#consider yourselves seen followers >)

[rebelfell]

made for lovin’ you

older!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A bad Tinder date gets a whole lot better…

18+ MDNI┃9k

cw: age difference (30s/40s), alcohol, smoking, light choking, softdom!Eddie, face fucking, light hair pulling, fingering, piv sex, finishing inside, and aftercare ‘cos we deserve it ♥️

I’ve been in a Mood and now you all have to suffer.

eddie edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Holy shit, was this guy boring.

Not terribly surprising, unfortunately. Your expectations weren’t all that high to begin with. Most of your recent forays into online dating had been yielding overwhelmingly middling results and this one was no exception.

He had seemed perfectly nice on the app, when he was nothing but a handful of generic pictures and a smattering of inoffensive text bubbles. But any appeal he held had been in steady decline the moment he took his seat next to you at the bar.

He looked more scared of you than anything—fumbling his words and constantly having to push up his glasses as they slid down the bridge of his sweaty nose. You did what you could to help him relax, coaxing him into the conversation, asking all of those tedious first date questions.

And every single one, he answered with nothing but curt, clipped responses. Making no attempt whatsoever to follow up or ask you literally one single thing about yourself.

Then you made the fatal mistake of asking about work, and suddenly longed for the wall of silence. As soon as he got the chance, he launched into a long and droning explanation of his research on the behavior of crickets.

Acheta Domesticus, not that you asked. And he didn’t so much as smirk at your gesundheit joke.

You might have called it quits entirely by now…if it wasn’t for the guy at the end of the bar.

He had arrived not fifteen minutes after your date did, and slid smoothly onto a stool directly in your eyeline. Which was good, considering you would have snapped your neck trying to get a look at him otherwise.

In a word, he was beautiful. 

Slightly older, with long dark hair that was wavy and ruffled. A short and scruffy beard that only further accentuated the hard line of his jaw where it met the thick, muscular column of his neck.

He was quite literally littered with accessories—a silver hoop that glinted in his nose, leather cuff and chains on his wrists, chunky rings on his fingers that rapped rhythmically on the bar.

Then there were the more permanent accessories in the form of black ink tattoos that covered both his arms and scrawled upwards to peek out from underneath the collar of his t-shirt. A mix of all different styles and designs, ranging in quality from the kitchen scratcher bats on his elbow to the larger and more artful pieces clearly woven in later to complete the tapestry.

You’d certainly never seen him here before, and that was sort of a feat for this place.

West End was one of your favorite places for this sort of date. It was close enough to your place to be convenient, yet far enough that there was no chance of a guy trying to invite himself over to “use the bathroom” or “wait for an Uber” or whatever other excuses they dredged up.

It was actually two businesses in one, sharing the same name, running out of opposite sides of the same building. Causing only mild confusion.

To one side was a wine bar with cozy seating nooks furnished with plush loveseats, sofas and overstuffed armchairs, all a mishmash of vintage styles from thrift shops and flea markets.

But the other side was all modern and industrial—a billiards hall with high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and a large, glossy horseshoe bar that surveyed the tables from the center.

You tended to frequent the wine bar with your roommate Robin whenever you found yourselves in need of a moody atmosphere and some low, soft lighting, your evening scored by the crackle of some great vinyl record. But the other side was better for dates because it automatically gave you the out of an activity in case you found the conversation lacking.

And boy was it lacking tonight.

He regarded the pool tables more like they were live alligators and quickly dismissed your offer to play before launching right back into his overly-detailed explanation of the differences in the eating habits of crickets and grasshoppers. You sighed, no longer attempting to disguise your boredom as you propped your elbow on the bar and rested your chin on your hand.

It wasn’t just that his research was boring—though it was. Really, the problem was all of his technical explanations were so dry and devoid of any emotion that it made you wonder if he even enjoyed it. You had more stimulating interactions with the bartender, for crying out loud.

He was new to you too, but he moved behind the bar with such ease it seemed like he’d worked there for years. He’d introduced himself as Steve, a row of pearly white teeth winking at you as he flashed a smile you were sure had won him his fair share of superlatives in high-school. 

His look read more upscale mixologist, sporting a dark gray vest over a crisp white button down. Sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms that flexed with the pour of every drink, and the collar left open to reveal the glint of a gold chain resting on the soft down of his plentiful chest hair.

The hair on his head was shorter and lighter than the other man’s, but it was long enough to curl slightly around his ears and along the nape of his neck. The ends of it were kissed with caramel highlights that shone in the light when he flipped his head back or ran his large hands through the feathered locks whenever a piece fell forward into his bright hazel eyes.

Most importantly, he also seemed to be friends with your current fixation.

They had greeted each other jovially, hands meeting in a tight clasp over the bar before Steve grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started to pour without the other man even having to order. You watched with morbid fascination as those plush lips wrapped around the rim of his glass and his eyes fluttered closed as he took his first sip, the tattoo on his neck bobbing with the swallow. 

Jesus Christ on a cracker…

Suddenly, as though he could sense you watching, his eyes popped open and immediately locked on yours. You started at the sight of the deep brown, almost black, vortexes in the middle of his face, nearly choking on the sip you were taking of your own drink—an excellent Malbec Steve had recommended when you first arrived.

A rush of warmth exploded on your face and you looked away, doing your best to pretend like he hadn’t just caught you blatantly staring at him.

Or that you hadn’t felt that egregious burst of excitement when he did. Did he care that you were looking? Was he looking at you now?

Doesn’t matter, you reminded yourself, trying to return your attention to the man in front of you.

The one you had made an actual plan to come here and meet; the one who was…still talking.

The next bit of your date felt like it took an entire year. You mostly phoned it in, reluctant to admit defeat too quickly. But over and over again, you found your focus drifting either to the stranger at the end of the bar, or to the bartender. And often, those two went hand in hand.

Again, they were either very old friends or both of them were extremely friendly. They talked and joked back and forth in between Steve helping other customers, bouncing from end to end of the bar with ease, charming smile never faltering as he enchanted every person he served.

As for the other man, you’d caught his eye enough times by now that there was no mistaking he was watching you. Though, you suppose that meant he knew you were staring at him as well…

At the end of your first glass of wine, you excused yourself from the bar—needing a break from this guy’s droning voice more than anything.

He nodded, finally taking a sip of his beer he’d barely made any progress on he’d been so entrenched in his recent soliloquy.

The bathrooms at West End were towards the back, down a long hall that obscured them from view of the rest of the bar. It gave the impression of being in an alleyway with black beadboard paneling that came a little over halfway up the wall and an eclectic gallery of pictures.

There were two bathrooms side by side, just single-room stalls adorned with brass apartment numbers rather than gendered signs, and you slipped into the one with no light coming out from underneath the door. And maybe you took a little longer than you probably needed, milking your break for all it was worth. Not stalling, just…taking care of some things.

Things like touching up your lip gloss that needed no touching up since you hadn’t said more than two words in the past half hour. Or like pulling up Tinder on your phone and setting your location to the absolute minimum distance. You know…just on the off-chance someone in the immediate vicinity happened to also have the dating app installed.

No such luck, you found.

A bit more deflated than you had any right to be, you tucked your phone back into your bag and rolled your eyes at yourself as you reached for the doorknob. You didn’t look up until you were almost at the end of the hall and when you did, you found brown eyes looking back at you.

He was headed for the bathroom as you were coming back and he caught you at the start of the long, narrow hallway leading to them. Your eyes met his as you approached and you paused, already anticipating that awkward shuffle of both of you trying to get out of the other’s way.

There was no awkwardness, though. 

Heat pooled low in your belly as he held your gaze, and rather than breezing right by when you came to a stop, he stopped as well and leaned against the wall to let you pass. He was close enough now that you could see his hair was streaked with slivers of silver and more grays tinged the edges of his beard, particularly under his ears behind the hinge of his jaw.

Your shoulder just barely brushed his chest as you passed, eye contact holding until you were looking back at him over your shoulder as you returned to the bar.

He stood there, watching until you’d rounded the corner and were out of sight before he moved. Pulse thrumming, you slid into your seat with his cologne still in your nose, tickling your brain.

By the end of your second glass of wine, you were more than ready to go. Frowning as you took your last sip, you gave Steve a regretful shake of your head when he asked if you wanted another.

And beside you, Dale just requested your checks as he pushed away his beer.

You didn’t bother with feeling annoyed he hadn’t offered to get even one of your drinks. To be fair, you had not been remotely good company as it was, and especially not once the guy at the far end of the bar decided to call it a night.

Your heart sank just a little as you watched him stand and pull on a creased and faded leather jacket. He then headed for the door, his eyes locking with yours one last time as he went.

Beside you, your date cleared his throat loudly to get your attention and your head jerked up as you realized Steve had placed your receipt in front of you to sign. If Dale—wait, was it Dale or Dave?—noticed your fixation, he was too polite (or too chicken) to mention anything about it.

Tabs closed and coats thrown back on, you followed Dale (Drew? Dirk?) outside. The wintry air cut through your tights and you hugged your coat a little tighter around you.

“So, which way are you headed?” you asked, rushing out the words before he could ask the same thing and float the idea of sharing a ride.

“Uptown?” he replied.

“Ahh, I’m the other way.”

A derisive snort made your head whip sideways and your eyes darted to the source, landing first on the glowing orange dot of a cigarette and then on the plush pink lips wrapped around the filter at the other end. The snide comment locked and loaded on your tongue abruptly stalled.

It was him.

He leaned against the brick facade, foot kicked up behind him, watching your whole interaction. It made your cheeks burn with indignation, but the hungry look in his dark eyes made your entire lower half throb. His lips curved like the blade of a knife into a smirk as he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall and dropped it in a planter filled with sand next to him. You stared at him, your mind sort of blank, and his eyes remained fixed on yours as he strode back inside the bar.

“Okay, well…I guess I’m gonna go,” Dale sighed, a little petulantly.

You brought your eyes back to him and plastered on your most professional smile, shaking his hand formally like this was the end of an interview for a job he was never gonna get.

“Sounds good,” you said. “Nice to meet you.”

He frowned as he turned away, but you felt relatively certain you’d navigated that fine.

Surely he hadn’t felt the date warranted any other sort of follow-up or lie about doing it again—you certainly hadn’t been on your A-game. And you shuddered to think that was his.

Once he’d gotten in his Uber, alone, and you had assured him the one you had yet to call was on its way, you tugged your phone out of your coat pocket and checked the time.

Right now, you had two choices. It was still early enough that Robin could probably come pick you up with minimal begging required.

Maybe you two could get fries and milkshakes and watch some garbage reality tv before falling asleep in a little cuddle pile on the couch.

It was the reasonable option.

The logical, safe choice.

But all your dates lately had been so painfully reasonable and logical and safe. There had been no horror stories to regale Robin with at Sunday brunch, nor any explosive sexual exploit the two of you could squeal and giggle over while curled up on your overstuffed sofa.

It was downright boring. And you were growing pretty weary of it.

You glanced down one more time at your phone, still thinking. Your thumb hovered over Robin’s contact info, needing only a single tap to dial, while your index rested on the lock button.

With a subtle flex of your hand, you clicked the screen off and headed back into the bar.

One more drink couldn’t hurt…right?

“Back so soon?”

Steve was already smiling smugly at you as you approached, his eyebrow cocked as you slid back into your original seat and returned his smile with one of your own.

“I decided I couldn’t live without another glass of that Malbec,” you sighed dreamily. 

He nodded, amusement still tugging at his lips as he uncorked the bottle you’d been steadily draining all night and took down a clean glass from one of the wire racks suspended overhead. You pulled your card from your bag and held it out for him to reopen your tab, but Steve waved it off as he placed down the newly filled glass in front of you and slid it smoothly across the bar.

“It’s taken care of, honey,” he said.

“Oh, really?” you chuckled. “By who?”

Steve smirked at your incredulous tone, his muscled forearms flexing as he leaned on them.

You leaned forward as well, crossing your arms under your chest, knowing how nicely it propped up your cleavage. It made the bartender’s eyes flash as he lowered his voice to a leading hum.

“The dirtbag at the end of the bar.”

He nodded his head backwards, making those caramel-kissed locks of his flop across his brow. Your gaze followed Steve’s nod, landing on the wild head of hair and all-consuming brown eyes you’d been distracted by all night. The “dirtbag” in question was staring straight back at you, the corner of his mouth curled as he raised his rocks glass of brown liquor and tipped it to you.

“Is he really a dirtbag?” you asked him, your eyes never dropping the stranger’s gaze.

“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “Just looks like one.”

“Good to know.” 

You hummed to yourself, feeling almost a little cocky as you brought your glass to your lips and took an excruciatingly slow sip. The eyes of the man across the bar watched you intently, a fire burning in them that ignited your very being.

As Steve moved on to another customer, you pulled your eyes from those of the handsome stranger and let them fall briefly to the empty stool beside you. It was about as bold as you were willing to be at the time, but it did the trick. He promptly swiveled in his seat to slide off it and you smirked to yourself as you looked down, pretending to be fascinated by the garnet liquid swirling in your glass as he came around the bar.

“That’s a great Malbec,” he said.

God, his voice.

It made your cheeks (among other things) tingle, smooth and smoky as the whiskey in his glass you could smell as he placed it down beside your wine. The scent of it mixed with his cologne that was dangerously close to becoming your new favorite aroma—something woodsy and heady with a tinge of lightness like a salty sea breeze.

“It is,” you agreed, brow arching as he took the seat beside you. “You’ve had it before?”

“Nah,” he smirked. “You made it look so good, I had Stevie give me a taste. I told him to put your next one on me.”

Both of your brows raised at that. “And how’d you know I was coming back?”

“I didn’t,” he said, taking a cheeky sip of his drink. “I just hoped.”

You felt a smile burgeoning on your lips and pulled your bottom one back with your teeth trying, unsuccessfully, to fight it. He watched it spreading, the tip of his tongue running over the edges of his teeth as he offered you his hand.

You slid your own into his, feeling the exquisite pressure of chunky silver rings pressing on your fingers as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” you purred right back, offering him your name after a beat.

He repeated it once, all low and rumbly, taking his time with the sound of it in his mouth like it was a piece of chocolate melting on his tongue. Holding your hand a bit longer than necessary.

“So I’m assuming Desperate Dan out there wasn’t your boyfriend?” Eddie asked, chuckling into his next sip. The sound of it spiraled down your back, electrifying your spine.

“Nope,” you sighed heavily. “Just another drop in the Tinder bucket.”

Eddie’s dark eyes gleamed with something like mischief and he made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Well, if that’s the case, I sincerely apologize, sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled at him. “What for?”

His eyes flickered again, this time taking a long moment to do a sweep up and down your body. Landing on your knees in your tights, flitting back up to your face as she shook his head.

“If someone like you has had to resort to dating apps…we’ve clearly failed as a gender.”

You actually shivered at the words, forcing your shoulders still not to show it as you propped your elbow on the bar and swiped the tips of your nails across your chin and along your jaw to play with your earring. Deepening your voice to a sultry murmur he had to lean in close to hear.

“No argument there.”

You rushed into the bathroom, flapping both your hands back and forth to fan your face and then under your arms. Safely hidden behind the door, your air of detachment could fall away and you could finally let out all the patently un-cool reactions you had been fighting the last hour.

With trembling hands, you pulled your phone out of your bag and fired off a text to Robin.

hey, I’m gonna share my location with you the rest of the night.

wait WHAT? Losera Annoyingus is getting a bang pass?

no he left…

…about an hour ago.

A blue bubble with three blinking dots immediately popped up on the thread and you imagined Robin’s thumbs actually smoking she was typing so furiously fast. But she must decide to abandon her message, because within a split second, a picture of you and her with your faces smushed together came up on the screen as she called you instead.

“Hey,” you whispered, praying your voice didn’t echo too much off the tiled walls.

“Explain,” she demanded. “Now.”

The excitement in her voice only increases your own, your cheeks still impossibly hot as you stand over the sink and fan yourself some more before another layer of sweat can form on your face.

“It’s this guy I met at the bar. He was like, making eyes at me while I was on my date and we started talking after and I just—I don’t know for sure, but it feels like he’s gonna take me home.”

“Is he hot?”

“Yes,” you breathed out a heavy, lustful sigh. “He’s so hot I wanna rip his appendix out.”

“Holy shit,” Robin whistled. “What’s he look like?”

“He’s…I don’t know,” you laughed. “He kind of looks like a Harley that came to life.”

“Alright then, you better go ride him.”

Robin’s snorted laugh makes you cover your own face with your palm. It’s searing hot now, your blood pumping furiously beneath the surface of your skin.

“Well, I have to get back out there to make that happen.”

“Go, go, go—have fun, use protection! Wait, hang on, not in that order!”

You laughed at her warning coming through faintly over the receiver as you mashed the button to end your call. With one last steadying breath, you leaned on the sink and nodded decisively.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “Let’s do this.”

Sage and sea salt filled your nose as you yanked the door open and nearly ran straight into the source of the scent. Eddie leaned against the wall across from the bathroom doors, shoulders shifting subtly as he twisted one of the large rings on his fingers. 

You stood face to face now, hands hovering at your sides as you edged into the hallway.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, tucking his chin to his chest as he looked up at you from under long lashes. “Someone’s in the other one.”

You glanced suspiciously at the second bathroom door, seeing no light coming from underneath it. Eddie winced, still smirking adorably as you turned the knob and pushed it open to reveal it was empty on the other side. He chuckled, holding up his hands in a mock surrender.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You caught me.”

“Thought I was making a break for it?” you asked, pulling the door shut. Eddie’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, his eyes roving over you slowly.

“I’d hate to think I scared you off,” he said as he kicked off the wall to stand up straight.

You crossed your arms under your chest, giving him a smile. “I don’t scare so easy.”

He nodded at that, his eyes still taking you in, scanning you like he was reading invisible stats. They lingered a few places you expected, like the curve of your hips and the swell of your chest. But then they landed on other things too, things you weren’t used to people noticing. 

Things like your shoulders, or your calves in your boots, even your fucking ears.

“So…everything alright?” he asked, his voice lowering as he took a step closer.

“Yeah, I was just letting my roommate know I might be gone a while.” You held up your phone and tucked it back inside your bag with another coy smile. He chuckled.

“A while, huh?” Step.

“Yeah, you know...it’s pretty late.” Step. “Might be tough to get an Uber.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie shrugged. “I live close.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were nose to nose now, barely a whisper of space between you, the air thick with the heat radiating off your bodies in the narrow space.

The well worn leather of his jacket sleeve creaked softly as his hand came up to rest on the wall, caging you in with his arm.

“How close?” you asked, breath shuddering as you leaned on the door for support.

“Up the street,” he sighed. “But it’s still too far.”

His warm breath ghosted over your lips as they parted, the smell of the liquor coating his tongue making you feel woozy. Or maybe that was just the effect he was having on you.

He was so close now you could hear the bristly sound his beard made as he scratched at it with blunt fingertips. He’d barely inhaled to ask if he could kiss you when you surged forward to press your lips to his—the roughness of his beard on your chin a welcome abrasion.

Scratching the itch that’s plagued you all night.

It’s a hungry, lawless sort of kiss. Quick and clashing and difficult to tell if it’s actually mean or not—like two dogs play-fighting, both trying to see how much they can get away with before light snarls and soft snaps of their jaws turn to whimpers and whines.

Eddie parried with you for control, his tongue darting in and out of your mouth as he plied you with teasing, playful kisses you fought to deepen, tugging at his shirt. He pushed off the wall and reached down to grab your wrists, pinning them over your head to keep them in place.

The thrill of him trying to restrain you only made you unravel further, straining impatiently against his grasp. Breathless, you stretched out your neck and pushed your face past all his hair to place your lips beside his ear and pant into it.

“Can we go back to—”

“You wanna come back to—”

The both of you chuckled and exhaled with relief as your words and his overlapped, and you felt a sudden rush between your legs from the way Eddie’s eyes blazed with intention.

He released his hold on your wrists and your arms fell limp at your sides. In an instant, he had your hand wrapped tightly in his and was pulling you along as he angled towards the exit.

As you hurried after him out of the hallway and across the bar, you distantly registered music playing, picking out the chugging guitar and bass riffs of some 80s dance song. From behind the bar, Steve caught Eddie’s eye and you saw him offer his friend a two finger salute as the two of you burst through the door, your departure narrated by Paul Stanley’s deep, silky croon.

And tonight, I want to lay at your feet. Cause girl, I was made for you, And girl, you were made for me…

Eddie wasn’t kidding about living close.

Your boots clacked on the sidewalk as he ushered you along under his arm, the quick pace of your walk driven both by the chill in the air and the desire to resume what you started at the bar.

“This is me,” he said, indicating a four-story brick building just a block away from West End.

His place was on the top floor. It was a large studio with high ceilings and many features similar to the bar you’d just left. Half of the space was raised like a platform with a steel wire railing running along the edge. He had his bed up there and what looked like an office, but he’d created a divider of sorts with cube shelves filled with sweats, hoodies and t-shirts.

Promptly, you recalled him telling you he owned a company that designed and distributed merch for independent artists, and how he was constantly receiving samples from suppliers.

The kitchen was simple, sleek cabinetry and stainless steel appliances without a single smudge. A massive butcher’s block with a wooden top and wire racks underneath serving as an island. And a steel rack hanging down from overhead laden with cast iron cookware.

You took a few more careful steps inside, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath from being kissed stupid in the elevator while Eddie flipped some switches that illuminated the space with recessed lighting. Large black-paned windows revealed a view of the city and the night sky outside, some amber light from the street filtering in and casting across the oak floors.

In his living area was a massive brown leather sectional with extra-deep cushions and a chaise at both ends. It faced a plain wall with a screen you assumed went with the projector hanging down from one of the exposed beams overhead.

Every inch of your skin crackled with excitement as he came up behind you and reached around to grip the lapels of your coat and help you out of it, letting his fingertips skim your bare arms as he did. It made you shiver in spite of the warm air you could feel pumping out of the vents.

He hung up your coat next to his on a hook by the front door and you turned to face him as he sauntered back over. His gait was relaxed and casual, like he had all the time in the world. 

Like he wasn’t driving you up the wall with every second you went without his mouth on yours.

“Did you want another drink?”

He gestured in the direction of a liquor cabinet, glass shelves lined with a modest array of wines and spirits, but you shook your head at the offer.

“Not particularly,” you said with a coy grin.

Reaching out and hooking a finger in his belt loop, you whirled yourself into him and slotted your mouth against his, licking into it to taste the smoky remnants of whisky there. He breathed into it deeply, his broad chest expanding with it and chuckling when he felt your hands on his belt.

“Easy there, tiger,” he teased, your lips breaking apart and taking hold of your wrists to still their efforts. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Hopefully the kind that knows how to fuck.”

You smirked, the tip of your tongue flicking out between your teeth as your face veered in again. Your hips pressed with his and you began to sway back and forth, gently grinding them on him, resuming the dance you’d begun. His face came close, his hands settling on your waist.

“C’mon, honey,” he drawled. “Haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait?”

His lips trailed along the column of your neck, sending a riot of shivers down your spine causing you to release a breathy sigh.

“Sorry, what? All I heard was come.”

Eddie chuckled at that and his breath rushed across your neck as he smiled into your jugular.

“You’re funny,” he sighed. “We’ll see how funny you are when I get done with you.”

It was a miracle your knees didn’t buckle on the spot. Your eyes rolled back in your head, almost seeing the inside of your skull as his hand came up and he placed it around your throat.

“You want this?” he asked, his tone cool and precise, his eyes wandering across your face.

“Yes,” you gasped, all desperate and panting now you were so eager for him to start.

His thumb and middle finger pressed the sides of your throat, slowing the flow of blood just enough to make your head go fuzzy and your body to go just barely limp in his arms. 

“Yes, what?” he growled. You drew a shuddering breath, unrestricted by his expert hold.

“Yes, I want this,” you answered. “I want you.”

Eddie took his time undressing you, softly kissing the new expanse of skin he unveiled with the removal of each piece of clothing.

He nipped lightly at your collar bones as he shed your blouse, canines catching briefly on the chain around your neck. He dragged his lips torturously slow over your stomach as he undid your skirt and it fell to the floor with a soft plop. His breath rush across your thigh as he kneeled to drag down the zippers of your boots, kissing your inseam though your tights all the way down to your ankles.

Every second was a kind of exquisite torture. Your heart hammered behind your ribs, the bones almost rattling with the force of it. And as much as you were dying to grab him by the back of the head and take over, you let yourself slip steadily under the spell of his affections.

You believed what he seemed to be whispering with his eyes in between every indelible kiss he dropped to your buzzing skin. He had you. He would take care of you. You could trust him.

And once you were totally bare in front of him, he held out his hand for you to take and he spun you in a slow circle like a ballerina in a music box, his eyes feasting on every inch of you.

If it was anyone else, you might have shied away. You might have felt some level of shame or concern about being stark naked in front of him while he was still fully clothed. You might have worried he would see something he didn’t like, some flaw or defect you preferred hidden. But the look on his face was nothing short of rapturous.

He walked you over to the couch and kissed you deeply as he removed his clothes. Showing not an ounce of the kind of care and consideration for his own as he did for yours, he stripped them off hastily and discarded them, tossing them away like they were garbage.

Your naked bodies came together in a full press, his arms curling around your form and his hands stroking your skin like he was trying to make sure not a single part of it went untouched.

At last, he sank down onto the sofa and his knees spread apart, his hard cock standing stiff and ready for you. He took your hands in his like he was going to pull you forward onto his lap, but you dropped to your knees instead, tucking your feet under your ass.

You looked up at him expectantly, your eyes darting between his face and his cock, the corners of your mouth curling upwards in a smile as your brows raised with a silent question.

“You sure?” he asked, circling his base with his thumb and forefinger to give a gentle squeeze. “I can take care of you, you know? Fuckin’ love to.”

“Don’t worry,” you said cooly, lashes fluttering as you scooted closer. “You will.”

You placed your hands on his knees and pushed them further apart so you could lean forward to kiss up the inside of his leg. Trying to give him a taste of his own slow, teasing medicine, you worked your way all the way up to the crease of his thigh and turned your head inward.

Eddie’s breath stuttered as your lips met his shaft, poking your tongue out to run it up the length. His head tipped to the side, his ear touching his shoulder to get a better view of you licking at him, halting grunts and gasps tumbling past his lips as yours puckered to kiss it more.

When you were satisfied you’d gotten him sufficiently worked up, you reached out and wrapped your hands around him fully, your fists stacked and twisting gently.

You stroked him off slow and even, your hands squeezing tight around his shaft, mixing your spit and the beginning of his spend that leaked from his tip. He watched you reverently, eyes hooded as he enjoyed your show. And looking up at him, a gooey sort of warmth filled your entire body.

You felt yourself slipping further into that sort of headspace you craved—all pliant and willing, your knees digging into his plush area rug as your legs tingled with numbness.

Your heart raced as you imagined giving yourself up to him completely. 

Letting him take whatever he wanted from you.

As though he sensed it, as though he could read the desperation in your eyes, he cradled your jaw in his large hand and dotingly stroked the side of your face as he tilted his head at you.

“What is it, baby?” he cooed encouragingly. “What do you want? You can tell me.”

“Want you to use me,” you pleaded, fingers still sliding around him. “Use my mouth.”

Eddie gazed at you where you kneeled in front of him, your eyes having gone all big and round and glassy, shining with the tears you were dying for him to make spill down your cheeks.

Begging for it.

“Of course, baby, of course,” he sighed, gripping your chin and swooping in to kiss you deeply.

His firm hold gave you permission to go limp and you let your hands fall from his cock to rest on his muscled thighs, palms coasting over his tattoos and sparse leg hair. He pulled back, keeping your chin grasped in his fingers, holding your face still as he instructed you.

“You slap me three times in a row if you want to stop, okay?” he ordered in a husky rasp. “Do it for me now, so I know you can.”

You obeyed instantly, delivering three strikes to his thigh. His lips curled in a devilish grin. 

“That’s it, just like that,” he hummed in approval. “What a smart girl you are, huh?”

The praise rippled down your back, his words making you tingle all over, much like your calves that were starting to go numb from sitting back on them. He reached around the back of your neck, gently guiding you into position so his cock was pointed directly at your lips. 

His large hands nearly covered your entire head, holding it in his firm grasp, his fingertips digging into your scalp and causing even more shivers. Eyes locked with his, you let your mouth hang open and your tongue loll out fully, reaching almost all the way to your chin. 

Eddie moaned loudly, mesmerized by the pool of spit you’d let collect in your mouth and the way it dribbled past your lips, running down your tongue and dripping onto your chest.

“Fuuuuck,” he chuckled low and rough, touching just the tip of his dick to your wet tongue. “You really want me dead, huh?”

Your eyes danced as you nodded, the motion causing your tongue to brush against his sensitive slit and spread his precum across the flat of it. A sharp gasp punched from his chest, not ready for the sensation, and his whole body shuddered with need. His eyes blazed and his nostrils flared as he gripped tighter around the back of your head and thrust fully into your mouth.

Lewd sounds filled the room as he pushed his cock past your lips, your mouth flooded with spit that poured out of you and pooled in the wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You felt your body going lax and floppy as you gave yourself over to him, letting him hold your head up as you melted into little more than a puddle.

“That’s it, baby. Just let go, let me take what I need,” he drawled in that smoky voice, beginning a gentle thrust of his hips that pushed him deeper still into your mouth. “You’re doing so well…”

The salty tang of him covered your tongue as your jaw slackened to accommodate more of him, the sounds you were making coming out garbled.

“Christ, you sound so fucking sweet choking on my cock” he groaned. “What a good slut you are, huh? Giving me this mouth, letting me ruin it?”

You gagged loudly as his cock pushed in further until his tip met the back of your throat. He held the back of your head and your nose was nuzzling against the hair at his base, breathing in his thick and heady musk. Far earthier than his cologne, this was a smell that could only be him.

His eyes flitted to your hand clutching at him, your nails digging into the meat of his thigh.

But you made no move to tap out. Another tight spasm of your throat had him throwing his head back, his eyes pinching shut and his lips falling open in a desperate gasp.

“Shit, that feels so good,” he whined softly, his domineering mask slipping ever so slightly—the broken sound only making you go more feral.

Bracing yourself on his thighs, you began to push your head down to meet his thrusts, fucking your own face with his cock so hard that his grip on the back of your head was extraneous.

“Okay, okay—okay,” he grunted, chest heaving as he pulled you off him before he could blow.

His fingers held fast in your hair, squeezing it at the roots. You drew in air in great heaving breaths, panting from the effort, your tongue still hanging out of your mouth and head bobbing as you tried to chase the cock he had to drag you off of.

“You’re a greedy fucking girl, aren’t you, baby?” he chuckled, yanking your head back sharply so you were staring at the ceiling, eyes straining to look at him over the curves of your cheeks.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped back, chest still heaving.

“You want my cum that bad?” he teased lowly, pushing his face against yours and smearing the wetness of your tears across your cheeks.

“Yes, please,” you whined pitifully. “I need it.”

“Oh, you’ll get it,” he assured you, reaching down with his free hand to rub between your legs. “But only if it goes in this needy little pussy.”

Your entire body writhed as his fingers toyed with your swollen clit and dripping folds, scalp stinging where he gripped your hair with his other hand.

A pleasurable wail burst out of you as his thick fingers thrust inside your warm, wet hole and started to scissor relentlessly.

“YES, fuck—come in me. Please, please…”

More tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you begged him, drip, drip, dripping off your chin and onto your heaving chest, rolling down your naked body, leaving wet trails in their wake.

Eddie had to fight the urge to lick your clavicle. 

He hauled you up onto his lap, scooting down so he could plant his feet properly on the floor. Your knees sank into the worn leather of his cushions on either side of his hips and you used all what little strength you had left to reach down and align yourself with him.

“Don’t you hold back—haah—alright?” he said, hissing softly as you sank down on his length. “I want that fucking loser from Tinder to be able to hear you from here. Understand?”

You nodded, hips beginning to slide back and forth, relishing the way his thick cock prodded at your insides and stoked your desire. Eddie let you keep control for a moment, his hands squeezing at the softness of your stomach, molding it with them. He watched you raptly, mesmerized by the undulations of your body, the way you let it writhe and rock and squirm on him until he thought you might come solely from your own movements.

A loud, exhilirated moan burst out of you as he suddenly thrust his hips upwards, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he slammed into your g-spot on the first fucking stroke—as if he could see straight through your flesh to aim for it.

The room filled with sounds even more lewd than before—the wet clap of his thighs with your ass cheeks, his balls slapping your soaking pussy, your mound squishing into his pelvis.

Eddie threw his head back, overwhelmed by the sight of every part of you bouncing so prettily on him. And as he exposed his neck, everything in the room went hazy except that thick, taught, muscled column. Sending you feeling.

You clawed at it desperately and drew hot, red streaks down it with your nails that trailed all the way to the middle of his tattooed chest.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Mark me up. Show everybody who owns me—”

He slid his hands back to grip your ass, spreading the fleshy globes wide and stretching your holes further open as he continued to slam his length inside you. He let one side go and delivered a single stinging slap that reverberated throughout your whole body. 

The burn made you keen, arching your back until your chest was flush with his. He reached up to grip the back of your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth and raking them over it.

“Now that that mouth is free, I wanna hear how good you feel,” he growled.

And if you thought you were loud before, it was nothing compared to now. The combination of his words and the perfect pace being set by his cock sent you instantly toppling over the edge, with Eddie’s own release following right behind.

In that moment, you vowed to send a fruit basket to every single one of his neighbors—an apology for making them think that a woman was getting murdered in the middle of the night two or three stories above their heads. The orgasm he brings you to makes you scream, practically sobbing as you cry out in immeasurable relief while searing hot pleasure ravages your entire body. 

It’s an ascent you’ve never dreamed of reaching the peak of, the feeling spreading to the tips of every extremity, filling you with fire. It feels so good, it almost makes you sad to know you might never feel like this again. And if your brain hadn’t already turned to mush, you might have cared.

As you dwindled down from your high, you slumped forward limp and spent—your body still rippling with the effects, Eddie’s arms coming up to hold you against him as he peppered your shoulder with soft, sweet kisses.

“That’s it,” he breathed out in your ear. “That’s it, baby, just feel it…such a good girl f’me…”

He ran his fingers slowly up and down the column of your spine, creating waves of shivers waiting for your trembling to subside.

His length grew soft inside of you, but he made no move to slide you from his lap or to rush you in the slightest. He let you cling on to him, your face buried in his sweaty neck, his long hair tickling your face, losing yourself in his touch.

Slowly, your breathing grew deep and even, your racing heart slowing in your chest. Eddie turned his head and spoke to you quietly with his warm breath fanning across your cheek.

“You ready to move?” he asked.

You gave a weak nod.

Wobbling on unsteady legs, you stood and his hands quickly moved to the curve of your waist to keep you steady. He took you to the bathroom which looked more like it belonged in a spa than someone’s house, sitting you on the toilet.

From a hook hanging on the back of the door, he produced two bright white waffle weave robes, offering one to you. And as you wrapped the soft material around your shoulders, he turned on one of the faucets and held his fingers underneath it to test the temperature.

Once he’d deemed it warm enough, he took a fluffy washcloth from a little pyramid of them that were rolled up next to the sink basin. He held it under the stream, saturating the cloth and then giving it a gentle twist. You watched his hands every step of the way, mesmerized by the way his veins bulged under his skin and the muscles in his arms flexed as he wrung out the excess water.

He rubbed the warm cloth gently across your face, wiping off the residue of tears and spit and cum and what little was left of your make-up until your bare face shone in the soft lighting. 

Once he had finished, he dropped the cloth into a hamper and cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs gliding easily over your slippery skin.

“So pretty,” he hummed, the words so soft you wondered if you were even meant to hear them.

From one of the drawers in the vanity, he brought out a pot of moisturizer and offered it to you with a smile. You frowned up at him, jutting out your bottom lip in a comical pout, not ready for him to stop taking care of you. It made him chuckle and a bemused smile spread across his lips as he tapped the tips of his fingers in the gel and started to smooth it over your cheeks.

“Come lay down with me?” he asked when he’d finished, head tilting back in the direction of the short set of stairs leading up to where his bed sat.

You nodded and he held out his hand to lead you out of the bathroom. You curled up on top of his dark duvet, your head sinking into the softness of his down pillow that held the faint scent of what you guessed was his tea tree oil shampoo.

The thick mattress dipped as he climbed onto it with you and draped a beige knit blanket over the both of you before he sidled up against your body.

It was…nice. More than nice. Shit, it was as close to perfect as you had felt in a long time.

The feel of his chest expanding and contracting against your back; his steady breath on the nape of your neck; the soft robe wrapped around your body and the comforting weight of the blanket on top of you. Not to mention Eddie’s arm curled securely around your waist. 

Your eyes felt heavy, like your eyelashes suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, and you drifted fully into sleep, succumbing to the relief that had washed over you not twenty feet away.

When you woke, it was still dark out. 

The street noise had lessened significantly and if you had to hazard a guess, it might have been close to one or two in the morning. Eddie’s place was darkened, lit only by orange street light that filtered through his windows and a half-dimmed reading light in the corner.

It was an arc lamp, suspended over a leather Eames chair where you could see that your coat and all of your previously discarded clothes were arranged in a neat little pile. But laid out at the foot of the bed right next to your feet were a pair of black fleece pants and hoodie, both about your size and emblazoned with the names of bands you didn’t recognize.

You sat up slowly, fingers hovering over the thick material as you debated. Were they for you? They looked a little big for Eddie, but maybe he had laid them out for himself? Was it a sign he was about to go to bed and you needed to get moving?

In the end, you slid out from underneath the blanket still draped over you and redressed in your clothes. After pulling your tights and skirt back on, stepping into your boots and zipping them up your calves, pulling your coat back on, you looked around the loft searching for Eddie.

From up here, you could see the bathroom door was open and the light was off…eliminating the only place he could actually be. And then your eyes fell on one of the windows that was cracked open with a short step-ladder built into the wall that had been pulled down in front of it.

You pulled your coat around you tighter the closer you got to the window and tentatively climbed the steps leading up to it. You pushed the large glass pane the rest of the way open and poked your head outside to find Eddie sitting on his terrace, resting with his back to the brick, head tipped back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his lips that drifted up towards the stars.

“Hey,” you said softly. His head turned at the sound and a wide smile spread across his lips.

“There she is,” he said in a gentle cheer.

You climbed through the window and a breeze carried the scent of the joint he was holding. You took a seat across from him, leaning back against the metal railing and letting your legs stretch out alongside his. He dropped his hand to rub your calf and he frowned at the realization you had redressed in your tights and boots. His brow furrowed adorably.

“Something wrong?” you asked.

He shook his head and took another drag of the joint before passing it into your waiting fingers.

“The clothes were for you,” he said. “Y’know, if you wanted something to sleep in.”

You paused, the joint just shy of touching your lips. “Like…if I was staying?”

“Would you stay?” he asked, a ribbon of smoke curling in the air as he exhaled.

Your mouth hung open, clouds of your hot breath escaping. “Oh, um…I mean, only if you—”

He cut you off with his lips, slipping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a long kiss. Tiny embers scattered from the joint, being taken by the wind that blew and made the ends of Eddie’s long hair tickle the sides of your face. You pulled apart and he answered solidly.

“I want you to,” he said.

wasn't expecting this to be so long (that's what she said), but I hoped you liked it if you made it this far 🩷 love you, mean it!

[rafesangelita]

୨ৎ omg i need pogue!sweetheart!reader meeting ward and the family

warnings: rafe and ward have a good relationship, both reader and ward are a nervous mess lol, playful banter, found family

a/n: you could consider this a continuation of the fic i did w/ pogue!sweetheart!reader and rafe’s first time together!

“do you think i should’ve made blueberry instead?” rafe looked down at the freshly baked pie in his hands, both of you waiting for someone to open the front door. rafe could sense you were nervous by the way you were fiddling with your necklace. “apple is perfect.” he leaned down, pecking your temple. smiling down at you, rafe muttered a ‘don’t worry, they’re gonna love you.’ before rose appeared behind the door.

“y/n!” she squealed excitedly, briefly looking over at rafe before raising her eyebrows at him, “well, she’s absolutely beautiful, but we knew that already.” she laughed, welcoming both of you inside. “oh, god, your dad has been out on that grill all day, he insisted on making his ‘famous’ burgers since you mentioned y/n hasn’t found her favorite yet.” you nearly cried at the sentiment, a pout forming on your lips.

“aww, that’s so sweet of him..” rose led you two outside to the back, rafe squeezing your hand once his father came into view. “ward? she’s here, honey.” rafe laughed at the sight of his dad scrambling to clean his hands, his head shooting up in your direction. “hey, there!” he walked up to you, taking your hand in his. “hi, mr. cameron.” you smiled, your heart beating in your ears. “oh- please, call me ward.” rafe watched you two introduce yourselves with a grin on his face.

after you and rafe got settled in your seats and wheezie practically tackled you with a hug, your nerves melted away and you couldn’t help but feel ridiculous for feeling nervous at all. “wow, this looks amazing.” you laughed as ward placed your plate in front of you. “alright, moment of truth, tell me what you think.” all eyes were on you as you took a bite. “it’s not that good..” you watched ward’s smile fall, “because it’s amazing!”

everyone yelled, ward sighing in relief as you took another bite. “did i get you?” you got up, embracing ward’s back before you patted his shoulder. “uh, yeah! i was one second away from just ordering pizza.” he laughed. rafe’s heart felt full as he watched you get comfortable with his family. once everyone was seated and in smooth conversation, the evening went by quicker than you expected. “shall we cut this pie? i’ve had my eye on it since you two got here.”

you nodded, rose motioning you to follow her inside for a knife. ward waited until you were out of earshot before he got his son’s attention. “she’s lovely, rafe. very funny too.” rafe smiled, leaning forward in his seat. “yeah, i don’t know what she see’s in you.” sarah joked. rafe moved his attention towards you and rose in the kitchen. “you should’ve seen how nervous she was coming here.” rafe shook his head. at this, ward scoffed.

“y/n was nervous? this is the first girl you bring home, i mean- i was the nervous one. rose had to stop me from changing my outfit for the third time this morning.” rafe stifled a laugh. “and you thought a suit and tie was appropriate for some burgers in the backyard?” ward took a sip from the beer in his hand. “don’t be a smart ass.”

you, rose, and wheezie came back out with a cake knife and some paper plates in your hands, rafe smiling at you as you cut into the pie. “anyone wanna take a guess at what flavor it is?” you looked around. “i say cherry!” wheezie adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “blueberry is my favorite so i’ll go with that.” at wards’s words, your eyes widened in rafe’s direction. “i knew i should’ve made that one!”

[lisired]

forever yours

pairing: haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut (lots of it), horror, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, major character death, mentions of suicide, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), exhibitionism

summary: Thirst for exhilaration and a stupid dare brings you, your boyfriend Haechan, and your friends to the eerie camping grounds of Chimera - the name of a town rumored to be occupied by a number of vengeful, lurking spirits. But nothing is as it seems in this ghost town.

word count: 23k (see what had happened was…)

a/n: Halloween is gone but I just could not pass the opportunity to finally write a Haechan horror fic. as always, feedback is appreciated!

There was blood in your mouth. 

A tart, pungent taste followed. Your tongue ached, crying with agony. 

You pivoted around and groaned, “What the hell?” 

As it turned out, the culprit was no other than Winter. And you were less than pleased to be met with the sight of your own best friend giggling in your face. 

“You should have seen your face,” Winter teased, laughing to the point of tears. 

You only rolled your eyes. Curse her and her stupid shenanigans. October was official and Halloween was fresh in the air and given so, she would be a constant of mischief.

Fortunately for Winter, she was your best friend. If not, you would not have hesitated to give her a very large piece of your mind. 

You whined, “You made me bite my tongue.”

Your boyfriend, Haechan, snapped out of his fury-induced trance long enough to pull you close and ask wrathfully, “You’re hurt?” 

“Just a little,” you admitted with a grimace. Now, it hurt to speak. You swayed on the heels of your feet to press a placating kiss to the corner of his lips and say, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m okay.”

Apologetic, Winter frowned and told you, “I’m sorry, bestie. I’m sure Haechan will kiss it better. Seeing as you were a total of two seconds from swallowing each other’s tongues and all.”

Like she was a fly, you swatted her away and sent her off snickering incessantly. Your boyfriend was most likely turned off by now, all things considered. You were about to kiss before Winter screeched, “Bug!” and effectively gave you the scare of your life. 

You were in the middle of nowhere, after all. Chimera was a ghost town with a very tiny population and even fewer tourist attractions because anyone who valued their life would not dare explore the haunted hell town. 

Not to mention you were in the woods. You were on creepy-crawly territory. A stupid, childish dare brought you to the wicked. Last weekend, Jaehyun instigated a game of truth or dare for old times sake, and dared you all to stay a weekend at the haunted camping site. So the story goes. Neither of you were adamant believers in ghoul tales. 

At one point in his tetchiness, Haechan’s expression began to teeter between devilish and sinister, and a very gray area existed there. His dark eyes glared into the distance, although your best friend had already sauntered off in hounding of her next victim. 

Very rarely did your boyfriend wind up on the suffering end of vexation, but having his time with you interrupted would never not do the trick. 

Every time without fail. 

Nevertheless, you couldn’t blame him, but it made your heart swell with sadness. Alas, jam-packed work schedules and even less time for yourselves, your time together nowadays was limited. You came home to each other every night, but grueling days of work meant you were often sound asleep by the time he arrived. 

Sometimes, you would bring work home with you and stay up late, but Haechan would be snoring by the time you finally finished up and crawled under the sheets of your shared bed. 

This put a bit of strain on not only your relationship, but your friendships. Which was part of the reason you agreed to the stupid dare in the first place.

Obviously, it still wasn’t just the two of you, but you’d make it work. You had to. Alongside your best friend, her boyfriend, Jaehyun, was here. Like hell he would send the love of his life into haunted woods without him there to protect her. As well as Ten and Yuta. 

Your boyfriend was still displeased. A part of you was comforted by his protectiveness over you. Still, you wanted to soothe him before all hell broke loose. Bracing a hand on your boyfriend’s chest, you consoled, “Baby, I’m fine. I swear.”

Your lover was aflame, though the sweet sound of your voice made him soften. Only a little. He made sure you were flush against his body. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you replied, grinning from ear to ear. And sending his heart gravitating towards the moon. Then, you purred, “How about we go let off some of that steam in the cabin?”

Haechan smirked and you knew that you had your boyfriend back. “I like the way that sexy brain of yours thinks.”

Giggling, the two of you raced to the cabin. 

Your new home for the weekend was a tiny wooden cabin that was surprisingly very warm and comfy. There were three in total, each surrounding a campfire area. A lake was not too far off and cleared for safe swimming. And there were a couple of trails nearby. 

