#because as it is i feel like i hear the former way more than i hear the latter

[that-one-kiddo-in-the-back]

Fun fact: I was that anon that Lily responded to about Hunter having no one in that reaction you just posted.

I was 15 at the time, and I actually got into Lily’s content because of her Disney movie in minutes videos and LGBT in animation videos. I thought she was direct and funny. I loved the owl house but found her takes on the show post season 1 to be…off

She was hyper-fixated on race for some reason, and didn’t like Luz in season 3 (who she defended and made videos on btw) because…she was sad for a mistake she made? She delved into these issues before, but for this show it seemed like that was the thing she was most passionate about. Some positive takes, sure, but the negative ones seemed to fuel her the most. But it was her takes on Hunter that really had me confused. It’s like she was watching a completely different show than I was.

I sent that ask not as a hyper-fixated Hunter loving moron as she called me, but as a fan of the show that didn’t understand her hostility to a specific character that…didn’t really do anything to deserve it? A character she hated so much it made her turn against the show (allegedly)

Long post (sorry!) but I just wanted to comment about how hurt I was that Lily was just so rude and nasty in that response. She really put anyone who defended him into the same “racist boring, hates POCs” bubble and just never left it. I was a fan, and how she reacted soured my taste in her instantly. Unsubscribed, unfollowed, done. Now I’m hearing about former friends calling her toxic, and her bullying YouTubers reacting to her content. I feel embarrassed I ever supported a creator like that…

She was awful in the Steven Universe fandom, she was annoying in the Star Wars fandom, and she was awful in TOH fandom. Beware!!

Wow, that sounded terrible.

Don't be embarrassed for having followed her content and liking it. Most people in the critical community used to be fans of hers. I used to be a fan of her as well when I was like 14. I just see this as people growing up and thinking for themselves.

I think Lily lost a lot of followers over her take on hunter and even more so "hollowed mind." And it didn't help that she called people who relate to Hunter,"racist fascist that are a part of hitlers youth." It's one thing to just not vibe with a character, but it's another to act like he's the worst character to ever have screen time.

Despite the fact that she's been on the internet for years, she can't handle being online.

Unfortunately, Lily treats all of her fans like that. She'll yell at them for not sending money that right way, All of her exes were fans of her, and She'll answer asks with hostility. Lily is just all around, not a good or nice person.

I'm sorry you felt so hurt by Lily simply because you asked a question.

[beaft]

bitchy post sequel: i have seen a lot of aces being like "i talk a lot about sex to push back against people who think my asexuality isn't valid" and while i do have sympathy with that, i think it's really an issue of competing needs - specifically, your need to feel Valid™️ vs my need to not feel like the prudish odd one out in a group of other asexual people

[jitteryjive]

i need to remake my cup bros ref… both cup and human designs… it’s been almost a year(?) and i’ve developed the headcanons and i would like to share with the class!!! (i wrote thirty tags. Please help me)

[mokutone]

A dumb lil headcanon I have is that Yamato was assigned Naruto’s legal guardian in shippuden. (And that before it was Hiruizen, then Kakashi, then Jiraiya) just for convenience because he’s watching over Naruto all the time anyways.

oh god. sorry my response got really long but the fact is anyone even breathes a word of yamato being fatherly to naruto and i lose my shit and start beating my fist against the earth sobbing and shaking and etc.

now TO BE FAIR. i think if anyone should be naruto's legal guardian it should probably be iruka because iruka was the one who took care of naruto when naruto needed it most, and canonically naruto thinks of iruka as a father figure so much that he like, asks him to act as his father at his wedding, and he has this whole moment as a kid

THAT SAID. i like ur ask, and when it comes to the idea of legal responsibilities, i find the idea of Yamato being granted (even temporary) guardianship over Naruto to be extremely funny and entertaining.

i think yamato would personally take a lot of pride in that and really enjoy it. i think he would love nothing more than to have a practical, obligatory tie to enable him in his desire to take care of the people he loves. i also think that he would be obnoxious about it, at least a little bit. partially because his sense of humor is a little weird, and partially because he has no idea how to act as a guardian figure.

like i think he'd say shit like "bedtime! that's an order!" and naruto would be like "oh, piss off!" and then yamato would use his scary face and naruto would get even more frustrated, and the whole time yamato would be like "wow, naruto is a great kid (if a little disobedient!) and this is such a fun game we are playing, even if it tires me out :)"

unfortunately i think, out of all the guardian/mentor figures that naruto has had, (sandaime, iruka, kakashi, jiraiya, tsunade, those elderly frogs, yamato...) i think yamato is the one he is least close with, and would least like to be a permanent fixture in his life.

i'm not saying that he doesn't like yamato, just that...i would be really surprised if there's a point after yamato gets captured, where naruto is like "man, we should really save yamato!" y'know?

i could be wrong! i haven't gotten there yet. but like. i'm not anticipating it. thats okay tho i love naruto and hes got a lot going on.

picture below is more related to the tags than the text

[esperderek]

I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.

In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.

What's the first two lines in this article?

"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."

No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.

This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.

The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:

"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."

"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."

Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.

The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:

"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."

Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.

Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("

Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!

Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.

She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."

Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:

a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and

b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.

I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.

Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.

[beetlejuicyy]

criston cole is such a female-experience coded character and it is exactly why he is hated so much hear me out

his whole character is built around the idea that rhaenyra seduced him, had taken his dignity and made him feel like her whore. his vow and his duty are close enough to the idea of women's purity and value. you were sullied, you have to marry the man that devalued you, otherwise you are spoiled and unworthy.

on top of that, his identity as a knight, as kingsguard means he is submissive. he is not seen having a lot of opinions or plans to how things are done, the big guys in the council decide and he has to obey to their orders.

on top of that, when he does act at last, it's portrayed in the form of scheming, behind the backs of people, and it's mostly attributed to his sentimental nature, to his inability to think straight, be logical because of his personal feelings. that's how women have been portrayed for centuries.

another thing that makes his character harder to grasp is the choice to have the same actor play the pre-timeskip and past-timeskip criston. 20 years have passed and yet people see him as the same person who refused to be rhaenyra's whore but now he is hypocritical because he is alicent's whore. 20 years have passed and, even if you can't see it on his face, he's bound to have changed too.

in his relationship with alicent he doesn't talk as much. he is obedient, she's the one in charge. she gets to say when and how things happen, he is just at her service.

his entire character is build up to revolve around rhenyra, like women's lives are supposed to revolve around men. if he refuses to acknowledge his status in his youth he is no longer allowed to later (after 20 years mind you) find some sort of comfort in another master. it's like saying "if you say you hate the system why take part in it"?

his pent up rage and hatred is evil, because what happened to him was behind closed doors where no one saw or heard of it. because if they knew of it he would lose everything, exactly the way women have often refrained from talking about their condition in fear of being villainized themselves. in the meantime, the one in power will keep their dignity and spotless reputation like rhaenyra is not even held accountable for having bastards pushed forward as heirs, not to mention the fling she had with criston.

this rant is in no way trying to portray criston cole as a saint or a good guy or trying to justify his behaviour. this is actually the problem with hotd, the effort to draw a line between the good guys and bad guys. have it be either balck or white. it's not, it can't be. you either have complex, morally grey characters with flaws and mistakes or you go watch marvel or something. even there villains are more humanized than in this petty effort of righteousness.

LE: thank you everyone who mentioned the aspect of criston being a man of colour from dorne and the power dynamic between a royal and a lower born who fought his way into the world! this rant was written in a rush and while i couldn't express the latter as eloquently as most of you in the tags/comments, i completely overlooked the former. i love looking through everyone's tags and comments and seeing your takes. as @jazzyclarinet pointed out in the comments, seeing criston's character in this light does not erase or diminish the injustice other women in the story experience.

on another note, i feel like part of the blame is on the way hbo marketed the season with the pressure to pick a side. however, i think what we've been lacking as a society in the post covid years is actual unbiased analysis of art. swallowing up content without any question and making said content a personality trait is harmful. as i said, i don't like criston as a character, but i can make these points about him simply because i watch the show critically and i don't blindly defend a character while trashing another.

[shotoh]

❝ I THINK I… ♡ ❞

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ when they realize they’re in love with you

feat. oliver aiku, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo

cw + tw. fluff, some angst, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, pro-player!characters, friends to lovers + established relationships, pet names, (!!!)attempted assault (in kunigami’s scenario, but he’s obviously not the assailant), alcohol usage (in oliver’s), maximum self-indulgence

notes. jdjsjsn this is kind of all over the place but i just wanted to word dump some cute scenarios and headcanons

OLIVER AIKU

honestly, he’d get kind of scared. and not in an appalled way like, “psh, i’m oliver aiku! i can get any woman i want so why should i only care about this one person?!”

no, it’s because he’s fully aware of his disloyal and womanizing past that he’s afraid of this. he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting you—the one person he truly cares about—and he believes you don’t deserve that.

you deserve so much better than a douchebag like him.

he keeps that growing pit of adoration to himself and carries on with his life as always, but that can only do so much when he’s so clearly infatuated with you.

the most he lets himself do is tag along on your night out at clubs. however, he doesn’t drink a lick of alcohol. he needs to be sober to take care of you in case you get too wild out there to do so yourself. while he’s there though he talks to a few of the women flocking around, entertains them a bit, maybe as a feeble attempt to get you off his mind and forget about the jealousy rooted deep inside him when too many guys check you out and ask for a dance. but nowadays, he can never find it in himself to take any of these women home. that’s how deep his affections for you have run.

at one point during the night, you approach him with one too many drinks in your system, evident by your wobbly steps and the carefree grin plastered on your face.

“oli~! why don’ yer dance wit me?!” you slur, nearly toppling in front of him if not for oliver dashing forward to stop you from falling on your face.

“i think you’ve had one too many drinks, sweetheart,” he chides. after that he’s draping his large coat over your bare shoulders and leading you back to his car to get you home, while ignoring all the pouty women on his way out.

you object to leaving at first, droning about how the night is still young, but oliver is persistent in getting you home safe and sound. eventually, you doze off in the passenger seat while he’s driving. when he parks in front of your apartment complex, he carries you all the way up to your door, fishes out your keys from your clutch, and finally gets you into bed.

he lingers a little bit longer to make sure you’re all settled and if you need his help with anything, but once the buzz in your system has fizzled and your eyes are fully lidded, oliver assumes you’re out like a light. that is, until he’s sitting at your bedside and he hears the faintest murmur from your lips.

“love you… oliver…” is what comes out in a lovely daze and he almost wants to deny he heard it for both yours and his sake, but all he can do is muster a smile, ghosting a hand along your cheek, and say while you’re blissfully unaware,

“love you too, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI RIN

lowkey annoyed over this because instead of soccer plaguing his mind 24/7, his thoughts are now overrun by you! so he ignores the feeling, thinking it will magically go away or something. but newsflash to rin: it’s not as simple as it looks, and he ends up learning that lesson the hard way.

he spends the next week evading you—declining invites to hang out, sending half-hearted text messages, and ingraining himself in his soccer practices. unfortunately for him, his performance actually gets worse because now all those feelings he’s been bottling up inside his fragile heart are about to burst.

even shidou has been scoring more than him and rin just can’t live that down, especially when the former asks if the reason he’s been doing so poorly is because he and his “little girlfriend” broke up. which isn’t even the case since you’ve both never crossed that bridge.

poor boy goes home one day conflicted over all of this, slouched on the edge of his bed with his hands ruffled in his hair. soon he gets a text from you, which he shouldn’t be surprised by, given how he’s been treating you lately.

but then you’re asking him if he’s okay and rin is utterly taken aback because he’s been acting like such an asshole, yet you’re the one that’s still worried about his well-being.

right then and there rin has a long moment of contemplation, breathing a sigh into his hand which clasps over his mouth. he replies back with a quick apology text before telling you to meet him after his practice tomorrow. the moment he hits send, he tosses his phone on the bed, not willing to wait for that hovering gray bubble to appear on the message window.

when tomorrow arrives and practice is over, his steps are dragging along the pavement outside the training facility. he’s honestly doubting if you’ll even show up, but those qualms are immediately dashed when he sees your figure a few distances away. you’re standing there with apprehension written on your features, which morph into worry as soon as you cross eyes with him.

rin can’t even get a word in or form a coherent thought because the moment you run up to him, you’re blabbering about how he didn’t have to apologize because he was probably working so hard on soccer, chasing his dreams and the like. then, you bring up how maybe you should continue distancing yourself in order to help him focus, and god, that flicks a switch in rin’s head because that is far from what he wants.

all of a sudden, he’s silencing you as he pulls you into his chest. you find yourself buried in his jersey, confused but not drifting away, and even return the embrace when you sense him shake against you.

“fuck, no. i don’t want that all…” his voice sounds like he’s about to break as he mutters those words into your hair. his arms tighten around your shoulders as if you’ll leave him at any moment. you assure him you won’t as you nuzzle closer into his chest.

“then i’m not going anywhere, rin.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

the thought comes upon him when he’s alone in his apartment. it’s not immediate though.

the sunlight seeping through the curtains inevitably wakes him up one very late morning. and by very late, i mean this dozy boy definitely slept in that day, if he couldn’t already tell from his digital clock reading 11am.

even though nagi is always keen on getting plenty of shut-eye, he’s constantly kept on his toes when it comes to having a productive sleep schedule. partially due to soccer practices, but also because you sometimes visit him in the mornings. so normally, he’s woken by the ruckus you’re making while cooking him breakfast in the kitchen.

but this morning it’s… silent. which in hindsight, nagi should be happy about, right? he got to sleep in, after all, and he doesn’t have practice today. what more could he want?

once he shakes off the last remnants of sleep from his body, he finally musters the strength to get out of bed and maybe start his day with something to eat. which this morning is… leftovers. specifically the leftovers from the last time you made him food—a couple days ago.

regardless, he warms them up and sits down with a plate on the table. says his appreciations for the meal and digs in. when the first bite enters his mouth, it tastes the same as when he initially had it, but there’s an empty feeling in the bottom of his stomach he can’t quite pinpoint. he scarfs down a few more spoonfuls until he grows tired of eating, resting his head on the table.

his tummy is full, yet that emptiness persists—it’s been on the forefront of his mind for several days now and it’s starting to annoy him. he can’t determine why that is and what makes those days any different from before succumbing to that void in his heart.

after all, nothings changed.

just that… you went on an overseas trip. without him.

well, it’s not like he was ever going to be invited since you’re supposed to be vacationing with your girlfriends.

ah, wait. maybe he’s just lonely.

no, that can’t be it. he hung out with reo and some of the other blue lock boys the day after you left. even a slacker like him still makes time to see his friends. so what is he missing here?

the question lingers in nagi’s noggin as he drags his fork along the remaining food stuck on his plate. at some point, his phone’s ringing breaks him from his stupor, and he’s surprised to glance over and see your caller id on the screen.

he’s not sure what comes over him, but nagi swears he’s never hit the accept button so fast in his life. immediately, he brings the phone next to his ear, and is the first one on the line to utter “hello?”

“sei, you’re awake! i’m glad i got the time zones right!” you exclaim in your cheery tone that nagi has always been accustomed to hearing in the morning. “y’see i’ve stumbled on a gift shop the other day and found a few souvenirs i’d think you’d like!”

you ramble on and on about your adventures around the country you’re visiting and nagi finds himself absorbing your voice, hanging on every word, and even nodding next to the phone like you’re right here in front of him.

suddenly, his heart feels so full and everything clicks into place again. it’s like his day never actually started until you appeared with all your mirth and energy. even on opposite sides of the earth, you’re still the sun to his moon.

“angel,” he murmurs as you’re in the middle of talking, and you’re silent after acknowledging his call, waiting on his words.

“come home soon. i miss you.”

ISAGI YOICHI

this boy is a mess! he’s the kind of guy who as soon as those feelings start blooming in his chest, he gets super flustered around you all the time. and it’s obvious too.

before, he was super nonchalant with you. treated you like a friend, flirted without even knowing because he’s just that comfortable around you, but when any of his friends or family mention how the two seem closer than you realize, he just freezes and his mind goes blank. erupts in an embarrassing fit of sputtering and denial, face searing red down to the nape of his neck. it’s so cute.

however, he’s not fooling anybody! anyone can tell by the windblown expression on his face—starstruck eyes admiring you as a warm grin overtakes his features—that he’s absolutely smitten by you. he just needs to admit it already.

well, his next outing with you (in which he swears wasn’t actually a date, but c’mon isagi), finally gets him to come to terms with his emotions as he reminisces spending the whole day just laughing his heart out and being so full of that warmth and happiness you give him that makes him feel completely weightless. almost like he can do anything. afterward, when he gets home, he rushes upstairs and literally flails in his bed with the most insane blush on his cheeks. like wow, he’s in love with you.

isagi yoichi is in love with you.

but love to isagi is like a double-edged sword, especially to someone who just escaped that blue lock hellhole and now has to devote even more of his life to his soccer career.

with that carefree sensation comes a new box of trepidations that he’s afraid to open.

what if there comes a time when he would have to choose between you or soccer? he’s hoping that won’t ever be the case. he’d hate to struggle juggling the two and end up breaking your heart.

god, never in a million years does he want that.

the best he can do is take steps to introduce this side of his life to you. he does so in extravagant fashion, by inviting you to come watch him play during his championship game.

to say you were a little startled by his offer was an understatement, but you take him up on it, and promise you’ll be there, especially since isagi went out of his way to get you the best seats in the stadium.

on the day of his match, he’s more nervous about performing well in front of you rather than winning. winning is instinct for him so he has no doubts he’ll claim victory and take home the championship cup. he’s just eager to show you a new isagi you’ve never seen before, rather than the tongue-tied, flustered puppy isagi that’s been vying for your attention lately.

coming onto the field, his eyes are too busy swerving in the direction of where you’re seated than focus on his opponents. the moment he distinguishes your figure at the very front of the stands—draped in a jersey that reads his name—countless butterflies begin fluttering in his stomach. it’s a feeling that he can never truly convey into words.

all he does is let an elated grin spread wide on his lips, cheeks swathed in such a dainty shade of rose that has his teammates swatting the back of his head to remind him he has a very important game to win.

and oh does isagi win. during the match he scores four goals in quick succession, absolutely annihilating the other team to the point where it’s downright embarrassing for the opposing side. the commentators are completely baffled, questioning what has the player so stoked. little do they realize that each of those goals were all made in your name and isagi can’t wait to let you know that later with his championship cup in hand.

