#death was appealing before i met you

[sqlmn]

OK wow I am really nervous to talk about them soooo first things first:

trigger warnings for: cheating in a relationship and contemplating suicide.

Vero is a guy, mid-thirties, very happy in a relationship with a woman for a couple years. He thought they were happy and on the same page and neither wanted kids. One night, she’s relaxing with him and brings up children. He immediately changed the topics then said he was going to go get some fresh air... and heads straight to a bar and gets really drunk. He ends up cheating while drunk (with a man) and he knows he messed up and he knows the woman he’s with deserves better. So he tells her what he did and that they should break up. Until that point, he was enjoying life living for her. To be with her. And breaking that trust and breaking her heart wasn’t supposed to happen. So he broods for a couple weeks and then heads to a bridge early in the morning, convinced he should just jump and get out of everyone’s lives.

On the bridge he sees someone already staring out to the water and spaced out. So he sighs and approaches her and it turns out that Chassidy is there for the same reason. She just wants to end her life and give up the pain of being rejected and disgusting. And Vero... just tells her they should grab some coffee. There’s a cafe nearby and out of the cold. She’s so emotionally broken she just agrees and they begin to walk. As they begin to drink in silence, Chassidy is the one to finally talk. She mentions how she was doing well in her college courses, she had a lot of friends, she had feelings for another girl she knew didn’t return the sentiment. But the girl found out and got disgusted telling her that “just cause I was nice doesn’t mean I would ever want more with you”. And Chassidy was just defeated hearing that. What’s the point in liking people if they’ll just be disgusted? When it clicks with Chassidy that the entire reason Vero was on the bridge was for THE EXACT SAME REASON she had she tells him they should just go back. Go and die together. Vero instantly declines.

Vero just tells her it’s a fresh wound that will heal. He says he has to get to work and he expects to see her at the same cafe in exactly one week. And then he leaves.

When Vero gets back to the cafe after the week passes, he realizes he’s actually looking forward to seeing Chassidy again. To see her hopefully having moved on and improved. Instead, he waits. And waits. And after an hour of waiting, he debates leaving. Then Chassidy rushes in and apologizes for forgetting her alarm and she didn’t /mean/ to be so late and she’s sorry for inconveniencing him but all he feels is relief that she made it.

The two continue to meet up and eventually Chassidy finds out about Vero cheating which is why he’s so against relationships whenever they come up in conversation and she tells him that he’s human. He did mess up. He should absolutely acknowledge it! But he shouldn’t let that mess up ruin his entire life. And she encourages him to try socializing with people without worrying about trying to date anyone. Just make friends with new people.

And he says he’ll try.

So the two basically become each others hype man/woman and encourage each other to live their best life.

[gureumz]

stained glass windows

rating: explicit

member: jungwon

notes: fem!reader, stepcest, dubcon, religious corruption, baby trapping (?), unholy use of scripture (sorry god), dom!jungwon, slight angst, mentions of death, step brother!jungwon, breeding, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, jay has a cameo appearance lol

a/n: so this is an amalgamation of everything everyone requested for jungwon,,,reciting bible verses during sex? i got you. stepcest? no problem. baby trapping (this is 100% what i want and yes my wish is my command)? you bet. religious corruption? hell yeah. something super filthy and kinky? say no more. enjoy, hoes! love ya mwa (the bible verse here is 1 Corinthians 10:13 if you were curious)

sundays are your happy days.

a pretty dress, the stained glass windows, hushed chatter among the churchgoers—these were all the things you waited for at the end of the week.

your mother had always been proud of how involved you are in your faith, showering you with loving words before going to bed when you were little, calling you 'hers and God's favorite angel'. you'd smile and feel a sense of giddiness. God's favorite angel. can you believe it? you made sure to wear that as a badge of honor.

and then you grew up, went to a bigger school, met people who are different from you. even those who you knew were like you, devoted and obedient to their parents and God, seemed to have strayed down the path of parties, drinks, and the unthinkable. that is to say, premarital sex.

you never understood the appeal of it all. your faith and God were enough. you didn't need to participate in such acts to feel anything. you felt Him in every waking moment.

until there came a time when you were convinced He was gone altogether.

until sundays stopped becoming your happy days. every single day was void of any happiness.

your father passed suddenly, leaving you and your mother to fend for yourselves. you watched your mother grieve, grieved on your own, alone in your room. you went to school and saw the excitement in your peers' eyes, talking about a party here and buying drinks there.

you nearly caved. anything to take your mind off your dad.

but this was when your mother spent nearly every day at the church, despite it being mostly empty every day other than sundays. without anything better to do, you tagged along. and you started to feel Him again.

you knew God returned for real when your mother became friendly with a newcomer at church. a businessman who recently moved to your town, towing his son along.

mr. yang, as you later learned. he had a son.

jungwon.

jungwon wore an easy smile, deep dimples appearing every time he did. he shook your hand with a hesitant grip, palms smooth and soft. he had eyes that seemed to sparkle.

seasons changed, months grew into years, and your mother and mr. yang got married.

you saw the life return to your mother's face, easing her shoulders back, smoothing out the creases in her weathered face.

sundays became your happy days again, now that mr. yang and jungwon were in your lives.

---

jungwon is the poster child for the perfect sibling. or, at least that's what you think.

it's been a couple of years since your parents' wedding, and jungwon was nothing short of accommodating. he was kind, always letting you have first picks at whatever food your parents prepared, and offered to do things for you.

granted, it wasn't always like this. the two of you skirted around each other the first few weeks, both former only children, suddenly dealt with the fact that they had a sibling exactly their age. there was even a period of time when jungwon would bolt at the sight of you. though, you tried to not take this to heart.

but after all has been said and done, the two of you fell into a routine, becoming friends of some sort. eternal housemates.

"hurry up. this will be the second week we're late because you couldn't decide what dress to wear."

you turn, spotting jungwon poking his head through the door.

"sorry," you reply bashfully. "these people don't see me on weekdays anymore since i'm off at campus, so you can't really blame me for wanting to make an entrance on the one day they do see me."

jungwon quirks an eyebrow.

"since when did you care what they think?" jungwon questions, stepping fully into your room. he's wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and crisp black pants.

you note that the watch he has on today makes him look particularly handsome.

you merely shrug. "i don't know. everyone at college dresses so nice and i thought i'd make an effort, too."

jungwon snorts. "everyone at college is a try-hard. it's a small-town liberal arts institution."

"hey, you're a student there, too," you point out, crossing your arms at jungwon.

you watch as he surveys your outfit, eyes slowly making your way down your body. you swallow, suddenly aware of how tight the yellow sundress feels. the fabric seems to dig at your armpits uncomfortably, and the hem is too short and—

"you look good," jungwon says, eyes meeting yours.

you breathe a sigh of relief.

"well, if you say so. i trust your word," you say, smoothing down your skirt.

you feel jungwon approach, circling an arm around your waist, ushering you towards the door.

"i am your brother. i think i'd know what would look good on you," jungwon points out with a wink.

---

the service goes by without a hitch. you participated as you always did, offered your prayers as you usually do. you thanked Him for another successful week of classes but also asking for you to ace your upcoming exams. it was all routine.

until your mother pulled you along, chirping excitedly about a new family that had moved to town and joined the church.

the parks.

a father, a mother, and their son who's a business major at some big-shot university a few towns over.

"i'm jay," the son said to you, reaching his hand towards you as his family introduced themselves to yours. you shook hands and you couldn't help the sudden heat that flooded your face and chest.

your hand still tingles with where he held on, even now on the car ride home

"that jay boy sure is cute," your mother says from the passenger seat. you turn to her, eyebrows raised.

"seems like he has a good head on his shoulders," your stepfather agrees. he looks at you through the rearview mirror.

"the kind of guy girls wanna marry."

you see your mother twist in her seat to give you a knowing look. you roll your eyes but the familiar warmth takes over your entire body again.

"i mean, i don't know. we just met him and his family," you point out, trying not to stutter. you turn to jungwon for backup but your brother has his back turned to you, his face angled toward the window.

"right, jungwon?" you try nonetheless.

"huh?" comes his clueless response. he looks at you and his face is crumpled in a frown. you're taken slightly aback.

before you can say anything, your mother speaks up.

"why don't you try and befriend him, jungwon? they said they only live on the next street over," your mother offers, unaware at how deep jungwon's frown has gotten in the seconds she said that sentence.

"i don't know," jungwon mumbles. "i can try, i guess."

you watch as jungwon turns back to the window, his hand balling into a fist on his lap. you decide not to pry, leaning your own head against the window beside you, watching the little houses in your neighborhood speed by.

---

you urge yourself to stop picking at your fingernails. but you can't help it, either. standing outside your brother's door, you're not sure what awaits you on the other side.

taking a deep breath, you decide to just get it over with. you're certain it's nothing. you're just concerned and you want to see how jungwon's doing.

you knock softly three times, waiting to hear jungwon's voice. after a few seconds, you hear a muffled, 'come in!'.

you push the door open a bit, taking a peek inside jungwon's room. he's sprawled on his bed, his phone in his hands as he scrolls through his screen. his eyes shift to you and he sits up.

"what's up?" jungwon asks as you let yourself in. you don't say anything until you're seated beside him on his bed.

"i didn't want to risk your wrath, so i wasn't sure if i should bring this up with you...," you begin, teeth worrying your lower lip.

jungwon raises a brow. "i don't know what you're talking about. but other than that, you know i can never get upset with you, right?"

you continue to bite down on your lip, unsure of what to say next.

"but you were upset today," you say after a few seconds. "in the car?"

jungwon's face morphs into mild recognition. he nods, finally understanding what you mean.

"oh, that," jungwon deadpans. "it's nothing."

"come on, you can tell me anything, remember?" you urge, pulling your legs up on jungwon's bed before crossing them. jungwon glances down as you do so but quickly averts his eyes back to your face.

"it's nothing, i swear. it's stupid and thinking back on it, it just seems like such a dumb thing to be mad about," jungwon explains, shifting closer to you.

you take his hand and you squeeze as jungwon threads his fingers through the gaps between yours.

your mother often remarked how the two of you seemed more like twins than regular siblings. mirror images of each other. the perfect balance. looking at jungwon now, you see what she meant.

"nothing you say would be stupid to me," you reply, voice soft as your thumb runs over the skin of jungwon's hand.

something flashes across jungwon's face and his eyes seem to trail over every part of you. your skin prickles as he stops right at your chest, pajama top showing the very tops of your breasts.

"i didn't like the way that jay guy was looking at you," jungwon finally admits, gaze returning to your face.

you look at jungwon quizzically. "what? how was he looking at me?"

"like he was undressing you with his eyes," jungwon complains. "he was practically flirting with you."

you laugh incredulously. "no, he wasn't. he said two words to me, wonie."

jungwon shakes his head. "i'm a man, too. i know how our brains and eyes work."

you stop for a second to ponder on jungwon's words. you can't deny the intensity of how jay seemed to be looking at you earlier and the way he held your hand so tight.

"so?" you retaliate. "he's cute. i don't mind."

you see jungwon's jaw clench, the muscles spasming under his skin. his lips press into a thin line and he pulls his hand back from your grasp.

"guys like that will only take advantage of you, _______," jungwon says, voice slow and deliberate.

your forehead creases. "how are you so sure?"

jungwon stares at you for a few moments. he reaches his hand out, cupping one side of your face in his palm. you gulp, your heart jumping at the contact.

"i just know. you trust me, right? i'm your brother, after all."

you nod.

your hand comes up to cover his that's on your face and the room seems to still. the steady hum of the ac fades away, the cicadas outside vanish, and the thumping of your own heart amplifies. jungwon is looking you square in the eye and you can't help but cower under his gaze.

just as jungwon makes a move to lean closer, a loud knock and your mother's voice rips the moment away.

"dinner's ready! come eat!"

jungwon pulls his hand back and you scramble off his bed. you hurriedly cross the room, flinging jungwon's bedroom door open and stepping out, not sparing another glance behind you.

---

you toss and turn that night.

your face still tingles from where jungwon touched you. your mind is reeling with so many thoughts, your imagination seemingly going into each and every unexplored direction.

you and jungwon grew close during the years you spent together since your parents got married. it was like becoming friends. you had to learn things about each other, know what makes the other tick. the two of you never shied away from showing who you truly are. you'd be living under the same roof for the most part, so what's the point in hiding, right?

and jungwon never hid his affection for you. brotherly hugs, encouraging pats on the back, kisses on your forehead. he told yu over and over again how happy he was that you were his sister. that you were the best sister.

and you never hid how much you needed jungwon, either. he taught you how to get home on the bus from college on the weekends. he helped you with any handiwork you required in your room. he gave you the ins and outs of the college cliques and clubs.

jungwon always told you he loves you. you always reached out to jungwon. neither was a secret.

so, what's making you so nervous?

before you can answer yourself, you hear the hinges of your door squeak as it opens. in the dim light of your room, you see a figure step through the doorway, startling you slightly.

"sorry, it's me," jungwon whispers. "i couldn't sleep."

you feel your heart quicken once more as you sit up, watching jungwon make his way to your bed. he plops down on the mattress and looks at you.

"mind if i crash here for a while?" jungwon asks quietly.

jungwon does this on some nights, reasoning the bouts of insomnia as he snuggles up to your side. half of the time he talks, telling you stories of what he did during the day, and the other half he spends holding you to his chest, fingers drawing patterns on your back.

on rare occasions, he asks you to turn away, pressing your back to his front. he sometimes rocks against you gently and whispers how much he loves you in your ear. you feel strange when he does this. but you never complain.

"sure," you reply, scooting to one side of the bed. jungwon moves to lay beside you, pulling the covers over him.

wordlessly, his hands find your hips, tugging you close. you let him, your own arms circling around jungwon's torso. he's warm and smells like fresh laundry. you don't hide the way you inhale his scent.

you stay like that for a few minutes and you almost think that jungwon has fallen asleep. but after a while, he pulls back slightly to look at you.

you meet his eyes, sharp shadows cast across jungwon's face from your night lamp situated on the other side of your room.

"stay away from jay," jungwon says. your mouth falls open in mild surprise.

"why?" you ask. jungwon sighs, cradling your face once more in his hand.

"he doesn't deserve you," jungwon responds, voice hardened with something you can't quite put your finger on.

jungwon's looking down at you and even in the darkened state of your room, you can see the seriousness in his expression. he's clearly still upset from earlier.

"but mom and dad seem to like him," you reason with a pout. jungwon lets out a 'tsk' grasping your face tighter.

you let out a whimper. jungwon was never this heavy-handed with you.

"but i don't like him," jungwon insists. "you need someone who knows you, who can do things for you, who loves you more than anything."

jungwon pushes you onto your back, his leg swinging over to plant his knee on your other side. he grabs at your wrists and presses them down, trapping you as he hovers over you, his face inches away from yours.

"you need me."

you gasp, unable to comprehend the words that had just left jungwon's mouth. you're given no time to work it out in your head because jungwon is kissing you, pressing his lips to yours. you protest, pushing against jungwon but he's too strong for you to fight back properly. he has you pinned down and there's nothing you can do.

"w-what are you doing?" you say as jungwon pulls away for a second. instead of answering, jungwon busies himself with your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin. you squirm and whine but jungwon doesn't let up.

"i love you," jungwon whispers in your ear.

you shiver.

"you love me, too, right?" jungwon questions as he looks at you. you blink away tears that have gathered in your eyes.

you're just so confused. what is he doing? what is happening?

"answer me, angel," jungwon urges gently. he leans down to kiss away at the tears streaming down the side of your face.

"i do," you return weakly.

"no no," jungwon tuts. "say it properly."

you sniffle as you feel more tears fill your eyes.

"i love you."

jungwon seems satisfied because he kisses you again, tongue running over the seam of your lips. you've never kissed anyone before and it feels so foreign, having jungwon's tongue licking into your mouth. but you follow what he does, parting your lips and moving your tongue with his.

jungwon groans, one of his hands letting go of your wrist to grab at your waist instead. he presses you to him and you feel something stiff against your thigh.

"you make me so hard, angel," jungwon groans. he grinds against your leg and you watch as his expression crumples into pleasure.

"t-this is wrong," you sob. "we're not supposed to do this."

and you do feel conflicted with it all. everything you've learned in church, everything you've read through His word, it all says that this is bad. that you should only lay with the man you love, the man you married.

oh, but you do love jungwon. you've loved him since the day you met him.

"do you want to stop?" jungwon asks, stilling above you. you continue to cry, your legs squeezing together as you feel wet heat pool in your underwear.

"God will forgive us, angel girl," jungwon coos, a hand dipping beneath your pajama top.

you mewl as you feel jungwon squeeze at one of your boobs.

"He knows how much we love each other, so he'll forgive us, don't you worry," jungwon reassures as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"then we'll make it up to Him with a cute little wedding at a faraway chapel," jungwon continues, his other hand tugging down your shorts and underwear.

you're breathing heavily now, head spinning as your whole body heats up. the ache between your legs grows stronger.

"then we'll have babies," jungwon says. "so many babies we'll be filling up our own pew at church."

you gasp as you feel jungwon's fingers press against your core, working on the nub that you've ever really encountered twice or thrice before, too scared to be condemned to hell if you continued to touch yourself.

"what if we have a baby now, huh?" jungwon asks, placing a chaste kiss to your temple. "make you a mommy so no one can take you from me."

you shake your head, initially appalled at his words, but the thought of carrying jungwon's child, it stirs something in you.

"no?" jungwon asks, voice hinting with playfulness. "you don't want it?"

you look up at jungwon, struggling to find the words to say. you want it but your conscience screams at you to refuse.

"i want it," you finally answer. "want to give you a baby."

"fuck," jungwon curses as the words leave your mouth. he hurriedly discards his shorts, eyes seemingly ablaze.

"yeah? gonna give your brother a baby?" jungwon taunts, fingers circling at your core again. you moan wantonly, a million different feelings coursing through your body.

jungwon pokes in one finger through your entrance and you nearly scream, unprepared for the strange sensation.

"sshhh," jungwon says, pressing down on your mouth with one hand. he adds a second finger in slowly and your back arches off the bed.

"look at you," jungwon says with a grin. "your body responds so well to me, huh, angel?"

you cry into jungwon's palm as you feel him pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them inside every time he pushes in. you feel a tightness in your belly and more wetness pooling out of you. your body jolts with every movement of jungwon's fingers.

"shit, i can't take this anymore," jungwon mutters, pulling his fingers out. you whine, hips involuntarily pushing up as they search for friction.

"i got you," jungwon says, taking his hand off your face. the room is filled with your soft sobs, a mix of the lingering guilt and the newfound pleasure.

jungwon strokes his shaft a few times and you watch with bated breath as he aligns himself between your legs. you feel him push against you and you start to cry even harder, fear of what's to come gripping you like no other.

jungwon pushes halfway in and any scream threatening to break free from your lips is muted by jungwon pressing his mouth to yours. you cry and cry and cry as jungwon keeps pushing in, burying himself to the hilt seconds later.

he stills, pulling away to let you breathe. you hiccup, the stretch between your legs equal parts painful and filling in the best way possible.

"s-so big," you sob. "c-can feel you in my belly."

jungwon groans, his hip snapping up involuntarily. you whine, biting down hard on your lip.

"yeah? can you feel me here?" jungwon asks, a large hand pressing down on your lower abdomen. he starts to move then, slowly pulling out then thrusting back in.

"yes!" you gasp. "yes, yes, it's so deep."

"God, angel, you sound so beautiful when you're being fucked," jungwon says, speeding up.

"recite to me your favorite bible verse," jungwon commands. you barely hear him with the way he's moving his hips against yours.

"w-what?" you mumble in a daze.

jungwon takes hold of your face, forcing you to look directly at him.

"your favorite bible verse, angel girl. let me hear your pretty voice."

you rack your brain for it. you should know it by heart, have it seared into your consciousness. but the way jungwon is taking you right at this moment wipes away nearly all thoughts of scripture.

"no temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man," you begin, trying to keep your voice steady as jungwon scrutinizes you, fingers still digging into your cheeks.

"God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability," you continue. jungwon smirks, nodding, urging you to go on.

you're about to speak when you feel jungwon's thumb press down on your sensitive nub. you cry out, the added sensation muddling your brain even further.

"go on," jungwon orders.

"b-but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to e-ndure it," you finish with a shaky breath.

"good job, angel," jungwon says, letting go of your face and leaning in to kiss you briefly on your forehead.

your head falls back against your pillow, your vision blurring as all you can feel is jungwon moving in and out of you. all you can think of is jungwon. all you ever need, right at this moment, is jungwon.

your brother. the man you love. the man you want to have all your babies with.

"so tight, so fucking tight," jungwon babbles, pushing your legs up so he can get a better angle. your lower half rises off the bed and jungwon fucks into you even harder, snapping his hips against your insides with a force that has you gripping onto your sheets for dear life.

jungwon continues on like this, sweat dripping down his forehead. any pain is gone now, replaced with a want, a need for some sort of release.

you don't know what compels you to talk, but you can't help the next words that come out of your mouth.

"p-please, jungwon. feels so good. w-wanna be a mommy, want it so bad. n-need it!"

jungwon seems to let himself go then, hips moving erratically, not caring if you're bent nearly in half, his grip on your thighs painful as his fingernails poke at your skin. it feels good, you think, your insides clenching and tingling at the sight of jungwon getting nearly animalistic with you.

it almost fills you with joy. knowing that he's only ever like this with you.

a few moments later, jungwon's hips start to stutter.

"gonna give you my babies, angel girl. i'm so close, so close to making you a mommy—fuck!"

the words from jungwon stop any coherent thought in your brain as a sort of euphoria takes over you, your whole body tightening up. jungwon completely stills, pressing himself in deeper. a warm feeling spreads from where he's sheathed inside you.

the two of you remain unmoving, panting as your minds catch up with your bodies. jungwon pulls out moments later, replacing his cock with his fingers. you protest weakly as jungwon moves his fingers shallowly in and out of you.

"i came so much, angel," jungwon says with a chuckle. he pulls his fingers out and shows you his fingers, coated with his milky white release.

"your belly's gonna be all swollen up in nine months, for sure," jungwon muses, pushing his fingers against your mouth. you part your lips hesitantly, licking at the saltiness.

"good girl," jungwon praises, pulling his hand away before kissing you sweetly.

"i love you," jungwon mumbles against your lips.

you hold his face steady, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks. you meld your lips together, the elation finally catching up to you.

there are no stained glass windows in your room, your body bare and void of pretty dresses, and the night is still and quiet.

it's still sunday. it's still your happy day.

"i love you, too," you say as you and jungwon share a smile.

[another-lost-mc]

a new dating sim catches your eye and asmo is absolutely 100% not jealous at all.

a date with death | asmodeus x gn!reader

cw: sfw (slightly suggestive towards the end). pet names (asmo calls reader darling, sunshine). vague spoilers for parts of the game (up to day five). silly fluff and jealousy over 2d characters.

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: I really like this game (a date with death) btw, I definitely recommend it.

"I tried that new game you've been playing."

Asmo's comment catches you off-guard and your eyes slowly blink open. You were on the verge of sleep, warm and content with his chest pressed against your back and his arm draped loosely over your waist. The words are muffled slightly against your shoulder, his lips leaving a sticky trail from the hydrating mask he smoothed over them as part of his nightly skincare routine.

You've been playing a new dating sim lately. You knew Asmo peered at the monitor over your shoulder to see what you were up to, but he didn't seem all that interested. He didn't give any indication that he wanted to play it himself, either.

It's not the first romance-based game you've played in the Devildom and he never cared before. He thinks it's cute when you find a character that appeals to you. Sometimes he watches you play through the stories, or he'll listen with a smile while you talk about the game later.

When you offered to play other games with him in the past, he insisted that was Levi's area of expertise. That didn't prevent him from finding his own ways to enjoy your hobby with you though. He preferred to indulge you with a little bit of roleplay instead: parading around his room dressed like your favourite characters, imitating their speech patterns and mannerisms to sweep you off your feet, and seducing you as if they had come to life.

(Later, he seduced you properly as himself because no one can ever love you as much as he does).

But he knew right away that this particular game was different. You giggled at your desk while you tapped away at your computer. It made you smile in a soft and charming sort of way. It irked him that some pictures and words on a screen drew that sort of reaction from you the same way he did.

You lean back and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is hard to read in the dark, but you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on your face. "I didn't know you wanted to play it. You should've told me! Did you like it?"

"Not at all," he declares firmly, and you can't help but chuckle at his sharp response.

"Really? Why not?"

"I'm so glad you asked, darling," he says as he turns over and sits up suddenly. He flips on the lamp beside him, and he rubs the back of his hand against your cheek in apology when you wince as light illuminates his room. He plucks something off the bedside table and waves it in your direction with a flourish. "I made a list!"

You give him a skeptical look as you roll over to give him your full attention, and he clears his throat and taps the top of the page. "My first complaint is the ridiculous title: I Made a Bet and Have to Survive the Next Seven Days Without Falling in Love With a Babygirl Reaper Who Wants My Soul! Seriously? The title alone should warn you how terrible it's going to be."

"That's not what it's called in the human world," you explain with a shrug. "I don't understand why they changed it here, it's a little bit silly."

He tsks under his breath. "Silly indeed. Where do I even begin with this so-called love interest? It's almost like the creators have never met a real reaper before. I can assure you most of them aren't as nice or cute as they make him out to be." The look he shoots you next is oddly serious, and it sends a chill up your spine as his words sink in. "I recommend not getting too close to their kind. Thirteen seems docile enough, but I prefer your body and soul to remain in one piece."

You're not sure how to begin to respond to that little speech, but he pokes the paper with his finger and continues reading his list of "glaring issues" with the game. The complaints get more ridiculous and obscure, and it's only when he gets to the bottom of the page that the reason for his sour mood dawns on you.

"...and when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he calls you 'sunshine.' He has some nerve - that's what I call you. Remember when Mammon thought it would be funny to call you his sunshine too?" A dangerous gleam twinkles in his eyes before it disappears just as quickly. "At least he learned not to do that again," he murmurs under his breath.

You shuffle over on your knees and swing your leg over his thighs so you can sit in his lap. "Do you have any other complaints on that little list of yours?" you ask him with a teasing smile.

He huffs in frustration and his frown is adorable - of course he has one more grievance to share. "That stupid reaper doesn't even know your favourite flower. Tomorrow I'm going to buy you the biggest and most beautiful bouquet you've ever seen."

He finally drops the paper but neither of you spare it a second glance as it falls over the side of the bed and flutters to the floor. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes your waist gently, slumping his head against your chest with a drawn-out sigh. "I don't see what you like about him."

"Oh, Asmo." You run your hands gently through his hair as you hide your smile against the crown of his head. "Are you telling me there's a video game character you're actually jealous of?"

"Of course not," he mumbles into your collarbone, mouthing softly at the skin with little flicks of his tongue but it's not quite enough to distract you. "I wanted to see what all the hype was about." His teeth graze the bottom of your throat and you swallow down a quiet moan. "I found it extremely disappointing, by the way."

You cradle his jaw gently and tilt his head up so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "You're so cute when you pout," you coo softly, just to watch how his cheeks turn pink. "I hope you know that he could pop into existence and appear outside your window right now, and I still wouldn't be interested in him. He's not you."

The words seem to soothe him a bit if the purring in his chest is anything to go by. You kiss the tip of his nose and let out a quiet squeak when he grasps the back of your neck and pulls you down so he can kiss you.

Repeatedly.

"You're right, darling." Kiss. "He's completely irrelevant," kiss "and I've already forgotten what his name is."

The world tilts suddenly as Asmo flips you onto your back and braces his weight on his hands. You giggle when he leans down and noses along your jaw. One of his hands slowly glides down your chest and tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and tossing it aside without a second thought.

"Let's see if I can make you forget his name too, hmm?"

read more: asmodeus masterlist | obey me masterlist

[starmosaics]

Mars in the 8th house pt. 1/3

I'm splitting this into parts because there's a lot to cover with this placement.