For an avowedly haunted campground, it was beautiful as far as you’d seen. There were vibrant wildflowers scattered everywhere and the water was crystal-fucking-clear. The sound of nature - leaves rustling in the wind and squirrels clambering up tree branches - was pleasantly therapeutic. 

Now, you were thinking about morning sex with Haechan, moans masking the sounds of birds chirping. 

The sight of you rushing to your cabin, nearly tripping over twigs in the process, was nothing short of comical. Though you found slight humor in your desperation, there was a rationale behind your every move. Above all, you couldn’t remember the last time you and your boyfriend had sex, and you were in need of a refresher. 

The kind of refresher only good dick and loving could give you.

Haechan very nearly kicked in the door. You let out a cry of surprise when he jerked it back in place with his toe and flung you against the surface, kissing you none too gently. 

You lingered there for a long while, making out in a hot, messy battle to conquer. Your chest heaved breathlessly, moans dangling from your lips in departure as you sucked each other’s tongues with pleasure. For a second, you pulled back, bringing your lips to that sweet spot on your boyfriend’s empty neck. For now. 

When he made a sharp noise and swiftly lowered you to the bed, you knew you were in for one hell of a fucking. 

It went without saying that this was going to be a far cry from a typical round of love-making. Your boyfriend was going to fuck you until every inch of the forest knew his name.

At the sight of you fumbling with his pants, Haechan chuckled and gathered your hands in his, teasing, “Slow down, baby girl.”

“Fuck me,” you heaved, as if the air had suddenly gotten thicker. Your eyes begged for him to give what you desperately craved on behalf of your body. “Hyuck, please.”

Your boyfriend gave a shake of his head, donning the most taunting smile. “Not yet,” he said, chuckling. It was nothing short of delightful to hear you beg for him, but he needed to savor you. It had been too long. “Not before I get a taste.”

Not a second later, your core throbbed, obviously excited about something now. Haechan was quick on his feet and between your thighs in the time that it took you to blink. Your panties disappeared with a yank, quickly tossed into oblivion. Your body shivered in anticipation, knowing what was to come. Haechan ate you out better than anyone to date. 

You got comfortable, laying sprawled and vulnerable. Your boyfriend was in a temporary trance, eyeing your glistening cunt with sheer admiration. You could feel the heat of his breath there, making you tingle with want all over. 

Haechan could feel himself twitching in his pants. Fuck, you were already so damn wet. Though that was nothing new. There was something about making out with your boyfriend that could arouse you like nothing else. 

Before he caved, Haechan made sure to tease, “Be careful not to scream. Your tongue will hate me.”

That made you roll your eyes, identifying your boyfriend as his usual cocky self. Though for good reason. No man had ever made you scream much like him. “Try not to make me scream. Everyone will hate us,” you quipped. 

“No can do, baby. I’m a natural.”

With a shake of your head, you shook with laughter. Granted, there was a good amount of feet between each cabin, but when at your boyfriend’s mercy, you were loud enough to wake the worlds below and above. 

Ever the tease, Haechan lifted his lips and kissed his way from your belly down to the vertex of your plush thighs. You made a noise, noticing he’d skipped between. He nibbled at the edges, rendering you impatient and weaker. You could only writhe and whimper, aware that you were being tested. Or toyed with, for that matter. 

Then, your lover went to town, having his fill of riling you up. You shuddered, eyes closing the very second his tongue muscled in your slick folds. Every muscle in your body was taut with tension. A kind of tension only concocted over time by a lack thereof to be broken loose.

There was a catch in your breath when Haechan lapped at you without holding back. He was a creature of desire, fingernails clamped harshly into your unfurled thighs. You were already moaning, already crying his name. There was no limit on him, none on pleasure when with him. You could already sense the tension dwindling in place of a different kind; the ecstatic variety. 

Though you had been inclined to watch the view, your head angled back in a soft sigh, flush against the pillows. It was a talent how effortlessly Haechan could dismantle you. More or less. The language of your body was indefinitely etched into his memory. 

“God. Oh my fucking…,” you gasped, sentence interrupted by an ensuing moan. This was only the beginning and yet already you were undone. 

Haechan tasted your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and let out an unrestrained, beast-like growl of pleasure. In your mind, it almost seemed fitting. He lapped at you like a ravenous creature. But in his mind, you were the one to blame. You always had to taste so damn sweet. 

You fisted locks of his hair in your fingers, back arching when he targeted your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body was aflame, and you could feel the blood pumping through your veins hotly. “Don’t stop. Baby, please don’t stop,” you choked, promptly reduced to whimpers of pleasure. And cries of your lover’s name. 

A vortex of pleasure consumed you, tossing you unceremoniously around the eye. Your thighs and toes tingled, a sign that your entire body was very much awake and alert. It came to life at Haechan’s touch, turned on at the way his tongue pivoted on your clit and penetrated your tight hole. There were sparks broiling under your skin, ignited everywhere. 

Haechan slid two fingers inside your pulsing cunt and your eyes promptly rolled to the back of your skull. 

For whatever reason, he was grinning from ear to ear. This was far from his first rodeo, and after years of this relationship, he had the once-mystery of your mind and body completely unraveled. No matter how much you tried to writhe away, overstimulated by the pleasure, there was no such thing as escape.  

He liked watching you squirm as if you had anywhere to flee, bracing his palms on your naked thighs. He liked watching you involuntarily arch your back and rock your hips into his mouth with greed, your systems entering shutdown. Even more, he liked that he made so much of a mess of you that you could hardly seem to tell what you wanted anymore, but the arousal dripping from your cunt was a telltale sign of desire. 

Just like magic, weeks of stress were long-forgotten. Haechan singlehandedly set you at ease and riled you up all the while. Tears of pleasure welled in your eyes and you clamped tightly around his fingers. 

You never knew pleasure of this capacity existed before your boyfriend. He brought you to a different sphere and back, took you higher than you’d ever been. Darn the world. Your boyfriend showed you the universe and made you see every star visible to your eyes. No one had ever made you feel like this. 

Which was not unbeknown to Haechan. When you began to explore your sexuality together, you detailed your past sexcapades very thoroughly to him. None as sensational as those with your boyfriend. As it turned out, they all lacked one thing in common; a partner with as much devotion to your satisfaction as your own. 

They treated pleasuring you like it was menial drudgery. Not Haechan. Even now, he was ignoring the way his cock twitched between his thighs, aching to be freed. Your pleasure was paramount and he would not rest until he made you come. 

He wanted to be the only one you needed and proved to you every single day that you were destined to be together. And you were content with that. You wondered how on earth you’d finally been lucky enough to find a guy that loved you as much as he loved himself. There was no one else for you, you knew that in your bones. Everything felt meant to be with him. 

Unshakable and intangible. You wouldn’t have it any other way. This was a boy you would die and give your soul for. 

And also wanted to suck the soul out of. 

“Haechan, please. Fuck. Please,” you whimpered meekly, without a shred of idea of what you were even begging for. 

Though Haechan knew. You were simply so predictable to him by now. He learned to recognize when you were near, all of the glaringly obvious signs, given that you were not subtle in the slightest. With you grinding into his mouth, it was no secret you were on the verge of a sweet release. 

Haechan let his fingers pull the weight and clamped his teeth into the core of your thighs, then growled, “Come on, my pretty girl. Let go for me.”

Your dear boyfriend became ruthless at light speed, devouring you whole with his tongue like he wanted to leave not even a crumb of you to remain. His fingers were double kill, strumming you to ecstasy. 

Your body submitted to his commands, because of course it did. Haechan dominated you. Even if you wanted to disobey him, it was your body’s natural choice to comply. Every inch of you was owned by your lover and he had no intention of giving it back. Not that you wanted it. You took delight in handing him the reins. 

You were unstill, shaken with orgasm. There was a sharp tingle, swelling up your spine and closing in all over. It was too much. Your pussy throbbed, kneading his fingers hotly and you gave one final cry of his name before your body caved in to destruction, instantly going limp.  

Though you were overwhelmed, you should have known Haechan was far from finished. Never one to stop at a single orgasm, your boyfriend ate you out until you physically could not take it anymore, making you shudder with unalloyed pleasure over and over and over again. 

And given how long it had been since your boyfriend’s head had been between your thighs, you weren’t necessarily complaining.

Your chest was heaving and you were clinging to whatever remained of your breath for dear life when he eased up. Your most intense orgasms were always due to a combination of your boyfriend’s relentlessness and your extreme pent-up stress or sexual frustration. 

“You screamed a lot,” Haechan said, sucking your arousal off his fingers and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You fought a tiny smirk. You always loved the way he looked with your arousal coating his plush, pink lips. Instead, you rolled your eyes and retorted through ragged breath, “Fuck you.”

Haechan casted a smug grin and didn’t hesitate to scoff, “I’m sure you want to.”

Damn it. Now you were absorbed in the thought of him fucking you within an inch of your life. “Please… I can’t wait anymore,” you begged, core still aching no matter how many times he pleasured you. He made you insatiable. 

“I could never tell my pretty girl ‘no,’” Haechan crooned, inching in on you to scoop you in his sun-kissed arms. You giggled when he surprised you with a kiss. “I’ll take care of you.”

As always. 

True to his word, your wonderful boyfriend began to shred himself of his clothes. With your voluntary assistance, of course. You gaped open-mouthed at the sight of his thick cock standing at attention against his stomach, lost for words and short of breath.

Never passing up the opportunity to tease you, Haechan chaffed, “Baby, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”

Heat wafted over you. Your voice was small, “Haechan…,”

“Shh. I know, baby. I know,” he whispered. 

Your lover kneeled between your thighs and you spread them for him instantly. Haechan smirked at how pliant you were. He never needed to ask, because it was simply second nature for your body to bend to his every will. 

He tapped his cock against your folds, asking, “How rough do you want it?”

“Break me,” you rasped without a second thought. 

Haechan grinned, full of mischief. 

He pushed in nice and slow, never wanting to hurt you. He lowered his head and met his lips to yours, kissing you as if it would distract you from the feeling of being slowly but surely stretched open. “Open up for me,” he hissed, pulse pumping at how tightly you gripped his cock, on the border of something vice-like. 

“You’re so… so big,” you choked out, anchoring yourself in the sheets with your nails. 

“Mm. Yeah?” Haechan asked, the slyest of smiles on his lips. “But you can take it. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You bobbed your head and your mouth parted, passing a soft moan. 

Haechan thought you wrapped around his bare cock too good, too withering and tight. He was sure pleasure of this magnitude only lived between you and him, irreplicable. Even so quickly you were making short work of him, leaving him with shackled self-restraint and half a mind to destroy what was left of you. 

You forwent the condoms roughly half a year into the relationship. Which was two and a half years ago. Though you took birth control pills and had no intention of becoming pregnant any time soon, if you were to have anyone’s baby, you knew it would only be your boyfriend’s. Thoughts of carrying his baby and raising a child together in your home plagued your mind, and you smiled from ear to ear. 

Your boyfriend glanced at you through his lashes and an invisible string tugged his heart at the sight of you. “What’re you smiling about?”

“You,” you said with hesitation. “I love you. And I want to love you forever.”

“Funny thing to say to the guy that’s about to wreck you.”

You rolled your eyes. It would kill him to be serious even for a second. You added, “He’s also the love of my life.”

Haechan softened. Only a little. “I love you, too,” he whispered, touch betraying his affectionate words as his fingers found purchase at the flesh of your hips. 

A grimace painted your face as Haechan sank his nails deeper and deeper. 

From that point on, Haechan fucked you as if he loathed all there was about you, save for your body. He kept a brutal pace, seemingly fucking you fuller and fuller of his cock with every passing push. Over your soft moans, you could hear his hips meeting yours with a loud, resounding thwack, and your cunt gushing hotly. 

Upon his death-grip, your lover’s name dangled from your tongue in dangerously sharp cries, sweet as honey and thick as tar. Your fingers scouted his biceps, desperate for some kind of anchorage. Haechan let out a dangerously low growl and you immediately tightened. For as long as you’d known him, your boyfriend had always been somewhere in the gray area between sadism and masochism. 

When asked about it, he told you, “There’s no such thing as pleasure without pain, baby. A very thin line separates the two.”

As twisted as it sounded, you agreed. 

The bed and your bodies performed in league to fill the void in the cabin, the former creaking with every reverberating slap of the latter meeting together. 

You were unapologetically vocal, but Haechan too sang his praises when balls deep inside you. At first, you were pleasantly surprised by his unabashed responses. Most of the guys you’d been with prior would stifle anything above a throaty groan. But when your body talked to him, he spoke back even louder. 

Your boyfriend never hid his affection for you. You were the reason he breathed everyday and he would let his body tell you as much. 

Haechan clamped his tanned arm around your throat and you whimpered. The chokehold was tight just enough to not harm you, but still have you begging for breath. He gave you nowhere else to look but his dark eyes, gleaming darkly with lust and lust only. 

He was all you could see. More specifically his eyes. Yours were locked there, unable to glance away. The only time they were out of sight was whenever your vision was peeling off at the edges by inevitable darkness. 

Haechan cocked his head a little, observing his creation. You were coming apart at the seams, eyes widened and lips parted, trying to take in oxygen. “Hard enough for you, baby?”

“Harder,” you managed to croak.  

Your boyfriend shook his head and laughed. Though nothing surprised him anymore. You took whatever he gave you with an insatiable kind of greed, as if there was no such thing as enough where he was involved. 

Even when sated, you only kept coming back for more. 

His pace was hard and unabating. A sharp cry split your lips when he bit your neck, nibbling at the flesh as he roughly fucked you into the mattress. You were unstill, a depthless well of ecstasy. Pleasure knew no boundaries. It was too greedy. It took, consumed, and it dominated. 

Haechan was right. There was a thin line between pain and pleasure and you were somewhere in the middle, teetering in between. 

The entire room was scorching. You soaked in the sight of sweat beading at your boyfriend’s forehead and gushed hotly around his cock, limbs locked together like a cluster of vines, hot skin on even hotter skin. Haechan’s grip on your throat slackened to hear you moan clearer when his tongue laced into you instead. 

You sweltered. And were positive that you would die. What a marvelous way to die, you thought humorously. With the love of your life by your side. You would have it no other way. 

Your back arched and you rocked your hips into his, desperate for more heat and friction. Only he could give it to you. 

That was how Haechan could tell you were close and he brought his fingers to your wet sex, strumming your swollen bundle of nerves. He was almost there and he wanted you to finish together. You cried out his name, clasping his biceps. 

“Cum. You know you want to,” Haechan hummed tauntingly. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips to draw him deeper inside. There was something about being at the brink of climax that rendered your entire body weak. Every piece of you was tempted into doing whatever he desired; whatever his heart desired. You wanted to please him. More than anything, you wanted to make him proud.

Haechan clamped his hands around your throat anew and that was all it took to finish you. Your mouth opened, crying his name as you finally crossed the threshold of orgasm. The tingles returned, prickling with the warm, pumping blood through your limbs. 

You gripped his cock and he came in turn, filling you to the brim with warmth with a sweet, high-pitched moan of your name. 

Haechan glanced over at you. He never got enough of the look on your pretty face when you shuddered, still throbbing and milking his cock dry until he eventually stilled inside you. You heaved for breath and his eyes soaked in your whole body, barely fighting a smile as he noticed all of the bruises and marks leftover. 

He never wanted to hurt you, but subconsciously, there was a part of him that found twisted pleasure. It meant you were his. He owned you, but you owned him. Every inch. 

For a while, you both only laid there, smiling and laughing at each other. Then, Haechan swooped you into his arms and muttered into the crook of your neck, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

You beamed. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Haechan replied, pressing the lightest of kisses to your lips. 

“No, I love you more.”

Haechan whined, “Jesus, woman. I love you more, and that’s final.”

The two of you continued to bicker as if you were teenagers in love for the very first time. It reminded you of the early stages of your relationship, stealing and prolonging time before the other had to leave by initiating an “I love you” battle. 

As the years passed, you learned to savor every moment you had together. Time became scarcer by the day. It was not to be had when you were two adults with heavy workloads. 

Your boss made it his mission to call you into work even on weekends. Before he died, at least. That was a couple of weeks ago and needless to say, you were not very disappointed. 

“Rest in hell,” you remembered your co-worker saying. To which you quipped, “No rest for the wicked.”

Haechan crawled back into bed with you after you were both all clean and the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. You could hardly remember the last time you had. It was always him after you or vice versa. Never together. 

This haunted campground trip would ironically prove to be a nice oasis in a busy stage of your lives, it seemed. 

A shrill scream penetrated the night and you were jolted awake. 

Haechan wiped at his tired eyes and his voice was thick with sleepiness, “Is that Winter screaming in terror, because of Jay, or was that Ten?” 

You nudged your boyfriend. “No, that’s definitely terror. The last time I heard that sound was when Winter walked in on Yuta taking a piss.”

“They all scream like girls.”

“You scream like a girl.”

Haechan whined, “Whose side are you on?” 

Laughing, you shoved the duvet off your bodies and said, “Come on. Let’s go make sure these woods aren’t actually haunted.”

“Or worse - Yuta didn’t forget to zip the bathroom door,” he quipped. 

You snickered. 

Your boyfriend caged you behind his body, insisting that he wanted you to flee in the presence of any actual danger, and he led you outside the cabin. A shroud of fog hung near the ground. The sky was darker than the last you’d seen, perpetually mistier.

Haechan sauntered over to Yuta with you in convey and asked, “What’s with all the raucous?” 

“Winter’s idea of a spooky Halloween,” Yuta said dryly, hands at his hips. 

Your eyes rose and you saw Winter pointing fingers and snickering at a dismayed Ten, hairs standing on end. You figured he must have been the latest victim of her scares. 

Ten’s chest heaved as he yelled, “You are not funny!” 

Winter stuck her tongue out, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Damn right. I’m hi-fucking-larious.”

Jaehyun walked by, chuckling, and announced with a bag of marshmallows in clutch, “Time for s’mores.” 

At the mention of s’mores, the six of you huddled together around the campfire like children at the distribution of sweet candy. Danger dissuaded none of you. Each of you were intent on treating this as a typical camping trip. Per your boyfriend’s idea, your phones were in a cardboard box in Ten and Yuta’s cabin for safekeeping, there were plenty of outdoor activities to keep you entertained, and you were going to spend the weekend bonding together. 

Chimera, as wicked as it may have been, was eerily beautiful. And its nature was on another level. 

“Calories,” Winter squealed rather fondly, clapping excitedly.

You soured the mood and said, “And cavities.”

Winter shot you a glare and had she not been on the other side of fire, she would have leapt over and nudged you in the elbow. 

Instead, your best friend replied coolly, “Don’t worry. I packed Jay and I’s toothbrushes. I sent a reminder in the group chat, so I hope you guys didn’t forget.” 

“I came extensively prepared,” Ten said, snatching a graham cracker from Jaehyun and shoving it in his mouth. Much to Winter’s amusement and Jaehyun’s chagrin. “I brought toothbrushes, books, water, ear plugs, flashlights…” 

Haechan interrupted, “Ear plugs?”

Ten scoffed, “Oh, yes. You and your girlfriend and Jaehyun and Winter are notorious for going all night. I’d rather die than hear those two getting dicked down.”

“You’re just jealous,” you snapped lightheartedly. 

Ten reached for a marshmallow and defended himself a little too swiftly, “Oh, honey. I get dicked down on the regular, but you guys have fun.”

Yuta leaned into your ear from the right and whispered, “And strapped down by you in his dreams.”

“I heard that,” Ten hissed. 

Yuta played innocent and said, “Heard what?” 

Your boyfriend heard it, too, but he only pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips, rubbing it in Ten’s face. 

For his comfort, the topic changed.

The treats began to cook at long last. Haechan made you a s’more, seeing as you were a camping amateur, and you merely watched with fondness twinkling in your eyes. You were so out of your mind in love with your boyfriend that even the simplest of gestures made your heart swell with warmth. 

For the second s’more, Haechan guided you. You stuffed a marshmallow on the tip of a roasting stick and he held your hands in his as you held it over the fire. “Not too close. You don’t want it to catch on fire,” were his words, a certain concentration in his eyes tempting your heart to leap into the wavering flames. 

Ensuing was a treat of chocolatey goodness. 

Your friends were laughing and telling jokes over the campfire and somehow you became so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t notice your third marshmallow was burning until it was too late. “I burned my marshmallow,” you announced with a frown. 

Yuta had finished up with his, but out of the kindness of his heart, offered to switch. “Have mine,” he insisted. 

“You’re too kind. Thank you,” you replied, appreciative. 

Then, you glanced over to your boyfriend, though he was still chattering with the rest of your friends. For a second, you thought it went unnoticed, but he laced his fingers through yours without a word and that was the end. 

You smiled. He was nothing like any of your past lovers. They were over-possessive and controlling, demanding your constant and undivided attention. Haechan, at worst, was a little clingy. 

He never got jealous over tiny, harmless gestures. The bar was so goddamn low, but finally having a normal guy made you prone to constant comparisons. He was totally chill when you were in the company of male friends and the only time he ever got upset was when you were hurt. 

Which was completely understandable. Instead of seeing you as an object to own, it represented his genuine respect and care for you. 

He’s the one, you thought with a stupid smile on your face. Even your parents agreed and were already calling him their son-in-law. Most people you dated prior didn’t even make it past the front lawn of their house. 

“Did you guys know that Chimera is actually named after a Greek mythical creature?” Ten asked, ever the bookworm. 

Jaehyun insincerely sneered, “Nerd.”

Ten ignored him with a roll of his eyes and continued, “In Greek mythology, the Chimera were fire-breathing creatures that appeared as a lion with a goat head on its back, and a snake for a tail.”

Haechan asked curiously, “Isn’t it also genetic mutations?”

“In biology, yes,” Ten said matter-of-factly. “It refers to organisms with several different genetic complications or DNA molecules with sequences from different organisms done by laboratories.”

“Wow. What a way to take us back to high school,” Yuta teased. 

You shook your head, intrigued. “No, no. I’m interested. Ten, continue.”

Ten flushed a little and his voice was quieter when he added, “Chimera also means a creature of the imagination. It’s something you dream of, but it’s a tantalizing, unattainable desire.”

Winter chimed in, “I’ve heard stories about Chimera. These woods particularly.”

“Me, too,” Jaehyun said. “The gruesome deaths, the questionable suicides. No wonder nobody wants to come out here, as beautiful as it is.”

You retorted, “Then, what does that make the six of us?”

They laughed. 

“I heard a girl killed herself in these very woods,” Yuta said, voice low over the crackling sound of fire. “But rumor has it she was actually slaughtered.”

“In the early nineteen-eighties. I remember,” Ten replied, slightly unnerved. 

Haechan snickered. “You weren’t even born yet.”

“I read a lot.”

That was obvious. 

Winter whispered eerily, “They say that sometimes you can still hear her footsteps dragging across the dirt, lurking in the night’s darkness.” 

Perfectly on cue, there was an eerie sound from the woods and you couldn’t convince yourself that you were the only one to hear it because each of your heads whipped around all at once. Haechan instinctively coiled an arm around you, prepared to protect you even against the soul of a girl that killed herself forty years ago if he could. 

Or maybe she really didn’t commit suicide. Maybe her killer painted her death as a suicide and now she was seeking revenge on humankind for not seizing the murderer. 

You immediately scolded yourself for being so silly. There was no such thing as ghosts or monsters. You believed in one evil and it was the human race. It’s probably just a squirrel or something, you reassured yourself. A squirrel with painfully inconvenient timing. 

Glancing between your boyfriend, Jaehyun, Ten, and Yuta, you said, “And what the hell are the four of you sitting around for? You’re the men! Go investigate.”

Ten was purely dismayed by the mere thought. “And because I’m a man I should be sacrificed to the devil? Absolutely not. This is how people die in horror movies. They go around poking their nose into places they have no business when they should be running for their lives.”

“Let’s go together,” Haechan said, throwing you all assertive glances. 

There was some reluctance, but you all begrudgingly agreed. As they say, no man left behind. Haechan still kept you flush to his chest, as did Jaehyun with Winter. He had his burly arms coiled above her hips. 

“There’s no girl in the woods,” Yuta murmured under his breath. But you heard him through the thick, strained silence. 

Jaehyun quipped, “Who knows. Maybe there’s one for you and you’ll stop showing my girlfriend your penis.”

Yuta retorted, “She’s the one that walks in on me. Maybe your girlfriend wants to see my penis.”

“Please be quiet,” Winter whined. 

Jaehyun, on a mission to be the world’s greatest boyfriend (and a few places behind, in your biased opinion), silenced himself on command and tightened his clasp below her ribs. He wasn’t all too convinced that there was a ghost in the woods, but he wanted to ease her. It was far more likely that you were all overthinking the sound of some animal minding its business. 

Your boyfriend had the exact same idea and held you even tighter. Whenever in the face of danger, his first instinct was - and would always be - to protect you. Only over his dead body would he allow harm to come your way. 

But even in his soothing embrace there was still a sinister energy that plagued you, alerting you that there was something amiss here. Fog blurred your vision and darkness wore at it, making it difficult to see clearly. 

Ten was prepared as always and turned on one of those flashlights he had mentioned earlier. He handed it to your boyfriend, the one currently leading your pack of six. 

Ever courageous, he led each of you through the night’s wilderness, your pulse thumping in your body the entire time. For whatever reason, the fear in you was unshakable. You had no clue where it emerged from, but it completely unnerved you. 

A sound of twigs snapping stunned you all and Haechan shone the light at a tree where the noise seemed to come from, just quick enough to see a squirrel scurrying up a tree trunk. As far as any of you could tell, it was the same tree the first noise sounded from. Haechan assuringly declared, “It was just a squirrel.”

Your breaths came easier. Exactly what you suspected, but it would never hurt to be one-hundred percent sure. Though even with that burden off your shoulders, unease still penetrated you. 

Jaehyun, Yuta, and your boyfriend seemed fearless, while Ten and Winter were relieved that they’d been frightened over nothing. But you were still not entirely convinced. 

Was it only you? 

The rumors and spooky stories are getting to my head. That’s all, you consoled yourself. You’re in apparently haunted woods. Woods alone are scary enough, haunted or not. And this is your first time. Fear is natural. 

Each of you turned around and headed back to the campfire you hadn’t dared strayed too far from and sensing your unease from a mile away, Haechan pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Don’t be scared, baby girl. If any monster pops out, it will have to get through me before it hurts you,” he whispered softly in your ears. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt, either,” you huffed, voice muffled as you put your head in your boyfriend’s chest. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he told you sweetly. “I’ve been told I resemble a bear. The worst-case scenario is one attacks the trashcan and I have to communicate with it to discourage it.”

“And what if it’s a wolf?” 

Haechan tightened his hold on you, purring, “Well, I’ve also been told I’m big and bad.”

You snickered. Leave it to your wonderful boyfriend to melt your worries away with his equally brilliant humor. He made you forget why you had even been so scared in the first place, all by kissing you and making you laugh. 

The six of you decided you’d had your fill of spooky stories for one night and retired to your cabins for bed. You heard more than a couple of noises from the cabin across from you - Jaehyun and Winter’s - and promptly wished you would have also had the brilliant idea of bringing some noise-cancellation headphones. 

Fortunately for you, your boyfriend was a self-proclaimed genius (and maybe once or twice you fed his ego and agreed), and had an even better idea. He fucked you so hard that you tuned out the rest of the world, unable to hear anything over both of your own moans. 

In the morning, you woke up and took your time to crawl out of bed. Haechan had worn you out and you could still feel the soreness in your thighs from the night before. Not to mention the gentle morning sex you dreamed of, moans soft over the sound of birds tweeting quietly. 

It was closer to afternoon when you finally went outside and got some sunlight. Everyone was in their own atmosphere. You ate breakfast and listened to mother nature for a while. 

There was a lake walking distance from the campground and one of the boys called out your name, boarding two three-person canoes. You recognized the voice as Jaehyun’s and he asked, “Wanna go canoeing with us?”

You mulled it over, but noticing Ten’s eyes on you was all the discouragement you needed. Each of the four boys were aboard, including your boyfriend. Ten was as dear a friend to you as the other two, but that was it. No part of you wanted to make things even more awkward and strained in the friendship than they already were. 

Though you and Haechan may not have dropped any comments, Ten’s lingering eyes were definitely not lost on either of you. Besides, being with a bunch of guys was not your idea of a vacation well-spent. You refused to leave Winter alone at a potentially haunted campground. 

For that reason, you had a feeling that Jaehyun was only asking to tease Ten, but you declined the offer nonetheless and said sweetly, “I’m good. I’ll stay and keep Winter company. You guys have some brotherly bonding time.”

The boys told you to have fun and you bid them likewise. 

You immediately scouted Winter afterwards and found her taking pictures of wildflowers. Unnoticed, you decided to slowly creep towards her, but your fun was ruined when she said without turning around, “I know you’re there. You can’t beat the master at her own game.”

You frowned.

Winter turned around, smirking at the fact that she’d caught you with your trousers down. “What’s up, bestie?”

You flopped against a blanket she’d sprawled across the ground. “Do you think Ten likes me?” you asked, fidgeting. 

“As more than a friend? Definitely,” your best friend said, coming to join you. “Jaehyun told me the boys are going canoeing. I can only hope Haechan doesn’t try to drown him.”

You knew she was only being funny, but the thought made you shiver. Of course, you knew your boyfriend well and he would never. The trust you had in each other was all needed to comfort him and to know that you were all his was more than enough. 

He could be possessive, but not over-possessive. He liked to stake his claim to you, holding you and kissing you in front of people so they knew you were his, and leaving visible marks on your neck in  your alone time for the same purpose. He never demanded your complete attention, as much as he adored being in the center. 

Tiny gestures never made him feel bitter. You had no painful memories of your boyfriend’s jealousy. The opposite, rather. He fucked you extra hard until he felt better. 

You fought a smirk. At worst, he was a little meaner than usual. But damn it did you like it when he was mean and rough. 

You defended your boyfriend and said, “My boyfriend is an angel. He doesn’t get jealous.”

“Your boyfriend is a Gemini. Duh, he gets jealous,” Winter argued teasingly, seeing dead through you. A silent understanding passed between you. She liked the jealousy sex, too. “He was so mad at me yesterday.”

“That’s because he was angry. Not jealous. You hurt me and he hates when I’m hurt.” 

“Whatever,” your best friend replied, fondling with her camera that Jaehyun bought her for her birthday this January. “Wouldn’t it be funny if I reviewed the pictures and I saw a ghost?”

You grimaced. “That’s one way to put it. For sure.”

“Okay, maybe not funny. But I don’t think these woods are haunted. I believe the stories about the suicides and murders, but evil spirits? That’s a humongous stretch.”

Never mind yesterday’s confidence. Now, you only shuddered. Though you wanted to agree, there was something about these woods that rubbed you the completely wrong way. And it wasn’t only the tales of ghosts. There was an intangible kind of fear ready to consume you. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t put your finger on where it stemmed from. 

That was unnerving to you. Only the weekend before, you were more than excited. There was no telling what traps laid waiting in Chimera, much less its woods, which made you all the more determined to unravel its mystery. 

Now, you wanted to leave the knots as tangled as they’d been discovered. 

“I guess,” you told Winter. If she thought nothing of the environment, then there was a chance you were overthinking it all. 

Winter heaved a pleased sigh. “It’s hard to imagine anyone could taint such a beautiful place with blood,” she said, gesturing around to Mother Nature’s handiwork.

 “That sounded strangely poetic,” you replied, feeling as if you were in some sort of murder mystery novel. 

Winter snickered. “As my favorite writer once said, ‘believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.’”

You gave your best friend a look and asked expectantly, “And what does Edgar Allan Poe have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” Winter shrugged her shoulders. “I just found it fitting.” 

You laughed a little. In spite of its reputation, Chimera was by far one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen. Unsurprisingly, however, that alone wasn’t enough to attract tourists. When you checked the campground website, you ironically noticed they used its hauntedness as promotion to lure campers. 

Clearly, it was working. 

You found it interesting that Chimera was predominantly grass and trees. There were some signs of civilization, as you’d notice on the way to the campground, though mainly towards the center. Areas placed on the periphery of the town were especially rural. 

For instance, the woods. Wildflowers consumed your vision and you understood why Winter was at peace here. You bit your lip. You didn’t want to be a buzz kill, but asked quietly, “Do you ever get the feeling that something you fear is hiding in plain sight?”

Winter nudged you gently. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s just… I don’t know,” you exhaled frustratedly. “Something about this place keeps me on my toes.” 

“Do you think that girl was killed here?” 

You shrugged, trying to feign some semblance of nonchalance. “I think it would be easy to kill anybody here and get away with it. Think about it. There’s a lot of empty land to cover. Easier to live off the grid. You could be abducted from the mainland and no one would ever find you.”

“Okay, you’re thinking too hard,” Winter quipped with a wince. “I get why you’re scared, babe. But I also think you’re supposed to feel that way. For obvious reasons. What you need is a little distraction.”

That made you well with curiosity. “Like what?”

The second the boys were back from canoeing you and your best friend made a beeline to boyfriends, as if you couldn’t wait another. Winter had insisted only moments ago that good dick was all the distraction you needed and as badly as you wanted to make a spiteful argument, you had none to offer. 

But you also wanted to simply talk to Haechan for a while. Not only was he a lover, but a friend wrapped into one. Your boyfriend had a natural ability to abate your fears, but he was also someone that would listen to them and help you wrap your head around them.

You fought a snicker at how badly that made him sound like a therapist. After this trip, you had a feeling you might’ve needed one. 

Haechan sensed there was something off even from the other side of the lake and coiled an arm around below your ribs as soon as he got a chance, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes flickered. “How’d you know?”

“Gut feeling,” Haechan said with a shrug. “I know when my baby’s suffering. Talk to me.” 

Your heart promptly ricocheted against your ribcage. You glanced around. Jaehyun and Winter had already snuck off to their cabin for some loving while Yuta and Ten were chattering about whatever, but you still were in need of some privacy. 

You slithered into his arms and murmured, “I wanna be alone. With you.”

“There’s a nice little two-mile trail over here. Takes you around and back from over that way. We could shortcut it and be back in about thirty minutes or take the long way and come back in about sixty.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, gesturing for him to lead the way. 

Going deeper into the forbidden woods was not your idea of resolving your fears, but the marvelous landscape gave you little room for complaints. Plus, being there with your boyfriend was almost romantic. 

There was something about all this beauty that made you fear what was cloaked beneath. 

Haechan was very patient with you and for a while you both walked in silence, absorbing your surroundings until he said, “Ready to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know what it is, really. But this place gives me the creeps and I can’t explain why. It just does.” 

“It’s not just the reputation, is it?” Haechan asked, seeing right through you. 

It was almost scary how perfectly Haechan could piece you together. Nobody had you more figured out than he did. “You read me so well,” you murmured. 

Haechan chuckled. “I call it the fear of the unknown. You don’t know what’s out there, so anything could be out there. The shit we fear is often the same shit we can’t control, and that’s why it scares us.”

“Does the unknown scare you?” 

“No,” Haechan said, but draped an arm over you as a reminder you weren’t alone. “I like unpredictability. Anything could happen. But I understand why it terrifies some people.”

You teased, “Then, what are you afraid of?”

Your boyfriend’s tone and response in general was a hell of a lot more sober than you were expecting, “Stagnation and routine. I hate being confined to patterns. You already know that, though.”

That you did. Haechan mentioned he was considering switching jobs solely because he wanted more flexibility in life. The pay was nice and so was the insurance and paid vacations, but something had to give. 

You supported him wholeheartedly, of course. Haechan never minded change and would have no problem adjusting, plus only having weekends (and scarce vacations) to each other was a ginormous test of your patience. He wanted more out of life. If he couldn’t spend it with you, then he saw little point. 

“Is that all?” you pressed. He was brave, but not fearless. The reminder was very warm to you. And strangely comforting. 

Haechan said without hesitation, “And losing you because of them.”

Damn it. Now, your heart was racing. It was no question how your boyfriend managed to sweep you off your feet. He was full of endless charm and sincerity. There was a kind of passion to him about you that was undeniable and never questionable. 

You abandoned your self-restraint at the campground and rose off the heels of your shoes, meeting your lips to his. He had to be out of his goddamn mind if he thought he would lose you any time soon. There was no way in hell you would be capable of replacing him. In a world without your boyfriend, you would rather die lonely. 

There was also something about learning your boyfriend’s fears that took the edge off your own. Maybe whatever they were rooted in was much simpler. This place spooked you because of the reputation attached. That was all. 

And now that you were making out with your boyfriend, his heavy hands on your hips, you really couldn’t have given less of a damn about these woods. 

He had the same idea and pulled you over by a tree. For a second, you clung onto your mind long enough to wonder what in the hell you were doing. Then, you lost it just as quickly. There was nothing but trees and plants out here. And maybe a couple of animals that would soon be traumatized. With the coast clear, you were welcome to be as reckless as you liked. 

Haechan instructed, “Knees.” 

You wasted absolutely no time in scrambling to your knees, what was left of your mind too warped to give a damn about the twigs crunching beneath your kneecaps. As always, you wanted to pleasure him and make him proud. Whatever the price may have been, you’d gladly pay it. No matter the sacrifice. 

Your boyfriend was amused, though not at all surprised when you hurriedly reached for his pants, tugging them down before he got the chance to give the order. You wanted to taste that big dick down your throat. 

There was something about Haechan’s size that made your mouth water and gape, ripe and ready, though also left you clenching around nothing at all. Obviously, you’d seen it a number of times before, but the element of surprise was a constant, non-changing factor. Damn it, you would never get tired of his cock. 

Haechan noticed the dazed look in your eyes and smirked. He tapped his cock against your lips and said, “Do you got it, or do you want me to fuck your throat?” 

“I’m going to suck the soul out of you,” you said with an unwavering kind of confidence. 

Haechan gave a snicker. He fisted your hair behind your head and you swiftly got to work, wasting not another second to swirl your tongue around the base of his cock. You liked riling him up, liked taking your time to draw him between your lips and you knew your boyfriend liked it, too. No matter how much he bitched and whined.

“Fuck,” Haechan whined when your tongue teased the tip. He was hard as bricks, which took pretty much nothing to happen whenever you were involved. 

You took his noises with delight, doing your best to ignore the tireless thumping between your plush thighs. As a distraction, you finally drew him inside your mouth, steadily swallowing him inch by damn inch as a measure to prevent yourself from gagging. Your cheeks were hollowed, breath entering through your nose. 

Haechan’s grip on your hair tightened as he hissed, a telltale sign you were doing something very right. Your mouth was so unfathomably darn warm around his size that he was beginning to lose his mind, but to be frank, he lost it the very same day he met you. 

A part of him used to hope that you would give it back, but insanity was a close friend of his now. Or maybe it was the dormant monster living eternally inside him, roused by you for whatever reason. And it was ravenously hungry. 

A kind of greed came over and dominated you, possessing you to suck him like you genuinely intended to suck the soul out of him. As many times as you’d done it before, there could only be so much of his soul still there, though not pleasure. Pleasure was forever and always. “Just like that,” Haechan moaned, basking in the heat of your tongue pressed to his cock. 

His praises only spurred you on. There was nothing you liked more than knowing how good you could make your boyfriend feel. Between the two of you lay a ride-or-die bond that nobody else would ever fathom. Even you somehow couldn’t comprehend how or why he drove you so crazy. You only knew you would do unspeakable things to please your boyfriend and sucking him off in the woods was far from the most bizarre thing on the list of shit you were willing to do. 

You made eye contact with a traumatized rabbit for a whole second and it was all you could do to keep yourself from laughing and spoiling the mood. You gripped the base of Haechan’s cock, sucking him and stroking him all the while. 

None of this should’ve had you dripping the way it did, but you could feel yourself only getting even wetter. You gagged a couple of times (with his size, it was inevitable) but never stopped, a sting of tears in your eyes forming out of twisted pleasure. 

Haechan liked looking down and seeing you on your knees way too much, his dick in your mouth and your tear-stained face glancing back up at him. Fuck, you knew what it did to him when you looked at him like that. 

Like a pretty little thing warped completely by him. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Haechan said, tugging your hair. You hissed, but as he once said, there was no pleasure without pain. Nowhere did you say you didn’t get a thrill out of the sting. “Shit, baby. Are you gonna take it?”

You bobbed your head, humming around him and having a laugh smothered when he promptly made a noise of pleasure. He always wanted to last longer, but you made short work of him. A weakness if he knew one. 

Noting that he was close to his peak, you pulled out all the stops to bring him to sweet release as quickly as possible. You loved witnessing your boyfriend disentangle, loved when he was running on empty without an inch of self-control. Haechan was at his worst here, rutting against your mouth to meet your pace with a roughness that never ceased to make you gag. 

He was fucking your throat nice and hard, pulling your hair to use as he so pleased until the pleasure became so great that he couldn’t hold back anymore, a wave of warm cum painting your tongue. He never stopped fucking your mouth until his orgasm passed completely, high-pitched moans making you pulse rapidly. You swallowed as much as you could, not wanting to dirty your clothes and leave evidence of your lewd behavior. 

Haechan pulled out eventually, chest undulating as he recovered from his orgasm, though he never forgot to ask, “You good?”

You nodded, wiping saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“I hope you’re ready to get fucked,” Haechan said, helping you to your feet. Which made you snicker. If fucking in the woods was crazy, you were both out of your goddamn mind in love. 

You moaned when Haechan kissed you again and you grabbed his cock in your palms, stroking him hard anew all the while. The longer you waited, the less you could ignore the fire igniting between your thighs that ached to be taken care of. 

Haechan shoved you against the tree after a while and didn’t bother to slide your panties down, only slipping them to the side, courtesy of your skirt. Your palms dug into rough bark and he instead cuffed your wrists in his own hand, tightening them at your backside. He steered his cock to your entrance with the other, your arousal making it all too easy to skid right inside. 

Your moans were instantaneous. Haechan stroked deeper and deeper until every inch was utterly nested inside your sweet cunt, his cock disappearing inside. He took pleasure in stretching you open, because even after fucking you time and time again, your cunt never seemed to get any less tight. He always had to coax his way inside, no matter how wet you were. 

“Haechan,” you stammered, mouth hanging wide open with moans of his name. 

As much as he liked hearing you moan his name, Haechan clamped his palm over your mouth, smothering your sounds while still keeping your arms locked behind your back. 

Though you and your boyfriend had admittedly had sex in a number of places, some debatably strange, the middle of the haunted woods undoubtedly took the cake. The view was nice. You had to admit that it was somewhat romantic being fucked by your boyfriend against a tree while staring at an array of vibrant plants and pretty skies. And being out in the open aroused you a little more than it should have. 

Your body shuddered when he released your wrists to cup a palmful of your breasts, slipping his hand beneath your shirt and his finger kneading your nipple. “You’re so beautiful like this,” Haechan exhaled. Even now, he sometimes struggled to comprehend that he could call someone as beautiful as you were his, but he would be damned if he let anyone snatch away his girl. 

You listened contentedly to the sound of Haechan’s low groans of pleasure and sticks being crumbled beneath your toes as he pounded into you roughly, your fingernails finding purchase in the tree’s gnarled surface. All you could do was whimper, rooted in place and left to take all he gave you. 

Haechan hit a deep spot and you cried into his palm, a weakness making your head spin with dizziness. He simply had a power over you, goddamn it. Your body could never get enough, a depthless well of lust and arousal in the face of your boyfriend. 

As if he could hear whatever your muffled voice said in the crook of his palm, Haechan’s pace quickened, fucking you tirelessly with a passion that could never be sated. You wallowed in the sound of his hips slamming into yours with a sharp, wet slap. There was no denying what was happening if anyone made the unfortunate mistake of walking by.

Fortunately, your only company were harmless animals and possibly a couple of wandering ghosts. 

The harder you were fucked, the harder it was to stand on your own. Haechan took and took from your body but left a crushing kind of pleasure that rendered you weak and another indescribable feeling, smothering you with the unknown sensation. But instead of fear, it aroused a dangerous curiosity within you. 

“So good for me,” Haechan moaned, draping his lips over your already mark-stained neck. Your entire body was nearly coated in dark bruises ensuing after a long session of fucking and sucking and love-making. “You always gotta feel so damn good.”

His palm slacked on your mouth and you whimpered, “Baby, too much.”

Haechan slowed himself for a second and asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head and ironically whimpered at his slower pace. God, no. You wanted Haechan to fuck you numb. 

He snickered and picked back up his quickened rhythm. “That’s my girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Take it for me, baby.”

Never had your body ever felt so stimulated and alive, every muscle taut with pleasure. It was a lot, but you took it like a champ, loving the way your boyfriend’s thick girth filled you up, hard and stiff. Fire set you ablaze, heat igniting at the vortex of your thighs and shooting through you like a bundle of fireworks. You were smothered by heat, scorching all over. 

Your bodies were on autopilot, sweat beading at the surface of your skin and making your clothes adhere. You were sticky with sweat and arousal and eventually bits of Haechan’s cum, the part you were most excited for. The thought of your boyfriend emptying his balls into you alone was more than enough to make your walls clamp around his cock, wanting to literally milk him dry. You moaned in anticipation. 

“Want you to cum,” you whimpered, body thumped forward with every heavy thrust inside you. “Baby, please. I wanna make you cum.”

Haechan bit his lip when he heard you beg. Why did you have to be so damn sexy? It was the perfect way to bring him over the edge. “Gotta take care of my girl first, baby,” he whispered sweetly in your ear. 

As soon as those words escaped his mouth, you finally noticed how close you were, body under pressure and ready to snap. You could hardly even stand upright on your own, knees very liable to giving in (and more sore than you could notice over numbing pleasure). You were prepared to be broken beyond reclaim. 

“Baby, I…”

“I know,” Haechan shushed you with a sweet peck to your cheek. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

That was all you needed to hear before you couldn’t fight release anymore and it toppled over, draping over you in totality. You came so hard that tears began to well from your eyes, your hands desperately clinging to the tree bark, bruises ready to form all over. Haechan brought his palm back over your mouth quick enough to smother a prolonged, sated scream. 

He whispered praises in your ear even your body slackened, limp against the tree but still letting him use you as needed. You were trembling with anticipation, restless as you waited for him to fill you to the brim. “Baby, please,” you begged. “Fill me up. Fill me up...,”

Haechan developed a ruthless pace now, absorbed in your desperate chants and the way your pussy pulsed around his cock, endeavoring to trigger his climax. He was tangled in the heat of you, dangerously close and gripping your hips so harshly you whined, “Fuck,” into his palm. 

Soon enough, listening to the sound of your sweet voice and muffled cries got the best of him and Haechan’s hips stilled inside, cock twitching with orgasm and promptly releasing hotly inside you. He gave a long hiss while you sighed pleasantly, satisfied at long last. 