ITOSHI SAE

sae is pretty accepting of this revelation. nothing really fazes him after all, and he recognizes that it was only a matter of time before he came to terms with the idea that he might be head over heels for you.

in fact, he takes those feelings in stride.

as if sae wasn’t already a gentleman before this, his mannerisms around you only intensify. he’s constantly holding the door open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket whenever you’re cold, and so on. you never have to lift a finger when you’re with him. it’s to the point where he’s even sweeping stray hairs off your face and tucking them behind your ear before you’re given a chance to realize they were bothering you in the first place. not a day goes by where he doesn’t place you on a pedestal and worship you in the best ways he knows how.

he’s also gotten very touchy and a tiny bit possessive (okay maybe more than a tiny bit). sae isn’t the type to initiate pda regularly, but whenever he feels threatened in any way—which is very rare but not impossible—he always has a hand on you. whether it’s on your lower back as he ushers you closer to him, or intertwining your fingers together before sending a cold, piercing glare over his shoulder at the offending party, he always makes his intentions with you known even if you yourself are oblivious of them.

it’s not like he’s controlling or obsessive either. he simply wants to make you feel special. to be frank, he’s setting such a high standard that no other man can compare to him.

on more than one occasion, he’s had to travel overseas for international business, and the first time he left the country for an extended period without you, he grew incredibly homesick. not because he particularly misses the normalcy of his life back in japan, but because it always feels a little empty, and frankly, boring without you by his side. he’s grown to appreciate the moments he shares with you, from the time he wakes up beside you to when he falls asleep while you’re in his arms.

after that, whenever he has to fly out of the country, he insists you tag along with him, and goes out of his way to pay for all your expenses—plane ticket, lodgings, everything. most of the time, you try turning down his offer, stating you don’t want to be a hindrance while he’s working. yet sae counters by saying it’ll be more trouble for him if you weren’t there with him than not, and who are you to object when he’s staring at you with such unwavering ocean eyes, looking as if you’re the whole world to him.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

deep down, kunigami has always held you closely in his heart, regardless if he’s aware of the love he possesses behind it.

it’s natural for him to want to protect the people he cherishes, but with you, you activate something so visceral inside him. it scares him sometimes, how you can make his whole body rattle, blood pumping erratically to the point where all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and his heart thumping wildly out of his chest.

that’s especially the case when he receives a late night call from you while he’s settling himself at his apartment. he’s slightly surprised by the random call. you don’t normally reach out for him at this time since you’re either going to sleep or hanging out with friends in the dormant hours of the night.

accepting the call, he brings the phone to his ear.

“hello? y/n?”

“r-ren? u-um, can you please stay on the phone with me..?” you whisper in the receiver, tone quivering to a frightening degree. he hears the anxiety laced in your voice and suddenly sirens go off in his head.

“where are you?” he questions sternly as he instantly stands from his seat, reaching for his car keys.

“i just left a club and was going to walk to the station, but… s-someone’s–”

kunigami doesn’t need to hear anymore to understand the full picture that makes his bones quake for your safety as he dashes out the door.

“i’m coming to get you, so send me your location. until then, stay in an open area and don’t stop talking to me, okay?”

you affirm quietly before moving your phone from your ear to pin your location to him with trembling fingers. as you’re doing so, kunigami’s already started the ignition to his car, revving on the roads with little care of the law. he’s never driven this fast in his life, swearing he’s a defensive driver, but that means nothing to him when your safety is on the line right now.

if he grips his steering wheel any harder, it might just break off from his bare strength alone. a single glance at the map on his dash tells him he’s less than a minute away from your position. in the last stretch, he can finally spot your frightened silhouette under the dimly lit lamps.

as soon as you recognize the model of his vehicle, relief washes over your tense shoulders. you take it as your chance to escape your precarious situation, but the shady man a few meters away decides to attempt a last minute assault, dashing in your direction.

when the fiery-haired athlete sees this, his restraint all but snaps. he gets out of his car without even slamming his door shut and spontaneously reaches for you, pulling you behind his intimidating, brawny frame before punching the man square in the jaw. the assailant tumbles onto the hard ground, completely knocked out.

kunigami’s attention immediately turns to you, putting all his efforts into your well-being as he yanks you in his protective embrace. the adrenaline from both your bodies wears off and the striker can sense you bursting into tears against his chest.

“ren, i’m so sorry, i was out with friends and i thought it would okay for me to stay out later even though they wanted to leave, and-and–” your words collide with your jumbled thoughts, but the last thing kunigami wants is for you to apologize for this scumbag’s actions.

“shh, princess. it’s not your fault,” he whispers next to your ear, “fuck! if anything happened to you… i… i…” his voice breaks apart. his hold on you tightens just imagining if he was even a second late coming to your side. for now, he’s thankful to have you back safe and sound, tucking you closer to his heart.

MIKAGE REO

when reo considers that what he was feeling might no longer be a crush, but rather actual love for you, he’s a bit doubtful. mostly because he’s approached countless girls with romantic intentions in mind, however, to his disappointment, he’ll discover that they’re mainly interested in his status instead of him as a person. his good looks and charisma are just a plus for them. therefore he’s very hesitant to fully act on these emotions, afraid to have his heart broken again.

however, he slowly starts accepting the notion that he might be wrong about you. it shows in the way you’re always asking about his life outside of him being an heir to a billion-dollar corporation. he’s stunned by how your features can glow with such intrigue whenever he speaks about his time in blue lock, leading to his journey to becoming a star player in the land of professional football. most girls he entertained would fake interest in this before quickly changing the subject.

eventually, they’ll throw themselves on him to garner his favor and try gaining access to his parents’ wealth. however, you seek greater value in sharing the same experiences with him. you take him out to watch movies, hangout at the most unique cafes, and have the time of your lives at amusement parks.

reo’s used to his dates borderline demanding him to drive them out for extensive shopping sprees or book them dinners to the most high-end restaurants in the city. it becomes exhausting when all his partner sees in him is a personal wallet for them to call on whenever they’re eyeing the newest luxury trends displayed on shop windows.

so to have a person like you by his side, who doesn’t determine his value on such materialistic facets is… refreshing… but also just as frightening because he’s afraid of losing such a precious person like you.

though it may be counterintuitive, reo means to return your kindness by spoiling you, thinking you’re someone who genuinely deserves to be dolled up and treated like royalty.

the first time reo swipes his card on a hefty purchase for you, you’re a little bit overwhelmed, going on to say he didn’t have to do all this. but the man is difficult to argue around, what with his suave words and charismatic demeanor that makes it hard for you to say no to the jewels and dresses he wants to adorn on your body.

then as if he couldn’t have pampered you anymore, he also brings up the offer for you move into his penthouse so you don’t have to worry about rent while making ends meet. of course, you bring up the case that you don’t want to rely on him for money—that you simply enjoy being with him—but reo counters with similar reasoning.

“c’mon doll, just let me do this for you,” he insists. “you’ve done so much for me already, and i just want to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[erwinsvow]

𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.

author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!

now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)

word count: 13.5k

warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!

“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it’s hard to find any more tears.  

You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.

And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.

“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”

“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek. 

“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.

“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him.

“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.

And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.

But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.

If only you knew. 

Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears. 

౨ৎ

“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family. 

“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink. 

“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.” 

“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”

“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches. 

“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.

You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.

When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket. 

You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.

He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.

“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.

“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”

“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?” 

“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”

“Oh yeah, international law, right?”

“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control. 

“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”

“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back. 

“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why. 

“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.

“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.

“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.

“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.

“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with. 

“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back. 

“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.

“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away. 

“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”

“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.

“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking. 

“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.

“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”

“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.

“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.

“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”

“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.

“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features. 

“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.

“Yeah, me either, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.

“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”

“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.” 

“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.

“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.

“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.

“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.

“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”

“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”

“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.

“Not yet, you’re not.” 

“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”

“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought. 

“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act. 

He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.

The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.

But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.

He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning. 

“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting. 

“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him. 

“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”

You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.

Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.

Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house. 

“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off. 

“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.

“Nothing.” 

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you. 

“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”

You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.

౨ৎ

You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.

The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now. 

You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore. 

It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.

That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.

You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now. 

You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them. 

Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much. 

This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.

“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.

You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.

“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes. 

Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.

And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it. 

But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t. 

And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life. 

You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same. 

You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone. 

There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.

So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!

In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet. 

You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it. 

Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.

“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding. 

“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.

“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled. 

“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”

“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.” 

You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured. 

“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”

“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”

“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.

“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”

You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again. 

“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough. 

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.

“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.

“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.

“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him. 

“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.

“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“I-I…I just-”

“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand. 

“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.

“How’m I gonna eat mine then?” 

“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister. 

“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?” 

“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy. 

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?” 

“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.

“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?” 

You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you. 

“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.

A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.

“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.

“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”

“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily 

“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”

“My sister’s always got boy problems.”

“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”

“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”

You laugh while Wheezie frowns.

“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”

“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.

“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.

She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second. 

“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”

“Yeah.” 

Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.

“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door. 

“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”

“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.

“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”

“Huh?” he questions.

“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.

“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”

“She.”

“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”

“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”

“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”

That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened. 

౨ৎ

The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera. 

The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away. 

R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?

that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.

R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?

so she deserves death????

R: The impound lot at the very least

if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it

R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are

did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?

R: No.

R: Ur fault. You gave her yours

you gave her yours too

and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault

R: She’s five, genius

R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid

౨ৎ

Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count. 

And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation. 

But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.

But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers. 

You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.

You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth. 

You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done. 

“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on. 

You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.

Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.

You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.

The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there. 

You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.

You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.

“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs. 

“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”

“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”

“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.

You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.

“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them. 

“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her. 

“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around. 

“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again. 

“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.

“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”

“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”

“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.

R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house

R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you

“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.

“What’s inside? I thought-”

“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”

“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.

“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”

You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you. 

Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.

“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple. 

“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist. 

“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.

You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about. 

You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are. 

You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.

“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out. 

You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.

Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.

And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.

At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.

“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup. 

“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?” “Why?” it comes out a whisper.

“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?” 

The way he says it you believe him. 

You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want. 

You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.

“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?” 

His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this. 

“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.

He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it’s never enough for you. 

It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck. 

He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone. 

Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.

Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way. 

౨ৎ

A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.

It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get

along,  but they look like they’re fine now.

“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.

“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”

“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”

“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly. 

“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.

“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months

ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.

“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”

You guess that God was on your side today. 

R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?

sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn

R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?

you know me so well

R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.

You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.

Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.

You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.

The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.

“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”

“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.

A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.

“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel. 

“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”

“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”

“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”

“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”

“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.

“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.

“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”

“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.

“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.

“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”

“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”

“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”

“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire. 

“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?” 

“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.

“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”

“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”

“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race. 

“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”

“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.” 

And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron. 

“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away. 

“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”

The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence. 

“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.” 

You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.

౨ৎ

Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath. 

Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you

Princess: please rafey

“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.

“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.

“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.

“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-” “Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”

“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”

“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”

“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.

“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.

“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside. 

He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”

Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.

“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”

Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered. 

“Make you forget?” he questions. 

“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been. 

There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.

“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.

His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.

You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.

“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”

You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.

“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.

“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.

His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it. 

“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down. 

“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.

Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.

The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.

His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.

His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.

You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once. 

You let out a scream—which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it. 

His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again. 

You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed. 

Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.

Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to

touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.

“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”

“I tried, daddy, I did-”

“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”

“No, I did, I swear-”

“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.

“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.

“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed. 

“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.

“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”

You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted. 

He looks up again. 

“You ready, kid?” 

“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.

You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him. 

“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.

“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”

“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.

“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.

“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set. 

You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.

He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again. 

You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.

“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”

And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.

“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.

A few minutes pass by.

“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.

Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.

“Feel better, kid?” 

“So much better, Rafey.” 

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.

JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?

౨ৎ

[dreorig]

Oh wow, you just happen to be taller and broader than your mercenary boyfriend!

[ deadpool x dom male reader | nsfw under the cut | had this sitting in my drafts for a while now so uhhh forgive any mistakes :P ]

First things first. He thinks that's so hot of you.

He brags about you to everyone. Everyone. Random people, someone's he's fighting with, a friend; they all will hear about how handsome and tall Wade's boyfriend is.

Wade gets heart eyes when you both are in public and you hold his waist or hug him from behind. A subtle possessive squeeze on him will also do the job.

Wade will steal your clothes. He is 6'2, do you seriously think he'd ever have another chance to feel smaller in someone else's clothes anytime soon? Yeah, he's not losing this chance.

How many times can he ask to arm wrestle with you until you threaten to cut his vocal chords?

"So we can't get to decide what we're getting for dinner and we both want different things..." "Wade—" "There's only one way to solve this situation..." "Wade. No." "ARM WRESTLING!" "NO."

You will give him piggy backs and carry him around in bridal style either you like it or not. It's a demand.

He jumps at you randomly. First time he did that he jumped from behind, but you didn't know that was him, so your instincts made you grab that apparently stranger and throw him across the room, making him hit a wall. Wade fell even more for you right then and there.

Wade was mesmerised. You desperate; so you ran towards him, already chanting an infinite amount of sorry's. "Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to—" your apology was interrupted by the sound of Wade's laugh, which took you aback a little. Wade jumped to his feet and into your arms, this time you caught him properly. He wrapped his legs around your waist and arms around your neck, his chest still trembling with laughter. "Do you know how unbelievably hot that was? Never stop manhandling me."

Wade can reach the top shelves just fine but will ask you to grab the things instead. He just wants to enjoy his tall dog privilege.

He will always go to the gym with you if he's not busy re-killing former US presidents, slaughtering some asshole or pestering Logan. Hell, Wade loves to see your muscles flexing and your sweaty self after a good workout.

Asking you to pick him up (like this) became a part of your workout routine. He giggles and melts in your hold because he loves the fact that you pick him off the ground so effortlessly, like he's a piece of paper.

Fuck him doggy style and slap his ass with your big hands and you'll hear the loudest moan ever.

So loud you'll probably need to slip a few fingers inside his mouth to keep him shut. You don't need any neighbours hearing what's yours only.

You know what they say about big hands, eh? Wade knows it better than anyone and God, he loves the way you stretch him. Naturally he's got a high pain tolerance, so you being big and making him see things without having to use a toy is just perfect.

Doesn't mean you never use toys, tho. Fuck Wade's face and make him gag on your big cock while he has a dildo deep inside him, he'll give you the biggest puppy eyes ever as he humps on your leg.

You reminding him of your size difference never fails to make him wet. Never fucking fails. Tell him he should stand in front of you to get a better view since you're taller and he won't hide the fact that his underwear is already stained with pre-cum.

No marks such as love bites will stay on Wade's body due to his healing factor, much to his and your dislike, but eventually you found a way to claim him as yours — he's got to wear one of your shirts while you so relentlessly fuck him and even after you're done. Your scent and sweat that lingers on the fabric make Wade's head spin, often leading him to beg for you to fuck him once again.

Plus wearing your clothes just feels right. The way they're always oversized on him serves to remind him of how much bigger you are. He's got a size kink, he can't help it.

"Aren't you my little bitch?" you increased your pace. "Fuck, yes, yes," he pushed his hips down, meeting your thrusts. "Did I fuck you dumb? Use your damn words," you growled in his ear. Wade's cock throbbed at that. He was indeed beginning to think you fucked him dumb, yet he replied, "Arghh— yes, shit, yes, I'm your little bitch~" "Yeah, that's right. Let me show you how a real man treats a little bitch like you," you slapped his ass so hard even your own hand burned a little. Wade came right away without even having to touch his cock this time. How many times was it now? Not that he cared, he just wanted more, more, more. You chuckled, pleased with your own work. "Look at what a slap can do to a little bitch in heat." Wade wasn't sure of what you really said, but his ears caught "little bitch in heat" and he smiled dumb, more than happy to know he was your little bitch in heat.

[racetowrite]

Needy

Support a disabled creator

Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader

Tags : lap dance, grinding, unprotected piv (don't be silly, wrap your willy), reader is a former stripper, a little bit of possessiveness from Lamdo, precious husband Lando is so lovely

Word Count : 1.4k

When Lando found out about what you used to do for a living, you’d braced for the worst.

Carlos, his bestfriend that introduced you to Lando, already knew, because of course he did. He met you in a strip club after he won a race. He probably conducted a full background check on you the moment Lando got the idea of asking you on a date. There was no hiding your old life from him, including being a stripper.

You’d known that Lando wouldn’t react badly. You knew he’d never yell at you, call you horrible names, kick you out of the flat. But it didn’t stop the paralyzing fear from kicking in. Of him letting you down easy, telling you that the two of you were just too different, that your morals just aren’t the same. So when you’d told him, you’d braced yourself for the first relationship you’d ever truly loved to go up in flames.

