#and how this matter could or could not have affected him

[rcmclachlan]

8x06 fix-it fic: Amnion

Buck doesn't bounce back from Tommy the way he did with all his other breakups for reasons he can't articulate or even look at. He thinks of how long it took him to recover from Abby, but even that felt different, because he'd had hope carrying him through most of it. He doesn't have that now.

The worst part is it's bringing everyone else down. It's starting to affect the job, and he can't take any more of Bobby's pity dinner invites or the kid gloves Eddie handles him with. Then one day, Chimney (in an attempt to lighten the mood) asks Buck if he's pregnant, and it awakens some primordial rage in Buck that he never knew he possessed and damn near rips off Chimney's head about it.

But once the blood levels in his adrenaline start rising and he calms down, he starts thinking about it. Before he knows it he's thinking about it day and night, and now that's starting to affect the job more than his heartbreak had been.

Then one night Maddie invites him over to watch trash TV and eat junk food until they can't feel feelings anymore, but instead of the patented Maddie Hug he's expecting, she hands him a First Response test stick the second he walks in the door.

Five minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom pale-faced and dripping tears because there are two lines in the test result window, and Maddie leads him over to the couch where they curl up and cry together. Just like the old days.

Maddie asks if he's going to tell Tommy, but there's no judgment in her voice, like she's behind him no matter what he decides, and Buck tries to make her laugh when he says, "How do you know it's his? I could've been living it up for the last month. New person almost every night. Exploring myself."

She just gives him a Look. Also patented.

Under the weight of her scrutiny, Buck thinks about Tommy's face before he left the loft that night and how ''Buck'' looked and sounded so wrong coming from him. Like the shape of it was so painful he could barely move his mouth around it.

Finally, he shakes his head. His eyes well up with more tears, which feels impossible, because the human body can't possibly produce this much liquid. He's going to drown them both. "I thought... I thought we had a future, Maddie. I really did. I guess I still get one... but only with part of him."

A couple of months pass and Buck's entire world shifts. The 118 have rallied around him in a way that almost feels like they're closing ranks to every other firehouse. Eddie becomes especially protective and devises a 5000-point care plan that makes him twitch if Buck so much as thinks about deviating from it, but he also keeps telling Buck that he needs to tell Tommy about the pregnancy.

"If only to get his family history," Eddie says reasonably, but there's something pleading in his voice every time, like there's so much more under the surface that he's trying to keep under wraps. Like there's more about this that he thinks Tommy should know.

Chimney's in the middle of explaining why he's stealing the cool uncle crown from Buck and sitting pretty on the throne when Buck asks him about it.

"Is there something about Tommy that no one's telling me?"

It trips Chimney up. Literally. He just barely catches himself from going headfirst into the kitchen counter.

Buck's heart starts pounding. "Chim, does he know?"

"No," Chimney says, firm and almost a little offended. "We promised you we wouldn't say anything. But Buck... you should tell him. You should talk to him."

Part of him wants to whip his phone out right then and there and dial Tommy's number. He could do what he did the first time: ask to meet somewhere and laugh about bad coffee and plead his case for a second chance. He could reach across the table for his hand, but this time, he'd stand up and walk over to Tommy and place it on his belly. "I don't care about firsts or lasts," he'd say. "I care about only's. And you're the only one I want."

But the other part of him, still licking its wounds, hormones in flux and forcing organs to shift and bend as it makes room for the thing he and Tommy made together, bares its teeth and snaps, "He made it very clear that he had no interest in hearing what I had to say."

Chimney never brings it up again.

Meanwhile, Hen goes a little overboard with forcing him to undergo random physicals—she pops out of the shadows twice a day to ambush him with the blood pressure machine, and he keeps threatening to avoid rooms that have doors—but he loves it. His body is a complete stranger to him for the first time in a long time, but the changes he's experiencing are interesting and he's having a blast cataloging every new one. He and Hen have a spreadsheet with like fifty tabs, and she helps him navigate every test his actual OBGYN sets him up for.

He's over her house at least once a week, although pregnancy talk at the dinner table is verboten.

"If one of you says the word 'amniocentesis' one more time, I will start a food fight," Karen had said, finally putting her foot down. Across the table, Denny perked up.

As much as he hesitates to even think the Q-word, it's a pretty quiet pregnancy. The cravings are kind of wild, though, and he goes most of his first trimester feeling like he's going to die if he can't eat rice krispie treats with cottage cheese. Every time Bobby sees him cracking open another container of Hood, it looks like he's seriously reconsidering sobriety.

But as incredible as they are about the pregnancy, they're all tiptoeing around the other elephant in the room: when Buck is going to stop working scenes. He and Bobby have a series of discussions that satisfies neither of them and resolves nothing, and it builds to a big blow-out that ends when Bobby tearfully begs Buck to stop risking his own life and the life of Bobby's grandkid.

After that, it's like some stone thing in him dissolves into sand and he finally eases back a bit in his fifth month. He doesn't put up a fight when Bobby orders him to only handle the winch or stick with hose duty, and if he stays a little closer to the engine because he gets winded so easily these days, no one comments on it.

In his sixth month, the inevitable happens: there's a call out at Palos Verdes and it's all hands on deck, which means the 217 is there too. At first he thinks he might make it through without running into Tommy at all, but he turns a corner and—there he is. Smudged with mud and looking like a drowned rat because of the downpours, but in his turnouts he's big and capable and, for a second, he's walking into First Presbyterian and apologizing for missing the ceremony.

But the memory is easily wrestled back into the past the second Tommy's gaze fixes on Buck's belly.

Buck wants to stage a retreat that would make the Allies at Dunkirk stand up and applaud. He wants to throw his arms open so Tommy can get a better look at it, say something cool and mean, like, "Did you know that INNOTEX makes turnouts for carriers these days? Pretty progressive of them, if you ask me."

He wants to be weak and ask if Tommy will spare him a hug. Just one. Nothing greedy. Just—a moment to soak in his warmth, to inhale the smell of his skin. Enough to carry him through the rest of it.

But he does none of that. He inhales through his nose, lifts his chin, and says, "Firefighter Kinard."

At that, Tommy smiles, and it's completely awful. There's no joy in it. Not even amusement. He looks like he wants to be sick, and Buck feels like a monster.

But Tommy swallows and says, earnest as anything, "Congratulations. I-I knew you'd find it. I never doubted for a second that you'd find the person who'd be your last."

Even as he says it, Tommy's face does something indescribable, but it rips through Buck's chest and shatters his ribs, tearing through pericardial layers until it scores the vulnerable muscle of his heart. It's so shocking that it almost knocks the truth right out of Buck's mouth.

Someone comes over the radio and requests all available first responders with flight experience to report to the B-zone, and Tommy straightens up and locks whatever it was away.

With an unsteady hand, he tips an invisible hat to Buck and says wryly, "Firefighter Buckley," before jogging away.

And Buck stands there like an idiot watching him go. It's that night all over again. It's Buck instead of Evan.

"See you around," he whispers, and then runs back to his post in the A-zone.

+

Tommy gets the call when he's halfway through a burrito foisted upon him by Dana, who had taken one look at him and said, "You look like a flood victim. Eat something before I get HR involved."

He'd taken a mutinous bite and couldn't argue with her. Months later and it still felt like he'd watched everything he loved wash away with a tide he couldn't fight. Except he'd sent the tide himself. He had no business feeling like this.

But they send him to the site of a car accident where a pregnant driver had been T-boned by some asshole who ran the red light, and the RA unit called to the scene didn't have the right equipment to assess the fetus. But the victim's belly was hard enough to warrant a med evac.

By the time Dana gets the victim loaded on the backboard and inside, Tommy's already on with both First Presbyterian and LA General to see whose neonatal surgery team is available.

The door on Tommy's side slides open and Tommy turns in his seat to ask what the hell Dana's doing over there, but it's Hen who's pulling herself inside.

His stomach clenches with dread. "Hen?"

"I'm riding with you," she shouts, taking the headset that Dana gives her.

He looks just beyond her and wishes he'd had the presence of mind to listen to the manifest when Dana had read it aloud to him, because Evan Buckley is strapped to the gurney and looks like he's on a completely different planet.

"Hen." Tommy can't hear him say her name, but he sees Evan's mouth shape the word. Evan reaches clumsily out for her with one hand while pressing the other to his belly.

Hen murmurs something to him that the comms can't pick up, and Tommy wonders if they've notified Maddie, if they've notified the father, whoever they are. If they're already at the hospital waiting for them. If Tommy will have to see them, talk to them face to face.

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek until he feels the hot wash of blood over his tongue, then forces everything down to join the burrito from earlier that really wants to make a reappearance. It isn't his right to know any of it. That went out with the tide, too.

He locks it down tight enough that he gets them into the air so easily they might be a feather on the wind, then he heads in the direction of First Presbyterian. The real start of it all.

They're maybe halfway across the city when Evan shouts, desperation and fear carrying his voice over the rotors, the words sliding together, "Hen, check Nora! Y-Y'need to ch—"

"Nora's fine, Buck," Hen says, her voice clear as a bell in Tommy's ear.

Staring at a skyline he can't see, Tommy says, "'Nora'? Was someone else in the car with him?"

When Hen comes over the comm, her voice is as inescapable as a flood. "Nora's what he decided on for the baby. It's her name."

Tommy's hand tightens on the cyclic so the way it starts shaking won't be so obvious. "Nora was my grandmother's name."

He'd told Buck about the woman who was basically the only family he could stand, who was responsible for not letting him become his piece of shit father, who accepted him when no one else would. She'd meant the world to him. She'd been the world to him. And for Evan to give his kid her name—

Realization hits like a levy breaking, and he turns to look wide-eyed over his shoulder at Hen, because it can't—he couldn't be—

"Patient, male, 33, prenatal course complicated at 8 months gestation," Dispatch had said.

The timeline is right.

Hen stares right back, as good of a confirmation that he could get outside of a DNA test.

Without breaking her gaze, Tommy tells Dana to take over. She gives him an unreadable look but says nothing except, "Copy that," and smoothly resumes their journey while he squeezes into the back. There's hardly any room next to the gurney and his knees are compressing his lungs, but he takes Evan's' hand and stares blankly at the shiner forming around his right eye until Hen breaks the silence.

Why didn't you tell me, he wants to demand, but he knows that if he so much as opens his mouth, he's going to start screaming until someone sedates him.

"For the record," she says, "I hate what you did. I hate what you took from him. But I understand why you did it."

Tommy rolls his lips inward and wants to suffocate himself to death. She understands? Does she? Does she know a life can be obliterated in the span of a minute? Does she know what it is to live a half life, to walk through the world like a five-year old drew a scribble on a blank sheet of paper that was supposed to be a person?

Does she know what Evan looks like when his joy is sucked away? Because Tommy does. She hates what he did? No one hates what he did more than him. No one hates him more than him.

Shakily, he lifts his other hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Evan's birthmark, which used to know the touch of his lips so well that Evan would joke that it was actually in the shape of Tommy's mouth print. Like a brand.

He forces himself to inhale. It seems impossible that Evan's here, carrying their child, their Nora. Evan used to say the lightning strike gave him super powers, made him invincible, and Tommy's ashamed to admit that he almost believed him. It seemed like nothing could ever bring Evan Buckley down, but here he is in Tommy's sky, halfway to Heaven already.

He glances at the LifePAK—where Evan's life has been concentrated into a series of lines and numbers, the reading strong despite everything—and then looks back at Evan, who is still the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen even now.

"Evan," he chokes out.

There's no answer. At least not from Evan.

Across from him, Hen breathes through her nose and then quietly says, "I'm only going to say this once, Tommy, so I hope you're listening. If you can't trust him to know what his own heart wants, then this flight will never have happened. When he wakes up, you will not have been here. I'll change the manifest myself."

Tommy closes his eyes. Something hot spills down his cheeks.

"I know things haven't been all sunshine and roses for you. Lucy's said you've basically shut down since it ended. I know you're hurting just as much as Buck is... which is why I'm telling you: be sure. He's going to have enough on his plate without worrying about whether or not you're going to swan out of his life again. You need to be sure, Tommy."

Tommy doesn't say anything, but he opens his eyes and holds her gaze without flinching, and he tightens his hold on Evan's hand.

The rest of the flight passes in the kind of silence that feels like a cyst was lanced. Or maybe a boil, as it were.

+

Buck wakes up in stages to find he's in a hospital bed, and when he puts a hand on his belly it's smaller and almost deflated beneath his palm. He is just starting to hyperventilate when suddenly Tommy's there, murmuring to him, "You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise, she's fine. She's fine. Look."

And Buck, heart racing, forces himself to breathe slowly while he follows Tommy's gaze down to the bundle in Tommy's arms. Then he stops breathing altogether.

"She's fine," Tommy says. "A little early, according to the doctor, but absolutely fine."

Buck collapses back to the bed and weeps in relief, because she's fine. She's here and she's fine and she's perfect. Tommy gently places her in Buck's arms before retreating to the chair next to the bed which has a dent in the vinyl in the shape of his ass.

But Buck is enraptured with Nora, who smacks her lips in her sleep, and he marvels aloud, "She has my mouth."

"Thank God for that," Tommy says with a laugh. "It'll help take the focus off my nose. Poor kid."

It hits Buck like lightning that Tommy is here. He's in this room and talking about Nora like—like he knows. And there are things Buck should probably be saying, like apologizing for not telling Tommy about her as soon as he found out, or asking why he's there at all, but the words are crowding in his mouth and he can't figure out which ones should go first.

Tommy's lips twitch in a smile that is awful to look at, like he completely understand Buck's struggle, but his voice is soft and even when he says, "I need you to know that it wasn't about you. Not you personally. It never was."

Buck stops trying to speak and just stares at him, because that is bullshit, and oh, he knows which words should come first, and he opens his mouth to release them into the wild but Tommy holds up a hand.

"I know," he says. "I was a coward and an asshole, and I'm more sorry than I can possibly say. I won't ever be able to make up for what I did. But I need you to know why I did it."

And, in fits and starts before he finally finds the thread, Tommy tells him about Jeremy.

After Tommy ended things with Abby and then finally came out, he dated around for a long time before he met Jeremy, who was brilliant and fun and new. Tommy was the first man Jeremy had ever been with, and Jeremy was the first person Tommy saw a future with. He'd been so sure about Jeremy. He'd believed that Jeremy was it.

Until, almost two years in, Jeremy ended it. He'd sat Tommy down and said kindly, cruelly, "You're amazing, Tom, but you're just the first. You can't be my last." And then he'd left Tommy completely shattered in the rearview.

"That night, when you asked me to move in... it was like I was watching him put on his coat all over again," Tommy says shakily. "But what I felt for you was lightyears beyond anything I felt for him. I'd fallen so hard for you that I knew if I had to watch you walk away I'd never get up again."

Buck stares at Tommy, eyes rimmed red, and says, "So instead you made me watch you walk away."

It must land like a fist because Tommy exhales sharply and hangs his head, bowing around the pain. He sits like that for a moment, absorbing it, before he lifts his head and nods. "Yeah. That's exactly what I did."

There are deep, dark circles under Tommy's eyes that speak of a hundred sleepless nights, and his body is sharper, leaner, trimmed entirely of anything soft. He's made entirely of angles. He's so unfairly hot. He's miserable to look at.

Buck swallows and murmurs, "You look like there's no love in your life, Tommy."

Sucking in a trembling breath, Tommy smiles weakly and sketches a shrug. It looks like the fatigued steel of his edges are starting to crack.

"I left all my love with you that night." His gaze darts down. "Among other things."

Buck looks down at Nora, who's sleeping the sleep of someone already exhausted by existence, or maybe just by her fathers' drama, and thinks that maybe he really has been carrying all his love plus Tommy's around. Because otherwise he has no idea how he's so full of it.

"She's absolutely perfect," Buck says, smiling dopily.

"She's... more than anything I could've ever dreamed of."

He looks up in time to see Tommy drop his gaze to the floor at the same time his shoulders lift and lock like they're bracing for a blow. And in a voice so thin it's barely a sound, Tommy says, "I know I don't have... any right to ask, but is there any... any chance I could be part of her life?"

The tears that have been languishing at the edges of Buck's eyes finally see an opportunity. He doesn't think he could've held them back any longer if he tried.

Mouth trembling, he whispers, "Just hers?"

At that, Tommy looks up, eyes wide, disbelief and hope chasing each other across his face like dogs. He jerks a little in his chair but he doesn't move. He doesn't move.

Buck stares at him, a tsunami pulling everything back from his shoreline, and bites out, "Thomas James Kinard, if you don't get over here and kiss me, I swear to Christ—"

But Tommy's out of the chair and at his bedside, cupping Buck's face and tenderly smearing a kiss over his open mouth, licking the relieved gasp right off Buck's tongue.

Between them, Nora makes a tiny noise, and Tommy startles away just enough that he can press the side of his head to Buck's and gaze down at her with a tremulous smile.

"She really is something, huh? Sorry about the nose, kiddo," he says softly.

Buck knocks their heads together and says, "I happen to love that nose, thanks. And like you said, my lips will help balance it out."

Huffing a laugh, Tommy kisses Buck's lips. And the side of his nose and the bolt of his jaw. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to Nora's little pink and blue hat.

"I'm sure if you are," Tommy murmurs, tilting his chin up so he can flash a brave smile up at Buck, who smiles back.

"I was always sure."

[wemlygust]

People will often say something like, "Evil Maximus deserves to suffer and die horribly, because he [list of unforgivable atrocities].” But, 1) it is VERY possible to be 100% convinced someone did something and be wrong. Any system with extreme punishments WILL, INEVITABLY inflict that punishment on innocent people. There is no way to design a system that won't do this to multiple, even many, innocents, EXCEPT by not allowing the extreme punishments for anyone at all. Because human judgement is and will always be imperfect, no matter how certain you feel, and no matter how angry, and no matter how justified you are in your rage. 2) what do people mean when they say "deserves"? What is the definition of "to deserve"? I do not think there is any way to define this that does not boil down to either A) the person is fundamentally evil according to some absolute morality system of the universe, aka a God, aka this is religion affecting the legal system, or B) "he deserves to die" literally just means "I want him to die," and is a way of expressing that wish in a passive-voice way that abdicates the speaker's responsibility for the wish. And no matter how badly you may want someone to suffer and die, we are humans, we are flawed, we fuck up. We ESPECIALLY fuck up when we are angry. And we know from studies that people tend to be, to one degree or another, racist and/or sexist (including the tendency to see men as more violent or less deserving of kindness), even we they are sure that they are unbiased. So we'll end up killing or tormenting people who could have been redeemed, or who were 100% innocent, or who were guilty but actually they grew up in an environment that prevented them from ever learning any better, etc. I don't think revenge ever actually makes anything better, especially not state/government/beaurocratic-driven, no-take-backs revenge. And ESPECIALLY not when there is, as in America, strong profit motives to fill prisons. This post is longer than I meant it to be, but the point I am getting at is, even if you on a personal level would quite like to see someone dead or hurting (which is what "they deserve [xyz]" probably means), that doesn't mean it is a good or just idea to try to actually incorporate that feeling into the law to be carried out in a systematic way which WILL also hurt people you do not want to hurt. And if you say, "I will not help so-and-so when they are poor or seriously injured, because they deserve their suffering," and you incorporate that idea into the law, that will absolutely hurt many more innocents, or at least regular, doing their best imperfectly within their circumstances, human beings, than it will people like whoever the wretched person you know or imagine in your head (maybe both) is. Basically, sometimes, in order for the law to be just, protect as many people as possible from harm and do as little harm as possible, it is necessary that sometimes a bad action, or a bad person, be punished less and suffer less than we or those they harm would like to see them suffer (than people say they "deserve" to suffer). Tldr: the word "deserve" is kinda bullshit and unhelpful but very hard to stop using but still also bullshit anyway /good lord why am I on tumblr right now

some of yall don't understand what human rights mean and it is legitimately worrying how some of you think that if a person is 'bad' enough they should have their human rights taken away

[derpygirl-draws]

You know what? I will not be be quiet.

^(just an example of what I am talking about) I wish I could live everyday not having to worry and not having to listen to the people I love panicking or just saying “Welp guess we are fucked”. But because so many people believed in this asshole and voted for him, I have to fear for the lives of people, REAL PEOPLE, some of whom not so long ago did not have any rights or freedoms as much as the average American. THIS IS NOT NEGOTIABLE, PEOPLE’S LIVES ARE AT STAKE. Not just their mortality but their basic right to happiness. THEIR RIGHT AS PEOPLE TO LIVE HOW THEY PLEASE IN THE PUBLIC EYE AND TO FEEL PROUD OF WHO THEY ARE.

I’ve heard people call other’s dramatic.

Those who think the reaction of minorities is dramatic do not know the fear of being deemed less important to the world. I don’t even fully know what that’s like and I don’t want to know. I don’t want anyone to know what it’s like for the world to turn their back on them. It’s a very real feeling that I wouldn’t wish on anyone! I WANT TO SEE THE PEOPLE I LOVE BEING HAPPY. I WANT TO SEE THE WORLD HAPPY. But that’s too much to ask, isn’t it?

I may not fully understand the struggles of every minority. I’ve been fortunate enough to have lived a childhood where discrimination against any part of me has been minimal.

I am a person who was born as female and identifies as female. I am a person of color. I am queer. I am neurodivergent. The majority of my peers and friends are minorities. And I care very deeply about all of them. I don’t hate many things in the world. I believe hate only fosters bitterness. But I will not hide the fact that I HATE seeing the people I care about, no matter how little I know them or how distant the relationship, hurting. I HATE knowing that I can’t immediately take their pain away and tell them not to worry.

Cause who am I to say you or the people around you shouldn’t worry? Who am I to promise it’ll be okay? Who am I to wish for a better world when it feels like the cards are constantly stacked against us.

Who is anyone to call someone else dramatic for fearing the future? When this is the world we live in.

I want to say my peace on the matter cause I feel it would be doing my loved ones a disservice to keep my voice left unheard. To bottle up your thoughts is the give in to the fear.

TELL THE WORLD HOW YOU FEEL. TELL THE WORLD AND SOMEONE WILL COME TO LISTEN. You are not dramatic for being scared. But do not suffer alone. There is always someone who will listen. Always someone who feels the same. Always someone who will appreciate knowing they aren’t alone and that you are with them.

And for those who don’t care or don’t believe this is a big deal, I will not beg. I will not ask. I will tell you to educate yourself and learn about reality we’ve been thrusted into. And if anything, how this affects you too. Cause otherwise there is nothing I can do for you and nothing I will do because there are others I know who appreciate and acknowledge what I have to say. There are others who will stand with me. There are people I want to stand with because they are people that believe and care about me and the millions of people who will be affected by the choices and ignorance of others.

I stand with open arms to those who need it. Who needs support. I will not say please stand with me. I will say I am here and I will stay here and be here no matter what and if you choose to stand with me, that’s your choice.

I will not beg for the freedom to exist and neither should you.

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Interlude - Meddling With Our Hearts

Summary: Five times someone interferes with yours and Aemond’s relationship and one time you decide to take the reins and shape your own fate.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 6,9k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello!! How have you all been? This one came out faster than I expected! Yay!

Okay, just to explain a few things, so this chapter is a bonus, non-chronological chapter in the story. It is separated into items, as it follows the ‘5+1 Things’ model, spanning across several years. In item 1, Reader and Aemond are very young, around 4 and 6 respectively (and Aegon is around 10), whereas items 2, 3, 4 and 5 are set after chapter 1 of this story (think episodes 6 and 7 of season 1). Lastly, the last item is set in the middle of chapter 2. 

I am having lots of fun writing for Aemond, so much so I have a few ideas for unrelated one-shots I plan on writing for him. Anyway, I really really hope you enjoy this!

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1. Aegon Targaryen

As young children, wherever Aemond Targaryen was you were never too far behind. As the eldest of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children, you were often regarded as a possible successor of your mother’s to the title of the Realm’s Delight, being soft and sweet and so very beautiful even from such a young age. There was no shortage of people wanting to gaze upon you, spoil you with attention and possibly win over the favor of the heir to the Iron Throne after King Viserys I. But there was only ever one person whose attention you truly craved.

With the birth of your younger brother Jace and your mother’s pregnancy with yet another child, your parents’ attention was naturally split. It wasn’t to say they neglected you or favored your brother above you, oh no, but it was only natural that you were no longer their sole focus, even more fickle given their duties at court. Your father in particular, Ser Laenor, tried to give you as much attention as he possibly could, but even then that was restricted to specific times of the day, mostly at supper and after. It was an adjustment, for sure, and for a little while you resented your little brother, but you were quick to find another source of the attention you craved somewhere else: your uncle Aemond. You couldn’t possibly know why, nor had you ever thought about it, but you were drawn to him in ways you could not explain. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Aemond Targaryen, as the second son of King Viserys and his fourth child, was most often overlooked by many in court. He wasn’t Rhaenyra, who held their father’s unconditional love, or Aegon, who carried the title of his first male child, and matters were made worse by the fact that his dragon egg had yet to hatch, whereas Aegon’s had done so when he was still pretty young, and Helaena had quickly claimed Dreamfyre. Even his mother, who once doted on him like never before, had lessened her attention over him, as her fourth pregnancy progressed and her affection usually leaned more towards her only daughter. 

So when his little niece, barely old enough to attend lessons, had developed a fascination towards him and would often trail behind him wherever he went, he absolutely basked in the attention that was so freely given. You, who had no obligation to him other than to be cordial at best, gazing up at him with adoration in those innocent eyes made him cherish the moments you spend together.

It was only natural, then, that the two of you could often be found in each other’s presence. Whenever neither of you were having lessons and were left to your own devices, you seemed to always find each other, your tiny hand enveloped in Aemond’s not much bigger one as he pulled you behind him towards whatever destination he had in mind.

“Where we going, Aem?” your sweet voice, not yet able to properly speak his name, would often ask. The library, the dragonpit, the gardens, it didn’t truly matter as long as you were together.

Aem.

The nickname you had bestowed upon him was one of his deepest treasures. To everyone else he was either Aemond, son or brother, and two of these he had to share with other people, but to you, and to you alone, he was Aem. It was something so inherently his, something to share with you and only you. It reminded him of you, of the devotion and admiration you held for him, something no one else seemed to have for him, and he never wanted to let go of it.

But as he would be reminded time and time again he should never hope, nor should he wish for good things for himself, for they could be ripped from him at a moment’s notice.  

The day had started out like any other: after your lessons you had quickly scrambled out of your quarters to find Aemond and spend the day together. He had decided, then, to take you to the training grounds to watch some of the knights train.

“See that one over there?” he pointed to a man, just barely out of adolescence, training with Criston Cole “That is Ser Arryk. Or could he be Erryk? It matters not, either way, both of them are really good. Ser Criston is training them to be the newest members of the Kingsguard.”

“Wow.” you sounded from next to him, mesmerized by the clash of the swords.

“Impressive, hm?” he then pointed to another man who was supervising the training “Ser Criston, over there, he is the best knight in all the realms. I hope to train under him and be as good as he is one day.” 

He was eager to start training with the sword, like his older brother already did. His mother had promised him that he could start his own training after his next nameday, though it was still a few moons away, he was already eagerly waiting for that moment.