Your boyfriend cleaned you up while you rested against the tree, feeling lightheaded. He ensured your skirt was in place and brushed off tiny specks of dirt that had clung to your knees. Haechan, as always, was restless, but you were still trying to catch your breath from the hell of a nut that he had only now given you. 

And you could feel his release still warm between your thighs, caught in your panties. 

You were as fucked out as you looked and he wallowed in the darkly arousing sight of you, evidence of what happened etched across your face no matter the length you went to hide. 

Haechan fought a sly grin and asked, “Ready?” 

You nodded. But when you went to walk, you reeled. Tomorrow was Sunday and that morning you would be kissing these woods goodbye, but you had a feeling your boyfriend would leave you too sore to work come Monday. 

Not that you were complaining. You could only wonder if that was part of his master plan. 

“Disgusting,” Winter sneered lightheartedly when she noticed you limping back to the campground. 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m sure you and Jaehyun gave the boys a lot to raise hell about while we were gone.” 

Jaehyun, directly beside his girlfriend, pulled her into his arms and said, “Hey, it’s not my baby’s fault she’s loud.”

Winter hummed in agreement. “Right. It’s his.”

“Who’s disgusting now,” you remarked with a playful grimace. 

Haechan - for once in his entire life - was silent, too focused on helping you to a shower. He only chuckled a little and ushered you away to take good care of you.

You felt a hell of a lot more refreshed once you cleaned up and had a change of clothes, though ironically energetic. When in need of a nap, Haechan  fucking the shit out of you plus a nice bath usually did the trick (although the bathroom luxuries were limited outdoors), but somehow you were given a burst of energy. 

Though not too long ago you were spooked by what lay in hiding in these woods, there was now a rain cloud of dread and sadness hanging over you when you realized this trip would be ending all too soon. You were having way too much fun in the company of your friends and boyfriend. The last thing you wanted was for it to end.

This place was growing on you. And now that it had, it was almost time to leave. The goddamn irony. 

You stepped outside. Jaehyun and your boyfriend were firing up the grill and Yuta was talking to a squirrel (you would rather not ask), meanwhile Winter was strangely nowhere to be seen. But Ten was at the empty campfire, spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose as he flipped pages of a rather thick novel. 

You chuckled. It was almost endearing. Some things never changed. 

Your contemplative face was on. The conversation would have to be had one way or another. That much you knew. Your options were clear, though dull. Either address the elephant in the room, or create a rift in your relationship with willful ignorance. 

So, you hauled ass right over to that campfire. 

Ten was startled by your sudden presence and given the circumstances, he was prepared to give someone an earful over the unannounced interruption, but swiftly silenced himself when he noticed it was you who’d come to his side. 

You winced when you noticed his jumpy reaction. “Sorry. Did I scare you?” 

“No,” Ten lied and put his book face down. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk.”

That kindled his interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly. “What are you reading?”

“This book about the cycle of darkness and light. It’s in German. It’s about how the light replenishes what the darkness steals, but the darkness will always undo it again regardless.”

That genuinely piqued your curiosity. “Sounds deep.”

“Oh, yes. There are plenty of figurative details about hope and hiding your quote-unquote darkness to other people. The author likens human beings to the moon. We all have a dark side, but other people only see the lit part of us,” Ten said, and you beamed at his enthusiasm. “The part we want them to see.”

You leaned over to notice the novel was indeed in German. And impressed that he could comprehend it nonetheless. “Do you have a hidden dark side?”

“‘We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.’”

“François de La Rochefoucauld,” you replied, recognizing the quote. 

Ten stared at you, wide-eyed. “You know?” 

You nodded with a smile. “He also said, ‘true love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen.’”

Ten went dangerously silent and you knew you’d struck a sore spot, but you weren’t done applying pressure. 

You continued, “You’re a really good friend, Ten. And a great guy.”

“Don’t.” 

You cocked your head. “Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t be nice! Don’t be you,” Ten whispered frustratedly, standing to his feet. Which you did suit. “Do you know you’re the only person in this world who’s never laughed at me?”

It was your turn to be quiet now. Tension had a heavy hand clamped over your mouth. 

“You’ve never mocked me. Never made fun of me. The only time you’ve made me feel less than someone else is when you and Haechan got together. Even then, none of it was your fault.”

Grabbing his hand, you crooned, “I’m sorry.” 

That only exasperated Ten even more and he swatted your hand away, though careful not to hurt you, and hurriedly scooped his things into his arms. “Just stop. Don’t let me down gently. You’ll only make it harder on me.”

Ten stormed off before you could get another word in and you merely stood there, riveted in place. You glanced around and were relieved that nobody seemed to notice, but a sour sensation broiled in your gut as you wondered if you’d only rubbed salt in all the wrong wounds. 

For fuck’s sake. Maybe it would have been a better idea to wait until you’d left the campground. At least then you wouldn’t have potentially ruined his whole trip. 

Jaehyun passed out hotdogs as they were coming off the grill and everyone gathered together for an early dinner, but Ten was still nowhere to be seen. Yuta came to their shared cabin and offered him food, but he denied it, sulking all alone. 

“I mean, shit. What did you do to him?” Yuta asked you once he returned. 

You gave him a hard glare and ignored the question. “You guys should be nicer to Ten. He’s a little sensitive right now,” you scolded, then turned to face your boyfriend who was sitting directly next to you. “You, too.”

Haechan threw his hands up. “Yes, ma’am.”

You gave a prolonged exhale. It was no secret Ten had a mean crush on you, though you had denied it for as long as possible. Now that you’d confronted the issue at hand, it blew up in your face. For that reason, there was another unsettling feeling coming alive in the pit of your stomach, making your skin crawl. 

But this time, you knew why. Ironically, you couldn’t tell if that was worse. 

Nothing else was seemingly out of place and the evening carried on as usual, but you were definitely on edge. The shorter days meant an earlier sunset and by the time the sky dimmed pitch-black, most of the others had retreated to their respective cabins, in favor of escaping the approaching threat of bloodthirsty mosquitoes. 

Except for you and your boyfriend, who approached you carrying two glasses of champagne and handing you one.

You accepted the glass and gave him a look. “And what are we celebrating?”

“Making it through the weekend. Alive,” Haechan joked, taking a seat next to you. 

“Mm. You know what champagne does to me.”

He nodded, like that was the whole point. “Yeah. I expect your hands to be all over me in five minutes tops.”

You snickered and sipped from your glass quietly. Haechan placed a cool hand on your thigh, a stark contrast from the raging heat of the campfire crackling merely inches away from you. The sensation was very welcome. 

There was no one around save for you, your boyfriend, and a large number of still trees. Haechan was usually full of conversation, but he was too preoccupied in drawing circles on your bare thighs, caught in how much he loved them. You smiled slyly. The feeling was mutual. Your boyfriend had some thick ass thighs.

Then, your thoughts were dark, and you frowned at the reminder of the terrible dread reeling like a vortex in your belly. “Ten likes me.”

“No offense, baby. But I think you were the last person to figure that out.”

You frowned. “I think I always knew, but I didn’t want to accept it. Because I value the friendship him and I have and I didn’t want that bond to be broken. I still can’t really believe he has feelings for me.”

“I don’t see what’s so surprising,” Haechan said, glancing up from your thighs to look you plain in the eye. “You’re a likable person, babe. I say the guy has taste. Too bad you’re already mine.”

Your lover more or less played compassionate, but you could tell he didn’t actually feel too bad about the situation. Or much of anything for that matter. Funnily enough, that kindled a kind of uncertainty in you. “Doesn’t it make you angry?” you asked curiously, threading your fingers through his bright head of hair.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would it? I already know you’re all mine,” Haechan reasoned. “I don’t need any affirmation because I know I own your mind, body, and soul. It’s like I have you under a spell.”

Maybe the champagne had you under a spell, because you swore he looked even better than normal, skin glimmering courtesy of the crackling fire. You could see an identical inferno irate in his pretty brown eyes, blood-hungry and spiraling alarmingly out of control. You knew damn well you were playing with fire, but for whatever reason, you were dangerously in love with the burn. 

Your lover’s lips attacked you and you submitted to his touch, within the firing line of danger. Your hands found his body promptly, desperate for warmth, and Haechan smirked because he had predicted as much. 

He could never scare you. The more you uncovered about him, the deeper you fell into some depthless pile of doom. 

Haechan coiled one arm around your backside while the other skirted between your thighs, grabbing a feel of your clothed arousal. You moaned, already getting wetter. “You do realize this is our third time today alone?” 

“What can I say? I’m addicted to you,” Haechan said, kneading between your thighs and watching your lips fall with a pleased exhale. 

You kept touching and sucking each other until Haechan inevitably got a little too riled up hearing your sweet moans and gently pressed you against the thick log, a blanket already draped above. Strangely, time seemed to move slower, like the whole world was frozen over and there was no one else there. Nobody to interrupt your reckless fun. 

A tinge of heat blossomed inside your chest, rapidly spreading elsewhere when your boyfriend plucked your shirt and bra and started to kiss his way down your breasts. You clasped your palms on his shoulders, soft little sighs still doing a number on him as he nibbled at your flesh, cock growing harder. 

Just thinking about all the many times Haechan fucked you into oblivion had you in a drunken stupor and you begged demurely, “Please, baby.” There was nothing you weren’t willing to do if it meant he would stop drawing out the inevitable, no matter how good his kisses were. 

Haechan swore loudly and shoved a hand down your shorts, breaking the barriers and feeling your arousal coating his fingers. Did you always have to be so impatient and wet? Your head tipped back with a moan, body arching against his touch. 

You whimpered in surprise when Haechan brought you to a stand to sweep the blanket over the grassy ground and again when he pulled you to the surface, grabbing your shorts by the band and promptly tossing them aside. Haechan made sure you were far away enough from the fire not to be a safety hazard, but close enough for light and warmth. 

Not that you need very much of the latter. Your boyfriend touching you kindled sparks in your body hot enough to make you sweat all over. 

Your boyfriend hungrily stripped you both of your underwear and then lined his hard cock at your entrance, slippery with your own slick. In your mind, an eternity seemed to pass before he winded inside, and you clung tightly to your breath before you lost it forever. 

Haechan leaned below all the while, leaving a trail of sweet kisses up your stomach. You moaned loudly, arching into his touch, somehow feeling an elated sense of pleasure. You were blatantly more aware of his cock pressed deeply into your vice-like cunt, and your legs locked around his hips, pulling him even deeper. 

There was something new. Drunk sex with your boyfriend was always fun, but it wasn’t this. It was sloppier. It was teeth accidentally clashing and giggling into each other’s mouths. 

None of that was happening. Instead, every sensation was a million times more unrestrained and for a second you wondered if you were making it all up in your head or if your boyfriend was simply that good at pleasuring you. 

The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come, because you were too distracted by Haechan’s warm breath on your neck, tickling the flesh as he whispered a bunch of sweet nothings into your ear, full aware that it would bring you over the edge. You felt like a mad woman, unsure of anything and everything except for how perfect it felt to be in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You feel so good,” Haechan moaned into your ear, and if you hadn’t already spiraled out of control, you sure as hell had now. 

“Fuck. God, Haechan,” you whimpered, too overwhelmed. How in the hell could he feel so good? Every inch of you was sensitive, but every sensation was heightened. “I fucking love this.”

You were half-tempted to pinch yourself to determine if you were lucid dreaming, but then Haechan dug his sharp nails into your hips and you instantly knew there was no denying you were very awake. 

Haechan poorly stifled a snicker and watched the bounce of your breasts as he stroked deeper and deeper. A wavering orange hue casted over your body and highlighted the irrefutable evidence of pleasure on your pretty face, courtesy of the campfire. 

Lord have mercy, you were beautiful. Nothing made him prouder than being able to call you his girl. No woman before you had ever left him so love-struck, so downright in love. You made him crazy in a way that he would never fathom, but what he did know was that he was in over his head and not even death could part you. 

A thought crossed your mind and incited a lustful greed within you, and you grabbed Haechan’s bicep, whimpering, “Haechan, stop.” 

That pulled him out of his little pleasure-induced stupor and Haechan ground to a halt, quickly scanning your face for any sign of discomfort he might’ve missed in his trance. Needless to say, he came short of answers.

“I wanna be on top,” you explained, making him pull out and lay beneath you now. “Just sit back and relax.”

Haechan submitted to you because for fuck’s sake, he was out of his mind in love with you, and whatever you wanted he would give you. You could cry for the moon and he would steal it for you. No questions asked. 

You switched positions to straddle his body, reaching for his cock and steering him to your entrance. Haechan moaned when he was fitted back inside, and your hands slipped to his chest as you eyed him, having the perfect view of his face tensing with pleasure of all kinds. 

Had you not been interrupted by a moan, you would have giggled. Your fingers pranced around his sensitive nipples and Haechan called out your name, palms seeking anchorage at your ass. You were both obviously driving each other insane, in a war to see who could take the other off their hinges. 

Haechan watched you bounce on his cock and it was the most beautiful sight in the world to him. Your mouth parted with blissful sighs and soft moans, your bodies an amalgam of sticky coats of sweat and hotness. 

“I love you,” Haechan blurted through ragged breath, but goddamn was it true. 

“I love you, too,” you moaned in the midst of fucking yourself on a very hard dick.  And trying not to lose what was left of you. “Shit. Holy fuck.” 

Haechan involuntarily thrusted up to meet your motions, matching your quick tempo. You could feel and hear the blood pumping rhythmically in your head, your pulse thudding. Each of your breaths were quick, like you could hardly breathe through the thick tension of pent-up love and desire between you. 

You simply couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough of the feeling. You couldn’t fathom why it was so goddamn good. Even Haechan had to notice you were riding him harder than usual, chasing satisfaction with a craving that could never be satiated. You felt like an animal, wondering what it was that made him feel even better than you thought possible. 

Every insignificant detail was zeroed in on. Did he always have those little scratches on him? And had you been the reason? Your eyes fell up his neck and down his torso and you bit your lip smugly, noticing all the marks you’d left behind.  

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whimpered, rocking harder. 

“Come on, baby. You’re so beautiful,” Haechan groaned, close and throttled by the tension. You were closing in on him, wrapping around him so tightly and driving him to climax. 

The muscles in your thighs tightened and slackened, and you bounced to the rhythm of the pulsing between your legs. Haechan reached for your hand and laced his fingers through yours, wanting to be thoroughly connected with you through every moment of your orgasm. 

He uncontrollably rambled some more praises in your ears about how good you felt and how beautiful you were, and you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, teeth clamping into your bottom lip to stifle a loud cry and way too immersed in pleasure to notice the pain. Your throbbing cunt and smothered cries prompted Haechan and he released inside, still fucking you back until he rested with a long exhale. 

Your body went limp, crashing at his side. Looking at the sky, you could see stars, but when you closed them, they were still there. 

Haechan immediately started to kiss you and you kissed back, tasting ecstasy on his lips. Your boyfriend cradled your body, whispering, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

You remembered giving a soft little sigh of pleasure and Haechan taking the liberty of redressing you.

Everything after that was a blur. 

When you woke up, the sky was still perpetually dark, but you were in bed. You turned to your side and came to the eerie conclusion that you were very alone. Haechan was nowhere to be found. 

Maybe he’s just using the restroom, you reasoned. Yeah, okay. That happened. For your comfort, you decided to wait up until he returned. 

Half an hour later, Haechan was still a no-show. That was when you began to suspect there was something far more sinister at hand than a visit to the bathroom. You crawled from under the sheets and slipped on your shoes, determined to investigate the matter yourself. 

There was a pounding in your chest. Where could Haechan have disappeared to for thirty minutes in the middle of the night?

Except for anywhere. He could be anywhere in these goddamn woods and you would never find even a trace of him. A cool dread plagued your body and you wrapped your arms around yourself, praying your boyfriend was somewhere safe. You had a strange gut feeling that something heinous had happened and it was all around you, suffocating. 

You crept outdoors and oddly enough, noticed Yuta seated at the campfire. You remembered making love to Haechan there, because the memory was still fresh. For some reason, it felt like moments yet days ago altogether. 

Why was it still lit at this hour? More significantly, what was Yuta doing there so late? 

“Yuta?” you called out. 

No reply. He was stiff as a boulder. You approached him stealthily, wanting to believe he was only playing an evil trick on you. 

When you could finally get a front view of him, you cried out in a blend of surprise and terror. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the gruesome sight of Yuta’s lifeless body. You shrieked and screamed until your voice could barely muster a murmur. For a good while, you only stood there, muscles stiff with shock. Tears silently began to drip as they gathered at your eyelashes. 

You forced your eyes away from Yuta. His face had been burned so badly that you could hardly recognize him. The skin was disfigured with marks, wrinkly and apparently rotten. You noticed the purple lines around his wrists and his slashed throat and hoped he hadn’t been burned alive. 

You refused to look at him, refused to touch him. You cowered away, repulsed by the consuming stench of blood clogging your senses. Feeling nauseous, you turned over and knocked over two near-full wine glasses in your wake, bending your knees. It made you want to throw up. 

This could not be happening. You rubbed your eyes, like there was a chance sleep and your tears were making you delirious. A bitter taste parched your tongue as you prayed this was only a ghastly dream. You would not accept this as reality. You didn’t want to believe Yuta was - completely and irrevocably  - gone.

But regardless of how hard you tried, your body scorned you, refusing to wake up.

This was a living nightmare. 

For some strange reason, there was a canoe approaching the shoreline and you made a beeline for the lake, too blinded by your need for answers to pause and ask yourself why there was somebody paddling at this hour.

“Haechan?” you called out shakily. 

Nothing. Where could he have gone? The night was far too dark for you to piece together who was on the canoe. Which was unnerving.

Dread hit you tenfold when it dawned on you that Haechan could have been anywhere, slain and blood-splattered like how you discovered Yuta. 

Tears made your eyes burn. There was no way in hell your boyfriend was dead. But none of that explained what happened to Yuta. And were the rest of your friends okay?

Why did nobody hear you scream? 

The growing questions only made you tremble with mystification. You couldn’t for the life of you comprehend why anybody would want to do something so unspeakable to Yuta. He had been nothing but an incredible friend to you for years and a wonder to everyone he met. 

Anger briefly numbered you to your fear. Yuta didn’t deserve to die. Not in such a cold-hearted, brutal manner. Nobody did. The look on his face when you found his body was permanently etched into your memory. He had been burned beyond recognition. The damage was irreversible. Even if he somehow survived the burns, there was no way to undo the distortion. 

Your heart had never been so heavy. There was a possibility the wound to his neck killed him, but there was also a fair chance it only damaged him enough to render him unheard. 

What if Yuta tried to scream, but nobody heard him, either? 

You should have known coming to this haunted city was a fatal mistake. The rumors of people slaughtered in Chimera should have been more than enough to dissuade you, but you each were too goddamn stubborn.

Look what that had gotten you. A dead friend, a missing boyfriend, and an uncertain status on the rest of your number. 

The uncertainty about the rest of your friends only made you even sadder. Had they somehow slept through Yuta’s death, too? Or were they victims to a similar fate? 

No. That couldn’t be the case. Because if it was, then why had you been left untouched?

Surely, there were no goddamn miracles in this godforsaken place. 

You wracked your brain trying to remember what happened. For some reason, everything was fuzzy and disoriented. You recalled the whole day up to a point. Haechan and you fooled around in bed until you finally roused. Then, you had breakfast. The boys went canoeing. You went to annoy Winter with your paranoia.

The boys came back and you went on a hike with Haechan only to fool around some more. Then, you returned, took a shower, the boys fired up the grill and you had a conversation with Ten. He froze you out and stormed into his cabin for the night.

Everyone ate dinner without him, they eventually left, and you spent the night fooling around with Haechan under the moonlight. 

Then, everything else went black. You didn’t remember getting into bed with Haechan, but you assumed he carried you there. Your eyes got too heavy after orgasm and you seemingly passed out. 

That was strange. And maybe too much of a coincidence. But Haechan would never do anything to hurt you. Would he? 

Don’t be silly, you chided. Haechan loves you and he’s fucking missing right now. Instead of questioning him, you should be trying to find him before it’s too late. 

You didn’t even let yourself wonder if it already was too late. Haechan was not dead. Anyone could leave you, but not him. Not the boy who promised you forever and then some. 

Haechan was the common denominator, but Ten was the missing piece. You hadn’t seen him since you tried to turn him down gently and there was no telling if he ever came out the cabin since. He may have been in his feelings, but no anger could prompt him to do this. You were certain. 

You were certain about all of them. But if not them, then who did that leave? A ghost? 

Your heart raced quicker than ever before as you bolted to the lake, and you halted dead in your tracks when your feet landed right at its murky edge. The sky was still too dark for you to make out the body on the canoe. You squinted, but you couldn’t even see a body at all. 

Tall, thick trees covered the border of the lake. Moonlight filtered through some of the branches, though unfortunately, it didn’t come close to illuminating the canoe. You glanced at the water and saw a pair of eyes staring back at you. 

And they weren’t your own. 

For a minute, you couldn’t move. You went stiffly rigid, attempting to convince your brain that this was only a figment of your delirious imagination. But the wide pair of eyes didn’t move. They didn’t even blink. 

Fear flooded back into your body, bleeding thickly out of you, and you lurched back with an eldritch scream. Everything happened so damn quickly. Your back hit the trunk of a tree and the branches rattled. A body plummeted violently into the cool water, but you didn’t register the splash, veins pumping icy dread instead of warm blood. 

You didn’t investigate, slumping against the tree and pulling your knees to your bosom. You cried hot tears, because you recognized those eyes. They were the same ones you always caught staring at you. They were the same ones that looked at you with hurt and heartbreak the last time you’d seen them. 

Now, they looked at you with lifelessness. And they unmistakably belonged to Ten. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried, as if he could hear you. “I should have left it alone. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to make things worse.” 

There was no word to describe the depth and darkness of the feeling that plagued you now. You shuddered, an imagined nipping wind numbing you beyond the surface and to the very fucking core. It was brutal and ruthless. 

Every inch of your body was bitter with pain. You were so dizzy with shock and consternation that you couldn’t even stand. Your head ached from crying so damn much. 

You felt like you had done this to Ten. He was even harder to move on from. Your last memories were anything but happy and you could only picture the ache and longing absorbing his features, the hurt crushing the impact of his voice. 

Nothing made sense to you. Ten fell for your gentleness, but resented you for letting him down gently. You wanted to understand him. You wanted to make things better, but you failed and now you would have to live with that mistake forever. Because it was too late to undo. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” you croaked quietly, voice absent. “Now, I’ll never be able to. Please forgive me.”

Every breath you took was pained. You could barely speak without your voice cracking. There was no welcoming feeling. Especially not the self-loathing that swallowed you whole and throttled you. Everything you felt was cold and lingering, dark and unfurling. 

You must have spent an eternity sitting there sobbing your heart out, mourning your dead friend, because you only stood to your feet when you heard the sound of something meeting the shoreline. 

 The canoe. You had forgotten all about the damn thing and frowned when you saw nobody. You walked over and had your blood already not been icy, it would have run cold. 

Jaehyun laid sprawled across the canoe, completely soaked, like he had toppled over into the lake. 

“Jay,” you gasped, shocked. This whole time you had been calling out for a dead body. He was ghostly pale, hair stuck to his skin. 

You made the decision to reach over, careful not to rock the canoe too much in case you tripped over, and felt for a pulse. Even a weak one. Anything that proved he wasn’t gone. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Jaehyun was ruthlessly still. His body was like ice and in your head, a temperature of a negative degree. You accidentally left a bloody print on his arm, recouping your hand when you begrudgingly accepted he was no longer breathing and there was no chance of him ever doing so again, and crept back over to the shore. 

Just when you thought you had no more tears left to cry, they fell again, mocking you. You could dimly see your reflection, your tear-stained face a complete mess. 

That was the third dead body. With each one, you loss more and more faith that any of your friends were okay. 

But there was still Haechan and Winter. 

That made you confused. Jaehyun would never leave Winter by herself. Especially not in the middle of the night in dark, haunted woods. How in the hell did he get on a canoe by himself? 

The whole reason Jaehyun even came on this trip was to protect her in case this place turned out to actually be haunted. Was Winter okay? Jaehyun would never let anyone harm her, if there was anything he could do. They would have to get through him before they got to her. 

Maybe they did get through him. 

Rage warmed you and gave you life again. Whoever did this would pay. You would find them and seek sweet revenge. But first, you needed to confirm whether or not your boyfriend and your best friend were alive. 

Now that you thought about it, Haechan would never leave you alone, either. It simply wasn’t in his nature and didn’t make sense. Not even a little bit. 

When presented with a perceived danger, Haechan’s first instinct was to grab you and keep you sheltered in his arms. When you were frightened for your life, Haechan never failed to soothe you, promising you he would go through hell and back to keep you safe. 

That wouldn’t change all of the sudden. He was no coward. Now, your heart hurt, wondering if he had given himself up to protect you too. 

You turned around and made a beeline for Winter and Jaehyun’s cabin. You needed to find her. You needed to know she was okay. Together, you could get the hell out of here, but not before you found your boyfriend also. 

The campground was the same as you’d left, still as lifeless as before with Yuta’s corpse by the campfire, and you weren’t too sure how that made you feel. You darted to the right, immediately charging straight towards your best friend’s cabin. 

There were no lights on. The only source of light was the campfire burning in the center. It gave you hope that Winter may have been sleeping peacefully, oblivious to all that happened. 

But unlike you, Winter was a light sleeper. Wouldn’t she have noticed Jaehyun crawling out of bed or something? 

You frowned. You didn’t know what happened. Jaehyun could have sensed danger outside and went to investigate. He could have kissed her forehead and urged her to go to sleep. 

You shook your head and slowly opened the door, ignorant of the blood print you’d left on the knob, pulse speeding at the eerie sound of it pushing open. The darkness made you wary. You couldn’t even be sure if she was on the bed. 

For assistance, you turned on the light, and breathed a little in relief when you noticed a figure slumped under the sheets. But why was her head below the comforter? Winter never slept like that. Something about it being too hot and too hard to breathe. 

The relief you felt was short-lived. Dread returned and you inhaled and exhaled deeply. A part of you didn’t want to know if your best friend was dead or not. But she was too still. Like she wasn’t even breathing under the covers. 

You plucked the cover off her face and trembled. There was fresh blood on her chin, rolling down her lips. And a fork in her left hand. And you had a sneaking suspicion that you knew why. 

Gently, you opened her mouth, and when you saw that a piece of her tongue was no longer there you had a painful moment of realization. 

Your heart broke. It didn’t split down the middle, but broke into millions of pieces. Winter was dead. But you knew damn well Haechan was still out there somewhere, good and well. 

You grabbed Winter’s lifeless body in your arms and cried into her shoulder, oddly comforted by the fact her body was still warm. Everything made sense now. This was all your fault. 

Nothing was a coincidence. Winter frightened you and made you bite your tongue. Then, you found her with a fork in her hand, a piece of her tongue removed. Yuta gave you his marshmallow when you burned yours. Then, you found him with his face burned without a lick of mercy. 

Ten always stared at you. He was always watching. He looked at you with a kind of adoration in his eyes. You found him staring into his own reflection, body slumped on a tree. 

And Jaehyun offered to take you on a canoe ride with the guys. You found him sprawled across that very same canoe. 

“I did this to you,” you sobbed, grabbing her hand. You bristled when you noticed blood on her fingernails, knowing it wasn’t her. Winter fought to protect her damn self. 

And you knew who attacked her. 

You were so overwhelmed. You had never felt this many emotions at once before. Especially not this intensely. You were wounded and betrayed. Angry and regretful. Frightened and loathing. 

For a moment, you only cried in Winter’s warmth, holding her hand and blaming yourself for everything. You begged her to wake up. You begged her to smile and tap your arm, screaming, “Just kidding!” 

This had to be a prank. This had to be some cruel joke that you were the butt of, a trick at your expense. You wanted everyone to open the door one by one and laugh at you for falling for such a stupid scheme, but you knew in your heart it wasn’t true. 

You saw the very real marks on Yuta’s face. You saw the lifelessness in Ten’s eyes. You felt Jaehyun’s non-existent pulse. Even now, you could feel the warmth slowly leaving Winter’s body. 

Eventually you pulled away, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You saw the blood on the sheets and frowned. That hadn’t been there before. Only then did you notice the blood dampening your clothes. 

How long had that been there? Was it from one of the bodies? 

No, because I only touched Jaehyun. And he clearly drowned, you thought. But pushed the thought of Jaehyun’s drenched body out of your head as quickly as it came. 

There were more pressing matters at hand. You needed to get the hell out of here. And you needed to do so alive. Someone had to be the bearer of bad news. Someone had to tell your friends’ parents that their worst nightmare had come true. 

You found the courage to leave your best friend there and crept outside the cabin. Your phone was in Ten’s and Yuta’s. Goddamn it. 

The sight of Haechan emerging from the woods made you grind to a halt. You were scared for your goddamn life. You had no idea what your chances of survival were, but you got it now. Why you had been spared from your friend’s fate. 

The Haechan you loved was not the man staring at you from afar. The Haechan you’d come to know was not the man approaching you. He was somebody else. Somebody you were not familiar with and did not know how to handle. 

Adrenaline thumped in your head. You had a choice. You could flee or you could fight. 

For now, you decided to play dumb. 

“Baby,” you called out, colliding into his cold arms. “Everybody’s dead! Are you okay? What happened to you?”

Haechan stared at you unrecognizably. You knew you were looking danger dead in the eye. There was no warmth in him, no life. He had blood stains on his clothes and scratches on his face. 

From Winter, you bristled inwardly. You banished the thought, knowing your cover would be blown the longer you thought about how he had preyed down your friends. 

Haechan coiled an arm around you and said simply, “It’s not my blood.” 

“Not your blood?” you repeated slowly, pulling yourself away. “Then, whose blood is it?” 

Your boyfriend only smiled. “I think you know the answer to that, sweetheart,” he said sweetly, but you knew only venom was inside him. 

You wanted to scream. There was no deceiving him. You could tell he already knew. Haechan read you like an open book and you knew he would never not have you all figured out. 

Giving up deception, you cried, “Why?” 

“Because you’re mine,” he explained with a gentleness to his tone, approaching you despite picking up on how adamant you were on keeping him at arm’s length. “Don’t you see? Everybody wants to keep us apart. We can be alone now.” 

“Haechan, nobody was keeping us apart,” you said, unable to justify his actions. 

“Yes, they were,” Haechan argued. “Like the old geezer at your job. He worked you too much and paid you too little. I was doing you a favor.” 

You paused as you processed his words. He was talking about your boss. The same boss that mysteriously died a couple of weeks back. You put the pieces together. 

You gasped, “You killed him?”

Haechan scoffed. “Don’t give me that look. I know you hated the guy. I remember the smile on your face when you told me your boss was dead.” 

“Yuta, Ten, Winter, and Jaehyun weren’t keeping us away from each other,” you hissed, using rage as your fuel and hatred as your anchor. “They did nothing to us.” 

“They were nuisances. You spent too much time with them. You’re better off without them anyway, baby. Winter hurt you and laughed in your face. I mean, what kind of best friend does that? Of course, I had to eliminate the bigger threat before I got to her.” 

The bigger threat was Jaehyun. He would go to the ends of the earth for Winter and you could tell from the moment he was introduced to you. You gave him the golden stamp of approval for a reason. 

Jaehyun would protect Winter until he had nothing left to give. You had no idea how Haechan took him down, but at this point, you didn’t want to know. It made you well with pain. You hoped they met again in the afterlife and in the next one with a much kinder fate.  

Haechan continued, “Yuta was too comfortable. I didn’t like how he talked to you. He always got too close, leaning into you and shit. I had enough. And Ten definitely wanted to take you away from me. I know you saw how he looked at you.” 

The pressure in your heart was building. You couldn’t breathe. You needed a pulse. The whole world was upside down. “You said… you said it didn’t make you angry. You told me that you didn’t care about those kinds of things. I thought you were different.” 

“Don’t you dare compare me to them,” Haechan chided, stepping closer. You stumbled and he caught you in his heavy arms, not letting up even when you tried to swat him away. “I love you better than your exes ever did. They didn’t care for you, baby. They could never love you like I do. Nobody can.”

Struggling in his arms, you screamed in his face, “My exes didn’t kill all my fucking friends!” 

Haechan started to laugh. You gaped at him and his audacity. There was no kind of levity in this situation and yet he was humored. You knew now that your boyfriend was a goddamn psychopath. 

You managed to slip away from him by grace of his distractedness and barked, “What the hell is so funny?” 

Haechan explained through bursts of laughter, “Do you think I could have killed four people by myself? We did this together, baby. Just look at yourself.” 

You reluctantly did as told. That was when the blood on your clothes finally made sense and you started to feel dirtier than ever. Was your friends’ blood on your hands? That would explain the blood on Winter’s sheets. 

Unable to endure the pain, you dropped to your knees, losing the strength to stand. The blood was everywhere. It stained your palms. Now, conscious of its presence, you were hyper aware that you were covered in your friends blood and the feeling was akin to being dipped in acid. 

How could you have only now noticed? You were too frenzied searching for your friends, searching for a spark of life in this desolate city. 

You clung to denial, chanting through sobs, “No. No, no, no.”

“Shh,” Haechan sang, pulling you into his embrace gently. He had stopped laughing, but this was a man incapable of empathy. No matter how convincing he was. “We’re finally alone, sweetie. No one to steal you from me.”

You hated yourself for not loathing the way his body felt around yours. There was a big part of you that wanted to go back to a couple of hours ago, when you thought it was only him and you in this world, and you had no idea the traumatic experience you’d have only hours later. 

That made the world stop. You found peace for a split second before hell peeled the corners of your vision again. Your head rose up, and you looked Haechan in his empty, dark eyes. 

Had you imagined the spark there? No. You had to look deeper. There was a fire there, a web of temptation, desire, and viciousness. That was what you saw in him. It was passion, but you had mistaken it for a different kind. 

“Haechan?” you called out. 

Your boyfriend said pleasantly, “Yes, my dear?” 

“Did you put something in my champagne?”

“Yes.” 

At least he was honest. For once. 

“You spiked my drink,” you began, voice cracking. “Because you knew I would never agree to your sick ways in my right mind.” 

To your dismay, Haechan didn’t deny the accusation, only giving you a sickening smile and stroking your hair gently. Like your whole world wasn’t upside down now. He,  like this was some kind of joke, merely said, “Ahchoo.”

You bristled with a vicious wrath. Haechan was out of his goddamn mind. He didn’t give a single fuck about what he had done and frankly, you’d had enough of trying to converse. You needed to get out of here immediately and seek help. There was no way you would play along with his twisted delusion. 

A chimera. 

Your heart stopped when you once again came to the brutal realization that your phone was trapped in Yuta and Ten’s cabin. You knew Haechan would never let you get away with a phone call. If you could even make one. In the middle of nowhere, there was no such thing as Wi-Fi or service. 

Plus you were surrounded by acres of trees and water. Where the hell would you go? The main road would be too damn obvious even if you somehow managed to get there. And without a car, you were positively out of luck. 

Haechan’s tone was saccharine, but there was only poison in his voice as he leaned into your ear and warned, “Whatever you’re thinking; don’t you fucking dare.”

You glared Haechan dead in the eyes, adrenaline coming over you, and you gave him a smack across the face. 

Then, you leapt up and bolted into the woods. Haechan only laughed when you slapped him, but you didn’t turn around, and you damn sure didn’t stop. Fucking psycho, you sneered. 

You vanished into the thick trees, now grateful for the darkness, though time was running scarce. Daylight would be approaching soon. Shock made you lose track of time. There was no telling how long you’d spent losing what remained of your sanity.

You were a livewire, blood pumping in your ears. The sound of twigs snapping behind you made you hyper aware of Haechan’s manhunt and you knew he wasn’t far behind, but you never gave up. Your legs ached from the lack of oxygen, but your white flag was still lowered. You would never give him the satisfaction of surrender until you knew you’d done all possible to save yourself. 

Your lover called out from somewhere behind you, “You can run, baby - I love a chase - but you can’t hide.” 

The rage blindsided you. He was the epitome of a nightmare dressed like a daydream. How could you not have noticed? This was the man you spent every spare second of your day with. How could you not have seen him for the creature he truly was beneath the surface? 

Haechan liked the hunt. There was still a chipperness to his tone even as he followed the noise of your feet scurrying through those dark, wicked woods. He was evil. He was a monster. But you knew now that the villains of this godforsaken town were not ghosts or spirits - they were the very people you trusted with your life. 

Tears blurred your vision and shock made the world swivel. You refused to be another rumor. You refused to be reduced to another campfire story. You would fight for your life up until your very last exhale.

“Where do you plan on going, darling?” Haechan asked, tone welling with concern. “There’s nothing or no one out here for miles. You’ll die out here before you find someone to save you.”

You slammed into a tree and swore louder than you would’ve liked, knowing Haechan was hot on your trail because you could hear him chiding you for being so clumsy. 

“But you didn’t die out there,” said your therapist. 

You bobbed your head. “I got back up and I ran,” you told her, shuddering as you were forced to place yourself back in what was easily the worst day of your goddamn life. “He was so close. I ran into the daylight. I was in those woods for days. I had nothing. No food, no water.” 

“You had resolve,” the therapist corrected. “Because of that, you’re here to tell the story.”

You nodded a little, because you only barely survived. You genuinely thought you would die that night. If not by Haechan himself, then eventually hunger or dehydration.

“Why does this always happen to me?” you cried. “Every time I fall for someone, they treat me like a possession. But I never thought it would go this far. How come I didn’t realize until it was too late? I even…their blood is on my hands.” 

The therapist stopped you right there. “He took advantage of your trust and adulterated your champagne without your knowledge to make you easier to manipulate. You said it yourself. He knew you would never agree in your right mind.”

None of her consolation helped. Half a year had passed since the most traumatic event of your life. The wound still felt fresh. You could still hear your friends’ voices and see their faces following you everywhere. 

And knowing that their blood was on your hands made things even worse. You could hardly live with yourself. None of this would have happened if you would have never met Haechan, if you would have never given him the time of day. They would still be here, living their lives. 

It wasn’t fair that only you and that monster survived that day. You despised yourself for giving him access, but you loathed him for what he took from you. 

For what he took from them.  

She asked, “Have the nightmares stopped?” 

The nightmares started a little after that weekend and hadn’t ceased since. They would return to you every single night as you slept, more or less the same as before. You would be running for dear life as Haechan hunted you down. The setting was never the same. Some nights, he would chase you through a labyrinth of trees. Others, through a never-ending hallway. No matter the setting, he would hunt you until he finally caught you and leapt over you.

But only once he uttered the same four words in your ear would you wake, “You’re all mine now.”

They were simple, but they never failed to creep the living hell out of you. 

You shuddered. “No. But they’ve become less frequent.”

“And why do you think that is?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It happened after I started spending time with this guy.”

That piqued her interest. “New boyfriend?”

“Not really,” you replied, the mere thought making you tremble. “I’m talking to this guy - Mark. He’s really sweet and I do like him, but I told him I’m not ready for a relationship. Frankly, I’m not sure if I ever will be again. But we still spend time, because I like his company.”

“That is a completely normal response after being exposed to a traumatic event. It may cause you to be emotionally distant, self-protective, and wary of others intentions. It is a difficult part of the process of healing and learning how to navigate through life as you did before.”

Though you already knew the answer, you asked, “Will my life ever be the same?” 

“Not likely,” the therapist told you honestly. “This is a new beginning for you. You’ll be learning to shed your old skin and adapt.”

You frowned. 

The therapist concluded the session not much later and you went home. Therapy was new for you. Ironically enough, it was never your idea. Instead of pressuring you into explaining what the hell happened to you, Mark suggested you tried therapy. 

To think of the boy sitting at home waiting for you was bittersweet. You sincerely enjoyed spending time with Mark, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to be vulnerable with him. Like the therapist said, you were being self-protective and wary of his intentions. No matter how hard you tried, you knew you would never be able to trust the same way again.

It made you feel as if you were keeping Mark’s heart chained away. Mark was gentle and the one to suggest you take things slowly, but a godawful feeling plagued you whenever reminded he was waiting for the girl he always wanted. And there was a chance you could never be that girl. 

You wondered what he saw in you. What he saw in a girl so broken that she couldn’t bring herself to love anyone. Did he want to take advantage of your vulnerability? Was he the same kind of evil as the ones before him? 

Love was a wager, but you had no more of yourself to give. 

As you stepped inside your car, you monitored everything around you and likely quadruple-checked the backseat. Ever since that fateful day, you were hyper aware of your surroundings. You may have escaped Haechan, but that didn’t mean he would never come back to stake his claim to you.

You drove, obsessively checking your rear-view mirror. Nobody was following you, but you could never be too safe. You were more wary than usual today. There was something in the air. 

Or maybe you were just extremely paranoid. That was more plausible. 

You hated driving through town. There was a song on the radio and it reminded you of Winter, because she would burst out singing whenever it came on. Jaehyun would be sure to duet with her. You changed the station. 

Then, you passed by a bookstore. That was where you met Ten. You remembered the very second your hands touched the same novel, fingers brushing against each other’s, and the glare you both exchanged then said loud and clear that neither of you would be backing down. But when he learned you had a copy of a book he’d been tirelessly hunting for, he let you have it and you promised to swap later. 

Unbeknownst to you, Ten freaked the hell out that night when it hit him that he had unintentionally scored a very pretty girl’s number. 

It was over for you when you saw the lake sitting at the side of the road. Yuta would meet you there for an afternoon jog whenever you had the spare time. Your friends would argue it was too romantic, but Yuta never gave a fuck what other people think. You were close, but he knew where you stood and Yuta would rather die than bone you. 

Tears threatened. Why couldn’t you get them out of your head? The guilt was eating you alive. You wanted your life back. But you tainted the chance of normalcy the second you caught a monster’s goddamn eye.  

As soon as you got home, you noticed another car parked in the driveway. Mark’s car. He asked if he could come over earlier to see you after your therapy session. You told him, “You know where the spare key is.” 

It was definitely frightening, but you wanted to trust Mark. He displayed no suspicious signs, no red flags. Then again, neither did Haechan. And everyone knew how that story went. 

No happy ever after. 

There was an overwhelmingly strong aroma of sauces and spices hitting you square in the nose the moment you stepped inside your house and there was a trail of roses predictably leading from the front door to the dining room. You cocked a brow. Since when did Mark learn how to cook? This was the same boy that could barely make instant noodles without burning you both alive. 

“Mark?” you called out. 

No reply. Which was odd. Mark couldn’t wait to see you. 

You hung your coat and followed the trail of rose petals as that was obviously what you were intended to do. The sound of old school romance music began to play even louder the closer you inched and you shuddered at how much it reminded you of Haechan. 

When he was bored, he would turn on the speaker and sing his heart out to you, making you laugh at how he danced and gave you a five-star performance. 

The memories used to make you smile fondly. Now, you were a well of unadulterated fear. 

Even this specific song tore you down. Haechan loved Michael Jackson more than anyone you ever knew. As far as you were concerned, Mark was more of an old school rap guy. 

You finally approached the dining room and your heart ricocheted at what you saw. There was Mark, bound to a chair with a gag in his mouth. And Haechan stood there with a twisted smile on his face as he saw you, holding a gun to Mark’s head. 

“Mark,” you gasped, knees buckling. 

You could hear Mark whimper faintly, though his voice was muffled. He looked at you with total fear in his eyes and you were more than apologetic, the self-loathing returning as you knew the innocent life of yet another person would ultimately be destroyed because of you. 

Haechan playfully whined, “What about me? I’m here, too.” 

“You fucking monster!” you screamed. 

Your now ex-boyfriend switched on a dime and pointed his gun at you, sneering, “Sit down.”

With a fatal weapon pointed to you, you quickly complied, finding a seat at the table. You noticed there were two plates there, each at the head of the table. Mark was forced to sit at the side. 

Because he had no part in this game. He was only another nuisance, as Haechan had put it in his own terms. Another obstacle to be eliminated. Tears stung your eyes.

Your ex was delighted by your submission and took his seat at the other end of the table, facing you, but he kept his gun tucked close. You couldn’t ignore the plates in front of you both. Only God knew how long he had been waiting for you. You knew he wanted you to play into the fantasy you’d obstructed six months ago, however, your ex-boyfriend was anything but deterred. 

“I’m glad you finally made it. Mark and I were waiting for you to join us,” Haechan said, as if this was some friendly gathering and not a hostage situation. “Although, he was an unexpected guest. But it’s no biggie.” 

You sat there and pleaded, “Haechan, please don’t hurt him. This has nothing to do with him. You want me? Just take me. Leave him alone.” 

Haechan’s tone was lighthearted despite the betrayed nature of his words, “Wow. You like him that much? I thought I meant something to you.”

“That was before you slaughtered our friends like a beast,” you hissed, seething. 

Haechan corrected, “More like a pack of wolves. Everything we do is a group effort, baby. We’re a team. We’re in this together. There is no you without me and no me without you.”

You met Mark’s eyes and instantly knew what he was thinking. This guy is a total psychopath. 

He could tell this was what you had been hiding and you were aware. You had never discussed your trauma with him at length and Mark never made you feel any pressure to. Now, he understood what had you so scarred. 

You called with disdain, “Donghyuck.” 

Haechan ignored you calling him by his government name and changed his tone, feigning woundedness, “I can’t believe you tried to replace me, baby. You even told him where the spare key is. Did you actually think I wouldn’t come back to take what’s mine?” 

“I’m not yours, Donghyuck,” you told him, words dripping with vitriol. “And I never will be again. You had your chance and you blew it.”

“How could you say that?” Haechan asked, eyes wide and dark with an emotion you had no intention of understanding. “After all I’ve done for you. All I’ve done for us so that we could be alone together. I love you so much.”

For a second, you were at a loss for words, then explained, “This isn’t love. This is obsession. You need help.”

Haechan furiously snapped, “I need you. And I will stop at nothing to have you.”

Your ex-boyfriend stood to his feet and you entirely expected hell to break loose, but you were thrown for a loop when Mark tackled him to the ground, somehow unraveling his ropes while Haechan was distracted by you. 

Mark screamed at you, “Run!” 

You hesitated. You didn’t want to leave Mark there alone to die. The past six months had been spent trying to recover from the blood on your hands and you couldn’t go through that torture. There was a chance you would lose another part of your sanity that you barely had as is. But Mark gave you a look and you bolted out of there. 

As soon as you slipped out the front door, you heard a gunshot echoing and trembled, but you never stopped running. Your phone was in your car. You glanced around, expecting at least some of your neighbors to be concerned by the noise, though no one came. 