But fuck, you couldn’t have predicted this. For Lando’s eyes to darken as you describe what you used to do for an audience, his gaze dragging down your body in a way that has heat flooding down to your core. He’s silent for a few moments, and it makes you squirm in your seat. He mumbles something under his breath, definitely to himself, but you need to hear it.

“What, Lando?” you ask, steeling yourself against his inevitable rejection.

“Will you show me?” he chokes out, his cheeks flaming red, before he thinks better of himself, his eyes going wide. “Wait, shit, sorry love, no. God, it’s fine, of course it’s fine. I love you, yeah? Nothin’s going to change that anytime soon, I’ll tell you. ‘M just a bit jealous, y’know, in spite of myself, but fuck, shouldn’t have asked that. Just ignore that, yeah? I-”

“Lando,” you cut off his nervous rambling. “You want me to show you?” You can’t help how your voice dips a little deeper, a little raspier, in a way that you know gets Lando all hot and bothered.

“Um,” Lando clears his throat, fiddling with his hands. He won’t meet your eyes. “I mean, who wouldn’t, yeah? Got the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and-”

“You want me to strip for you?” you whisper, nudging his chin up with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown wide, and you watch the motion of his tongue as it just barely wets his lips.

“Please, love,” he rasps, and God, when he begs for you like that, who are you to refuse him?

You rise above him, and his eyes follow you, unable to tear away for a moment. As you stand, you take a long look at him, at the way his cock bulges in his slacks, the way his hands flex helplessly at his sides. Lando doesn’t have control, he’s fucking desperate for it. 

There’s no music, no pumping bass of the club you used to work at, but God, you find that you don’t need it. The heat of Lando’s gaze is more than enough, watching you with bated breath as you undo the buttons of your shirt, one, by one, by one. You let it carelessly drop to the floor behind you, leaving you in just your bra. You don’t own the same frilly bras you used to, from your old life, but Lando looks at you like you’re wearing the sexiest lingerie he’s ever seen.

You toe off your shoes, grateful for the fact that you just wore flats today, and slowly unzip your jeans. There are so many ways that this is so different from how it used to be. You never started your dances in jeans, never danced without music and dark lighting, without the stench of sex and sweat hanging in the air.

You’ve never danced and needed the man in front of you, loved the man in front of you.

The feeling is heady, lust swimming through your veins and pooling in your cunt. You peel your jeans off slowly, letting them pool around your ankles, stepping towards Lando. Lando, whose mouth gapes open just slightly, watching you like he’s starving for it.

You straddle him on the couch, moving your hips over his crotch in a slow grind that has you both gasping. Grinning at the way he watches your body move like water over him, you reach behind you and deftly unclip your bra in a practiced move. You slide it down your arms, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. You grip onto his shoulders to hump into him harder, and Lando’s hands flex at his sides as if he’s unsure what to do with them.

“You know what’s different about this than what I used to do?” you murmur, your lips nearly brushing his.

“Hm?” Lando hums absently, watching your body undulate above him.

You smile down at him. “You actually get to touch.”

Pulling his hands into yours, you mold his hands to your skin, nearly shivering at the feel of them. It’s like Lando snaps out of a trace, groaning softly under his breath as he greedily runs his hands over your naked skin, cupping your breasts and thumbing at your nipples in a way that makes your head spin.

“So- so fucking gorgeous for me, love,” he murmurs, tilting his head up for a kiss. You meet him without hesitation, slipping your tongue into his mouth and drinking him in. You hump into him harder, shamelessly grinding your clit into the obvious bulge tenting the front of his pants. "Can I fuck you?” he gasps into your mouth, “Please tell me I can fuck you, darling.”

You’re nodding before your brain can even think of a proper response, and Lando takes his hands off your body to fumble at the zipper of his slacks, tugging himself out without any kind of finesse. It feels like you’re both teenagers, desperately clawing at each other, trying to get closer, as close as you can possibly get.

You haphazardly tug your panties to the side, letting yourself sink down on his cock, slow enough to let you feel the stretch as he breaks you apart. The moans you both let out as you sink to the hilt are borderline animalistic. The both of you are strung too tight, too needy to take this slow.

“God, you’re so-” Lando punches his hips up into you, making you claw at his shoulders, “so tight for me, my love.” You can only press your forehead to his, meeting his lips in a sticky kiss as you bounce desperately on his cock. He stretches you so perfectly like this, reaching deep inside and the tip of his cock pressing into your g-spot with every thrust. The moans you’re letting out are downright embarrassing, but God, you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

“How many of them wanted you like this?” Lando grunts against your mouth, meeting you thrust for thrust. “How many of those men you danced for wanted you just like this, bouncing on their cocks like the needy girl you are?”

“Lando, oh my God,” you whimper, letting him guide you as he fucks up into you, his thick hands braced on your hips, holding you tight enough that your skin pales beneath his fingertips.

“You’re mine, darling, no one else gets to have you,” he snarls, in the way he gets when he’s with you, when he’s lost in the feel of you. “This little cunt is mine, yeah? My perfect girl, can’t believe I found you.”

He thrusts into you once, twice, and you’re curling into him, barely able to hold yourself up, as you gush down his cock. You sob his name as he leans forward to press hot kisses down your neck, and you curl your fingers into his hair as you shake through your orgasm.

Lando isn’t far behind, plunging deep into your pussy as it contracts around him, filling you up, claiming you in the most primal way he can.

He holds you on his lap as you both try to come down, keeping you afloat. You lean up to press a gentle kiss to his lips as you finally feel your mind come back to you.

“Have you ever actually been to a strip club, Lando?” you ask, smiling.

“Don’t need to,” he sighs. “Don’t want to.”

You hum. “You might change your mind once you see what I can do on a pole.”

[tomriddleslove]

61 letters.

✩ Mattheo x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hopefully this says i'm back with a bang? There are some TW but I don't want to spoil anything, so please scroll down to the bottom if you want to see those first.

Songs: Strangers - Ethel Cain

inspiration came to me from reading @dylsluvrs so please go read!!

The warmth from the fireplace crackled soothingly; a barely noticeable rhythm that lulled you to sleep as you leisurely turned the pages of your book, your free hand carding through Mattheo’s hair.

The distinctive smell of sandalwood and cigarettes came second to the scent of burning wood and old books - so hauntingly comfortable.

“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” He rasps, eyes also shut. It seemed he too was seconds away from falling asleep, his head resting in your lap. 

It was perhaps the only time he could properly fall asleep. With you, that is. Sure, the fireplace was cosy, and the sofa was nice and comfortable, but even the finest of beds and the warmest of rooms could not send Mattheo into a peaceful slumber. It was who he was with that mattered, and to him that was you.

Why? Because you were his everything - it was as simple as that. He didn’t have to think twice to know that you were the breath that sustained him, the blood that coursed through his veins and the light that shone into his eyes.

You were the sun and he was merely your shadow, drawn to your light and lost in your absence.

So yes - you were his everything. But he was just your friend. Mattheo didn't know what would hurt more, being a stranger to you or knowing he was close enough to know you but too far to have you. He was accustomed to the latter, and he could only pray he’d never have to experience the former.

No, he couldn’t experience the former, because life was no longer his life without you in it.

“Probably not. I’ve got to turn in that astronomy report.” You hum back, peering down at Mattheo, his eyes still shut.

You admire the delicate curve of his long lashes, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

You watch him with a soft smile, feeling the familiar pang in your chest that always comes when you're with him. He looks so peaceful, so at ease in your lap, as if this is where he truly belongs. A sigh escapes your lips, and you want nothing more than to gently trace a finger along the line of his jaw, committing every detail of his face to memory. You want to hold onto these moments forever, to keep them safe in the corners of your heart where no one else can touch them.

It's funny, you think, how life has a way of sneaking up on you. How someone like Mattheo, with his rough edges and restless spirit, could become such a constant in your life. He’s unpredictable and chaotic, a storm that never quite settles, yet with him, you feel a sense of belonging you’ve never found anywhere else. 

He stirs, turning onto his side as a small sigh escapes his lips. His voice is more of a murmur than anything, a quiet “please?” whispered.

“We’re off for summer tomorrow, it's probably the last time I’ll-” He starts, a lump forming in his throat as he falls silent. He won't see you during the summer, because he’s back at the Riddle manor. A thought he's tried to avoid greatly till now.

“I know Mattheo, but it’s not as though you'll go completely cold. You’ll still write to me, won't you?” You say, shutting your book completely.

He opens his eyes, looking up at you, and there’s a flicker of something vulnerable, something raw. “Of course, I will,” he replies, his voice firmer now. “I don’t think I could go that long without hearing from you.”

You nod, a warmth spreading through you. “Then it’s settled. We’ll write, and it won’t be so bad.”

You know it’s not the same, that letters are a poor substitute for being here, together, but it’s something. It’s a promise, a thread that will keep you connected even when you’re apart.

Mattheo couldn't possibly not write to you - you grew up in silence, being neglected and ignored. Silence was everything to you, and in the worst way possible. It was part of the reason Mattheo was so dear to you - he was everything the people in your life couldn't be. He was always there for you, he’d never once dismiss or abandon you. It was unnerving at first, having someone's full undivided attention, but Mattheo taught you that it was something you were owed, something you'd deserved because nobody should ever be ignored. And god be damned if Mattheo ever did anything similar to that, no.

Hell would have to freeze over before Mattheo could ever hurt you like that.

--

Summer arrived with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft hum of distant laughter, leaving memories of Hogwarts feeling like a distant past. From the day that you bid farewell to Mattheo on the express, the gnawing sensation of grief ate away at your insides till you were reduced to an anxious wreck.

 It felt oddly empty. You found yourself listening for the sound of Mattheo’s voice in every breeze, waiting for the familiar swoop of an owl delivering his letters. Each morning, you’d check the window, hoping to see a note from him, a line of messy handwriting that would make you smile.

His murmured promises echoed in your ears tauntingly - like an alarm that pierced through the devastating silence, each as worse as the other. 

You told yourself he was busy - You knew what it was like at the Riddle manor. Amongst a murderous psychopath as a father and an equally (if not crazier) and crueller mother, Mattheo would not be granted a single moment of respite. Yet somehow, even if it felt selfish, you still felt angry. You knew Mattheo. He had promised he’d write, knowing how much it meant to you. He knew how important communication was to you, how being left in the dark made you feel. How every moment of silence cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

Mattheo knew about your childhood, how you were left alone in that big, empty house while your parents lived their lives. He knew about the cold dinners, the quiet nights, the way you had to fend for yourself because no one else would. How you craved connection, the reassurance that you weren’t alone. It was why he promised to write, why he promised to always be there. But now, with each day that passed without a letter, it felt like those promises were empty.

The silence was more than just an absence. It was a reminder of every time you had been forgotten, every time you had been left behind. It was the echo of your parents' indifference, now mirrored by the one person you thought would never do that to you.

The days blurred into one another, each one a monotonous stretch of time that seemed to go on forever. You wandered through the house aimlessly, your mind numb with boredom. Books that once brought you joy now lay forgotten, and even the sunny garden outside held no appeal. The silence was all-consuming, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, smothering every spark of energy or hope.

Just before you were ready to do something—anything—to break free from the oppressive quiet, the sound of scratching broke through your thoughts. An owl, clawing at the window. The sound startled you, and for a moment, you stood frozen, heart pounding. Then, you all but scrambled out of the bed to unlock the window, nearly knocking the owl off its perch as you did so. It hooted in annoyance, ruffling its feathers, its eyes glaring at you as if to say, "Be careful!"

"Sorry," you muttered, but your hands were already reaching for the letter tied to its leg, a sense of urgency driving you. You snatched the letter from its claws, your fingers trembling as you tore it open. The seal wasn't Mattheo's, but at this point, you didn't care. It was a letter. It was something. You unfolded the parchment, your eyes quickly scanning the familiar handwriting.

Hey [name],

Hope you’re doing well. Summer can be kind of a drag, right? All this quiet after the chaos of school—it gets old fast. Anyway, I’ve been keeping in touch with Mattheo. He’s been writing a lot, actually. Seems like he’s pretty caught up in things over at the manor. Typical Mattheo, you know? Always juggling a hundred things at once. I guess you’ve been hearing from him too?

I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to. We didn’t get much of a chance to hang out at the end of term, and I thought it might be fun to catch up. Maybe we could meet up sometime, get out of the house for a bit. I know a few good spots—quiet, away from everything. We could just hang out, talk, or not talk. Whatever you feel like. No pressure. Just thought it’d be nice to see you.

Let me know if you’re up for it. Would be great to catch up.

Take care,

Theo

You read the letter once, then twice, then once more, to make sure you were reading it correctly. Mattheo had been writing, but not to you.

He was ignoring you.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, the ache in your chest growing sharper, more painful.

Why hadn’t Mattheo written? Had you done something wrong? 

The pit in your stomach could only feel deeper as your mind mulls over every possible thing you could have done to get Mattheo mad at you. Nothing came to mind. He had been the same Mattheo, resting his head in your lap, his voice soft and sleepy as he asked if you were going to Hogsmeade. There had been no tension, no argument. Just the usual comfort and ease that came with being around each other.

What was it about you that made people leave? Your parents, distant and cold, always too busy for you. And now Mattheo, the one person who made you feel like you mattered, was doing the same. The familiar sting of rejection clawed at your heart, a wound that never seemed to heal.

You reach for a piece of parchment, blinking back the tears that cloud your eyes as you begin to write back.

Hi Theo,

Summers been…. Alright, i guess. I hope you've been keeping well, though knowing you i'm sure you've been up to something interesting. I haven't actually-

He hasn’t-

Is Mattheo-

I’d love to see you some time. We really don't see each other that often. Would this Thursday work? I'll bring some pastries with me :)

-[Name.]

Your fingers tremble as you attach  the letter to the (rather agitated) owl. He pecks at your finger in rebuttal, but you pay it no mind as you watch him soar off. It was something - having someone to speak to you, even if it wasn't Mattheo. You couldn't bear to confront the idea that Mattheo was purposefully not writing to you,  that he was ignoring you. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you try to look forward to the prospect of seeing Theo on Thursday.

But every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Mattheo.

--

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced through the leaves of the old oak trees. The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing. You walked beside Theo, your footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath. The warmth of the late afternoon sun kissed your skin, but it did little to thaw the cold ache that had settled in your chest.

“.... and that's why I told her to piss off, I couldn’t stand the old sod nagging at me about the history of ancient faeries any longer.” He mutters, a small huff of amusement escaping his lips.

A small smile tugs at your lips, barely there. You wanted to enjoy yourself, you really did - but you wore your heart on your sleeve, and every second that you felt like you could finally breathe again, the image of Mattheo flashes back into your mind and you're back drowning in your sorrows once more.

Theo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, gentle but probing. “You’ve been really quiet lately, [name]. Are you alright?”

You glanced at him, his concerned expression making your chest tighten. You shrugged, trying to mask the hurt that you felt. “I’m fine, just... thinking, I guess.”

Theo stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes were soft, searching your face as if trying to read the thoughts you kept hidden. “Is it about Mattheo?” he asked softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Mattheo’s name. You had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about him, to not let the silence drive you mad. “I... yeah, I guess so. I haven’t heard from him all summer. It’s not like him to just disappear like that. Do you think he’s... okay?”

Theo’s expression flickered, just for a moment, before he forced a smile. “He’s fine,” he said, too quickly. “I mean, I’ve been hearing from him. He’s been writing to me.”

A pang of something sharp and bitter shot through you. “Oh,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “What’s he been saying?”

Theo hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. “Just... stuff. You know how he is. He’s been busy, I guess. Hanging out with new people. He mentioned some girl, but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

Your heart sank at his words. Some girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of every fear you’d tried to suppress. “Did he say why he hasn’t written to me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo looked at you, his eyes filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. “He didn’t mention it, no,” he said quietly. “But I’m sure he’s just been distracted. You know how Mattheo is. He doesn’t always think about how his actions affect others.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only deepened the ache in your chest. You had always known Mattheo was reckless, impulsive, but not to you - never to you. But that’s how it always was, wasn’t it. Everyone thinks they’re the exception.

Were you really that foolish?

“Maybe you should write to him,” Theo suggested, his tone light, almost casual. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, maybe I will.” But even as you said the words, you knew you wouldn’t. The thought of reaching out, of writing a letter that might go unanswered, was too painful to bear.

As you walked with Theo, his presence a comfort, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The park around you was filled with the sounds of summer, the laughter of children, the chirping of birds and yet, with all that - 

all you could hear was the silence from Mattheo.

--

The Hogwarts Express puffed out clouds of white steam as it pulled into Hogsmeade station, the sound of the whistle cutting through the cool autumn air. Students poured out of the train, chattering excitedly, their voices blending into an unintelligible yet comforting background noise. You stepped off the train with Theo by your side, the familiarity of the scene bringing a small smile to your face. Despite everything, Hogwarts was a home to you, and it was nice to finally be back.

Theo’s arm brushed against yours as you walked, his presence a now familiar and comforting thing. Summer had been unexpectedly pleasant with him, his letters and company filling the void that Mattheo’s silence had left. He had taken you to the local fair, where you’d ridden the Ferris wheel and eaten too much cotton candy - holding onto his hand as you stumbled back home having indulged in one too many treats. For a while, you’d almost forgotten the ache in your heart, but it never truly went away - rather it mellowed down into a gentle throb, just about there. But when the sun was shining, and you could hear Theodore's laughter in the background as the evening’s breeze began to settle, it disappeared.

Even if only for a moment, it disappears.

“Excited to be back?” Theo asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, it’s good to be back. I missed this place.”

“You mean you missed me, right?” He grinned, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You laughed, the sound a little forced. “Of course, Theo. Who else would I have missed?”

