#dysfunctional family you know. They work just barely

[quotidianish]

A tiny au dump (with doodles inspired by some tags I saw <3 )

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing and i’d thought i’d try to request a remus lupin x reader kinda hurt comfort fic or blurb? Reader comes from a dysfunctional family where her dads alway angry and she feels like she’s walking on egg shells when around him and her mom throws all responsibilities like taking care of younger sibling onto reader so they always feel like they aren’t doing enough and they kind of cary these traits into their relationship with remus? maybe remus comes home from a hard day at work and reader can immediately sense he’s in a bad mood and like gets really quiet and starts working on the house instead of spending time with him bc she thinks he will be mad or something

This was way longer than i intended it to be im sorry😭 and I totally understand if this was too much or a topic that you don’t wanna write about there is no pressure at all!!!

love ya! -anon

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: implied past harmful/abusive dynamics

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 849 words

If the sharp turn of his key in the lock didn’t tip you off to Remus’ mood, the way he shuts the door behind him would. Automatically, your mind starts whirring with the things you can do. 

Your boyfriend has barely taken his shoes off before you’re in the kitchen, unloading the overfull dish rack. You’ve no idea how you let it go this long; some of these things have been dry for days. You’re shutting drawers and cabinets as softly as you can, wary of worsening Remus’ irritation with a racket. 

“Hey.” He pads into the kitchen, reaching for you. 

“Hi.” You smile and give him a kiss. His hands start to come around your waist, but you pull away in favor of grabbing a pot from the rack. 

“What’re you up to?” he asks. The exhaustion in his voice has a terse edge that makes your fingertips crackle with nervous energy. 

“Just tidying a bit.” 

“Want some help?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply in your most serene voice. “You’ve only just got home, why don’t you relax?” 

Remus hesitates a handful of moments, watching as you go back to whizzing about the kitchen before wordlessly retreating to the living room. 

Once the dish rack is empty, you decide to start filling it up again. There’s an unwashed pot on the stove, an old container of leftovers in the fridge, and a handful of dishes on the coffee table. You make yourself as scarce as you can when you go to retrieve the last. Remus is still emanating traces of a worn-thin temper from where he sits on the couch, reading his book, and you try to minimize the clatter of the dishes as you stack them. When there’s a sigh, you try even harder. 

“Would you stop for a second?” 

You freeze in your tracks. “Stop what?” 

“Just,” he shakes his head, frustrated, “put the dishes down.”

You obey wordlessly. 

Remus looks at you with something you can’t decipher in his expression. “Now would you come here, please?” 

You walk over to him, tensing for—you don’t know what. You don’t think Remus would hit you, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to shout. You’re stiff with anticipation nonetheless. 

He reaches for you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, slotting against him naturally, the way you always do. Remus presses both palms into your back, hugging you tighter than usual but not enough to hurt. 

He nuzzles his face into your neck. “What’s going on with you?” he asks, and he sounds like the soft, grumbly version of himself that tells you to stop fidgeting at 4 a.m. before trapping you in his hold. You start to relax. 

“You seem like you’ve had a hard day,” you say. Not quite an admittance, but close. 

“I have,” Remus agrees. “I was hoping to come home and relax with you. Maybe have a kiss if you were feeling generous.” His teasing comforts you further, and you don’t flinch when he adjusts his hold so he can look you in the eyes. “Are you being weird because you know I’m in a bad mood?” 

When he puts it like that it sounds so silly. This is how you’ve learned to be around hot tempers, quiet and useful, but of course Remus would want someone to console him. To be with him instead of hiding away. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out. Your hands smooth over his shoulders, a belated comfort. 

He sighs, and this time when you hear the frustration in the sound you know it’s not meant for you. Remus takes your face in both hands, pressing a firm kiss to your brow before resting his own against it. 

“Nobody’s angry with you,” he says softly. 

“I know,” you reply just as quietly. “If I think about it, I know you wouldn’t be. It’s just…” 

“Old habits die hard?” he guesses. There’s a wry twist to his tone. 

You hum apologetically. 

Remus lets his cheek slide along yours, pulling you in for another hug. This one is gentler, his hand running the length of your back and squeezing in all the right places. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I’m sorry I came home so cross, sweetheart. I never want to worry you.” 

“I like to worry about you a little,” you tease, and you can sense the reward of your boyfriend’s smile spreading unwillingly over your shoulder. “And it’s not fair to expect you not to have any bad feelings around me. That’s just normal.”

Remus hums thoughtfully. “What if we try this: when you’re feeling like I’m upset, you just say something and we’ll talk about whether it has anything to do with you. Do you think that would work for you?” 

You turn your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder. Remus’ palm cruises down the curve of your spine as you let out a breath. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks.” 

“Thank you, lovely.” He tucks his chin to skim a kiss over your temple. “This is just what I needed. I feel better already.”

[inkspiredwriting]

The Perfect Birthday

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: This little one shot is for @craftyangelpainter. I hope you had a great birthday, and I hope this puts a little smile on your face

Warnings: none

It was a warm afternoon at Five and Y/n’s house, the living room festooned with balloons and streamers. Y/n’s birthday cake stood proudly on the table, a beautiful creation with intricate frosting, baked by Y/n herself because, as usual, she didn't want to burden anyone. Five had worked tirelessly to pull this day together, ensuring everything was perfect for his wife. But as the hours ticked by, the cracks in the celebration started to show.

The whole family had gathered at Five’s insistence, which had been no small feat. As much as they had been through together, getting all the Hargreeves siblings in the same room often felt like trying to contain a tornado in a jar. But for Y/n, Five was determined to make it happen. She deserved it.

Lila and Diego arrived with their three kids in tow, looking tired but managing some smiles for Y/n. However, it wasn’t long before Lila started mentioning their need to head home early. “We’ll have to leave soon,” she said, half-heartedly stirring her drink. “The kids have school tomorrow, and Diego and I are running on fumes.”

Five clenched his jaw. He understood, of course, but this was Y/n’s birthday—one day for his wife to feel celebrated by the people she had grown to care about.

Across the room, Klaus sat huddled on the couch, looking anxious. Without his powers, he had been jittery, afraid of everything from the weather to his own shadow. “I’ll be honest,” he said, his voice shaky as he glanced around nervously, “I’m just trying to keep my anxiety at bay. All this... mortality stuff is really getting to me.”

Ben sat at the far end of the table, scowling at nothing in particular. He poked at his food, clearly uninterested in engaging with anyone. “Can we get this over with?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. I don’t like any of you.”

Allison, who had been on her phone for most of the gathering, finally piped up. “I really need to get back to Claire,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I promised her I wouldn’t be gone too long.”

Luther, ever the optimist, was the only one genuinely thrilled to be there. “Come on, guys, it’s Y/n’s birthday!” he exclaimed, trying to rally some enthusiasm. “Let’s at least try to make it a good time.”

Y/n, for her part, was putting on a brave face. She moved around the room, smiling, offering food, making sure everyone was comfortable. But Five could see the disappointment in her eyes. She had spent so much time thinking of others, doing everything she could to make his dysfunctional family feel welcome. And what did she get in return? Barely any effort.