A person with an 8th house Mars doesn't just share anything with anybody, they'll test you and make sure that you can be trusted before sharing anything about themselves other than surface-leveled things. From the outside, an 8H Mars person seems distant, kept, shut off, and mysterious; they're an enigma. Many people feel intimidated just by being in the 8H Mars person's presence. People want to desperately figure this person out or pinpoint something about them, but just simply can't. The reason 8H Mars people are so guarded is because they most likely have faced life-altering pain or traumatic experiences at some point in their lives, commonly due to death or betrayal by other people. They can be incredibly hesitant or totally reluctant with trusting and opening up to others. They tend to keep people at arms length and might have paranoid thoughts about getting close to people because of their trust issues and reluctance to let down their guard. They are incredibly hypervigilant people and it takes a long time for them to express their vulnerabilities.

These people are naturally investigative and are great at researching and absorbing information. They're like sponges when it comes to obtaining details that reveals the truth. They love digging things up beyond the surface, revealing the truth, and bringing things to light. They want to understand things on a much deeper, intellectual level to reveal secrets and to solve cryptic and hidden messages. They either are great sources themselves or provide great sources for others and will always show up with the cold hard facts. I worked with a girl who had an 8H Mars and she did so much research on employee's rights to dig up what illegal things our management was getting away with. She obsessed over it for months and was fixated on "exposing" the institution we worked for. I am also friends with a guy who does scientific research at his school as a job who has an 8H Mars. I have an 8H Mars and am deeply invested in astrology.

These people are wonderful friends, family members and partners, and will always be the first responder when someone they care about is in a dire situation. They're also the best person to be with when in a dangerous or life-threatening situation. These are the types of people to remain calm and collected to ensure that whatever is at hand is taken care of. During an emergency, they're the ones to brainstorm and come up with a plan to execute; they're incredible strategists. This is most likely due to having dealt with a lot of dangerous or traumatic events in their lives which caused them to be able to respond to other people's situations with a much more steadfast approach.

Most of the 8H Mars people I've met had a weird relationship with their sexuality in their teenage/young adult years and lost their virginity at a later age compared to their peers. People may objectify 8H Mars folks or perceive them to be more sexual than they are (ex. being told that the 8H Mars person looks like they have a lot of experience with sex even if they don't) because these people commonly ooze sex appeal. Something about them makes people feel incredibly drawn and magnetized to them. I knew someone with an 8H Mars who was a stripper and did sex work. She also had a sugar daddy which I would associate to be an 8H topic (shared/gained resources from another, Mars covering sex). I too have considered doing sex work for quite a while now. 8H mars people may like more rougher and primal sex such as BDSM. The bedroom is where the more darker parts of themselves are revealed. They may also enjoy exploring different kinds of kinks rather than having plain or vanilla sex. Despite people thinking 8H Mars folks are sexually progressive all the way, these people actually need to have an emotional/spiritual connection to those they engage sexually with, otherwise they will feel like something is missing during sex and that the void they're seeking to be filled cannot be reached. Unfortunately, I have also known many 8H Mars people who have faced a form of sexual victimization.

In the next 2 parts, we'll cover certain transformations these people may undergo in their lives, mental health and psychology, life and death situations, struggles within intimate relationships, and "taboo" topics these people might enjoy. If you have an 8H Mars let me know if this resonates :))

[queenie-avenue]

This is a man's world, but she rules it.

💌 ⤻ THE MAFIA BOSS, VITTORIA COSTANZA ft. THE COVER

—> the devil wears prada.

⤻ reader is female (i really needed some delulu), kidnapping, typical mafia activities, toxic behaviour, posesseive and obsessive behaviour, mentions of misogyny, conversion therapy and homophobia, death, non-consensual kissing

notes: thank you to @ciaheyhimm for allowing me to use this character! isabella was originally a character from a mafia roleplay set in the 1940s to 50s. please go check that blog out, they are a historical blog and i believe that she is writing a book at the moment!

💌 ⤻ archives.

"Thank you for your help in locating down my dearest [y/n]." The woman in the shadows spoke. That accent, that strong accent and overbearing smell of perfume... you found yourself thinking of one single person that came to your mind. Even her heels, branded with her own fashion brand 'Costanza' confirmed to you who this person was.

"Of course, I am a bit disappointed that you — how do you say? — compromised their location and safety to me, even as their bodyguard." She spoke, your body still laying paralysed against the lush bed that Vittoria had no doubt prepared for you. Ribbons of the finest silk bound your hands together, even as the drug forced you to stay put. It seemed she wanted to be very very sure that you wouldn't escape her, again.

Even the dress you were wearing, it was designed by her. Her brand's ribbons were on your body, a mark of her.

Your Father had disapproved of your relationship, with both of you two being girls and all... but you hadn't expected her to go this far.

"I can't trust someone like that out of the field. Who knows, if someone offers you some money, if you'd spill the beans on this little stunt of mine." You heard something click, and your head snapped over, eyes widened.

Then a gunshot sounded, causing you to scream before a body slumped to the ground, blood bleeding out from the shadows.

"Ay, aye, my Belleza, you should have told me you were awake." Her hips swayed as she emerged from the shadows. Her beautiful crimson red dress showed off the body you loved so much.

"Vitta, what the hell." You muttered as your attempted to raise yourself out of bed, only to be held down by the drugs in your system and the silk ribbons restraining you.

Slowly, she stalked towards you, like you were a prey she was ready to kill and feast on. But then, she simply sits on the edge of 'your' bed and begins to undress herself, slipping her zipper down as it revealed a petticoat underneath, and a corset that held her curved body together like a contorted doll, laced too tightly. You were so happy to get her out of it at one point, but when she stripped this time, it was intimidating.

"Darling." She whispered as she leaned in to caress your cheek. "I had to." She smiled, and that smile was so wicked, like the demoness Lilith had come to life in front of you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

When you first met Vittoria, it was at a gala. A gala meant to celebrate Vittoria Costanzo's newest fashion collection, based on something you didn't bother listening to. You dressed in whatever your Father wanted you to dress in, which was most of the time, dresses that appealed to the male gaze in hopes of finding you a catch of a husband he could give you away to.

"Ah... Mister [l/n], what a pleasure to meet you." The woman that approached you was stunning. Her strawberry blonde hair was tossed into victory curls, showing off her gorgeous neckline and strong collarbone. She was dressed head to toe in red, the colour of blood. Even her lips, so delicate and beautifully shaped, were stained in that perfect shade of crimson that seemed to draw in attention to her and only her. You wondered whether she had informed everyone that she was the only one allowed to wear red on that day.

"And who might this cute little lady be?" Little lady? You were about the same age as her.

"Ah, this is my daughter, I don't believe you've met." Grinned your Father as he pat you forward, introducing you to the woman.

"A pleasure to meet you." You curtsied quaintly.

Instead of returning the curtsey, Vittoria snatched your gloved hand and planted a kiss there. Like a gentleman would to a lady. The red lipstick stained your gloves, marking you as her own.

"The pleasure is all mine." Her eyes glinted and you felt your cheeks heat up, as if she could see right through you. "As much as I'd love to stay here and chat with the both of you, I have to go entertain the rest of my sponsors." Vittoria grinned charmingly, "I'm sure you understand, Mister [l/n]." She waved goodbye to the two of you and you swore you saw her wink in your direction.

Before you could compose yourself, you heard your father groan and gag. "I cannot believe a woman like her would dare show her face and intentions like that."

"What do you mean?" You turned to him. Your father was never a pleasant man, but he would never say something so outright.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned down. "That woman is rumoured to be queer." He spat out the word like it was the worst thing he could say. "Of course, a working woman would be something like that. She has no man in her life, so she wants to prey on innocent girls." Laughed your Father, which made you cringe.

"I will go get a cup of lemonade." You said to him as you flitted away like a butterfly as he went to talk to some other influential man.

Just as you picked out a drink, one of the waiters came over to you. "Madam Costanza has told me to deliver this message to you." You tilted your head as you looked at the tray he was carrying, a small card placed on it. You hesitantly took it and flipped it over, only reading it when you saw that no one was looking in your direction.

"That dress looks amazing on you. Perhaps if you come to my studio one of these days, I could design an even better dress for you." The card was sealed with a kiss from her red lipstick. Your gloved fingers smeared over the stain as you let out a sharp breath. The card wasn't signed, but you knew who had written it to tempt you.

Thus was the start of your affair with Vittoria Constanza, the most skilled fashion designer in Italy.

So how in the world did it end up this way? Your Father had figured out that you were having an affair with the lady and barred you from leaving your room, trying different forms of 'therapy' on you to convert you back into a normal woman. But nothing worked. He grew angrier day by day because of that. Not to mention, an illusive crime syndicate had decided to ruin his business with backstreet dealings. They exposed his tax fraud and more, which caused your Father to grow bankrupt and yet still, he did not allow you out of his grasp.

Then, that same mafia that ruined your family's business stormed your house. It was too obvious, not at all like the subtle actions the mafia normally acted out. It was chaotic and messy as they slaughtered any and all bodyguards that tried to fight back.

You felt strong arms behind you, force-feeding you some spill that you almost puked out. But the man simply shoved it in.

The last thing you saw was your Father's head being blown open by the a gun that Isabella held. She had pulled the trigger, and you screamed weakly before collapsing in the arms of the man.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Vittoria leaned over. "Are you feeling better? You've been out for a bit." She said in such a sweet tone, cooing at you like she had done when she cradled you in her arms inside of her fashion studio.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Vitta, Darling. Your Vittoria." She smiled. "Don't tell me those drugs changed your memory, my dear!" She chuckled. "I would have to kill the scientists that gave it to me."

"That's not what I meant!" You tried to get up, but you were restrained. Thank god the drug was starting to wear off, though, at least you could use your hands now. "You- you're part of the mafia." You said, terrified of the woman seated over you.

"Oh dear, I'm not just part of the mafia. When I join something, I make sure that I'm always at the top of it." Overconfidence dripped from her tongue as she rolled her eyes, "I rule the mafia. And I've taken you in to be a Queen by my side."

"Are you fucking crazy!" You yelled at her.

"Crazy in love, yes." She leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "I understand that you don't want to forgive me right now, but this is just a spat between lovers. You'll forgive me eventually." She smiled softly, pressing yet another kiss to your restrained form.

You weren't sure of what lay ahead this odd fate God had thrust you into but you were sure you would never forgive Vittoria.

"I love you." She whispered, pressing yet another kiss, this time to your forehead.

"In this world of shadows, you're the only light in my life. So I won't let you escape."

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Alright, everyone. This is the last time you'll see baby Aemond and the reader, so let's cherish it. In the next chapter, we will start where the show did with the characters aged up in Ep. 8. I'm very excited to write for adult MC. I'm not going to lie; I'm a bit worried about writing Aemond's inner dialogue, as I've never written for a male character who isn't obsessed with the reader, but I'm sure I'll do fine. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Alicent being delulu, parentified sibling trauma, and watch me make you feel even worse about Driftmark.

As you journeyed from the gloomy corridors of the Red Keep to the sulfuric atmosphere of Dragonstone and now to the sandy shores and scattered shells of Driftmark, an air of sadness seemed to cling to you wherever you went. You stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing down at the tranquil sea, overlooking the stone coffin that cradled your late Aunt Laena. Two deaths, each carrying its weight of sorrow, yet only one mourned.

You wondered what it would be like to die choked in flames like Ser Harwin and Lyonel Strong did. Would it be the same as suffering dragon fire like your Aunt? Most likely not. Hers was a swift burning of flesh from bones, while theirs was hours of agony and suffocation. 

Despite what your family claimed, the idea of dying to your own dragon’s flames wasn’t an appealing end to you. It didn’t seem noble like how stories explained it to be. It was horrifying to have your skin torched from your body, to feel the power of a thousand suns on your flesh. It would be excruciatingly painful, and you wished it upon no one, not even those you despised most. You would much rather meet the Stranger in your sleep. 

You barely settled into your new home on Dragonstone before your mother received the two ravens. One bringing news of Ser Harwin and the other of Laena, containing death in the ink. You consoled your mother and father as best you could, hugging and kissing and telling them that you loved them and were sorry. It was an impossible task to do, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hated seeing them so distraught and wanted to make them feel better. 

At night, you cried into your pillows in your now isolated bedroom until Jace and Luke entered, watery eyes matching yours. As the eldest, it was your job to hold your family together when your parents couldn’t, and it left you no time to properly grieve the loss of an Aunt and a father figure.

You felt terrible for your cousins Baela and Rhaena. To go to bed one night and wake up the next without a mother was a depth of grief you couldn’t imagine. You didn’t think you could live a life without your mother; you would die with her, and the ability of your cousins to continue without her was admirable as you observed their sullen faces streaked with tears. 

Your Great Uncle Vaemond spoke his sermon in High Valyrian, which was too fast and practiced for you to understand. You could decipher some words here and there, but ultimately, you were lost listening to a man you rarely met. You felt your mother straighten her stance from behind, her arms coming to circle the three of you in a protective embrace.

Vaemond’s eyes were on yours, Luke’s, and Jace’s, but everyone else was focused on him—on the coffin with Lady Laena’s face carved into it.

As your eyes wandered to the other people surrounding the funeral procession, fear struck you as you caught your eldest uncle’s eye. It wasn’t very comforting to see Aegon so soon. You had set it in your mind that you wouldn’t have to see him for many years, and yet, here you were, dressed in an obsidian and red-sleeved gown, pearls adorning the collar and your veiled headpiece. Quickly, you turned away, instinctually taking Jace’s hand in yours.

An air of stiffness surrounded your family that you weren’t blind to. It was always there, but now, more than before, you felt it. You thought it was childish to be so locked into familial drama when someone lay dead inside a casket. Though you didn’t remember much of the times you met your Aunt Laena, she still deserved the respect of putting these grievances aside. You knew you were part of it, but more important things were happening than what you suffered. 

The cries of your father sent waves of sadness into your heart, and with the sudden urge to get him to stop, you left the safety of your brother and clung to your father’s waist. He lifted you into his sea-worn arms and clung to your frail body as if it was the only thing that kept him from sinking into his grief. You rested your temple onto his shoulder, tears of empathy falling from your eyes as he pressed your head closer. 

Afraid of what would become of your father if you let go, you allowed him to crush you in his embrace for as long as he needed it as a scornful laugh broke through the tense atmosphere. You peeked from your position to see Great Uncle Daemon chuckling to himself with a shake of his head at what Vaemond said. You felt annoyance bubble inside you, solidifying your distaste for the man as the Velaryon guards clad in silver armor and blue seahorse sigils lifted the ropes and lowered your Aunt into the roaring sea. 

You didn’t leave your father’s side for the remainder of the day, not even when he slowly lowered himself into the sea with his sister as the cold, salty breeze swept through the evening. You wanted to speak with Aemond, if just for a small moment, but your family came first. They always came before anyone else, a fact that your mother instilled into the very fabric of your being.

Sitting atop one of the rock ledges near your father, you dipped your feet into the saltwater, dragging your toes to watch the water ripple and allow time to pass. It didn’t feel right to leave him alone. The image of him falling into the ocean as your Aunt played repeatedly in your mind’s eye. You were afraid in his grief, he would follow her. Only when your father’s squire, Ser Qarl, took your father from his place with his sister did you leave, joining the rest of the goers for the wake late in the evening.

Searching through the crowd of people for your mother and your brothers, you couldn’t find them. Alone with none of your family for protection, you felt fear pull at your chest. Your hands began to scratch at your arms and scalp, attempting to quell the insatiable itch. The fabric prevented you from doing so, and tears of fright soon began to collect at your lashes. 

From across the balcony, you saw a flash of green, a color that had never offered you comfort until now. Yet as quickly as you saw it, it vanished, leaving only a head of white promptly running down the stairs. You felt your heart drop into your feet as you watched Aemond run across the sandy dunes like he was running from you. 

The call of a dragon you never heard before screeched through the gray skies. It was mournful as if it were calling for a lost pet or child. In this case, it was a rider. As you looked up, you could see the vast shadow of Vhagar’s silhouette soaring through the clouds, flying in the same direction your uncle went. You felt your eyes grow wide with worry at the realization, wanting to chase after Aemond and warn him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” a tender, feminine voice came from behind you as you jolted in surprise. The tall figure of Queen Alicent stood before you, curly auburn hair pinned back into a magnificent updo and clad in her usual green and gold as she put a hand on your back. “Your mother already sent your brothers.” 

“Where is she?” you hastily asked. Aemond was no longer on your mind.

“I’m uncertain. Your father is off drowning his sorrow in his cups with his squire,” she answered in the same velvet voice you remembered her having, bitterness you didn’t understand laced in the undertone.

You felt offended by how the Queen spoke about your father. He was grieving. He was allowed to spend time with whomever he wished, doing what he wanted.

Alicent lifted her arm, wrapping it around your petite frame, and led you inside Hightide. It was not as cold or formidable as Dragonstone; its dark magic melted into the walls, yet it didn’t hold the warmth of the Red Keep. Still, you felt unwelcomed here, either by the place or its people. The pale stone walls were filled with bits and pieces of shells from clams, mollusks, and other long-dead shell creatures mixed into the mortar to make it stand the test of salty air. 

The Hall of the Nine, where you passed as Queen Alicent, led you to the guest chambers, where you held the Driftwood throne where your grandfather Corlys reigned. You recalled when you visited this place many years ago and how he went on about the many treasures from his sieges and conquests that decorated the room in all its glory. He and his wife, Rhaenys, sat in a heated discussion in front of the hearth.

Once you reached the door to your shared bed chambers with your brothers, Alicent turned to you. It was the first time you had seen her since what Aegon had done to you, and you felt tension. It seemed as if she wanted to speak, to say everything that had been bottled up since the revelation of her son’s transgressions, but she was unable to do so as tears choked her. Instead, the only words that came out were those she couldn’t say to her children. 

“I hope you can find the time to visit the Keep. Helaena asked when you would be returning, and it broke my heart to tell her you wouldn’t be,” she confided, stroking the thin black fabric covering your dark hair. “Aemond has turned inwards since you left, and Aegon has become crueler to him. It makes me wonder if he’s always been this way and that my love for him has blinded me from his transgressions.” 

You said nothing. The mention of Aegon’s name still felt like a blow to the stomach. “I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive my son for what he did to you and that we may yet be the family we were always meant to be.” Your tongue felt like lead as your breathing began to race, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as Alicent kneeled before you, a sad smile on her supple lips as she tenderly swiped your tear-stained cheeks with her smooth thumbs. 

“I love you, my shining light, my dream.” 

Leaning in, she took your small frame by your shoulders, kissing your forehead as one would do to their babe. You felt sick, nausea churning in your stomach as you quickly opened the bedroom door, hastily shutting it behind you in fright. 

It was all too much—Lady Laena’s death, Ser Harwin’s, seeing your father in shambles, and Queen Alicent’s steadfast belief that you should become a part of her family no matter what happened to you. The Queen desired to wed you and Aegon despite the horrors he committed. The realization that she genuinely didn’t see what your eldest uncle did to you as something that would permanently bar you from joining the union pierced your heart. You would much rather marry Aemond or Helaena, but having no ties to her seemed better.

Your brothers peered at you curiously from their beds as you clutched your chest, looking as if you ran the entire way here. They didn’t ask any questions, and you didn’t move to speak, loosening the ties of your gown and shrugging it off until you were only in your smock. You didn’t feel like changing into your nightdress in front of your brothers, deciding to climb into bed and shove your face into the pillows, refusing to cry in front of Jace and Luke as you fell into a dreamless sleep.

When Aemond learned of Lady Laena’s death, he knew it was a sign from the Gods that his time had come. The Seven had deemed this the moment to prove himself to everyone who doubted him and thought him useless without a dragon. 

Vhagar. 

The largest, oldest, and strongest dragon in the world was riderless. 

Aemond believed that once he gained the only thing he lacked, life would finally be what it should have been. He would make his father proud, shove all the taunts and jests from Aegon and his nephews back into their faces, and finally become a man you deemed worthy—your Mors Martell. 

As Aemond fled from the wake when the candles had long melted, he thought only of the ichor coursing through his veins. Dusk was upon the island, and the night’s wind blew harshly, strands of his silver-blonde hair covering his face as he climbed over the dunes. Vhagar was further from the castle than he initially thought.

“Fuck.” Aemond released a sigh of exasperation and scrambled across the uneven ground. 

When he came upon the dragon, he was in awe. Vhagar was as frightening as she was enormous—a giant, green-scaled, moving mountain that shook the ground and blew sand with every movement and breath from her powerful lungs. 

Taking advantage of Vhagar’s resting state, Aemond crept along the sparse grass, feeling each gust of air she created with her wide nostrils, blowing the sand into his face and ears. Anxiety was present in his gut, feeling a slight tremble in his limbs as he closed the distance, wrapping his hand around one of the many ropes draped across Vhagar’s scales. Suddenly, he felt the ground underneath him quake, and the head of the dragon lifted with a low rumble.

Vhagar observed Aemond with tired yet calculating amber orbs, double eyelids blinking. She grumbled as she bore her teeth to him. They were the size of a fully grown adult, sending a shiver down his spine. As if it were an act of divine intervention, Vhagar laid her enormous head back down, seeming disinterested in the young boy before her. 

If Lady Laena’s death wasn’t proof enough Aemond was fated by the Gods to claim a dragon, the most powerful beast in the world, laying its head in acquiescence certainly was. Blinded by his small victory, nerves still in his mind, he reached for the rope ladder again, only for Vhagar to raise her head and growl, low and deep. A snarl formed on her great maw as Aemond stumbled back in shock and saw the light of orange flames gather at the back of her throat. 

“Dohaerās!” (Serve!) he shouted instinctively, recalling the many lessons he observed in the Dragonpit as he felt the heat of fire on his countenance. “Dohaerās, Vagus! Lykirī!” (Serve, Vhagar! Be calm!)

With Aemond’s commands, the she-dragon relaxed, recalling her flames and closing her mouth. She purred to him like a cat, a sign that she approved his merit while standing in the face of death. Vhagar would allow the Prince an attempt to claim her, but he must prove himself before the eyes of the Gods, before the eyes of a dragon. 

Aemond took the ropes and climbed atop the mighty Vhagar’s back, positioning himself in the saddle and grabbing the reigns. 

“Sōvēs!” (Fly!) Aemond ordered, and Vhagar rumbled, raising her legs and shaking the sand from her scales. “Sōvēs!”

She obeyed, taking a few giant steps and flapping her great wings, pushing off from the ground and leaving a sandstorm in her wake. Though Aemond told Vhagar to fly, he still had yet to control her as she took to the night sky in a near-vertical position, catching him unaware. The force knocked him from the leather saddle, leaving him dangling in the air with just the reigns for purchase. Aemond screamed with fear, feeling as if his stomach lurched out of his body as he struggled against the whipping wind to regain control. 

She tested him as he grabbed the pommel, sat upright, and pulled the ropes to balance her. He felt like he was on a bucking horse, loosening, tightening, twisting, and turning to the left and right to steer her safely. Vhagar ignored Aemond’s movements and continued to fly like he wasn’t there, diving into the dunes of Driftmark before he reared her upwards, dragging her claws across the sand. He squealed in terror, blocking the debris that scratched his face as she soared over the sea.

Aemond knew he needed to prove himself to her, to show the war-hardened dragon that he deserved to ride her. Her chirps and groans from the day earlier called to him like nothing before, singing to the Prince in her dragon song of forlornness and isolation. Perhaps that was why he felt compelled to claim her. They both shared that feeling of loneliness deep within their souls, that same oddness in their families. The dragoness was too large to be held within any structure, leaving her in forced solitude, her only companions being her rider. Aemond was the only one, despite his Valyrian features, not to have a dragon. 

That would no longer be his story.

Aemond fortified his mind and will, putting his soul into his movements as he lifted Vhagar higher in the sky. He could feel the blood of Old Valyria coursing through his veins as the mighty dragon obeyed, leveling out her vast wings and soaring over Spicetown and back to Driftmark. He screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him in the skies, a bright smile he was sure you could see in Lannisport. 

Aemond had proven himself. He had shown himself and all who doubted and bullied him for not having a dragon that he was capable, that he was worthy. 

Everything was as it should be.

Perhaps you would allow him to kiss you again and spend the night in his embrace. Aemond had no doubt you would be proud of him as he listened to your assurances that he was brave, a dragon knight who you could trust with your secrets and protect you from enemies, and that he deserved your heart. 

Aemond landed Vhagar with a grace he hadn’t possessed before, climbing down the rope ladder on her side with windburnt cheeks. As soon as his feet touched the sand, he ran straight to the underground caverns of High Tide to wake you and explain everything.

“Jace!” 

You faintly heard a voice calling, sounding distant in your dream state. Ignoring it with a groan, you rolled over, trying to return to sleep.

“Jace, wake up! Someone stole Vhagar!”

This woke you from your sleep. You sat up to see Baela and Rhaena hovering over your brother’s bed. 

“We need to stop them!”

Jace and Luke quickly threw the covers off and stuck their feet into their slippers as you observed them curiously. Rubbing the sleep from your face, you yawned, begrudgingly following them. 

“You cannot steal a dragon,” you countered after a long silence in the pale stone halls, your voice laced with sleep. It felt like you had hardly gotten a wink. 

“She is my mother’s dragon! I was supposed to claim her,” Rhaena countered, tears collecting in her dark eyes. 

Yawning again as you followed a few paces behind your siblings and cousins, you rolled your eyes, wanting to bite with the remark, “Why didn’t you?” But you didn’t say it. The reason was apparent why she didn’t, and Rhaena didn’t need any more reason to be distraught.

They led you to the caverns of High Tide, stumbling in your sleepless state. They led to the beaches lit only by dim torchlight, your movements groggy and slightly annoyed. On the other end of the tunnel, Aemond appeared before you with a proud grin and windswept hair. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, a contagious self-satisfaction that spread to you. 

He needn’t say it aloud. You could tell by how he carried himself, shoulders back, chin high, and a slight lift to his cheeks, that your uncle claimed a dragon—the mightiest one in the world, Vhagar. 

“It’s him!” Rhaena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Aemond.

It didn’t deter him, countering with his head high, violet eyes flicking from you to your cousin. “It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!” she yelled, hurt as if this reasoning would change Vhagar’s fate. As you moved to Aemond, Jace grabbed your hand, stopping you with an anxious yet demanding look on his face. 

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now,” your uncle replied, and you felt your brows raise in shock. You knew better than most of the cruelty he could commit, but after spending time with Aemond and seeing the softer, gentler, and kinder side of him, it took you off guard. 

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena argued, charging toward him in a challenge. Your skin began to itch, and your breath quickened. 

The hatred felt at the funeral carried over into your brothers and cousins. Tension in the air crackled like a fire in a hearth, watching the yellow and orange flames slowly dwindle into embers until someone threw tinder to spark it.

“Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride,” Aemond sneered. “It would suit you.”

Your lips parted in empathetic offense as you looked from your uncle to Rhaena, tears of guilt and shame pricking at your eyes. You apologized about the pig, and you thought Aemond forgave you, but it seems he couldn’t let go of the hurt no matter how close you were. The feeling of joy for your uncle’s feat was as brief as your friendship.

With a surge of rage, Rhaena charged forward, attempting to push Aemond, but he swiftly countered, and she fell to the ground. You jumped back in shock as you covered your mouth, Luke standing beside you. Baela screamed, protecting her sister as she punched him across his face and Aemond yelped in pain. Without thinking, you went toward your uncle, fearful for his well-being in your heart, but he swiftly stood before you could reach him, returning the same swing to Baela. You gasped in horror and moved to the side, narrowly missing your cousin’s body from colliding with yours. 

“Come at me again, and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” Aemond snarled at the twins, and without warning, Jace ran to him with a shout, shoving your uncle in offended anger and smacking him across the cheek.

You screamed for them to stop as you watched Luke try to join the fray, but you held him back, scared that he would get caught in the crossfire. He was the youngest and the littlest, most likely to get hurt. You needed to protect what family you could. Aemond brought this upon himself with his words of arrogance, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to defend him, too.