“You be amazing knight in future, Aem.” you turned towards him then, that look of pure reverence made warmth spread in his chest, for he felt your words were true.

“Aem?!” a familiar voice cackled behind the two of you, and Aemond could feel the cold dread seeping into his heart like it usually did when his brother decided to torment him.

Aegon marched over in your direction, almost an entire head taller than Aemond, and ruffled his younger brother’s hair with a tad more force than necessary.

“Oh, Aemy, you will be such an amazing knight one day.” he spoke in a poor imitation of your own voice, high pitched and overly sweet and dreamy. Your face was scrunched in anger and poorly contained humiliation, and had the two of you not been under scrutiny Aemond would have found it adorable.

“Aegon, stop it!” he tried defending the two of you but he couldn’t stop his own cheeks from lighting up in embarrassment.

“Aemy, oh, Aem. Perhaps our mothers will marry us off to one another and I can carry your children.” Aegon chuckled before flicking his brother on the forehead “You would surely want that, wouldn’t you, you twat?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a warcry unbefitting of a princess of the realm you delivered a sharp kick to Aegon’s shin, the only part of him you could really reach, before running off with tiny droplets streaming down your cheeks. Aemond tried going after you, holding your wrist, but you swatted his hand away and disappeared around the corner.

“She attacked me!” Aegon complained, voice strained from the intensity of the blow, utterly baffled at how something so small could carry so much strength.

“Oh, please!” Aemond pushed past his brother, annoyed, before stomping away towards his own quarters “It barely scratched. And you deserved it.”

For the next three days you ignored both of them, preferring to spend your days with Heleana. Whenever he asked about you, his mother would claim you didn’t wish for visitors and would rather stay in the company of your aunt. Aemond couldn’t deny that it stung, the only person he felt cared for him deeply, no longer wanting to spend time with him.

So he was overjoyed when, on the fourth day, you approached him as if nothing had ever happened, your expression light and smile bright as you held his hand.

“Where we going, uncle?” and his face fell, joy completely dissipating and giving way to sadness. 

You refused to call him by his previous nickname after that day, opting to refer to him only as ‘uncle’ going forward, and Aemond felt an overwhelming longing for things to go back to the way they were. He couldn’t help the resentment he felt towards Aegon for ruining what you had, for he felt it in his bones that things between the two of you would never truly be the same again.

2. Jason Lannister

You were bored out of your very mind at the moment. You had zoned out completely and could barely hear the incessant droning of Jason Lannister’s voice in the background as you reflected upon your life at the moment.

After that night in the bathtub where you shared your very first kiss with your uncle, you feared things between the two of you would change, and change for the worse. You didn’t want that, cherishing what you had with Aemond, even if it never went anywhere beyond friendship. But you needn’t have worried so much, for both of you seemed adamant in not ever speaking of that night ever again. It did sting a little if you were being honest with yourself, but you preferred that over ruining what you had.

So you were very much looking forward to spending a few hours with him before lunch when you were intercepted by Ser Jason Lannister.

“You look wonderful today, my princess.” the man had smiled down at you.

“Uh, thank you, my lord.” you answered, confused as to what he could possibly want.

“Why don’t you give me the pleasure of going on a stroll with me around the gardens?”

You didn’t know why he wanted to take a stroll with you of all people. And to be fair you didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in his presence. What you did want was to find Aemond and spend your day with him. But something, a strange sense of propriety and duty, held you back and you found yourself agreeing with his proposal.

That’s how you ended in the current situation, arm looped with his as he droned on and on and on about himself and his wealth and his castle and many other topics you couldn’t care less about. 

In your reverie you hadn’t even realized you had reached the training grounds until Aemond, who had just finished his training session with Ser Criston, smiled and waved at you as he was putting a wooden shield away. You were about to wave back when Ser Jason’s voice pulled your attention back to him once more.

“Well, princess, this is where we must part ways, unfortunately.” he gave a small bow of his head before letting go of your arm “The maesters say it is good to keep active, so I will go see if I can find a sparring partner.” 

You barely spared him a courtesy as Aemond was already by your side, ready to whisk you away.

“What was that all about?” he asked when you were already halfway to the library, a sense of unease pulling at his heartstrings once he remembered the way your arm was linked with the older lord.

“I do not know for sure.” you shrugged “I barely paid attention to what he was saying. Something about his riches I believe, we just went on a walk around the Keep.”

He laughed then, though it lacked any mirth, and his smile no longer reached his eyes.

“What is it?”

“You are so naïve, niece.” he explained.

“And why is that?” you questioned, feeling slightly offended.

“He wishes to court you.”

Your disgust at the thought must have been reflected very clearly upon your face, for he let out a full, genuine laugh this time.

“B-But- why?!” you tried collecting your thoughts, flabbergasted by such revelation “He is so…”

“Arrogant? Boring? Plain? All of the above?” Aemond completed for you, jesting at the situation.

“Old!” you whined and he laughed even harder at your expanse “I mean it! He is older than my own father!” you got closer to him to whisper conspiratorially at him “I heard he courted mother when she was looking for a husband, and he was already considered too old for her at the time.”

His laughter echoed around the halls, a few servants stopping to stare at the two of you, dumbfounded at the way you seemed to be able to bring the usually stoic prince out of his shell.

“But why does he wish to court me? Why not some other, older, lady?” you asked, still confused.

“Well, you are not just any lady, mandianna. You are a princess.” he explained, though his words seemed practiced, like they were reflections of not his own thoughts but those of other people “Any lord would jump at the opportunity to wed you. Chances are, in fact, that more suitors will start to flock around you for attention as you grow.”

“Ugh!” your shoulders slumped under the weight of your frustration “I do not wish to marry these lords!” you threw your hands up in exasperation “I just wish to spend my days with you and Helaena! Why can I not just marry you, then?!”

He felt a twinge too tight of happiness at the notion, but chose to ignore it and listen as you continued with your rant.

“If I were to marry one of these lords I would be miserable!”

His face softened in sympathy, remembering the conversation he overheard between his mother and grandsire regarding Aegon and Heleana’s betrothal. He felt pained for his sister, for he knew Aegon would not treat her how she deserved, and now he was seeing the same pattern with you.

“It is our duty, I fear, to find matches that best interest our House.” he spoke softly, but you turned towards him infuriated, and he feared he said the wrong thing.

“But I do not want to marry for duty!” his heart clenched in his chest as he noticed your eyes brimming with tears “I want a husband who loves and cares for me, like father and mother!”

He held back his tongue, knowing that speaking his mind about the kind of love between your parents, or lack thereof, would only upset you further. There was no denying that Ser Laenor cared deeply for Rhaenyra, just not in the way a husband should a wife.

The both of you stayed quiet for a moment, you simmering in your unsettled thoughts and him disappointed he couldn’t comfort you further, for this was something that was out of his hands.

“I would not mind, you know?” he heard you speak softly, turning his head to find you already looking at him.

“What?” 

“Marrying you.” you smiled softly at him “At least with you I would be content. I could see us being happy, even.”

Your words were a soothing balm over his heart, making it clench in his chest. He, too, did find the notion appealing, he could be happy with you, hells, you already made him happy.

“If it matters,” he spoke, trying to hide his true feelings behind a layer of nonchalance “I would not mind marrying you either.”

Your smile brightened then, and you bumped your shoulder with his.

“One can dream, right?” you giggled, before sighing once a servant came to fetch you to clean up before lunch, annoyed that your time with him had been cut short.

But as you walked away an idea formed in his mind, and with a determination he hadn’t felt in a really long time, he set off to find his half-sister.

3. Alicent Hightower

“No.” the Queen’s voice was harsh, and Aemond’s heart filled with dread as he peaked from his hiding place behind a pillar in her solar. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop but his traitorous heart was too anxious to wait.

“Come on, your grace.” Rhaenyra answered, clearly annoyed, a hand placed on her very pregnant stomach and another on her lower back, as if standing here arguing was bringing her physical discomfort “The boy came to me, begging for her hand in marriage, all that was left was for him to fall to his knees. She herself has asked about the possibility of marrying him once. They are the perfect match!”

After your conversation earlier that day, Aemond had set off to find Rhaenyra and ask, no, beg her to allow him to court and eventually marry you. She had laughed in his face, and he tried not to show how her dismissal wounded his pride, until her face softened once she realized he was serious. 

“Please, sister.” he had even stooped so low as to address their familial bond, no matter how sour the word tasted in his mouth “Allow me to marry her. As her husband, she would want for nothing, I would protect her with my very life. And I could even… make her happy.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened then, for the first time realizing how much her little brother truly cared for her daughter. She had known the two of you were close, but the depth of your feelings for one another was only now being revealed to her. So she promised him she would speak with his own mother, and if Alicent agreed, then so would she. Aemond’s heart had plummeted then, knowing it would be a lot harder getting through his mother. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

But hope, it seemed, was not enough.

“No, and my answer is final.” Alicent moved about, trying to get Rhaenyra to leave and go bother someone else.  

“Alicent,” even though she had her back towards him, Aemond could imagine the tick in his mother’s eye at the informal way Rhaenyra was addressing her “All I am asking is that you consider it.”

“Why do you even think they would be a good match for one another?”

“Oh, by the Gods, Alicent! Can you not see how much they care for each other? The amount of time they spend together? They are practically glued at the hip at this point!” Rhaenyra threw her hands up in exasperation, and Aemond could see yourself so perfectly in your mother’s image “I will just ask my father then.” 

“Do not entertain that idea even for a moment!” Alicent’s voice became shrill as she glared at her former friend “What is this even about, hm? Are you so afraid that child” and she pointed at Rhaneyra’s prominent bump “will be born sooner or later bearing a striking resemblance to a certain commander of the City Watch once more that you resort to this… this scheming? To secure your line of succession, is that it?”

Ouch. That was low, even for Alicent’s standards. 

Rhaenyra’s face hardened as she stepped closer to the Queen, and for a moment fear gripped Aemond’s heart that he was about to witness his mom get battered.

“My brother, your own son” she spat out, genuinely angry now “begged me to let him marry my daughter when they are older. He promised me he would be a good husband, and for once in my life I am inclined to believe him.” her face softened then, raising her hands as if to grab Alicent’s but let them drop, thinking better than to try and touch her “Please, your grace. If there is still any care left in your heart for the love we once held for one another, please let me do this for him.” 

Aemond waited with bated breath for his mother to say something, anything. For once in his life he allowed himself to hope; he’d give up everything, even his dream of having a dragon of his own, just so she’d say yes. But the longer she went without saying anything, the deeper the cracks in his heart became.

“I will not be able to change your mind, will I?” Rhaenyra asked, her face contorting in sympathy, and when Alicent shook her head, breaking his heart in a thousand tiny little pieces in the process, she sighed “Then I feel sorry for Aemond. For both of them.”

As Rhaenyra left the Queen’s solar, Aemond took his leave as well, his heart shattered and a weight heavy on his stomach, regretting even going to his half-sister in the first place. It seemed you and he could never be after all.

4. Rhaenyra Targaryen

Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the cold tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast, not caring even for a moment that you were only dressed in a nightgown. The news you had just heard from your father regarding your mother’s decision weighed heavily in your heart, and you had to share them with your uncle immediately. It couldn’t wait until the morrow, because come first light you might be gone.

“Hells, niece, will you ever learn to knock?” Aemond had turned towards you once you barged inside his chambers through the secret door, freezing once he noticed the state you were in. He was in front of you in a second, holding your cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him “What happened?”

Even though his image was blurred by the tears that kept on rolling down your cheeks, barely noticing when he started collecting them with his thumbs, you could perfectly see the concern etched upon his features, and that was all it took for you to release the sobs you had been holding back, falling into his arms and hiccuping against his shoulder.

“Mandianna, what happened?!” he asked, holding your trembling figure in his arms and awkwardly trying to console you, running a gentle hand up and down your back. He had never seen you in such a state before, and he did not truly know how to help, much less without knowing the cause of your distress.

Once you had calmed down enough, your wails reduced to soft sniffles, you pulled back from him, running the back of your hand through your face to try and look more presentable.

“Mother has decided to move us to Dragonstone.”

Aemond’s breath hitched then.

“What?” he whispered, taking a step back from you.

“Father just told me. We are to leave King’s Landing come first light in the morrow.”

He felt his whole world crumbling before his very eyes then. He believed his heart could no longer face more damage, for it had already been broken when he overheard his mother and Rhaenyra’s conversation a sennight before, but he felt it shatter all over again at your words.

“C-Can you not stay behind?” With me?, he wanted to ask as his own eyes started filling with tears.

“I asked, but father says we are all to go. Me, Jace, Luke and baby Joffrey.”

His heart was beating widely in his chest, twisting painfully at the prospect of having to face everyday at court without you to keep him company, to keep him sane.

“We can write, of course, but-” you started, voice still trembling.

“It will not be the same.” he completed for you. 

It was true, wasn’t it? Things were about to change. On one hand he wouldn’t have to face the teasing from Jace and Luke, just Aegon, the main instigator. But on the other hand he would lose you, which was so much worse.

But then he noticed how your lower lip had started quivering again and realized he had put quite a lot of distance between the two of you. Not wanting you to jump to the wrong conclusions he crossed the space he had created and cupped your cheeks, looking sternly into your eyes.

“It does not change anything.” 

“Aemond-” you looked at him with sympathy and disbelief but he wasn’t having it.

“No. It does not change anything between us.” he spoke, determined “I will write to you every single day, and I expect a response every time. It will be like you never left. You can fly on dragonback and come visit. And when I get my dragon, I will visit you in return.”

Your smile, although tentative and still wobbly, returned to your face and he felt relief wash through him.

“You said so yourself, the lines promised me I will have a dragon.” he rejoiced at hearing you giggle “I have to make good use of them when time comes.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Something in your eye, glimmering with a blazing hope, compelled Aemond to lean forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took everything in.

“We will still be the same.” he felt you move, nodding against his head, never once moving away “We will still be us.” 

And even though, or perhaps exactly because neither of you could prevent the events that would unfold in the following weeks, both of you believed it with every ounce of your souls.

5. Aemond Targaryen 

“Aemond.” you knocked once more, your knuckles red and starting to ache from their incessant contact with the hard wood “Qȳbor, please open the door.”

He hadn’t left his temporary chambers in days, and no one would let you see him. After the whole ordeal with Vhagar and the fight between your two mothers in the grand hall at Driftmark after the loss of his eye, Aemond was whisked away to the quarters he was stationed at during his stay so the maesters could work properly on his wound and for him to sleep off the copious amounts of milk of the poppy he had been given.

Having talked to your brothers and cousins and understood what had gone down, you started feeling a tad guilty for the way you reacted to it. Yes, you were still hurt over what he had said about your brothers and, by extension, you. But at the same time you had let him go when he was the most vulnerable, he had just lost an eye for the Gods’ sake. And yet, even though you were hurting, so was he, he needed you and yet you let go and ran from him.

So you had decided you needed to talk. Perhaps, if you apologized for Luke’s actions and your own behavior, he’d offer an apology of his own, for calling your brothers bastards and for not extending Rhaena the courtesy of trying to claim her late mother’s dragon before him. Then, having cleared the air, you could move past this and go back to the way things were, with exchanged letters and promises of visiting one another. 

But your attempts seemed futile. There was always a guard stationed in front of his door, denying you entrance every single time you asked. Even though they were stern, hardened by their training, you tried using your authority as princess to order them to let you through, but to no such luck.

“Apologies, princess.” they would say, a smidge of sympathy and annoyance in their tone “The prince is to receive no visitors. Orders from her grace, the Queen.”

Panic was starting to grip at your heart, for your time was running out. Eventually, as soon as Aemond was recovered enough to travel, King Viserys and his family would leave Driftmark and return to King’s Landing. By then it would be too late. If you didn’t speak to him now, you would lose Aemond forever. That is, if you hadn’t already lost him for good. You had to speak to him, and it had to be soon, otherwise he’d leave and you would lose the one person you cared most in the world, who understood you like no one else, and would be left to drown in your own loneliness.

So you started scheming. You waited around the corridor of his chambers, waiting for rotation of the guard so you could catch his door unattended. You almost managed once, but Queen Alicent opened the door to exit the room, stopping dead in her tracks once she came face to face with you, about to knock.

“Your grace!” you were quick to recompose yourself “I came to visit the prince. I wish to see if he is faring well.”

You winced, instantly regretting your choice of words once her face hardened. Of course he wasn’t faring well, he just lost his bloody eye! 

“Aemond is not receiving any visitors.” her voice was harsh, and dread overcame you as she started to walk away.

“Wait!” she stopped but didn’t turn around to face you as you pleaded “I just- I just want to see him.”

When she did turn her features were laced with a combination of disdain and pity. It stirred something so deep inside you you almost recoiled and ran, but you decided to endure.

“He doesn’t wish to see anyone, princess.” she spoke, her tone stern yet motherly. But the implications of her words were not lost on you.

He doesn’t wish to see you.

It hurt, tears brimming in your eyes as you turned around and headed for your chambers.  

Did he truly not wish to see you? Or did he just wish for solitude, away from everyone? Could your friendship still be mended after both of you had been hurt like this? 

It didn’t matter, afterall, for you were determined to try until the very end.

That’s how you found yourself in front of his door, finally alone with him, having waited patiently for the guard’s rotation and making sure his mother wasn’t around. It was his final night in Driftmark before he was set to return to the capitol, and so this was your last, final chance to talk to him before that. 

There was a light flickering inside his chambers, visible from under the door, so you knew he likely wasn’t asleep, and when you had knocked for the first time, you heard a thud coming from inside, like he had bumped into some furniture, so you believed he had listened to you. But no matter how many times you knocked, he wouldn’t open it, nor give any indication that he was listening. 

“Aemond, please.” you tried again “Please, let us talk.”

The longer you went without an answer, the tighter the knot that was forming in your throat became. Growing desperate, you laid your forehead on the cold, damp wood.

“Please.” you breathed out, not even sure he could hear you now “Talk to me, Aemond. Please.”

For a moment, a short, passing moment, you heard a flutter of movement from inside the room. Your breath hitched, a tiny flicker of unadulterated hope burning in your chest that he had heard you and was coming to talk. But it was quickly snuffed out when you heard nothing else follow.

A deep ache took over your chest, like something had dug its claws in your heart and squeezed. The inevitability of it all, the looming sense of grief over something so close yet impossibly far, out of your grasp completely, clouded your mind and had your ears ringing.

“I am sorry.” you said, taking a step back and turning around to leave “For everything.”

As you walked away you couldn’t help but feel like a part of you was missing. For you had just lost him for good. Perhaps forever.

+1

As you brushed off your skirts, having been sat on the grass by the weirwood tree, you set off to find your mother, determination written across your features.

You nearly ran into Luke as you walked briskly, sending a thankful look to Rhaena as she helped you steady him.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Jace asked as he came up behind your brother at the same time you bypassed him and Baela and continued on your way. 

“To secure myself a husband!” you shouted over your shoulder, not even turning back around to address them. Now all that was left was to find your mother.

And search for her you did. It was imperative that you found her quickly, for you wanted to make sure you did this tonight. It had to be tonight. No one knew how much longer the King would live, and the moment he drew his final breath, a war would break out within your family. A war that would ravage all of the Seven Kingdoms. So you had to make sure that didn’t happen while your grandire was still alive and lucid enough to give you his full support.

But Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found. The Keep was huge and there was a probability that you were both on the move and simply never crossing paths. You even stumbled upon Helaena during your search as she tended to her youngest son, Maelor.

“Have you seen my mother, aunt?” you asked after a brief and sweet exchange, though you did not hug her like you would Baela and Rhaena, for you knew she did not like to be touched.

“I have not, niece.” she bounced baby Maelor in her arms as he cooed up at her “Why are you in such a haste to find her, if I might ask?”

“I have something of utmost importance to discuss with her.” you smirked as you added next, and by the glimmer in her eyes she understood the hidden meaning of your words “I believe I have found myself a suitable husband and must ask her to arrange our betrothal as soon as possible.”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly then “So we might be celebrating tonight.”

To your surprise and confusion, her smile faltered just a bit, her eyes becoming unfocused, before she smiled brightly again.

“With a union forged in fire and blood, the dragon’s nest is put to rest.”

You dared not question her, for Helaena often spoke in riddles, even in your youth. Biding her farewell you went back to your task. You didn’t have to search long though, for you quite literally bumped into your mother and Daemon right as you were turning down the corridor from Helaena’s chambers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed as you helped Daemon steady a once again very pregnant Rhaenyra “There you are!”

“You were looking for me, darling?” she asked.

“Yes.” you cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders “I wish for a husband.”

That seemed to take both of them by surprise, their eyes widening.

“O-Oh!” she smiled then, still confused where this was coming from “And did you have someone in mind?”

“I wish to take Aemond as my husband.” 

“Darling.” her face softened in pity as Daemon scoffed “You know the Queen would never allow this union.”

“That’s not all, mother. I think I may have found a way neither she nor the Hand could refuse.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a curious glance with one another.

“Let us hear it then.” your step-father encouraged.

“I want Aemond as my husband.” you took a steadying breath, knowing you’d have to argue the next part “And I want him to be King.”

“Absolutely not!” was Daemon’s reaction, while your mother just looked… betrayed. And it broke your heart. You knew what she was thinking, she had just reaffirmed you as her heir, had to fight for it, and you now want to pass that off to someone else entirely?

“Please allow me to explain.”

“Why would you suggest such a thing?! To that cunt, of all people!” Daemon kept on raging, but his words were abruptly cut short as Rhaenyra raised her hand.

“Let her speak.” her tone was firm, and you knew you had to choose your next words carefully to plead your case.

“Word has come to me of a… plot against you as King Viserys’ heir.” her face twitched in anger for just a moment “The Queen and the Hand will try to instate Aegon as King once grandsire passes.”

“What is new?” Daemon laughed, incredulous.

“And the noble houses would back his claim.” you explained “Many will not recognize you as the legitimate heir-”

“But-” your mother tried cutting you off but you continued over her.

“-regardless of the oath they swore years ago. Simply because Aegon has a cock and you do not.” you hated how crass you sounded, but you had to get the point across “And then a bloody civil war would break out, for you would not let this go unpunished, am I wrong?” 

Rhaenyra pondered for a moment before nodding, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“A war between us, dragonlords, would absolutely decimate not only our House but also the realm. But a marriage alliance between me, your heir and future Queen, and my uncle might just make them give up on this quest.”

“Otto would never settle for his blood being just consort.” Daemon argued.

“That is why he would not be consort.” you smirked, the catch you were waiting to reveal slipping from your lips.

“You shouldn’t give up your claim and be consort either!” your mother exclaimed.

“I would not do such a thing. I would be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Both of them looked baffled.

“Now you have lost me.” she said.

“When the time comes, both me and Aemond would be crowned Queen and King, and we would rule together as equals. No consorts.”

Rhaenyra took a step back from surprise, and Daemon looked like he was told the realm’s funniest joke.

“You cannot be serious, tala!” he chuckled, but there was an undertone of disbelief to it.

“It could work.” your mother spoke to herself.

“Rhaenyra, you cannot be entertaining this ridiculous idea!” Daemon turned towards her then, wringing his hands as if to stop himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her “It is not tradition!”

“Fuck tradition!” you exclaimed a lot more harshly than you intended, and probably a lot harsher than it was appropriate. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough. 

“You being heir over Aegon already breaks tradition as it is. Like I said, many will not see you as legitimate. But even if they do, and you are able to rule, the same thing would happen to me and Jace. But will you make all the great houses swear another oath to you?” Rhaneyra understood where you were going with this “Having a husband to back me up as heir, to rule alongside me, would give me strength in my own claim. If you are already breaking traditions, what is one more, eh?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.” Daemon spoke lowly, and you noticed he was staring at someone “The walls have ears in this Keep.”

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar figure, and in a moment of panic, grabbed your mother’s hand and pulled her towards the temporary chambers you were housed in. You did not want Aemond to overhear what you had to say, fearful that should anyone hear about this ahead of time it would all crumble to shambles. As Daemon joined you two, shortly after, you continued. 

“Please, please mother! Think about it. It might be the only way.”

Rhaenyra was silent. While Daemon looked vexed, but made no further complaints, she looked deep in thought. You knew she knew you were right. She just had to see it for herself.

“It would be easier to convince them if we had the King’s approval. That is why we need to do this tonight, at supper.”

Daemon bristled but didn’t say anything. Your mother on the other hand agreed, even if she believed this was all very rushed.

“Would you be happy though?” she then asked, and it was your turn to be surprised “Marrying Aemond? After everything that has happened?”

You looked between her and Daemon, and for once in your life you were certain of what you wanted.

“Aemond has always been kind to me. Or most of the time, at least.” you shrugged “I believe, with due time, we could put our differences aside and rebuild what we once had. Perhaps even learn to love each other.”

Again, you meant. Learn to love each other again. At least in your case.

“Then it is settled.” she looked determined “We will pitch this proposition tonight.”

A wave of relief washed over you. This could work, genuinely actually work. Perhaps it didn’t have to end in bloodshed like you believed it would. Maybe your family could be whole again. And all of that at the cost of marrying the one you had longed for deeply in your heart once.

“He asked for your hand once, you know.” Rhaenyra broke you out of your trance, a soft smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing on a fond memory. Daemon had left at some point, leaving you both alone to share this conversation, too deep and personal for anyone else to hear, in private “Right before we left for Dragonstone.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the revelation. He had wished to marry you as well?

“He said he could make you happy. And I believed him.” she then looked at you, cupping your cheek as pride took over her smile “I believe it still.”

You grasped at her wrist, feeling warm at the love you could feel it emanating from her.

“If you believe you could be happy as well,” she continued “then you have my blessing. That is all I want.”

You nodded, blinking back tears.

“I do. I will be very happy.” 

She nodded then, pulling you into her arms. In the safety of your mother’s embrace, you finally let yourself relax. Your fate was yours to shape how you saw fit, and you intended to make the most of it.

And you would.

High Valyrian translations: - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - tala - daughter (meant here affectionately, not by blood, as there are no terms for step-relative in High Valyrian)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Home ▪ Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to makes something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go. 

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now. 

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places. 

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table. 

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor. 

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?” 

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.” 

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book. 

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?” 

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him? 

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?” 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.” 

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go. 

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you. 

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.” 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.” 

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?” 

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?” 

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head. 

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice. 

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?” 

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said. 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist. 

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls. 

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.” 

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next -  put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath. 

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked. 

“If you want,” you laughed. 

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home. 

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Masterlist

[melliemell]

Pairing: Sigma x reader

Contents: NSFW, sex pollen, hand-job, blow-job, sigma's exemplary panic-managment (he's trying his best okay, he is), Sigma gets affected by a sex pollen and thinks he's perfectly capable of handling it by not handling it, Approx. 3.4k words

Sweat.

Sigma could feel it dripping down his back, his clothes becoming more and more uncomfortable. He stood stock-still, gaze glued to the file you gave him. He could barely read it, the words blending in with every stubborn blink to finally make sense of it. Some time had passed, but he could still hear you speaking, diligent as ever, as you reported on your most recent task.

