe we're both suffering more by holding on than we would by letting go. I know neither of us wanted it to come to this, and I wish things were different. But deep down, I think we're better apart. I hope one day you'll understand.

With regret, Y/N.

TEARS BLURRED YOUR VISION AS YOU STARED AT THE CRUMBLED NOTE IN YOUR HAND—the one you had written to Ricky months ago. The one that now felt like a curse. Your hands shook as you traced the familiar words, guilt twisting your insides. I'm leaving. I'm sorry. He had never known the true weight of those words. And now he never would.

The police had found it in his pocket. They said he'd carried it with him, even after everything. Even when he... when he was gone.

You collapsed onto the couch, clutching the note like a lifeline, but it only felt like a reminder of how far you had pushed him. How much you had wanted out, and now, how deeply you regretted it. A year together, two lives constantly at odds, and it had ended in this way. A divorce that never came, an accident that did. You didn't want this, didn't want him gone, but now, all you had was this-regret, and a body that was too still in your bed to hold. The anger, the frustration of him being gone-it consumed you, ate at your soul.

Why couldn't you have waited?

You had hoped time apart would fix things, give you both breathing room. But he hadn't lived long enough for you to see the good you could have made of it. The guilt ate you alive, deeper than the frustration ever had. You tried to convince yourself it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't have known, but deep down, the truth stung. Your note had been his last reminder of your marriage. His last memory. He had carried your rejection right until the end.

Would things have been different if you hadn't written that letter?

The thought raked at your mind like shards of glass, shredding everything in its path. What if you had kept fighting for him, for the marriage? Would he have been here? Would you have learned to love him? Or would he still have left, still have been gone, no matter what?

Your thoughts flickered back to moments with him-so small, so easy to overlook. The way Ricky had rolled his eyes every time you'd scolded his niece Semi for spilling juice, or how he had tried to hide his smirk as he pretended to act innocent. The little things that used to irritate you, that you had never really appreciated until now.

You remembered the way he defended you against his relatives, his words sharp and protective as they made cruel comments about your body. They didn't understand, but Ricky did. He had always been there, not perfect but trying.

“She suits me well enough.”

The memory felt like a slap now, a cruel joke. You had spent so much time pushing him away, not seeing that he cared. You hadn't seen that he had tried.

“Why couldn't I have seen it?” You whispered to the empty room, curling up on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow. The tears soaked into the fabric, and the sobs wracked through you like a storm. Why was it only now, when he was gone, that you realized how much he had mattered?

You had never kissed him, never held him the way a wife should. You thought you had the luxury of time, but now you had nothing left but his memory. The memory of a man you barely knew but had somehow been the one constant in your life. How selfish of you to push him away. How stupid to think it was all about the fights, the annoyances, and not about the love you could have had.

“Please... Ricky. I'm sorry...”

The words escaped you as your sobs grew louder, choking your breath. Your body trembled with grief, the weight of regret pressing down on you until you couldn't breathe. If only you could undo it, go back and rewrite the note. If only you hadn't given up on him, on the marriage, on the chance for something more.

The room felt suffocating now, as though the walls were closing in around you. What now? you thought. There was no future with him anymore. No next step. No reconciliation.

Why had you waited so long to realize how much he meant to you?

You sank deeper into your pillow, tears soaking your face and your hair, wishing for the impossible: for him to walk through the door, to come back, to make everything okay again. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

And all that was left was you. And the note.

YOUR MOTHER IN LAW’S HANDS TREMBLE AS SHE EXTENDS THE ANCESTRAL RING TOWARDS YOU, her eyes glistening with raw grief. The ring's delicate gold band catches the light, an unwanted reminder of everything Ricky represented—strength, love, an unfinished story.

“He wanted you to have this… but I never thought I’d give it to you now. Not like this,” she whispers, her voice breaking before dissolving into quiet sobs. The sound is so raw it scrapes at your heart. For a moment, the room feels unbearably small, closing in with the suffocating weight of shared loss.

You stare at the ring, fingers hovering uncertainly. The thought of accepting it feels like admitting he’s really gone. Yet, you know you can’t refuse it; Ricky’s wish, even unspoken now, feels sacred. You slip the ring onto your finger, a silent acknowledgment of the man you had once promised yourself to, a man you’ll never get the chance to truly know.

With a hesitant step forward, you place your hand on her shoulder, the touch meant to soothe but feeling fragile, as though it could shatter under the weight of her grief. The older woman leans into you, body racked with tremors as she buries her face in her hands. Her sobs rise and fall in uneven waves, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Please… don’t cry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and cracking at the edges. The night had drained you, leaving your eyes dry yet still burning, poised for more tears that you no longer had the strength to shed.

Her grief pierces deeper. “He wouldn’t want to see you in pain,” you add, voice low, carrying the weight of a plea that even you don’t believe.

“I-I know,” she manages between sobs, her shoulders trembling. “But… he was so young, so full of life. It should’ve been me, not him. He barely started his life, and now…”

The room seems to warp under the heaviness of her words. You know she’s right. The unfairness of it all gnaws at you. But what would Ricky want? The question echoes in your mind, clawing for answers you wish you didn’t have to seek.

You close your eyes for a brief second, conjuring his face in your memory—the way his smile would sneak out when he thought you weren’t looking, the stubborn tilt of his chin when he was determined. You imagine him here, telling you what to do, how to be strong for her when he couldn’t be.

Drawing in a shaking breath, you shift, wrapping your arms around your mother-in-law. She stiffens for a heartbeat before collapsing into the embrace, her body convulsing with grief. Her head rests on your shoulder, and you stroke her back, the gesture rhythmic, almost desperate, as if the act itself could soothe the unsoothable.

“My poor boy… he must’ve been so scared, so alone in those final moments,” she chokes out, and it’s as if a knife twists in your chest. The image of him in pain, of his last moments, blurs the edges of your control. A tear slips down your cheek, a singular escape among the multitude waiting behind your lashes.

“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” you whisper, barely audible. The guilt is relentless, intertwining with the ache of loneliness that had settled deep within you long before he passed. You were alone when he was alive, and now that emptiness has transformed, sharpened by grief, into something more unbearable.

Her sobs quiet, just enough for her to lift her head and take in your expression, your tears mingling with unsaid words. She studies you, eyes clouded by grief but touched with understanding.

“You must feel so alone too… You and Ricky… barely had time,” she murmurs, her voice a weak echo of empathy.

The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain. You meet her gaze and see the exhaustion, the pain mirrored back at you. It anchors you for a moment, before she speaks again.

“You’re still young. You should think of moving forward one day. Remarry, maybe… You’ll always be like a daughter to me, but you have to live, too.”

Your heart clenches, rejecting the thought. You don’t want to. The ache of wanting Ricky, even in a marriage that had felt distant, is a raw wound you can’t imagine healing. The loneliness was familiar; life without him is uncharted, unbearable.

“I won’t… I can’t,” you admit, voice shaking as the tears finally spill, unchecked. “I just want him back. Even if it means being lonely again.”

The words break you open, and this time, neither of you tries to stop the crying. You hold each other in the ruins of shared loss, hoping, against hope, that the pieces of your shattered hearts will one day feel less sharp.

YOUR HANDS CHILLED FROM THE BRISK AIR, DIG DEEPER INTO YOUR COAT POCKETS AS YOU GAZE OUT INTO THE SWIRLING SNOW, a faint numbness settling in your bones. Each snowflake that brushes against your cheek feels colder than the last, a physical reminder of the frost that’s taken root in your heart, a void Ricky's absence left behind. Life has lost its rhythm, its purpose, and the bustling world seems foreign, moving on a beat you no longer recognize.

Nursing, once a passion that filled your heart, now feels suffocating. The once-simple act of caring for patients, seeing them through their darkest times, now stirs something darker inside you—an envy for their hope, their chances. These creeping, bitter thoughts had scared you enough to step back from the only profession you knew. The faces of crying relatives haunted your dreams, their grief striking chords too familiar, too close. You’d sworn to heal, never harm, yet here you are, carrying shadows of guilt too heavy to bear.

The café’s warmth hits you as you push through the door, a momentary comfort against the gnawing cold. You shuffle forward, fingers fumbling in your pocket for money as your eyes wander the room. Ricky had always spoken fondly of this place, a little corner shop with its cozy mismatched chairs and the sweet aroma of cocoa and baked pastries. A small pang clenches your chest, regret whispering its usual 'what ifs.' If only you’d agreed to visit here with him, if only time hadn’t been a cruel master.

The barista, a young woman with weary eyes, glances up as she speaks. “Ma’am, are you ordering?” Her voice, though polite, carries a slight impatience with the growing line behind you.

“Ah, yes… a cold coffee,” you manage, the words falling flat as if they don’t quite belong to you. Her brows lift, a flicker of confusion.

“In this weather?” she asks, a hint of genuine concern lacing her tone.

Realizing the absurdity, you swallow, forcing a small, resigned nod. “Hot chocolate then,” you say, the warmth of Ricky’s recommendation tugging at the edges of your memory.

The exchange is brief, the hot drink pressed into your hands a minute later. As you turn to leave, the weight of the ancestral ring around your finger pulls at you, its cool surface grounding and yet suffocating. The bittersweet metal reflects a dull glow, a silent reminder of promises made and broken, of the love lost and the void left behind.

The wind picks up outside, tugging at your coat as you sip the hot chocolate. Its warmth spreads through you, but it’s fleeting, never enough to touch the ache within. You shake your head, Ricky’s face vivid in your mind, his teasing smile as he’d planned your future dates. You’d push the thought aside, but every step feels like dragging a part of him behind you.

“Why can’t I let go?” you murmur, voice snatched away by the icy air. Your brother-in-law’s words echo in your mind, urging you to stop living in Ricky’s shadow. But how do you tear yourself away from the ghost of a love that never got to finish its story?

Snow clings to your coat as you continue to trudge through the city, each step heavy with an ache that refuses to fade. The glow of the streetlights bathes the snow in a warm, golden hue, contrasting the bitter chill that settles in your chest. Sipping the hot chocolate, you try to focus on the warmth sliding down your throat, but the sweetness only sharpens the emptiness inside. The steam curls from the cup, a fleeting comfort as your breath mingles with it in the frigid air.

You pause near a park bench, eyes darting to couples bundled up, their laughter piercing through the quiet snowfall. One couple stands close, the man adjusting the scarf around his partner’s neck with a smile that makes your heart clench. You bite the inside of your cheek, the taste of copper sharp on your tongue as you fight back the sting in your eyes. The jealousy gnaws at you, sour and uninvited.

The memory of Ricky’s voice flits through your mind, warm and teasing: “Good things happen to good people.” You scoff, the bitterness in that statement now a cruel joke. Were you not good enough? The universe seemed to think so, because it had ripped him away, leaving a hollow shell in his place.

Lost in thought, you find yourself on the bridge, fingers trailing over the iron railing that has frosted over, leaving cool streaks on your gloves. This place, once so filled with light and memories, feels haunted now. You trace a path where your and Ricky’s hands once met, where laughter and shared secrets once echoed.

A voice, small and familiar, intrudes on your thoughts. Semi’s question echoes, fragile and innocent: “Aunty, when will Uncle come home?” You close your eyes, the lump in your throat thickening as the memory sharpens. You remember her wide, unknowing eyes searching yours for an answer you couldn't give, the guilt of that half-truth searing into you as you whispered, “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

You grip the railing tighter, feeling the cold seep through your gloves as the ache of regret claws at your heart. The river below moves steadily, unaffected by the chaos in your chest. You look down, watching the water catch the light in rippling patterns, your reflection distorted and wavering. The noise of the city fades as you breathe in the freezing air, each exhale a shuddering attempt to steady yourself.

A gust of wind stings your face, and you force yourself to look up, straightening with a resolve that feels fragile. Ricky’s brother and his wife were inside your apartment, their watchful eyes filled with concern disguised as casual chatter. You know why they stay—it’s not out of pity, but out of fear, a silent agreement to keep you tethered when your world felt like it was splitting at the seams.

The laughter from the park drifts over again, mingling with the hum of distant traffic. For a moment, you let yourself remember the warmth of Ricky’s embrace, the way he’d nudge your shoulder and murmur, “Life doesn’t stop, even when we want it to.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” you whisper into the night, the words barely a breath as they dissolve in the chill.

The warmth of the hot chocolate fades as the biting wind grazes your skin, a cruel reminder of the numbing void left behind. You stare at the bridge, eyes tracing the railings where Ricky’s laughter once echoed. A memory surfaces, unbidden yet vivid.

“I know this isn't what either of us planned, but... I wish we could work it out,” Ricky had said, a touch of hesitation softening his confident voice. His hands, hesitant but steady, hovered near you, respecting the space you held between.

“I wish that too,” you had murmured, the lie sliding off your tongue too easily. You’d convinced yourself you didn't care enough for Ricky then, but the pang of that memory now gnawed at your insides. Regret had a way of reshaping the past, twisting even the most indifferent moments into sharp blades.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Ricky had prodded gently, eyes bright even as he leaned down to meet your gaze.

Caught off guard, you’d raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” The question felt foreign, untouched by anyone's curiosity until now.

“Your ideal type,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as though challenging you. His height had always made you tilt your head back to catch his expression—a detail that now felt like a cruel nostalgia.

“Why would you ask that?” You'd played along, teasing but curious.

Ricky chuckled, the sound resonant and warm. “Because we're getting married, and maybe knowing each other better will make it feel less... strange. Maybe, just maybe, we'll fall in love.” His hand, finally settling on your shoulder, had felt reassuring, a silent promise in its touch.

The memory cleaves through you like a knife, leaving behind a raw wound that no time or distance can heal. A single tear slips down your cheek as you blink, the reality of the moment washing over you like a wave. The park across the street bustles with couples walking hand-in-hand, laughter and warmth breaking through the cold that wraps around you. A fresh ache takes root, sharp and relentless.

You drop the empty cup into the trash can, the metallic clang breaking your reverie. The grief, heavy and suffocating, presses you to the edge as you turn and begin the long walk home. Your footsteps are heavy, every step an effort against the pull of the past.

“Aunty, you're so late. Did you bring Uncle with you?” Semi’s small voice meets you at the door, eyes bright with innocent hope. The guilt hits you like a punch, stealing the air from your lungs. Your throat tightens as you shake your head, eyes avoiding her searching gaze.

Jieun, seeing your reaction, sighs softly as she pulls Semi closer. “Semi, we talked about this, remember?” Her voice holds the practiced patience of a mother trying to shield her child from the pain.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Semi mumbles, eyes dropping to her tiny hands that fidget nervously. The sight twists your heart, guilt layering over the grief that refuses to ease.

You force a hollow smile. “It’s okay, Jieun. She's just a kid,” you say, your voice low and void of emotion as you shrug off your winter coat and hang it up. The familiar routine feels like a play you no longer wish to act in.

“Still, I just—” Jieun’s words falter as you cut her off, your voice breaking the tension.

“Please,” you murmur, the word sharp and desperate, silencing the room. The stillness that follows is suffocating, your breaths shallow as you fight to keep your composure.

Jieun's eyes search yours, understanding but hesitant. “We just don’t want you to be alone,” she whispers, her voice thick with worry.

“I know,” you reply, sitting on the couch with your head hung low, hands clenched tightly in your lap. After a long pause, you add, “But you need to leave. This is your home too, but you have your own life to get back to. I need time... time to figure out how to grieve.” Your eyes don’t lift to meet theirs; you can’t bear to see the disappointment or concern there.

Semi’s voice pipes up again, the innocence piercing through your defenses. “Are you sending us away, Aunty?”

The weight of guilt deepens, pressing into your chest. You close your eyes, feeling the sting behind your lids before you answer. “No, sweetie, I’m not sending you away. You can come whenever you want. Aunty will always be here.” The words come out flat, and you feel them land like lies in the air between you.

Jieun picks Semi up, nodding at you as if she understands, though her eyes glisten with worry. “We’ll give you some space. But we’ll check in. Don’t forget that, please.”

When the door clicks shut, silence wraps around you, heavy and thick. Your gaze shifts to the note you’d prepared earlier, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. The words, written in your own hand, feel foreign now: apologies to the people who stayed, memories they never knew you held, and the final confession of a heart too weary to go on.

You were battling with the urge to just end it all.

The rational part of your brain told you that you were young and had your whole life ahead and that you'd meet a lot of guys in your life but the stubborn heart won't give up and held onto the memory of the guy you once called your husband.

So, you gave up.

A smile, then another.

The city glows beneath you, lights sprawled like constellations cast on earth. The wind at this height is sharp, tearing through your clothes and chilling your skin, as if trying to pull you back from the edge. Your shoes scrape against the concrete ledge, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the battle waging within. The night air smells faintly of rain, metallic and crisp, mingling with the faint hum of traffic below.

You steady your phone in your trembling hand, its cold surface grounding you momentarily. A notification pings, an ironic reminder that life continues to tick on, indifferent to the turmoil within you. The camera lens reflects the shimmer of unshed tears as you hit record, the small red dot staring back like a silent witness.

A smile forms—hesitant, broken. Then another, and another, each one a mask that crumbles too soon. “To everyone who still cares,” you begin, your voice low and cracking, “Semi, sweet, innocent Semi. Jieun, always so patient. Jay... my husband’s shadow in every way. My sister, my friends, all of you who tried.”

The wind picks up, whipping strands of hair across your face as you pause, the weight of the unsaid pressing on your chest. You blink rapidly, tears slipping free, their warmth stinging against your cold cheeks. “Ricky wouldn't want this. I know he'd call me stubborn, weak even.” You let out a hollow laugh, the sound swallowed by the wind. “But he wouldn’t understand how loud it is in the silence he left behind.”

Your heart hammers as you shift your weight, the city seeming to inhale with you, holding its breath in anticipation. The edge of the building digs into the soles of your feet, the space between you and the world below both terrifying and liberating.

“I miss the little moments, Ricky,” you whisper, voice breaking as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I miss you making me feel lonely, and now... now I’m lonelier without you.” The ache in your chest is unbearable, a cavernous void that steals your breath.

One last deep breath, air burning through your lungs, and you step forward. The world blurs into a rush of sound and sensation—wind roaring in your ears, your body weightless, suspended in a moment between despair and peace.

And then the fall hits.

Pain surges through you, sharp and overwhelming, before darkness takes over. Around you, the chaos erupts into a cacophony—screams, the frantic pounding of feet, and the sharp cry of ambulance sirens slicing through the night. But these sounds are drifting away, becoming faint murmurs from a world slipping out of reach.

Silence wraps around you, one that made you feel like everything would be okay after this. Maybe, just maybe, peace waits on the other side. In death.

YOU WALK THROUGH THE DENSE, MILKY FOG, EACH REVERBERATING IN AN ECHO THAT NEVER QUITE SETTLES. The air is cool, feather-light, whispering like distant memories. Is this heaven? The question circles in your mind, unspoken. If it is, where is Ricky? A quiet laugh escapes your lips, hollow. He couldn’t have done enough wrong to land in hell, you think, the hint of humor biting through your longing. Yet, the anticipation twists your heart—an ache that makes you want to see him so desperately.

You try to call out, “Ricky?” but the sound stays trapped in your chest, choked by the thick fog. Another step forward and there’s nothing but endless white, stretching out, swallowing you whole. Your breath catches; suddenly, the air thins, compressing your lungs, squeezing out every ounce of oxygen. You gasp, your hands clawing at the invisible force stealing your breath. It feels like drowning in emptiness.

Then—without warning—everything shifts. White light erupts around you, blinding and all-consuming. You brace for oblivion, muscles tensing for an end you’re sure is near. But instead, there’s a softness beneath you—a mattress that cradles you like an embrace you forgot.

Your eyes snap open, pupils adjusting to the familiar pale ceiling. It’s your ceiling. Your shared room. The bed, the faint scent of Ricky’s cologne still lingering in the sheets, as if he just left. You sit up, heart thundering, hands brushing over your body frantically. No pain, no bruises, no broken bones—nothing. You’re whole, intact.

Then the realization hits you like cold water, and your fingers tremble as you pull them away.

“What the…?” you murmur, eyes darting around, seeking answers that the silent room won’t give. Your gaze falls to the phone on the bedside table, its screen blank and mocking in its stillness. You grab it, breath hitching as the time blinks to life.

January 29th, 2024. 6:30 a.m.

A shiver races down your spine. The date stares back at you, sharp and impossible. You set the phone down, legs feeling weak as you stand and approach the mirror. Your reflection isn’t that of a woman who has been weeping endlessly. Your eyes, dry and wide, reflect confusion rather than the storm of emotions that you carry.

“Is this one of those flashes they say you see before death?” Your voice trembles as the words escape, and you reach up to touch the cold glass. The girl looking back at you does the same, fingers meeting yours in a silent plea.

Then, your eyes catch it. The blue gel pen resting on the dresser—a pen that has no place outside your drawer. It’s a small thing, but the sight of it makes your breath hitch. Memories slice through you, sharp and unforgiving. That pen was the one you’d used for the note to Ricky, the one that demanded space, an end.

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head, bile rising in your throat. The pen feels like a cruel token, mocking you for what came after. In a swift motion, you snatch it up, the cold plastic biting into your skin as you grip it tight. The weight of your guilt, your regret, turns your stomach, and with a sudden burst of anger, you hurl the pen into the trash, its clatter punctuating the silence like a final plea.

Chest heaving, you close your eyes. If this is some kind of twisted second chance, you don’t know if you should feel terror or relief. But the room, the sheets, the absence on the other side of the bed—everything points to one impossible truth.

You’re back.

But this isn't a romance novel, is it?

Your eyes trail back to the empty bed, where Ricky should be. “Ricky?” The name falls from your lips, hopeful, trembling, but the silence stretches on, suffocating.

Your heart thuds like a wild drumbeat, erratic and desperate, the rhythm matched only by the single hope that propels you forward: seeing Ricky. Alive. Healthy. Breathing.

You practically jog out of the shared bedroom, your bare feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floor as you turn the corner. The guest room door is ajar, a sliver of dim light illuminating the narrow hallway. The pulse in your chest quickens, breaths shallower with each step until you reach the threshold. You pause, drawing in a trembling breath before stepping inside.

There he is. Ricky. Lying on his side, dark hair fanned messily over the pillow, the soft rise and fall of his chest hypnotic in its simplicity. Relief washes over you so powerfully that your knees almost buckle. You inch closer, careful not to make a sound. The blanket is snug around his torso, exposing his bare, muscular chest—the way he prefers when he’s alone. Your throat tightens at the sight, familiar yet so foreign now.

Your hand, almost on its own accord, hovers over his face, fingers trembling as you place them under his nose. The soft, warm breath that meets your touch is enough to sting your eyes with unshed tears. Your hand drifts down, resting against his chest, where you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat—a rhythm you thought you’d never sense again.

Ricky stirs, the sudden shift pulling you out of your trance. His eyelids flutter open, dark eyes glazed with sleep but sharpening as they land on you. He blinks once, then again, brows drawing together.

“What are you doing?” His voice, rough with sleep, carries a note of confusion that makes your hand fall away as though burned.

“I-I…” The words snag in your throat, scrambling to make sense of the madness. How could you possibly explain? Your eyes dart nervously to the floor, heat searing your cheeks as you mutter, “I missed your kisses.”

The room freezes. You can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with disbelief. He shifts, sitting up, and the blanket slips down to his waist, revealing the sharp lines of his torso. Your eyes betray you, flickering over the familiar planes before darting away in embarrassment.

“But… we never kiss,” he says, voice low and edged with confusion. The statement slices through you, painfully reminding you of the distance you both had grown used to.

“I know... I...” you whisper, fingers clenching into fists at your sides. The silence stretches, heavy, until the sharp trill of his phone alarm shatters it. Ricky’s attention shifts, eyes narrowing as he leans to silence it. When he looks up again, the space where you stood is empty.

You rush back to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft thud, heart hammering in your chest. Sliding down until you sit with your back pressed against the cool wood, you cover your flushed face with shaking hands. Your pulse thunders in your ears, mixing with the replay of his sleepy voice, the fleeting touch of his warmth.

Is this really the past? The question festers, tugging at the edges of logic, but the ache in your chest and the rawness of your emotions tell you it is. And if so, this year holds one horrifying certainty: Ricky’s death.

The mere thought twists something deep inside you, bringing back the soul-crushing grief, the endless nights of regret. You glance down at your wrist, breath catching as your eyes lock on the ink-black date that marks it: November 4th. The day Ricky dies.

Frantically, you rub at the skin, as if the stubborn mark will simply smudge away under your touch. But it doesn’t. The date remains, stark and immovable, taunting you.

A shiver crawls up your spine, but then a thought—a glimmer of defiance—roots itself.

What if you change it? What if this was given to you, not as a cruel joke, but a chance to rewrite what went so terribly wrong? To love him in a way you never did and save him from the fate that once tore your entire world apart.

“I can do this,” you whisper, determination threading into your voice. The regret may have once paralyzed you, but now it fuels you. If you only have until that date, then every second will be spent fighting fate, no matter how impossible it seems.

THE SOFT MURMUR OF THE COUPLE’S CONVERSATION DRIFTS DOWN THE STERILE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR, brushing against your ears like a whispered secret. The woman lies propped against crisp white pillows, her leg encased in a cast, eyes fixed on her partner with a blend of exhaustion and comfort. He leans forward, fingers interlaced with hers, voice low and tender.

“Can you please see what's wrong?” he asks, eyes glistening with concern. He gently squeezes her hand, words spilling out as quiet reassurances. “You're doing so well, love. It's going to be okay.”

A tight warmth coils in your chest as you approach, a familiar pang of bittersweetness shadowing the sight. The love, the unwavering devotion-it's moments like these that remind you why you cherish your job. The fragility of life, held together by threads of connection, has always moved you, even when those threads unraveled in your own life.

When you started nursing, blood was your greatest fear, the sight once enough to turn your stomach. Time had softened those edges, transforming anxiety into steady resolve. It was also during those early years when you married Ricky, the man whose smile was warm enough to banish shadows but whose presence now only haunted your memories. The marriage had lasted five years before everything shattered with the crash.

No. Stop. The thought rushes at you like a wave, cold and suffocating. You grit your teeth, eyes burning as you push it down, push him down, refusing to let the grief claw at you. He's alive here, in this fragile present you've been thrust into. Don't let the past bleed into now.

“Sure,” you say softly, the practiced smile you wear settling on your face. You reach out, fingers moving gently over the girl's cast, checking the edges, ensuring everything is as it should be. She nods in silent gratitude, eyes fluttering shut with relief as her partner exhales.

The end of your shift arrives with the deep hues of twilight stretching across the sky. The drive home is long, punctuated by the soft rumble of the engine and the anxious thrum of your thoughts. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel, tapping out a nervous rhythm. Avoid home, your mind suggests, listing off a million errands you suddenly think of, any excuse to delay the inevitable.

But the excuses run dry when you're standing in front of your door, keys cold against your palm. The air outside is crisp, biting at your cheeks as you draw a deep breath and hold it. The weight of the morning—Ricky’s sleepy, questioning eyes and the ghost of your impulsive words-hangs between you and the door.

“Is it too late to back down?” The whisper escapes your lips, trembling in the chilly silence. You picture his expression, the puzzled furrow of his brow as he replayed your words. The way his fingers brushed over his phone, gaze lifted just in time to see you flee. He isn't stupid. Ricky never was.

With a sigh, you slip the key into the lock, the click loud and final. The door opens, and warmth spills out to meet you, along with the faint scent of his cologne. Your pulse quickens as you step inside, the hum of your heartbeat louder than the quiet creak of the floor under your weight.

Don't run, you tell yourself, even as the urge coils tight in your muscles. You close the door behind you.

As you push open the front door, the faint glow of the television casts flickering shadows across the living room. There he is-your husband, Ricky, reclined on the couch, eyes fixed intently on the news. His brows knit slightly as a montage of suited politicians gestures on screen, their voices droning promises as hollow as a whisper in the wind.

He is basically watching those politicians give some weird and untrue promises for the sake of votes.

How romantic. How normal. The bitter thought twists in your chest. But it isn't. Nothing about this is normal. Why would he be watching the news, of all things? Then, a pang of irony hits you like a wave. How hypocritical, you think. You promised Ricky your forever in a ceremony that now feels like an echo. The vows shared between you had been spoken out loud but never truly lived.

You shake the memory away, an old wound you refuse to pick at as you step inside, the floor cool under your feet. Ricky doesn't notice you at first, his attention locked on the screen, oblivious to the fact that the person who left him a note asking for space now stands in the doorway, wrestling with the tension roiling inside her.

“Hey,” you finally say, the word falling between you like an anchor. It comes out awkward, unsure, a fragile hope that he won't read too much into it. But Ricky's eyes flick to yours, a spark of recognition cooling to something unreadable.

“You're back home?” His voice is measured, neither warm nor cold, but there's a tightness to it that you can't ignore. He shifts, the blue glow of the screen catching the sharp line of his jaw as he waits for your response.