Your brows furrowed. There were cars parked in most of the driveways and this was a notably safe neighborhood. How could nobody care? 

The moment you got to your car you collapsed in relief when you saw your phone and immediately tried to dial the police, but strangely, your phone had no connection. You threw your head back frustratedly and nearly screamed at the top of your lungs. 

You didn’t even want to ask what the hell was going on. Haechan had returned to resume unfinished business, and this time, he would not leave empty-handed.

Your only other option was to go find help and you felt a twinge of worry sitting in your stomach when you realized that entailed leaving Mark by himself. You had no idea what was happening  - or had happened - in that house.

Without any other options, you searched for your keys and froze when you remembered that you’d left them in the pocket of your coat. Which you had hung up inside. 

You heard the front door creaking open and exhaled in relief when you realized it was only Mark, escaping unscathed. For now. 

Mark was heaving for breath and incredulous when he noticed you only standing there. “Why haven’t you left?”

“I left my keys inside,” you explained frantically, running into his arms. “I tried to call the police, but it didn’t work. And nobody came outside after the gunshot. I think he did something.” 

Mark made a face because despite both your cars parked in the driveway, he didn’t have his keys, either. “We have to go right now. None of us were shot. He’s going to come looking for you any second now,” he said, grabbing your hand and yanking you down the street. 

You could hardly match his long strides, but adrenaline gave you a surge of strength. Between your feet and your pulse, you couldn’t decide what was quicker. Your heart was thumping so loudly you swore Mark could hear. 

The curiosity consumed you and you asked through ragged breath, “How’d you get out of the ropes?”

“Five years of summer camp in a row,” Mark explained. “I never thought learning how to untie knots would benefit me, but look at God.”

Noticing how tightly he was holding your hand only made you weaker. You hoped and prayed you would come out of this unscathed. Not only you, but Mark too. You couldn’t lose another person at the hands of your psychopathic ex-boyfriend. The guilt and self-hatred would consume you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” you cried. 

“We’ll talk about this when we’re safe,” Mark told you, clearing another corner.

You heard Haechan’s smooth voice calling after you, but his tone was downright spine-chilling. He was out for blood. Mark held you closer to his chest as you both sprinted down the sidewalk, praying to god Haechan didn't know where you’d gone. 

It was downright odd. Why was no one there but you three? The weather was perfect for an afternoon walk with your dog around the neighborhood, but there was nobody. Not even someone tending to their garden or taking out the trash. And how had no one bat an eye at the piercing sound of a gunshot? 

Wondering if it was a coincidence or if there was something much more nefarious at work made your head spin. The emptiness was unnerving. You couldn’t comprehend how Haechan could have gotten the entire neighborhood to evacuate, but you had underestimated him once. You weren’t keen on doing so again.

Having Mark there to support your weight was the only thing keeping you from dropping to the ground in surrender. You were just so tired. You were tired of running, tired of mustering the strength to rouse another day only to be haunted by guilt and regret. It was close to consuming you. And there would nothing of you to remain. You were running on empty. Your body was exhausted, but your mind was worn thin. 

“Come on,” Mark said, noticing your strength dwindling. “You can do this, baby. We can get out of here.” 

Mark ground to a halt to face you and softened when he saw your eyes. He could tell this had ruined you. He would never know the girl you were before Haechan alas broke you. 

There was an uncanny resemblance between now and your nightmares. Haechan was hunting you down like an animal, hot on your heels. Only now, you had Mark to protect you. But deep inside, you knew there was nothing that could stand in Haechan’s way when he wanted something. 

Mark cradled you in his arms when you slept and kept the monsters under your bed away. But this was the real thing. He couldn’t save you. No one could.

It all just happened so fast. 

A loud snap rended the air and the very next second, Mark was crouching on the asphalt, stomach gaping with blood. He was wide-eyed, a hand cupping his stomach. 

“Mark!” you screamed. 

You dropped to your knees, crouching beside him, and tried desperately to keep the blood from leaving him all too soon. But there was so much. The sight of the deep color staining your hands only made you nauseous with deja vu. 

Mark was weak, still on the sidewalk. He couldn’t scream, but you could see the pain in his pretty eyes. It thoroughly devastated you. 

“Don’t leave me. Please, Mark,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes. But you couldn’t hear yourself speak. You couldn’t hear yourself think. You were so fixated on Mark slowly fading away beneath your fingertips that you didn’t notice the presence behind you until it was too late. 

Haechan’s voice was saccharine but his eyes were welling with ire, “He’s not going to make it, darling. There’s no one out here to help him.” 

You ignored Haechan, plagued by fear or hatred or all of the above. Watching Mark die would be too overwhelming. At least you had no recollection of your friend’s deaths. Seeing Mark take his final breaths would kill you too. “Keep your eyes open for me,” you told Mark, noticing he was going cold. “Keep them open!”

Mark was struggling, but he tried for you. You could feel the last piece of you die as he fought for his life and you sat there, unable to do anything to keep him stable. He was dying. He reached for your hand with his trembling arm and squeezed with all the strength he could muster. 

That angered Haechan and seething with rage, he coiled his arms around you, pulling you away from Mark. 

You kicked and threw your arms back, screaming at the top of your lungs, “Get your hands off me, you sick son of a bitch! You’ve taken everything from me! I fucking hate you!”

Haechan was unbothered, only cooing, “You don’t mean that, baby girl. One day you’ll understand that everything I do is out of love for you.” 

Mark was coughing up blood now and the sight was horrifying. Tears rolled down your cheeks. You were in so much pain, covered in wounds only you could see. You could only imagine what Mark was feeling now as he took his last breaths. 

Mark called out your name faintly and said with the last of his strength, “Thank you for being the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

You screamed in agony and grief when Mark’s eyes shut on you. You begged him not to leave you. Though he was only unconscious, you knew you’d seen and heard the last of him. 

Your pain was converted to anger and you thrashed in Haechan’s arms, only wanting Mark’s embrace. “Let me go,” you shouted, trying to escape. But to no avail. Your hands burned with his blood. Every inhale was agonizing. “Let go of me!”

“Shh,” Haechan whispered, swiping a trail of tears from your face. “Don’t you see? He was trying to come between us.” 

Haechan still kept you close by, but finally released you. You kneeled to the ground, too overcome by dizziness to stand. Your mind was screaming at you. Your heart was pounding. Every piece of you was so dead yet alive altogether. You could only scream, wanting to take your friend’s fate for them. 

Nobody heard you. There was nobody there. You cried and raged, but save for you, Haechan, and Mark’s lifeless body, the whole neighborhood was empty. You were alone in your pain and suffering and nobody would hear you cry. 

“Why?” you turned to Haechan and screamed, lips trembling. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

Haechan pressed his lips to your ear and told you with no hesitation, “Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” 

Had you not already dissolved into tears, you would have. Life as you’d known it was forever gone because of this man and it had become unbearable now. There was no way you could live with yourself anymore. The guilt was overpowering. You were being self-protective, but Mark had died to protect you. Winter, Jaehyun, Yuta, and Ten had died at your expense. The feelings that plagued you now were simply too much for the human mind to handle. 

Your palms hit the ground, scuffing the asphalt. Your body was limp with defeat. There was no fight in you anymore. He had broken you. 

“You win,” you croaked, surrendering. “Whatever this game is, you fucking win. I can’t do this anymore.”

Haechan beamed, all too excited by those words. “I knew you would come around.” 

Haechan cradled you in his arms and you let him. You had no more strength or will to fight him. He had milked you dry. You only sat there unmoving, wondering where you’d gone wrong. If this could have been avoided or if Haechan destroying your life was merely inevitable.

Pain throttled you, hands clamped bruisingly around your neck. You cried and screamed until it was out of your system and your voice no longer worked. Haechan endeavored to soothe you the whole time, stroking your back. Even your tears were precious to him. He hated to make you cry, but one day you would understand why this needed to happen. 

For now, he had won. You said it yourself. There was a big grin on his face as he claimed victory. 

“There, there. It’s time to go now, babe,” Haechan cooed, lifting you into his arms. He liked that you still instinctively wrapped your arms around your neck, and he stared into your eyes, in love with the beauty within them. “You’re all mine now.”

“I’m yours,” you repeated back quietly, accepting. “All yours.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. 

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Family, F1, and everything in-between

Social Media AU

pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

summary: Follow the glamorous yet grounded life of Y/n Wolff, the supportive and stylish wife of F1's Toto Wolff, as she navigates the fast-paced world of Formula 1 alongside her husband, sharing moments of love, family, and behind-the-scenes paddock life ______________________________________________________________

Weekend getaway to the Austrian Alps with my favorite person ❤️ #QualityTime #NatureLover

LewisHamilton: Looks peaceful! Hope Toto unplugged from work for at least a minute 😂 → MercedesAMGF1: Of course I’m relaxing, @ LewisHamilton. Don’t worry, the team’s in good hands 😉 #WorkHardPlayHard

Charles_Leclerc: A much-needed break for the boss! Enjoy your time away 🌲 GeorgeRussell63: So this is what Toto looks like when he’s relaxed. Never seen it before! 😄 ValtteriBottas: Beautiful scenery! Make sure Toto doesn’t try to race down those mountains 😂 AngelaCullen: What a perfect place for some fresh air and reflection! Enjoy every moment ❤️ DanielRicciardo: Careful, Toto might start plotting his next strategy on those hikes! 😆 FanGirlSara: So adorable! You two are the ultimate power couple! ❤️ #Goals RacingHeart88: This is the break Toto deserves! You guys inspire us to balance work and life 👏

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A rare sight: Toto taking a break from his phone to actually enjoy dinner 😋 #DateNight #FineDining

PierreGasly: Impressive! How did you manage to get him to put the phone down? Teach us your ways, Y/n! 😂 EstebanOcon: A true miracle! Can we expect a happier Toto in the paddock now? 👀 LandoNorris: Bet he's still thinking about the next race strategy, though 😆 → MercedesAMGF1: I’m capable of multitasking, @ LandoNorris 😜 But yes, it’s nice to just enjoy the moment with my beautiful wife -Toto

CarmenMundt: You two are such a stylish couple! That dinner looks amazing too ✨ JessicaButton: Love seeing you both taking time for yourselves! Well-deserved break 🥂 FanPage_Y/n: This is such a wholesome post! Y/n, you’re a magician if you got Toto to put his phone away 😂 F1Life74: I aspire to have this level of work-life balance one day! Enjoy your evening 🌙

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Early morning runs are better with a partner 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♂️ #FitnessGoals #CoupleWorkouts

CarlosSainz55: who’s setting the lap times? 😉 MaxVerstappen1: Morning runs? Toto really is dedicated. Next time, invite the rest of us! DanielRicciardo: Must be tough keeping up with him, Y/n! I’ve seen that man in the gym 💪 → MercedesAMGF1: She’s faster than you think, @ DanielRicciardo. Might have to consider her for the next driver lineup! 😂 -Toto

RosannaTennant: Couple goals! I’m inspired to get up early tomorrow… or maybe just sleep in and watch from here 😂 MarkWebber: Toto’s secret to success—early starts! You two look great! FitnessF1Fan: Y/n, what’s your running playlist? Need some motivation! 🎧 SpeedQueen99: You both look so fit! How do you balance everything so well?

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My favorite place to unwind: our garden at sunset 🌅 #HomeSweetHome

SebastianVettel: A perfect place to recharge. I’ll trade you some honey for a spot in that garden 😉 FernandoAlonso: You have to take good care of that garden, Y/n. It’s where Toto recharges his winning energy! GeorgeRussell63: That’s where all the secret Mercedes strategies are born, right? 😂 → MercedesAMGF1: It’s where I find peace, @ GeorgeRussell63. And maybe, just maybe, where I come up with a few ideas😉 -Toto

RomainGrosjean: Beautiful garden! Can’t wait to see it in person sometime soon 🌸 ReneeWolff: That garden is pure magic! Love seeing Toto relax there 🌼 LoversOfF1: Toto smiling and flowers blooming—this is the content we’re here for! 😍 EcoRacer17: Your garden is a dream, Y/n! And having Toto in the background is a bonus 😊

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Just another day at the track supporting @ MercedesAMGF1 🏁 Always proud of my boys! #F1Family

MickSchumacher: The ultimate team supporter! We’re lucky to have you around, Y/n 😊 LewisHamilton: You’re the glue that holds this family together! Appreciate you always ❤️ NicoRosberg: Always nice to see you at the track! Brings back memories 😄 NataliePinkham: Y/n, you’re such a star! The energy you bring is unmatched ✨ Y/nWFans: Love seeing you at the track, Y/n! You bring such positive vibes to the team 💙 Formula1Fanatic: You’re the real MVP of Mercedes, Sophia! Keep doing what you do! 🏆 F1_GossipCorner: Y/n Wolff is truly the queen of the paddock! So much respect for her 👑 MercedesAMGF1: Couldn’t do it without you by my side, @ Y/nWolff. Team Mercedes is a family, and you’re at the heart of it 💙 -Toto

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A little family time before the next race 🐾 #FamilyFirst #DogLovers

ValtteriBottas: That dog is living the dream! 🐕 You guys look so happy! → MercedesAMGF1: Our dog has the best life, @ ValtteriBottas. He might even join me in the paddock one day! 🐕 -Toto

LewisHamilton: Love seeing you all together! Give the pup some extra pats from me 🐾 PierreGasly: Y/n, you might have the cutest dog in the paddock! 😍 AngelaCullen: Dogs are the best stress relievers! Enjoy your time together 🐶 RomainGrosjean: Family time is the best time. I see Toto is more relaxed when he’s around the dog 😊 DogLoversUnite: That’s the cutest family photo! Your dog is so adorable! 🐾❤️ PaddockPets: Can we get more of Toto and the dog? This is the content we need! 🐶

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Behind the scenes of an F1 weekend 🏁 #TeamSupport #PaddockLife

LewisHamilton: Y/n keeping the team spirit high as always! 🙌 Charles_Leclerc: t’s always great having you in the garage, Y/n. You bring such good energy! ⚡️ GeorgeRussell63: Look at Toto, all business as usual 😂 → MercedesAMGF1: Focused as always, @ GeorgeRussell63. Y/n is the secret to our success in the garage 😉 -Toto

LandoNorris: Y/n in the garage = good vibes only! 🎉 TechFanF1: Seeing the behind-the-scenes action is awesome! Thanks for sharing, Y/n! RacingWivesClub: Y/n, you’re the real MVP behind Toto’s success! 💪

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Pre-race rituals with the one and only 🏁✨ #RaceDayReady #F1Life

LewisHamilton: That’s the pre-race boost we all need! Sending good vibes to you both! ❤️ MickSchumacher: Now I see where Toto gets his race-day focus from! 🏎️ NicoRosberg: Aww, bringing back memories! You guys are the best 💫 JessicaButton: Love seeing the love and support between you two! Power couple vibes all the way 🌟 TheWolffsfan: That’s such a sweet moment! Toto’s good luck charm ❤️ SpeedyF1Fan: This is too cute! No wonder Toto’s always so calm before a race. RacingLife_92: Y/n, you’re definitely the best part of the pre-race routine! 😍 MercedesAMGF1: Every race is better with you by my side, @ Y/nWolff. You’re my good luck charm 💖 -Toto

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When in Monaco… 🇲🇨 #MonacoGP #LivingTheDream

Charles_Leclerc: Looking stunning! Hope you’re enjoying my home race 🏎️🇲🇨 DanielRicciardo: Monaco magic! You two look like movie stars! 🎥 MaxVerstappen1: Y/n, you’re outshining the entire grid with that look! 😎 AngelaCullen: Wow, you both look amazing! Monaco has never looked better 😍 PierreGasly: Y/n, I think you just set a new standard for race day fashion 👏 FashionAndF1: This is what we call couple goals! Y/n, your dress is absolutely stunning! ✨ MonacoMagicFan: Toto and Y/n, the ultimate power couple at the ultimate race! 🔥 MercedesAMGF1: Monaco feels even more special when I’m with you, @ Y/nWolffYou make every event shine ✨-Toto

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Back to Brackley! Ready to get back to work with the team 🏠🏎️ #HomeBase #F1Family

LewisHamilton: Welcome back! Let’s get back to business 💪 GeorgeRussell63: The team's energy always picks up when you’re around, Y/n! Time to put in the work 💼 ValtteriBottas: There’s no place like home! Brackley is ready for the Wolff magic 🏁 AngelaCullen: Exciting times ahead! So glad to see you back with the team 😊 TiffanyCromwell: Y/n, you always bring such positive vibes! Can’t wait to see what’s next 💥 JamesAllison: We’ve missed you around HQ! Let’s gear up for an even stronger season 🔧 MercedesF1FanForever: It’s great to see you back at the heart of Mercedes, Y/n! Your presence is truly inspiring 💙 F1_Fanatic88: Y/n back in Brackley! Can’t wait to see what the team achieves next! #TeamMercedes MercedesAMGF1: Back to where the magic happens. Couldn’t do it without you by my side, @ Y/nWolff. Let’s make this season one to remember 🏆 -Toto F1FamilyMoments: Y/n support is what makes Mercedes more than just a team. It’s a family. Welcome home! 🏠💙

[nincompoopydoo]

hi i have a req for your vday celebration for this line 'have you no compassion for my poor nerves? ’ for theseus scamander!! going on a trip with newt looking for some new mythical creature to draw and you somehow get injured and theseus gets worried so like angst + fluff pls

IN SEARCH OF A GRECIAN BEAST

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Reader WORD COUNT: 1.1k SUMMARY: As you, Theseus, and Newt find yourselves on a secluded Grecian beach along the Aegean Sea, an endeavor unfolds to seek out a Hippocampus. However, plans don't turn out as expected. A/N: An angsty yet light-hearted fic in a way. Hope you guys love this lil Theseus one-shot~ WARNINGS: near drowning. angst. Newt literally has no compassion when he’s excited about his beasts lol. PROMPT: “Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?” [from this prompt list] MASTERLIST

“Pray, Theseus, allow yourself a respite! Quit moaning and come with us,” you whine with an exaggerated, sarcastic tone as you trudge down the rocky slope that leads to a stretch of golden sand. Newt is way ahead, feet already on the sand as he scuttles across the rugged coastline that looks upon the Aegean Sea.

Theseus huffs at your words, watching the way your linen top billows in the sea breeze, gleaming under the scorching summer sun. He decides he has no other choice than to follow begrudgingly. He stumbles on his feet, shells crunching at contact, and sees you looking back at him, eyes bright. The curve of your smile goes unnoticeable.

“I thought we were meant to be on holiday,” he calls out to you and his brother.

You merely laugh, and Newt responds without turning back, “Nobody mentioned a holiday, Theseus.”

Theseus scoffs, “Well, I presumed it was, considering you invited me to Greece. Of all places!”

Without warning, you abruptly halt, swiftly turning to face him.

“We find ourselves on this beautiful, secluded Grecian beach, and you're complaining?” You gesture to your surroundings in big movements, arms moving in sweeping motions.

You’re right, he’s being dramatic. Perhaps he finds himself a little sceptical towards your shenanigans with Newt. How you were always closer to his brother than him, even though he never dared admit it to himself that he wished it was the other way around.

Theseus is silent when you fix him with a stern gaze, nearing him. “All I’m saying is, you should loosen up a little.”

There it is. That glint in your stare. It’s hopeful.

Theseus realised long ago that he would do anything for you and be anything you wanted him to be.

“I am loose. I can be loose.”

Your laugh comes off more like a scoff. You don’t believe him one bit. “Right.”

Then, your fist connects with his arm. It’s playful, just like old times. Theseus winces, his palm instinctively rubbing his bicep as he shoots you a maddened look. Despite the irritation etched on his face, the subtle curve on his lips betrays it.

You laugh again. It’s light and sends his heart thrumming faster than ever. 

“Come on –”

"Look!" newt exclaims, his voice ringing out excitedly. “Over there.” He points toward the shore with the widest grin Theseus has ever seen.

You immediately grip Theseus’ wrist, pulling him along as you dash towards Newt.

“Hippocamps,” you breathe out, merely a whisper, eyes trained on the clear waters beyond.

Theseus turns to you and clocks on your wide-eyed gaze. Your mouth hangs slightly agape in utter awe as you take in the scene unravelling before you. Glints of deep blue swirl under the crystal waters, their scales glistening like scattered glitter under the Grecian sun.

Then, you release your hold on his hand. 

“I’m going in.”

The brothers snap their heads to you, “What?”

You turn to Theseus, “I know these creatures better than anyone. You know that.” Then, your gaze shifts to Newt, “Even more than you, Newt.”

A beat. He sees that you’re now looking at him expectantly as if you need his assurance. That he trusts you. He really doesn’t know why you need it.

“Just… be careful.”

You purse your lips and nod. “I will.”

The waves lap rhythmically as you approach the waters cautiously, gentling wading through and towards the Hippocampi. The water rises to your waist. You catch a hint of a tail under the sunlight, iridescent and reflecting the ocean's blue and green hues.

You take a deep breath – the key is to be calm. Extremely calm. You extend your palm, luminous kelp in your grasp, hoping to lure the creature.

Then, its head emerges from the waters, a horse for a head. The creature curiously eyes the kelp in your hand as you watch in controlled excitement as the others drift closer. You cannot help but smile.

Yet, something beneath you rumbles. It’s so slight that you almost miss it. But it sends a rippling uneasiness to your surroundings that it alarms the creatures. The air shifts, and before you know it, the Hippocampi sense an unseen threat and quickly disappear into the ocean.

Your smile drops.

You see it, a sleek form of green drifting in the depths beneath you. It glides through the water with stealth.

Ashore, Theseus senses your concern. “Something’s wrong.”

Then, he sees you turn to them with panicked eyes.

Abruptly, the water erupts with a powerful surge, and a beast rises from the depths and leaps into the air. Its mane of waterweed cascades with its movement.

It’s a Kelpie.

Newt and Theseus watch in stunned silence.

As the Kelpie vanishes beneath the waves, you’re gone.

Theseus’ heart drops.

Instinctively, Theseus calls your name, charging towards the place you stood moments before. In his sprint, he throws a quick, urgent glance over his shoulder at Newt, who scrambles closely behind, his expression etched with mirrored exasperation.

“Why in Godric’s name is a Kelpie doing here?!”

“That’s a good question –”

Theseus isn’t listening anymore. He can’t think right now, his heart pounding fiercely. Each step intensifies the knot in his stomach.

He finds himself slicing through the waves and propelled beneath the surface. His vision goes blur momentarily; elusive silhouettes move around him like drifting shadows. But as his eyes begin to take focus, he sees Newt, a feet away, seemingly going after the Kelpie.

Theseus whirls around, eyes scanning his surroundings.

He sees you, conscious. You’re looking at him with wide eyes, struggling to stay afloat.

Theseus closes in, and he reaches out, arms enveloping you. With a forceful pull, you are brought to the surface, head heavy against his chest. Your sharp gasp pierces the air, it resonates loudly, but it settles a sense of relief in Theseus.

As you’re pulled to shore, you’re induced into a coughing fit, water forcefully expelling from your lips. Theseus hovers above you, his hand on the back of your head, lifting it from the ground in an attempt to ease your choking. His other palm rests against your cheek firmly.

He says your name, his voice laced with reassurance, yet his gaze lingers with a perpetual panic as he hovers above you, the sunlight casting a halo through his tousled hair. Theseus looks truly distressed.

“Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?!” he exclaims, exasperated in all his dramatic and uptight glory.

“Just… trying to keep you on your… toes, that’s all,” you manage to croak out.

Theseus's laugh passes off as an exhale and grins, shaking his head. Quickly, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You instantly feel your cheeks start to burn.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You just smile. “No promises.”

Then, laughter echoes in the distance. Both of you turn to find Newt emerging from the shore, eyes bright.

"That was incredible!"

[fairlyang]

Summer Lovin’: We Go Together 🕷️

w/c: 6.9K

pairing: greaser!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. infamous dance scene w mig proving himself (better ending), his friends are instigators, drive in, groping, exhibitionism, fingering, stroking, praise, teasing, finally fucks you, riding, missionary, sweet ending

a/n: AHHHHH after 10 months my beloved part 3 is done!!! a year ago i first thought of this au and wrote it just for fun bc i love grease, now i’m happy to close this lil chapter after putting it off so long. honestly one of my favs series i’ve written :’)

part one — part two — the dress/tl of events

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Four weeks had passed and Miguel had taken every opportunity possible to take you out and practically show everyone that you were his.

It was a different sight to see for everyone, especially his fellow T Birds with the exception of Danny, who was really happy for him.

Kenickie also didn’t really care, mostly because he found himself in a predicament just like yours but unlike Miguel, he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself yet.

Unfortunately the younger three T Birds couldn’t believe it and started bickering to Miguel as soon as he broke the news to all of them.

While he got wide grins and bats on the back from Kenickie, and Danny, on the other hand he just got eye rolls and scoffs from the other three who couldn’t fathom thee Miguel O’Hara was finally living down his playboy ways.

They couldn’t believe one of their leaders, who taught them how to be the way they were, was just done with fooling around with a handful of girls at a time.

The girls on the other hand were shocked, with the exception of Frenchy and Sandy who somewhat had an idea where his head was at but the other three were not expecting that from him.

They didn’t believe it at first until the first week passed and it was so obvious to anyone with eyes that he was finally done with his bullshit.

Finally having pure happiness and tranquility with him by your side was all you could really ask for.

So after a bunch of cute dates and shared kisses, it was finally the day of the dance. You ended up going shopping with Frenchy and Sandy the day after the diner date because you just couldn’t wait and were so excited. They said you had to buy a new dress, one that Miguel would love.

And you found it.

You decided on a red cocktail dress that had a black ribbon around the waist and around the neckline as well, to tie behind your neck. It had some white ruffles underneath for more volume and Frenchy said it’d work great for the dances.

You thought it was so pretty and would impress Miguel.

And it did way more than that.

His jaw was practically on the floor when he picked you up and you had to drag him to his car before your mom forced you into taking pictures as if it was prom because he wore a matching red dress shirt with a black jacket.

Plus surely the cameras would capture good ones since the whole country was gonna see everyone dance live.

Somehow this university was picked out of all the other ones.

Some kind of miracle.

Or maybe a curse.

But the T birds claimed the principal must’ve slept with the host or something to consider Rydell.

You just gave them a side eye while Miguel scolded them for being dumbasses and always thinking in the gutter.

Both friend groups were together with the exception of Rizzo and Kenickie who split up and were nowhere to be seen.

Everyone was gossiping and judging people’s outfits or people’s dates but you just made yourself comfortable in Miguel’s arms while minding your business.

You felt so happy everything ended up working out and now you could truly be yourself with Miguel without the fear of him acting like a piece of shit.

Because if you were affectionate or doing some kind of pda, he’d just follow your lead.

It was the perfect change of pace after everything that’s happened and you owed it to yourselves to be so smitten in public.

You sighed and hugged him a little tighter when finally one of the professors tells everyone to form a circle and that the cameras will run shortly but that they wanted to do a warm up dance with the band.

Everyone ran inside the circle as soon as the tune of “Rock And Roll Is Here To Stay” started playing. All the couples were already hand in hand while the singletons sat off on the benches off to the side.

You and Miguel started just by dancing next to each other before he was in front of you, grabbing your hands, moving them side to side with his. He then gave you a quick spin before lifting you up, your legs going way up almost hitting the professor, who was keeping an eye out.

Miguel then somehow lifted you over his back and maneuvered you so you’d land straight up in front of him.

The professor was nodding his head before walking away while you continued being in sync with Miguel.

Some of the couples unfortunately couldn’t do that, one guy dropped the girl he was partnered with which resulted in her yelling at him for spoiling her chance to be on national television.

He walked around the circle observing who would still be in and who he’d have to cut short for raunchy actions which turned out to be quite the handful.

He found his way back to you guys when Miguel picked up up again, your legs were around his waist then you’re back in the air before he carefully drops you to the ground and you’re underneath him.

He turns around, grabbing your hands before he picks you back up. You do little bunny skips for a few seconds before picking you up once again, your hands holding the back of his head right. He then dipped you down while your legs cling onto his waist for dear life and he luckily didn’t drop you.

And it caught the eye of the professor who was taking some notes down. Frenchy and Doodie were watching you which had the prof assume they knew you.

Course they did.

But only would Doodie’s dumbass lie when asked about your names, claiming it’s Fred and Ginger. Frenchy scolded him but he just waved her off while the prof wrote those names down.

Meanwhile you and Miguel went to sit at the benches, just to catch your breath for a bit when something came to mind. “What if I get camera shy?” You ask making him laugh.

“I’m sure you’ll be alright. We’ll be good, right? Hm?” He says and you nod.

“We’ll be good.” You answer and he grins.

“Thatta girl. Now come on let’s go.” He says and grabs your hand, pulling you up and going back to the dance floor.

Meanwhile the next song was playing, a little slower one but on one corner of the gym was Rizzo and her new boy toy because she had a pregnancy scare with Kenickie and had no choice but to drop him.

Which only resulted in Kenickie getting Rizzo’s boy toy’s ex girl as his date.

A whole mess but it should’ve been expected with the amount of toxicity Kenickie and Rizzo have shown towards each other.

Rizzo saw them and gasped before stepping in front of her new man so he wouldn’t see but it was hard not to see with Kenickie giving this girl one of his so called “rare souvenirs”.

Jan and Putzie were also dancing. Or attempting to. Jan has only ever led while dancing which had them both in position to lead which only made them look stiff.

Frenchy was asking Doodie if he could at least spin her but he was counting his steps and trying hard to concentrate. It only looked like he was marching on the floor over trying to dance.

Danny and Sandy were off slow dancing, whispering in each others faces while they ignored everyone else around them. He’d occasionally spin her then pull her towards him to snatch a kiss from her.

You and Miguel were dancing back and forth until Miguel started just going backwards while attempting to sing like the singer of the band. “You have such a beautiful voice Miguel.” You tease making him continue at a lower octave.

You laughed and you somehow landed right where half your friend group was. He stops when he sees Kenickie’s date, and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close while your arm was around his waist, not questioning a thing.

“‘Hara meet my date, Cha Cha.” Kenickie introduces him to her but he just shrugs and leans his head against yours.

“What’s up ‘Hara baby?” She says making you scoff but Miguel pulls you even closer to him.

“Who is she?” Doodie asked making Frenchy scoff as well.

“They call me Cha Cha because I’m the best dancer around.” She replies with a cocky smirk making you roll your eyes.

Great.

“With the worst reputation.” Frenchy mumbles making you and Sandy snicker.

He ignored her completely and lets go of you to grab your hand again, leading you back to the dance floor. “Do I wanna ask?” You mutter under your breath making him sigh.

“Ex…. Not girlfriend.. or fling.. we’ll go with dancing partner.” He says, stopping in the middle of the dance floor and pulls you close.

“Past is in the past.” He whispers and places his hands on your waist while yours wrapped behind his neck.

“I only care about my future with the girl I’m going steady with.” He adds and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That’s good to hear.” You say relieved.

Not that you already didn’t trust his promising words to you but because you could tell she was trying to cause something. A reaction out of either of you which she didn’t get.

The song ended and the band stops until they play the next song which has everyone sprinting to make two straight lines, one for the girls and one for the boys.

The couple at the very end walk through the middle of both lines until they get to the other side by the stage and go to the front of the line meanwhile there’s another couple a few feet from them already dancing

Miguel made sure you were directly in front of him while the rest of the guys directed their girls next to you.

The first few couples you didn’t recognize but from your group was Kenickie and Cha Cha followed by Danny and Sandy. Then it was you and Miguel followed by Frenchy and Doodie.

Then it was Jan and Putzie with Sunny by himself behind them because Marty was too busy flirting it up with the host and uninterested in his flirty attempts towards her. And lastly it was Rizzo and her man.

The song ends and the assistant principal climbs up on stage and yells, “The Rydell fight song!!”

Suddenly the principal and coach make their way through the middle of the line and as they moved the lines disappeared because people were so bumped for the cameras to finally roll.

They climbed on stage and the band stops playing their music while everyone cheers. “When you are finished.” The principal says into a mic and everyone quickly quiets down.

“You will be happy to know I am not judging the dance contest.” She says and the loudest of cheers were immediately screamed from the whole gym.

The coach grins and tries to quiet everyone down, which works out because everyone loves him.

She then goes on what seems to be a lecture to be on the best behavior because national television and blah blah blah, it was going on one ear and directly out of the other, no one gave a shit.

Then finally she introduces Vince Fontaine who was a radio dj and somehow was judging this contest.

All the girls screamed and everyone’s looking around but he was nowhere to be seen until finally he heard his name and stopped flirting with Marty. He ran off from behind some float they had at the back of the gym and ran into the crowd.

Everyone bombarded him and the guys moved him forward, carrying him until he got to the front of the stage. Kenickie and Miguel lifted him up to the stage and he immediately started thrusting into the crowd.

The coach then explains the rules which included couples for some reason had to be boy-girl, if you’re tapped on the shoulder you have to leave the dance floor, and lastly no vulgar movements.

That for some reason had people looking, pointing, and laughing at Rizzo which you found weird and oddly specific they all thought of her but there was no time to question that.

Suddenly the professor from earlier runs on stage and says, “forty seconds.” then scrambled off.

Vince then took the mic and started hyping up the crowd and telling everyone to not worry about the cameras and to just be themselves.

Then the cameras are on and he puts on his professional voice when introducing the band then student body before the band starts playing Hound Dog and all hell breaks loose.

Everyone scrambled to be in a good position, dancing in sync while holding their partner by the waist or hand.

But they stopped as soon as Doodie spotted a camera and called it out making literally the entire floor to try to be at the very front of it.

Guys were carrying their girls up on their shoulders and everyone was waving or blowing kisses to the camera.

But some of the professors were demanding the guys to put the girls down and to get back to dancing again or they’d be disqualified.

Everyone went back to dancing when Miguel grabs your hand and leads you to the very front where all the cameras would be pointing towards.

You danced in front of it and you were glad your nerves didn’t come in otherwise this would’ve been a mess.

Miguel picked you up then spun you around before dancing back and forth to the music.

The camera moved along the front and captured everyone’s excited faces as the song was coming to its end.

One of the other cameras pointed to Vince and Patty and Marty that were on either side of him while they were in the back of the gym.

He hyped up the crowd once again before randomly asking, “Hey does everybody know Marty?”

The T Birds of course yelled that they did and all kinds of stupid things before she made faces at them forgetting just for a second that she was directly on frame.

The next song starts and so many couples were already out. All the couples were in sync with the little hand motions for this specific song and Vince was walking through, now able to look at every couple.

He started off with Kenickie, who was pretending he was slapping Cha Cha while she pretended she was getting hit before thrusting towards him with Kenickie behind him.

He walked away and looked at you and Miguel while you remained eye contact, not stopping from doing the hand jive like everyone else was doing.

He walked around some more before ending up with Marty but he got distracted by Doodie’s horrific dancing in front of him he had to tap his shoulder.

He then walked to the center of the floor where he found Rizzo and her man dancing, vulgarly. He was on his knees as if he was about to eat her out and she was thrusting back and forth.

Vince instantly tapped the man’s shoulder and walked away. Rizzo and her man walked off only for her man to walk past Cha Cha and thrust in front of her which only resulted in Kenickie to jump him.

He started throwing punches and they were thrown right back making the singer of the band shout, “break up, break up, what is that?!?”

Rizzo and Cha Cha tried to break it off but it was hard until Cha Cha led Kenickie back to the dance floor to stay center stage.

That was until there was a circle of the couples that were left and everyone had a chance to be in the middle to show off what they got. Some were of course vulgar because how could they not be?

Some were very impressive and others not so much.

Patty was at the very front with Tom when suddenly Kenickie runs then slides down to Patty before standing back up while lifting her dress up.

She ran away embarrassed and Kenickie dropped to the floor and started thrusting up which prompted the assistant principal to come up and yell at him. But right after someone picked her up and shook her up and down, taking her away.

Just then Miguel pulled you to the center and you started off with more synchronized dances you’d talked about during the week. Everyone cheered and by this point most of the couples were out which was a good sign.

That was until Sunny tried to be sneaky and pull you away from Miguel when you were skipping along behind him but you stepped on Sunny’s shoe and went back to Miguel quickly.

Cha Cha was about to swoop in and take Miguel but luckily you were faster and he grabbed your hand, never a doubt in your mind that he would have picked you over her.

He led you to the very middle and you started grabbing the ends of your dress, twirling it out while you both danced in sync. You used the entire circle that formed around you and ignored everyone besides each other.

Focusing on looking good and not fucking up any of the moves but it all went perfectly and smoothly.

The chemistry through the dances was intense and very clearly unmatched when the principal came down and handed you a plaque which made you cheer and grin at Miguel who had the widest smile yet.

He was so happy and if this wasn’t enough proof to show his growth and how he now didn’t give a shit about his reputation, he didn’t know what would be.

He twirled you around a couple times before giving you a big hug in front of everyone. There were loads of cheers and screams but you only focused on him and kind of just ignoring everything else.

As if you were the last two people standing and there weren’t so many eyes on you. Even the ones from the cameras in front of you.

He pulled away first and left a kiss on your forehead but then brought a hand to your chin, lifting it up before softly pecking your lips. Even louder screams erupted but you zoned them out.

Suddenly the lights turn off and everyone who was around you dispersed, while Blue Moon started to play. Someone grabbed your plaque and you didn’t even see who it was because your eyes were just locked on him.

He stuck his hand out and you grabbed it, you spun inward into him, grabbing his other hand earning some cheers because of how smooth it looked.

Miguel then led, moving you around swiftly, one hand holding yours and the other on your lower back. He spun you in a few circles before dropping you in to a dip which you knew you had to stick a leg out.

Louder cheers echoed through your ears when he picked you back up and spun you around again slowly.

Suddenly the younger trio of the T Birds jump in front of the main camera, their jackets covering their faces, they lean over and pull down their pants and boxers leaving them bare naked, showing their asses to the whole country.

Everyone laughed but you and Miguel didn’t notice, just continued with your dancing while the lighting person focused on their asses over you two, who had won the contest.

The dance ended as soon as that happened. The cameras cut. The lights were turned back on and the “Mooners” were already long gone.

You only noticed because as soon as the lights turned on Miguel grabbed you and ran off to the exit along with the rest of your friend group. Him, Danny, and Kenickie began smacking the other three T birds and scolding them for being dumbasses.

There was chaos all over the place because the professors were trying to see who had the audacity to singlehandedly ruin the university’s reputation further.

Practically everyone went to the drive in after the dance considering it ended so early and no one was trying to go home to their parents at 10pm.

It wasn’t too packed with cars until everyone from Rydell was piling in and parking in whatever spot they could get.

Given you and your friend group were the first ones to get to their designated cars at the uni parking lot and quickly knew where you’d all go to hang and luckily got decent spots.

The girls parked in the lane behind you and Miguel, and the guys were next to them. Luckily there was still enough space between lanes in case Miguel wanted to leave and there’d be no chance of accidents unless one of the T birds did something stupid, which was highly likely.

Kenickie came up to Miguel’s window to which he rolled it down, (because Miguel finally decided to have the top of his convertible back on) and he asks, “do you want some snacks or somethin’?”

Miguel turns to you and you shake your head making Kenickie nod. He leaned in close to the window prompting Miguel to lean in, assuming he had something to tell him.

You tried to mind your business, twiddling at the end of your dress, listening to the hums of the acapella group on the radio, looking straight ahead at the large screen displaying a zombie movie they always play.

Anything to not seem like you were snooping but somehow you didn’t hear a thing when Miguel suddenly scoffs, then laughs before waving Kenickie off.

Kenickie gave him a wide grin before walking away, most likely off with the rest of the gang making you wonder what on earth just happened.

He didn’t say anything and only wrapped his right arm over your shoulder while he rolled his window up but left a tiny bit of space to at least hear the movie.

But that wasn’t top priority in his head.

Top priority was something he’s been thinking about for ages.

A long while since those days you had spent together at the beach.

And what better time to follow through with his dirty ideas than now?

So he brought his hand lower, inching closer and closer to just full on grope your right breast. You could almost sense a change in the air and that was confirmed when his hand didn’t stop it’s movements and indeed did grope you. “Miguel!” You squealed and he laughed before leaning his head down to kiss your neck.

You bit your lip as he squeezed your breast softly but left quite a mark on you. “I-It’s the way we just got here Miguel-“ you stammer as he hums against your skin, sending shivers all throughout your body.

“Do you really care about the damn movie darling?” He murmurs making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Well….”

“That’s what I thought.” He teases and pulls away, now looking at you directly.

“Now.. I had something in mind for tonight.” He says softly before taking his arm off you too.

“And what would that be?” You ask and tilt your head to the side.

What was he plotting?

“Maybe going all the way?” He suggests and you widen your eyes.

“Here?” You ask, making him nod as you laughed.

“You gotta be joking right?” You say and he shakes his head.

“Do you think I’m joking?” He murmurs before going back to kissing your neck.

You breathe in and squeeze your legs together, this man cannot be serious.

“You don’t have tinted windows-” You say but interrupt yourself with a moan leaving your mouth as his right hand went back to groping your right breast.

“Don’t worry, no one’s watching.” He murmurs nonchalantly but it didn’t make you feel any better.

“You have perverted friends Mig, be serious!!” You laugh making him snort.

“Do you want me to remind you how we met-“ he teases, making you groan.

“Fuck-“ you curse and realize it’s practically the same thing.

“This is sort of different- there’s actually people around.” You mumble.

“Kenickie will put ‘em in check and look around this is a hot spot.” He mutters and you could only hum.

It was true.

People wouldn’t exactly be peeking because they were most likely busy themselves.

And you’ve been needing him to fuck you…

So why not after he proved himself to you?

You lightly nod and he grins, “was an offer you couldn’t refuse huh?”

His teasing only made you roll your eyes but he was right. After practically dreaming of it for so long, how could you not?

And after such an overall amazing night, why not?

“You’re such a horn dog you know that?” you tease and he shrugs.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” he murmurs and pecks your lips.

he slowly brought his hand down, just placing it on your thigh and inching lower so he can bring his hand under your dress. “you looked so beautiful tonight.” he murmurs making you sigh.

“you don’t look too bad either.” you teased as you pulled your dress up for him and his hand started squeezing your thigh.

“gonna have to only use my hands because the car’s a bit small..” he murmured and you just nodded, “it’s fine.”

you spread your legs apart, putting your left leg on top of his right and his hand makes it way down, reaching your inner thigh, “y’know i had a whole plan for this, after a nice date, maybe some rose petals and candles…”

“changed your mind?” you asked and he shook his head.

his hand went up until it touched the waistband of your panties and whispered, “you just look too fucking good, i got impatient.”

you felt your face grow warm and you looked at him, a sparkle in your eyes and a sweet smile on your face, “so romantic.”

he fought back a smile but seeing your pretty face, he couldn’t help but smile along with you. “our second time can be special.”

you chuckle and shrug, “this is more like us.”

he grins, leaning in and letting his head rest against yours while his hand went down, now over your clothed pussy. he lightly rubs your clit with two fingers, feeling you relax as you lay your head on his shoulder. “it’s felt like ages since the last time.” he whispered and you let out a sigh.

“a whole month.” you whined, making him groan, “a month and three days.”

“someone’s keeping track.” you tease then let out a moan when he starts to rub your clit faster.

“that’s it.. let me hear you doll, i’ve missed you.” he purrs and you hold onto his arm, bucking your hips up to grind against his fingers.

“missed your touch baby.” you whisper earning yourself a moan from him.

“let’s never go this long again.” he mumbles and you quickly nod.

“it’s been torture.. but maybe worth it.” you say and he hums, “whys that?”

you tilt your head up to look at him and he looks down at you, “because it’s gonna feel so good when you’re finally inside me…”

he takes a deep breath and you move your left hand, putting it on his thigh then slowly trailing it up, “you’re actually going to kill me.”

“and you are too with how slow you’re movin’” you whine, making him scoff.

“sorry for trying to set the mood.” he says fake defensively and gives you a pout.

“mood is set, c’mon we’re doing this.” you say, moving your panties to the side with your right hand.

“yes ma’am.” he says and brings his right hand to his mouth.

he sucks on two fingers just for your viewing pleasure then gathers his saliva onto them to ensure you’re nice and wet whether you already are or not. he then pulls them away and a string of saliva connects his finger and his tongue making your brain turn to mush.

he looked so fucking good. he had no business looking so hot doing something so dirty.

he then brought his hand down between your legs again and let his fingers rub gently against your folds. your pool of slick and his wet fingers combined together, perfect for the idea in his head.

his fingers go to tease your entrance for a solid two seconds before actually slipping them inside. your walls immediately clenched against them and you moved your hand higher until you felt his bulge. he opened his mouth to complain when you suddenly started to stroke him through his pants — you both moaned, unable to hide how good it feels.

you’d only just begun but felt like you’d be able to come fast just because it was finally him touching you. you weren’t relying on your own fingers after a month and it was surreal.

it was like his touch ignited something in you that only he was able to do. you usually felt it when he held your hand or waist but this time it was stronger.

you stroked him faster as he pumped his fingers deeper, still keeping a slow pace. he was paying close attention to the wet noises, it was like music to his ears. you were slightly distracting him but he was luckily good at multitasking.

you attempted to undo his pants with one hand but struggling miserably so he helped you with his left hand. he stood up the tiniest bit just to pull his pants down over his ass and kept them by his thighs.

he went back to focusing on the pace he set but as your stroking was starting off fast, he matched your pace instead. your eyes fluttered and you laid your head against his shoulder again to be more comfortable.

you let out some deep breaths, already on the verge of asking him for more but knowing he’d make you wait. he on the other hand thought you’d need this and didn’t want to be too pushy or accidentally be too greedy so he figured he’d stretch you out with his fingers.

you let out quiet moans as you slipped your hand inside his boxers and take it out. his cock springs up and you quickly take hold of it, leaning over to spit on it then stroke it. he groans as you went back to your previous position and pumps his fingers faster, “fuck baby-“

“feels too good-“ you murmured, making him grunt, “yeah? feel good doll?”

you nod and grind your hips up, “need more.”

“you sure?” he asks and you eagerly nod.

“please.” you murmur, and he practically melts.

he slips his fingers out of you and you quickly let him go as he motions for you to get on top, “c’mere, c’mere.”

cock already out and ready for you, you nod and sit up, swinging your right leg over until you’re straddling his lap. you grab the ends of your dress and bring it up to your stomach, “hey, we’re gonna take this slow okay?” he says as you hover over him.

you pout and he just brings a hand to your face, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “don’t worry, i won’t keep you waiting too long.”

“better not, been waiting three months.” you whine and he pouts, “you have been so patient huh, baby?”

you bit your lip and nod, “slip it in and take your time.” he murmurs as you lift yourself up and line his cock up to your entrance.

just the tip teasing it alone was insane. after all you’re both finally getting what you’ve been craving the most.