The scene before you was violent, a flurry of white, black, and red running atop Aemond as Luke slipped from your grasp, all pummeling, kicking, and screaming at him as you cried for them to stop. He was helpless as he suffered blow after blow, and you felt your heart splinter. This wasn’t a fair fight. Without worrying for yourself, you jumped on top of Jace, pulling him back from your uncle and giving him a chance to defend himself. You felt like a betrayer, turning against your twin to save your uncle. Your brother grunted as you both fell to the ground, his body on top of you as you struggled to keep him from fighting. 

You and your siblings had fought before, but nothing like this. It was so vicious, filled with violence and want for pain, as Jace whipped his head back into yours, causing it to slam against one of the many jagged rocks across the ground, having you see stars. He went back into the brawl with no worry for your safety as you heard the unsheathing of a knife, your eyes blurry as you struggled to see the scene before you. 

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond yelled, suddenly holding Luke by his neck with a rock in his hand.

“My father is alive!” Luke gasped in protest, flinging his arms and blood running down his face.

You needed to get up to protect Luke from physical harm and the threat of discovering your lineage. You didn’t believe Aemond would kill Luke. He was capable of violence, but he wasn’t a murderer. As you tried to move, your skull felt filled with sand, pulling you back down to the ground as you felt the warm trickle of liquid run down your neck. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your sight and mind. 

Aemond spoke again to Jace, seeming to forget your existence and holding a sense of superiority. “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?” 

You forgot how cruel Aemond could be. Your stolen moments of reading and kisses in the night had closed your eyes to it.

“Aemond, don’t,” you mumbled, skull pounding as the excruciating sounds of your brothers and uncle’s shouts pierced your ears like needles. 

You blinked your eyes into focus, seeing Jace wildly swinging a knife at Aemond as you managed to kneel. Your brothers didn’t realize how dangerous what they were doing was, that a knife wasn’t something to use against someone who was armed with only a stone in hand. While Aemond was bigger and had more combat experience, a dagger would kill him. Being upset because someone claimed a dragon wasn’t worth murdering over. 

Reaching your arm out with a soft grunt, you grabbed Jace’s ankle as Aemond pushed him over, holding the same rock above his head as he did for Luke. You thought Aemond knew better than this. You gave him the perfect opportunity to run and get help now that Baela and Rhaena huddled into a scared, crying mess, but he was too far gone into his anger to see reason, blinded by it. 

“Aemond! No!” you shouted hoarsely, trying to stand but failing as your head pounded like a drumbeat.

He turned to you then, lowering the rock to his side as he stared at you with the sudden realization of what he had done. Your uncle was filled with a surge of superiority inside him. He couldn’t think straight, and when he happened upon the five of you, people he was always told that he was above, something inside him that lay dormant finally broke free. He knew he was always capable of violence, but felt remorse when he saw your bruised nose, tear-streaked cheeks, and blood dripping down your throat. 

Did he do that to you? 

Suddenly, Aemond was blinded, sand thrown into his eyes as he stumbled back and heard the yell of Luke, unimaginable pain soon following. You watched in horror as your brother savagely sliced into your uncle’s left eye, blood pouring and splattering across the ground. 

Aemond couldn’t remember if you were amid his attackers. He surveyed the bruised and battered bodies before him and realized what he had done as his stomach fell to his feet.

He hurt people, just like Aegon. You would never entrust your secrets to him. His hands committed violence, but his heart desired to tell a different story—one of a strong and noble prince who went through many trials and tribulations to prove himself worthy of the princess's heart.

All you could hear were screams. Screams from you, screams from Aemond as you crawled towards him, sobbing. 

“Aemond!” you cried as he doubled over, falling into your body as he screeched in pain. 

“It hurts!” he wailed into your chest, his free hand clawing into your back. “It hurts! Help me!” 

You trembled, arms struggling to keep yourself upright against his weight as the flurry of guards rumbled inside your skull like thunder. Unable to make out their words as they moved, it seemed like you were watching the world from outside your body, from the lenses of another, as Ser Harrold pried Aemond from your embrace.

It hurt. Everything hurt—your heart, stomach, muscles, and head. You weren’t sure who led you, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, and Jace to the Hall of the Nine as a flurry of people gathered, pushing and shoving as you clutched your skull. The room was so bright, so loud, as you heard your uncle’s screams. You felt sturdy arms grab you by your shoulders, roughly moving you as if you were nothing more than a doll, as it felt like your eyes were about to burst. Steel blue fabric blocked your eyes as you saw the hazy image of a seahorse stitched into the fabric.

“Father?” You reached out, small digits feeling along the fine silk until the texture of scruff scratched at your skin. Blinking, you saw the aged face of your grandfather, Lord Corlys, as he gathered you and your brothers behind him. 

Where was he, and where was your mother? 

You felt sick as people scattered around you like seagulls when they discovered a bloated whale carcass, all trying to see the injured Prince, who cried until the Maester poured Milk of the Poppy down his throat. It felt like when you accidentally drank the water from Blackwater Bay, like a cold, nauseous sensation that sent beads of sweat rolling down your spine. 

“I don’t feel good,” you whispered to Jace as you leaned into his side, clutching your head and gut. He paid you no mind, peering behind your grandfather to see your other one appear, bearing total weight upon his dragon-head cane. 

“How could you let such a thing happen?” Viserys questioned Ser Harrold, examining Aemond as you heard the sickening squelch of flesh and rattle of metal tools. “I will have answers!”

Despite it undoubtedly being a harrowing sight, you wanted to be by your uncle, to hold his hand through it, to feel his pain with him, but you couldn’t. You needed to be with your brothers. What they saw and experienced would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Luke had taken Aemond’s eye. 

“The princess and princes were supposed to be abed, my king,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard explained, shame woven in his words. 

Viserys wouldn’t allow his knights to show such carelessness, surveying each of them with critical eyes. “Who had the watch?”

“The young prince was attacked by his cousins, your grace,” Ser Cristion nonchalantly replied. His words angered you for reasons unknown, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. 

Viserys turned to the room, looking between the two Kingsguards on opposite sides of the family as he hobbled on his cane. “You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!” he boomed in a way you hadn’t seen before. You were afraid he would direct his anger at you, Jace, and Luke, wrapping your arms around them like you were in any state to protect your brothers. 

“I’m very sorry, your grace,” Ser Westerling said, head hung low in unimaginable disgrace. You felt bad for him. There was no way he could have stopped this. He was doing his duty and serving his King. It was Ser Criston who should be blamed.

“The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes before, your grace-”

“That is no answer!” your grandfather yelled at Ser Criston, causing a clap of pain to thunder inside your skull. 

You wanted to go to bed, sleep for eternity, and be awake to everything as it was yesterday. Your brothers and cousins unbloodied and Aemond dragonless and with an eye. 

“Where’s mother?” you noiselessly questioned Jace, leaning into his ear and almost losing your footing. You needed to stay strong for them. 

“It will heal, will it not? Maester?” Queen Alicent asked, velveteen voice quivering with pain for her poor son. Maester Kelvyn finished stitching Aemond’s skin, throwing the needle and thread into a bowl with your uncle’s fleshy, viscous eye. 

“The flesh will heal. The eye is lost, your grace,” his nasal voice replied matter-of-factly.

You were going to be ill. 

Quickly, you ran through the multitude of people, pushing past Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, who tried to stop you before you vomited all the contents of your stomach onto a person’s unsuspecting shoes. The crowd gasped in revolt, those not close to you jumping back and clutching their chests in shock. You found yourself before the fireplace, basking in its comforting warmth as you leaned onto the hearth and looked at the unlucky soul you retched on. 

Perhaps the Gods had a twisted sense of justice as you saw the disgusted face of Aegon before you. You didn’t hide your amused smirk.

“Tend to the Princess!” the King shouted to the Maester, seeming to forget about his injured son and throwing his cane in your direction. 

A flurry of green came before pale gray, tenderly cradling your visage in her palms as if you were her child, inspecting it. You grabbed the Queen’s wrists and attempted to push her away as if her touch burned, but she resisted, struggling against your childish strength until she grabbed your shoulders. Her touch reminded you of Aegon as you burst into tears, muscles going limp and at Queen Alicent’s mercy. She turned your head in her grasp, examining you with the utmost care that made another wave of nausea through you. 

The crowd observed in anxious silence as Aemond turned to watch his mother treat you with the affection he wished to receive. Familiar hatred bloomed inside his heart, swallowing his dry mouth as he thought resentfully. He would still have his eye if he hadn’t been so concerned with you. 

“I want my mother.” you whimpered, lips quivering in fear as the Queen lovingly wiped the blood from your neck. 

The Queen released you from her grip as if you had struck her, chest heaving and wide brown eyes watering as she turned to her eldest son. Your mother was here; you didn’t realize it.

“Where were you?” she interrogated Aegon, smacking him upside down before he could answer. 

“Ow! What was that for?” he questioned, incredulously rubbing at the afflicted area grimly. You held no sympathy for him as you hugged your sides. 

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your siblings suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!” she whispered heatedly so only he could hear, shaking his gangly body in rage. You looked at the Queen with confusion, thinking she had gone mad with grief when she said “siblings.”

As the grand Hall doors creaked open, a shaft of golden light spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the marble floor. With an air of elegance, your mother swept into the room, her silk gown trailing behind her. Following closely was Uncle Daemon, his formidable presence filling the space. Amidst the whispers and murmurs, your name and that of your brothers floated through the air, drawing your attention. Without a second thought, you moved toward her, the sensation of fingertips brushing your bicep as if a ghostly hand had tried to hold you back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Show me, show me!” your mother ordered you and Luke, softly running her digits across your body as you sobbed with relief. “Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond yelled before you could get a word out, leaning from behind his chair. 

You saw his wound on full display. An ugly crisscrossed row of stitches lined up his eye socket and onto his forehead, the flesh puckered and pink as it fought the infection. Your mother moved your face before you could stare any longer as a chorus of accusations from your brothers and cousins sang. You couldn’t get the image of his gash out of your head. 

“He was going to kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!” Luke loudly shouted as you scrunched your eyes with a painful wince.

“Enough!” you heard your grandfather yell, and you looked at him with helpless, watery eyes, but no one listened. 

“It should be my son telling the tale!” the Queen protested, fist pounding against her chest with conviction over the voices.

You continued to look at your grandfather in anguish, the King of The Seven Kingdoms, whom everyone ignored except you. “Silence!” he yelled, voice rattling inside his hollow chest as flem flew from his decaying mouth. 

The Hall went silent, quieter than the Stranger himself, as everyone looked at one another, stunned at the turn of events. People came here to mourn the loss of a daughter, an aunt, a niece, a wife, and a sister. Viserys looked at you and then at his son, his ivory staff sounding with every movement as you swallowed, the taste of bile strong. 

“He called us bastards.” you silently whispered to your mother, wiping the tears and snot from your face.

“Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened.” The King approached your uncle as he slumped into the armchair, stepping swiftly and with a newfound curiosity. “Now.”

“What else is there to hear?” Alicent questioned, clutching at her neck as tears threatened to spill. “Your son has been maimed, and her son is responsible.”

“Twas a regrettable accident,” your mother countered, moving her body to shadow the three of you from the onlookers.

“Accident?” the Queen repeated, astonished. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush! He meant to kill my son!” 

You realized the truth didn’t matter now. All that did was what people perceived it to be. 

“Twas my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!” your mother argued as she placed a comforting hand onto Luke’s shoulders. “Vile insults were levied against them!” 

Your grandfather turned from his son to the four of you as you inhaled a shuddering breath. “What insults?” he questioned, a dangerous lilt to his tone that you had never heard before as the Hall went silent. It raised the hairs on your arms. 

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth was put loudly to question,” your mother replied, her chin high yet holding a nervous waver to her voice. 

As she turned towards you, your mother’s eyes conveyed a silent but insistent demand to verbalize what you previously whispered. She wished everyone to hear these words from you—the compassionate and considerate eldest daughter known as The Gods’ Light among the common folk. With tears streaming down your cheeks and your chest heaving with emotion, you gazed at Aemond with a sense of guilt. You knew the words you were about to utter would carry an extraordinary weight. Both sides sought someone to bear responsibility for the turmoil, but you recognized the unspoken truth. 

At that moment, honesty seemed inconsequential. Aemond had suffered the loss of his eye due to Luke’s actions, and you keenly felt your failure to shield your brothers from harm. You would never fault at your duty again. 

“He called us bastards,” you confessed, lacking the anger and conviction of your siblings as you sniffled, refusing to look at Aemond. 

You watched as the Queen’s auburn tresses bounced with the slight affirming nod of her head, a look of disbelief and recognition crossing her face. At that moment, it became clear that she had informed Aemond about the deception, hardening your heart with betrayal. You had believed that she was different and loved you like family, and it stung to realize that she didn’t hesitate to spread lies that would hurt you.

“My children are to inherit the Iron Throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons,” your mother reasoned, stepping forward to her slouched father as you attempted to reach for her hand to keep you hidden. “Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such awful slanders.”

As you gazed at your mother, her expression eerily mirroring that of Alicent’s, your lips began to quiver with unease. Was your mother implying that he should be subjected to torture? It seemed unfathomable. She couldn’t possibly be serious.

“Over an insult?” the Queen asked, shaking her head in disbelief. You knew she was trying to protect herself as you glared at the woman you once thought held the moon. “My son has lost an eye!”

“Tell me, boy. Where did you hear such lies?” the King seethed, face a hairsbreadth from Aemond as you whimpered.

“The insult was training yard bluster,” Alicent swiftly reasoned, eyes flicking desperately from her son to her husband. “The lot of boys. ‘Twas nothing-”

“Aemond,” your grandfather interrupted, ignoring his wife’s explanation. “I asked you a question.” 

Your uncle sat in solemn silence, his lone violet eye unwaveringly fixed on the ground while his father awaited his reply. Before he could utter a word, the Queen unexpectedly interjected. 

“Where is Ser Laenor, the children’s father? Perhaps he would have something to say on the matter,” she jeered.

Your grandfather turned, sparse brows scrunching together as he turned to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, your grace. I… could not find sleep and decided to take a walk,” your mother answered for them, smooth palms wiping across her crimson skirt.

The Queen let out a derisive laugh, her disbelief evident as she shook her head at her old friend. It was impossible to ignore the precise timing of Daemon’s arrival into the Hall of the Nine, trailing just moments behind Rhaenyra with her tousled strands of golden hair. Alicent bore the knowledge of her friend’s calculated machinations, even as Rhaenyra’s children stealthily slipped out of their beds to perpetrate the heinous act of maiming her son. She couldn’t dismiss the nagging suspicion that Ser Laenor was likely engaged in equally treacherous activities.

“Entertaining his young squires, I presume,” Queen Alicent sneered like before, making you feel the same deep-seated ire. 

As no one dared to voice their opposition to her words, a glint of silver caught your eye from the corner, revealing Ser Criston Cole’s silent laughter. Like Ser Harwin, you felt the urge to wipe that smug grin off his tanned face, even though you knew it was impossible.

“Aemond, look at me. Your King demands an answer,” your grandfather began, staggering before your uncle. “Who spoke the lies to you?”

Everything went silent; the roaring of the fire and the crashing of the waves in the darkness were all that could be heard in the Hall. You understood that whoever Aemond implicated might not live til the next morn. You felt your throat grow tight and struggled to breathe, clutching at your throat as you swallowed the acrid taste in your mouth. Queen Alicent told him as you recalled the time in Helaena’s room. It confused you at first why she would spread such gossip as she seemed to hold a tenderness for you. Claiming your brothers were bastards went without saying you were, but you realized that whatever contempt she had within her heart weighed far more significant than any affection for you. 

Some of you wished to shout that it was her, but you realized that was something Alicent would do without a second thought if the roles were reversed, and you did not want to be like her. She was wicked and cruel, just like her eldest.

“It was Aegon. He told Aemond to call us that,” you answered as every pair of eyes flocked to you. You didn’t like how close your grandfather was to him, afraid that he might strike him for the consequences of his mother. You felt your heart lurch into your throat as you gained the courage to speak the words aloud of all the bad things he did to you. “And he… he”

Before you could finish, your mother tucked you into her waist, kneeling and pushing your face into her shoulder. You tried to pull away from her when his hand rested on your head, the welt sensitive to touch. 

“Don’t,” she whispered into your hair, disguising it as a kiss. They deserved to know. Everyone needed to know what awful Aegon did to you. You wanted to move against her, but your mind was foggy and muscles weak.

“Me?” Aegon exclaimed with shock, wide amethyst orbs looking at you with a broken expression. 

“And you, boy,” your grandfather crept towards him, the rhythmic tapping of his cane piercing your skull like an ice pick. “Where did you hear such calumnies?” Your uncle refused to answer him as his gaze bore holes into your being. There was no remorse in your heart for him. “Aegon, tell me the truth of it!” Viserys shouted, causing you to flinch and cover your ears. 

“We know, father,” Aegon replied fearlessly, refusing to remove his stare from your quivering form. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Feeling the stares from the guests, you admired your uncle for not implicating his mother like a coward, removing your body from your mother, wiping the snot from your lip. Let them look, you thought, inhaling a deep breath as you felt your mother bring you closer. They would stare at you for the rest of your days. It was best if you grew accustomed to it now.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” the King declared, banging his walking stick off the pale stone floor. “All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it.” 

You grimaced at his words, and though you loved your grandfather, having been his favorite granddaughter, you disagreed with him. You refused to apologize for your family trying to defend themselves, and the Queen couldn’t help but agree more. 

“That is insufficient,” Alicent said, gesturing to her son. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.” 

Aemond’s fingers dug into the wooden framing of the armchair, and your chin quivered at the thought of what he might be feeling. 

“I know, Alicent,” Viserys sighed, “but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken,” she sobbed, clutching at her chest, flicking her hair back in a manner that reminded you of Aegon. “There is a debt to be paid. I shall have the hand of her eldest to one of my sons. To mend the rift and unite the House of the Dragon once more.”

“Alicent,” your grandfather breathed in a warning, yet still turned to his daughter, having a hint of hope in his violet eyes.

You looked at your mother, shock overcoming any sadness you felt as she shoved you behind her skirts like a hen would do to her chick, too stunned to speak. “I refuse.” 

The Queen shook her head, a sneer curling her plump lips and wet cheeks. Rhaenyra was a selfish, wicked woman with no inclination of decency. Why couldn’t she see this would be solved if she returned Alicent’s rightful daughter to her? The Queen steeled herself to the belief that she would have to fight for her right to have you. She knew deep in her bones that you would one day be by her side.

“Then I shall have one of her sons’ eyes in return. The Princess is innocent,” the Queen declared with a desperate wave of tears. 

Aemond looked to his mother, face impassive, and senses dulled from Milk of the Poppy. He didn’t recall telling her about what you did for him, though it was very little. It felt like he was becoming a second thought to his mother, who seemed only to be scheming on how to insert his niece into their lives. Aemond realized then that he would always be second in his mother’s heart to you, and he felt hollow at the thought, the love that once filled it for his niece ceasing to exist.

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment,” your grandfather warned Queen Alicent. She said nothing as her chest heaved, brown orbs flicking between her husband and old friend.

Believing the matter finished, the King backed away, but Alicent wouldn’t allow this to be the end. She looked to her sworn protector, an apathetic expression on her visage. 

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Ser Criston looked to the Queen with a startled expression as Luke cried for your mother. “He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.”

“You will do no such thing,” your mother steadfastly declared, ensuring the three of you were behind her.

“Stay your hand,” the King commanded as the Queen shook with rage, desperately looking between her husband and sworn protector. She reminded you of a deer cornered in a vast forest, listening to the distant howls of wolves closing in for the hunt.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she yelled, finger pointing to her chest indignantly. All waited for the knight to respond, the Lord Commander slowly bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword.

“Protect your brother,” your mother whispered, never straying her eyes from the Queen. Without further instruction, you stood before Luke, gradually backing him away from the group of people unnoticed. You understood Alicent would not hurt you, as did your mother. 

“As your protector, my Queen,” Ser Criston replied with a wary head tilt.

“Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?” your grandfather declared, seething, his face centimeters away from his wife before he addressed the room. “And let it be known that if anyone’s tongue dares to question, the birth of Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of Luke, coming to take your place beside your mother as she thanked the King. The unsheathing of a blade cut through the room as the form of Queen Alicent charged toward your family, startling you, the King’s ancestral dagger in her grasp. Luke screamed as she reached the four of you, but your mother stepped in her path before Alicent could enact her rage. 

Suddenly, a person shoved into you, disregarding your existence as you found yourself on the floor. You noticed how the stone seemed to ebb and wave like the flow of the tide. Lord Corlys appeared beside you, lifting you into his arms, securely bound around your torso as he took you into the circle of your cousins and brothers, your mother struggling against the Queen. 

“You’ve gone too far!” your mother admonished the Queen as tears burned her eyes. She pushed against Alicent, and she jerked against her, trying to get to your brother.

“I?” Queen Alicent exclaimed, voice thick with anguish as you attempted to push out of your grandfather’s arms, kicking your legs into his side. “What have I done, but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law while you flout to do as you please?”

“Alicent, let her go!”

The Queen still poised the dagger to strike, its new path being that of the heir to the Iron Throne as your mother looked helplessly to the onlookers. No one made to separate the two as they all stared in shock, the fire illuminating their faces like wraiths of death. Landing a hard smack to Lord Corlys’s neck, he dropped you as you shoved through the onlookers toward your mother. She put her life for yours and your brothers, but who would put hers before theirs? 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? My happiness and dreams? It’s templed under your pretty foot again!” the Queen sobbed, her form trembling with hurt and rage, everything that she bottled inside her for years. 

“Release the blade, Alicent,” Lord Otto commanded, a man you hadn’t met until this morn, but she paid him no mind, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pushed against her old friend. 

“Wasn’t taking her, my only light, enough for you? And now you take my son’s eye, and to that, you feel entitled,” she confessed, tears making the Queen’s mouth thick with wetness as you shouldered your way to the inner circle of people. 

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness,” your mother interrogated, a bitter grimace on her sharp lips. “But now they see you as you are.”

Alicent stared at your mother with an enraged offense that wrinkled her brows as she felt fire surge through her, and with a loud cry, she unthinkingly swung your family’s ancestral dagger. You screamed, running to your mother as you pulled her back, seeing a gash on her inner arm that gushed with blood. 

“Mama,” you wept, tenderly holding her limb as if it would break. 

Dropping the dagger, Alicent took an instinctual step toward you, a blanched, horror-stricken expression across her round face. She longed to go to you, to dry your tears and stroke your head against her bosom like your true mother would, but she could not. The terror and fear in your wide brown eyes that resembled her own sliced through her chest and laid her heart and soul bare as she felt a small hand slide into hers. The Queen hoped to see you standing beside her and thought herself mad before she securely took her son’s fist.

Much like you, Aemond knew his parent needed him. “Do not mourn me, mother. ‘Twas a fair exchange,” he expressed with a maturity beyond his years. He turned to you, a violet gaze once filled with joy now devoid, hollow, and one less eye. “I may have lost an eye but gained a dragon.”

You wished Aemond hadn’t claimed one this way and felt a hiccup wrack your lungs as you cried into your mother, Jace, and Luke coming beside you. You sadly realized this was the end of the fleeting companionship you cultivated with your uncle. All the stolen moments of reading, ideas, philosophies, and aspirations you shared under the cover of privacy were nothing more than air the moment he ran across the dunes. You would have still cared for him without a dragon, as before, but his pride wouldn’t allow it, and now he stared at you with an eye that you knew far too well. 

Aemond hated you. He loathed you and your brothers with a fire that would never cease. This was your fault. He lost an eye because of you—because he cared about his bastard niece and had the foolish dream of becoming the man you loved. You did not deserve it. You were nothing more than a common girl born from sin, undeserving of your station. He would despise you for the rest of his days no matter how his heart screamed to have you by his side when darkness fell and all that was left was the ghost of your touch. 

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Happiness never lasts in ASOIAF. I'm going to miss writing for baby Aemond and reader. They were so cute! From now on it's going to be messed up young adults with severe mommy uses and mental illness. I'm not going to say who has which XD. Thank y'all so much for reading and I hope to see y'all in the next chapter!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Belle Mort || LN4

AN: this was deep in the archives of abandoned fics but figured I’ll just post it anyway.

Pairing: Lando Norris x vampire!fem!reader

Summary: Your paths weren’t meant to cross - he was a famous driver and your brethren were the thing of myths and nightmares.

Warnings: smut, major character death

He didn’t belong here.

You could only surmise Vinny let him in the club because he knew an easy target when he saw one. Rich, young and handsome - he was ripe for the taking. A part of you knew not to get involved but, unlike your brother, you had a small conscience, especially when it came to the pretty, blue-eyed man who had shared your bed.

Making your way across the busy dance floor of Belle Mort, you snaked between the women who were selling themselves to the richest man one sway of their hips at a time. You slapped away roaming hands that tried to pull you into their laps and glared at the men until they looked away with wounded egos.

Your brother spotted the target and you stepped lightly in your high heels as you dodged the revellers, finally making it in front of the handsome man. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais, garçon perdu?”

Lando smirked as he cast his eyes over your body, the tight fitted dress hiding very little of the body he knew intimately. “I don’t speak French.”

“I know.”

His hand caught your waist and pulled you closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You didn’t call me.”

You rolled your eyes at the need that laced his words, but it would have been a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it. You had even kept his number when you should have deleted it. Your worlds were so far apart you didn’t see the point in making it more than a one night stand, it was safer that way. “I know. Find another bar.”

“I like this one.” His hand tightened and his thumb brushed over your ribs, tracing the curve under your breast. His smirk grew as he felt your ribs expand with the sharp intake of air you took.

“You’ve never been here before.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I own it.”

“Co-own, dear sister,” Nix added as he stepped to your side. “And if Lando wants to party then who are we to deny him.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother. “It’s bad for business.”

“Why? Because you mixed it with pleasure,” he laughed as he ruffled your hair, cracking your neck as he pushed you away to leer at the man himself. “I can see the appeal. No one can deny you have good taste, it’s just a shame you always leave them broken.”

“What’s he talking about?” Lando asked as he helped keep you steady from your brother's push.

“Nix has always been jealous of me, haven’t you?” you taunted him. “Always wanted my dolls for himself.”

Nix’s jaw ticked and if the music wasn’t so loud you probably could have heard a tooth break. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’m on a break,” you stated, catching Lando’s attention as you grabbed his wrist and started to drag him to your office before freezing. Your hand met bare skin and you held your hand out to your brother. “Give it back. Now.”

Nix rolled his eyes but reached into his pocket to return the watch he had easily lifted from Lando. The glass and diamond face slapped into your palm but you curled a brow at him and cleared your throat, waiting for the rest.

“You really used to be more fun,” he grumbled as he returned Lando’s wallet too. “Don’t worry, the condom is still in there.”

“And the cash?”

“I don’t think that is really your worry, but yes, cash too.”

Nix disappeared into the crowd and even you found it difficult to trace his movements but he was one of the fastest vampires you knew.

“Interesting family you have,” Lando commented as the music was cut off with your office door.

“You should be more careful,” you warned as you slid the security chain onto the latch. “This side of town could get a guy like you killed.”

“A guy like me?” he asked as he accepted the whiskey you poured, neat. “Handsome?”

“Well known,” you corrected, despite his knowing smirk. Of course you found him handsome, or else you wouldn’t have let him fuck you in the bathrooms of another nightclub in the city. You had a business meeting, with a wolf no less, and the owner had left you displeased, so you found another form of pleasure in his den. “Where you go, pictures are taken. That is bad for my business.”

Who knew what illegal activities those pictures or videos might capture and be uploaded. Voices had been silenced for less in the dark alleys around the club - but the bodies were never found.

Lando took a sip as he weighed your words of warning, but it didn’t stop him wanting to go another round with you. He knew you were different from the moment he saw you. Determination and strength rolled off you as you stalked through the club to a door labelled ‘staff only’. A different look of determination had been seen when you emerged, scanning the crowd for someone to use - he had come to the club for the same reason.