The note. You had slipped it into his hand, asking for a break from a marriage four years deep but hollow. Your heart thuds in your chest, fingers clenched at your side as you speak before fear can pull the words back.

“The note-I take it back. I don't want a break from you or this relationship, Ricky.”

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the low hum of the news anchor's voice. His eyes search yours, a hint of disbelief darkening the warm brown you once memorized. “Why?” The question slices through the quiet, clipped and cautious. You almost flinch at the hardness there, a wall built brick by brick in your absence.

“Because I don't want to stay away from you.” Your voice trembles, raw honesty exposed between you like an open wound. Ricky's eyes widen slightly, the stoic mask cracking as a flush creeps across his cheeks.

“Y-You're blushing?” The soft, astonished laugh tumbles out of you, a momentary break in the storm that makes you feel like you're standing on the edge of something new. The corners of his mouth twitch, the faintest sign of a smile, but he shakes his head.

“Sure, sir. You're just cold.” You chuckle, sinking onto the floor beside the couch, knees drawn up as you hug them close. The laughter is sharp, almost giddy, the sound foreign in the room that has held so many silences.

Ricky watches you, confusion settling into his features, the red on his cheeks fading as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You're acting weird,” he murmurs, the words half swallowed, uncertain.

“How am I acting weird if I'm seeing my husband show some attraction to me, which isn't platonic, for the first time?” The jest slips out, tinged with sincerity, but it brings a hush over both of you. The truth stands stark between you, glaring and painful. For a moment, neither of you speak, each of you weighed down by memories, by the heavy knowledge of what's been lost and what still aches to be found.

But determination flares in your chest, a stubborn warmth. So what if love had been absent before? So what if promises were half-kept and hearts guarded? You could start again. You could relearn how to be two flawed people willing to try. Your gaze meets Ricky's, the hope in your eyes unyielding.

Don't let go, you silently plead. Let this be the start of something real.

Ricky clears his throat, a subtle attempt to dissolve the tension settling over the living room like a blanket too heavy to lift. His fingers fidget, running nervously over the seam of the couch as he shifts his gaze downward. There you are, still seated on the floor, legs tucked to one side, eyes catching the soft glow from the TV. Cute, he thinks, the word rolling silently through his mind, too heavy with unsaid truths to speak aloud.

“So...” The word escapes him, thin and unfinished, hovering in the air. His eyes flit over your face, searching for a reaction. The awkwardness clings to the silence, but you don't falter.

“So?” you echo, your tone a notch steadier, holding the slight tremor that betrays your effort. You lean forward just slightly, a gesture that feels braver than it is. If courage could rewrite fate, you'd wield it now, not just for yourself, but for him. For Ricky, who might not know the sharp edge of reality that's cut you.

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side where the blue light paints his profile in soft, wavering lines. “You know... Semi's birthday is next week.” His words stumble, trailing off as if second-guessing their own existence. But you aren't in the dark. You know exactly what this moment leads to.

“Yes, I'd love to go shopping for gifts for her,” you respond, your voice quick and practiced. His eyes widen, caught off guard, the surprise stark against his usual composed expression. The tension in his jaw slackens, and he blinks, unsure if he heard you right.

“Excuse me?” He stares at you, the faint crease between his brows deepening.

“Isn't that what you were about to ask?” You tilt your head slightly, a small smile playing at your lips, testing him. He hesitates, realizing that denial means trouble, but his face softens into a relieved kind of acceptance.

“No, no... of course. You could... accompany me to shop for Semi's birthday presents.” His voice picks up, the uncertainty lifting as he finds the path back to normalcy. He notices your smile widening, the tension slipping just enough to let him breathe.

“Okay then, see you tomorrow, husband.” The word slips from you, unbidden, laced with a warmth that surprises even you as you turn on your heel. You make your way toward the guest room, feet padding softly against the floor. Ricky's brows knit again, eyes following your form until you pause, hand on the frame of the doorway.

“Why are you heading to the guest room?” His question is quick, a thread of confusion laced with something else-something vulnerable.

“Because we sleep apart, and I wouldn't want my husband's back to break on that stiff, rough bed. The sheets aren't even comfortable,” you say, voice light but with an edge that dares him to react. You step into the room, but glance over your shoulder with eyes that glimmer, a playful smirk pulling at your lips. “Besides, I'd rather you break your back or get tired doing me than struggling on a bed.”

His jaw drops, eyes wide with stunned silence as the door closes between you. Ricky sits back, eyes fixed on the now-empty hallway, replaying the moment in disbelief. The wife who barely spoke above a whisper at their wedding, who tiptoed through years of silence, had just turned the tables with a single teasing line. His pulse hammers beneath the stillness.

What on earth just happened?

“ARE YOU TELLING ME Y/N JUST TURNED INTO A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON?” Jay's voice, casual yet curious, echoes through the phone. He's speaking to Ricky, who shifts from foot to foot, eyes glancing around the boutique as he waits for you to finish picking out a dress for his niece. The sound of soft music drifts around him, mixing with murmurs of other shoppers.

“Exactly that!” Ricky’s voice comes out louder than intended, drawing looks from the store's staff. A woman in a sleek uniform, brows raised in disapproval, approaches with a pointed glare.

“Sir, please keep your voice down or refrain from talking altogether,” she says, sternly but professional.

Ricky's ears burn as embarrassment blooms across his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Through the phone, Jay's laughter rings clear and unapologetic. “You seriously got told off by staff? Man, you're killing me!” Jay's chuckles fade into a smirk that Ricky can practically hear. Jay's the same as he's always been-playful, relentless, the older brother who teases but listens when it counts.

“Fine, fine, I'll stop. Tell me what you mean by Y/N changing, just... keep it PG, will you?” Jay's tone is teasing, but curiosity laces through.

Ricky’s jaw tightens, eyes scanning the store for you as if your sudden return would put him on the spot. “There's nothing intimate going on between us,” he blurts, the words a knee-jerk reaction. His chest tightens with the memory of you resting your hand on him in your sleep last week, the way warmth had crept through him then. He clears his throat. “I mean, she's talking to me more, being... sweet. She listens. It's almost... submissive.”

“I told you, no bedroom details!” Jay chimes in, sarcasm sharp enough to make Ricky's teeth clench.

“THIS IS NOT A BEDROOM DETAIL!!!” Ricky retorts, frustration coloring his tone. It earns him another hard look from the store associate across the room, who pointedly glances over her glasses. Ricky sighs and mouths an apology again, shoulders drooping as he lowers his voice.

“What I mean is, she's more... attentive. She's not arguing as much. It's like she's listening to me for the first time.”

Jay's voice softens, just a hint of seriousness slipping through. “Isn't that how she always is with others?”

“Yeah, with everyone else. Just not with me,” Ricky admits, the admission heavy with a history neither of them mention.

“Interesting.” Jay's reply is contemplative, but before he can say more, Ricky's voice interrupts, distorted through the line. “Oh shoot, she's coming back. I'll call you later.”

As the call ends, Ricky pockets his phone, glancing up just in time to see you walking back with a smile. Jay, on the other side of the city, sets his phone down, a smirk playing at his lips as he thinks of sharing this tidbit with his wife later. Whatever was happening between his brother and sister-in-law, it was about to get even more intriguing.

On the other side, Ricky stands, a mixture of amusement and curiosity on his face as you hold up a tiny pink dress. It's perfectly frilly, fit for a little girl. But all he can think is how charming it would look in a size for you—a thought that makes him shake his head, realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

“So, what do you think? Should I get this for Semi?” you ask, eyes sparkling with anticipation. There's already a growing collection of clothes for his niece in your arms, a reminder of how you've embraced being part of his family.

“Are you getting all of them?” he asks, more out of shock than judgment. He never imagined children's clothes could come with such hefty price tags.

“Yes, why? Is this too much? I can cover it if—”

Before you can finish, he interrupts, affronted. “I'll pay. It's for my lady, after all.”

The statement hangs in the air, not romantic as he'd intended but awkward, making your brows twitch slightly. You resist the urge to grimace, forcing a polite smile instead.

A staff member, the same one who had shushed Ricky earlier, walks over with an unimpressed expression, exchanging a silent, almost comic glare with him. She gave Ricky a look that said 'you're weird and I don't want to talk to you'

'what have I ever done to you' was the look that Ricky presented back to the staff before she looked away. You glance between them, slightly confused. Then Ricky clears his throat, moving the conversation forward.

“Do you have a similar dress in a bigger size?” His voice drops to almost a whisper. He feels self-conscious asking, but the idea has stuck.

The staff member blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?” She tilts her head, uncertain if she heard right.

“Yeah, do you have something like this,” Ricky gestures at the dress in your hands, “but, you know, for an adult?” A flush of red creeps across his cheeks as he points to you. The staff member nods after a moment, walking off to search, while you stand there stunned, watching her go.

“Why are you buying something for me? Semi’s dress is already pricey. A woman's size will be—”

“It's just a dress,” he interrupts with a small sigh, eyes softening. “Think of it as a gift.”

“But today isn't anything special.”

“Maybe not. But I'd like to make it special,” he replies, voice lowering. “I haven't given you anything since our wedding. That was four years ago.” His words carry a quiet vulnerability as he looks at you, taller and more serious than you expect. You hold his gaze before shifting and mumbling a reluctant, “Fine,” looking away to hide the way your cheeks warm.

The staff returns holding a similar dress, but in an adult size. It's pink, short, and undeniably cute-something that looks a little too daring for your style.

“Will this do?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” “hell yeah,” you and Ricky say in unison. The staff's eyebrows raise as she turns to you, sensing you as the more level-headed one.

“We're not buying it,” you insist, giving Ricky a look.

He doubles down. “We are.”

“Ricky, no.”

“Why not?”

“It's too short!” you argue, exasperated. He shrugs, eyes softening as he counters, “It's knee-length. That's normal.”

With a dramatic sigh, you roll your eyes and give in. But you don't try it on in the store; the idea of wearing it in front of him makes your heart thud with a mix of nerves and embarrassment. After all, you've barely even shared a bed in weeks—how could you possibly show him a dress like that now?

RICKY’S HEART STOPS FOR A MOMENT AS HE TAKES IN THE SIGHT BEFORE HIM. You, standing in the baby pink dress that hugs your figure just right, with its soft fabric brushing just above your knees. The playful, shy smile you wear as you twirl slightly sends a wave of warmth through him. He never expected to see you like this; the reality strikes him so suddenly that it leaves him breathless.

The laughter of Semi fills the room as she runs around in her matching pink dress, giggling and pulling you along by the hand. The soft glow of the post-birthday celebration lights casts a golden hue, warming up the atmosphere in the living room. Ricky sits on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on his knee as he watches you and Semi, his gaze softening with an emotion he hasn't felt in what seems like ages.

A gentle nudge breaks his trance, and he turns to see his mother looking at him with raised brows and a hopeful gleam. “When are you two going to have kids?” she asks, her voice light but laced with longing.

The air in the room shifts. You pause mid-spin, eyes darting to Ricky with a look of surprise. This isn't part of the script of your past life; this question throws you off balance, the sudden attention making your heart race.

Ricky’s father, seated across with a glass of wine in his hand, lets out a dramatic sigh. “I think I'll be long gone before I see any grandchildren from this one,” he jokes, though the weight behind it is unmistakable. The statement slices through the room's cheerful mood, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Ricky's jaw tightens, a subtle tension creeping up his spine. He wants kids too, he really does—but not in a house that feels as unstable as theirs has become.

Before he can respond, you surprise everyone, including yourself. “We're trying,” you say, the words slipping out with practiced ease, even as your pulse pounds. The room freezes, all eyes turning toward you in shock.

Ricky’s eyebrows lift in silent question, but he plays along, shifting to put on an unreadable expression. He nods, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he covers the uncertainty boiling beneath. The room shifts back into a mixture of excitement and surprise.

“Is that true? You're both trying?” Ricky’s mother's eyes glisten, her hope rekindled as she looks between you and her son.

“Really?” Ricky's father echoes, leaning forward, his earlier sarcasm replaced by genuine interest.

Jay, standing near the fireplace, furrows his brow, lips parting in disbelief. Only last week, Ricky had confided in him about how distant and weird things had become between you two.

Ricky forces a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... we've been trying for a while.” The lie feels heavy in his mouth, and he shoots you a look that says, Why'd you lie about that?

Your sister-in-law, Jieun, raises her hand, pointing at you with wide eyes. “Since when?” she blurts out, unable to contain her shock.

Ricky stutters, “It's been a-a month,” the answer sounding rehearsed yet shaky. He glances at you again, his eyes pleading for an explanation that won't come.

The conversation quickly shifts into an excited buzz, with well-meaning wishes from your in-laws filling the air. You catch Ricky's gaze, and despite the tight-lipped smile you give the family, there's a flicker of humor in your eyes. The absurdity of it all makes you want to laugh.

You both know the truth: the notion of trying for a child is impossibly far from reality.

Heck, it was funny for you to watch.

You were still a virgin. You two didn't even kiss more than once in those four years and they expect a baby to suddenly pop out of you?

And once the party winds down, you find yourself sitting on the couch with Semi by your side. Her wide, curious eyes shine with excitement as she swings her legs back and forth. At just four years old, she's a bundle of endless questions and innocent wonder.

You smile, reaching over to gently ruffle her soft, dark hair. “Does the birthday girl like her dress?” you ask, voice playful.

Semi beams, glancing down at the pink ruffled dress with pride. “It's so pretty,” she chirps, then looks up at you with a thoughtful expression. “But yours is prettier. You always look pretty, Aunty.”

Your heart melts, and you chuckle softly. “Aww, you learned how to give compliments, huh?” you tease, watching as her cheeks turn rosy and she averts her gaze to fiddle with her fingers.

“Aunty!” she whines, wanting you to stop teasing. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. With a curious tilt of your head, you move closer, letting her whisper into your ear. “Will you eat a baby to have a baby?” she asks, voice so serious it makes you freeze for a moment.

You stifle a laugh, your eyes crinkling at the edges. Gently cupping her cheek, you whisper back, “No, sweetie. That's not how it works. But that's grown-up stuff, and we don't talk about it now, do we?”

Semi giggles, her little fingers playing with a toy she received from her grandmother. The sight makes your chest tighten in a bittersweet way. You can almost picture your mother-in-law doting on a future child, fussing over toys and tiny clothes. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, making you shake your head lightly as if to dispel the image.

But a small part of you can't help but smile at the idea, a blush rising to your cheeks. The dream is distant, almost unreachable, and not yet yours to claim.

When you and Ricky step out into the cold night, the air nips at your exposed legs below your knees. The dress he had picked out for you, delicate and pastel pink, offers little warmth, and the heels are beginning to pinch with every step. You trail behind him, taking careful, aching strides to avoid twisting your ankle.

Ricky notices, stopping suddenly to turn toward you, eyes scanning your shivering frame. “What’s wrong?” His gaze softens as he realizes how exposed you are, legs trembling from the chill. Without hesitating, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth is welcome, but your teeth still chatter as you mutter, “Wish I had something covering my legs instead.”

He exhales, half exasperated, half amused, before a wry smile forms. “Should I carry you like a princess? You’d be warm then.”

Surprised, you bite back a retort, matching his teasing tone with confidence. “Maybe you should.”

Ricky’s eyebrows shoot up, stunned. “Wait, what?”

“Chill, I was just joking,” you mumble, looking down at the ground. But before you know it, he’s stopped again, this time dropping to one knee. Your eyes widen in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?” you blurt out, stepping back in reflex, heat rising to your cheeks at the unexpected gesture. (more so because you believed he was trying to look up your dress)

Ricky looks up, mildly annoyed but patient. “I’m helping you,” he says simply. Before you can argue, he pulls out a pair of slippers from a little carry bag he had brought from home. The realization hits, softening your expression as he glances up. “Lift your leg.”

You comply, feeling foolish for your earlier outburst. He slips the heels off your feet and replaces them with the soft slippers, careful and precise as if proving he has no ulterior motive. The chill in the air suddenly seems less biting.

“You had these the whole time?” you ask, voice softer now, eyes wide with realization. He places the heels into the carry bag, stands up, and meets your gaze with a smirk.

“Yeah. Thought you might need them,” he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You’re about to thank him when he reminds you with a mock-accusing look, “And you were ready to accuse me of being a pervert.”

The memory makes you feel small, but you muster a sheepish, “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, a touch of amusement in his eyes as the two of you start walking again, your steps now confident and comfortable. His jacket around your shoulders holds a warmth that seems to seep straight to your heart.

“So...” Ricky’s voice cuts through the silence, the question you've been dreading finally arriving. “Why did you lie about... us trying for a baby?” His tone is cautious, probing.

You sigh, the answer already clear in your mind. “It was the only way to get them to stop bothering us,” you admit. A pause follows, your gaze flitting up to meet his. You don’t dare to say more, not with your secret burden looming—coming from a future where he is no longer alive and your mission is to keep him safe.

Ricky hums in agreement, the tension easing a bit. “I can’t argue with that.” A comfortable silence settles between you, only broken by the sound of your footsteps. He glances at you again and asks, “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbles. Relief flashes across his face before he reaches out, taking your hand and leading you forward. The two of you approach a small, tucked-away restaurant, its sign faded but familiar. Ricky’s eyes light up. “You have to try the cold coffee from that café across the street,” he points out, the fondness in his voice unmistakable.

You nod, memories flickering back. His odd, endearing preferences were things you never forgot. “Fish curry with plain rice and some shrimp on the side?” you guess, eyes twinkling with recognition.

Ricky’s head snaps to you, surprise clear as day. He stares, a laugh escaping him as he shakes his head. “Since when did you start memorizing my favorites?”

You had heard about his fav things to eat from your brother in law, Jay. But Ricky never said it to you himself so the boy was pretty much stunned when you literally memorised them, as if you were waiting to flex this whole time.

You offer a small, knowing smile. “I have my ways.”

The waiter arrives promptly with your orders, and the rich aroma fills the space between you and Ricky. He takes a bite, but pauses, eyes drifting to you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve never done this before…” he murmurs, his tone a mix of realization and gentle amusement.

You tilt your head, savoring a piece of shrimp. “You mean this date?” you ask, half-smiling.

“Yeah. I guess that’s what I mean,” he replies, taking a moment before continuing, as if gathering the courage. “I like it. I like how we are now.” He takes a sip of water, and the way he watches you is tender, raw. His hand slides across the table to rest over yours, fingers warm against your skin.

“I don’t know what changed, but I…” He hesitates, eyes locking with yours, a profound intensity that silences you. “I like how we’re not avoiding each other anymore, how we talk instead of fighting over every little thing.”

The sincerity in his words pierces through you, tugging at memories of a future where his absence left a hollow ache in your chest. The pain you’d carried, the distance, the loss—all of it feels heavy in this moment, but now, something else unfurls within you. An unexpected warmth that swells as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

He draws in a shaky breath. “I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes, maybe too many, and that’s why we kept drifting apart in those four years we were married. But I want us to stay like this. Is that too much to ask for?” His voice cracks, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The depth of emotion he shows takes your breath away, and your vision blurs as your own tears spill over. The raw honesty in his confession reaches a part of you that had long been buried under grief and guilt. But this isn’t grief—it’s something different, a warmth that wraps around you and fills the spaces that loss once consumed.

“Ricky…” you whisper, voice trembling. He blinks rapidly, tears tracing paths down his cheeks as he tries to manage a laugh, a hand lifting to wipe at his face. “Did I go too overboard?” he chuckles, awkwardly, brushing his fingers over yours, an attempt to ease the intensity.

But you can’t answer with words, your heart too full. Instead, you wipe your own tears away, watching him as he takes a deep breath and resumes eating, eyes still red-rimmed, his emotions raw and vivid between you. The silence that follows is... a little satisfying this time around. Your chest tightens, and you realize this feeling—this unexpected, overwhelming tenderness—is the spark you hadn’t felt in what feels like forever.

The confession... It did something to you. It made you feel things or you believed so.

You reach for his hand, this time without hesitation, and hold on as if anchoring both of you to this moment. A shared glance tells him everything you can’t yet put into words: you’re here, with him, and for now, that’s enough.

AS THE DAYS PASSED FOLLOWING THAT UNEXPECTED DINNER, a subtle shift had occurred between you and Ricky. It had been a month since then, and despite your hectic lives—you, a dedicated nurse, and him, an ambitious lawyer—something had changed. You continued to sleep separately, a necessity due to your conflicting schedules. Late nights saw you returning home to find Ricky already asleep, and early mornings had him leaving before you awoke. This unspoken arrangement was born out of mutual respect for each other’s rest.

However, the reminder of the future haunted you. The date on your wrist, November 4th, hadn’t faded or smudged. It remained stark and vivid, a grim reminder of the fate you knew awaited Ricky, filling you with silent dread.

Despite your busy lives, the dinner at that small restaurant had stirred something unspoken between you. A shared tenderness had taken root, and in the brief pauses between work, you found yourself drawn to those moments that whispered of possibilities—moments that spoke of a bond that hadn’t existed before.

The room feels charged with an unspoken tension as you stand there, watching Ricky. The question slips from your lips, “Are we sleeping separately again?” masking the tremble in your voice with an attempt at confidence. Ricky’s eyes meet yours, an amused smile playing on his lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want to sleep with me?” he asks, casual yet knowing.

You stammer, trying to find an answer that won’t reveal how vulnerable you feel. “No—yes—but—” The uncertainty in your voice makes him chuckle softly, the sound sending warmth through your chest. The realization of your feelings for him washes over you again, clear and inescapable.

“It’s normal to want to sleep with your husband. Don’t worry,” he says reassuringly. His tone is light, yet there’s an edge of tenderness as he turns and walks to the bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, looking back with an expectant eyebrow raise, and you follow.

Inside, the dim light casts soft shadows. The atmosphere feels different tonight, heightened by the realization that, while you’ve shared this space before, this moment feels profoundly intimate. He hesitates for a moment, the usual playful confidence in his manner replaced by a quiet consideration.

Should he lie down first?

Wait for you?

Or speak?

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. We could even put a pillow between us if you prefer,” he says in a rush, trying to ease the tension. But his words leave you both flushed. You respond, flustered yet honest, “No—you can touch me—I mean...”

Ricky’s eyes widen, and a surprised silence falls over you both, broken only by your slightly quickened breaths.

Finally, you break it, murmuring, “So... do we sleep?” You wish the dim light hides your expression, but Ricky’s shifting on the bed signals that he’s as unsettled as you are. He lies down first, and you follow, settling into the bed with a space that feels simultaneously too close and too distant.

Minutes pass as the darkness deepens around you. You’re aware of every sound, every breath he takes, and the slight rustle of sheets as you both try to find comfort. The knowledge that he’s staying dressed out of respect doesn’t escape you, and neither does the chill that seeps through the room, despite the blanket. It’s enough to make sleep elusive, even as your heart drums with quiet, unspoken hope.

The air feels thick with tension as neither of you can fall asleep, despite the dim light and the shared silence. Ricky gently sits up, his voice breaking the stillness. “I’ll get changed into my night clothes—this is uncomfortable. You should get changed too,” he suggests. His words are practical, but they stir a shyness inside you. The thought of wearing shorts around him makes you feel self-conscious, though the blanket and darkness give you some comfort.

With a deep breath, you agree. You grab your oversized top and shorts, retreating to the bathroom to change. When you return, Ricky is already asleep, dressed in a soft T-shirt and shorts. His peaceful expression makes a pang of guilt settle in your chest. You feel both relief and unease at the same time, knowing he’s so close yet so far away.

You lie there, tense in the stillness of the night. Ricky’s hand lands instinctively on your stomach, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. You hold your breath, carefully shifting his hand away. Just when you think you're safe, his leg shifts under the blanket, pressing gently between your legs. A rush of heat floods your chest as you gently push his leg away, silently exhaling in relief.

In the quiet, you watch him sleep. His messy hair, a small trail of drool escaping his lips—something inside you stirs. Without thinking, you bring your thumb to wipe away the drool, brushing it lightly against your shirt. You stare at him for a moment, your heart racing in ways you can’t fully understand.

For Ricky though,

He wakes to find you so close, your noses nearly touching. A small breath escapes him as he pulls back, but then he notices your body, curled into him—one of your legs and arms wrapped around him, as if clinging to his warmth to escape the cold. You’re nestled so comfortably against his chest, and though a small part of him wants to get up, he finds himself content in the moment.

He stares at you, watching as he slips his fingers through your hair, the quiet intimacy settling around him like a comforting blanket. When you stir, half-awake, he expects you to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you bury yourself further into his chest, and he smiles, a little amused by your unconscious need for closeness.

“Morning... Baby,” he says softly, though he’s hoping you’ll move just enough for him to slip out of bed.

“Morningg,” you murmur, nuzzling his chest. He notices how you don’t seem to mind the nickname, a small sign that you’re still in that dreamy, sleepy state. He wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to disturb you, so he asks, “Can you move a bit, baby?”

You barely stir, your arms and legs still tangled with his. “Too cold,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know, baby. I’ll turn the heater on for you, is that good?” he whispers, his voice tender. He’s careful not to wake you fully, knowing you won’t even remember this when you wake up.

An hour later, you wake up alone in the bed, the soft comforter still wrapped around your legs. You stretch and yawn, rubbing your eyes, only to hear the door creak open. Ricky stands there, a plate in hand—an omelette and a fruit salad. You blink, unsure if you’re still dreaming, and pinch your cheek, just to make sure this isn’t some figment of your imagination.

“What's that?” you ask, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Breakfast in bed,” Ricky says with a playful grin, setting the plate down in front of you.

“For me?” you ask, surprised and touched.

“Who else?” he replies with a shrug, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Why...?” You blink at him, unsure of why he's being so considerate, so affectionate.

“Why not?” he answers, teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart flutter.

You stare at the food in front of you, but the nerves kick in. “Well, uhm... I haven’t brushed.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, waving off your concerns.

“No, it’s not. It’s gross. I do care about germs,” you argue, a bit embarrassed. Before he can say anything else, you rush off to brush your teeth, feeling a little self-conscious. You quickly freshen up, brushing your teeth with the toothpaste, hoping that’ll help with the lingering awkwardness.

When you return, you take a bite, and the emotion hits you harder than you expect. You don’t quite know why, but the tenderness of his gesture fills you with gratitude, and a soft lump forms in your throat.

“Why?” you ask again, your voice shaky, as you sip some water. The question has been swirling in your mind ever since you saw him standing there, holding that plate.

“Hm?” he hums, genuinely confused, not fully understanding why you're so emotional.

“Why are you being so nice... and romantic?” You wince after speaking, regretting your words, but you can't take them back now.

Ricky tilts his head, his smile fading slightly. “Like I said a month ago... I meant those words. I want us to stay like this... And not go back to how it was in those four years.. Are we really that immature to let it happen again?” The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, you can see the hurt in his eyes.

It's raw, honest, and you feel a knot twist in your chest, not having a reply to his genuine question.

THE DAYS AND MONTHS THAT FOLLOW ARE UNEXPECTEDLY TENDER, filled with moments that remind you of what being husband and wife is meant to feel like. The shared smiles, lingering touches, and quiet mornings are sweeter than they have ever been, and for the first time in a long while, peace seems attainable. Yet, there is an undercurrent that stirs beneath it all—the date that looms, casting a shadow over your contentment.

November 4th.

With the month drawing nearer, your heart starts to tighten with an anxious grip. Paranoia seeps into the quiet moments, the fear of what November 4th could mean—what it has meant in the past—makes the days feel more fragile. Your mind races, replaying scenarios and doubts that you can’t shake off. Each sweet gesture, each kind word from him, is tinged with the knowledge that the date approaches, threatening to unravel everything you’ve rebuilt.

Ricky’s expression is heavy with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes hinting at the long day he’s had. You offer, “I’ll heat up the dinner,” and turn toward the kitchen, but he stops you with a gentle grasp around your wrist. Before you can react, he pulls you back, pressing you against the wall. The soft strains of a romantic song drift from the living room, creating an intimate, almost fragile atmosphere.

He’s close—closer than usual—and you feel the warmth radiating from his body as well as the subtle scent of his cologne. The proximity sends your pulse racing.

“Ricky?” you say softly, confusion lacing your voice as you look up at him. His face is unreadable, the dim lighting casting a shadow over the tired lines of his features. His eyes meet yours, carrying an unspoken emotion.

“Mm?” he murmurs, his voice hushed, as if not to disturb the moment. His hands find their way around you, holding you securely against him, and he leans his chin on your head. The gesture feels protective, desperate even.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your words barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re seeking clarification or reassurance. His embrace tightens for a moment, and you feel his chest rise and fall against yours as he takes a deep breath.

“Can you stop calling me Ricky?” he says quietly, the request landing softly, yet weighted.

Surprise flashes through you. “What do you want me to call you?” you ask, voice muffled against his shirt. The question feels vulnerable, as if shifting something fundamental between you both.

