#but just being a watered down reflection of someone Like them

[starlost-mochi-x]

lonely st. ✧ chapter vii : the people who care

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: usual warnings (see masterlist for all), descriptions of a panic attack, nightmares, fainting, jisung cries, mentions of eating, mentions of feeling isolated

a/n: this chapter starts off a little darker so please read the warnings before continuing ! <3

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Hyunjin woke with a jolt, covered in sweat.

His hair was plastered to the back of his neck, bare chest heaving with exertion, like he'd just run a marathon. His hands clenched the bedsheets beside his hips as he tried to calm himself down, processing what he'd just dreamed.

Glancing across to the mirror in the corner of his room, he noticed his cheeks were rosy in the reflection, his ears burning scarlet. He took a deep breath and he stood shakily, feeling unusually unsteady on his feet. He felt sick.

He moved to the mirror and inspected his reflection before turning abruptly on his heel, unable to bear the sight of his own face, reflected back scared and pale in the darkness of the room.

Sighing and moving to the bathroom, he noticed how dark it was outside. He'd woken ridiculously early, though he didn't notice, too focused on splashing cold water on his face, trying to cool himself down.

Inhaling shakily, he leant over the sink, trying to forget the images burnt into his mind. Feeling a wave of nausea pass over him, his knees gave out without warning and he awkwardly hit the tiled floor with a thud, head lolling back against the sink cabinet.

Hyunjin closed his eyes.

Everything was quiet and dark.

Hyunjin felt serene, like he was underwater, surveying the lights and chaos going on above the surface. The sounds around him felt muffled and distant, like the feeling of water seeping into his ears.

He stretched an arm out, feeling hazy and disconnected from his limbs. He moved his fingers faintly, feeling numb, like he was watching someone else's arm move instead of his own. He was just a presence floating delicately in the air, sinking til he met the ground.

He saw Y/n above the surface; her outline blurred and faded by the ripples of water. He thrashed wildly, though he had no strength, trying to reach her. But it was like a boulder had been tied to his ankles, and he sank further into the abyss...

He screamed underwater and a stream of bubbles left his mouth, water gurgling in his lungs as he screamed with everything he had left.

Y/n, come back!

He felt himself being lifted out of the water, the water dripping off him and leaving him feeling heavy and saturated. Someone tugged on his arm as he began to sink back down, into unconsciousness. A faint burst of sunlight broke through the hazy, foggy mass surrounding him like a cloying perfume. He heard voices, calling out to him, frantic and strained.

"Hyunjin! Hyunjin, wake up!"

"Hyunjin!"

"HYUNJIN!"

He took a heaving, shuddering breath, his cloudy eyes opening to meet Jisung's.

He looked as worried as Hyunjin had ever seen him; through the fog hanging over his head, he noticed his friend's face was pale and his eyes were rimmed in red, like he'd been crying. His voice sounded faraway.

"Felix, he's awake!"

The blonde haired boy rushed in, holding a bottle of water. Though the sink was directly above them, Felix knelt down and uncapped the bottle, jerking it so a gush of the water hit Hyunjin squarely in the face.

He coughed, some of it going down his throat. Leaning over, he propped himself up on his elbows. His lower half was spread across the tiles, and he felt numb; he wasn't sure he could stand. His head throbbed suddenly and he let himself be pulled into Jisung's lap, gasping weakly.

Jisung scoffed despite the singular tear streaking down his cheek. "Felix, I said he was awake. You didn't have to splash the water."

Felix shrugged worriedly, looking at Hyunjin.

Jisung stroked his friend's hair, trailing a hand down his shoulder in a soothing pattern. His voice was low and cracked.

"Hyunjin, what happened?"

Felix followed up his friend's concerned question.

"Yeah, man. We were supposed to hang out this morning, and Jisung kept calling you because you didn't show up. And I tried contacting you too, but when you didn't respond after forty minutes, we got worried and came here.

We knew you were home alone because you told us your parents were away for a couple weeks on a trip, so we figured something happened."

Jisung whispered, his voice echoing in the silent space.

"We found you passed out right here and both of us freaked. You've been out for who knows how long..."

Hyunjin coughed and sat up. True to Jisung's word, he was still in his boxers, which he'd slept in, and his upper back hurt from where he'd slumped against the cabinet. His head hurt a little too and he was fighting to stay awake.

Felix shared a worried glance with his friend, biting his lip. "Hyunjin, can you stand?"

He weakly shook his head.

Both boys slipped an arm around Hyunjin's torso, lifting him from the tiles and through to his bedroom. Felix knelt in front of his friend, keeping a hand on his knee to ground him.

His voice was soft. "What do you remember, Hyunjinnie?"

Hyunjinnie.

Wasn't that what Y/n called him the other day? Hyunjinnie.

The images from his nightmare flooded back into his mind, flashing and searing, tossing him under waves, making his head spin. He saw Y/n's smile, her hands delicate and pretty as she held her pencil, sketching image after image. She looked up just as he threw a basketball to her, grinning.

His left hand ached suddenly, his fingers closing around nothing, missing the feeling of her warm hand in his, like when she'd held it in the classroom. A singular, whispered phrase swum between the racing thoughts and flashing images in his mind.

I missed you too, Hyunjinnie.

"Don't leave me," he cried weakly to her, gasping, though she wasn't there, much to his distress.

Felix's voice was shaky as he moved to comfort his friend. "Hyunjin, it's okay. We're not going anywhere, just breathe-"

"I can't-"

"Shh, it's okay, we got you. Don't worry, just in and out, okay? You can do it, just breathe with us..."

Jisung murmured to Hyunjin in soft, soothing tones, Felix rubbing his knees, trying to calm him.

Felix tilted Hyunjin's chin up after a while, wiping away his friend's tears, though they were immediately replaced.

"Y/n-" Hyunjin cried weakly.

Felix and Jisung shared a surprised, worried glance. Piecing the events together, Jisung rubbed his friend's back, whispering to him reassuringly.

"Hyunjin, it's okay."

Felix nodded. "Y/n's not going anywhere. Did you dream about her?"

Hyunjin nodded, a hiccupping sob escaping his mouth.

"I want her to come back.."

"Wait, so he thought I died?"

Y/n's voice sounded through Felix's phone speaker as he paced, feet padding across the sunlight-dappled floor of Hyunjin's living room.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "He's not telling us what happened, but we figured he probably had a nightmare, something involving you."

"Oh. Is he okay?"

Felix glanced across at the couch, where Hyunjin sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, face buried between them. Jisung had his head leaning on his friend's shoulder, whispering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances to him in a constant, unending stream.

Felix bit his lip. "I'm not sure."

Y/n sounded worried, her voice becoming quieter over the phone. "Can I talk to him?"

Felix sighed, walking a little closer, and covered his phone with his hand. "Hyunjin, do you want to talk to her?"

The boy looked so dazed and out of it that Felix immediately brought his phone back to his ear.

"Yeah, I don't think he's up to it..."

Y/n let out a worried sigh over the phone, feeling anxiety creep up on her. "Just- keep an eye on him for me, okay?"

Felix nodded, forgetting he was over the phone and she couldn't see him.

"Felix?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

Felix ended the call, looking to Jisung, who still had his arm draped over his distraught friend's shoulders.

"Let's get you something to eat, Hyunjin."

Walking into the classroom, Felix set his belongings down on the desk, before turning to Jisung who was a couple desks away.

"Is Hyunjin coming in today?" He asked.

"He is, actually."

Both boys looked up at the sight of their friend; Jisung immediately stood up and threw his arms around the boy, squeezing him tight around the middle.

"Hi, Sung," Hyunjin wheezed, clapping his friend on the back. "I'm feeling better, don't worry."

Felix scoffed, getting up to hug his friend anyway. "You're lucky we didn't tell your parents."

"Yeah," Hyunjin chuckled. "They would have freaked. But I'm okay now."

Hyunjin sat down in his usual spot as the teacher began to call the roll. He checked his timetable; usually he knew off by heart what classes he was due for the day, but the events of the weekend had left him feeling unusually forgetful. Jisung had told him it was nothing to worry about, just some lingering aftereffects.

Checking in his bag, Hyunjin dug inside for a pen to mark off something on his schedule, and his fingers closed around a ballpoint. Drawing it out, he blinked in surprise.

It was Y/n's, the one he'd stolen almost two months ago.

He smiled ruefully to himself. I bet she hasn't forgotten about it all this time. She's not forgetful like me.

Realising he had a class with her next, he slotted his timetable and notebook back into his bag, wondering if she also remembered his offer for her to sit with him. He mentally facepalmed; he shouldn't have asked her to sit with him over text. It would just make it awkward if he had to ask her again face-to-face. Especially if she wasn't planning to sit with him at all.

Glancing up as the bell rang, he stood unsurely as the other students filtered out of the room, brushing past him while laughing and chattering.

Felix accompanied him on the walk, since his classroom was just a few doors down from Hyunjin's and he kept up a steady stream of excitable chatter, talking about this and that, not letting Hyunjin get a word in edgeways.

Which suited him just fine, since he was preoccupied with other thoughts. So he let Felix ramble on without interruption, only stopping to quickly say bye before slipping into his class.

He sat down in his usual spot at the back, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. His eyes darted about the classroom, trying to spot the telltale shimmer of her keyrings and pins on her bag, but it was nowhere to be seen. He relaxed with a sigh of relief. Spreading one leg slightly, he pushed it under the leg of the chair next to him, inconspicuously saving the seat. Hopefully for Y/n.

A familiar scent filled the air, vanilla and cinnamon, and Yeji pulled out the chair next to Hyunjin, almost catching his foot in the process. She dumped her belongings down before moving to sit next to him with a grin.

"Hey, Jinnie."

Hyunjin stuttered, his plan falling apart. "Hey."

Yeji peered down into his face, still standing, one hand planted firmly on the back of the chair. It moved slowly to the back of Hyunjin's chair til she was leaning almost over him, her knuckles brushing his back. A shiver went down his spine and he straightened a little, trying to redirect his focus to the classroom door.

"Sorry," he said quietly, bracing. "You can't sit here."

Yeji's smile dropped. "Why not?"

"Just can't."

Yeji's grin returned, wide and pearly, and it reminded Hyunjin of the Cheshire cat-style bandaid Y/n had given him. He rubbed his knee subconsciously, where the bandaid sat stuck neatly to the skin.

"Oh, I see," she teased. "Saving it for someone?"

Hyunjin nodded mutely before speaking up. "Y/n's coming soon, and I asked her to sit with me. Sorry."

Clearly Yeji was not expecting this response, because she spluttered, flicking her hair over her shoulder haughtily.

"Fine," she huffed suddenly, her tone laced with savagery. "Save it for your little loser friend."

Hyunjin made to nastily retort back at her, before his eyes flitted to the classroom door and Y/n walked in. He shoved the anger down inside him before smiling at her. He sat back down and looked up at her expectantly as she walked up to him.

Y/n glanced at the seat next to him shyly, pointing a finger.

"Yeah," he nodded, his tone soft. He couldn't keep the smile from his face.

Y/n slid into the seat and the class commenced. The teacher announced the content would be on the term exam and normally, Hyunjin would have zoned in, writing down notes and organizing his schedule (usually much to Jisung's disgust), but all he could think about was the girl sitting next to him.

They were sitting together.

He looked out the window, relief and happiness settling over him like a pleasant, dreamy cloud. His plan had worked. He felt a finger poke lightly into his bicep and he looked across as Y/n slid him a note.

Felix told me you fainted on the weekend. Are you feeling better?

He took the note and wrote a reply, his pen feeling slippery and unsteady in his hands.

Yeah, I'm okay. I had a nightmare and I must have gotten freaked out.

He slid it back to her, their fingers brushing momentarily. Her next reply was quick.

Nightmare? About what?

Hyunjin bit his lip. Should he tell her? Would she think it was weird or perverted that he'd dreamt about her? It had no romantic or suggestive connotation about it, but he still felt that there would be a chance that she thought it was kind of disgusting. Who dreamt about their friends? Maybe she would take it the wrong way.

But it wasn't like that, he told himself firmly, scribbling his reply.

You.

He heard Y/n make a little, almost inaudible squeak, like she was surprised, and he propped his head up on his elbow, putting his hand across his mouth to hide his smile.

Her reply came back.

Damn, am I that much of a horror to be friends with?

Hyunjin scoffed quietly.

No, of course not.

She wrote a response.

Then what happened in the nightmare?

Hyunjin took a deep breath, trying to stop his knee from bouncing rapidly under the desk. Should he tell her? He decided that she wouldn't mind. Besides, he was already this far in. He couldn't back out now.

I dreamt that you left me. And I kept calling for you but you weren't there. I felt like I was drowning...

He passed the note back across the desk with shaking fingers, biting the inside of his cheek.

Y/n passed the note back quickly, and Hyunjin's heart sank. Now his suspicions were confirmed. She thought it was weird..

Opening the note and moving to glance back at the sentence he'd written that had supposedly ruined everything, he was surprised to see that there was a small reply written under it.

I'm here now, Hyunjinnie. I promise I won't leave. Not if you don't want me to, of course.

Hyunjin felt his cheeks tingle, and moved to tug lightly at the lobe of his ear, which were now painted a shade of rich cherry red. She'd shown him time and time again that she was sweet, and honestly rather sentimental, but it had continued to surprise him. And with each time, his felt his heart swelling more and more, and expanding to accommodate her affection, coupled with his own. So much that he felt his heart would burst if they continued the way he did.

The bell rang for the end of class and Y/n moved to pack up her belongings, sparing Hyunjin a soft nod and a glance before moving to leave. She stopped to turn back, assuming he would get up and walk with her, but he dismissed her with a small, nervous smile, murmuring something about extra homework from another class. She nodded again and left.

So maybe she wasn't much of a talker, but oh, how she could make him feel.

"Y/NNNNNNN!"

Said girl let out a squeak as Jisung collided with her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a hug. She exhaled a laugh, patting his forearms, and kept walking, taking smaller steps so as not to trip both herself and Jisung over.

He kept his arms around her, waddling awkwardly behind and spouting his daily nonsense straight into Y/n's ear. She didn't mind, looking up to see Felix and Hyunjin waiting outside the school gates. Jisung steered her from behind towards them, almost colliding with the iron bars of the gate.

Y/n let out a small sound as she put her hands against the wall. "Oof, be careful- Ew, it's wet."

It had been raining earlier, and the smell of petrichor hung in the air, laced with the smell of watery mud and the rain-soaked blazers of the students filing out of the school campus. She'd heard a couple girls in her class complaining about the rain, but she found she quite liked the weather. It was much more familiar to see the sky all grey and overcast than to walk out and be blinded by the sun.

Groaning in disgust, she waved her hands at Felix, who ducked, whining.

"Y/n! Go dry your hands."

Sighing nonchalantly, she wiped her right hand on Jisung's sleeve, the boy gaping at her in open-mouthed horror. He glanced down at his sleeve, checking that it wasn't stained, before skipping past her, down the street. Having seemingly forgotten about Y/n's damp hands, he turned back and seized Hyunjin's hand, telling him about the latest drama he'd heard in the hallways.

Y/n discreetly wiped her hands on the tail of Jisung's blazer before dropping back to walk alongside Felix. He smiled at her before calling out something to Hyunjin.

"Yah, Hyunjin! Wanna go to Bbokari's?"

The dark-haired boy checked his phone before turning his head and nodding. Felix let out a hum before asking Jisung the same thing. He readily agreed and turned himself so he was facing Y/n, walking backwards and clinging onto Hyunjin's arm to talk to her.

He grinned at her eagerly. "You should come with us!"

Y/n felt a silent stutter escape her lungs, her mouth opening just a little bit as she was thrust into the spotlight. All three pairs of the boys' eyes were trained on her, waiting for her response.

"Sorry," she said inaudibly, suddenly unable to speak.

Felix leaned forward a little as he walked, nudging her gently with his shoulder and sending a rush of heat radiating into her skin through her blazer.

"Come on," he said gently to her, smiling. "It'll be fun. Just like when we played basketball together."

Y/n found her eyes drifting to Hyunjin; he'd been looking at her while Felix had been talking, but at the eye contact, he suddenly busied himself with checking his pockets. Y/n felt her spirit sink a little and she considered making up a lie so she wouldn't have to go with them.

Not that she didn't want to. But it was difficult, and she knew she would end up feeling downcast and isolated if she told them she couldn't go. But if she said yes, she risked being left out; she risked being a spectator to their animated conversations, and honestly, Y/n couldn't stand the thought of being an invisible presence in yet another friend group. Just the lingering feeling made her visibly blanch, but she was snapped out of it when Jisung poked her shoulder.

"Pleaseeee?" He dragged out the word, pouting at her, his eyes wide and dark like boba balls.

Y/n glanced at him, unsure.

Jisung continued to drag the word out, his voice getting higher and higher and his face becoming redder and redder with the constant, forced exhale of a word.

Felix let out a low whistle. "If you don't give him an answer, he'll just keep going. No offence, but I don't feel like dragging a passed-out Jisung to Bbokari's."

Y/n let her eyes drift to Felix, the group still walking. Her voice was quiet, hesitant, like she was afraid she would scare him away if she spoke too loud. "What is Bbokari's?"

Felix beamed at her. "It's my parents' shop. Like a convenience store, but there's a seating area where there's a microwave and a coffee maker and stuff. We always buy food and my parents give Hyunjin and Jisung friend discounts because they come round all the time. Also, I live upstairs to the store."

Y/n nodded subconsciously, taking in all the information.

"She nodded!" Jisung screeched, jumping up and down and almost dislocating Hyunjin's arm, still in his grip. "She said yes!"

Y/n yelped as Felix took her arm, Jisung letting go of Hyunjin to take her hand, leading her forwards at an alarming pace down the street. The sudden flurry of movement around her meant she almost tripped, Jisung and Felix's combined grips on her being the only thing stopping her from falling.

"W-wait!" Y/n protested, struggling against their grip. "That's not what I meant! I was nodding to Felix-"

It was useless; they were far stronger that she had previously assumed. She felt like a twig in their firm but gentle grip.

Jisung cackled, his laugh floating up and mingling with the last few spatters of rain falling from the grey, cloudy sky.

"Too late. You're coming with us."

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[myloviestar]

Blue Skies and Second Chances

The Outer Banks were quiet that afternoon, the sun sinking low on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the water. Y/N stood on the edge of the Cameron dock, her toes barely brushing the edge as she stared at the endless expanse of blue. The gentle lapping of waves was the only sound, until Rafe’s unmistakable voice broke the peace.

“You’re always out here,” he said, his tone softer than usual, lacking its usual bravado.

Y/N turned slightly, catching sight of him leaning against a nearby post, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked different today—less like the boy who always seemed to have the world on his shoulders and more like someone searching for a piece of calm.