“fuck please.” you whine as his tip slips to the side because you were extremely drenched.

he then helps you and you slowly feel it going in. you gasp and cover your hand over your mouth, “oh fuck-!”

“shhh, you have to be quiet baby, I don’t want these perverts to hear how good my girl sounds for me.” he says, making you whimper. you’ll never get tired of hearing that.

you then grip onto to his shoulders as his hands are on your waist, patiently. you slide down and more whimpers erupt from your mouth.

he was so thick.

maybe it was a good thing he fingered you first otherwise you would not have been anywhere near prepared.

“take your time baby.” he whispers and you nod.

you straighten yourself up and just stay like that, only having the tip inside, to get use to it. after a few seconds you feel fine and slide down some more slowly. you both moan and his grip on your waist tightens.

“miguel please just fuck me.” you whine and he shakes his head.

“I need you to get use to it before I do.” he says, making you groan.

“need you.” you whine and he shakes his head again.

“you’re doing so good already baby, just keep going until you can fit it all.” he murmurs and you sigh.

you know he desperately wants to fuck you, and you want the same but he also didn’t want to hurt you. he wanted it to be completely enjoyable for you so he thought having you take it in cowgirl was a good start because you had full control.

“c’mon baby, you can do it.” he murmurs as you pull yourself up then right back down.

you were able to take a tiny bit more but it was still a lot. you already felt so full and you were probably about halfway. this was a problem you never thought you’d have but apparently anything can happen.

“just like that angel, doing so good for me.” he purrs and look down at your pussy slowly taking him in.

it was quite the sight. he wasn’t so sure how he had been able to control himself around you because you were both horny people but somehow kept your hands off each other. mostly just to not rely on sexual things for your relationship.

it helped. your relationship had been thriving but now it was finally time to go all the way.

“i didn’t think i’d need to fucking practice.” you whined, earning yourself a laugh from him.

“baby you’ve got eyes, you already knew.” he murmurs and you shrug.

you lower yourself down, now feeling pleasure over slight pain so you full on sat on his lap, his length fully inside you now. you both moaned and his fingers dug into your skin, “so perfect baby-“

“so big..” you murmured and leaned your head forward towards his.

he moans and that’s when you decide to start moving. you pulled yourself up then bounced your ass down until you could feel him all inside you. “fucking shit- fuck baby.. gonna make me come so quick, just so tight.”

your eyes lit up with his words and your gummy walls clenched against him, making him twitch. he took a breather and pulled your hips up then helped you go down. he helped you for a few more minutes until you got the hang of it and began doing it yourself.

he watched you in absolute awe. he never thought he’d gain feelings for someone, let alone such strong ones that filled his every waking thought. and those feeling always seemed to keep him up at night as well.

he didn’t realize how badly he needed you like this until he looked down to watch how your pussy took his cock in. it’s exactly what he’s been desperately needing.

and it was like he fit perfectly inside you, like a missing puzzle piece. like you belonged together.

he thought it was enough teasing for the night so he quickly grabbed you tightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he then sat up before bringing your body down so you could lay down whilst still inside you.

“you ready?” he asks and you nod.

without another word he starts to properly fuck you, pulling your legs back which had you thinking to hold on to them so you did.

his thrusts were fast and messy, already feeling he could explode because you felt incredible. he swore he’s never felt pleasure this god-like until he met you.

he could’ve sworn you amplified the feeling when you touched him. it was all he could ever ask for in life, someone who drove him crazy in more ways than one.

your eyes fluttered shut as he relentlessly thrusted into you, the sweet melody of your moans filled his ears and it was the only noises he’d ever need.

“fuck miguel- god- filling me up so good.” you moaned and he swore he could feel himself twitch already.

“gonna fill you up alright..” he murmurs and holds onto the back of your thighs to help stable himself.

you moaned his name and watch how he fucked you to perfection. the way your pussy took his cock in was mesmerizing and if was such a pretty view. it was all you had been wanting and you finally got it, and it was better than anything you could’ve imagined.

he lowered himself down until he got right in front of your face and he starts going harder while he leaned down to kiss you. you instantly kissed back, moaning in his mouth with nearly every thrust.

he slid his tongue into your mouth and explored every crevice as you brought your hands up to his hair. you run your fingers through it, messing up his style just because you needed something to play with.

you tugged on them, making him moan into your mouth which just had you grinning ear to ear. you pulled away and he went down to your neck, kissing and licking every inch he could before he sucked a love bite into your skin, “fuck mig- p-please don’t stop-“ you whimpered out and he took your words to heart.

his thrusts were now the perfect combination of fast and hard, making sure you’d let out any and all the noises your heart desired. the car was moving back and forth and you could only pray that everyone around you was doing the same.

“too fucking perfect doll- god you’re amazing-“ he murmurs against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

he pulled away from your neck and looks into your eyes as he feels himself already getting closer to the edge. you could feel him twitch inside you again but this time it was enough for you to clench against him. he swore under his breath then watched your face perfectly.

your eyes were fighting hard to stay open and he was having a hard time keeping it together. but with each passing thrust he felt you getting close to the edge along with him. your face contorted and he knew you wouldn’t be able to lie so he fucked his hips into your repeatedly, desperate to cum.

he felt his orgasm building and he looked at you with pure joy in his eyes, well it was more of something else that he had never felt before, and there was no better time to admit it than now, “I love you.”

you snapped out of your hazy world and blinked, wondering if you really just heard that. his eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed into a pretty red color while you remained speechless. his thrusts were going deeper and you were glad he didn’t stop, otherwise you were going to assume this was all a dream.

you brought a hand up to his cheek, slight tears welling in your eyes as you smiled, “I love you.”

he grinned, tears threatening to fall out of his as well because he was just filled with so much love. so much love that he didn’t think was possible to feel.

you single-handedly changed him and had gotten him wrapped around your finger. the best part was he didn’t mind one bit.

right at that moment you both reached your orgasms and sealed the magic words with a loving kiss that you didn’t want to pull away from. he spilled his load as deep as he could go as you shook beneath him, holding onto him for dear life as he kissed you softly.

he slowed down and let you ride out your highs as you continued your sweet, sloppy kiss with tears running down both your cheeks. he pulled away, bringing a hand up to wipe them away while you did the same to his.

you let out a choked laugh, feeling so happy like you were on top of the world. he smiled and gave you a peck before pulling out of you then getting off you.

you fixed your panties then pulled your dress down as miguel helped you sit up then pulled you into his arms. you embraced him and cling onto him tightly to ensure he’s real. once you heard him let out an exaggerated cough, you knew he was.

and now there was no doubt in your mind that you made the right decision. that you were right to forgive him. and that you were truly, madly, hopelessly in love with miguel o’hara.

[kisses-for-you]

saved - e. diaz

eddie diaz x gn!reader

summary: during a dangerous building fire rescue, eddie's fear of losing you forces him to confront his emotions and confess to you.

w/c: 1.4k

The sirens blared through the city streets as the 118 sped towards their next call. It was a routine day, or as routine as things got in their line of work. You sat in the back of the truck, checking your gear. Eddie sat across from you, his eyes following your movements even though he tried to remain focused on the call. You were close friends but lately, Eddie had started considering the fact that maybe his feelings went beyond just a simple friendship. He'd pushed them down, convinced that it was just the stress of the job playing tricks on his heart.

But today felt different. The air in the truck was heavy, and something about this call gave Eddie a bad feeling. "You okay, Eddie?" you asked, catching him staring.

He blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah, I'm good. You?"

You nodded, flashing him that reassuring smile you always gave when you were heading into dangerous situations. "Yeah, I’m ready. Let's do this."

The call had come in about a building fire, one of the worst you'd seen in weeks. Several floors were already engulfed, and a group of people was trapped inside. As the truck came to a halt, you jumped out and joined the rest of the team. The thick smoke loomed over you, the fire roaring louder than usual. Bobby gave quick orders. You and Eddie were paired up, as usual. You seemed to work best together, always knowing the other's moves before you made them.

"Let's be quick about this," Bobby said, his voice firm over the comms. "We’ve got limited time before the structure’s compromised. Stay together."

Inside, the heat was suffocating, even with your gear. Flames lit up the way and the smoke was so thick that it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Your radios crackled with updates from the rest of the team, but Eddie's focus was solely on keeping you in his line of sight. Every time you moved forward, he was right there, close behind, watching your back. He watched you as you both cleared each room, calling out for survivors, his heart tightening with each passing second. Every time you turned a corner, his breath caught in his throat. It wasn't just the fire that made him nervous — it was the thought of losing you.

You found the first survivor on the second floor, a young woman huddled in a corner, clutching her child. You and Eddie worked together to get them out, Buck and Chim leading them to exit. But once you reached the third floor, things started to spiral.

The structure groaned above you, the fire spreading faster than anticipated. Smoke filled the air, making it difficult to see. As you approached the next room, you took the lead, pushing through a stubborn door.

"Y/N, wait!" Eddie called, sensing something wrong.

But it was too late. The moment you stepped into the room, the ceiling above you gave way. Eddie lunged forward, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back just as debris crashed down, narrowly missing you. For a second, time stood still. You were both on the floor, coughing from the smoke, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, his voice tight, fear flashing in his eyes as he held your arm a little longer than necessary. You coughed, your breath labored but nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. That was close."

Too close, Eddie thought. His chest ached at the sight of you, the weight of what almost happened crashing down on him.

As you pulled yourselves up and continued the search, the intensity of the fire grew. You found two more survivors, an elderly couple, but the building's groans became more frequent and louder. Bobby’s voice came through the radio, urgency clear in his tone.

"Get out now! The building’s coming down!"

But you weren't done. There were still reports of one more person trapped on the top floor. Eddie and you exchanged a look, both knowing what you had to do. "Eddie, we don't have time," you warned, but your tone was conflicted. You knew you didn't have time to go but you also didn't want Eddie to do it alone.

Eddie shook his head. "I'm not leaving anyone behind. You can go. I'll catch up."

You responded, "I'm not leaving you." Your words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut; you had said that to each other countless times, but it felt different now. Eddie’s heart pounded as he led the way up the stairs, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to you but couldn’t.

The top floor was a maze of flames, the heat so intense it was almost unbearable. You found the last survivor, an older man unconscious near a window. You moved to help him, and that's when it happened. The floor beneath you and the man gave way. Eddie barely had time to register the crash before he saw you go down with the collapsing floor, the man you were helping tumbling with you.

"Y/N!" Eddie screamed, panic flooding his system.

He rushed to the edge, looking down to see you trapped beneath rubble, barely conscious. You were pinned, the fire inching closer. Without thinking, Eddie jumped down to you, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg when he landed. His hands moved frantically, trying to free you from the debris.

"Eddie…" Your voice was weak, your eyelids fluttering. "You need to go. You can't…"

"I'm not leaving you," Eddie growled, his heart pounding. "I can't lose you, Y/N. I won't."

You coughed again, trying to speak, but the smoke was too thick. Eddie worked faster, his muscles straining as he lifted a beam off your legs. You couldn't help but cry out in pain as the pressure was lifted off your legs.

Eddie winced at the sound of your pain, but he didn't stop. He wouldn't stop until you were safe. His breathing was ragged, his limbs shaking from the exertion, but the fire was closing in, and he knew you didn't have much time. Bobby's voice crackled through his radio again, more urgent this time.

"Eddie! What's your status? The building's going to collapse!"

Eddie glanced up, seeing the flames creeping closer. All he cared about was you. He'd made a promise, to himself and to you, that he'd always have your back. Leaving you wasn't an option. With a final grunt, Eddie freed you, pulling you into his arms. "Hold on, Y/N, I've got you," he whispered, though the words felt more like a prayer.

You were barely conscious, your head resting against his chest as he stood, the weight of both you and the collapsing building pressing down on him. Every second counted. He hoisted you over his shoulder and made a break for the stairs, pain radiating through his leg but ignored in favor of saving you.

Somehow, you made it out. Eddie carried you through the flames, refusing to stop until you were out of the building. The moment you burst through the doors and into the open air, Eddie collapsed to his knees, still holding you tightly. The rest of the team rushed to you, paramedics quickly taking over, but Eddie didn't let go of your hand.

As you laid on the gurney, oxygen mask over your face, you opened your eyes just enough to look at Eddie. Your voice was barely a whisper when you spoke. "You saved me."

Eddie shook his head, his emotions finally spilling over. "You saved me, Y/N. Every day, you save me. I-" He paused, his heart pounding in his chest. "I love you. I've loved you for a long time, and I can't… I can't keep pretending like I don't."

Your eyes softened, a tear slipping down your cheek. You squeezed his hand, your grip weak but firm enough to let him know you felt the same. "I love you too, Eddie. I always have."

The weight of those words, so long unsaid, lifted something in Eddie's heart. For the first time in a long time, despite the chaos around, he felt a sense of peace. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, promising himself that from now on, he would never let you go.

Because in this world, there are no guarantees for a tomorrow. And Eddie Diaz wasn't going to waste another second pretending his heart didn’t belong to you.

911 masterlist

[writingjourney]

Small Beauties

Life at court while beneficial to your station is above all else one thing – unbearably lonely. With a youth spent in unreciprocated longing, the trap of an unhappy marriage, illness, loss and untimely farewells there is one thing that does not change throughout the years – your infatuation and blossoming friendship with Otto Hightower. After all is said and done, are you not both deserving of the very thing you never allowed yourselves to have?

pairing: Otto Hightower x fem!reader // rated E, 18+ MDNI

content: 19k words in five parts + epilogue, pining, forbidden romance, mostly gentle!otto, talks about pregnancy/infertility, minor character death, grief, religious themes (faith of the seven), smut (thigh riding, hand job, oral sex f!receiving, p in v, unprotected, coming inside, mild hand kink)

This story is available on AO3, split into five chapters ♡

1 The Maiden Days

Otto Hightower lifts the ornate cup to his lips, taking a lazy sip before he slowly lowers it yet again. A crimson stain lingers on the soft skin, the Dornish wine momentarily painting them red. You are transfixed by the sight. No matter how often he repeats this simple action it never fails to incite a war in your chest – heart beating rapidly, your lungs fluttering with every breath.

You fold your hands in your lap to ground yourself, observing him from your spot on the cool stone bench that sits at the far end of the balcony. Around you, a handful of other young ladies has erupted into lively chatter, most of them a few years younger than you.

“Ser Alister is so very handsome,” one of them chirps, giggling under her breath as they all turn to look at the man. “A fine knight, tall and strong and most honourable. His blue eyes are captivating.”

“Have you seen Ser Matthos? I hear that he has never lost a battle, the strongest knight in all the Riverlands.”

“Who do you admire, my lady?”

The voice resounds close to your ear – your friend, the Lady Emeline. You answer in a low hum, feigning contemplation. But your eyes still follow his every movement. Often times the lord will keep to himself, observing these gatherings more so than participating. His auburn hair shimmers golden in the warm sunlight and you are so very grateful to behold him outside of the gloomy chambers of the castle.

“Ser Otto,” you whisper.

They all burst into laughter like you told a hilarious joke, guffawing quite unladylike which garners the attention of the entire balcony, including the man you have been speaking of.

“I am not jesting,” you inform them.

Their laughter stops at once. Emeline’s hand wraps around your forearm. “But, you cannot be serious?”

Your eyes stay on the Lord whose solemn gaze still holds you captive. “The Lord Hand is handsome and tall, he is intelligent and experienced in life. An honourable man who serves our realm most faithfully. Any young lady would be lucky to be wed to him.”

“But he is… old,” she whispers now.

“And he is the Lady Alicent’s father,” another girl adds.

You decide to end your rhapsody, if only because you know they could never understand your infatuation. The Lord Hand is not older than half of the men your father is considering as a match for you, even though he certainly appears to be wise beyond his years. Recently widowed and in no want of a new wife, you are well aware that all your dreams of being with him are hopeless. However, this knowledge does nothing to quench your desires as his eyes remain fixed on you for longer than is appropriate. You confidently hold his gaze, even as your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Finally, he averts his eyes, just as the red stain slowly fades from his pale lips.

✦ ✧ ✦

Your father has been pacing since the sun began to wander westwards, his arms crossed behind his back as he fiddles with the rings on his fingers. You’ve seen this nervous gesture plenty of times in your life, only this time his distress has been inadvertently caused by you. Not even the splendid view over the prospering gardens of King’s Landing seems to calm his agitation. “She is of age, she has been of age for long enough that anything but a swift betrothal would be considered shameful, especially now that we are here.”

“Surely that should not be an issue, my lord?” your mother asks. “I hear from the other ladies that she has many a handsome suitor.”

“Suitors, yes, but no promising match. We have to entertain the possibility of sending her to the Riverlands or even the North, though I would prefer for her to stay in the capital. It is always useful to have a direct line to the crown.”

“Perhaps a Lannister?” she asks. “Or Ser Alister? All the young girls seem enamoured with him and his father sits on the king’s council.”

“What about Ser Otto?” you interject.

“The Lord Hand?” Your father barks out a laugh. “He will not have you, girl.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are not important enough, child, and most certainly not handsome enough to tempt a man like him. If he harboured any interest in you he would have already expressed it.”

“My lord.”

You startle at the sound of the deep voice that haunts your very existence these days, followed by the crunching of heavy footsteps on the gravely path. Your face instantly drains of all colour until you can feel the blood rushing back to your cheeks tenfold. You and your mother are seated underneath a rose-colored pavilion but the shade does nothing to cool your heated skin. At the arrival of your guest, you both stand for a polite greeting. From your spot close beside him you make out a familiar pair of leather boots and the ornate hem of a set of dark green garbs, the elaborate pattern of which you could describe in great detail from memory alone.

You cannot bring yourself to meet his eyes.

“My Lord Hand,” your father greets. “To what do I owe the honour of such an unexpected visit?”

“I was informed of your arrival, my lord. I deeply regret that I was kept busy for most of the day – as you well know from your own time in the capital the council never truly rests.” He stops for a moment when your father chuckles, then his voice softens. “My ladies.”

“My lord, what a pleasure to see you,” your mother replies. “It has been nigh a decade.”

“Indeed, my lady. I trust that your lord father is in good health?”

“He is,” she says with a playful smile. “The only ailment he cannot quite soothe is his growing ennui. He so loved to meddle in politics, now all he gets to dictate are his servants while my brother commands his army.”

The Lord Hand gives a kindhearted chuckle and you can almost feel the deep rumbling of his chest vibrating against you, a quake that has your own body trembling helplessly. You realise that every second of silence raises the risk of appearing unseemly to the lord, and so you finally glance up at him, only to find his green eyes already resting on you.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” you say, wishing the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

“My lady.” The corner of his mouth bends into a kind if not sympathetic smile. He must have heard his name coming from your lips upon his arrival and you cannot help but suspect that he finds the suggestion pitiable.

For the remainder of their conversation you stay quiet, withdrawing into yourself to nurse your deep embarrassment and sneaking glances at the lord only when you’re certain that his attention lies elsewhere. Soon your father follows the Lord Hand back inside the keep for a private audience and you remain seated in the gardens with a broken heart. Your mother inquires about the knights and lords you have met in your time in King’s Landing, riddling you with questions about potential marriage candidates.

She does not ask about Otto Hightower.

✦ ✧ ✦

The lady Alicent pulls the book from the shelf ever so cautiously in the way that she was taught to handle the ancient tomes that reside in her lord father’s library. You stand by her side, reading the spines of the books in the collection that his lordship as well as his predecessors have accumulated over the past centuries. Storybooks and fairytales are scarce, you are quite certain that you have read all of them thrice at this point, and so you and your friend have moved on to the historical accounts that the septa never taught you about.

The Lord Hand is eyeing you from his desk where he is taking care of his correspondence, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as the quill scratches the ink into the parchment. Alicent, who has retrieved the book by now, presents the title to him.

“Hm, a good pick, my daughter.”

You both smile at him and his eyes stay on you for so long that you are inclined to stall your departure even as Alicent makes her way to the door. You have never been very subtle about your feelings for the lord and for the past few moons he has indulged you by meeting your eyes more often than would be deemed appropriate should anyone notice.

“A word, my lady?” he asks, sensing your apprehension.

You glance at Alicent who merely gives you one of her kind smiles. “I shall wait for you in the godswood.”

A nervous sensation spreads in your limbs, numbing your fingers as you link your hands behind your back. His lordship stands and beholds you for a moment, his gaze betraying none of his thoughts as it flits between your face and the rest of your form. You stand still, meeting his eyes as you are wont to do, trying to uphold an air of confidence and maturity beyond your years.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your betrothal, my lady,” he says eventually.

“Thank you, my lord.” You hesitate for a moment in surprise as he is the first to bring up the subject since your father presented you with the news. “I was not aware that it had been announced already.”

He sits down behind his desk, neatly folding his long hands on its surface. “I assisted your father with the arrangements. The match was my suggestion.”

“Oh.” You feel your limbs trembling, the realisation like a knife in your chest. “I see.”

“I know he may not be who you dreamed for yourself,” he continues with a knowing expression that softens his features in a way that makes you want to weep.

“My lord has a keen, observant eye.”

“Indeed I have noticed your glances, my lady.” His brows pull together in a display of almost fatherly sympathy but it only makes the knife twist and sink in deeper. “And while I am flattered by your… infatuation, I must point out that this arrangement spares you a life by the side of a man much older than yourself. Ser Alister is in the prime of his youth, a well-favoured knight, and he will make a fine husband for many years to come.”

You nod, swallowing the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “I am fortunate to be betrothed to such a brave and noble knight. And yet **I feel that I must point out that you are being most unkind to yourself, my lord. Your age only adds to your character, your wisdom and gentle disposition are unmatched by any knight I have met in my life. If you ever chose to marry again, the lady would be most fortunate indeed.”

“Your generous words are appreciated, my lady.” He gives a smile that feels more genuine than the ones you have seen before. You refuse to get lost in the way it makes his eyes glow in the light of the candles. “May the Seven watch over you and bestow you with a prosperous future.”

You swallow around the tears that are painfully forming in your eyes, willing the corners of your mouth to return his kindness. “Thank you, my lord. I am certain with your blessings they will.”

2 The Wedded Days

“Seven blessings on your hunt, my lord. May your arrows fly true.”

You press a kiss to your husband’s pale cheek, the courtyard a cacophony of neighing horses, shouting men and clattering weapons in your ears. The hour is early and yet the keep is already alive as it prepares for a day that promises fresh game and other spoils of the woods.

He mounts his horse with a chuckle. “Can you not hear the deer already bawling? They are quivering with fear.”

You fight off a grimace, feeling sorry for the poor animals, and wave after the party as they depart for the Kingswood. A few other ladies who have bid their husbands farewell are waiting with you, waving until the last horse is out of sight and quiet settles in.

Your husband of three years recently inherited his father’s titles and has risen significantly in the king’s esteem ever since. As a proficient hunter since his childhood days it is no surprise that he was invited to join the party. You are surprised, however, when you encounter the Lord Hand on your way back inside, the quiet of the keep’s interiors enveloping you most welcomely.

“Are you not joining the hunt, my lord?” you ask when he stops to greet you.

“No, my lady, it is a small party.”

“His Grace would leave without his most trusted advisor?”

“His Grace has little use for me in the Kingswood, my lady. I am tending to important matters of the realm during his absence.”

You nod in understanding. Naturally the Lord Hand knows to prioritise his tasks but that does not mean you cannot tempt him to a small diversion. “Perhaps his lordship would allow me to keep him company, then?”

He scoffs mildly. “I hardly think that is appropriate, my lady.”

“Why not?”

The lord stops in his tracks, his gaze suddenly softening. “My lady.”

You raise your brows. “Are you concerned about matters of propriety?”

“I am concerned about the matter of your propriety, my lady, yes.”

“If you are alluding to…” You pause and he quirks an eyebrow, almost as if in amusement. “If you are alluding to my childish infatuation with you, my lord, I can assure you that it has long since passed. All I wish is for some company. It has been quite some time since I had the chance to enjoy the sunrise on a morning walk and I merely wish to share the beautiful view the gardens offer at first light.”

For a brief moment, the lord regards you as though he is trying to decipher one of his books. Eventually he tips his head to the side, locking his arms behind his back. “Very well, my lady. Since you are so fond of the gardens, I shall let you lead the way.”

You chuckle good-naturedly. “That is only because his lordship is so busy with politics that he hardly leaves the council chamber. Something he has in common with my husband.”

“There are duties that require an environment free of diversions, my lady.”

“Beauty is a diversion, then, my lord?”

“It most certainly is.”

You exit the keep onto a rather large balcony, the view opening up to the gardens that are still draped in deep shadows as the sun slowly rises above the horizon. A clear sky stretches out in purples, pinks and oranges, their pastel hues blending into each other with the soft brushstrokes of an artist. The sight takes your breath away for several seconds and when you come to, you notice that the Lord Hand is observing you.

“A marvel, don’t you agree?” you ask.

Otto Hightower smiles softly, his eyes crinkling beautifully in their corners. “A marvel indeed.”

The pink on your cheeks must mirror that of the sky when you descend the stairs and tread along the path. The cool air is not unwelcome even though your gown with its southern cut is not meant to keep you warm. You have only known the warm climate of the capital, hardly remembering your time before you were sent here as a ward, but you imagine that this is what the earliest signs of fall would feel like further up North.

“I don’t think I have properly conversed with anyone but my own servants in over a fortnight,” you muse as your footsteps lead you past flowering bushes, their blossoms still closed from the night. “Not even my lord husband has any time to spare for me these days, so busy is he with the council and his… lordly activities.”

“My lady, if you suffer from feelings of loneliness, I am sure we can make some arrangements to ease that affliction.” The tall lord's footsteps are heavier than yours, a reassuring sound that follows you along the path. “Perhaps we can send for one of your sisters.”

“I do not wish to talk to my sisters who I hardly know and hardly remember.” You pause, trying to hide your disdain as you let your hand hover under a particularly beautiful flower. “My lord, I so long for easy conversation or even just the silent companionship that being in the mere presence of a familiar person offers. Since becoming a wife my social circle has only grown smaller which I find quite odd.”

“Perhaps it simply lacks the carefree nature of childhood,” he says wisely.

“Perhaps it simply lacks another intelligent being to converse with.”

“In which case you flatter me, my lady, by seeking my companionship.”

You cannot hide the small smile that slips onto your face. “I have always enjoyed listening to you, my lord. Your insight and wisdom in any conversation over a shared meal has taught me more than my septa during her lessons.”

He rewards you with a deep chuckle and you glance at him, the way his usually stoic face lights up in a smile. “I should think that your septa did a fine job in raising a knowledgeable, kind-hearted young lady.”

“She did, you are quite right. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.” You continue to walk, trying to focus back on the sun that wanders along with you. “However, I cannot deny that I regret the ways in which time has passed. I have lost my friends to motherhood while I myself have been less than fortunate in this area. I now suffer the consequences of these shortcomings.”

“There is still time, my lady. You are quite young.”

The smile you give him is tinged with sadness, even though you appreciate his kind words. In truth, you are close to giving up all hope to ever conceive. You have been married for three years now and in all that time you have not once been with child. Not for a lack of efforts from your lord husband nor from your unwillingness to endure said efforts, no matter how unenjoyable you found them. As of late, however, he has shifted those efforts to other recipients, if your staff is to be believed who has spotted him frequent certain establishments in the city. You are not sure if that is a blessing or a curse.

“You speak very kindly, my lord, and yet deep in my heart I can feel that this marriage will not be as prosperous as anyone would have hoped. Perhaps the Gods did not intend for me to be a mother, as much as it pains me to entertain this possibility.”

“My lady, let me assure you that it is not necessarily the fault of the mother,” he says, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Many good men have not sired a child in all their life.”

You consider his words, consider their implications that perhaps the fault of your childless life is not yours alone. “You may be right, my lord, and yet if the purpose of a woman is to bear her husband’s children then I cannot help but feel like my worth has been impaired by my failure to give him an heir.”

“Some narrow minds may view it like that, yes, but I cannot agree. My own lady wife was much more to me than just the bearer of my children and I miss her dearly to this very day.”

You cannot help the wave of pain this opens in your chest, your eyes stinging the faintest bit. “How beautiful it must be to be loved and cherished as you did her.”

“Do you not feel cherished, my lady?” he inquires.

“I never expected to be blessed with a happy marriage, my lord,” you confess truthfully. “And yet the reality of it disappoints me greatly. They say a lady may not love her husband but that she will love his children. It fills me with great sorrow to find that there is no love in my life when my heart is overflowing with all that I have yet to give.”

He halts right beside you and you do the same, the view from the edge of the retaining wall quite spectacular now that the sun has risen above sea level.

“I know my lady is visiting the city’s orphanages quite frequently,” he finally says. “And that she is very fond of my own grandchildren, generously helping my daughter in her care for them.”

“Indeed and it may not be quite the same as having a child of my own that I can spoil as I please but it brings me a few moments of domesticity now and again that I deeply cherish.”

He nods sagely, his sombre gaze meeting your own. “Seeing that you find yourself lacking for company perhaps I may extend an invitation to join us for supper more frequently, my lady? With or without your lord husband, as his schedule allows.”

You find yourself smiling freely at him, awakening sensations that are altogether too familiar, too intimate. If only he had not married you to a man incapable of such affections. “I shall gladly accept your kind offer, my lord. It would please me greatly.”

There is no pity in the expression he gives you this time but a gentle friendliness that you cannot remember seeing in his eyes before. You resume your stroll through the gardens, the increasing warmth of the sunlight invigorating your cold limbs the further you go, and when you reach a fork in the path that leads either further down or back towards the keep you do not wish to turn around.

“Shall we keep going, my lady?” the lord asks.

You cannot help but smile when you agree.

✦ ✧ ✦

Otto senses some reluctance as he glances at the names of staff that is working for your household, if only because he is keenly aware that the findings of his current research may upset him in ways that will tempt him to folly. However, if your husband is mistreating you then he simply must know. His net of spies within the palace is tight as it is in the rest of King’s Landing but the proximity will make it much easier to have him observed.

It instils amounts of regret in him that border on a stomach ache. Marrying you to Ser Alister had been a logical decision at the time but he cannot deny that keeping you in King’s Landing influenced his judgement severely.

A handsome young knight, to inherit his father’s titles and possibly even his seat at the king’s council, Ser Alister was an easily agreed upon match for your father, easier still for Otto who felt like he was doing you a favour after he had noticed your attentions for a while – attentions he could not return at the time, for your protection and out of the overwhelming grief he still felt after the death of his wife. Even so, Otto has to admit to himself that your very openly displayed affections have always flattered him, that you are a true beauty with a comely face that is not just a joy to look at but also a delight to listen to. You are educated, intelligent, sweet, bold in private but shy in the company of others. Endearing even to his old and fractured heart.

Alister did inherit the title as well as the seat on the council within the next three years after your wedding, having wrapped the king around his finger with his open support for the Princess and his Grace’s adamancy in keeping her as his heir. Otto can see now where he went wrong – a severe lapse in judgement of his character, to think him respectful and harmless despite their political disagreements. To think him even remotely worthy of you.

The questioning of your staff as well as a few of his spies in the city reveals quickly that the man he had you marry is a well-known customer in the Street of Silks. Otto cannot, will not believe that anyone would discard a woman like you so foolishly and after only three years of marriage. Such disrespect to the Maid and the Mother of whom you are such a striking image, deserving of nothing but reverence and adoration and a family to love. There is no honour in men like Alister, in men like Daemon Targaryen and so many others who do not know how to cherish their wives as they vowed before the Gods.

A vivid feeling of contempt takes hold of Otto, at himself as well as your husband. He cannot alter what he did in arranging this match but he can make sure that you are comforted in knowing that you deserve more.

✦ ✧ ✦

The Tower of the Hand has not changed much over the past few years, the narrow staircases, the cool stone walls still caging you in. To be summoned now makes you wonder what his lordship could possibly need from you. When you enter, the Lord Hand swiftly dismisses his guards and they close the door behind you. The chamber is dark, only a few candles flickering from his desk and the mantelpiece of his unlit hearth, and yet you can make out the lines of worry on his handsome aging face.

“My lord,” you address him.

“My lady, I am afraid that I have requested to see you on a rather… delicate matter. Please, have a seat.”

There is hardly enough time to scan the circular room before you sit at a small desk with his correspondence spread over top, the wax still melting over a candle. You can see his bed from the corner of your eye – his private quarters.

“My lady, after our conversation in the gardens…” He stops himself, making sure that you are meeting his gaze. “I could not help but look into matters that you have hinted at, in genuine concern for your well-being, and I am afraid that I have uncovered a concerning truth.”

“Pray tell, my lord, what truth? You do not have to spare my feelings.”

“I got word from a trusted source that your lord husband has been seen in… certain establishments in the Street of Silks.”

“I am afraid that this is not news to me, my lord,” you say and he regards you with surprise.

“You are aware?”

“If it please, my lord, I would prefer for this to remain private. It is already shameful enough without the entire court knowing.”

“Of course, my lady, I merely wished for you to know the vicious acts–”

You have to suppress a dry chuckle, wondering why he seems so astonished by your husband’s ways. “Vicious? My lord, I am hardly the only lady bound to a husband who seeks his pleasure elsewhere.”

Otto’s voice drips with venom. “That does not make it any less despicable.”

You nod, conceding to his point. “May I be truthful, my lord?”

“Certainly.”

“I would rather he takes his needs elsewhere than continue to…” You pause, trying to phrase your thoughts without leaving respectability. “I have given up hopes on a child of my own, so there is no need to continue our efforts. I find no enjoyment in them and with no remaining purpose I find myself incapable of putting my body through the pain.”

His gaze changes now, sympathy perhaps. The crease on his forehead is deeper. “Pain, my lady?”

“Were you not aware that it is painful, my lord?”

“You say this as though it is a fact.”

“Is it not?” you ask, confused as to his meaning.

He looks at you as though there is something weighing on him, something he is desperate to share, but when his mouth opens no words come out. The lord spreads his palms on his desk as he sits up straighter, his hands pale and broad, adorned with rings that reflect the light of the candles. “My lady, I fear that the continuation of this conversation will lead us beyond the realms of propriety.”

You nod, averting your gaze in shame. “Please forgive me, my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive, my lady. I understand there is a… curiosity that grows upon the discovery of such intimate matters.”

You fight back the tears that have gathered in your eyes. “No matter, he is not requesting my presence anymore. I just wonder–” Again, you have to pause, feeling like a child again and not like a woman of two-and-twenty years. “Is it true, my lord?”

He furrows his brow. “Is what true, my lady?”

“Am I not handsome enough? My father–”

“Your father should never have spoken to you like that,” he interrupts, only catching his tone after the words left his mouth. You are surprised he still recalls that conversation. “I can assure you, my lady, that your beauty is greatly admired at court and certainly not the reason that your husband is disrespecting you in such a way.”

“And yet, perhaps he cannot find it.” You swallow the tears of irritation that are threatening to spill. “Please forget that I ever mentioned this to you, my lord. I hope you can forgive me for my transgression. I am aware that my intent is one that does not befit a lady of my station and that you cannot give me counsel in such matters. I thank you for your concern and for looking out for me when no one else does.”

“My lady.” His voice is soft, hardly more than a whisper and when you meet his eyes you see a glimmer in them that is akin to the longing you feel in your heart.

Perhaps it is this notion that gives you the courage. You place your delicate hand on top of his, feeling the lines and ridges, scars of a long life spent with a sword in his grasp. He does not pull away, not even when you smooth your thumb over his skin in a tender stroke. You repeat the movement, his eyes fixated on your joint hands, and round the table without letting go.

Once you are in his lap, you let go of his hand to toy with his doublet, tracing the chains around his neck, the brooch that shows the world that he is the hand of the king, the second most powerful man in all the Seven Kingdoms. And yet the power he wields over you far surpasses that of anyone else. Your faces are at the same height now, your noses brushing together before you lean back. You take his hand in both of yours, admiring how large it is, how you have to use both hands to fully grasp it. For a brief moment you bring it to your lips, breathing a kiss to his knuckles. The silver ring on his finger feels cool against your mouth, his skin softer than you expected.

“My lady,” he warns, the hesitation evident in his eyes.

You place his hand on your waist and to your delight he curls it around your shape. When you reach for his other hand he meets you halfway. They settle over your hips, holding you in place, and you rest your own hands on top of them for a moment to feel the warmth of his skin. This is how a lover’s touch should feel, you think. Gentle and warm. Safe.

“This is foolish,” he comments but his voice is too soft to convey the sentiment.

“Perhaps,” you agree. “Let me be foolish for once, my lord. I want to know what it feels like to follow my desires, to have a memory that I can retreat to when I need it.”

His throat constricts as he swallows, his gentle gaze fixed on you as you inspect the soft wrinkles on his face, the discoloured skin below his eyes that crinkles when they move. You lift a hand to caress him, shy fingertips exploring the shape of his face. Your lord stays still for you, allowing you the innocent touch even as his heart tightens at the intimacy of it all. He has not been touched by a woman in so long that he quite forgot the reactions it lures from his body, the want, the need it stokes when such a sublime creatures offers him the tenderness and comfort he so craves.

You shift forward and suddenly his thigh is pressing against that soft part between your legs. The pressure sends a jolt through your body. You gasp and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. You move your hand to comb his beard, your fingertips grazing the skin underneath until you can cup his cheek. The lord leans into your touch, eyes still shut, and breathes a burdensome sigh.

“Let me adjust you,” he finally says as his eyes open, waiting for you to give a nod before his grasp tightens. He lifts you enough that your leg slides between his, shifting his hips forward to give you more space. You are straddling his thigh now, the fabric of your dress bunched up high enough that you can feel him pressing against your core through your shift and your linens.

“My lord,” you whisper.

“Move your hips,” he instructs. “Gently, and tell me when you feel it.”

“Feel what, my lord?”

“You will know, darling girl.”

With your eyes on his you do as he says, rocking your hips clumsily at first. His hands guide you into a more fluid rhythm and you find more confidence when you feel the first sparks of pleasure his firm leg sends through your body. Your gasps soon fill the room, even as you try to hold them back. You recognise the feeling and the heat, you have felt it at times when your husband happened to touch certain parts of you, when you tried to touch yourself but weren’t courageous enough to continue. Only now the intensity is tenfold, especially with the lord’s keen eyes so focused on your mouth, on every sigh that leaves your lips.

“My beauty,” he whispers. “Carved from marble, a face that even the Gods must envy, and yet he does not see it, does not treasure it. What a shame to be gifted such a beautiful flower and to let it wilt in neglect.”

His words hardly register as he bounces his leg to meet your rhythm. The sparks of pleasure that spread in your body feel wrong, almost shameful, and yet you want to chase, need to chase them. But then the pressure slowly becomes uncomfortable, a tension that you don’t recognise but that is bordering on painful. You whimper, stopping your efforts, whispering that it is too much.

“Keep going,” your lord orders, gripping your hips tightly to drag you across his leg. “Do not stop.”

“I c-cannot–”

“Shhhh,” he coos. “Trust me, my girl.”

You cry out softly, picking your rhythm back up as he helps you with strong hands, the hands of a knight, a powerful man that you have wanted since you knew what wanting really meant. The tension pushes you towards an invisible edge and then you fall–

“My lord. My lord.” You wail as if in pain, your face falling against his as your breathing becomes more shallow and the pleasure tears through your body. He does not stop you as you hide your face, his beard soft against your cheek as he drags out the sensation by moving his leg back and forth, pressing against that spot again and again. The fabric of your linens as well as his pants feels damp against your core.

Your body goes slack and his arms wrap around you, cradling you against his broad chest as you catch your breath. Even as your body stops trembling the warmth and contentment stay trapped within you, your muscles slowly relaxing now.

“My darling girl,” he whispers, breathing a kiss to your hair. “And how well you did.”

“What have you done to me?” you ask breathlessly.

“What you are owed, my lady,” he says with a chuckle. “I have given you pleasure”

“Pleasure.” The word tastes sweet on your tongue but it comes with a sting. How cruel to give you a crumb of bliss only to pull it away again.

You lift your head to look at him, a softness on his face that lets you believe he holds a warm affection for you, at least for this fleeting moment. The desire to kiss him is overwhelming and you place your hand on his other thigh. Immediately you feel the hardness between his legs against your arm and you flinch back in uncertainty. “My lord.”

“Pay it no mind,” he says.

You ignore him and place your hand on his stiff member, feeling the outline clearly even through the fabric of his garbs. The gasp that leaves him sounds like music, the first sign that this is affecting him beyond what he is willing to share. You want to kiss him still, your face inching closer on its own accord. His hand moves up to cup your chin and he places his thumb on your plump bottom lip, only allowing you to hover above his own mouth. It is but a futile attempt at restraint, at keeping up the illusion that nothing here is untoward. You move your hand to stroke him through his pants and his hips buck to meet your movement.

“Gods have mercy,” he breathes, his voice raspy and barely audible.

You wonder how long it has been since someone touched him like this. Mesmerised by his reaction, you do it again and his eyes flutter closed, his unkempt brows furrowing so tightly that they almost meet. After only a handful more strokes he releases a scarcely concealed groan and you feel him kicking against your hand, the thick fabric turning wet as it soaks up his spend.

His ragged breathing betrays his state, even as he controls any other sound that leaves him. You are still trapped in the haze of your own bliss, in the newfound sense of power you have gained from whatever it is that you just did to him. He still won’t let you kiss him, his thumb firm against your lips. Perhaps it is better that way, you think, the only skin of his you have touched being that of his hands.

“My sweet girl,” he says after a moment, clearing his tight throat with some effort. “We can never speak of this again.”

The words tear you back down from your high, their reality so evident, so clear. You nod and allow the pain to spread in your heart, expected but all the more severe. Of course nothing has changed, not in truth, even though you feel like you will never be the same again.

Otto removes you from his lap, making sure that you can stand on your own and waiting patiently until your legs stop wobbling, his hands firm on your hips. His face betrays his regret – he cannot hide his emotions from you anymore, not after what you just did. He is such an honourable man, valuing propriety and respect above all else, that this must pain him more than you can understand.

You make sure your gown sits correctly and smooth out the strands of hair that have fallen into your face from moving so erratically. The door-handle feels cool against your warm hand, a feverish sensation spreading within you. You spare the lord one last glance, your eyes meeting his for a burning hot moment, and then you slip through the door, a profound sense of loss slowly settling in your bones.

3 The Lonely Days

Your handmaiden carefully adjusts the sleeves of your gown, a deep blue fabric with golden accents to match the colours of your husband’s house. Bejewelled earrings and a bracelet complete your look, dainty jewellery with blue stones just like he once told you he prefers. You stare at your reflection in the polished metal for a long moment, struggling to recognise yourself even after years of wearing his colours. You are almost ready when the door to your chambers opens and a footman enters with his gaze lowered.

“What is it?” you ask impatiently.

“His lordship has requested to stay in bed tonight,” he says. “He is not feeling well enough to accompany you to the celebration, m’lady.”

“He is unwell?”

“He has been sleeping for most of the day, m’lady, complained about a headache.”

“Why have I not been informed?”

The servant simply stares at the floor and you sigh as you realise that the signs point to a long night down in the brothels more so than an acute illness. It would certainly not be the first time that he is leaving you to your own devices to nurse the ailments of a night spent drinking and– You clear your throat.

“Send for a maester should he not feel better in the morning,” you tell him. “And inform me of his condition the moment it changes.”

A nod and the door softly closes. Another event you will have to attend by yourself. You would be glad to avoid a night of his indifference were it not for the fact that his absence must appear even more worrisome to the other houses. You are anything but a strong unit and talks about your childless marriage never cease – you see them whispering their rumours from ear to ear whenever you enter a room, followed by pitiful glances.

“Anything else, m’lady?” your handmaiden asks. “Perhaps a shawl in case you feel a chill?”

You falter for a moment as you look down at yourself and suddenly detest your whole attire. Why are you dressing for a man who disrespects you at any chance he gets, who cannot even exert himself to appear by your side when it truly matters? “Apologies, Malena, but I have decided that I will wear the green dress tonight after all.”

She bows and you begin to undress as she fetches the garment. There is only one pair of eyes that you want to feel on your body tonight and it won’t be drawn to blue fabric.

✦ ✧ ✦

The hall is filled to the brim with people of all houses – a banquet to which not only the capital’s nobility has been invited but any noble who was willing to commit to the journey to King’s Landing. It is a celebration in honour of the Prince Aegon’s nameday but Otto insisted on the opulence – the prince has to stay on their minds, his grandson, namesake of Aegon the Conqueror, and as far as Otto is concerned the future regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

Noisy chatter fills his ears as he watches his lovely daughter introducing Aegon as well as the Princess Helaena, her second child, to the lords and ladies who have not had the pleasure yet. His Grace is watching them with a gentle smile on his face and Otto cannot help but feel a hint of complacency. Thanks to Aegon the mess the king created in naming his daughter his heir can be mended, if he plays it well.

Even though he feels a deep affection for his grandchildren, two innocent infants who are blissfully unaware of the role they are going to play in securing peace and order in the realm, Otto’s eyes are drawn to the entrance. You are late, a few minutes of tardiness that Otto spends wondering if you decided against attending after all, perhaps in favour of staying with your lord husband. He was informed just an hour ago by one of his little mice that the lord is feeling rather unwell this evening, that he has been complaining about different symptoms for a while now. Otto is not surprised by the news. These may well be the first signs that his increasingly frivolous whereabouts are affecting the man’s health and, therefore, his accountability.

When you do arrive at last, Otto is quite struck by the sight of you entering the hall – so much so that Alicent rouses him with a concerned look on her face. He gives her a reassuring smile, then trains his eyes back to your form. It is quite distracting, the way your dress accentuates your womanly figure. His colour, he notes, the dark shade of green he usually wears. A mere moment later you eye him with a gentle smile playing at your lips and his suspicion is confirmed that you’re wearing it for him. Gods, he finds that your beauty is taking his breath away even more so than usual. Not that he did not admire you before, you have always been a sight for the Gods, but now that he knows what you sound like in the throes of your pleasure you fully and irrevocably occupy his mind.

Perhaps tonight, then, he thinks, toying with the small box he has been keeping in his pocket for a few weeks now. You are tempting him to folly, evoking emotions of a strength he has not felt in years. Even his work is impacted by this attachment. He finds his hands forming fists underneath the table whenever your lord husband speaks up during council meetings, most days still half drunk from the night before. Pathetic, with no sense of honour, besmearing your good name in the process. Seeing you now without this worm hanging by your arm is most welcome, wearing his colour no less, a beautiful deep green. It seems that you are well aware of who you truly belong to.

No, who you should belong to, Otto must correct himself. A constant reminder of a mistake that caught up to him faster than he would have wished for. A mistake that calls for more mistakes that he cannot allow to happen.