“I don’t know... something like... baby, darling, honey... or anything,” he admits, a subtle flush spreading across his cheeks despite the solemn tone. You catch the shy dip of his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re being quite demanding,” you tease, looking up into his face. His lips part slightly as he considers your words.

“This isn’t being demanding,” he counters, pausing just long enough for the silence to underline his meaning. His eyes search yours, raw and full of an unnamed plea. “I just want to spend my last months with you, thinking we’re just... normal. Like any other couple.”

His words sink in, bringing with them an ache that spreads through your chest. The silence that follows is heavy, laced with all the things unsaid and the truth that’s pressing in on both of you. You lift a hand, letting your fingers brush the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes soften, dark lashes casting shadows against his skin as he watches you.

There’s something fragile in this moment, a bittersweet understanding passing between you that makes your throat tighten. The future looms, uncertain and unkind, but for now, you’re here, held close, suspended in the tender present.

Ricky’s voice lowers, a tremor in its depths that betrays the weight of his words. “You might not believe me, but... I come from a reality where I’m dead. So, I hope we can at least be nice to each other in my last moments. Can you do that?”

A stunned silence follows, your breath catching in your throat as his confession hangs in the air. You believe him; how could you not when you come from the same reality? Eyes widening, you step back, raising your wrist to show the dark, unerasable mark: November 4th. The ink-like number seems to pulse, a constant reminder of a fate that binds you both.

Ricky’s eyes mirror your shock. He releases you, just enough to reveal his own wrist. There it is, the same haunting date. The mark seems alive, almost mocking, as if counting down with every heartbeat.

Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence heavy with shared grief and realization. The next second, you’re in his arms again, your face buried in his chest as he pulls you close, his own face pressed into your hair. The world around you blurs, reduced to the rapid thumping of your heart and the warmth of his embrace.

“I... please don’t... leave me this time,” you plead, your voice breaking under the weight of your fear. The memory of finding him lifeless in the world you came from, the coldness of that reality, rushes back with a cruel force.

“I will try,” he whispers, his voice barely steady as he runs a hand down your back in a soothing gesture. “We changed the relationship, right? So maybe... just maybe, we can avoid death too.”

You both stand there, unmoving as the moment stretches out. It feels absurd, two souls transported from a fractured future, now clinging to each other in the present in a fragile hope. Yet the thought of letting go is unbearable, so you don’t. For now, the reality of the present is enough.

RICKY’S FINGERS TREMBLE SLIGHTLY AS HE HOLDS OUT THE SMALL BOX, A HINT OF NERVOUSNESS CREASING HIS BROW. “This is for you.” His voice is softer than usual, his eyes searching yours for a response. The box is familiar, a relic from the present you left behind, steeped in memories. Inside is the ancestral ring, one that Ricky’s mother entrusted to you after his death—a token that held more value than any wedding ring could.

“I wasn’t... couldn’t give it to you before, but now... I’d like you to have it.” His voice is almost a whisper as he takes your hand, slipping the cool metal onto your finger. His touch lingers, warm and careful, as if anchoring the moment between you.

You look down at the ring, its delicate design catching the dim light and glistening softly. The weight of it brings back a rush of memories that mix grief with an unexpected warmth. Meeting his gaze, you let a small, genuine smile curve your lips. “Thank you. After you… I mean, after your death, your mother gave it to me,” you say, voice thick with the past, “but I’m glad it’s you giving it to me now.”

The way his eyes widen before softening speaks volumes—acceptance, regret, and hope, all blending seamlessly as he draws you closer.

Ricky’s expression shifts, a soft smile forming as he leans in, his body pressing yours gently against the bedroom wall. His breath mingles with yours, warm and scented faintly with his cologne. His eyes trace your features, holding a glimmer of something tender and fragile. You raise a brow in playful defiance, a silent challenge, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips. Without another word, he cups your face, his thumb grazing your cheek, and leans in until the space between you disappears.

The first touch of his lips is tentative, testing. A shiver races down your spine as his mouth moves with a gentleness that makes your heart stutter. Your eyes flutter open for a second, catching the serene expression on his face before closing again as you respond, deepening the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to reality.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing in short, uneven gasps. The room is silent except for the soft crackle of a song playing somewhere in the background. Ricky’s eyes open, and in them, you see a question—a hesitation laced with anticipation. “Do you want to go further?” His voice, barely above a whisper, holds a vulnerability that makes your pulse quicken.

You exhale softly, a hint of a smile teasing your lips as you match his boldness. “How far can you go?” The playful edge in your voice makes him chuckle, low and breathy.

“As far as you want to go.” The words are a promise, and before you can respond, his lips capture yours again, more confident this time, as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, gently sliding it off of your shoulders.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASS IN A COMFORTING CALM, the bond between you and Ricky strengthening with each passing day. You're no longer weighed down by the regret of the past, but instead, you focus on cherishing the present. Yet, there's still a lingering unease.

Ricky driving the car is something that continues to gnaw at you. It's not just a simple fear; it's the haunting memory of the future you came from, where that very action led to his tragic end. As November nears, the pressure builds. You look at the date on your wrist—November 4th—and the thought of losing him again, of it becoming reality, is too much to bear. Your chest tightens, and you feel a mix of helplessness and dread, hoping with every fiber of your being that this time, things will be different.

Ricky offers a reassuring smile, the kind that tries to mask his own unease as he softly says, “Chill, I’ll be back in an hour, alright?” His hand moves up to gently smooth your hair, eyes soft with understanding as he takes in the worry etched across your face. You cling tighter to his arm, voice trembling as you ask, “Is it important?”

He nods, and the hopeful part of you crumbles. The instinct to keep him close, to refuse, is almost overwhelming. But before you can protest, he leans forward, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. His hands slip down to rest on your shoulders as he looks at you earnestly.

“I promise I’ll be back. Now, will my pretty wife give me a smile so I can come back even sooner?” The playful plea tugs at your lips, and despite the fear swirling inside, you manage a small, forced smile. He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair before turning to leave.

You trail behind him to the door, eyes glued to the taillights of his car as they fade down the street. The ache in your chest sharpens, and you glance down at the ancestral ring on your finger, tracing its smooth surface as if the touch alone could make your wish come true: Please, come back safely.

The minutes stretch painfully long, and every ten minutes, you can’t resist sending a text, the same anxious message: “If you’re okay, just send a heart emoji.” True to his word, Ricky replies with a heart every time—until the fifty-minute mark.

The silence is deafening. Your heart thunders as you stare at your phone, willing the screen to light up. Nothing. The dread coils tighter, stealing the air from your lungs. You take a shaky breath, but it barely settles you. Panic sets in, and you hit the call button. The phone doesn’t connect; the ring tone never plays. Your chest tightens.

In desperation, you call Jay, your brother-in-law. His voice is laced with confusion as he picks up. “Jay, is Ricky with you?” The silence that follows your frantic question only amplifies your fear. “No, why? What’s going on?” he asks, suddenly serious. Before you can answer, he cuts the call, sensing the urgency and attempting to help in any way he can.

The next hour drags like an eternity, your anxiety swallowing every rational thought. You pace the room, eyes darting to the clock, phone clenched in your shaking hand. Then, after what feels like a lifetime, you hear the distant purr of an engine. Your pulse stutters as Ricky’s car comes into view, whole and unharmed.

But you don’t relax. Not until you see him. The door swings open, and there he is, frustration etched into his features as he steps inside. Your breath catches, relief and anger colliding within you.

Ricky's expression softens as he speaks, keeping his voice low despite the frustration. “Why’d you call Jay over something like this? My phone died while I was working. I charged it and got caught up in the case. It’s embarrassing.”

Your eyes well up, the weight of worry turning to a sting of hurt. “So? It’s not important?” Your voice wavers, raw with emotion. “I was terrified, Ricky! I didn’t want to lose you again. Sorry for being the clingy wife you’re ashamed of.”

Turning to leave, you barely make a step before he’s there, blocking your path. His eyes search yours, but instead of a defensive remark, he pulls you close, enveloping you in an embrace that tells you more than words could. His arms tighten, anchoring you to him as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s strange, but I promise I won’t say that again, okay?”

His breath is warm against your hair as he leans his cheek on your head, his heartbeat steady against your own erratic one. Despite the tension, you sense his understanding, a silent acknowledgment of your fear. He’s learning to hold your worry without judgment.

“I was so scared, Ricky. I thought I’d lose you all over again.” Your voice cracks, and he feels the tremor in your body. He wants to say the right thing, anything to soothe the tremble in your words, but all he can do is hold you tighter.

Both of you are haunted by that date imprinted on your wrists, “November 4th.” A reminder that looms like an uninvited shadow, a constant whisper of what could happen.

THE DAY ARRIVES, a heavy silence filling the air between you and Ricky. His promise lingers like a protective shield around you both: he won’t drive, he won’t leave. His presence is a balm for the fear that pulses in your chest. As the two of you snuggle on the couch, the soft glow of the TV playing a rom-com, you turn to him with a worried look, your voice low and unsure.

“What if something bad happens while we’re in the house?” you whisper, nuzzling into his warmth. The thought of losing him, of the world continuing without him, feels unbearable.

Ricky shifts, his arm wrapping tighter around you as he looks down at you, his breath warm against your neck. “Nothing will happen. And if it does, I’ll protect you,” he assures, his tone strong and sure, though his own heart is heavy. He knows how much your fear weighs on you, and he wants to shoulder it for you.

But the thought of you living without him—he can’t imagine it. He brushes your hair from your face gently, his voice a soft promise. “I love you too much for that.” His words come out naturally, like it’s something he’s been holding back but feels right now to say. It’s the first time you hear him say it, and the weight of those words floods your heart with warmth, knowing this is real.

“I get it. I won’t put my life at risk,” he murmurs, though there’s a quiet uncertainty in his words, an unspoken truth that he would never let anything harm you—even at the cost of his own safety.

You glance up at him, your lips pressing together in a worried frown. “You better not,” you mumble, not able to let go of the fear completely. You’ve spent the whole day together, in the safety of your home, trying to ignore the impending dread that the date will pass and nothing will change. Watching TV, cooking together, each small moment a reminder of how much he means to you—and how fragile life can be.

You curl up closer to him, as if physically wrapping yourself around him can keep him safe. Your eyes glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by too slowly. Every moment spent together now feels like a treasure, and you want to hold on to it forever.

The two of you lie in bed, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a gentle warmth over your forms. His hand rests tenderly over yours, fingers interlocking. He watches you as you sleep, your face relaxed, peaceful. A quiet whisper escapes his lips: “I love you.” His eyes linger on your peaceful expression, your other arm still clinging to him as if you’re unwilling to let go even in sleep.

He leans over to turn off the lamp, and then his gaze falls to his wrist—where the date once was. It’s gone. A wave of disbelief washes over him. The tension that has gripped him for so long begins to melt away. Perhaps it wasn’t an omen after all, but a reminder that after November 4th, a new chapter awaited them both.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your wrist to find the same thing: no date. Relief floods him, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling you even closer into his arms, savoring the moment.

But he knows, as much as this moment feels like a new beginning, there will still be challenges ahead. The fear you carry about him driving is not something that will fade overnight. Your worry, rooted in a past he knows you can’t shake, will take time to heal. But for now, he holds you close, understanding, and promises silently that he’ll be patient, allowing you to find peace in your own time.

TWO MONTHS HAVE PASSED SINCE THE FATEFUL DATE, and though life has taken you and Ricky through different stages, there’s an undeniable warmth between the two of you. Sitting at the family dinner table, surrounded by loved ones, the air is filled with laughter, conversation, and the quiet hum of joy.

Semi, now a cheerful five-year-old, eats her meal quietly, occasionally looking up with shy glances.

You glance over at Ricky, noticing him take a deep breath as he prepares to speak, his hand resting on the table near yours. It’s clear he’s nervous, even though it’s just family. He clears his throat, the words finally tumbling out: “So… We’re having a baby.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Ricky’s father scoffs, not giving him an ounce of reaction, while his mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you can fool us one time, not twice,” she says, clearly referencing the last family dinner, where you had tried to casually mention trying for a baby, only for him to play along. He felt the blame was entirely on him, but you knew the truth—it was a team effort.

You chuckle softly to yourself, leaning into Ricky’s side, your heart fluttering at the thought of a new life, a new chapter. He meets your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile, even amidst the teasing.

This moment, while filled with playful mockery, marks something deeper. You’re finally here together, stronger and more united than ever before. And this new adventure? It’s the start of a new journey that no one can take from you.

“Really, Y/n’s pregnant. We're having a baby,” Ricky says, his voice laced with excitement. His mother, skeptical, eyes you closely. “Is that true?”

Without waiting for Ricky’s confirmation, you nod, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours beneath the table, his touch calming your nerves.

"I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if this is fake," his dad grumbles, irritation mixing with a hint of hope.

Jay, barely containing his amusement at the scene, watches the family react, while Ricky proudly pulls out the ultrasound pictures, revealing the truth. His parents take turns looking at the images, jaws dropping in surprise. Jay, knowing already, can’t help but chuckle.

"Father was starting to question your masculinity. Glad you proved him wrong," Jay teases, earning a gentle nudge from Jieun, urging him to keep it light.

"Wait... So there’s a grandkid on the way?" Ricky’s mother recovers first, grinning with hopeful excitement. Ricky nods, and your heart swells at the thought of everything that's to come. This moment, this family, it feels like the beginning of something truly special.

Ricky’s mother leans forward, still processing, but the excitement is slowly bubbling up. “A grandchild? Really? My little boy having a little one? I’m going to spoil that baby so much.”

Ricky chuckles, glancing at you. “Well, you already spoil Semi enough, so I guess it’s fair.”

“Hey, I’m a great grandma-in-training,” she quips, giving Semi an affectionate pat. “But if you two need any advice, I’m here.”

Your heart swells seeing the warmth in her eyes. But then, Ricky’s dad, clearly trying to keep his cool, mutters, “I’ll believe it when I see a baby in my arms.”

“You’ll see him,” Ricky says, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Or her, right, Y/n?”

You smile, feeling the weight of the moment. “Definitely,” you whisper, feeling a rush of emotion.

Jay, still grinning, can’t help but poke at his younger brother. “So, what’s the plan, huh? You two gonna have one of those perfect Pinterest-worthy baby showers or just skip the whole thing?”

Jieun smacks his arm lightly. “Don’t make them nervous, Jay. Let them enjoy the moment.”

Ricky laughs, looking over at you with that same loving gaze. “Honestly, I think we just need to take it one step at a time. But yeah, we’ll get there.”

“You know, when you have a baby, you’ll see just how much you need each other,” his dad says more seriously now, a rare moment of wisdom breaking through his tough exterior. “It’s not just about being a parent, it’s about being there for each other even more.”

Ricky nods, his hand tightening around yours as if to say, “I’ve got you, always.”

The whole family seems to settle into a comfortable silence after that, everyone soaking in the news in their own way, but all of them sharing the same unspoken bond.

“Guess we’ll need one more chair for next time,” Jay jokes, breaking the silence, and everyone bursts out laughing.

You glance at Ricky, his eyes full of joy, and your heart feels fuller than it ever has. There’s something about being surrounded by family—being with him—that feels right. “Yeah, we’ll need one more chair,” Ricky agrees softly, his gaze drifting to the future, to the family that’s just beginning.

In the end, you and Ricky had proven the vows true—til death do us part. Through all the challenges, fears, and moments of doubt, you had always found your way back to each other. The promises made, the trust built, and the love that had endured everything now stood as a testament to what you had together. With every touch, every shared laugh, and every quiet moment, you knew that no matter what, your hearts were bound—for life—and beyond.

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[apompkwrites]

the school-bound kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: Mwezi Miji Trio (OCs), Leona, Ruggie (platonic) genre: Angst contains: (Brief) Swearing, Possible OOC moments (depending on how you view Leona and Ruggie [mainly Leona]) summary: Following the admittance of Night Raven College's newest freshmen, both Kingscholars begin to come to terms with the newest changes in their lives. notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AGAIN OTZ. Unfortunately, my lapses of writer's block and demotivation have only increased since I last posted. I'm trying to get back into the hang of posting things (as evident by my art account suddenly coming alive again). ALSO! As you can tell by the formatting, I'm actually writing with proper grammar on Tumblr now! Right now, I don't plan to go back to reformat the older chapters, but maybe once I find the drive to do it, I will! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it <3 parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

Leona felt something knock the air out of his lungs. To Ruggie, who stood right beside him in a robe that was a few inches too long, it was hilarious. Seeing the very prince (well, second prince) of the Afterglow Savanna lose his composure was enough to make Ruggie let out a quiet "Shyeheehee" under his breath before he ultimately straightened his posture under Leona's pointed glare.

Nothing could have prepared Leona to see (Name) again. Honestly, he had long since come to terms with the fact that his little sibling was missing, lost to the Outlands and likely a rotting corpse in the middle of nowhere.

He's lying, he could never come to terms with that, no matter how much he deluded himself.

But they were here. They were here and they were walking closer and they looked exactly the same as he remembered them.

Well, obviously, not exactly. But they looked so familiar and yet so different at the same time. Leona didn't even notice the tip of his tail swishing behind him until he heard one of his dorm members complaining about a tickling sensation against his ankles. And that only caused Leona to grumble under his breath and snatch the base of his tail to stop it from moving.

By the Seven, had they changed. They seemed bolder and more confident compared to the last time he had seen them. The way their shoulders were no longer hunched forward and instead rolled back in a pride strut he wished he could attribute to someone who had come to accept their own status or the way their eyes seemed sharper rather than soft and wide with innocence. And their hands. By the gods, what happened to their hands...? No, they had changed severely, akin to the way Leona recalled seeing the royal guards before and after their training.

Something had happened, that much he could figure out. And as much as he wanted to advance the board, reach out, and capture them like a king in a game of chess, he couldn't. Not when they were surrounded by a queen and two rooks.

"Ignore him," Nuru advised, although his words were more of a formality if anything. He knew how well you could handle yourself, but this was a unique situation.

"I know," you replied curtly, flipping your hood back on and sidling up to Nuru's right side. Jabori immediately flanked your other side in turn, followed by Jabali. It was a familiar formation, one that the four of you had cultivated for as long as you could remember.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you whisper. However, the sharp pain lingering in your chest said otherwise.

Student after student soon began trickling out of each coffin, repeating the painstaking process of standing in front of the mirror, listening to its spiel about their innermost workings, before joining whatever dorm they were assigned to. Until finally, finally--

"We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?" One of the hooded figures lamented, his hand perched prim and properly on his hip. If you didn't any better, you'd assume that he was royalty or nobility. But, judging from his scent alone, he wasn't.

"Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever," Leona yawned, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned on his heels, facing the mass of hooded figures now under his care. "I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me."

He went to take a step amidst the other chattering dorm leaders before the doors slammed open, the handles banging against the wall from the force at which it swung. Leona groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Psst, Nuru," Jabali called from his spot beside Jabori, leaning forward to actually see him. "Are you sure this is the right place? We're actually supposed to find answers from..."

Jabali paused and motioned out towards the commotion now terrorizing the mirror chamber. The little gray cat scampered around the floor, setting fire to whatever he could in some strange show of physical prowess and magical ability. "...These people?!"

Nuru said nothing at first. From where you stood beside him, you could tell doubt was beginning to creep up behind him. Lucky for him, Jabori decided to take the lead.

"This is Night Raven College," he points out, pulling back the hood of his robe by a hair to peer over at his twin. "Pretty much everyone here, especially the dorm leaders, are adept at some kind of magic. I mean, look."

This time, Jabori pointed towards the commotion, his finger following the way that the redhead shot a spell in the cat's direction, materializing a red and black collar around its neck.

"It's the best shot we have," he concludes, nodding in support of Nuru. That single gesture instantly calmed Nuru down, his shoulders no longer hunched up and his wings relaxing behind him. You merely smiled and patted his forearm in response. Jabali, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms in begrudging compliance.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna get along with 'em or nothin'," Jabali huffed, rolling his eyes. Jabori laughed lightly at his brother's annoyance while Nuru let out a single huff of air.

"I wasn't gonna ask you too, either," Nuru hummed, glancing at Jabali from his peripheral. "Same goes for both of you, (Name), Jabori."

"Copy that," you nodded, the quiet chuckle that seemed to bubble from your throat disappearing the second Leona turned to face you and the rest of the new Savanaclaw members.

"You heard the headmage. I'm headin' back," Leona grumbled and, without missing a beat, brushed past the crowd and headed towards the door. Another hooded figure, one who had been standing beside Leona the entire ceremony, let out an exasperated sigh before raising his hand.

"Savanaclaw! Follow me," he ordered, earning a few half-hearted "Yes, sir"s from the rest of the huddled crowd.

You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching Jabali and Jabori marvel at the size of the campus halls. And Nuru too, if only he'd have more obvious reactions rather than just a single flick of a wing or a tilt of the head.

While the halls were nothing compared to the Kingscholar home, it was still pretty big. If you were any smaller than you were now, you'd probably react the same way.

"No way they need these doors to be this big," Jabali murmured, lightly elbowing your arm and pointing at one of the classroom doors. Your eyes followed his finger and a snicker managed to escape you. He wasn't wrong, those doors were freakishly huge, both in height and width.

Jabali went to comment on something else before he stopped, his eyes drifting over toward the new mirror chamber everyone had been led to. The doors were held open to accommodate the crowd, letting handfuls of students walk towards a mirror and get sucked into it, the glass rippling as if took wisps of bodies and left nothing in its wake.

"Savanaclaw House! This'll be your only way in and out of the dorm," the same hooded figure that led you all here called out. He had hopped up onto the lip of the mirror's decoration, using one of the rib-like sculptures as an armrest.

"Hurry up and get in! The faster you do, the faster you'll get to claim your rooms," he snickered before skipping ahead of the first dorm member and hopping into the mirror.

The prospect of first come first served seemed to spur on the first years, causing a near stampede of people trying to get into the mirror first. Nuru hooked an arm around your waist while Jabali did the same with Jabori, the two of them finding a single break in the crowd to get away, Nuru through flight, and Jabali through scaling one of the pillars by the wall.

Lucky for the four of you, the mirror seemed to accommodate more and more people as the crowd diminished. Perhaps through how many bodies reached a specific threshold, you thought. Regardless of the magical mechanics, it allowed Nuru and Jabali to let you and Jabori down after a few minutes.

"So many people," you grumbled under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Jabori. Nuru and Jabali nodded at your observation before the four of you hopped into the mirror yourselves.

Immediately, the four of you felt the familiar searing heat of the sun beating down on your skin. It almost felt like home if not for the increased heat coming from the fire serving as lights just outside the dorm's entrance.

Jabali and Nuru were the first to shrug off their robes, the former because he finally had enough of the stuffy fabric, and the latter because the heat was already starting to congregate around his feathers. You and Jabori followed suit, although the two of you merely hiked up your sleeves and flipped down your hoods.

Nuru shook out his wings and let out a soft grunt, one of his feathers falling into the sand beneath your feet. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shot the three of you a soft, almost comforting smile.

"Off we go, then," he hums, waving for you all to follow. If it were anyone else, you three probably would've found offense to a command as expectant as that. But it wasn't just anyone else. It was Nuru, the Guardian, and your dear friend.

The inside of Savanclaw was nothing really to marvel at like the rest of the school's campus. It wasn't cramped, per se, but it was quite a bit more tight than to your liking. Luckily, the walkway opened up the building quite a bit with the roped bridges connecting each floor.

Nuru scanned the room for a moment before his eyes landed on a room on the top floor, tucked all the way in the furthest corner. You figured everyone else left it since it was so far and their mentalities were focusing on that first come first served promise your leader from before declared.

Nuru unfurled his wings and shot up past the bridges, making a beeline towards the unoccupied room. He didn't have to go that fast, of course, considering only a few students were lingering in the walkways who sure as hell weren't planning on making the long walk up there.

Jabali seemed to share their sentiment considering his frustrated "Damn it, Nuru" muttered under his breath. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips before he trudged up along the nearest bridge, his hands shoved in his pockets and his robe slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

You and Jabori took a more relaxed walk up behind him, appreciating the familiar decorations that reminded you of your hometown. Of course, that appreciation turned into apprehension at the thought of Mwezi Miji now being unguarded by the main four.

What if something happened? What if they had sent word of an all-out war between themselves and the Dens and you hadn't heard of it since you all were knocked out in coffins? What if they were all already--

"On your right," Nuru called to you from the doorway, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder. Ah, you had gotten distracted. Nuru shot you a concerned glance, his brows furrowed in the same way they always were when you got stuck in your head before he ushered you into the room.

Jabali and Jabori had already claimed their beds on the left side of the room, Jabali near the door and Jabori near the window. This left the entire right side open for you and Nuru.

The winged beastman glanced over at you, patiently waiting for your next move. You caught his glance and mustered up a small smile before heading towards the bed closest to the door. Nuru subtly lit up at your decision, a little skip in his step as he moved towards the window.

You managed to hold back a snort at his hidden excitement. He always loved the window spot. Maybe it reminded him of when he was small enough to fit through them back home.

"So, what's up with you and that new first year, huh?" Ruggie huffed as he walked straight into Leona's room, leaning down to pick up a discarded shirt and dropping it in the laundry basket. "I've never seen you react that way other than with them."

"Watch your words, Ruggie," Leona growls from the bed, his head already buried in his pillow. His back was facing Ruggie who still stood in the doorway, but with the way his ears were perked up, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

"My bad," Ruggie snicked in response, holding up his hands defensively. "But, seriously, who was that? Someone I need to watch the pockets of? I mean, who else would it be if not roy--"

"Out," Leona demanded, his hand latching onto his pillow and launching it backward at Ruggie, the soft fabric turning into dust and scattering across the floor as he muttered the incantation under his breath. Ruggie yelped and scampered out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him before he could see the pillow disintegrate into sand.

Leona took a single breath through his nose before slowly sitting up. He rubbed at his face before reaching over to the desk placed beside his bed, his fingers curling around the drawer's handle and pulling it open.

Underneath notebooks thrown carelessly inside lay a single photograph. It was small, yet free of any creases. He lifted the books off of it before slipping the photo out, nearly cradling it in his palm.

Back when he first found the photo tucked neatly in one of his notebooks, he grimaced. It was an annoying keepsake, one that only served to remind him of the bothersome family waiting for him back home. But now...

Now the sight of his little sibling smiling ever so brightly while his older brother screamed in the background about a bug in his hair brought the smallest twitch of a smile to his lips.

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[taevescence]

Can I make a request with smut and angst and a happy ending???

Reader has a crush with jk since they were young (they were neighbors growing up). Now they are 26 yo.Taehyung throws this party and they both attend.

She hears him talking with his friends about how he never liked her and was just close to her because he helped him study and their parents were friends. But in reality he likes her, he was trying to play it cool.When oc hears that she runs off.

A few days later she meets with Yoongi (an old friend, they had a fling a while ago) at her house and he holds her in his arms.

One thing leads to another and they fuck (could you please add some nasty smut?????) While they are doing it, Jungkook barges in (he has her house keys and was worried because she doesn't reply to his texts) and sees them, but they don't stop.

happy ending with Yoongi????

The new and the ex

a/n: First of all, I want to apologize if the smut is not as nasty as you thought, I have never written anything like this before. Second, thanks for sending your request, I really got excited when you put that you wanted a happy ending with Yoongi, I wanted that too lol. Warnings: MDNI, fingering, hair pullling, a slightly jealous/possessive Yoongi, Jungkook being an idiot for wanting to make himself look good, a casual joke during sex (sorry, I swear it's unintentional), choking. wc: 5k

"Have you guys really never had anything? I always thought you were a couple, or at least liked each other," Namjoon muttered, sipping some of the cheap alcohol from his plastic cup. His brow was furrowed and his head was barely tilted to one side. 

"Of course not" laughed Jungkook, shaking his head, "Y/N and I have always been just friends, what's more, if it wasn't for our parents I wouldn't have even approached her, we don't have similar tastes, you know?".

Namjoon and Hoseok shared a look. Neither of them understood the situation between the two of you very well, but it definitely didn't seem like nothing. The two of you were inseparable. You always hung out together, always walked hand in hand, even on more than one occasion you were seen almost kissing, so why would Jungkook say that?

Well, you were asking the same question.

You squeezed the two cups you had in your hands, not caring if your hands would end up sticky and smelling of beer. You walked to the nearest dumpster you could find, threw them there and stared at the one with Jungkook's name on it. You had even put a bunny on it. It took you a few seconds to react and realise how strange it looked that you were standing in front of a trash can looking at its contents. You probably looked like you wanted to throw up, which wasn't far from the truth. Your stomach felt upset and your eyes stung enough to make you blink faster.

“Y/N” Taehyung approached you with a big smile on his face. He was holding a girl by the hand. You'd never seen her before, and you couldn't care less.