“Maybe it’s because it’s the one place I can actually think,” she replied, her lips quirking up in a teasing smile. “Why are you here? Thought you’d be off doing… whatever it is you do.”

Rafe hesitated before stepping closer. “Maybe I wanted to think too.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Rafe Cameron, thinking? That’s a first.”

He laughed quietly, a genuine sound she hadn’t heard from him in ages. “Funny,” he said, though there wasn’t any bite in his voice. “I’ve been… I don’t know, trying to figure things out. And you—being here—it helps.”

Y/N frowned slightly, turning fully to face him. “What are you figuring out?”

Rafe’s gaze flicked to hers, a mixture of vulnerability and determination she hadn’t expected. “That I don’t want to be the guy people think I am anymore. I’ve screwed up, Y/N. More times than I can count. But… you never treated me like I was some lost cause.”

She swallowed, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his words. “That’s because I don’t think you are.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, and he took another step closer. “You’re different, Y/N. You make me want to be better.”

For a moment, the air between them was heavy with unspoken words, until Rafe took her hand gently in his. “I know I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “But if you’d give me a chance, I’d do whatever it takes to prove I’m not the guy I used to be.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. She’d always seen glimpses of this Rafe—the one who wasn’t weighed down by expectations or anger. Maybe, just maybe, he could become the man she believed he could be.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Rafe,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “I just need you to try.”

His smile widened, brighter than the sun reflecting off the water. “I can do that.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange, Y/N let herself believe in the possibility of second chances. And in Rafe’s hand, she felt the promise of something new—something real.

[mixxiew]

cruise of love | hc

chapter four: a shitty first day

yn’s heart buzzed with excitement and nerves as she stepped into the classroom with her two best friends by her side, the chatter of students bouncing off the walls. the room was bright and airy, with large windows overlooking the vast ocean, the shimmering blue water reflecting sunlight into the room. It was hard to believe she was here—on a cruise ship, no less—about to start a semester of studying while traveling the world.

“yn!” jaemin waved her over from the middle row.

she weaved through the rows of students, her tote bag bumping against her hip, and after she found her seat (thankfully near him) she sat down.

giselle lets out a big groan after seeing her seat so far from her friends and so did rei, founding herself in the front seat.

yn waved while sending them kisses just to comeback to jaem.

“good morning sir” she greeted, glancing around as she pulled out her notebook. “this place is packed.”

jaemin nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “packed and full of eye candy. I already spotted someone from last night’s party.” his voice dropped to an excited whisper. “two rows ahead, three seats to the left. don’t be too obvious!”

yn tried not to laugh as she casually looked in the direction he mentioned. “the guy in the navy sweater?”

jaemin nodded dramatically, clutching his chest. “that’s him. Isn’t he so hot? I swear he smiled at me when I walked in.”

“I think he was just being polite, he looks like a puppy” Y/N teased, earning a playful shove from jaemin.

as she scanned the room, her eyes landed on a group of boys sitting near the back. on of them, a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and a shy demeanor, caught her attention. he was laughing at something one of his friends said, his smile lighting up his face.

“omg that’s the guy!” she whispered, nudging jaemin.

he followed her gaze and grinned. “the hottie on twitter? yeah i saw him earlier, he’s even hotter in person”

“very” yn admitted, her lips curving into a small smile.

her eyes probably longed too much on the boy because one of his friend spotted her and waved at her, making her blush from head to toe

before anything else could happen, the professor entered the room, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “good morning, everyone! welcome to Semester at the Sea. I’m Professor Paul, and I’ll be your instructor for Global Studies this semester.”

the room quieted as Professor Paul launched into his introduction, explaining the syllabus and what they could expect over the next few months.

yn was jotting down notes when the door suddenly swung open with a loud thud.

every head in the room turned as someone strolled in—late and completely unapologetic.

it was him.

that motherfucker.

haechan.

or whatever his ass name was.

yn’s stomach dropped. he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. he carried himself with the same effortless arrogance as before, his bag slung over one shoulder.

“ah, Mr. Lee” Professor Paul said, his tone light but teasing at the same time.

“so nice of you to join us. Were you saving the best entrance for last?”

the class erupted in laughter, but haechan didn’t seem fazed. he flashed a lazy grin.

“just wanted to make sure everyone noticed me, Professor.”

“well, congratulations. mission accomplished. now, find your seat before I start assigning essays as punishment.”

haechan chuckled, his gaze sweeping the room as he sauntered down the aisle. yn’s heart sank as she realized he was heading straight toward her row.

“please don’t let it be near me. please don’t let it be near me” she muttered under her breath.

jaemin looked at her laughing a bit.

yn know that giselle was killing him with her eyes.

just in time Professor Paul pointed to the empty seat right beside her.

“that one’s yours, Mr. Lee. take it.”

yn froze, her worst nightmare coming true in real-time.

haechan’s eyes lit up with recognition the moment he saw her. a slow, smug smile spread across his face as he slid into the seat next to hers. “well, well” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “i guess we are kinda fated at this point.”

stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “this must be my punishment for something” she muttered.

haechan chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “oh, don’t look so thrilled. i’m a great deskmate.”

she looked at my for a second before taking her attention back to the professor. “I suggest you to bring a raincoat for future classes.”

“don’t be so dramatic,” haechan said, propping his chin on his hand as he turned to face her. “you should be flattered. I don’t usually remember people.”

“oh, lucky me” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Professor Paul clapped his hands again, pulling the class’s attention back to the front. “all right, let’s focus, everyone. we’ve got a lot to cover today.”

yn tried to focus, but she could feel haechan’s gaze on her, practically boring a hole into the side of her head. finally, she turned to him, whispering harshly. “stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring” he whispered back, his lips twitching with amusement. “I’m observing.”

“same thing” she hissed.

“relax yn” he said, leaning closer. “we’ve got a whole semester together. might as well get comfortable.”

her jaw clenched as she turned back to her notebook, determined to ignore him. but the playful glint in his eyes and the smug curve of his lips told her one thing:

this was only the beginning.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

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౨ৎauthor’s note: this is for y’all cuties a written chap bc i love them! 😁 hope y’all enjoy it!

౨ৎ taglist! @dlin3 @haechology @iamsimplyasimp @dudekiss3r @gukuwii @minhosprettywife @catpjimin @injunnie-lemon @snoopyjimin @spacejip @yewshi @delululi

[radiotorn]

ignore this post for me iim having a moment

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."

[heestruck]

Joint Dream ; Lee Heeseung

synopsis ; What if we lived in a world where dreams were connected? Where my thoughts became yours. And yours became mine. Where a simple fantasy that ran through your unconscious mind was shared with someone else. And neither of you had any idea that your dreams were connected as one.

In which yn and heeseung have the same sex dream about each other and are forced to get through a long shift not knowing the other person shared the same dream.

pairing ; coworker!fem reader x coworker!heeseung

genre ; smut

warnings ; smut, mdni. hair pulling, degrading, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), inappropriate relationship, infidelity, oral fem&male receiving, praising, sex in the workplace, heeseung is downbad, swearing.

do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. minors do not interact.

wc ; 7.7k

I’d strongly advise you read the teaser so you can read the dream. you can find that when you click here

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the cool morning light filtering through your bedroom window. The dream from last night clung to your thoughts like a stubborn fog, making it hard to focus. Every time you tried to push it away, it resurfaced—Heeseung’s hands, his breath on your neck, the way he’d looked at you with such raw desire. You shook your head, trying to dispel the images, but they only seemed to grow clearer.

Across town, Heeseung was standing under the steaming spray of the shower, his hand pressed against the cold tile as water cascaded down his back. He’d woken up with the dream still fresh in his mind, the memory of your body pressed against his in the boardroom sending a jolt of arousal through him. He bit his lip, trying to shake the feeling, but the more he thought about it, the more turned on he became. His hand twitched, itching to do something about it, but he forced himself to stay still. He was married, for God’s sake. But even as he reminded himself of that, the thought of his wife barely registered—just a distant echo compared to the vivid images of you.

You pulled a pair of black dress pants from your closet, laying them on the bed as you debated what to wear on top. Normally, getting dressed for work was a mindless task, something you did without much thought. But today, after that dream, it felt different. You didn’t want to dress too provocatively—Heeseung was married, after all, and it’s not like you were going to seduce him—but you also didn’t want to seem like you were behaving out of the ordinary. You settled on a white long-sleeved shirt, hoping it struck the right balance.

Heeseung turned off the shower, running a towel through his hair as he stepped out, the cool air hitting his skin doing little to quell the heat still coursing through him. He stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he shake this feeling? He tried to think about his wife, but even the thought of her didn’t stir the guilt it used to. Instead, all he could see was you—how you’d looked in that dream, the way your body had responded to his touch. He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to focus on the day ahead.

In your room, you slipped into the black waistcoat, adjusting it until it sat perfectly. The formal look of it made you feel more grounded, more in control. But even as you dressed, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung. How were you going to face him today, knowing what you’d dreamt? Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him, of being in the same room with him after what had happened in your subconscious. The images from the dream were still so vivid, so real, it was hard to believe it hadn’t actually happened.

Heeseung pulled on a pair of black dress pants, followed by a crisp white button-up shirt. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, as he tried to suppress the arousal that kept surging up every time his thoughts drifted back to you. He fastened each button with deliberate care, but even that wasn’t enough to keep his mind from wandering. His wife’s voice, faint and tired, reached him from the bedroom. “You don’t care about us anymore, do you?” she mumbled, half-asleep but clearly hurt. Heeseung froze for a moment, listening to the words, but they barely registered. He knew she was right—there had been a distance between them for a while now. But instead of feeling guilt, all he felt was a dull, muted acknowledgment. He didn’t care as much as he should, and the realization didn’t bother him like it used to.

In the kitchen, Heeseung’s wife was pouring coffee when he walked in, her expression distant. She didn’t look up when she spoke, her voice flat and resigned. “Have a good day,” she said, the words empty, merely being said out of habit rather than genuine care. “You too,” Heeseung replied, his tone just as hollow. As he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door, he glanced back at her, but the connection they once had seemed to have withered away. Whatever was missing, he didn’t have the energy or desire to find it again.

You grabbed your bag, checking your reflection one last time before heading out the door. The nerves were still there, but you tried to push them down, reminding yourself that it was just a dream. However, deep down you knew it had changed how you saw Heeseung. As you locked the door behind you, your heart pounded with anticipation, the thought of seeing him today sending a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite shake.

Heeseung climbed into his car, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of you, of the dream that had left him aching for something he knew he shouldn’t want. As he drove towards the office, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, the familiar route passing by in a blur as he mentally prepared himself for the day ahead. He tried to think about the project, about the work waiting for him, but it was useless. The dream had taken hold of him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape it

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

You stepped into the elevator, the familiar hum of filling the small space as you pressed the button for your office floor. The doors began to slide shut when you heard a voice calling out, just before the doors sealed completely.

“Hold it, please!”

Instinctively, you reached out to press the ‘open’ button, the doors pausing their descent before slowly reversing. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Heeseung stepped into the elevator, his pace quickening to close the distance before the doors could shut again. He offered you a grateful smile, his hand brushing yours as he reached for the button panel, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

“Thanks,” Heeseung said, his voice smooth, though there was an underlying tension you couldn’t quite place.

“Sure,” you managed to reply, your voice quieter than you intended. You could feel the atmosphere in the elevator shift as the doors finally closed, sealing the two of you inside the small, confined space.

The silence that followed was thick and heavy. You stood side by side, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. Your mind raced, replaying the vivid details of your dream, trying to push them out of your mind. You had never felt so uneasy around him before, and the tension in the air only made it worse.

Heeseung, meanwhile, was doing his best to keep his thoughts under control. The memory of his dream lingered at the edges of his mind, and every time he glanced at you, he felt an odd mix of confusion and guilt. He didn’t understand why he had dreamed about you, of all people, and the lingering effects of the dream unsettled him. But he refused to let it show, keeping his expression neutral and his demeanor calm.

When you and Heeseung first started at the company, it was immediately clear that you were both cut from the same cloth—ambitious, driven, and determined to make a name for yourselves. You joined the company on the same day, and from the outset, there was a natural chemistry between you. You quickly became each other’s unofficial competition, constantly pushing one another to do better, to reach higher. But it wasn’t the kind of rivalry that bred resentment. If anything, it brought you closer together.

In those early days, there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You knew that Heeseung would work just as hard as you would, and you respected him for it. Heeseung, in turn, admired your tenacity and sharp mind. The competition between you was light-hearted, almost playful at times. You’d tease each other over who could land the biggest client or who could draft the most airtight proposal, but it was always in good fun. There was a certain flirtatiousness in your banter, but it never crossed the line into anything inappropriate. It was just the way you interacted—two people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, who relished the challenge of trying to outdo one another.

There were countless late nights spent in the office, just the two of you, with takeout containers strewn across your desks and a few empty coffee cups lined up as you pored over financial statements or budget proposals. Those nights had a certain intimacy to them, but it was always rooted in your mutual respect and shared goals. There were moments when the teasing would get a little more personal—a compliment on how sharp Heeseung looked in his suit, or a playful jab from him about how you always seemed to have the right answer at the right time. But it was all part of the dance, the rhythm you’d fallen into over the years.

And now, after years of working side by side, something had changed. The friendship that had once been so easy had become tainted with an unfamiliar tension, an awkwardness that neither of you knew how to address. It was as if the dynamic that had once defined your relationship had been thrown off balance, leaving you both unsure of how to resolve this.

The numbers on the elevator panel ticked up slowly, each floor feeling like an eternity. Heeseung glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing the way you kept your gaze fixed forward, determined not to meet his eyes. He wondered if you were just as uncomfortable as he was, but quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way you could know what had been going on in his head last night.

“So… how was your weekend?” Heeseung asked, his voice light but slightly strained. It was a desperate attempt to break the silence, to inject some normalcy into the situation.

“It was… fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Pretty quiet, actually.”

He nodded, his expression neutral. “Yeah, same here. Quiet.”

The conversation died as quickly as it started, the tension between you both thickening the air. The elevator continued its slow ascent, the atmosphere growing more stifling with each passing second. You could feel your pulse quicken, the proximity to Heeseung almost unbearable as you tried to focus on anything other than the dream.

Heeseung shifted slightly, trying to focus on anything but the lingering tension. He had worked with you for years, and there had never been anything like this between you before. The dream had thrown him off balance, and he didn’t know how to regain his footing. The memory of his wife’s words that morning echoed faintly in his mind, but he pushed it aside, refusing to let it distract him any further.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached your floor, the doors sliding open with a mechanical whoosh. You practically leapt out, eager to escape the suffocating tension, but you felt Heeseung’s presence close behind, his footsteps copying yours as you made your way to your respective desks.

As you reached your desk, you let out a shaky breath, one you hadn’t known you were holding. You sat down in your chair, opening your laptop in hopes that work would be enough of a distraction. Across the room, Heeseung settled into his chair, his face a mask of calm professionalism, but beneath the surface, his thoughts were anything but.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

The office was quiet, the usual buzz of activity replaced by the soft hum of machines left running through the night. The last of the overhead lights dimmed as their colleagues packed up and headed out, offering quick farewells to you and Heeseung. You smiled and nodded in return, though your thoughts were far from the work you were about to dive into.

Your mind kept drifting back to the dream throughout your entire work day. The memory of it made your cheeks flush even now, hours later. It wasn’t just the vividness of the dream that lingered—it was the way it had sparked something new in you. You stole a glance at him, wondering if he could sense the awkwardness you felt or if you were giving away too much with your lingering looks.

But Heeseung was as calm and composed as ever. He leaned casually against his desk, his posture relaxed as he chatted with a colleague. His voice was smooth, his expression unreadable, revealing nothing of what might be going on in his mind. If he had any idea about the dream that had shaken you, he didn’t show it. Yet, beneath your nerves, there was a strange, new pull toward him—something the dream had awakened.

"Ready to get started?" His voice was steady, and confident, as he approached you.

"Yeah, let’s do this," you replied, hoping your own voice didn’t betray the nervousness you felt.

As you settled into the now-empty office, the silence between you and Heeseung stretched, filled only by the quiet clicking of keyboards and the distant sounds of the city outside. You tried to focus on the work at hand, but your thoughts kept straying back to the dream—how real it had felt, how much it had affected you. More than anything, you were startled by how much you had enjoyed it, and how much it had made you see Heeseung in a different light.

Every time you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, but he gave nothing away. His movements were fluid and assured, his focus seemingly unshakeable. He occasionally offered you a small, reassuring smile, as if everything was perfectly normal. But there was a newfound awareness in the air, something unspoken yet undeniably present.

But beneath that calm exterior, Heeseung was battling thoughts he couldn’t shake. The dream he’d had the night before was still fresh in his mind—an unexpected and vivid encounter with you that left him feeling uneasy. Despite the unease, he couldn’t deny that the dream had enticed him. It had stirred something within him that he hadn’t anticipated—a secret attraction he now found himself struggling to ignore.

Still, Heeseung was an expert at keeping his emotions in check. His demeanor remained collected, his focus on the task at hand. He wouldn’t let a stray dream affect his professionalism. But as the night wore on, the guilt started fading away and the attraction mixed with his own selfish desires lingered.

“Do you have the financial report for Q1?” Heeseung’s voice broke through the silence, his eyes scanning the documents in front of him, as if drowning himself in numbers could chase away the thoughts that kept resurfacing. You had the report he’d requested right in front of you, but every time he spoke, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting. You stared at the title on the report, trying to focus on anything other than the remnants of the dream that refused to leave your mind.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, passing him the stapled papers. You attempted to refocus on your own work, your fingers tapping across the keyboard, but your eyes kept drifting back to Heeseung—the way he bit his bottom lip when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes narrowed as he concentrated, and then there was the wedding band he kept twisting around his ring finger.

It was shameful, you knew, to be thinking like this about a colleague, especially a married one.

But Heeseung’s thoughts weren’t much different from your own. It was shameful for him to be stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking, his thoughts drifting back to the dream he couldn’t shake. He prided himself on his self-control, on resisting temptation, but as he watched you from across the desk, the memory of that godforsaken dream kept creeping back. His gaze flickered briefly to the hallway, where the boardroom from his dream lay just out of sight.

“Have you ever dreamt about work?” Heeseung asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he could think better of it. It was a risky move, bringing up his dream of all things, but something compelled him to broach the topic. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to achieve by mentioning it—it wasn’t as though he could come right out and say what was really on his mind.

The question caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily frozen. Why would he bring up dreams right now of all times?

“Yeah… last night, actually.” You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks as you responded, your fingers pausing their movement on the keyboard. “But I can’t really remember what it was about.”

Like Heeseung, you felt an inexplicable urge to keep the conversation going, as if talking about it might somehow dissolve the tension in the air. Maybe if you opened the door to the subject, it would help you forget the dream altogether. But as the images of the dream grew sharper in your mind, you felt the familiar pull of desire gnawing at you. “Me too, actually… something to do with the boardroom.”