Sigma was glad for your focus because he doubted he could keep up this front for long. Not when his recovery time was a mere 7.32 minutes. He timed it. He had to.

And then it would start again. 

It didn’t matter what he thought of or how many times he had to swallow down his own mortification– one hand would cover his mouth, the other working fast at unzipping his trousers before he was thrusting viciously in his palm, breaths ragged as muffled against his hold. He barely had time to think anything through, the need setting in sudden and merciless each time. He’s never had a high sexual drive to begin with, so wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking until he all but blanked out from the sensation– that was beginning to take its toll. The fact that he was still at work, glued to his desk, made it all the worse. And to top it all–

Nothing helped.

Which, well… Well. Sigma should have figured as much.

It’s not like he didn’t know how aphrodisiacs worked. 

He had hoped it was something else at first. He really should have focused on his morning paperwork instead of answering your call for assistance on a… problematic guest gathering. The drunkenness and rowdy screams had caused enough noise complaints to rouse the entire floor of the royal suites’ accommodations. Only, it wasn’t just alcohol.

A substance, dark as ink and staining just as easily– Sigma had made the mistake of inspecting one of the many bottles discarded at the scene, only for it to leave blotches on his fingertips, a headache not an hour later and one of the worst instances of arousal he had ever experienced in his life.

Waiting for your report was the only saving thought he could hold onto. And now to hear it, hear you– Sigma could only blink angrily at the sheets before him, mind blank save for the ticking clock by his desk and the need for you to go away go away go away.

Worst of all– you were with him then. Saw and wrote down everything he drew your attention to. Clenching his hand now would hide the marks there, yes, but it would only serve to quell his shame if just a bit. 

There was no point in it when you knew what was there. Your sympathetic gaze made it worse, even if you tried to maintain professionalism as you discussed the finer details of the substance and how the other guests were fairing after their exposure. 

“So far we’re certain the beverages were brought in from our own supply. Mostly wine, but there were quite a few hard liquors. Still no clarity on how the bottles we found were smuggled in, but the good news is that most of the effects are fading the majority of the guests who used it,” you said matter of fact, eyes reading off the tablet in your hands. 

You seemed calm. At least Sigma knew the situation was being handled by capable hands. 

He took a steady breath, jaw clenching as he forced an even voice. “Speak with Background Security about guest identification first. I’ll grant you access to their files and the Safety Feature protocol.” Identifying who the culprits were would be no issue for the Sky Casino. It was more a matter of time than success.

You nodded, handing forward your tablet for the access signature. “I’ll be done by 3 pm. Our suspects are narrowed down to seven individuals. I’ll pull them–”

“No,” Sigma said. His headache was back, making his hand tremble as he drew his pen over the screen. “Pull all of them through.”

You hesitated. “Sir, there were over 40 people on the list. Not counting the associates.” 

“Yes.”

“This will take a lot of time.”

Sigma looked up at you. “I am aware of that. Do it.”

It was an uncomfortable sight; having a coworker narrow their eyes at him, uncertainty written all over their features. This was proving to be far more troublesome than he liked. The Casino relied on him, he could not let his workers’ trust dwindle like this. 

“Sir,” and there was an edge to your voice. A warning, as you pierced his very being with your prodding observation.

Sigma stood up, leaning against his desk for support, just in case. He forced all the confidence he did not feel to seep into his posture. “It’s alright. I’ll wait for your findings.”

You sighed. “You don’t seem alright.”

“There’s nothing to fret over,” Sigma said, mustering a smile. It felt odd on his face.

Sigma’s worry began to rise again the longer you stood there watching him. 

Lower, the sensation of… something blooming anew was slowly ebbing away at his concentration. The thought of you seeing him like this was simply– mortifying. He could feel his trousers beginning to strain again, his cock filling with blood for god knows which time. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort.

Sigma kept a neutral face, not moving a muscle.

“Frankly, you look like shit, and I worry. You have three more meetings before the evening. You can’t attend in this state,” you said.

Sigma pursed his lips. “I will be available in time.” He didn’t dare think of the alternative.

You blinked, not fazed at all. “I could call for an adult escort to be brought.”

Sigma’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not,” he said, the words coming out rushed and completely unprepared for that proposition.

“We can be discreet about it. Say she’s a regular guest and remove all records afterwards.” You cocked your head, considering. “Oh, I apologize. Or he. Whichever you prefer, of course.”

Sigma sat slowly on his chair, hand grasped firmly over his mouth as he could only look at you, not fully grasping that you out of everyone would suggest– suggest such a–

He took in a steadying breath. “No?”

“The effects of the aphrodisiac reduce after sex. At least according to the guests we interviewed so far. It was a scent thing, so long as someone’s near. It will be quicker this way… and less uncomfortable,” you said, resting your tablet on the desk. Sigma pulled back, feeling his back hit the chair as you leaned closer. “You look as if you’ve not slept in days and you’re constantly sweating. Sir. I– it’s just an idea, but please consider it. I know how much you care for your work and I don’t want you to worry even more. It might help.”

This… this was a complete mess. Sigma’s body sagged, and he dropped his face in his hands as his elbows rested atop the desk. The idea was absurd. He’d never even think of it, let alone agree. His hope stayed with figuring out more about the substance and who brought it. 

Even if he had to wait for your findings. He will manage. 

He will.

And maybe you’d find access to some type of sedative? Anything to counter it. 

But… he didn’t have the time. 

Sigma looked up at you through splayed fingers, dejection in his eyes. 

“Hey there,” you said.

“Hello.” I hate this.

“It will be alright,” you said, gaze knowing. But then you softened, eyes kind as you said,  “I have great respect for you, sir, and whichever decision you make– it will not change that.”

Sigma felt warm, the heat spreading fast. It was the aphrodisiac's work, he was certain of it. But just for a moment, he wanted to pretend… pretend it was your kindness that reached out and cupped his frail heart. Had his breath hitch. Gave him enough strength to keep on. The Casino was all Sigma had, and he wanted to do the best he could for it. For all of you.

“Well,” you said, drumming a finger on the desk’s surface. 

Sigma followed the movement with his eyes, mind going blank. Your hand was slender, fingers long and moving with an air of elegance the longer he looked. He liked them.

You were waiting for an answer. He couldn’t keep you here longer. Sigma closed his eyes, eyelids heavy with the weight of his failures. “Don’t call anyone. Please.” The thought of having a… a stranger touch him like that. Having to be this close and vulnerable–against his will if he’s honest–no. Such acts were reserved for lovers; someone who cared. He couldn’t use somebody like that, only to discard them later like it all meant nothing. It would feel even worse knowing they’d do the same to him. “I don’t want that.” 

“I understand,” you said, bowing in respect. “Although–”

Sigma wanted to shrivel up and die. “What is it?”

“Why not?”

“You’re asking me why I don’t want to bring a prostitute to our establishment?”

“Yes,” you said, calm as ever. It was driving Sigma mad by the second.

“Please go deal with Background Security,” Sigma said flatly.

“Oh, I apologize,” you said. Still hovering.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Sigma really needed you to leave. Now. Right now. The strain on his trousers was nearing painful, and the dampness from his already smeared precum made every move shoot jolts of sensation down his spine. He could feel his cheeks burning. What a sight he was making; all the more reasons to spare further embarrassment. 

For the both of you. 

Something must have slipped because instead of heading for the door, you took a step closer. “Damn it, I feel bad,” you began. “Just– you look really bad. Puffy.”

Sigma pursed his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome? Sorry. I mean– I wanted to ask, although I’m no expert or with much skill, to be frank, I wouldn’t mind helping. You have a meeting in about an hour, you might make it if it works.”

Sigma just stared. 

It’s not that he didn’t hear your words, it’s just that you did not just say that. Not only was this unprofessional, it was downright unacceptable for this to even cross your mind. He would never take advantage of an employee like that left a bitter taste in his mouth. And yet…

And yet.

Sigma remained still, forcing his every muscle to move, to say something. He could only look on at you, dumbfounded. Maybe it was the shock that–

No. No. 

“I can’t possibly do that to you, it is unacceptable.”

“Oh, not sex, don’t worry,” you corrected. “I could use my hands and it would probably work as well. So technically I’ll be “doing’’, not you. I don’t mind. If you’re comfortable with that?”

…Right. 

Sigma buried his head in his hands. 

He didn’t feel comfortable with anything. Let alone that. He knew you were waiting for an answer, standing patiently before him. Probably looking at him even now. God, how pathetic he must look. He has nothing impressive about him; not much to look at, really. Yet he was the man you should look up to as your employer. The one you could rely on in times of crisis. 

Not the other way around. 

Sigma curled up even further in himself. “I’m so sorry.”

A man like him should never have been put in such a high position. He knew sooner or later you’d all realize. He was not cut out for this, any of it.

A caress, gentle yet firm. Sigma froze, feeling your hand rest on his shoulder. Your thumb moved, the gesture almost calming.

“Sigma-san?” Your voice was close. Had you moved? Sigma wasn’t sure. He didn’t dare raise his head.

“Sigma-san.” 

Firmer this time. The hand trailed to his back, and then another joined, the feeling of being engulfed spreading as you all but draped yourself over his back, your embrace pulling him closer to you as you rested a cheek on the top of his head. 

“What are you doing?” Sigma asked, voice trembling. 

“You looked like you needed it,” you said, squeezing him even closer. “I’m sorry too.”

“What for?”

“If I had dealt with those guests alone you would’ve been okay. I’m sorry it happened like that. But to be honest, I was panicking. Your presence helped a lot,” you said.

“Oh,” was all Sigma could say. 

You stayed like that for some time, your breathing the only sound in the wide open space of Sigma’s office. He tried to relax as best as he could, but the conversation you two had, combined with having a full body pressed so close to his now… You felt his shivers begin to appear, a chill running through his entire body as he desperately fought against it. 

Too close. 

You were too close and Sigma could barely keep it straight. Your skin was cold, pleasant against his and all the more tempting. 

He could just bury his face against your neck, try and collect himself. But he was scared that if he moved, your hand would stop caressing his hair, playing absently with his locks as you rested against him. He wasn’t going to survive this, Sigma knew that. He groaned in exasperation.

You hummed atop his head. “Tell me what to do.”

It wasn’t a request, but not an order either. Just words floating between you as he pieced their meaning together. Somehow, it clicked quicker this time. “This is more than enough. You don’t have–”

“Might as well cross the bridge since we’re at it,” you said, pulling away.

Sigma closed his eyes, dragging in a calming breath. The more he thought of where this was going, the more his confidence dwindled. He hated to admit it, but leaving you lead was the only calming grace he could think of. With heavy eyelids Sigma looked up at you as he uncurled from himself as best he could. “Okay,” he said, short and simple. Easy.

If only it felt like that.

The first wave of shock came when you pulled him up, positioning yourself beside him as Sigma leaned on the desk, eyes blinking and cheeks getting redder and redder. Heat pooled beneath his naval as you tugged his trousers down, concentration written all over your features. The moment Sigma’s cock came free, a cold shiver ran up his back. Keeping as quiet as he could, he waited for your hesitant touch. 

Your hands felt cold against him, but any thought of discomfort flew out the window as the first stroke of your long fingers against his shaft had Sigma clinging to his desk for dear life.

Sigma released a shaking breath, his brows furrowed as you moved your hand, drawing forth his pleasure with every stroke. His tip began leaking again, precum trailing down his shaft. Your fingers reached up, spreading it over his tip even more, drawing a low moan from Sigma’s lips in the process. 

“Oh, this is good?” you asked, using his wetness to draw forth more stimulation. 

“Yes,” Sigma panted, his face blazing bright red. Looking at you now would be the end for him.

He’s masturbated before, of course, but nothing born out of desperation quite as this. Your body felt warm against his, anchoring him in case he lost even more of his balance. Sigma rocked his hips, breath ragged, seeking more of your attention. This was humiliating, yet his body acted on its own, melting underneath you. 

Sigma buried his face against your neck, stifling another moan just in time as you sweezed harder. He didn’t know how much experience you had, but you were taking your time with him, observing and testing out with your movements.

Soon Sigma felt like a mess, and he probably looked like one too. You had nudged his legs wider at some point, nestling in between them as you pushed him back on the desk, his bare ass planted atop the files meant for reading.

And not this. 

The world was spinning, his cock harder than he’d ever been and leaking enough to coat your firm grasp in its sheen. The sound of it too, slick and lewd with your strokes made his insides twist, his Addam’s apple bobbing every time he swallowed back a moan.

Sigma’s eyelids felt heavy so he kept his eyes closed. Having you so close to him was beyond him now. He could feel your hand stroking his cheek, pushing strands of hair over his shoulder or playing with his earlobe, tugging gently.

It was overwhelming– all those sensations coming from everywhere and all at once. He wondered if you’d kiss him. You haven’t yet. The longer this stretched the more his mind wandered– to your warm breath against his cheek, lips parting as you explored his tongue with yours. He wanted…

“Hey,” you said, smiling at him.

“Hey,” he could only answer, seeking more of your touch. The muscles in his lower belly quivered, Sigma’s breath hitching as the pressure was building more and more.

“You’re okay, right? It’s good?” you asked–

–and Sigma had to open his eyes then, show you what you’re doing to him when he was certain his words would fail him.

But he wasn’t met with your gaze. No, you were looking down, almost transfixed by the way his skin moved as you dragged it up and down his shaft. You had used some of your saliva earlier to ease the movement, sending Sigma in an even bigger spiral. The sight was engraved in his mind for all eternity.

“That’s a stupid question,” he breathed, swallowing hard.

A thoughtful, “hmm…”  was all you gave him, and you tilted your head, an idea springing to mind.  “Actually–”

Words cut by the sudden shrill of the desk phone ringing, freezing you both in place as the melody engulfed you.

Fuck. “Oh, no.” 

You peeked over Sigma’s shoulder. “Told you there’s no time. Meeting’s manager?”

“Yes,” Sigma said, sight growing foggy again as your thumb moved over his leaking slit, forcing a shiver out of him. “No, wait– I…”

“Don’t send to voicemail, but don’t pick up either. Just– give me a moment.”

This was the second shock Sigma experienced. Barely having time to react, to blink away the confusion of your words before you knelt down, lowering your head and–

A low guttural moan escaped Sigma’s lips, head thrown back as you took his length into your mouth. The phone was still ringing, distant to Sigma’s ears.. The only thing in focus was your tongue licking down the length of his dick before drawing back to swirl around his tip. 

Again and again and again.

You bobbed your head, the movement fast and precise. Sigma’s abdomen began to twitch and he had to grab onto his mouth to stifle the string of moans that threatened to slip any second. He didn’t expect you to do this, you weren’t supposed to– 

Your hand grabbed onto his thigh for support, your nails digging into his flesh. Sigma hissed, feeling his eyes water, and he knew he was near. He could  feel it rising and rising faster than he could articulate. 

“Wa–” 

Not even paying attention to him, you tongued his slit before letting Sigma’s cock bottom out in your throat, your little hums of encouragement pushing, until– 

Sigma tipped over the edge in seconds, barely having time to warn you as his load shot down your throat. He was a mess, trembling all over and he could only look down at you in shock, blinking his long lashes stupidly as you brushed the saliva trailing down your chin. The sight of it still– you between his legs, his cock still in your hand as it slowly became flaccid. Even seeing it, comprehending what happened, was another story in itself.

“Come on,” you said, pulling his underwear up. “Guess we made it in time.”

It took a second before Sigma realized, before he heard the phone still ringing.  

He groaned, running a hand through his face. “That’s why?”

“We still have work to do,” you said, and you slowly stretched up. 

“Yeah.” And a small little tug formed in Sigma’s chest. One that wanted a bit more time. Just…

His hand reached, picking up the phone. “Hello? Yes, I’ll be…”

You looked at him then, shaking your head in amusement. It was a comfort, in a way; knowing you’re still on good terms as you poked him in the cheek before patiently sitting on his chair to wait out his call.

After all, you had quite a bit to discuss after this.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

hurt/comfort with mullet!Stan

You’re leaning into him, practically melting in the warmth of his arms, but the weight on your heart isn’t lifting. Stan shifts beside you, so undeniably present, like he’s willing to be your anchor, even if he doesn’t know how to say it. The old couch creaks under you both, the whole shack silent except for the soft crackling of the cigarette you share between fingers, trading embers and breaths.

Stan’s brow furrows as he takes a slow drag, glancing over at you. You know his eyes are watching, obviously he’s studying you.

Finally, he shifts and says bluntly, “you’re wound up tighter than a cheap watch, ya know? somethin’ gnawin’ at you, huh?”

You exhale, watching the thin line of smoke spiral up. “Yeah. . . you could say that.” the ache in your chest tightens. Everything you’re carrying feels so complicated, like tangled threads you can’t even begin to sort through.

Stan just watches you, thinking, then he takes another drag and hands the cigarette back to you, nodding toward it. “Ain’t gonna solve a damn thing if you’re just gonna sit there and look miserable, sweetheart. Might as well get it off your chest.”

You manage a small laugh, bitterness slipping into the sound. “It’s. . . it’s just a lot, Stan. I don’t know where to start.”

Stan pulls you closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “Look, I ain’t no therapist, but sittin’ here mopin’ like a lost puppy ain’t gonna do jack. Spill it. Even if I’m a crap listener, you’re gettin’ it out, yeah?”

You look at him, into his dark brown eyes and find nothing, but pure worry here, even if his rough voice doesn’t match his care, somehow that’s still exactly what you need. A presence, even if he’s not exactly gentle about it. It’s the only kind of reassurance he knows how to give.

“I just. . . keep feeling like nothing I do is ever enough. No matter how hard I try, everything just feels like it’s slipping out of my control,” you confess, voice a little shaky.

Stan’s thumb brushes along your shoulder as he pulls you in tighter. His voice, when he speaks, is softer but laced with his usual rough honesty. “Well, first off, quit thinkin’ you gotta have it all together. Life ain’t a freakin’ checklist. You’re allowed to screw up, you’re allowed to be a mess. Hell, look at me, if I can keep goin’ after all the crap I’ve pulled, you’re more than allowed to trip over your own feet once in a while.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and it feels like a promise. He may not have all the answers, but he’s here and that matters.

Your voice is small when you say, “but I don’t wanna screw up, I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

Stan grunts, his tone turning a little sharper. “Listen, you’re human. People who care about you ain’t gonna ditch ya just ‘cause you’re strugglin’. And if they do, fuck ‘em. They’re the ones missin’ out on the best damn person I know. Hell, you’re more than enough just as you are.”

A warmth blossoms in your chest, breaking through the ache, his words unexpectedly softening the edges of your pain. You look at him, really look, and see the sincerity buried beneath that gruff exterior.

His hand comes up to brush along your cheek, thumb grazing your skin. “You got a good heart, sweetheart. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell ya otherwise. If you keep beatin’ yourself up for not bein’ perfect, you’re just gonna make yourself miserable.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the two of you and the soft glow of his affection wraps around you like a blanket. You lean in, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady heartbeat against you. Stanley sighs, letting his hand drift down your back in slow, comforting strokes.

You’re quiet, breathing him in, the warmth of his skin, the smoky scent of his clothes. And then, in a low murmur, he adds, “You think life’s about havin’ it all figured out? Pfft. Life’s about fallin’ on your ass, pickin’ yourself up, and keepin’ goin’ ‘cause that’s what makes you strong. The way I see it? You’ve already got that part down.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the sound a bit wet with unshed tears. “You make it sound so. . . simple.”

Stan chuckles. “Ain’t sayin’ it’s easy, kid. Just sayin’ you’re tougher than you think. And if ya ever forget that, I’ll be right here to remind ya.”

Stanley leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, his hand cradling the back of your head. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment, his roughness somehow grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re somethin’ special, don’t let anyone, including yourself, make ya think otherwise.”

and then Stan grins, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. “And if anyone’s got a problem with that, they can answer to me.”

[iheartyoimiya]

A VERY BAD REP, AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN ★

( 420! reader x playboy! heeseung )

IN WHICH : at an exclusive private school in the city, where rich kids thought they ruled the place, heeseung finds out the girl who cheated off of him on an exam and could probably get him expelled, has an even worse reputation than him, and she doesn’t seem to care about what he thinks or says.

WARNINGS: drugs, sexual content. +18.

BTW: tried my best to represent my king fanon suna rintaro in y/n. i haven’t smoked in so long….. it’s been 30 years (2 weeks)….. i’m starting to forget the feeling (girl got sober) ….. ok so basically i dramatized everything cause it’s a fanfic okay, don’t think i take all the stuff i wrote pls and ew i wil never ever write smth like this again, i’m a fluff writer TT

WC: i aint counting allat

read more !

they say opposites attract, even in love, and for him, it’s always been true. he’s into quiet, delicate girls, the type who never speak up and just go with the flow. but no matter how sweet they are, heeseung drops them without a second thought, like they’re nothing more than a momentary distraction after getting what he wants from them. so how did he end up in a situation where it was him doing the chasing? he never really thought he'd have to, ever.

it was almost funny, laughable even. he, of all people, accused of copying on an exam? and now facing the possibility of being expelled if he didn’t find a way to make it right? it was the kind of mess he never imagined getting into.

yes, he was a player and toyed with girls’ feelings for his own benefit, but that was it, he would never dare to stain his behavior record and affect his reputation with the school. he knew his family would kill him if he did, they were the type to always put on a face for others and everyone thought they were this perfect little rich family of three, that went on the most expensive trips and could buy anyone and anything.

he could still remember the teacher’s harsh words blaming him for this. ‘miss y/n has an impeccable record of approved grades in my subject, while you, mister heeseung, barely scrape by. and in this exam, it’s your first grade above a 90. you both share the same exact answers, the same solutions. that leaves me to think you copied off her. i suggest you stop denying it and accept the punishment of suspension. if not, i’ll have no choice but to speak to the principal about expelling you from this school. and your father won’t be able to save you from this one again with donations.’

heeseung slammed his locker shut with a fury, the sound echoing down the empty hallway as the final bell rang. his mind raced, thoughts spiraling. what was he going to tell his family if he actually got expelled? his family reputation couldn’t fix this. the idea was unthinkable, impossible. he wasn’t about to let something he didn’t do ruin everything. he wouldn’t accept it. not without a fight.

he’d stolen the cheat sheet, that much was true. but copying off another student? he would never do that. he had his pride, after all. the problem was, he had no idea how you’d ended up with that paper. how did you get your hands on it? and why the hell had you not even thought about changing one single answer to be slick? his mind was racing, but he wasn’t about to let anyone think he was that stupid.

heeseung had never even bothered to look your way since you got to the school a year and a half ago in your leather jacket and sunglasses. your parents knew each other but you weren’t the type of person he’d ever hang out with. he did know about a guy having a fling with you, and honestly, it almost drove him insane. word has gotten out you had almost driven him to the point of seeking professional help to be sane. but that wasn’t even the worst thing said about you. even with your father’s reputation and money, you weren’t safe from being on people’s mouths as the daughter he never wanted.

what made everything even more difficult was that he had no idea how to make you admit it was you. he didn’t have your number, didn’t know anything about your schedule except for the one class you both shared. confronting you in person seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. he couldn’t risk you turning the whole thing around, making him look like the bad guy while you played the victim. it would be just his luck.

he had never felt so completely taken advantage of. it was always him who used people, who knew how to manipulate them into giving him exactly what he wanted. yet here he was, losing his mind over a girl he’d never even spoken to. it was ridiculous, and it pissed him off.

as the next day rolled around, he was still consumed by it. before the first period, he stood by the stone lion statue on the entrance of school, leaning against the wall next to jake and sunghoon, waiting for karina and wonyoung, as they mindlessly talked about a new prada backpack sunghoon bought yesterday. but heeseung’s mind kept drifting back to the mess with you, he tried to push it aside, focusing on the usual routine. still, the more he tried to forget, the more it nagged at him.

just as he was about to ask jake about you, since he always seemed to know everything about everyone, he stopped himself. no way was he going to ask his friend for help and look uncapable of solving things. he needed to figure this out on his own. instead, he turned his thoughts to how he could find you before the shared calculus class at the end of the day. he had to get to the bottom of this, and fast.

"heeseung!" a cheery voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts. he looked up to see karina dragging wonyoung along, both of them heading toward him, their little red-bottom heels clicking against the pavement. karina flashed him a big, playful smile and waved enthusiastically, her energy cutting through the tension that had been building all morning.

“damn it, it’s too early in the morning for this,” heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes as they approached. jake, who had been watching the whole scene with a smirk, nudged him in the ribs. “that girlfriend of yours, man,” he teased. heeseung just shot him a glare, clearly not amused.

the two girls made their way toward them, but just as they were about to reach the group, a loud, roaring engine cut through the morning air. before anyone could react, a sleek motorcycle zoomed in, blocking their path. the rider revved the engine once more, making it clear they weren’t going anywhere until they dealt with them.

"woah, what’s goin on?" sunghoon asked, clearly impressed by the person who had the guts to stop karina and wonyoung in their tracks. he wasn’t the only one taken aback. everyone was staring as the motorcycle came to a halt. little did they know, the rider was someone heeseung had been obsessing over all morning, someone who could probably ruin both karina and wonyoung’s face with just one single punch. the tension in the air shifted instantly, and heeseung felt his heart race, but not for his girlfriend’s safety, instead, for the person who rolled around.

the motorcycle she was riding was imposing, big, dark, and matte, with electric blue accents. the kind of bike that screamed power and danger. it looked like something straight out of a movie, designed to intimidate, just like its rider. there was a certain energy about her, something that made everyone around tense up instinctively. she didn’t need to say a word to command attention. her presence alone was enough to make even the most confident shrink back.

but they still stepped closer, followed by a crowd of other students who knew exactly who was under the helmet. everyone was eager to see what would happen next.

you pulled off the black helmet, letting your hair tumble out as the cold morning air hit your face, sharpening the already obvious irritation in your expression. there was an undeniable edge to your aura, something fierce and untouchable, like you thrived on chaos and didn’t care who knew it. the way you stood, calm but dangerous, with an almost predatory confidence, made it clear you weren’t here to play nice. karina glanced around, clearly uncomfortable in the middle of a confrontation she’d rather avoid, but she couldn’t deny what she had just done, not going unnoticed by you.

not letting her get the first word, you swung off your motorcycle, your movements sharp and deliberate. "you bitch, are you insane?" you shot at her, pointing a finger directly in her face. the students around you quickly scrambled, eager to capture what might turn into a full-blown fight. for the students watching, it was like something straight out of a teen movie. the popular ‘it girl’ of the school facing off against the infamous ‘bad girl’. a label you despised even more than the people who threw it around. the rich kids were convinced you were a bad person just because you got high 8 out of the 7 days of the week, dressed in black and liked to waste your money getting inked.

"what are you talking about?!" karina stammered, stumbling back as she grabbed wonyoung’s hand, who seemed ready to shrink behind her in panic. they both looked like dolls, dressed in couture clothing and expensive hair accessories.

you scoffed, the memory of what happened earlier still fresh. "don't play dumb with me," you shot back, eyes narrowing. "you're the one who threw food on the road to school from your little convertible. god, are you even intelligent enough to drive?!” karina’s face flushed with embarrassment, not thinking you would actually confront her like this, and for a moment, she looked like she might deny it. but instead, she opened her mouth. "well, i guess i should have thrown it at you then, instead of the road, since you always like to be dirty, don’t you?” she laughed, looking down at your worn out shoes, which were sluthered with mud.