"Taehyung" you muttered, shifting in your place. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but you also didn't want to ruin his party. 

"I was looking for you, I wanted to introduce you to someone" he smiled big, pulling the girl to his side and putting her almost on top of you. You were a little surprised at how small she was. "This is my girlfriend, Soomin, she also comes from Daegu, I was so surprised when she told me".

"It's a pleasure" she smiled, offering you her hand. You didn't hesitate to take it. She was as well not to blame for your desire to disappear from here as soon as possible. "Have we met before? Your face looks so familiar”.

"I'm sorry, I really don't remember seeing you before," you smiled through tight lips. You looked at the exit door out of the corner of your eye. It wasn't that far away, maybe, if you told him you were going to the bathroom, you'd have a chance to get out of there. Yeah, it sounded like a good plan. "Excuse me, do you mind if I go to the bathroom?", you shifted your gaze from Taehyung to Soomin, waiting for a response from either of them.

To your surprise, Soomin covered Taehyung's mouth just as he was about to reply, "No problem, take your time."

"Thank you" you smiled weakly, camouflaging yourself among the sweaty, joyful bodies dancing to a shitty song that didn't even seem to be made for dancing. It took you a while to get to the yard of Taehyung's house, there were a lot of people in the way and it was too difficult to pass without touching anyone.

A shiver ran through your body as you felt the cold winter air hit your bare arms. Usually Jungkook was the one who brought a jacket for you, and if he didn't, he'd give you his. Fuck Jungkook, you thought, you didn't even need him that much, the car you had come in was yours anyway, and you had the keys to it.

You were walking around for a good few minutes trying to find your car. You almost cried with excitement when you saw it on the other side of the street. You ran towards it, unlocked the door and got in as fast as you could. You let out a sigh of relief when you were finally out of the cold. 

The first thing you did was turn on the heater, blowing air into your hands in an attempt to warm them. You turned towards the passenger seat, and it wasn't until you noticed Jungkook's jacket that you burst into tears. 

You felt so stupid, how could you think you could ever have anything? Just because he was nice to you? Surely he had many girls much nicer than you by his side. You were just his childhood friend, that person he would never consider as a woman.

You felt like you threw away more than 20 years of your life. 

You cleaned your cheeks with your forearm, starting the engine so you could go home.

You were taking the third tub of ice cream out of your fridge when your phone started vibrating. The thought of Jungkook texting made you nervous. Had he noticed you were missing from the party?

You picked up your phone carefully, turning on the screen and checking your inbox. You were surprised to see that the person who was writing to you wasn't even part of your contacts. You decided to check the messages without opening them.   

xxx: "Hi, this is Soomin, we spoke a while ago, remember?”

xxx: "Sorry to bother you again, but I really needed to talk to you urgently."

You opened the messages. Your curiosity won out over any other emotion. Besides, maybe she had something to tell you that would distract you enough to forget how bad you were feeling right now.

When you opened the messages, a photo was the first thing that appeared on your screen. You'd be lying if you said you weren't surprised to see it. How did she get it?

xxx: "I had a music tutor in Daegu, he taught me how to play the piano”

xxx: "His name is Min Yoongi, he had some pictures with some of his students on a shelf, that's you in the picture, aren’t you?”

You were a little hesitant to respond. You hadn't spoken to Yoongi in months, you were surprised that he still had that photo in his office. It had been taken after you won first place in a piano competition. You were so proud of that achievement.

"What difference does it make? It's just a picture," you whispered to yourself. According to what the girl had said, the two of them weren't friends, so they had probably cut off contact, just like you did with Yoongi after you moved here.

"Yes, it's me, I can't believe he still have that picture lol 😂"

You sent the message, feeling your heart in your throat as you saw the three dots. 

xxx: "I knew I'd seen you somewhere else 🙂" 

You took a second to think the situation through, why would Taehyung's girlfriend talk to you? The topic was important, right? It was the first thing she wrote in her message, so why was she asking you about a picture from a few years ago?

xxx: "Yoongi is coming to Seoul on holidays, why don't you two get together and talk? If you are who I think you are, I'm sure he'd love to get together with you and catch up!".

You went blank. Although at least now you understood why she was texting you. Would Yoongi have told her about his relationship with you? No, you couldn't even call what you had a relationship, it was barely a few months, most of the time you just had sex and then went back to their normal lives. Maybe you went out on a date or two, but nothing beyond that.  

xxx: "It's probably strange what I'm telling you, I'm sorry 😣"

You bit your nail as you noticed that Soomin had sent you a phone number.

xxx: "That's his number, in case you want to talk to him!"

You weren't quite sure how you ended up crying on Yoongi's shoulder as you told him how your childhood love and ex-best friend had just broken your heart a week ago and was still going about his business as usual while you sank into your misery, and a ridiculous amount of ice cream and sweets, but that was exactly was going on.   

"I swear, he said it so obnoxiously," you sobbed, taking one of the tissues from the box in his lap and blowing your nose, "And in front of our friends! How am I supposed to look them in the face now? They all knew I liked him, or at least I think they did, I don't know".   

You threw the tissue on the table, where another overwhelming amount of papers were lying.

"Y/N" he muttered, pulling out another tissue and using it to gently wipe your cheeks, "You need to calm down a bit, unless you have another box of tissues to spare."

"No, this is the last one" you looked at Yoongi, "I'm sorry, am I being too annoying? This is exactly why I didn't want to call you" you shook your hair, avoiding looking at Yoongi, "You always look at me with that look that makes me want to spit out all the shit that happens in my life. I really hate that, you know?"  

"It's fine, I don't mind" he shrugged, setting the box down on the side of the couch you were both sitting on, "Just like I don't mind listening to all the shit that goes on in your life" he smiled briefly at you, his eyes locked on yours, "I missed listening to you in general."

"Really?" you muttered, feeling your heart pounding against your ribs hard. 

Jungkook was your childhood love, but Yoongi? Yoongi was something else entirely. You couldn't say for sure that what you felt for him was love, but it would definitely be a lie to say that you never felt anything for him. 

At first it was just physical attraction, on both our parts. Yoongi was so quiet and mature compared to what you were used to seeing, he seemed to know so much about everything, it was impossible not to be at least curious about him. You, on the other hand, were much more outgoing than he was; you were definitely like a breath of fresh air in Yoongi's life, someone he knew he could trust and tell things to without filters. 

Even though the whole time you were together you were never sure how you felt about him, he always knew how he felt about you. He loved you then, he loved you in the time when you disappeared, and he loved you right now, even if you had only called him to vent about your broken heart.

"Of course I do," he said as he moved closer to you. It was only a few inches, but it was enough for both of your shoulders to touch. "How could I not? You're so... so you" he laughed softly, caressing your cheek with his knuckles.

Almost unconsciously you leaned into his touch. You were surprised that, despite how long it had been since you last saw each other, his touch still sent an electric current through your body. You were unaware of how much you missed him until this moment.

"What kind of answer is that? Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you laughed teasingly, leaning a little closer to him. You could have sworn there was some kind of string drawing you to him.

"It's a hell of a lot better than good," he moved his hand down to stop at your neck, stroking the skin behind your ear with his thumb.

You smiled helplessly as you noticed how his eyes had dropped to linger on your lips.

"Do you want to kiss me, Yoonie?" you asked, running your hand up his arm until you reached his shoulder.

"I want to fuck you" his gaze returned to your eyes, this time it seemed darker, more intense. You shivered a little at it.

Has he always been this direct?

"Here?" you murmured, feeling Yoongi's nose brush against yours. You couldn't help but hold your breath for a few moments.

"I can take you to your bed if you want, or would you prefer the kitchen?" he replied teasingly, kissing the corner of your lip. You closed your eyes, leaning even closer to him. 

"I prefer my room, maybe next time it can be in the kitchen," you laughed softly, pulling Yoongi up to kiss him.

Kissing with him had always been rather slow and gentle, lazy even. He liked to savor every corner of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting so much more. That was how it had always worked so far at least.

You moaned softly the moment Yoongi slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you as if he was desperate. And he was. He hadn't had any contact with you for over four months after having a relationship that was too intimate to be forgotten overnight. Shit, he was still dreaming about you being under him, moaning and begging him to move harder because you were desperate to come.

He hadn't lied when he said he missed hearing you, he just left out the part where he made it clear that it was your moans that he had missed the most.

"Hold tight," he whispered into your shoulder, grabbing your thighs and lifting you into his arms. "Where's your room?"

"Second floor, back door" you took advantage of your position so you could kiss his shoulder, leaving a mark or two on his skin. You smiled as you noticed that his skin was still as sensitive as ever.

Yoongi climbed the stairs as carefully as he could, trying not to let you bump into anything. 

You probably would have appreciated the detail if you weren't too busy nibbling on his neck.

It took him a while to open your door while you were still in his arms, but eventually he did. He came in as fast as he could, throwing you onto the bed as soon as he set foot in the room.

You squealed as you bounced on the bed, propping yourself up on your forearms to see Yoongi. He had started to take off his shirt. You were a little offended to see that he had no intention of letting you help him take it off. 

For a second you thought you heard the sound of the front door closing, but the fact that Yoongi was shirtless in front of you was enough to make you let it go. It was probably the neighbors, you thought.

Yoongi threw his shirt back, not realizing that one of the pictures you had hanging on your wall was in the way. You both turned to look in its direction as you heard the glass shatter.

"Sorry, I didn't see that," he muttered, trying to get closer to it to pick it up quickly so he could continue without interruption. You stopped him, grabbing his wrist tightly. 

"Leave it, it was getting old anyway, I've been wanting to change it for a while". You tugged at it until it was over you, completely covering your body.

"If you say so" he laughed softly, slipping his hands under your shirt and pulling them up until they were on your breasts. "I'm not stopping now, honey, so I hope what you said is true."

Jungkook took one last glance at his phone before he looked back at the door of your house. He bit his lower lip, hesitating whether to knock on the door or just open it with his keys. He looked at his cell phone again. You hadn't answered any of his messages for a week. At first he thought maybe you were a little sick, so he decided to give you space, but a whole week without talking to him? Whenever you got sick you always sent him a message asking him to buy you medicine, now you hadn't even done that. He was too worried.

He took a breath of air, reminding himself that he was only doing this to see if you were okay and if you needed anything. He pulled out his copy of your house key and opened the door. The first thing he noticed when he walked in were shoes that were much bigger than yours. They were black and looked fairly new. He frowned, trying to remember if you had any relatives or friends with such big feet. 

He shook his head, reminding himself that this was not the important thing at the moment. He advanced into the living room, grimacing at the sight of dozens of tissues strewn everywhere. For a second he thought he was right and that you were just too sick to speak or write. His doubts were soon answered just after the sound of glass breaking against the floor alerted him.

He ran up the stairs, approaching your room. 

His pace slowed as he got closer, remembering the shoes from earlier. 

His heartbeat began to ring in his ears, booming so loudly that it was almost the only thing he could hear.

"I'm not going to stop now, honey, so I hope what you said is true," he heard a man say.

He had to swallow the knot in his throat to keep from making a sound. He took just a few more steps, just enough to see into your room. The nausea was almost instantaneous as the guy with the big shoes kissed your neck and slipped his hands under your shirt. Nor did it go unnoticed as you arched your back to get closer to his touch, as your lips parted, letting out soft whimpers and moans.

He ran his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and stepping back clumsily. He wanted to erase that image from his head, but it was so hard to forget, especially when he could still hear you moaning for that guy. He turned around, walking down the stairs much more cautiously than at the beginning. He didn't want you to know he was here, that he had just seen you in a situation like that.

He turned around one last time, looking at the stairs in silence. He needed some air, and lots of beer.

"Yoongi" you gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly. At this point you cared little and nothing about hurting him.

"What?" he laughed teasingly, settling his fingers inside you. He'd forgotten how tight you were, how you'd made him in the past to take his cock? "Is that too much for you? When was the last time you fucked anyone? Was it me? Was it your little friend there?"

You weren't listening with full concentration to what he was telling you, you were too busy trying not to think about the stinging you were getting from feeling his fingers moving in and out of you in a slow but rough rhythm. You almost screamed when he separated them while still inside you. 

"Why don't you answer? It's just my fingers," he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual. His free hand took care of removing your shirt to free your tits. You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of them. "They're so beautiful" he whispered to himself, squeezing your right breast tightly, smiling as he heard you squeal, "and so sensitive, do you still play with them like you used to when we were together?"

"Y-yes" you groaned, clinging to Yoongi's wrist. He seriously knew how to use his long, cool fingers to his advantage. 

"Who do you think of when you do that?" he moved down until he was face to face with your tits, starting to give little licks around your nipples. 

"Does it matter?" you buried your nails in his wrist, trying to move your hips against his hand. It was starting to make you desperate how slow he was.

"Of course" he stuck a third finger inside you. From then on his pace only increased to the point where you needed to hold on to something to stay conscious. "Would you like me to fuck you thinking about someone else? I know you haven't done this with him before, he hasn't even kissed you, you may have touched yourself while thinking about him, but remembering the sensations I gave you," he bit one of your nipples, tugging at it with his teeth. It was much less delicate than you were used to. "And you don't know how annoying it is to think about you just using me, so yeah, I'd seriously like to hear who the fuck you were thinking about when you were touching yourself like I was."

You looked down, trying to see what Yoongi's expression was. You couldn't see much beyond his hair slightly stuck to his forehead. You thought about asking him about it, about trying to understand why he sounded so jealous, but it was hard to talk when his fingers kept moving inside you mercilessly.

"I did it with you in mind," you finally answered his question, feeling the knot in your stomach grow more and more unbearable. Yoongi might be being a little more rude than usual, but that didn't take away from the fact that he was still making you feel just as good as all the times before.  

"Fuck" he growled under his breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you took that moment to try to calm down a bit. 

You almost choked on your saliva when you saw Yoongi lick his fingers covered in your juices. "You're making it hard for me to control myself."

"Then don't" you whispered, taking Yoongi's hand and kissing his knuckles.  This time it was he who was surprised to see you sucking on the same fingers he had dipped into you and licked. "I don't mind."

"Shit," he mumbled through his teeth, rubbing his member over his pants. You'd just given him a free pass to do whatever he wanted, hadn't you? or had he just misunderstood? "Are you sure?" 

You leaned closer to him, taking his belt between your hands and removing it easily. You knew that specific one very well. "Very sure," you smiled at him, unbuttoning his pants and holding the waistband of them to pull them down.

"Wait," he held your wrists carefully, slipping a hand into the back pocket of his pants. You were quite surprised to see that he had a condom in it. "Now, where were we?" he finished removing his pants and underwear, leaving you in the same state as you.

Sometimes you seriously forgot how big this man was.

"You had a condom on? Really?" you teased him, lying down on the bed as he settled on top of you, "did you come with intentions of catching up or to fuck me?".

"I can do both at the same time" he opened the condom, taking it out and placing it over his member carefully, "Don't you think it's sexy to ask you how your work has been going while I pull on your hair and shove my cock all the way in?" 

You laughed loudly, slapping his waist playfully, "I thought I was the only one who had that wet dream, I'm glad there are two of us."

You watched as a small smile formed on his lips as he rolled your body over until you were face down. You felt a shiver run down your back the second Yoongi began to leave marks on your shoulders and back.

"I missed you" he whispered against your skin, pressing his member against your entrance. You moaned softly as he ran his tip all over your femininity. "I missed hearing you scream my name." You thought maybe he would enter a bit at a time, just like all the other times you'd had sex. To your surprise, he didn't hesitate for a second to thrust his entire member in one thrust. 

You didn't need any more to scream his name. 

"Yes, just like that" he smiled, sticking his chest against your back, starting to ram into you hard. Each thrust was even deeper and faster than the last, and each one hit your sensitive spot. He knew your body so well, perhaps even better than you did. "I love the sound of your moans."

"Th-thank you" you laughed between moans, squealing as you felt Yoongi's hand pull your hair tightly. Your head was now resting on his shoulder and he had full access to your neck. He didn't hesitate to take advantage of that.

With the hand he still had free he decided to tease your sensitive clitoris, squeezing and pulling on it mercilessly. You trembled violently in his arms as he did so. 

"See how you tremble," he growled teasingly, tugging at your hair again. He was fascinated by the sight. He loved seeing your tear streaked face and saliva running down the corner of your mouth. He knew that meant he was doing it right. "You've gotten so much more sensitive," he kissed your shoulder, letting go of your hair and resting his hand on your lower belly, smiling proudly as he felt his member bump against his hand across your skin. "You're so cute, drooling at the way I fuck you, I love it."

You moaned softly, squeezing his cock unconsciously. It felt so good to have him inside you again. 

Yoongi grunted softly in response, lifting you off the bed and resting you on his chest. You gasped as you felt his hand gently squeeze your neck. He hadn't applied pressure, but you still felt yourself running out of air. 

"Did you like that, honey? Is that why you squeezed my cock? Or is it because you want to come?" whispered Yoongi in your ear. You couldn't help but squirm. You felt so sensitive that just the brush of his lips against your neck made you drip on his cock. It was really embarrassing.

"Both of them" you looked at Yoongi from the corner of your eye. Shuddering as you felt his member bump more uncontrollably against your sensitive spot. "It felt so fucking good and..." you closed your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder, trying to regulate your breathing. "I seriously feel like I'm close. Shit" you moaned as soon as Yoongi pulled on your clit hard again.

"Then just come" he gently bites your ear, moving the hand he had on your belly up to your chest. At no point did he separate it from your body. "I've got you."

You relaxed a little at hearing him say that, but that moment of peace didn't last long.

His grip on your neck became slightly tighter, as did his thrusts. They were getting messier and rougher. 

"Yoongi" you moaned, clinging to his wrist. You bite down hard on your inner lip, feeling your legs tremble uncontrollably.    

He seemed to get your message. His finger began to roll over your clit, crushing it hard. The movement was pleasurable enough to cause the knot in your belly to untie and you cum hard on his cock. 

You almost cried when you felt Yoongi keep ramming even after you had just had your orgasm. 

"Just hold on a little longer, honey, just a little longer, you're doing it perfect" he whispered in your ear, moaning more and more desperately.

You were shaking uncontrollably as you felt his cock touch your G-spot again. You were still too sensitive, it burned to feel his member hit so deep. At least it was a pleasurable pain.

Yoongi's arms came down to wrap around your waist, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. It was only then that you noticed his cock twisting inside you as he released his cum into the condom. 

Yoongi pulled out of you a few seconds after he finished. You were both panting, and you barely managed to stay upright when Yoongi let go of your waist.

"I can't feel my legs," you laughed between breathless gasps, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion slowly consume you.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi said, leaning back against you and resting his head on your chest.

"You're not sorry" you murmured with a smile, stroking his hair lazily.

"I'm not" he nodded, leaving a soft kiss on your collarbone.

You moaned with satisfaction, resting your head on Yoongi's chest.

"Buying a house with a bathtub was the best decision we've ever made," you took the sponge off the table, poured some soap on it and started rubbing it against your boyfriend's skin, "don't you think?

Yoongi just nodded, letting you clean his arm with the sponge. "I think next time we should get some candles. I walked past a shop the other day and saw that they were selling strawberry scented ones".

"Yes!" you turned to look at him, giving him the biggest smile you could. "I saw them too, but I wanted to ask you before I bought them."

Yoongi's hands floated to your waist, drawing invisible circles on your bare skin. "Let's go buy some tomorrow."

You nodded quickly, turning around so you could sit on his lap. "You're really sweet, you know that?" you giggled softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling your face close to his.

"I really don't understand why you think that," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. 

He closed his eyes as the smell of your shampoo hit his nostrils. He loved that smell, it was so good on you.

You kissed him softly, stroking his wet hair with your fingertips. "You know exactly why I say that, Yoonie," you hummed against his lips.

He just smiled, bringing his nose to yours, "Whatever you say," he whispered, kissing your forehead.

You couldn't help but feel an immense warmth flood your chest. You would definitely never regret contacting him a few years ago. It was the best damn decision you'd ever made in your life.

Materlist.

[athanza]

A Time For Us - part 1

Shouta Aizawa/fem!past-love hero OC (not self-insert)

Plot: Trying to cheer up her teacher, Eri manages to resurrect his long-lost love who died seven years prior while protecting him from a villain.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, age difference (both adult), crying, fluff, referenced character death, not canon, romance, alternate universe, if I've missed any let me know! ♡

Warnings: Angst, crying, referenced character death, may tug at your heartstrings, sorry lol. Again, if I've missed anything let me know, I'm still relatively new to fic writing and tags etc.

This is a non-canon, stand-alone fic but the idea came to me and I had to write it. I hope you enjoy! ♡

Part 2 | Part 3

Part 1

The last remnants of winter chill hung in the air as the season began to change; the leaves left over from autumn beginning to show underneath the melting snow.

Eri played quietly with her new doll in the passenger seat of Aizawa's car as they drove through the streets of Musutafu city.

"Is it ok if we make a stop somewhere for a moment before we get back to UA?" He asked, his eyes on the road.

"Where are we going?" She replied, hugging her doll.

"Just have to see an old friend. It won't take long, don't worry."

They drove for ten more minutes before stopping at a cemetary. It wasn't like a regular cemetery full of the usual gravestones and incense, it was smaller and she realised all of the surnames were the same.

"Wait here, ok? I'll just be a minute."

She nodded, curious as to what was going on.

Aizawa closed the door after him and Eri watched as he walked up to a specific grave that sat under a tree, overlooking the city. She unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled into the driver's seat to see better.

There it was again, that tight feeling in his chest that happened every time he came here, that tight, heavy feeling. His footsteps were muffled by the damp grass, the water coating the toes of his shoes; they stopped as he reached the grave and he took a breath, the first one since he left the car.

Pulling a yellow rose from his scarf, he placed it in the small vase in the base of the headstone, replacing the dead one from last year that was now only a stem.

"I'm sorry I'm a late." He said, lighting some insence and placing it beside the rose. "Things have been tough this year. We've all been pushed to our limits, my students most of all. I'm doing my best but..." he sighed. "I know, I can almost hear you telling me to be kinder to myself...I'll try...for you."

The tightness in his chest began to choke him and he swallowed back his tears.

"Mr. Aizawa?" Came Eri's sweet voice, breaking the heaviness that hung over him in this place.

"E-Eri, I told you to wait in the car."

"I wanted to meet your friend."

She had the sweetest expression on her face. Her kindness never ceased to make him smile. His expression softened, not that he was angry, he just didn't want her to see him like this.

He smiled softly and held out his hand. "Come here."

She smiled and took his hand, walking up next to him.

"Eri, this is Saiyu. She was a very good friend of mine. We were classmates at UA a long time ago. Saiyu, this is Eri, my newest student."

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Saiyu!" Eri beamed, and the tightness returned to his chest, but it wasn't heavy this time.

He smiled.

"Let's go," He said, not knowing how long he could hold the tears back.

"Don't you want to spend more time with your friend?"

He was struggling now. "Midoriya and the others are waiting for us, remember?"

"Deku!" She beamed and ran back to the car giggling.

He was glad she was still so young and easily distracted. He couldn't be here any longer, he'd reached his limit.

...

When they arrived at UA, Midoriya, Mirio, and the others were eagerly waiting for Eri's visit. Her visits always cheered them up, and Eri desperately needed that positive connection. He was glad she had them, after everything she had been through, she was finally experiencing love for very first time. The students needed her too, she brought a light back to UA that had started to dim after the most recent events. She brought them hope.

"Deku! Mirio!" She giggled as she ran up to them. "Hiiiii!"

"Hey there Eri!" Deku smiled.

He supervised her as she played with the class, proud at how far she'd come since she was found.

Suddenly, All Might burst through the door with all the enthusiasm of his past selves, before immediately coughing up blood.

"HellO! I am here!" He boomed triumphantly.

"Uncle All Might!" Said Eri, her eyes lighting up.

All Might chuckled "Hey there little one!". He picked her up and she laughed, giving him a ping of warmth that he greatly needed that morning.

"I was just showing Deku and the others my new doll!"

"Wow!" He smiled warmly.

"Do you need me?" Said Aizawa, knowing All Might should be at the police station right now.

"Yeah. Just for a moment. Tsukauchi has some more intel for us."

"Don't worry about Eri Mr. Aizawa. She'll be ok with us for a few minutes." Yaoyurozu chimed in.

Aizawa and All Might stepped out of the room and the girls immediately swept Eri up and started braiding her hair. Eri loved it when they did her hair, her eyes went all sparkly and she felt so happy. But then she remembered earlier that morning.

Aizawa was trying to hide it, but she could tell he was upset. She couldn't understand why he was trying so hard not to cry, it's normal to be sad when someone isn't there anymore.

"Who's Saiyu?" She asked.

The others caught the change in her tone and suddenly looked worried.

"Saiyu? I don't recognise that name. Is she a student here?" Ochaco tried to think but she had no idea.

"No," Eri replied, "She's Mr. Aizawa's friend. She's at the cemetary."

That immediately changed the vibe of the room from happy to suddenly a little bleak. The others were taken off guard, they didn't know who Saiyu was or why Aizawa had been at the cemetary to see her.

"Mr. Aizawa was really sad. He didn't cry, but I could tell. I don't want Mr. Aizawa to be sad."

"Wait." Said Deku. "She must be talking about Saiyu Yamada, the illusion hero.

Her hero name was Mirage. She was one of the most powerful illusion heroes of our time. She could make an entire city see anything she wanted them to.

I heard she worked closely with Mr. Aizawa when they graduated UA. She wasn't a hero for very long though, she was killed fighting a villain in Jaku city only 2 years after their graduation from UA. That was seven years ago now."

"That's awful." Said Mina.

Kirishima looked saddened. "Yeah...to become a hero only to be killed so soon afterwards. If they were friends, it makes sense that Mr. Aizawa would visit her grave."

"He must have cared about her a lot."

"Let's change the subject." Said Ochaco, "I don't think Mr. Aizawa would appreciate us gossiping like this."

"You're right." Came Aizawa's voice from the doorway. "I don't."

The students froze and panicked.

"Mr. Aizawa! We're so sorry! We didn't mean to pry!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Aizawa. I didn't mean to tell." Sniffed Eri, her horn starting to spark as her eyes watered. "I just didn't want you to be sad."

"It's alright." He replied, placing a hand in her head, knowing she didn't mean anything by it, and knowing he didn't need to use his quirk on her this time. But he couldn't deny he wished she hadn't told his class about...her.

"Uhh anyway!" Said Mirio nervously. "How about we go make snow men before all the snow is gone?"

Eri immediately perked up and she smiled, a drop of snot still hanging from her nose. "Yeah."

"Is that ok Mr. Aizawa?" Asked Deku.

He nodded. "Just make sure she wears her coat."

"I will!" Eri had already ran out the door as she said that and the others ran hurriedly after her, grabbing their coats on the way out.

When they were gone, the room became quiet, almost too quiet, even for him.

"Yesterday was the anniversary, wasn't it?" Said All Might.

"Yeah..."

"I had no idea, we've all been so busy lately. I should visit her myself."

"I'm...still waiting for it to get easier..."

All Might placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as Aizawa stared sorrowfully at the floor. "I know. Me too."

A tear fell from his eye, and he immediately wiped it away. He didn't notice Eri hiding behind the door, having come back for her coat.

...

The students were having a great time making small snowmen with whatever remnants of snow they could find, Kirishima instigating a snowball fight and setting Bakugou off on an unnecessarily competitive battle.

It wasn't long though until Deku realised he couldn't see Eri anywhere.

"Hey, Yaoyurozu?" He asked. "Where's Eri?"

She panicked a little, realising she also couldn't see her. "I don't know. She said she was just running back to get her coat. She's been gone a little long though..."

"I'll go and check on her." Said Deku, hurrying off back to the dorm.

When he got there, he found Aizawa and All Might, but Eri was nowhere to be seen.

"Have either of you seen Eri?" Deku asked, starting to panic a little bit himself now.

"Huh? No. I thought she was with you."

"She said she was running back for her coat but she's been gone a while and we can't find her."

A different type of tightness hit Aizawa's chest this time.

"Damn!" He said. "Get the others and spread out. If she's upset she could activate her quirk."

Deku nodded and sped off.

They looked for her for 30 minutes before they realised she was no longer on campus.

"Where would she have run off to!?" Said Ochaco.

"Damn it!" Said Aizawa. Then it hit him. "Wait. The cemetary! All Might!"

All might was already in his car, waiting for Aizawa. "I've got it. Get in!"

"Do you need us?" Said Kirishima.

"No, it's too dangerous! Stay here, I can deactivate her quirk once I get her in eyeshot!"

They sped off campus as fast as the car could carry them and the others were left standing there wanting to do something but not being sure what. Aizawa was right, being near Eri when her quirk activates was dangerous. But it was Eri they were talking about, they cared about her.

The panic swelling in Aizawa's chest was sharp and his heart was beating so hard he could hear it.

"If she tries to do what I think she is...I..." Aizawa thought. Was it even possible? ....should he let her...?