As the evening wore on, Viktor stood up, slipping his jacket on quietly. “I need to head back to Canada,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “The bar isn’t going to run itself.”

That was the final straw for Five.

He slammed his drink down on the table, the sudden noise silencing the room. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised by the outburst. Five rarely lost his temper now, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Are you kidding me?” Five snapped, his voice sharp and filled with barely-contained fury. “You ungrateful assholes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out to touch his arm, but Five wasn’t done.

“Except Luther,” he added quickly, pointing at his taller brother, who looked caught between relief and awkwardness. “At least he’s trying. But the rest of you? Seriously? Do you even hear yourselves?”

Diego frowned, stepping forward. “What’s your problem, Five? We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Oh, you’re here, alright,” Five retorted. “Physically, maybe. But mentally? Emotionally? You couldn’t care less. Lila and Diego can’t stop talking about leaving, Allison’s glued to her phone like she has something better to do, and Klaus is too busy wallowing in his fear of death to even be present.”

“I have reasons for that!” Klaus interjected weakly, but Five ignored him.

“And Ben?” Five’s voice rose. “Ben can’t even pretend to care. He’s sitting there like we dragged him here against his will.”

Ben crossed his arms, glaring at Five. “I don’t need this,” he muttered, but even he didn’t try to walk away.

Five took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger but failing miserably. “You know who’s done everything for you? Y/n. She’s always gone out of her way to help you, to make you feel like part of this family. She’s been more of a sibling to you than most of you have been to each other. And now, on her birthday, you can’t even pretend to celebrate her?”

The room was dead silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

“She bakes for you, she listens to your problems, she does everything she can to make this dysfunctional mess of a family feel like home. And what do you give her in return? Excuses. Half-assed effort. This?” Five gestured around the room, his frustration boiling over.

Y/n looked mortified, trying to tug at Five’s sleeve, her voice a soft plea. “Five, it’s fine—"

“It’s not fine, Y/n!” Five cut her off, his voice softer but no less intense. “It’s not fine. You deserve so much better than this.”

He turned back to his siblings, his green eyes blazing. “You know what? If you can’t even give her a few hours of your time to show her how much she means, then you can leave. Go back to whatever it is you think is more important than being here for her.”

There was a long pause. Lila and Diego exchanged guilty looks, while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably. Even Ben seemed to shrink a little under Five’s fierce gaze. Allison put her phone down, looking at Y/n with something close to shame in her eyes.

“I…” Viktor began, but then he sighed, taking off his jacket. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Luther, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. “Let’s start over. We’ll stay as long as you want. It’s your day, Y/n.”

The others slowly nodded in agreement, clearly shaken by Five’s outburst. Lila gave Diego a small nudge, and he sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll stay. Sorry, Y/n.”

Klaus, looking awkward but sincere, added, “I’ll, uh… try to be less scared of everything.”

Ben grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move to leave. Even Allison offered a small smile. “I’ll stay. For you, Y/n.”

Y/n, who had been standing quietly beside Five, finally spoke. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking at her husband with a mix of affection and exasperation. “But thank you.”

Five pulled her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You deserve it. You always do.”

And for the rest of the evening, the Hargreeves siblings did their best to make up for their earlier behavior. Laughter filled the room, stories were shared, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like a real family gathering. Five kept a protective arm around Y/n, making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.

As the night wound down, Y/n looked around at the scene and smiled. “You know,” she said quietly to Five, “it wasn’t the perfect birthday… but it’s pretty close.”

Five smirked, kissing her cheek. “I told you I’d make it happen.”

And in that moment, Y/n knew just how lucky she was to have Five, even in the chaos that surrounded their lives.

[wangxianficrecs]

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen

Just go forward like you mean it

by tawaen

M, WIP, 67k, Wangxian

Summary: Before Wei Wuxian can say he will join Jiang Cheng and attend the Wen indoctrination, a letter describing the burning of the Cloud Recesses reaches Lotus Pier. Realizing the danger to the Jiang sect, he decides to stay behind to help with the defenses and keep his sect safe. While he agonizes over the fate of the disciples sent as little more than hostages, he upgrades the wards of the Jiang sect to stand against the inevitable Wen army. Lotus Pier will survive, and Wei Wuxian changes his own fate and the fate of the Sunshot Campaign. Kay's comments: A WIP, but only barely! I hope I manage to post this in time for WIP Rec Week, because tawaen updates quickly and there's only one chapter missing! I really, really enjoyed the direction this canon divergence took with Wei Wuxian staying behind in Lotus Pier during the indoctrination and making sure there's at least one person who prepares for the inevitable Wen invasion. I won't spoil much, but he's also becoming a rogue cultivator and finds his way to Lan Wangji sooner and you know, I'm so weak for that. Can't wait for the last chapter! Excerpt: “A decision on aiding the Lan need not be made now. However, our disciples will need to leave early tomorrow. A-Xian, I assume you will go with A-Cheng?” Jiang Fengmian looks over with an indulgent smile, but it is strained at the edges. Jiang Yanli turns in her seat to face him with open concern. She would send no one if that were possible. At some point during the argument she stopped peeling lotus seeds, remaining still and impassive to avoid drawing attention to herself. Her hands clench with her nails digging into her palms. Wei Wuxian didn't even notice. He gives her a reassuring smile. Wei Wuxian salutes, “Uncle Jiang, at this time, I would like to stay in Lotus Pier. We should not send our two best fighters to Qishan. One of us should remain behind in case of further Wen demands.” While Jiang Yanli relaxes slightly, Jiang Cheng turns sharply to look at him with betrayal in his eyes. This would normally make Wei Wuxian change course – but the Lan wards failed. Who is to say the Jiang wards would prevail?

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, fall of lotus pier, inventor wei wuxian, genius wei wuxian, no golden core transfer, sect leader jiang yanli, jiang cheng has no golden core, dysfunctional jiang family, jiang family dynamics, bad parents jiang fengmian and yu ziyuan, developing relationship, friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[drunk-person]

The perfect storm (The Gossip) P.8

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: Aemond and Y/n face things in their own ways, the long-awaited charity ball finally begins.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, family fights, dysfunctional family, mentions of past abortion, coercion with money, no description for reader.

Word count: 12.300k

A/n: Birthday update 💕💕💕 (a few hours late, but okay) I hope you like the chapter, I imagined the entrance to the Targaryen ball like the red carpet at the Met Gala, the reporters take pictures for the magazines, but they can't enter! About the songs in the chapter... a little Torn by Hands like houses on the top and Dark Horse by Katy Perry on the bottom.

"Hey, Hey Kings Landing, Y/n Targaryan was photographed this afternoon leaving the apartment complex where her older cousins ​​Aegon and Aemond are known to live, barefoot and in tears. What could be the reason for so many tears and such sadness? Some of our readers found it interesting to highlight our dear girl's deep tan. Where has she been? We know she hasn't been to Black Water Bay!"

❦❦❦

-Y/n… please… open the door. - Aemond begged, feeling his eyes burning as he leaned his forehead against the door, and making his own chest hurt even more he heard her muffled sobs through the thin wood.