"dirty?" you cut her off with a bitter laugh. "you want to talk about dirty?" your voice dripped with sarcasm. "i’m not the one with half of the school’s dicks down my throat, while embarrassing myself chasing a guy who, the only thing he likes about me is fucking, because it’s the only time i will stop being annoying, how ‘bout that?”

“well, it’s a shame that you don’t have a face pretty enough to even attract a normal guy’s attention. i have seen you hanging around with those shaggy and dirty stoner animals from your old school you call men, having sex in the middle of an alley, all high and out of their minds, huh,” she insisted, pointing at you up and down.

“you’re so full of shit karina, and it’s sad. as if you’d ever find someone that actually likes you, to listen to you talk for more than ten minutes.” you threw her a pitiful look. the students around you shifted uncomfortably, some of them glancing at each other as the tension in the air grew thicker. wonyoung, still holding onto karina’s hand, looked like she was about to step in, but karina pulled her back. “i don’t care what you think, i’m rich, i’ve got tons of friends and i’m pretty, and you have always been jealous of me, just what is your problem?”

you stepped closer, your gaze never leaving hers. “like i care about your dad’s money wash karina, don’t get too carried away, it takes more than money to make someone feel less than you,” you smirked, looking at her up and down. you stepped dangerously closer quickly, making her stumble back once again and shriek, gripping onto wonyoung’s arm even stronger.

“but it will pay your facial reconstruction bill if you keep fucking with me, got it?” you said quietly, but with a force that made the words hit harder than anything else. before she could snap back, wonyoung pulled at her sleeve, whispering something in her ear. karina hesitated, then exhaled a long breath. she wasn’t stupid, karina has seen what ‘kinds of people’ you hang out with, and how bad the other person gets out of a fight with you, she was always quick to insult you, but never to continue fully.

"okay, fine. you want to clean your little tricycle?" karina said, trying to act nonchalant, taking out a huge bill from her purse. "here, i don’t care, just go back to where you came from." you took the bill karina handed out harshly, splitting it in right in the middle, making her gasp, and look at the money falling on the ground, feeling totally humiliated.

not saying anything else, you turned back and mounted the motorcycle again, revving it in a way for the students around to step back, and open way for you to continue your morning, not daring to get in your way. you sped off, the roar of your bike fading into the distance of the parking lot. the boys lingered for a moment before finally making their way over to karina and wonyoung, concern written all over their faces. "you girls alright?" sunghoon asked, glancing at both of them.

karina shot him a frustrated look, her arms still crossed defensively. "yeah, whatever. i'm fine," she muttered, though her voice was tight. wonyoung stayed quiet, looking more shaken than usual, as if still processing the encounter.

the boys exchanged a few more words of reassurance, but heeseung barely heard them. his mind was miles away, consumed by the memory of you. your sharp words, your defiant stance, the way you’d made it clear you weren’t to be messed with. he couldn’t shake the image of you. he couldn’t let it go. not now. heeseung was used to being in control, used to getting what he wanted without a second thought. but you, you were different. there was something about you that made him want to find out more, something about the way you handled the whole situation that had him itching to confront you, face-to-face, but he knew he couldn’t, not unless he wanted to hear karina yell at him nonstop in a fit of jealousy.

"you good, man?" jake's voice broke through his thoughts, and heeseung looked up, blinking. "yeah," he said, trying to shake off the feeling. but deep down, he knew he wasn’t really fine.

as the day went on and classes shifted, lunch break came to an end, and before long, it was time for the dreaded calculus class. you sauntered to your seat at the back of the classroom, right by the window, and dropped into the chair. with a bored sigh, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through it without a care, eyes barely glancing up. it was weird seeing you stick around this long on a school day. usually, you’d slip out early or roll in late, and no one ever said a word. you never had too many absences, always acing every exam. and for that reason, the teachers didn’t question it, because you had this way of making it look effortless, like the rules didn’t even apply to you.

as the class dragged on, something landed softly on your desk, just a small note. you glanced over and saw the girl next to you, the one with the big round glasses, her eyes wide with nervous energy. the second you looked her way, she flinched, shrinking back into her seat. she quickly pointed to the guy sitting next to her, her face practically pleading for you to read whatever nonsense he’d scribbled.

you gave him a weird look, your brow raised in silent confusion, before you slowly unfolded the note, your fingers moving deliberately as if you had all the time in the world. it read, ‘what do you think you’re doing? why did you copy off of me on the exam?’

you snorted at the message, and instantly, the memory hit you. it was the first time you’d let yourself go, forgetting about grades, staying way too long at some random house drugging yourself with something new, until blackout, two days away from home in your ride. you hadn’t made it back in time to study, so you did what you had to do. you texted a contact at school to get you the test. lucky for you, he knew someone in your class who had managed to steal the cheat sheet, and just like that, you had it in your hands.

‘none of your business’ you wrote back, your fingers moving quickly as you folded the note and slid it over to the girl. she hesitated for a second, then took it from you, passing it to him discreetly like it was some kind of underground deal.

a few moments later, the note came back to you. you unfolded it, and your eyes scanned the words. ‘you have to admit you cheated off of me, i’m risking expulsion.’ as if you actually gave a damn about his risk. you shot him a cold glance, then made a subtle motion with your hand, signaling for him to follow you out of the classroom, while you carried your belongings, not planning on returning.

after a few seconds, he finally slipped out of the classroom, meeting you in the empty hallway. "hey, so i really need you to admit you cheated off of me, i could get suspended, even expelled, and i'm not willing to take that kind of punishment for you," he started, his voice full of desperation. but you didn’t let him finish. you raised a hand, cutting him off, and his words trailed off as he stood there, waiting for you to say something.

"i’m sorry, who even are you?" you asked, shaking your head, genuinely confused. "i’m still trying to figure out why you think i’d ever admit to cheating on a test for you." your voice was casual, like the whole situation didn’t even faze you.

"because you did," he said, his tone dripping with self-righteousness. "it’s the right thing to do. you need to get suspended for cheating off of me." he smirked, as if he was the one holding all the power now. "and if you don’t, i’ll just tell them i caught you fucking someone in the bathroom for the test answers or something. you wouldn’t want that, would you?" that made you laugh.

"okay, listen, mr. whoever-you-are," you said, raising an eyebrow, "i’m not doing shit for you. after all, it’s my word against yours, which i’m guessing doesn’t mean much, considering you're the one getting blamed for cheating." you leaned in, a smirk playing at your lips. "and as for the fucking thing? i’ve been caught plenty before. the worst they’ll do is throw me in detention. so go ahead, do as you please." you poked his shoulder, the gesture almost mocking. he stood there for a second, his smile fading as he processed what you'd said. you could tell he wasn't used to being called out like that, or having the cards reversed, but then he leaned in, his voice lowering, like he was trying to pull some kind of play.

"you know," he said, his tone smooth, "a pretty girl like you... you don't really want to be known as the one who got away with cheating. people would start talking, saying you’re not enough for a school like this, wouldn't they?" he stepped closer, his eyes scanning you like he was sizing you up, "but hey, i get it. you don't want to get caught up in more drama. maybe i can help with that... if you just admit it was you."

this couldn’t be happening, you just wondered how in the world did this guy not know of your reputation, he was embarrassing himself so much at the moment. no boys in school got near you for that exact same reason, and here he was, thinking he could word his way into manipulating you, as if you didn’t know how to play your own game. you were known for being this maniatic crazy bitch with a motorcycle, who hang out with ‘lowlifes’, knew how to fight and that was only useful to get drugs from, also probably slept around with teachers because they didn’t think you’re smart enough to study. you’ve been told so many things, that what he said didn’t even bother you.

you rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. "oh, so now you're trying to play the good guy card?" you laughed dryly, leaning against the lockers. "nice try, but i'm not some stupid girl you can sweet-talk into doing something."

he chuckled, clearly not giving up. "come on, baby," he said, his voice turning smooth and almost coaxing, "we both know you like the thrill of a little risk. how about we make a nice deal, you admit it was you, and maybe we... hang out sometime. you know, just us. could be fun."

you raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes again. "wow, really? you are so considerate of me, but no, i don’t want your reduce reuse recycled dick, i'm not interested."

he stepped closer again, trying to intimidate you, but you weren't moved. you just pushed him back with a lazy finger, eyes never leaving his. "you clearly don’t know what you’re doing, or even how to talk to me," you said, voice dripping with mockery. "i'm not impressed. i’ve seen your type a hundred times. and it's honestly fucking pathetic."

he frowned, his jaw tightening, but you didn't care. you weren't here for his tantrums. "seriously, you think this is gonna work on me?" you continued, your voice low and sharp. "you're the one who's gonna look stupid if you keep pushing this. i'm not gonna admit. and if you keep threatening me, we can always settle this another way, i’m sure you know how to fight with those big boy muscles right?" you squeezed his arm, making heeseung shudder, almost feeling a tingle.

you turned to leave, tossing him a final glance over your shoulder. "good luck, though," you added, your voice flat. "i'm sure your suspension month will be really fun." you tossed over your shoulder, voice dripping with sarcasm. "but don't worry, you probably already have a few girls your way to help you feel validated and accompanied."

heeseung just stood there, watching you leave and soon disappear onto another hallway, probably escaping classes. but that did not worry him, we couldn’t let himself worry over a girl like you. you would clearly never fall for his words. guys like heeseung, we’re almost like easy prey for you. too weak and easy, thinking they dominated the whole world, fucking around with girls, throwing massive parties and golfing every sunday with their dad. when in reality they probably didn’t know how to unclog a toilet.

they pissed you off so much, he pissed you off, and now your day was ruined. so almost two hours later, you found yourself on a complete different town to the south, entering an worn out house, kicking the door open. the house brought back many memories, too many. from when you lived here, and not back with your father, in a place you didn’t belong.

"who's here?" a slurred voice called from the kitchen, barely cutting through the thumping music. the place reeked of stale smoke and something sharper, like bleach or chemicals. dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the clutter, casting long shadows over cracked furniture and empty beer cans. scattered on the floor were people, sprawled in various stages of oblivion, some twitching, others motionless, all trapped in their own haze. the walls, stained and peeling, seemed to pulse with the low vibrations of the bass, as if the house itself was barely holding it all together. the house which was previously your mother’s, was now just a usual abandoned place that your friends utilized to hang out in.

"damn, this place is a mess. why didn't you wait for me?" you muttered, stepping into the kitchen. your friends were slouched around a grimy breakfast table, barely looking up as one of them finished snorting white lines off the edge. the counter was littered with crumpled pink blunt wrappers.

"yo! gigi, stop the music!" yeonjun shouted, sniffling as he shot up from his seat, stumbling a bit before he lurched forward to hug you. he almost tripped over his own mismatched-socks covered feet, but when he finally reached you, he inhaled deeply, as if your scent, clean and free of any substances, was a breath of fresh air in the chaos of the room. his grip tightened for a moment, his eyes flickering with a mix of relief.

"i’m not your bitch," giselle muttered, rolling her red-ish eyes as she leaned over to turn down the blaring music. her long acrylic nails clicked sharply against the plastic radio, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. she barely looked at yeonjun as she did it, her expression more annoyed than anything else.

you laughed at her comment, shaking your head, and then moved to hug her, pushing yeonjun off you in the process. he stumbled back, slightly irritated but too dazed to really react, while giselle’s stiff posture softened just a little as you wrapped your arms around her. her eyes flickered with something close to annoyance, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. you pulled away from giselle, giving her a teasing look. "so, what's the plan for tonight?" you asked, shifting your attention to the other strangers in the room, as they lazily got back to their own little worlds. yeonjun was still rubbing his nose, barely paying attention, while giselle just shrugged, taking a drag from her cigarette before flicking it into an ashtray.

“we’re hitting that party in the hill later,” she said, her voice flat but laced with anticipation. "gonna get crossfaded, maybe do a little more. jay’s been asking about you non-stop, by the way." she giggled. you raised an eyebrow at that, crossing your arms. "jay?" you repeated, a little surprised. you didn't think he’d be the type to obsess over anything, let alone you. "what does he want with me?"

she leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eye. "he’s obsessed you and your dumb tattoos. that night you two spent together? yeah, he can’t stop talking about it.” she paused, letting the words hang in the air like a secret. “guess he’s got a thing for you.”

you snorted, leaning against the counter, trying not to let it bother you too much. it was funny, people you’ve slept with always seemed to fixate on your exterior. but jay? he was a different story. you didn’t really care about whatever weird little crush he might have, though. he was now from a different crowd, and would never cross that line to be with you.

“he does know i changed schools right?” you said. your new school was a whole different world, elite, private, a playground for the wealthy and connected. kids with silver spoons, flashy cars, and tailored suits. a lot of them were insufferable, like karina, but you didn’t mind. it was easy to stand out, to be yourself in a place where most people just followed the rules. since your mother disappeared and your dad took you back, you’ve been placed in a world you don’t belong, and clearly don’t mind not belonging.

they had their porsche, you had your r7. they had private security, and you had your little hello kitty knife. but here, with giselle and the others? it was different. a lot more laid-back, the students knew how to have fun without all the airs and graces of your new world. they were down to earth, fun, and honest, none of the pretentious bullshit that came with being surrounded by rich kids. they had their flaws, sure, but you loved hanging out with them. it was like coming back home after a long trip to a hotel casino, where everyone was more concerned with status than actually living.

giselle noticed the shift in your mood and grinned, as if reading your thoughts. "i know, i know," she said, her voice softened, almost sympathetic. "but, hey, you're still cool with us. we don’t care about your new rich kid school. we’re just down for a good time."

"yeah, alright. i’m down. just don’t expect me to get too crazy, my dad’s expecting me before five am, he knows how shit goes here,” you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at yeonjun who was now half-focused on his phone, tapping away furiously with his thumb. "so, i’m guessing you’ve already got the stuff lined up for tonight?" you asked, a smirk tugging at your lips.

he looked up at you, still slightly dazed, and nodded. "yeah, i texted my guy next door. he’s got everything we need. should be ready by the time we leave."

“don’t worry, i’ll go,” you didn’t need to ask twice. despite your better judgment, you were already used to this kind of thing. you pushed off the counter, giving giselle a nod. "i’ll be back in a minute, you both stop inhaling shit and try to sober up, i’m not a babysitter," you said casually, already walking toward the door.

"take your time, don't get too caught tho," she called after you, voice almost playful, but with that edge of concern. the door slammed shut behind you, and you stepped out into the cold evening air. it wasn’t far, the dealer’s place was literally next door, tucked behind a run-down convenience store that no one seemed to go into.

the door to the small house was already cracked open when you arrived. you knocked lightly, stepping back to make sure no one would spot you. a moment later, a guy with messy hair and a hoodie poked his head out, his eyes scanning you quickly before he motioned for you to come in. "yo, what’s up?" he greeted, his tone laid-back but sharp, like he had done this a thousand times before

“yeonjun sent me," you said, slipping inside. you didn’t need to say much, his face lit up as soon as you mentioned the name. yeonjun was a regular here, always popping in for one thing or another. the guy didn’t ask too many questions, which was fine by you. "right, right," he said, disappearing into a cluttered room at the back. you heard the rustle of plastic, the clink of glass. he returned with some small bags of pills in his hand, sliding them across the counter. "this should be good for the night. tell yeonjun he owes me. i threw a little present in there for you, pretty."

you nodded with a smile, taking the bag, your fingers brushing against the cool plastic. it was always the same, but you still hated the feeling of this whole transaction, sketchy, rushed. "thanks," you muttered, seeing a little extra, and slipping the bags into your jacket pocket before heading back toward the door.

"catch you later," he called after you, and you didn’t bother to respond.

as you headed back toward the house, the night started to feel more like a blur of its own, the sun setting into a canvas of dark and light colors.

when you pushed the door open again, giselle was already eyeing you, her arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. "got it?" she asked, and you gave a quick nod. "yeah, we’re good to go," you said, tossing the bags onto the table where yeonjun had plopped back down. he gave you a lazy thumbs up.

the party was exactly what you’d expect from a house like this, small, run-down, but buzzing with an energy that could only come from a group of teenagers living for the night. the kind of place where people got high, drunk, and fucked without any care in the world. the walls were covered in posters and graffiti, the floors littered with empty bottles and crumpled cans. music thudded through cheap speakers, competing with the chaotic chatter and the occasional shout of someone daring someone else to do something ridiculous or threatening to start a fight.

when you, yeonjun, and giselle arrived, the front door was wide open. keeho was standing there, practically bouncing with excitement, already tipsy from whatever he’d been drinking. his hair was an absolute mess, eyes slanted and tired-looking, and he had lipstick stains all over his neck, but his grin was infectious as he waved you over.

“yo, rich girl! you made it!” he exclaimed, his voice a little slurred, and he pulled you all in for a quick, sloppy hug. "was starting to think you forgot about me, we gotta get you three started!" without missing a beat, keeho grabbed a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka from the floor and shoved it into your hands, urging you to take a swing. his laugh was loud and carefree, and it felt like you were already swept into the madness. you hesitated for a second, but then shrugged and tipped the bottle back. the burn of the alcohol hit the back of your throat, sharp and bitter, but it didn’t matter.

giselle grinned and knocked back her own drink, wiping her mouth as she handed the bottle to yeonjun, who eagerly took a swig, his eyes already glazed over. keeho’s grin only widened, as if he had orchestrated some kind of victory. “hell yeah, let’s go!”

you all pushed past him into the house, the noise of the party almost overwhelming at first. in the main room, there were already people sprawled on couches, a couple of them making out in the corner, while others lounged around in various states of intoxication. the air was thick with the scent of weed and sex. “okay, so, knowing you yeonjun, hotboxing only in the basement bathroom, i don’t want to repeat what happened last month in my room,” keeho turned to your group with a serious face all of a sudden. yeonjun rolled his eyes and started arguing, and giselle joined in, making you leave the scene relentlessly.

as you wandered further into the house, you spotted jay almost immediately. he was leaning against the wall, a drink in his hand, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. the second he saw you, his entire demeanor changed, his gaze locked onto you with a sharp intensity, like you were the only person in the room. you couldn’t help but notice it. there was something almost obsessive in the way he watched you, his lips curling into a small but knowing smile. you weren’t sure if he was just drunk or if it was something more, but you knew he wasn’t just here for a good time. he was here for you.

“hey,” jay said as you approached, his voice low and a little too eager, like he was trying to hide just how much he wanted to pull you into his orbit. “glad you showed up. i wasn’t sure if you would.”

you raised an eyebrow and took the drink from him, taking a sip, already sensing the weird energy from him. "you act like i'm some kind of mystery," you said, your tone light, but there was a hint of warning in your voice.

jay just laughed, though it sounded a little nervous. he shifted, trying to get closer, but you didn’t exactly encourage it. "no, no. i mean, i was hoping you’d show up," he said, clearly not even noticing how desperate he sounded. "i don’t know. i just... i couldn’t stop thinking about you." his words hung there in the air for a moment, too heavy for what was supposed to be a casual conversation. you glanced away, trying to shake the awkwardness of it. he was just supposed to be a random hook up, and now he was obsessed.

"yeah, i’m too sober for this, i need a minute," you cut him off, shrugging his hand away, your tone sharper than you intended. the last thing you wanted right now was another round of jay following you around again. you managed to slip into the bathroom, the noise of the party muffled behind you. the moment the door clicked shut, you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the door for a second, trying to shake off the weight of jay’s attention.

reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction. you had been waiting on a text from your motorcycle repair center all night, hoping they'd finally gotten back to you about the part you needed. just as you started scrolling through your messages, trying to ignore the distant thumping of bass and the muffled laughter from outside, you heard the bathroom door creak open behind you. before you could even turn around, you felt a hard bump against your shoulder, someone colliding with you unexpectedly.

"hey!" the voice was sharp, and the tone was ready to unleash a curse. but then, the voice shifted, a more amused, almost playful note creeping in. "wait, hold up, you're cute."

you blinked, turning to face the girl who had crashed into you. she was standing there, eyes still wide with what could’ve been irritation, but her lips were curled into a smirk now. she looked like she was about to say something more, but the words faltered when she took another quick look at you. she was a couple of inches shorter than you, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, with eyeliner that looked like it had been hastily done, smudging a little at the edges. she wore a worn-out band tee, black jeans, and had that 'i don’t care' attitude.

you raised an eyebrow, still holding your phone, but not making any immediate movement. "thanks," you said dryly, not sure if she was being sarcastic or genuine. “ryujin,” she continued, “and you are?”

“y/n, y/n l/n,” you introduced yourself, almost sounding too righteous.

“you good y/n?” she asked, her voice almost too soft, the kind of softness that could break you without a word. “fuck no, i lost my friends and i need to get high right now,” you laughed, running your hand through your hair.

“oh really?” before you could respond, ryujin was already in front of you, close enough that you could smell the alcohol on her breath, feel the heat radiating off her body. “i can help with that,” she whispered, and there was something about the way she said it that made your pulse spike. she was clearly offering something more than simple. she was offering you something you hadn’t tried before.

she reached into her pocket, pulling out something small, a needle. you froze, your chest tightening, but the pull was still there. you weren’t thinking. you were just so desperate, it would happen again, you would take something from a random hot person. the needle gleamed in her hand, sharp and cold under the dim lighting. you didn’t need to ask what it was, she didn’t need to explain. you could already feel it, the ache of wanting something to take you somewhere else, to make this noise in your head stop. you were sick of it.

her eyes flicked to yours, dark and knowing, like she could see straight through you. "you sure?" she asked, but there was no question in her voice. it was more like a dare. your breath hitched, your heartbeat louder than the music. you looked at her, and for a split second, everything felt still. her eyes held you captive, like she was waiting for you to decide whether to break or not. and then, without saying anything, you nodded.

she didn’t hesitate. one swift motion, and the needle was at your arm. the sting was sharp, more real than anything you’d felt. the rush of it hit you instantly. a sudden heat spread through your veins, like fire lacing under your skin. the world around you blurred, the noise fading into the background. you felt something.

it was almost too much to handle, too quick. your body jolted with the rush of it, the sense of floating, of being untethered from everything. and then, before you could even catch your breath, ryujin was kissing you. it was hard, messy, raw. her lips were insistent, pulling you deeper into the chaos, as if she was swallowing every ounce of your pain. it wasn’t gentle, it was desperate. like she wanted to take everything from you and leave you empty, but at the same time, filled.

you kissed her back, caught in the haze, your body responding before your mind could catch up. the high was creeping in fast, too fast, but it felt good. it felt like everything was finally softening, the noise, the pressure, the expectations, all of it was dissolving with every second that passed.

when she finally pulled back, you were breathless. the world was spinning, but in a way that felt almost right, like you weren’t out of control, but floating in some kind of blissful wreckage. “that’s better,” she whispered, her voice low, smoky, and satisfied. “kissing makes you not feel how much this bitch hurts,” she laughed “or so i’ve been told.”

you just stared at her, too buzzed to say anything, but feeling a kind of calm you hadn’t known in what felt like forever. the pain was gone now, swallowed by the buzz, the heat, and the way she looked at you. like you were both on the edge, and neither of you cared whether you fell off. the rush from the needle still pulsed through your veins as you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a bit unmoored, like your body was drifting through space. the party felt louder, the music a distant thump in your chest. everything was hazy, like you were floating, and the crowd around you seemed to blur, their faces indistinct. you were just moving.

without thinking, you found yourself at the center of the living room, where bodies pressed against each other, the air thick with sweat and smoke. you let the beat pull you in, letting go of the last vestiges of control. you didn’t care anymore, about anything, anyone. you just moved, your body responding to the rhythm like it had a life of its own, and for the first time tonight, you felt alive.

you danced with strangers, faces you didn’t recognize, their hands on your hips or shoulders, the energy bouncing between you all like an electric current. their movements were reckless, free, and somehow, it felt like you belonged here, in the middle of this mess. the high made everything feel vivid. intense. like every touch, every glance was magnified.

a guy leaned in close, his breath warm on your neck. you didn’t pull away, letting him get close enough to whisper in your ear. you could barely understand what he was saying, but his hands were on your waist, tugging you closer. you let him, lost in the sensation of being wanted, of not caring what anyone thought. your body was moving like it was made for this chaos. you didn’t think. you just felt.

the music shifted, the bass pumping harder, and for a moment, everything became a blur of neon lights and sweaty bodies, spinning like a dizzying cyclone. you let yourself get swept up in it, lost in the noise and the movement, until you couldn’t keep up anymore. the energy in your legs started to fade, your body heavy and tired. you were buzzing too much to care, but eventually, your feet were no longer dancing, just shuffling you toward the edge of the room.

you stumbled to a couch, sinking into the cushions with a long, relieved sigh. the room around you seemed to shift, the music muffled now, everything distant, like you were underwater. you tried to keep your eyes open, but the pull of exhaustion was too strong. you just couldn’t fight it.

your head sank into the back of the couch, and in a matter of seconds, you were out, completely, utterly gone. the noise of the party continued around you, but you were far away now, floating in the quiet of your mind, somewhere where nothing could touch you. the high, the spinning, the chaos, it all faded to a distant hum. you were weightless, drifting in nothingness, as everything slipped away.

you woke up the next morning to the harsh sound of someone shouting, the words barely making sense at first. “everyone get up and get the hell out!” keeho’s voice rang through the room, piercing the fog of sleep that still clung to you. blinking, you squinted at the blinding light creeping through the window, the ache in your head reminding you of just how much but so little had happened the night before. and you tried to suppress the feeling of vomiting.

you barely had time to process everything when keeho appeared at the door, his eyes wide in sudden panic when he saw you sitting there, a disheveled mess on the couch. “wait... you’re here? yeon and gigi were crazy looking for you last night,” he stammered, clearly flustered. you could tell he hadn’t noticed you before, hadn’t realized you’d passed out here.

“yeah, i think someone gave me dope, ‘m not sure,” you muttered, trying to shake the sleepiness from your mind. “could use some clothes though. i didn’t exactly plan on crashing here and i gotta get my ass to school or my father will actually kill me.”

keeho nodded quickly, his face flushing in embarrassment as he glanced around the room like he didn’t know where to look. “yeah, yeah, no problem. i’ve got some stuff, just go to my room. there’s a drawer with girl clothes from... you know. just grab whatever.” he gestured to the hallway.

you stood up, a little unsteady on your feet, and made your way toward his room. it wasn’t far, but the house felt like a maze now, the remnants of last night’s chaos still hanging in the air. the stale scent of alcohol and smoke clung to everything, and you could hear people stirring, mumbling groggily as they shuffled about, trying to piece together the aftermath of whatever they did.

keeho’s room was a mess too, clothes and half-empty bottles scattered across the floor, papers crumpled on his desk. you spotted the drawer he mentioned and pulled it open. inside, there were a mix of clothes, some definitely not your style.

you pulled out a small crop top, the fabric soft against your skin as you slipped it on. the shirt hugged you in just the right way, but the way it exposed a sliver of your tattoos on your side gave you an odd sense of power. something about the ink on your skin made you feel more present, more you, even in the haze of everything that had gone wrong in the last month, not listening to your brain. you quickly grabbed a pair of athletic shorts from the drawer, the fabric light and comfortable, though they were a bit tight on your hips. it didn’t matter. you weren’t here to impress anyone.

you didn’t know what you were expecting to feel in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t this. it was a weird mix of exhaustion and emptiness, and so thirsty. but at least you weren’t in yesterday’s clothes. stepping out of the room, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the aftermath.

keeho was still in the living room, shouting at people to get out, his tone half-annoyed, half-caring, like he was trying to maintain some level of order in the madness. he saw you and gave you an awkward wave. “yo, you good?” he asked, trying to act casual.

“yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “where’s the exit?”

keeho pointed to the door and went back to yelling at whoever was still sprawled on the couch. you weren’t in the mood for much interaction. just get out. get back to the north. you walked toward the door, weaving through the mess of bodies and vomit. the cool morning air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, the bright sun already making the world feel like it had reset itself. everything was sharp, clear. the chaos of the night felt distant now, as if you were waking up from a bad dream.

you tried not to think about it as you walked away from the house, the reality of last night still buzzing in your head. you pulled out your phone and called an uber, the cool screen a brief distraction from the foggy mess of your mind. as you waited for it to arrive, you kept thinking about the night. about the haze, the people, the weird feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. you needed to forget it, or at least stop accepting drugs from friendly girls in bathrooms, you had to stick to smoking-only, or your body would end up on the cover of a newspaper with a bad name. you slid into the back of the car when it arrived, the familiar hum of the engine lulling you into a kind of dull trance as you made your way back to the city.

the ride was quiet, a smooth hum of traffic and soft music in the background. it didn’t take long to get back to the luxurious academy, but as you stepped out of the car and walked through the heavily guarded gates, you could feel the eyes on you. people were already filing into the backyard tables for lunch, and you were late, again.

you didn’t care, though. you didn’t care about anything right now. the school was a blur of clean clothes and sharp faces, everyone looking polished and perfect, the exact opposite of how you felt and looked. you ignored the stares, walking past a couple of your classmates who were giving you the side-eye, their whispers barely audible over the din of voices. but you could feel the weight of it. the judgment. the fact that you weren’t exactly like everyone else here, and they knew it.

you made your way to the lunch hall, where your only acquaintance was already sitting, glancing up as you walked in. chaeryeong’s eyes flickered between you and the time. you slid into the seat across from her, barely noticing the food she'd saved for you. you didn’t have the energy for the usual small talk or the smiley faces she always wore.

“are you okay, y/n?” chaeryeong asked softly. you still couldn’t figure out why she stuck around. maybe it was because you’d protected her in some way, kept her safe from karina and her ridiculous mean girl act. chaeryeong was too kind, too good-hearted. she didn’t deserve any of that. you nodded without thinking, just going through the motions. you took a bite of the sandwich, but the food was tasteless, like everything else was. somewhere deep down, you knew you had to get your shit together, but for now, it was easier to keep pretending that everything was fine.

the real reason why you started being even more reckless than before was simple. you missed her. and you hated yourself for it, for missing your mother, the one who abandoned you a year and a half algo. a part of you wanted to believe this was all a plan for you to move in with your rich father and get yourself a place in society, but deep down you knew she found another family with one of the hundreds of men she slept with every night to be able to pay rent. not like you were actually hurt, though. everything you did, every choice you made, was for her. you liked to think she was in a better place now, not living off of selling herself. in your mind, you had to be your best version, just for her. not for that father you have, which was the first one to actually leave, after hearing the news of your mother being pregnant with you. but karma got him, and now he was stuck with you.

he just lets you be, lets you invite your friends over and make a mess. after all, he has maids to clean up after you. but you weren’t about to be that much of a burden, which is why you pushed yourself to excel academically. your mother always said, ‘every single person is a nobody, no matter how rich or poor. the only thing that makes us different is our drive to be better for ourselves.’

you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a little too much force. "i'm going for a smoke," you mutter, barely looking at chaeryeong. before she can say anything and tell you how drugs are ruining you, you’re already heading out of the cafeteria, your steps quick and determined. you make your way to your locker, your fingers fumbling slightly as you pull out a couple of blunts, the familiar smell of them grounding you.

sliding past the neat hallways, you cut through the back of the school, where the gym equipment is stored, away from the eyes of teachers and nosy students. it’s quiet here, the air thick with the scent of rubber and old wood. you light up without hesitation, the first drag hitting your lungs like a small relief. for a moment, it's just you, the world outside fading into the background. you then take a slow hit, the smoke filling your lungs again, and for a second, it feels like everything slows down. you exhale, watching the thin trail of smoke twist and curl in the air before disappearing. the taste is bitter, but it doesn’t matter. it’s the quiet and that’s important right now.

until it wasn’t. from the corner of your eye, you catch movement, footsteps crunching against the gravel. you look up, and there he is, the guy from yesterday. the same cocky grin, the same aura of someone who’s too used to getting what they want. he was dressed in a faux-fur jacket.

“what the hell…” you watched him get closer, his nose slightly scrunching at the smoke coming out your mouth.

"looks like we started on the wrong track," he says, leaning against the chain-link fence with that insufferable smirk still on his face. "name’s heeseung," he adds, like you should be impressed.

you blink, connecting the dots in your head. heeseung. the rich kid. the usual playboy. and then, it clicks, he’s with karina. the thought hits you like a cold splash of water. of course. he’s here because of her. to bribe you, maybe, or to mess with you, make you look bad in front of everyone. you exhale, the smoke swirling between you as you size him up. "what d’ya want?" you ask, your voice flat, not bothering to hide the growing annoyance.

he wrinkles his nose, taking in the air like he’s just stepped into a dumpster. "really smells like shit here, and you look even worse," he says with a disgusted chuckle, glancing around like he’s considering whether or not to leave. you can’t help but laugh, the sound rough but genuine. ‘he really is a piece of work,’ you think, watching his discomfort. without missing a beat, you take another hit, leaning back against the wall as you blow out the smoke. "maybe it's just you," you say with a smirk, your voice teasing but cold.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response, but you can see the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. he’s not as untouchable as he thinks. heeseung’s eyes flicker down to your exposed arms and stomach, the tattoos that snake along your skin, and you catch the shift in his expression. he’s staring, but it’s not the way he was a second ago, this is different. "did those hurt?" he asks, his tone almost tentative, like he’s unsure if he should even ask. you raise an eyebrow, glancing at him like he’s just asked the dumbest question in the world.

you stare at him for a long second, then pull in a slow breath. "what do you think?" you say, deadpanning. "of course they did." he blinks, suddenly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. "right. uh..." he trails off, his gaze flicking around like he’s trying to find something else to say.

"are you cold?" he asks finally, his eyes narrowing slightly at your lack of layers. you’re barely dressed for fall, your shirt thin and your shorts almost too small for the weather. the chill in the air seems to be getting to him more than it’s getting to you. you snort, the sharp edge of your laugh cutting through the tension. "worry about yourself," you mutter, pulling another drag. it’s not like you were cold, it’s more that you weren’t going to admit it to him.

he watches you for a moment, brow furrowed, clearly not buying it. his eyes flicker between your face and the way you’re standing. "yeah, okay," he says, though it sounds more like he's humoring you than agreeing. heeseung takes a step closer, his hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie as he looks at you with a mix of concern and reluctance. "you know, if you really aren’t fine, i could always-“ he cuts himself off, glancing away for a second, as though considering something before shaking his head. "never mind. it’s not that cold anyway, right?"

“stop trying to make small talk, hedeun-“

“it’s heeseung,” he interrupted, visibly bothered at you getting his name wrong.

“it’s whatever, just tell me what you want, i don’t like spending much time with people like you,” you sighed. “what are you really here for?”

“i heard you sell,” heeseung started, making you let out a loud laugh. “if all you wanted was to smoke, you could’ve just asked me to share, i’m not a monster,” you extended your blunt towards him, but he declined. “i also heard about your mother, and about your old school, and everything about it,” he swallowed, nervously fiddling with his hands, contradicting with his harsh exterior. you raised an eyebrow, the edge of a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth as you listen to him, the words rolling off his tongue with a strange mix of nervousness and something else, like he’s trying to explain himself but doesn’t really know how. it’s not exactly what you expected, but it’s almost worse.

"is that so?" you reply, voice flat but laced with a quiet venom. you cross your arms over your chest, leaning back slightly as if the conversation doesn’t deserve your full attention. "so, you did all this… research on me, huh? i bet everyone had a lot of nice things to say." it was a weird situation, when you changed schools, all the girls were all over you, excited for a new girl, but as soon as they saw who you were, they escaped, not wanting anything to do with you besides get some smoke and pills.

you couldn’t blame them, you didn’t want to hang out with them either. but karina stayed, until you made the ‘mistake’ of dating the guy she liked at that moment, and since then, she made the promise to destroy your life, if only she could even try.

he seems to falter under your gaze, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment. "i just... i wanted to understand. i wasn’t trying to judge you or anything. i just..." he rubs his hands together, clearly uncomfortable. "i guess i just thought it’d make sense to know who you are before, well, before we talked again."

you can feel the sharpness in the air, his attempt at an apology or explanation almost laughable. you don’t need his pity. “so, you went and found out about me. what now?”

he looks up at you, a bit of guilt coloring his expression, but it’s hard to tell whether he’s more upset about the fact that you’re not impressed, or that his research didn’t give him the right answers. "i just-" he stops, rubbing the back of his neck again, looking more like a kid who’d gotten caught in a lie than a guy trying to make amends, secretly trying to manipulate you. "i didn’t mean to come off like that. i just... i don’t know how to read you."

your eyes narrow, sizing him up. "well, you can start by not making this about me. whatever you think you found out, that’s your problem." you tilt your head, voice going a little colder. "you’re not the first to assume shit about me. and everything i told everyone on this place about me, is barely the surface, so you can do with that what you want. but i’m not here for your guilt trip."

for a moment, it looks like he might say something else, but he just bites his lip instead, clearly unsure how to break through the wall you’ve just put up. and you’re fine with that. heeseung had no idea why you were being so hard. why he couldn’t get to you like he could with other girls. for some strange reason, he seemed drawn to you, almost as if you were here to save him from the horrible destiny that it is to be with karina. but you didn’t seem the slightest interested in him. and he hated that. he hated the fact that he felt like you were unconsciously pulling him in, but he couldn’t do the same to you.

only, that he could. and he was doing it. you could see it in his eyes, the sparkle for the unknown, you were almost an escapatory for him. from his rich kid, player, facade or maybe his own true personality. you felt the extreme change in demeanor he had since talking to you yesterday, after realizing you weren’t like the girls from his school. he seemed way more open today, and way more relaxed. but you weren’t about to be his little side distraction in his perfect, cushioned life. you weren’t just some novelty.

"good conversation, heeseung," you muttered, clicking your tongue as you stubbed out the blunt against the cement wall you were leaning on, then started to walk away. before you could get too far, you heard him call after you. "hey, wait up!"

you turned back to find a faint desperation in his eyes. "sunghoon's throwing a little something tonight, and i know you don’t usually hang with people like us, but you should come. we might need some of that stuff you’ve got." he gestured to the blunt in your hand. it was almost endearing, how he treated something so simple like it was a secret, like it was taboo. the gap between you two seemed clearer than ever.

“i’ll make sure to get you something good, i hope you can handle it,” you gave him a small smile. heeseung watched you walk away, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. he was used to girls like karina, who flattered him, who followed him, who played by the rules of his world. but you? you were something else. something he couldn’t quite figure out. he didn’t know why, but something about you made him feel off-balance.

‘you’re not an escapade. you’re not just some distraction,’ he thought to himself, eyes narrowing in confusion. you’re different. something about you. you could ground him. he didn’t know what it was. it wasn’t just the exterior, the rough edges, or the way you didn’t give a shit about his family name or his money. it wasn’t just the way you made him feel like he wasn’t the center of the universe for once. it was everything. the way you looked at him, like he was nothing special, like he was just another guy in a long line of guys who thought they could buy their way into your life.

“but i’m not like them,” he whispered, his jaw tightening, for some reason, he felt as if your opinion about him mattered, as if it would validate him and differentiate him from everyone. his fingers itched as he replayed the way you shut him down, how you were so effortlessly cold, so indifferent to everything he usually took for granted. it drove him insane, but in a way that made him want more.

heeseung's thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps approaching. he turned, and there she was, karina, dressed in her usual sleek, effortless luxury. she was all polished skin, perfectly pressed clothes, and a kind of beauty that seemed more crafted than natural. every strand of her hair was in place, her makeup impeccable. she was the kind of girl who seemed born to be admired, the kind who could walk into a room and instantly own it with just a smile. "there you are, baby," she said, her voice smooth and warm, but with an edge of impatience. "i've been looking for you everywhere." her eyes flicked over him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips, probably because she found him standing alone. she wasn't used to seeing him like that. the usual crowd of hangers-on was missing.

heeseung barely acknowledged her greeting, his mind still half on you, half on the uneasy tension you left behind. "yeah, here i am," he replied, his voice distant, distracted. karina raised an eyebrow, noticing his disinterest. “what's up with you? you look like you're a million miles away.” her tone was soft, but there was an undercurrent of concern, or maybe just curiosity. he wasn’t acting like himself, and karina was used to having his full attention.

heeseung felt the instant need to go back to his facade, and gave her a smirk. “i’m just thinking,” he shook his head. karina’s eyes narrowed slightly. "thinking about what?" she asked, as if she wanted to understand what had him in this strange mood he changed all of a sudden. he hesitated, looking off into the distance, towards the empty tennis courts. he didn’t want to bring you up, but something in him pushed him to. "actually," he started slowly, "i’ve been wondering... why do you hate that one girl, y/n, so much?"

karina’s eyes flickered briefly, a subtle shift in her expression that heeseung didn't miss. for a moment, he saw something, just a flash, of discomfort in her gaze, he had been around enough girls to start to notice things like this. it was fleeting, but it was enough to make him pause. she straightened, regaining her composure almost immediately, but he could tell. ‘she’s jealous,’ he realized. not just of you, but of the fact that he was talking to her about you. about you, and not her.

karina stiffened, but only for a second. the smile on her face didn’t falter. ‘it’s fine,’ she thought, ‘don’t overreact. he’s just talking about her because she’s interesting. he’s not actually...’ she couldn’t quite finish the thought. she didn’t want to risk making a scene, not when she was so close to keeping things exactly the way they were. she needed him. she couldn’t let you take him away from her. so she would do her best to portray you as someone horrible.

"i don’t hate her," she replied after a beat, her voice a little too controlled. "i just don’t get her."

heeseung raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by her attempt to deflect. "you’re not fooling me," he said, his tone soft but insistent. "you don’t like her. why?"

karina let out a quiet sigh, her gaze shifting down, away from his eyes. she was debating whether or not to say what was really on her mind. finally, she spoke, her voice low. "she just… waltzes into any group, any situation, with that awful motorcycle and a hand full of drugs, and everyone loves her. no effort. she doesn’t have to try. and i hate that."

heeseung frowned, confused. "what do you mean? i don’t get it."

karina’s eyes flickered with something darker now, the frustration seeping through her composed exterior. "i mean, i work for everything. i work for people’s approval, for their attention, for their affection. i have to try, i have to be the right kind of person, say the right things, look the right way. and then she shows up, all… whatever she is, and everyone just falls over themselves for that druggie. no trying. she doesn’t care about any of it, and still, she gets everything." her voice grew harder, colder, as if she was speaking from experience. "it’s like she doesn’t even have to try, and that’s what pisses me off."

heeseung couldn’t help but study her face, watching the jealousy simmer in her eyes. it was subtle, almost masked by her cool demeanor, but he could see it now, clear as day. karina was used to being the one people admired, the one people worked to impress. and you, someone who didn’t play by any of the rules, someone who didn't care, had that same magnetic pull, without any of the effort. and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

karina stiffened, her lips curling slightly. "that’s exactly the problem," she snapped. "she doesn’t belong here, and she thinks that just because her father finally acknowledged her, and suddenly she’s super rich, she can act however she pleases. but it’s not like that."

the thought made him uneasy, but he didn’t show it. instead, he shrugged, his gaze drifting back to where you had disappeared. "i don’t think it’s the money," he muttered, almost to himself. "i think she just is. and maybe that’s what makes her different."

karina didn’t respond. she simply stepped closer, closing the distance between them, but he could feel the slight shift in the air, the way her usual easy confidence had faltered, just a little. "whatever you say," karina finally said, forcing a smile back onto her face. "but just remember, she’s just a low life addict, that’s all she is, and will ever be. you don’t want to get too close to someone like that."

heeseung didn’t meet her eyes. instead, his gaze lingered on the spot where you had walked away, and the words from earlier replayed in his head, the ones that had stuck with him the most, ‘i hope you can handle it.’

later that night, heeseung found himself at sunghoon’s house, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. the mansion was alive with the thumping pulse of bass-heavy music, laughter, and the clink of bottles being passed around. it was the kind of party sunghoon always threw, lavish, high-energy, packed with people who were either too drunk to remember their names or too wealthy to care about anything else. people were dancing in the living room, some on the massive leather couches, others sprawled across the marble floors, playing some ridiculous drinking game. it was a familiar scene, people letting loose, showing off, and pretending to forget the rules for a few hours.

but none of that mattered to heeseung right now. he was standing off to the side, leaning against a wall, a drink in his hand but barely touching it. his mind kept drifting back to you, the way you’d walked off earlier, the way karina’s words had lingered in his head. there was something about you that gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight would be the night that would reveal something important.

he didn’t even know if you’d show up tonight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. would you? would you show up, walk through the door with that effortless confidence, and completely flip the energy of the room without even trying? it wasn’t even about impressing people. it was the way you didn’t need to try. you just were. and it was like you could walk into any situation and make everyone else’s chaos feel like it was secondary to you.

he tried to shake it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for something. nothing. his friends were blowing up the group chat, but none of it caught his attention. it was a flurry of photos, plans to leave with a girl, someone complaining about the music being too vulgar, but nothing about you, because you weren’t part of his life. maybe that’s why he kept looking around the room, scanning the crowd, hoping, wishing that you would suddenly appear, even though he knew he was being ridiculous. you probably wouldn’t even care about coming to a place like this. too many people trying to impress each other. too much pretending.

he threw back the rest of his drink on one of sunghoon’s exotic plants, setting the glass down on the nearest table, feeling his mind drift further from the party. he leaned against the wall again, the chatter and music blurring into the background, but his focus remained fixed on the front door. he kept wondering if you'd walk through it.

across the room, jake appeared, grinning wide, holding up two shot glasses. “heeseung! come on, man, stop moping in the corner and have some fun.” he raised his eyebrows, urging him over. heeseung waved him off, still distracted. “i’m good. just got a lot on my mind.”

“yeah? don’t let it ruin the vibe, dude. you’re at a party, not a therapy session.” jake clapped him on the shoulder and turned away to rejoin the crowd. heeseung’s eyes flicked over to the front door again, and he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. ‘she’s not coming,’ he thought, but the doubt lingered. the weird hope that maybe, just maybe, she would show up. ‘she doesn’t belong here, and she doesn’t want to belong here,’ he told himself. this world’s not your scene. but that thought only seemed to make him want to see you even more.

for a moment, he wondered why he cared so much. why was he fixated on whether you’d show up or not? it didn’t make sense. he barely knew you, and yet everything about you felt like a puzzle he had to solve. and now, standing in the middle of this extravagant, noisy party, he felt that pull again, the one that made him question everything, including himself.

he glanced at the door again, half-expecting to see you walk through, but nothing. just the same crowd of people, laughing and drinking, playing their games. maybe you didn’t care about these kinds of parties. maybe you didn’t care about any of this at all.

heeseung pushed through the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, escaping the chaos of the party. the cool night air hit him like a splash of water, and he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

the backyard was quieter, but his mind was still buzzing. he was leaning against the brick wall near the pool when he spotted karina on the other side of the yard. she was laughing, leaning into some guy with slicked-back hair, a smile too perfect to be genuine. the guy was clearly into her, his hand resting a little too comfortably on her waist, but karina didn’t seem to care. she was toying with him, teasing him, her eyes glancing over at heeseung for only a second, as if she was trying to make him jealous, but he wasn’t bothered.

heeseung didn’t care. not tonight. the sight of karina flirting with someone else didn’t stir anything in him. he didn’t even feel a spark of jealousy of that guy not being him. it was strange, but in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about you, about how you didn’t fit into this world at all, and yet, you seemed to have more of an impact on him than anyone else in the room.

he was about to turn back to search for jake, when the sound of raised voices cut through the air. it wasn’t just loud, it was intense.

he turned, his curiosity piqued, and followed the noise toward the front of the house. he didn’t know what was going on, but something told him it wasn’t good. as he rounded the corner, he saw the commotion, a guard-like guy, probably hired by sunghoon, was blocking the front door, holding his hand out like a wall. and there, standing just a few feet away from him, were you, fuming, your hands raised in defiance, and your expression unreadable but full of fire.

heeseung’s heart skipped a beat. he couldn’t believe it. you were actually arguing with the guy, not giving a damn about the way he stood there like he owned the door.

“i can’t let you in. you’re not on the list mr. park provided,” the guy was saying, his voice deep and dismissive, clearly not taking you seriously. you, however, didn’t care about his rules or his attitude. "i don’t care if i’m on that fuck-ass list or not, let me in," you snapped, leaning in so close your face almost brushed against his. "move out of my way before i make you."

heeseung watched, a little impressed, a little surprised at how you held your ground. you weren’t backing down for anything, no one was going to push you around. the guy was trying to reason with you, but you weren’t having it. before things could escalate, heeseung walked up, cutting through the tension with his calm presence. the guy looked at him with confusion, but heeseung ignored him, instead turning to you.

“hey,” he said, his voice cool but loud enough for you to hear over the noise. “it’s fine. let her in.”

you stopped, glancing up at him with a look of surprise in your eyes, like you hadn’t expected him to step in. but then your face softened slightly, and he gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, signaling to the guard that it was okay.

"i said it’s fine," heeseung continued, keeping his gaze on the guy who was still hesitating. "she’s here with me."

the guard’s eyes flicked between you two, clearly unsure, but he finally backed off. “whatever,” he muttered, stepping aside. “but you’re on thin ice, lady.��

you didn’t even acknowledge the guy’s words. you turned without a second glance, and motioned for your friend to follow your lead. “gigi, let’s go,” you said, the confidence in your voice as clear as day.

heeseung blinked, surprised by the sudden appearance of the girl who had been standing quietly behind you the entire time, playing with her nails. you both were dressed in tiny dresses that revealed too much, clearly ready to go somewhere else after this. giselle wasn’t as loud or bold as you, but there was something in the way she carried herself with her salmon colored pin-straight hair and long nails, that suggested she was just as comfortable in her own skin. she followed you without hesitation, taking slow steps toward the door.

the two of you walked together like you didn’t even notice the opulence of the house, the flashy people, or the music blaring from inside. you seemed completely indifferent to the party scene, to all of it, and heeseung couldn’t help but admire it and wonder how had he not noticed you before. while everyone else was caught up in the noise, the drinking, the pretension, you and giselle were just there. not needing anything from this world. not caring about any of it. you only seemed to care about yourselves, about the quiet between you, and maybe that was the most fascinating thing about you.

heeseung was about to say something, but you didn’t even look back at him. instead, you pushed your way through the crowd with your friend, making your way to the kitchen without a second thought. he followed, but kept his distance, not wanting to intrude.

you weren’t here for the party. you were here for you, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep watching from the sidelines before he, too, would be drawn into whatever world you existed in.

“alright,” you sighed, taking a few small plastic bags from your bra, and a cigarette box. you weren’t any kind of professional underground dealer, but you were still cautious, if not, word would get to your father and it would be a mess.

“i got you, ice, it’s the powder by the way, i got molly, those pills with happy faces on them, and weed… oh, and we pre-rolled them for you, they’re kind of fat, i’m really nice like that,” you smiled at heeseung, seeing him stare at you.

“you good?” you asked, “i didn’t bring anything else, i don’t think you’d even know how to take it,” you stepped back, crossing your arms.

“oh, yeah, yeah, that’s good,” he shook his head, snapping out of his trance. “can i scan-pay you?” heeseung asked, realizing, of course, he didn’t have any cash on him.

“yeah, it’s alright,” you said, pulling out your phone and typing in an amount before switching to a qr code for him to scan. for a moment, you considered scamming him, but decided against it. it would’ve been easy, he didn’t even ask about the prices.

once the payment went through, you flashed a quick, satisfied smile back to giselle. you could already feel happier knowing you would get out of this mansion. as you began to turn away, heeseung’s gaze shifted, his eyes landing on someone across the room. “hold on,” he muttered, scanning the crowd. he spotted jungwon nearby, leaning casually against the wall, chatting with a few people. heeseung grabbed the bags from the counter and stepped over to him.

“hey,” heeseung called, catching jungwon’s attention. “take this to sunghoon, yeah?” he passed the items over, his tone nonchalant. jungwon raised an eyebrow, looking at the bags before meeting heeseung’s eyes. “man, the things you get yourself into for a girl.”

heeseung shrugged, offering a half-smile. “it’s for me. just get it to him. he’ll know what to do.”

jungwon gave him a nod, slipping the bags into his jacket pocket. “got it.”

heeseung’s eyes followed you and giselle as you made your way toward the door, his steps quickening as he caught up with you just before you reached the curb.

“hey, where are you two headed?” he asked, voice casual but with a hint of concern. you looked at him, a little surprised to see him following. “we’re going to the south,” you said, glancing at giselle. “there’s a car race. about half an hour away, and since i had to come all the way up here for you, we’re hoping to make it to the after party.”

heeseung nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “i’ll drive you,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. “we wouldn’t want you, both of you, getting into any trouble out here.”

you raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but too high to argue. you glanced at giselle, who was lighting another blunt, and let out a sigh. "fine," you said, already feeling the weight of the night catching up with you. "i’m not in the mood to call a cab and waste money." giselle shot you a look that was part judgment, part annoyance, but she kept quiet. you could feel her disapproval, but you were beyond caring at this point.

heeseung led the way, and you followed without a word. when you reached the driveway, your eyes widened slightly at the car parked there. heeseung’s car was a sleek, black sports car, the kind that turned heads without even trying. it was polished to perfection, the curves of the body glinting in the dim light of the streetlamp. it was the kind of car that screamed wealth, effortlessly.