“I can be invisible, when I want to be,” he promised as he followed you to the desk you leaned back on, crossing your heeled ankles in front of you. He placed the glass on the wood beside you and smelt the smooth spirit on his breath when he kissed the corner of your lips. “But I wanted you to notice me, again.”

His hand ran down your thighs and your ankles uncrossed. He took the space given and parted your legs so he could step between them and steal your moan with his kiss. His tongue parted your lips with the same confidence he parted your legs and he hummed when your hands slipped under his shirt, your nails dragging down his spine.

“I’m going to fuck you on your desk and every time you have a meeting here you will think of me.”

Desire pooled between your thighs at the promise and when his fingers found your body bare beneath the dress he felt it slick and warm. “You like that idea don’t you?” he chuckled in your ear, the deep timber of his gravelled voice making you clench around his fingers before they withdrew from you. “Turn around.”

For a woman who considered herself to be the bossy one, you were quick to follow his instruction and it didn’t go amiss from the smirk on his face. “I don’t remember you being this demanding last time,” you said over your shoulder, feeling the air on your skin as he pushed your dress up over your hips.

“That’s because you looked like you needed it more than me.” He flipped his wallet open and pulled the condom out, tearing through the foil packaging before rolling it down his hard length. With one swipe of his arm he cleared space on your desk and started to push you down before he changed his mind and spun you to face him. “Actually, I want to see your face when I make you come.”

The mahogany wood was hard under your ass and you spread your knees for Lando to step between. His cock pressed to your entrance and he watched your lips part as he slowly began to stretch you, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“You’re going to call me, aren’t you?” he asked with the teasingly slow retreat he made. He stopped just short of leaving you empty and made no move to fill you again. “I’m not going to fuck you until you answer me.”

You tried to shuffle your hips closer but he held them tight and your feet were off the ground so you couldn’t move, not without revealing your unnatural strength. Finally a frustrated sound left your lips and he smiled triumphantly when you agreed. “Now would you please fuck me?”

He answered with the snap of his hips and you moaned in unison as he filled you completely. The computer screen came to life and the mouse moved with the rocking desk and the cup of pens tipped over, scattering among the mess he had already made. Stars danced across your vision and your body pulsed with the deep bass that made it through the soundproof door.

“Lando,” you moaned as you tipped his head back, baring his neck as you felt your canines elongating behind your lips. The throb of his rapid pulse invited you to taste him and you dragged your nose over the vein, inhaling the rich scent hidden beneath his cologne. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

He shivered as your teeth grazed his skin but he was too far gone in his pleasure to question the sharp points. Just a little sip, you told yourself.

Lando gasped as pain flared, but just as quickly as it came it bled to a burn that felt better than any high he had ever had. He couldn’t breathe as you sucked at the puncture wounds, filling your belly with the same need you had for his cock.

He couldn’t explain how he found himself sat on the couch in your office with you on his lap, he had only blinked. You were high on him, making silly errors like using your speed and strength carelessly. You weren’t new to this life, but you were acting like it with him.

“Why did you come here?”

His head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your pleasure in riding him. He couldn’t think, there was only the tight feeling in all his muscles as his orgasm threatened to shatter him beneath you. “Just wanted you,” he choked as he bucked his hips up to meet you. “Again.”

You cried out as your climax peaked and Lando followed, unable to hold back with how tight you felt around him. Your head spun as the high receded, but you wanted more - it was the curse of immortality, you always wanted more.

You turned his head and struck again, lapping at the twin lines of life blood running down his collar. Cursing inwardly, you realised you were taking too much, you always took too much when you played with your food. Lando’s eyes fluttered shut and his breathing laboured, his skin fading before your eyes. Nix was right, you always left them broken.

“Fuck,” you growled at the thought of losing another man. Tearing the skin from your wrist you made what was possibly the second biggest mistake of your life, the first would always be asking for this life. Your blood was thicker and darker than his, staining his lips as you squeezed it out before the wound could heal.

“Wake up…” You prayed you weren’t too late, the seconds ticking by with quiet reassurance that time would continue to move on even if Lando never did again.

—

Nix crashed through the office door as dawn approached and the club closed. His black eyes found Lando’s body on the couch and a sneer carved across his lips. “What a waste.”

You barely lifted your head from your hands as you sat at your desk. You had felt lethargic from a full belly and drained veins. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You never do,” he snickered. “There will be people looking for him, I’ll have Vinny dump him in the marina - another rich boy who partied too hard.”

Lando gasped as he jolted upright, his eyes ringed red from the transformation, and a war waged within you. Rage exuded from Nix as he realised the danger you had put the entire coven in and his features sharpened as his fangs pierced his lips. “You would bring the Council down on our heads, sister?”

“I said I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stand to see another die because of my weakness.”

“I would rather you have just killed him.” Nix pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. To change a human required petitioning to the Council, and permits were rarely given this century - and certainly not to those well known. People tend to notice when someone doesn’t age at the same rate: Jennifer Anniston, Cillian Murphy, Paul Rudd, Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Those half breeds could get away with it for a little longer but they would soon be faking their own deaths to keep the secret of their heritage.

“Take him to the mountains,” Nix said as he crossed the room to where Lando writhed in pain on the carpet, the transition destroying his delicate human cells for something much more robust. “I’ll tie up the loose ends here.”

Nix took the car keys from Lando’s pocket and checked his watch. There was still enough time before dawn came to wreck the car off the cliffs and into the French Riviera. When the car was found empty they would assume his body was carried out to sea. Lando Norris was dead. Lando de Belle Mort had risen.

[stayconnecteed]

❪⠀🪐. hot chocolate⠀𓏔⠀bangchan⠀❫

☆ㅤbarista!bangchan x afab!reader ( i wanna be yours oneshots )⠀★⠀9.1k words

( i'm sorry if this sucks, i know it's long. have a nice day cuties ♡ )

synopsys: every time you tell someone that you don't like coffee, the reaction is total incomprehension, even indignation. but when your university classmates leave you standing at the café where your crush works, you decide to order a coffee to try to avoid looking bad and end up making a fool of yourself. warnings: i think fluff bangchan needs a warning by itself because woah you can become addicted. but a part from that, there's a brief mention of death while talking about korean mithology, reader is a very introverted and insecure person ーexpect a lot of sad thoughts :(( but felix is here to save the day and hopefully the rest of the story is a little bit of idiots who have a crush on each other.

You were stressed because the first semester was about to end, you had Christmas vacations around the corner, exams approaching at an overwhelming speed, and yet one of your teachers had given you two last-minute projects, one practical and one theoretical. Luckily it was in groups, and your best friend, Hyunjin, had included you in his after a quick pleading glance, assuring you some peace of mind. Not that he was very good at the academic aspect ーnotes, exams, homework and studying in generalー, but he made up for it with a great sense of aesthetic, and managed to make all your projects really visually appealing. Also, your other two friends were very nice and very good at the subject, so whenever you didn't understand something they would always offer to explain it to you with a big smile and kind words.

If they had a flaw, unfortunately, it was being late absolutely everywhere. And perhaps an unhealthy addiction to coffee, although that was not so much a flaw as a general characteristic of the vast majority of students. Sadly, neither of the two suited you at the moment, when you found yourself in front of the most famous coffee shop on the entire campus, all by yourself, after you had been forced to walk more meters than you were willing to do on a normal day, as they didn't show up at the appointed time. Having to enter without his company was not what worried you, but what you would have to face once inside.

To say you hated coffee would be an exaggeration. In fact, during exam week you would have a couple of cups to avoid falling asleep over your notes on those endless nights of studying, or in the middle of class, but it just wasn't your favorite flavor. You hated the taste. Too bitter, the unpleasant aftertaste instantly drying your mouth and lingering on your tongue as an annoying reminder of the beverage you had just tasted. You always grimaced terribly when you took your first sip, something that anyone watching you found absurdly funny, and then, as you swallowed, even with your eyes closed, a shiver would run through your spine, as if your body recognized the drink and reacted to it.

The problem was that 5STAR was a coffee shop that specialized in coffee. They had scones, and cookies, and brownies to go with it, but they didn't make smoothies or juices. And you usually only went there with Hyunjin, who had been responsible for asking if they could make hot chocolate that first afternoon you had met to study there, a couple of years ago, before he had even started working in the establishment. You had been so embarrassed that it had taken you quite a while to return, and since then you had always left it up to him to order for you, after you had made sure that the barista who was serving was either him or Felix, the blond, freckle-faced Australian you went to class with, because you had never felt judged by his smile upon discovering that the chocolate was for you.

But now you were alone, on the sidewalk, and the time you had spent looking inside the place was starting to look weird. Your options were simple: go in, order a hot chocolate, sit down to prepare the subject and pretend it was the most normal thing in the world, or go in, order the first coffee you saw on the menu hanging on the wall, sit down to prepare the subject and wait for Hyunjin to come through the door to ask him to drink it. Obviously, you chose the second option, too tempted at the thought that someone might judge you, so you closed your eyes, took a breath of air, and pushed open the heavy glass door, praying that the barista who was serving at that moment wasn't the cute guy who, you had to admit, you had a little crush on.

But there he was, behind the counter, with a friendly smile plastered on his face, his dimples appearing and disappearing as he moved his lips to talk to the customer in front of him. He had decided not to put on the beanie he usually wore almost every day, and his thick curls spilled over his head, giving him a more relaxed look, in contrast to the serious outfit that was the café's uniform, with black pants and T-shirt and beige apron. You knew relatively little about him, such as that his name was Chris and he had been at the same college you went to, but shooting him quick glances whenever you went and he was there was your favorite hobby.

You cleared your throat, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear in a nervous gesture and stood in line, fiddling with your phone case, pulling out a corner and putting it back to pretend your hands weren't shaking. You didn't normally get so nervous about social interactions, but it was true that your natural shyness and introverted nature have given you more than one bad experience. And the fact that you were going to talk to Chris for the first time only made your anxiety skyrocket, because you know you weren't able to control what you say. Your mind went on autopilot, and all you' were left with was remembering for weeks the nonsense you had blurted out, unable to change a single word. You tried to formulate in your head the phrase you're going to use as the queue slowly moved forward, your gaze locked on the way you move your feet as you walked.

"Hello?" you heard, lifting your head so fast you feared you'd hurt your neck. Great, you were so distracted you didn't notice when it was your turn.

"Hi" you replied, forcing your eyes to fix on his and stopping them from roaming over every feature of his face. Fixing on his but blinking normally, you reminded yourself, clearing your throat again.

"Good afternoon" he repeated, his voice soft and gentle, one of his hands already over the screen to take down your order. "What will you have?"

"Oh..." you murmured, trying to rescue from your memory the phrase you had prepared. Don't say hot chocolate, don't say hot chocolate, don't say... "Hot chocolate."

"Huh?" he asked, his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowing in adorable confusion. You realized your tone was too low and he probably hadn't heard you correctly, though it was clear you had said something, denying you the chance to make up another answer to cover your mistake.

"Hot chocolate" you whispered again, glancing at the three people behind you, trying not to let them hear. You noticed the heat flushing your cheeks as you spoke, "Can you, uh, can you say it's something else?"

"Excuse me?" you couldn't help but watch his frown deepen even more, and you made a panicked face, trying to find a convincing excuse that didn't expose your null extroverted abilities or how poorly you had approached the conversation. Chris realized almost instantly how it was affecting you, and reached a hand over the counter to caress yours, relaxing his features. "Hey, hey, I just don't understand what you mean."

You heard the hammering of your heartbeat all over the place, drowning out the background noise as it rumbled in your ears, or in the muscles of your hand that were in contact with the barista's skin, but mostly in your chest, at such a volume that for a moment you feared all the café would be able to hear it. You swallowed saliva with difficulty, your mouth suddenly completely dry, and tried to formulate something that made a minimal amount of sense, "I'd rather not drink coffee, but I don't want those in the back to know that I ordered hot chocolate."

And then you saw him flash that smile you loved so much, trying to stifle a laugh, and he nodded, withdrawing his hand from above yours to write it down.

"Don't worry, I'll personally take care of your order" he assured you, his eyes glinting at the screen, biting his lip unconsciously in a gesture of concentration. "A mocca coffee, then, right?" he said, raising his tone a little.

"Yes" you replied, avoiding his gaze, shyly, when he shifted it slightly towards you to ask for your name. You set your phone down on the marbled surface of the counter to rummage through your totebag for your wallet. "It's to take here, not to go."

"Oh, then I'll bring it to you at the table when it's ready," he announced, leaning on his forearms to look down at you.

"But..., how much is it?" you asked, confused, the wallet open in your hands, a few coins on your palm.

"It's on the house" he answered you, his dimples accentuating.

The warmth in your cheeks spread across your face, and you made a little bow, knowing that you must have been flushed to your ears. You didn't bother struggling to hide your smile, and hurriedly put away your wallet, grabbing your phone and mumbling some kind of nervous thank you. When you turned around, your face out of Chris's gaze, you sighed, placing your hands on your cheeks to calm down a bit, and looked around for some table to sit at. The one you normally occupied was being used by a girl, but there were few people at that time, so you chose a nearby one, assuming Hyunjin wouldn't mind, and once everything was ready you started to take out the material.

You had brought your laptop, of course, and had printed out some ideas you'd had, sketching in the margins how you intended to cover the visual part 一although that was taken care of by Hyunjin. But you knew he was a bit chaotic, so having a base for what the presentation would look like always came in handy. That day you were going to prepare the theoretical part, in which you were to choose a song and a theme, write a long document stating your reasons, and then prepare a performance in which you would narrate some typical legend of the country through dance. As if you had the mental capacity to create a choreography from scratch at this point of the semester.

You knew it was going to be a relatively short meeting, because you were all out of time, so you entertained yourself looking for songs that would inspire you for the theme you had chosen, the Jeosung Saja. To tell the truth you had no idea about Korean mythology, but you had spent the whole afternoon looking for ideas on the internet and that was the most likely to present a good dance. They were messengers from the afterlife, those who guided the dead to the afterlife. You had read that they were usually represented with a black hanbok, and they also appeared in some dorama that had become famous, so you could develop a dark aesthetic, as Hyunjin liked so much.

You were so engrossed in rereading what you had written on your laptop screen, and in the list of songs recommended by the teacher, that you didn't notice that Chris had left the cup of chocolate on the table. You had to contain the pout you wanted to make, because you were sure he hadn't said anything to avoid disturbing you. It smelled wonderful, and he had left you a plate with a buttery croissant next to the hot chocolate, with a folded paper napkin that read "a mocha for the lovely girl at table 8 :))". Your lips began to curl into a smile as you took the napkin and carefully tucked it away in your planner, unable to stay focused on the music anymore.

Just as you had taken the cup in your hands, the temperature of the porcelain fighting the coldness of your skin, and warming your throat as you tasted it, Hyunjin and Felix entered the room, a chaos of laughter and exclamations, Sunwoo following closely behind, engaged in their conversation. You pretended to wince angrily, frowning and hastily putting the cup down on the table to cross your arms over your chest, giving Hyunjin a dirty look. When the boy noticed your state he hurried to sit next to you, his chin resting on your shoulder, mumbling various apologies about his delay.

"It was my fault, Ynnie," stated Sunwoo, setting his backpack on the table and sitting down across from you. "We were practicing the dance in Professor Park's class and there was a sequence of steps that kept going wrong for me."

"Don't worry, Woo" you replied, snuggling up next to Hyunjin, like always when you were together. "I'm doing it to annoy him."

"And what are you going to complain about if you got your chocolate?" you heard him mutter, picking up the cup to steal a sip from you.

"No thanks to you" you whispered back, taking it from his hands to drink yourself.

"Oooh, come on, don't be like that" he protested, his head resting on your shoulder, rolling his eyes, which managed to snatch some laughter from Felix. At your silence he turned just enough so he could make eye contact with you. "Are you really mad?"

"No."

"But?" he asked, knowing from the way you were that you weren't going to let on how much it had upset you if that had been the case.

"I had a hard time" you muttered, hiding behind your cup. "Neither Felix nor you were here to save me from having to ask for it myself."

"Whose turn was it today?" Sunwoo spoke up, turning to Hyunjin as he pulled out his own laptop.

"Chris" you replied, your cheeks reddening again.

"Oh" Felix said, before cracking a smile that hid how much he was dying to let out a squeal of excitement, "oooh."

"Oh, what?" asked Hyunjin, peeling slightly away from you and frowning in confusion.

"Nothing" you ended the conversation with a warning gesture to Felix, who pretended to run a zipper over his lips, and handed out the printed sheets of paper with the information you had found the previous afternoon, trying to get started on the project. "Well, I had thought about..."

"No, oh, what?" repeated Hyune, completely ignoring the written words and dividing his attention between the freckled boy in front of him and you, "what does he know that I don't?"

"Dude, if you don't know it's because you're just blind" Sunwoo stated, focused on the information, with a gesture of disbelief on his face.

"Guys, please" you requested, avoiding looking at Hyunjin and glancing back down at the sheet. "As I was saying, I had thought of basing our dance on the legend of the Jeosung Saja. You have a summary there, but I'll comment quickly: we can create a story from scratch about someone's death, and have two of us act as the Korean messengers, who let him say goodbye to the love of his life before guiding him to the afterlife, or something like that. I don't have the music yet, but it sounds like a good plan."

"It says here that we'd have to look for some black hanbok" Sunwoo pointed out, as you nodded, and shared a look with you, implying that he approved of the idea, already looking for ways to carry it out.

"Actually, I had thought of something else" Felix muttered, his fingers fiddling with the paper nervously. "Ehm, I read an article yesterday about these... Korean ghosts. They're called Gwisin, and there are four types, like us, there are four of us. There's Cheonyeo, which is the virgin ghost, Mul is the water ghost, Chonggak is the single man ghost, and Dalgyal is the egg ghost. There's only one girl, so it seemed perfect to me. It still has dark aesthetics, because they are wandering spirits of humans who have died with unfinished business, and also to record the dance we can talk to my friend Jake, who is doing a degree in photography and is good with cameras."

"I was going to propose Han or Chris to help us with the music" Sunwoo added, "because with all the time they spend glued to their laptops they're sure to have some track we can use, and we don't even need lyrics."

"Oh, it's actually much better than my idea, Felix" you agreed, closing the tab with the information you had searched for and starting to research about the Gwisin. As you read, you brainstormed, rambling outloud. "We can connect the lives of the four characters, do four solos that blend together, and add minutes of duets until, at the end, all four spirits end up accomplishing the unfinished business they had and do a final scene together"

"Yes!" exclaimed Felix, excited. "Just what I had thought. They've made scary movies about the Gwisin, but we can give it a dramatic twist. The virgin girl was an unrequited love of the water ghost, for example. We're going to have to get a pool to shoot the moment when he dances, you know, when he drowns and dies."

"That can be the start of the dance" proposed Sunwoo.

"I offer it to be me, if you want" said Felix, "I don't mind getting in the pool in December. I have enough experience in cold water, from when I was in Australia."

"Perfect" you affirmed, glad that you had gotten the job on track so well in such a short time. "I think we can go straight back to the studio to prepare the music, what do you think, Hyune?"

He had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout your talk, head resting on the back of the seat and gazing blankly, taking small sips from the cup of hot chocolate, with absent-minded gestures. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, as he slowly nibbled at the croissant Chris had left for you. There was something that had been bothering him.

"I need a coffee," he muttered, leaving your empty cup on the table and ignoring your question, "would you like another chocolate?"

"Hyune..." you mumbled, confused at his attitude.

"I'll order it to go, don't worry" he added, grabbing his backpack. "I think Han is at home and has the 3racha equipment."

You shrugged as he stood up, and you then began to pick up your laptop and notebook, shoving them into your bag in a hurry to keep up with Felix and Sunwoo, who had hardly had to put anything away. Sunwoo had his own laptop already in the case, and Felix was folding the paper you had printed out, carefully, to tuck it between his notebooks, into his backpack. The three of you headed outside, to wait for Hyunjin, while Felix ran a hand around your waist, trying to coax information out of you.

"So..., Chris, huh?"

"Can we talk about how Hyunjin is mad for talking about it in front of him when he doesn't know anything?" you replied, giving him a loving punch on the arm. "Drop the topic."

"But it's the first time you've talked to him!" he protested, pouting, "I want to know everything!"

"YN is right, Lix," Sunwoo supported you, to which you shot him a grateful look. "Hyunjin is our creative soul and he hasn't blurted out a single word, that says a lot about the situation."

"I'm going to have to tell him about the crush, anyway" you stated, making the decision on the spot, leaning against Felix, "because it's not fair that he doesn't know."

"I don't understand why you haven't told him yet" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hyunjin and Chris work together" you explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "and besides, they're close friends."

"So does Felix" Sunwoo reproached, frowning.

"Felix keeps my secrets" you confessed, resting your head on his shoulder with a smile. "Hyune is too much of a gossip to keep that sort of thing to himself."

"If you tell him it's a secret he sure won't let it out" Felix muttered, defending his friend.

You glanced inside the shop, where Hyunjin was leaning against the counter, throwing his head back every time he let out a laugh, while Chris was talking to him, moving fluidly between the machines, preparing the order with expert hands. You couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at his familiarity. You weren't used to feeling this way about your friends, but the way Hyunjin's eyes twinkled at the jokes the barista would drop with a serious gesture and then burst into adorable laughter made you wonder if you hadn't been a little blind to their interactions. You tried not to think too much about it, but you had always had very bad luck with your crushes, something that had only increased your insecurities, and had forced you to keep a low profile on such matters.

"YN?" murmured Felix, one hand caressing your shoulder in an affectionate gesture. "You know he wouldn't say anything, right?"

"I know, it's just..." you lost the thread of your words, absorbed in the scene unfolding behind the glass, Chris reaching for a black marker to write something down on one of the take away cups, Hyunjin too busy searching for his wallet in his backpack to notice.

"Whatever you're overthinking right now isn't true" you heard the freckled blond say, drawing your attention back to him. "It's not the first time you've broken your own heart by heeding unrealistic assumptions you've got stuck in your head. Trust Hyunjin, he would never hurt you on purpose."

"I know," you repeated, turning to face away from the café, but avoiding making eye contact with him, "but I don't... I know and I repeat it to myself, but sometimes I just don't listen, even if it's true."

When you looked up, your eyes beginning to fill with tears you didn't intend to shed, Felix was giving you a look full of understanding. You had few friends as close to your heart as he and Hyunjin, but between Lix and you there had always been a kind of connection built on a common bond, as had been the constant insecurities that only you were able to keep from escalating.

"Let me know when it's like this," he asked, his hand leaving your shoulder and running down your arm until it came to fidget with your fingers, "give me a sign, or look at me. I'll remind you."

You nodded, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck, letting yourself be comforted by his touch, and managed to muster a smile as he tried to give you a hug but your totebag blocked his way. You saw him pout, and you let out a laugh, being interrupted by a shy cough from Sunwoo, who had taken a couple of steps away to give you privacy.

"I'm talking to Han and he asked me what kind of music we're looking for" he explained, pointing to his phone, "in case he can go looking through the songs they have already done or half done, so we don't have to start something new."

"Oh, sure" you said, frowning in a thoughtful gesture. "I'd say something dark, wouldn't you?"

"No doubt" Felix seconded, nodding at your words.

"And since the main choreographer is Hyune, add elegant and heart-wrenching as well" you straightened your figure, watching as Sunwoo typed hurriedly, his fingers speeding over the screen, "if what we're going to narrate is a story of unrequited love, and death, we'd better do something dramatic."

"A hot chocolate!" exclaimed Hyunjin, pushing the door open with his hip, both hands busy with the take away cups. "A hot chocolate for you, and coffee for me."

"Thank you, Hyune" you whispered, leaving a kiss on his cheek as he handed you the cup, again grateful for the warmth emanating from it.

"Looks to me like it has a message, Ynnie" Felix said to you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, pointing to the letters you could guess under your fingers. You noticed how your cheeks flushed again, moving your hands so you could read all the words, and recognizing Chris's neat handwriting.

"What the hell are you talking about?" exclaimed Hyunjin, rushing over to you to try to read it first. "What does it say?"

"Thought you were really cute, leave my number here" you murmured, starting to crack a big smile, savoring the words as you said them, your heart skipping a beat when you saw that he had drawn a smiley face again and you imagined him, showing his dimples.

Hyunjin had repeated it again aloud, and you heard Felix stifle a gasp, holding his hands to his mouth, his face the vivid image of surprise. Sunwoo had merely let out a laugh and shook his head, as if he didn't believe what had just happened, still holding his phone in his hand. When you looked up, you found disbelief tinting Hyunjin's eyes, one of his hands still holding your arm from when he had rushed to read message over your shoulder.

"Oh," you breathed, causing Felix to snort.

"That's all you're going to say?"

"What do you expect me to say?" you replied, a soft chuckle bubbling up inside you.

"At least say hello to him through the glass," Sunwoo suggested to you, tilting his head in the direction of the café, which was at your back, "the poor guy looks like he wants to turn into a giraffe, from how much he's stretching his neck this way."

You turned your head as soon as you processed what Woo had just said, listening to Hyunjin complaining if that had anything to do with what Felix had said when you had confessed that the barista who had served you was Chris. Just as your friend had said, Chris was resting his hands on the counter, his body almost hovering completely over the surface, trying to figure out what your reaction had been. The moment you made eye contact, and gave him a shy smile, he couldn't help but turn with a jerk, suddenly suddenly busy with a non-existent order.

"Ynnie has a cruush" Felix crooned, causing Hyunjin to open his mouth in a gesture of exaggerated drama that you totally deserved.

"And you weren't planning on telling me anything!" he exclaimed, indignantly.

"She was literally going to tell you now" Sunwoo interjected, helping you balance the tragedy, "but Chris beat you to it."

"I have to tell Changbin" commented Felix, picking up his phone, "now he owes me money."

"You were keeping a bet on them?" asked Hyunjin, pouting. "Did everyone know but me?"

"Hyune, YN doesn't know how to pretend" explained Felix, resting a hand on his shoulder as he reached for Changbin's contact, "Changbin only needed to spend a few minutes with her at the café to figure it out."

While they started a new argument on the topic, you brought the glass to your lips, wanting to taste that drink that you liked so much, and that now that you knew that Chris had prepared it with so much love, it had become your favorite. But as soon as you took a sip and the bitter taste of coffee settled in your mouth, you pushed the glass away, trying to avoid looking into the coffee shop with a confused gesture, and taking the cap off, as if you wanted to make sure that what you had just drunk was definitely not chocolate. But when you breathed in the unmistakable smell of coffee, you noticed how your chest contracted. And suddenly you saw, as if in slow motion, the interaction Chris had had with Hyunjin while you waited, the adoration with which the barista had watched your friend laugh. How he had taken advantage of just when Hyunjin wasn't looking to write the note in his coffee, all those times you had caught them talking and they had fallen silent in your presence. How, yet again, the guy you'd fallen for chose someone else over you, another crush that ended badly, and it pained you to look back and only see a trail of stories in which the only heart that had ended up breaking was yours.

"Hey, let's get going, shall we?" proposed Sunwoo, getting your attention.

You listened as Felix and Hyunjin agreed with him with small nods, but without letting go of their playful bickering, taking off walking towards the apartment where the latter lived with Han Jisung. You had heard them, but all your enthusiasm for the project had vanished, leaving in its place a constant stinging in your eyes, which struggled not to tear up in the middle of the street.

"YN, aren't you coming?" asked Hyunjin, stopping everyone when he realized you weren't with them, that you had stayed behind.

You managed to shake your head, a small movement that was enough to make your friend frown, taking a couple of steps towards you. You tried to compose yourself, ignoring your feelings 一at least for the moment一 and swallowed before formulating the first excuse that came to mind:

"I'm... not feeling too well, guys" you stammered, intensifying your gaze towards Sunwoo, who was the most likely to let you go without asking too many questions.