Dinner passes with stolen glances and timid smiles. Ever since the moment you shared in his quarters you seem to blush and turn away whenever you catch sight of him and yet it seems like your gaze never strays too far. It is quite endearing, the shy glances, the rosy cheeks that no one else knows are just for him. As daring as you were in the privacy of the tower, you have respected his wish to never mention it again. It is for your own protection, of course, although Otto fears what it would do to his own integrity if word spread about an illicit affair, no matter that what occurred between you hardly deserves the name. He has been meticulously crafting his reputation for decades now and he cannot allow these foolish desires to taint it.

Soon, the dancing is in full swing. For a brief moment he indulges in the fantasy of asking you to do him the honour, to see the cheerful smile on your face he has not seen since he married you to Alister. Judging by the expression on your face as you observe the dancery, he imagines that you long for a partner to share the delights of a joyful evening. Young as you are, it is a shame that you should sit in your chair all night. Another reason to loathe your husband, not that he is lacking for those.

Perhaps this is the reason why you slip away the moment the steady flow of wine and musical distractions allows you to do so unobserved. It is his only chance. Otto rises as soon as he can without arousing suspicion. The hour is late enough to justify a reprieve.

“Excuse me for a moment, your Grace,” he says without waiting for an answer.

The castle is abandoned and his steps echo loudly, bouncing off the stone walls of the keep. He finds you in an empty hallway halfway back to your chambers, gazing out of a window that overlooks the gardens that he knows you are so very fond of. The two guards who are closest pay him no mind, yet he dismisses them with a nod and they take station at a more unobtrusive spot.

You turn as his steps approach, confused momentarily as to who could be following you. When you recognise the figure as him your expression visibly softens and your guard is let down once more. The effect he has on you should alarm you but on the contrary, you seem to be eager to welcome him in your presence.

“Are you tiring of the festivities, my lady?” he asks, approaching you with cautious strides.

“I do not have much to celebrate, my lord. You might have heard that my lord husband is feeling rather unwell.”

“And yet you are not with him, no?”

You eye him with barely hidden annoyance and he chuckles lowly, satisfied. There is hardly any cause for jealousy when your disdain is so very obvious. Otto approaches, closing the distance cautiously to make sure that you remain comfortable in his proximity. He stops about two steps away from you, a towering and broad figure compared to your shorter frame, and you have to look up to meet his eyes. He drinks you in for a long time, not lustful but in admiration, letting his gaze wander over your body in a way that has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. He would count every single one of them, if he had the time.

“You look beautiful tonight, my lady,” he whispers. “A new colour?”

You meet his eyes, boldly this time, in the way that makes him want to pull you into his arms and ravish you. “My favourite colour.”

“Is that so?”

A timid smile. “I know, I should not, I cannot… But, my lord, you know that it is true.”

“It is alright, my sweet,” he assures you. “Indeed, catching you alone allows me to do something I have been avoiding for too long and I do not mean complimenting your beauty.”

“And what would that be, my lord?”

“I do not wish to offend your sensibilities, my lady, I know it is not my place to lavish you with gifts and you may find it presumptuous, but… I have something that I wish to offer you.” Your eyes widen, so he quickly continues. “I am in no position to put a claim on you and yet it would please me greatly to see you wearing it on occasion. I am certain that you can think of a plausible explanation as to how it came into your possession.”

Before you can protest he retrieves the small box from his pocket. Taking off the lid he reveals a  finely crafted ring with a sparkling green gemstone – a real emerald. He must admit the choice of colour was quite on purpose, green as the beacon of the Hightower when his house rides to war. A war Otto cannot win, he knows, but it is a war he is fighting every day nonetheless. To see you fighting it with him, if subtle, would be a great source of comfort.

“My lord, but this is…” You admire the beautiful piece of jewellery, your eyes drawn to the way it shimmers in the moonlight, subtle and delicate but breathtaking nonetheless. “It is too much.”

“I am afraid that no gemstone will ever suffice to express what I truly wish to say, my lady,” he says. “And yet I hope you will honour me by wearing it.”

You nod and stretch out your hand. The lord takes the ring and carefully slides it onto your finger. A perfect fit of course, he made sure of that. His larger hand gently holds yours so that he can admire the jewel and you briefly rest your other hand on top of his. His skin is warm and weathered. It is all you want to feel for the rest of your life.

“Forgive me,” he says and you’re not quite certain what he means until he lifts your hand to his mouth and places a reverent kiss on the back of it. He lingers, his beard tickling your soft skin as his lips travel along your knuckles and finally rest on the gem.

“I shall think of you whenever I wear it,” you supply. Then, with a softer voice: “Though, in truth and in shame I must admit that I already think of you more than is proper, my lord. You occupy my mind and heart at all times. You always have.”

He smiles, a tight-lipped, pained smile. “You honour me, my lady, in ways that I fear I do not deserve.”

“It matters not what we deserve, my lord.” You lift your hand and cradle his face, stroking his cheekbone tenderly with your thumb. “I shall find comfort in knowing that you return my affections at last.”

“My darling girl,” he whispers and the words sound like a prayer from his lips.

You close your eyes for a moment, trapped in the sensation of his lips on your skin, the feeling of his beard against your fingertips just like he is trapped in the gentleness of your touch, in the longing for more of your simple comforts that he has to deny himself over and over again. You both pray in silence that the moment never ends, and yet he has to let go of you eventually and come to his senses. How cruel to ache for a love that he denied himself in the first place.

✦ ✧ ✦

Your sitting room is illuminated by burnt-down candles, the hour late as you have reclined on a settee to read in your book. Truth be told, you should be sleeping, but you cannot bear to let your mind wander as it tends to do in the quiet of your canopy.

To your surprise, the door opens and your husband stumbles in. Even from afar you can tell that he reeks of wine and the fumes of the city. He sits down in a chair and stares at you in a manner that has always made you rather uncomfortable. Rare as it is, you do not enjoy his company.

“I overheard a most interesting conversation in the council chamber,” he says out of nowhere, a smug smile playing at his lips. “About the Lord Hand, Otto Hightower.”

You pause, closing the book as you gaze at your husband in interest now. He is not in the habit of discussing politics with you and certainly does not bring up the council on his own accord.

“He was dismissed as Hand to the King,” he continues, standing now to pour himself a glass of wine from your private pitcher. “Finally, thank the Seven.”

“Pray, what do you mean?”

“The king finally had enough of his little schemes. He does not wish for Aegon to be his heir, he insists on keeping the Princess in the position and rightfully so. Your lord got too bold with his endless attempts at installing his own grandson as heir, spreading rumours about the Princess. His greed for power is so obvious even our blind king can see it now. Perhaps you should go and bid your lord farewell before he departs.”

“He is not my lord, whatever are you talking about?”

He sets the glass down, turning to you with a withering expression. “Do you think I am not aware that you are wearing green more often? That you’re suddenly wearing emeralds instead of blue stones? That your lord continuously eyes me with disdain when I speak up during council meetings and dismisses any of my suggestions, even proceeds to work against them? How his eyes linger on you when we are invited to sup with the king and his family? I may not be the most devoted of spouses but I do have eyes in my skull.”

“Unlike you I remain in control of my desires. As does he,” you reply coldly. “The Gods see what you are doing in the Street of Silks, what you are doing to your own wife.”

“Perhaps,” he admits. “But my sins do not absolve you from your own and, let us be frank, my dear lady wife. The difference between thought and action matters little to the Gods when it comes to corruption. Whether it festers on the inside or the outside you end up rotten. I might as well take what life offers to me instead of pining after someone who could be my own father. It makes you look pathetic and not just in my eyes.”

You bite back a reply. His provocations mean little to you, especially with the knowledge that the Lord Hand has been dismissed from his position. If it is true then he may leave King’s Landing for good.

Leave you.

Without another word you abandon your book and exit your chambers. In the quiet of the old hallways of the keep you take a few deep breaths, the tightness of your dress suddenly suffocating you. This cannot be true, you think, His Grace would never dismiss such a trusted advisor, such a devoted servant of the realm. But then you know Otto is ambitious, that his plans at times may be unpopular and that the peace of the realm has always ranked higher for him than the will of the king. The Princess threatens the delicate balance between the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, threatens the loyalty of many houses to the crown who will not accept a queen where there is a male heir to be had. And while you always loved the Princess and considered her to be a worthy successor you can see why he may have tried to sway the king in Aegon’s favour. He is his grandsire, after all, and he knows the ways of court politics.

As soon as your racing heart beats a more bearable rhythm, you hurry to the Tower of the Hand. However, the guards inform you that you cannot enter as it has been abandoned not long ago. You are unaware as to when this conversation your husband overheard took place and the hour is late, or perhaps too early, when you finally decide to retreat to your own chambers.

You see nothing of Otto over the next day, even though you are pacing the hallways of the keep in a way that must make even the guards nervous. You all but give up on ever seeing him again until from a window you spot Queen Alicent by the gate across the courtyard with a rider who you can only assume is her father.

He is leaving, you realise.

Heart pounding anew you hurry down the stairs, nearly tripping over your dress as you run faster than is deemed appropriate for a lady. But you care not, even as your feet begin to ache and you finally reach the courtyard. It is pouring, the rain mercilessly beating down from the skies above but you cannot wait for anyone to fetch you a coat. When you approach the gate you hear the clicking of the hooves on distant cobblestone but the rider has already left.

You don’t, cannot, stop, not until you are by Alicent’s side, your Queen, your friend, who falls into your arms in painful, shaking sobs that vibrate deep within your chest. Something inside of you breaks with a finality that weakens your very bones. You cannot hold back your tears either, letting them mix in with the rain until you cannot tell them apart any longer.

4 The Widowed Days

Every morning, you observe the murky water rushing down the river and mouthing into Blackwater Bay – a steady, endless stream with harsh currents as well as the occasional softer tide when the weather is more agreeable. Time passes in much the same way.

It has been nearly ten years since the first symptoms showed, made memorable by the night of Prince Aegon’s name day celebration. While the illness progressed slowly at first, with years and years of mild symptoms, your husband’s health has been declining rapidly over the past two years. You take care of him to the best of your abilities but as a proud man he does not wish to be fussed over and more often than not he sends you away. The maesters are clueless as to his condition, perhaps the repercussions of his drinking excesses that would not cease even as his affliction progressed. Whenever you look at him you see a withering face, the face of a man much older than the years he truly lived. Even though you don’t hold much love for him it pains you to see him succumbing to such an undignified illness.

You have not much to hold onto besides the fantasies your mind conjures up in the quiet hours you spend in the keep, a weak attempt at comfort. The years have not diminished your love for Ser Otto, or rather the desire for a love that could have been. He comes to you in dreams, fragments of memories of the feel of his weathered hands in yours, the scratch of his beard against your fingertips.

Alicent knows about your affections for her father as you spilled your heart to her the very moment he had left and you found comfort in each other’s arms upon his departure. Ever since, your bond is as strong as it used to be in your childhood, perhaps even more so with years of hardships added to its weight. Thanks to her you know that he is in good health, that he is safe in Oldtown, and as much as you long to see him again you are comforted in knowing that he is faring well.

You spend much time helping her raise her children, especially the Princess Helaena, an intelligent but misunderstood girl who struggles with the life she was forced into, not unlike her mother. Alicent’s role as queen is demanding and you notice how she is changing, becoming more and more like her father, a clever woman forged by court politics and increasing responsibilities as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Life at court has become tense with rumours about the legitimacy of the Princess Rhaenyra’s offspring, with tensions between her children and those of the queen as well as the notable decline of the king’s health. You do not envy her.

The night he left, you found a letter from Otto on your bed, delivered to you in secret – a brief message that was written in haste before his departure. My lady, I regret to inform you that my time at court has come to a premature end. However, I remain hopeful that we will meet again under improved circumstances. Know that it pains me to leave you without as much as a spoken farewell. In my absence, I ask you to remain by my daughter’s side, if not for the affection that I hope you still hold for me then as her loyal childhood companion and friend. May the Seven keep you in good health, Otto.

You know it by heart, the parchment old and scarcely readable by now. Since then, some letters have been exchanged between Ser Otto and you in which you have informed him about the whereabouts of his grandchildren and he thanked you for your support of his daughter and family. Even so, you remain a married woman and regular correspondence with a man who is not your husband raises too many questions, too many rumours on top of an already strained reputation. So you keep the exchanges sparse, hold the replies he sends you as dearly as you can, and tell yourself that he must be thinking of you fondly still or he would not write to you at all.

With your husband bedridden and often unresponsive, you find yourself a widow in all but law. Though your life feels even lonelier than during the first few years of your marriage, you found solace in frequenting the gardens, supporting the capital’s orphanages as well as keeping the queen’s company. Every morning you go on a lengthy walk, reminiscing about the time you spent here with Otto, following the exact route you took with him the morning of the hunt. It feels as though centuries have passed since then – the bushes have been replaced, the paths altered, even you yourself don’t feel like the same person anymore. What never changes, however, is the beauty of the sunrise over Blackwater Bay, though the colours vary and are never quite the same – every morning a welcome but familiar surprise.

When you return one morning, the Keep is more alive than usual at this hour. Servants are running past you almost as though you are invisible. Perhaps they prepare for the arrival of some noble guests, you think and head to the nearest window facing the outer courtyard. You cannot see any larger wheelhouses, nor do you spot anything out of the ordinary. That is, until one of the riders by the gate lifts his hood.

You scarcely believe your eyes. It must be a trick, an evil one at that, but you could swear that he looks like Ser Otto. It would not be the first time that you see him in someone else’s face, that your mind deceives you so cruelly into believing that he is near. Missing him has been one of the harder burdens of the past decade and sometimes relief means delusion for just a few precious seconds. However, as you continue to observe the man, you cannot help but see Otto in in his shape, his height, in the way he moves.

Of course you know that Lord Strong and his son Ser Harwin recently perished in a fire at Harrenhal but you had not assumed that Alicent would send for her father to replace the Lord Hand. It is entirely possible, however. Suddenly invigorated, you storm down the stairs and head outside in what may be unseemly but entirely necessary for your own sanity.

You nearly stumble when you finally exit the keep, though fortunately the lord does not notice your ineptitude as he gives orders to a footman. Seeing him in the flesh feels like a dream, his tall stature only slightly more slumped with age but not diminishing his dignified presence in the slightest. Your heart begins to hammer in excitement, in relief, and you have to hold back the tears to feign an indifferent politeness.

“My Lord,” you say. “How it delights me to see you back in the capital.”

He turns to offer you his full attention. Within a split second recognition flits across his face. “My lady.” A soft chuckle. “Well, you honour me. How lovely to be greeted by a welcome, familiar face.”

“It gladdens me to see that you are in good health,” you say happily as your eyes meet the very face you have not seen in near a decade. “In fact you have not changed at all, except perhaps for a few grey hairs.”

He smiles at your mild teasing and you wonder if the years away from court have softened him. “As a wise lady once told me: My age only adds to my character. And the same appears to be true for you. You have…” He pauses, weighing his words. “… matured.”

You give a soft laugh. “It has been ten years, I should hope so. Or are you implying that I look old, my lord?”

“I would not dare suggest such a thing,” he says. “Let me rephrase, my lady. The years have served to enhance your beauty.”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks at the first openly spoken compliment after so many years and for a moment you feel like the little girl that used to admire him from afar. If she were here now she would be floating on saccharine clouds for the rest of the day, daydreaming about him reciprocating her hidden desires. But you are not that girl anymore. The past decade has left its ugly marks on you and coveting what you cannot have has only brought you the deepest misery. You vow to protect your heart, no matter how much it wants to beat out of your chest and land in his gentle hands.

“Thank you, my lord,” you say. “I trust that we will see each other more frequently now.”

“I should hope so, my lady, since I am reassuming my position as Hand of the King.”

You perk up in delight at the news, your suspicion confirmed. “I do not wish to keep you, my lord, I am sure you long to be reunited with your family and acquaint yourself with the current state of affairs. I do hope we will get the chance to speak in more depth.”

“I will make sure of it, my lady.”

His expression gives you hope that his promise is sincere.

✦ ✧ ✦

“A green dress,” you order, dabbing some of your scented oils to your neck and wrists.

“Which one, m’lady?”

“The darker one with the lower neckline, I think. Or the green-gold one?”

Your handmaid smiles to herself; you think she must be amused by your antics. “I think he would like the lower cut, m’lady, if I may speak so freely.”

As always she can read your thoughts and you have to agree. “Then that one it is, Malena. And don’t forget to bring the emerald ring.”

You hope his lordship won’t be cross with you. He did not seem opposed to your initiative the last few times you were alone together, even if that was over a decade ago, so you hope he won’t mind you paying him a visit so soon. He has been rather occupied since arriving but tonight Alicent invited you to sup with their family and you are quite certain this means the Lord Hand must be ready for company.

The hour is still early, the sun has only just risen and you are getting ready to start your day with a visit to the Tower of the Hand before your morning walk. You are not sure you could sit through supper without having seen him for yourself first. The past days have been filled with anticipation, the sheer prospect of being in his proximity enough to keep you awake at night.

As your feet carry you up the stairs after many years of absence, your heart is beating mercilessly against your ribcage. You carry a small basket, clutching it tightly to your front so its content comes to no harm.

The men of the Hand’s household guard allow you to enter without a second glance, announcing you briefly. Otto Hightower stands from his chair, surprise but no dismissal in his features. He easily rounds his desk to approach you and you are once again struck by his tall frame, the grace with which he moves.

“Good morrow, my lord,” you say, trying to find your courage. “I have come to deliver a welcome present for you. I thought you might still be weary after your long travels and–” You pause, looking at him and his tired eyes. “Forgive me for being so forward. I am certain that you are quite occupied and–”

“No need for apologies, my lady, I would have sent for you shortly.”

“I wanted to give you more time to arrive, my lord, but I simply could not–” Again you pause, your heart hammering so fast that it drowns out the thoughts in your head. “I could not fight the urge to see you.”

The lord takes a step in your direction, an untamed emotion in his eyes now, and he only falters for a moment before he fully closes the gap between you. His hands grasp your wrists and wander up your arms, careful and slow, as though he is trying remember the shape of you. With a tender expression he finally captures your face and while his openly displayed attention confuses you you can’t help but melt into his touch. The lord leans forward, his beard and nose brushing against your cheek as he inhales, taking a deep breath to have his fill of you. All of his senses satiated, he releases a wistful sigh, the depth of which sends heat pooling into your lower belly.

“I brought you some oils, my lord, lavender for sleeping a– and–” You pause when his lips trail along you jaw, so soft you hardly feel them. “My lord–”

“Tell me,” he urges. “Tell me you feel the same, my sweet girl. That you did not forget me. You must let me know.”

You can’t help but whimper, his insistence making your skin tingle with need. “I have missed you every single day, my lord,” you whisper as if in silent prayer, the truth spilling out despite your resolution to be cautious. “No day would pass that your vision did not haunt me. I have dreamt of the day that the Gods would return you to me, begged for it in the darkest hours of my existence.”

Another deep breath, shakier than before, and he looks at you with a fire you have never before seen in the calm lord’s eyes. “The Maid herself sent you into my arms all those years ago, the sweetest girl I had ever seen, and I was fool enough to refuse her gift. To this day it is my biggest regret.”

“Regret not, my lord, please.” You set the basket down on his desk right by your side, then you place your hands on top of his, gently grasping them where they are still holding your face. “You did what you thought to be right and honourable.”

“And doomed you to a life by the side of a man who could not cherish you as I wished to do.” He huffs out a breath, two long thumbs stroking over your wet cheeks. You are unaware as to when you started crying but now you can feel the tears burning in your lash line, pearling onto his fingers. As you grasp his hands tighter his eyes are caught by the sparkling emerald on your finger and his expression softens with sentimentality. “You still own it?”

“It is my greatest treasure.”

The lord closes his eyes, his brow furrowed tightly in a way that betrays his pain. “I shall make things right, sweet girl. I promise this to you.”

“But my lord, I am still ma–”

A loud knock interrupts your words. You break apart just as a servant enters the chamber and you are certain that you must be red and hot as the flaming tips of dragon’s breath. The servant appears to be quite winded, as though he ran up the many stairs of the tower in quite a hurry.

“Excuse me, m’lord, m’lady,” the man says. “It is urgent. I was sent to come looking for you.”

“What is it?” you ask, brow furrowed in increasing confusion. You look to Ser Otto for help but his expression is filled with sympathy, almost as though he knows what the man is going to say even before you do.

“It is your lord husband, m’lady. He passed in his sleep.”

✦ ✧ ✦

An orange sunset coats the roofs of King’s Landing in its golden light as you let the evening fade out on a balcony with Alicent by your side. You were supping with her family just earlier, for the first time in a decade joined by her father as well. Even though you had to push the occasion back, caused by the recent news of your lord husband’s passing, the evening was pleasant and a welcome distraction. You had not seen the Lord Hand since visiting him in the Tower and though not many words were spoken between you this evening you found comfort in the way he would meet your eyes so reassuringly.

It has only been little over a week since the Silent Sisters took Alister for cleansing, to prepare him for his final goodbye. Since then you have received many offers of commiseration, in letters as well as from people here at court. You wanted to spend your period of mourning alone but your queen forbid it after a mere four days of isolation. She said she needed you, having received her own news of loss, and that you should spend each other comfort in these times. Now, watching the sunset for the first time after you lost him you are glad that she is here with you.

“The Stranger has visited us again and so soon,” Alicent says, pouring you a glass of wine. “First your husband and now Laena Velaryon.”

You accept the wine, even though you don’t drink before your queen has taken her first sip. “And they were both too young, though I am afraid my husband won’t be as direly missed as the Lady Laena.”

“Perhaps he sensed that my father came back, that it was his time to go knowing you would not be alone in your grief.”

“He would not have done me the kindness of letting go so that I could be with your father,” you reply, no emotion in your voice as you speak the words frankly for the first time. “If he had known he would have made sure to live another decade, just to make me miserable. He once said that my feelings for the Lord Hand made me pathetic and I doubt he ever changed his mind. He was always too fond of the Princess.”

She regards you hesitantly, the monotony in your voice no doubt unsettling her. “No matter, he is gone now, a blessing after all the pain and suffering he had to endure. May he rest with the Gods.”

She finally drinks and you take a sip as well, tasting the sweetness of the wine in contrast to the bitter reality of your life. A childless widow now, at just over thirty years of age. Even though you never loved your husband you feel a sense of loss. For the life you could have had, perhaps, a life without the stain of a childless, loveless marriage that ended far too soon. The family he never gave you, the true love he took from you.

“If it is still your wish,” she says, sensing your thoughts, “then I will not object to a match between you and my father when the time comes. You are already an integral part of our family, we might as well make it official. And I want you on my side for what is to come, the both of you.” An awkward smile. “Though I must admit… it will take me some time to get used to calling you mother.”

“Please, do not call me mother.” You both have to laugh at that notion, the first real sign of emotion you allow to bubble out of you in days. “However, I am not sure if the Lord Hand’s affections run so deep that he would propose a wedding.”

Alicent smiles, grasping your hand in hers. “He would be a fool not to marry you and my father is anything but.”

5 The Happy Days

You roll up the letter and place it back on the table, staring at the broken wax seal with the sigil of your father’s house. Amongst the bustle of the royal family arriving back from Driftmark you nearly missed the raven this morning. The keep had been entirely too quiet as the king’s family was away to attend the Lady Laena’s funeral but now that they have returned rumours are spreading like fire.

It is easy to tell that something has gone awry. The Prince Aemond is missing an eye, the people at court whisper when you take a stroll in the gardens to clear your head. A conflict, a bloody fight between the children of Queen Alicent and the Princess Rhaenyra. You have to refrain from intruding as your concern grows after hearing increasingly violent stories, the need to see Alicent and the children overwhelming. It is almost enough to distract you from the news you received that very morning.

You don’t expect anyone to call on you soon in the aftermath of what happened and with the tension still so very palpable within the Red Keep. The very evening of the family’s return, however, a footman arrives at your door carrying a small chest with a familiar crest.

“The Lord Hand sends for you, m’lady. He wishes for you to wear these.”

✦ ✧ ✦

The Tower smells of incense. It is the first thing you notice and you wonder if your lord has been praying, calling to the Gods for his grandson. Unlike many times before you do not find him behind his desk but on a daybed that must have been brought in recently. The padding looks unused, rich green brocade, and it is positioned perfectly in front of the hearth to provide ample warmth during cooler nights. You wonder if his joints are troubling him.

Otto Hightower looks up, the flames casting an orange glow on his handsome face, and his features soften remarkably as he beholds you. Under his gaze you fiddle with the matching pair of emerald and gold cuffs he gifted you and that his eyes are drawn to immediately.

“My lord sent for me,” you say, hovering by the door.

“I should like to have your company tonight,” he says, patting the spot beside him. “I am in need of a gentle face and a soothing voice. But only if it please my darling girl.”

He looks weary, you note. Despite his sweet words there is a heaviness to him that he must have carried here all the way from Driftmark.

“Can I offer you wine?” he asks as you approach.

“Do not trouble yourself, my lord. I am perfectly content.”

As you sit down beside him the scent of incense grows stronger; like perfume it clings to his robes and skin. His hands are folded in his lap and you see the tension in his white knuckles, in the way his rings bite into the soft flesh of his slender fingers.

“May I, my lord?” you ask cautiously.

He nods and you reach for one of his hands, pulling it into the lap of your black linen dress. You gently take off his rings, soothing the abused skin with a kiss. Your lord allows you to linger and when you press your lips to the next finger you meet his gaze. The warm light of the fire has softened his features even more but his eyes are keen as always as they observe your doings. When his lids flutter shut as you press yet another kiss to his knuckles it satisfies you greatly.

After a few more kisses you stand to rid yourself of the rings, placing them on his desk instead. The oils you brought him before his departure still lie in their basket and you take a deep purple phial before you settle by his side once again. Applying some drops to his wrist you begin to massage the tincture into his skin with a circular motion of your thumb. The lord sighs and visibly relaxes as the rich scent of lavender penetrates the air.

“How are you faring after your loss?” he asks after some silence.

“I am quite well, my lord. I have long since started the process of grieving, tethered to his bedside for years. Now the Stranger has ended his suffering and I feel at peace knowing that my husband is with the Gods.”

“I am glad to hear it. I would not wish for you to be in pain.”

“It is a tragedy,” you say, carefully then, “what happened to your grandson, my lord. Will the prince be alright?”

He gives a court nod. “He will, though I am afraid that his eye will not. But that is the price he paid for his dragon.”

“His dragon? You mean Vhagar, my lord?”

“Yes, my sweet. I am certain you heard the rumours.”

You smile at the term of endearment, ending your massage with a kiss to his palm before you reach for his other hand. The lord is rather pliant, allowing you to move him this way or that with the odd grunt of amusement. You do not dare ask for details, aware that he is looking for distraction and comfort tonight.

“Such good care you take of me,” your lord says, his voice deep and calm. “I should like to have you in my chambers more often.”

You glance at him, your resolve melting at the fondness in his expression. “I should like to take care of my lord whenever he is in need of me.”

“Otto,” he corrects softly. “Please.”

You look into his eyes. “Otto.”

A smile, gentle and warm. You continue to relieve his muscles, giving his second hand just as much attention as the first. However, your heart is heavy as you sit on the news you do not wish to bring up. The letter that arrived this morning makes any moment you have with your lord bittersweet.

“I am not sure how many evenings we will have, my lord. It seems that the Gods do not wish to see us together,” you finally say.

His left eyebrow rises. “What do you mean, my girl?”

“A letter arrived this morning in which my father requests my presence at our family’s seat.” You swallow, trying to hide the bitterness in your voice. “An old friend of his has expressed a specific interest in me and the match would bring me much closer to my family.”

“I certainly cannot fault him, my darling. Your presence is a gift to anyone who is fortunate enough to enjoy it.” He begins to stroke your hair with his free hand, gently running his fingers through the loose strands that aren’t pinned to your head. His movement carries the calming scent of lavender back to your nose. “However, I shall not allow it.”

“My lord?”

“Otto,” he corrects again, his brow furrowed in disapproval as his fingers curl underneath your chin, firmly holding it in place.

You try again. “What do you mean, Otto?”

He resumes his attentions, trailing his hands over your shoulder now in a gentle caress that mirrors the movement of your hand. “I claim you as my own, sweet girl. Your father will not dismiss the request of the Hand, I am quite certain.”

You sit up straighter. “And you mean it?”

“I will not see us parted again,” he states and his hand comes to rest on your cheek, more tender now. “If it is agreeable to you then I will send word to your lord father and after a reasonable period of mourning we arrange for the wedding.”

You cannot hide your relieved smile. “That is most agreeable to me, Otto.”

“Very good.”

You resume the treatment of his hand, noting the subtly pleased smile on his lips. He has always been sweet with you, sweeter than with anyone else as you know him to be stern and not too sentimental outside of his family. As a child you interpreted the changes in his demeanour as sympathy, pity even, and perhaps it truly was at times but now you realise that he must have always had this soft spot for you. Perhaps this was inevitable, perhaps it was always meant to be like this.

His hand tenses in yours, then, and his expression sours. “I do not know the extent to which my daughter has let you in on the tensions that are rising within the royal family but I feel that I must–”

“I am aware,” you gently interrupt with a hand on his arm, not wanting him to speak the words that trouble his mind. “My lord – Otto – whatever may come, I promised my Queen to be by her side a long time ago. In what function matters not.”

Perhaps it is his fatigue that makes him accept your decision so easily or perhaps it is the conviction in your voice. You were always rather adamant that you saw yourself by his side, that you were loyal first and foremost to your queen’s party. When your eyes meet you exchange a silent promise and there is no need to speak of it any longer.

Otto’s hands reach for yours then, softened by the oils. His eyes take in the sight of the finely wrought cuffs adorning your wrists, his thumbs trailing their rims where they meet your skin. The bracelets are narrow enough to remain delicate but still allow for the emerald ornamentations that run along their outer curve to stand out. The gems sparkle in the firelight, endless shades of green.

“Do you like them, my darling?” he asks.

“They are beautiful, Otto.”

He smiles, then runs his thumb over the matching ring on your finger. “I had them made for you before I left for Driftmark.”

For a brief moment the memory of him gifting you the jewel flickers in your mind, how hesitant he was at the time and how you both had to stop yourselves from speaking the truth of your feelings. Now he seems less hesitant to stake his claim, less hesitant to open himself to you.

“Thank you for such generous gifts, Otto,” you whisper. “I do not know how I deserve them.”

“You are deserving of more than mere jewels,” he replies, grasping your hands even tighter. You are surprised by the strength he still has in them. “You must know how very dear you are to me.”

You give a weak nod, getting lost in the intensity of his blue eyes. His lips part and you realise that you have leaned closer, a mere hairsbreadth separating you. The rough tips of his beard tickle your chin and you shut your eyes. His breath is warm against your lips.

“Otto–”

You want to ask for it but you cannot bring yourself to say the words. He does not close the distance but he also does not pull away. You blink your eyes back open and find his brow deeply furrowed, his eyes trained on your mouth.

He is conflicted, you can see it plainly written on his face. “You are in mourning, I would not offend–”

“There is no offence,” you whisper. “Otto–”

“If you are sure–”

Your lips meet before he finishes as you desperately press yourself against him. He groans lowly, his grasp on your hands tightening as he leans into you. Your lord tastes of sweet wine and tart berries, the flavours of a fading summer. No kiss has ever felt so warm and inviting but then you have gone without a lover’s touch for so long that you can hardly remember.

With some effort your lord pulls away, a sharp exhale through his nose following. His forehead comes to rest against yours, fingers searching for your cheeks as he cradles your head. “Is this what you want?”

“You said the Gods placed me in your hands,” you whisper in reply, skin prickling where his beard touched it. “I believe you are right.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, long thumbs swiping along your cheekbones. “You would let me have you, tonight?”

“I would let you have me every night.”

“Hm, such tempting promises.”

His lips wander, so very soft in contrast to his beard as they travel along the sharp line of your jaw and down to the much more sensitive skin of your neck. You inhale the smell that clings to his hair, incense, lavender and something that is distinctly Otto, some mix of ink, parchment and the crackling fire in front of you.

“We have denied ourselves for so long.” Your voice is desperate even to your own ears. “I do not think we have to repent any longer for sins of the past.”

“No,” he whispers against your jugular. “We give thanks to the Seven for their graciousness. Worship–”

“Worship?”

He stops as his hands stray, ghosting along your bare neck and then, suddenly, he tugs at your bodice. You gasp in surprise, and after another attempt it finally loosens, your breasts spilling over your dress as you shiver in the cool air. The lord’s warm hands soon find the soft flesh and with his slender fingers he kneads them, drawing noises from you that sound so very unfamiliar to your ears. You can tell that he is quite overcome as well. His breathing comes in hard bursts that betray his state and yet he is gentle with you, careful.

“Worship their gift,” he clarifies, glancing down at your partly revealed body. “Cherish it, treasure it.”

His mouth presses to the pliant curve of your breast and you realise that it is you he is idolising, your body the sole object of his adoration. You are melting under his lips, the reverence with which he kisses every bit of exposed skin exhilarating and new. When his warm mouth closes around your nipple you bury your hand in his hair and he moans deeply, wantonly. You feel yourself clenching at the sound.

It must have been some time since he touched a woman and just like you even the simplest contact seems to affect him. You would explore the possibilities if he allowed you to but presently he is too occupied with the mechanisms of your dress. You gently urge him away and help with the fastenings on your back, but he soon finds that he prefers to peel it off your skin in a rather slow, torturous fashion.

“Black,” he states with a hint of distaste, freeing your arm from one of the wide sleeves.

“I know my lord prefers me in green,” you whisper.

“And soon you shall be wearing it for me, my darling. It suits you so well.”

It gives you a thrill to have him take off your mourning dress with which you commemorate your late husband, a husband who shamed you for your attraction to the very man you are intimate with now. It is a sick feeling, a sinful feeling, to strip off your memory of him so soon and give into your desires with the man he so loathed. It gives you a perverse sense of satisfaction. But you have suppressed your needs for too long and you think it truly must be a sign of the Gods that they have brought you and Otto Hightower together again tonight.

When you are in nothing but your shift, the lord sinks from the daybed and kneels in front of you, bunching up the sheer fabric until your legs are exposed. You want to alert him that he should not rest on his poor joints on the cool stone floor but then his lips press to the inside of your knee and the thought is forgotten. He is yet unhurried, languid kisses pressed to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the roughness of his beard sending pleasant tingles into your belly.

The nearer he draws to your core the more restless you become. You feel yourself getting wet, throbbing in anticipation. You grasp at his hair, a blush spreading over your cheeks and when he does not stop you tug at the thinning strands. The lord’s eyes find yours, heavy-lidded, and you feel the warmth of shame blossoming in your chest at the lustful display.

“My lord, I have never–”

“Otto,” he corrects yet again, a mild reproach with one hand stroking your calf. “Lean back, my girl, I want a taste.”

It is not a request. You rest your back against the brocade and he grabs one of your thighs, placing it over his shoulder to reveal your private parts to him, to angle your hips just right. He holds your gaze and even though your heart is hammering almost too violently you cannot bring yourself to deny him. His lust-blown pupils paint his eyes black, a thin sheen of sweat gathering on his brow. It is an odd sight, a new sight, the usually so composed and controlled lord driven by his carnal impulses in a rare loss of composure.

He beholds you for another moment to make sure you are in agreement before he presses his mouth to your cunt. It is entirely too much, the lighting bolts of pleasure it sends into your body, the way he feels so hot and wet against your most sensitive parts. You moan, an obscene sound that you stifle with your hand the moment it leaves your lips. Otto’s eyelids flutter shut and his lips part against you. His tongue is soft in contrast to his beard that is chafing your thighs, licking along your slit and flattening against the sensitive bud at the top that you only rarely found the courage to explore on your own. He continues like this, his nose pressed to the swelling knob while he devours you like a man starved. When the lord pulls away to breathe you roll your hip in his direction, trying for more, and he gives an amused chuckle.

“You are a wanton thing,” he says. “I should have known.”

He says it fondly, running a thumb over the coarse hair that gathers where your legs meet, wet with your arousal and his own spit. He rubs along your slit then, circling the spot that lures the most sensual sounds from you. Your hips move on their own accord, trying to meet his rhythm, and you feel the heat building in your lower belly as he stokes the fire.

“Please–”

You clench around nothing and the lord withdraws, leaving you aching. His beard is glistening wetly in the light and you watch as he cleans the digit with a low hum. “My girl has the sweetest of tastes.”

You do not know whether he speaks the truth but his eyes are filled with devotion and desperate longing. When he stands, you pull your legs to your body to nurse the dampness and unsatisfied pulsing between them. The lord flinches as he straightens his knees, no doubt feeling the pain you anticipated but he recovers before you can inquire and reaches for your hand to help you up. You understand he does not wish to feel old tonight.

“On the bed,” he says.

His voice is firm and controlled. When you stand before him he surprises you with a hungry kiss,  hands following the lines of your scantily clad form and squeezing at every bit of soft flesh he can reach. You feel like a debauched woman and modesty seems to be out of place. With shaking hands you pull your shift over your head and crawl onto his heavy four poster bed. The fabric of his sheets feels soft against your bare skin and you sense a thrill running through you at the prospect of what he might do to you. You are nude safe for the jewellery he bestowed you with.

“You are an exquisite sight,” he says as he watches you from the foot of the bed, the buttons of his garments coming undone with practiced fingers. “And you are mine now, sweet girl. Does it please you?”

You forget to reply, quite distracted as he reveals the tunic he wears underneath. The lord knows, as he always does. The admiration for his body must be written all over your face and you cannot look away as he fully exposes his torso to you. Despite his age his body is that of a knight, toned in places but overall softened by decades spent behind his desk. Tufts of greying hair cover most of his chest, the supple curve of his belly resting right above where he is already hard inside of his breeches.

The same bravery you felt all those years ago takes hold of you at the sight of him and on your knees you crawl over to where he is standing. Cautiously, you run your hands through the hair covering his upper body, feeling the soft skin underneath. He seems rather docile, allowing you to squeeze and palm whereever you want to, silence interspersed with the odd hum of approval at your exploration. Starved for the touch of a woman there is no resistance but a deep infatuation in his eyes. Perhaps he is just as enamoured with the sight and feel of you as you are with his.

“Pleased is hardly a word I would use at present,” you finally reply and allow your hand to cup him through his breeches. “Are you aching for me, too?”

A dry huff of a laugh, as though the question itself is superfluous. Two fingers tilt your chin up, the fire burning in his eyes answer enough. His free hand dives into your hair, not gentle but not rough as he frees it from its constraints and allows it to fall over your shoulders. Once he can angle your head how he pleases the lord closes the distance and litters your neck with kisses, teeth and tongue teasing at your skin. You find the fastenings of his breeches but your fingers are too jittery. The more you palm at him the rougher his kisses become until all breaths between you are drawn in desperation.

His patience has run thin. He climbs onto the bed, effectively urging you to lie back as he settles between your legs. His weight on top of you is heavenly, the feel of his skin against yours enough to have you whimpering underneath him. Otto grabs your wrists, one in each hand, pinning them down on either side of your head. The gold cuffs bite into your skin but not unpleasantly so with his warm hands covering them. His fingers slot between yours, grasping them, and you feel your pulse hammering against the ball his hand. Large as they are his hands almost completely cover your smaller ones and as his weight comes to rest on his forearms you feel like he is spreading you open for him.

“You are a sight for the Gods,” he whispers. “Such beauty, even they must envy me.”

You buck your hips, desperate for the feel of him now that he is within reach. “Please, Otto–”

“Needy, shameless,” he chides, voice sultry and deep. “Tell me, how many times have you fantasised of this? Or have you stopped counting?”

The arrogance in his tone only makes you want him more. His hands tighten almost painfully in yours as he kisses you, feverish and filthy, forcing his tongue between your lips with a distinct possessiveness. It is evident that he intents to claim you in more ways than just adorning you with jewels. You are not resisting but you cannot match his pace, overwhelmed with the intensity of your desires for him.

When his mouth releases yours, bruised and wet, you moan at the loss of him. The gasping breath you take burns in your lungs and once again you cannot help but tilt your pelvis to try and find some relief.

“Shhhhh, I know,” he whispers. “I will have you, my girl. You were very patient.”

The blood flows back through your wrists when his tight grasp loosens and he finally works his breeches open. His member is coated in arousal, thick and throbbing after his own stalling. You release a sob when you feel him sliding between your folds, grazing your swollen bud. The lord groans when you reach down to help him find your entrance and you notice how hot he is, how painfully stiff against your soft fingers.

“Yes,” you whisper when you feel his tip parting you. “Please, more.”

He relents, tries to go slow for your sake but you are slick and worked up and one thrust is enough to fill you to completion. The feeling is unlike any of which you have experienced before, no pain or discomfort but just the dizzying need for more of him that burns through your veins. He stretches you open, both of you glancing at where your bodies join so beautifully before your eyes meet once more. Your lord takes your wrists again, softer now, and as your hands link together it is you this time who tightens their grasp.

He begins to rock his hips, gentle at first as he holds your gaze, swallows the first of your moans with his puffed lips. Soon his thrusts harden, the pace he sets merciless as he drives himself into you over and over. You are both too sensitive for it to last long, the lingering fire inside of you spreading into your fingertips, your toes, and you feel as though you could explode with the sheer bliss of it all.

You come undone a moment later, crying out his name and spasming with a force you have not known before. Your lord holds you and you sink into the feeling, trembling and weightless in his arms. Otto hums at the sight but he only pauses for a moment before he resumes his movements, prolonging the pleasurable sensation. He moves to pull out of you as he nears his own end and you catch his wrist, pressing it against your chest.

“No,” you whine. “Please.”

He holds your gaze as he continues to take you, chasing his own pleasure more savagely than before. You cradle his face, brush the sweaty hair back that has fallen into his forehead, and when he finds his release the sound that comes from his throat is broken. His hips still but you feel the heat of his spend as he fills you, his body going slack on top of yours after the efforts of the night.

You recover with his gasping breath warming the crook of your neck and even though he is resting some of his weight on his elbows his strength has ultimately left him. Wet skin clings to wet skin, soft and comforting as you stroke his back through the aftershocks. Your chests heave in sync and you swear you can feel his heartbeat matching your own.

A deep sigh tickles your shoulder, then, and he carefully rolls you onto your sides, wrapping you up in his arms as he gathers you against his chest. The position is much more comfortable and you curl up against him with a warm, sated feeling in your belly.

“Will you stay a while?” he asks.

“For as long as you will have me,” you reply, using the quiet to allow your fingers to explore more of his chest. “I thought you might tell me about Oldtown.”

A smile, so soft and genuine that your heart stutters. The lord brushes your hair back, thumb following the line of your brow down to your jaw and resting on your lips. You can only imagine the mess you look but he does not seem to mind.

“Perhaps you should like to dine with me tomorrow?” he asks.

“I should like that very much.”

“Good,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “Very good.”

He is exhausted and you know sleep will take him within moments. Lips softly pressed below his ear you reach for the end of the comfort and provisionally pull it over your entangled bodies. The fire is still burning but you know you will catch a chill once your skin cools. You will have to leave before the morrow but right now dawn is far away and you are too content to rest in the safety of his arms. At last.

Epilogue: A year later

A yawn parts the lord’s lips. He stifles the noise quite quickly but it does not escape your notice how his hand flies to his mouth. He so rarely makes a sound, a man of silent concentration, choosing every word with a deliberation that requires his full attention.

You smile to yourself. “I did not take you for a man who falls victim to ennui, husband.”

“It is a slow night,” he concedes, rubbing an ink-stained finger along his brow.

“And you have copied this letter…”

“Seven times, my heart.”

You softly close the book you have been reading while sitting in quiet companionship with the Lord Hand. You so love watching him when he dedicates his evenings to his correspondence, the scratching of the quill a calming noise in the background.

“Perhaps I can aid his lordship in finding a less tiresome occupation?”

He leans back in his chair, surrendering the quill as well as his efforts as you saunter over. A smile tugs at his lips, amusement. You find him less serious these days, less stern, at least when he’s sharing your company. The months have been kind to you both.

“My darling wife is as insatiable as during our first night,” he muses, pulling you into his lap.

“How disappointing, I made such an effort to become worse.”

He kisses the mock pout from your lips. For a man who has aged so gracefully his hunger has not dwindled. He tells you that your enthusiasm keeps him youthful and perhaps that is true. After over a decade in a love and passionless marriage you have a lot to make up for. Otto is happy to indulge you.

“The hour is late,” you whisper against his lips, a subtle proposition.

“Indeed,” he says, one hand sliding up your hip, then pressing down gently on your belly. “What are we to do with this hunger of yours, lady wife?”

“Perhaps my neglectful husband can sate me.”

“Neglectful?”

“At times I feel that he prefers the touch of his quill over mine.”

He lifts you abruptly, placing you on the surface of his desk where you can hear the parchment crumpling underneath your skirts. Your lord stands tall in front of you, broad-chested yet slender of frame save the small pouch of his belly. You trace the soft curve up to his chest but he quickly grasps your chin to draw your gaze up to his, ever imperious.

“Audacious,” he chides, “that you would make such accusations.”

The hint of teasing in his voice sets you alight. His long fingers curl underneath your jaw, denting your cheeks with his grip. With a raised eyebrow he studies your face, knowingly, your flushed skin betraying his effect on you. His patience is like to drive you mad as he is methodical and studious even in your shared intimacy. You think he reads you as though you are words written on a page of his books, drawing meaning from tracing the shape of you with his eyes.

Only when you are writhing does he close the distance in a heated kiss. As if to prove you wrong his hands eagerly roam your body, unfastening the lacings on your dress and groping every soft spot he meets in the process. Before long you find yourself stripped and heaving under the strain of your passion. It is a well-rehearsed dance by now, the undressing, the way from his desk to the bed where your lord likes to take his time with you, pleasuring you, teasing you until your begs and whimpers fill the quiet of the chamber and at last he is satisfied.

Under the canopy he leaves scratchy, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat as his fingers work you open. So far his seed has not taken and the maesters are not sure it will. You had hoped that you could refute the rumours of your barrenness but even so your second marriage is a much happier one than your first. The Gods have been good to you and you wonder if in time you may be blessed with a son after all.

“Focus on me, my girl,” Otto rasps, then, and you find him staring down at you, pupils so wide that they swallow his irises. His hair has fallen into his face, thin strands clinging to his forehead. You reach out to brush them back and as always he leans into your touch, starved for affection. An ink smudge stains his brow. He works so much that the signs never leave his face.

“Forgive me, I lost myself for a moment,” you whisper and push at his shoulder.