The car sped through the streets at rocket speed until they finally pulled up at the cemetary. The car had barely stopped before he leaped out.

"Eri!!!" He yelled. "Eri, don't!!"

The sparkly yellow glow filled the cemetary and blinded him, making him unable to see her and therefore, making him unable to use his quirk. He grunted in pain from the brightness before it suddenly went away as quickly as it appeared.

He kept running, reaching her just in time to see someone burst out of the ground and he froze....it was her....she was alive.

Saiyu broke free from the earth and gasped her first breath of air in seven years before collapsing, but not before Aizawa could catch her.

She still had some of her injuries from the battle years ago, but not the worst one, one the one that killed her. She was weak, and barely concious.

"Sh-shouta?" She said weakly. "Did I do it? D-did I...get here...in time?"

At that, she passed out. Aizawa sat there for just a moment, frozen, for the first time in years.

He looked worriedly over at Eri who was passed out, but ok. He was in complete disbelief, holding Saiyu in his arms when he thought he never would again. Listening to her breathing, seeing her chest rise and fall with her breaths. He couldn't believe it.

"Sh-shouta." Said All Might, as equally in shock as Aizawa was. "Is she...?"

"We need to get them to recovery girl. Now! She-" he paused, never thinking he would ever say these words. "-she's alive."

...

Part 2

[ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs]

-Star Crossed- chapter 1

Pairing- Oc!reader(afab) x Logan Howlett

Words- 1.9k (not proofread plz excuse any errors)

Summary- it’s been nearly 2 years since Cora(reader) and Logan both lost eachother in their own universe, both broken, angry and hated amongst their people, They would do anything to see one another again, little did they know that day would come sooner than expected, and shatter their hearts into pieces and drive their long hidden desires to the surface ….will they be able to forgive themselves for their past and finally be together? Or will the universe just tear them apart once again?

Warnings- mentions of death, blood, 18+ (smut) in some later scenes/chapters… tension!!!! ./trauma/ no use of y/n I will be using a name but I won’t be describing any appearances! / Logan is aged down to be atleast in his early /mid 30s in this story / will add more warnings when needed.

————————————————————————

You’ve been rotting in your bed for months now, you can’t bring yourself to do much…not anymore.. you feel so lost, so hopeless..all because he’s gone, and you blame yourself for everything that had happened , you blame yourself for losing Logan.

You stare up at the white ceiling, Logans dog tags rest around your neck, his old grey zip up wrapped in your arms, his scent slowly fading with each day that passes. You feel nothing but sadness, you’ve cried so much you genuinely don’t think you can bare to cry anymore you just want out. Out of this fucking world, out of your misery. But what can you do? Just leave? No…what would leaving do? You’d still carry the pain you’ve felt since the day Logan Howlett died in your arms. Sometimes you swear you can still feel the warmth from his blood pooling under you, his heavy body laying stiff in your arms…the feeling of absolute dread when he stopped responding to your pleas to stay with you a little longer, when his hand fell from your face, body going limp…thinking about it makes you want to end your own life sometimes but you know that’s not what he would have wanted for you…he would want you to live on, but how could you live when the only man you’d ever loved was gone …forever?

You rolled over on your side, your face sinking into your pillow while you held his jacket close to your body, your other hand clenching his bloodstained necklace it’s all you had left of him since you left the x mansion, you couldn’t be there anymore, not with all the memories and not with knowing none of your friends were there anymore either.. they were all gone, dead… you were the last one left, and you couldn't bear to be reminded of all the happy memories...not when survivors guilt was riddled in your body. when everyone had died, you felt like you at least had a reason to live giving you still had logan by your side, but then he got sick, adamantium poisoning....you don't know how it happened, but the adamantium inside of him started to break down, entering his blood stream, it weakened him, slowed down his healing factor...you hated seeing him in pain, it wasn't like him to show it so much, it broke your heart almost every day and that's when you decided to find a way to help him before it got too bad...but little did you know... that would be the very cause of his death.

You blame yourself every single fucking day for his death, sometimes you wonder if you even deserve to wear those dog tags he ripped from his neck and placed in your blood-soaked hands...."I'm so sorry Logan..." you whisper into the jacket, muffled cries echoed through the quiet dark room, cries that soon turned into loud gut wrenching sobs.. you stayed like that for hours, crying yourself to sleep, the way you did almost every night.

you were jolted awake the next morning by the sound of hard loud knocks on your apartment door. You look around frantically, knowing who it was already...it was them.. humans. Humans who hated you more than anything, more than any other mutant...why? because they blame you for the deaths of the other x-men, and they most definitely blame you for the death of Wolverine. "fuck...that fast??" you mutter stuffing your things into a bookbag that lay on the floor next to your bed, they had defintely found you faster than last time....fuck.

you tried to sneak out the window in your bedroom when the door was kicked open by a few bigger men, they ran inside trashing the place, calling out your name in a way that made your skin crawl "COME OUT YOU BITCH" one yelled like a raging brute "come out come out wherever you are Cora, we just wanna make you feel the pain we felt when you killed the x-men" another cooed, his voice was one you'd hear when taunting someone, it was fucking creepy.

"Fuck me!" you spit in a whisper, they seemed even more upset than before...to this day you don't understand why the humans decided to turn against you, I guess they just needed someone to blame for the deaths...and you were right there and unscathed. As you were trying to make your way out the small window, the door to your bedroom flung open and 3 men entered, a mob of people behind them, they grabbed you almost immediately, grabbing your hands and putting them behind your back, and covering your eyes knowing full well of all your abilities. "We got you; you bitch, you're not going anywhere" . Now this whole ordeal would be a lot easier if you could just use your powers against them, but you took an oath when Logan died to never use your powers to harm a soul ever again...and yea these people were horrible trying to kill you but they genuinely think it's your fault your friends are dead...and you know you'd feel the same way if you were in their shoes, so yea...you took an oath to never use your powers to harm these people...but no one ever said anything about using your combat skills...like cmon you were a fucking x-men...these people are really stupid.

you kicked your leg up into the air, uppercutting one person causing them to fall onto the ground with a loud thump. you then brought your head back to headbutt the man holding your arms behind your back and when you felt they were free you ripped the blindfold off and quickly grabbed a lamp that sat on your bedside table, bashing it against another's head. A few people came charging at you at once, but you dodged them with minimal effort, grabbing their heads and bashing them together causing their bodies to go limp and fall to the ground. your right elbow landed directly into someone's stomach making them gasp for air then you brought your knee up to bash it clear into their face, as someone tried to climb onto your back you stumbled from the sudden attack and fell back into a wall causing them to bring a knife right down into your upper abdomen "GET OFF OF ME" you screamed in pain , pushing yourself back into the wall again and again but the person still had a grip on you, that's when another person tried coming at you full speed to tackle you to the ground...you were getting exhausted, you hadn't properly worked out in months and this sudden fight was one you weren't expecting... you were annoyed, trying to fight all these people, finally getting the person on your back off you head someone yell "YOU MURDERER, YOURE KILLING US BUT WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THEY NEEDED YOU"

"ITS ALL YOUR FAULT WOLVERINE IS DEAD" those words, those seven words snapped something inside of you...and well that oath you took...it meant nothing to you now. you brought your hands up into the air, your eyes glowing a bright white, the humans looked at you with nothhing but fear in their eyes. they all stumbled over eachother in the small apartment, but none of them were fast enough, you brought your hands down with a swift motion and everyone in the room flung back, some hit walls, some crashed into furniture and others flew out of windows, an instant death giving you were on the 7th floor. "I DID NOT KILL LOGAN" you screamed, people tried getting up but you didnt let that slide, "I TREID TO SAVE HIM, I LOVED HIM” you swished your hand to cause the ones trying to escape to fling back to the ground. You saw the man that uttered those words that made you snap almost instantly, you had heard them so many times before but for some reason today was the last straw, you tilted your head to the side walking towards him slowly as you brought your hand up you balled it into a fist and watched as he was lifted off the ground, grasping hopelessly at his neck, he couldn't breathe and you only squeezed your fist tighter and tighter as you watched his face turn blue, you glared at him, your eyes narrowing until

'POP'

His head was gone within an instant, blood painted your clothes and face. You were in uncontrollable rage, and couldn't stop, matter of fact you didn't want to stop. you wanted them to feel the pain they have been putting you through when you were already going through enough.

The others screamed, but you quickly shut them up, you twisted your head to the side, and without really thinking about it you opened a portal...it was another one of your abilities you rarely used, but as you were throwing people through it, the screaming stopped....they were all dead and you began to come down from your high while the portal was kept open...you fell to your knees and watched as the golden sparks from the portal started to dim....but before the portal closed completely you saw it...him...a face you hadn't seen in almost 2 years....Logan Howlett.

you felt your heart skip a beat when you both locked eyes, his expression showing just as much shock and heartache as yours, ignoring the bodies you absent mindlessly had thrown before him, in his hand held a bottle of whiskey but it soon hit the cold ground, shattering into pieces. you absent mindlessly grabbed the dog tags that hung around your neck, shooting up to your feet before calling out, "LO-" you were cut off mid-sentence as the portal closed as quickly as it was made and once again you were left alone in silence. You fell to your knees, shaking, your mind raced thinking if what you saw was just your imagination paying tricks on you...logan was dead...there was no way ....you saw him die , you saw-..."no....that's not possible" you mutter to yourself, you stared blankly at the blood riddled floor....that's when your mind began to drift to something Strange said long ago to you...how your ability was one of a kind, how with your own mind you could create portals to other worlds without a type of device...at the time you thought he was just wrong...every time you used your ability you only opened portals to other places in your world...not any others, only he had the ability to do that and even so it was with an object... or...at least you thought. "How...I don't even know wh- I don't even remember what i did .... how?" you were at a loss for words. Did you actually do it... did you open a poral to another earth, one where...Logan was still alive? you felt tears swell in the rim of your eyes, soon falling down your cheeks and onto the floor...you felt sick, crazed and as you looked around...horrible...if what you saw was real, then Logan, The man you've craved to see , the man you once loved and still do love, the man you tried saving and the man that died in your arms...is out there and just in your reach.

(I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL HAVE MORE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN BOTH CORA (THE READER) AND LOGAN. IT WILL ALSO BE FROM LOGANS POV FOR A LITTLE WHILE let me know if you guys liked it!! 🫶🏼)

[hwaslayer]

love you in slow motion (psh) | four.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, thewarmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 10k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption, intoxication, club scene!, twerkin buns at the clurrrb 🤪, kissing/making out, quick rundown of oc's history with mingi, physical altercation, mention of small injuries/wounds (lip cut), arguments, crying, the silent treatment 💀, hints of a hookup, oc x seonghwa just being a mess per usual sorry 😫 lol

"Are you still riding with me and Joong to the club?" Seonghwa puts your call on speaker while he sits in the passenger's seat of Hongjoong's car.

"Yeah, if I can."

"Can we head over then?"

"Sure. I'm still getting ready."

"We figured." Hongjoong chuckles in the driver's seat, turning into a lot. "What do you want from Egg House?" Seonghwa inches the phone away from his face when you squeal loudly and clap.

"Double egg toast, please!"

"Okay. We'll be there in about 30 minutes or so."

"Thank you!" You hang up the call first and Seonghwa lets out a breath, slouching further in the seat.

"It's so easy to please Y/N." Hongjoong laughs, finding a spot in the opposite end the lot closest to the shop.

"Sometimes."

"San ever tell you about their dinner?"

"Not really. Y/N did. A bit. She was being kinda weird about it, actually."

"Hm." He hums, figuring if it was gonna come from someone, it would be him. "That's probably because they talked about you."

"Me?" Seonghwa furrows his brows in confusion. "What about me?" No wonder you were being so weird about the topic at the aquarium. You couldn't tell him the full story, even though Seonghwa wished you would've. It'd make things way easier.

"What do you mean 'what about you?'" Hongjoong laughs as he heads to the self-checkout area to order. "These unspoken feelings, that's what."

"What did San say?"

"He asked if you two had anything going on with each other."

"Why is that a question when there clearly isn't?"

"Mm, well.." Hongjoong's response has a drip of sarcasm that has Seonghwa

"He didn't have to do that."

"He just didn't wanna get in between anything, of course he had to." Seonghwa is silent and he's biting his tongue because even though he has a rebuttal ready to slip— he's not entirely sure why he'd be defensive and fight back about it.

Hongjoong and San were right. It's not like everyone wasn't aware. The only person who seemed to be was you.

"I don't know what Y/N said. But whatever it was.. was enough for San to just back off." 

"He shouldn't give up on her."

"Him or you?" Joong laughs. "I mean they're still going to be the same. Good friends. I don't think anything was lost. They're probably both comfortable this way, too. Maybe that's just how it's supposed to play out." Joong shrugs. Which, it isn't much of a surprise to Seonghwa when he hears this, especially when you started talking about the potential of ruining things—

♡ FLASHBACK

"As friends. Like we always were." You tug on his wrist. "Hypothetically speaking, if we were to date, would that ruin things between us?" Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat before shaking his head.

"Why would it ruin things between us?"

"I don't know, because we've always known each other like this. As bestfriends. It could be a dangerous thing, right? Cause we'd know too much about each other or whatever." You look up at him, and he locks his eyes with yours. He wishes he could say everything and nothing at once— but he sticks with the latter, his own example of keeping everything at bay. 

"I truthfully don't think it'd ruin anything."

"B-because I feel like it would and that's why I'm just letting things be with San."

"You sure that's it? Cause I feel like you're asking for a different reason, and not for San in particular."

♡ END

"Hate when you do that." 

"Hate when I'm right and you're wrong.. again?" Seongwa finishes plugging in his order and yours before checking out.

"I got it since you're driving today." Is all he responds before snatching the receipt.

"More gas money for me." Hongjoong snickers, plopping onto a high stool off to the side of the restaurant to wait for the food. 

"Did San say anything else to you?" Joong shrugs and shakes his head.

"Nah. But, he seems to be the same."

"Gotta talk to him." Seonghwa mainly mutters to himself. He just wants San to be okay because he didn't want this idea of you and him getting in the way [despite his feelings]. That was never his intention. But before he can fall into a rabbit hole with his thoughts, his name is being called and a bag full of food is being pushed his way. Joong is already on his way to the car, unlocking the doors to hop in and drive off to your place with a quickness— especially because he was hungry.

When they arrive at your place, they pass through the house to say their hello's to Yaya with Seonghwa handing off the extra sandwich he remembered to buy for her. She happily thanks them before waving them off, telling them that you're probably still getting ready in your suite.

"Hey!" Seonghwa knocks and yells. "Are you decent or whatever?"

"Yeah! Come in!" He hears from the other side just as he tugs on the doorknob. Walking in, he notices a few pieces of clothing scattered along your bed and couch, with you head deep into your closet.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Finding an outfit, what does it look like?" Your response is mumbled as you dig deep into the depths of your closet to find that black cotton mini skirt and a few tops. "Got it!" You hold up a bodysuit and a regular tank in the same color. "Body suit or tank?"

"How the hell are you gonna pee?" Hongjoong asks mid-chew. "Unbuttoning that coochie holder while drunk is crazy."

"You're sick, Kim Hongjoong."

"Nah, tell me. How is that gonna work?" Seonghwa silently takes out your sandwich and plops next to him on the couch.

"He's got a point. I'm not going into that bathroom to save you."

"Ugh." You groan, tossing the bodysuit aside and settling for the tank. "I'll figure out the rest later." You plop next to Hongjoong's free side. "Thank you for the food." You smile over at them.

"Hwa bought it." Hongjoong's eyes are glued to the TV. 

"Thank you, pichu."

"Mhm." Seonghwa responds from his end. 

"Why are San and Woo going separately?"

"San has to help his uncle with something and it might run a bit long. Woo offered to go with him so he wouldn't be alone."

"Mm." You hum. "Hope it doesn't go long."

"Aw. You miss Sannie?" Hongjoong playfully pouts and you hit him on the bicep.

"You're so fucking mean to me." Joong laughs loudly when you continue to whine, Seonghwa contently eating away while watching the show.

"You guys good or what?"

"Yeah, I just want all of us together."

"We will be, don't worry." Seonghwa chimes in and passes you your food. "Eat. I know you'll need like 500 hours to get your makeup and hair done." You glare at him before picking up the sandwich and digging in. You, Joong and Hwa continue to talk amongst each other while watching the TV before you gather the strength to finally get ready for the night. You turn on your bluetooth speaker, blasting your playlist while you get dressed and get your makeup going. Seonghwa has taken a few pregame shots with you in between, now sipping on a canned cocktail to keep him going while you finish up your makeup and hair. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with the oversized black denim jacket, mini skirt, tank and knee high heeled boots you threw on. Your makeup was simple, but enough to pop.

"Damn." Hongjoong teases, playfully checking you out and flattening his brows with two fingers while Seonghwa rolls his eyes. But, he has to say— he's fucking dying inside because of how fine you look tonight.

So fucking beautiful, and Seonghwa wishes he could have you all to himself.

"Go away." You laugh, walking through a cloud of perfume. "I'm ready!"

"About time." Seonghwa teases. "You look good." He breaks contact as he shuts off your bluetooth speaker and is the first to head out the door.

"Thanks, pichu." You shut off the lights and lock your door. "Do you have the bottle?"

"Make sure to hide that shit in the car, I'm not getting pulled over." Hongjoong says, unlocking his car. You hop into the backseat and tuck the unopened soju bottle aside— keeping it safe until you get to the club.

It's a 20 minute drive before Joong is circling the streets to find a good spot. When he finally gets lucky and finds one just a block down, he reverses into the spot flawlessly before shutting off the car and giving off a deep sigh.

"Have at it." He says, texting San to find out his whereabouts while you and Seonghwa continue to pregame some more and finish the bottle. The alcohol is hitting you quickly tonight, the soju being the cherry on top. Joong tells you San and Wooyoung have parked nearby, giving you all the greenlight to meet them halfway and walk together to the club.

You [drunkly] scream loudly when you see the two; running into their arms and letting them swing you around. You feel happier when you're all together, excited for what the night has to bring. You cling onto Seonghwa without realizing, the group behind you two as you walk side by side while engaging in conversation.

"Seonghwa! Why would you say that!" You and Seonghwa laugh loudly while walking down the street to the club. San can't help but divert his attention to you two ahead; watching as you naturally joke around, laugh and playfully bicker. You cling onto Seonghwa and continue to attach yourself to his hip, and the reality settles for San even more.

He is sad, but it's clear this is where you're supposed to be.

Seonghwa continues to tell you his story, leaning in to tell you delicate details even as you fall in line for the club. San realizes things surely haven't changed, because for you and Hwa, all you see is each other. You both don't ever purposefully make anyone feel left out, but at the end of the day, Hwa was always going to prioritize you and vice versa.

This is your own world and San only plays a little part in it. And that's okay. That's completely okay. You deserved to be happy and that's all he wants for you. All he wants for Hwa.

When security finally checks your IDs and lets your group in, the club is packed from wall to wall and you're having to hold Seonghwa's hand while navigating through the crowd. Hongjoong is behind you, gripping at the belt loop of your skirt to help lead the other two trailing him.

"Aye, over there!" Hongjoong tugs on your belt loop and points at the free bartender towards the other end of the club nodding with his lips while nodding. You take the hint and get Seonghwa to navigate to the free area. Once you're there, you feel like you're able to breathe, being able to spread your arms and move around freely.

"Let's go get some drinks from the bartender over there, it isn't busy." Seonghwa points to the small bar area towards the back end. Your group follows, instantly asking the bartender for a few shots of tequila, whiskey, whatever each chose as their own poison. 

The shots are taken to the neck, and before you know it, you're dancing away on the dance floor with your friends. Wooyoung manages to grab a few dances from cuties nearby, dragging San along to cheer him up and find someone he could possibly have fun with. But, amidst all that and all the numbers he manages to grab, he still finds himself looking for you so he can at least have a dance. 

"Y/N?" San comes to you, cheeks tinted red as his hand  caresses at his jaw. 

"What's wrong, Sannie? Are you okay?" You look up at him with those eyes, your hand on his bicep. You're both clearly drunk out of your minds but jesus, is he having trouble containing himself. 

"Y-yeah." He hiccups. "I just wanted to ask if you'd dance with me?" You giggle and nod.

"Let's go!" You grab his hand and take the initiative. At some point the crowd builds and you're separated from your group— Wooyoung floating somewhere out in the chaos, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa are pulling further and further away. You continue to dance with San though, enjoying every moment and having fun while with him. He keeps up with your rhythm, holding you close but making sure you still have enough freedom to move however you want, have space however you want. But, you continue to work on him and dance along to the music, forgetting any worries for the night.

You dance with San for a good chunk of time before you start searching for Seonghwa, who is no longer nearby. You catch wind of him, but your body decides this is the perfect time to break the seal.

"I need to go to the bathroom." You turn to San and tippy-toe to his ear.

"You okay? Want me to come and wait?"

"No, I'm okay. I'll be back." You give him a small reassuring smile before rushing off to the bathroom and waiting in the tiny line that had formed outside the door. You're in and out within 5 minutes, washing your hands and patting your face down with how stuffy the club had gotten. After handling your business in peace, you realize that Seonghwa and Hongjoong are even more separated than you thought when you exit the bathroom— no longer being able to spot them on the main dance floor, especially due to being inebriated. You finally find Wooyoung and San together, tugging on Wooyoung's sleeve to grab his attention.

"Where's Hwa?"

"Iono!" Wooyoung shrugs. "Last time I checked he was somewhere over there with Joongie." He nods in the far back corner behind you. You give Wooyoung's arm a squeeze to thank him before pushing your way through the crowd towards the potential Hongjoong and Seonghwa spot. When you get there, Hongjoong is definitely nowhere to be found, but Seonghwa is talking to some girl. He's leaning in towards her ear in order for her to hear him, and she laughs at whatever the fuck he's saying. It lowkey kinda irks you, even though you have no reason to be feeling that way. You should be happy Seonghwa is putting himself out there and flirting away at the club. 

Not feeling jealous or envious in the least bit that she is occupying his time and space.

"Hey." You come up to him just as she giggles and playfully flips her hair, turning on her heels to walk away. She gives him one last look before she sways her hips and continues walking towards her friends, all of them squealing over the encounter in the middle of the club. "I see you've been busy." He shrugs.

"That's the girl I met. Makayla." You subtly roll your eyes and tap his chest.

"Okay, well I've been looking for you." You kinda pout.

"What's wrong?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hang out with you and I couldn't find you for the longest time." He laughs.

"You were dancing with Sannie, weren't you?" He taps your nose. He says it like it's a light, teasing joke, but deep down, Seonghwa had to step away and get outta that spot. He's not gonna lie, he is relieved you're finally looking for him and finding him. 

"So?" He laughs.

"Well, you found me? Stop pouting. We came here to have fun and you're gonna be with me all night." He gently runs a finger down your bottom lip that is still poking out in a pout. 

"Where'd Joong go?"

"Bathroom." 

"Let me grab San and Woo—" Seonghwa tugs at your hand just as you're about to turn, a small frown on his face. As you look at him, not only do you realize how drunk you still are, but you can also pick up on how drunk Seonghwa is, too. His eyes are red and glazed over, cheeks also tinted with a rosey hue. 

Which, with the way he's looking at you, can't be a good thing. 

This won't end well.

And you truly do not care right now.

"Uh-uh, I thought you wanted to hang out for a bit. Dance with me." He says, pulling you flush against him while his teeth subtly nibble on his bottom lip.

"Hwa." You get all shy and unlike yourself, most definitely from the alcohol and the way he's looking at you up and down. You let him keep you close, beginning to dance against him and go with the beat of the current song blasting through the club. 

To set the record straight first and foremost— it's not like you haven't danced with him before. You have, and those times have been careless, free and fun. You didn't have a care in the world, Seonghwa didn't. It wouldn't last because it was harmless fun before you were onto the next and brushing it off like it was any ordinary thing between you two.

Because it was.

Tonight, it isn't. The air is different, and the energy between you two is supercharged; strong, an incredible pull to each other. The air is extra thick and like no other you've experienced with him. You can't really explain it right now, but with recent events, you just know you want Seonghwa.

Just like he wants you.

So you dance, and you dance. The two of you have pushed to the farthest corner of the club that Hongjoong never seems to return to Seonghwa [or maybe he did and didn't wanna bother] and the two of you are left in your own little world. He's still keeping you close, a tight grip on your hips as he feels every inch, every move against him, doing his best to keep up with the rhythm, you.

And god, is it turning you on.

You turn to face him when the song transitions into the next, finding that Seonghwa can't take his eyes off of you. He stares through his hooded lids while he rests against the metal railing, hands still at your hips while your face is only inches away. You watch as his eyes shoot down to your lips, back up to your eyes as if he's begging, pleading, you to make the first move. Because that will be the confirmation he needs— that will open up a whole new box that Seonghwa had been waiting to open, break the lock to a door he had been waiting to walk through. But also, he's too scared to make the first move. Too scared he'd be overthinking, that you're just drunk and you wouldn't mean it—

Suddenly, the impact of your lips crashing into his quickly pulls him out of his thoughts. Instead of breaking away at that moment, the kiss instantly becomes heated, deep. And Seonghwa has to forcibly pull himself off of you because even though he wants this so, so badly, it'll ruin everything if you truly didn't mean anything by it.

"What're you doing, Y/N?" He breaks away and leans towards your ear. His voice is husky and deep, loud enough to barely be heard over the music.

"I can't kiss you?"

"Not if you don't mean it." He bites onto his bottom lip when he pulls back to look at you, hands still resting on your waist.

"Who said I didn't mean it, Hwa?" You say in his ear, shivers running down his spine when he feels your lips graze your jaw. He probably should think about this, really think about this, but he can't. He's just as fucked up as you are, and he's feeling a bit selfish, a tad bit horny. You're positioned in between his legs looking beautiful as ever even under the dim club lights.

He can't help himself.

He cups your cheek as he pulls you back in, kissing you with so much more fervor. He hears you let out a content sigh in between kisses, pressing your body up against him as you grip the sides of his shirt.

"Driving me crazy." He says, pulling back and letting his nose lightly glide over yours. The both of you are slightly panting, lips swollen from all the intense kisses just shared. You'd do it over and over again, though. And if it were up to you, you'd take this home to explore a little further.

You want Seonghwa.

"Am I?" You continue to tease.

"Y/N." He gives you a look. "You have no idea what you do to me." His voice is still husky, deep; vibrating through your ears and sending tingles down your spine. He leans in for another deep, last kiss; biting onto your bottom lip and tugging back before letting it go. He dips to your jaw, to your neck— painting the surface with feathery kisses and tiny, subtle bites.

"Hwa, we're still out." You giggle and gently tap his chest. 

"Right." He sheepishly smiles and continues to hold you.

"I'm gonna grab some water real quick. We should try and find everyone when I come back."

"Let me just come with you." He grabs at your hand.

"I'll be fine, pichu." You smile toothlessly at him. "I'll be back before you know it. Try to text one of the boys! Save our space!"

"Fine." Seonghwa slightly whines as he lets go of your hand and watches you walk off. At this point, San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong find him without Seonghwa having to lift a finger— both San and Wooyoung carrying two glasses in their hands.

"Aye! Finally fucking found your ass. Where's baby girl? Got more shots." Wooyoung looks around for your familiar figure.

"She went to get water."

"I got it right here. Tequila water." Wooyoung snorts at his failed attempt of a joke.

"You're an idiot." Seonghwa shakes his head and takes the glass, holding onto it while looking around the room. It hasn't been long, but he's hoping you haven't been swallowed by the crowd and are at least at the bar requesting for water.

"Let's wait for Y/N." San adds.

"Sounds good with me." Wooyoung shrugs.

5 minutes quickly turns into 10 and you're still not back from your water run. Seonghwa can't help but be worried, eyes now frantically scanning every inch of the room to catch any glimpse of you.

"Damn, that's a long water break. Should we just go to the bar and find her?" Whatever Wooyoung's saying is completely drowned out by Seonghwa because he finally spots you, and he's fuming. Everything in the club seems to drown out, and it almost feels like white noise. Hwa finds you at the opposite corner of the bar, and of course, Song Mingi would be the person you're occupied with. That's why you haven't returned, of fucking course. He continues to watch from his spot, feeling unsettled from the entire situation. It starts off pretty normal, until Mingi starts whispering near your ear; doing his best to pull you close, keep you close. He sees you gently rejecting Mingi's touches, shoving off his hand and pushing his arm away— clearly making you uncomfortable. Seonghwa finds his free hand balled into a fist, already boiling with anger at how Mingi doesn't read any of your signs.

Instead, continues to put you through it because he's your ex. He thinks he can get away with it. He knows he can.

"I'll be back." Seonghwa says taking the shot in one swift motion, setting his empty glass aside on the high table nearby. San furrows his brows as he watches him leave, following his trail over to the opposite end of the club.