"But a moment ago you were perfectly fine" Felix muttered, and you noticed his eyes on you, trying to unravel the hidden reasons for your departure.

"I'd rather go home" you said, in a whimper, the warmth of the glass that had comforted you so much a few seconds ago suddenly burning your skin, "you guys can choose the music. It's Lix's idea anyway, it's only fair that he gets to decide."

"Are you sure?" asked Hyunjin, coming up to you, putting the back of his hand on your forehead, like a worried mother would do with her baby.

"Mm-hm" you held out the coffee cup, unable to hold it for much longer, for him to take, and made the mistake of looking at Felix before blurting out a "this is yours" directed at Hyunjin.

You cleared your throat, placing the straps of your totebag more comfortably over your shoulder, and muttered some sort of goodbye before turning and running away, not quite witnessing the way Felix had snatched the cup from Hyunjin to check its contents, and letting out a frustration-laden sigh as he realized what your train of thought had been.

The rest of the afternoon had not been very relevant. You had work to do, like everyone else, and you were also one of those people who wanted to get all your notes done before the Christmas vacations, so you used to spend all December writing again with better caligraphy all the topics you've learned throught the semester. You didn't want to collapse yet, you preferred to keep your head busy, trying to pretend that nothing had happened until you couldn't take any more. In any case, you had already entered that stage where you began to belittle your own thoughts, doubting that your response to the situation had been the right one.

Or, if you stopped to think about it long enough, you could almost see your insecurities swirling around your heart, suffocating you from inside your own chest. That's why you had immersed yourself in the most difficult subjects, praying that filling your head with information would empty it of stupid reasonings. And you had succeeded in your purpose, at least for as many hours as possible, until you heard your phone ring between the couch cushions and snapped out of your self-absorption to answer it.

"Yeah?" you mumbled, your mouth dry from having gone so long without speaking, not paying attention to who was calling you at that hour.

"Ynnie" you heard Felix say, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. "How are you?"

"How am I?" you repeated, clearing your throat and straightening your posture, as if he could see you and you had to play the role of carefree teenager. "Fine. Well, stressed about finals, but like everyone else, I guess, right?"

The laugh that escaped your lips without permission sounded too fake, and you closed your eyes, wincing, because you knew it wouldn't be believable. You obviously knew Felix wasn't an idiot. He'd probably realized you'd left for a compelling reason, and not exactly because you'd suddenly been struck by a migraine or a tummy ache. You considered lying and saying that you'd had your period the day before; he knew perfectly well that you had a really bad time the first few days. But it wasn't going to be worth it.

"You know that coffee..." he started to explain, his tone totally serious, as if he was telling you off.

"Stop" you interrupted him, standing up, your notebooks and papers strewn across the table, being ignored, as you paced around the room like a caged lion. "I don't want to talk about it, don't bring it up, please."

On the other end of the line, Felix made eye contact with Hyunjin, who was sitting next to him, listening to the whole conversation, and let out a long sigh, "Okay" he agreed, unable to force the conversation, "but remember what I told you, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever" you whispered, trying to avoid having to give an answer. "Did you call me to talk about that?"

"No, actually" he stated, and your lips curved into a sad smile at the emptiness you felt when you realized he had dropped the subject, just as you had asked. You didn't know if it was relief at not having to deal with the situation, or if you were hurt at how quickly he had given up, "It's about the music for the project."

"Do you guys have the song yet?"

"We need you to choose it," you had spoken practically at the same time, the silence that followed the cacophony of voices heavy on your shoulders, and Felix held his breath, waiting for an answer he didn't know if it would come.

"You can send me an audio of the options Jisung has, can't you?" you asked, hoping your friend wasn't asking what you knew he was going to ask.

"He has them on his laptop" he added, without actually explaining what he intended for you to do.

"Aren't you with him?" you frowned in a confused gesture, not understanding what was going through his head, "can't you ask him to put them on?"

"I'm at my place" he confessed, and you heard the movement of clothes as they brushed against each other, you guessed he had gotten up from wherever he was sitting, "Hyune and I came over after talking to Han because he had to meet his group from his AV Tech class. But he's going to stop by later, in case you wanted to come."

"Ah," you breathed, suddenly understanding. Probably what he wanted was for you to get out of your apartment, perhaps intending that you wouldn't be able to resist the pout on Hyunjin's face when you were told that the coffee scene had been a misunderstanding. You could agree to the former... The latter was more complicated.

"We can order your favorite pizza, and then you can stay over," he proposed, taking the risk that such insistence would push you away, "what do you say?"

You contemplated your options. You could use Seungmin, your roommate, as an excuse, but Felix was capable of texting him to confirm your alibi, and no one could resist Felix. Deep down, you knew you were going to end up going, but for a few seconds you allowed yourself to imagine what you could say to him to get him to leave you alone. You took a breath of air, leaning against the hallway wall, and closed your eyes tightly, trying not to think about how much you could come to regret your decision.

"But you have to promise me one thing," you announced, hearing Hyunjin's celebratory whispers on the other end of the line, "we don't talk about what happened this afternoon. Not today, not ever."

Felix snorted, against the idea, considering another way to approach the conversation to get you to stop thinking about it, but since he had shared with Hyunjin the plan he had developed while Han was showing them his music, and the boy was completely lacking in any kind of censure, he couldn't stop himself from exclaiming, "Okay! But you come!"

Felix heard you mutter a farewell before hanging up, and he stared at his friend with annoyance written all over his face. He knew that, although the way he had said it had sounded suspicious, Hyunjin had done it for everyone's sake, but he couldn't help but give him a murderous glare for not letting him have his way. The boy shrugged, unfazed by his antics, and rose from the bed, arching his eyebrow in his direction, ready to have the last word:

"I hope you time it right and this goes well."

When you arrived, fifteen minutes later, wrapped in a thick coat and one of your colorful scarves, but with your pajamas underneath, the pizzas had already arrived. You saw them on the kitchen counter, filling everything with a delicious aroma of bacon and cheese, when Felix opened the door with a smile. You lifted your backpack with a condescending grimace, implying that you had brought a change of clothes and your overnight kit, agreeing to spend the night in his apartment, and he let out a chuckle that almost managed to break the imperturbable facade with which you had decided to wear.

"Hyune is choosing film" he informed you, helping you take off your coat to hang it in the closet.

You tried to ignore the sting you felt in your chest at the memory of the circumstances under which you had said goodbye to Hyunjin, and promised yourself to make it up to him somehow. He didn't deserve to deal with your feelings like that, not when it wasn't his fault that your crush was onto him. So you headed straight for the small living room, where your friend took up the entire length of the couch thanks to his height, and you threw yourself on top him gently, letting him give you a hug as he chuckled awkwardly, his lungs taking in less air than they let out thanks to the extra weight of your body on top of his.

"What do you have in mind?" you asked him, looking at the television screen, and the endless possibilities the audiovisual platform offered.

"I haven't really chosen between Alice in Wonderland and Nightmare Before Christmas" he acknowledged, following your gaze, locating the second one he had mentioned in the bottom corner.

"Mmm, which of the Alice versions are we talking about?" 

"The first one" he told you, "the live action one."

"Oh, put that one on, please" you asked, trying to adopt your best pleading face, pouting in the same way you had seen Felix do so many times. You watched as he erased what he had written on the browser and followed your instructions, while you basked in the warmth of the fabric of his hoodie against your cheek, and his arm across your back. You could have stayed there, half asleep, for the rest of the semester, for the rest of the year even, if it hadn't been for how loud the bell had been when it rang, Hyunjin straining underneath you.

"That must be Jisung" you surmised, getting up much to your dismay, "I'll go open the door."

Felix was too busy in the kitchen, hands full of brownie batter, so you walked down the hallway back to the front door, peeking through the peephole to make sure it was Han on the other side. But your breath caught as you recognized the features of the barista you'd seen just hours earlier at 5STAR. You opened your eyes wide, not knowing how to react, and peeked into the kitchen to ask Felix. To your surprise, he was already watching, confirming to you, as soon as you saw his apologetic smile, that this was all his doing.

You decided not to say a single word, and focus on calming your racing heart before facing an interaction with Chris again. The doorbell rang again, jolting you out of your self-absorption with a scare, and you hurried to unlock the door, opening it with a smile that you liked to think it was normal.

"Hello" you said to him, proud that your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

"Oh" he breathed, his surprised eyes roaming over your features, "hi." You saw him flash a beautiful smile, and raise his hand to wave at you, as if he were a little boy excited to meet a new friend. "The lovely girl from table 8."

"That's me" you replied, opening the door wider so he could come in, "thank you for inviting me to the chocolate, I don't know if the croissant was tasty or not because Hyunjin ate it, but I bet it was."

Mentioning your friend's name just to see how he reacted had been a pathetic move, but you hadn't been able to stop yourself. If you could turn back time you would have bitten your tongue, though, after watching his ears blush at your words, proving you right. You swallowed the knot in your throat when you heard his giggles, and he walked into the apartment, taking off his coat.

"I wouldn't say it's my best recipe, but thanks for the confidence" he commented to you, and you took his coat, just as Felix had done with you, to hang it in the closet. You tried not to make it too obvious the way you checked that he was still wearing his café uniform, the sleeves of the black t-shirt tracing his arms. "I'll have to let you try it on another time, then, so you can give me your opinion."

You gave him a strained smile, standing there in the middle of the hallway, and when you saw Hyunjin poke his head out the living room door to see what was going on, you indicated to Chris that Felix was in the kitchen by pointing him to the room, and seizing the opportunity when he went to greet his friend to return to Hyunjin, sitting with your back straight against the backrest, pulling your legs up until your knees were pulled up to your chest.

"You guys are a bunch of assholes" you whispered, staring at the TV screen, not really seeing anything.

"You know how Felix is" Hyunjin answered you, resting his head on your shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

"How am I going to...?"

"YN!" exclaimed Felix going to his room, "Take care of putting the brownies in the oven, please!"

"Oh, my God, I'm going to kill him" you muttered, closing your eyes tightly and dropping your head against the couch.

"Fighting" your friend said to you, giving you a sad smile and a small kiss on your cheek.

You let out a long sigh before getting up, and started to look for Felix around the part of the apartment where you thought his voice had come from, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. You guessed he was in the bathroom, the sound of running water audible from outside, and knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

"Lixie, you know I love you very much" you began, taking a breath to start to tell him off all the decisions he had made so far in his face.

"I know I'm not your favorite person right now, Ynnie," you heard him speak, his voice muffled by the water, so you assumed he was taking a shower, "but there was an incident with the chocolate and I stained everything. Chris is trying to fix it, but I needed to take a shower."

"How much time do I have to set the brownies for?" you asked, surrendering, your shoulders tensing at the thought. The sooner you accepted that you weren't going to get out of interacting with your crush and Hyunjin at the same time, the sooner the night would pass and the sooner you could get back to your normal life.

"I've already left the temperature on! It's only twenty minutes!" he exclaimed, "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" you muttered, retracing your path to the kitchen, only to find Chris rummaging through the cupboards. "What... what are you doing?"

The boy startled, jumping a little on the spot, and banging his forehead against the corner of the door, which made you choke back a scream and run to him, your hand pressing down over his in the area of the bump and you reacted with a startled "Are you okay? Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" to his whine.

"It's okay, really" he answered you, fully flushed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him.

"No, no, it's not okay at all" you affirmed, taking a couple of steps backwards looking for the fridge with your eyes, only to bend down to grab some ice cubes from the freezer and wrap them in a clean cloth, approaching him again. You grabbed his wrist gently and removed his hand from his forehead, assessing the damage before resting the wrapped ices carefully over the bump. "You sure have a terrible impression of me."

"That's not true" he whispered, cracking a small smile, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment.

"I'm terribly sorry, really" you repeated, unable to say anything else.

"It could have happened to anyone, don't worry."

"What were you doing, anyway?" you asked, your hands still busy, one with the ice and the other one with your fingers closed around his wrist. When you noticed, you tried to direct him to take the cloth himself.

"From what Felix explained to me, he was so nervous he must have mixed something wrong, and then I don't know how he did it but he ended up with half the batter all over his shirt and arms," he explained to you, leaning on the counter, "I was trying to find chocolate to make it better. I'm not the best pastry chef, but working in the café has taught me something."

You looked over to where the bowl Felix had used was, and saw next to it the mixer you had bought him for his birthday, a few drops of mixture on the surface and more on the floor.

"It was his first time using that mixer" you assumed, trying to stifle a chuckle, "I'm sure he miscalculated the power and it blew all over."

The laughter Chris let out was music to your ears, and when you turned to look at him you realized how close you were to him. There were barely inches between you, and your legs were practically intertwined. You cleared your throat, parting slightly, and made eye contact with him, letting yourself be absorbed by his tiny brown eyes, which matched his dimples, narrowed into two crescent moons.

"There's no more chocolate, by the way" he told you, remembering why you were in that situation.

"I can go out and buy more" you solved, fully intending to go grab your wallet and leave, realizing how whipped you were for him.

"No way, it's my thing, I should go" he rebutted, massaging his forehead from time to time.

"You're hurt" you pointed out, looking for more reasonings, "you're not going to beat me if you pick a fight with me over this".

"Oh, believe me I am" he replied, leaving the ice cubes on the counter and heading for the hallway, "you do what you want but I'm going to get dessert somewhere."

"Then you're not going alone."

You left him looking for his coat in the closet as you went to tell Hyunjin what you were going to do, your friend still lying on the couch scrolling through his phone, probably on TikTok. His face was the mirror of pure surprise and disbelief, before he grinned mischievously. You rolled your eyes and turned your back on him, leaving him there and grabbing your own phone on the way, meeting Chris in front of the door. He had your coat in his hands, and helped you put it on. You then made sure you had your spare keys in your pocket and walked out of the apartment.

"Not to put you down, but... you are aware that you're in your pajamas, right?" asked Chris, his ears blushing as he realized it, slyly tracing the curves of your hips.

"Yeah, it's okay," you said, oblivious, making a nonchalant gesture, "it's not the first time I've done this."

"Where do you plan to go?" you heard him coming down the stairs behind you.

"There's a bakery a couple of blocks from here that closes pretty late, so we'll get there on time" you explained, leading him out of the building.

"So it really isn't the first time you do this" he confirmed, a soft giggle escaping his lips.

"Yeah, it's pretty fun" you said, remembering all the times you'd done it, more than once with your friends, rain or shine, "it's closer to Hyunjin's house, so we usually go from there, but yeah."

"Oh, you guys seem pretty close" he commented.

You tried not to let your wince show, not understanding why you always ended up mentioning the dancer in your conversations with Chris. The time was approaching when he would start asking you questions about Hyunjin to find out more about him, and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it.

"Yes, we have been together for a long time" you confirmed, trying to reveal as little information as possible, "he is someone very dear to me".

"Whenever I see you you're with him" he continued, his shoulder brushing next to yours, "at the café, I mean".

"He's the one in charge of ordering the chocolate for me" you confessed, changing the subject. "You make great chocolate, by the way. I couldn't tell you today, you dropped it off and left."

"You were so focused I didn't want to disturb you" he acknowledged, letting out a soft laugh.

"I guessed as much" you affirmed, noticing the streets you were passing instead of glancing sideways at him, as you were dying to do, "I also noticed the napkin."

"The nap...? Oh!"

"Yeah, oh," you repeated, your laughter awakening butterflies in his stomach, "people don't usually flirt with me like that."

"Fli- ehem, flirt?" he stammered, his face suddenly red with shyness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct with the subject.

"Well, not flirting," you corrected yourself, realizing your mistake, "but you have a lot of rizz."

"You're not the first one to tell me that" he nodded, clearing his throat, "my sister calls me Chrizztopher to mess with me."

"I like your sister, then" you acknowledged, reordering your thoughts to figure out how to phrase your question, and find out finally if you were going crazy or you were just insecure, "but... well, not that I'm complaining, but you still shouldn't waste it on me."

"Waste it? On you?" the conversation was losing all meaning to him, his brow furrowing more and more in confusion.

"Yeah, you know" you tried to explain, trying not sounding as bad as you felt, "focus it all on the person you like, instead of random girls."

"But... I'm already doing that" he protested, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, halting your walk, "the chocolate...".

"The hot chocolate was nice of you, but I'm talking about Hyunjin."

"What the hell does Hyunjin have to do with you?" he exclaimed, incredulous.

"With me?" you asked, your heart stopping at the possibility his words were offering you. "But... the message in the coffee, wasn't it for Hyunjin?"

"What message?" you were looking into each other's eyes, for the first time without any shyness on either side, both trying to understand each other.

"The message on the coffee cup that said you thought Hyunjin was cute" you replied, shoving your hands in your coat pockets, fiddling with your phone case to calm your nerves. "The one with you phone number".

"Did I write the message on the wrong cup?" he lamented, unable to believe his bad luck.

"The wrong cup?" you repeated, unable to process what was happening.

"I've had a crush on you since you first walked into the café" he stated, deciding to tell his biggest secret just so he could make it clear what was going on.

"What?"

"I... Yeah, there's not much more to say" his nervous laugh snapped you out of your shock, blinking to look at him again, this time with a clearer mind. "There's not a thing about you I don't like."

The silence that settled between you, you running your eyes over his features, your heart pounding, him not knowing if it would be a good idea to approach you, or if you needed space at that moment, waiting with his breath caught in his throat, not knowing if his feelings were reciprocated or not. You raised one of your hands, rubbing your forehead, unsure of how to interact after his confession. You decided to clear your throat and let the words flow, after all, even if you made a fool of yourself, it couldn't get any worse.

"Me too" you paused, still hearing your heart thudding in your chest, and then continued, "I have a crush, I mean. On you, yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" you confirmed, more at ease, moving closer to him.

Chris took the initiative and intertwined one of his hands with one of yours, looking at you softly and warmly, his smile provoking the same reactions from you as before, but now with the reassurance of knowing you weren't the only one who felt this way.

"What do you recommend from the bakery then?" he asked, taking you by the waist to continue walking beside you, both of you embracing each other.

And before you even answered you knew you would buy anything he asked for, even if you didn't like it, even if he didn't verbalize his desire to buy it. Only because you were as head over heels for him, as he was for you.

☆ series masterlist !!

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© stayconnecteed 2023 · do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms

[kanekoii]

How do you think Luxiem and Noctyx would react to collabing with the Reader who is a popular indie vtuber and their kamaoshi?

lyra’s notes -> methinks…you should read and find out

pairings -> luxiem, noctyx x gn! indie vtuber! kamioshi! reader

!! since this is intended to be romantic sorta, reader is male in uki’s part !!

genre -> scenario

song -> don’t wake me up - jonas blue & why don’t we

warnings -> they all have a crush on u, food in mysta’s part, joking mention of death in fuglur’s

VOX AKUMA ->

he’s going full adorable fanboy about it, screaming with joy when you agree to collab with him and freaking out over it on his twitter- i mean x. xitter. he will be so stoked about the opportunity to talk to you in person when he usually just lurks in your chat. he’ll take the opportunity to flirt with you and try to show off a little bit, only to fail miserably and be met with a laugh. yet he still made you laugh, so mission accomplished. he was so excited to collaborate with you and make you laugh, and he’s sure to ask to collab in the future.

IKE EVELAND ->

compliments. so many compliments. he’ll straight up tell you how excited he is to work with you and how you’re his kamioshi. ike will be sure to tell you how adorable he thinks you are and just how much he genuinely admires you. he is so absolutely smitten that poor boy can barely handle talking to you without blushing or getting flustered. the more times you collaborate, the more used to it he’ll become and the more he’ll start to hint at his crush on you.

LUCA KANESHIRO ->

he didn’t even believe you’d ask. you’re his literal kamioshi and you asked to collaborate with HIM of all people? he’s absolutely grateful for the opportunity to work with you and be able to talk to you more than just occasional comments in your chat when he’s not streaming. it was an off-collab too, so you’d be seeing him in person to see if he was just as pretty off camera as he was on. someone (me) akasupa’d and asked to give opinions on each other and the revelation that you loved his content just as much as or even more than he loved yours had his heart soaring.

SHU YAMINO ->

he would get SO flustered and nervous before you hop on call together to play the horror game he had chosen. it would likely lead to poor boy getting more scared than usual just because he’s nervous to be talking to someone he admires that much for the first time. he would most definitely try to flex his math skills too as some weird way of trying to gain your attention. every time he makes you even smile with his silly comments, his heart will soar out of pure pride.

MYSTA RIAS ->

he’s keeping it cool. or at the very least, he’s trying to. he knows his personality type doesn’t appeal to everyone and he’s so happy when he finds that you actually enjoy his loud yet introverted personality and his weird antics. the stream you did together was you teaching him how to cook without poisoning everyone. please teach him how to wash rice properly and how to cook it without the starch water. please i’m begging teach him how to cook and he will be so happy, bragging to chat that he learned this recipe from you.

FULGUR OVID ->

hooligan wants to play co-op rage games with you just to see you mald and absolutely lose it. hear me out, what if he invites you to a crab game or among us collab and introduces you to everyone and he gets teased for teaming with you and trying to essentially carry you. instead of die for nari it’s die for you. he will see to it personally that you win every game you play together just as a little chance to impress you and get you to smile. that would make him SO happy.

SONNY BRISKO ->

cutie will be so taken aback to see you in his chats sometimes, so a collaboration would be more than heaven to him. he looks up to you and your content so much that he’s sure he’s dreaming when he has a full conversation with you on stream. your collective chats ship it SO much. imagine all the ship edits when you do a stream together in person as an off-collab.

UKI VIOLETA ->

(male reader for this one) he would definitely do a baking stream! much like the ones he’s done with his fellow nijisanji en members, he gives vague instructions and you try to figure it out from there. while uki is muted, his viewers would be subject to comments about oh my god he’s adorable he’s trying so hard to make me happy. ugh boy is down bad and let’s just say there will be so many more streams like that in the near future <3

ALBAN KNOX ->

he’s SO insanely shy and nervous it’s adorable. though, as the stream with you goes on, he becomes less nervous and goes back to his normal silly self. if he needs to, he’ll break out the mickey voice to make you laugh but that’s a last resort. his personality compliments yours in such a way that it’s just so enjoyable to watch, and he’s such a comforting person to be around as well.

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: The Cauldron’s Wrath and Azriel’s Love

The King of Hybern’s war camp was an imposing sight—a dark, foreboding landscape filled with enemies who reeked of cruelty and malice. The tension in the air was palpable, each breath feeling like a struggle against the oppressive weight of impending doom. Your heart pounded as you stood with your sisters, Nesta and Elain, on the raised dais where the Cauldron loomed, its dark, ancient magic swirling ominously.

Feyre stood beside Rhysand, her expression a mix of defiance and desperation as she tried to bargain for your safety. But the King of Hybern’s smug, cruel smile told you everything you needed to know—he had no intention of letting you leave unscathed. The chains that bound your wrists bit into your skin, a painful reminder of your vulnerability in this twisted game.

The Inner Circle was assembled, their expressions grim as they watched the King’s cruel spectacle unfold. Cassian was bleeding from a deep gash on his shoulder, his wings battered and dragging on the ground. Azriel, your mate, was barely standing, his shadows clinging to him like a shroud, the pain in his eyes mirrored in the unsteady way he held himself upright. His usual calm composure was fractured, the terror of potentially losing you visible in every taut line of his body.

“I want my sisters back!” Feyre shouted, her voice laced with fury and fear as she tried to appeal to the King’s vanity, offering herself as a willing participant in exchange for your lives.

But the King only laughed, his voice dripping with derision. “You all will learn the cost of defiance,” he sneered, his gaze sweeping over the three of you before settling on Azriel, who met his eyes with a deadly calm that promised retribution. The King’s smile widened, enjoying the power he held over you all.

Elain was the first to be forced into the Cauldron. She screamed as the magic consumed her, the ancient power pulling her under. The Inner Circle watched in horror, powerless to stop it. Then Nesta was dragged forward, thrashing and spitting curses, her defiance only spurring the King’s sadistic delight. The water churned violently as Nesta was thrown in, her screams mingling with the Cauldron’s terrible hiss.

Your turn came far too soon, the guards’ grips tightening as they pulled you toward the Cauldron. You fought against them, the primal fear of death making your heart race. The cold stone of the dais scraped against your knees as they forced you closer, the chill of the Cauldron’s dark power seeping into your bones.

“Wait!” Azriel’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with a desperate command. He lunged forward, but his injuries slowed him, and the guards pushed him back. Rhysand tried to intervene, his power crackling around him, but the King’s wards held firm.

You looked over your shoulder, your eyes locking onto Azriel’s. There was so much unsaid between you—so many words of love and promises of a future that you hadn’t yet spoken. The bond between you thrummed with a wild, frantic energy, the connection a lifeline in the face of what was about to happen.

“Azriel,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes as you were dragged closer to the Cauldron’s edge. His name was a plea, a promise, and a goodbye all rolled into one. The world seemed to slow, the roar of the Cauldron and the King’s laughter fading into the background.

Azriel’s expression was a mask of agony and fury, his shadows swirling around him in a frantic storm. “I’ll find you,” he vowed, his voice breaking. “No matter what, I’ll find you.”

The guards didn’t wait for another moment. With a rough shove, they pushed you into the Cauldron’s depths. The water was freezing, the shock of it stealing your breath as you were pulled under. Darkness closed in around you, the Cauldron’s magic a suffocating force that tore at your very essence. Pain lanced through you, every nerve ending screaming in agony as the ancient power tried to reshape you.

You fought against the pull, every instinct screaming to survive, but the Cauldron was relentless. The pain intensified, blinding and consuming, and for a moment, you were certain you wouldn’t make it out. Your vision blurred, the edges of consciousness fraying as the magic continued its brutal work.

The bond with Azriel was the only thing that anchored you. Even through the haze of pain, you felt him reaching out, his presence a beacon in the darkness. His voice, strong and steady, cut through the chaos, a lifeline that you clung to with everything you had.

Stay with me, he pleaded through the bond, his voice tinged with desperation. Don’t let go.

But the pain was overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe, to think. You felt your body breaking apart, the magic tearing at you from the inside out. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped. Silence fell over the world, the water of the Cauldron stilling around you.

You drifted in that void, caught between life and death, the faint tug of the bond with Azriel the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. You could feel his fear, his rage, and his love, all mingling together in a maelstrom of emotion that pulled you toward him.

Then, slowly, you became aware of the world again. The water churned, and you were thrown from the Cauldron’s depths, gasping and shivering on the cold stone. You coughed, the taste of iron and salt lingering in your mouth, and your vision slowly cleared to reveal the horrified faces of the Inner Circle.

Azriel was the first to reach you, his wings unfurling to shield you from the world. His hands were gentle but frantic as he checked you over, his shadows swirling around you both protectively. “You’re alive,” he breathed, relief flooding his features as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a desperate embrace.

You clung to him, your body trembling from the aftershocks of the Cauldron’s magic. “I thought… I thought I wasn’t going to make it,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

Azriel held you tighter, his wings forming a protective cocoon around you both. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Around you, the Inner Circle moved quickly. Rhysand and Feyre confronted the King of Hybern, their combined power crashing down on him like a tidal wave of fury. Cassian, despite his injuries, had fought his way to Nesta and Elain, his protective instincts as fierce as ever.

The King’s forces crumbled under the onslaught, the battle turning in your favor as Rhysand unleashed the full wrath of the Night Court upon Hybern. The King’s smug arrogance evaporated as he realized he had lost control of the situation, the once smug expression twisting into one of fear and disbelief.

Azriel’s grip on you never wavered, his wings a constant barrier between you and the outside world. You could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface, not at you, but at the King and the horror he had subjected you to. The memories of his own traumas, of his brothers and their cruelty, echoed in the way his hands clenched and the way his wings tightened protectively around you.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against the soft feathers of his wings, grounding him. “We’re both here.”

Azriel’s eyes met yours, a mix of anguish and relief reflecting in their depths. “I thought I’d lost you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never been so scared.”

You leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his, letting the bond between you pulse with the warmth of your shared connection. “You didn’t lose me,” you reassured him, your voice firm despite the tears that still lingered. “You saved me.”