“is this yours?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. it was the first time something he had impressed you. heeseung smirked as he opened the passenger door for you. “yeah. pretty sure it’s faster than any cab you’d get out here.”

you shook your head, sliding into the leather seat. giselle climbed in at the back, sitting with her arms crossed, clearly not impressed. she still had that cold, distant air about her when it came to heeseung and his “scrooge mcduck” world.

heeseung didn’t seem bothered. he slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and the low purr of the car’s power seemed to cut through the tension in the air. as he pulled out of the driveway, the smooth hum of the car filled the silence between you all.

it was an uncomfortable ride, but at least it was fast, and you weren’t wasting money on a cab. you stared out the window, the city lights blurring by, while giselle stared ahead, looking as unimpressed with heeseung and his world as ever. heeseung, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. the drive was smooth, fast. but even as he focused on the road, his mind kept drifting back to you.

he glanced over at you, your face illuminated by the streetlights, your expression unreadable. and for a brief second, he realized that he didn’t want this ride to end. he didn’t want to stop being close to you, even if just for a moment.

as you got closer to the south side, the vibe of the neighborhood started to change. heeseung could feel it in the air. the buildings were older, the streets narrower, the houses less pristine than the ones he was used to. the gleaming luxury of his own world felt miles away. his fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings, a slight unease creeping in.

you glanced over at him, sensing the shift in his energy. “you okay?” you asked, eyes narrowing slightly as you noticed him tense up and grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. heeseung didn’t respond at first. he just kept driving, his gaze flicking between the rearview mirror and the unfamiliar streets. it was clear he wasn’t used to this. “yeah,” he said, his voice cool but there was something off about it. “just... not exactly my usual neighborhood.”

you gave him a knowing look, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “don’t worry,” you said, your voice light but with an edge of seriousness. “i’ll protect you, whatever happens pretty boy.”

heeseung shot you a glance, eyes flicking over to meet yours, before rolling his eyes. “i don’t need protection, thanks,” he muttered, but there was an almost imperceptible tension in his jaw that gave him away.

you could tell he was uncomfortable, and it wasn’t just the drive. his world and this one were different in every way, and he was out of his element, but you didn’t say anything. it was clear enough without needing to spell it out. heeseung took a turn down an alleyway, the pavement rough and uneven. he parked the car next to a few other vehicles, feeling the weight of the decision. the streetlights here weren’t as bright, and there was a certain stillness in the air that felt too quiet for comfort. his mind flashed briefly to the idea of getting robbed, but he pushed the thought away, shaking his head.

“don’t take it personally,” you said, reading his discomfort easily. you and giselle climbed out of the car, both of you moving with purpose. “come on,” you said, glancing back at him. “the after party’s just down the street.”

heeseung hesitated, but finally stepped out of the car. the low hum of the engine idled in the background, the sound of the city slowly creeping in around him. he walked behind you and giselle, trying not to seem too out of place as you led the way out the alley.

the party was just around the corner, and the closer you got, the louder the music became. from a distance, it looked like any other chaotic house party, but heeseung could sense the difference. the people were rougher, the energy sharper. it felt like a different world, one he had no real experience in. you shot him a glance over your shoulder as you reached the front door. “you’re fine,” you said, almost as if you were trying to reassure him, though you both knew there was no guarantee of that. you gave him a small smirk before pushing open the door.

heeseung paused at the threshold, looking around. this was a place where he didn’t belong, a world where people didn’t care about money or status. it was raw, unpredictable, and everything in him wanted to retreat, but something kept him standing there. you had pulled him into this world, whether he liked it or not. heeseung followed you and giselle into the backyard, where the atmosphere felt more relaxed, but still lively. the yard was filled with groups of people gathered around, casually chatting and laughing. the air was thicker here, filled with the mix of cigarette smoke and the low hum of music coming from the house.

heeseung couldn’t help but feel out of place as his gaze landed on two guys, who were lounging on a bench, laughing with a couple of girls. their casual demeanor was in sharp contrast to the tightly wound posture he’d been carrying since arriving. they noticed him immediately, their eyes flicking to him, then back to you and giselle. noting he was one of ‘yours.’

“girls, you bailed on us tonight,” keeho pouted.

“we told you we were going to sell at one of y/n new classmates party. your little suicide car race isn’t that important,” giselle rolled her eyes kicking keeho’s shin with her heel, making him hiss.

yeonjun raised an eyebrow and smirked at heeseung, who was still tense, and looked like a mannequin from a golf store. “yo, man, you look like you’re about to shit yourself already. what’s with the stiff face?” he asked, clearly amused by heeseung’s discomfort. keeho chuckled, looking at him with a knowing smile.

“you’re here with her, though,” keeho added, tilting his head in your direction. “so, you’re alright, huh? wasn’t expecting to see you here, rich kid.”

you laughed at his comment, taking giselle’s blunt and taking a drag out of it.

heeseung wasn’t sure how to respond. he wasn’t sure why he felt so out of place. it wasn’t like he had anything against the people here. still, he couldn’t shake the tension in his shoulders. “yeah, just not... used to this,” he muttered, glancing around at the unfamiliar scene.

you caught his eye, noticing the tension that still hadn’t fully left him. with a small grin, you spoke up, your tone light but firm. “don’t sweat it. i said i’d protect you didn’t i? you’re fine. just enjoy the night.”

yeonjun laughed and leaned back, gesturing to the people around him. “we’re bro’s, right? just have a good time. you’re with us now,” he said, his smile more welcoming than teasing.

you and heeseung exchanged a quick look, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the silence with a small smile. “want a drink?” you asked, your tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more, like you were offering him a way to settle in, just a little. heeseung hesitated, glancing around at the people milling about, some laughing, some lost in their own world. he still wasn’t quite comfortable, still felt like an outsider, but the offer was simple enough. he nodded slowly. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way over to a small table where drinks were being passed around, beer cans, a few bottles of cheap liquor, and what looked like a mix of makeshift cocktails. the scene felt different than the polished, curated parties he was used to. you grabbed a bottle of something brown and poured it into a plastic cup, handing it to him. “you’re unlucky, i don’t have any fancy cocktails,” you said with a half-smirk, leaning back slightly as he took the drink.

“thanks,” he muttered, eyeing the cup with a little wariness before taking a careful sip. it was strong. way stronger than he expected, and he quickly forced himself to swallow, trying not to show that it burned. heeseung took another drink, feeling the warmth spread through his chest as the alcohol hit him. the tension in his body started to loosen, but his mind kept swirling around the question that had been nagging him ever since you first crossed his path.

“why are you staying with me?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, a little more curious as you two settled down on two plastic chairs. “why not go back to your friends? seems like you’d rather be with them.” he watched you for a second as you absentmindedly looked around. for a moment, you didn’t answer, but then you met his gaze, your eyes soft and a little more open than usual, like you were letting him see something deeper.

“because i knew you wouldn’t feel comfortable by yourself,” you said casually, but there was something in your tone, something almost kind, that caught him off guard. you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but he could tell it was, at least to you. heeseung blinked, surprised. he hadn’t expected that kind of answer. it wasn’t what he’d imagined, especially with how standoffish you'd seemed earlier. you weren’t trying to be here out of obligation, or to entertain some rich kid from the party.

and then, as the silence stretched on for a second, he noticed something in your manner. something that shifted, just a little. your body language had relaxed, your words were slower, more open. heeseung's gaze narrowed, and he took a longer look at you. “wait a minute,” he said, voice a little more cautious. “you’re high, aren’t you?” he laughed.

“yeah, i’ve been for the last ten minutes,” you admitted with a small laugh, your words softening at the edges. “it’s just the same thing i gave you, though. don’t get all worried on me.”

“so you’re... this you?” he asked, motioning vaguely to the two of you, to the situation, to everything happening around you. “not the one back at the school?”

you shrugged again, but this time it was more relaxed. “yeah, i guess so,” you said, eyes flickering away for a second, like you were deciding whether to share more or pull back. but then, you met his gaze again, almost like you were daring him to say something about it. “i thought i’ve always been me, but now that you mention it. i guess i kind of act with some sort of resentment to you guys,”

he took another drink, then looked at you, his voice softer this time. “why’s that?”

“hard feeling,” you said simply. “family things, but it’s all handled.” you lied, not wanting to open up to him completely yet. there was definitely a change in him, and you noticed it. and in his eyes you could see the slight desperation and need. it was his new demeanour that made him different. you couldn't explain, because words couldn't even clarify what was starting to lure you in.

“heeseung, seriously, i’m opening up to you, and you keep looking at me like you want to fuck,” you said out of nowhere. he instantly tensed up and looked away.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t realize,” he said. it was obvious he didn’t want you to think of him as a player anymore, he was actually trying to please you now. you let out a soft, teasing laugh, leaning back in your chair, knowing exactly what you were doing. you decided to play into his usual game just enough to give him a bit of satisfaction. "do you?"

heeseung immediately turned toward you, eyes widening in surprise as he caught the playful glint in yours. he knew exactly what you were hinting at, but he still tried to keep his cool, pretending to be unfazed. "huh?"

"do you… want to fuck?" you asked casually, watching him with a challenge in your eyes.

his breath caught for a split second, but he quickly composed himself. he opened his mouth, unsure of how to answer, and hesitated. "i… don’t know," he muttered, trying to play it safe, though his voice betrayed a slight crack of uncertainty. you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your head tilting back as you let out a short snort. you met his eyes again, smirking. "what do you mean you don’t know? is it really that hard to say what you want?"

heeseung shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to play it cool, but the nervousness was obvious. and it was so very clear that he wanted it. he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flickering away for a moment. "what even is your point y/n?"

you shrugged nonchalantly, your tone lighter now. "nothing, just asking."

after that night, things were different. heeseung wasn't the same. he wasn't playing games anymore, not the way he used to. it wasn’t like he’d suddenly become someone else, but around you, he changed. that distance he always kept, it started to shrink.

you could feel it in the way he acted, the way he’d look at you sometimes when you were talking in class or lunch with your friend, like he was listening for real and not just pretending. he was less guarded, more real with you.

you started meeting up behind the gym often. no one ever really saw you, and that’s how you both liked it. the air was always a little warmer there, the kind of quiet where you could actually talk. you’d smoke, and he’d sit with you, talking about everything and nothing at all. and even when the conversation would die down, there was this comfortable silence between you two. the kind that felt easy, like you didn’t have to fill every gap with words.

one day, he even just showed up at your door, standing there with his dad, holding a gift basket. you froze when you opened the door. heeseung, here, with his dad, visiting your dad. it was almost laughable. you never thought you’d see the day, but there he was, a little nervous, but still trying to act cool.

"uh, hey," he said, like it wasn’t the most awkward thing ever. "my dad was going to visit your dad... said something about business visits or whatever, so i came with him."

you blinked, still processing, then stepped aside to let them in. after that, you both started to realize how much closer you’d gotten. things weren’t just about secret meetings anymore. they were about knowing each other, understanding each other in a way you didn’t before.

heeseung wasn’t a player anymore, not around you. he wasn’t hiding behind any walls or pretending to be something he wasn’t. it was like he was finally letting himself be seen, and you liked that. a lot.

even with all the changes, even with how much closer you two had become, there was still that one thing hanging between you. heeseung was still with karina. it wasn’t like you didn’t notice it. the way they would still walk around school together, the way she’d smile at him when he passed by. there were no obvious signs of trouble, no cracks in their relationship that you could see.

even though heeseung would drop little hints, those quiet, uncertain words when the two of you were alone ‘i’m thinking about breaking up with her…’ it never seemed to go anywhere. he would say it with a kind of vulnerability, like he was testing the waters, like he was hoping you’d say something that would push him in one direction or the other.

you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. there was this constant tug-of-war between what he said to you in private and what he did when the world was watching. it felt like he was trying to keep one foot in both worlds, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were left waiting in the middle, unsure if you were just a momentary distraction or something more. you told yourself you shouldn’t read too much into it. that he was confused, that maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe he didn’t have the courage to make the change. but every time he’d tell you he wanted to leave her, you’d see the conflict in his eyes, that quiet desperation to be understood, to be seen. still, he never followed through. he never made the choice.

you stayed friendly, maybe out of habit, maybe because you weren’t quite ready to let go of the connection you’d built. you let him tag along when you hung out with your friends down south at the house. a spot that was more a sanctuary than anything else, away from the world, away from expectations.

heeseung still had that rich boy aura about him, the one that made him stick out in a crowd of worn-out jeans and streetwise attitudes. but your friends didn’t mind. they were good with him being there, even if they teased him a little. mocking his clean-cut appearance, joking about how his designer clothes didn’t exactly fit the vibe. they liked him well enough, though. it was obvious he wasn’t as comfortable with them as he was in his own circles, but he did try. and they did notice how close you’d gotten to him.

“look at mr. fancy pants over here,” yeonjun would joke, nudging him as he sipped on whatever drink was put in front of him. “you sure you’re not lost, rich boy? this isn’t exactly sushi bar territory.”

he’d smile, a little awkwardly, trying to laugh it off, but there was always a flicker of discomfort behind his eyes. he wasn’t like them, not really. they knew it, and he knew it, but it didn’t matter as much when he was there, surrounded by your friends, just being with you.

you’d catch moments, though. quiet ones when he was staring off into the distance, or when his laugh felt a little too forced. you knew it was because he was still stuck. still torn between two worlds, two lives. and you were tired of being in the middle of it. though, what ou didn’t know, that for him it was much more than that. he was stuck between two girls of different worlds. karina and you.

karina wasn’t someone he actually liked, he was just with her for his reputation and his family. but still, he was with her. and you, you were absolutely everything to him. you were the trouble that came along with bad decisions and the reward that came after them.

it all came crashing down one night when you and your friends were hanging out at the house, like you’d done countless times before. the air was thick with smoke, the sounds of laughter and music filling the dim-lit space as everyone just tried to forget for a few hours. it was supposed to be like any other night, a break from everything that weighed you down. but then, out of nowhere, the door slammed open.

sirens wailed in the distance, but it was already too late. the police stormed in, uniformed and angry, their boots pounding against the cracked floors, their voices demanding silence. they didn’t give anyone a chance to react before they were ripping through everything. throwing aside old records, scattering things off shelves, knocking over bottles.

"this is a raid," one of the officers barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "everything’s getting confiscated."

your heart sank as they swept through the room, destroying everything. things you had no idea they’d even care about. all the memories, the things that had made this place feel like home, were being taken apart right in front of you. your childhood, your sanctuary, was crumbling.

you stood frozen for a second, not sure what to do, but your instinct kicked in. no way in hell. this wasn’t right. you couldn’t let them destroy it all. you rushed forward, intent on stopping them, shouting at the officers to stop, to leave, to just go away.

"who the hell do you think you guys are?! this is my house! you can’t do this!" you screamed, your hands shaking with adrenaline as you tried to push past one of the officers to get to the old furniture, the things that meant something to you. everything in this house had a story, a memory. and they were tearing it down, trying to find something.

but before you could get too far, a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you back. it was heeseung, his grip firm but gentle as he yanked you away from the officers.

“stop,” he muttered urgently, his voice tense. "you’re not gonna win this. they’ll arrest you, they’ll make it worse." even if he was slightly scared, and terrified of getting himself arrested and the word getting to his father, he had to take care of you. he just wondered how they found out about this place, a drug raid was almost impossible, you were within the legal bounds.

you were almost angry at heeseung for not letting you go. in that moment, as the officers trashed everything that meant something to you, the anger bubbled up inside. how could he stand there, calm and collected, trying to hold you back, when everything you cared about was being destroyed? it felt like betrayal, even though you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. he wasn’t the one doing this.

you tried to pull away from him, your heart racing, your mind spinning. "let me go, heeseung!" you snapped, your voice sharp and furious. " i can’t just stand here and watch them do this! they’re destroying everything!"

but he held you tighter, his grip unyielding. “i’m not letting you make things worse. not like this,” he said, his voice tight but calm, like he knew exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t want to hear it.

you yanked your arm again, almost reckless with frustration. your pulse was pounding in your ears. “why? why are you stopping me? i can’t just let them-” you broke off, your voice cracking. you didn’t want to admit how scared you were, how helpless you felt. in that moment, you realized, there wasn’t anybody there for you. the house of your mother was being searched, and she wasn’t here. and you knew you’re father wouldn’t care.

his eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might let go. but instead, he pulled you closer, his voice dropping to something gentler, but firm. “because if you go after them now, you’re just giving them more reason to hurt you. to make it worse. this isn’t the time.”

you hated that he was right. you absolutely hated it.

it wasn’t just about the stuff. it wasn’t just about the house. it was the fact that it all felt like a reminder of how much you didn’t have control over. the way things kept slipping through your fingers, no matter how hard you tried to hold on. you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. “they can’t just take everything,” you muttered, the anger still hot in your throat. “this was my life. my memories. this house is all i am.”

heeseung didn’t say anything right away. he just looked at you. like he really understood. he got it, even if you weren’t sure you could let him. finally, he exhaled slowly. "i know. but this isn’t the way to fix it."

you stood there, your body still tense, but slowly, you started to feel the reality of the situation hit you. he wasn’t letting you be reckless because he didn’t care. he was trying to protect you from making a bigger mistake, from getting hurt. from losing more. with a heavy sigh, you slumped against him, the fight draining from your body. you weren’t sure if you were more angry at the situation or at yourself for feeling so helpless. but in that moment, as the chaos continued around you, all you could do was lean into him. just a little, because you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

after the chaos of the raid, everything seemed to move in slow motion. the police had confiscated everything they wanted that seemed suspicious, leaving nothing but a wrecked space behind. they’d taken their time, ensuring that no one was left with any trace of what used to be there. when it was over, the officers had turned their attention to you, with blaming guns in hand.

you hadn’t even realized they were going to search you until they were doing it, their hands cold and impersonal as they patrolled your pockets, your bag, your shoes. your heart hammered in your chest, and you were still shaking from the adrenaline, from everything that had just happened. everything felt surreal, like you were watching it happen to someone else. but the reality of it hit hard when they finally let you out of the interrogation room, their eyes on you like you were some kind of suspect.

you stood outside the police station, the weight of everything pressing down on you. the air felt colder now, the harshness of the situation settling in. you were free to go, but the damage had been done. you felt exposed, like a part of you had been torn away that you couldn’t get back. but you couldn’t stay there anymore. the night had stretched on, and you just needed to leave.

as you stood there, trying to process the mess that had been made of your life, you heard someone approaching from behind. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. his footsteps, the way he moved, the tension in his gait, it was heeseung.

he walked up to you, his face serious, eyes darker than usual. "are you okay?" he asked, though you could tell he wasn’t asking just out of concern. he was searching for something else, something deeper. you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. instead, you just gave a tight nod, your throat too tight to speak. but then he said something that made your stomach drop.

“it was karina,” he said.

you blinked, confused. “what do you mean?”

heeseung exhaled sharply, shaking his head slightly, like he couldn’t believe it. "she’s the one who called the cops. i know it. she slipped up when i talked to her a couple of minutes ago, she somehow knew i was here.”

a cold feeling swept over you as everything clicked into place. karina. karina had followed him all the way to the house, had gotten the cops involved. it made sense, but the realization didn’t make it hurt any less.

“she did this?” you asked quietly, your voice hollow. you didn’t need to say much more. it was all there. you didn’t actually believe it was possible for someone to be such a horrible human being. heeseung didn’t respond immediately. his jaw clenched, and you could see how much it was bothering him. how much it hurt him to admit it, but he couldn’t deny it.

"yeah," he muttered, his voice low. "i didn’t want to believe it at first, but... it’s clear now." he looked at you, his expression almost guilty, like he was carrying something heavy. "i never wanted you to be caught up in that. i never thought she’d go this far. i broke up with her, she kept bothering me about being here."

you turned away, looking out into the night, the cool air stinging your face. "so what now?" you asked, the words coming out flat, tired. heeseung stepped closer, his voice more earnest now, as if he wanted to say something, to fix things. "i don’t know," he admitted quietly. "i never wanted it to be like this. i don’t want to lose you... but i don’t know how to fix this either. i don’t want to hurt you."

you glanced at him, feeling the weight of the moment. part of you wanted to scream, to say everything that was building up inside, but another part of you just felt... defeated. because the truth was, even now, with everything that had happened, you still didn’t have an answer. and maybe that was the problem. you could feel it. the tension that had been there for so long. the feelings that you couldn’t fully express, that he couldn’t seem to acknowledge. and here you were, caught in the middle of it all.

“you’ve already hurt me, heeseung,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i guess... i guess i’ve been letting you. because i still don’t know how to walk away.”

heeseung’s expression faltered. "i never wanted you to feel that way."

you shook your head. “you don’t get it, do you? it’s not about what you want anymore. it’s about what’s already happened.”

he didn’t have a response. all he could do was stand there, looking at you like he wanted to fix things, but knowing he couldn’t. because when it came down to it, the choice had never been yours. and it sure as hell wasn’t his to make anymore.

for the next few days, you avoided heeseung like the plague. and he couldn’t get close to you. everytime he tried, something got in the way, his friends, responsibilities. and you were fine with that. you just had to accept that everything that happened with him was just a slip up, and you’d soon be in your usual bad girl exterior, ignoring him one again.

but it wasn’t that easy. not with karina still out to make your life impossible. she was still angry at you for whatever reason. angry enough to confront you again.

“how are you doing, y/n?” karina pulled out a chair in your empty lunch table, sitting down neatly on it.

“what the fuck do you want?” you spat, annoyed by her presence. you could already feel the stares of students and teachers, as they were informed of what happened.

“geez, calm down, we wouldn’t want you to get a violence complaint and get sent back to the police station, wouldn’t we?”

that was all she needed to say, the single words that came out of her mouth. and she was face down on the ground. you pressed your knee on her back, keeping her grounded, as your hand made her face keep contact with the dirty floor. “you keep fucking messing with me karina, i told you i wouldn’t let it go.”

from a table not to far away, heeseung sat with his friends, watching the scene intently, and for once, heeseung felt himself worrying about a girl. not karina, but you. for once he felt the need to protect you, even if you were already capable on your own.

a small drop of blood from her perfect skin was enough to make you land yourself in the principal’s office. after the fight in the cafeteria, everything changed. you were suspended for your actions, the consequences of that impulsive moment catching up with you. karina had pushed you too far, it was messy. it was ugly. and now, it was your reality.

you spent the next week alone, mostly, apart from that day your father made you attend rehab, because for some reason the school requested it, there you met some nice people. the suspension meant missing school, being grounded and missing your friends down south who kept spamming your phone, and also being forced to face the aftermath of everything. it was a strange kind of isolation. you hadn’t expected to feel so disconnected. the chaos of the fight, the anger you’d been holding back for so long. it all felt like it had burned itself out in that one violent moment. and now, there was just the quiet, with nothing left to do but think.

one afternoon, as you sat on your huge balcony, smoking a cigarette, since your father confiscated everything else, you tried to let the smoke clear your head. you watched the world outside, the fancy cars in traffic passing below, people going about their business, and it felt almost surreal. like everything that had happened. the raid, the fight, was part of some other version of your life. but you couldn’t forget. you couldn’t ignore the tension in your chest. the weight of everything you’d lost. even if you didn’t want to admit it, even if you didn’t want to feel it, you still missed him. you missed the parts of him that were real. the ones that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could be different. but now, with everything laid bare, you realized it was never going to be the way you wanted.

you sighed and flicked the cigarette to the ground, watching it burn out as you leaned back against the railing. it was quiet here, just you and the world. it gave you space to breathe, to think. but still, your mind kept returning to heeseung. to the way he’d looked at you in the hallways before everything went south. to the way he used to make you feel seen. and even though you were angry at him, you still couldn’t shake the thought ‘maybe i miss him more than i should.’

you were lost in thought when the doorbell rang, snapping you out of your haze. no one ever came to your house except your dad, so the sound was unexpected. you walked to the top of the stairs to see who it was, but when you saw the butler let heeseung inside, your stomach dropped. what the hell was he doing here? after everything, after you cut him off. he still showed up. frustration hit you immediately, and you turned to leave, heading quickly to your room. but heeseung wasn’t giving up that easily. you heard his footsteps behind you as he called your name. "hey, wait!"

you didn’t stop. you just pushed harder to get to your door, slamming it behind you and locking it. but you knew he was still out there, still following you.

“please, can we talk?” he said softly through the door. you stood there, fists clenched, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to know why he couldn’t just leave you alone.

you hesitated for a moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him standing there. you unlocked the door and let him in, and he stepped inside, his gaze immediately scanning your room. it was quiet, almost sterile. nothing like the space you had shown him at your old place. there were no personal touches, no signs of the messy, chaotic you he’d seen before. it felt different. distant.

heeseung looked around, his eyes softening with something like regret, but before he could say anything, you snapped.

“you have no right to come back into my life like this, like you own the place!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “after everything, after you- ugh! you can’t just show up here, acting like it’s nothing!”

he took a step back, clearly taken off guard by the intensity of your words. but you didn’t care. the frustration, the hurt. it all spilled out in a rush. “you didn’t fight for shit, heeseung! you never did. you just kept going back to karina and that made her destroy my life! so don’t come here now, thinking everything’s fine!”

his face tightened, but he didn’t speak. he just stood there, looking at you, trying to find the right words. but you couldn’t let him speak. not yet.

“you don’t get to do this,” you spat, your chest heaving. “you don’t get to just fix it after everything you’ve done.”

heeseung didn't say anything. he just stepped forward and pulled you into a kiss-fast, intense. you froze, feeling all the anger and frustration you'd built up dissolve in that moment. it wasn't gentle, it wasn't soft. it was his apology, his regret, all packed into one. you tried to push him away to keep talking, but he didn't let you. instead, his hand gripped your wrist, pushing you against the wall, and it made everything inside you twist. when he pulled back, his breath was heavy, eyes searching yours.

“i will cuss you out heeseung, for everything, maybe not just now,” you breathed out, making a small grin appear on his face.

his hands gently traced the contours of your figure as his gaze remained focused on you. he was tender, careful, his lips leaving soft, lingering touches, wanting you to remember only the feel of his kiss. "i've missed you so fucking much, you don’t even know…" he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw. "me too," you replied softly, pressing your lips against his again.

his hands quickly went to the hem of your shirt, his experienced fingers peeling it shirt off your warm body, a small sigh leaving his lips as they trailed against your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along it. your breathing got heavier as he sucked hard occasionally, very clearly trying to leave marks.

“fuck, slow down, i’m not going anywhere,” you let out a small breathy gasp, feeling his sharp teeth numbing on your skin, then his soft lips pressing against the spot, almost delicately. you moaned lightly as heeseung slid his knee between your thighs, feeling him smirk against your sensitive skin. “yeah, i know.”

heeseung then moved you both to the edge of your bed, gently letting you rest on your back, your head landing softly against the pillows, still very much aware of how much you needed his mouth back on your body.

he resumed to trailing kisses down your chest, through every single line of dark ink on your body, until he reached the hem of your shorts, looking up at you with those dark doe eyes, that drowned in need. “just relax, can you do that for me?” heeseung slowly started to take off your bottoms, as you sighed out “uh-huh.” he pulled them down your legs, throwing them away from your sight.