You settle into a light conversation with him, answering without your mind even registering what you were responding. The towering silhouette of Hogwarts castle came into view as you rounded the final corner of the path. The sight of the familiar stone walls sent a wave of mixed emotions crashing over you—nostalgia, warmth, and a painful reminder of who you hadn’t seen yet.

Friends gather in the great hall, conversations of far gone reunions and sordid summer holidays drowning everything out. It was alot - almost too much. Theodore had just gone to greet his friends, promising to meet you in your room after. 

You nodded, giving him a half-hearted wave, but as soon as he disappeared into the crowd, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over you. It wasn’t just physical, though your body certainly felt the weight of the long journey back to Hogwarts. No, it was deeper than that—a bone-deep weariness, a numbness that had taken root over the summer and never quite left.

You just wanted to be alone. Away from the noise, away from the chaos, away from the confusing mess of emotions that had plagued you all summer long.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of the Great Hall. Your feet carried you automatically toward the Ravenclaw Tower, the promise of peace and -most importantly- silence pulling you forward. You could practically feel the soft duvet of your bed calling you, a safe place to curl up and shut out the world.

But just as you turned the corner, your entire world came crashing to a halt.

Mattheo was there, standing at the bottom of the staircase. He wasn’t just waiting—he was pacing, his expression frantic, as though he had been searching for you for hours. His dishevelled appearance and the wild look in his eyes took you by surprise, and before you could even react, he rushed toward you, almost slamming into you as his hands grabbed your arms.

“[name]” he breathed, his voice raw, like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Thank Merlin. Are you okay? I’ve been going mad, I—why didn’t you answer? What happened?”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. The sight of him, so frantic, so genuine, only made your heart twist painfully inside your chest. For a second—just a second—you wanted to melt into his arms, to let the relief wash over you because finally, here he was, the Mattheo you had been waiting for. But then the summer flashed through your mind, the days of silence, waiting by the window for letters that never came.

Theo’s voice echoed in your head, reminding you of the late nights spent wondering if you ever truly mattered to Mattheo at all. He’d mentioned Mattheo being distracted, writing to someone else. It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You wrenched yourself free from his grasp, your voice colder than you’d ever intended. “What do you mean, what happened? I’ve been waiting for you, Mattheo! You’re the one who disappeared!”

His face fell, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What? No—I’ve been writing to you. Every week! I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Don’t lie to me, Mattheo.” You stepped back, putting distance between you as anger bubbled up inside. “I didn’t get a single letter from you all summer. Not one. And you expect me to believe you’ve been writing?”

For a moment, he looked completely lost, his face contorting into an expression of confusion. “[name], I swear. I’ve sent you letters, I’ve been trying to—” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to make sense of it all. “I’ve been so worried. When I didn’t hear back, I thought... I thought something happened to you.”

You could see the panic in his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he reached out for you again, but the doubts were already there. How could he be telling the truth? Theo hadn’t mentioned Mattheo writing to you at all—just someone else. And now Mattheo stood before you, claiming he had? Why wouldn’t Theo have told you?

“You’re lying,” you whispered, and the words tasted like poison. “You’ve always been so good at making me believe you cared.”

“Lying?” His voice cracked as he took a step forward, but you recoiled, the hurt too deep, too fresh.

“Don’t.” Your voice broke, your throat tightening as the tears threatened to spill. “You left me, Mattheo. You didn’t write. You didn’t care.”

“I do care!” He was desperate now, his eyes pleading as if he could pull you back with his words alone. “I’ve always cared. I’ve been going insane not hearing from you, thinking something was wrong—”

“Then why did Theo get letters from you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Why did he know what was going on while I didn’t hear a thing? You’re telling me you wrote to me, but Theo told me you’ve been busy all summer—writing to someone else.”

 “I don’t know why you didn’t get my letters. I don’t—Theo told you what?” Mattheo’s face went pale, his jaw clenching as he tried to find the words

You shook your head, the ache in your chest becoming unbearable. “I waited for you, Mattheo. Every single day. I waited for you to care, but you didn’t. You weren’t there for me.”

His hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of your words had physically struck him. He looked at you like you’d just shattered something inside him, but no words came. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something, but his mouth remained open, silent, as if he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The silence was deafening, and it felt like your heart was being crushed in your chest. You couldn’t bear to stand there any longer, not with him looking at you like that, not with your emotions tearing you apart. It would be better if you had just hit him - perhaps then the look of hurt on his face wouldn’t have killed you.

“I thought you were different, Mattheo,” you whispered, barely able to hold yourself together as you took a step back. “But I was wrong. You’re just like them - you’re everything they said you were.” 

Your words break him, crushing his heart till he can’t speak - all he can do is stare. If he calls for you, you don’t hear it. Your ears are ringing, tears blurring your vision as you stumble away from him, running up the stairs to your dorm.

The ache in your chest felt unbearable, an emptiness that consumed every part of you. You had wanted to believe Mattheo cared, that you meant something to him. But now - now it felt like all of that was a lie.

The door to your dorm creaked open, and Theo stepped inside, his face softening as soon as he saw you. He knelt besides you, pulling you into his chest without second thought. The smell of sandalwood and cigarettes consumed your senses - so similar to Mattheo yet indescribably different.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

But you couldn’t answer. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt as the sobs wracked your body. You didn’t even have the energy to question why Mattheo hadn’t fought harder, why he hadn’t explained. All you knew was that he hadn’t been there when you needed him most, and now… now it was too late.

Theo’s arms tightened around you, his hand stroking your hair. “You don’t need him,” he murmured. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

And for the first time all summer, you didn’t pull away from the comfort he offered.

--

As the weeks passed, Hogwarts seemed to return to its usual rhythm—students bustled between classes, the crisp autumn air rolled in, and laughter echoed in the common rooms. But for you, things were far from normal.

Mattheo had all but disappeared. He no longer showed up at meals. When you did catch a glimpse of him, it was fleeting—just the ghost of the boy you once knew. His skin looked pale, as if he hadn't slept in days, and his eyes were hollow, dark shadows etched beneath them like bruises. 

Every time you saw him, your heart clenched painfully. There was a gnawing ache in your chest, an almost instinctual pull that made you want to go to him, to ask what was wrong, to demand why he had let everything fall apart between you. You thought of all the times he'd been there for you, all the whispered promises that felt so real - so fucking real.

But just as you would muster the courage to go to him, to ask what was happening, Theodore would appear.

It was always so sudden. As if he could sense your hesitation, your uncertainty. He would sidle up to you in the corridors, flash you that easy, comforting smile, and all the questions you wanted to ask Mattheo would slip away. Theo felt like a warm, familiar blanket, pulling you away from the confusion and the hurt. His arm would wrap around your shoulder casually, steering you in the opposite direction, and somehow you would find yourself walking away—again.

"Come on, " Theo would say softly, his voice gentle and soothing. "Let's grab something to eat. I could use the company."

And you'd follow him. Without protest, without a second thought. Every time.

Each time it happened, it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Guilt, confusion, frustration—they tangled up inside you, twisting like a knot that was getting harder and harder to untangle. You knew you were avoiding Mattheo, and deep down, you hated yourself for it. But the hurt was still raw, and every time Theo was there to distract you, it felt easier to run away from it. You’d rather live in your ignorance, than face the closure of knowing Mattheo truly didn’t care.

And so, when you saw Mattheo the next day, looking sicker, more broken than ever, you swallowed the urge to reach out to him. You turned your head and pretended not to notice.

Theo would be there soon, anyway.

--

If you had told your 1st year self that you'd be here, moving in to your first apartment mere years after graduating from Hogwarts, you wouldn't have believed it. Having graduated top of the class you scored yourself an apprenticeship with one of the finest potion masters in all of the wizarding world, working tirelessly under their watch. It was strenuous - yes- but coming back home, your home, made it all worth it.

The apartment was beautiful. It felt like a perfect blend of you—bookish Ravenclaw touches scattered throughout, with shelves brimming with weathered novels, delicate blue curtains draping from the windows, and the familiar scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air. And yet, there were still signs of him everywhere—Slytherin green woven into the decor, trophies, and accolades displayed with quiet pride. It was a home, not just a place to live, but a space you had both created together.

You smiled softly to yourself as you glanced around. It had been a long journey to get here— but now everything was in its place, as it should be. 

As if on cue, you heard the door click open behind you, and a smile tugged at your lips before you even turned around. The sound of his footsteps was unmistakable, steady and familiar. It had become part of your routine—this quiet comfort, this gentle rhythm of life. You hadn’t expected it, not after everything that had happened, but it had worked out. You had worked it out.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace as a soft kiss pressed against the side of your neck. You closed your eyes, leaning back into the comfort of his hold, letting the world fall away for just a moment.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, sending a familiar warmth through your chest. His breath brushed against your skin.

The faint smell of cigarettes clings to him, and the routine is as comforting as it is repetitive.

A small exasperated sigh escaped your lips, though it was betrayed by the soft smile that followed. “What did I tell you about smoking? You’re going to ruin your lungs.”

"Old habits die hard," he chuckled lightly, his voice filled with that casual ease you had come to love.

You shook your head playfully, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him. “Oh, come on, Theo. I’ve been hearing that for ages.” You grinned, swatting at his chest lightly as you pulled away to busy yourself with tidying the room.

Everything was ok.

Life had settled into something comfortable, predictable even—like the rhythm of waves softly lapping against the shore.

One Sunday morning, the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. You were curled up in bed with a book resting on your knees, enjoying the slow, peaceful quiet. Theo was still beside you, his arm draped lazily across your waist as he dozed off again, looking utterly relaxed.

You turned the page, the sound of the paper rustling softly, when the familiar tapping of an owl at the window caught your attention. Before you could even react, Theo was already stirring, groggily pushing himself up from the bed. "I’ll get it," he mumbled, stumbling toward the window.

The owl hooted impatiently as Theo untied the letter from its leg, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the unfamiliar seal. He tossed the envelope onto the bed beside you without much thought, his hand brushing through his dishevelled hair.

"Mail for you," he murmured, flopping back down onto the mattress.

You smiled absentmindedly, still engrossed in your book as you reached for the letter, but the moment your eyes landed on the seal, your heart sank.

It was a formal letter, the type you never want to see.

With a sense of dread curling in your chest, you tore it open, your fingers shaking slightly. The words on the parchment swam before your eyes, but as they slowly came into focus, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Mattheo Riddle….. Condolences….. Dead…… Ongoing investigation…… Suspected…..

Dead...

Dead..

Dead.

4 letters. One word, four letters. Did you know the English alphabet can produce endless combinations of words? But this—this was the only combination that mattered. Four letters that changed everything. Four letters that turned your world inside out.

Your mind went blank. The rest of the letter became a blur, the details escaping your grasp. Everything around you seemed to dissolve as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

Dead.

Your heart raced, pounding against your chest so violently it hurt. The word echoed inside your mind, repeating over and over like a broken record. You read it again, hoping—no, praying—that you had misunderstood.

But there it was, clear as day.

Mattheo Riddle was dead.

The room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing down as your world collapsed in on itself. The edges of your vision blurred, and your breath came in shallow, jagged gasps.

"Hey... what is it?" Theo’s voice felt distant, like it was coming from another world. His arms wrapped around you, his warmth pressing against you, but you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel anything but the gaping void that was swallowing you whole.

Dead.

The tears wouldn’t come. It was as if your body had shut down, refusing to process the enormity of what you’d just learned.

Theo’s hands were on your shoulders now, his voice full of concern as he pulled you into his arms. "What happened?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with urgency. "Talk to me."

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe. The room spun, and the only word you could focus on was that single, damning word.

Dead.

You don't remember the next few weeks after that.

--

The numbness that plagued you back in your final year of Hogwarts - the one that settled and almost disappeared, hit with a force so strong you cannot remember a single thing since the day you found out.

You thought - you really thought you were over him. You thought that you were happy with Theodore now, so desperate to believe the delusion that you didn't realise you sought him out in every breath you took, every dream you followed.

It was for him - it was always him.

And now that you knew he was gone, really gone, there was no more pretending. 

It was a quiet Sunday morning when you found yourself moving almost instinctively, your body on autopilot. Theodore was gone, at work as usual, and the emptiness of the apartment echoed around you, too loud in its silence. You wandered from room to room, searching, but for what? You didn’t know. Something—anything—that could pull you out of this suffocating fog, something that could make the world feel real again.

Your feet carried you to the attic. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. Maybe an old photograph, a piece of parchment with his handwriting on it—something that could remind you of what once was. Something that could bring you back to him, even for just a moment.

You started going through one of the boxes, its contents an odd collection of mementos from school—quills, ink bottles, a stack of old essays, and a few scattered photographs from your Hogwarts years. Your hands moved mechanically, sorting through the mess, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Then, something caught your eye—a wooden panel in the wall, slightly crooked. It didn’t fit with the rest of the smooth, untouched surface of the attic. Your curiosity piqued, and with a frown, you crawled over to it. You tugged on the panel gently at first, then harder, until it came loose with a soft creak.

Behind it was a box, hastily stashed away, hidden so well that you never would’ve found it if you hadn’t noticed the crooked panel. The box was small, nondescript, but as you pulled it out, you felt a strange sense of foreboding settle over you.

It was heavy, heavier than you expected.

Your heart raced as you carefully set it down in front of you, fingers trembling slightly as you pried it open. Inside, the contents were a chaotic mess—parchments, crumpled and folded haphazardly, stacked one on top of another. 

You cursed yourself for knowing him. For knowing him so well - you didn’t need to see the inside. The handwriting alone was enough to tell you- 

Mattheo.

The world around you seemed to stop.

Dear [name],

It’s so strange not being able to talk to you every day. I know it’s only been a week since the summer holidays started, but I can’t help missing you already. The manor feels empty, as always, but it’s worse this time. I keep thinking about you—about what you’re doing right now. Are you relaxing, reading? I bet you’re buried in some book I’ve never heard of. Probably something that would go completely over my head if I tried to read it.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I know you’re probably busy settling in, but if you get the chance, write me back. It doesn’t have to be long or anything, just a quick hello would be enough. I miss our talks. I miss you.

I’ve been practising the spell we were working on before break—you know, the one that had me nearly blowing my hand off every time? Yeah, that one. Still haven’t gotten it right, but I’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe you can show me what I’m doing wrong when we get back.

Take care of yourself, okay? Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours, Mattheo

--

Dear [name],

It’s been nearly two weeks, and I haven’t heard from you. I’m starting to get a little worried. Did something happen? 

I keep telling myself you’re just caught up in everything, and that’s fine. I know how it gets with your parents. But... I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You know how I can get sometimes—overthinking every little thing.

Still, if you get the chance, just drop me a quick note. Let me know you’re okay. I keep checking for owls like a madman every morning, and I’ve started to get weird looks from the house elves. It’s embarrassing.

I miss you. A lot more than I expected, if I’m honest. Write soon, alright?

Mattheo

--

[name],

It’s been almost a month now, and I’m starting to lose it. I don’t know what’s happening, and no one’s telling me anything. Are you okay? Did something happen? If you’re in trouble—if someone hurt you—tell me. I’ll come find you, wherever you are. You know I would. You know I’d drop everything if you just said the word.

But I don’t know if you even want that. I don’t know if you hate me, or if something worse is happening that I can’t see. It’s like I’m blind, walking through this fog, and I can’t find my way out. Not without you.

I keep telling myself you’ll write back tomorrow, that this is just some horrible mistake. But tomorrow comes, and it’s the same damn silence. It’s driving me mad. Please, for the love of Merlin, just write to me.

Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you don’t hate me. Tell me anything.

Please.

I love yo-

Yours, always, Mattheo.

--

Please.

I can’t. I'm going fucking crazy - I can't. I need to hear from you, something. Anything, Tell me to piss off, tell me you hate me, tell me I'm terrible. I just need to know you’re ok.

I don’t care if you never want to see me again, if you hate me—I just need to know you’re okay. I can’t sleep anymore. I can’t eat. Every time I close my eyes, I see you, and then I remember that I haven’t heard from you in over a month and it makes me sick. I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m losing my mind, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I don’t know if I can handle this anymore. Not without you.

You were always the one good thing in my life, the one thing that made sense in all this chaos. I need you to tell me you’re okay, [name]. Please.

I’m running out of ways to ask.

I’m running out of hope.

--

Grief - grief was a scary thing. Grief had no mercy, no, she was merciless. She lingered - she hid behind you and never really let go. Every time you though you were ok she'd re-emerge for a bit, just to remind you she was there.

Now? Now she was suffocating you, clawing at your throat. She was tearing you apart, her claws digging into your skin, ripping lawyer by layer till there was nothing left. She was consuming you - and The harder you fought, the deeper she sank her teeth in.

The apartments a mess. A nearby shelf—one that held neatly arranged books and trinkets from your shared life with Theodore—was what you first noticed. Shattered on the floor, like a beacon amongst shattered glass and wooden splinters.

Mattheo had died believing you hated him, that you had abandoned him, and all this time, Theo—

Theodore.

The realization hit you like a second wave, colder, sharper. Your heart lurched violently in your chest, and your rage found a new target. You grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it across the room, watching it smash against the wall as a fresh sob escaped from your lips.

You didn’t hear the front door open, or the sound of Theodore’s footsteps hurrying toward you. He was suddenly just there, eyes wide, filled with confusion and concern.

“[name]? What—what’s going on?!” he demanded, rushing forward to catch your arm, trying to stop you from doing more damage. “What are you doing? Calm down—”

But his words only fuelled your fury. You ripped your arm away from him, turning on him with sheer devastation. “You! You did this!” you screamed, your voice hoarse from crying. “You took them—you took everything from me!”