-Go away! - She screamed once again. - Please don't hurt me anymore! - And after she screamed that with so much pain amid sobs that made Aemond's heart shatter, he walked towards the elevator with shaky steps, as if he were going to collapse on the floor at any moment.

Aemond got into the car barely feeling his own body, he didn't even remember the path he had taken to get there. The tingling sensation numbed him and when he slammed the door behind him and saw himself in the car mirror, he finally realized he was crying. And with that mess of emotions that he couldn't even manage, he just leaned his head over the steering wheel of the car, still holding the necklace between his fingers and stood there for a few moments trying to get his own breathing back to normal.

And finally starting the car, he returned to the company, which by that time was practically empty due to the time. He didn't even realize how much time had passed since he left there earlier, the afternoon seemed like a blur in his head and without even looking twice at the empty hall where the secretaries usually stayed during work hours he entered his own office, slamming the door behind him.

The air there seemed thin, and Aemond could barely breathe looking at the room. He didn't go back to the apartment because he didn't want to face the happy memories with Y/n that were now trapped there. But it was no use, since his office was infested with her, her laughter, her loving gaze, the soft words she spoke to him, the sweet sounds she made while he took her.

And without thinking, overcome by pain and fury, he threw the folder hard against the wall causing it to open on impact and the laptop to fly out along with the papers that were there. Aemond immediately caught his breath when he saw the colorful drawing of a butterfly flying across the floor along with sketches of clothes, dresses and some notes.

With his chest hurting even more, he bent down and picked up the papers from the floor, feeling his stomach churn when, among the notes and drawings for Y/n's plans, he found a pencil drawing of himself sitting at the table working with a look of concentration. The drawing was perfect in every detail, just like everything Y/n did, and further down the page was written in her delicate handwriting "My handsome businessman" with a heart next to it.

And before he could vomit the gastric juice that was the only thing he had in his stomach, Aemond turned his back and left the office once more, not knowing where to go. Finally, as if on automatic, he found himself in the parking lot of the apartment complex where he lived while trying to decide whether or not to go up there.

And when he finally did, he stopped in front of the apartment door while feeling his insides churn. He couldn't touch the doorknob and open the door, it was as if it would grow teeth and bite him at any moment. The idea of ​​going in there and facing the memories of the last few days was almost suffocating, knowing that when he opened the door Y/n wouldn't jump towards him and kiss him passionately was too painful to bear and with that thought he turned and went towards the elevator once more.

❦❦❧

Aegon was sprawled on the couch wearing only his pajama pants. He had already put Jaehaerys to sleep, and Sunfyre was lying next to the little one on the bed. Suddenly the dog skidded across the floor of the apartment and started barking at the door and Aegon rolled his eyes already knowing who would be there, since Sunfyre always barked like crazy when Aemond arrived.

-What the fuck did you do Aemond? - Aegon asked as he opened the door while Sunfyre jumped with her front paws on Aemond sniffing and licking him. Aemond, who always rolled his eyes and told her to stop while patting her on the head, just stood there in the hallway with his eyes slightly lost, as if someone had ripped his soul from his body again.

-I didn't know where else to go. - He murmured, still looking lost and the older man made room for him to enter, pulling Sunfyre off his brother in an affectionate way while stroking the dog's soft fur.

-I saw the newspapers. - Aegon locked the door, observing Aemond walked slowly to the black leather sofa and sat up straight, staring into space.

-Considering what was in the headlines I'm happy she didn't kill you. - He tried to lighten the mood, but Aemond didn't even blink his eyes, continuing to look at nothing.

The eldest waited a few moments, but Aemond didn't open his mouth. He just sat there, motionless, stroking what Aegon finally realized was the sapphire necklace that Y/n always wore. Aegon couldn't help but make a barely contained grimace, if she had taken that thing off her neck it was because things had really gotten bad between them.

-We'd never fought like that before.- Aemond finally spoke, his eyes glazed over, staring into space, still holding the stone from the necklace tightly.

-Yes because you were seventeen. - Aegon rolled his eyes, pouring a drink while Sunfyre put her paws on the table and looked curiously, he then stroked her neck and walked back towards his younger brother, dodging some of Jaehaerys' toys that were thrown on the carpet. - Everything is beautiful when we are that age. - He rolled his eyes.

-She told me never to look for her again. - Aemond muttered, barely looking in Aegon's direction.

-What really happened? I couldn't even believe it when I saw that shit show in the newspaper. - Aegon rolled his eyes and took a light sip of his drink. - Are you fooling granpa and the Baratheons for more than a year and now this engagement?

-Mother and grandfather found out we were back together. - Aemond murmured. - They showed up at my office yesterday and wanted me to get engaged, I said no, but that I would go to the ball with Floris.

-And then 24 hours later he announced your engagement. - Aegon grimaced in disgust as he caressed Sunfyre's fur. - I'm not surprised, it's just like our grandfather to do something stupid like that.

-Did you try to explain it to Y/n?- He frowned.

-She didn't want to listen to me. I went after her to try to explain it, but this whole thing was already messing with her, the engagement announcement made her lose her mind. - Aemond looked at the floor as he spoke, squinting his eyes slightly as if he could see everything before him once again. - I tried to stay calm, I swear I tried, but when I realized it I had already yelled at her.

-I promised I would never yell at her like that… more than once. - His eyes were glazed, making Aegon remember 5 years ago when Y/n left. - If you saw the look on her face…

-She'll forgive you for this, she loves you. - The eldest shrugged his shoulders, looking at him.

-I said she was just like her father… - Aemond laughed without humor.

Aegon grimaced instantly when he heard that, he knew how it worked, Y/n would never admit any similarity to her father, and she hated when people compared her to him, but every now and then the similarities appeared, especially when she was angry.

Like the time they were kids and a girl in Helaena's class called the older girl a freak and Y/n hit her on the head with the blackboard eraser with all the strength she had. He shuddered as he remembered the slap in the head he got from his mother when he laughed at the whole situation.

-Look, she's mad at you now, for more than one reason, but when her anger passes, she'll agree to talk and everything will be fine.

-How will it be fine? - Aemond burst out, turning to his brother with his eyes burning with rage. -Tell me how? With our grandfather demanding something that I can't do for him? I don't want to get in the way of his business, but I don't know how I can keep doing this!

-The elections are coming and months ago the party made a proposal through our grandfather. - Aemond clenched his hands tightly as he spoke. - They want a younger face in the campaign and I would really have a chance of being elected.

-And where will this choice take you? Do you even really want that? Or does our grandfather want it? - Aegon rolled his eyes and looked at his brother very seriously. - You never wanted to get involved in politics, you always wanted to work at the company.

-What do you really want, Aemond? - The older man arched his eyebrow, looking at him seriously, but still relaxed.

-I want to keep my position at the company and I want to help our grandfather. - He hissed. - But I also want Y/n, I can't live without her!

-You know, I want a fucking cigarette right now. - Aegon threw his head back against the back of the sofa. - But Jae's doctor said that it's not good for him if I smoke, so I'm quitting smoking.