“just like that,” he slipped his hand through your white laced underwear causing you to shudder. as his soft fingertips brushed against your cunt. your chest immediately tensed feeling his index and middle finger rub down your clit, your wetness coating his fingers.

heeseung captured your lips into a hungry kiss, distracting you for a small second as he pushed two fingers deep inside of you, reaching up. but soon enough, he had you gasping for air against his mouth, as he moved them quicker, his thumb pressing against your clit, sending a warm feeling through your body.

your hand gripped the soft silk sheets, the other on his shoulder, feeling him so deep inside. your hips buckled unconsciously, wanting to get even closer to him. “fuck,” you whispered, dryly moaning, getting the overwhelming sense of cumming start building up.

heeseung kissed the corner of your mouth one time, before going down on you, his hot tongue leaving a wet trail against your skin, and then he replaced his thumb, sucking on your swollen clit, while his fingers still worked their way into you. his eyes observed how you reacted, almost as if hunting you down. it all felt too much, many sensations at the same time, they had you struggling with your words in between moans, as the knot inside your stomach tightened but quickly gave up, “fuck, ‘seung- mhmm, i’m gonna-“ you whimpered, feeling your legs start shaking, making heeseung go impossibly harder on you.

he fingered and sucked you until you came down your high, making sure to lick his fingers clean, not wanting to get your bed dirty, even if it would in a few seconds. you could feel him getting more hard, as he pressed his hips down against your plush thigh to get a bit of friction. a smirk spread across your mouth because you knew you were the reason why.

“come on, let me see your face, pretty girl,” he grabbed you with his other hand, turning your hot face towards him, almost grinning in victory when seeing your half lidded pinkish eyes, as if you were drunk from arousal and his touch. he bored into your face, as if looking at a piece of art, “you’re goddamn beautiful,” he uttered.

“yeah, i know,” you told him, making him laugh, while using your hands to unbutton his pants, starting to slide them off. heeseung noticed this, looking down at your actions then back up at you with a smirk, “and you’re telling me to slow down,” he said with a devilish tone, helping you take off his clothes, ever so slowly, torturing you with the time.

you threw him a warning look, as he propped up, still on top of you, and took off his shirt as well, letting you see his slightly tanned skin, clear of any love bites that soon would coat him. heeseung hovered over your body, watching intently how he deeply buried himself inside of you. he wouldn’t let you do any of the work, it was going to be him.

you felt him pulsate inside of you, your walls stretching out for him due to his size. it was almost painful to feel too full at once. heeseung was trying not to go crazy over how warm and tight your were, suppressing the need to fuck you with everything he had here and now, before starting to move slowly. he went as deep as he could, and once you got used to the feeling of his dick inside you, heeseung started thrusting in roughly, enough to send spams through your heat, to your body.

“fuck, you’re so good for me,” heeseung groaned, and he took advantage of your position under him to make particularly strong thursts, tightening his grip on your waist, his expression full with desire for more, to get lost in you. and your face didn’t make it better, you looked so needy and high from him at the same time, it made him want to fuck you endlessly, and lose control.

his hips kept slamming with yours mercilessly, and you felt yourself aching, wanting to cum once again, letting out a loud inevitable moan. heeseung was pressed by your walls, as he approached his edge soon, taking the moment to pound into you quickly, almost making himself a whining mess.

you whimpered into his mouth due to the overstimulation he caused you with his thrusts, a knot ran through your legs and you didn't know how much longer you could resist, you felt unbelievably full from him. your warm breath made him lose even more concentration, as he mindlessly came inside of you, coating your insides, still throbbing and moving slowly into you.

when he finally stopped and cleaned you up carefully, heeseung dropped next to you, turning to watch your profile. he raised his fist, getting your attention, and you gave him an odd look before joining your own first with him in the middle in a fistbump, even if you felt like you were about to give away into sleepiness. “atleast that’s better than making stuff awkward,” you sighed, looking up at the ceiling, only dressed in your shirt and a new pair of underwear, feeling a small tug in your throat from being dry.

“hey, we need to get up, i was planning on taking you out,” heeseung said, poking your arm playfully. he couldn’t be serious, wanting you to leave the comfort of your bed after not being able to feel how to walk.

turning your body to your side, you looked out of the glass panel that was your window, noticing the sky get darker “you’re crazy, i’m not doing that right now, let me be,” the words left your mouth tiredly, groaning as you adjusted your position.

heeseung shook his head, hearing a small breath from you, telling him you were in already dream-land, way too far for him to get ahold of you. and he was sure it would always be like that, that he would be the one chasing you, and he didn’t mind, because after all the bad decisions, he was knew he could handle it, the bad reputation and everything that came in between.

BTW: this is saur embarrassing, if it doesn’t get atleast one note, i will delete my whole account istg. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 also, not proofread. i’m not reading all that stuff again. ew.

EXTRA:

masterlist.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus has a dream about you

cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed

word count: 810

The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.

Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.

The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.

"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.

"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"

"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."

"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."

Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.

"Optimus?"

He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.

"Optimus?"

He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder… When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.

He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.

"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."

Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.

Especially during the pregnancy.

His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.

But he had known about it for a few months now…

Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?

"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

But you were no longer there.

Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.

With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.

[swyrlwyrxx]

alr, i HATE trump . i have absolutely no empathy for him and i hope he dies very soon and very slowly . HOWEVER!!!! insulting someone's physical appearance is never ok no matter how much u hate them, because it affects people that you don't hate. ex: if i made fun of trump's double chin or nose or whatever, it wouldnt affect him at all. at most it would help me vent my anger. BUT some innocent person with the same feature could see it, and now i'm basically saying that that feature is bad or ugly; bam i just gave THEM a new insecurity even though my intention was to hurt trump. same thing with making "f@tsp0" of trump- even if we're putting down an awful human being, we are also putting down every other fat person at the same time. does this make sense ????

Fuck it: Trump fatspø

WHY HE LOOK LIKE THAT EWWWWUH

[i-do-not-even-know-why]

Some people were talking about Vi's "hypocrisy"...

(Spoilers below. Read at your own risk.)

And nope. Those are lies. Slander. And here are receipts proving the same...

Saw a few folks calling Vi a hypocrite because she prevented Caitlyn from taking the shot at Jinx. Since there was a kid in the way. Even though, APPARENTLY, Vi was all for it during season one when Jayce was concerned.

Jayce didn't want to kill the boy. He was aiming for someone else. The shot hit the little man out of nowhere because Jayce didn't even notice him there. He thought there was no one in the way.

That's why it hurts so much. That's why it stings and breaks Jayce's resolve. That's why he is disillusioned. He just wanted to do magic. Make the world a little better than before. And instead, he is now playing politician and soldier. And claiming lives.

This is Jayce's reaction when he sees the boy who died because of him...

And this is Vi, realising how much it's affecting him...

It's the intent that matters here.

Jayce didn't mean for the blow to land on the boy. If he knew the kid was there, Jayce wouldn't have taken the shot.

Caitlyn on the other hand wanted to shoot at Jinx while knowing Isha was in the way. She wanted to do it despite a kid literally acting as a human shield for Jinx.

I don't care how great of a shot Caitlyn is. When you risk a child's life, even if it is for the greater good, that's already taking it too far. And considering the fact that Vi clocked Caitlyn going in for the kill, you really think Isha wouldn't have?!

Once the bullet is out, no one can control it. Not even Caitlyn. And that very well could have led to Isha's death.

That kid wants Jinx around. And she is willing to die in the process.

Another point to note is the context.

Vi and Jayce were trying to dismantle the distribution of Shimmer. And when Jayce saw what it took, he pulled away. Vi didn't want to.

Silco's death was important to her. But it was now even more imperative because a kid died in the process. His demise would have been in vain if they didn't finish what they set out to do.

Vi and Jayce almost come to blows over it. And once Jayce lets her keep the gauntlets and walks away, there is Vi mourning the needless loss of a life...

I don't really understand what part of all this is hypocritical on Vi's end.

In the first instance, the kid had already died. In the second, Vi was making sure that didn't happen again.

And you know what? Even if it was hypocrisy, people are allowed to alter their motivations and decisions in the face of such fucked up and traumatic experiences.

Or in general, even! That's essentially the whole point. It's the push and pull of everyday occurences which help us evolve. Either for the better, or the worse.

Here's Jayce. Broken over the life he took...

Vi sees it. And of course she wouldn't want for it to happen to someone else. Especially Caitlyn.

Vi knows Cait is not the kind of person who would go through with it in her right mind. But that's the thing. She isn't in her right mind. Grief has overtaken her and now she will make sure it becomes everyone else's problem.

Also, if not being hypocritical is so important to you... How can you still stand with Caitlyn? What she is doing goes against not only who she is as a person, but also what she set out to do.

And that's the kicker, isn't it? Change is the whole point. They are undergoing tremendous amounts of irrevocable damage that will leave lasting impressions.

Caitlyn is so blinded by her desire for revenge that she doesn't even register any remorse. She is adamant on going after Jinx, no matter the cost. Even when it's at her own expense.

And for the people limiting Caitlyn's arc to nothing more than a sexy lady telling the world to go to hell...

Please open your eyes, or at least allow the others, to understand the layers of oppression she represents now. Not only to Zaun and the people of the Undercity, whose only fault was being born in the wrong place at the wrong time, but also for Vi.

That blorbo has gone through so much already. And obviously she has made mistakes. The whole premise of the show revolves around this facet. 'Cause that's what people do.

However, it's how you deal with it that counts more. And maybe it's just me, but holding your favourite characters and people accountable does not really lessen your love for them. Being blind in your devotion will definitely. 'Cause the disillusionment which follows is not pretty.

Know that I don't mean to offend anyone. Nor do I wish to criticize your perspective. If you feel attacked by my points because you made a joke or something over the issues I talked about here, that's not my fault. Nor my intent. Don't take it personally.

At the end of the day, it's just a show. You do you. I just cannot sit back when people spread misinformation or make baseless ignorant comments that are NOWHERE close to the truth.

It just takes a few minutes to fact check yourself. Seconds even, if you know how to do it. Maybe it's my fault for expecting better.

Anywho, that's it on this from me. Enjoy the show! And live and let live!!!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hi hi i saw your kinktober post and was wondering if you could write james wilson x male reader having morning/sleepy sex?

absolutely! thanks for the request <3

Kinktober 2024 Day 21: James Wilson x male reader having morning/sleepy sex

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, morning/sleepy sex, slight praise kink, handjob (reader receiving), blowjob (Wilson receiving)

It wasn't often that Wilson experienced mornings where he got to sleep in. Usually he was up bright and early, already gone off to work by the time you finally stumbled out of bed. However, he'd been working more lately and Cuddy insisted that he at least take one day off so he could get some extra rest. Not wanting to argue, he agreed, which is what led him to be spending the morning wrapped up in your arms.

For once, you found yourself waking up before he did, his chest slowly rising and falling as he laid in the bed next to you. Despite still being partially asleep, you were awake enough to have a certain problem plaguing you.

Luckily the morning wood you were experiencing hadn't gotten too bad yet, so you could instead focus on the gorgeous man beside you. One of your hands reached out to gently brush his hair back from his face, an action that startled him awake.

"Wh- What time is it?" He groggily questioned in a slight panic as he sat up some, acting as though he was worried about being late for work. You simply rolled your eyes in affection.

"Just past nine, but it doesn't matter much anyway. Cuddy gave you the day off, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled as he laid back down, letting out a deep sigh as he tried his best to get comfortable. Unlike House, he found it difficult to just turn off his emotions and ignore all the possible patients he wasn't able to take care of while being at home.

"Hey, I think I might know of a way to help you relax," you suddenly suggested in a low and sultry voice as you moved a bit closer to him on the bed.

He glanced over at you, his cheeks tinting pink when his eyes wandered down to the visible bulge that was showing through your sleep pants. A noise escaped him that sounded almost like a flustered scoff. "Why must you do this so early in the morning?"

"First of all, it's not that early, otherwise I'd still be asleep," you corrected casually, appearing amused at the way he was acting. "Second, it was just a suggestion. You're welcome to decline it if you'd like."

"I didn't say that," he muttered under his breath after averting his gaze, trying his best to not look directly at you and the smug expression you currently had on your face. It was so easy to embarrass him in terms of sex. You were convinced it was because of just how little men he'd actually been with before meeting you.

"Would it help convince you if I promised to return the favor?" Your smirk widened into a grin at the way his cheeks went from a bright pink to a deep red in the blink of an eye.

"You're awful," he said even as he shifted a little bit closer to you on the bed, debating on whether or not he should take you up on your offer. "You promise to return the favor afterwards?"

"Of course I will. I find it hurtful that you think I wouldn't," you replied with a feigned look of offense.

Wilson rolled his eyes at your response, trying to hide his current anxiety. It wasn't that he didn't like touching you, he just felt a little awkward, as if he was worried he might end up doing something wrong.

You could tell he was feeling a little apprehensive. It wasn't anything new, so you weren't that surprised by it. "Hey," you said in a much softer tone than before as you reached your hand out to him, resting it on his shoulder as a sign of comfort. "I can help guide you, okay? You don't have anything to worry about."

He nodded his head while taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay. Sorry, I guess I'm just nervous."

"You have nothing to be nervous about, baby. We've had sex before, you know how to touch me in the ways that I like." You removed your hand from his shoulder so you could use it to slip down your pants some, just enough to pull your half-hard cock out.

Swallowing thickly as he watched you, he tentatively reached his hand out to touch it, glancing up at you to make sure what he was doing was okay.

"It's okay, you can touch me," you gently coaxed as your hand moved to his, helping to direct him wrap his hand around your cock.

The low groan of pleasure you let out at the contact boosted his confidence a little, and he slowly began to stroke you while watching to see your reactions. It helped reassure him to know he was doing a good job.

"There you go, baby, good job. You're doing so well for me," you praised in a somewhat raspy voice, one that had his own cock jolting forward in his pants. He decided to ignore it for the time being, trying to remain fully focused on you instead.

His thumb lightly brushed over your tip, smearing the milky precum a little as his fist continued its job at pumping your hard shaft. "D- Does that feel good?" He asked in a slightly hesitant manner, almost as if he expected you to say no.

You could only let out a series of grunts and moans as pleasure began to overtake your body, which gave him the answer he needed in order to keep going. The sound of you in complete and utter ecstacy over something that he was doing was like music to his ears.

He kept the same steady pace as he jerked you off, his hand only moving a little bit quicker when he could tell that you were getting close. You came not long after that, hot and sticky ropes of white cum getting on his fist.

"Sorry about that," you apologized in a relaxed manner as you grabbed the tissues off the nightstand and used them to clean up. He could never understand how you always managed to remain so nonchalant and unbothered even post-orgasm. "Your turn?"

"Um, y- yeah." He unwrapped his hand from around your cock, which was now starting to soften. Even though he'd just woken up, he was still tired, as if he hadn't slept. How he currently felt more exhausted than you did, he had no idea. Maybe Cuddy was right to give him the day off after all.

"Lay back," you gently instructed after fixing your pants again, moving to get between his legs. He did as you told him to, feeling his face flush at just how noticeable his boner was through his sleep pants. "You can relax, honey. I know how tired you must be."

As he watched you carefully pull out his cock, he couldn't help but think about just how perfect you were. All this time he was worried about trying to find the perfect woman to take care of when what he really needed was the perfect man to take care of him instead.

A throaty whine threatened to escape from him the moment he felt your lips wrap around his throbbing tip, his hands tightly clutching at the bedsheets as his cock disappeared into the warm, moist cavity of your mouth.

It felt so good, that much he couldn't deny. If there was one thing you knew how to do properly, it was give someone a blowjob, or more specifically, him.

Despite the fact you were literally sucking him off, he'd never felt more calm or relaxed in his life. His hands slowly released the sheets as he laid further back against the pillows, simply enjoying the moment. He was going to have to take days off much more often.

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[phantomyre]

As their eyes met, an exchange of mutual mysticism between them, Vincent detected very little from Sephiroth in terms of his response. The man was difficult to read, understandably so. Not only had the pangs of war rendered him emotionless, but so did all of the experiments and lack of human affection. Devoid of feelings, much like himself. Only difference was, one was born into humanity while the other had theirs revoked upon conception.

Though Vincent had easily dismissed the offer to engage with Jenova, Vincent found it curious how Sephiroth persisted. It wasn’t out of courtesy as there was no need for Sephiroth to be cordial towards Vincent. Had it been anyone else, Vincent would have assumed the extended offer as merely an act of common courtesy. But this was Sephiroth—the man who had been playing mind games with all he had to affect. Instead of giving Sephiroth any response to his offer, Vincent’s frown only deepened before turning to gaze outside into the open field once more. Perhaps Sephiroth was being authentic, or it was a trap. Only time would tell. While resolved to go and investigate on his own, Vincent hadn’t expected for Sephiroth to draw his sword, let alone offer him the first blow. Turning his eyes towards Sephiroth again, he glanced from the long steel metal in Sephiroth’s hand up to the pair of mako colors, his eyes slightly narrowing. Judging by his drawn out sword, Vincent knew Sephiroth wasn’t going to let him go alone. It would be a good mile before Vincent could get close enough to close in on the drone and whatever reinforcements it may have had. A faint scoff left Vincent’s lips, turning his attention back towards the distant drone, securing his gun in hand. “Hmph. So now I’m your entertainer as well” Vincent dryly retorted, never taking his eyes off the drone, calculating the distance and speed in his mind. “There could be several more. Can’t be sure until we investigate.” Without waiting for another response, Vincent left the shelter of the cave and ventured out into the harsh cold winds, the snow once again beating upon his form. The drone was scanning close to their area and was beginning to draw closer. The only form of hiding place they had were small mounds of snow and rocks. Not a tree in sight. He quickly slipped behind a rock and pressed his back against it just as the droned passed by, the red laser barely  touching either Sephiroth or Vincent. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a silencer rifle. He had to confirm the drone was alone. Once clear, he looked over the edge again, choosing to move forward. He then heard the sound of another drone approaching from another direction, and he quickly backed himself against another hiding place, ensuring Sephiroth was also doing the same. There had to have been at least 8. Just as they had done so, Vincent could hear a helicopter at a long distance, causing Vincent to sigh. Likely the Turks. The drones would be child splay to take down. But the Turks were another matter. And if they saw him with Sephiroth, he knew the reports would sooner or later hit Cloud and the company. He had to act quickly. “As suspected,” he muttered more so to himself, the wind hardly carrying his voice. He knew the gunshot would attract the other droids which would allow him to round them up for the final blow. However, if they weren’t subsequently taken down, the Turks would likely catch a glimpse of their faces over the wavelength. Moving out from his hiding place, Vincent aimed at one of the drones that had just passed by and shot right through the body of the small spy drone, causing it to crash down into the snow in a small pile of smoke. The four remaining drones were alerted and began to scan the area close to them, all of them beginning to shoot at anything that even remotely looked like a shadow. One caught sight of Sephiroth and began to dart towards him with rapid bullets. Vincent opened fire and shot the drone before it could get too close to scan Sephiroth. “Be my guest," Vincent nodding towards the remaining drones. "But we have to get back to the cave as soon as possible,” Vincent stated, waiting to see what Sephiroth would do.

Skepticism was all but obvious in Sephiroth’s response. Calm though he appeared, Vincent knew Sephiroth’s mind was anything but. Although Vincent was aware that Sephiroth could come at his question from many angles, he wasn’t surprised Sephiroth had chosen to settle on the one that was contingent on Vincent’s actions.

With an inaudible sigh, Vincent lowered his gaze from the horizon to the snow collecting a few feet away from the ground in front of him, watching mini snow-devils pick up particles of snow dust and cast them aside. With the way Sephiroth answered his question, and the forceful adherence to ensure his service would be conducted accordingly, he couldn’t pick up any hints as to whether or not Sephiroth was aware of the consequences Jenova had laid out, or if he was speaking on his own behalf. But then Sephiroth posed a somewhat concerning question towards Vincent.

Lifting his head and turning to look towards Sephiroth, he caught sight of those serpentine eyes staring into his own, searching for the meaning possibly hiding behind crimson spheres.

“…I made a promise,” Vincent equivocated. “And I intend to keep it.” Should Sephiroth recognize the double speak, Vincent would have had his answer when it came to his knowledge of Lucrecia and the nature of the punishment. And if not, well, then perhaps it was for the better Sephiroth wasn’t aware.

Second thoughts…? If only. At least that would have meant he had another option on hand. But alas, it wasn’t so. Nevertheless, the question was a red-flag.

Vincent furrowed his brows with slight unease. If Sephiroth was already anticipating Vincent to become defiant, it could grant Jenova a reason to not even wait for him to carry out his mission. Although Vincent understood Jenova wasn’t hellbent on destruction as opposed to manipulation, he wasn’t about to take that chance. Vincent was no stranger to clandestine activities, manipulation, spying, and antagonization. After all, he used to be a Turk. But no amount of training or experiments could help him surpass Jenova’s mind-games. Vincent had to not only be on a much higher alert, but he also couldn’t give Sephiroth the slightest impression that he had something planned. Because even if he did have a plan, there was nothing holding Jenova back from executing her punishment early.

Speaking directly to Jenova was the last thing he desired. It was bad enough having four demons competing for his thoughts; but it was worse when it was an alien profaning his mind. He had heard of Jenova affecting the scientists those many years ago. Some, like Tseng, hypothesized that Hojo’s immorality was the result of excessive exposure to Jenova. Though it was merely a theory, and Vincent was no longer a mortal, he didn’t want to take his chance.

“Hmph. Thoughtful. But I’ll pass this time.” He would avoid speaking to her as much as possible.

The gunslinger looked away once more out towards the open area, catching a glimpse of a dark speck floating around in the air. It drew his attention from Sephiroth for a moment, and he unfolded his arms in anticipation, watching the object’s movements. Upon closer inspection, he could see the lights flickering, and the overall shape became more recognizable. It was a Shinra Spy drone, a couple miles down the snow-capped mountains, possibly looking for Sephiroth. Vincent’s glare returned. It seemed to be alone, but he knew that wouldn't be the case. There would be several.

"Of course..." Vincent groaned with a hint of annoyance, pulling his gun from his holster. Regardless of how he felt about his new 'assignment', Shinra spy drones were not welcomed, either way.

[alipeeps]

Episode 24

Welp, he did what they suggested. He went to see for himself.

I've said it before but it bears repeating - this kid is SUCH a good actor!

Jesus fucking christ, Wen Zongyu is the worst.

He took a grieving child and:

manipulated him into spying against his friends and poisoning one of them:

intended from the start to use his body as a vessel for a demon;

fucking poisoned him so that he would be able to control said demon once it was in his body!!

Oooh but your little demon trapping cage didn't work on our boy Li Lun?

So... could it actually end up now that Li Lun and the gang will band together against Wen Zongyu? The enemy of my enemy and all that?

Can't Zhao Yuanzhou use his healing ability on him?

Oh SHIT, the sword being broken affects/damages the person connected to it?

So they NEED that second sword!! Anybody else remember that it was explicitly mentioned that TWO cloud light swords were forged? Anyone?!!

And that confirms that the reason the sword cracked this time is because of the malicious qi - every other time Zhu Yan has been stabbed with the sword, he has been in control of his qi.

However... doesn't that mean that the plan/back up plan to kill Zhu Yan if he is out of control is doomed to failure, because the uncontrolled qi will crack the sword?

OUCH

Ying Lei is so fucking under-rated... they play him for comedy so much of the time but he has genuinely been the one coming up with a lot of the solutions for things. He found how to purify the Yao Water. He worked out that Bai Jiu's blood could revive the Divine Wood. And he's thought to ask the other mountain gods about ways to save both Zhuo Yichen and Bai Jiu. He is best boy!!

Uhhhh... yeah... sliiiight problem there...

Okay so we have a way to keep him going a bit longer... while you find the second sword, right? Right?!

Good on you Pei Sijing.

He is the best!!

Oh damn, he survived.

And Wen Zongyu has the gall to act pleased about it - as if he wasn't callously offering his position to Pei Sijing a matter of days ago.

"Thank you for your treatment"

"Better than I was before"

Did... did Wen Zongyu use his fucking experimental treatments on him? Is he a hybrid now?

"According to the spy" What spy? Just a generic spy keeping an eye on things... or is there another traitor in their midst?

Oh dang, that's fucked up your plans eh? Bummer. Sucks to be you.

Oh wow, that is freaky. It's Bai Jiu... but he's dressed and hair-styled Li Lun-style.

Ohhh that doesn't sound good...

Oh dang, his brother didn't have the right Bingyi blood to awaken the sword?!

But... but didn't we see it glowing in his (dead) hand when Zhu Yan wiped out the Demon Hunting Bureau? Or was that just the sword reacting to Zhu Yan's presence?

Ahhhh was it Zhu Yan they were going after? Probably... how many Great Demons are there after all?

Yup, it was, and the sword glowed in response to Zhu Yan's presence.

No wonder Zhuo Yichen didn't know how to use the cloud light sword properly... I'd thought it was because his dad and brother had died before they had chance to teach him... but they never could have taught him because they didn't have the power to awaken it and use it to its full potential...

Oh SHIT and he finds out about his brother's death by someone bringing him the damn sword?!! Wrapped in a blood-stained cloth. Like... harsh, dude?!!

And he dedicated his life to becoming strong enough to awaken the sword, to honor his brother...

I'm not crying, you're crying!!

His tears awakened it?

Goddamn the music in this show is just perfect...

Oh shit.

OH SHIT!

Wtf's going on with the fish pond?

Wtf is this, that's been hiding in the fish pond all this time?!

Of course it is. And of course it's been at the bottom of the fish pond for fucking generations. Where else would you keep it?!

Oh it can repair everything can it?

WHY do they just fucking stand there and let it happen?!!

Oh Zhu Yan did react! Hallelujah!

He sure did.

Did what? You are in this situation because of your own actions! It was literally YOUR plan to break the baize token, get unsealed, and then take over Bai Jiu's body because you knew your own body would burn up!

Okay wtf why did the stone suddenly break?

Can this show please stop giving us a teensy glimpse of hope and then ripping it away from us again?!!

Honestly the stone's a bit shit if all it takes to crumble it is the merest touch of demonic energy?

And what the fuck is this now? There was blood at the centre of the stone? Is it the famous Bingyi blood?

And it's gone zooming into Zhuo Yichen? Whose eyes have gone blue like in the flashbacks to his ancestor?

Oh damn... did I hear that right? The demon Ying Long agreed to die at Bingyi's hand... for the greater good?

OH WHAT?!!!

Ying Lei be like:

Ahhh my poor precious baby mountain god! He's too too good!

Way to be a downer, Zhu Yan.

So it wasn't Bingyi blood? It was demon blood? Unless...?

Because Ying Long sacrificed himself to save the world. Sound familiar, anyone?

Ho hoooooo! Yes indeedy, Zhuo Yichen's ancestor was also a demon... and the famous Bingyi blood is - demon blood! (So I guess maybe it was Bingyi blood inside the stone after all?)

And members of Zhuo Yichen's family were only strong enough to activate the cloud light sword if they had enough demon Bingyi bloodline in them, I guess? And Zhuo Yichen does... which is probably also why he kept dreaming about turning into a demon, I am guessing?

Ohhhhh and we finally get an explanation of how come Zhuo Yichen let Ao Yin get away if he wasn't being controlled by Li Lun!!

He wasn't controlled... he was shocked (mind you, why on earth he would believe a demon's word on that, enough to be shocked to a standstill by it and let them escape?)

So the Great Demon Bingyi was turned human...

And he lived in seclusion... and his descendants...

SO... he wasn't all THAT secluded then eh? 😂

It allows them to choose? So he gets to choose if he remains human or becomes demon? But what do you want to bet he will end up in a situation where becoming demon is the only option to save everyone, so he'll do it?