Your mind raced as Heeseung spoke. Had you accidentally said something? Had someone somehow found out about your dream? You knew it was impossible. You hadn’t told a soul, and you were certain you hadn’t slipped up. Yet, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, like he knew exactly what was tormenting you. Anxiety twisted in your chest, but it was mixed with an unexpected surge of adrenaline, making your pulse quicken.

In Heeseung’s mind, a similar conflict was raging. The thought of his wife, once a grounding presence, had faded into the background. He’d worked alongside you for years, and though he’d always harbored a subtle, unspoken attraction, he had never let it show. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, making it feel as if you were strangers who had only just met each other.

Heeseung knew he was venturing into dangerous territory. He was fully aware of the risks, of the line he was dangerously close to crossing. He’d always prided himself on his self-control, on keeping his professional and personal lives separate. But the curiosity, the temptation, was growing too strong to ignore. “Remember when we first started?” he began, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. “We were chasing clients like crazy, spending nearly every day and night in this office drafting proposals.”

“Of course I remember,” you replied, a small, almost forced laugh escaping your lips. “Your wife saw me as a threat because she thought you wanted me,” you added, trying to keep the mood light, though inside you winced at the mention of his partner. It was a clumsy attempt to deflect the rising tension, but it only made the air between you feel even heavier.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He knew he shouldn’t make an advancement towards you. But it’s like he had lost all control of himself. “Aren’t you though?” he asked, his voice low and measured, each word carrying a weight that hung between you. The question took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless as a jolt of unease settled in your stomach. What could he possibly mean by that?

“W-what are you talking about?” you stammered, hating the way your voice faltered. You mentally cursed yourself for letting your nerves show, for giving him a glimpse of just how much his words had affected you. The tension in the room was palpable now, thick and suffocating. It was as if the long hours of work and accumulated stress had cracked open something between you, something neither of you were fully prepared to face. Yet, there was no denying the undercurrent of desire that had been simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

Heeseung leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a thrill through you. “Are you sure you don’t remember what the dream was about?” His chair inched closer, closing the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. They were searching, probing, as if trying to unlock the secrets you were so desperately trying to keep hidden. Your heart pounded in your chest, the room suddenly feeling too small, too intimate.

“Because ever since I woke up from my dream… God, I’ve wanted to go back to it over and over. I haven’t wanted something this badly since—”

“The Decelis deal,” you interrupted, finishing his sentence with a voice steadier than you felt. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and for a moment, silence filled the space between you. When your eyes finally met his, you saw the recognition in his gaze, the silent confirmation that your worst fears were true. Every piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and with it, the undeniable truth: Heeseung had the same dream. The realization sent a shockwave through you, leaving you breathless and reeling.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stared into Heeseung’s eyes, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air between you. The world outside your small bubble ceased to exist—the office, your responsibilities, and even the boundaries that had once kept you in check all faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing on the line of something dangerous, something that could change everything. The tension was unbearable, and yet, neither of you moved, neither of you willing to be the first to break the fragile silence.

But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Heeseung leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. The space between you seemed to vanish in an instant, and before you could fully process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, as though he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far. But when you didn’t, when you instead leaned into him, his hesitation vanished. Heeseung’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until it was all-consuming.

You melted into him, your body responding instinctively, as though this was what it had been waiting for all along. The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you needed—intense, overwhelming, and utterly perfect. It was nothing like the dream; it was better. So much better. The reality of it, the warmth of his lips, the way he tasted, the way his body pressed against yours, all of it was far more intoxicating than anything your mind could have conjured up while you slept.

Without breaking the kiss, Heeseung’s hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he tugged you from your chair onto his lap. The sudden shift made your breath catch, your legs straddling him as he pulled you even closer. The feel of his body beneath you, strong and solid, sent a jolt of electricity through you, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. Heeseung groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter than anything you’d felt before. Every thought of professionalism, of the consequences, of his marriage, vanished as you lost yourself in the moment.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, as though you were both trying to make up for lost time, for the months, years even, of holding back. There was no more room for restraint, only the overwhelming need to be closer, to feel more. The way you fit together felt natural, as though you’d been doing this for years, and yet, it was all new, exhilarating in a way that left you dizzy and craving more.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. The room was still spinning, the weight of what had just happened starting to settle in, but neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary, trivial even, compared to what you had just shared.

All you could think about was how right it had felt, how much better this was than any dream. The reality of Heeseung’s touch, his kiss, was more than you had ever imagined it could be, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you had ever gone so long without it.

Heeseung’s eyes met yours again, and this time, there was no confusion, no hesitation. Just a mutual understanding, a shared acknowledgment of what you both wanted, and a silent agreement that this was only the beginning.

Your need for more was undeniable as you leaned in, eager to reconnect your lips with his. The kiss was charged with desire, a release of the pent-up tension that had been simmering all day. As your lips moved against Heeseung’s, you could barely contain yourself. “I want you so bad,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. His eyes fluttered open at your words, and you could feel the effect they had on him, the tension in his dress pants growing as you straddled him.

“Just one kiss and you’re already acting like a desperate slut for me?” Heeseung’s voice was low, teasing, as a smirk tugged at his lips. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the roughness of his words. The contrast sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself nodding slowly, acknowledging the desire he had ignited deep within you.

“Please, Seung, I need you.” Your plea was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, he hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly as he stood. He carried you across the room, your heart racing as he moved towards the boardroom—the very place that had been haunting both of your dreams all day. “Oh, baby… don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured, his voice a promise that sent a shiver down your spine.

As soon as you entered the room, Heeseung set you down on the polished wooden surface of the table, his hands sliding from under your thighs to your waist. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he began to unbutton your waistcoat. He knew exactly what he was doing, taking his time as if savoring every second. His smirk only widened as he watched your patience wear thin, your hands moving to help him, pulling off the waistcoat and then your shirt, tossing them both aside in your haste.

Heeseung’s amusement was evident, but there was a hunger in his eyes as he took in your eagerness. Even as your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, your desperation to feel his skin against yours was clear. His shirt soon joined yours on the floor, leaving the two of you exposed, the intensity of the moment amplified by the shared vulnerability. “God, you’re perfect,” Heeseung whispered, his voice filled with genuine admiration as his hand came up to cup one of your breasts through your bra.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was different from the others. This one was unhurried, sensual, a deep connection that sealed the unspoken bond between you. “I think I need to show you just how perfect you are,” he mumbled against your lips, his breath warm and intoxicating. You nodded frantically, the anticipation almost too much to bear as he gently guided you down onto your back.

The cool surface of the table met your skin, sending a shiver through you as Heeseung’s fingers deftly worked at the waistband of your dress pants. He took his time, slowly undoing the button and zipper, his eyes never leaving yours as he slid the fabric down your legs. Heeseung was in no hurry; he was savoring every moment, every inch of your skin that was revealed to him.

Heeseung was on cloud nine, his desire for you overwhelming. He had never felt anything like this before, not even with his wife. It was as if his entire world had shifted, and now, all that mattered was you.

He leaned over your body, pressing a trail of kisses along your stomach, each one setting your nerves alight. As he worked his way down, his lips reached the edge of your panties. With a playful glint in his eye, he bit onto the delicate fabric, dragging it down to your knees, his gaze locked on yours the entire time.

Heeseung was like something out of your deepest fantasies, a vision that put every other experience to shame. Even the simple act of undressing you felt charged with an intoxicating sensuality. Before you could fully process it, Heeseung’s lips brushed against your clit, a light, teasing kiss that sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch.

Heeseung’s lips hovered just above your clit, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. The anticipation was maddening, the tension in your body coiling tighter with each passing second. Heeseung was teasing you, savoring the moment as his eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with an intense hunger that made your pulse race.

Slowly, he dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your clit. The sensation was electric, sending a shockwave through your entire body. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the wooden surface in response. Heeseung smirked against you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

Without warning, his tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate circle around your clit. The pressure was just right, enough to make you moan, your hands instinctively reaching down to grip the edge of the table. Heeseung’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he continued his slow, torturous assault on your clit, each stroke of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge.

Heeseung didn’t let up, his tongue moving with purpose now, alternating between soft flicks and gentle sucks, pulling more desperate sounds from you. Your mind was a haze of pleasure, every coherent thought melting away as Heeseung worked you over with an expertise that left you breathless.

You could feel the pressure building in your core, the coil tightening with each skilled movement of his tongue. “Heeseung…” You breathed out his name, the sound trembling on your lips. Heeseung hummed against you in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you, pushing you even closer to your peak.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you tried to ground yourself. Heeseung’s mouth was relentless, focused entirely on bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. His tongue moved faster now, flicking against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, driving you wild.

You could feel the orgasm building, threatening to crash over you at any moment. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you teetered on the edge. “Please… don’t stop,” you managed to choke out, your voice thick with desperation. Heeseung only responded by doubling down, sucking hard on your clit and flicking his tongue with precision, pushing you over the edge.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, ripping through your body with an intensity that left you breathless. Your back arched off the table, a strangled moan escaping your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Heeseung didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to work you through your high, milking every last drop of pleasure from you.

You were completely undone, every muscle in your body trembling as the aftershocks of the orgasm washed over you. Heeseung finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, a satisfied smile on his face. You were still trying to catch your breath, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all.

Heeseung wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood up, towering over you. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His words sent another shiver down your spine, your body still buzzing from the afterglow.

You could barely form a response, your body still trembling with the remnants of your orgasm. But the look in Heeseung’s eyes told you that this was far from over. Heeseung reached down, his fingers trailing over your skin as he slowly leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

This time, you could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what he had just done to you. The kiss was slow and sensual, a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just happened. It was like he was savoring you, drawing out every moment, every sensation.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his voice sending a thrill through you. And with that, he leaned in to claim your lips once more, as if to prove that he was just getting started.

Your body was still trembling from the waves of pleasure that had just surged through you, but the desire to taste Heeseung was overwhelming. With what little strength you had left, you slid off the table, your knees sinking into the plush carpet as you gazed up at him with a mix of determination and innocence. Reaching up, your hand found its way to Heeseung's bulge, massaging him through his pants. The sensation drew a hiss from him, his breath catching in his throat.

"Are you just going to tease me, or are you going to put that mouth to good use?" Heeseung's voice was laced with frustration, his hands slamming onto the table with a resonating thud that echoed through the empty boardroom. His tone was a mix of command and need, driving you to act.

You eagerly undid the button and zipper of his dress pants, pulling them down to his ankles. With a quick, practiced motion, you slipped his boxers down as well, revealing him in all his glory. Your eyes widened at the sight—he was more than you had anticipated. The shock of his size was clear on your face, and Heeseung noticed. A satisfied smirk spread across his face as he took in your reaction.

"Like what you see, baby? Think you can handle all of it?" His taunting words were delivered with a growl, a playful challenge that only fueled your eagerness.

You leaned in, your lips, still tingling from earlier kisses, wrapped around the tip of his cock. The initial contact made Heeseung curse under his breath, a sound of relief escaping him. His hand found your hair, tangling in it to guide you as he pushed more of himself into your mouth. "Fuck, your mouth feels incredible. I could have you under my desk all day."

His grip tightened in your hair, and you began to bob your head, taking more of him in with each movement. The room was filled with the sounds of your efforts, the slick, rhythmic motion of your mouth against him, and Heeseung’s growing groans of pleasure. He thrust forward to meet your rhythm, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each push. The gagging only seemed to spur him on, his moans growing louder and more desperate.

"You're taking me so well," he panted, his voice a mix of praise and primal need. "Should have fucked this mouth sooner." His thrusts grew more urgent, faster, as he chased his climax.

"You're such a pathetic little slut for me, aren’t you?" Heeseung’s words were a mixture of praise and degradation, his control slipping as he neared the edge. His moans were uncontrollable now, his breathing ragged as he felt his orgasm building.

With one final, hard thrust, Heeseung’s release hit him like a tidal wave. His head fell back, eyes rolling, as ropes of cum shot down your throat. Heeseung’s moans filled the room, each sound a testament to the intense pleasure you had given him. The culmination of his desire left him breathless, and he marveled at the unparalleled pleasure you had delivered.

The two of you lingered in the aftermath, bodies spent yet neither willing to let go of the moment. Heeseung helped you to your feet, guiding you back onto the table with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of just moments before. "Heeseung..." you breathed out, your voice trembling as your eyes locked with his. Without hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer until you could feel the heated press of his bare cock against your slick entrance, the sensation pulling a needy whimper from your throat.

"I know, baby..." Heeseung’s voice was low, thick with desire as he seemed to read your thoughts. He knew exactly what you wanted because it mirrored his own need. His hand slid down between your bodies, gripping the base of his cock before slowly dragging the tip along your wet folds. The anticipation built as he nudged at your entrance, teasing you before finally pushing in, inch by agonizing inch.

Both of you moaned as he stretched you out, your body adjusting to accommodate him. You sat up just enough to reach behind you, swiftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, not caring where it landed. All that mattered was him. "God, you’re so tight," Heeseung hissed through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips to steady you both as he bottomed out inside you.

Once he was fully sheathed, Heeseung pulled back, only to slam his hips forward in a series of hard, deliberate thrusts. The raw intensity of the pleasure caught you off guard, the sensation so overwhelming, so perfectly right. "This pussy was made for me," he groaned, his words echoing in the air as your bodies moved together, fitting like two pieces of a long-missing puzzle. "Mmph... Seungie, you feel so good..." you moaned, your voice breaking as he set a relentless pace.

Heeseung’s thrusts were timed to perfection, each one hitting deeper than the last, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. His hand slid up your body, wrapping firmly around your neck as he continued to pound into you. "This is so much better than the dream," you gasped, your fingers curling around his wrist as his grip tightened, the pressure adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

"We should’ve done this sooner," Heeseung growled, his voice strained with the effort to hold back his release. "Could’ve had you taking my cock all day... God, you feel so perfect." His words hit you like a bolt of electricity, igniting a blush that spread across your cheeks. He tugged your body closer to the edge of the table, his cock driving deeper, brushing against your cervix with every thrust. "Fuck, I’m already so close..." he groaned, biting down on his lip as his movements grew more desperate.

Your moans echoed through the boardroom, loud and unrestrained as you met each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. "Cum in me, Heeseung... please, I want to be filled with your cum," you cried out, your voice laced with need as you pleaded with him. "Yeah? You want me to breed this little pussy? Want everyone to know who you belong to?" Heeseung’s free hand slid down to your clit, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts as he watched you unravel beneath him.

The tension coiled tightly in your core, your orgasm building with every passing second. Heeseung could feel the way your walls clenched around him, your body trembling as you edged closer to release. "Fuck, you’re squeezing me so... ah—fuck!" Heeseung’s sentence trailed off, his mind going blank as the sensation overwhelmed him. It was as if you had trapped him, and he was helpless to resist.

"Hee... Please... please, I need to cum," you begged, your legs shaking around his waist as you teetered on the brink. Heeseung gave you a nod, and that was all you needed to finally let go. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your body tensing around his cock as you came hard, screaming his name as the pleasure tore through you. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you cried out for him, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

The tight squeeze of your pussy was all it took to push Heeseung over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your neck tightening as he emptied himself into you, his release spilling out in hot, thick waves. "Fuck... Y/N. Oh fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice raw as his orgasm crashed over him, leaving him breathless and spent.

As his grip on your neck loosened, Heeseung leaned down, resting his head on your chest as he caught his breath. Instinctively, your hands tangled in his hair, soothing him as he pressed soft kisses along your exposed skin. Slowly, Heeseung withdrew, his cock slipping out of you as he stood upright, his eyes fixed on the sight of his cum beginning to spill from your still-sensitive entrance. With a smirk, he pushed two fingers inside you, gathering the leaking cum and pressing it back into your body. "Can’t have you wasting this, can we?" he murmured, his tone teasing.

Even now, after everything, he couldn’t resist taunting you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, too blissed out to form a coherent response. Heeseung pulled his boxers back up, his touch gentle as he fetched your discarded panties and slipped them back onto your legs. His movements were tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just transpired.

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It wasn’t long before the two of you were fully dressed again, returning to your shared workstation and attempting to pick up where you left off. The air was still charged with the lingering heat of your earlier encounter, making it nearly impossible to focus. Every few minutes, your eyes would meet, and before you knew it, you'd be exchanging soft, lingering kisses. Heeseung was completely lost in you, every touch, every glance fueling the connection between you both. But there was a shadow that loomed over this moment, a problem neither of you could ignore—his wife.

By the time the clock ticked past 5:00 a.m., the final proposal was submitted to your boss, setting him up for the client meeting later that day. You both knew you’d be fast asleep by then, but it didn’t matter. The work was done, and it was the least of your concerns now. Like the gentleman he prided himself on being, Heeseung insisted on walking you to your car. As you reached the driver's side door, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a string of gentle, lingering kisses that made your heart race.

"Seung... will this be the last time we’re... like this?" you asked softly, nibbling on your bottom lip. The question hung heavy in the air, your nerves betraying your calm exterior. You knew the reality—you were standing on the precipice of something forbidden, something beautiful, but he was still married.

Heeseung’s gaze softened as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin. "I’ll handle it," he murmured, his voice steady and sure. He knew exactly what you were asking, and more importantly, he knew what he had to do. "I think a part of me has always wanted this... I don’t want to let it go." His words were whispered against your lips before he kissed you once more, a kiss that felt like both a promise and a plea.

You nodded, your heart swelling with hope and fear as you reciprocated the kiss, pulling away reluctantly to slide into the driver’s seat. "Text me when you get home, yeah?" he asked, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You returned his smile, nodding as you backed out of the parking spot and drove away. Heeseung stood there, watching until your car disappeared from view, the warmth of his feelings for you burning brightly in his chest. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years, something that chipped away at the walls he had built around his heart, leaving him with a smile that he couldn’t seem to shake.

But as he returned to his own home, the smile slowly faded. The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him, and the faint clinking of dishes could be heard from the kitchen. "I’m home," he called out, his voice a bit flat as he walked into the kitchen. His wife was there, tidying up, just as she always was. Heeseung grabbed a mug, pouring himself some coffee before settling at the kitchen table. The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that wraps itself around you and makes it hard to breathe.

Finally, his wife spoke up, her voice cutting through the stillness. "How was your night, honey?"

Heeseung stared into his coffee, the steam rising in lazy spirals as his thoughts drifted back to you. He couldn’t answer honestly, couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he had spent the night consumed by thoughts of someone else. His gaze lifted, taking in the life they had built together—the home, the routines, the familiar comfort that had long since faded into dissatisfaction. And then, like a beacon in the dark, thoughts of you took hold, the possibilities of what you could build together seizing his mind.