-The thing is, when you really love someone, you have to make sacrifices. - He looked at his brother very seriously as he shook the glass in his hand. - You always knew that there would come a time when you would have to face everything and everyone if you really wanted to be with her. Now that time has come, Aemond. Are you willing?

Aemond stared blankly through the wide window, staring at the sept of Baelor, lit up with hundreds of small artificial lights for some event taking place that night, and the oldest sighed, sinking a little on the sofa before starting to speak again.

-Look… you were still very young when all that pregnancy stuff happened to me and Lyan. - He stirred the drink in his glass slightly. - But our mother and grandfather tried to convince Lyan to have an abortion… with money, obviously. - He raised his eyes and looked at his younger brother. - But she said she would never have the courage to do it.

-So they tried to pay her to say she was lying and that the child wasn't mine.

-She refused? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in confusion since refusing money didn't seem like something Lyan would do.

-No. I refused. - Aegon smiled melancholy. - I said no one would take my son away from me and that I would be part of his life.

Aemond stared at the older man with slightly widened eyes, hearing him talk about this for the first time.

-Do you know what Mother said when I made that decision? That it had been the worst mistake of my life, and that I would regret it forever. - Aegon laughed, looking at the glass that was still half full. - And in the end, it was the best thing that happened to me, Jaehaerys was the best thing I ever did, the best choice I made, and I don't know where I would be without him.

-You need to stop obeying everything mom says. She loves us, but she's not right about everything, and she also doesn't know where our happiness lies. If I had listened to her years ago, I wouldn't be here now, I wouldn't have Jaehaerys. Sometimes we need to take risks and take the reins of our lives into our own hands, even if it hurts the person who usually holds them first.

Aegon's gaze was firm as he spoke, leaving Aemond slightly surprised by his brother.

-Well, what kind of parallel reality is this that we live in, where you're the one giving me advice on how not to ruin my own life? - Aemond laughed lightly, still with sad eyes as he looked at the older man.

-Come on, I have my moments. - Aegon laughed, curling his mouth and eyebrows, putting his feet on the coffee table and drinking the last sip of whiskey.

-And alcohol helps anyone to become a philosopher. - He shrugged his shoulders. - But if our mother asks, I'll say I told you to obey her. - He laughed, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and Aemond just rolled his eyes, leaning his head back on the back of the sofa.

-Daddy! - The scream in Jaehaerys's childish and frightened voice rang through the apartment. - There's a monster under the bed, pulling my little foot!

-Duty calls! - Aegon said, laughing, throwing himself against the back of the sofa before standing up and assuming a look of false seriousness.

-You'd better be gone by the time I get there, Mr. Monster, or you'll feel my fury! - He shouted threateningly, going up the stairs in an exaggeratedly noisy way towards Jaehaerys' room, being faithfully followed by Sunfyre, making Aemond smile slightly.

A few moments later, Aegon came down with Jae in his arms, gently stroking his back and heading towards the kitchen while Aemond watched them closely.

-That monster won't come back? - Jaehaerys asked with a very worried expression to his father, affectionately stroking Sunfyre's golden fur, who had his paws resting on the counter to reach him.

-Of course not! Didn't you see? - Aegon frowned very seriously. - Daddy finished him off! No more evil monsters pulling my baby's feet! - And after saying that, he kissed his son's feet, making the boy laugh and cringe at the tickling while Sunfyre barked and jumped happily around the two.

And even with a slight smile on his face watching his brother playing with his son, Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart when he remembered all the plans he had made with Y/n, and how all of that could be ruined forever.

❦❦❦

The day dawned and Y/n felt like a living dead, still wearing the same yellow dress from the day before, sitting on the bed, tightly hugging the duvet as she stared at the ceiling, feeling her face pull from the dried tears on her cheeks.

Until the firm knocks on the door made Y/n's heart skip a beat, quickly looking in the direction of the sound.

Aemond.

Still irritated, but relieved that he was back, Y/n threw the duvet aside and ran towards the door without even putting on her slippers, opening it forcefully in her anxiety.

-I told you not to come back… - The words died in Y/n's throat when she saw who was standing in the hallway. It wasn't Aemond, it was Daemon Targaryen, her father.

-Hi Y/n. - He looked her up and down with his serrated mouth and a very serious look on his face.

–Dad? - She spoke almost in a whisper, unable to believe that he was really there. - W-what are you doing here?

-I just came to see you. - He murmured, entering the room while Y/n closed the door, still little static.

-Why now? - She whispered with a shaky voice. - After years?

-I thought maybe you wanted to reconsider that conversation we had years ago. - Daemon just shrugged, looking around the room with a frown, while Y/n remained paralyzed, staring at the door. - Spend time with us in Pentos, meet your younger sisters…

-Why didn't you come get me when I really needed you? - She hissed, pressing her eyes tightly and feeling her stomach suddenly boil.

-I didn't have your guardianship to simply take you out of there whenever I wanted and you know that. - Daemond spoke with a calm voice, staring at her back.

-You didn't even try! - Y/n turned to her father, her eyes shining with a mixture of tears and fury. - You never cared. You never fought for me. You abandoned me like a mangy dog ​​the first chance you got!

-You're my daughter and I care! - Daemond hissed, taking a step towards her while trying to remain calm. - And as much as I didn't want to leave you, we both know that at that time the best thing for you was not to be with me.

-Maybe the best thing for you now is not to be with him.

-No! - Y/n felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed her heart when she heard that assumption, immediately shaking her head.

-You've been here for less than a week, and news of your supposed involvement has already reached the Pentos gossip channels. - Daemond sighed. - Do you think this will end somewhere good? This engagement is just the beginning, Oto will do anything to free his grandson from any kind of scandal on the eve of the opening of the election period.

-This is all your fault! - Y/n hissed, staring at him and Daemon frowned at her in confusion.

-My fault? How is it my fault that that cunt treats that imbecile like a puppet?

-If you had been a minimally decent father, I would never have met Aemond in the first place! - She spoke in a low and fierce voice, almost biting her lips as she gestured towards her father.

-What else did you want from me? I was there for you until your mother died, and when she died, I took you away with me, until Viserys got involved in something that was none of his business. - Daemon growled, clenching his jaw and curling his lips in disgust, almost spitting the words in her direction.

-I wish you weren't my father! - Y/n shouted almost on tiptoe, as if that helped her voice stand out from her father's. - I wish I didn't have any connection with this stupid family!

-I just wanted my mom back. - Tears of anger and sadness ran down her already swollen face, as she screamed and gestured towards Daemon. - I wish she had never died because she was the only person who truly loved me in this world! Who never abandoned me willingly!

-Don't act like I never came back for you! - Daemon yelped, pushing the dressing table chair hard onto the floor. - As if I didn't give you the choice to leave with me when you had the chance, and you chose to stay for him and now you want to blame me for something that was no longer within my control! - He looked at her with wide eyes. - It was your choice! You chose wrong and that crazy bitch put you in that asylum that is Old Town!

-Don't talk about her that way! - Y/n hissed at the same time when she heard him refer to Alicent in such a low way.

Daemon turned towards the wall with his hands on his head and laughed in pure mockery.

-So you still defend that bitch?