"Oh shit." San says under his breath, and Hongjoong is confused.

"What?"

"Mingi." He points over to the other side of the club and Joong lets out a sigh, followed by a heavy—

"Fuck."

As Seonghwa comes from behind, Mingi is the first to spot him and smirks. You don't really notice until Mingi has stopped trying to get close to you, turning over your shoulder to see your own bestfriend shooting daggers his way.

"What's up, Seonghwa?" The way Mingi says his name is so fucking annoying, Hwa can't help but roll his eyes. Mingi leaves out his hand in hopes of Hwa taking it in a friendly dap. All Seonghwa does is look at it before returning his attention back up to him, then back to you.

"Come on. Let's go." Hwa mutters as tries to gently drag you away by the wrist, but Mingi stops him.

"Woah. We were just having a conversation."

"Back up." Seonghwa steps in front of you and tries to get Mingi to back up, creating some distance between you two.

"Kinda rude for someone to intervene when they have no business to."

"Didn't know that required you to put your hands on her."

"Seonghwa." You warn, but he doesn't listen.

"Of course." Mingi laughs and licks his lips before closing in on the distance, clearly drunk and trying to be belligerent by provoking Seonghwa. His face is only a couple of inches away from Seonghwa's, but he isn't doing anything to back down from whatever the fuck Mingi is trying to start. Because yeah, he's drunk too, and this is you they were talking about. "Wanna be all high and mighty now? Be the knight in shining armor you always tried to be?" Mingi snickers.

"Back away from me, Mingi." Seonghwa warns lowly. "Step the fuck away."

"Or what? The fuck are you gonna do about it, Seonghwa?" Mingi mutters. "Think she'll finally give into you?" He chuckles pathetically. "Finally give you what you've been wanting for years? I know you've always been mad because you couldn't bag her when I did. Couldn't touch her, fuck her like—" Seonghwa pushes him with so much power that Mingi stumbles and fall back on a high table nearby, knocking over a glass as his arm hits the table. Mingi recovers quickly though, glaring at him as he pushes Seonghwa back and tries to land a punch on him. Mingi successfully lands it when Hwa fails to dodge, cutting the corner of his lip after the impact. They continue to go at it, causing people to step back and watch the chaos ensue from around.

"Hwa! Get off! Stop!" You scream, trying to pry him off. San, Hongjoong and Wooyoung rush over, both San and Joong having to separate the two until the bouncers come and kick your group and Mingi's group out of the club.

"Jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung glares at the bouncer and throws his hands up. "Okay, okay, we're going!"

"Let me catch you, fucking punk!" You hear Mingi yell as him and his group walk down the opposite block, the bouncers still keeping an eye on your groups to make sure nothing occurs outside of the club and requires police activity. You walk a few steps before you push Seonghwa by the shoulder, forcing him to look at you as he tends to his lip.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!" You look at him and Seonghwa's almost taken aback by your reaction. 

What do you even mean?

He did this to protect you and keep you away from that asshole, but you don't even seem the least bit concerned about him.

At all.

"W-what?" Seonghwa looks at you, his chest rising as he tries to calm himself from all the adrenaline and anger. 

"You didn't have to do that!" You yell, on the verge of tears. You're angry at Seonghwa, but you're angry because you hate seeing him hurt. You hate that he intervened, you hate that he's hurt because of the fight. You're angry, you're hurt, and everything is coming out all wrong. "I was fine, you didn't have to get in between, Seonghwa!"

"The hell you mean I didn't?!"

"Hwa." Hongjoong calls for him, eyeing the bouncers nearby.

"He wasn't doing anything!"

"Here you go again! Be serious for once, Y/N. He's a fucking asshole! When are you going to realize that?!"

♡ FLASHBACK

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck you, Song Mingi." You walk out of his room, aggressively wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Fucking crazy. Get the hell outta here!" He yells from his room, causing you to flip him off as you walk down the hallway and out of his front door. 

Song Mingi was a certified asshole.

Time and time again, your ex-boyfriend of 2 years proves to you that you just aren't shit to him. Two years, then an on-and-off again situation where Mingi just couldn't commit to you again — but he needed you to feel wanted, to feel like he had a safety blanket to fall on, to feel like he could string you along until that very last moment he couldn't. He'd whisper sweet nothings whenever he saw you late nights; no longer leaving his home to go on dates, but to stay wrapped up in his sheets. Telling you things he knows will make you weak, thing he knows will make you stay a little longer. All these years of this back and forth game you played with your ex, you had no idea why you couldn't just learn and do better for yourself instead of letting him reel you in, making you think he genuinely wanted and needed you.

There was no one like you.

You, so perfect.

You, made just for him. 

You should've known better.

This was no one else's fault but your own. You let him in, you let him in, you let him in. And you fall for it every single time, knowing you were never going to be his one and only again, knowing you weren't the only one he was keeping around. But for whatever sick reason, you wanted to believe you could get him to change again. You wanted to believe you meant more to him, that your history meant more to him. But that's all it was— wishful thinking.

Empty words built on shaky foundation.

So here you are, after he had called you saying he had missed you and wished you were near him. Here you are, crying everything you have left in you after giving him what he wanted. Here you are, after hearing that this wasn't anything to Mingi, that you weren't anything to Mingi. Here you are, broken to pieces, empty, soulless.

Again and again.

"Fucking asshole." You groan to yourself, tears streaming steadily as you head down the street from his building to a random corner. You sit on the sidewalk, kicking aggressively at the rocks beneath your feet. You give one last good grunt out of frustration before you rest your arms on your knees, head hanging low to let all your tears fall freely.

You had been crying so hard that you hadn't realized a car had pulled up in the empty spot near the curb you sat on, car being turned off before someone steps out and shut their door. You suddenly feel a hand on your back and you instantly ease up, knowing exactly who that touch belongs to.

"Hwa." You look at him, watery eyes blood shot red. He can't help but feel sorry for you, you're aware. You can tell by the way his brows soften when he sees how torn up you are, you can tell by the way his lips poke out because he isn't really sure what else he can say at this point. He shouldn't have to say anything anymore. He shouldn't be here—

You shouldn't be here.

"I told you to stay put." He teasingly scolds you, but you continue to look at him with that sad, pathetic look. "Let's get home, hm?" He follows up, free hand coming to wipe your tears away. You nod, allowing Seonghwa to help you up and into the car. He doesn't really say anything when he gets in and buckles his seatbelt, but he glances over at you, watches as you sink in the passenger's seat and look out the window.

He hates it, and he wishes he could do more to take this away from you. To keep you away from Mingi, to take away your pain completely.

It's not the first time Seonghwa's had to come get you. He's almost losing track of how many times you've called him crying because you wanted to leave a party after seeing Mingi flirting around [even though he'd deny it time and time again]. The times you've called because he left you at parties to hang out with other people, other girls. The times Mingi has disrespectfully called you out your name mid-argument, gaslighting you into thinking you were in the wrong.

Seonghwa's only hope is that one day, you'll finally get tired of your ex and move on. Leaving Mingi where he belongs, especially when he couldn't even give you the proper respect. Mingi's only reasoning for breaking up with you was that he couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't do the relationship anymore. He just couldn't, and you knew what he truly meant— it just wasn't you anymore. 

And for months and months, you sat there wondering what you could've done differently, or if there was a sign that you had missed. Every time he called, it had you thinking he must've realized he couldn't do this without you, that he was wrong and that he did want this after all.

Nope.

He made you believe it for a night, yes. Then, he'd go back to reminding you what you actually meant to you— that you were delusional, that you kept forcing things between him. That you knew what this was.

You should've known what this was.

♡ END

"He wasn't even doing anything! Not shit you needed to step in between for! He was literally—"

"Oh my fucking god." Seonghwa groans. "And you're still defending him!" He yells, his brows furrowed when he turns to look at you. He feels like he can barely breathe due to the anger surging through his veins, plus the betrayal he's feeling with the way you're delivering your responses. The way you look at him. The way you're keeping your distance.

After everything, it still seems like you're taking Mingi's side. You always find a way to defend him one way or another, even if you don't realize it.

Seonghwa does, and it hurts.

"I'm not!" Your tone is louder. "I could've taken care of it myself, he wasn't doing anything!" You repeat.

"He was making you uncomfortable, Y/N! All up in your space, trying to force you to do shit when you didn't want it. Yet, you wanna tell me he wasn't doing anything?"

"I'm just saying it wasn't that big of a deal, Hwa! I could've handled it!"

"Really? I doubt that." 

"Wow, are you serious?" You say, hurt. But, he scoffs and continues because you need to hear this. 

"I am. You always let him push you around and walk all over you. I thought by now you'd be smart enough to realize that you're worth much more than that." His tone rises again. "Why do you always let him do this to you? You're so used to the way Mingi treats you and you do nothing to change that. You always let him in. You're so brainwashed and you literally have no respect for yourself, it's fucking sad."

"You know nothing about our relationship." You're crying and angrily wiping away at your tears, unsure of how else to act, what else to say. Sure, you and Seonghwa have gotten into petty fights and arguments. Mostly over dumb shit, but nothing ever this serious. You know he cares, and he means well. But this anger, this seemingly pent up frustration— you aren't entirely sure where it was stemming from. You have never seen him act this way and quite frankly, this part of Seonghwa is very difficult to navigate. 

You've never had to.

"Yeah, because I wasn't the one rescuing you in the middle of the night every time he decided to throw your ass out, right? Because I wasn't the one having to calm you down when you were crying? Because I wasn't the one whose had to pick up the pieces every time he broke your heart to try and chase after somebody else? When he says all those shitty things about you that get to your head? When he'd fucking leave you stranded?" He shakes his head. "I'm sure I know nothing about your relationship." The two of you are staring at each other, both at a loss for words after everything has been laid out on the table. Seonghwa is the first to break, having enough of this bullshit and not wanting to say anything else. Mostly because he still cares about you and your feelings, and it's breaking his heart to see you crying over him this time. "I'm done here. I'm sure San will take you home."

"Whatever, fuck you." You respond before turning on your heel to walk away. As soon as you've created enough distance between you and Seonghwa, you find yourself stopping in your path to sob into your hands. It isn't until a few minutes later that you feel hands on your arms, a familiar touch that belongs to somebody else dear to you—

"Hey, let's get you home." San says, with Wooyoung behind him. You can't see much due to the tears in your eyes, but you can tell it's Hongjoong walking alongside of Seonghwa, making sure he's okay and pushing him along towards the car.

"He'll be okay. Just needs some time to breathe." Wooyoung adds, holding out his arm so that you can slip yourself right underneath while walking to San's car. "You alright?" Wooyoung pouts, wiping some of the straggling tears escaping your bottom lids.

"Mhm." You lie, just to keep the walk quiet and peaceful. And it is for a bit, even as you sit in the backseat of San's car. The only thing filling the space is the music playing through bluetooth— Wooyoung's playlist, actually. San peeks over at you through the rearview mirror, feeling bad for how everything went down. But, he gets it. He gets Seonghwa. You do deserve better. Mingi should never get an ounce of your attention after how he's treated you— esp with Seonghwa being here all along.

"You know he just really cares about you, right?" San breaks the silence. 

"I know." You mumble, head leaning back against the seat while you look out the window. "I've just never seen him act that way."

"It's Mingi." Wooyoung adds. "Can I be honest?" He turns to look at you with doe eyes. "I'm not trying to attack you, I promise. We see both sides." You nod quietly. "It's hard when you have history with someone, and it's hard to undo bad habits you've learned in the relationship. We know Mingi was someone special to you, but he hasn't been good for you for a long time. And there's no changing that man at this point. If it's anybody, Seonghwa knows all of that very well, especially when he's been by your side throughout everything." Wooyoung lets out a small sigh. "I'm certain he's hurt because even after everything he's done to be there, Mingi's actions seem to be dismissible. And his actions get overlooked."

"Woo, I'm not even dismissing Mingi's actions."

"Okay, baby girl. You're not. But, I think Seonghwa would have appreciated if you were there for him tonight instead of getting upset. He just wants to keep you safe."

"His goal has always been to keep you safe." San adds softly, driving towards your place.

"I didn't want Hwa to get hurt, h-he didn't have to do that." You sniffle, leaning your head against the window.

"You know he's not gonna sit back and let that shit happen." Woo adds, also leaning his head back against the headrest— a small headache forming after tonight's events. When you finally get home, San and Wooyoung offer to stay the night to keep you company, but you politely decline. They walk you to the door and give you big hugs, asking you a million times if you're sure about being alone tonight.

And you quietly nod.

Because there's nothing else you'd rather be than alone tonight. You want to be alone in your own space, crying alone in your bed; head against the pillow, tucked underneath your sheets.

You want to be alone.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa is struggling. He isn't sure what to do, hates not having you by his side. He doesn't know what's gonna happen from here on out, what will be left of you two after all this.

From the kiss, to Mingi, to the argument.

It's so fucked up.

Seonghwa hadn't even realized how much of his life was dedicated to you— how much of his life was just you. Even when he tried so hard for it to not be you.

"Fuck!" Seonghwa groans and slams his hand against a brick wall in passing. 

"Aye, come on now." Hongjoong clicks his teeth and pushes him away from the wall, urging him to continue down the car. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I swear to God if I ever see Mingi—"

"You won't. He should know better, and hopefully Y/N does, too." Hwa lets out a hefty sigh as he swings Joong's door open and plops into the passenger's seat. Not much is said between the two, even as Hongjoong drives off to his place. Seonghwa rests his head back and shuts his eyes, equally angry, yet dizzy from the alcohol still running through him. 

"I don't know what to do, Joong. I can't keep doing this just for it to get me nowhere."

"You two really need to fucking talk." Hongjoong does a slight head tilt as he continues to drive to Seonghwa's place. "I don't mean to make this worse, but I saw you two." Seonghwa looks at him before resting his head back against the headrest again. "I didn't come so I could give you guys some space."

"Fuck." Hwa repeats again with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I don't know where this leaves us."

"Give it a few days or whatever, but you need to figure this out with her." Seonghwa doesn't speak anymore, mainly because he's starting to feel nauseous after the adrenaline, the alcohol. He's doing his best to keep it together. But, on top of that, he has a ton of thoughts swirling in his mind— he doesn't really know how to tackle them or where to even start. In the end, he's afraid of what this will do to your relationship.

You and him.

In the end, he just doesn't know anymore.

This is the longest Seonghwa hasn't talked to you. It's been a little over two weeks— usually, the two of you would break in a few hours, not wanting to be without the other for long.

But this, this was different.

Of course, everything felt awful. You both felt awkward about having to be the first person to break the silence, both remembering that night and how heated it had gotten.

The kiss.

The argument.

Everything about the situation felt like doom, chaos. A whole whirlwind of emotions and feelings overpowering each other, threatening to burst at the seams.

Seonghwa had thought long and hard about this, though. For him, he decided he just needed to step back and give himself a breather. Let him do things for himself, carry on with the mentality that he'd finally put himself first. So, that's what he's been trying to do. It doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though. It does. It's terrible. He's gotten so used to having you by his side, so used to running to you first about anything and everything.

He's had to bite his tongue when he finally nailed that fucking uni pasta recipe he had been experimenting for years. Because he wanted to tell you he did so, wanted to invite you over so you could be the first to taste it;

Oh well.

His heart sinks when the realization hits him again, and he's having to give himself a 'lil pep talk to push through. He can't be the person to say sorry first, he can't be the first to break— not when he didn't do anything wrong. He needs to stop apologizing when he's not in the wrong or when he feels bad. He's given you way too much of that, and this time around, he wasn't going to.

He needs you to be the first to break. Needs you to be the one to say sorry. Needs you to show him you understand and that you would never intentionally hurt him, especially over Song Mingi.

He's still counting the days. Maybe he'll have to keep doing so. Gives him time to himself, some peace. Let's him know how much you'd truly work to salvage your relationship with him.

Your own bestfriend before anything.

Because he knows he'd do anything to keep you by his side. He would. It just sucks that he doesn't know if you would do the same. He can't confidently say the same.

But, you absolutely would.  Days and nights have passed and you could barely sleep, always questioning what Seonghwa was doing and if he was even thinking about you. This was on you, though. You knew it. You just didn't know how to say it to him and it's definitely a learning lesson for you— all in all, you wanna be better and you wanna be better for him. You miss Seonghwa a lot. You truly didn't know what it meant to be missing your other half until now;

Empty, alone.

Cold.

You sigh as you toss the pillow aside and sit up in bed, checking the time on the clock. 

3am.

You couldn't sleep, and you freeze. You freeze because you have no one to call anymore. So you turn, and turn. No longer able to find sleep for the rest of the night.

When the sun finally rises, you force yourself to get up to go for a run and grab a good cup of coffee and breakfast. It was your day off, but you thought you could at least take advantage of being up early; take advantage of soaking in the morning sun.

You were tired of sulking and being in bed. Being cooped up at home when you weren't at work.

You throw on your leggings and matching sports bra, grabbing an oversized zip-up to shield you from the morning cold. Yaya is already working in the kitchen, so you quickly let her know you'll be out for a run— rushing over to your car to avoid any questioning this early in the day. You drive over to a lake near town that has a 4.5 mile trail around its perimeter. Since it's still early, the trail isn't crowded with people; perfect enough for you to get a good 3 mile run in. You hadn't ran in a minute, but 3 miles seemed to be a breeze when there was a lot of pent up frustration and anger you needed to release. Of course, you were beyond tired at the end, but it wasn't anything coffee and a good pastry couldn't fix.

At the cafe, you grab a seat right outside of the entrance to enjoy your breakfast, scrolling through social media per usual. You click into your messages for god knows why, knowing Seonghwa hadn't messaged you.

He hasn't.

Why would he?

You sigh, the sadness now returning. You quickly clean up and toss your trash into the bin inside the restaurant before grabbing your cup of iced coffee and heading home. Once you get home, you throw your clothes into the laundry and take a hot, steamy shower, letting your worries go momentarily.

And then, you nap. Exhaustion finally hitting you from the lack of sleep.

Post-nap, you take time to clean around your suite and hang out with Yaya, watching a few episodes of her current favorite show. You help Yaya with a few things around the house, taking the time to bring her to the grocery store just right before the sun sets. Even though Yaya can tell something is wrong, she doesn't bother you or question you like you'd expect— probably leaving it for Soyeon to do the heavy lifting. You do appreciate that you don't have to dwell on it while spending time with her, though. 

Soyeon, Charli and Junseo had visited the past days, and although Charli was able to make you smile and laugh, Soyeon could also easily tell something was wrong without you having to say anything at all. Your demeanor had changed, you seemed to be snapping quicker than usual. Attitude wasn't so bright and happy. Seonghwa hadn't been around, but the other boys had quickly stopped by just to hang out.

You dimmed it down to a 'little fight between you and Hwa,' but Soyeon knew better than that, and she was hoping she'd be able to get it out of you soon. This wasn't like you, and it wasn't like Seonghwa to not come around for days on end.

This wasn't just a little fight.

"Hey." She calls you when you're settled back in your humble abode, and although you don't mind hearing from your boss-slash-cousin, you could do without any work-related conversations right now.

"What's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving the restaurant soon. Yoongi and Junseo are going to close up. It's gotten quiet. Can I stop by? I have some food for you."

"Sure. Where's Chacha?"

"With Junseo's parents."

"Mm." You hum. "Okay."

"Okay, I'll be there in about 30 minutes or so. I'm just gonna wrap a few things up here."

"Sounds good." You hang up the call, a bit relieved that your cousin [not your cousin on boss-mode] is coming over. 

When she arrives, it's about 7:45pm. She quietly knocks before announcing her presence— stepping out of her shoes before joining you on your living room floor in front of the coffee table and TV. For a good part of the conversation, you indulge in some of the chicken she brought over, listening to her update you about the restaurant and some drama on his side of the family. She asks if there's anything new going on with you or the boys, and you simply shrug.

This is definitely her way of poking at you, and you're very close to cracking because who else can you open up to about this?

No one, and at this point, you need to. You need the reassurance.

"Are you sure nothing's up? To be honest, I know something's bothering you, and I know this wasn't just a 'little fight' between you and Hwa." She forms air quotes. That's the moment you do crack, tears welling in your eyes when you revisit that night. You tell Soyeon everything and confide in her, giving her more details about your dinner with San, to dancing with Seonghwa and kissing him, to Mingi and their fight. You tell her it's been about two weeks since you've spoken and you know Seonghwa is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You tell her how you've started to realize your feelings for Seonghwa after everything and how incredibly terrified you are of them.

"I don't know what to do, Soyeon. He probably hates me."

"Just go over there and talk to him, Y/N. What are you waiting for? You know he's waiting for you to take initiative, and you should this time. This is all you." You sigh, bottom lip trembling as you begin to cry. 

"I know."

"You know Seonghwa the best. It's so obvious how much he likes you and adores you after all this time. Why are you so afraid?"

"I know, I know." You sniffle. "I just am, Soyeon. I'm afraid of getting hurt, I'm afraid of Seonghwa realizing this isn't what he expected. I'm afraid of Seonghwa." You cry a bit harder and Soyeon is holding you close, rubbing your back as you lean against her shoulder. "I'm scared of this ruining us completely. What if we do get together and things don't pan out the way we expected? I'm so scared of losing him completely that I just don't know where I lie in all of this despite my feelings for him."

"You can't be afraid about every little thing, Y/N. I know it's scary, and life hasn't been entirely nice to you. But, this is your bestfriend. You can't just sit around and brush it under the rug when you know this is something you two need to discuss. Regardless of what happens, Seonghwa will never let you go. You two have been through so much together, he would never wanna do life without you by his side. Never." She continues to reassure you, giving you the push you need to get yourself together and just face it.

You loved Seonghwa, and it was time you looked beneath the surface.

Soyeon didn't stay too long after the two of you finish eating last night— turning the conversation into something more lighthearted after you cried and thanked her for being there for her. Her reassurance worked so much that you're ready to tackle the morning bright and early, throwing on some clothes to head over to Seonghwa's place. After Soyeon left, you called Wooyoung and asked what time Seonghwa's shift was for tomorrow. He snorted and told you it was 10am and asked what you were up to. You let Wooyoung know about your talk with Soyeon and that you missed him, finally throwing the stupid shit aside to just try and talk to him about that night.

To apologize, to make things right.

To tell him that you love him.

You keep it casual and comfy, throwing on some black and white wide-leg track pants, a crop tank and a baggy grey zip-up hoodie. You throw on your shoes, swiftly grab your keys and crossbody bag, jogging out to your car with a quick 'good morning' yell to Yaya from the side of the house. As you drive over to Seonghwa's apartment, you are equally filled with anxiety, nervousness and adrenaline. You're ready to put this behind you, but you're especially ready to talk to Seonghwa again. See him. Hug him. 

Keep him close, never let him stray far again.

You pull into a guest lot, shutting off your car and wondering if you should've brought over some coffee, breakfast, anything, to make this a bit less awkward.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself as you shake the thoughts from your head; no time for overthinking while you're running on limited time. You jog up the steps and up to Seonghwa's apartment, hesitating when you get to the front door before you finally bring your knuckles to the surface to give a couple of loud knocks. It takes a second before you hear rustling behind the door, Seonghwa clearing his throat before he swings the door open in a white tank and sweats. Your eyes immediately meet his, but he looks surprised, caught off guard even.

But, caught off guard in a sense that he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing.

You don't understand it until you see someone in the back try to slip by unnoticed, but she's wearing Seonghwa's shirt. Your heart immediately sinks to your gut and it makes you feel queasy. It shouldn't, but you hate to say it does.

It's probably Makayla.

It's too fucking late.

"Oh." Is all you say, and Seonghwa feels his heart break to a million pieces when he sees the look on your face. You're trying your hardest not to show how much it hurts you, but he knows you. He knows you well, that's for damn sure.

"Y/N—"

"It's good, I didn't meant to interrupt, I'm sorry— I'll catch you later." You ramble and rush down the steps, hurrying away from the apartment to prevent Seonghwa from seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

This was your fault anyway, who else was there to blame?

"Y/N!" Seonghwa calls out one last time, but you're already running to your car. Very obvious that you're wiping away at your face as you sink into the driver's seat and pull out of the spot without turning back. "Fuck." Seonghwa groans to himself, and Makayla kinda just watches everything unfold right in front of her eyes. He runs a hand through his long, black locks, shutting the door quietly behind him as he turns to her and gives her a sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry."

"That was Y/N?"

"Uh, yeah. My bestfriend." He looks at her, and she can already tell. She can already tell that it's you, and there is more to it than that. He loves you, and it's very, very obvious.

"You love her, don't you?" He lets out a breath and shrugs. He doesn't say anything for a bit, rather looks at her with those big doe-eyes before she catches him subtly nodding and diverting his attention to the floor.

"I'm so, so sorry, Makayla. I really am." What the fuck else can he say? He must look so fucked up right now; having taken her out the night before and let her spend the night after fumbling in the sheets. He was curious to see if Makayla would be the door to a new path, something that'll help him move forward. He had hope. After this morning's events, that clearly wasn't going to be the case and he wasn't going to lie about it.

"Don't be." She gives him a small, toothless smile. Because although it does suck, she's been there before and she'd hate for Seonghwa to miss out on the person he truly wants to be with. "You should really talk to her before it's too late."

♡ FLASHBACK | EARLY COLLEGE

You're on Seonghwa's back as he trails behind the group, walking up the path to the view of the city behind campus. Hongjoong, San, Wooyoung and a few other heads had wanted to go on a late night walk— the goal being the view at the end for everyone to just sit and admire. At first, you didn't feel like going with a bunch of obnoxious boys. But, you had been cooped up in your room doing nothing but studying all day. It sounded better knowing Seonghwa would be around and being in the crisp, night air. 

Seonghwa continues to walk up the slightly steep hill before spotting the view just down the street, you jumping off his back as soon as it becomes clear in sight.

"Hwa! Look at it!" You squeal, running to one of the free areas near the fence to get a good picture of the view. "It's so pretty! Look!" 

"Yeah, it is." He catches his breath as he walks over next to you. Trekking that hill is not for the weak.

"Oh my god, look at all those lights. It's so beautiful. I didn't realize how flat the town is." You're mainly thinking out loud, saying it to yourself, but Seonghwa chuckles next to you and quietly nods. "I think I can see our favorite convenient store from here, and our favorite spot to get jajangmyeon."

"How would you know, they're little blobs right now."

"How would you not know, Seonghwa? Are you a fraud? Do you even like those places like you say you do?" He snorts.

"Relax, Nancy Drew. It was just a question."

"I just know." You say so matter-of-fact-ly that Seonghwa smiles to himself while you continue to look out at the view. "The stars are so pretty tonight, weather is so perfect. Ugh. We should do this more often." You continue to go on and Seonghwa just likes listening to you talk. He always has, always will.

Everything about you was his favorite.

"I— what?" You look up and see Seonghwa still staring at you before he lets out a deep chuckle.

"Nothing."

"Pichu, what is it?" He looks at you again, and it's obvious he wants to tell you something but is preventing himself from spilling it out onto the table for whatever reason. You turn towards him and cross your arms, tapping your foot to wait for his response.

"Nothing! I'm just— nothing."

"Park Seonghwa."

"I-I—" He sighs. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you ended up going on the walk with us. I wanted you here."

"Aw, you little sap." You pinch his bicep and he yelps. "Are you sure that's all?" He nods.

"Thank you, Y/N. For everything." He ruffles your hair and you can't help but pout at. "You know? For being a pain in the ass bestfriend."

"I beg to differ, but you're welcome." You chuckle. "Always us, right pichu?" You playfully punch him on the bicep before returning your attention back to the view.

And he'll forever remember this as the first time he tried to confess his feelings for you.

♡ END

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @yeosangsbbg @jycas @lyracarvahall @huachengsbestie01 @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 5)

Pairings : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic), Dean Winchester x Lisa Braden (mentioned)

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, spoilers s1-s6, mentions of violence, foul language, brief mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.(no details).

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing

A/n: For the purpose of this series, Sam came back with his soul. Gemma and Will Campbell are OCs.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Bobby watched Dean drive away. He never imagined he'd do something like that. He turned to see y/n on the ground.

"No...no Sammy. Come back." She dug her fingers into the ground. "Please." She sobbed as she continued digging as if the cage would still be under the ground. She hoped by some miracle it would open up and give her best friend back.

"Y/n let go." Bobby tried prying her hands off the ground. "Let go God dammit your fingers are bleeding." He jerked her body upwards and dragged her off to his truck. He made her sit inside and grabbed her stuff from her car. He got into the driver's seat, and took off. After an hour of driving she calmed down.

"Hey! How come you're walking again? I mean not that it's bad but I'm curious." Y/n asked Bobby.

"I sold my soul to Crowley to find Death. He said he could give me anything so he gave me my legs back too."

"Crowley the demon? Gave you your legs back?"

"Strange world we live in." Bobby shrugged. Y/n give him a look. "What?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Excuse me?"