His wife’s voice cut through his thoughts again, a touch of concern lacing her words. "I said, how was your night... did you finish that project, sweetheart?"

Heeseung met her eyes, the blank expression on his face revealing nothing of the storm brewing inside. There was no internal debate, no hesitation left in him. The answer was clear.

"I want a divorce."

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

taglist ; @aetherl0l (happy birthday!!) @llvrhee @yohanabanana @rayofsunshineeee @mitmit01 @heartheejake @melonvrs @shanb1n @jakeyismine @yunhoswrldddd @jinspinkflipphone @woorcve

authors note ; thank you everyone so much for all the love you gave the teaser! I hope you really enjoy the finished product, I spent so long trying to make sure it was perfect for you all! I look forward to producing more works for everyone!

[bigwishes]

Forced Freak

Tyson was a uni drop out, nothing special about him other than his pretty face and dedication to his diet. He had no real hobbies and no real friends. The only reason people paid him any real attention was because of his body. However guys got pretty turned off after a one night stand with him when they'd wake up and Tyson would have written them critiques about how to improve their bodies and performance in the bedroom.

Tyson was the worst kind of gym bro, not because he had no real personality, but because he was an asshole with no real personality, in fact when he wasn't coming home from the gym, taking selfies in the mirror or scrolling on grinder for someone to bounce on his waist he spent a large portion of his time staring in the mirror admiring his own perfection.

"fuck yeah, I'm probably the hottest guy alive" he'd say as he rubbed his own crotch.

His arrogant attitude had essentially transformed him into a self obsessed autosexual, whilst he enjoyed sex and having a guy put in all the work whilst he laid back in pleasure he still preferred a night to himself and his mirror.

Tyson flexed his arm one last time, admiring the perfection before him before he turned off his alarm and got up to go to the gym.

"well, I'll see you when I get home handsome" he said winking at his own reflection and snapping his underwear band.

He threw on the folded red tank top and black gym shorts he had lying on his dresser, the ones he had steamed the night before. As he walked out the door he picked up his glass from his morning water and placed it neatly in the dishwasher before turning it on and leaving for the gym.

Upon arriving at the gym Tyson walked into the welcome area where he found 3 tall bodybuilders lined up at the key scanner. Tyson rolled his eyes and tried to avoid contact with them, he hated those freaks. The guys who willingly chose to inflate themselves with disgusting amounts of muscle. Who could barely fit in their cars and he huffed and sweat like bovine beasts when they got on the treadmill.

Tyson quickly got impatient and began tapping his foot as the 3 meatheads were holding up the line.

"are you beasts gonna scan in or am I just waiting here all day"

The three turned their heads to them almost in unison

"yoo you think we are beasts huhu" one flexed his enormous bicep that dwarfed Tyson's head

"hey Ty, what up lil dude. Wanna hit bench with us today? we we can help you grow that chest"

Tyson was disgusted at the thought of working out with the three of them and smelling their terrible stench or listening to them heaving for air.

"no thanks, its hard to improve upon perfection" Tyson said with a smirk

"aw come on dude, you can always improve and get bigger, you aint even close to your limit"

"and I dont want to be" Tyson said with a disgusted frown and one raised eyebrow

There was a loud ding and the three bodybuilders began waddling and shuffling their way through the electronic gate into the gym, having to turn sideways slightly to get their hulking frames in the turn gate.

"This is what I mean" laughed Tyson

"haha, can't blame us for being absolute units man"

"But doesn't it annoy the fuck out of you being like that?"

"no way bro, being this big is fucking awesome"

the three bodybuilders all began laughing and flexing

"I'm sorry I really dont see how turning myself into a...freak would be awesome"

There was a dead silence as the three bodybuilders stopped laughing and turned to him.

"that's a bit of a harsh word bro"

"yeah man don't diss the hobby coz you aint into it"

Tyson smirked flicking as he polished his fitness watch with the edge of his jumper "dude I dont think anyone is into it"

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean"

"umm being so big you have no style because you cant fit into anything, constantly covered in sweat marks, you reek after just a few minutes of exercise, you gulp down water like an elephant who hasn't drunk in a year, can barely fit in your cars and take up so much space, plus I like when guys find me attractive and aren't grossed out by my monstrous body" Tyson turned his back placing his gym bag in the locker completely unaware that the three men he had just insulted looked so red their heads could pop with anger.

"I'LL LET YOU KNOW MY HUSBAND LOOOOVVVEEESSS MY SIZE" the bodybuilder in the middle yelled through his teeth

"whoooaa jayce" the two others said in unison as they grabbed him by the chest and stopped him taking a step forward

"don't shoot the messenger buddy but Im pretty sure your husband wouldn't be disappointed if you lost 30-40lsb of muscle, pretty sure he'd enjoy date night without sitting across from a behemoth stuffing himself so full of protein like a slob"

Jayce threw his arms up in the air and pushed his two friends off of him turning around and walking away.

Tyson ignored the interaction implying pulling his towel and drink bottle out of his gym bag.

"You know what you need Ty..."

"and what's that Mark?" Tyson tiredly asked rolling his eyes

"A real good bulk, make ya real big, that'll change your mind" Mark smirked looking at his friend who was smiling back.

"whatever" Tyson groaned as he walked off into the gym.

---

A few hours had passed and Tyson was in the changing room admiring himself after his workout. It was enough to pump him to that perfect spot where he looked just slightly bigger and was a little sore, but not enough to make him sweat or stimulate the sort of growth a lot of gym guys were after.

Tyson flexed one bicep and ran his other hand down his thigh feeling himself get hard.

"Oh yeah handsome, just wait till I get you in my bed" He smirked at his own reflection.

Just then he heard the sound to the changing rooms open, his hand quickly shot up from his thigh, not wanting anyone to see his moment of lust.

He watched in the mirror as Jayce rounded the corner, his massive and wide shoulders causing him to bump into subway tiled wall. A massive smile lit up on Jayce's face as he saw Tyson standing there.

"Yep" Jayce yelled out

Dylan quickly followed behind and began walking towards Tyson, not that he thought much of it.

"Grab his left Dylan?"

"No worried Jayce"

Tyson was shocked as the two hulking bodybuilders suddenly grabbed hold of his arms and used what felt like all of their strength to sandwich him between them.

"h-HEY WHAT THE FUCK GET OFF" Tyson struggled and squirmed to get out of there grip but it felt like he was being pressed between two stone walls, he was unable to do anything other than pathetically kick his legs.

Just then Tyson heard the door to the changing rooms lock as Mark rounded the corner.

"Mark!, tell your fucking boys to let me go!"

The three bodybuilder's laughed as Mark walked closer holding a strange metal container in his hand that resembled a protein shaker.

"Hey lil dude" Said Mark with a big smirk across his face

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THREE WANT" Tyson snapped.

"to prove you wrong man" Jayce whispered

'w-what" Tyson continued to flounder and squirm to no avail

"you said being a bodybuilder sucked, well we are gonna prove you wrong" Dylan smirked tightly squeezing Tyson's arms

"h-how, Im not gonna start bodybuilding because you three threaten me"

"oh there is no threat bud, we have got something we want to try but dont know about the side effects wanna test it"

"ARE YOU GONNA JAB MY ASS FULL OF ROIDS" Tyson squeaked pathetically

"no dude, of course not" Said Mark

"we already know the side effects to roids" laughed Jayce

Mark grabbed onto Tyson's perfect hair and forcefully pulled his head back, Tyson couldn't see but he felt Jayce wrap his giant muscular arm around his pinning his between Jayce's bulky bicep and forearm and grabbing his cheeks forcing his jaw open.

"bottoms up pretty boy" Mark said as he flicked the cap off the contained with his thumb and shoved the mouth piece into Tyson's mouth.

"MMMMM -MMMM -MMMMMMM!!!!!!" Tyson tried to yell but his mouth was full of a strange thick liquid.

Mark dropped the contained and grabbed Tyson's nose still forcing the container to his lips

"gotta drink if you wanna breathe buddy"

Tyson couldn't hold it any longer

GULP...GULP...GULP.....GULP

Tyson sucked down what was in his mouth and what continued to pour from the container, when the last drop was drunk and all he could taste was air the three bodybuilders all let go in unison and Tyson dropped to the ground gasping for air.

"How long does it take to work Mark?"

"errr container says a few minutes for a start and a week for full effects"

Tyson couldn't concentrate on what the three were talking about, his body began to feel like it was being super heated, like his muscles and bones were being fried into pudy.

Tyson's hand began to tremble, as he looked at it pressed against the cold tiled floor he noticed his thumb enlarging, getting longer and thicker, it spread to all his fingers and his hand, at first he thought it was an allergic reaction but it wasn't puffy or fat, it was hard solid and defined, like all the muscles in his hands were suddenly expanding, he watched as his handed swelled up to the size of dinner plates as veins in his arms and forearms pumped in sync with his heart beat.

His forearms stared growing outwards and he felt his already tight and pumped biceps ache as they swelled even bigger. Seeing his reflection in the mirror he looked like a bad art project as different parts of his body were swelling with size and different times, his shoulders got wider as his calves got bigger, his pecs inflated as his feet grew out of his shoes, his abs bloated into a semi roid gut as his quads quickly filled with blood, and his ass pumped up into a big meaty globe as his traps crept up his back swallowing his necks.

after just a few minutes the three bodybuilders were stunned looking down at the sweaty bulky mess that was Tyson on the floor of the changing room.

Tyson had watched the whole thing in the mirror but still he couldn't recognise himself, what had happened, what they did to him.

He looked like one of them, a bodybuilder.

"w-what did you do to me" Tyson moaned, out of breath and out of energy

"damn, he got huge so quick, and he still has a week to go?"

"please, no, no bigger, turn me back"

the three bodybuilders began to have a conversation around Tyson like he wasn't even there as he tried to pick himself up off the floor. A few minutes passed and Tyson finally stood up. He felt uncomfortable, muscles he didn't even know where near each other rubbed up against each other like every aspect of his body was fighting for space.

Tyson looked at himself horrified in the mirror at the big bulky freak he had become.

"oh fuck..m..my perfect body" he turned to the three men behind him "please, please you gotta turn me back"

"you still got a week of growin left bud" Mark replied

"PLEASE I CAN'T GET BIGGER"

Jayce smirked trying to contain his laughter

"Look dude, we said we were gonna show you how being a bodybuilder is awesome, let it go for a week and we'll check back in and if you still hate it, we'll turn you back"

Tyson turned back to his reflection and flexed, freaked out by his bicep being larger than his own head.

"see, its already awesome, see you later dude"

The three bodybuilders started walking out of the changing room

"no WAIT!!"

Tyson ran over to his bag feeling the weight of his new body with every step and feeling his hard muscles bounce. He leant over and swung his bag over his shoulder. He watched as the door closed behind the three and he ran to catch up. Every step was a chore, it was like an entire workout for just one leg to hold up the weight of his new massive body.

By the time he reached the door Tyson doubled over gasping for air, he placed his giant meaty hand on the wall and slid down the the floor, he had only run a few feet but it felt like he had just done and three hours of cardio without a break, he felt the sweat running down his back and struggled to come up with a reason anyone would want to be this big, why guys would dedicate their lives to become titans.

it took 15 minutes, for Tyson to catch his breath and stand up again and by the time that happened the three he was after were already gone, he walked through the gym defeated hoping nobody would recognise him. He made it to the turn gate and as he went to go through he felt a hard pressing against his shoulders. Not at all used to his new size Tyson hadn't adjusted the angle that he approached the gate and found himself stuck between the two steel bars. Tyson pushed with his back leg but didn't realise the power behind his colossal quads as he easily pushed himself out but he couldn't stop the moment and he came tumbling forward face first onto the floor in front and multiple gym attendants.

"woah, you okay big guy" one of them asked,

Tyson looked up and saw the other two doing their best not to laugh.

"yeah I'm fine!" Tyson tried to get up as fast as he could but the sheer weight of his frame meant it was an awkward step by step process that took almost a whole minute.

Tyson quickly raced out the doors as fast as his could but once again misjudged his giant muscles and his two shoulders slammed into the automatic doors not realising they weren't wide enough for him. A loud bang rang out and Tyson looked back as the glass automatic doors wobbled and shook, and ounce more pressure and they would have surely crashed down around him.

Tyson waddled through the car park desperate to get to his car. Swinging open the door he quickly realised why he had never seen a bodybuilder in a sleek sports car, he didn't fit, just one leg stepped in and there wasn't any more room for him to squeeze in. He tried everything, moving the seat back, moving the wheel up, but still he didn't fit. After about 10 minutes of doing everything he could think of to get in he just decided to force his way in.

Sliding into the car he felt cramped, and when he closed the driver's door it bounced off his arm and swung back open denting the car next to him. Tyson tried again leaning all the way into his car and shutting the door. It shut but as he sat back up he found himself on an awkward angle to the wheel, he tried to adjust himself to roll down the window so he could stick his arm out and get more space but as he placed his arm down on the leather seat to push his own body out the way he heard a loud tearing. His clothes didn't feel loser and he couldn't see what had torn but it sounded bad...

When Tyson arrived home he squeezed himself out of his car, it felt like being freed from a sardine can but as he turned around to shut his door he had found the source of the tearing noise from earlier, in the centre of the seat, directly under where he was, was now a large split right down the leather, seats that cost over a thousand dollars to fix split apart like paper, and that wasn't the worst of it, he looked at the lower back of the seat to see how the leather had warped and swollen from the amount of sweat that had been pressed against it.

"AW MAN" Tyson moaned slammed his car door, not realising the force his arms were able to put behind it and as the door lodged into place his hand carried the momentum behind it straight into the metal of the car leaving a large dent from his palm.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME"

Tyson stormed over to his front door just wanting the day to end. He pulled up his keys to the front door and fumbled for a few minutes as he struggled to sort though them with his massive meaty fingers, finally he got in the door and shut it behind him as gently as he could which still resulted in a slam.

His stomach let out a loud groan, he had never felt so hungry so sudden in his life, Tyson tried to walk to the kitchen but realised it was more of a waddle has his massive muscular thighs slammed into each other. Arriving in front of his fridge he opened it up and grabbed one of his already made meals out and placed it in the microwave to heat up. He watched in spinning round and heard his stomach grumble as the 2 minutes felt like an entirety. Finally he heard the beep and opened up the microwave to devour his meal. What normally would have left him feeling full for hours didn't even make a dent in his hunger. Tyson opened up his fridge and moved on to his next meal without even heating it up, then another, then a protein shake to wash it down, then another meal and a couple apples, along with a banana or two, and of course he had to pull some of the muffins out of the freezer to defrost to have a bit later.

Tyson sat on his couch, feeling groggy and finally full. He looked around him, plates, protein shakers, wrappers and plastic containers were spread out all over his lounge room from the floor to the coffee table. He felt so heavy he didn't want to get up, he just wanted to pass out on his couch and go to sleep. As his eyes began to drift close...

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

The loudest belch he had ever heard forced him to jolt awake.

"aw fuc-uuuuUUURRPPP, this place is a mess"

Tyson finally realised he had trashed his lounge room in his feeding frenzy, he got up to try and clean but he didn't get very far. His body was so massive it was hard to move between his furniture and it was hard for him to constantly bend down to pick stuff up. On his second trip back from the kitchen to clean the last of the mess he finally noticed where he had been sitting, and the enormous sweat patch pressed into the fabric.

He pulled his tight tank top out from his body realising it looked like he had never washed it in his life.

"god, I need a fucking shower"

He made his way down the hall to the bathroom where he was shocked by his own reflection. He knew he had been turned into a hulking behemoth but, he looked like a completely different person now. His tank top was tight and clung to his body as his pecs hung out the sides. It was covered in sweat patches and strains from spilt protein shakes and food. His face was covered in a coat of sweat and his hair was oiler than he'd ever seen before. Tyson's gut churned as he let out another belch. He suddenly felt a tightness in his pants and he got hard.

"what the fuck..."

Tyson lifted up one arm to flex his bicep, he watched the sweat running down from his pits to his lats, he swallowed a quick gulp of air expecting maybe a small burp but was greeted with a massive room shaking belch. Tyson couldn't help it, he got rock solid staring at his sweaty body and hearing his own manly belching.

He worked his hand down awkwardly to his dick and started to pleasure himself.

He couldn't work it out, he missed his perfect body, he missed his old self, he was grossed out by being such a freak but god he was too horny to not please himself.

Right before his big moment he felt a wave of heat surge out into his body, his clothes felt tighter and suddenly the left strap of his tank top snapped as his shoulder, pec and arm practically doubled in size.

"AAH NO, NO NOT AGAIN"

Tyson watched as his dirty tank was torn to shreds by his growing body. His shorts felt tighter and tighter, soon he felt the sound of ripping fabric. As he turned to the side to inspect his growing legs he saw as his muscled ass split his pants in the back and the fabric quickly tore through making his shorts look like a bad loin clothe prop from a Halloween costume.

"OH FUCK NO, STOP, STOP AHHHH"

Tyson could only watch as his body continued to rapidly grow in the mirror...

--------------

3 weeks later

Tyson leant back on the workout bench groaning and gasping for air. It was the most he had ever lifted, not that he wanted to get bigger but it was the only thing he could do with his day at this point.

He heard the noise of 3 guys cheering as Mark, Jayce and Dyaln approached him.

"HEY BIG MAN" Said Mark

"oh great, what do you guys want"

"relax big guy, just wanted to bring you a snack" Dylan laughed as he pulled out a paper bag of drive through crispy chicken and handed it to Tyson.

"Dont forget to wash it down" said Jayce handing him a protein shake

Tyson didn't have the will power to hold back, his new muscle and size burnt so much fuel from simple existing he was practically starving constantly. He immediately reached into the bag and started eating as much as he could as fast as he could, washing it down with a swig of the protein shake, only taking breaks to gasp for air.

A river of chocolate protein ran down his cheek and dripped onto his XXXL tank top, which looked more like a medium crop top on him.

A young handsome gym attendant walked over to the group with a smile on his face.

"hey guys, just a reminder, you can't eat like that in here save it for outside okay" He smiled as he looked straight into Tyson's eyes.

Tyson's mind was racing, this guy was the most handsome guy he had ever seen in his life, we wanted to apologise for being such a slob, hell, he wanted to ask the guy on a date.

Tyson rubbed the crumbs and protein from his mouth away with the back of his hand and opened his mouth. Immediately he gritted his teeth and almost by instinct at this point cocked the side of his mouth open.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPP!!

Tyson couldn't help but belch and burp as he struggled to get a word out.

"bro..that's nasty" the gym attendant laughed as he walked away.

Mark, Jayce and Dylan all erupted with laughter.