-That bitch took care of me for all those years, while you went on with your life with your new perfect and happy family.- Y/n spat the words at him, her eyes burning with anger. - Nothing will ever change that.

-How nice of her to take care of my daughter after she and her husband stole her custody from me! - He walked around the room in long strides with a cynical smile on his face. - I should be very grateful to her.

-If my uncle asked for custody of Baela or Rhaena, would you hand them over? - Y/n asked in the firmest voice she could muster.

Daemon didn't answer. He just stood there, staring at her without making a sound.

-Would you give them up? - She shouted, taking a step towards him.

-Things are different now…

-That's what I thought. - She interrupted him with a wry laugh, throwing her head back. - Could you at least not pretend that all you felt was relief at getting rid of me and having nothing connecting you to my mother anymore?

-That's not true Y/n! - Her father lost his temper, slamming the table with a loud noise. - I hated that marriage with all my might, I couldn't stand being by your mother's side! But I always loved you!

-That's a lie! - Y/n shouted in fury, walking towards him with hard steps. - Everything in this family is a lie. Everything! Fake friends! Fake marriages! Fake happiness! Fake love! I just wish I didn't have to be part of all of this! I just wanted to be truly happy.

-If you really loved me, you would have fought for me. - She screamed in her father's face, pressing her nails firmly against her palms and closing her eyes. - You wouldn't have left me, you wouldn't have made me go through the greatest pain I've ever felt in my life!

-And what kind of pain would that be? - The oldest mocked, losing control over his own temper. - No longer being able to roll around in the sheets hiding with that cunt?

-Shut your mouth! - She screamed, her hands tangled in her own hair, almost jumping on her father. - Shut up! You know nothing about me! Not even about Aemond, much less what I had to go through!

-Get out of here! - Y/n screamed, opening the door with such force that the doorknob hit the wall hard, tearing off a small splinter. - That's what you do best! I don't need you or your fucking advice! You have two other daughters, take one of them and go play daddy present!

Y/n stared at him with eyes bloodshot with anger, feeling her body shake with fury as she held the door open. And taking a deep breath, Daemon walked towards the hallway.

-We can still fix all this, come to Pentos with us when we get back. Things will be different this time Y/n. - He sighed one last time and without giving a verbal answer Y/n slammed the door hard in his face, walking again towards the bed, still feeling the heat of tears on her cheeks

❦❦❦

Aemond could barely sleep throughout that night. He just stayed clear sitting on Aegon's couch, replaying everything that had happened as if it were a movie. Each time he wished he could take back what he said, but never could he.

And still driven by sadness and fury, he took the car keys and left the apartment without even telling his older brother. Speeding through the streets of Kings Landing with only one destination in mind.

-Mr. Targaryen, you can't just come in like that. - Oto's secretary screeched, looking slightly wide-eyed at Aemond, who just ignored her, muttering a dirty word as he threw open the door to Oto's office.

-How can you do that? - Aemond hissed, slamming the door behind him and striding toward his grandfather's desk. - How can you announce this lie without my consent?

-It was the wisest decision. - Oto gave little or no importance to his grandson's anger, continuing to write something down in a notebook, barely looking him in the eye when speaking.

-It wasn't your decision to make! - Aemond's eyes shone with barely contained fury as his hands trembled close to his body, being pressed so tightly that his nails left half-moon marks on his palms. -You had no right!

-You're still young, Aemond. - The eldest finally put down the fountain pen and looked at his grandson. - When we are young, we often don't know how to steer the boat of our own lives, we don't know how to make the right decisions! And we often get lost.

-We need someone older and wiser to guide us through the stormy ocean that is high-class life. Someone to make the difficult decisions for us. - He rested his hands on the tabletop with a very firm voice. - I made this decision for you, because I will not allow you to throw everything we worked for in the trash for something as insignificant as a foolish and childish love.

-What I feel for her is not a foolish and childish love! - Aemond hissed, also resting his hands on the table and staring at his grandfather, his eyes shining with barely contained anger. - I will deny all of this today!

-If you do that, Alicent will die of shame, Aemond. - Oto spoke firmly, staring at him. - Your mother spent hours on the phone apologizing to Floris for her behavior. To make her be reasonable and stay by your side through all of this.

-What do you want? Shame your mother? Humiliate Floris Baratheon by leaving her like that?

-I didn't ask for any of this! - His hands shook as his teeth pressed together so tightly that they grinded. - It's not my fault, it's yours!

-What did she say to you yesterday? - The eldest faced Aemond firmly, crossing his hands with his arms on the table. - She probably asked you to throw everything away and just crawl around her… the typical egocentrism inherited from her father.

-Y/n is not like her father! - Aemond shouted muffledly, clenching his hands on the table and squinting his eyes tightly. - You don't know her and I won't allow you to talk about her like that!

-I'll go to this ball with Floris, because she doesn't deserve to be involved in all of this! - He hissed in an angry voice. - But after that I'll give it a week and I'll announce that we've rushed into the engagement.

-A week is too little! - Oto shot him a glare. - Do you think waiting just for that will solve anything?

-And what do you plan to do about the rest afterwards? Go out with your cousin and tell everyone that you're involved? - The oldest laughed ironically.

-To ruin your career in business and mine in politics? - Oto stood up on the table, furious, glaring at him. - I forbid you to do that! Do you hear me, Aemond?

-That's your life! - He hissed in a hateful voice. - Learn to deal with it! - As Oto spoke, Aemond had the impression that his grandfather grew in size, making him feel like a 10-year-old boy again. - You were born into this family and you have to act according to what your position demands.

-If I lose her because of you… - He murmured, his gaze lost and full of pain. - I will never forgive you, grandfather.

And without listening to anything else that Oto could say, Aemond turned his back and left the older man's office. The urge to go to Y/n again haunted his thoughts like an insistent ghost, but fear made him restrain himself and return once more to Aegon's apartment.

-You know, it would have been good to let me know that you were leaving early today after all that talk yesterday. - The eldest rolled his eyes and sighed, throwing himself into an armchair with Sunfyre close behind him as soon as Aemond walked through the door.

-I didn't know if you had gone after her again, gone to talk to the septon or thrown yourself off the top of a hill.

-Neither of the three. - Aemond muttered without paying attention to Aegon's provocation and also without saying where he went. - But I need a favor.

-As long as it requires minimal effort, doesn't compromise my physical integrity and doesn't make me late to pick up Jae-Jae from school… - He shrugged, raising his eyebrows and curling his mouth downward.

-I need you to go to my apartment and feed my cat. - Aemond sighed, still unwilling to enter the apartment.

-Cat? - Aegon looked at him confused while Sunfyre tilted her head to the side. - Since when do you have a cat?

-Sunday. - He murmured melancholically, looking at the floor.

❦❦❦

The rest of Y/n's day was nothing but pain. She could barely bear to look at her phone for fear of seeing some news report talking about Floris and Aemond's engagement, but she kept it close to her anyway, waiting for him to call. Until she realized that Aemond didn't even have the number for that cell phone and couldn't call even if he wanted to.