In that moment, as the battle raged on and the King of Hybern’s forces crumbled, you and Azriel found solace in each other. The Cauldron’s magic had tried to break you, but it had only made the bond between you stronger. The world might have been chaos, but within the safety of Azriel’s wings, you felt whole and protected.

As the Inner Circle regrouped, victorious but worn from the fight, Azriel kept you close. His protectiveness was as fierce as ever, his eyes scanning for any lingering threats. But for the first time since the battle began, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what came next, you and Azriel would face it together.

You were his mate, his equal, and nothing—not even the Cauldron’s wrath—could tear you apart. And as you stood together amidst the aftermath of the battle, surrounded by friends and family, you knew that the future, though uncertain, was one you would face side by side with the one person who had always been your anchor, your protector, and your greatest love.

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (I) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Part II / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant, cursing, Kreacher is a little shit

Following the sudden death of Cedric Diggory months before, the magical world flipped on its nose. The Daily Prophet pumped out towers of articles denouncing The Boy Who Lived, dubbing Harry as The Boy Who Lied.

Clever. Seriously, people actually subscribe to read that shit?

Surprisingly, Dumbledore forbid any form of contact with Harry during the summer--Hermione and Ron threw quite the fit after receiving the news. The most unsurprising reaction came from the ex-convict himself, Sirius Black.

Azkaban somehow became even less appealing after having to sit through his meltdown at the dinner table.

Who knew dementors could twist your spirit so far as to make petulant meltdowns a regular occurrence.

If his word was anything to go by, he got the better end of the deal compared to his murderous, psychopathic cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Entirely reassuring.

The inability to rant to Harry via letters, deal with Ron's whining, engage Hermione in her tangents, or sit around Sirius left you with no choice but to venture around on your own.

There was virtually no chance of running into anybody but the twins (who seriously needed their apparating privileges revoked) on your little escapade.

The hallways were dusty and suffocating from the sheer amount of unkempt gothic vintage furniture lining the perimeter. While an uncanny atmosphere of suffering blanketed every centimeter of the walls.

Wandering aimlessly, a sudden pulse of magic combined with your reckless compulsion steers your attention towards a tall, black door. The crystal door knob was dull in the dim light, the keyhole and backing rusting with age.

Clearly, no one has gone into the room in years--decades, even.

The room was located on the third floor of the house, far away from the bedrooms the Weasleys were sleeping in and even farther away from the restless master of the house (who was pacing like a maniac in the kitchen for the nth hour straight).

What's the worse that can happen?

Famous last words (Harry's impulsivity was definitely rubbing off on you).

The door put up quite a fight when you tried to twist the knob, creaking in protest before finally giving way as you pushed with your entire body.

You stumbled in, nearly choking on the cloud of dust that danced up into the air with your ever so graceful entrance. Taking a look around, you came to one conclusion.

The room was utterly boring.

Boxes lined nearly every inch of the floor, the wallpaper peeling and dragging down the walls, and the small window across the room was clouded by dirt. A lone ray of light illuminated a small black dresser table against the wall. Curiously, you carefully weaved around the boxes on the floor and padded towards the dresser.

Just as you reached to pull one of the drawers open, an unsettling prickle ran down your spine. Instinctively grasping at your wand, you spun around only to be met with the opposite wall and more dust.

Quickly scanning the room again, your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with a pair of narrowed ones.

It was a bloody portrait.

“Who are you? Who let you in here?”

The boy in the painting seemed only a few years older than you with pin-straight posture and sharp features to match. His voice echoed with firmness, a voice that seemed used to commanding respect and attention.

But Merlin and Morgana…he was divine. So divine that even Draco Malfoy would lose his composure if someone this attractive showed up at Hogwarts.

“No one...I'm no one. Who are you? You look…er-familiar.”

Your last words came out as more of a question as you slowly drank up every detail of his features.

The boy’s eyes narrowed further into a glare, seemingly starting to become irate with your dodgy answer. Before he could retort, a familiar pop sounded through the room and before you could even comprehend what was happening, a familiar house elf was barreling through the boxes and dropping in front of the portrait.

“Master Regulus! Kreacher has failed you! Disgraceful Master Sirius has stolen everything! Oh my poor Mistress!”

The boy seemed taken aback by the sudden intrusion and the rather emotional outburst from Kreacher.

Seriously, could portraits take that many steps back?

Watching for a few more moments with wide eyes, it seemed that nothing the boy was saying was registering to the inconsolable elf.

Going to give the elf and Regulus some privacy, you scampered away and closed the door with much effort and an audible huff.

As you started walking away, a sudden bang nearly snatched your soul out of your body. Spinning around, confusion washed over you as Kreacher struggled to clamber off of the worn carpet, a disgruntled noise echoing around the hall.

Kreacher had just flew into the wall. Did the elf lose some screws and try to become a part of the bloody wallpaper?

“Kreacher? What happened?!”

Before the snippy elf could reply, loud footsteps pounded nearby and a disheveled Sirius bounded up from the staircase, shooting a look of mixed disbelief and contempt at his elf.

“What the hell?! Kreacher what are you doing?! You can’t just leave when I’m telling you to do something!”

Feeling, again, like an intruder to a conversation, you shuffled against the wall and towards the stairs as the house elf snarled at the older man, briefly eyeing you with confusion. Raising your eyebrows, you watch as the elf shoots glances behind him towards the room before popping away from a screaming Sirius.

Rolling your eyes, you say a silent farewell to the mysterious room only to notice the door was no longer there. The area where the door should have been was replaced with nothing more than peeling wall and a dusty wall lamp.

Did you just hallucinate the last 10 minutes of your life?

Apparently not. A few days had passed since your strange encounter with Regulus Black in the disappearing storage room, and you had somehow gained the undivided attention of Kreacher.

It seemed the barmy elf held some newfound admiration for you since you somehow reunited him with the young master he actually liked.

You were nose-deep in a book about Ancient Property Magic from the Black Library when the elf hesitantly approached you.

"Kreacher has a question for the young blood-traitor."

What a punk.

Placing the book off to the side, you rub the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

How did Hermione go on for hours reading in these conditions?

All the words were blending together and your eyes stung from all the damn dust in the house.

"Hello Kreacher. What do you need?"

"How did the young blood-traitor find Master Regulus? Kreacher doesn't know how Master Regulus is here...Kreacher has failed...Master Sirius is a lawless traitor undeserving--"

"Woah! Okay...while I am not too sure about how exactly I found that room. I suppose it is a good thing you have such er--apprehensions about Sirius. I don't think he would appreciate me breaking into one of the rooms here."

Which was entirely true.

Sirius was off his rocker. The combination of being away from his godson, listening to his mother screech every morning, and having to deal with Molly fussing over everyone was working him up the wall.

You felt almost bad for not telling Sirius about Regulus, but he had plenty on his plate and it felt nice to have something to yourself--your own little summer secret.

Granted, it was more accurate to describe it as a dead-pureblood-heir summer quest. Though, not as weird as giving a troll brain damage in your first year at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, you had a great idea.

"Hey Kreacher, want to go exploring with me?"

The house elf was skeptical for most of your trek upstairs, and he looked positively gleeful when you managed to somehow summon the secret door.

Apparently, Kreacher was magically expelled from the room the moment you left. So you were somehow the key to accessing the missing Young Master.

Before you could even caution the elf or come up with a speech for Regulus, the little thing was already flying for the door knob.

"You are back."

Regulus looked all but the same, except more tired than suspicious this time around.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind that I'm here. I have brought Kreacher as an olive branch to show that I am of no threat."

The boy's eyes flicker towards the unusually silent elf, and then pierces you again. Something akin to amusement danced in his eyes and you were almost offended.

You were no Harry Potter, but you weren't magically inept.

"Answer my question from last time. Who are you?"

"My name is Y/N. I don't know how or why this room exists, and it doesn't seem like Sirius has any knowledge of it. But from the looks of it, I'm the only one who can find this room."

"Sirius? He is alive then?"

Your lip quirks at the remark and you turn your gaze to the ceiling, "Yes, but he isn't quite himself".

"What?"

"Azkaban tends to have that effect."

"What?"

"You've missed a lot, Regulus. Like a lot. You're different from what I've heard though, pleasantly so. After all you haven't called me a foul, loathsome blood traitor. Nor have you tried to preach blood purity to me yet."

Regulus considers you for a few moments, eyes imperceptibly running over your expression. It is only for the briefest moment that you see something comparable to respect shine in his eyes.

Kreacher shifts uncomfortably and looked ready to butthead you, but Regulus interrupts the sudden blanket of silence.

"Kreacher, could you give us some privacy?"

The elf looked ready to vehemently protest in a manner similar to how he denies Sirius, but seemed to remember that he actually gave a flying handle about Regulus‘ opinion of him.

"If you wish, Master Regulus. Kreacher will be outside."

The elf pops away and you turn to maintain steady eye contact with the boy, becoming more intrigued with every passing second.

"You are right. I haven't tried to indoctrinate you or denounce your beliefs. I have been here for a long blur of time. I have had the space to formulate my own thoughts and opinions."

"Oh? A death eater finding salvation and seeing the light. Of course it'd be a feat only achievable through death."

"You speak as though we--they are still at large. Are there still death eaters around?" The disbelief flickering across his face spurred you to entertain him with an answer despite your former apprehension towards him.

"Yes. Many are well and alive. Lucius Malfoy prides himself in being able to circumvent the law and maintain his job in the Ministry despite his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Not that it will do him any good. From what I can deduce, the Dark Lord is not very forgiving."

Regulus looks like he's been suckerpunched in the gut, grimacing at every word that passes through your lips.

"You are right. Lucius will be punished for his treachery. I had hoped that the world would be rid of the Dark Lord after my death."

Confusion passes through you in waves as an indecipherable emotion mars his face.

So he wasn't a valiant supporter of the Dark Lord? Then it would seem the rumors that he was killed by the Dark Lord or his followers have some credibility.

"Well, the Dark Lord was gone, so to speak, for a while at least. It is only as of a few months ago did he come back in full form."

"I see."

"You don't seem surprised. Well, he killed one of my friends and traumatized my best friend so I hope you'll give me permission to wring his neck."

"You're quite vulgar."

"I am a saint compared to your brother, and my vulgarity is very much justified."

Regulus hums in understanding and you could almost see a miniscule smile stretching at his lips.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you never have to come face to face with the Dark Lord."

"I don't have much of a choice, he's been trying to eviscerate my friends and I since we were 11."

"Ah...well it would appear that you are to join me in the afterlife soon then."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? But I have no plans on dying anytime soon."

"Shame."

"Sod off. You're fine on your own...right?"

Dumb question, the man is literally stuck inside a painting in an abandoned secret room.

"It does get a bit lonely. But it is only the punishment for my sins."

"Well, I think you're quite swell. So don't worry, I have the whole entire summer to bother you. Think of it as an added layer of punishment."

"If you insist." His words conveyed exasperation, but the boyish smile that lit up his face told you a completely different story.

You couldn't help but admire his expression, committing it to memory because you were sure that his smiles were a rarity.

Pretty.

Wow. You were absolutely screwed.

[merceyca]

Hold Tight

Andrew and Neil accidentally crash Abby and Wymack’s carnival date.

The fairground was rife with people and noise. Andrew had warned Neil that this would be the case, but the screaming, the music, the crowds; it all had Neil wondering what the appeal of a day at the fair could possibly be.

The day itself was drawing to a close, the sky turning a deep orange and fading to purple at the edges. Andrew had flown in that afternoon, and when Neil picked him up from the airport he happened upon the flyer for the Palmetto State fair.

Although, after spending ten minutes there, Neil came to the conclusion that they should have just had an easy night at home. Murder, She Wrote reruns were a better alternative to this.

Andrew caught him by the shoulders, yanking him out of both his thoughts and the warpath of an ice-cream-wielding toddler. Neil checked himself for stains, but he remained unscathed.

‘Thanks.’

‘Those jeans are designer,’ Andrew informed him.

Neil shook his head, smiling. He opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice called, ‘Neil! Andrew!’

They both whirled to see Abby hauling Wymack over by the hand. She was beaming, her hair free from its customary ponytail and whipping around in the breeze. Wymack appeared to be reevaluating his life choices.

Neil met Andrew’s amused look with an identical one of his own, allowing Abby to catch him in a hug when they met them halfway.

‘I didn’t know the two of you were coming here tonight,’ she said fondly.

‘The warning would have been nice,’ Wymack added, less so.

Neil fought the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him. Living in the dorms with just Robin was beginning to have an effect on him.

‘We didn’t intend to crash your date,’ Andrew said, sending a meaningful look down at Abby and Wymack’s joined hands.

‘And what noble reason do you shits have for being here?’ Wymack returned.

‘Candy floss hunting,’ Andrew said at the same time Neil said, ‘Breaking in my jeans.’

‘They’re designer, you know,’ Neil continued when Wymack cast his eyes heavenward.

Abby laughed at their antics. ‘Have you tried any of the rides yet?’

‘Er, no.’ Neil tried to think of how best to skirt around the topic of Andrew’s acrophobia, but Andrew beat him to it.

‘I sustained a head injury in last week’s game,’ Andrew lied. ‘No roller coasters for me. So sad.’

Abby frowned. ‘A head injury? In which quarter? We watched the whole game.’

‘You must have blinked,’ said Andrew. ‘I’m going to line up for food if you want to take him on something puke-inducing before we eat. Coach?’

Wymack sighed but seemed to accept that his date had been crashed. ‘Yeah, take the kid on that death trap you pointed out earlier.’

‘The one you said would put your heart to the test?’ Abby asked.

Wymack huffed. ‘We’ll meet you by the tables.’

‘Are you sure?’ Neil asked Abby. ‘If you don’t want to—’

He trailed off when he saw that Abby’s green eyes were alight with excitement. She clutched his arm. ‘Come on, Josten. Don’t chicken out on me now.’

Neil couldn’t help but laugh as she dragged him across the fairground. The years between nurse and striker fell away, and suddenly they were both kids, nervously boarding a ride called The Crazy Coaster that allegedly spun as it sped over the tracks.

Abby’s joyful squeals accompanied the swoop in Neil’s gut at every drop, making him laugh harder. They took the first two dips facing forwards, but the biggest one was coming, and their carriage was turning.

‘Oh, god. Oh, god,’ Abby gasped, her hand fumbling for Neil’s. ‘Neil, we’re backwards.’

Neil managed a hysterical, ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

Abby finally caught his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Neil held tight to the woman who had patched him up so many times he’d lost count, who kissed his forehead and cheered him on at every game, who brought him on this stupid ride and showed him that surrendering your control to wheels and cogs and gravity could actually be fun.

The two of them shared a pair of frenzied grins as Abby said, ‘Here we go,’ and then they were falling.

[rubyreduji]

timeless — ljh

summary: you’ve just met jihoon, yet something about him feels familiar

tags: fluff, romance, reincarnation?, gn!reader warnings: arranged marriages, mentions of death and war  reader notes: no pronouns or explicit gender descriptions but they do take a more feminine role in history, jihoon picks up the reader but my mans is strong okay don’t worry wc: 10.3k an: i’ve been writing this for over a month now fjdskla and i like the finished product but im a bit worried the format is choppy but either way please enjoy and show it lots of love...also happy first fic of the 2nd year of rubyreduji!!!

“Soonyoung, stop it!” You scold your best friend as he giggles at you.

“Just go talk to him!” Soonyoung tells you, pushing you towards the door to the antique shop next to your favorite boba place. 

Him refers to the cute cashier you always see through the windows when you and Soonyoung go and get boba (which is about three times a week). It’s nothing more than a hallway crush but Soonyoung keeps insisting that it could be more than that if you would just go talk to him. 

You don’t actually want to talk to the boy who stands at the counter with a smile, but before you can stop him Soonyoung is opening the door to the store and forcing you inside. When you turn around to chew your best friend out, you find him not there, his back already retreating to the boba shop. 

A part of you wants to just dash back out the door but the bell attached to the door has already gotten the attention of the cashier and you can’t escape now.

“Welcome to The Eternity Emorpium, today anything marked with a green sticker is 20% off.” The voice isn’t what you expected Cute Cashier to sound like but when you turn around to face him, you realize you’re not talking to Cute Cashier at all.

Rather than the tall boy with glasses you’ve been peeking in on for the past few months, you come face to face with a short yet buff boy with long black hair. He most definitely is not the guy you came in for, but you have to admit he is just as (if not more) cute than the other cashier.

You’re not sure how you didn’t notice that your normal Cute Cashier wasn't behind the counter, but in your defense you were too busy fighting off Soonyoung.

You give the new cashier—who you have now dubbed Even Cuter Cashier—a smile, before pretending to look at all of the memorabilia set out. The actual shop is nice with an obvious theme and specific layout that only someone with an eye for aesthetic and organization could create. On the speakers a Bruno Mars song is playing and you wonder if it's the cashier who has control over the music or just a general store playlist.

You feel awkward walking around the shop, letting out fake hums every once in a while to make it seem like you're actually shopping and not just sneaking glances at Even Cuter Cashier whenever you can. You stop in front of a playing card deck and you pick it up, flipping it over in your hand a couple of times.

"Oh, we just got those in," Even Cuter Cashier says, startling you a bit. "Put them on the floor this morning. You into cards?"

"Oh, uh," Shit. This is your chance to talk to him, "yeah. My dad is more of a collector than I am, but I can see the appeal."

"Nice. Yeah I'm more of a guitar collector myself, but my wallet wishes I wasn't," he says and you both laugh.

"That's cool though. I would love to learn how to play an instrument but I definitely don't have the talent or patience for that." As you speak with the man you slowly start to drift towards the counter.

"Hey, anyone can be talented, it just takes practice." You quickly glance down at Even Cuter Cashier's name tag to see his actual name is Jihoon.

"Good inspirational quote, but I think I'll just stick to the playing cards," you tell him with a grin as you set the pack down in front of him.

Jihoon just pushes the cards back to you and when you give him a questioning look he just grins. "They’re on the house.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you tell him.

“I wanted to,” he says. “Maybe it’s just my plan to get you to come in here again.”

You smile at Jihoon, your face starting to turn a bit hot. You pick up the pack of cards and bid goodbye to the cashier before turning and leaving. Soonyoung is standing outside the door with two boba cups in hand. He peeks in when you open the door and frowns.

“That’s not Cute Cashier.”

“Nope! That’s Even Cuter Cashier,” you tell your best friend.

“You’re abandoning the other guy already?”

“I can’t abandon someone I don’t even know,” you scoff, “and anyway, I think I like Even Cuter Cashier. Something about him…it feels like destiny.”

Soonyoung laughs at you, but you ignore him, your mind still lingering on the dark haired boy from earlier. The more you think about him, the more your heart starts to grow warm. You can’t place it, but something about Jihoon feels familiar, and you need more.

1500s

“You are to be married to Prince Wonwoo before the solstice hits.”

Your head shoots up, staring at your father, not sure if you hear his words correctly. There’s no possible way he said that. You can think of a dozen reasons why that’s impossible, a few including: 1. You’ve never met Prince Wonwoo in your life, why would he want you as his betrothed? 2. You two did not have a courtship and it would be a scandal for you two to get married without presenting as a couple to the public first. 3. Your family is not nearly important enough to be noticed by royalty. 4. (And this is the biggest one) You are in love with someone else.

Well, your father doesn’t know that you’re in love with someone else, but it’s still an important fact to note.

Despite all of these reasons, your father continues to talk about the arrangement, not noticing the shock on your face. You wonder about how it came to be, and without you hearing even a whisper about it.

“You will be meeting with a royal advisor in two days, please do not cause any trouble.” With that your father walks ways, leaving you with a million questions brewing your mind.

The main one being: how are you going to tell Jihoon about this?

For over a year now you’ve been seeing the same man, sneaking out whenever you can to meet him. He came into town with a bang (quite literally — his caravan practically falling apart with all of his belongings crashing to the ground as it did) and you’ve been captivated by him since. 

Your days are never boring when Jihoon is around, the two of you either going on adventures or hanging out in Jihoon’s (new) caravan. Though, you think your most favorite times spent with Jihoon are late at night, when you two meet up on the outskirts of your estate grounds, right on the edge of the forest.

There never is any guessing as to what Jihoon has planned. Some days you two walk around the garden under the moonlight, talking and gazing up at the stars, while other nights you’re whisked off to another town to dance the night away in a hidden tavern. You love the guise of the night, being able to do whatever and be whoever without the fear of onlookers and their judgment. It’s just you and Jihoon in your own little world.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been keeping him a secret for so long, you like keeping him all to yourself. No one can taint your relationship if they don't know about it. Though you suppose that has backfired on you now.

You don’t see your father for the rest of the night and when the sunsets and you slip out the back door and walk down to the forest edge, you do it with a heavy heart. As always Jihoon is standing next to the tree he carved your initials in, a wide grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

As soon as he spots you approaching his face lights up in a grin. He trots up to you the rest of the way, scooping you up into a hug.

"I've missed you," he says, pressing kisses to your lips and cheeks. You giggle at his antics.

"You saw me two days ago, my dear."

"Oh but that's two days too long for an aching heart in love." 

Other people may think it's cheesy but you can't help but adore the sweet way Jihoon talks to you, always putting his poet background to good use. You smile as Jihoon holds you in his arms, but soon the good mood is ruined by the news you remember you have to break to him.

"What's wrong, my love?" Jihoon asks, seeing the fallen look on your face. He reaches up and pushes your hair out of your face, a habit he has picked up since you two met. 

You just sigh and shift so you're out of Jihoon's embrace. Automatically you miss his strong arms around your waist, but you can't bear to look at him as you talk.

“My father has given me away to another man,” you tell him in a hushed voice. 

“Who?” Jihoon responds automatically. “I won’t let him take you. I-I’ll fight.”

You finally turn towards Jihoon, the solemn look still firm on your face. “I’m betrothed to Prince Wonwoo.”

“Prince Wonwoo?!” Jihoon looks taken aback. You don’t blame him. Suddenly he deflates. “How am I going to beat that?”

You’re not sure how to respond. The truth is Jihoon can’t compete. That doesn’t mean you’re going to give up hope on him, though.

“We’ll…we’ll figure something out,” you finally say. You step closer to Jihoon, allowing him to wrap you up in his embrace once again.

“I’m not giving up on us,” Jihoon tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll be fine. We have to be.”

When your father told you you’d be meeting with a royal advisor, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting.

When you arrived at the castle you were amazed at the size of it, but you weren’t allowed to gawk for long, being ushered into a sitting room where two men were already conversing. Neither were your soon to be husband though and you wondered when you might actually get to meet the prince.

The two men soon introduced themselves as Soonyoung and Mingyu, two of Prince Wonwoo’s most trusted men. Now two hours later, you’re starting to question the judgment of your betrothed.

Not only are the men completely scatterbrained and disorganized, they also seem to bicker more often than not, making it difficult for you to understand everything they’re telling you. The only thing you really comprehend is that you’re going to be spending a lot more time with the two men up until the wedding.

You’re given a schedule at the end of the day, your upcoming weeks all planned out for you already. Meeting with wedding coordinators, royalty training, garment fittings, and everything else of the like. You frown, thinking about your normally free schedule has now been filled.

Luckily for you, the meeting finished earlier than expected and you don’t hesitate to direct yourself towards the area where Jihoon’s caravan resides. Your lover is delighted to see you but before he can get any words out you’re throwing yourself at him, pulling him into a kiss. You’re desperate to drown in Jihoon and forget reality even just for a moment.

It isn’t until later that you and Jihoon finally exchange words. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Jihoon says. You two lay next to each other on his bed, bare bodies pressed together under the linens. Your head rests on his chest and his hands card through your hair. “Was I not satisfactory in taking your thoughts away? What is troubling your mind so much?

“Prince Wonwoo.”

“You’re thinking about Prince Wonwoo after laying so intimately with me?”

“No! Well yes, but- I- shut up,” you grumble, smacking Jihoon’s chest, making his laugh.

You’ve never met the prince before, though you are well knowledged on him. It’s hard not to be when he is to take over the crown in a few years. You try not to think about how that will make you the queen consort.

You’ve only seen Prince Wonwoo in person a handful of times, none too recently, but you still know the prince is very handsome. Not as handsome as you find Jihoon, though you may be a bit biased. He’s also said to be kind, smart, level-headed, and well calculated. You suppose it could be worse. 

“I met with his advisors today,” you tell Jihoon. “I guess it’s just all hitting me. This really is going to happen.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Jihoon moves so he can stare at you in the face, “no matter what happens, I will always love you. My heart is still yours.”

“And mine yours,” you tell him softly. “I love you Lee Jihoon. Never forget that.”

You don’t see Jihoon for a while. Your schedule is packed with futile meetings that take up your day and with the news of your engagement to the prince (who you have still yet to meet), there are guards outside of your estate at night.

You suppose you are fortunate that Mingyu and Soonyoung have grown on you in the past few weeks. Though you still think them foolish, you also have a fondness for the pair. You see why Prince Wonwoo puts his trust in them. You find yourself wanting to confide in them, though there is one thing that still remains a secret.

It isn’t until the night before your wedding that you see your love. You are able to lose your guards for a second and you make a beeline straight to Jihoon’s caravan. He’s still awake, sitting outside and staring up at the starry sky when you approach.

“My dear,” you call out to him. Jihoon looks away from the sky to meet your face, a look of surprise flashes over his face before they form into a soft smile.

“You know you really shouldn’t be out so late at night, it is not safe.”

“Well then, why don’t you help me find some shelter kind sir,” you tell him. Jihoon just grins and grabs your hand, pulling you into his home. 

You two spent the night wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft kisses and even softer words. When the morning comes Jihoon is still asleep when you awake and while you’d love to give him a proper goodbye, you know you already pushed your luck enough spending the whole night out.

You quickly find a quill and some ink and you grab a piece of Jihoon’s writing parchment and scribble a quick note to him before slipping out the door. It’s only after the caravan is out of sight that you let your tears fall.

The first time you meet Prince Wonwoo is at the altar. Up close he’s even more handsome than you imagined, with soft facial features and kind eyes. You can’t help but still feel a bit disappointed, staring at the stranger in front of you as you recite your wedding vows.

The chapel where you are being wed is packed full of people, mostly nobility. Your attire is suffocating, despite being fitted for it thrice. Across from you, the prince keeps a neutral face and you wonder about his own involvement in this arrangement. 

He’s dressed in a formal outfit fit for royalty. The colors pair with your own dressings and you wonder what you two look like from the outfit. A newly bonded couple who will eventually be ruling the whole country. Are you two a handsome, strong presenting couple? Or do you two look like two fools who have never met before?

You were surprised at the way the public took the news of the engagement. You were expecting backlash against the prince, but he is well loved by the public and they were all happy to see the young man finding a partner to settle down with before stepping up to the throne. Despite never having been seen together in public before today, there was a wide talk of your (fake) courtship and how you must be very lucky to have the prince hold your heart.

If only they knew that a lonely, penniless poet was the real caretaker of your love.

It isn’t until the words leave the officiant’s mouth that you realize you will have to kiss the prince. Not only to end the ceremony but for the public to see you two unite as one. You must look as taken aback as you feel because your now husband takes the initiative, stepping forward to close the distance between you two.

Wonwoo cups your face gingerly, his hands are cold and his fingers are boney. He stares at you for a moment, dark eyes gazing into your soul, before he finally leans in.

The moment his lips press against yours you want to jerk out of his hold. It feels wrong. Your lips don’t fit together nicely and there’s no warmth exchanged between you two. You’re both stiff and you note how Wonwoo’s lips aren't as full as Jihoon’s. 

The kiss is over within seconds but the damage has been done and you can’t shake the dirty feeling that has grown under your skin. Wonwoo’s hand slides down your arm to clasp your fingers together. Another sign of unity for the public. You force a smile on your face, but the only thing you can think about is how your heart is miles away, in a small caravan on the edge of town.