"DUUUUUUDDEEEE" yelled Dylan

"You aren't gonna get a date like that dude I tell you that" laughed Jayce

"They probably wouldn't date him even if he didn't burp every couple of minutes, I mean who wants to date a bodybuilder freak right guys" Mark laughed as he rubbed Tyson's shoulders

"Yeah, you're right Mark, nobody wants a freak like Tyson" Dylan chuckled.

Tyson couldn't control it, the sound of their laughter, the way the three called him a freak and a slob. His dick got hard and he felt as a mixture of pre and cum leaked into his underwear.

They were never going to change him back, he was going to be stuck as this good for nothing muscle pig, forever....

he threw himself back down on the bench..

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[myvoiddreams]

Fragments of Starlight

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With the impending war, Y/N is captured by Hybern's general. As they struggle to protect those they care about, they reflect on their unrequited feelings for Azriel and their insecurities within the Night Court.

Word Count: 4,585

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: This is my first time ever writing anything like this. I am a true sucker for angst. This is meant to go along with some of the events of ACOWAR, but of course, it’s different. Please don’t come at me for not following it’s exact story line. ALSO, I know that Azriel or Feyre would NEVER, but it’s just for the heartache okay!!

Part 2, Part 3

------

Now

All of it, it was all going to shit. I don’t know how my ears weren’t bleeding at the sheer amount of noise coming from the chaos around me. So much screaming, but was it Hybern’s forces, or our own? Everything was ringing, my head throbbing along with it. It was almost as if my breaths were not reaching my lungs. I was on the ground, all fours underneath me as I tried and tried to get myself to my feet. Everything was sore, it was like my muscles were not working. I stretched for the source of the aching on my temple and what I found was the warm, wet consistency of fresh blood.

My family, where is my family? Panic drenched me like a bucket of ice water.

With a groan, I grabbed my sword that lay beside me and turned to face the sky, now sitting at least. The sky, it was so blue. It almost felt like a disgusting joke to see something so beautiful, as dead bodies lay at my feet. Hybern’s forces were surrounding me, there was no escaping this.

I grit my teeth as I stand, my blade in hand. Dizziness rolls off me in waves, so much so that nausea is found coursing through my veins. I don’t get very far up before I’m slammed back down to the earth. My face hits the dirt as all the air leaves my lungs, leaving nothing but the taste of the earth and blood in my mouth. There is someone standing on my back, applying enough pressure I’m sure I’ll have a broken rib or two.

“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. We are just getting started with you.” A cry of pain leaves my lips as one of Hybern’s generals continues to crush my ribcage. The nausea and ringing in my head is too much. Then, with another blow to my head, everything is dark.

---

Before

“Oh, come on now sweet cheeks! You can do better than that. Az and I trained you myself!” Cassian’s voice was oh so annoying as he pinned me to my back. Sweat was gleaming across both of us as we spent the morning training. I was panting as my mind continued to reel.

Life had gotten tense with the Inner Circle recently. Not only was Prythian on the cusp of war with Hybern, but now we had to juggle the two newly made Fae that were the Archeron sisters.

I honestly felt bad for them. They did not ask for this life. I can only image what it would be like to go through life having your humanity ripped from you. Now knowing that you are going to be around for centuries instead of decades. And I felt bad for Feyre, who never wanted to see her sister’s dragged into this.

Usually, Azriel would be here with Cassian and me. Usually. It seemed as though Azriel had been getting far in over his head with the middle Archeron sister as of late. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But, I would never admit that fact out loud. Elain was half here and half not. Whenever she did speak, she’d just spew some crap that didn’t make any sense. But, that didn’t stop Azriel from spending any time he was not preparing for the war, with her.

Azriel. My heart seized at just the mention of his name. I had known the Shadowsinger for centuries. I stood by his side as he faced his own inner turmoil about Rhys being taken from us right under our feet. I stood by him even before that as I watched Windhaven and Devlon try to take was little he had away from him. Really, I had stood by everyone in this Inner Circle. But Azriel, Az was different. This too I would never admit out loud.

It took me holding him one night, after he had dreamt of his hands being lit aflame again, that it snapped. In all his vulnerability, it just, snapped. Az and I had shared a connection, a friendship, and I had loved him far long before the mating bond clicked in place. It only felt right that it was him. But, it hasn’t snapped for him.

It hurt, every single day, it hurt. And to watch him try so hard to make whatever it was happen with Elain, who was mated to someone else, made me feel worthless. This too, was not his fault. How was he supposed to know when I refused to breathe a word of it. Honestly, it might be a good thing, the distance. It hurts, but Azriel deserves happiness. I don’t know if I’m the one who can give him that.

“Damnit Cass!” I grunted as I fought back from his restraint.

“You are letting yourself get sloppy, Y/N. No room for that on the battlefield.” His face was smug. I felt some embarrassment creep up my neck and find its way on my cheeks.

“I know, I know.” I huffed. “Just let me up already.” I gave up on fighting back. Recently I found myself lacking the energy I used to have. I used to be full, driven, but I have found myself distant lately.

“Look, are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You have not had your head in the game recently.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Cassian only wanted to check on me, it was nice really. I just wasn’t used to it. I had been the one the members of this court had always leaned their heads on. There just seemed to be no room for the others to do the same for me. So, I never asked them to. I wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m fine Cass, just tired.” I retorted.

“Aren’t we all sweet cheeks.” He said as he patted my back.

---

Now

Fire is crackling somewhere near me, but I can’t feel its warmth. I feel myself chained up. My arms were far above my head, hanging me from a support post. My feet had been stripped of their shoes, and now chains wrapped around my ankles. My body hurt, breathing hurt, and my head hurt. I was sure that this hellhole was only going to make it worse.

“Ah, there she is. Glad to see you actual awoke, we were starting to get worried.” Spoke the same general who broke my ribs.

I kept my mouth shut, only glaring at the direction of the voice. My vision was still blurry, and where I hope there was only one of him, I saw three.

The entrance flap of the tent open and closed to reveal another male. This one, I recognized. The King of Hybern himself.

“If it isn’t Y/N of the Night Court. I have to say, my men did a fine job bringing you in here for me. Wouldn’t you say so?” His voice was gruff. “Now that you’re here, we some questions we need answered, and I suggest you do answer them, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to find out what will happen if you don’t cooperate.”

I lazily lifted my head toward the King and sneered. “Try me.” I bit back, my voice laced with venom.

“Oh, I was afraid you’d say something of those sorts.” The king waved in another male, he was in head to toe in black. Something similar to what I’d see our very own Shadowsinger wear. Only this male was no where near the build of Az, but damn, did he look pissed.

The male pulled out a small dagger that was sheathed on their waist and made his way closer to me. I couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape my lips, “Size does matter you know,” I quipped. I know this man was here to interrogate me, but I could not let these people know how truly vulnerable I felt.

“Oh? I beg to differ.” The male stated as he plunged the dagger into the flesh of my calf.

---

Before 

Rhys wanted to have a family dinner tonight. It would be the first one in quite a long time. With everything going on, who was to blame anyone? I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it though. I used to love the time I could spend with my family, but now, it wasn’t the same. Not when my family was no longer the same. 

Rhys had Feyre, who don’t get me wrong, I love, and I love to see Rhys have the mate he has always deserved. But, with the additions of the Acheron sisters came with something strained. Cass hasn’t said anything, but I see the way he looks at Nesta. Nesta, who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, or any of us for that matter. Mor and Amren hadn’t been around as of late. Both were too busy preparing for this inevitable war. Mor with being an emissary and Amren with working out some logistics of the Cauldron. 

And Az. Azriel was no longer seeking me out. No longer spending time in the training ring or the library with me. Instead, he was with Elain. 

And then, there was me. Before this family all I was, was alone. Finding this family had saved me in more aspects than one, but I can feel it shifting under my feet, about to give way and take me with the edge of it. 

This though, is something I would never speak about. There is enough going on as it is. No one needs to be burdened about me, my unreciprocated feelings for the Shadowsinger, or my silly feelings of insecurity. I’m a friend to the court, a warrior, sometimes an advisor, but, I am nothing compared to the rest of them. I simply do not hold enough importance, and that is something I must live with. Something I am terrified they will realize as well. 

I was the last to make it to the table. Cauldron, even Elain is here. And next to Elain was Az. Hazel eyed, messy haired, Az. We caught each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep up onto my face in greeting, and he smiled back.

I took my seat next to Cass and Amren and looked at the table around me. Even though war was around the corner, it felt good to gather as if nothing was wrong. Conservation started buzzing, everyone started eating, and I drifted off to a place that wouldn’t hurt me.

—- 

Now

Sweat is dripping off me in beads. My body is littered with cuts and bruises. But, I didn’t say a word. Not a single word about the size of our armies, not a word about what Rhys and the others had planned, not a word about our allies. Not a word. And I was paying for it.

Gods. They had left me here, giving me a break from the beatings and the torture. Whatever the used must have been laced with faebane because I have never felt this weak. This out of control of myself. I wasn’t healing, and I was still losing blood. At this rate, it wasn’t looking good. I was still hanging from my arms, I’m sure at this point I had a shoulder out of it’s socket. A rustling began again at the entrance of the tent.

“Back for more?” I croaked. My throat was completely dry from the screaming. But, when I got my eyes open enough to see what the cause of the noise was, my heart stopped dead in it’s tracks.

Elain.

---

Before

I retreated from dinner early. As pitiful as it sounds, I couldn’t be around it. I couldn’t stand to see Azriel with her any longer. Not when I knew he was the one who was slowly healing her and ruining me.

Knocking at my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts and I was looking into a book, not really reading it. “Come in,” I shouted.

The site of Azriel caught me off guard. Once upon a time, it was normal for him to seek me out from my room. Now, it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t help but tense.

“Oh! Az!” I put my book down and stood. “How are you doing?” I smiled up at him.

“You would know if you hadn’t left dinner so early.” He looked down at me, frowning and crossing his arms. It was rare that Az was upset with me.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m tired after training today.” I gave him a sad smile, not wanting him to push the issue further. “But please, tell me what I missed.”

This somehow made his shadows start to swirl around him and he huffed. “I was telling everyone how much progress Elain had made. She’s having actual conversations now.” He smiled at it, proud.

I tried not to show any hurt on my face. I have no right for this to hurt me. He was helping someone, and I had to be pitiful enough that I was jealous.

“That’s amazing Az, you’ve helped her a lot.” I let another smile grace my face. Before I knew what I was saying it was falling out of my lips, “But, you do realize that she is mated, right?”

Azriel’s demeanor shifted. His shadows became agitated, “Elain is a friend. She is going through a lot, and she needs support.” He sighed, “Plus, I think that cauldron could be wrong.” That sentence alone was enough to rip whatever was left in me to shreds. Why couldn’t he see me?

I had to take a deep breath to keep the silver lining in my eyes in place. “Az, when in your life have you ever seen the cauldron be wrong? Why would it start being wrong now?”

“Look, maybe you’ll understand one day, but it’s wrong about her and Lucien.” He crossed his arms now.

“It sounds like you want to it be wrong. Whether it is, or not.”

Azriel was growing frustrated. His eyebrow ticked and he huffed, “Can you blame me for wanting something more?”

“She is mated Azriel. Off limits.” I tried to stress him. “I don’t want to see you hurt if it doesn’t turn out the way you want.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t want my mate ripped away from me, I’m sure Lucien doesn’t either.” He doesn’t even realize that I’m talking about him. Not a single clue.

“Ripped away? Look Y/N, just because you’re alone, does not mean I have to be. Why are you making this about you?” He nearly snarled at me. Snarled. “I have finally found another purpose other than this war. I have found something, someone, to spend my time with and enjoy.”

His words hit me like an arrow to the chest. Alone. Maybe they all did see me, and they just didn’t care. Why couldn’t I be enough for him? Why hadn’t in all the time and cherished memories we have together be enough. We had held each other in hardship. We had trained together. We had grown together. We had spent countless Starfalls together. We had shared so many laughs and touches. Why wasn’t what we had enough for him?

The weight of Azriel’s words hung in the air, heavy silence settling between us. My heart ached with the sting of his remark, and I fought to keep any of my remaining composure.

I deflated, “Az,” I tried to sigh as he cut me off again.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that I’m just trying to help someone who’s been through a lot. You’re jealous and it’s clouding your judgment.” He stared at me, and I had to look away. I didn’t realize it but I began to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage, or from the way my heart cracked as he spoke.

“I think you should go Az.” My voice began to break, and I could tell that my walls were going to come down. Not once had I ever asked him to leave.

His own eyes softened, and he reached for me, “Wait.”

He tried to continue but I cut him off, “Leave, Azriel.” I turned to face away from him. I gathered my arms together. I couldn’t let him see the tears that were rolling down my face, I wouldn’t.

He pulled his arm back to himself and hesitated, seeing the pain he was causing me. Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind with a heavy finality.

---

Now

Elain. What the fuck was she doing here?

Seeing her tore me from my stupor. She acted as if she was in a trance, half there. I was really panicking now. I could take this torture and pain, Elain, I don’t think she would last. I could hardly pull at my restraints at this point.

“Elain! Elain!” I screamed at her, trying to get her attention. One of the males that was hauling her in, left her side and strolled to mine. Next thing I knew I was tasting my own blood in my mouth as his fist met with my face. As the blood welled up in my mouth, I felt rage hit me. I spat at him. His face now coated with the bloody saliva that he caused me.

He wiped his hand over his face, ridding it of its bloody covering. I snarled at him as he drew a blade. Good. This way the focus would stay on me and not Elain. He brought the blade to my face, slicing a thin mark down my cheek. “If you wanted more, you could’ve just asked.” He trailed the blade down my neck, and now to my collar bone, all the while slicing lightly as he went. He brought his lips to my ear and his hand grabbed my face, “I have so much more than just blades and fists in store for you, girl.”

It was almost too hard to stomach. I didn’t want to know what he was alluding to. Elain, do this for Elain. I told myself. I kept silent and he pushed me away, returning to the other male who was already putting Elain into restraints.

Why is she here? Why is she not fighting back?

As they finished with her restraints, Hybern himself walked back into the tent.

“Cauldron be damned, if it’s not also Feyre’s cauldron made sister.” Hybern chuffed, “We are truly going to have such a fun time together.” He chuckled as he looked between Elain and I.

He nodded at his men and they both reach for their knives. One for me. One for Elain.

“Wait!” I blurted as I saw the man move toward Elaine, “Please, leave her unharmed.”

“Hmm,” hummed Hybern, “Now, tell me pretty thing, why would I do that?”

“She’s a Seer. Please, you must leave her unharmed or she will be no use to anyone. She will not come out of any trance if she is harmed.” I didn’t know if what I was blabbing was true. I only knew that I needed to protect Elain, for she could not protect herself.

Hybern nodded again at the male who was at Elain’s side. The male sheathed his blade and I let out a silent sigh.

“You on the other hand,” Hybern turned his attention back on me, “I have some questions about pretty Elain.” A wicked smile reached the lips of the male in front of me, as he lifted his blade threatening. “You, dear Y/N, best answer them.”

The male reached for my shirt and tore it in half. Now leaving my chest and abdomen exposed to the air, only a warrior’s wrap covering my breasts. I gasped at the bite of the air reaching my skin. My abdomen was littered with black and blue bruising from the beatings. The faebane in my system slowing any kind of healing.

I turned my face to a stone grimace. I could do this. I told myself. If nobody comes for you, then surely someone will come for Elain.

That truth hurt almost as much as the torture that I was being put through.

---

Before

It had been about a week since I’d seen Azriel. The bond that used to hum in my chest felt vacant. Rhysand had sent me and Cassian to one of the Illyrian war bands that were positioned in case of an attack.

It was a single flaming arrow that was sent into a tent that set everything into utter chaos. Cassian was in the middle of a meeting with some of the other commanders, and I was in the training ring.

Hybern’s forces hit us as if we were nothing but an anthill in their way.

I don’t know where Cassian was as I fought and fought, until I was brought down.

---

Now

I was hardly holding on. I had no energy to cry out anymore. No energy to even lift my own head up. My abdomen and back was near ribbons after that male drove his blade into me again and again.

Elain had seemed to snap in and out of it. When she was somewhat coherent, she would only cry. I felt bad for her, but I had done what I could do protect her. There wasn’t a single scratch on her.

At thinking of Elain my mind drifted to Azriel. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if not, her.

The inner circle had to know that something was wrong at this point. I only hope that Cassian was also okay after we were ambushed. I’m sure if he wasn’t, he’d be right next to me also receiving the beatings I was.

Blood dripped down my back, creating a small pool under me. I truly didn’t know how much longer I would last. I had never felt weaker in my life.

I should’ve told him that night. Anguish was suffocating me. I found myself retracing everything I did as of late. The way I stole myself away from my family because I was being nothing but pitiful. The way they started to treat me differently. The way one no one would come to me anymore, and I would not go to them. No wonder they have left you here. You are nothing to them. My mind bit at me.

What truly bothered me was the downfall of mine as Azriel’s friendship. He was the one person I could always truly count on. If I had fallen in training, if I had drank too much, if some stupid male had broke my heart, it was always Azriel that had caught me, and me him. It’s why I fell in love with him long before the bond snapped its place into my heart. And now I was going to die without him ever knowing. I was simply going to fade away as my blood pooled underneath me.

It's better this way. I told myself. Elain is unharmed, and I will fade before anyone knows of this bond. The war will be won and Az will be able to move on with someone he finds joy in.

I couldn’t help but let tears run down my face. I wanted to scream, to find some way out, but with the faebane running through me, I was simply too weak.

---

I woke to the sound of rustling at the entrance of the tent. The rustling led to Elain, and I could hear her restraints being messed with. I nearly couldn’t pry my eyes open at the sound. Maybe they would finally take me from my misery. I silently hoped. That’s when I heard a quiet gasp. I looked up to see.. Feyre? And behind her, the one messing with Elain’s chains, Azriel.

My heart lurched to a stop. They had come to help, we were going to get out.

“Azriel..” Feyre quietly said as he brought Elain into his arms.

“What.” He nearly hissed at her. That’s when he looked up and truly saw me.

“Az.. Feyre..” I choked on my words. Help was here. I was going to get out of here. To make it. Finally something positive bloomed in my chest in place of where that hole had found itself.

Azriel set Elain back down and rushed to my side. He put a hand to my cheek, “Y/N, we couldn’t find you anywhere. Cass, he said you were missing after the battle.” His touch sent shivers down my beaten spine.

My restraints still bore heavily into my wrists where I was strung up. Then, there was rustling and yelling coming from outside of the tent.

“Help me down, please.” My voice was raw and pleading.

The yelling was getting closer and closer.

“Az, we have to leave, now.” Feyre said, trying to scoop Elain into her arms.

Azriel’s hand left my cheek, and panic flared into his eyes as he took in my state.

Hybern’s soldiers were coming, realizing something was wrong. Azriel looked between Elain and I, backing up from where I was strung up. He was backing away from me. Why was he backing away from me?