He removes himself and sinks into the pillows beside you, reclining with a soft, weary sigh. You climb on top of him, easing him inside of you. Otto pulls you forward, wrapping his arms around you as you both begin to rock against each other. You can feel his soft chest hair tickling your breasts, pressed together as you are, and you breathe broken moans into each others mouths.

“Where were your thoughts, then?” he whispers, biting into the soft skin of your neck.

“I thought about the future,” you say. “I thought about you giving me a son.”

His hips buck and you keen as he hits you deeper than before. You tug at the hair on the back of his head, following his rhythm as he groans into your ear with that deep, raspy voice. You smile, enjoying the feel and sound of him so desperate for you.

Whatever the future may hold, you know that you will never tire of this, the small intimacies with your lord, the knowledge that he burns for you so vigorously after a lifetime forced to spent apart. You can taste your own fire on his lips, feel it as you both crest and his seed drips down your legs. Otto kept the promise he gave you – he made things right, he cherished you, and now nothing shall part you again.

“I am doing something I learned early to do, I am paying attention to small beauties, whatever I have – as if it were our duty to find things to love, to bind ourselves to this world.” – Sharon Olds, from "Little Things"; Strike Sparks: Selected Poems, 1980-2002

Thank you so much for reading! Kudos, comments, reblogs etc are as always much appreciated but most of all I hope you enjoyed the story ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

[these-written-reveries]

Selfish (kiribaku ver.)

‣ Pairing: KiriBaku x GN!Reader

‣ Genre: Flangst, Hurt/Comfort

‣ Summary: Katsuki is convinced that you and Eijirou are in love with each other, but not him. He tries to do what he thinks is right by keeping his feelings suppressed and hidden from you, instead of trying to get between the happiness of the two people he loves the most. His plan quickly begins to fall apart the moment you confront him, and his selfish urges take over.

‣ Warnings: Angst, Katsuki being sad and having low self-esteem, false unrequited love, making out, Reader uses the “girl’s” elevator (but we can just pretend gender plays no part in the placement of the dorm rooms in this scenario), the word “fuck” is used a lot, repeated use of a "noose" metaphor? idk

‣ Word Count: 6,350

‣ A/N: This is more of a Katsuki-centric fic, with a bonus fluffy kiribaku blurb at the end!

There is a Katsuki x Reader version of this here, if you’re interested!

Main Masterlist

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.

He had begrudgingly accepted this truth a long time ago. Despite how it appeared on the surface, he was quite self-aware. Sure, it didn’t require that much self-reflection to figure it out, considering he’d been told this very truth by others around him multiple times throughout his life—at least by the ones that were brave enough to do so—but that’s beside the point. He still came to be aware of it, one way or another.

He could remember the early days of his youth as a spoiled, entitled brat. Even before his quirk developed, he always poised himself as superior to others. He was as selfish as they came. Throwing fits when he didn’t get his way, hurting people around him to ease the raging storm of feelings that were too big for his tiny body, always stealing the spotlight from others, expecting praise and rewards for every little thing he did. Kids are inherently selfish, to some degree, but little Katsuki blew every kid in his grade out of the water, in this regard.

Things didn’t improve all that much as he grew older, but he did get a little better. At least he no longer threw tantrums over not getting ice cream after school or every time he was told “no.” And he no longer sought praise for merely breathing. He preferred to truly earn his title as “the best” at whatever he decided to do—even if that meant knocking some other kids down to get there faster. A minor improvement, but his selfish nature was still wildly out of control. Even when he did recognize it, he didn’t care enough to fix it. He was already seen as an asshole, what was the point in trying to change the minds of people he saw as below him?

It wasn’t until he broke free of his ass-kissing, follower friends and met you, Eijirou, and the other friends "extras" from UA that he finally began to really see and care about his selfish ways—especially how they affected the people he truly respected and cared about. Katsuki wasn’t devoid of a heart, despite what many people believed. He wasn’t incapable of feeling remorse for his actions and of learning how to be a better person. He just never had the proper tools or guidance to be able to grow into the person that he, deep down, wanted to be.

That, and he didn’t have the same motivation before as he suddenly did when you and Eijirou stepped into his life. You pushed him to be better, just by being yourselves. Katsuki was inspired by you from the moment he met you. The way you carried yourselves and the way you managed to handle him and all that came with being his friend. It only made him respect you more. And as he inevitably began to fall for you, he felt the desire to be a better person for you grow even stronger. He wanted to prove to you that he was worth keeping around, even if he wasn’t always “the best” at everything. The last thing he wanted was to lose you over his problematic ways.

To his luck, you and Eijirou were some of the most tolerant people he had ever met. That didn’t mean you never called him out on his shit, though. Katsuki deeply valued you for that. He had grown to be more open and accepting of critical feedback, specifically if it came from you and Eijirou. How could he become a great hero, never mind a great man, if he refused any and all feedback that wasn’t positive?

That said, it still wasn’t easy for him to so easily accept when he was wrong. And it was even more difficult for him to push past his pride enough to apologize for it. But all it took was one look from you or Eijirou to make him give in and do just that. How you managed to gain such power over him, he’d never understand. If he wasn’t so damn in love with you, he’d hate you for it.

He still hated you for it. But in a “fuck you for making me love you so much” kind of way.

If it wasn't for his internal commitment to be a better person—one that you could be proud to know—he would have given into his selfish urges, stolen your hearts, and marked his claim on them a long time ago.

Katsuki had quickly come to learn that being a good person sucks.

“Oh, Eiji texted. He said he’ll be here soon! I invited him. Figured you wouldn’t mind. He said he needs all the help he can get for this upcoming exam,” you said as you began typing a message back to him.

“Fucking hell.”

“Huh?”

You looked up at Katsuki after hearing him grumble something unintelligible under his breath. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment before he averted his gaze, gesturing to the open books in front of you.

“Nothing. Get back to studying! Do you wanna pass that exam, or what?”

You threw your head back as you groaned. “Can’t we just take a little break? Eiji’s not even here yet and we have so much time left to work on this!”

Katsuki pointed his pen at you. “You might have time, but I don’t. You’re lucky I’m even using my spare time to help you idiots with this!”

You rolled your eyes. “You wanted to study for this test too. And you’re the one always preaching about how it’s important to take breaks!”

Before he could respond, you shut your book and looked at him inquisitively.

“So…what were you thinking about before? You looked…more annoyed than usual. Am I annoying you?”

“What the hell do you mean? I don’t look like anything!”

He could see you trying to stifle a laugh, though behind it was a glint of concern in your eyes.

“You look like something is really bothering you, is all.”

“Yeah. You are! Shut up and get back to work,” he growled, though you felt no real malice behind it. You had quickly learned long ago not to take the hotheaded blonde’s rude attitude seriously, often times finding it to be more of a protective shield than anything else.

“Okay, whatever you say,” you said, holding your hands up defensively with a slightly amused smirk on your face. Katsuki huffed in response as he looked away.

Giggling at his strange, yet all too familiar behavior, you opened your textbook again, only to be distracted less than a minute later by another ding from your phone. Katsuki could already tell it was another text from Eijirou by the way you smiled at your screen when you read it. You only ever smiled like that when reading the redhead’s messages, much to Katsuki’s chagrin.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki thought as he stared at you from across the table, frustration and hurt bubbling within his chest.

The truth was, you had the strange ability to make his heart flutter and his stomach do flips and his hands sweaty and fill his brain with so many thoughts of you, it couldn’t focus on anything else. You did all this just by existing as your stupidly beautiful, perfect self.

You even made him feel this way when you looked your “worst”. Beaten up after a bad fight, sleep deprived with bags under your eyes, after—very ungracefully—shoving a giant serving of food into your mouth, just waking up with messy hair and crusty eyes and morning breath, sick with snot constantly leaking out of your nose. All of this and he was still head over heels, swooning over you like a fool. And dammit, did it piss him off.

Even worse, he knew you had feelings for your redheaded friend and not him. He couldn’t blame you for this. He also found himself feeling similarly towards Eijirou, as he did you. He was a damn lovable idiot. A good guy, all around. The kind of man Katsuki wished he could be more like.

He couldn’t blame Eijirou for loving you either. As far as Katsuki was concerned, how could anyone not fall for either of you?

Katsuki loved your entire personality -even the parts that frustrated him most. Especially those parts. On top of that, you were absolutely gorgeous. When he begrudgingly thought of you and Eijirou together, without him, he couldn’t deny that the two of you would make an amazing couple—looks-wise and personality-wise.

It infuriated him to no end. He wanted to hate you both, push you away, relocate somewhere far away so that he’d no longer have to bear the pain of seeing the two of you flirting together, holding hands, laughing at each other’s jokes, hugging one another, and inevitably doing all the things that couples do. All the things that Katsuki wanted so desperately to do with you both.

But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. There was no way he could bring himself to not only truly hate you, but to go on living life without you both. He would likely never admit it, but you had become so interwoven in his life and his heart, that an existence without you just seemed so bleak and empty.

So, as much as it pained him to sit through hangouts and study sessions and the like, all while bearing witness to how close, how touchy, how obviously in love, you and Eijirou were with one another and not him, he chose to stick around and keep his mouth shut. He made a solemn promise to himself not to utter a word about his feelings to either of you, ever.

For once, he saw exactly what he wanted, right in front of him, and he chose not to take it. He chose not to ruin whatever closeness he did have with the two of you. But more importantly, he chose not to ruin you and Eijirou’s chances at finding the happiness that you both deserved, far more than he did.

It was the most selfless thing he’d ever done. And it was the hardest thing he’d ever done too. He felt his heart break every time he saw the affectionate way you treated one another, but he bit his tongue. He tried to shove his feelings down deeper and deeper, but they kept coming back up, tightening around his throat like a noose until he choked.

The truth became quite apparent to him at one point. Loving you both from afar would be his undoing. And maybe he deserved it? Maybe this was his punishment for being an asshole and tearing others down for his own benefit for all those years.

He’d take his punishment. Just so long as he could continue to know you, even if he wanted to know you so much more.

God, he fucking loved hated you.

After the previous day’s study session, Katsuki needed a break from the two of you. He planned to spend most of the day training and holed up in his dorm, just to avoid you both as much as possible; to set his mind straight and get his feelings back where they belonged—locked away in a dark unlabeled box in his mind, along with all of his other unwanted thoughts and feelings. He was starting to lose his composure around you, and when that happened, he always tried to stay out of your way for a few days until he was “fine” again.

“Fine” had lost all its meaning months ago, and yet, he found himself saying it all too often.

“You okay, Kats? You’re not really on your A game today,” you said as you walked over to help him off the ground for the second time that day.

Katsuki scoffed, a low growl brewing in his throat as he spoke. “I’m fuckin’ fine. Wasn’t planning on having you idiots around, distracting me.”

You and Eijirou seemed to have the same idea about working out and training that day. Katsuki ran into you both on his way to the gym. Almost turned around and booked it back to the dorms, but you happened to see him and waved him over to join you. Both of you smiled happily as you greeted him. It pissed him off so much, but he couldn’t say no to you when you both looked so damn cute, asking him to join you with those sharp teeth and pretty eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

He wanted to curse you both out. Tell you to fuck off and leave him alone.

Get out of his fucking head, already! Stop torturing him with those fucking adorable smiles that made his heart clench in his chest! Stop being so fucking nice to him!

But he bit his tongue, salvaged whatever little composure and willpower he had left, and joined you both to train.

And he fucking sucked the whole time. It only added to his inner turmoil even more. He was too distracted. Too focused on you and Eijirou and the way you both looked so fucking good when you were focused, when you had sweat dripping down your skin, when you were looking at him with those determined eyes while sparring, when you didn’t hold back against him.

At least the two of you were more focused on him than each other, at the moment. Katsuki had insisted that you both took turns going against him until he kicked both of your asses. He was on round three, at this point. He had lost to you both a total of three times in a row.

He knew that you and Eijirou were starting to question his strange behavior lately. He practically stormed out of his own dorm the day prior during your study session together. He didn’t say a word. Just got up and left.

Why?

Because you and Eijirou. That’s why.

When he came back, things were awkward as the two of you tried to ask him about it. He didn’t look at either of you when he told you to leave, not wanting you to see his red, glossy eyes.

It was embarrassing, to feel this weak.

Eijirou knocked on his door later that evening to talk to him. He didn’t answer.

Now the two of you were obviously trying to pretend that everything was normal, for his sake, trying to gently coax whatever was bothering him out of his system in hopes that he’d come around and get out of whatever shitty headspace he was in. You were being good friends, like usual. Always so attentive and thoughtful and caring.

He wanted to scream.

This time, he managed to defeat Eijirou, but he could tell his moves were slightly slower. He was going fucking easy on him. The redhead giving him a pity win only managed to send Katsuki over the edge.

By the time it was your turn, he wasn’t even fully present in his body anymore. All he was focused on was winning one round. Just one solid win was all he needed.

He moved on autopilot, blocking and countering all your attacks swiftly as they came. Thankfully, you weren’t holding back. For a moment, he felt like he was finally winning at something. The suffocating feelings began to dissipate as the adrenaline high began to kick in, filling him with a sense of power and control.

Until you called for a pause.

“What the fuck! Why?!” he barked, smoke wafting off of his hot hands.

Eijirou held a hand out at him, signaling him to back off as he ran towards you. “Chill the fuck out man, they're hurt!”

“Huh?”

It was only then that he realized you were holding your weight on one leg, struggling to keep yourself balanced as you tried to stand on your own. Eijirou was quick to catch you before you fell.

You had an ugly burn on your leg from one of his explosions. He thought he had released it far enough away from you to dodge it. He was clearly wrong.

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy as he stared at you, frozen in place. Eijirou inspected your wound, offering you sweet words of comfort and praise as he carefully wrapped it with gauze.

Damn it.

Katsuki could barely breathe now. The noose growing tight around his throat again.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl.” Eijirou lifted you up into his arms with ease, carrying you out of sight.

Your little whimper of pain shot straight through his heart.

Fuck.

“Come on, Katsuki!” Eijirou called out to him, slight urgency in his voice.

Katsuki remained frozen where he stood, hands clenched and chest heaving as he tried to fight back the tears that were building in his eyes. A million thoughts and feelings swirled inside of him, threatening to burst through the seams of his being.

“Kats?” Your voice sounded distant. It echoed in the background of his mind before it fully reached him.

“Go on without me,” was all he could say. He cringed at the way his voice wavered when he said it.

“Come on, man. You should-”

“Go!” Katsuki yelled, interrupting Eijirou’s attempt to change his mind.

All he heard after that was the sound of Eijirou’s footsteps as they faded away.

You and Eijirou had tried to reach out to Katsuki for four days. He somehow managed to avoid the two of you at every turn. He mostly stayed locked up in his dorm when school wasn’t in session. All calls went to voicemail. All texts left on read.

The two of you even went as far as to try to get Sero or Mina to check in on him. Denki offered to give it a shot, but you declined. You both knew he’d probably only aggravate him more, despite his best intentions.

Every plan of yours failed.

At one point, you couldn’t take it anymore and ended up crying to sleep in Eijirou’s arms one night. He shed a few tears himself as he tried to soothe your sadness and worry; all the while, he was struggling just as much.

You both missed your best friend. And despite your reassuring comments to each other that he would come back soon, that he just needed some space, you were both starting to crumble under the fear that maybe he wouldn’t. He had been acting strange lately, even before the most recent event occurred.

What if you had upset him? What if he was tired of being your friend? What if you were holding him back somehow?

Your thoughts spun in circles in your mind until you began to feel dizzy and sick to your stomach. After tossing and turning for hours that night, you headed down to the kitchen to make yourself some tea in hopes that it’d finally help you quiet your mind enough to allow you to get some much-needed sleep.

Thankfully, it did, because by the time Katsuki walked into the room to get some water after he couldn’t sleep, you were passed out with your head on the table, your hair sprawled out messily around you and your half-empty mug of cold tea.

You looked beautiful.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki cursed you in his head as he stared down at your hunched over, sleeping form.

The common room was so quiet this late at night, he could clearly hear your little breaths with every rise and fall of your chest. He spotted drool slightly dripping out of one side of your parted lips.

The sight made his heart flutter.

On your feet, he spotted those cute fluffy bunny slippers that him and Eijirou picked out for you one day at the mall. He remembered that day with fondness, how you all worked together in teams to find a pair of slippers for each other. In the end, Eijriou was happy to receive shark slippers and Katsuki was surprised with Grumpy Cat slippers. He could still hear both of your laughs as you made a comment about how his face matched his slippers perfectly.

Dammit, he missed your laughs so much.

He huffed in a mixture of sadness and frustration as he turned to walk away, only to stop himself in his tracks after a few steps. He took one look back at you over his shoulder before sighing in defeat.

Walking closer, he worked up the courage to wake you and subsequently face you for the first time in four days. What came out was much more aggressive than he intended.

“Oi!”

You jumped and his heart clenched slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek as you looked up at him, sleepy and confused.

“Ka’ski?” your sweet voice, thick with sleep, filled his ears. He clenched his fists, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Go to your dorm. You’re gonna end up with a fucked up neck and back sleeping like that, idiot.”

He began to walk away after that, heading towards the elevator at the end of the room. He didn’t get far, though. The unpleasant screech of a chair on the hard floor, followed by the far more pleasant feeling of your hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him right in his tracks.

“Wait!”

“Go to bed, Y/N,” Katsuki warned. The last thing he wanted was to have whatever conversation you were attempting to start with him.

“No. I can’t sleep, anyway. I just keep worrying about you. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to fix it,” you implored.

Katsuki was tense under your grip, but he didn’t try to pull away, even as he let out a loud huff of frustration.

“Just fuck off, okay? There’s nothing you can do.”

You stared at the back of his head with so much pain and sadness in your eyes. Katsuki could feel your gaze on him. He knew better than to look back at you. That look alone would break his heart more than anything else could.

“I won’t ever stop trying, Katsuki. And neither will Eiji. We care about you so much. We miss you so badly. Please, just talk to me. If not me, then Eiji.” Your voice was starting to waver slightly as you spoke. Katsuki hated himself for being the reason behind your sadness and tears.

Even still, he couldn’t let you in on this. Neither you, nor Eijirou, could know. He just needed more time to sort out his feelings and lock them away, where they belonged. But after four days, he was still struggling to get himself back in order. All of it was starting to consume him, distract him, make him perform badly as a student and a hero in training. That part only encouraged him to avoid the two of you even more. He wasn’t going to let stupid feelings ruin everything he had worked so hard for.

His silence only pushed you to speak again.

“Katsuki?”

“No.” He pulled away from your grip, but you reached out to grab him again.

“Katsuki, please!”

He spun around to face you, eyes brimming with tears as he yelled in your face.

“What?! You just can't leave shit alone, can you?! Just fuck off, already!”

You looked at him with heartbroken eyes, biting your lower lip to suppress its quivering as tears began to fall down your face.

Fuck.

Katsuki inhaled sharply as his broken and battered heart shattered to pieces in his chest. Both of you were silent as you stared at one another, unsure of how to progress the conversation without breaking into a fit of tears.

“Fuck, I’m…I’m sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, voice just audible as he looked down at the ground between you. “Just leave me alone, okay? You and Ei are better off without me, anyway.”

He pulled away from your grip and this time, you didn’t reach for him again. However, your voice still followed him as he walked further away from you.

“How could you say that? You mean the world to us, Kats! We’re fucking lost without you! We need you. If this is about the other day, just forget about it. I’m fine. All is forgiven-”

“It’s not just about that.” He stopped in his tracks once more, back facing you.

“Then what is it about? Are you mad at me or Eijirou?”

Katsuki shook his head. Your confusion and desperation drew you closer to him. His feet remained glued to the floor.

“You’re not mad?”

“I-“ Katsuki stopped himself. “Just fuck off, Y/N. I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Katsuki!”

"BECAUSE I- ugh!" he growled, "because it would be selfish of me to tell you! It’d only make things worse! I'm trying to be...fucking better than that."

You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued.

“It was selfish of me to stick around as long as I did. I should’ve just left the two of you be a long time ago. I thought I could-” He sighed. “Never mind. Point is, it’s gone too far. You even got hurt because of my stupid bullshit.”

“What has gone too far? Katsuki, stop talking like this. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s go wake Eiji and we’ll talk this out.” There was a clear presence of fear in your tone as you reached out to grab his left hand that was clenched in a tight fist at his side.

He ripped himself away from you. “No. This conversation is over.”

The way he spoke, his voice quiet, lacking any of his usual attitude, made your stomach twist in knots. He sounded so sad, so weak, completely defeated. It was completely unlike him, and it scared the shit out of you.

“I give you full permission to be selfish! Just fucking look at me! Tell me what’s wrong!” you begged.

At this point, you were seconds away from getting on your knees just to get his attention, or at the very least, pity. You couldn’t let him walk out of this room. You knew the chances of getting him to open up to you again after this were slim to none. This was it. You had to fight harder; show him you weren’t giving up on him, no matter how hard he pushed you away.

Katsuki was silent, but you could see the way his hands trembled at his sides; his head hung low, his chest heaving. You waited with bated breath behind him, praying he wouldn’t walk away.

Surprisingly, after what felt like a millennium, he turned to face you, his head still facing the floor.

You were scared to make the wrong move, as if you were faced with a small, wounded animal that could scurry off if you so much as breathed the wrong way.

“Kats?” you whispered softly. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not.”

“Why do you say that? Katsuki, look at me.” You stepped forward and raised your hand, gently lifting his chin up so you could finally meet his eyes. What you saw broke your heart.

Red eyes glossed over with tears, lower lip quivering as he tried and failed to stifle the emotions that seemed to overtake him. Your eyes only filled with more tears of your own as you stared back at him sadly.

“I don’t want to see you happy without me,” he whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“I want to be the reason you are happy. I want to give you everything you deserve and more. Both of you.”

“Katsuki…You do make us happy. If anything, we are the least happy when you’re not around,” you said, fingers tracing down his wrist and giving his hand a small squeeze once he allowed you to grasp it. He only seemed to grow more upset at this as he looked down at your interlocked hands.

“But you don’t want me, you want each other.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, we wa-” You froze as realization hit you. “Wait…”

Katsuki made a tsk sound. "Looks like you finally got it. Took you long enough."

You blinked at him. "I- Kats, if you have something to tell me, you better say it now."

"I think you know. Why don't you tell me?"

He was too scared to say it and you knew it.

"Katsuki-"

"Tell me."

You sighed, suddenly growing nervous as you began to second-guess if what you were about to say was actually correct. Katsuki's hold on your hand grew tighter as he awaited your answer. If he wasn't so focused on what you were about to say, he'd be embarrassed about the growing dampness between your palms.

"I...do you....do you have...feelings....for me and Eiji?"

Katsuki’s silence was all the confirmation you needed. You let out a breath of relief.

“Kats-”

“Do you?” he asked, before clarifying. “Have feelings for me? If the answer is ‘no’, say it now and we’ll never speak about it again.”

You stepped closer to him, slippers touching his as you looked at him with soft eyes.

"What if the answer is ‘yes’?" you whispered.

For a moment, you both exchanged glances between eyes and lips, your hearts racing as you awaited the other’s move.

Finally, Katsuki spoke.

"Do I still have permission to be selfish?"

You nodded, and before you knew it, his hands were on either side of your face, and his lips were crashing against yours.

He pushed you against the nearby wall, never breaking his lips from yours, as he kissed you hungrily, desperately, lovingly. You ran your fingernails up the nape of his neck, weaving your fingers through his messy blond locks and earning a groan from him as he pulled you closer by your hips and deepened the kiss even more.

By the time he came up for air, you were both panting heavily. His grip on your hips didn’t loosen and neither did yours around his neck as you stared at each other speechlessly.

After a moment, your lips formed into a smile.

“We’ve been wanting to tell you,” you confessed.

Katsuki’s soft smile quickly faded into a bewildered frown. “Hah?”

“Eijirou and I, we want you, Katsuki. As far more than a friend.”

Katsuki visibly stopped breathing for a brief moment. You nervously continued to speak.

“But there’s no pressure or anything! We just wanted to talk to you about how we feel, not just for each other, but for you. Every time we’d try, you stormed off, or were clearly out of it, so we were too nervous to bring it up.”

“How long?”

Now it was your turn to look confused.

“What?”

“How long have you and Eijirou been talking about this?”

“Well, we confessed to each other almost two weeks ago-”

“Two weeks?! Fuck you!” he cursed.

You gasped. “Hey! Watch it, mister!”

“Fuck you for ruining my life by making me love you so goddamn much! And fuck both of you for not telling me sooner and letting me suffer! Do you have any idea how painful it has been watching the two of you idiots and your stupid cutesy, touchy, flirty bullshit, every single day?” he ranted, obviously frustrated, but not truly directed at you.

“Aw, Kats…We didn’t realize-”

“’Course you didn’t! You were too wrapped up in each other! I always thought you’d never return my feelings because it was obvious you two were obsessed with each other.”

This time, he sounded sad. You cupped his face with your hands, gently running your thumbs over his soft cheeks.

“We have always been obsessed with you too, Kats. It’s not that we didn’t want to be that way with you too. We were just never quite sure about your feelings for us and we didn’t want to cross any lines or make you uncomfortable,” you explained.

He let out a sigh, eyes closing as he relaxed into your touch.

“We should talk with Ei tomorrow,” you said.

He nodded in agreement, soaking up the feeling of your touch; something he had dreamed of and desperately craved for so long. Finally, his dreams were coming true. He was melting between the palms of your hands, and he couldn't have been happier about it.

Now that he'd had a taste, he'd be damned if he were to ever let you go.

“You’re mine now. Got it?” he said, his hands slightly squeezing your hips as he looked into your eyes.

You smirked amusingly at him. “Woah there, don’t get too selfish now. You gotta share.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I don't mind sharing. So long as it's with Shitty Hair, I can manage. That doesn’t mean you’re not mine, though!”

You giggled, pulling him in for another kiss, to which he happily obliged. This time, he kissed you back tenderly, savoring every second of your soft lips on his. You melted into him completely, allowing him to pull you even closer against him, his strong arms keeping you locked in place.

You placed a hand on his chest at one point, signaling that you needed air. He grunted before reluctantly pulling away.

He pressed his forehead against yours, smirking at the way you grew visibly flustered under his intensely loving gaze.

“It’s late. W-We should get to bed.”

He hummed in response. “Fine.”

Taking your hand, he walked you over to the elevator across the room, both of you still silently processing all that had just happened until you finally reached the large metal doorway.

You stepped inside the elevator, bidding him goodnight.

“Night,” he said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

His feet came to a halt when he felt a sudden, familiar urge take over him, and this time, he didn’t fight it. Before he knew it, he had his arm between the metal doors, forcing them to reopen.

“Kats-”

He interrupted you by crashing his lips against yours once more, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you with everything he had. Every skipped beat of his heart, every pang in his stomach, every moment of longing, every loving thought he’d ever had of you flashed through his mind. For once, he wasn’t concerned about ruining anything, of hurting anyone, of losing you. All he cared about was satisfying the insufferable itch of longing and desire he’d carried for you all this time.

Finally, the noose was gone, the bad feelings dissipating while the others became one with his being. He could breathe again.

When he pulled away, he was smiling. He was happy.

And you were too. Happy because of him. Happy with him.

“You should be selfish more often,” you said, still trying to catch your breath.

Katsuki stopped the doors from closing in on him, his eyes still locked on you as he let out a chuckle.

“That’s a first. Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

He backed out of the elevator, finally allowing the doors to close. You stared at him as heat rushed to your face, capturing a glimpse of his growing smirk until he was no longer in sight.

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.

And oh, did you love every bit of him.

*The next day*

"Mannn...I can't believe you guys kissed for the first time and I wasn't even there for it!" Eijirou whined, an adorable pout on his face as he looked between the two of you.

"Are you jealous, Eiji?" you teased, lightly nudging him with your elbow.

"Yes! Do you know how long I've been waiting to kiss you both? It's been torture holding out from kissing you while waiting for Katsuki to get on board, and now I've come to find out that you two were making out for the first time without me?!"

Katsuki shrugged, nodding towards you. "They gave me permission. Blame them."

Eijirou scoffed. "I sure hope they did!"

"He means, I gave him permission to be selfish. I didn't know he was going to kiss me when I said that," you clarified.

"Oh, you knew, and you sure as hell didn't stop me."

"Well, of course not!" you said.

Katsuki smirked at you and you felt heat rush to your face. A brief knowing look was shared between the two of you as you recalled the events of the previous night.

Eijirou watched your silent interaction, his pout increasing as he whined. "I wanna kiss you both too!"

"You snooze, you lose," Katsuki said, breaking his stare away from you and taking a sip of his coffee.

Eijirou narrowed his eyes at him. "Scratch that. I definitely don't wanna kiss you right now."

"Hey!" Katsuki barked, looking at the redhead offendedly.

You giggled at them both, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.

"Both of you, hush. We have plenty of time for kissing later. Now, let's get to work! We can't fail this exam!"

Katsuki rolled his eyes, trying to fight off the growing redness on his cheeks. "Now look who's all ready to study, for once."

"Well, we gotta make sure we all pass! I'm not being left in the dust by the two of you just because of one stupid failed exam!" you said.

Eijirou’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "Aw, hun, we would never."

Katsuki nodded in agreement. "Damn straight. I'll make sure both of you idiots pass, even if I have to jam all the information into your heads myself."

"That always works with me! Right, Kats?" Eijirou flashed his sharp toothy smile.

Katsuki hummed, growing even more flustered over how cute the redhead looked when he smiled at him like that. Thankfully, you managed to draw the attention away from him long enough for him to hide his fond smile. He couldn't let either of you know just how soft he was for you, yet.

A giggle fell past your lips as you spoke. "Good for you, Eiji. But I'd like to refrain from developing a concussion the day before the exam."

Katsuki’s attention moved back to you, a cocky smirk growing on his face. "I could always kiss the information into you."

Eijirou gasped. "What?! No fair!"

"Both of you, be quiet and focus! Or no kisses at all!”

. . .

That shut them right up.

‣ If you enjoyed this fic, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

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[imagine-silk]

Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.

[novaursa]

hey, hope you're doing well, i saw the request are open, and i just have to use my chance to send in an ask. i was thinking about aemond targaryen and a reader from a different house, she's sticking up for him and defending him. after that he trusts her, wants to get to know her and falls for her in the process. maybe you like the idea and consider it.

thank you for all your great stories, really love them. have a great rest of the week.

Quiet Hearts

- Summary: When you stand up for him against his brother and nephews, Aemond sees you in the new light. 

- Paring: reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: The reader is one of Helaena's ladies in waiting.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The hall is alive with chatter and laughter as you stand near Princess Helaena, who is engrossed in observing a beetle crawling along her palm. The other ladies are engaged in their own conversations, but your attention is drawn elsewhere. Across the yard, you see them—Prince Aegon, Jacaerys, and Lucerys—gathered around Prince Aemond, taunting him as they often do.

“Still no dragon, Aemond?” Aegon’s voice carries easily across the courtyard, dripping with mockery. “Perhaps we should find you a pig again.”

The laughter of the boys grates against your nerves, and you notice the way Aemond’s shoulders tense, his fists clenching at his sides. His face is a mask of stoic restraint, but you’ve seen that look before—an attempt to hide the hurt beneath.

Jace smirks, his tone mocking. “Maybe if you asked nicely, one of us would let you ride our dragon for a bit. Just so you know what it feels like.”

Lucerys giggles, nudging Jace with a grin. “Aegon’s right. You should get used to something with four legs and a saddle.”

A flush of anger warms your cheeks as you listen to their cruel jests. You glance at Helaena, who is lost in her own world, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding nearby. But you can’t just stand by and watch this happen again.

Without a second thought, you step forward, your voice ringing out clearly in the quiet courtyard. “That’s enough!”

The boys turn, surprise flaring in their eyes as you approach. You can feel the eyes of the other ladies-in-waiting on you, but you push aside the discomfort.

“Aegon, Jace, Luke,” you say sharply, your gaze moving between them. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Is this how you show your strength? By belittling your own blood?”

Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, and what’s this? A lady defending a dragonless prince?”

“More than you’ve ever done,” you retort, not breaking eye contact. “Aemond may not have a dragon, but he has more honor and courage than any of you do right now.”

Jace and Luke exchange uncertain glances, but it’s Aegon who scoffs. “Honor? Courage? You’re speaking of things you know nothing about, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. “And you, Prince Aegon, are speaking like a boy, not a man. If this is how you intend to do your duty, by mocking those you see as weaker, then I pity the realm.”

A stunned silence follows your words, broken only by the rustle of Helaena’s skirts as she looks up, blinking at you with wide, curious eyes. Aegon opens his mouth to retort, but something in your expression makes him pause. He turns away with a dismissive wave, muttering something under his breath before stalking off. Jace and Luke, looking thoroughly chastised, follow after him.

You turn back to Aemond, who is watching you with a strange expression. His eyes, usually guarded and cold, hold a flicker of something you can’t quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe something more profound.

“I… thank you, Lady Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice steady but soft. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You offer him a small smile, shrugging lightly. “Someone needed to. They were out of line.”

Aemond nods, his gaze lingering on your face as if seeing you for the first time. There’s a subtle shift in his posture, a gentling of his demeanor that you’ve never witnessed before. “You are braver than most men in this court,” he murmurs. “And kinder.”

The compliment, simple as it is, warms you more than it should. You glance away, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “I just don’t like bullies, is all.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and surprisingly pleasant. “Neither do I.”

For a moment, the world around you fades, the bustling court and the murmurs of the other ladies disappearing into the background. You meet his gaze again, and there’s something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t there before.

Admiration.

You don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because Aemond gives you a small, almost shy smile before he inclines his head. “I’m in your debt, my lady.”

You shake your head, waving a hand dismissively. “You owe me nothing, my prince. Just… perhaps, be kinder to yourself.”

He blinks at that, surprise flickering across his features. “Kinder?”

You nod. “You don’t need a dragon to be worthy. You already are.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for some hidden meaning in your words. Then, slowly, he nods, a faint, thoughtful smile playing on his lips.

“Perhaps,” he says softly. “I will try.”

As he turns and walks away, you feel a strange flutter in your chest, a sensation that lingers long after he’s gone. You glance back at Helaena, who is watching you with a knowing look, her lips curled in a faint, enigmatic smile.

“Something has changed,” she says in her soft, lilting voice.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

Helaena’s smile widens just a touch, her eyes drifting to where Aemond has disappeared. “You’ll see.”

You don’t know what to make of her words, but you can’t shake the feeling that she’s right. Something has changed, and as you turn back to where Aemond had been standing, you can’t help but wonder what this means for the both of you.

Most of the court has retired for the night, leaving the castle unusually silent. You relish the solitude, savoring the stillness that contrasts so sharply with the usual bustle of the day.

You find yourself in the library, drawn to its peaceful atmosphere and the rows upon rows of books, each holding a world of its own. You run your fingers along the spines of the volumes, considering which one to choose, when a voice behind you breaks the quiet.

“Lady Y/N.”

You turn, startled, to find Prince Aemond standing a few paces away. His presence is almost ethereal in the dim light, his silver hair catching the glow of the torches, and his violet eyes trained intently on you. Your heart skips a beat, and you offer him a small, surprised smile.

“Prince Aemond,” you greet, inclining your head slightly. “I didn’t realize anyone else was still awake.”

He steps closer, his movements measured and deliberate. “I often find the night preferable to the day. It’s quieter… more reflective.”

You nod, feeling a strange tension in the air. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s unfamiliar—charged, almost expectant. “I suppose we share that preference, then.”

His lips quirk into a small smile, something warm and genuine that you’re not used to seeing from him. “Indeed, we do.”

Silence falls between you, but it’s not awkward. Rather, it feels like the beginning of something, a moment suspended in time. You clear your throat, glancing at the books lining the shelves. “Did you come for a particular book, my prince?”

Aemond shakes his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “No. I came to find you.”

The words hang in the air, and you blink, taken aback. “Me?”

He nods, taking another step closer. “Yes. I wanted to speak with you… if you have the time.”

There’s a vulnerability in his expression, a hesitance that you’ve never seen before. It’s disarming, making him seem less like the sharp, intimidating prince you’ve come to know and more like the boy you saw enduring the jests of others, alone and wounded.

“Of course,” you say softly, curiosity piqued. “What is it you wish to speak about?”

He hesitates, as if searching for the right words. “I wanted to… thank you. For what you did that day. Standing up for me. Not many would dare to challenge my brother or the others, but you did.”

You smile, a gentle, reassuring expression. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Aemond. I did what anyone with a heart would have done.”

He shakes his head, a small, almost bitter laugh escaping him. “You give them too much credit. Most would have turned a blind eye, afraid to get involved.”

You can’t argue with that, and so you simply nod. “Perhaps. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. It was wrong, the way they treated you.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as he studies you. “You’re… different, Lady Y/N.”

The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine. You take a small, steadying breath, unsure of what to say. “Different how?”

He moves closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his presence, the scent of leather and books lingering around him. His voice is low, almost intimate as he speaks. “You see me. Not the way they do, not the way most people do. You see me—not just the prince without a dragon, not just as the second son of the realm.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone, the raw honesty that he’s never shown before. “I do see you, Aemond,” you murmur. “And you are so much more than what they say. You are strong, intelligent, capable… worthy.”

His breath catches, and for a moment, he looks as though he doesn’t know how to respond. Then, slowly, his hand rises, hovering near yours, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” he whispers, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand something he can’t quite grasp. “To be seen like that.”

You swallow, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. “I’m glad it means something. You deserve to be seen, Aemond.”

His gaze drops to where your hands are nearly touching, then back up to your face. “I’ve been thinking of you,” he admits softly, the confession tumbling out as if he can’t hold it back any longer. “Ever since that day. I can’t seem to stop.”

Your breath hitches, your own emotions swirling in a confusing, exhilarating storm. “Aemond, I—”

He shakes his head slightly, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to know.”

His finger, long and gentle, finally brush against yours, a tentative, questioning touch. You don’t pull away. Instead, you let your hand rest against his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his presence.

“I’m glad you told me,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His eyes searches yours, and there’s a depth of feeling in that gaze that takes your breath away. He looks at you as if you’re something precious, something he’s afraid to lose.

“Would you… would you walk with me, Y/N?” he asks, his voice soft and tentative, as if he’s offering you something fragile.

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. “I’d like that.”

Aemond’s smile, small and tentative, transforms his face, and as he turns, offering you his arm, you take it without hesitation. Together, you walk through the quiet, torch-lit corridors, the world around you fading into the background as you talk softly, sharing thoughts and dreams and quiet laughter.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something warm and hopeful bloom in your chest, something that tells you this is only the beginning of whatever is to come between you and the prince who, against all odds, has found his way into your heart.

[dixons-sunshine]

Pillow Fort—Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Daryl was nowhere to be found during the day. Everyone was worried, considering the man never missed meetings, no matter how unimportant they were. However, your worries got soothed when you saw what he had been up to that day.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc (bridge explosion doesn't happen.)

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 860.

A/n: Here's this. I don't know what this is but it's something. Hope y'all like it!

“I'll see you tomorrow for a check-up, Michonne.” You slung your bag over your shoulder as you addressed your newly pregnant friend, Michonne standing on the porch of her home with Rick by her side. “I think Siddiq's brining an ultrasound machine with him from the Hilltop. That would give us a relative idea of how far along you are.”

Michonne gave you a smile as she tenderly rubbed her flat stomach—that wouldn't stay flat for long—with one hand, her other hand tightly holding on to her husband's. “Thank you.” She stopped momentarily to share a look with Rick, before continuing. “Keep us updated once you find out why Daryl hasn't been seen all day?”

You nodded. “Of course.” You took a step back and sent them another smile. “Goodnight, guys. See you tomorrow.” With parting greetings, you turned around and made your way to your own home. The short walk soon came to an end when you walked up the steps and into your home, and instantly you could see something was up. The small chair that stood by the door was devoid of any cushioning, the pillows taken and not to be seen anywhere.

You frowned as you discarded of your bag by placing it on the floor, your jacket and shoes following suite. As you walked further into the home and into the living room, you could hear the voices of your husband and daughter fill the air, laughter soon being heard as well. As the living room came into view, you were met by quite the sight—seemingly every pillow and blanket you owned was being used to hold a rather impressive pillow fort upright. And sitting in the very fort in question was your husband and daughter, cuddled up together while Daryl was busy reading some book to her. A fond smile spread across your lips at the sight. Unwillingly, a small chuckle left you, catching your small family's attention.

Your three year old daughter perked up when she saw you, a huge smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Mama!” She excitedly exclaimed, but made no effort to run into your arms like she usually would, way too content in her father's arms. You couldn't blame her, though. Daryl was the best person to cuddle and you rarely wanted to leave his hold yourself.

You smiled and stepped forward. “Hi, baby.” Your eyes drifted to Daryl, meeting his fond gaze. “Hey, Dar. You two mind if I come in?” Hazel shook her head, scooting over in the makeshift bed to make room for you. You crawled into space and got comfortable beside Hazel, wrapping an arm around her and sharing a smile with Daryl. “I didn't mean to interrupt storytime. Please, continue.”

Daryl nodded and shifted his attention back down to the book. “As ya wish.” He cleared his throat and started reading again, his deep, soothing voice successfully lulling your daughter into slumber. In seemingly no time at all, Hazel was out like a light, leaving you and Daryl to yourselves. He placed the book down next to him and turned his attention back to you. “How was yer day, Peach?”

“Not as eventful as yours, I'm guessing,” you giggled, rubbing Hazel's head affectionately. “Is this what you've been up to all day?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Made 'er some breakfast this mornin' and she took great interest in makin' lil' forts with the small pillows. Decided to show her how to make the real deal.”

“Boring meetings be damned, right?”

Realization dawned on the archer's face, a look of guilt spreading across his face. “Shit, I forgot 'bout tha'. I promised Rick I'd be there and I got distracted. Fuck, I—”

“Babe, relax,” you chuckled, reaching over to grab one of his hands in yours. “Rick isn't mad. He was just worried because it isn't like you to miss a meeting. I bet he'll understand you wanting to spend the day with your daughter instead of discussing who stole Jeremy's tomatoes from his garden. It's okay. Besides.” You stopped to regard the fort for a moment, nodding in approval. “Once he sees this fort, I bet he'll be hella impressed. It's amazing craftsmanship, if I do say so myself.”

Daryl gave you a small smile. “Think Rick'll be jealous?”

You nodded. “Once he sees this, a fort-off is sure to commence.” You leaned over to share a soft, tender kiss with Daryl, pulling away soon after as to not disturb your little girl. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Love ya more, Darlin'.”

Little did either of you know, not only would a fort-off begin, but the greatest gift-finding, playset-building competition would commence between the two found brothers. And you and Michonne didn't know whether to find it amusing or annoying.

[notmuchtofind]

unexpected pt1 | d.s

word count: 2k

fluff & angst

tw: mentions of car accidents, injury, fatalities and abortion

synopsis: you and drew can’t wait to start your little family in your brand new home. However, things take a turn for the worst…

"Good morning babe!”

The raspy voice seeps through the small speakers in your phone as you lift your finger from the slightly smudged screen. You rub the palm of your hand over your eye before turning over in your bed, bringing your phone with you and engulfing yourself in the duvet that appears 10x larger when you're alone.

"Morning" you whispered slightly in a somnolent voice "what time is your flight again?" you question, whilst glaring at the blue eyes of the boy you're so madly in love with through the phone screen.

"My flights at 2pm for me but..9am for you?" Drew says, slightly second guessing himself.

Drew has been away filming for a few weeks at a time whilst you've been staying home. The new house you and Drew have just bought was in need of some new interior and seen as though you both consider yourselves to be quite the creative pairing, you've decided to renovate and decorate by yourselfs. However, it seems to be proving more difficult than anticipated, and with Drew being away a little more than you also anticipated, it appears it's getting a little stressful.

You sigh, the thought of having to wait an extra 12 hours from now for your boyfriend to be home aches your heart. A conflicting feeling of sadness and excitement take turns filling the pit in your stomach, as being reunited is so close, yet so far away

You wonder if the stress of decorating the house and being alone for weeks at a time is also heightened by the hormonal imbalances your body is experiencing over these past 3 1/2 months.

Finding out you were pregnant was frightening to say the least. You hadn't planned it, you may have discussed it from time to time with Drew but you had it in your mind that that phase of your life was to come a little bit later down the line. So when you found out you were pregnant, the initial thought was to terminate the pregnancy...However, after a few weeks of discussions, and seeing how amazing Drew was being an uncle to his sister's son, you became very open to the idea of keeping it. And Drew agreed, even though he expressed that he would've been supportive with any decision you chose to make, he seemed the most happiest when he thought about hearing the little pitter patters of feet on the floor boards, or the sound of giggles so pure that are simultaneously shared with yours.

"Okayyyy" you nod whilst dragging out your syllables as you shuffle around in bed.

"How are you, baby?" Drew questions with a beaming grin and a slight spring in his voice. Drew quickly follows up his question with another "and baby?"

You glance at your beaming boyfriend through the screen and giggle to yourself. "were missing you" you wine, pouting your lips slightly, trying to make him feel sorry for you. "I miss you" he coos "but i'll be home soon, to look after you both! And also finish renovating this house before she arrives'' he gushed

Seen as the pregnancy was not planned, neither of you was prepared beforehand. You and Drew had owned separate apartments prior to buying this house. Even though you practically lived together whenever you could rustle up the chance, it always would go back to being only your space. or only his space. with only your belongings that subside or, vice versa. Even though You and Drew could've lived in your own little bubble forever, responsibilities and chores needed to be carried out to determine that your individual lives ran smoothly. Meaning time apart was necessary. But when you decided to keep the baby and start this little family, you both agreed it was necessary to look at buying a house.

You both agreed you wanted to know the gender of your baby, so you could customise the nursery and pick out the cutest, tiniest baby growths and hats, ready for your baby girl's arrival. Watching Drew hold up tiny shoes and fluffy teddies whilst shopping for your daughter melted your heart. You'd giggle whilst rolling your eyes and taunt him about already having basically the same product in the basket, but he'd wine and ensure the product was different, most of the time only in colour or size, and you was unable to argue with him as he was already determined that he was purchasing that item. He already couldn't say no to spoiling her, and she hadn't even arrived yet.

The house is large, a 5 bed 3 bathroom colonial stately home. Open plan kitchen and dining area, with multiple lounges and a couple studies. a pool and 2 acres of land. it’s been a joint dream for you and drew to own a home just like this one. so when you came across it on the market, you had a feeling this was going to be yours. your forever home. at least one of them! However, The catch? It needed renovation, and a lot of it. But you guys are determined to get the main rooms completely ready before the baby comes. However, you've got 6 months until she arrives and not even the nursery is finished. Did you guys bite off more than you can chew?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drew was now just over an hour away from landing at the airport and you can feel you heart begin to fill with joy. Even though it takes you half an hour to drive to the airport, you decided to grab your bag and car keys and set off now. an attempt to miss the evening traffic.