My love,

I am not sure how you were able to convince the prince’s closest man to be a part of this, but I cannot say am I ungrateful for him. Though I do find him quite eccentric (and slightly obnoxious) I must give him my gratitude.

I miss you tremendously, but the past few letters you have sent me have been acting as bandages over my heart. I read them whenever I feel an ache of your absence, which is quite often.

It is unfortunate you find royal life boring. If I could, you know that I would sweep you off to the farthest lands where we would explore the area during the day and revel at night. I would show you the large world out there and we could experience new joys together. 

How I long to have you lay by my side at night. To feel your soft, tender skin against my fingertips. It pains me to even think about it, but it would kill me not to. 

I will never stop fighting for us.

Write back soon,

Your Jihoon

My darling,

I saw you today. I was taken quite off guard when I saw you riding in the carriage, next to Prince Wonwoo. I admit, you two make a handsome couple, but not more handsome than us.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen your beautiful face in person, that even seeing you with another man made my heart sing. I couldn’t pull my eyes from you, doing my best to soak in the sight of you because you were once again gone.

You looked quite winsome sitting in the carriage, but you did not look like you. Are you required to wear such extremities every day, or were you dressed for the occasion? Either way I cannot imagine the process of getting ready to be a swift one. 

If I am being honest I do not find the purpose of such efforts. Does the prince not find your natural beauty fit to his standards? If so then off with him. Any person with eyes would be fortunate to gaze upon you. I know I was.

Seeing you has only made me yearn more for you. I know it has only been a few weeks since your matrimony to Prince Wonwoo, but to me it has been lifetimes. How I crave to feel your touch, to hear your voice, to kiss your lips.

I know that the idea is futile but I will never give up on you. No matter what, I am still yours. And I hope you are still mine. Even if I only see a glimpse of you once every decade, my heart will still burn for you.

Forever yours,

Your Jihoon

To my heart,

Though you are always in my thoughts, you have been overtaking my mind more often than not lately. Please do not think I am upset about this, it is quite the opposite, but I am afraid I have been missing you a great deal more than usual.

Maybe it is due to a conversation I had the other day. I was at a tavern, catching up with an old acquaintance who was in town, and you came up. Jeonghan questioned if there was a reason why I had settled here and wondered if it was ‘due to my heart’. I laughed and confirmed his suspicions.

We spent a deal of time after that talking about you. It felt liberating being able to speak of you to someone else. I must have rambled on for at least an hour before Jeonghan finally cut me off, telling me how lucky I must be to have someone like you in my life. I had no choice other than to agree with him.

Speaking about you and thinking about you has thrown me into a tumultuous frame of mind. It is quite shameful how often I get lost in fantasies of us and what I wish we could be. You have overtaken my mind, body, and soul. There is not a single night where I do not dream of you.

I hope our future king can see how fortunate he is to be married to you. I would kill thousands of men to be in his position. Your smile itself is worth more than every jewel on his crown. I know I am just waxing poetic at you, but that is my job.

I know we must stay apart, but please mourn the future we could have had for me. Please write back to me with every thought you have about our imaginary future, because even if I cannot have the real thing, my dreams will be enough for me.

Dream of me as well,

Your Jihoon 

The life between you and your husband is…comfortable. You two talk, but not often and seldom about anything that is not shallow or mundane. You two sleep side by side at night but the last time you two touched each other was when you danced at your wedding and while his days are spent in meeting, yours are spent wandering the castle grounds and having tea with Soonyoung and Mingyu.

The only thing you find yourself looking forward to in your days anymore is the nightly lettering that you receive from Jihoon. It was only a week into the marriage when Soonyoung noticed how miserable you were. Without being able to hold it in anymore, you told the man about your lover and your heartbreak. It was then that Soonyoung suggested he help you out, acting as a carriage pigeon to deliver letters to and from Jihoon.

One night you are sitting at the desk in your shared chambers with Wonwoo, writing your letter for Jihoon, when Wonwoo speaks up. He is sitting on the bed across the room and his deep voice startles you, not used to talking to the man like this.

“Are you happy?” Wonwoo asks you bluntly, after calling out your name. You take only a moment to form an answer.

“I am content, my lord,” you tell him. Though you have stopped referring to the man as “Prince Wonwoo” in your mind, you cannot help but tack on the formal titles at the end of your sentences to the man.

“But you are not happy. Why?”

“Rest assured your highness, it is nothing you’ve done.”

“Does it have anything to do with the letters Soonyoung delivers to you each evening? The letters you are writing back right now?” You freeze in your seat. You were unaware he knew, but the prince is not ignorant. You suppose you couldn’t keep it a secret forever.

“I-”

“Do not mistake my curiosity for accusation. I’m aware this arrangement is not an ideal situation, and I would not be upset if there was another. I would not even be upset if you wish to be with him,” Wonwoo says. 

His words trouble you. There is a benefit for both of you in the marriage, but his words imply he is not exactly happy with the arrangement either. The offer to let you leave him is strange though, and causes you to fault for a moment.

“I am not going to abandon you, sire,” you eventually respond. “I have made an obligation to you.”

“No, your father did. Though we are not well acquainted I still hold empathy and I do not want to be what is keeping you from your happiness. From your happy ending.”

“Either way my father’s word is say, so I will do what he asks of me. It is an honor to be wedded to a man of your status,” you tell him, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

“But that is all it is: status. What about love?”

You don’t answer. You sit there and stare down at the letter you are writing to Jihoon. You think about the wooden box hidden in the drawer that holds his letters.

“Please, I do not wish to cause you turmoil. If you want to go, I will not hold you back,” Wonwoo says. 

You finally turn to look at your husband. “You are very kind-hearted, but I cannot accept that offer. I will not tarnish your reputation like that. Do you know the talk that would rise if they heard the soon-to-be king’s spouse up and left? What would your father do to mine? It is too risky.”

Wonwoo has a morose look on his face, like he knows you’re right. “Tell me about him,” he says, surprising you.

You hesitate. You should not talk of your lover to your husband. It is unorthodox and unbecoming. You look at Wonwoo’s curious face though, and you can’t help yourself.

“He’s a poet. I’ve never met someone who can use words the way he does. Even in things as simple as short letters or passing comments, he can make it sound like the most romantic sentence ever uttered,” you tell Wonwoo.

“Tell me more.”

“He has a kind soul, like you. He’s very exciting to be around. He used to travel the world, so I love to hear him regale the tales of his adventures. He likes to take me on our own little adventures as well. One time a traveling show came through a neighboring town and he got us tickets to go watch.”

“You love him greatly.” It is not a question. You just nod to Wonwoo. “You light up when you speak of him. In a way I’ve never seen before.”

You don’t know what to say to him, so you turn your back to him once more, resuming your letter to Jihoon.

You love Jihoon, everyday apart from him feels like you’re struggling to breathe, and under any other circumstance you wouldn’t have stopped at anything to be with him, but you are not under those circumstances. You fought your father, refusing the marriage, even telling him you loved someone else, but he did not listen. He told you this was the one thing he would put his foot down on.

You can’t blame him, how often does someone get the chance to marry a prince. The things this marriage is doing for your family is immeasurable and you cannot in good conscience leave them without a second thought. Not to mention the damage it would do to your family’s reputation, let alone Wonwoo’s. Your family would be shunned by the public and Wonwoo would be labeled a joke of a king.

Not to mention if it was ever discovered what really happened. What would happen if everyone found out why you left? You and Jihoon would surely be ostracized. Town piranhas in even towns in other kingdoms. Jihoon’s career as a poet would be over. You can’t imagine that being a happy life.

Not that you’re particularly happy right now either. You wish you didn’t overthink everything, or else you would have left the town even before you got married. You and Jihoon could be living in his caravan, just you two alone, safe and sound and happy.

It is too late for that though, and now you have to pay the consequences. Married to a man you know nothing about. A man who seems to be rooting for you despite the outcome. It makes you frown. Maybe your first step in figuring it all out is figuring out your husband first.

“Have you ever been in love, my lord?” You decide to ask Wonwoo one day while walking the castle’s grounds. As of recently you two have gotten closer, an interesting bond forming between you two, though most of your time is spent talking of Jihoon. Wonwoo never draws back on his suggestions that you follow your heart. 

“Not in the way you are. I was very fond of someone a long time ago, but they loved someone else.” You frown at this news. 

“Please excuse the crudeness of my words, sire, but then why do you put so much mind into my love? Do you not wish to be wed to someone?”

“I do,” Wonwoo answers after a moment of contemplation, “but I do not want to be the reason why true love is separated. You and your Jihoon, you are a story of fate. Who am I to get in the middle of it? The public likes me enough, I will be okay. No matter what, I will be okay, but will you?”

Your heart aches and yearns for Jihoon, and your husband is not making it easier. That may have been his goal though.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask Wonwoo. You frown as you stand in front of him, your stomach in knots of worry.

Wonwoo just gives you a soft smile. “I am sure. If anything, I should be worrying about you. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes. Both Soonyoung and I checked twice. You have ensured that everything will run perfectly.” You reach over and take your husband’s hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”

“Ah, it is the least I could do. Now, you have somewhere to be and I cannot keep you waiting any longer. Send me letters, okay?” With a final squeeze of your hands, Wonwoo lets you go. You smile at the man once more before turning away from him and not looking back.

You slip out of the castle through the servant’s doors and quickly make your way to the outskirts of the grounds. It reminds you of all those times you escaped your own house to meet Jihoon at the edge of the forest. The thought makes a grin grow on your face as you speed up your pace even more.

Just like all the previous times, when you get to the edge of the estate Jihoon is standing there waiting for you. You launch yourself into his arms, allowing him to pick you up and twirl you around. He’s giggling high pitched and gleeful as you two spin around in each other’s arms.

When Jihoon finally puts you down he doesn’t waste a moment and leans in to kiss you. You happily kiss him back, grabbing his face and holding him in place. You can feel a wet stream of tears run down your face, your heart bursting with joy as you reunite with your lover.

His lips are familiar against yours and you automatically feel at home. For the first time in months you can relax, finally back in Jihoon’s arms.

“It’s you,” Jihoon muttres when he finally pulls away. He brings his hands up to caress your face.

“It’s me, my love, it’s me,” you tell him back, tears still flowing freely.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more.” You lean in and press another quick kiss against Jihoon’s lips. “But we will never have to miss each other again.”

“I’m never letting you go,” Jihoon tells you, gripping you tighter. “Oh how much I love you.”

You giggle. “I love you more. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

You grab Jihoon’s hand and pull him away from the grounds to where his caravan is waiting for you two. As you two travel further and further away from the town you feel your heart grow lighter and lighter, excited for the rest of your life of adventures with your love.

The next time you see Jihoon is nearly a week later. You and Soonyoung are once again getting boba when you spot the boy behind the counter, just like last time. When you and Soonyoung went and got boba a few days prior you noticed that the original Cute Cashier was working, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment at him not being Jihoon.

As soon as you lay eyes on your Even Cuter Cashier, you quickly make a beeline into the shop, your desire for boba long gone.

Jihoon looks up when he hears the sound of the bell ringing and his eyes soften into a smile when he sees you entering through the threshold.

“You came back!”

“I did. It’s hard not to, with the amazing service I got last time,” you say. You casually browse the store as you talk to Jihoon, glancing at him every so often as you do. 

“Well I’m glad that my plan to get you to come back succeeded.”

You giggle at Jihoon’s words as you stop in front of a stack of old photos. You flip through them, looking at all the memories they hold. Many of the photos depict different couples, all smiling brightly as they hold each other. The images put a smile on your own face.

“Find something good?” Jihoon asks and you jump a bit at the closeness of his voice. When you turn, you see the man standing by your side.

“Oh, yeah, just these photos! Aren’t they beautiful?” You tilt them a bit to show them off to Jihoon. “I think it’s so amazing that no matter how the world changes, love will always stay the same.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Love’s been around since the beginning of time.”

“The love these people were feeling in these photos is the same love we experience today. There really is nothing like it.”

You look back down at the photos. The one in your hand shows a woman clinging onto a man’s arm, her cheek pressed into his bicep as she smiles at the camera. The man himself is smiling as well, though he is smiling down at the woman, rather than the camera. 

“They’re cute,” Jihoon mumbles, his own eyes transfixed on the photo. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I wonder what’s their story.”

“Something happy, I hope,” Jihoon says before moving to walk back behind the counter. You grab a few more photos from the stack before following after him, placing them on the counter.

Jihoon smiles at you and starts to ring you up. You take a moment to stare at him, your eyes tracing over his fluffy hair and round face and kind smile. You don’t stop staring until Jihoon breaks your focus.

“What? Does my hair look stupid or something?” He grins lazily at you again and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Uh, n-no! It’s just…your smile is super familiar to me. Sorry, that may be weird.”

“No, no, it’s not. I guess I kinda felt the same thing the first time you came in,” Jihoon tells you. “Who knows, maybe we knew each other in a past life.”

You chuckle at Jihoon’s joke, but you don’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

1951

War Against North Korea Rages On, No End in Sight

You frown at the heading, throwing the newspaper aside onto the counter. The news of the North Korean troops invading Seoul changed everyone’s lives, throwing the country into a state of chaos trying to keep them from completely overtaking all of South Korea. Now a year later, the war is still in full force and though you know it’s important to stay updated on what’s happening, you don’t bother with the news articles anymore. They always say more or less the same thing: the war continues on with more casualties and less hope of ending soon.

Your heart grows heavy with each day growing worse than the last. You wish there was more you could do to help the war efforts, but you’re stuck at home taking care of your sick father. He’s the only family you have left, after your mother’s death a few years ago. All of the money received from her passing has gone into your father, but since the start of the war prices have done nothing but skyrocket.

So you spend your days at home taking care of your father, and your nights in a factory working to earn an income. You don’t mind the work though, allowing your mind to focus on something that isn’t the war or your father.

The only other time you get a break, an actual real break, is on Saturdays. It’s the one day in the week you allow yourself to go out, spending the afternoon to yourself getting groceries and taking time to focus on yourself.

You go through the same routine, walking down to the port and spending a few minutes enjoying the waves lapping against the shore, the salty sea water scent filling the air as the summer breeze brushes up against your skin. After taking in the sight of the sea, you move further into town and down the street to the cemetery.

Every Saturday you visit your mother’s grave, sitting with her for a while as you update her on your life and the current events. Occasionally you will bring a book and read aloud. You find the time spent with her calming, her maternal love enveloping you and letting you rest, even for a small bit of time.

Afterwards you browse the shops in town (only looking, never buying) before heading to the market to finish your day off. You spend the money for the groceries to get you through the week before heading back home. You do your best to walk most places you go, not wanting to spend the fare for the trollies. 

The streets are busy on the weekend and on your walk back to your house, someone bumps into you causing you to drop your bags, all of your freshly bought groceries tumbling to the ground. The person doesn’t even stop and you can’t bother chasing them too. You just sigh and bend down to pick up the now unusable goods. 

You now have to turn around and go back into town to get more groceries. It will take a good chunk out of your funds, but not too much. Maybe you’ll pick up a few more shifts at the factory.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” As you’re thinking about how to make up the price of the ruined groceries, you miss the man who has walked up to you.

When you look up you see a beautiful man with a sweet round face and dark hair staring down at you. He’s dressed nicely in a suit and it takes you a moment to actually respond to him, too distracted by his good looks.

“Pardon?”

“I was asking if you were okay?” The man bends down to help you pick up the rest of the food spilled on the ground. “I saw that man bump into you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh! I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, appreciative of the kind gesture.

“But all of your groceries are now ruined. Allow me to buy you more.”

“Oh no! That’s not necessary,” you quickly tell the man. You don’t even know him and you would feel guilty allowing a man who didn’t even cause the casualty to pay for your groceries, especially with the state of the economy.

“I insist,” he says, standing and then helping you stand as well. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Sir it really-” Before you can even finish your sentence the man was walking away, back towards the town. You could just go back home, but then you’d be left with no groceries for the week so you begrudgingly follow him back to the market.

“Lee Jihoon, by the way,” he tells you as you two walk around the market, collecting what you need. You give him your name as well and he grins, a small spark igniting behind his eyes as he tells you how lovely your name is.

When you’re done regathering what you need you move to head to the register, but Jihoon stops you.

“This is all you’re getting? It’s barely enough for any proper meals. Please, add more. I won’t mind, I demand of it actually.” Jihoon then moves to add more to the basket and once again you have to follow along as Jihoon is the one carrying it.

You protest each time a new item is added but Jihoon keeps hushing you like you’re a life long friend rather than a stranger he met on the street no more than thirty minutes ago. By the time Jihoon is satisfied with what’s in your basket, it’s full to the top and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much food in your life. Guilt eats away at you as you think about the money Jihoon is about to drop on you just because someone else made you drop your bags.

It isn’t until you’re checking out and Jihoon casually pulls out multiple banknotes without even a blink of an eye that you realize that not everyone lives like you and that just maybe Jihoon doesn’t mind paying so much because he has the money laying around to do so. Even back when your mother was alive and your father was able to work your family was still paying for everything with scraped up coins.

The sun is already low in the sky by the time you two exit the market and Jihoon stops you once more. “Allow my driver to take you back to your house.”

The sentence alone confirms your suspicions on Jihoon’s monetary status. To own a car is a luxury of its own, but to have a driver as well seals the deal.

You already can tell it’s impossible to turn Jihoon down so you just follow him back to his car. You wonder if his driver followed you after you two walked to the market. When you two get into the car you tell your address to the driver, trying not to get embarrassed at the thought of the nice car driving through your run down little neighborhood. 

Jihoon’s driver just nods and starts up the car. The three of you sit in silence until the car pulls up to your house and you climb out. Jihoon does as well, helping carry your groceries to the door.

“It was nice meeting you,” Jihoon says. “If you ever need anything again, give me a call.” He holds out a small white card, his business card, to you. You take it and thank him once more before entering your house, your mind still lingering on the strange, rich man.

You don’t give Jihoon a call, but you don’t have to. You run into him again not even three days after your first interaction. It’s early in the morning and you’re heading back home after work when you hear your name called out. When you turn you see the man’s car rolling up next to you, his head poking out of the back seat window.

“What are you doing walking alone so early in the morning? The sun has barely started to rise.”

"I'm walking back home from work," you answer honestly.

Jihoon's face looks sour at this, like he couldn't imagine working so late at night. "If you have been working all night let me treat you to breakfast."

It's your turn to let your face screw up slightly. You know that Jihoon can afford to buy you breakfast, but you still don't want to feel indebted to him. Not to mention your father will be waking up soon and you'll need to make his breakfast as well. You tell Jihoon as much.

"Then I will buy breakfast for your father too," is his solution.

You're not sure why he keeps insisting on buying you things but you just sigh and climb into the car. Jihoon has a smug grin on his face as he tells his driver where to go.

A few minutes later the car pulls up in front of a diner and you and Jihoon enter. It's nothing extravagant, but still a treat for those with a tight budget. 

The two of you sit in silence until a waitress comes and takes your order. Jihoon doesn't allow you to order for yourself, picking what he tells you are the most delicious and filling items. He orders for himself and then a third meal, asking the waitress to not cook it until she brings the check.

You note the way Jihoon has a nice presence to him, friendly and warm and inviting. The way his soft features are accentuated when he smiles, his round cheeks puffing up and his eyes squinting. You find him fascinating, but there's something more than that, something drawing you to him.

"So, where do you work that has you walking home at six in the morning?" 

The question breaks the ice between you as you fall into a natural conversation, asking questions and trading answers. Your hesitations towards the man quickly ebb the more you talk.

You learn he's a highly successful businessman but the war has halted much of his work which has given him some much needed down time. Like you, he doesn't have many living family members and he's an altruistic man so much of his money is left unspent.

Before you know it both of your meals are finished and the waitress is bringing over the check and the packaged meal for your father. Just like at the market, Jihoon pulls out his banknotes and pays before escorting you back to his car.

When you arrive at your house a part of you feels disappointed that the morning with Jihoon is over. Now it's back to the real world. 

You're halfway to your door when you suddenly turn back around. You don't know what causes you to say it before you can stop yourself you spit out, "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It's the last I could do after all of your kindness." 

Jihoon beams in front of you. "I would love that."

Bloodiest Battles of the War So Far, Conscription Soon to Follow?

Five months after you meet Jihoon he knocks on your front door, a letter clutched in his fist. There's a grim look on his face when you open the door and you know automatically.

The Battle of Bloody Ridge, follwoed by The Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, took out many of the soldiers on the frontlines and the country was now desperate to find new ones to replace them. A mandatory conscription for any young man who was eligible to join the military.

It didn't take long for you and Jihoon to start a relationship after your first few meetings. He's the perfect man, taking care of both you and your father and showering you in nothing but love and affection. The thought of him so far away, in the direct line of danger, makes a lump grow in your throat. Your chest tightens as your heart aches.

"We'll be okay," Jihoon mutters into your hair as you cry silently into his neck, holding him tightly. Like if you hold him tight enough he won't have to leave.

That's not how the world works though, and you accompany Jihoon on the day he is to deploy.

"If you need more money just send me a letter and I'll take care of it, okay?"

"You've left me with plenty already, love," you tell him as you fix his jacket collar. "Just come home safe."

"As long as you make sure I have something to come home to."

You can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you lean forward to press your lips to Jihoon's. He kisses you back, putting all of his love into it. A promise to you, that you will see him again, that this isn't your last kiss.

With one last squeeze of the hand Jihoon boards the bus and you're left alone, a heaviness in your heart and worry forming under your skin.

You just have to keep telling yourself he'll be okay, he has to be.

December 19, 1951

To the one my heart has gone to,

I hope you don't mind the frequency of my letters, I just feel closer to you know that eventually you'll hold the same paper in your fingers. I miss you tremendously, to the point my heart aches thinking of you.

Do you know that when you send your letters they smell of you? I always keep your most recent ones safe, in hopes to preserve the smell for just a little while longer.

There's not much to report about today, which I suppose is a good thing. Better than something hectic or even worse, a battle. 

Unfortunately it still doesn't look like there will be a break anytime soon. Battle after battle, life after life. It's not easy, but I've come to like the other men in my unit. Jeonghan takes good of us and Seokmin makes nice company. 

I don't want to keep you long, but I wanted to make sure you'd get a letter for before the holidays hit. Merry Christmas my love.

I'll make it up to you when I get home okay? For now just keep me in your dreams.

Write back soon, please. I want to hear what my lover has been up to. Keep me updated on your father as well.

All my love,

Your Jihoon

March 22, 1952

Today was hard.

I'm doing unwell as I write this letter, but it would pain me more not to send you my update.

Kwon Soonyoung died next to me today on the battlefield. It is not the first time a man has died near me, but it is the first time it was a man I have grown fond of. He was only a few months older than I am.

As grim as it may sound, and as much as I will mourn the loss, I am grateful that it was not me in his place. It was a difference of mere inches and fate chose Soonyoung. Does it mean anything? Is there a reason why I lived and he didn’t? I’m not sure but all I can think about is that his sacrifice is giving me a second chance at going home. Does that make me a bad person?

Everyday I pray this nightmare will be over. The thought of you is the only thing encouraging me to go on. I think about coming home to you, kissing your sweet lips, holding you in my arms.

We’ve been apart longer than we were together and I beat myself up for that everyday. I wish we would have met earlier, but as soon as the war is over we will have all the time in the world. Just you and me.

Wish me home soon,

Your Jihoon

November 30, 1952

To the home of my heart,

You have been on my mind all of today, not that you aren’t always on my mind normally. It has been particularly hard today though. It’s been a full year since my departure from you and every day has been harder than the last.

It’s hard to sleep at night and I often lay awake and think about you. Sometimes I will take a walk and look up at the sky. The moon and the stars are thousands of miles away but they still seem so close and bring so much comfort. That’s how I feel about you. Gazing at the moon also helps because it is still the same moon that you are under as well.

Look at the moon and think of me okay? Maybe one night we will be looking at the moon at the same time and I will be able to feel you just a bit closer.

Whenever I am able to fall asleep, I dream about you. I dream about the thought of you laying next to me. I wish to kiss your soft lips and feel your warm skin and look into your shining eyes. I dream of the life we will build together when we are reunited at last.

Would you marry me, my love?

I know it’s silly asking over a letter like this, and asking with such a strange courtship, but something in me feels the need to ask. Ever since I met you on the street that one fateful day, I’ve known you were the one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so please accept my proposal (I promise to give you a proper one the second I get home).

The other men keep teasing me about you, but they just don’t understand the love we share. Being with you, even just the thought of you, it feels like home.

A part of me wonders if I’ve secretly loved you my whole life. It sure feels like it. No matter what I know you were made for me and everyday I bless whatever force brought us together. I love you so much it drives me crazy.

When I get home let me take you out on a thousand dates to make up for the time lost. 

Please send me your answer soon,

Your fiance Jihoon

February 01, 1953

To my dearest,

I’m writing to you from the infirmary. I was shot in battle earlier, nowhere too fatal just the leg, but I just woke up from the procedure to remove the bullet and patch me up. I’m lucky to come out with nothing more than a scar. Some other men aren’t as lucky.

It seems everyday is a new fight, but it’s worth it if it gives me a chance of going back home to you. We’ll buy a house close to the port, so you can be near the ocean breeze. Every night we’ll walk the shore and watch the sunset together. Then on Saturdays I’ll accompany you on your errands. We’ll go to town together and get groceries and visit the cafe and do whatever your heart desires. 

I’ll buy fresh flowers for your parents every week.

We could get a cat to keep you company while I’m at work and you could quit that heinous job at the factory. That would give you more time to focus on yourself. You and I both know that my wealth is more than enough for just the two of us.

Our house shouldn’t be too big, but still a good size in case we ever have guests over. I think we should start a garden as well.

Ah, my love, thinking about our future is nice. It helps me wish for the future, helps me feel closer to you. Thank you for being my safe place away from this nightmare. I should rest more now, but please remember that I will always spend everyday loving you.

Pray for my speedy recovery,

Your Jihoon

July 07, 1953

Jagiya! I apologize for the lack of letters recently, things have been so hectic around here, but I write with good news!

The talk around camp is that the negotiations have been making a move, there is finally an end in sight. I cannot wait to get back to you. It has been far too long since I’ve seen you and the photo I carry of you has started to fade already from how often I admire it. 

I cannot stay to write for long, but I needed to send you an update and a reminder of my love. I promise we will be back together soon.

Go to town and buy some flowers for yourself okay? Today is worth celebrating.

I can’t wait to see you,

Your Jihoon

You’re jittery as you smooth down your shirt, waiting for the bus to pull up. The same bus that took him away nearly two years ago.

When all of your friends heard about your beau, they all called you crazy. Holding out for a man who has been gone for quadruple the amount of time you spent together and you guess maybe it is crazy, but for Jihoon you would do anything.

It is true that you two were only together for five months before his deployment, but even before he left you knew you were madly in love with Lee Jihoon. You spent your nights reading the letters Jihoon sent you, and writing ones back. You would think you two had been lovers for fifty years rather than five months.

You’ve always felt the pull towards Jihoon though, like you’ve been loving him all your life. Every letter he sent made you fall in love with him even more, and now two years later he’s finally coming home. 

The days were hard without him when you saw him nearly everyday before he left. Winter of 1952 was less than kind, taking your father with it and leaving you alone for the last seven months, wishing for nothing but for Jihoon to come home. Now he is and you couldn’t be more elated.

The people standing around you start to cheer when someone catches sight of the bus, but you can’t do anything but stand there, your heart pounding in your chest. When the bus stops and soldiers start to pour out you have a moment of doubt. The fear that Jihoon won’t want you anymore, that everything has changed for the worse, creeps into your mind.

The thoughts can barely form though because then Jihoon’s stepping off the bus and his skin is so much tanner than it used to be and you’ve never seen him with his hair so short but it’s Jihoon, your Jihoon. His eyes light up when he catches sight of your familiar face and he’s dropping his bags and running towards you.

His arms are locked around your waist and you’re being lifted off the ground. You cup Jihoon’s face in your hands and lean down to kiss him as he spins you two around, easing all of the worries in your mind. Your cheeks dampen as tears start to stream down your face, too many emotions coursing through you to keep them all on the inside.