My own panic started to settle deep inside of me, long squashing any hope that had found it’s place.

“Azriel… please,” I coughed quietly. Dread was setting deeply inside of me. They didn’t plan on saving two. They came here for Elain, not me.

A sob found it’s way onto my lips as he picked Elain from Feyre’s arms. Feyre herself looking torn, her eyes expressing so much anguish.

“We will come back Y/N. I promise.” Azriel’s words were yet another punch to the gut.

I couldn’t help but let the sobs I had been holding onto for so long bubble out of me.

“Please don’t leave me here.” I cried, no longer caring for the quietness. They both stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I was gasping for air as this point, “If you’re not going to take me, then at least put me down.”

Their eyes widened at my statement, but I couldn’t hold for much longer. I needed this pain to end. This suffering to be over with.

“We will be back. I will come straight back.” Azriel hushly stated. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes were boring into me. They were trying to convince me he was telling the truth, but I knew better. I knew that they were only getting into the camp once successfully.

They chose Elain. They were going to leave me behind.

“Just kill me, please kill me…” I sobbed, “Please if you are going to leave me behind, then just kill me.”

Feyre was crying now, and Azriel. I knew, that even though he was choosing Elain, Elain to save, and Elain to love, he still wouldn’t harm me.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feyre bubbled out of her crying lips as she quickly left the tent under her cloak.

Azriel and I made eye contact again through my sobbing, through the tears that were leaving my eyes in force. “I will be right back. I will come back for you.” And then, he was gone. With Elain in his arms.

I broke, truly broke. No weapon could hurt me as much as the sight of who I loved most, my mate, leaving me here, strung up and bleeding out.

[bi-writes]

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

[especially-obsessed]

Anchor

Summary: JJ wonders why you never go swimming with any of the Pogues. So he takes it upon himself to find out

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of drowning/death, aquaphobia, mild swearing

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Enjoy <3

Masterlist

You peer into the water, watching the bubbles breaking the surface from where Pope had just dove in, nearly landing on John B’s head. You let out a soft chuckle, watching them play like there wasn’t a care in the world. Kiara was further away from the boat with Sarah, waiting for the boys to follow them. 

You wondered what it would be like to swim out here again. It would be nice not to feel left out anytime the group wanted to go swimming or surfing, even though it was a feeling of your own making. Your smile faded at the thought. 

Suddenly, you feel your body being pulled from the edge of the boat by two strong hands gripping your waist. Just as quickly, your feet are no longer touching the floor of the boat; they’re being swept out from under you. You feel a body pressed to you and look into his eyes, yours wild with fear.

“J, what are you-” you start, grasping at his biceps, struggling against his strong hold on you.

“Better hold your breath, sweetheart,” he says, moving closer to the side of the boat. 

You can feel his chest expand as he sucks in his breath of air and takes a step up. “No, JJ, no, put me down!” you scream.

But it was too late.

The two of you were already falling through the air off the side of The Snapper. You held on to JJ as tightly as you could, your stomach dropping farther than the drop off of the boat (which was even more terrifying because this boat was much larger than the HMS Pogue was).

Your body started to drift from JJ’s just before you hit the water, and there was no air in your lungs. You were petrified with fear. The water encompassed you, and you instantly lost JJ. The bubbles from your abrupt entry into the water surrounded you, tickling your skin. You opened your eyes under the water's surface and saw the outline of JJ’s body already making its way back up for air. 

But you were still sinking. Why were you sinking? What the hell was happening right now? You opened your mouth to scream for help, instantly regretting your decision. Water flooded your airways, seeping to the very bottom of your lungs. Your eyes were burning, and you didn’t know where you were.

Is this what drowning felt like? You fill up with water like a sponge until there’s nothing left for you to take in. You tried to move your arms in any direction you could, trying to move your body in any direction. The water was thick like honey, keeping your limbs stagnant. But you still weren’t moving fast enough. You weren’t going to make it to the surface. There was no time left. 

The corners of your vision started to blur before beginning to go dark. Your limbs were weightless, floating aimlessly in the water. You felt no pain, no fear. Your body was shutting down. You felt your body jolt upwards suddenly, just before your vision completely faded.

Before your eyes are even open, you’re coughing up water. Aggressively. Your lungs can’t fill up with air fast enough, and the water clogging your airways going in the opposite direction wasn’t helping. Your gag reflex kicked in, and you rolled your head to the side to try to keep yourself from drowning. Again.

“Oh my God,” you heard someone mumble. There were a few sighs, even a 'thank God'. You finally opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. You were blinded by the sun's reflection on all the white surrounding you. You closed your eyes, unable to see anything anyway.

From the gentle swaying you felt, you were back on the boat. Thank God. You rolled onto your back again and took deep breaths, still coughing every few breaths.

You opened your eyes again, seeing a blond mop of sea-kissed curls blocking the sun from your view. You could see the sun rays poking out in a few different directions past his head. It almost looked like a halo around his head. JJ was hovering above you, his hands placed on either side of your head, his legs straddling your hips. He looked into your eyes, worry written all over his countenance. It pained you to see him so upset. 

“What the hell happened?” someone asked. Pope. You recognized his hoarse voice instantly. He was somewhere by your head, out of your field of vision. 

“They jumped in together, and y/n just never came back up,” Kie said somewhere to your left. You turned your head toward her, seeing how worried she was. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know,” you said, trying to relieve the apparent tension surrounding you. Pope sighed as he walked to the back of the boat. 

“Apparently, we can,” John B retorted. He was standing next to Kie. Sarah was cradled into his side and smacked his chest lightly, even though she was smiling. 

 “You never said you can’t swim,” JJ muttered. You turned your attention back to the blonde boy still blocking the sun from you. You gave him a confused look, not processing what he just said. 

“You never told us. Why the hell wouldn’t you tell us something like that?” He asked, his voice getting louder. He moved himself off of you, allowing the sun to blind you in his absence. You squinted and attempted to sit up. Sarah jolted forward to help you. JJ was pacing, running his fingers through his hair. “If I would have known that, I wouldn’t have jumped into the water with you!” He shouted. 

“JJ..” you started, but he wasn’t stopping. 

“You could’ve died! You were just at the bottom of the marsh and-”

“It’s okay, J-” John B started, placing a hand on his chest. JJ brushed him off and shook his head. He grabbed his hat from the floor of the boat and fixed it the way he does so effortlessly. You looked up to try and meet his gaze, but he was looking anywhere but at you. He shook his head again and moved to the boat's cockpit.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, unsure what to do. Guilt washed over you. JJ started the engine and did quick work to get the boat going. John B patted your shoulder and smiled before walking towards the back of the ship. Kie wrapped a towel around your shoulders, goosebumps blanketing your skin as the salty marsh air whipped around you. Sarah and Kie sat on either side of you, wrapping their arms around you. They were keeping you safe in their own way.

You looked back up, trying to catch JJ’s eye, but he was looking out on the water, not so much as glancing in your direction. His jaw was clenched tightly, unwavering as he maneuvered the boat through the marsh.  

You felt terrible. Guilt was seeping out of your every poor. You felt nauseous. And your diaphragm hurts, like the feeling you have after you’ve had hiccups for an hour. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” you whispered to the girls. Kie scoffed, resting her elbow on her knee and placing her hand under her chin.

Sarah rubbed your back. “It would have been nice to know,” she said lightheartedly. 

“I just figured you were scared of sharks or something crazy. Even though they are very gentle creatures,” Kie added. You laughed (or attempted to). It quickly became a cough with even more water coming out of your lungs. You wiped at your mouth with the towel. When you looked up, JJ’s eyes were boring a hole into your skull. He looked away when he noticed you were staring back at him. It was going to be a long ride back to Poguelandia. 

You were almost dry by the time JJ had the boat docked. Pope had made his way back to the front of the boat to check on you. He checked your pupils and made sure you didn’t have a concussion. He confirmed that your chances of surviving were almost 100% (because, of course, we could die at any given second). 

Everyone unloaded off the boat, JJ being the first to take off once everything was tied down. He walked up the ramp to the shop and sat behind the counter. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair again before putting it back on. He was pacing back and forth, checking on random things in the small store space. Kie waited up for you as everyone made their way back to the house.

"I'll catch up," you told her, glancing at the shop and back to her. She gave you a sympathetic smile before turning and following the others. You unwrapped the towel from around your shoulders and laid it across the railing leading up to the shop. You walked up slowly while making sure not to sneak up on him.

But he knew you were coming.

JJ had his back turned to you, looking out on the water now. You could see his chest moving quickly. His hands were resting on the railing. He used his hands to pull his body forward, bringing his mouth to rest on his hands.

“J, I’m so sorry,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You stared at the back of his head, trying to read his body language.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly. He shook his head and straightened his back, turning around to face you. You stared at his face. He no longer looked angry. He was upset, eyes red and bloodshot. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

This wasn’t carefree JJ Maybank, reckless and altruistic until the day he died. This was JJ, vulnerable and terrified, cracking open right before you. All you wanted to do was rush up to him and hug him. Tell him that it was all just a fucked up joke and that he didn’t need to be worried. He could go back to being his energetic self and not worry about you anymore. 

But you knew it was time. It was time to tell him the truth. 

You sighed deeply. Before you could form the right words to start, JJ huffed and put on a stern face. He wiped aggressively at his cheeks, thinking that your sigh was a sign that you weren’t going to justify yourself, that you thought he was being stupid and overreacting.

No, he wasn’t about to stick around for that. He started to walk away, trying to brush past you and get away as quickly as possible.

You caught his wrist before he could get too far. “Stay,” you practically whispered. You held his wrist in your hand. JJ refused to look at you at that moment. You took in a shaky breath. “Please,” you begged. JJ sighed and threw his head back. He slowly turned around, and you let go of his wrist. He kept his gaze lowered to the ground, leaning against one of the wooden beams, studying a knot in the floorboard. When you examined his face, you could see the fallen tear trails. Your heart broke in half. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you started. He still didn’t look up. You could see his nose twitch as he sniffled. You continued anyway. “I should have said something months ago. Hell, I should have said something the first time we went out to surf the surge. But I was scared you guys would judge me.” You paused, still trying to look him in the eye. You moved closer to him, your face inches away from his. You gently lifted his chin with your hand, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were red, and his jaw was tight. You moved your hand to cup his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch slightly. “But…I know how to swim, J,” you said slowly. JJ’s eyes went wide, a multitude of emotions wracking through his brain. He started to pull away from your hand unknowingly. You quickly dropped your hand from his cheek and turned your back to him. You thought he was rejecting your touch, his anger unforgiving. The guilt was engulfing you, swallowing you whole. You felt terrible. 

There was an uncomfortable pause, the silence deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat threatening to beat out of your chest.

“What happened then? Why didn’t you swim?” He asked you. JJ followed you to the edge of the shop where he stood earlier, staring out into the horizon. You just shook your head. Now, it was your turn to avoid eye contact. JJ was leaning on the railing to your left, and you focused on everything and anything to your right. 

“When I was seven, my dad took me out in the marsh. A quick fishing trip, nothing fancy. Some daddy-daughter time. But it all went so wrong. My dad, he…” you stopped, choking on your words. You swallowed harshly. JJ stared at you intently, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together. “I was stuck out there for three days by myself,” you whispered. Realization dawned on him.

You were the Marsh Girl. 

Rumors still went around about the Marsh Girl. People said that her dad went out there and killed both of them, leaving the boat behind as the only evidence. Or that the girl pushed him off the boat and claimed that it was an accident.

The news said a girl was found after three days of being out there, but the name was never released, so of course, kids made up stories. JJ’s worry and anger melted away. He didn’t dare move closer to you, afraid that the slightest movement might shatter you into dust, letting you fall between the gaps of the dock and taken away by the murky water below. Instead, you turn to face him, building up the courage to look at him when you say this. 

“My dad...he must have had a heart attack or something and lost his balance. I was too young to remember all of the details. But when he went over the side of the boat, he took me into the water with him. He almost drowned me," you took in a shaky breath, reliving the memories in a flash second. "When we jumped into the water today…I don’t know what happened to me. I saw you going back up to the water's surface, and I was just…stuck. I wondered if it was how my dad felt when he went into the water. He could see me getting to the surface but couldn’t make it back up himself,” you stated calmly. You close your eyes, unable to look at JJ. Another second, looking at his shattered face, and you would break yourself. “J, I know how to swim.”

“What?” he didn’t mean to say it; it slipped out before he could stop it. JJ mentally smacked a hand over his mouth. He studied your face to see if you were messing with him. 

“I can swim,” you repeated. 

This whole time, JJ thought that he almost drowned you. He had always wondered why you never went into the water with everyone else. He figured it was so that you could keep up on your amazing sunkissed skin or because you didn’t want to get your hair wet. He knew you weren’t that superficial, but it still had crossed his mind. He never in a thousand years would have guessed that this was why you didn’t touch the water. 

“y/n, I almost killed you,” JJ said, fear seeping back into his every pore. The thought of losing you, especially at his own hands, was suffocating. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, unable to control his now erratic breathing. Noticing his panic, you closed the distance between the two of you and placed your hands on either side of his face. You used your thumbs to gently wipe away the stray tears that fell from his eyes. 

“No, no, J, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“I should have known. I should have just asked you why you didn’t ever swim with us. Lord knows I’ve bothered you enough times about going with me,” he dropped his head again, feeling defeated. You gently pushed his face back up, forcing him to meet your eyeline. 

“You had no way of knowing,” you reassured him, smiling a little. You stroked your thumb across his cheekbone and felt him lean into your touch. He closed his eyes tightly. 

“The thought of losing you…” he sucks in a jagged breath. He won’t let the thought go. He can’t. The images of your lifeless body floating in the water, replaying over and over again like a bad movie montage. “I was the one who pulled you out of the water. You weren’t breathing, and I-” 

You quickly pulled JJ’s face down to yours, connecting your lips gently. You couldn’t think of a better way to ground him. To keep him from spiraling again. He was stiff for only a second, his brain not catching up to what you were doing. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. 

Then his face pressed closer to yours, his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You smiled into him. JJ’s hand moved to your hips, and he squeezed gently. Your hands slid down to his neck, and you pulled back, seeing JJ's toothy grin. His eyes were still red and puffy, but he was smiling. He was downright giddy, swimming in a wide range of emotions he didn’t understand. But you grounded him.

You were his anchor. 

“Would now be a bad time to ask if you wanted to go surfing with me tomorrow?” He asked, teasing. You smacked him on the chest and let out a genuine laugh. JJ pulled you into a tight hug. One that told you he was never letting you go. 

From the shore, you could hear the Pogues hooting and hollering, witnessing your very public display of affection. But you didn’t care. Nothing mattered now except the sweet, broken boy before you. Your entire world.

Your anchor. 

“Why don’t we go ahead and give them a real show,” JJ whispered in your ear. You squealed as he started to pepper your face with kisses.

Taglist: @pogueslandia @milkiane @bjrmaybank @strnqer

Masterlist

A/N: I desperately needed to write something happy after watching season 4 <3 This is unedited, so please ignore any typos or stupid grammatical errors.

Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected, but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:

Please check out this post for useful mental health resources.

[devine-fem]

This is the post about Damian Wayne being whitewashed that will probably go ignored because it dives deeper than pointing at a Damian Wayne and urging DC to draw him darker. I don’t particularly care about likes but I feel like we should emphasize whitewashing in detail and not just pointing at Damian and being like “he should be darker than this!”

What is whitewashing?

Whitewashing is deeper than the color of someones skin, it boils down to the way they act, are perceived and is portayed over all. If you take away a character’s cultural roots in any way then you are whitewashing them.

-

Let’s start with The Brave & The Bold. No one talks about this but this is a perfect example of whitewashing. In the Brave & The Bold writers took Damian Wayne and just emphasized the Wayne in his name. Damian’s culture did not fit their narrative so they entirely erased it.

Bruce Wayne married Selina Kyle and after had a baby, no, that baby was not Helena. It was Damian. Damian Wayne and only Wayne. He had no connection to Talia whatsoever. They erased Talia and the Al Ghuls entirely from Damian’s story.

This is an example of how his whitewashing goes deeper than skin. He’s now entirely white, drawn as white and lives as a white kid. They changed the way he acted, was perceived and portrayed.

Then because that’s not enough. His identity was a very blatant copy of Tim Drake. He takes Tim Drake’s suit, he takes Tim Drake’s backstory and he takes Tim Drake’s iconic catchphrases, its extremely jarring. This is another example of whitewashing, taking away his personality and to fit a white character.

The Tim Drake curse.

Another example of whitewashing would be the continuous attempt to make Damian Wayne more relatable by watering down his personality and making him reflect Tim Drake. Tim Drake was Robin for so long and so loved that it has a lasting effect on other characters as well. As long as Damian wears that “R” that was celebrated at its highest when the character wearing it was fair skinned then I doubt he’ll ever escape this. This is whitewashing because erasing his personality is also erasing his roots on the most basic level. In his stories, he becomes an average highschool student, pursues romances, indulges in feel good family fun, gets bullied, and wears suits and changes his hair once again to reflect Tim Drake. I don’t even have to mention how light he is.

The Three Horsemen of The Pale-skinned Apocalypse.

On the left we have a portrayel of Damian Wayne with light skin and blue eyes. Not only that but in this comic, they didn’t even get his culture right… the writer must had thought he was japanese… he’s not… he’s part Arab and Chinese but genetically dominant and visually POC.

In the middle we have a Damian Wayne called “Ian.” It’s just Ian. This is an example of whitewashing because if you didn’t know; Talia named Damian after the word “Damianos” which means ‘to tame’. To erase his cultural roots in his name then you are whitewashing him. And Jonathan Kent, a visually and socially white character regardless of the immigrant-kryptonian allegory, did not get this treatment. Those characters seem to never get this treatment as we know.

On the right, we have Damian’s newest installation, the one DC twisted their comically large spoon into their Witch’s caucasian cauldron and used their magic to zap Damian with that Tim Drake curse. Damian’s eyes are green, not grey or blue and his hair is thicker than that, not straight and thin. Nor does he act like this. This is an example of whitewashing. You are changing how he acts, is perceived and portayed.

How to avoid this?

It’s simple actually, just exercise the way he was originally portayed which sadly has never been wrote exactly right since he was first introduced but as you can see:

This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne flaunts his culture in the way he dresses and acts. This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne speaks his native languages when it’s convenient to him. This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne is connected to Talia and grew up in the league of Assassins. This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne made his own Robin suit.

He has brown skin, he has soft green eyes, and look at his monolids, his hair is also thick and his face is dinstinctly shaped as well. The easiest way is just to portay Damian as he is; An Arab-Chinese kid.

For example, this artist made a conscious decision to study the way Damian Wayne looks before drawing him. Even adding distinct features like a nose bump which we never get to really see from him.

Why does whitewashing happen?