"You sold your soul to a demon? You're gonna have your ass dragged to hell you know that?"

"He said he's borrowing it."

"Wow Bobby, he said and you believed. Thats a demon. You can't trust demons." Bobby didn't say anything after that. Halfway through the drive Y/n called out Bobby's name. He glanced at her urging her to go on.

"I'm pregnant." She said making Bobby hit the brakes abruptly.

"Come again?"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" He was shocked to the core at the revelation. She only stared ahead not looking him in the eye. "What the hell were you thinking confronting Lucifer? Are you mad? Did you have no regard for your life or that child's?" Bobby yelled as he started to drive again.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't sit back and watch." She whispered.

"Did you three plan this scheme 'kill Bobby of a heart attack'." He sighed and then he paused. "Who's the father?" He asked.

"Dean." She looked out of the window as the scenery passed.

"Figures. Did you tell him?" She shook her head 'no'. "Will you tell him?"

"Do you really think he wants anything to do with me after the way he left?" She snapped. Bobby stayed silent.

"I'm taking you to a hospital, we need to get you checked." Y/n nodded.

The two of them made their way back home after a long drive and a pit stop at the doctors. She was fine and the baby was healthy too. They gave her some prescription and told her to rest. Bobby had told her she'd be staying with him from now on and he won't take no for an answer. He cared for the three of them like their own. Now with Sam being dead and Dean being God knows where he'd like to keep her here safe. Ever more now that she's pregnant.

"I'm telling you, you should tell Dean. He deserves to know."

"Dean didn't give two shits before walking away from us Bobby, we've known him for years. Do you think he'd care for a bastard child like that?" Y/n retorted.

"Watch your language, young lady. That's my grandchild you're talking about." Bobby scolded her. Ofcourse he thinks of Y/n as the daughter her never had.

"Well news flash Bobby this ain't no love child." Bobby rolled his eyes at her comment.

"I'm sure he'd-"

"You know what actually? I'm sure he would want to know but I don't want to tell him. Walking out was his decision and not telling him about this is my decision." Y/n said walking away.

It had been two months since Sam died and Dean left. Y/n still mourned Sam's death and she missed him dearly. She wondered how he'd react to the news of her being pregnant. She's at five months now. She was in the main room cleaning and refilling her guns. Just because she's not allowed to hunt for the time being doesn't mean she won't be cautious.

She heard a knock on the door and she knew Bobby wasn't supposed to be back until later. She grabbed her gun and stuffed it in the back of her jeans. She grabbed her shotgun and went to the door. When she opened the door, her jaw hit floor. She couldn't believe her eyes. There stood Sam Winchester in the flesh.

"Y/n." He breathed out and she pointed the shot gun at his chest. "It's me, Sam."

"Not you're not. Sam's dead."

"I know I died Y/n but I'm back."

"That's not possible. Who brought you back? Was it Dean?" It pained her to say his name but now's not the time to think about that.

"I don't know what or who brought me back but I'm willing to go to every test." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright." And with that she shot him.

"Ow son of a bitch. That hurt Y/n." He complained.

"It was just rock salt, don't be a bitch."

"Jerk." Sam replied and for second her guard dropped. Still pointing the gun at him she grabbed a silver knife from her back pocket and threw it at him. He caught it and sliced his arm, he showed her as the blood trickled down his arm. She then grabbed the holy water and threw it at his face.

"A little warning would've been appreciated." Sam sassed  as he wiped the water from his eyes. "Can I hug you now?"

She kept staring at his face. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to main room and made him stand under the devils trap. Sam looked up and then moved away from the trap. Before either of them could say anything Y/n jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and he felt something different about Y/n as he hugged her.

"How did this happen, Sammy?" She asked as they pulled away.

"Uh i don't know." He replied looking at her oddly. Y/n was thankful that she was wearing one of Sam's shirts, it was huge on her so her body was completely covered. Not that she had huge bump but still whatever she had, it was covered.

"How long have you been back?"

"Two months?"

"TWO MONTHS? SAM WINCHESTER YOUVE BEEN BACK FOR TWO MONTHS???" She exclaimed loudly. "Where have you been for the past two months?"

"Yeah I've been researching, I needed to know how I came back and uh I went to see Dean." He explained.

"You met Dean? Why's he not here?" She shouldn't care but she did.

"I didn't meet him. I just saw him." Sam replied.

"What do you mean? Why didn't you meet him? Where is he?"

"He is living with Lisa and Ben. He uh... he looked normal, he's living the apple pie life he always wanted and I couldn't go up there and take it all away from him." Sam told her with a sad smile. They both knew Dean would drop anything for his brother.

Y/n knew Lisa, she's met her once when they helped her get her son, Ben, back. Lisa was in Dean's life way before Y/n was. That was his only serious long term relationship she's ever known of. Lisa is a wonderful woman and it made sense why he left Y/n for someone like her.

"Was he...did he seem happy?" She had to ask.

"The happiest I've ever seen him. I didn't have it in me to go ahead and ruin everything. He looked so happy but I knew if I went in there he'd leave all of it to be back in hunting. I couldn't do that to him." Sam told her honestly.

"I agree."

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked and the man in question entered the house and gasped at the sight in front of him. He grabbed the shot gun by the stairs and aimed at Sam. "Aw dammit not again."

"It's alright Bobby i checked. I did all the tests." Y/n intervened. The older man lowered his gun.

"Tell me something only Sam Winchester would know!" He demanded.

"A month before I fell, you lost your years to a witch in poker and then Dean lost to get your years back which made him old. But then I won back Dean's years and he turned back to normal." Sam narrated.

"What? When did that happen?" Y/n giggled as Bobby pulled Sam in a hug.

"When Bobby came to help us with the witch. You stayed back when we last hit the road." Sam replied.

"Oh I remember that, but you didn't tell me Dean got old." She laughed.

"Dean told me not to." Sam replied.

"Did you tell him?" Bobby asked Y/n and her eyes widened.

"Tell me what?" Sam asked warily.

"Uh look at that would ya? It's time for lunch. Why don't you wash up Bobby I'll set the table. You must be hungry too Sam." She said walking into the kitchen as Bobby went to freshen up. Sam followed her into the kitchen and she brush past him.

"Tell me what Y/n?"

"Would you like a beer, Sammy?" She pulled out a bottle and passed it to him. He banged his hand against the table gaining her attention.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm pregnant. It's Dean's." Y/n said calmly. The beer bottle slipped from his hands onto floor and shattering into a million pieces.

"What?" He asked completely in shock. Y/n pulled her shirt up a bit and it showed her bump. Sam stared at in utter disbelief. "I had no idea you and him? You and Dean you...?" He stuttered.

"It happened one night. It was a mistake." She lied. Ofcourse it wasn't one night and it wasn't a mistake either. But what can she even tell him.

"Does he know? Did you tell him?"

"No." She replied as she continued to set the food on the table.

"Why? Why wouldn't you tell him? he wanted a family for as long as i can remember."

"And he has a family. With Lisa. And Ben. I'm a hunter Sam, he can't have that white picket fence life with me which has with them. Don't you think he should live with the woman he loves and not with some good lay and a bastard child?" She snapped.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to say that word?" Bobby glared at Y/n as he entered the kitchen.

"What? That's your summoning? I say bastard child and you appear out of thin air?" Y/n replied sarcastically.

"You watch how you speak to me." Bobby's glare deepened.

"You can't kick me out. I'm carrying your grandchild." She stuck her tongue out the man she's come to love, as her father, over the years.

"I can when it's born."

"You wouldn't." She rolled her eyes.

"Are you two done? Because i would like to rewind to the part where you called yourself 'some good lay'." Sam sighed.

"What? You want me to say I was bad?" She joked.

"How are you not affected by all this? Stop acting like it doesn't bother you." Sam bellowed. He knew it must've been killing her inside.

"It doesn't bother me Sam."

"You have to tell Dean." He pressed on.

"I will not and if you did, I will shoot you. Not with a shot gun filled with rock salt but I'll put an actual bullet through you. And this is not an empty threat."

"I know things weren't good the last time we were here, he said things, he was stressed -"

"No Sam. It has nothing to do with what happened the last time."

"What is it then?"

"He left." Bobby said. "After you fell, he drove off leaving me and her behind. He didn't look back and we haven't heard from him since." He said solemnly looking at Y/n.

"I won't tell him. I promise." Sam said to y/n and She nodded. Sam felt a pang of guilt hit him. He remembered the talk he had with hin on their drive to Detroit. If only he hadn't made Dean promise to not find Y/n and go back to Lisa, things would've been different. Dean would've been here with his child and Y/n wouldn't have to go through this all alone. If only he had known. But how could've he known.

"Sam? You zoned out.!" Y/n called out.

"Yeah uhm I'm fine just too much to take in." Y/n nodded in agreement and Sam filled the two of them about the past two months. How his grandfather Samuel is also back from the dead. And he's been staying with him distant maternal cousins for the past two months.

Sam introduced Y/n to Samuel and his family. They've been getting along fine and Sam's back to hunting with the Campbells.

Three months later Y/n gave birth to Adeline Mary Winchester. No-one other than Bobby and Sam knew who the was the father of Adeline. Adeline was the cutest baby Sam had ever seen and much to Y/n's dismay, she looked exactly like her father. She had bright green eyes and dirty blonde hair. She had freckles all over her cheeks and nose just like Dean's. She reminded her too much of Dean.

"She looks exactly like Dean, no offence y/n." Sam said as he cradled his niece.

"None taken, Sammy. I know she looks like him." He placed her in her arms gently. "Hi there sweetheart." Y/n cooed at her daughter. "Isn't she adorable?"

"She's lovely." Sam commented. "I wish Dean was here." She wished too.

"But he's not."

"Because he doesn't know." Sam replied.

"I'd like to keep it that way. And we're not having this conversation again."

Y/n missed hunting. She'd been staying put and helping with research at Bobby's but she missed hunting. Neither of the men allowed her to go on hunts even if it was a basic salt and burn. Adeline had turned four months old three days ago. She was currently in Bobby's arms as she slept and Sam's on a hunt with Samuel.

The phone rang and Y/n answered it before it rang too much and woke up Addy.

"It's Gemma." She's one of Sam's distant cousins. Barely eighteen but a good hunter. "Me and Will are on a hunt and seems like we might need backup." Y/n relayed the information to Bobby hoping he'd let her go since there's no one else. The old man rolled his eyes and nodded. Y/n squealed with happiness and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. Addy darling mommy's gonna be back before you know it." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't bother the old man okay? I love you."

Y/n packed her stuff and drove her car to the town Gemma told her they would be in. It was dark when she left Sioux Falls and she arrived at the town at 4:20am. She met up with Gemma and Will. They decided they'd get those ambush the nest first thing in the morning. The three stayed in a motel room where Gemma took one bed and Y/n slept on the other. William was kind enough to give up on a bed and opt for the pullout couch instead. It had been a while since Y/n had been in a motel room.

It reminded her of Dean, how he would pull her in for a kiss every time Sam went out. Or how he would make her feel good when they shared a room. How he would make sweet passionate love to her and how the two of them created Adeline in a motel room. Then she felt bitter. He didn't make love to her, he had sex with her. If only he loved her like her told her, he would've never hurt her this bad. Or leave her alone by herself.

The morning came earlier than she expected and the three of them drove to the warehouse which was the supposed Vampire nest. There were nine vampires in total. Y/n hadn't felt this thrill in the past few months and she was thriving on it. Pumped up with adrenaline, she went in for the kill and ended up killing five on her own. All her frustration washing away with vampires' blood . Gemma and Will finished off the other four. The two rookies were impressed by her skills. The sun had set when they were with cleaning and disposing off the bodies. The three skipped town as soon as they cleaned up because a few of Gemma and Will's guns were at the motel, out in the open, the cleaning maid saw them and called the police.

They stopped two towns over to grab a few drinks. It was around nine pm. It had been a long time since y/n had alcohol. They went inside the bar and grabbed a table. Gemma and Will ordered beers but Y/n went for whiskey. She downed it one go and asked for another.

"Hey don't look at me like that, it's been a while i hunted or even drank." The two smirked and cheers to her. She decided to give Bobby a call and let him know that she'd be home in a few hours and asked if Addy was doing okay. To which he told that Sam's back and Addy has been with him since. She sighed in relief when she heard that.

"How's Addy?" Gemma asked.

"She's good. Sammy is back and she's with him right now." Y/n smiled thinking about her little girl. Her Dean jr.

The bar door opened and two men walked inside, one of the them was chattering too loudly which made Y/n look up and she wished she hadn't. She saw Dean walking in with a man she didn't recognise. She watched as Dean heard his friend's chatter with a smile on his face. He looked...normal. Just some guy you'd find at a bar on the weekend. He didn't look like Dean Winchester. The one she knew. She hoped he doesn't see her but has luck ever been on her side? He looked at her and their eyes met.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes landed on her. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. It's almost been an year since he last saw her but the mere sight of her was enough to make him fold. She looked just a beautiful as the day he left her. The day he broke her heart but ripped his own into pieces. She looked like he had gained some weight, but it suited her. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, those same lips that he used to kiss sore, the same lips let out those sinful noises when he made her feel good. Those lips, he'd give anything to feel against his own.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sid asked as he noticed Dean stop.

"Yeah man, I'm good." He said still looking at her. He knows he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself before he spoke, "i think I saw someone from my high school, let's go say hi." He said walking towards her table.

"Sure." Sid followed behind him.

Y/n's heart rate picked up as he got closer, why is he walking towards us. Is going to act like he knows me? The sheer audacity of this man. Hasn't he broken me enough why..

"Hey.! Gracie Henderson, right?" Dean spoke as he reached their table. Gemma and Will turned to look up at him.

Damn you Dean. Fuck you. He had to strike a nerve there. That was their alias when they had to go undercover as a couple. It was always Y/n and Dean since Sam couldn't like a couple with Y/n. He just had to make everything awkward, so it was always Dean and Y/n. Gracie Henderson and her husband Troy Henderson.

Ofcourse he couldn't miss the chance to hurt me again. Y/n thought to herself.

"Huh?" Y/n feigned ignorance.

"You're Gracie right? We went to high school together." Dean said looking right at her.

"Sorry? I think you have the wrong person." Y/n spoke the alcohol in her system giving her the courage to speak to him. "I never went to high school and its Adeline."

"Alright my bad." Dean said, his friend mumbling a sorry before they went to sit at the table beside theirs. His friend went to order for them and he sat there eavesdropping the conversation happening at the table beside him.

"He definitely knows you. That was one of your aliases." Gemma said as soon as Dean left. Y/n shrugged in response ordering another drink. "Cmon y/n tell us why did you act like you didn't know him?"

"Because he's Dean Winchester." She practically sneered his name. Dean flinched at the way she said name.

"What really ? He's Dean?" Will spoke for the first time in awhile. Y/n nodded.

"Why didn't you tell him to join us?" Gemma asked and Will added a "yeah why not?"

"Are you two dumb? What part of his appearance says he's a hunter? He's not in the business anymore. And the guy that came with him? He screams 9 to 5. So what did you two expect me to invite him to our table and reminisce the time we went to a fucking high school to burn the body of his brother's friend and his friend's bully?" Y/n spoke agitatedly and the two nodded in understanding. She downed her drink.

"I can't believe i came here out for this. You two needed backup for nine vampires? You know Bobby doesn't let me go on hunts. I came out to hunt after almost a year and its some stupid fucking vampires." She sighed dramatically.

Dean perked up when he heard her say she hadn't hunted in almost an year. Is she out of the business too? What does she mean Bobby doesn't let her hunt.

"You haven't hunted in almost a year and still you took down five vampires on your own." Will sat there in total awe. "You're my new role model."

Sid had already came back but Dean's attention was still on y/n. He smiled when he heard she took down five vampires on her own, that's my girl. He thought to himself.

"You two kiddos did good too. I'm sorry I snapped, I'm a bit stressed." Y/n said.

"It's alright." Gemma smiled.

"I'll head out." Y/n said grabbing her jacket and threw a few bills to for her bills.

"You're driving back to Sioux Falls?" Will asked and she nodded. "Aren't you drunk?"

"I've only had three drinks."

"Yeah of whiskey." Gemma added.

"Trust me kiddo. It takes a lot more than that to get me drunk." She replied and Dean noticed a lingering sadness in her voice.

The love of his life has been through hell and back and she's still kicking it. He wishes he could just grab her and disappear from the surface of the earth. To keep her from harms way and keep her protected from all the sadness and hurt. He wish he could love her the way she deserves to be loved. He watched as she left the bar before yelling a "get home safe kiddos."

The first thing y/n did as she reached home was to see Adeline. It was around five in the morning when she reached home. She saw Sam in the kitchen eating cereal and looking at his computer while he held Adeline on his lap.

"Good morning." She said as she entered the kitchen.

"Look Addy, mommy's back." Sam said holding her up. The baby giggled as she saw her mother approaching her.

"There's my baby." She picked up Adeline in her arms. "Did you miss mommy?" She asked in baby voice and the little girl flailed her arms, excitedly tapping her mother's cheeks.

"How was your 'first' hunt?" Sam joked earning an eye roll.

"It was good, vamps nest." She said sitting beside him, pulling her hair away from Adeline who was gripping it too tightly.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked noticing the stress lines on his best friend's face.

"I'm fine, why'd you ask?"

"You have that look on your face." Sam replied gesturing to her face.

"What look?"

"That look when something is bothering you but you're too prideful to say."

"I don't have such look on my face." Y/n said bouncing Addy on her lap.

"Y/n." Sam stared at her. He knows it's only a matter of seconds before she's spilling the truth.

"I met Dean okay? No big deal." She sighed.

"What? You met Dean? How?" Y/n filled in him with everything that happened after the hunt.

"He looked like a common man, it was weird seeing him. And the audacity to walk up to me and say hi? He was lucky he was with someone or I would've bashed his face in the table." Y/n growled her hold tightening on Adeline.

"Maybe he missed you and he thought after seeing you again he could talk to you." Sam said hoping he could get her hate him a little less.

"Well he thought wrong." She said angrily making her way out of the kitchen.

"Do you want me to watch Addy while you rest?" Sam called out from behind her.

"I am very much capable of taking care of my daughter on my own." She snapped, she didn't mean she didn't need Sam's help, she always appreciated his existence. But at the moment her words had a different meaning. She wanted Sam to know that just because she met Dean doesn't mean she will let him be in Adeline's life.

Sam sighed as he watched her walk away. He most definitely understood the meaning behind her words. Y/n went to her room and laid Adeline on the bed. She kneeled beside the bed and looked at her daughter. Adeline wiggled amd giggled staring at her mother. Y/n couldn't help but let a few tears run down her cheek. She never wanted this to be her daughter's life, she didn't need her innocent baby to grow up around monsters, without her father being there to protect her.

"How I wish I could hate your father, Addy. I resent him for what he did to us but I still love him. How could I not when he has given me you." She whispered, her daughter stared up the her with her bright green eyes that reminded her so much of her lost love. She placed soft kisses on her chubby cheeks before putting her in her crib. Y/n sighed as she got into bed. Little did she know this was the last time she had a good night's sleep in a long time.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @queensilber @deangirl96 @galway-girlatwork @hobby27

[isabella-2025]

The Bosses Wife

The USOS X Ella (OC) and hunter X Ella (OC) (Only in this chapter) : Warnings: Cursing and that's all.

Plot: When Triple H becomes distant with his wife Ella she begins to build a friendship with the USOS but one night it turns into something unexpected.

Let me know what you think please. ❤️

Should I make a part 2 that is fully smut? Let me know if that is something you guys would be interested in. 😊

Ella sat beside her husband Hunter in a board room where they were supposed to meet the bloodline for a creative discussion. Ella looks at her husband and says

" So, do you think the meeting is gonna go well?"

" Yeah, I do they are very easy to work with." He says

" Yeah so I have heard, I am excited to meet them." Ella says

' Yeah they are very nice people, oh here they come." He says

The bloodline walk into the board room. They introduce themselves as Solo, Jacob, Tama, Tonga, Roman. Jimmy, Jey and Sami. Two of them catch your attention immediately and they were Jimmy and Jey AKA the USOS. Everyone sits around the table and they begin to talk about the creative direction they wanted to go in for Wargames. You were trying really hard to focus on what was being said but you couldn't really focus on anything else except the way the Twins looked and carried themselves. Jey had on a white beater tank top, black joggers that fit just right, a gold yeet chain and his new neck ink showing. Jimmy had on an all black tracksuit with a white stipe going down the pants leg and they fit him just right and don't even get her started on his tattoos. She was so focused on her thoughts of the twins she did not even notice that the meeting had ended. Hunter tapped her on the shoulder and said

" The meetings over honey."

" Oh, Okay, lets go." Ella says

" Okay, but are you doing alright you seemed distracted during the meeting." hunter says

" No, I am okay I just didn't sleep good last night because you weren't there." Ella says

" I know honey I'm sorry I had business to attend to you know that." Hunter says starting to get annoyed

" I know honey its just your never home anymore." Ella says

" Well , you know this paper view is going to be big babe I can be home with you anytime." Hunter says in a angry tone

" Okay, I am gonna drop this conversation for now because we should not even be talking about this here." Ella says

" We shouldn't have to talk about this at all if you would just understand and not be all dramatic about it." Hunter says loudly

Ella says nothing and just walks out to the rental car telling the driver to take her to the hotel.

Unbeknownst to Ella Jimmy and Jey had overheard her conversation with Hunter. Jimmy turns to Jey and says

" Uce, hunter is an ass she wasn't being dramatic."

" I know she wasn't she poured her emotions out and he just shut her down that is horrible." Jey says sadly.

" Yeah I know isn't a relationship supposed to be 50/50 Jimmy says

" Yeah it is, he shouldn't make her feel small if he loves her." Jey says

" If she was mine I would make sure she knew her feeling were valid and that she could come to me anytime. " jimmy said

" Yeah, same uce." Jey said seriously

Ella had just gotten out of the shower and had gotten in bed when Hunter came strolling in the room. Hunter changes clothes and lays down beside her and says.

" Honey are you awake?"

" yeah, what is it?" Ella asks

" I want to talk about what happened between us earlier.' hunter says

" Okay, go ahead say what you need to say." Ella tells him

" I just want you to understand that my job is important without me the company doesn't run." hunter says seriously

" I know your job is important but its like every night I end up in this bed alone because you have to leave for work" Ella says sadly

" You don't seem to understand, I have to go when shit goes wrong I think you need to stop being so selfish. " Hunter says angrily

" Me, selfish really wow hunter that's real nice." Ella says angrily getting up off the bed, grabbing some clothes and walking out the door.

She steps into the hotel bar, goes to the bathroom and changes into a red halter top and black leather pants. She sits down orders her drink and calls her bestie Isabel. Isabel picks up on the second ring and says

" Hi"

" Hey, I need to talk to you." Ella says

" Okay, what about?" Isabel asks her

" Marriage problems." Ella says

" Okay, what did that asshole do now?" Isabel says

" He just thinks I'm being dramatic and selfish because I want to wake up with my husband lying next to me for once." Ella says sadly

" He seriously called you selfish and dramatic, i think he needs to look in the damn mirror." Isabel says

" Yeah, I know he's been like this for months." Ella says

" Have you even had sex? " Isabel asks her.

" No, he hasn't touched me in 3 months. " Ella says

" 3 months Damn girl you need to get laid by some hot ass wrestler." Isabel says

" Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen nobody wants my ass." Ella says

" Girl, quit lying look I got to go but I will talk to you in a couple days okay." Isabel says

" Yeah, Okay bye." Ella says

" Bye girly" Isabel says

She hangs up the phone and just downs her drink in sadness. She feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around to see jimmy and Jey staring at her.

" Hey, you look nice" Both of them say at the same time.

" Thanks you guys wanna sit." Ella says

" Yeah lets talk." Both of them say

They sit down and you guys just start talking about the industry and life. Jimmy and Jey are trying really hard to focus on the conversation you guys are having but they cant stop thinking about how beautiful you look in your outfit. Jimmy cant help but look at the way the leather pants fit you just right and how your top brings out your features nicely. Jey cant stop thinking about how good your pants and shirt bring out your natural beauty. Ella notices that they have been staring at her for a while and says.

" are you guys okay, you've been staring at me for a minute."

" Yeah, we are okay." Jimmy says

" Yeah, we are good, just admiring how good you look." Jey says

" Thank you." Ella says quietly she feels a heat flow through her body she thought had burnt out.

" Well it was nice talking to you guys I have to go get some sleep so I can be ready for the charity ball tomorrow night." Ella says

" Okay , yeah go ahead we will see you tomorrow night." They both say at the same time.

The charity ball is in full swing and Hunter had ignored Ella all night. Ella sees him talking to Mark and Michelle and she goes over, grab his hand and say

" Hey baby."

Hunter looks at you take his hand out of yours and says " Hey"

" Can we talk for a second" Ella says

" yeah sure babe." Hunter says to her

Ella and Hunter walk to a quiet area to talk. Ella turns to Hunter and says

" how was your night."

" It was good until you interrupted me" Hunter says

" well I am sorry for wanting to talk to my husband who I barely see." Ella says

" There you go being all dramatic again, you don't have to be so clingy." hunter says

" Me clingy I am not clingy I just want my husband to be present not pass through when you want to." Ella says

" You bitch I do not do that." hunter yells causing everyone to look in your direction

Embarrassed Ella runs out of the ballroom, gets a cab back to the hotel and walks into the hotel room she cries till she has no more tears. She hears a knock on the door, she opens it and is surprised to see Jimmy and Jey standing there. Ella looks at them and says

" Come in guys."

Ella turns to the mirror in the bedroom bends her head down a little to put her earrings in her bag and when she looks back in the mirror they are right up against her. Ella says in a shaky voice.

" w-h-a-t are you doing "

Th twins smile Jimmy is to your right gently gripping your hip and Jey is on your left leaning his face into your neck.

" Well, we overheard your "husband" being an asshole to you, you are worth so much more." jey says as he begins to gently kiss your neck.

" We also overheard that he hasn't been taking care of you, hasn't touched you in three months and we wanna help you." Jimmy says as he places a gently kiss on your collarbone.

" Um, I don't know what your talking about." Ella says shakily, goosebumps forming wherever they kiss you. Your body trembles with a longing to be touched and loved properly.

The twins laugh and say at the same time.

" you obviously know what you want, and we surely do your body is already reacting so why don't you just let us love you like you deserve to be loved."

Ella says in a shaky voice " I don't…….."

" Don't you dare say you don't deserve it because you do." The twins say at the same time.

" Okay lets do this." Ella says

The twins look at each other then look at her and…

To Be continued.

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @empressdede @femdisa @usoinked @madhatterbri @bossbitch-25 @officialeve24 @southerngirl41 @eringobragh420 @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @holycollectivekitty @bloodlinemadness @purplementalitybluebird @mytribalnightmare

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● more carpet munching, graphic language, general smut and filth, implied homophobia, age gap, dubious consent, violence against female character, heterosexuality, Aemond being depraved as fuck and lowkey the worst, oedipus complex, full blown targcest, mentions of Madame Sylvie (sorry yall), Alys Rivers being a trick ass bitch, not proof read

Word count ● 4.7k

Author's Note • Long awaited. It's finally here. Holy fuck it's actually... like insane how long this took for me to dwell on. I'm not gonna spoil anything but this one is a bit gross. In a good way. Sick sick sick.

Masterlist / Ghostly Flame ● Part I

Part II

The sight on the Prince Regent's bed was indeed, not a mere dream. He stammered as a flood of emotions suddenly whipped against his skull.

As he entered, Aemond's face darkened and the breath in his lungs all but vanished. Hs let fist slowly curl, though his eye was transfixed on the two women, watching as his paramour's mouth moved against his sister's skin. Despite it all, the disgust and rage that was brewing; for a brief moment he enjoyed the sounds and sight before him.

And yet, Aemond knew it was but a vile sin, a betrayal of both his bedmate and beloved sister. Still, the sight stirred heat within him.

Alys continued in her ministrations, her tongue moving with precision, seeking to please and to tease the princess. The witch was so engrossed in the task before her that she hadn't noticed the door or the figure which loomed in the shadows.

The sounds of his sister's mewling was enough to drive him over the edge. The prince clenched his jaw, he stalked towards the women and spoke, his voice ringing in the quiet of the room. "Alys."

Just like that the sounds of their pleasure had come to a deadened stop. Slowly Alys pulled away, and turned towards Aemond. Daera opened her eyes with a flash, her body jolting with fear and suddenly the humiliation rang true.

Aemond's own heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts he had never dared admit aloud.

"Tell me," Aemond whispered, his voice rough and low. "Do the both of you take me for a fool?"

Alys bowed her head and spoke gently, "My Prince, I..."

"Silence." Aemond sneered, stalking towards Alys. His fist soon met with her raven hair, gripping at it as he forced her head up at him. "I have had my fill of your vile tongue."