Theodore’s face paled, his mouth opening as if to argue, but no sound came out. His silence was an admission, and it broke something deep inside you. You launched yourself at him, fists pounding against his chest, though your strength wavered with each hit. “You lied! You ruined everything! Mattheo—he—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you collapsed into sobs, your knees giving way beneath you. Theodore tried to catch you, but you shoved him back, crumbling onto the floor as your body heaved with uncontrollable sobs. You buried your face in your hands, pulling at your hair, wishing you could rip the pain from your very skin.

Theo crouched beside you, his hands hovering near your trembling form, unsure if he should touch you or keep his distance. “Please—” he started, his voice low, pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I thought—”

“Don’t you dare!” You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face

“Don’t you dare try to explain this away. You stole from me. You stole him from me!” Your voice cracked, and your chest tightened painfully as another sob wracked your body. “He’s dead, Theo. And I—I never got to—”

The rest of your words were swallowed by the weight of your grief. You clutched the letters, crumpling them in your fists as if they could somehow fix everything, as if holding them tighter would bring Mattheo back.

Theodore reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched, pulling away from him like his touch burned. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your voice broken and trembling. “You… you did this.”

For the first time, Theo didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend himself. 

“Please. Please - God please. Please bring him back. Please let me - Please,” You break down, clutching the letters to your chest as though you wanted to piece them together, to draw the essence of Mattheo that lingered in every word, in every drop of ink. 

 and maybe—just maybe—you could bring him back through the agony of your grief.

But no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how many times you begged- 

he wasn’t coming back.

--

My Dearest [name],

I love you. I regret not saying it every second, of every day. I regret not saying it once in any one of my letters. 61 - one for each day of the summer. And I couldn’t say it.

Every heartbeat chants your name, every breath whispers your presence, for you are the pulse of my existence.

I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember - it would be impossible not to when I only really started living the second I met you. 

God, you’re everything. You really are. I cant- I don’t know what I’d do without you. I haven't really done anything - not since the day you told me you hated me.

They wanted me to kill you. I’d have always known you'd do so well, securing a potionsmaster apprenticeship. It was everything we spoke about.

I couldnt be there too.

Leave it to you and your stubborn, infuriating little mind to show it to the whole world. You knew - you'd always known the risks of so openly opposing my side the wrong side. And you still did.

Giving everyone hope, as you always do. You’re truly an angel.

Trading my life for yours? It wasn't even a question.

I don’t know how to put this into words without breaking, but I need to. You’ve been the best part of me, the only part that ever felt real. I still remember the first time you looked at me—really looked at me, not the boy people whispered about, but me. The way your eyes found mine, and it was like you saw through every single layer I’d spent years building around myself. You made me feel like I was someone worth being seen. And for that, for everything you are, I’ll always be grateful.

You were the best thing that ever happened to me, [Name]. You let me have moments of you, of your warmth, and I think that’s what made me believe - just for a second- that I could be better. That I could be something with you.

If I could go back and change it, I would. I’d rewrite every moment, every mistake. I’d fight for us harder. I'd say it when you'd run your fingers through my hair, reading your books as you always do. I'd say it every morning; make it the mantra that I mutter before we'd I'd go to bed. I’d tell you I loved you every single day, so you never had to doubt it, never had to wonder if you meant the world to me.

Because you do. You always have.

Even now, when everything’s falling apart, you’re still the best part of me.

You always will be.

With all the love I never got to give you, Mattheo.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Manipulative relationships, no HEA.

[ficmenrhot]

Hii could u do a smut where reader calls finnick ‘Finny’. Like she moans it out while they’re yk and it absolutely makes him feral. And he’s all like:

“What was that sugar? Say it again.” Etc.

Say it Again

Pairing: Soft dom Finnick x shy fem!reader

Notes: Dom/sub themes, voice kink, praise kink, p in v, slight corruption kink, Finnick Odair is such a munch. Minors DNI

A/N: I haven’t had the motivation to write and I’ve still got a few requests in my drafts, I’m really sorry if they’re yours. Hope I hadn’t lost my touch

————————————————————————

Finnick was your first everything- first relationship, first kiss….the first one to break you in- and quite frankly, he intends to be your last too. He loves how he gets to be the only one to teach you all of these things- to be the person who corrupts your innocence, explores different ways to give you pleasure, and work your body better than you can.

Finnick is always sure to praise you during sex to ensure you’re fully comfortable with him. Sex was never really an intimate or enjoyable thing for him before he had met you, so Finnick wants to make sure you are given the experience he never did. More than anything else, Finnick would like to hear your be more vocal during sex.

Although you occasionally make a few noises here and there, letting out small moans and soft whimpers (because let’s be real, it’s impossible to keep quiet when the Finnick Odair is railing you), you often try to conceal your sounds because you feel a bit insecure about your voice. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick would like nothing more than to hear you moan out his name and to tell him how good he makes you feel. If only you know the ego boost it would give him and how his heart would race at a single comment.

This night, Finnick has you laid out on your shared bed, the mattress soft yet supporting underneath you two as he thrusts deeply into you at a steady pace. His warm mouth is latched onto the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping, sure to leave love marks on your skin as one of his hand reaches for your clit to trace lazy circles. The sex, as usual, is phenomenal and your back is arched in pleasure, legs folded as they hang over his sculpted shoulders.

A few soft whimpers fall from your mouth involuntarily at the undeniable pleasure you’re feeling and you bite down on your bottom lips to control your noises like always. Finnick cocks his head, his mouth momentarily detaching from your neck as his lips form that signature smirk which you are so familiar with. You’re confused as of what Finnick is doing but you’re way too cockdrunk to care. His thick and lengthy cock is pounding into you so well, grazing over your cervix with every thrust and you’re surprised that it isn’t bruised by now.

Finnick grabs a pillow from the side of the bed and swiftly places it under the small of your back as he lifts you up and places you back down with ease. Your mouth falls open and you forget about controlling your volume, a loud moan mixed with a gasp leaving your mouth. The pillow has put you in an even better position, raising your hips slightly so that each of Finnick’s thrust is angled to hit that spongey spot inside of you which makes your toes curl in pleasure and back arch further.

“Hmm honey, you like that, huh?” Finnick teases after seeing your reaction, and you can only nod as you attempt to babble something incoherently.

“F-fuck…Finny, s-so good” you mumble, your mind in a state of haze right now.

Hearing your words and the nickname that just fell out of your mouth, Finnick’s eyes immediately light up and an even bigger smirk replaces the former one on his face. Although you don’t realise in the moment that Finnick has bitten his lips at your comment, you sure can feel his reaction to it as his thick cock pulsates in arousal, causing your warmth to tighten around him, feeling every vein and curve.

“What was that sugar?” Finnick chuckles both smugly and proudly, “say it again for me”

“I-I….”

Only then do you realise what you’ve said and your cheeks immediately turn pink, a flustered look appearing on your face which Finnick finds so, so adorable. You struggle to find the right words to say, only blinking shyly as you attempt to cover your face, but Finnick pulls your hands away as he stares down at you with the same smirk.

“Don’t be shy honey, your whimpers and moans are music to my ears……besides, your voice turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

Finnick whispers into your ears, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, ‘butterflies’ Finnick calls them. You blink, not knowing that that is what Finnick feels about the sounds you make, and it makes you feel better.

“Now..I’ll ask you again, sugar, what is it you called me, hmm?”

Finnick hums as he cocks his head with a small teasing smile, waiting for an answer.

“…Finny. I called you Finny..”

“Good girl.”

God save Finnick Odair from the things he is going to do to you.

———————————————————————————

A/N: to whoever had requested this, hope this is what you had wanted <3 Once again, all likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, so are comments!

[kazumist]

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies. 

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him? 

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again. 

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?” 

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well. 

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?” 

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.” 

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — — 

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides. 

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — — 

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now. 

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?” 

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?” 

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — — 

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.” 

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — — 

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay. 

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.” 

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side. 

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss. 

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — — 

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you. 

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him. 

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact. 

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips. 

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.” 

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back. 

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — — 

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour. 

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — — 

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — — 

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since. 

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold. 

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley. 

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

[riediaries]

gojo satoru loves his daughter so much that he's willing to do anything for her to be happy.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask.

"braiding your hair." he answers while he makes a mess out of your newly brushed hair.

you scoff. "you mean, trying to braid my hair. you're making it like a bird ness." you try to pull his wrist out of your hair but he successfully avoided it.

"in a week..." he starts as he take a look on your peacefully sleeping daughter. satoru decided to have a movie night with his two favorite girls. your daughter was so excited that she even helped him arranged the couches to make a bed in order to have a comfortable sleep during after the movie.

and now, the film's not even on half but the excitement on your daughter's mind already died down as she's already sleeping beside you. and your husband, satoru, is not also paying attention to the movie because he's busy paying his dear attention on your hair.

"in a week, she's going to school now, right?" he quietly asks.

"yeah.?" you raises an eyebrow, confusion paints your face. "so?"

"she wants me to braid her hair so that she can brag her new classmates that her daddy did her hair." he chuckles. "that's why i'm practicing."

"she said that? to you? really?" you laugh quietly as to not wake up your daughter or else you will be having a hard time putting her to sleep again.

"apparently, she loves daddy more than mommy." he teases you in which you rolled you eyes at him. "it's alright though, daddy loves mommy." he consoles you by showering your nape and shoulder some lovely kisses.

his kisses tickles you and you uncontrollably laugh a little too loud. this made your daughter woke up from her sleep.

"daddyyy..." she whines and satoru's beside her as fast as a lightning, so attentive to his darling daughter.

"did mommy's big mouth woke you up, baby?" he indirectly teases you and you lean to them, glaring at him.

he reaches out to her and she complies to her daddy. such a daddy's girl. he pats her back slowly while caressing her white hair she got from him.

after sometime, she's asleep again and it's time to open your mouth.

"i don't think it's me who has a big mouth, satoru."

he grins. "ah.. that's right, i think it's me, yeah?" he grins even more and leans to your ear for you to hear what he's going to say. "i mean, i eat yo–"

you immediately put a palm over his mouth to stop him from talking. you eye your daughter, just in case, and you eye your dear husband after.

he stares at you and the palm that's covering his mouth. you can feel his mouth grin and opens and a soft but wet muscle comes out to lick your palm.

it got you pulling your hand away from him, smearing his saliva on his pajama shirt. "so gross."

"liar. you like it when–"

"do you ever shut up?"

"you like my mouth, baby." he blew a kiss to your way and you swat the empty air beside you, an attempt to avoid his kiss.

he carefully lays your sleeping daughter to her former position and gives you a quick kiss. "i love you." he eyes you, waiting for you to declare your love back at him

"fix my hair first and i might say it back." he laughs at your answer as he lays you down on your back, offering your nose, eyes, cheeks, forehead and finally, your lips some light kisses.

the movie is long forgotten by the loving kisses your husband gives you.

"i love you." he repeats and you roll your eyes before saying. "i love you, too." he smiles and lays down with you and your daughter after he turns off the big screen.

you wake up by the muffled noises on your side. you carefully open your eyes to find your husband and your daughter covering their mouths to not make any noises but alas, just like your husband, your daughter has a big mouth, too.

"mommy, your hair is like a bird ness!" she exclaims and laughs alongside her daddy.

satoru gains a glare from you. "satoru gojo."

he freezes up at his government name. "i was about to fix your hair last night but you were so cute i couldn't afford to wake you up from your beauty sleep!" he raises his hand and stands up, clearly know what's about to come.

your daughter laughs even more, enjoying the scene her parents are causing early in the morning.

the gojo family sure knows how to make a morning livelier and more entertaining than any family.

part 2

[kesujo]

Chapter 1: Miss Personal Trainer

This year was the year Kang Seojun would get his shit together. He would learn more recipes and eat healthier, he would start working out and craft himself a body of the gods, and he would finally get a girlfriend and lose his virginity. After finally being able to move out of his parent’s house, after enjoying his newfound freedom, he admittedly slacked off—but that would change. With the new year came newly discovered motivation, and that started with the year subscription he purchased to the gym located near his apartment complex.

And boy was Seojun glad he chose to do that, because the personal trainer assigned to him was smoking hot. Seojun had seen his fair share of scantily clad idols, actresses, and models, but they all paled in comparison to her. She had perfect, milky-white skin and a slim physique but by no means was a slacker in the curves department. The way her formfitting gym wear followed the soft curves on her body, accentuating the fullness of her breasts and her hips, was absolutely sinful. He immediately wondered what running his hand across her curvaceous body would feel like, not long after catching himself and chastising his dirty mind for thinking about a woman he just met that way.

She introduced herself as Kim Taeyeon, and despite being about half a head shorter than himself, she gave off an extremely mature, knows-what-she’s-doing aura, which stood in stark contrast to her baby-faced appearance. Was Taeyeon in her thirties already or was she still in her early twenties? Seojun secretly hoped for the former as he wasn’t particularly keen on dating someone more than five years younger than him. Not that he ever stood a chance with her—on a scale of 1 to 10, she was probably an 11 in sexiness, cuteness, and general attractiveness. Seojun figured if he spent a lot of money and tried really hard, he was maybe a 7.

“So, Seojun, what’s your goal with working out?”

Her silvery voice was another thing: it was smooth, like warm butter, the words just seeming to flow out of her mouth like water from a steady creek. It was disarming, dangerously so; Seojun felt like he could listen to it all day. He then wondered what it sounded like moaning his name, shortly after catching himself with the salacious thought—what was with him today? He wasn’t normally like this. Was he that desperate?

“Um, I—” he stopped short, his heart skipping a beat at the delightful sight of Taeyeon giggling for a brief moment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, please continue.”

Seojun hesitated, briefly wondering if she was laughing at him. “—I just thought that with the new year, that I should actually dedicate myself to working out and get a nice physique.”

“That’s admirable—sorry about earlier, I wasn’t laughing at you, I just suddenly thought of something funny.”

Seojun was perhaps a bit too relieved upon hearing that. “Oh, no worries! I didn’t take it that way.”

“The first thing we should do is create a workout plan accordingly. If you want to bulk up, you need to commit to changing your entire lifestyle. Are you prepared for that?”

He nodded. “Protein shakes, eating meals of only grilled chicken, rice, and steamed broccoli, right? Stuff like that?”

She nodded. “Right, something like that…” It may have just been Seojun, but he swore that a gleam appeared in Taeyeon’s eyes when she trailed off. He felt himself naturally shuddering; as sexy as the expression was, the sensation that passed through him wasn’t of arousal, but more akin to a primal fear. Like Taeyeon was a lion and he, a wounded antelope. “…but that’s all really hard work. There’s another way to achieve that goal, but you’ll have to just trust me.”

Honestly, Seojun was having a hard time focusing solely on his personal trainer’s words: the way she was holding her arms at stomach level meant that they inadvertently pushed her ample chest together and outwards, letting Seojun know that they were bigger than what the outfit initially conveyed. He felt bad for being so distracted by it and was thankfully able to catch most of what Taeyeon said, but the added factor of being completely alone in the building only added to the growing sense of anxiety and resulting self-consciousness he was feeling. When it came time for him to answer, Seojun had to actively wipe his mind from such thoughts, fearing they might leak into his response. “Oh, yeah, I would love to!”

He caught Taeyeon giggling again, a bewildered smile unknowingly forming on his face. “Great! Before we get started, I need to test you to see if you’re eligible. Would you come follow me home?”

Seojun found himself choking on thin air. “Wh—What?”

In the few minutes they spent, Seojun’s mind had already gone wild with fantasies. But not even in the wildest ones would he have dared considering Taeyeon taking him home.

“No? I knew it, it’s too strange to ask a client I just met to follow me home…” the adorable pout adorning her lips and the crestfallen expression on her eyes twisted at Seojun’s heartstrings.

“No! It’s not—” Seojun, with all his might, tried not to get his hopes up. If anything, she just proved herself to have pure intentions. “—it’s not that—well, I mean, it is a little weird, but I still trust you.” Even as disarmingly sexy Taeyeon was, Seojun had his inhibitions. What if she was secretly insane? What if she was just leading him to his doom? Seeing Taeyeon’s elated expression vaporized every last one of thoughts, leaving but one thin strand of doubt and self-preservation lingering. “But, um, what are we going to be doing?”

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not like a psychopath or a serial killer or anything, it’s just I can’t conduct the test here with what we have.” There was something about her chipper, excited attitude that annihilated that last strand of hesitation. “Oh, and don’t worry about the test, it won’t hurt. In fact, I think you’ll like it quite a bit.”

There it was again. That mysterious, mischievous, sexy gleam in her eyes: a predator eyeing its prey. But as soon as it appeared, so quickly did it disappear, leaving Seojun to wonder if he was just seeing things.

“That sounds great. Are we going right now…?”

She nodded, walking past Seojun, grabbing his hand along the way. His heart skipped another few beats at the feeling of her pillowy, warm hand sliding into his own, her delicate fingers locking around his hand. “Depending on the results of the test, I’ll decide on your training regimen. Did you drive here?”

The question went right over Seojun’s head, too preoccupied with staring at the impossibly smooth hand gripping his. Shortly after, he noticed another more delectable piece of eye candy in the corner of his eyes. His attention summarily shifted towards it: Taeyeon’s softly swaying hips, her shapely butt, molded nicely by the black yoga pants she was wearing, amping up his heartbeat so much he could hear the frantic pumping of the organ in his ears.

Taeyeon’s delightful giggle again reached his ears, Seojun’s concentration breaking, his face turning a deep shade of pink when he looked up to see Taeyeon stopped, head turned around and looking directly at him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude, I—”

“It’s quite alright.” At this point, Seojun had to be sure it wasn’t just him. That same gleam shone again in her eyes, this time mixed with a bit of a playful sparkle. “Did you like what you see?”