You keep your hands on Jihoon’s face as he sets you down. You stroke his cheek, feeling his warm skin under your touch. “You’re here, you’re really here.”

“I’m here my love, I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you and Jihoon to leave the station. You two sit in the back of his car, pressed together as Jihoon presses kisses to your face every few minutes. You’re not much better though, leaning into him with a dopey grin on your face, ready to start your new life with the man you love the most.

The next time you see Jihoon isn’t at the antique shop at all. You’re getting coffee at the cafe next to your apartment when you see the man walk in. His eyes light up a bit when he sees you and he makes a beeline to your table after getting his drink.

“Is this seat open?” He asks, pointing to the empty chair across from you.

“Of course.”

Jihoon takes a seat before turning his attention to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” you say teasingly but Jihoon just grins.

“Maybe it is,” his voice is smooth as he talks, and your breath gets caught in your throat, “I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if I was destined to meet you over and over again.”

You break his gaze, trying not to show him how flustered you are. “You’re quite the sweet talker you know? You don’t know anything about me-”

“No, but I don’t think it would be hard to learn. I’m starting to think we’re not really strangers at all. You can’t tell me that you aren’t a bit interested in me as well.”

You glance back at Jihoon to find him staring intently at him. His eyes are warm and deep and you can feel yourself being drawn in, like you’ve stared at those eyes a million times before. There’s an inviting sense to all of Jihoon and the only thing you can think of to describe it as is home. 

“Okay,” you tell him with a slight grin. “Let’s see if destiny is right.”

And really you don’t care if it is fate or not, because as you and Jihoon fall into a comfortable conversation you realize that the two of you meeting was no mistake, and that you could definitely love Lee Jihoon for multiple lifetimes. 

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[yanderehsr]

I have an idea regressor reader every time she dies escaping her yandere or commits suicide to escape her yandere she returns the day she met him

she avoids her yandere at all costs but in the end they always end up meeting him no matter what she does

In the end, she always tries again with her ability that the yandere doesn't know, only because of an oversight the yandere finds out about her regression ability

how he will react with (dan heng, jing yuan, luocha)

Reader getting the Re:Zero treatment🙃

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Dan Heng: He overheard you talking to yourself. He can't believe it, has he failed so many times, he comes out from where he was stalking you, he needs to get you to safety right this instant. He needs to make sure you wont die.

When Dan Heng arrives at a safehouse, somewhere far from society and any dangers, he locks you in, he leaves the astral express, they may be important to him but you are far more important. He babyproofes the house, you wont die again.

"Please don't die again, I can protect you here, you will know no more pain"

Jing Yuan: He notices you seem to know what happens before it happens, he has multiple theories, maybe you traveled back in time or you could see the future. He finds out what it was later after manipulating the answer out of you, and the answer chocked him.

Jing Yuan will pull out all the tricks he knows to make you want to stay with him, while also keeping you safe. He tries to speedrun it, who knows when and if you will die. He will make sure you're safe and with him

"Why deal with all the death, just give in and become mine and all the pain will disappear"

Luocha: When he finds out, the mask he wears to make him more appealing to you falls of. He has this look of panic on him, like you're a fragile glass being. He takes your hands in his gently. The fact that you have used your own hands to end your own life scares him.

Luocha will make sure you wont die this time, even if he has to carry you around in a coffin, he has made breathing holes and muted you. He only takes you out to make sure you eat and drink, you wont die on his watch.

"I know you don't like this darling, but it's the best solution"

I hope you enjoyed it😊

[bihanarms]

Unveiled Passion (Johnny Cage x Fem!Reader OS)

sum up: okay, I just watched 'Crazy, Stupid, Love,' and as I was observing how Ryan Gosling was with Emma Stone, I couldn't stop myself from picturing Johnny as him. So, it's inspired by the movie, sweeties! Hope you'll like it :p

warnings: mention of smut but not explicit

Damn, I'm so tired..

Exhaustion weighed heavily on (Y/N) like a burden, every step she took in her apartment felt laborious. The day had been a succession of intense battles, vicious attacks, and precise maneuvers alongside Liu Kang and the other champions he had gathered. Since the day he had knocked on her door with that determined gleam in his eyes, her life had taken an irrevocable turn.

The apartment provided an oasis of tranquility amidst the chaos of their mission. She dropped her weapons bag with a sigh of relief onto the couch. Each joint seemed to protest as her body reminded her of the countless blows she had endured to protect the realms. The soft glow of the lamps cast a soothing light around the room, creating a comforting ambiance.

(Y/N)'s steady breath blended with the apartment's silence. Ever since she had joined the god of fire and the other champions, moments of quiet had become rare. But despite the overwhelming fatigue, a profound sense of satisfaction lingered within her. She recalled how she had hidden her powers for years, working in a mundane office, leading a life that seemed ordinary on the surface. And now, here she was, a fighter in an epic battle to save the realms.

She had found a family among these champions, a unity forged in the fires of fierce battles and the sharing of colossal burdens. She had established quite good relationships with each of them, sensing extraordinary souls within them, and that was true even for someone like Johnny Cage for exemple.

And, it hasn't always been the case, his arrogance and oversized ego had tested (Y/N)'s patience more than once. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she reminisced about their past interactions, a hint of frustration evident in her gaze, now heavy with fatigue. Despite the transcendent stakes of their mission, Johnny always found a way to tease and provoke, as if perpetually playing his own role in an action movie. His persistent attempts to flirt, accompanied by clichéd and crude phrases, had become a predictable routine.

She had known him from before all this, as they were both from Earthrealm. He was a well-known actor she had seen on television many times before the current events. He exuded undeniable charm, and she couldn't deny that, but his way of being... God. And since they had been brought together by Liu Kang and she had met him in person, she had discovered that he was the same man in real life as he was on television. So despite his appealing physique, she wondered how he could attract so many women with such a cheesy personality.

But, as mentioned earlier, she had come to appreciate everyone, including him, and well to be honest, that had happened just a few days ago. Something truly strange had unfolded between them during a mission. Beyond the intense battle she had fought, Johnny had saved her when she was on the brink of imminent death, throwing himself in front of the enemy to shield her. It was an entirely ordinary act of camaraderie in their shared struggle, but what had followed had disrupted the equilibrium of her feelings.

When he had approached her while she lay on the ground, whispering, Thank God, I was so afraid of losing you, He had said those words with an unexpectedly sincere tone. It wasn't one of his usual charming lines he tossed around at regular intervals, nor was it one of his arrogant provocations. His tone had been laden with genuine concern, his gaze expressing an unusual sincerity. She had never heard him speak to her in this manner before.

And since that day, a new side of Johnny Cage had revealed itself to her, causing a deep disturbance within her. The question swirled in her mind: was she attracted to him? The notion was hard to digest. How could she, in the span of a day, a split second, due to a simple gaze, undergo such a transformation in her feelings towards him?

Not to mention that over the past few days, even the most insignificant jokes that escaped Johnny's lips managed to draw a smile on (Y/N)'s face. And he couldn't overlook this phenomenon. He had started teasing her more, throwing jabs more frequently, a behavior that caught her off guard. She relished in this playful interaction more than she would admit, even to herself. It was a feeling she secretly loathed cherishing.

That evening, he even had the audacity to invite her out to a bar, suggesting they should "relax for a moment, just the two of them." His words had struck a chord, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. When he made the proposition, she felt her heart race, but she masked her unease by raising her chin and appraising him from head to toe, adopting a semi-stern tone.

.

"Come with me tonight, (Y/N), it's going to be fun," he had said, a taunting smirk on his lips.

"No, sir, I'm not really the type to go out, especially not by your side," she retorted, although deep within herself, she secretly wished to say yes.

He had countered playfully, "You're lying to yourself, my dear. Well, too bad for you, I'll send you a picture anyway so you can see what you're missing!" accompanied by a mischievous wink.

"Whatever..."

.

Why had she turned down his invitation, even though deep down, a part of her wanted to accept? Simply because she still wasn't ready to admit that she might be attracted to him. Moreover, a glimmer of fear crept in whenever she considered the possibility of emotionally engaging with such a charming man, a true heartbreaker.

.

Bip

.

The shrill sound of the phone abruptly interrupted the apartment's tranquility. Who could it be at this hour? Let me be...

Her pulse quickened as she saw the message display on the screen: a message from Johnny Cage. A part of her had anticipated that he would be behind this unexpected interruption. She unlocked the phone and read the words typed by his teasing hand:

"You're missing out on a hell of a night, babe."

A mixture of exasperation and amusement tickled her nerves. With agile fingers, she opened the photo attached to the message. Of course, it was him, always true to his signature sunglasses, his face sporting a wide grin as his right hand proudly displayed a middle finger. That stupid man... A smile crept onto the young woman's lips, but it quickly faded when she noticed two female silhouettes in the background. Two women, dressed in form-fitting dresses, their charms on display... they were absolutely stunning.

A sharp pang formed in her belly. Wait, am I jealous? She was surprised by her own mind's instinctive reaction. But the truth lay there, lurking in the corner of her consciousness. She couldn't deny the jealousy that had awakened within her. The mental image of Johnny charming these women, his cliché-laden pickup lines making them laugh, them succumbing to his charm with disconcerting ease, all of it swirled in her mind.

.

Bip

.

A new message, this time from Johnny. Meet me at Angel Share, 5 Second Street, in case you change your mind.

A deep sigh escaped her lips. Damn right, I'm going to change my mind, you'll see. With determined steps, she headed to her wardrobe, picking an elegant dress and a matching pair of heels. She had decided to brush off all this inner confusion, to enjoy the evening, whether she wanted to or not. With one final check in the mirror, she left her apartment, ready to face what awaited her.

.

"And that's how I saved the world, ladies!"

A mixture of joyful laughter erupted from the two blondes sharing a table with the actor. Compliments followed:

"Wow, you're truly amazing, Johnny..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know..." he concluded, punctuating his words with a playful wink. The music was in full swing, the walls of the bar vibrating to the rhythm of upbeat sounds. People danced, laughed heartily, and the atmosphere was at its peak. An exhilarating feeling electrified the air, infusing each of the participants.

Suddenly, the entrance door swung open forcefully, revealing a tall figure. The newcomer's eyes immediately fixed on the international cinema star, Johnny Cage. Intrigued by the noise and movement, Johnny swiftly turned towards the source of disruption. Between the effects of alcohol and the distance, he struggled to discern who stood at the club's entrance. However, the silhouette was approaching rapidly, and in an instinctive move, he removed his sunglasses to see more clearly.

"(Y/N!)" he exclaimed with joy, "I knew you couldn't resist the urge to come to me—"

"Shut your dumb mouth, Cage."

Without hesitation, (Y/N) took Johnny's face in her hands and pressed her lips against his in a passionate kiss. This audacity caught Johnny off guard, his eyes widening momentarily.

However, his surprise didn't last, as he soon responded to the kiss with growing intensity. His hands slid from (Y/N)'s face down to the small of her back, pulling her closer to his own body.

A thrill of electricity ran down (Y/N)'s spine as Johnny deepened the kiss. Their lips danced in an intoxicating rhythm, forging a sensory connection between them. The curious glances and murmurs of surprise among the other patrons seemed distant as they got lost in this exchange.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingling, Johnny's mischievous smile bore a different glint, one that was softer, more genuine. (Y/N) gazed at him, revealing a vulnerability she hadn't anticipated.

"I think you should take me to your place."

"Uh, yeah... yeah, I think you're right, let's do that."

.

Once at Johnny's, the atmosphere subtly changed. A grand mansion that was clearly comfortable, imbued with a laid-back ambiance, and all these items? Damn, he even had a pool in his living room. (Y/N) looked around, absorbing the details of the place while trying to gather her thoughts. Johnny, on the other hand, had gone straight to the bar, determined to create a pause in the buzz that had arisen.

"So," he said with a teasing smile, "how about a few cocktails to start?"

(Y/N) nodded, feeling that it was exactly what she needed. Johnny got to work, skillfully mixing the ingredients with an ease that suggested he had done this more than once. Soon, two colorful glasses were placed in front of them. The young woman appeared much more nervous and less self-assured now that she was alone with her comrade in arms.

"Here you go, beautiful," he declared, handing her the glass.

They clinked glasses, their gazes briefly meeting before their lips touched the edge of the glasses.

(Y/N) quickly felt the warmth of the cocktail slide into her veins. She could feel the tensions easing, her mind gradually relaxing. As she took another sip, she could sense Johnny's gaze on her, silently observing her with curiosity.

Without hesitation, she lifted her glass and downed it in one go. Johnny's expression shifted from amusement to surprise, though he forced himself to maintain an impassive demeanor.

"That, my dear, is what I call a good start," he commented with a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, are you going to give me some explanations?"

"Explanations about what?" (Y/N) replied, her voice slightly nervous.

A teasing smile danced on his lips. "I think you know very well, sweetheart, or do I have to draw you a diagram of how you threw yourself at me a few minutes ago?" he retorted, a mix of mischief and challenge in his gaze.

She let out a nervous laugh, her cheeks slightly flushed. "I didn't exactly 'throw myself' at you," she said, trying to regain her composure despite her nervousness.

Johnny approached her with confident and assured steps. A playful smile still lingered on his face. "Hm, really?" he quipped with a teasing tone.

The young woman instinctively took a few steps back, her eyes sparkling with both amusement and nervousness. Then, she took a deep breath and began to speak, slightly stuttering but determined. "Okay, I know I seemed very confident at the bar when I rushed over to kiss you, but now that we're alone, I'm much more nervous about the idea of sleeping with you."

Johnny's smile slightly faded at her words. "Sleeping with me?" he repeated, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Who said we were going to sleep together?" He looked at her for a moment, then a light chuckle escaped his lips.

"Oh, come on, I know very well!" she exclaimed playfully, feeling the effects of alcohol allowing her to speak her mind freely. "Isn't that what you do with all those girls? You bring them home, have a few cocktails, and end up sleeping together in the pool, for instance?"

Johnny blinked, surprised by (Y/N)'s audacious remark. Then, he let out a genuine laugh, evidently appreciating her straightforwardness. "Well, yes, if that's what you want but-" he was about to say, but was abruptly cut off by (Y/N)'s assured and determined voice.

"Take off your shirt."

His eyebrows raised slightly in a mix of surprise and amusement as she didn't seem to shy away from anything, and her proposition was quite unexpected. He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what he should do.

"What? Seriously, just out of the blue like that?" he asked, a teasing smile still playing on his lips.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation, her determined tone showing that she was set on seeing this through.

Johnny chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Well, you're not afraid to speak your mind, that's for sure."

(Y/N) didn't back down, her captivating gaze still holding his. "I've always wanted to know if it's real or just Photoshop in your movies," she explained with a mischievous smile.

The actor looked at her, his eyes slightly widened, impressed by her audacity and carefree attitude. He hesitated for a moment, then with a theatrical shrug, he started unbuttoning his shirt, gradually revealing his tanned skin.

She fixed her gaze on every movement, her eyes lighting up with undeniable fascination. When he finally took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled muscles and athletic physique, she felt her breath catch slightly.

"Wow, is this for real?" she murmured, her voice filled with surprise and admiration.

A teasing laugh escaped Johnny's lips as he raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Do you want to touch to check?"

(Y/N) bit her lip, feeling her cheeks grow warmer. "No, I'm good," she replied with a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

He ran a hand through his hair, displaying a smirk. "Can I put my shirt back on?" he asked, slightly embarrassed and taken aback by the turn of events.

"No," she replied again without hesitation. "So, what's the next step?"

Johnny was caught off guard by this question, his confidence momentarily shaken. He was used to bringing women home, but it had never taken this turn before. His thoughts raced, looking for something to suggest that could match the moment.

Suddenly, (Y/N) had a mischievous smile. "I have an idea," she announced, taking Johnny by surprise. Before he could react, she lightly pushed him, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the pool.

The cold water seized him, the shock making him burst into laughter. He emerged from the water, shaking his head to get rid of the excess water. "Well, that was unexpected."

She laughed along, feeling the alcohol rise to her head but enjoying the effect it had on her. She didn't care about anything anymore, and no worries occupied her mind. She took a risk by pushing him into the water, but it seemed like the perfect thing to do in that moment.

Johnny spread his arms theatrically. "You managed to wet these super expensive pants I was wearing," he complained with a laugh.

(Y/N) teased him, raising an eyebrow. "Who cares? I'm sure you have enough money to buy 50 more like these," she replied before bursting into laughter again.

A playful smile stretched across the young man lips. "Well, since that's the case..." He suddenly stood up in the water, letting a cascade of water fall onto (Y/N) in the process.

She let out a small cry of surprise, but instead of getting angry, she burst into laughter, finding herself soaked from head to toe. The peals of laughter were contagious, filling the air with lightness and complicity.

Then, without further ado, she began to remove her top, revealing her bra underneath. Johnny's eyes slightly widened as he looked at her, marveling at the beauty of her body. Damn, this woman...

(Y/N) didn't seem to care that she was now in her underwear, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Without hesitation, she jumped into the water next to Johnny, splashing him once more.

.

But then the atmosphere suddenly changed as Johnny boldly approached the young woman, his gaze determined. As he neared her face, (Y/N) felt her heart begin to beat nervously again. Fuck, is he going to kiss me again ?

"It's okay, beautiful, let yourself go, don't overthink it," Johnny began in a soft voice, his hand gently gripping her arm to draw her closer to his body. His hands then slid to her hips, his grip firm but gentle. "Trust me, I know you want it as much as I do."

Charmed by Johnny's smooth voice, (Y/N) allowed herself to be swept away, getting lost in a kiss even more passionate than the previous one. Their lips met with a palpable intensity, their breaths mingling in the tension-filled air.

The kiss was scorching, filled with desire and curiosity, as if they were seeking to explore every corner of their mutual emotions. Their bodies seemed to naturally align, their hands wandering with growing confidence, exploring every contour and curve.

As their lips finally parted, (Y/N) gazed intensely at Johnny. "You also feel more than just a one-night stand thing, right? Be honest " she asked in a soft voice, laden with emotion.

Johnny got lost in (Y/N)'s eyes, feeling his own heart beating just as strongly. All his Hollywood-forged arrogance had disappeared at this moment as he lost himself in her sincere gaze. The atmosphere became much more serious, a palpable tension enveloping the room.

"Yes, sweatheart, don't be afraid, I feel it too," he replied calmly and authentically.

A smile of relief spread across (Y/N)'s face, doubts and worries seemingly dissipating. Johnny continued, his tone carrying a touching sincerity. "Now, come here."

They kissed again with renewed fervor, passion and desire merging in every movement of their lips. (Y/N) let her hands roam all over Johnny's body, exploring his skin and the feeling of his muscles beneath her fingers. Meanwhile, Johnny slowly lowered his hands, placing them on (Y/N)'s hips before sliding them down to gently grasp her ass cheeks.

Their bodies were close, each touch electrifying their skin and intensifying their mutual desire. They lost themselves in each other, their hands and lips communicating a multitude of emotions and sensations. The sexual tension between them was palpable, and as their hands ventured further, they knew that this night would be the beginning of a deep and passionate connection.

[wonxlvr]

High All The Time

you get me so high- the neighbourhood

— “your my best friend, ill love you forever.”

For @bywons ‘on ℴur 𝑙ove。✦ ’ event!! Go check out the other amazing writers :)

Pairing: stoner!heeseung x fem!reader || Word count: || 1K+ (1794) || Genre: LOTS of angst, fluff, second chance ||Warning: cursing, mentions of death, mentions of drug and drug usage, NOT PROOF CHECKED!

preview 🎬: The high school sweethearts, thats what you and heeseung were known for. Up until senior year when heeseung became a druggie, which took a toll on your relationship.

eve’s notes: STOP WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG FOR ME TO MAKE THIS 😭 anyways its finally out so i hope yall enjoy 🙏 it feel like it couldve been better but its still pretty good IG…

You walked into school, usually with your boyfriend of 3 years but he ditched you to go smoking behind the school, yet again. You were wearing sweats and your Heeseung’s only good hoodie, the rest all reeked of substances and cigarette burns. You would’ve worn something more appealing, but you were too tired.

Heeseung used to be the sweetest boyfriend ever. You met him in your sophomore year through mutual friends and several classes you shared and instantly hit it off. Casual meet ups turned into dates, and on your 2nd date he asked you to be his girlfriend. To which you obviously said yes.

Up until senior year is when things fell apart, he hung out with a bad group of friends and ended up ditching you to go do drugs with them.

You never really had a problem with it until he missed almost every date because he was knocked out cold. You were deeply concerned for his health and well being, that being the core factor to all of your fights with him.

Heeseung came over to your place on the weekends, tripping over his own feet and smelled too strongly of weed.

“Babe, Again? I told you that you needed to stop” you said gently.

“Im sorry, i promise ill stop, baby.” He apologizes, slurring over his words. It was obvious he wasnt sincere with his words, but again, and again, like a fool, you fell for it every time. Thinking he would change.

As you walked hands in your pockets, pity stares were thrown your way but you tried not to mind it. You approached your locker and quickly got your stuff. You saw a glimpse of Heeseung and quickly stormed over to him.

“Baby, where have you been!?” You said in a huff. Heeseung covered his ears to show as if you were being too loud.

“Chill, i was just out back with chenle and the others. And stop yelling, you give me a headache.” Heeseung said as he held his hand up to his head.

You scoff to the side, “I thought you said you would quit?” You angered. Heeseung shrugged and walked pass you angering you more.

“Stop running from your problems!” You yelled from behind, he pretended not to hear you as he went to his friends.

Your eyes welled up with tears, but you blinked them away before anyone could see. You quickly walked to your next class half expecting heeseung to show up but as always, he never did.

You laid your head down and tried to nap. You were tired of him, tired of school, tired of everything. Luckily high school would be ending very soon, in less than a week.

Days pasted by faster than you expected, and graduation day came sooner than anticipated.

Heeseung agreed to have his focus solely on you on graduation day.

The night before the big day, heeseung came over and stayed with you the whole night. School had ended already and now the only event left was graduation day.

You both watched movies and ate snacks together. You were laying on heeseung and you felt his breaths get calmer and short sighs coming out every now and then. When you looked up, he was fast asleep and it was the cutest sight you have seen. You kissed his cupid bow shaped lips and you swore you’ve never felt more in love with someone in your life. Soon falling asleep on him.

Graduation day came and went, heeseung had suprised you with your favorite flowers and a beutiful necklace with an infinity sign to represent your relationship. You made a silent promise to never take it off, the necklace meaning a lot to you.

Hugs and pictures were exchanged throughout the day, the last day was overwhelming for almost everyone.

Jay announced a graduation party that night at his parents house since they would be gone for the week. Everyone was going so you thought why not go as-well.

That night, you did your hair pretty, did your makeup soft, and wore something simple as jeans and a black top.

You went with your friends and told heeseung to meet you at Jay’s place. You and your friends arrived a little later and you stayed with them for a bit until all of you heard yelling.

“y/n!” Jay called. You snapped your head to his direction with a questioning look.

“You need to come with me, your boyfriend is going crazy!” Jay exclaimed.

You got up from your sitting spot creating a domino effect and causing all of your friends to get up as well.

Jay signalled to follow him, and that you did like ducklings following their mother.

When you saw heeseung, he looked like he was on something and was yelling at someone.

“Heeseung!” You said, but your voice was drowned out from his yelling. You pushed yourself through the crowd until you were close enough to reach him.

Just as he raised his fist, you grabbed his hand and led him out the house.

When he saw you, his eyes softened and his demeanor shifted.

“Baby, what was that?” You questioned

“That guy was talking mad stuff you know i cant let that slide, love,” he spoke in a daze.

“Babe, what did you take” you said plugging your nose to stop the smell.

Heeseung shrugged and muttered something incoherent.

“What?” You asked

“Never mind.” He sighed

“No, tell me baby.”

“Just forget it!” He spoke louder.

“Tell me, what did you take?” You questioned inpatiently

“I said forget it, y/n!” He yelled in your face. You were taken aback from his outburst.

“Oh so its y/n now, huh?” You snapped.

“Look, just let it go” he scoffed.

“Hee, dont you get it? I care about you, just tell me!” You insisted.

“Fine, i just took a few tabs. You happy?” He mocked.

“tabs!? Heeseung what were you thinking! Thats dangerous, you could die!” You yelled.

“So what?” he said.

“so what!? Youre SERIOUSLY asking me that right now!? Heeseung, i love you too much to loose you. Please stop this addiction before it gets any worse.” You pleaded with him.

“I dont need you to dictate my life. Just stop telling me what to do!” He shot back.

You scoffed, “fine, you know what? I will. Heeseung, im breaking up with you.” You said, tears threatening to fall.

“What? Baby, you can be serious right now,” Heeseung argued.

“Dont call me that anymore, heeseung we are done. Dont even try to contact me.” You cried, tears already pouring down your checks.

“No please, y/n please! I cant go on without you in my life!” He begged.

“You said you dont need me, right? So theres that, now ill leave you alone.” You sobbed, you turned away as he tried to convince you to stay. you ran away from him wiping your tears with your wrist and quickly dialed your friends number with shaking hands.

“Y/n? Whats up?”

“Isa, i need you to come take me home right now,” you said in broken sentences.

You heard her cut the line of and within minutes she pulled up in front of you.

You got in the passengers seat as you cried uncontrollably. Isa tried to console you while still trying to keep her attention on the road. She drove you home and told you to call her whenever you need and drove away.

You ran to your bed to cry in your pillow. Your phone buzzed several times, all from heeseung. Hundreds of missed calls and hundreds more unread messages. You put your phone on silent as you cried loudly in your bed.

When you woke up, your pillow was still damp and it was bright outside. All of the event of that night came hurling to you like a bad dream, causing a major headache. You only wanted to crawl in your bed and never come out.

You checked you phone and under all the notifications from heeseung, was a miss call from jay. Confused, you decided to call him back.

“Hello?” You spoke in a rasp when he picked up.

“Y/N! I need you to come to the hospital, heeseung just got into a bad accident.” He said in a panic.

You didn’t believe it at first, you didnt want to believe it. But still you called up isa and told her to go to the hospital.

“What happened?” She asked while driving with speed but with efficiency.

“I broke up with him last night, and now jay told me he got into an accident. Now i feel like shit.” You said burying your head in your hands.

“Hey, hey, its not your fault okay? Me and the girls will always be here for you” she comforted.

“Thanks, isa. I love you guys so much,” you thanked.

“ No problem, now go get your man!” Isa said as she parked outside of the hospital doors.

You smiles and thanked her again before you dashed inside. You spotted Jay and ran up to him,

“Y/n! Heeseung got into a car accident last night, he is in that room but he’s unconscious right now, i thought you might wanted see him.” Jay said softly.

You nodded and went into the room jay pointed to. There you saw Heeseung on the bed, countless of machines and wires connected to his body. You held his unresponsive hand and broke down on your knees.

“Hee! Im so sorry, I shouldve never left you alone like that, i was too harsh. Please! Wake up, I cant imagine my life without you!” You sobbed, holding his hand to your forehead.

“Im sorry for being a bad girlfriend, im sorry for being a brat, im sorry for not looking after you more, im sorry for everything, im sorry i never said ‘i love you’ enough.” You said in broken sentences and several huffs of air.

“Please, heeseung. I love you so much,” you cried uncontrollably.

“I love you too, baby” the sudden voice scaring you

“Heeseung! Youre awake!” You hugged his neck close, never wanting to let go.

Once you backed up to give him space, he confessed to you

“Im sorry babe, its all MY fault. I shouldve stopped using substances a lot time ago. I was meant to be in the position, anyways.” He sighed

“Hey, its okay, but please promise me you wont ever touch a drug in your life again.” You pleaded.

Heeseung smiled softly up at you, “i promise, your my best friend ill love you forever.”

And with that, you passionately kissed him cause you were the only thing that could keep him high all the time.

TY FOR READING THIS FAR MAUHAH YAY LOVE YOU ALL ❤️