Some time passed and the bedroom phone rang. Y/n almost fell out of bed to answer it, and when she did, her voice was anxious and breathless, her face filled with hope. But all that went away as soon as a female voice apologized for the inconvenience and asked if she would confirm her presence at the family's charity ball that would take place on Friday night.

-No. - She sighed against the phone with her eyes saddened again as she slid the phone back into its cradle.

Everything passed in a strange blur and dark memories of hateful days came to her mind without asking for permission. Night fell and she didn't even notice the darkness that swallowed the city with the curtains so tightly closed as they were. And when she fell asleep, she was still wearing the same yellow dress, tightly clinging to the hotel duvet while tears still ran down her face.

The next morning Y/n was still in the fog of sleep, tormented by dreams that seemed more like nightmares. She woke up with a start when she heard someone knocking on the bedroom door. And holding her breath as she felt her heart skip a beat, she ran to the door.

Being invaded by disappointment as soon as she opened it, when she came across a smiling red-haired girl carrying a cart with a carefully arranged breakfast.

-Thank you, but I didn't ask for this.

-They said in the kitchen to bring the coffee to your room, madam. - The girl looked down and stopped smiling. - I'm just following orders, if you want I can take it back.

-All good. - Y/n forced a smile at the girl. - Don't worry, you can leave it here.

The redhead entered the room with the cart and widened her eyes slightly when she saw how messy the adjacent room was.

-If madam wants, I can ask someone to come and clean up the hall so you can be more comfortable. - She offered, her eyes still a little shocked, and Y/n, who was distracted looking at the newspaper on the cart, didn't even hear the question to which she nodded positively.

-Have a good day, madam. - The girl bowed her head in respect and left the room, leaving her alone, and Y/n didn't even answer, still staring at the headline on the front page of the newspaper.

The engagement of the decade? How the marriage between Targaryen and Baratheon can help in the merger of two of the largest companies in the country.

And right below a black and white photo of Aemond and Floris at what looked like a party.

She didn't touch the food. She just went back to bed and curled up once more, hugging her body tightly as if that could prevent the almost physical pain she felt.

Hours passed and Y/n was still lying in bed clutching the pillow when she heard the door opening and at the same moment she raised her eyebrows and getting up. Her curiosity passed almost instantly when she heard two female voices and realized that it was just the maids cleaning the room adjacent to the room.

With a sigh, Y/n just lay down again, hugging the pillow even tighter, feeling tears in her eyes once again, and seriously thinking about calling Aemond to apologize and beg him to come back. Until the whispers of the chambermaids reached her ears.

-I heard that the dress Floris Baratheon is going to wear is so bright that it would blind the sun if the ball were held during the day. - Y/n heard one of the maids whispering to another as they cleaned the room and her stomach twisted.

-About the damn dress? - The other whispered back. - I heard that the diamond in the ring Aemond Targaryen gave her is so big that they sold a branch of the company in the south to be able to pay for it!

-If that's true, then he must really be in love with her.

Y/n's blood boiled in her veins upon hearing those words, she didn't even hear the rest of the conversation between the two women, feeling as if her heart were beating in her ears and raising her furious eyes from the ground for the first time in the day.

If Aemond thought he could show off with that bitch like she was a trophy and not suffer the consequences he was sorely mistaken. She wouldn't let that happen. She would go to the annual charity ball and give him a taste of what she was feeling.

Still heartbroken, Y/n got up from the bed, wiping her tears hard, she needed a new dress that was good enough… good enough to outshine not just one, but all the stars in the sky. As soon as the door closed and the maids left the room, she reached for her cell phone and dialed a number that she was very familiar with from calling so many times to make requests.

As the phone rang, she opened the curtains of the beautiful window with a panoramic view of Black Water Bay, feeling her eyes burn with fury and the golden sunset sun that was beginning to fall over the city.

-Olena, my dear, how are you? - She smiled forcefully into the phone, using the friendliest voice she could muster with so much anger and sadness in her own heart. - I need a dress for tomorrow night!

❦❦❦

Friday morning flooded Aegon's apartment, illuminating every corner and crevice, except for the large living room, which had its curtains firmly closed since Aemond had sat on the couch two days ago and remained there without moving for practically anything. Just staring at the table, the wall or the ceiling as if they could give him answers and solutions.

When Aegon went downstairs to prepare Jaehaerys's breakfast he sighed and threw his head back at the sight of his brother still looking the same as the night before.

-Okay, that's enough! - He croaked, jumping off the last step and heading towards Aemond. - Look, you've been wearing the same suit for like three days. - Aegon grimaced, wrinkling his nose.

-And that's none of your business. - Aemond muttered without even looking at his brother, making him snort in anger.

-Listen, you didn't eat, you barely slept, and I don't even know if I saw you drinking water. - The oldest enumerated on his fingers, looking at him leaning against the water green wall of the apartment. - If you keep this up, it won't be long before I'm going to be arrested for concealing a corpse.

Aemond just ignored him, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

-Okay, I've lost my patience. - Aegon walked over to the drinks table where his cell phone was. - I'm still the big brother and if I don't eat a sandwich, take a shower and wear clean clothes… I'll call Helaena.

-Fuck you, Aegon. - Aemond closed his eyes firmly with anger.

-I'm serious. I'm going to say that you've been on my couch for three days without showering or moving and she's going to freak out and leave the turtles and her other weirdnesses just to come see you.

Aemond rolled his eyes angrily and let out a hiss of indignation, he hated it when Helaena worried. The last time was enough.

And seeing that his brother was serious, he got up and walked towards the guest room to finally take a shower. When he finally came down the stairs, Jaehaerys was drawing a syrupy smile on his pancake with little blueberry eyes and a strawberry nose. While Aegon poured juice and prepared two sandwiches, he hummed a song and nodded positively at something his son said.

-Uncle Aem! - Came the little boy's excited voice. - I got the best grade in the class in art once again!

-My teacher even told Daddy to put me in a drawing class! - He swung his legs over the counter. - Isn't that right, Daddy?

-Yes, it is, little mouse. - Aegon ruffled his son's hair, smiling and holding out the plate with the sandwich to Aemond.

-That's amazing, Jae, really amazing. - Aemond smiled melancholy as he remembered how excited Y/n had been when she was enrolled in the drawing class years ago. And as he bit into the sandwich, his heart ached and he wondered if Y/n had eaten the food brought to her in the room.

-Are you going to the ball tonight? - Aegon raised his eyebrow as he watched the younger one.

-I have to go. - Just like the last few days, he didn't look his brother in the eyes when he spoke.

-At least try to get some sleep. And not on the couch, lie down in the guest room and get some rest or you'll have a syncope in the middle of the party.

-Daddy, what is sinky? - Jaehaerys tilted his head to the side, his cheeks stained with maple syrup.

-When Uncle Aemond goes days without sleeping and falls flat on the floor like a fool. - Aegon explained, making a funny face as he wiped the laughing little boy's face.

After breakfast, Jaehaerys dragged Aemond by the hand up the stairs and practically forced him to lie down on the bed with soft sheets. Scolding him in a gentle way that reminded him of Helaena, saying that he would not let him have such a "sinky" and that he would take care of him.