A silence brewed before he suddenly shoved the woman back to the ground. Alys winced as he body hit the floor with a startling thud. Daera shook, her hands in her head as she had pulled the sheets upon her bare flesh out of modesty. It was comical, still she seemed to care of propriety, even though her own brother had seen her in such a state.

Aemond grunted, raising a hand up as though he was to strike the woman before him. Alys stayed deadly still upon the ground, gritting her teeth, awaiting his hand to make contact with her flesh. Though he felt his rage stir he swiftly pulled his hand away. He could not strike her, no, instead he launched and gripped her arm, forcing her upon her feet.

"You dare humiliate me? You dare bring such shame upon me? Defiling my own blood, my sister! Upon the very bed I let your treacherous head lay, no less!" Aemond's lonesome eye was narrowed in a maelstrom of emotions, anger, betrayal, jealously, humiliation.

Yet in truth, he felt one thing; weakness.

Alys glared at him, speaking oddly calmly, "Of course not, your grace..."

"Then speak, bastard! Speak on the sight before me... of you upon my sister and why my eye was witness to it! Speak to why you... why you dare go against me, after all I have done! I spared you, or do you forget?" The prince gripped her flesh sternly and his gaze faltered as he felt sorrow bloom.

Daera looked away, she couldn't bare the scene before her. Couldn't bare what she had done, she hadn't even known what led her to do it. She had no excuse, no reason. It seemed to have happened before she had any idea it was occurring.

The princess wiped her tears, her heart aching. "Brother..." she muttered weakly, sorrowfully.

Aemond turned his head sharply, "I SHALL HEAR NOTHING FROM YOU!" He snapped at Daera, forcing her back into submission.

His gaze came to Alys once more, whom at this point was holding back a low snicker. Her hands came to his chest, and a low hum was earnt from the prince at her soothing ministrations.

"You are not so tempting as to distract me. I see you for what you are... a snake in my own den." He lowered his tone, as his hand came to her raven locks and gripped them.

Alys gave him an incredulous look once more, "You... you do not mean such things, I have been nothing but faithful, my prince."

"Yet your mouth was upon my sister? You think that faithful?" Aemond retorted swiftly, fastening his grip.

"I... I do not deny how such may seem an act of betrayal. But it was in service to you, your grace." Alys flinched as his hands laced themselves in her hair forcefully. Her voice still measured.

"Do not dare speak such folly-" His temper flared as Alys spoke over the Prince.

"It is not folly... I have brought her, swayed her senses so they may receive what is so deeply suppressed within her. She had not come for me, my prince. She came for you." Alys' voice like a siren song, she let her hands run to his cheeks. Gently stroking at his sharp features.

Silence beckoned for a moment, as Aemond found himself lured by the witch's words. Her eyes gazing with reverence upon him, yet there was a glimmer of something else. Something she had seen.

Slowly, Aemond's grip upon her hair eased flattening to cup her head, "What do you see?" He muttered, his eye scanning her carefully.

Daera's sobbing had eased now, and she watched with baited breath as her brother and the witch spoke before her. She noticed the tilt of Alys' head the low chuckle as she leaned in to Aemond's ear, muttering something unknown.

There was a noticeable shift, the sharp line of his jaw hardening as he eased into her touch. Daera caught a low hum from him, an inquisitive one as Alys nodded.

The prince turned to his sister, her trembling form. No doubt her mind already a place of torment for her. His gaze scanned over her pale flesh, silver hair - so much like his own. Though she looked more like their mother in her features. Melancholic round eyes, full lips; a soft cherubic face. She was a woman grown and yet, still appeared so much like the docile girl she once was in their youth.

Aemond leaned down, his silver hair catching in the moonlight as he gazed upon his sister sternly. His hand gripped her wrist.

"I ought to punish you." He said firmly.

Daera instantly weakened at his words, her head tilting, tears streaming as she simpered, "Brother..."

His hand suddenly clasped her cheek, silencing her whining, "Do as I say."

The Princess's eyes searched his lonesome one, her gaze coiling in uncertainty. She shook her head, disturbed by his sudden change of demanour. Her heart thundering as she knew whatever was to occur, was something she ought to be fearful of. She felt the need to beg, to plead for forgiveness. Though she remained still.

"I do not blame you, for failing to resist my Alys' charm. You are but a woman... you stand little chance against her, for even I find my resolve wavering in her wake." He slowly rose to his feet, and Alys came to him, slowly unstrapping his leathers from his chest.

"You are not... mad with me?" The Princess whimpered, squeezing her nails into her palms. Allowing the pain to distract her from her shame.

"What Alys has seen.. changes the matter." Aemond spoke with a new found clarity, though there was a bitterness that lingered upon his tongue.

Daera shook her head in response, she looked at Alys, whose hands were upon his breeches, unlacing them. Before she could continue he pulled her hands away from him. "No." Aemond muttered, slowly turning to his sister.

Daera found herself trembling once more, her eyes watery, desperately searching for answers as she whispered, "Seen what?"

It was the uncertainty in her eyes which made Aemond look away, his gaze narrowed upon the ground as he mumbled to Alys, "I cannot..."

The witch let her hands cup his face once more, soothing the fear he felt within him, "You can... and you will, desire has sown it's seed long bef-"

Aemond swiftly gripped her wrists, interrupting her, "Do not presume to know of my desires! She is my sister..."

The raven hair of Alys fell upon her pale shoulder as she turned to face the princess before her. Aemond's eye wandering for a moment upon her bare flesh... her breasts.

Daera looked into the green landscape of her eyes, flashes of them lingering between her thighs caused a spark of shame within the princess and she looked away. Alys chuckled softly, turning back to Aemond.

The witch leaned in, her hands coming back to his jaw, one slowly trailing down his neck. She hummed, smiling softly as Alys whispered to Aemond, "You are the blood of old Valyria, your grace... fire courses through your very flesh. A fire I have felt lick at my womb and that shall lick upon hers..."

Aemond's gaze met his paramour's in an intense exchange of understanding and trepidation. Though he was soothed by her gentle touch upon him, soothed by the wisdom her foresight granted him. She was right, it was not as though he held no desire for his sister. He had merely suppressed it. Why long for something that shall never be his to keep?

Their mother never sought to the betroth them, so Aemond simply focused on matters of duty; of becoming a formidable force in battle. Though he could not embrace Targaryen tradition entirely, he sought to expand upon it in other ways. He would seek to become a fierce dragonrider. A man of skill, for his legacy would be his own.

As he gazed upon his sister, he felt the sudden urge to comfort her. The tears that rolled upon her cheek meant for a greater challenge. He would not force himself upon her, but he could not deny the fire set ablaze in his blood when his eye wandered her flesh.

She was to be his destiny it seemed... and if Alys' vision proved true, the mother to his true born heir.

He stalked towards her, and once again found himself reaching over. As he extended his hand to cup her cheek she flinched, and Aemond merely persisted.

Daera however, was not so much aware of what Alys and Aemond spoke of. If anything she was still mortified by the fact her brother had seen her indulge in such sin.

Her gaze widened at the feeling of his palm upon her fleshy cheek, "Please... forgive me...I know I have tainted myself in the eyes of the Gods, but you must let me seek absolution from you. My resolve has grown weak, I see it now... I..." The princess mumbled, fanatically searching her brother's stoney gaze as he watched the trembling of her lips.

Silence beckoned, and Aemond remained still. His eye scanning over her, his thumb rubbing against the plushness of her cheeks. Her eyes that wore sorrow so beautifully, just as their mother's does. Large, comforting eyes... for a moment he felt a sense of boyish peace dawn upon him. Remembering how once, Alicent would gaze upon him with concerned filled eyes.

Though he had not spoken to his mother in many moons now, could not bare the sight of her. It was in Daera's simpering expression he found a small sense of comfort. She was but a piece of home. Though his youth was not always a happy one, there was peace. There was... a familiarity which made him wish to crawl within his sister's arms and pretend nothing bad had befallen them.

"Brother..." She whimpered, begging for him to say something; pulling the Prince from his thoughts.

Daera's eyes were caught by the familiar saunter of Alys' bare frame. She came to Aemond, leaning down as her thin, pale fingers tucked his silver hair behind his ear. Gently she cooed, "Go on, my prince... take what is yours."

With that Aemond glanced briefly and Alys, and then slowly looked back upon his sister. He moved now, shifting his weight to crawl upon the bed. His hand still gripping at her cheek, and the other now finding her waist, pulling her from the sheet and forcing her before him.

Aemond gazed softly, tentatively, at her. His hand moving to her silver curls; her hair so similar to her mother's. His fingers twirled a strand delicately, as though it were made of glass. He suddenly brought his face near her, his cheek grazing hers as he buried his nose within her locks for a moment. He breathed in, closing his eye. The familiar sweet smell of honeysuckled flesh filling his senses.

The princess was in complete shock, she had never known such affections from her brother before. Her eyes widened, her gaze meeting Alys', who came to the bed, sitting at the end as she removed Aemond's boots. Soon, her pale hand reaching over to stroke Aemond's hair gently. The princess furrowed her brow, positively unfurled by the scene before her. Her tears had all but come to a halt, not for the fact shame had left her, but for the fact she was overwrought by the absurdity of it all.

Aemond pulled back slightly, and both he and his sister let out a sharp breath. Her eyes wide, watching him carefully as he gently grazed his nose upon her cheek. His hand coming to her lips. Lips which were too, like Alicent's; swollen and quivering.

His eye, narrowed upon her and he caught her discomforted demanour. His fingers moving from her lips to cup her cheek as he muttered, "If it is absolution you seek, then let us not allow what transpired to be in vain. So, do as I say."

Daera though confused, did not protest. She nodded and heard her breath catch within her throat as he hummed slightly. Aemond brought his other hand to her cheek. A look of determination filled his eye though he seemed conflicted.

His gaze locked upon her lips, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to touch her. Though he knew not how to. Aemond grunted again, unsure of himself. An awkward tension rose as he stammered like a boy. The Prince huffed, looked down as humiliation coiled in his belly. He felt weak, he felt the fool.

He had, in truth never been with a woman as young as Daera. Though she was but a year younger than he. She was unlike Alys... unlike Madame Sylvie. Both of which had known the ways of initiating pleasure. He had never had to worry of such things, for both women brimmed with the confidence only within a mature woman, to take charge. Neither were coy, nor demure. Neither stuttered nor flinched when presented with his desire. Neither seemed so... shocked by his forwardness, nor hid behind maidenly virtue, nor looked upon him with judgement. They were women whom he felt safe with, secure with. He did not have to wear the mask he had crafted so precisely for himself. Did not have to act with the hard faced confidence of a man. Aemond could be unsure, with Alys and Madame Sylvie. He could let go of his masculine fortitude and be a boy once more.

But this was not the case with Daera. He could not help but find the judgement in her eyes, enraging. Already he thought of the million ways she may be laughing or repulsed by him. Already he thought of how she would reject him if he were not willing to do as had been taught men are to do. Take charge.

He could not falter with her, could not be seen as weak.

"Alys..." He muttered lowly, his head turning slightly as to call his paramour to guide him.

The witch continued stroking his hair, cooing softly as she gave him a knowing look, "As you would me..." Her voice soft, knowing he would understand her implication.

Aemond gave a small nod, his gaze then returning to his sister. A look of determination yet also... fear in his eye.

Daera had watched the interaction transpire as though she were but a mere spectator in her body. It hadn't felt real at all, it all seemed like an elaborate dream, and betwixt the moonlight and shadows of Harrenhal, he wasn't fully convinced it wasn't.

The princess found herself sharply returned back to reality as the feeling of her brother's breath upon her neck made her flinch. His fingers gently moving the strands of her silver curls away, before the soft and warm sensation of his lips met her neck.

Daera went to protest, but was met with the cold palm of Alys upon her other cheek, her fingers lacing in her hair as she pulled the princess' head to one side. Exposing more of her neck for Aemond to place his lips upon.

Alys smiled softly and gently stroked the coil of worry lines upon Daera's face.

"That's it." The witch lulled gently, slowly encouraging Daera to lean into her brother's touch. To which the princess slowly raised her hand to Aemond's silver strands, her fingers coiling into his scalp, earning a low groan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of his lips moving up her neck, his hands now moving upon her bare body, falling between her plush breasts, down onto the soft planes of her belly.

It was not long before she felt Alys' lips press into her own, a small whimper leaving the princess.

It was that sound which egged Aemond further, he kissed up Daera's jaw, hoping to siphon more of those sweet sounds from his sister. He felt the familiar touch of Alys upon the band of his breeches, already unlaced. Her cool hand shuffling them down, before reaching in, palming his stiffened length. The sudden feeling of his paramour's hand upon him made him groan. Though he swiftly pulled away from the soft flesh of his sister, his head turning to Alys' sharp face.

"I shall do it myself." His words a quiet yet sharp command.

Alys conceded and resumed her position behind him, gently she stroked his silver tresses. Slightly annoyed by his barking at her tonight. Though she supposed he probably still seethes over her seducing Daera so easily.

The princess was terribly lost in the moment. She had eased to her brother's advances and slowly, his hand came to move her head towards his and pressed into hers gently. Daera whimpered and he pulled away, catching a breath. It was with that kiss that her blood had been set ablaze by him. Suddenly, her hands reached up, catching his cheeks in her palms and attempting to force her lips back into his.

Aemond, pulled away slightly, if not only to tease her for her eagerness, but also to remind him he must remember she had not ever been touched by a man. She was unwed, a mere maiden and similarly to him, probably starved for affection.

A dark desire bloomed as he noted her pleading gaze, a sense of control he did not get with his older lovers. It felt good to be the one whom was bestowing another with affection. Filling a lovelorn void with her that he himself shared. He found her stammering endearing, familiar in a way.

He pulled back again, if not to see how her pretty face coiled in desperation. Just as his would. His hand moved to the back of her hair, gripping her strands roughly, her head tilting back before he spoke lowly, "Tell me you desire it."

Daera's eyes beamed with a sudden awakening desire. Her cunt growing warm, as she whispered, "I desire it."

Aemond's jaw clenched, his voice soft, "Do you want me?" His eye wide, expectant.

Slowly, the Princess let her hands move into his hair as she furrowed her brow, as if he had to ask, she thought. Her voice equally soft, needy, "Yes, brother."

It was those very words which set his lips to hers again. He forced his breeches from him, Alys aiding. Aemond let his knee pry Daera's legs apart, his hand moving to finally touch what he knew would already be ready for him. His fingers grazing her wet core, just as their lips upon each other grew far more intensive in their ministrations. Daera was again, shocked by how wet everything felt, and his fingers sliding between her cunt made her mouth open slightly as a moan left her.

He pushed her down, and his head turned to guesture for Alys to get behind Daera. The witch did so, moving so that her legs were parted where Daera's head lay between. Aemond looked down upon his sister then up at his paramour. His eye narrowed as he let himself slip a finger into Daera's entrance.

A sudden moan left the princess and her hands gripped at his upper arms, she found her head tilting back as a simpering gasp left her. His other hand guiding her knee upwards as he pushed two fingers within her. Slowly stretching her. His eye caught Alys again, who herself had seemed to find the ordeal so pleasing, her own hand worked upon her. He watched as she circled her cunt, then slowly fucking herself with her fingers. Though Daera hadn't noticed, she was too busy writhing beneath Aemond as his fingers had grown terribly fast.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling his fingers from her, his gaze still harsh upon Alys as she pleased herself. His jaw clenched as he had remembered the sight he had walked in upon.

Daera found herself letting out a small whine as he had stopped, she looked up at him, when she was met with his hand clasping her cheeks. Aemond spoke with a swift determination in his tone, "You will tend to Alys as I ready you."

Daera had opened her mouth to speak before Aemond interrupted, "Turn around."

With that, Daera had found herself most shocked, though slowly, hesitantly she turned to her belly and moved towards Alys.

Aemonds voice rang in the thick silence of the chamber, "Tell her what she might do." He said lowly to Alys, his gaze too busy scanning the vast expanse of Daera's pale back, her plump rear and fleshy thighs.

Alys hummed, titling her head, her hands coming to Daera's cheeks to pull her forward, "I shall take the girl's mouth." The witch spoke smugly, her hand pulling at Daera's hair as she lowered the princess' lips to her cunt. "Slowly, my pet..." Alys cooed. "With your tongue."

Daera all but whimpered as her mouth met the soft, delicate folds of Alys. She was not sure how to go about it, but she started with slow, languid licks, hoping she might gauge where Alys was brought pleasure. The witch hummed and chuckled with pleasure, her hips slowly circling as she pressed Daera's mouth upon her cunt further. She instructed the princess lowly, and soon Daera was using her tongue to circle Alys clit, winning groans from the older woman.

Aemond had found himself oddly transfixed by the sight, his paramour instructing his sister. It was as though he was watching himself in a way. Though the sight of the two woman before him, was far more thrilling than he had anticipated. Alys' head tilted back, forcing Daera to move quicker, and Aemond slowly pryed apart her thighs. His fingers finding Daera's soaked core.

He grazed her clit, winning gentle moans from her as his other hand kneaded her rear. Alys, moaned again, her peak dawning as she cried, "The prince watches us... sweet girl. He watches with reverence."

Her words sparked a quick hum from Aemond as he found himself focused on Daera again. He leaned down, his chest pressed upon her back as lewd sounds of the two women filled the chamber. He moved his sister's hair to the side, exposing her neck and back. Aemond pressed gentle kisses into her, his hands trailing her soft flesh.

As he went to kiss her again, Alys had pulled Daera's hair harshly, forcing Aemond to lose his grip slightly. He looked up at his paramour, watching as she rolled her hips on his sister mouth, chasing her endless peak.

She was indeed a woman of great fortitude, but this was not about her pleasure. This was about legacy, this was about himself and his sister... and their duty to House Targaryen. Aemond's hands wrapped around Daera's waist, suddenly pulling her away from Alys' cunt.

The witch's eyes opened swiftly, and she gasped. "Your grace?!" She barked, almost like a mother would towards her child.

Though Aemond paid little attention to Alys as he laid Daera down upon her back again. "You've had your fill." He muttered.

The raven haired woman scoffed, "So I get nothing then? I brought you the girl-"

Aemond raised his hand, his tone aloof as he gazed down upon Daera. "Leave us." Aemond spoke lowly to Alys, he was too transfixed on the way Daera had brought her hands to his cheeks.

"My Prince..." The witch begged. Alys let her gaze grow wide and discontented.

"Hm.." Aemond looked up to the older woman, his gaze unwavering, stern, "You may go."

It only took one disgruntled look from Alys before she gave a nod, biting her tongue as she moved away from the bed. She dressed herself once more and left without any protest. After all, she was but under his mercy.

The silence in the room was startling, Daera's eyes widened, and her hand came to Aemond's eye patch, though he forced her hand away. He did not say another word as he settled between her legs. Aemond moved her hand to clasp his length, guiding her hand up and down to ready himself.

His lips met hers as he moved her legs to wrapped around his hips, and slowly, Aemond let his cock graze her folds. Both of them moaning at the sensation. He felt his resolve weaken, and with that, he pushed into her entrance ever so slowly. Giving her time to adjust to him.

Her core tight, so tight he felt himself wince as he tried to push further. Daera squeezed his arm making him force her hands to his cheeks. "Calm yourself." He said lowly.

Daera obliged, she closed her eyes, trusting the sensation that currently stung with pain would soon dissolve and it did. He eased himself into her, and Daera marvelled at the sound he made when he had finally pushed within her. All that could be heard from her was a deep gasp, her head tilting back. As he rocked his hips, fucking her slowly, her hands laced into his hair and his face buried into her neck. Daera suddenly began to moan softly, wantonly as the sensation became more and more pleasurable as her core loosened. She began to feel herself relax, and he slid in and out of her with ease. Aemond at this point was all but lost, he kept moving into her, his hands cupping her face as he moved between his face in the crook of her neck or kissing her harshly. His moans growing more intense, their names flying from the other's mouth. Panting and cursing filled his chamber, alongside low growls as he relished the feeling of her warm cunt upon him.

"Sweet sister..." He grumbled, nodding as his peak was soon to come. "Have me." He said, almost sweetly against her flesh. He wanted to bury himself in her, hold her tight. And that he did, their bodies flushed firmly against each other and Daera had instinctively began to rock her hips against his.

She moaned, grappling at his hair as she whispered, "Aemond... my brother..."

It was her soft coos which triggered him to come fiercely within her. His seed causing an odd warmth to spread within her. As the moment diffused, the heat between them had caused both of them to become flushed, panting gently as they lay entwined upon the bed. The shadows enclasping them both, yet in their arms both found a sense of peace. Daera coiled into him, her head resting upon the top of his.

Aemond laid upon her, letting her arms wrap around him, her soft flesh against his taut frame felt like bliss. He breathed out, speaking softly against her skin, "Alys... she.." Aemond stammered breathlessly against her neck, leaving small kisses.

Daera raised her brow, her hands coming to his hair, gently grazing his silver tresses. The moment felt beyond intimate, she felt a strange tie to him. One that had been all but lost to their distant youths.

He let his hands gently carress her face, his cheek nuzzling against her own as he whispered softly, cooingly into her ear,"She see's a silver haired boy upon the throne... a boy who comes from the flesh of two dragons. The mother... a great beauty, the father... a feared warrior. Of darkness and light, joined by a ghostly flame of longing. Separated by time, brought together by blood. It is us... sweet sister. Alys sees us."

[devoted-tiefling]

a/n: my astarion brain rot has produced a thing. i've finally obsessed over this stupid scene to the point where i regurgitated this. have fun becos i certainly didn't

warning: allusions to spoilers, allusions to a lot of astarion's scenes, spoilers okay there's spoilers, mentions of mistreatment by others, no names or pronouns but this is my blind tiefling ranger oc, still in second person reader insert point of view though LOL

You sat almost stock still, your eyes looking like they were staring thoughtfully into the bonfire but, in reality, you saw only darkness. Your tiefling ears, though, heard everything. They twitched as you took stock of where everyone was.

Your bear familiar laid beside you, his fur brushing against your side, his head pressed to the outside of your thigh. You could hear the ever present grinding of Lae'zel as she sharpened her weapons for the dozenth time. You couldn't hear Shadowheart but she meditated so often that it was common not to know.

Wyll was somewhere near his tent, rifling through his things, preparing for the journey ahead. Gale was looking at himself using magic.

Of course, all of that didn't seem to matter because Astarion, as always, sat silently beside you, his calloused fingers making pleasant sounds against the parchment of the book he was leafing through.

"Astarion," you called out, your own hand still laid atop your bear's sleeping head "Can I ask you for a favor?"

Astarion stopped flicking through the book in his lap to hum, his red eyes darting to you in suspicion. "And what would your favor be, darling?"

You wouldn't have been able to tell, of course, seeing as you couldn't see, but he looked at you with a doubt that could only come from people who've been burned by others too much.

When he had hummed, you turned your head to face him, the jewels hanging from your horns twinkling. Your eyes were unseeing but Astarion always felt slightly unnerved by how it felt like they were staring straight into him.

Your hands lifted into the air, poised as if you were cupping some invisible thing in between them "Can I touch your face?"

Astarion was definitely taken aback. He even flinched a little, eyebrows scrunching, mind reeling.

You were asking to touch his face?

When you didn't hear a response, you smiled almost sadly, a pitying chuckle leaving your lips "Sorry, i-it's fine if it makes you uncomfortable. You don't have to. I know some people react badly when I ask."

"It's just. I'm able to find my way around through the noise and my other senses but I've never been able to put physical features to all of your names and voices." You explained, fingers curling a little, hesitating, hovering as if you weren't sure you could convince him "But out of everyone, I've especially wanted to know the face behind your melodic voice."

That didn't end up clarifying anything for Astarion.

First of all, though he'd been through his share of flattery and praise, he'd never heard his voice described as melodic before.

Second, he'd never told anyone but even he didn't know what he looked like. Astarion had a mirror he'd carry with him, something to peer into with desperation, but he always saw the same thing he'd always see: nothing.

That was, maybe, where his hesitation came from. He didn't know how monstrous he looked as a vampire.

Not hideous, of course. He knew he was handsome because he'd been able to lure many a woman and even a few men to their demises. No, he feared he looked monstrous the same way Cazzador looked monstrous; more than beautiful enough but always the cruelty bled through and revealed itself.

Still, Astarion couldn't find it in himself to deny you. You, who so graciously defended him against all the others in your little group. You, who bled for him every night and still looked at him like he had some humanity left in him. You, who intrigued him at every step.

"Perhaps you can tell me what I look like then." He decided to joke in that same pompous tone he used when he felt a bit too vulnerable "I haven't been able to see myself in hundreds of years."

You frowned at that but your expression immediately turned to one of curiosity "Really?"

"Astarion nodded before moving to place his face into your hands.

Your hands were almost unbearably warm against his almost chilling skin, your claws, as long as his, brushing against the apples of his cheeks.

As soon as you realised his face was in your hands, your face scrunched into an expression of concentration.

First, you brushed your thumbs over his skin, under his eyes, to his cheeks, up to his temples. You looked contemplating, like you really were forming a picture in your mind.

"Well, you have very nice laugh lines." You smiled, gently, sweetly, in a way that made Astarion's undead heart almost beat.

"Preposterous. I'm a vampire, not your homely grandmother. I do not age." He answered you, rolling his eyes, and you could feel the way his expression contorted into an exasperated one underneath your very hands.

You just laughed "I like it. You know, you sound very handsome when you laugh."

Another exasperated noise but you ignored it in favour of brushing your thumbs over his eyebrows "I can tell you furrow your eyebrows often."

"You can tell something like that?" Astarion sounded disbelieving.

You nodded "I lived in Baldur's Gate but we didn't have a home really. We moved from place to place. But I had my own little ragtag family and they would let me practice on their faces; they'd let me touch as they laughed and smiled and grew angry or sad."

Astarion almost wanted to ask you to continue but, from your expression, he felt as if it wasn't the time or place.

"My mother always fretted over everyone; she'd have wrinkles right here because she furrowed her eyebrows so much." You pressed in between Astarion's eyebrows, thumb running over it as if trying to flatten away his worries, before moving back to the corners of his eyes "And whenever my friend smiled, her eyes would upturn right here."

"I bet you look gorgeous smiling, Astarion."

Then, you moved on, moving back down his face, down to his lips. You traced the corners of his mouth, feeling for something that Astarion couldn't understand.

All of it was beyond Astarion's comprehension. He wasn't a stranger to compliments but it felt like yours reached somewhere deep inside him and brought it peace.

Something about it all both tranquilized him and unnerved him all the same.

"You must smirk a lot. I bet you look boyishly handsome when you do. Your voice always sounded so mischievous to me." You huffed, sounding jokingly tired of his antics before running your left thumb over his lips, feeling both the softness and the roughness of it under your fingertip "And you bite your lips a lot. I can feel the scars of it. Though I doubt it would be noticeable to anyone else. Your lips are soft either way. It's a very pretty shape."

Astarion recalled all the countless nights of him biting away cries of pain, cries of agony, the way he'd always bite his lip in frustration and anger. Nobody had ever noticed that, not until you, and it felt like sharing a secret.

Then, as suddenly as your request had come, you pulled away, that gentle touch that soothed a part of Astarion gone as soon as it had been offered.

"Sorry." You looked sheepish, embarrassed "I know a lot of people don't like others touching their face, especially a Tiefling."

Before you could truly pull away though, Astarion pulled your hands back to his face, sandwiching them in between his cold calloused palms and the soft chill of his cheeks.

"It's fine, darling, I don't care." He tried to build his walls back up and, at the same time, let you in "I, for one, always welcome compliments, no matter what the type."

Your thumbs hesitantly, slowly, reached his eyes. You felt his eyelashes flutter close before you were feeling his eyelids, velveteen and twitching. Your thumbs mapped over it, over the shape and the dips of his eyes.

"What color are your eyes?" Your thumbs moved on, again feeling the corners of his eyes, brushing over them in circles as if comforting Astarion somewhat.

"Red, like any vampire's." Astarion answered easily enough, swallowing down a memory of Cazzador's striking red eyes.

"I can tell they're very kind; sharp around the corners but round everywhere else. I bet your stare is very enchanting." You laughed a little in that breathy tinkling way you always did.

Astarion frowned a little, still disbelieving, unable to accept words like 'kind' to describe him.

Then, finally, your hands moved away from his face entirely, your fingers suddenly combing through his hair, feeling it in between your fingers and with your very fingertips "Oh, you have such curly hair!"

"It used to be something else, I think." He tried to recall but quickly grew frustrated when the information didn't come easily "But now it's white."

"Oh, Astarion." You sighed, hands finally coming out of his hair to cup his cheeks "You're so handsome. I'm so glad to finally know what you look like."

Astarion nodded, trying to brush your painfully sincere words off but, instead, they struck him, buried deep inside him.

If you felt a slight bit of wetness in the corners of his eyes, you didn't mention it.