Driving down the motorway, you hear your phone start to chime, "fuck" you mumble to yourself, Knowing your phone resides deep in your bag. The ringing is your ever so familiar alarm that you set to ensure you remember to take medication you've been on for your morning sickness. You let the chime ring out for a few seconds before it starts to test your patience.

"ugghhh" you moan... You reach your hand over to your bag whilst your other hand rests on the steering wheel, keeping your eyes on the road. you wiggling your fingers trying to locate the phone inside. You glance over to the bag, still reaching whilst trying to keep control of the car.

Your hand finally grasps your phone and you pull it out of your bag, setting it aside so you can switch off the echoing alarm. As you glance down, making sure you’re hovering your finger over the correct button, screeching tears through your ears.

Before you could react, your vision went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smoke fills your lungs and your body is limp. you began to gasp for air as you can feel your heart pounding at a rate you've never seemed to experience before. you reach around trying to find something to grasp onto but your vision is blurry.

Blood floods the fabric of your clothes, taking up almost every inch. You realise the only way out of your vehicle is the already broken window that appears the opposite way round. Glass still resides on the edges of the window, but you don't contemplate your exit, you begin to crawl out of the opening. As you do so you notice your legs unresponsive, but the pain you feel is little to none, as the adrenaline rushing through your veins is enough to numb your body and thoughts. The only thought you have is to make your way out of this situation alive.

The sound of sirens replaced the sound of your heart beat. As you lay at the side of the road with one elbow propping your body up. you notice the impact your body has taken. your leg looked to be disoriented and your flesh was not attached to your bones. The pain started to seep through your body and you whimpered in pain whilst screaming for help. The truck that had hit you was on its side and your car was upside down. People began to gather and surround you as the sirens grew closer. After fighting the energy to stay awake you find yourself crippled with exhaustion, your eyes start to flutter shut...the sounds start to fade away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes flutter, resisting the bright light that your met by and the smell of chemical aromas that are ever so strong. “baby…? that’s it. it’s drew” the muffled voice echoes through your ears, a voice that sounds uncertain, but a voice that grants you comfort.

"cmon baby, i'm here with you...you're gonna be okay y/n/n"

You begin to try to lift your head but a shooting pain descends down your back, you wince in pain as you drop your head back down to the white pillow.

"hey, hey! stop y/n/n, just rest okay. You're okay now. you're safe" Drew ensures whilst squeezing your hand in the palm of his.

You dart your eyes over to your puffy eyed boyfriend sat in the hospital chair. the anaesthesia and medication your body is under makes it hard to think straight, but you manage to give a slight reassuring smile to your boyfriend, just to tell him that you're hearing what he's saying and that you're relieved that he's the one by your bedside.

You notice Drew's eyes are glazed over and his pupils swell with joy. He gives you an identical smile. "Hey baby" he whispers whilst still squeezing your palm.

"I'm just going to get the doctors okay? Just to tell them you're awake" He explains. He stands carefully and begins to make his way out the hospital room.

The doctor enters the room as Drew grabs your hand and sits back by your side. you glance around, unsure of how to feel. your heart races as your consciousness starts to come back. You're slightly unsure of the intensity and trauma your body has just been through, but something feels incredibly off.

Your eyes dart to the doctor as he begins.

"Hello miss y/l/n, i'm doctor Edward's" he pauses "You've been in a severe car accident involving 1 other person" the doctor states...

"now there's a few things i'd like to go over if that's okay with you miss y/l/n and mr Starkey'' Drew nods eagerly as you widen your eyes, unable to move your neck.

"It looks as if you've broken your right leg miss y/l/n, as well as fracturing your collar bone, elbow and neck" he states. “you’ve experienced extremely deep tissue wounds to the calf’s and back muscles and a light head injury” he adds whilst ensuring he's making eye contact with yourself and drew.

"with the severity of the car crash, i'm extremely glad you're alive miss y/l/n, as your body has undergone quite the trauma" he states whilst looking down at his noteboard.

Your hearing what the doctors saying, yet none of it is settling in, you're heart is still racing and the pit in your stomach is growing larger and larger, all your mind resides on is your baby girl that's growing inside your stomach, the deep pain in your heart aches to know if your baby is okay.

You manage to muster the strength to ask the question that's been spinning round your head "is-is our baby okay?" you ask. You glance over at Drew, trying to gain an answer, However, he doesn't seem to meet your eyes, he's looking down at the floor, and you can see his breaths start to become unsteady. You quickly look over to the doctor and the look he gave you was a sympathetic one

"I’m terribly sorry miss y/l/n...umm...i'm afraid you suffered a miscarriage whilst being involved in the car crash"

You're taken back by his words and your hearing begins to muffle, you're unsure of how to react, you're unsure if the information has even hit you yet. You look over to drew and lock eyes as he's already staring at you with a look so heart wrenching. he Engulfed you in a hug. Drew kisses your forehead as he whispers

“Everything’s going to be okay”

a/n : i’m planning on doing 2 more parts to this story, one in drew’s POV and one about the impact of the miscarriage… i could possibly do a 4th part of how drew and the reader eventually try for another baby and start a family? lmk what you think <33

[horangare]

my babysitter’s a vampire

pairing : vampire!hoshi x human!reader

content : smut (mdni), strangers to ???

in which : your parents hired a babysitter after deeming you as the “irresponsible” older sibling. when someone who isn’t junhui shows up in his place, you’re instantly captivated by this handsome stranger and his shiny white teeth.

warnings : grinding, fingering, finger sucking, big dick soonyoung, blood, mentions of a knife and minimal bodily harm (you cut your finger), unprotected sex (but mentions of birth control, be safe either way), cocky soonyoung (ugh i want him so bad), you threaten him with a fork, bff!chaeryeong, dirty talk, pet names, bulge kink (i think that’s everything but pls let me know if i forgot anything)

wc : 4.8K words

note : look y’all i am the youngest of four sisters so idk if my portrayal of a younger brother is a good one but…this is for u hoshi nation horanghae.

“What do you mean?! I don’t need a babysitter!”

Your mom sighed deeply, searching her jewelry box for her matching earring. “I’m sorry honey, but you do. Your sister clearly isn’t responsible enough.” You rolled your eyes, but remained quiet. “And I know Junhui’s mom. She says he’s a very nice boy who’s good with children.”

Ever since you and Chaeryeong shut yourselves in your room to rewatch Girl From Nowhere for the millionth time again and speculate if there would really be a third season, (Chaeryeong insisted there would be, while you thought the opposite) the fact that you were supposed to be babysitting your younger brother had completely slipped your mind. When your parents returned from their date, they pulled into the driveway only to find Leo out there screaming his head off.

After that, you were quickly deemed “irresponsible” by your parents and no longer allowed to be Leo’s babysitter. What did they want you to do? You couldn’t spend all summer break looking after the little brat. Anyway, it’s not like that was the part that bothered you, but the fact that you couldn’t talk or beg her out of it either.

“Mom, come on! I’m eight and a half now! I can pretty much babysit myself!” Leo crossed his arms over his chest, standing in the doorway so your mother couldn’t leave the room without giving him, in all his childhood glory, the explanation he felt he so richly deserved.

“It’s too late. Junhui is already on his way and we’ve already paid him.” She leaned down, kissing him on the forehead. “Promise me you’ll be good.”

Your brother glanced to the side, like he was actually considering not being on his best behavior, before nodding and smiling at your mom. “I promise.” What a little shit.

“That’s my boy. And the same goes for you, [Y/n]. Chaeryeong over but she cannot stay the night. Am I clear?”

You smiled, not even bothering to make it seem real or genuine. “Crystal clear, mom. Have fun with dad.”

“Yeah, yeah. We should be back at around eleven.” Your mom mumbled, making her way down the stairs and to the front door where your dad was waiting. You followed behind her, mostly so you could slam the door in a pitiful act of retaliation and lock it shut until your friend arrived, but also because you wanted to see what this Junhui kid looked like up close.

You’d seen him maybe once or twice before around campus or at the cute little coffee shop you frequented, but you had never gotten a close hard look at his face before. Some of your friends knew him, according to them he was kind of weird, but made up for it with his sense of humor. Maybe he could keep you some decent company before Chaeryeong showed up.

The boy on the other side of the door was not Junhui. At least, you didn’t think so. This boy was a little shorter, a little blonder, and a lot finer than you’ve ever seen Junhui look.

“Oh! Hello, are you…Junhui?” Your mom asked, raking her eyes over the boy standing before her.

“Hi. No, sorry, Jun couldn’t make it. I’m Soonyoung, I’m a friend of his. Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Leo? Your babysitter’s here!”

“He’s so hot. And he’s totally your type, don’t you think?”

“Chaeryeong, please!” You slapped your hand over her mouth, earning a dirty look from the girl standing beside you. She was right, this Soonyoung guy was super good looking, but she didn’t have to say it out loud. He was still a stranger after all. A hot one, but a stranger nonetheless, and it was only normal for you to have your reservations. “He’s not even the guy who’s supposed to be here. Junhui was supposed to be Leo’s babysitter. He says he’s his friend.”

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, not understanding what your problem was. “I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you. Look, even Leo likes him.”

You and Chaeryeong watched from the kitchen island as Soonyoung helped Leo with his homework in the living room, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen your brother smile while doing homework. Neither of you could hear what they were saying, for some reason you doubted it was about fractions—fractions were not funny.

The longer you observed them—mostly Soonyoung—the more you realized how right your friend was. He was fine. Really fine. It’s like there was some kind of aura around him, something almost otherworldly.

That’s when you started to stare. Like the hard, not even blinking type of stare. Soonyoung turned his head over his shoulder, the two of you making eye contact in what felt like the most awkward way ever. He smiled at you though, which made your cheeks feel embarrassingly warm, before giving his attention back to your brother. Chaeryeong, having watched the entire exchange, grinned while looking you up and down.

“You’re staring.” She mumbled.

Feeling like a stubborn child about to throw a tantrum, you narrowed your eyes and pouted. “Was not.”

Your friend was no doubt satisfied with herself, cooing at you and cupping your face with her hands to squish your cheeks together. “Denial is not a good look for you. Come on,” she released your face to pat you on the shoulder. “let’s go watch a movie before I leave.”

Looking back at the living room, you saw your brother sitting on the couch alone with no signs of Soonyoung. Some babysitter, you thought, leaving the kid he’s supposed to be looking after alone. How could your parents leave someone so irresponsible in charge of your brother?

Oh, wait…

“Just wait for me in my room. I’ve gotta use the bathroom.” She nodded, heading upstairs to your room while you made your way to the bathroom in the hall and swinging open the door.

“What the fuck?” Soonyoung shouted, tearing his eyes away from the mirror above the bathroom sink to look at you. Gasping, you took a step back from him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—” You started to apologize, glancing behind him into the mirror and you froze. The spot where his reflection should be was empty. You took another step back.

“You didn’t know…what?”

If you weren’t so scared right now, you would’ve definitely been offended by the way he was speaking to you like you owed him an explanation for wanting to use the bathroom in your house. You looked at him, then the mirror once more, trying to make it as subtle as possible.

“Uh…nothing! So sorry again.” You said, laughing awkwardly to diffuse the tension and backing away from him far enough until you were close enough to retreat up the stairs and to your room. Chearyeong, seated comfortably in your bed, snapped her head away from her phone to see you clutching your chest and panting.

“Woah, what happened?” She asked as she sat upright. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?” With one of your hands, you gestured that you needed more time to catch your breath before taking a deep breath and stepping closer to the bed.

“He doesn’t have a reflection.”

Chaeryeong raised one of her eyebrows. “The babysitter? Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure! He was in front of the bathroom mirror but the mirror was, like, empty!”

You could tell she wasn’t really sure whether you were telling the truth or not, making you groan and cover your face with your hands. “I’m really fucking serious! There’s something wrong with him, Chaeryeong!”

A heavy sigh sounded from Chaeryeong’s place on your bed. “I don’t know…what kind of person doesn’t have a reflection?”

“All humans have reflections,” you shrugged, your head tilted as your mind considered each and every possibility. “maybe he isn’t human.”

Chaeryeong snorted and rolled her eyes. “What is he then? A vampire?” The comment was definitely meant to be a joke given the way she’d said it, but the way your eyes widened and jaw drop was all too serious. “Oh my god, is he really a vampire?”

You looked around your room frantically, feeling the smallest bit of relief when you saw your laptop resting on your beside table. Chaeryeong made room for you in the bed, watching as your fingers flew over the keys.

How to identify a vampire.

“Asks to be invited into your home…no reflection…powerful presence or aura,” you skimmed over the first three bullet points shown before you and felt your mouth go dry. Soonyoung, so far, was definitely fitting the description of a vampire.

“Look,” Chaeryeong pointed to the next bullet point and read it aloud. “When a person is injured, make sure to find out if their focus is more on the injured person or the injury itself.” You looked at her, unsure of what his point was. Nobody in the house had been injured?

“Yeah, so?”

“So we’ve gotta injure you.” She scoffed, a little confused as to how you weren’t following her crazy thought process.

You leaned away from her. “What? Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re the one that wants to prove it so bad, aren’t you?” It was hard to argue with that one, you were the one who brought it up in the first place. You grumbled and slammed your laptop shut.

“Fine! But if we do all this and he ends up being just some guy I’m expecting a very long apology from you.”

Chaeryeong just smiled brightly at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Soonyoung had brought Leo up to bed much earlier than he thought he would; your brother mumbled something about using all his brainpower on the fractions, and Soonyoung had laughed and tucked him into the covers. When he returned downstairs, he noticed the kitchen lights were on. Once he reached the bottom, he could see Chaeryeong holding your quivering body in the kitchen, a knife and an apple discarded on the kitchen island.

“What happened?” He asked, the faintest hint of worry in his voice.

The truth of what happened is quite simple; you and Chaeryeong snuck down here while Soonyoung was putting Leo to bed, she gave you a small (but still painful) cut on your index finger, and now you were standing here trying to sell it.

“[Y/n] was gonna split this apple with me, but I totally forgot how awful she is with knives. I think she cut her finger open, does it look bad?” Chaeryeong grabbed your wrist, holding your now opened hand closer to Soonyoung’s face. The blood had pooled where the cut was and started to streak down your finger. He sucked in a breath, struggling to look away from it.

“Y-Yeah, it looks pretty bad.” Soonyoung gulped, watching the red liquid falling down past your knuckles. He licked his lips, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you pulled your finger away. Then and only then did Soonyoung look at you in the eyes again.

“Everything okay? You seemed kind of distracted.” You tilted your head to the side. “You seemed really focused on the blood, don’t you think?”

Soonyoung scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh please, I was not.” You and Chaeryeong exchanged a look, and you held up your bleeding finger in front of his face again. Soonyoung’s focus shifted once more, his eyes zeroing in on the streak of blood that was beginning to go dry. You turned away to rinse it under the sink and shook off the water once it was all washed away.

“Yeah, okay.” Chaeryeong said, reaching into her pocket and handing you a band-aid. “So you’re a vampire, right?”

To say the least, Soonyoung seemed shocked and offended that you had caught him so easily, as if he hadn’t been the most obvious vampire ever. “What? A vampire? Please, how could you ever think that?” It was almost pathetic how he was actually trying to convince you otherwise when the evidence was already there, maybe he actually thought he could wiggle his way out of this.

“Look, we already know. Just drop it.” You sighed, and Soonyoung did the same.

“Aw, mannnnnnn.” He whined. “What gave it away?”

“Do you really want us to answer that?” Chaeryeong asked him, her voice riddled with sarcasm. Soonyoung looked down and mumbled the word “no,” and Chaeryeong nodded pointedly. “Thought so.”

So you were right. Soonyoung was a vampire. He was also your little brother’s babysitter. It’s funny, you could’ve sworn you’ve seen a show like this before a really long time ago, one whose name wasn’t coming to mind right now. Whatever, back to the main point. Soonyoung was a vampire.

“Why are you here?” You questioned him, holding up a fork to his neck. “Are you gonna kill us?”

“Woah, um, first of all,” He closed his hands around yours and lowered it, and you noticed how cold he felt. Probably another vampire thing. You snatched your hand away, and he seemed confused, but shook his head and continued on. “That silver thing? It’s just a myth. Second of all, why would I wanna kill you? It’s not like your parents wouldn’t notice. Not to mention we don’t go feeding on people randomly, consent is a thing, you know.” You could’ve laughed at that. A creature that survived off of draining the blood of others caring about their right to say no seemed ironic.

“And anyway, did you seriously expect to kill me with a fork?”

Chaeryeong burst into laughter, though she tried to play it off by coughing when she saw you glaring at her. “Sorry…” She picked up the fork and the knife and dumped them back into the silverware drawer to prevent you from making any more threats against Soonyoung. Your parents also didn’t trust you with metal utensils for…reasons similar to this.

You rolled your eyes. “So what happened to Junhui? Why couldn’t he come?”

The blond shrugged. “I dunno, he said that he was feeling sick, so he asked me to come in his place. Does that really matter?”

“Of course it matters! I don’t want some freaky undead creature looking after my little brother!” You retorted, raising your voice just a little. He might’ve been against eating people, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a monster.

“[Y/n], that’s kinda…” Soonyoung held up one of his hands, signaling for Chaeryeong to stop talking.

“How do you know Jun isn’t a vampire?” He tilted his head as he asked that, then pursed his lips while he waited for your answer.

So he was a vampire and a smart-ass. Great.

“I don’t know!” You turned your head away from him. “This is just…freaky. I didn’t know vampires could be so—”

“Witty? Handsome? Charming? I know, I get that all the time.”

“Stupid.”

Chaeryeong laughed again.

Soonyoung raised one of his eyebrows. “Stupid guys must be your type then. Well, according to Chaeryeong, if I heard correctly.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “You heard all that?” Soonyoung nodded, smiling when he noticed the way you reacted.

“Every single word. You know, maybe you should do more research.” He flicked you on the forehead and grinned when you let out a yelp of pain.

“Anyway.” Chaeryeong mumbled. “It’s getting late, my sister is on her way to get me. Good luck with…” She gestured between Soonyoung and you. “whatever you’ve got going on.” She reached forward and grabbed the discarded apple from its place on the island and padded upstairs to get her stuff from your room.

A gleeful smile crept its way onto his lips as he turned his head to look at you. “She’s leaving. You know what that means, it’ll just be me and you once she’s gone.”

“If you try anything, I will go get the fork. I don’t care if it kills you or not.”

He laughed, and the sound echoed through the kitchen. It was weird, he didn’t sound or look like an evil blood-sucking monster. He just looked and sounded…normal. And a little shiny.

“Later [Y/n]! Bye Soonyoung. Have fun!” Chaeryeong waved to you from the stairs. You replied with a goodbye of your own, and Soonyoung hummed, listening for the sound of the door closing shut before turning you around and pushing you against the island.

You gasped. “What are you doing?” The way you squirmed in his hold was amusing to Soonyoung, acting as if you could get away. You were so cute, thinking you could get away from him. This would be more enjoyable than he thought.

“I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of me. I can make you feel so good, baby.” You scoffed, the sound turning into a low moan when he started grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“I’m not afraid of you,” The shakiness in your voice poked a hole in your believability, but Soonyoung didn’t think too much of it. He lowered his head to the side of your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point before licking a stripe up the side of your neck. You shivered with a horrible realization; you liked it.

“Mmm, then maybe you like me. Is that why your heart is beating so fast?” You could feel him smiling against your skin.

A whine echoed through the kitchen. Your whine. “Wait, my parents…”

You gasped a second time when Soonyoung turned you so you were facing him, and you watched him roll his eyes with that annoying smile plastered on his face. “Oh, them? They’re coming home late. Your mom locked the keys in the car, so they’ll be a while.” Just when you were about to respond, he turned you around again, the feeling of his breath on your neck making you shiver. “So just focus on me, got it?”

His hands traveled over your body, stopping to squeeze your chest or your ass. You should’ve been embarrassed with how you reacted so eagerly to his touch, but he was actually making you feel good. Well, whatever. It’s not like you’d actually let him know—

“I can get rid of these, right?” He hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pajama pants, pulling them down along with your underwear the second you gave him a nod of confirmation. The fabric drops down your legs and pools at your feet and you kicked it aside. Soonyoung reached between your legs, collecting the wetness between them and holding it up to your face, fingers glistening with your arousal. “Look how wet you are for the freaky undead creature. You like this, don’t you?”

“N-no. I don’t like this or you.” Even though you said all that and shook your head, Soonyoung could tell you didn’t mean it. He reached between your legs again, this time to ease one of his fingers inside of you.

“The way you’re moaning for me says otherwise.” As he said that, he pushed another one of his fingers past your walls and eliciting another one of those not so subtle sounds from you that he loved. You didn’t even have to see him to know that he was pleased with himself getting you all worked up like this.

He was arrogant. He was full of himself. He was a smug bastard. He was all of that and more, and it was making you weak in the fucking knees.

Three of his fingers were inside of you now, stretching you so good that it made your head spin, and you bucked your hips against his hands like you’ve never been touched a day in your life.

God, you’d never live this down.

You bit your lip so that he didn’t get the satisfaction of hearing how you were falling apart over his fingers, or how good it felt when he curled them inside of you just right, or how he had your legs shaking every time he reached your sweet spot. As if he needed the vocal confirmation (he heard the noises you were making regardless), the way you were trembling was pretty much a dead giveaway.

“You know, you still owe me a little blood.”

“What?” You turned your head as much as you could to look at him over your shoulder. Soonyoung’s eyes were darker than they were before, his hunger evident through his gaze.

How could you owe him blood? What did that even mean?

“You owe me some blood,” he repeated. “Waving your finger around in my face and refusing me a taste. You have no idea how worked up you got me all over that flimsy little cut.”

Judging by how his dick was still poking you, you seriously doubted that.

You turned your head back around, not wanting him to see your face as you weighed your options. You didn’t really know what would happen if he did bite you. Would it hurt? Would it feel good?

Only one way to find out.

“Just…do it fast.” You tilted your head to give him better access to your neck. Soonyoung smiles wide—not like you could see it, but you were imagining that he was in this situation. He withdraws his fingers from their place inside you, much to your dismay, but he’s now holding them to your lips. He groans when you open your mouth and allows him to slip his fingers in and mumbling something that you can’t pick up over the sound of your thumping heartbeat.

“It shouldn’t hurt too much, but let me know if I need to stop.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the spot on your neck that he was sinking his fangs into no more than a second later, giving you no time to process his little act of intimacy. It stung for a moment, but what followed the initial sting of pain was the most intense and overwhelming sense of pleasure.

Soonyoung moans with absolutely no shame when your blood fills his mouth. He’s never tasted anyone as good as you, and he realizes that he could quickly become addicted to you. Your sounds, your blood, your pussy, each and every part of you inside and out was intoxicating.

You wrap your hands around his wrist and pull his fingers out of your mouth, wanting to have him hear your next words clearly. “Fuck me…please.”

He nearly chokes when you ask him that, forcing himself to pull away just so he can ask you to repeat yourself. He licks the remnants of your blood from his lips and your wound so that it’ll seal. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Clearly your expectations for him were still far too high, because instead of taking you to bed or at least the couch, he had you laid on the kitchen floor. Yeah, you’re definitely never living this down.

And yet despite all this, you can’t help but drool when you finally got to see Soonyoung’s cock beyond the confines of his sweatpants. He looks down at you, smirking, and despite your heightened arousal you still feel an urge to kick his cocky little ass.

“Can you get down here before I change my mind?”

He waves at you dismissively as if he hadn’t been the one all over you. “Need a condom. Got one on you?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m clean and on the pill. Come on, just fuck me already, oh my—”

Soonyoung happily lowered himself onto the floor, his lips on yours as he guided himself inside of you inch by inch. He tasted like your blood, obviously, but there was an also a faint taste of pink starburst too. Something he probably got from Leo, no doubt. The combination was weird, but somehow you figured it suited him.

“God. So f-fucking big, Soonie!”

Gone is the last bit of your composure with Soonyoung’s cock buried inside of you, blurting out any thought that came to your head against his lips.

“Shhh, not so loud, baby,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t want to have your bother wake up and find out what a slut you are, would you?” Yeah right, you think. Leo could sleep through anything, including you getting dicked down by his babysitter. But getting called a slut by him in that sickly sweet way had you clenching around him. “Fuck, warn me if you’re gonna do that.”

“Like I knew it would happen.” You hissed, making him laugh. He found this back and forth thing going on between the two of you fun, especially when he could get you so worked up and vice versa.

He waited until your body had relaxed to start moving, having to keep one of his hands over your mouth each time he thrusted into you because despite what he’d said earlier you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. It wasn’t your fault that the kitchen was so echoey or that Soonyoung was giving it to you so fucking good.

“You’re such a cute little thing,” He laughed breathily into your neck. “I loved how much of a fight you put up for me baby. Now look at you. You’re mine.”

“All—ah—yours,” your words were muffled by his hands, but he understood you perfectly. The embarrassment you felt earlier was gone, completely replaced with thoughts of him and his cock splitting you open right here on the floor.

You felt him nod, “Mhm, you’re all mine, and I’m all yours. God, wish I could just fuck this sweet little pussy forever.”

A laugh managed slipped past your lips and he finally moved his hand away from your mouth. “You can say that?”

“God? Duh.” He sneered, becoming more and more aware of just how clueless you really were about vampire culture. “Can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you right now.”

You were just about to say something else when Soonyoung changed the angle of his hips, slamming into you even deeper than before. Your back arched, chest pressed to his, and a second later you let out a frustrated groan.

“You still fucking suck.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

He opts for a faster pace after that, spurred on by the way you close your eyes and babble his name over and over again as if it’s the only word you can say. He’s so desperate to cum, to get you to cum, to have him be the only thing on your mind when you make a mess of yourself all over him. He whispers for you to keep your eyes closed, taking your wrist in his hand and bringing it to your stomach.

“Can you feel me? Right…” He moves your hand around a little before he finds the correct place, “here?” Blindly, you press down on the spot, and your eyes shoot open. He’s so, so deep, you can’t keep it together anymore.

“F-Fuck, feels so good,” your breath hitches at the end of the sentence. “Need more…”

“Yeah? Pretty baby needs more?” Soonyoung raises one of your legs over his shoulders and you swear you start seeing stars with the way he’s fucking you. “You’re so t-tight, sweetheart. Gonna cum?”

“Mmm, yeah, so c-close. Make me cum, Soonie, need it so bad.”

Soonyoung lifts his head so that he can kiss you, only breaking it to quickly mumble the words “me too” before his lips are back on yours and his finger is rubbing your clit until your body goes limp beneath his and he feels you squeezing him so tight it triggers his own orgasm, slowing the speed of his thrusts as he floods your pussy with his cum.

Your head feels fuzzy, and you barely register the feeling of him pulling out or lifting himself off of you while you lay there and catch your breath. “Soonyoung?”

There’s no immediate response, and it makes you confused as to why. You try to lift yourself off the floor but the soreness hasn’t quite subsided, so you’ve no choice but to stay put. “Yeah, just leave me on the floor. Not like I need your help or anything.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting you to be all sticky.” He huffs, wiping the insides of your thighs with a damp washcloth, then proceeding to wipe down the floor and the top of the island.

“I’m still on the floor, Soonyoung.”

Smiling, he helps you to stand and even manages to get you back into your underwear and pajama pants. He won’t stop looking at you like he has something to say. Maybe, for once, it’s something important.

“What?”

“You wanna go again? I’ve still got a ton of energy.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he did. “Oh come on, I know you liked it.”

“That’s it, I’m getting the fork.”

[loveandleases]

"Say you want me" For cam 👀

Hey~ It's been so long since I've done a prompt. Thought this prompt list was a good way to get back into it, Below the cut~ (Going to go with college Cam and MC here. This got kinda long...)

“Are you coming or not?" His voice is hushed, as he stares at you from the opposite side of a chain link fence.

You don't know why you followed him out tonight, you don't know why he's this drunk. You shared a beer and a half, now finding yourself running from a frat party.

He always gets, for lack of a better word, brave when he's had a drink. 

"Cameron Clarke, get the fuck back here!" 

The voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you hear the footsteps getting closer.

You panic slightly, finally climbing over the fence. When on the other side, your eyes meet that of Laron, social chair of Sigma Chi.

You feel your hand being gripped and pulled before your brain can catch up, your lungs burning as Cam leads you across the street making twists and turns around buildings, a few stray college kids having one last hurrah before the upcoming graduation.

You finally come to a halt, bending over to catch your breath. Your heart pounding hard in your chest.

Cam's laughter is just a reminder of the night, one of the last few before you start this next chapter of your lives. 

 Cam already secured an apartment for himself. Nestled in the city, not too far from your aunt's house. "Just in case she needs me." 

You can't help but smile at the sentiment, knowing that's not the only reason Cam will be living in that area.

He finally stops laughing, sitting down on the cold concrete between the two buildings you find yourselves standing near. 

"That was amazing. I've never seen you climb so fast. Not even when Auntie's dog tried to get your candy bar."

You shove him as you sit beside him, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, letting your heart calm down.

"What the hell did you do to get them so mad?" You turn to look at Cam, finding he is already looking at you.

His eyes widen, his cheeks red, must be from the running. At least that's what you tell yourself. He clears his throat, but scoots closer to you. Shoulder to shoulder, and hip to hip. His scent is one that's familiar and comforting.

You swallow hard, must be thirsty from the run. At least that's what you tell yourself. 

Cam takes his phone and holds it close so you can see. 

"What? It's just a picture of us from finals week."

"Look closer." He instructs, leaning closer into you if that is even possible. 

You scan the photo. Cam and you stand outside the library looking as if you hadn't slept for a week. Which is quite possible considering how hard you studied for your last exams. Cam's arm wrapped around your shoulder his head leaning against yours smiling ear to ear. Yet you notice he wasn't looking at the camera, instead looking at you.

"Geez, right there look." Cam's voice interrupts your thoughts as you follow his finger to the corner of the photo.

You squint slightly but sure enough, it's Laron and...who is he kissing...wait...holy.

"No way!?" You say rearing back to turn to Cam, whose eyes were staring somewhere close to your lips. You don't miss the dimple on his cheek, the way his heterochromatic eyes look along the lines of your face.

"Yeah, Professor Flynn. I pulled my phone out and he saw it earlier, and said he was going to delete the photo. So I punched him and ran."

Your eyes widen looking to the phone and back to Cam. He was always protective of the photos he took. Didn't matter what the quality was or if it was good enough. To him, they were important, memories. 

"You punched him?"

Cam smiled his eyes crinkled and nodded before leaning it on your shoulder. "I couldn't let him delete a part of us. I don't care who he's making out with. Maybe next time don't get in my photo."

A part of..us? 

When you don't say anything Cam looks up at you, your face inches away from each other. His hand reaches to your cheek, wiping under your eye gently. 

Subconsciously your eyes close, and you lean your face against his hand, against his warmth. His finger stalls, just long enough for you to notice. 

To notice you leaning in, his breath warm against your face. Long enough for you to pull away if you want. Yet, you don't.

It's the alcohol. Your lips part slightly. He hesitates. looking over your face. Hesitates, just long enough.

But you barely drank. Your breath catches in your throat.

It's the alcohol. His lips press against yours, warm, and soft. 

Lips that have told you the secrets of his life, the secrets he buries deep in his heart. Lips that have supported you every time, every step.

You grab his wrist, clinging to him. Returning the kiss tenfold. He moans a sweet sound. An alluring sound. 

You don't stop as his tongue flicks against your own. Asking for permission. Asking for acceptance. And you grant it easily, as your back presses against the building. His hand slid to your hip, holding you tight.

He pulls away, and you force yourself to hold back a whine. Opening your eyes you look at him. His are heavy with want, with desire. 

"Say you want me." It's quiet, meek in a way. You could hear his voice quiver when he said it.

You look at him, truly look at the man before you. "I.."

"Clarke!" 

You both turn frozen, seeing Laron turning the corner and staring at you. Fuck, this is not going to be good.

It was the alcohol.

[gojobbg]

Could you please make a yuta x reader one where goes violent over seeing y/n get hurt?? I love your fics😭

1000000000% lets do it

pairing: reader (f) x bf!Yuta (aged up)

synopsis: in which you get hurt in a dangerous mission, and Yuta cannot contain his anger

warning: curse killing, cursing, gore-esque imagery. Additionally, potential spoilers?

setting: pre-Shinjuku and kinda pre-Culling (sorry if this spoils anything as well x)

a/n: this is kinda long, im so sorry! i got really into the idea. thank you anon for the sick prompt, and for enjoying my writing! it warms my heart and makes my days so much better to know that you like my works :)

This wasn't your first mission with higher grade Sorcerers.

For a while now, you've been allowed to join the bandwagon of the higher ranks, learning from them and their style of fighting. This came to fruition after Yuji had not only sent a letter of recommendation, but put in a good word in for you when speaking with Gojo and the council. Despite Gojo's concern, since you recently just became a Grade 2 Sorcerer, he trusted Yuta's word. And he had yet been led astray, considering you graduated with flying colors within all your ranks.

Well, until today.

You joined this mission with Yuta, Maki, and Toge. You never felt worried as you were surrounded by Sorcerers with profound knowledge as fighters, cursed users, and cursed weapon users. But you always pulled your own, ensuring to tackle Curses that were much easier for the other three. But in this comfort left room for your naivety and misjudgment to flourish.

"There's glass all over," Maki murmurs, leading the charge through the dim hallway of the hospital. The entire hospital unfortunately had a code black, in which an active shooter entered and caused many tragedies. To this end, the hospital was entirely evacuated and closed up for further human investigation. "Watch your step."

Yuta was behind you all, with Toge and you at center keeping in eye on the rooms you all were passing. The gruesome scent of dried blood and still bodies shot pangs of nausea to your stomach. As you quietly held your stomach, Toge taps your shoulder and offers you a mint. "Thank you, Inumaki," you hum, immediately chewing the artificial menthol.

As broken lights flickered, and medical supplies were sprawled all over the ground, Maki quickly stops. Looking up at the signs for direction, she lets out a deep sigh, "we're here." You were in the ER wing of the hospital, which was reported to have seen the most deaths. "Prepare yourselves for what you're about to see."

You all nod, with Yuta quickly placing a hand on your shoulder. "You two go on ahead," Yuta hums. "I'll send Rika to scout ahead of you." With those words, the Queen of Curses appeared from behind Yuta, her large intimidating frame taking over everyone's shadows. "Please warn us, Rika."

With that command, Rika takes charge, allowing Maki and Toge to slowly follow behind her. Yuta narrows his eyes to meet yours, a soft smile playing at his lips. His hands slide down to your own, and give them a light squeeze. His hands were so refreshing compared to yours, which were clammy with nerves. "Are you anxious?" He asks curiously. You sheepishly nod. "This isn't like you-- you're never this nervous."

You give him a shrug, "m'not a fan of hospitals, and seeing... dead people."

Yuta straightens his lips and nods, "I'm not a big fan myself, especially considering your role in this mission. It is why I stopped us here to talk about it first."

"Hm?"

"It would appear that there is only one curse, a Grade 1 cursed spirit. For this, the only thing we need you to do is identify the lives lost," Yuta hums quietly. His blue eyes dim and he could feel pangs of guilt from your solemn expression. "I wanted to warn you without making you feel incapable. But I believe in you so much that I know you'll be able to do this."

You look into his eyes, the ones that put you in a trance every time. Those damn dak eyes could get Yuta whatever he wanted out of you, despite your feelings and detest. You give him a reassuring squeeze, "I got it."

Yuta's infectious smile returns, "that's my girl." He cups your face into his hands and parts a peck on your forehead. "Let us handle the spirit, ignore it and focus on your task."

You nod, finding peace once again in his gaze. But the soothing air was quickly stripped when Maki's voice is heard from the other room. "Yuta! Y/N! We found it!"

You two quickly rush over, with you trying to brace yourself for the sight. When entering the ER, you noticed how completely in disarray it was. Dividing curtains broken and on the ground, gurneys scattered all over, 50% hosting dead bodies. You hear your breath shake, but concern quickly waived when Yuta patted your back.

"Look at all of their wristbands," Yuta advises. "It's the easiest way to find the victim's name and date of birth."

You nod, preparing yourself for it all. As you did, Yuta left you to join Maki and Toge. You didn't give it too much of a look, as Yuta insists you ignore it. But you noticed an energy emanating from a gurney that felt purposely centered in the room.

As you rushed through each body, numbing your brain from the lifelessness in the room. You tried to keep focused, despite the grunts, groans, and yelling you were hearing from behind you. Yuta needs me to do this, you think to yourself. Focus!

But your nerves were sporadic as you listened to them slightly struggle. "Maki!" Yuta yells, his katana working overtime as he sliced through the spirits power. Maki was immersed in her combat with the spirit, deflecting all its moves in swift, but struggling manner. She was always a clean fighter-- definitely one of the best in the newer generation of Sorcerers. But, even so...

"Ah--!" Maki uses her staff to deflect injury, but the power that poured from the spirit was too strong for even her to stop. She was pushed to her limits, and flung to a wall, the plaster shaping around her beat body. Cuts were now ornate on her body, with some likely leaving scars.

This was the moment you turned and realized the gravity of the situation. Maki falls to the ground, having enough energy to soften the blow. You quickly begin to rush over to Maki, to which Yuta immediately yells at you to stop. "Don't!" Yuta spat. He begins to take over the battle, the distorted-looking spirit beginning to tango with Yuta. "Stay away-- Maki will be fine!"

You gulp from the nerves as you watched Toge quickly make his way to Maki instead. He picks her up and places her in a corner, allowing her to take a moment to breath. Turning around, Toge waits to meet eyes with Yuta. Yuta, with amazing footwork, manages to put some distance between him and the dangerous entity. When his blue eyes meet with Toge's, he immediately pulls down his collar. "Switch."

The two men quickly vanish before appearing in one anothers places. Your eyes widen when you see Toge, blood running down his mouth, begin to fight with the spirit. You look over to where Maki is, noticing that Yuta was already performing Reverse Technique on her. "Rika, go help Toge!" Yuta commands, with Rika quickly floating over to join Toge's efforts.

You rush over to Yuta and Maki, in which Maki was sat with groans and grunts spilling from her lips. Your heart was racing, the feeling in your legs threatening to escape. "Wh-what... h-how can I help?" Your words are imbued with anxiety.

"Keep yourself safe," Yuta instructs, "don't worry about us-- we'll be fine!" He looks over at the bodies you were previously searching through. "Continue your mission, don't stop!"

You nod, but realized you couldn't when you met eyes with the spirit. The abstract being was completely ornate with bandages, syringes coming out of its 'body.' It had one eye that was able to travel around its body, being able to look at all its surrounding if choosing so. Its eye then noticed Yuta and began to advance towards him, ignoring Toge completely. Toge rushed behind it, but his efforts would be futile as the curse was much faster than him.

"Yuta!" You scream, staying in space with your arms spread. Your technique, which Gojo coins as the Onion Infinity, is a technique in which there are multiple layers between two objects. Of course, your strength is dust in comparison to Gojo's, meaning the layers of shield is only a tactic to give you more time to consider your next move.

The curse is stopped by your technique, but slowly realizes that it can claw its way through it. Yuta notices and looks up at you with immense worry, "Y/N, why didn't you listen to me? I told you to continue what you were doing!"

"It was charging at you-- I didn't have a choice!" You argued, your strength slowly depleting with every layer being broken. While Yuta continued healing Maki and expressing his gripe over your defiance, you begin looking around. You noticed Toge on his knees, struggling with the pain in his throat after using his technique. Rika made her way to the curse, but struggles to stop his unrelenting advances towards you.

"Y/N, move out of the fucking way, now!" Yuta screamed. "You're going to get hurt!"

You move, but not quite where anybody was expecting. You run over to a small wheeled cabinet, ripping out the drawers in search of something. After a sea of bandages and pills, you found a dark green bottle. Your eyes drag on the medicines name and quickly look over at Toge.

"Inumaki-senpai!" You shout, throwing the medicine towards his way. As you hurl it, you didn't realize your barrier had completely been broken, and a sharp pain was met in your stomach. The curse had transformed its arm into a stake, piercing your stomach and through your back. Your spinal bones crack at its force, forcing blood to be coughed out.

Yuta's eyes widened, and he went deaf. Only a piercing ringing could be heard for him, putting an entire halt to his healing. Maki sits up, well enough to get back on her feet but not quite all there. She adjusts her cursed weapon, shaking Yuta's shoulders desperately. She shouts with urgency, but Yuta could not hear her.

He felt his world shatter while your gruesome screams returned his sound. He got up, ignoring Maki's touch and attempts to keep him calm. "Yuta, please!" Maki urges, "we're going to get her out of there right now."

He raises a hand, "stay down, Maki. You should not continue to fight with your injuries."

Maki slams his back, "are you insane? You can't take that thing on your own-- it will kill you!"

"Rika," Yuta hums quietly. Rika nods and quickly creates a gap between him and Maki. She clouds over Maki, keeping her from assisting him. "I'm very sorry to do this, Maki. But you are in no shape to continue this mission."

Maki growls, "Y/N is going to die here if I don't help you!" She looks over at Toge, who was downing the throat medicine you passed him. Her eyes widen at your quick thinking. She looks back at Yuta, "how the hell are you going to--"

Yuta slowly walks over to the curse, who finally ripped out its arm from your body. A string of pained curses leave your lips, your entire body going completely hot in discomfort. You could feel yourself go dizzy, but you still find it in you to begin your own Reverse Technique. Its weak and slow, but you had no other choice. You weren't sure whether you were going to make it out or not.

Without another moment wasted, Toge narrows his eyes on the curse and opens his mouth, "explode!" Although it was not enough to kill the curse, it was enough to damage it. The equivalent of blood splatters from its body, the obsidian-colored liquid finding home on the broken floor.

Yuta drags his katana on the floor, the DNA of the curse sticking onto the cold blade. While continuing his stride, Yuta lifts the blade horizontally and swipes a bit of the blood onto his index finger. As the curse writhes trying to regain itself, Yuta consumes the blood and swallows it down like a pill.

"Rika," Yuta begins with a dark, hollow voice. You look over worriedly, the pain of your stomach preventing you from uttering a word. You had never seen Yuta this... furious before. So angry that he almost appeared desolate, depleted of all life. "Lend me your strength over here."

Rika leaves her post, and rushes behind Yuta. Maki takes this opportunity to run to you, taking you into her lap. "H-hey!" She holds your face in one hand and shakes you, fearful of the way your eyes rolled behind your head on their own. Your body was fighting consciousness as you healed yourself, uncertain if it would work at all.

An unfamiliar, strange feeling pours into all of you, with Toge looking back worriedly at Yuta while making his way to you. You force your eyes to stay focused on Yuta, with your mind frustrated with your sudden inability to speak. Tears finally stream out, and you watch as Yuta's curse energy glow around him like a dark aura. Toge ignores it for now, downing the last bit of the medicine before looking down at you, "heal faster."

Though you yourself were exhausted, Toge's cursed speech shot a wave of energy in you. Your Reverse Technique hastens, your flesh slowly making its way to connect with one another again. As your body was making a promising recovery, Yuta's body was being completely coated with his cursed energy.

Rika's arms transformed themselves into stake-like shapes, mimicking the same ability as the foe before them. "Hold it down for me, Rika," Yuta instructs coolly. Rika quickly creates more stakes with her body, using them to push the curse to the ground, and nail it down with her new, stake-like limbs.

As the curse struggled under Rika, Yuta hovers over it and chuckles. "Does it feel good?" Yuta asks in a hum, watching in attempt to get free. It hissed at Yuta's face. "I figured it didn't. The only thing that's going to hurt more than this, is your death."

You look over worriedly at Yuta as your body was near its full recovery. Maki and Toge held you, as you felt restless in this moment. Yuta was furious, and you could barely even talk to try and calm him down. You could only hold your stomach in pain, and watch as your lover relieves his frustration and regret.

He begins to cut away at the curse, using his weapon to chop away at its limbs. Yuta could only see read, and his arms pulsed with yearn to destroy. The curse would screech with each slice of his katana, earning no remorse from Yuta. His face was cold, his body unreactive to the agony that he was causing. Rika no longer had anything to hold down, and stood back as Yuta was faced with just the head of the curse. The once intimidating eye was now shrunk, looking small under Yuta's undeniable strength. It screeches with what you imagine is begging for mercy, but Yuta was deaf to it.

Not that he couldn't hear, but he could not care.

With one hand in his pocket, the other held up the katana right above the curses eye, giving it a few more moments of life. "Die," Yuta mutters. Without another second more, he drops the katana down onto the curse, killing it, and eradicating it from this world. He returns his weapon to the sheath behind him, color returning to his body and eyes as he makes his way towards you.

He takes you from Maki's hold and holds you tight, "fuck, fuck, fuck-- are you okay, Y/N?"

Maki slaps his forearm, "you're hurting her, Yuta."

He panics, loosening his grip as he frantically searches for calmness in your pained expression, "I..." His voice breaks, defeat clear in his eyes. "Y/N, m'so sorry I let you get hurt... I really fucked up this time." Tears coat his dark blue eyes.

You bring a weak hand up to pat his chest, unable to verbally ease his mind. You only lean into him a little more, your heart calming down from his touch. You were glad it was over, and more glad that you were in Yuta's arms.

Maki manages to stand, helping Toge up as well while Yuta stood up, keeping you carried safely in his arms. His strength, despite his immense output of cursed energy just now, felt boundless now. It was almost like he didn't break a sweat.

Maki pats Toge's back a bit, while Toge coughed out a last bit of blood, "she held her own, though. Her strategy to get Toge back into the fight was very surprising, but wise."

Yuta was indifferent, "she could have died from my carelessness. I shouldn't have let her come to this mission." You begin to pat at his chest in defiance but he wasn't keen on hearing you out. "I almost lost my partner. I'm not interested in putting us in that predicament again."

"If you won't vouch for her, we will," Maki insisted. "She understands the dangers of doing this, and still wants to continue her growth. I'd say she deserves to continue these missions, considering she still wants to do them."

"Salmon," Toge manages to say while nodding his head.

Yuta's eyes drop to yours, trying to find some sort of disagreement. But your eyes held conviction and fight. Despite your pale face and weak body, you still held that vigor that made Yuta fall for you in the first place. He looks down at your stomach realizing that your technique was giving out.

"Lets go back and see Doctor Shoko," Yuta hums. Although you were safe and sound, Yuta's grip and hold on you did not relent. His hands still had a bit of shake to them, and Rika was much closer to Yuta than usual. "I'm glad you're still here," Yuta whispers the moment he watched your eyes flutter shut.

hope this was good ahhh