The idea that a person of colors’ features and culture are not appealing to the audience and needs to be altered to fit the norm in order to be palatable.

In fandom.

If you portray Selina Kyle as Damian’s mother then you are whitewashing him. If you change the way he acts in fanfiction because you don’t like it then you are whitewashing him. If you draw Damian Wayne lighter than what he’s supposed to be than you are whitewashing him. If you demonize the Al Ghuls and put the batboys in place of them then you are whitewashing him. If you change the meaning of Robin for him then you are whitewashing him (this does not include reverse robin AU’s for example) and if you make him do any action that’d align him with what an American kid is supposed to be doing then you are whitewashing him. But let’s say you make a AU where the point is his personality is different or his upbringing is different, this is not whitewashing, this is having fun. To have an initial subconscious mental bias when it comes to a POC character is different, entirely different.

And about other races… Damian Wayne is one of the few Arab-chinese portrayels in Media, please do not alter this, even if its to make him any other variant of POC. Damian Wayne is Damian Wayne and if that’s not interesting enough for you then use a different character that is that race. <- do not fight me on this.

We as a collective should focus on portaying Damian Wayne. It’s deeper than skin. It’s crazy because its really not that complex…

In conclusion, be mindful of why you were invited to this Damian Wayne function…

[seat-safety-switch]

Every time it snows, I see lots of people who are terrified to operate their cars. This is poppycock, and originates from the media trying to force fear into your brain so that you stay home for a few more minutes to watch the morning traffic report and, oh, just a coincidence that it comes with a ton more ads. Stay Afraid. Buy Oreos®.

Winter driving is all about momentum. You keep your car moving, perform only gentle adjustments, and pay attention. Above all, you must not make any abrupt movements. This will unsettle the car, and then you'll careen towards a ditch, bus stop, or ballet recital. Important: allow thing to happen slowly, without your direct involvement. Freaking out and starting to chop at the wheel because you didn't get a prompt response to your last gentle input is what a toddler would do, and that's why only certain states let them drive.

Think of yourself as being engaged in the proud Canadian sport known as curling. In it, someone throws a rock down an icy slope, and some other suckers pretend to do anything at all by rapidly sweeping their brooms in front of it. Those frozen janitors are not allowed to touch the rock, because doing so will cause it to fly out of control and kill someone. When driving, you want to be the person throwing the rock, not the person frantically sweeping for no reason before accidentally maiming a cameraman from the CBC.

Whenever it snows, the first thing I do is head to the local giant parking lot. There, I can safely practice losing and regaining control of my car in the snow, without worrying about smacking a pedestrian or highway abutment. Critically, it's here that I also figure out what new holes in the cabin are letting water in. This lets me stop, get out, and apply duct tape at my leisure, rather than stewing in reflected road juices for my entire commute to work. That last part may not apply to you: for instance, you might be rich enough to be able to put marine-grade caulk or even Bondo over the rust holes in your car's floor.

If there's only one thing I can leave you with, it's this: don't panic. Like I said, tensing up and jerking around the car is only going to make things worse for everyone else on the road. Instead, let things happen. Be chill. Make sure you've got enough gas and maybe a sandwich on hand. Take a break if you've been pushing through traffic for hours. And above all, do not put an album by The Prodigy into your stereo system and then rip through red lights, completely sideways, banging off the rev limiter as you engage in icy doughnut after doughnut, just because you bought studded winter tires and have a generalized contempt for society at large. My attorney thought adding that last part would help with negotiating the plea bargain.

[queenofterrasen418]

Cruel Fates (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst (I don't think I can ever stop myself from writing angst.)

Based on this ask.

4.1K words

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

You found yourself aimlessly wandering along the banks of Sidra after storming out on Rhys. The ambient noise enveloped you—the rhythmic splashes of the river against rocks, the bustling chatter of the market, birds chirping in the background. Everything felt mundane, yet strangely comforting. Ignoring your problems wasn’t a solution, as Rhys had pointed out, but it was undeniably easier than facing or even acknowledging them. Nevertheless, you had resigned yourself to the current state of affairs.

Using distraction as your shield, you returned home burdened with bags filled with new books, clothes, and other unnecessary items. As you entered the elegant two-story building you called home, a sense of familiarity and solace washed over you. This palace had become a sanctuary, a reflection of your own essence.

Closing the door behind you with a soft thud, you were greeted by the familiar scent of citrus and jasmine. Setting down the bags, you kicked off your shoes. The silence of the house stood in stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the market. Just as thoughts of Azriel slipped from your mind, your senses sharpened, recognizing the subtle hum of shadows.

"Ah, the shadow singer. Ever heard of knocking or privacy?" you quipped, though you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"I'm a spymaster; it's not in my nature," he replied with his customary soft smile.

Refusing to let your gaze linger on him for too long, you busied yourself by fetching a glass of water.

"How can I assist you, Azriel?" you inquired as you filled the glass in the kitchen beyond the hall where he stood. You still felt a distance from him, not quite comfortable enough to address him as Az like your sisters, Feyre or Elain, did.

"Can't I simply enjoy your company?" he teased, his voice gentle.

Turning away, you closed your eyes for a moment, mentally reminding yourself to compartmentalize. "He's just being polite," you repeated to yourself, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that reminded you of Elain's constant talk about him. "He treats Elain the same."

You scoffed, hoping it didn’t come across as too rude. "Yeah, sure. Now, what brings you here?"

"We're expecting Eris to arrive in a few hours, around sunset. Rhys wanted me to ask if you've changed your mind."

Ah, you had forgotten about the impending meeting with the prince. You sighed. "And Rhys couldn’t ask me himself because?" It was a rhetorical question, but Azriel seemed unaware.

"He mentioned that you two had a disagreement, and he wasn’t sure if you'd be open to talking."

"Of course, I'll talk to him. I’m not a child," you replied, your brows furrowing. "And yes, I still intend to attend that meeting."

Azriel nodded, his expression unreadable as always. "Good to know. In that case, he asked me to inform you that you’ll have to deal with this meeting on your own, there are some crises with an Illyrian camp that he had to attend to, and he is running late.”

“Oh,” A part of you was glad that Rhys let you handle this, “It’ll just be me then?”

The spymaster shook his head, “Of course not, I’ll accompany you.”

You nodded as you were unsure of the right response, “Is there anything else I should know before I meet Eris?”

Azriel paused and started slowly, “My shadows tell me he wishes to overthrow his father. But it’s difficult to know what’s the truth.”

“Ahh, that’s why Rhys put me on this.”  you realized as Azriel nodded in response.

You wondered why Rhys requested you accompany him to a meeting with Eris. The powers you got from the cauldron were unique. Your ability ranges from slowing a person's pulse to snatching the air from their lungs as long as the target must be in your line of sight. You can command human organs and regulate emotions by releasing certain chemicals in the body. This allows you to induce suffocation by removing air from someone's lungs, controlling blood flow, causing heart attacks, dictating heart rhythm, and slowing healing. Aside from being extremely valuable in a battle, you can also act as a living lie detector, by monitoring a person’s physiological response.

“Alright, I’ll be there, is there anything else?” 

Azriel looked like he was about to say something before he muttered a no.

“You know better than to lie to me, what is it?”

He signed before he finally asked, “I knew that you and Rhys got close in a short time but I didn’t realise you were close enough that he trusted you to handle a meeting alone. That too with Eris.”

“Honestly, I didn't know either.” you said, “Rhys and I connected so quickly that it felt like I had known him for years, he is the older brother I never had. I am glad that he trusts me to handle this.”

You noticed a strange emotion flash in his eyes for a quick second before he gave a soft smile “I am happy for him, I am glad he found a friend in you, y/n. Cassian and I may be his brothers but he still doesn't confide in us completely, he is too afraid to burden us. Feyre and you are good for him.”

You returned his smile, “We all need someone to lean on.” 

“Well, Is there anything you need assistance with before then?", he asked.

You shook your head, dismissing any further conversation. "No, I'll manage. Thank you, Azriel."

He lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say something else, but ultimately turned to leave without another word.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. It wasn’t directed at Azriel, but rather at yourself for the walls you had built, preventing anyone from getting too close. Yet, at the same time, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those walls crumble, leaving you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection. Aside from that, even if he did feel the same way, how long will it last? That too with your newly immortal lifespan? You have witnessed true love fall apart in a short time in the human lands. How would it not end in anything but pain in the life of an immortal? If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that to love, is to destroy. Not telling Azriel was the best option for yourself, you were not going to invite pain to your doorstep.

With a heavy heart, you retreated to your room. You knew that sooner or later, Azriel would find out but for now, you allowed yourself the temporary respite of distraction. 

Later that day, the anticipation of Eris's arrival hung heavy in the air as you prepared for the meeting. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, thoughts of Azriel and the unresolved tension between you lingered at the edges of your mind.

As the sun began its descent, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, a knock at the door signalled Eris's arrival. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest.

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Eris standing tall and imposing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a striking shade of amber, sparkled with mischief as he took in your appearance.

If you were to describe him, you'd call him the living embodiment of fire. 

He was the light to Azriel's dark, they were opposite in every way possible.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Y/N," he drawled, his voice smooth like silk. "I must say, you're even more captivating in person."

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, though you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that his words stirred within you. "Save the charm, Eris. It won’t work on me."

He chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, the air between felt charged, "You wound me, darling. I assure you, my intentions are nothing but genuine."

Before you could retort, Azriel appeared beside you, his presence like a sudden gust of wind that left you breathless. Though his expression remained neutral, you couldn’t shake the feeling of tension radiating from him.

You did miss how Azriel's heart rate was unusually increased, while Eris' remained stable calm and genuine, just like he mentioned before. 

“Eris," Azriel greeted with a nod, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Az," Eris replied, his smirk widening as he used Azriel's nickname. "Always a pleasure."

The air crackled with unspoken tension as the three of you made your way to the meeting room. Eris's gaze lingered on you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and desire that sent a shiver down your spine as you all took your seats.

“Imagine how surprised I was when my high lord told me that you had requested a meeting with the night court.” you began holding the prince’s eyes.

“I had requested to meet Rhysand but I am not complaining. You are far better to look at.” Eris said with a smirk that never seemed to leave his face.

“I'll inform him that you were pleased by the arrangement.” you replied with an earnest smile.

Maybe this could be fun, you thought.

Maybe you found Eris fun.

As Eris seemed to give another flirty retort, Azriel spoke.

“Why are you here?

“Ugh! You are no fun Azriel. It’s not like you don't know already.”

You raise your brows at him, asking him to elaborate. 

Eris obliged, “I want to…” he  seemed to pause choosing his words carefully, “relieve my father from his duties and be the high lord of Autumn court.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his words, “‘relieve my father of his duties’? My, my, whatever happened to daddy's loyal boy?” 

You caught the slight upper tilt of Azriel's lips just as your powers detected the slight rise in the pulse of Eris before it slowed down again.

“Apparently he's not as loyal as you thought.”

“How can we trust you?”

“Who are you kidding, princess? I'd be a fool not to know about your interesting powers.”

“Fair enough, what does the night court have to do with this?”

“Help me, to get rid of my father, support my claim as the high lord.”

“Why would we do that? We’d then be replacing one monster for another.” you shot back.

If your words affected him, he showed no signs of it, physically at least, but the small spike in his cortisol levels and the drop in his pulse told you your words hit their mark.

Eris's smile tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure, leaning back in his chair with an air of practised ease. "I can see why you might think that, but I assure you, I'm not my father. Unlike Beron, I see the value in alliances and mutual benefit."

Azriel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Convincing words, Eris, but words are cheap. What do you have to offer in return for our support?" 

You couldn’t honestly remember when was the last time you had heard him speak this much, or if you had ever interacted with him for more than a few words.

Eris's gaze flickered to Azriel, then back to you. "Information. My father is planning something that could have catastrophic consequences for all of us. He's been working with a human queen—one who has a vested interest in starting a new war between our realms."

Your heart skipped a beat, a sense of dread settling over you. "Which queen?"

Eris's expression grew grave. "Queen Briallyn. She's amassed a formidable army and is working with my father to create a weapon that could tip the scales in her favour."

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, whose stoic expression betrayed a flicker of concern. "What kind of weapon?"

"One that can manipulate the very fabric of magic itself," Eris replied, his voice low and serious. "It could render even the most powerful High Lords and their courts defenceless."

Azriel's eyes darkened. "And you have proof of this?"

Eris reached into his coat and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. He placed it on the table and opened it to reveal a collection of documents and maps. "These are the plans and correspondences between my father and Queen Briallyn. Everything you need to verify my claims is right here."

You leaned forward, scrutinizing the documents. The meticulous detail and undeniable authenticity left little room for doubt. 

You sighed passing the letters to the shadowsinger. "Just when we thought Prythian had a moment of rest."

Eris met your gaze, his expression was earnest. "Our courts need to work together."

You considered his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was a risk, but the potential consequences of inaction were too dire to ignore. "Assuming we agree to help, how do you propose we go about it?"

Eris's smirk returned, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "We can meet regularly and update eachother with what we know and proceed from there."

Azriel's gaze remained fixed on Eris, his expression unreadable. "And what guarantees do we have that you won't betray us once you have what you want?"

Eris leaned forward, his amber eyes burning with intensity. "You have my word and the knowledge that if I betray you, I'll be signing my own death warrant. Beron would kill me in a heartbeat. I need this alliance as much as you do."

You took a deep breath, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, you nodded. "Alright, Eris. We'll discuss this with our high lord and get back to you. But know this—if you betray us, there will be nowhere in this world you can hide."

Eris inclined his head, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Understood. Now, I've always been curious about your powers," he began, his tone light but laced with genuine interest. "I've heard rumours, but I find that firsthand accounts are always more... enlightening."

You arched an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression. "Have you now, Eris? And I’m not in the habit of revealing my secrets to just anyone." Your powers were not publicized much, you and Rhys decided it was more advantageous to keep it quiet. But they weren’t a secret either.

Eris chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Ah, but I'm not just anyone, am I? People talk about you being able to control the very essence of life itself. Now, that sounds rather impressive, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, crossing your arms. "Rumours tend to exaggerate. I'm sure the truth is far less exciting."

Eris took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so? From what I understand, you can manipulate the body on a molecular level. Imagine the possibilities... and the danger."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Dangerous, perhaps, but only to those who give me a reason to use it."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Fair enough. But tell me, how does it work? Do you just think about it and—poof—someone's heart stops beating?"

You gave him a sly smile. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Or at least give you a nasty headache."

Eris laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room.

Eris's expression grew more serious, though his smile remained. "You know, Y/N, there's something else I've been thinking about.”

You looked at Azriel and joked, “Look at that! You have certainly been thinking a lot recently, haven’t you Eris? Looks like you’ve been having a lot of thoughts.” You were surprised that Azriel gave a small smile from the way he had tensed this entire meeting, waiting for a chance to pounce on the Autumn prince.

Eris widened his smile at your comment as he continued, “Here’s my proposal, this alliance between us... it could be more than just a political arrangement."

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what exactly are you suggesting, Eris?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm suggesting a union between our courts, a marriage of sorts. Think about it—together, we’d hold so much power." 

Azriel lost all his self-control as he whispered in a deadly calm tone, “You have gone insane.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Your powers silently rush to soothe Azriel before he does something reckless, "You certainly don't lack ambition, I'll give you that. But why on earth would I consider such an arrangement?" 

Eris's gaze softened, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. "Because I believe we could be unstoppable together. You're powerful, intelligent, and, if I may be so bold, quite captivating. With your abilities and my resources, there's no limit to what we could achieve."

You felt a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest hint of intrigue.

“Too bad you were already mated, if only he knew”, you thought to yourself.

A slow thought crept into your mind, “So what if you were mated? Nothing was going to come out of it anyway.” 

"Captivating, am I? You do know how to charm, Eris. But you'll have to do better than that to convince me."

Eris's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Consider it, Y/N. Imagine what we could accomplish together. The Autumn Court and the Night Court united as one. We could bring peace, prosperity, and a new era of cooperation to our people."

You studied him for a long moment, weighing his words. There was no denying the potential benefits of such a union, but there were also risks—trusting Eris was a gamble, and one you weren't sure you were ready to take. Thoughts of what he did to Mor screamed in your head.

“I didn’t forget your past with Morrigan, Eris. You still expect me to agree to this?”

His eyes narrowed at that, “Morrigan knows the truth of what happened that day. Ask her for the entire truth.”

Confusion bloomed inside you at his words but you did not have time to sort through lies now, Azriel was too agitated and you were left with an important choice to make.

"I'll think about it," you finally said, your tone careful. "But don't get your hopes up, Eris. I'm not so easily won over." you slipped a mask of playfulness again.

Eris chuckled, rising from his seat with a graceful fluidity. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Y/N. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll keep an open mind. But remember, Eris—if you cross me, you'll regret it."

He inclined his head, his expression earnest. "I wouldn't dream of it. Until next time, Y/N."

With that, Eris turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of a union with Eris was both tempting and daunting, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you—and for your courts.

The room settled into an uneasy silence. You could feel the tension radiating from Azriel beside you, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanour. His jaw was clenched, and his shadows seemed to writhe and twist around him with a life of their own.

You turned to face him, concern etched into your features. "Azriel, what's wrong? If I hadn’t calmed you Mother knows what you’d have done to him!"

Azriel’s eyes, usually a cool and controlled shade of hazel, now burned with a fierce intensity. "What's wrong? Are you seriously considering his proposal, Y/N?"

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, you have never seen this side of him.

 "It's not as simple as that, Azriel. We have to consider all options if we want to ensure the safety of Prythian."

He took a step closer, his voice low and filled with barely suppressed anger. "Eris is playing a dangerous game. A union with him? You can't seriously think that's a good idea."

You met his gaze, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not saying I'm going to marry him tomorrow, Azriel. But we can't dismiss his proposal outright. There’s the potential benefit—"

Azriel cut you off, his voice rising. "Potential benefit? He's manipulating you, Y/N! He wants power, and he’ll use you to get it. Do you really believe he has anyone's interests at heart other than his own?"

You felt a surge of defensiveness, your own anger flaring in response. "And what if he does? What if this alliance could actually bring about the change we need? We can’t afford to let personal grudges cloud our judgment. He meant everything he said today, not a single ill-intended thought!"

Azriel’s expression darkened, his shadows growing more agitated. "This isn't about personal grudges. This is about trust, about loyalty. Eris has proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted. And now he's proposing a union with you? He’s trying to bind you to him, Y/N. To control you."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know it’s risky, Azriel. But we need allies. We need every advantage we can get if we're going to take down Beron and stop this war."

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what about your own safety? What about the risk to you? I can't stand by and watch you put yourself in danger for a power-hungry prince who will betray you the first chance he gets."