Again, Seojun was left bewildered. Wasn’t Taeyeon about to scream at him for objectifying her? Unless she was attracted to—no, there was no way that was the case.

“Y-Yes,” he admitted, his gaze locked fiercely to the carpeted floor of the empty gym, the tips of his ears undergoing the inferno of his embarrassment and shame. “You have a very nice body.” There was an immense desire to lift his head just a little bit to catch another glimpse of what lay in front of him as they continued walking; it felt as though someone placed a super magnet on his chin and another on the ceiling, but he fought it with every ounce of willpower he had.

This wasn’t like him. Sure, he was a virgin and never had a girlfriend, sure he masturbated regularly to the idols he looked up to, but he was never so disrespectful to a woman when she was right in front of him. What was wrong with him?

“Thank you!” Seojun, again, found himself surprised; Taeyeon’s response of gratitude was so sincere, he almost believed that Taeyeon wasn’t the least bit angry or disgusted or fed up with his behavior. “As I said, did you drive here?”

“No, my apartment is within walking distance.”

Taeyeon nodded in satisfaction, continuing to walk, her hand still firmly linked to his. Seojun let himself get pulled along, his eyes fiercely trained onto the ground, not daring move his eyes up even one millimeter. “We’re taking my car. It’s a bit of a long drive, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I didn’t have any other plans for today.”

“How about tomorrow?”

As often as Taeyeon was catching Seojun off guard, one would’ve thought that there was a point at which he would stop getting surprised. Her follow up question was not that point. “Hm? Tomorrow?” It was only then that Seojun raised his head, making sure to lock his eyes on the silky hair on the back of her head. Wow, it looked so soft, like … no. He wasn’t about to let himself slip down another rabbit hole of fetishization of a woman he met not minutes ago.

“Hmm, never mind~” she sang, pulling the door open, a blast of cold air greeting them. “Let’s just do one thing at a time.”

“Ok.”

Hearing his stiff reply, Taeyeon let out a deeper, fuller laugh—jarring to be sure, but equally adorable and endearing. “Why do you sound so professional?” She turned around, Seojun quickly diverting his gaze. She cupped the hand attached to her with her other hand, rubbing it gently. “Did me catching you staring at my butt embarrass you?” To this, Seojun only gave Taeyeon a curt nod, sending her into another explosion of giggles. “There’s no need to be shy about that! There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a fine ass, even I do that from time to time. Come on, my car’s nearby.”

Hearing her hearty reassurance and her genuine smile was all Seojun needed to open back up; although he still struggled with looking at her while in the car, they made light talk in the hour-long drive to Taeyeon’s residence. In that time, Seojun learned that Taeyeon had already experimented with many different jobs (which reassured him that she wasn’t the early-twenty-something he feared her to be) before settling on this one as a personal trainer, and how she liked the job because it gave her the opportunity to work with people from all walks of life. The idea of Taeyeon working with other men unsettled him, which he knew was bizarre since he had no right to be protective over a woman he didn’t even know last week.

Seojun then shared about his job at an IT products company, how the work was rather mundane but interesting in its own little ways. Upon further prompting, he told her about his education, how he majored in engineering, how he had trouble finding a job at first and how he had to live at his parent’s house because of it, and how relieved he was after finally being able to move out and how going to the gym was the first step of his plan to truly grow into adulthood.

Although her attention stayed on the driving, Seojun could tell Taeyeon was listening attentively by the way she occasionally nodded while he talked and how her gaze landed on him whenever they pulled up to a red light. It was nice, so nice that Seojun had to repeatedly remind himself to not get his hopes up, that Taeyeon was just a really kind woman and that these things didn’t mean she was into him. But it was so difficult, every time their eyes accidentally met and she would shoot him a dazzling smile and his heart would just leap out of his chest, he felt his grip on reality slipping further and further away.

Thankfully, they arrived at her residence before that happened, and when they did, Seojun’s jaw dropped. While it was no mansion, it was certainly bigger than most houses he’s seen before, not to mention how large and fenced off area was: the nearest neighbor had to be at least 500 meters away on each side. “Here we are, home sweet home,” she announced, pulling into the garage. Was she rich? It certainly seemed so. Seojun was just happy Taeyeon didn’t seem to mind his blatant sexual harassment from earlier, lest he spend a few years in jail with the power and influence she could probably wield.

Seojun followed the tiny beauty inside, unable to help but notice a distinct lack of furniture. While the dining room had a table and chairs, the kitchen equipped with stools, there seemed to be not much else: it gave off the vibe of being not very much lived in. Another thing Seojun found a little strange was how completely unaffected the frail-looking woman seemed to be by the cold weather despite wearing clothes that exposed her entire midriff, both shoulders Taeyeon stopped at what appeared to be her living room. “Here we are.”

“Um, should I wait here while you get your things?”

“Hmm?” Taeyeon’s eyes bore into him, so much so that a shudder inadvertently traveled down his spine. “Things?”

“I-I mean, your, um, your, uh, testing … stuff.”

Kang Seojun didn’t know why he suddenly unable to speak, nor did he know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable and hot. To his chagrin, he could feel his erection spring up with life, to which he uncomfortably shifted under the ardent gaze of the older woman, embarrassment flaring back up.

“Hmm, but I have everything I need,” her voice lowered as she closed in on him, Seojun unable to even stumble backwards, his entire body inexplicably frozen. She raised herself on her toes, placing her head right next to his ear, whispering the final two words, “right here.”

This time, a powerful shiver jolted throughout his body like an electric shock, Seojun letting out a barely audible gasp. Taeyeon’s hands made contact with his arms, a jolt of electricity shooting out from the point of contact, a moan escaping the red-faced man’s lips as she transitioned slowly from rubbing his arm to his shoulders back down to his chest where her supple breasts lightly pressed against him.

“T-T-Tae-Taeyeon, what—what are y-you doi-doing?”

“I’m testing you,” she replied in a soft, sultry voice, her eyes never once leaving Seojun’s downcast ones. “You said you thought I had a nice body, didn’t you?”

At this point, Seojun felt like he barely had the ability to speak, hindered by his arousal and excitement and anticipation, but equally so his anxiety and confusion and embarrassment. There’s no way someone like Taeyeon, someone who undoubtedly could take pick of the litter amongst men she wanted to have sex with, would choose an average person, a virgin, like him. So why him? Was she teasing him?

“Well?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Tell me, Seojun…” her deep, sultry voice almost seemed to echo inside his head. At the moment, he felt no different than what he imagined an injured antelope would feel trying to hobble away from a ravenous lion. “…do you want to feel it?”

Kang Seojun was awkward around women, he would say, but even he had caught onto the signs of what was happening. Even still, hearing the words coming directly out of Taeyeon’s mouth was a completely different matter. It was only then that Seojun locked eyes with Taeyeon, something that proved to be a fatal mistake.

All it took was the one glance, and he felt completely and utterly hypnotized. The rapid pounding in his ear of his heartbeat, the warm feeling of her hands along his chest, her sizable breasts brushing against his upper body, every sensation he was feeling felt like they had been simultaneously amped up to 11 and dulled down at the same time.

“Y-Yes.”

Taeyeon smiled even wider at his response. “What a good boy you are…” she cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. Seojun flinched, the cheek burning at the point her lips met it, as if someone had poured lava on his face. He didn’t even register that Taeyeon had taken a few steps back until he caught some movement in the corner of his eyes.

Black wings sprouted from her back, unfolding with the sound of a soft flutter, like a bedsheet being unfurled from the dryer, and stretching many arm lengths out on each side. Horns simultaneously sprouted from her head, a thin tail springing out from behind and wound around her legs like a snake. “Mmm,” she groaned, the wings spreading out, following the motion of her outstretched arms, her tail likewise straightening out. When she pulled her arms back in, the wings and tail followed suit. “That’s better.”

In that confusing swirl of emotions he was feeling, fear suddenly joined them. “Wha—Wha—you—your—wings, tail—…are you a demon?”

Taeyeon laughed heartily at Seojun’s completely dumbfounded expression and response. “Mmhm.” Seojun thought he was going to regret making such an accusation and almost tried to take back the words as soon as they left his mouth. What he was not expecting was for Taeyeon to confirm it so quickly. But, despite what he was seeing, despite what was right in front of his eyes, he still couldn’t believe it. “More accurately, a succubus.”

Kang Seojun’s mind spun until he was left light-headed. A succubus? That certainly explained a few things, except for the small detail that they didn’t exist. Succubae were just myths, folklore legends created by lustful men who tried explaining away their infidelity to their wives, or something like that. But they didn’t actually have basis in reality. Right? … But how else was he to explain the body-length, midnight-black wings anchored to Taeyeon’s back, the dark brown horns growing out of her head, and the tail swishing about her feet?

“Come here.”

The way Taeyeon purred the words out struck him; they resonated inside his mind, not so much a suggestion but an order he felt extremely compelled to obey. Seojun felt his feet drag across the floor, his eyes locked onto the winged, tailed, horned woman—demon—before him. He stopped when he felt Taeyeon’s hands reach down to grab his, the tail whipping around and resting on the backside of his legs.

“You smell so sinfully delicious, it was a real stroke of luck that I managed to find you,” Taeyeon cooed while leaning into him, her surprisingly strong tail pulling him forward. The bewildered young man stumbled forward into the seductress’s arms.

Feeling Taeyeon’s breasts more firmly against his body and her hands wrap around his torso went by almost unnoticed by the now properly and utterly terrified man. “Delicious? Wait, you-you’re going to eat me?”

Seeing his wide-eyed reaction, Taeyeon couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “No, silly. I’m a succubus. When I refer to something smelling ‘delicious’, I mean your semen.”

Hearing the word coming from her was one thing, hearing the provocative way she said was another, but realizing the, in retrospect, obvious implications of it positively blew away any semblance of fear he held, his arousal coming back in full force.

He groaned under his breath, the raw amount of lust he was experiencing overwhelming him all at once. “My-my what?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, boy.” Her tone took upon a more playful attitude, a playful smile teasing at her lips. “You’ve been imaging what it’d be like to fuck me since you first laid your eyes on me.” Seojun was speechless, only feeling his ears burn a shade brighter. “I admit that was me trying to prime you, although I was impressed with your ability to quell your thoughts even after I grabbed your hand. Most men wouldn’t be able to resist at that point to the degree you did, you know. Especially not virgins like you.” Usually, Seojun might’ve taken that word as an insult, but there was a certain way Taeyeon said the word, the way she seemed to treat the word with respect and even seemed to revere it somewhat, that made him think otherwise. “I really tried my best—well, almost tried my best, but the most I could get out of you was a couple of stares. That’s impressive; I haven’t seen anyone with as powerful a resistance to me in five centuries, maybe six.”

Seojun didn’t know what it was with Taeyeon’s words, but the confident way she spoke them while holding about her a dignified maturity, Seojun found himself immediately believing them: that she really induced those out-of-character lustful thoughts (which, honestly, Seojun was all too willing to believe; he was willing to take any explanation if it meant that he indeed was not that desperate), that his resistance really was impressive, and that she was at least a few couple of hundred, if not a couple millennia, years old. That certainly explained the mature sophistication she seemed to exude and the supremely confident body posture she always had, even when standing a half head shorter than him.

“I think you should be rewarded for your hard work, shouldn’t you?” Taeyeon’s suggestive purring was too much; Seojun could barely contain himself. He was so aroused, he didn’t know what to do with himself: his knees were shaking, his heart palpitating, his penis painfully erect, the muscles on him limbs tensed, it was like he wasn’t even in control of his own body anymore. However, somehow, he wasn’t jumping her, and found that it wasn’t his own willpower that was holding him back but Taeyeon herself. Taeyeon, who looked to weigh 15 to 20 kilograms less than himself minus the wings and horn, was holding him in place so tightly he couldn’t move a muscle. “Would you like that? For me to reward you?”

It was this that allowed him to understand that Taeyeon was in complete control, and while Seojun might’ve ordinarily been inappreciative of his first sexual encounter with a woman controlling him so thoroughly, the fact that it was Taeyeon meant the thought barely phased him. “Please.”

A wicked grin befell Taeyeon’s face, this time that predatory gleam shining proudly and clearly in her eyes. The lion had finally sunk its powerful teeth into its prey. “Good answer.” Her tail tugged down his pants and boxers in one motion with the strength of two hands, Seojun’s boner springing free, proudly prodding her cottony frame-hugging pants. He didn’t even think about this until just then, but his insecurity about his size popped up along with his erection.

“Sorry, it’s small…”

“Mmm mm,” Taeyeon replied, patting his cheeks reassuringly, “Size doesn’t matter to a succubus. We adjust to our partner’s size. That way, we can enjoy the dick of any man without qualms.”

Maybe it was the simple fact that Taeyeon was reassuring her, or maybe it was the firm way she did so, but Seojun felt the burden of not being able to please her dissipate. “O-Oh, that’s good.”

He suddenly felt a rush of wind and, in the next blink of an eye, Seojun found himself sitting down on the couch that was previously behind Taeyeon, the succubus kneeling between his legs, her hands firmly placed on his thighs, her face situated a good meter or two away from his manhood. Her wings floated behind her in a more tucked position; definitely less intimidating, and now that he was starting to get used to it, a strangely arousing sight. “Mmm, fuck,” the lyrical moan sent another anticipatory wave of arousal into Seojun’s body, “You smell so good, I can’t wait to feel your hot semen down my throat. You better be prepared, Seojun, because I’m going to wring your balls dry.”

His dick strained even harder against his body in reaction to the filthy words leaving Taeyeon’s shimmering, luscious lips. “Shit,” Seojun muttered, his fists clenching tightly at his sides, seeing her eyes clouded in lust trained fiercely onto his veiny cock. He wanted to do nothing more than to take Taeyeon’s head and shove his dick inside her mouth, but with the strength and speed Taeyeon just demonstrated to him, he wasn’t about to take any chances with her.

“Be a good boy and cum lots for me, ok?”

“Wait!” It was while Taeyeon’s hands were closing in onto the hardened organ between his legs that a thought suddenly occurred to him. She stopped, big eyes peering up at him, her tail swishing around in excitement also freezing in place. “I-I’m not forfeiting my soul for this or anything, am I?”

Taeyeon giggled again, tickled by the overactive imagination of her prey. “No, nothing like that; souls are the territory of other demons. All you’ll lose is some semen, which you’ll have replenished by tomorrow night anyway.”

Seojun nodded, Taeyeon taking that as a go-ahead to continue. Her palm was the first thing to make contact with his engorged member, to which Seojun let out a loud moan, his brows furrowing at the sight of her small hand rubbing the length of his shaft, its delicate fingers gingerly making their way around its circumference. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his legs tensing and his toes curling as another wicked grin appearing on Taeyeon’s face as both hands firmly grasped his cock and gave it a few pumps. “Fuck,” he moaned, unabashed in the ecstatic pleasure shooting up his spine. All the lonely nights spent by himself paled like the light from a firefly to the blazing afternoon sun in the face of the beautiful seductress kneeling before him, her expert hands inducing an amount of pleasure he didn’t realize was possible.

Taeyeon leaned her head over, her wings casting a shadow on his legs, hovering her mouth just centimeters above the swollen tip of his dick, gathering saliva inside her mouth and dribbling it onto the sensitive sex organ. “Ah, shit,” the moan inadvertently escaped Seojun’s lips, the warm liquid slathering onto his cock sending an electric shock into his entire body. A shudder rolled through up his torso and down his arms and legs, his dick twitching in kind at the sudden contact. Taeyeon smiled in satisfaction at his reaction, using her hands to coat his manhood with the viscous, translucent bodily fluid. Seojun moaned again, throwing his head back in pleasure, his fists tightly clenched at his sides, the ecstasy coalescing into the precum that dribbled out of his dick.

Upon seeing this, Taeyeon’s eyes shone with glee. “Oh, how kind of you; an appetizer, just for me?”

Seojun whipped his gaze back down just in time to see Taeyeon’s head dive down, rubbing her hot tongue across the tip, collecting every last drop of pre-ejaculate onto the pink muscle before planting upon it a quick kiss. Seojun hissed, his body jumping at the sensation, his breaths turning into pants. Taeyeon’s hands never once stopped pumping, gliding along the slick length of Seojun’s cock thanks to the lubrication provided by her mouth, her throat flexing as the first bit of her meal traveled down her throat. Taeyeon’s eyes widened, freezing momentarily, her entire body experiencing a rolling shiver of ecstasy. “Fuck, that’s so much better than I imagined,” she groaned, her voice full of lust and impatience. Her eyes crossed, an even more fierce look of lust clouding her facial expression, her hands resuming its prior task with even more ferocity than before. Seojun let out a surprised yelp, another jolt of electricity caused by another wave of ecstatic pleasure causing his entire body to jump. Tilting her head down again, she reapplied the warm lubricant, Seojun jumping again at the feeling of the warm, viscous liquid coating his cock.

“Mmm, you’re so close, I can feel it,” she cooed, her face drawing closer to the erect member trapped inside her warm hands, gliding along its length with ease. “You want to stuff your veiny cock into my mouth and shoot your seed down my throat, don’t you? Wouldn’t you like to do nothing more than to fill my mouth with your hot cum? I offered you a reward previously, but don’t you want to collect it already?”

“Yes, please…” Seojun half grunted, half moaned, his willpower teetering on the edge of abandoning all notion of ‘rationality’ and ‘self-preservation’ to grab the succubus’s head and force it all the way down his pulsating erection.

“Why don’t you do whatever you want with me then~” the smiling seductress sang, the soft, seductive sound seeming to sway about ceaselessly inside his skull.