Oh mind you, no, doesn't sound like there is any choice...

Oh holy shit, is there ANY good news for us, Zhu Yan?!!

So now Zhuo Yichen is condemned to death on 2 fronts - the broken sword AND the Bingyi demon blood.

How the fuck are Chongwu spies able to so easily sneak right into the core of Demon Hunting Bureau to eavesdrop? Do you people have ANY fucking security at all?

You said it girl!

Well DUH, of course he's bloody disappeared while you idiots were chitchatting!!

Oh dang...

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah 😭😭

Aww bless her, she has understood the meaning behind his words...

Oh shit!

AAaaaahhhh! You end it THERE?!!

[lightlycareless]

Another oneshot (?) we've been all waiting for. The sequel to this piece over here :> Ah, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this. I hope you enjoy it!!!

Warnings: mentions of unaliving you. (explained in the first part) Naoya is insecure about himself, but loves you greatly. mentions of pregnancy. yep, you're pregnant and happily married :) slight mentions of nsfw activities. minimal proofreading I think?

Happy reading!!

Why did it have to be him?

Of all people that could’ve been chosen from to follow through with this lead, of all willing candidates who were more than ready to seize the glory the completion of this mission would provide…

Why did they choose him?

Was it because he was the one that discovered said lead? Or how deep it actually ran? Just enough to affect not only his fellow sorcerers, but civilians as well?

It sounded like an excuse, not even a good one at that, to keep him promptly occupied and away from his true, and only priority; the reason why he started this sting operation in the first place.

Yet, as much as he wanted to escape, he remained behind because there was some truth to be found behind their words: no one else knew the gravity of the situation better than him. There was no other that experienced so closely what it was to almost lose someone dear to him, and such, the importance to put an end to all of this.

Working every single day and night, Naoya was eventually able to catch the head of this whole mafia and bring them to justice—only then, was he able to return home to you, his pregnant and inconsolable wife which could barely express her feelings outside of a tight hug, fearing he’ll disappear if she let’s go, and quiet sobs, wishing he’d never leave again.

“Naoya” you breathe, taking in his scent, his warmth, his everything you’ve been cruelly deprived of for months. “Naoya, ple—please, don’t leave me again…”

“I won’t—” And your husband was eager to promise you so, having long decided that missions are temporarily suspended until he decides otherwise—

But the moment his arms embrace you back, the first time in what felt like eons for him… he’s welcomed by a horrifying revelation, a sensation he perhaps wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t disappeared.

Your stomach was bigger, more prominent; he had to stretch his arms a little more in order to completely fit you—

Undermining the length of his absence, earnestly reassuring himself on his way back that he hadn’t been away from you for long, that he hadn’t missed much of your kisses or giggles… or his child’s growth.

But obviously, he had. It was plain to see.

And he had missed all of it because of that stupid mission that didn’t even pay him that well...

Naoya began to distance himself from you soon after.

You didn’t think much of it at first, naively believing he was just… trying to readjust back into his previous home life, break away from being constantly on his toes and simply relax. It was only a matter of time before Naoya returned to the same loving, albeit teasing, husband you knew and loved!

God knows you went through the same thing when returning to the Zen’in estate, which you never believed would happen considering how everything transpired after your supposed allergy.

In fact, everything about it was… confusing, for a lack of better wording. From the swiftness in which you were transferred to your clan’s home, to how you were received back by an entirely different staff…

A part of you swore it wasn’t a simple allergy—

Nonetheless, you trusted Naoya, knew how he was too. Prone to overreacting at the smallest mention of danger, a side of him that only worsened upon learning of your pregnancy.

In these matters, sometimes silence was the best path to take. More so if it meant a happy marriage, a happier life, in return.

At least that’s what you wished to believe, because no amount of compromise seemed to put things back in place, not even after days of his return, nor how much you desired it to.

Something just… didn’t sit right with him. The short answers, his quick glances, to even keeping distance between the two when sharing the same bed…!

There was something undeniably wrong with your husband, but you were not to give up anytime soon. Even when these little things began to chip away at your poor dismayed heart, you still found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

«He just needs a little push» you conclude. «A reminder of what he missed, and he’ll be back on track»

And thankfully, you knew exactly what to do.

With a light robe that left nothing to the imagination, you’d wait for him in your shared chambers, patiently sitting by the futon to when he eventually crosses the door, eyes wide as Naoya took in your form, breath hitching to his throat the moment the garment fell to your sides, enough provocation for him to move closer, finally within your hands grasp.

“Naoya.” You softly cooed, fingers carefully tracing the edges of his hakama, which you soon began to undo. “My love.”

He’s always found it amusing how easily he succumbed to your charms: just two words while batting your eyes and he was putty in your hands.

“I missed you.” You cooed, pouring honey into his ears as you continued to undress him; Naoya did nothing to stop his robes from falling beside him—too entranced to care about anything else but you, and the heat settling underneath your touch. “You don’t know how lonely I’ve been without you…”

You’d then place a trail of kisses, beginning from his ear down to his cheek and then, his lips, where he’d cautiously return the gestures, almost as if he were afraid of hurting you.

But as much as you wished he’d be a bit more assertive; you do not press him—if anything, his reaction makes your heart tighten, urging you to spoil him even further, which you do by softly intertwining your hands with his, pulling them up to your sensitive breasts and resting them there.

“Without your touch… without your warmth” You murmur, gently squeezing him against you before sliding his hands down your sides… “No matter how much I tried… nothing compares to you.”

Onto your rounded stomach, to the soft skin protecting his unborn child—a son or daughter made from your overflowing love, fated to represent such union by either resembling their father or you; Naoya secretly hopes they take after you, both physically and in personality.

And you… well, a little prince that looked just like your husband simply made the wait unbearable.

But regardless of the outcome, both knew they’d love them either way.

“Please.” You breathe against his lips, palm gently rubbing against his growing desire. “I need you.”

But even your longing couldn’t contend against Naoya’s uncertainty, for the moment his fingers graced your belly, he was sourly reminded of the revelation that has haunted him since his return, fated to haunt you too when he immediately retracted.

And way he looked at you, at your child, almost as if he were frightened, if not disgusted… is one that permanently imprints on the back of your mind; destroying any last hope you had for this sweet moment, and subsequently, your heart with the following questioning.

“Did I… Did I do something?” you quietly ponder, hands trembling as you struggled whether to keep looking at Naoya, or glance away. You didn’t know anymore…

Only that it hurt.

“No, it’s… it’s not you.” He responds, probably the largest sentence you’ve gotten out of him since his return; and the answer that made your assumptions worsen.

“Then is—is it—is it the baby?” you fret, feeling whatever remained of your heart break. “Do you—Do you not want the baby anymore?”

“What?” Naoya’s eyes widen, perplexed by the accusation. “What did you just say?”

It was outrageous, uncalled for considering all what he did and for who did it.

But to you, who was kept in the dark throughout the entirety of his absence, alongside his shockingly different behavior, your mind could only point you onto one direction:

In his time away, back on the field and for a long time just like he did before the two married… did he suddenly realize how restricting a baby would be on his life? On his career? Perhaps acknowledge that this is not something he was willing to sacrifice?

Or did he—

Did he conclude you were not the right person to share this experience with? Someone out there far more suitable than you?

Naoya didn’t need to read minds to know exactly what was going on through your thoughts, nor to be reminded of what he must to ensure your happiness, which he had selfishly stripped you away from—once again…

“I would put down my life just to keep you and our child safe.” Naoya says, moving to take your hands with his as a gesture to put all this behind, but when you flinch away in return, he’s given a taste of what you’ve silently endured since his return. “Y/N—”

“Your—your words don’t go with what you—with what you’ve done.” You quietly retort, struggling with the cluster of emotions his actions provided: from embarrassment, to sadness, ending in anger… and yet, you still loved him. “How can you say that when you’ve—when you’ve done nothing but reject me?”

Once again Naoya wishes to immediately refute your worries, but he knew well it would prove your claim, do the very same thing he swore to prevent.

Seems that all this time he spent trying to protect you was for naught, for he’d come straight home to hurt you instead.

“Have I… Have I become… undesirable to you, because of this?” Given the way he glanced away whenever coming near him, what else were you supposed to think?

“Y/N.” Naoya persists, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him—your eyes reflecting straight back at him how consistently stupid he had been with you.

Yes, the pain he felt for not being there with you through this very important time of their marriage is very valid—no one said otherwise.

But had he even considered how infinitely worse it had been for you? You were the one carrying his child, dealing with all that pertained to a pregnancy: hormones, pains, fears and insecurities… with the addition of just what you needed: his second thoughts.

Could anyone blame you for assuming such things?

“Wh—what?” you respond, frowning.

“I haven’t been truthful to you.” Naoya begins. “In fact, I don’t think I have been at all.”

“You think?” you accuse, he swallows.

“I know.” Naoya corrects. “I know I haven’t been honest with anything. From my absence to my behavior towards you, the least you deserve is the truth.”

“…Is there someone else?” you quickly interrupt. “Just tell me if—”

“No, never. I love you too much to ever look at someone else and you know that.”

You look away, afflicted to have even considered such a horrible thing, as if he hadn’t proved so countless times.

“Then… what is it?” you murmur. “What have I done to make you act this way?”

“Nothing.” He responds. “You didn’t do nothing at all.”

It was only the passage of time that earned you such reckless reaction, marking you responsible for something you had no influence over.

His baby was to continue grow inside you regardless of if he was there to see it or not. And in a way, he should be happy this was the way things were occurring: It meant that your pregnancy was a healthy one, the only thing he desired for you and the baby at the end of the day!

But he allowed his emotions to get the best of him and now, made you victim of his consequences.

He could see it in the way you didn’t believe his words, your eyes looking at him but void of the adoration and devotion you always blessed him with.

Naoya feels undoubtedly foolish. The only one undeserving here was him.

“You never had an allergy reaction. Not even close. The reason why I asked you to stay with your dad was because...” Naoya stops. “Was because there was an—an attempt on your life. Someone thought they’d be able to hurt you and walk away without consequences. I made sure he knew otherwise.

And… I kept it a secret because I thought it would be best for you. I thought that by doing so I’d be protecting you… but it seems I only ended up hurting you instead.

I wasn’t supposed to keep this long away from you either. But what I once thought a quick mission turned out to be a whole operation; and since I was the one who found out everything, I was also responsible to seeing the end of it.”

Naoya hopes that by explaining this you’d be able to… well, maybe not forgive him at the moment, but at least look at him with that glint in your eye that made his heart quicken every time. A step closer to his redemption…

And not be shocked by your following words!

“I already knew all that! But it still doesn’t explain why you’re acting this way with me.”

“You—you knew? How?” Naoya thought he ordered all those around you to keep this situation under complete secrecy, even threatened to retaliate if not.

But what surprised him the most wasn’t the breach of his trust, but rather… your knowledge and composure of the matter, as if you hadn’t been the target all along.

“My staff told me.” You confessed. More precisely, Haruko, whom at the sight of your disheartened façade at your husband’s prolonged absence just had to tell you the truth.

With Mariya’s subsequent scolding giving you enough leverage to ensure its veracity.

“They tend to be very attentive about all that happens around the estate, and if necessary, they also tell me about it.” You continue. “…But please don’t punish them because of this. They mean nothing but good for me.”

“I know, and I won’t do so.” Naoya promises, far more intrigued in knowing just how far their knowledge of their surroundings extended: if they were aware of all his surprises and told you about them, if your reactions to them had been planned too…

Or if your staff still gave him a chance, understanding how special these gestures were for the two and letting everything play out by itself.

Naoya knew your ladies were ones to be trusted even with your own life, which is why he moves on to worry about your seeming indifference to this scandalous revelation.

“And you weren’t… frightened when they told you?” He breathes, his heart tightening at notion of your anguish, how he wasn’t there to comfort you.

“I was, and for the longest time I didn’t want to eat anything even if it was handed to me by my most trusted…” you continue, those days are ones you still struggle to forget. “But… I guess that after a while, my worries eventually extended over to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first because you are my husband and I always worry for you, and secondly, because you were out there dealing with the people that tried to harm us… and were close to succeeding.”

“Please don’t say that.” Naoya begs; the thought of you and his baby— he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“… I tried my best to know of your whereabouts, what you were truly doing, but since this was a secret to begin with, I could barely find anything.” You responded. “Or why you wanted to keep this hidden from me.”

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want to give you another scare that might hurt the baby...”

“I know.” You sigh. “Which is why I ultimately decided to not push the subject when you came back; believing that once you were here, with us, everything would go back to normal…”

“Except it didn’t.” Naoya concludes, you tearfully look away.

“I looked back on all the things that happened in hopes of finding an answer. To what I knew, what I’ve done, if maybe there was something I said over the phone that you didn’t like, but… nothing seemed to click for me. So, I guess that after all that happened alongside how lonely I felt, my mind simply assumed you’ve—”

“—found someone else.”

“…Have you?”

“No; you know I don’t entertain others since the moment I met you.” He repeats.

“Then why… this?”

Shall he tell you that the way he’s chosen to deal with his prolonged absence… was by continuously rejecting you? Keeping away from you and his unborn child, missing even more of the growth he swore to witness and protect?

If he wants a slap across the face, he ought to.

But even then, he’d much rather take your anger than the pain of you mistrusting him enough to believe he’d ever love anybody else that wasn’t you.

His heart was yours, from the very moment he set his eyes on you. Naoya swore so when marrying you—

No—since the moment he was born Naoya already knew he was destined to spend the rest of his life with you, and the next one, and the next one. He just needed to find you…

And make amends in this one if he planned to achieve that too.

“…Because when I saw you again, I thought everything would go right back to how it was. That I’d find you just how I left you, happy, well fed, and with that adorable belly of yours I couldn’t wait to see grow…

But once I held you in my arms… when I felt how big our child had truly grown, how much time I’d ended up spending away from you—

I couldn’t stand to be near you. I felt repulsed by myself, like I had failed you—”

Like I didn’t deserve you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you and our little mochi so, so much, I don’t know what came over me to hurt you.”

“I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me… I thought we agreed to never do that when we got married.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, looking away. It was now your time to cup his face and return his heartbroken gaze to you. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“And you can do that… by our side.” You then grab his hands, carefully placing them over your stomach and caressing it. “…Please don’t leave us again, I don’t think my heart could take that again…”

“I won’t, I swear.” Naoya says. “I never want to leave your side ever again or miss our baby’s growth. I want to be there when she gives her first kick.”

“Why are you so adamant in believing our baby is a girl?” you giggle, he smiles.

“I don’t know, father’s intuition, I guess. Though it all started the moment I had that dream of her. Ever since, all I can see is a little girl that looks just like you running across the estate” He confesses, your breath hitches. “With your big, bright eyes and rosy chubby cheeks I cannot wait to pinch, demanding she’d be given taro mochi before dinner—and you naturally sneaking some for her, of course.”

“You dream of our baby?” you swoon.

“Every night.” Naoya admits, and the thought of your husband being so eager to welcome his baby that he dreams of her… it warms you up with unprecedented happiness.

“Don’t curse our daughter like that…” you pout, referencing how Naoya already plans to tease her. He laughs.

“Finally accepted the truth, huh? That she’s a girl?”

“You’re not off the hook yet—” but just when you were on way to refute him, a sudden shiver down your spine stops you, making Naoya quickly reach out for your robe and wrap you with it, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before hugging you.

Being so close to you after so long it made it physically impossible for him to stray away, especially with the tight way you hugged him back, finally giving him all the love itched to share—and taking in his warmth, his scent; the smell you missed oh so much, but was only able to enjoy through the covers on the bed or his clothes.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

“Are you still cold?” Naoya asks, gently rubbing your back.

“No, not anymore…” you whisper, leaning deeper into his chest before trembling once more. “Oh, well, a little bit.”

“Come on, let’s get you back on the futon.” He proposes. “Unless you still want to…”

You shake your head, for as endearing as that sounded, there was much to catch up to.

“I just want to be like this with you.” You add, looking up to him. “If… that’s ok with you.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Making haste, Naoya helps you down onto the bed with such tenderness you could only giggle at, reminding him that you were only pregnant, and subsequently, still capable of doing many things.

“No, we’re not doing that.” He says, firmly set on pampering you; let it be known that he greatly loved you and missed being with you like this.

And once you were comfortably set on the bed, underneath the warm cotton covers and safe within his arms, he rested his hands over your stomach, no longer flinching at it’s feeling and instead, relishing your scent —roses, his favorite—and what this felt like to him, what you always represented:

Home.

“Have you eaten well? After that, I mean.” He wonders; Naoya doesn’t doubt you have, between your family and staff, there was never a moment they would allow you to lack what you so much desired. Yet, he still wishes to know directly from you.

“Contrary from what this may seem, I’ve only gotten this big because of the baby, not because I’ve been eating that much…”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” He laughs, still caressing your stomach. “Though I have to admit that I find you quite adorable like this.”

You blush.

“You must’ve been huge as a baby.” You continue on, enjoying the warmth eradiating from his hand onto your growing belly. And something tells you your adorable baby does too.

“Me? What makes you think that? Could’ve been your side of the family.” Naoya snickers.

“Um, no it isn’t. I’ve seen pictures of me and my dad tells me I wasn’t this big. Besides, it’s not fair that I haven’t been able to find pictures of you when you were a baby to corroborate that.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” He asks, inwardly glad that Ranta had managed to hide them. Though after this he supposes he could give you a preview…

“Besides eating odd cravings…” you giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, admiring the sensation of his wedding band underneath your touch. “Like Cheetos and strawberry yogurt…”

“Don’t tell me you actually ate that.”

“Our baby wanted it, what was I supposed to do? Deny her? That would only make me a bad mother.”

“Or a spoiling one.” He smiles. “But I can’t be too harsh on you, I’d be the same.”

“If not worse…” you say, recounting all the gifts he sent you while away. You haven’t even gone through all of them yet—and something tells you you might never, somehow more on the way…

“Definitely worse.” Naoya repeats, squeezing your cheeks into a pout before kissing the side of your face. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“I have long forgiven you, Naoya.” You respond, turning around to see him. “But… promise to never do that again. We swore not to keep secrets between us. And if we are to make this family work, we have to be a team.”

“I know; us against the world.” Naoya murmurs, pulling you closer to him and giving you one last tight hug. “I promise, and I swear I’ll do everything within my reach to make up for all my mistakes.”

“You don’t need to do that, just your love will be enough for the two of us.”

He gives you a breathy chuckle, that he knows will not be an issue, he has more than enough love to share with you and his unborn baby, perhaps even more than he’s comfortable disclosing, which could easily be mended with another baby—

But all in due time, for he does not intend to rush this special moment with you. He simply desires to live the rest of his life with you, one day at a time.

Just… you and his baby.

What a lovely thought to fall asleep to.

I cannot believe they had this discussion naked LMAO I can't be the only one that thought so 🙈 anyways, there you have it. a regretful Naoya that lamented being away from you :( he's really excited to be a dad but hated not being there for you!! I'm 100% sure he cried about feeling your stomach be slightly bigger.

Oh, I love domestic au's. Anyways...

I hope this was to your enjoyment :> Thank you so much for your support!!

Take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

[chronicallyonline101]

OH WAIITERRR!!! May i have your finest glass of leone abbacchio x reader pretty please! One where the reader finds Abbacchio beat up on the curbside only to find out he got into some kind of bar fight! So she pulls up and is like "Again??! Get in," and takes him home, patches him up, FLUFFY STUFF!! WITH A CHERRY ON TOP

ORDER UP!!! Here is your glass i do hope you enjoy! (i wrote this on mobile so if the formatting is weird thas why soz pooks(

Nights of White Satin

Leone Abbacchio x reader || Oneshot, Fluff

You traced your thumb along the bottom of his bruised lip; bloody, illuminated by nothing but an old, flickering streetlamp in the midst of a sad, gloomy night. His purple lipstick had long since worn off, but the mottled blue's of his injuries did well to replace it. Despite how you tried to peer at him, his eyes always managed to evade yours - glued to the ground in what was a mixture of shame and fury welling together in an ombre cocktail.

Cars flew by behind you. Tires screeching against wet concrete, the thrum of engines and splashing puddles but none of it mattered. You fixated on the man in front of you with clear concern. Concern that only had him biting his cheek with disinterest.

"Leone... what happened?" You leant closer to him, a frown settled across your lips as you gently moved your hand to cup at his delicate cheek and redirect his gaze toward yourself.

For a moment, Abbacchio allowed himself the comfort of your presence; leaning into your touch like a feline starved of affection, but when your fingers brushed across a stinging open wound he hissed in a breath through his teeth and reeled backward. Now grounded, he reprimanded himself for getting so comfortable and took to curling his hands into fists.

"It's nothing," He grouched, turning his gaze to the floor once again. "Just some work things. You know how it is."

You leant back a little, swallowing thickly. Of course... Abbacchio's 'work'. The thing you would call organised criminal activity was just a normal Tuesday for him - to no avail, looking at him here, sat in the gutter with a broken wine bottle to his side... you felt that perhaps what had happened was less serious than what he was making it out to be.

With a short, frustrated huff, you stood upright. Hands on your hips as you looked up wistfully. The sky was clouded, not that it mattered; you could never see the stars in the city, but the sight of such gloom reminded you of how unsafe it was to be on these streets of Napoli late into the night.

"You got into another fight again, didn't you?"

He winced at your question. Tensing when he felt your gaze turn accusatory. There was no way he could deny it. The amount of times you'd find him in this condition - or worse - had made such a task impossible. Instead, he let out a groan and while burying his head into his hands mumbled:

"He made fun of my hair."

His words were followed by a shameful silence.

You sighed, pinching at your temple before decidely shoving a hand into your pocket and fumbling about for your car keys. Abbacchio lifted his gaze to watch you. After a few seconds, you pried the jangling things from your pocket and pressed at a button to unlock your car which had been hastily parked atop of a curb only a few feet away.

You turned toward the vehicle with a fervent urgency. "Come on then."

His brows furrowed, and for a moment he remained still, watching with an intense glower while you clicked open the door to the drivers seat and hopped inside.

Upon realising he hadn't followed, you honked the car horn at him with urgency. It was with that, he slowly arose to his feet; wobbling unsteadily for a few seconds. Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he walked toward the passenger seat to your car, and as he took his place beside you.

You stuffed the key into the ignition, twisted, and soon the two of you were off. At first, the atmosphere in the car was silent. Filled only by the gentle rumbling of its engine, but it was too much for Abbacchio. Silence meant thought, and right now he didn't want to deal with his thoughts.

So he spoke: "What are you doing?"

"Taking you home." A small huff left your nose, condensating against the cold air. Your grip around the wheel tightened, praying to anything out there that he would drop it at that.

You wanted to help him, but he was so damn stubborn. When his brows rose in distress, you knew he'd put up a fight:

"You don't know where I live." He griped, and crossed his arms over his chest in disobedience. He cocked his head in the direction of the window, watching with hazy yellowish eyes as the flashing world passed by.

Another sigh passed your lips as you admitted defeat. "My home. We're going to my home, Leone."

"Why? I don't want to---"

"---I'm trying to help you. Please... let me help."

For a moment, you risked peeling your eyes away from the road. Wide and pleading, you watched longingly while he glared out the window beside him. His silver hair glimmered prettily against the night sky; the moons shadow befell him like a cotton blanket and even in a roughed up, bloody state he was so... perfect. So radiant. An image of tragedy yet glowing with hope.

"Your my friend." You decidely went on. "And I like you."

And at your words, Abbacchio bit into his bottom lip to hide a whimper of utter sorrow.

A friend. His friend. You were his friend.

The venomous thorns of guilt coiled around his heart like a snake; he was wreaked with shame. You were so good to him, such a kind, loving person and here he was - a criminal. A delinquent.

How many times had you found him at the side of the road? How many times had you welcomed him into the warmth of your home? Bathed his wounds in salt? Patched him up with a hug and a pat on the back?

It was sickening, to think of how often you opened your heart to him and how little he gave back. Every night he found himself here with you he put you in danger, it was cruel and selfish, and yet he loved every second of it. As nonchalant as he tried to be, he loved the attention you gave him.

Such is why, though he grumbled and complained, he never once stopped you from taking him home. Never halted his footing as he traipsed along behind you and never snatched your housekeys from your palms; he watched curiously all the while you welcomed him into your abode, sitting with compliance on your couch as you ushered about in the dark to try and a first aid kit.

When you finally settled down beside him, there was a small cotton ball clutched between your fingers. Doused in isopropyl alcohol; you lifted it up to gently press at an open wound. He winced and flinched backward,

"You need to stop getting into these fights." You tutted at him, relocating the cotton ball to his lip where you then cleared away his smudging lipstick.

There was a huff, but he moatly stayed silent. Leaning into your touch. Your eyes lifted to meet his, curious and attentive; he swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing against the curve of his neck. The room grew warm while you held each others glaze, and with a light, awkward cough you broke away from the stare to dash the now red cotton ball to the side.

"Did you get hurt badly?"

He scoffed, turning his head to look to the side. "No. I left him worse for wear."

There was a short laugh. A rare sound, coming from him; and though it was quiet, it was honest. It told you he wasn't as grumpy as he made himself out to be and at that, you smiled.

"Mm. I feel bad. Maybe I should go back and help him out too, eh?" You laughed at your own joke, reaching down to grab at some gauze for his wounds.

You heard him grunt above you and failed to notice the expression of discomfort that befell his face. "I'd rather you stay, actually... I like you being here."

You paused. Lifting yourself up to look him in the eyes, brow quirked in a smug perplexion.

"You like it when I patch you up?" You leant closer to him; you could feel his breath fanning against your face, his breath once again hitching at your sudden closeness. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks.

His lips parted for a moment. He thought that perhaps you were going to go further. That maybe, you'd press your lips to his... but you didn't. He was left sourly dissapointed when instead you took to pressing the gauze against his wounded cheek.

"I do." He mumbled.

He went quiet, after that. Growing shy, unsure of himself or what he was even saying. He was pretty drunk, to be fair; he'd likely regret how mushy he was getting, but right now he was happy. He was content. His body ached like a battered banana, but every touch your fingers danced upon his fair skin had him leaning closer with serenity.

When you were done cleaning him up you packed away the first aid kit and he watched for a while as you teetered about putting things away and preparing both of you tea. He hovered behind you for a while and once you were done, wormed his way into your bed; the two of you shared it for the night because, well, he was injured and needed the bed and it was stupid to let you get a bad back on the couch because of stupid societal norms regarding bed sharing. And if he did reach out to hold you in the night, so what?

Abbacchio liked you a lot. He hated having you worry for him so much, but... he also loved how you treated him. It was gentle. Loving; thing's he could never have as a skilled mafioso. It was selfish for him to seek you out like this but at the same time, he knew he wouldn't stop. He'd get into more bar fights, he'd find himself in more scuffles and at the end of each day, he'd find himself in your house; your embrace; he'd find himself wrapped in your love.

(I HOPE THIS IS GOOD!!! IF NOT I CAN CHANGE IT PLS LMK!!!! to the ppl that sent in the Kira and Melone reqs I'm almost done with them! :) im just being lazy)