And when the little boy left the room with Sunfyre in tow, he closed the door carefully and whispered in a sweet, childish voice.

-Sleep well, Uncle Aem.

He felt his heart tighten at the prospect of forever losing the dreams he had dreamed of his entire life and now perhaps could never have.

❦❦❦

Y/n was walking out of Tyrell with several bags hanging from her arms while keeping a serious look on her face to keep from breaking down. The hotel driver was waiting for her in front of the store in a black car, and when she put the bags in the back seat to get in, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

-Cece, dear! - She greeted with forced joy and a sweet smile on her lips.

-Doing last minute shopping for tonight?

-Yeah! I've been so busy the last few days that I haven't had time! - She rolled her eyes, smiling and putting her right hand to her temple.

-Completely normal. - Cece rolled her eyes. - Where are you going to get ready?

-Missy Misaria obviously. - Now it was Y/n who rolled her eyes as if that were obvious.

-What do you think about going to the ball together then? - Cece arched her eyebrows and smiled interestedly. - I'm also going to get ready there, and then my brother will come by with the driver to pick me up. Our parents will arrive early, you know… business.

-Oh, that would be great! - Y/n narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she heard her speak, and a small smile appeared on her lips.

❦❦❦

Hours later Aemond left the room, he hadn't slept well, but at least he had stretched his back and tired body. As soon as he passed in front of his nephew's door he frowned when he heard the singing coming from the bathroom, and opening the door he found Aegon washing Jaehaerys' hair in the bathtub while the boy sang and struggled in the bathtub to make more foam.

-Are you getting ready for the night? - Aemond frowned since it was at most 3:00 pm and the ball only started at 6:00 pm.

-I started early. - Aegon shrugged. - I need to comb Jae's hair and dress him so I can take a shower and get dressed.

-And what are you going to wear? - Aegon looked him up and down, since Aemond was wearing shorts and a shirt borrowed from him.

-I could even lend you one of my suits, but I don't think you'll be well received at a gala ball with your shins out, Mr. Big Guy.

Jaehaerys laughed as he usually did when his father made a joke, even if it wasn't funny.

-Listen, sooner or later you'll have to come home again… - He shrugged, making a mohawk with shampoo in his son's silver hair. - Maybe it'll even help you think about what to do.

Taking a deep breath and deciding to follow his brother's advice, he said goodbye and left his brother's home, heading towards his own apartment.

Aemond could barely look around as he entered. Everything was exactly the way she had left it when she left, the blanket on the sofa, the glasses on the counter, a half-eaten peach on the computer desk.

He ended up letting out a sideways smile when he realized that Vhagar was lying lazily on the couch, completely asleep. And feeling a little relieved, he put more food and water in her bowls, since what Aegon had served was almost gone.

When he entered the room, he saw Lys's unpacked bags lined up on the floor, and with a melancholic smile, he opened the one containing the orange sweatshirt and the white blouse, sighing when he realized that the sweet smell of her skin was still stuck to the fibers of the fabric.

And after gently placing the clothes on the bed, he took a deep breath and then headed towards the shower, trying not to think about her body clinging to his while they both bathed and exchanged passionate kisses.

The shower was longer than he expected, and there in the safety of his own bathroom, completely alone, a few tears ran down his face, mixing with running water falling from the shower.

Shortly after drying himself with the towel still wrapped around his waist, he picked up a small golden key and the clothes on the bed, walking to the living room. Just like he usually did when he was sad, Aemond opened the heavy curtains in the living room and let out a sigh as he looked at the horizon at dusk.

And taking a deep breath, he left the clothes on the shelf and put the key in the lock of the wooden chest, but as soon as he did so, a notification sounded on the cell phone that had been left in his room. Feeling a slight thread of hope, Aemond walked quickly towards the cell phone, but when he got there he only sighed in disappointment when he read what was written.

Find floris at her house! - Grandpa

-Hell. - He muttered, pressing his eyes tightly closed and heading towards the closet to get dressed.

Nothing there seemed to have the same shine without her, he never felt that it actually did, but at that moment it seemed that what was already black and white had become just gray.

He dried his hair and tied it back, leaving the rest loosely falling down his back. And right after putting on his shoes, he heard Aegon's voice calling him by name in the hallway. After Aegon was quiet, Jaehaerys' voice sounded right after, imitating his father, but shouting "Uncle Aemy", making him roll his eyes.

-We are no longer in the age of conquest. - He muttered grumpily as he opened the door. - They already invented the doorbell.

-Are you coming with us? - Aegon chose to ignore him, something that was very common on his part.

-I need to get Floris.

-Oh… I see. Then we'll see you later. - He suddenly nodded seriously.

-Bye uncle Aem. - The little boy waved and Aemond smiled sideways when he saw him wearing a suit as he walked all pompously to the elevator imitating Aegon.

❦❦❦

As soon as Aemond stopped the car in front of the Baratheon mansion, the butler opened the door and Floris came down the small stone staircase in the entrance hall to meet him, wearing a yellow dress and with her hair tied up. The butler ran to the car and opened the door for the girl to get in, and she frowned as she looked at Aemond.

-That's it? Couldn't you have at least bothered to order a limo? Are we going in your car? - She glared at him as Aemond left the mansion grounds.

-I didn't have time to think about it. - Aemond hissed slightly irritated, squeezing the steering wheel with both hands.

-But of course not! You were too busy embarrassing me. - She rolled her eyes in disdain. - Do you think people weren't asking me things all the time? That my friends aren't whispering when they think I'm not listening?

-Your friends are all treacherous snakes who would kick you in the back if they could. - He mocked irritably, speeding up the car.

-And what are you? - She bit back.

-I never promised you anything! - He growled, turning towards her angrily. - You knew from the beginning that I didn't love you, our parents decided this relationship.

-No, but at least your mother assured me that you weren't some creep who went around fucking your own cousin. And now look at this… - Floris widened her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side and then making a face. - You two make me sick!

-So why don't you just end it all? - Aemond growled angrily, glaring at her as he stopped at the traffic light.

-Because you know I need this as much as you do! - She almost screamed in anger, waving her hands. - I'm the second daughter too, my older sister will probably be the future CEO of Baratheon Industries, but if I married you my father wouldn't think twice before leaving me as the main heir.

-Your mother called me and assured me that it was all a misunderstanding, that it wasn't what it seemed.- Floris made a childish voice and pouted while imitating Alicent. - She thinks I'm some kind of idiot and that I don't see what's happening in front of me!

-I can't marry you! - Aemond said abruptly, stepping on the brakes, making the car behind him honk loudly.

-What? - Floris hissed, her eyes flashing. - Listen here, the engagement has already been announced, your mother and grandfather assured us that we'll get married and solve all this. So I think you better calm down and go back to the real world where we live and no septon in the world is going to marry you off to that lunatic cousin of yours!

-Don't you dare say anything against her! - Aemond growled, his voice dripping with anger, and he pressed his eyes tightly together.

-Then I talk about you! No one will ever accept this in high society, and if you bring this madness to light… you'll be burying yourself and your career. - She rolled her eyes as if Aemond was an imbecile, and he didn't say anything in return, just driving faster than the streets of Kings Landing allowed.