Taking the suggestion—or directive, Seojun couldn’t tell at this point—as an indication that he could take the reins, both hands shot out and grabbed fistfuls of her silky, silver hair and pushed her face downwards, directly onto his awaiting penis. “Mmph, fuck—” the initial entrance of his penis into the wet warmth of her tight mouth sent a series of ecstatic shudders of pleasure all throughout his body, his fingers tightening around the silky locks of hair, but soon was amplified at the feeling of her skillful tongue wrapping around his length, that warmth from feeling her saliva dribbled onto his cock now spread across the entire surface area of his penis. Her head obediently bobbed up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts, her wings moving in conjunction with their lust-charged movements. “—fuck, god, you’re so good—” he could feel the familiar sensation of a building orgasm on the horizon, the sensation only pushing him to thrust harder and faster into the lustful demon’s mouth, abandoning all pretense of embarrassment for orgasming so quickly. “Taeyeon, shit, I’m close, I’m so—uugh!”

Letting out something between a yell and a moan, Seojun’s hips pushed his cock as far back into the waiting mouth of the satisfied succubus, ropes of his thick semen depositing directly into the back of her mouth and down her esophagus. Taeyeon’s lips were tightly sealed around the perimeter of his cock, her throat flexing impressively as she gulped down every stream of his seed in stride, making sure not to waste a single drop of the immaculate sustenance. Only after the last of his ejaculate emptied into her mouth did she let go of her vice grip of his dick.

Her breath deepened, her wings flaring out, her entire body burning with life, as if someone had just splashed her with a bucket full of ice-cold water as she was about to doze off, her entire being consumed with an even greater lust and desire. Seojun’s grip on the back of her head loosened, his body slumping against the couch listlessly, grimacing as Taeyeon came up for air and licked the entire surface area of his cock one more time for good measure. “Mmm, I haven’t had such a good feast from a human in so long.”

“I’m glad—w-wait, Taeyeon?”

Seojun’s eyes widened as he watched her snake her way up his body, straddling his waist with her luscious thighs, her hands sneaking under his shirt and, with a firm tug, ripped it clean off his upper body. “I want more,” she whispered. It was only when Seojun felt Taeyeon rub her wetness onto his leg that he realized Taeyeon had already taken off her pants, her tail looping behind her and pulling the last bit of clothing left off her body.

“Oh god…” the words spilled out of his mouth, arousal returning with force upon seeing her perky tits spill out of the restrictive material. The combination of that and feeling her hot, sticky juices rubbing dangerously close to his groin caused his erection to flare back to full tilt. Now that they were naked in front of him, adorned at the peaks with pink, hardened nipples, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Of course, he had seen boobs in pictures and videos before, but seeing them in person, and that they were Taeyeon’s, was a completely other story.

“You like them?” She teased, shaking her upper body playfully, the bountiful mounds jiggling deliciously in response. Seojun simply nodded, to which Taeyeon replied, “You can have them after giving me a second helping.”

Without warning, Taeyeon lifted her hips and plunged her vagina down onto Seojun’s cock.

“FUCK!”

Seojun’s back arched all the way, his head involuntarily thrown back, the loud sound pushed out of his throat as the surge of pleasure overtook his body.

“Congrats on losing your virginity,” Taeyeon whispered to him, cupping his face gently before pulling him into a fierce kiss.

Seojun felt paralyzed by ecstasy, her soft and warm lips smothering him and massaging his own, the tight, hot walls of Taeyeon’s pussy slathering his already slick cock with other bodily fluids, her vaginal lips depositing her fluids onto his crotch with every hot connection of their groins, drenched with the honey of the domineering woman. Taeyeon’s movements were ferocious, her naked tits pressed firmly into the young man’s bare chest, her lips and tongue overpowering his in an instant, her hips propelling her tiny frame up and down the ex-virgin’s dick. Seojun’s hands naturally found themselves cupping her round, shapely ass, an action that only spurred the succubus on more. Taeyeon’s tail crawled up his right arm, softly guiding the fingers of his right hand towards her puckered, unoccupied hole.

Taeyeon broke the kiss, Seojun barely able to see amidst the sea of pleasure and lust he was drowning in. “Are you ready?”

“For—for what?” The split second after he spoke, he felt the two fingers nearing her other entrance melding together, elongating into what he somehow knew was another penis. “What the fuck?”

“What are you waiting for, my ass isn’t going to fuck itself,” Taeyeon quipped, grinning at the adorable, perplexed reaction of the young man below her.

His arousal soon drowned out his sense of reasoning, and the suggestion was all he needed to completely disregard the anomaly of a second penis inexplicably growing from his two fingers. Instead, he quickly found the unattended hole and plunged it inside.

“Shit, shit shit, fuck, oh my god—” Seojun let out a barrage of swears, the added feeling of Taeyeon’s tight asshole joining the already overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation of her pussy clamping on his cock. Taeyeon’s back arched, pushing her voluptuous breasts further against him.

“Mmm, fuck…” Taeyeon’s melodic moans soon joined the chorus of Seojun’s own moans, adding onto the layer of arousal that was starting to overwhelm his body fatigued by the first orgasm. “…do you want the third one to be a pussy or an asshole?”

Before Seojun could ask, the fingers on his left hand similarly started to meld together, elongating into another firmly erect penis. “Uh, um, I-I don’t know…” He could barely process the question, much less dedicate the brainpower needed to make a decision.

“Hmm, another pussy it is.” Again, her tail guided the newly formed cock into the space just above her asshole, soon meeting another pair of flopping wet pussy lips, eagerly awaiting its guest. Without hesitation, Seojun pushed the third member into her third orifice, the resulting explosion of pleasure causing him to blackout for a brief moment.

“Mmm, you like that? Feeling two pussies and an asshole fucking your cock at the same time? Feeling my hot, tight walls on your dick?” Taeyeon’s hot breath heated up his ear, Seojun rendered completely unable to speak from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure assaulting every fiber of his being. “Your cock is hitting my cervix with each stroke, god, fuck, I feel so fucking full with three of your cocks fucking me so hard. Yeah, hmmph, fuck all of my holes harder Seojun, pump your dick deep inside me and fill all three of my slutty holes with your thick cum.”

While Seojun could feel his arms start to give way, he pushed through. The looming feeling of a following orgasm drove his body wild with adrenaline, his arms burning with the strain of pumping so furiously into the wanton woman. His chest heaved with the huge gulps of air his body demanded, Taeyeon’s erect nipples poking firmly at his skin at the apex of each breath. As he neared his orgasm, he could feel both his own and Taeyeon’s movements grow more erratic. The previously cold room now felt blazing hot, the only sound to be heard being the wet sound of skin slapping against skin, the chorus of their combined moans of lust, and the ruffling sound of Taeyeon’s wings moving in conjunction with the movement of the succubus bouncing ferociously on Seojun’s cock. He could only muster a grunt in warning before he exploded all at once, all three holes sucking up the delectable meal at once.

“Uunggh, fuck,” Taeyeon exploded simultaneously, the ecstasy overwhelming her superhuman senses, her hands vacating the back of Seojun’s head and onto the cushiony backrests of the couch she crushed inside her grip, a tsunami of juices flooding out to match the streams of semen flowing into the satisfied succubus. “God, oh my god, fuck, it’s too much…” she panted, even after Seojun’s orgasm subsided, her entire body burning hot with the acquisition of such fine sustenance.

Seojun, on the other hand, was completely and utterly drained—he lost all ability to move, his untransformed arms dropping to his sides and his head onto the backrest of the couch. It was almost scary, how little strength he had left: it felt like he was half-dead, barely having the strength to open his eyes. He never felt this drained after masturbating, what was going on?

“Ah, fuck, Seojun…” Taeyeon remained panting atop the corpse of a man that remained below her, still trying to take in the influx of ecstasy from the consumption of three simultaneous loads of Seojun’s cum. “…ah, god, I’m going to cum again, holy fuuuck!” The panting moan transformed into an ecstatic scream, another tidal wave of lust and pleasure washing over the demon lost in her own desire. Her body vibrated violently against the lifeless man, sending his cock awash with a second tsunami of her nectar.

When her orgasm finally subsided a minute later, Taeyeon collapsed onto the taller man, her head resting on his shoulder. “Oh my god, I haven’t orgasmed so easily in so many centuries, but never before in my millennia of living have I orgasmed twice from one feeding. You should be proud, Seojun.”

When he didn’t respond, Taeyeon lifted her head to see the lifeless, pale expression in his face. “Oh my god! I—I’m so sorry, I forgot you were—oh my god—…”

When Seojun next regained consciousness, he found himself laying on a soft bed, wrapped up in a warm, thick blanket. His consciousness immediately started to drift off again when he realized that something felt wrong: his bed wasn’t this soft.

His eyes opened and he jolted awake, his eyes scanning his environment to find a naked Taeyeon laying beside him, watching him with a bemused expression. “Good morning, Seojun,” her honey warm voice eased the panic in his voice. It wasn’t long before he found his eyes drifting onto her perky tits and the firm, pink nubs sitting atop their peaks, feeling his erection starting to grow once again. Noticing this, Taeyeon giggled, sitting up along with the equally naked man. “You really like my tits, don’t you?”

He blinked, turning his head away, his face red. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize, you can look at them all you want,” she insisted, her soft hand reaching out and gently caressing his cheek. Seeing Seojun’s eyes close with content like a puppy cuddling up to its owner brought a smile to Taeyeon’s face. “I’ve decided. Why don’t you become my pet?”

The idols that are to appear on this story are something that you can influence! If that is something you're interested in, go to this link and scroll down a little to the 'Foreword' and follow the instructions listed.

Otherwise, lemme know what you thought, and thanks for reading!

Link to next chapter here.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (1/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, kissing, the angst, stalking, woman on the rape pill, drug trade ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he needed to calm down before a meeting with clients or a brutal explanation of certain matters, he would lock himself in some room or his car, close his eyes and return with his thoughts to that summer holiday.

First he would always hear the sound of the sea, and then he would see the beach and the setting sun all around him, somewhere in the distance hearing her laughter.

It was their first and last trip together, which had obviously been his father's idea. He thought it would be a good way to cool a bit of tension in the family and invited his daughter from his first marriage to join them at their summer residence along with her partner, Harwin Strong, her former bodyguard, and their children.

The locals called their house ‘King's Landing’, because in fact the building looked like some kind of modern palace, with a huge garden, a private beach access and a small harbour with their sailboats and scooters.

He had never wondered where his father got money to buy such a great mansion: he thought that he had earned it all and the others had not and that was why they were poor.

Neither he nor his brother were thrilled with the idea: they did not want to share their toys or rooms with the Strongs, which, although they usually stood empty, were sometimes used for playing. Despite their verbal expressions of displeasure, Rhaenyra arrived with her partner and children in a large black Mercedes, disturbing, in his mind, their peace and order.

For the first few days, he simply tried to pretend he hadn't seen them: he would go for solitary hikes along the beach, looking for treasures in the sand, thinking he envied Helaena, who instead of joining them decided to spend her holiday with her friend and could do whatever she wanted.

Their mother allowed them to swim in the sea as long as they didn't swim too far away from the shore, and the smallest children, namely Luke and his sister, wore plastic shoulder pads filled with air to make them float.

Every little thing that made him better than his brother or nephews made him feel superior, so when he noticed that he swam the best out of all five of them, he showed it off by diving underwater once in a while only to emerge somewhere much further away. Their sister was most impressed by this, asking him to teach her how to do it, but he paid no attention to her.

The little squealing girls did not interest him, but Jace's face full of displeasure did.

He grinned in a way that made the eldest Strong's lips pressed together into a thin line and saw him swimming towards him.

He was sure that Jace would just want to hit him or sub him, so he prepared to put up aggressive resistance if necessary, he surprised him completely, however, by pulling his shorts off his legs.

He laughed out loud as he threw himself after him, trying to snatch it from him, fruitlessly, Aegon seeing this, shouted:

"– c'mon, hand it to me! –" He called out and indeed, Jace did so, making his opportunity to retrieve his stolen clothes move away from him towards the shore with them and Luke who also laughed thinking, apparently, that it was a very funny joke.

"– stop it! –" Their sister squealed, being the only one to stay in the water with him.

It was the first time he had felt so humiliated, frightened and lonely – although Aegon often teased him, this time it was something completely different.

His older brother came ashore, waving his shorts.

"Come and get them!" He laughed, throwing them somewhere far out on the sand so that he would have to run naked many metres before he could even reach them. His niece looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"– wait – wait, I'll get them for you in a minute –" She called out, moving towards the shore, getting out of the water at last and running across the sand – Aegon, Jace and Luke watched her efforts from afar, laughing loudly.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as he tried to stop himself, he burst out into a loud sob, ashamed, sad and bitter, standing in water up to his waist and not moving from his place, wanting to just drown and die.

He finally heard a splash – his niece was swimming towards him with his clothes in her hand, reaching out to him. He snatched his shorts from her in an aggressive, furious motion, whooping with his tears.

"– if you tell anyone about this –" He hissed.

"– no – no, please don't cry –"

"– fuck off –" He growled, pushing her away for some reason, furious that she had seen his outburst of despair, the fact that he was crying like a little girl.

He put his shorts back on and stepped out of the water, heading immediately towards home, paying no attention to Aegon's screams for him to come back, for them to go riding their bikes together, that it was just a joke.

He spent the rest of the day in his room reading history books. He liked to imagine that he was someone else: a great scientist, explorer, king, prince or knight. As he read stories about the great, terrifying dragon Vhagar, he thought he would like to have such a creature for himself, so that he could burn his brother and his nephews.

He answered his mother's questions about what had happened in a perfunctory manner – he knew his brother would take revenge on him if he said too much and he didn't feel like causing any more trouble.

He shuddered at night, roused from a deep sleep when he heard someone's steps in the corridor.

He feared it was them, that they were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose up on his arms, terrified, when the door to his room opened with a loud creak.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her quiet mumble, even barely able to see her silhouette in the darkness he could tell she was crying.

"– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He hissed.

His reply made her draw in air loudly, whooping apparently with her own tears.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She babbled in despair, as if this was the worst day of her life and there were big monsters lurking in the shadows of the room she slept in ready to devour her.

For some reason, what she said made him feel a sting in his heart and sympathy, through which he shifted to the side, sighing heavily, making room beside him.

"– okay, just be quiet already – come here –" He muttered, and she breathed a loud sigh of relief, closing the door behind her.

She surprised him by climbing onto his bed and immediately covering herself with his duvet, breathing loudly as if she was really scared.

"– thank you –"

"– sleep –" He commanded, turning his back to her. "– you are to disappear tomorrow morning – if anyone sees you, I will kill you with my own hands – do you understand? –"

"– yes –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

He heard her turn on her other side, but he could still feel the warmth of her body – his bed designed for one person for two proved a tad too cramped and there was no way their shoulders wouldn't touch.

Although he felt ashamed that he had slept with a girl, on the other hand her presence had a calming effect on him – the conviction that someone was beside him, her warmth and her scent, reminding him of vanilla pudding or cake, made him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke up, to his relief, she was gone, nor had she told anyone that she had come to him.

What surprised him was that she came to him the next night and jumped into his bed as if it was hers.

"– what are you doing? –" He muttered, looking at her in shock, his favourite book about dragons in his hands.

"– I'm going to bed –"

"– you've got to be joking – go to your place –"

"– I don't have a lamp –"

"– I'll give you mine –"

"– no – this one is too big – for me to sleep it has to be small or someone has to sleep next to me – I swear I'll disappear tomorrow morning –" She mumbled, seeing him tilt his head back, closing his eyes in impatience.

"– I don't want you in my room –" He said finally. "– neither you nor your brothers – I'd rather you never came here –"

It was only when he heard how the words sounded that he thought he had exaggerated, however, he could no longer take it back – he heard her draw in a breath, her cheeks red with sadness, her eyes glazed with tears. She burst out crying, pulled herself up from her seat and ran out of his room.

He thought, returning to his reading, trying to drown out the discomfort in his stomach and the tightness in his throat with the thought that at least she and everyone else would give him a break.

He tried to focus on what he was reading, but then his thoughts returned again to her, alone, in the darkness that had so frightened her.

He remembered Aegon scaring him that there was a great one-eyed monster living in his wardrobe that would come out of there and eat him if he closed his eyes even for a moment.

He cried from exhaustion and didn't sleep for several nights until his mother, when she found out he had fallen asleep in class at school, explained to him that it had been a simple lie.

He thought with shame that she was just a child who was being bullied by them as much as he was, and although he was angry, he decided he would go and see if she had fallen asleep.

Perhaps she was being too dramatic?

He got up quietly from his bed and went out into the corridor, walking slowly to her room, which was next to his. He opened the door and looked inside, noticing to his surprise that her bed was empty; he could, however, hear her raspy, heavy breath.

He stepped inside, looking around the moonlit room, approaching her bed hearing her breathing more and more clearly. He knelt down, bending over and only then did he see, horrified, her silhouette lying on the floor under the wooden frame, her eyes clenched shut, her plump cheeks red from tears.

"– please, don't eat me –" She squealed out.

"– it's me – hey –" He whispered, touching her hand, and she screamed and slammed her head on the bed above her. She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at the spot, and he hushed her by stroking her back.

"– come here – I'm afraid of monsters too –" He whispered, and she, at his words, crawled to him and cuddled into him as if he were a teddy bear, clenching her hands into fists on his back, crying miserably.

He took her into his arms, letting her throw her arms around his neck – when he stood up with her he thought she was unusually light. He laid her down on the bed and slipped under the duvet right beside her, letting her small hands embrace his waist, her face snuggled against his chest.