Your heart ached at the raw concern in his voice, hope threatened to manifest in you but you shoved it aside and held your ground. "Why do you care, Azriel? I can take care of myself. I’m not making any decisions lightly. I just need to consider every option."

Your words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and for a moment, Azriel seemed taken aback by your response. His gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you are like Rhys’s little sister, you are one of us. Because I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Though a part of you was glad he cared but you scoffed in disbelief, “Right. Because I am important to Rhys. Well, this decision is mine to make and I will discuss it with Rhys as it concerns his court. I’ll be sure to take what you feel into consideration. Thank you for your input, Azriel.”

His gaze hardened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Fine. If that's how you want it. But have you ever stopped to consider the possibility that you might have a mate, Y/N?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, the implication sinking in with a sickening certainty. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the blood draining from your face as you struggled to comprehend his words.

"What if you have a mate out there, waiting for you?" Azriel continued, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of pain. "What then?"

You recoiled as if struck, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. The truth, the painful, unbearable truth, threatened to drown you in its depths. A dry, joyless laugh came out of you.

"I don't have a mate," you spat out, your voice trembling with rage. You lied without a second thought. The ease of it scared you. "And even if I did, it's none of your damn business, Azriel. Stay out of my life."

With that final, venomous retort, you turned on your heel and winnowed out of the room, leaving Azriel behind in a cloud of anguish and regret. 

As you fled down the empty corridors of the townhouse, your heart ached with a pain you couldn't name. 

You opened Rhys’s study door without a second thought and sighed in relief as you found Feyre and him.

Realization of what truly happened spread through you like a bolt of lightning hit you. Both of them were quickly at your side, worried and asking you questions. A single tear slipped as your voice broke,

 “Not telling him was one thing, but lying to him? Oh cauldron, what have I done?”

Next Part

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[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

࣪ ˖✧ Sweet Coffee

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: The morning after Sean's return party, a sheepish Arthur faces the consequences of his drinking excess. ✦ Warnings: None, this is as fluffy as the first part. ✦ Words: 3,9k ✦ a/n: This is a sequel of this one shot! Please, read it before this one :) Also, I've taken the liberty to write this as if Arthur still had Boadicea, to me it was the best way to make him have a canon horse. Gonna think about a better solution in the future.

You opened your eyes, slowly. The ceiling of your tent was turning a bit, your heart feeling like it was on the verge of leaking out of your chest. It was as if your bed was a boat, pitching with the winds and the waves; you had to prevent yourself from throwing up, a spinning sensation making your guts feel rancid.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You thought to yourself while stretching in your cot, every fiber of muscles in your body feeling worn. Your brain was mushy, unable to form any complex reflection, your forehead hurting, your mouth dry. The consequence of every party; the goddamn hangover.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You slowly sat at the edge of your bed, taking the time to move your tired members, realizing your throat was extremely sore. You probably sang a little too much last night. You get up and walk to the little cleaning area of your tent which consisted of only a simple table topped with a little mirror, a bucket of water, and a solitary towel. Nothing fancy, but at least you had your own tent, which was already a grand luxury at camp.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You take long sips of water from the bucket before cleaning up your face, looking at it in the mirror. Of course, under your eyes, big shady circles, sickles of violet darkness under the sharp radiance of your pupils. It was part of the whole hangover package. You quickly fixed your hair and put on some fresh clothes, mindlessly.

Coffee, breakfast, Arthur.

Wait, what? You thought you were going on with your morning routine thoughtlessly, but here he was. Always following you, a shadow in the back of your mind; his stupid smile like imprinted on the obscure abyss of your psyche, shining, blazing, magnificent. Haunting.

You were thinking about him very often lately, maybe too often, you noted to yourself. John's word had sealed your opinion's fate on the matter: Arthur could have behaved that way with any other girl at camp.

And yet. Yet you longed for it, for last night to mean something, anything. For you to be more than just any girl to him. For the drunken honest words he had spoken before drifting away in the sweet caress of sleep to be true. You sighed. Too much false hope would lead your heart to be even more broken, you knew it.

And yet. The shadow of his smile. The sound of his deep, powerful laugh. Following you everywhere as you got out of your tent, eyes narrowing at the bright light of the day, almost as bright and vibrant as the subject of your thoughts; almost.

Your path led you more by habits than by an actual decision of yours to the campfire next to Pearson's wagon, and you were delighted to see one of your obsessive needs was already there: a hot coffee pot, releasing a small puff of smoke had been prepared. Blessed was the divine human being who made it. You took a cup and poured some of the holy providential liquid into it, the mere smell of it already waking you up a little bit. The taste was strong, bitter; rough like your life was as an outlaw in a gang, but at least it would help you clear your head and maybe get a certain someone out of it.

As you sipped on the warm beverage, you took a look around at your surroundings. The camp offered you a pitiful but quite amusing sight. It was a real mess, as if a tornado had passed by and turned everything upside down. The Ocean of empty bottles was still present, spilling everywhere between the different people's tents. People who were slowly emerging from them, with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some of them speaking more quietly than usual, rubbing their temples, navigating through shattered glass and chaos of debris, remnants of the agitation that had taken place the night before. You chuckled to yourself. One of the more feared gangs in the West? Certainly not after a party.

Abigail was already starting to clean the pieces of glass, getting angry about how this wasn't a proper place to raise her kid. Honestly, she was right, and you wanted to help her. Ms Grimshaw would probably force you to anyway, and this idea was reinforced when you noticed her from afar, already yelling at Karen to get up and start the cleaning.

Before getting attention from the strict woman, you took a step to go and do your part but stopped in your tracks. A familiar rugged face had appeared from his tent and was heading up in your direction.

Arthur was feeling too much. Too much sensations, too much feelings, just way too much of everything. His thoughts were trying to work as fast as he could considering his slowed brain, the aftermath of his excess from last night preventing him from being as efficient as normal.

The main focus of his reflection was you. He was obsessed to know what had happened, to understand why he had so many memories about you from last night, and quite intimate ones. He was praying he didn't do anything stupid with you; were you two even okay? Had he offended you? Had he been respectful? He needed to know, he needed to make sure he hadn't screwed everything up between you two. And at the same time, he was ashamed. So ashamed of having drunk so much he wasn't even able to remember what had happened. He was so anxious to confront you about it. To hear the truth, hear you say he had been a pig, and you'd never want to see him again, because that was probably what had happened. He was convinced of it.

As he saw you drinking your morning coffee by the fire from his cot, he quickly had changed, tried to clean up a bit, and made sure he had nothing stuck between his teeth or anything else of that type that could make him pass for an even bigger fool than he already was. He had chosen one of the less damaged shirts he had, a simple green but at least not holey flannel, all his clothes being more or less in a bad state anyway. Two leathered suspenders on, keeping black basic pants from falling. Damn, his reflection in the mirror looked even uglier than usual with his lack of sleep and post-party face. He sighed deeply, screw it. He needed to talk to you, at all costs, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything else properly otherwise. He tried to actually brush his hair, a thing he never bothered to do normally; he even tried to use some hair pomade, combed them in all directions possible, anything to make them look less messy. Nothing was working. He sighed again, getting angry, and just decided to put his hat on to hide this disaster.

This was already too complicated and he hadn't spoken any words yet.

Now walking straight to you, every step he took was followed by a worried thought, his heart tightening more and more as he was getting closer to the campfire you were standing next to. What had he done? Were you mad at him? Would you even agree to speak to him? Did he look good enough? Shit, he probably still must reeks of whiskey, he should have gone to town and taken a bath, stupid moron! But it was too late. Your eyes had crossed his, you had seen him approaching. There was no going back.

Finally arriving at the campfire, the poor nervous man stood at a respectful distance from you and cleared his throat. He didn't even had taken the time to think about what to say. Moron.

"G'd mornin', Y/N." He greeted you, his tone almost a bit too formal, a trace of his troubled state. His voice sounded huskier and harsher than what he wanted to, you were the first person he actually talked to since waking up and you could hear it with how hoarse his vocal cords were.

Besides it, you couldn't have guessed how much was going on inside his head; his expression was as neutral as usual, his own way of defending himself against the flurry of feelings that was taking place inside of him. You smiled at him, a mischievous, playful smile. You had so much to tease him about. Before the party, you two would already messed with each other a lot, and now you had a whole night of details you could use for it.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan... Guess someone was a little thirsty last night, mmh?" You answered, looking at him. His eyes crossed yours, he cracked up a smile too. His shoulders seemed to go down a bit, less tensed. In reality, he was so relieved to hear you tease him and to see your smile. You weren't mad. He silently thanked the Lord for that.

"I, erm... Maybe I drank a little t'much..." He replied with an embarrassed grin, his eyes looking at his feet before planting them back right into yours. He decided to ask you right away. Arthur never beat around the bush, this time was no exception. "L'sten, I don't... I don't remember much 'bout last night and... I hope I didn't bother ya."

His bright blue pupils were looking intensely into yours as he waited for your answer. He always looked at people like this, always keeping eye contact, as if it was a quiet duel and he would lose it if he stopped; but God, it made your heart melt a little.

"Oh, Arthur." You started, smiling some more realizing he was actually worried about you. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. To me at least. I remember you losing your nerves and punching Micah in the face." You answered his question, chuckling in the end.

"Why, this bastard had it comin'..." Arthur replied, scratching the side of his jaw, the slight grin still present on his lips, telling himself that it was definitely something he was capable of.

"You sing pretty good when you're drunk..." You added, tone playful.

Arthur sighed, he was enjoying more and more of this conversation he had feared in the beginning.

"Oh stop it, I don't." He retorted, his fingers scratching one last time before falling to his belt, both his hands gripping it, a standing position he often had when talking and didn't know what to do with his arms. Honestly, you were quite fond of it.

"You want some coffee, songbird ?" You questioned with a teasing tone, already grabbing a new cup and the pot. You knew he would say yes.

"Yeah, thank you." He replied at first, before frowning. "Don't ya start calling me that!" He added with a firmer tone, but his small smile was still stuck on his face while grabbing the hot cup you were handing to him.

"You're also quite a dancer..." You teased him once more with your mischievous voice, knowing you were pushing his limits with your remarks.

"Damn it, woman! Can't believe I was worried 'bout ya, while ya're teasin' me like this..."

"Yeah, I'm such a nasty woman..."

"Nah, you're the sweetest." He corrected you, a bit too quickly for it to be innocent. A quick, subtle flicker in his eyes showed you he was surprised with himself; the words had come out on their own.

You smiled widely, cheeks turning a bit red. You were praying it wasn't too obvious to him. Arthur was still looking at you, two indigo miniature seas fixated on you, even while drinking his beverage. The more he was, the more those vivid memories he had were making their way back to his mind. While looking at your waist, he remembered having held it at some point during the party, which explained how he learned how your clothes felt underneath his fingers. His breath quietly hitched when he realized how he knew about the softness of your leg: he recalled having an arm curled up around it at the end of the night. Shit... He really had been unruly. After a short silence, Arthur spoke again. He wanted to make sure, he needed to make sure.

"Erm... Can I ask ya if we... Did anythin' happen b'tween us while I was drunk ?"

"No, you've just been a bit... Tactile. But nothing happened." You answered his question honestly, wanting him to know the truth. After all, Arthur was your friend, and there was a whole step between gently teasing and actually tormenting him. "Oh and, you said you loved me."

Arthur almost choked on his coffee, a short strangled sound escaping from his throat, some drops of the hot liquid falling on his shirt. The only decent shirt he had was ruined. But it was the least of his problems. What the actual Hell had gotten into him? He was an even worse fool than he thought, and the bar was already low.

"I... What ?" Were the only words he was able to form, one of his hands wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Don't worry, John told me you've made it a habit to tell women that when you're drunk, apparently. We don't have to make a bit deal out of this." You reassured him. He really looked ashamed of his behavior, and you didn't wanted to make him feel even worse.

But Oh Lord, if only you knew. If only you could have understood how much he wanted to make a big deal out of it; how much he had wanted to properly say those three words to you. He was almost disappointed in a way, that you were so quick to forget about it, as if it had been a simple joke to you, something amusing a drunkard had said in a moment of alcoholic eccentricity.

"Ah, alright. Well, I'm happy ya not mad at me." He simply added, honestly not knowing what to say or how to act anymore.

Tell her. Tell her she means the World to you. Tell her you have spoken the truth. This was the best chance you would have.

But the words were stuck, and as fast as a breeze would have swept away petals of flowers, Ms. Grimshaw asked for you with her usual severe call, and off you were gone, wishing him a good day and telling him he didn't have to worry about last night, even adding your typical teasing comments, advising him to join a choir were he could flourish his singing talent.

Looking at you walking off, he sighed again, calling himself a moron for at least the twentieth time since he had gotten up. Looking down at his cup of coffee, almost empty, just like the hurtful sensation he was experiencing right now inside his heart, he got angry again. This was enough. He threw the rest of the coffee on the ground, put the cup in his satchel out of habit, and walked straight to his horse.

The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. You basically spent it tidying up the camp, the number of dishes almost twice as big as usual, and the endless amount of bottles and garbage looking like it was only getting larger the more you were cleaning them up. Thankfully, Ms Grimshaw had put every girl in camp to work too, and you weren't alone on your impossible task while the men were back on their usual activities, whether it was lazying around for Uncle and the Reverand, guarding camp for Bill and Charles, or going back on jobs for the others. You hadn't seen Arthur since your morning discussion with him, and you had concluded he probably had gone somewhere to do his own work. As the sun was getting down, the camp had ultimately taken back its usual appearance, and you were finally free from your chores.

You decided to go to the edge of the camp, behind the wagons, where the cliff was starting and was offering a breathtaking view of the mountains in front of you. At this time of day, in the dusky sun, the landscape was painted with beautiful golden and bronze colors, dazzling blend of warm tones, ephemeral treasure from the last sunrays of the day before the settlement of the night's darkness.

Lost in your contemplation, you didn't hear footsteps approaching. The shrill and recognizable sound of spurs along with the heavy stomping of a horse's hooves made you turn your head from the literal work of art you had under your nose, and your gaze fell on another one from a different nature; Arthur was walking up to you, holding Boadicea's reins into his hands, his blue gaze already fixated on you, slight frown on his forehead, looking as determined as if he was going in for a fight.

He looked different from earlier, you swore he was wearing a brand new shirt you had never seen, a fresh white one, and a black jacket which must have gone with a fancy suit. As he was heading towards you, you noticed and could smell he had taken a bath, and trimmed his beard more than usual. He looked neat, refreshed, it was quite unusual for him. You could feel how your blood was rushing at the simple sight of all this: he was undoubtedly handsome, as breath-taking as the landscape around you.

"Y/N." He greeted you with a determined voice, once he had come close to you. He let go of the reigns, letting his mare free, but she stayed right where she was and started to graze happily. He took his hat off and held it in his hands, probably out of politeness. Such a gentleman, as always around women. You had always found it quite endearing how rough he was but at the same time how respectful towards girls, complying with conventions just like an honest man would. However you were a bit confused, he had never bothered to do that with you before, only with the women he didn't knew.

"Arthur, are you alright? Did Trelawny force you to get clean up ?" You joked a bit, genuinely surprised by his appearance and sudden polite behavior.

"What? N-no..." He stuttered. He never stuttered. You could feel it flowing into you like last night: this terrible, powerful feeling of hope. Your whole being was filled with it as your eyes were glued to him, like a moth to a flame, like a moon to its celestial body.

"I erm... I got somthin' for ya." He said almost shyly. Shyly. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing. It was nearly too good to be true.

Maybe... Maybe the words he had spoken to you... Maybe his tactile behavior... Your thoughts were going entirely crazy, spiraling around the deep feeling that something really important was on the verge of happening. You watched, in awe, as Arthur turned his back to you in order to pull off from Boadiccea's saddle a gorgeous flower bouquet.

"I know it ain't much but... I've picked 'em for you..." He said quietly, his voice slow and deep as usual, but also a bit more vulnerable. You could see just how flustered he was, how unusual it was for him to put himself in such a situation. And it made you more happy than anything for such a long time. Your eyes, traveling from his insanely cute bashful face to the flowers, were now stuck on it. The colors were vibrant and surprisingly well-matched, almost like a painting, the petals going from deep red to a warm golden yellow. You couldn't prevent a deep blush from flushing your cheeks; it really was warming your heart.

"They're beautiful! Thank you so much..." You marveled, vision attached to his gift, admiring every detail about it. After a short moment, as you realized he had felt silent, you spoke again, a wave of boldness crashing onto you. He had made a step towards you, now it was your turn.

"Arthur... The words you said to me last night..." You began, your eyes slowly ascending to look at his again. To your surprise, you found him looking away.

Another hint, another glimmer of the internal storm of emotions Arthur was feeling right now. Your own heart started to beat faster; the blood flooding so fast in your veins at this point you're wondering how the hell your body is keeping it all up together without collapsing under the pressure.

Arthur doesn't answer. Instead, he simply looks back at you, a flash of apprehension in his turquoise diamonds. He stays silent, unable to say anything more. His own heart must be on the verge of bursting cause you recognize the faintest of red on his own cheeks and a little vein on his temple. What a sight, to have this grown man, one of the stronger men in the gang, probably the fastest gunslinger of the State, blushing because of you.

"Those words were true, right?" You finish your sentence with an encouraging expression and the softest smile you had.

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes for just a few seconds before planting them back into yours and nodding. Still silent, still stoic, still nervous. The slight blush was unhurriedly spreading on his face just like a flaming stain of watercolor on a canvas. Your very own art piece.

"I love you too, Arthur." You finally confided to him, voice soft and low, as if it was a confession you would have told him in the middle of the night, intimate as secrets you'd both tell each other in the ear while lying together in the same bed, arms interlaced, heart intertwined, as everything around you both would disappear. And in the moment, for Arthur, everything did.

He carefully brought a hand on the side of your face, never breaking his deep starring until the last second, and slowly bent over to put his lips on yours. Every move he was making was measured, contained; the exact opposite of his unleashed behavior at the party. You could feel just how cautious he was in that moment, as if he was scared to hurt you, or make you flee.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, never letting go of the bouquet that was now hanging behind his back in your thankful right hand. His own was still on your head, fingers gently caressing your skin as the kiss was dragging on. His lips, although chapped, felt good against yours, taking their rightful place there.

After what felt like an eternity of sweetness, he pulled back. If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to his cheeks right now, the deep crimson shade having completely recovered the canvas. Finally, his body's muscles relaxing, his features softening, a big, wide smile appeared on his face; the same that had been haunting you since the night before. The stupid smile. Just for you.

"I love you too, for real I mean." He let out in a soft drawling voice, once you had never heard coming from him. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, closing his eyes, not even processing this was really happening.

"I hope you'll sing again for me, Arthur." You couldn't help but add, a playful tone and a slight smirk on your lips.

"For ya, maybe, sweetheart. But don't ya come complainin' about the rainin' after."