Only then did he feel her whole body shake.

His hand stroked her hair until she calmed down and they both finally fell asleep in a tender, close embrace.

For the next few days when she came to him, he let her lay her head on his shoulder and read a book with him, which he kept resting on his stomach. They didn't talk then, focused on reading, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"– can I turn the page? –" He asked, wanting to know if she had managed to read everything.

"– yes –"

She really liked the character of one of the princesses. It was another volume of the story of The Mighty Vhagar and she was the beloved of the Prince who had managed to tame this terrible dragoness. Rhaenys, for that was the heroine's name, also had her own dragon, but a much smaller one, and together with the Prince she flew in the skies.

"I wish I had a dragon like Rhaenys." She confessed to him at last, and he grunted, agreeing with her deep down, not wanting to admit it, however.

The more he got to know her, the more her presence ceased to irritate him: what he liked about her was that she respected his barrier rules. She knew that he liked silence and also that he hated it when someone rearranged or took his things. They sometimes discussed books while sitting on the terrace or walking on the beach pretending to be treasure hunters.

"Kiss your girlfriend!" Laughed Aegon, looking at them from afar, making them both turn scarlet with shame.

His words, however, made him experience a daze.

She was, in fact, a girl, on top of which, in his eyes, she was extremely pretty – her large, bright eyes were framed by beautiful dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her wide smile sweet and comforting. Her voice and touch were also pleasant, tender, her body warm as she snuggled into him at night, seeking refuge in his arms.

He thought he'd never met a girl he liked and fancied, and envied Aegon that he'd already kissed a few of his female friends at school.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking along the beach with her, kicking various stones along the way. His niece lifted her surprised gaze to him, distracted from browsing through the white seashells she had found and wanted to take home with her.

"No. And you?" She asked curiously.

It was easier for him to tell the truth knowing that she had never had anyone either.

"No." He muttered.

They were silent for a long time, walking side by side, thoughtful.

He wondered where he was actually going with this question, his heart pounding like mad.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked quickly, feeling himself turn red with embarrassment – he was unable to look at her, afraid of her reaction, so he just looked around pretending to be intrigued by something.

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard at her words.

"Do you like me?" He asked. He heard her quiet giggle beside him.

"Yes."

"So?" He continued, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, meeting her curious, bright gaze.

"What are you asking?" She asked, cocking her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was unable to get the words out.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said finally making his heart stop in his throat.

"…but only when we're alone." He said.

"Alright." She replied lightly, undaunted, returning to looking through her shells.

He struggled to hold back a smile, feeling hot in his stomach, thinking with relief that it was simple enough and he felt satisfied.

He had a girlfriend.

For the rest of the day they pretended nothing had happened, talking to each other in passing.

What he was looking forward to was the night and the warmth of her body against his.

Indeed, she came to his room as usual as soon as she made sure everyone was already asleep and jumped into his bed making his heart beat harder. He turned off the lamp even though they were usually still both reading together, laying his head next to her on the pillow, startling her.

"– are we going to sleep already? –" She asked quietly and he nodded.

She blinked when his hand rose slowly and tentatively touched her cheek. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft and warm her skin felt under his fingers, even in the darkness he knew she was blushing.

He pressed his forehead against hers feeling their breaths quicken, not knowing how to express what he wanted so as not to frighten her at the same time. He leaned in slightly, stroking her face with his thumb, his fingers running over her neck making her breathless.

"– may I? –" He mumbled and she nodded quickly, her fingers running over his jaw making him feel the heat rippling through his stomach, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

He enclosed her cheek in his palm when his lips finally pressed against hers – he was surprised by how soft, fleshy and moist they were. He pulled away from her immediately with a quiet click and grunted, twisting in his place, closing his eyes, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack from excitement.

"– sleep –" He commanded, feeling that it was too much emotions for one time. His niece answered nothing, snuggling up to him as she did every night, and he put his arms around her.

It was his first kiss with his first girlfriend.

He felt grown up, fulfilled and happy.

They spent the next few days on various expeditions, pretending that they were great explorers of scary temples looking for treasures or great tombs of old kings. They did nothing out of the ordinary apart from the occasional quick, embarrassing kiss on the lips or cheek, however, to his surprise his affection towards her grew each day.

He realised that he genuinely liked her.

She shared his passion, she was excited with him about their finds, which were most often old coins, she helped him come up with their new missions and, above all, she didn't laugh at him, but with him.

Her words, though child-like, were full of understanding and empathy, her commitment and fearless nature made her his indispensable companion, and part of him thought with relief that it would stay that way forever.

That he found his haven.

However, their closeness began to frustrate Aegon, who finally pushed him to the wall.

"Why do you keep running after her? Are you kissing her or something?" His brother asked mockingly, and he felt satisfaction at the thought of how he could answer him.

"Maybe." He replied.

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and furrowed his brows in consternation.

"WHAT? Have you gone mad? It's your niece! That's disgusting and on top of that, illegal! You can't kiss your own family!" He said making his heart stop, cold sweat running down his back.

"– after all, she is not my sister –"

"– but you are her uncle! – do you know what our mother would do to you if she found out? – you're a complete moron –"

"– I was only joking – I wanted to annoy you –" He lied quickly, feeling a wave of shame, sadness and horror run down his spine.

That day he turned on his computer quickly and, although the internet was still running very slowly at the time, he managed to read in the Online Encyclopedia that what he had done was called incest and was considered a socially unacceptable perversion, although some countries allowed marriage between an uncle and a niece or cousin.

It didn't change the fact that he burst into loud sobs, feeling like a fool, regretting everything he had done to her, that he had ever met her, that he had ridiculed himself again because of her.

"– I'm breaking up with you –" He told her the same day, making her eyes widen in disbelief and fear.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

It seemed to him that what he said had completely broken her, because instead of saying anything, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, trying to calm herself, but they continued to flow.

He felt some natural urge to embrace her, his heart squeezed at the sight of her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They were not meant for each other.

Wanting to somehow soften his words and what he had done to her, he wrote her his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it under her door that very evening, so that she could contact him if something bad happened, but she could call only in a life-threatening emergency.

He didn't want anyone to catch him talking to her, much less Aegon.

He thought their brief relationship and break-up would be the worst and most heartbreaking thing to happen to him on this holiday, but it wasn't.

Fueled by rage and aggression that he had no way to deal with, he threw himself at Jace as he started laughing at him, pounding him with his fists, and Luke, wanting to defend his older brother, hit his head with a glass bottle lying on the sand, which smashed into his face.

It turned out that one of the shards damaged his eye, while the other cut the left part of his face.

They all started screaming, which their parents heard – Alicent, panicked, called an ambulance, while Rhaenyra packed up, took her children and left.

The doctors, to his mother's despair, said that an operation had to be performed immediately and that the eye would have to be removed: he remembered very little of this period, not speaking or looking at anyone at the time, as if something in his mind had switched off and he had lost touch with reality.

He thought only about her.

About his Rheanys.

He opened his eyes, returning with his mind to his car – he glanced at the blue-lit display and saw that it was approaching two o'clock in the morning.

They'll be here soon, he thought.

He stepped outside, closing the car door behind him, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket. He took one out and slipped it into his mouth, leaning over the bright, warm flame, the tip of it turning red. He took a drag, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out through his nose.

Indeed, it wasn't even a few minutes before he heard the screech of tyres – several black cars drove into the square, blinding him with their long lights.

Turn it the fuck off, he thought, covering his face with his hand, taking another drag.

He heard men start to come out of the cars – most of them were tipsy dudes just doing security, however Jason Lannister, who was supposed to hand him part of the money for the contract, was their opposite.

He looked like a hipster in his jumper, with his blonde hair pulled back and beard, a suitcase in his hand.

"As much as I agreed with your grandfather. Next part in two weeks." He said.

"Open it." He ordered, blowing out smoke through his mouth, looking at him with a grin, from which Jason swallowed loudly.

Lannister pulled a key from his trouser pocket and opened the suitcase, presenting him with elegantly stacked, sorted thick files of money.

He nodded and hummed under his breath, satisfied, going around his car, opening his boot. He pulled out a fake bottom made especially for the police, underneath which was a bag containing several kilos of white powder that Jason sold through his club.

They exchanged bags and shook hands, parting without a word, not wanting to tempt fate.

He smoked his cigarette to the end and trampled the butt with his shoe, climbed into his car and started the engine, eager to get back to his flat and sleep for at least a few hours. He set off ahead with a squeal of tyres, driving out of the harbour onto one of the main streets, a complete blank in his mind.

He felt nothing.

Or at least he thought he did, until her name showed up on his dashboard display remotely connected to his phone, the sound around him indicating that she was calling him made him freeze.

Over the years she had texted him, describing her days, asking how he was doing, wishing him a happy birthday, but he had never written her back, thinking it was pointless.

He only associated her with what he could not have and what happened next.

However, the fact that she called was exceptional.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

FUCK.

He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with what he'd done if it turned out the next day that her dead body had been found somewhere in the woods.

His trembling hand rose to the button on the screen with the handset symbol on it – he swallowed hard when his finger touched it and there was silence.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her trembling, breaking voice, his heart pounding like mad – he thought in disbelief that she sounded familiar and foreign at the same time.

"– what is it? –" He asked dryly, feeling the cold sweat run down his back as he tried to focus on the road.

She was probably just drunk and desperate, he consoled himself.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She mumbled with difficulty between sobs, her breath heavy and ragged – he felt his heart stop, his hands involuntarily tightening on his steering wheel.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –"

All he heard for a moment was her shallow breathing and crying, saw with his eyes her face then when he told her they couldn't be together.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered, apparently losing touch with reality.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked desperately, running his hand over his mouth and jaw, thinking with horror that someone might be about to rape her.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She mumbled, and he drew in the air loudly, knowing what she was talking about.

"– Heavenly Beach? –" He asked, turning on his indicator, making a U-turn even though he should have done it at the next crossroads, several cars started honking at him, braking with a screech to avoid hitting him.

"– Rhaenys? – FUCK! –" He shouted, no longer hearing her voice, slapping his hands on the steering wheel, feeling tears burning under his eyelids for the first time in years.

He felt like he was in a panic, only realising after a moment that he was breathing loudly through his mouth.

He had broken many traffic regulations to get to this place as quickly as possible.

The security guards knew him and let him in outside the huge queue, to the fury of the others waiting – he ran quickly down the stairs, hitting several guests on the way who shouted after him to be careful, the loud electric music completely deafening him.

He wondered, what was she doing here?

Walking through the flickering lights and darkness, he headed straight for the toilets, going inside with a loud slam of the door. Several of the girls inside squealed, horrified by the presence of a man in the women's washroom.

"Get the fuck out!" Shouted one of them, stepping in his way, but he pushed her away. The girl fell over and whimpered, her friend, as drunk as she was, began calling him names, threatening to call security.

"RHAENYS!" He called out, opening one cubicle after another until he came across a closed door from behind which no sound came. When hit it with his foot it opened with a loud clatter and then he saw her: she was lying on the tiles sunken in deep sleep, unconscious, her phone by her face.

Looking at her, he remembered with shame that he knew perfectly well what she looked like, because he stalked her Instagram and Facebook accounts almost every evening: at first he just wanted to mock her and her life, then, however, it helped him control which boys she was seeing.

He destroyed his first phone by throwing it against a wall when he saw a picture of her in the arms of some guy when she was in high school, his rage caused by the fact that she was able to move on and he was stuck, still with his mind in that summer.

He knew she had studied archaeology because she sometimes posted photos from excavations, showing unusual finds. He couldn't bear it when he saw a picture of her sitting next to a boy who was putting his arm around her waist, surely going to university with her.

Robb, because it turned out that was his name when he traced his profile through her friends, liked to have a good time: he'd gone a few times to clubs he'd visited, wanting to look at him from afar.

He watched him chat up strange women and, although nothing happened between them, he came to a certain conclusion.

He didn't trust him.

He didn't like him.

That's why he took a picture of him with a woman, who he put his arm around exactly as it was then, in their picture, and then asked the owner of the club, who was buying drugs from them, to post the picture on their official Facebook.

They often uploaded photos from parties, so this was nothing unusual, and the feeling of satisfaction he experienced when he saw that after a few days she had deleted all their photos together was indescribable.

He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't because he was jealous, but because he wanted to protect her, like the good, caring uncle he had never been.

And now she, the girl he saw every day on his phone screen lay unconscious in the stinky toilet where others came to fuck and snort cocaine, vulnerable and helpless.

"– hey – hey, wake up, kid –" He muttered, trying to lift her up, tapping his palm against her cheek to revive her, with no effect.

She didn't even flinch.

He grabbed her under her hips and lifted her up, rising from his knees with her, walking out of the toilet, the two drunk girls led them away with eyes full of disbelief.

As he walked with her through the club he noticed two men standing at the bar watching him closely – they turned away, pretending to talk to each other when they met his gaze.

Were they the ones lurking for her?

Were they the ones hoping to have fun with her that night?

He felt disgust and rage at the thought, for although he didn't get into any deeper relationships, he only took from women as much as they were willing to give him.

Sex allowed him to vent and not go crazy, but no relationship was an option.

He didn't want any new girlfriends.

With one hand holding her under her buttocks, he slipped the other into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the keys to his car, opening it remotely. He opened the passenger side door and settled her into the seat, fastening her seatbelt. She mumbled something that sounded like no, clearly thinking he was the one who had done this to her.

"– easy – I'll take you home –"

He hated Rhaenyra's new husband wholeheartedly, as he was their biggest rival when it came to drug deals, however, he had no choice: after Harwin was shot, his older sister quickly found comfort in the arms of another man who was far more dangerous.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his niece's silhouette plunged into sleep, tense, her body completely numb, her bowed head leaning against the window.

He placed his hand on her palm, clamping his fingers on her skin, his throat squeezed at the thought that he felt exactly like then, when he had found her curled up under the bed.

"– you were right to be afraid of sleeping in the dark – you don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows –" He whispered – her body shuddered, but she didn't wake, her fingers tightening on his.

"– uncle –" She mumbled.

He pressed his lips together feeling a single, heavy, warm tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the thought that she was able to recognise his voice after so many years.

He parked in front of Daemon's house and lowered his window, pressing the button to wake up whichever bodyguard was there. He heard a moment later that someone had in fact appeared under the other side.

"– do you know what fucking time it is, man? –"

"– someone gave Daemon's daughter, and my niece, a rape pill – I brought her –" He said dispassionately, his free hand still clenched on hers.

"– oh fuck –" The man mumbled, and the gate in front of him immediately opened.

He pulled into the driveway and parked at the very entrance, Rhaenyra in only a bathrobe, apparently awakened from a deep sleep, walked out of the house with Daemon running up to his car. He turned off the engine and stepped outside, closing the door.

"– what happened? – how did you find her? –" She asked terrified and pale, looking at him in disbelief.

"– Heavenly Beach – she called me – she barely spoke –" He replied coldly, opening the passenger side door. Her mother immediately leaned over her, gently patting her cheeks.

"– my love? – good God –" She mumbled, stroking her hair and shoulders as if she were a small child.

"– what was she doing there? –" He asked Daemon. Rhaenyra's husband threw him a long, frustrated look.

"– she said she would be staying the night with a friend – I am as surprised as you are –" He replied impatiently, taking his niece in his arms exactly as he had before, heading home with her, her face sunken into a deep sleep lying on his shoulder.

He shuddered when Rhaenyra touched his arm, looking at him uncertainly.

"– would you like a cup of tea? – you can stay the night with us –"

After you ran away without a word of apology when your son ruined my life, you stupid whore?

"– no –" He said immediately, turning around and heading for the driver's side door, getting inside his car without bestowing another glance on her. He started the engine and began to back up, turning around, driving out through the gate back onto the dirt road.

By the time he returned to his flat it was morning, but he did not feel tired or sleepy. He was attacked immediately by the paws of a large brown dog – Vhagar, his gift of comfort after losing his eye, looked at him with big eyes and barked with rage that he had left her alone for so long.

"I know. I know. I've had a rough night." He hummed, stroking her head. His dog grumbled for another moment, whining and howling, until she gave up, returning to her sleeping place.

He pulled off his jacket and boots, lay down on his bed and unlocked his phone, going into his messages, clicking on the icon that said Rhaenys.

He scrolled through her messages, imagining as he did so that she was lying right next to him, that everything he had read she had just whispered in his ear, embracing him tenderly as she had then, that summer.

He didn't write her back because he didn't know what he should say.

He was ashamed to admit that if it hadn't been for Aegon, this would probably have gone on for a while until their parents found out and they would be completely humiliated.

He was ashamed to admit that his most beautiful childhood memory was both something disgusting and shameful, something that some part of him wanted to forget.

He was ashamed to admit that his grandfather had told him that he could forget about the University, because once you enter this world, you stay there forever.

He was ashamed to admit that he felt that it had always been too late for him, that there was no moment in his life when he could change something.

He fell asleep in the end and didn't wake up for several hours, tired and shaken; he shuddered when he heard his phone ring and reached for it quickly, thinking it might have been her again.

He swallowed hard, disappointed when he saw it was his grandfather and answered reluctantly, closing his eyes.

"Did everything go according to plan?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Heavenly Beach?"

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad.

Lie or tell the truth?

"Rhaenyra's daughter called me. Someone put a rape pill into her drink."

Silence answered him for a moment, from which he felt a discomfort in his stomach.

"Aemond –" His grandfather began. "– this is the last time you interfere in their affairs. Do you understand?"

He looked ahead, biting his lower lip so hard that he felt the taste of his own blood on his tongue, his throat squeezed so tightly that he felt like he had stopped breathing.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."