-At least pretend to be happy tonight. - She practically growled, opening the door for herself as Aemond handed the keys to the event valet minutes later.

❦❦❦

The hall was decorated with everything that was finest that night, and the many guests who arrived looked at everything in amazement, each year the Targaryen ball was more beautiful than the year before.

And even with so much beauty Aemond didn't care, even when they walked the red carpet moments ago and the camera flashes almost blinded him at the entrance of the event all he could think about was Y/n, what she was doing at that moment and how he would beg her forgiveness on his knees at that moment if he could.

Floris' golden dress shone even more with the camera flashes and she smiled robotically as she posed correctly for the photographers, making sure to leave the farce that was that ridiculously large ring in evidence.

The two went down the stairs, crossing the hall side by side with rigid postures while Floris forced joy and greeted back everyone who congratulated her on her engagement, while Aemond just nodded and thanked him in a taciturn way.

-Can you at least pretend a little better? - Floris hissed just for him to hear without taking the smile off her face and Aemond had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

-That's my best. - He spoke almost monotonously while staring at a fixed point on the wall with an almost lost look, making Floris snort and with a fake smile pat his shoulder right after walking towards the younger sisters.

The anger for being at that ball and not by Y/n's side corroded his veins and without thinking much after Floris walked away he just approached the bar still with that lost and unfocused look and took the first drink he saw the boy behind the counter preparing for the Gods know who.

-Little brother, I don't know if you noticed, but this isn't water. - Aegon raised his eyebrows, moving closer when he saw Aemond drink the second glass.

-Mmmm. - He deliberately ignored what the older man said, going in another direction.

-Aemond considering the fact that you have the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel I think it's better to stop. - The eldest took the glass from his brother's hand and exchanged it for the glass of champagne he was carrying with him, drinking Aemond's drink in one go and making a face when he almost choked.

-What the fuck are you drinking?

-I don't know. - Aemond rolled his eyes, more grumpy than usual, his voice stopping at a growl. - I just took it from the bar.

Suddenly a strange commotion began outside the hall where the photographers from the magazines and newspapers were positioned looking for the best angle, leaving some of the more attentive guests looking in the direction of the main door.

It was then that moments later a strange silence briefly took over the hall, only the soft music playing in the background, until low murmurs began again and louder conversations returned soon after.

And when Aemond looked towards the door he saw her entering the hall in a long blood red dress that still left a lot of skin on display, as it had a huge side slit on the leg and thin straps that led to a reasonably deep neckline. Her skin seemed to glow under the lights of the hall and Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he admired her.

Her beautiful silky hair was tied in an elaborate hairstyle and her neck adorned with a necklace with hundreds of diamonds, and the realization that she was not wearing her beautiful sapphire made Aemond's heart ache. Still, she was certainly the most beautiful of all those present, and that was the only certainty he had that night as soon as he laid eyes on her.

-Take a picture, it will last longer. - Aegon had a mocking look on his face as he took the glass of champagne from his brother's hand and downed it in one go.

The sparkle in Aemond's eyes disappeared almost instantly the next moment, because behind Y/n entered Jason Lanister and with a smile crossed his arm around her waist, guiding her through the hall through the people.

At that moment Aegon was sure, if he hadn't taken the glass from Aemond's hand he would have broken the stem with the amount of force he was squeezing his own hands.

❦❦❦

-What in the name of the seven hells is she doing here? - Oto growled angrily at Alicent as the two watched Y/n descend the stairs next to Jason. - Didn't you say she didn't confirm her presence?

-And she didn't! - Alicent scolded with wide eyes. - I checked the list twice.

-I should have suspected she would do something like that! - Oto muttered angrily, almost pulling out his own hair as he ran his eyes around the room, observing each person's reaction to Y/n's arrival.

And to make the man's mood even worse, Daemon appeared at the top of the stairs accompanied by Laena and his pre-teen daughters.

-The gods should have forbidden this damn man from reproducing. - Oto swore furiously heading towards Aemond and Aegon with Alicent at his heels.

Having difficulty moving through the hall without being stopped to talk to almost every guest who greeted him, when Oto and Alicent finally reached their final destination, Aemond and Aegon were no longer alone. Viserys, Daemon and his family were with them.

Jaehaerys was now at Aegon's side, looking curiously at the unknown people he had already realized were family.

-Oto, it's been a while. – Daemond smiled mischievously. - I hope you've resolved your problems with the party officials.

Oto hated Daemond with all his might, and not content with messing up Oto's life personally, he had to leave an heiress in his place when he finally left.

-And I hope you've learned to behave better in the face of fatherhood.

Before Daemon could answer, Rhaenys and Corlys joined him, all smiles at seeing their daughter and granddaughters.

-Oh, Laenor can't come, he's been working too much lately, you know? - Rhaenys rolled her eyes affectionately as she spoke of her eldest son.

Viserys was all smiles as he talked to his cousin and brother, and Aemond barely heard what was being said, just looking in Y/n's direction, not missing a single movement she made. Until a soft voice called him and he looked away.

-Little brother, is everything okay? - Helaena looked at him worriedly with Daeron by her side, and Aemond forced a smile and ended up nodding to the older sister.

Helaena was beautiful in her own way, wearing a light blue dress full of details that looked like scales. Her hair was a little tied up and a little loose, full of hairpins that looked like small sparkling leaves or shiny beetles.

-It's okay Hel, don't worry about me. - He muttered, looking again at where Y/n was, but she had disappeared.

Aemond looked around, feeling his stomach churn momentarily, and when he finally turned back, he saw her approaching with Jason by her side and a sweet smile on her face.

-Y/n, dear! - Viserys hugged her. - I thought you weren't going to come, how good the joy of your presence gave us.

-Jason was kind enough to offer to accompany me, uncle. - Y/n lightly laid her head on Jason's shoulder and Aemond felt his palms tingle.

And as if nothing else was needed, Rhaenyra came all smiles towards them all, accompanied by her husband and her insufferable children.

-Uncle, I heard you're engaged, I never imagined this day would come. - Luke mocked, making Jace laugh. And even though she was mad at Aemond, Y/n wanted to slap that little idiot on the head for talking to him like that.

Normally Aemond would be angry, but he didn't even process Luke's words, too concerned with where Jason's hands were on Y/n's waist.

-Oh, how good it is to see our family all together after so long. - Viserys's eyes shone with a smile, seeming oblivious to all the tension in the hall.

-I want a picture! - He smiled even more, waving to one of the photographers and guiding Alicent closer to him. - A family picture!

And still with tense looks, everyone gathered in front of the photographer, Viserys in the center with Alicent on his left and Rhaenyra on the right. Harwin hovered beside Rhaenyra like a shadow three times her size, his hand resting on her shoulder protectively as Jace, Luke, and Joff stood in front of their father together.

Daemon stood next to his favorite niece and her husband, standing next to Harwin with Laena at his side and their two daughters in front of them. And to stay close to his youngest daughter and granddaughters, Corlys stopped beside Laena, gently pulling Rhaenys to stand in front of him.

Behind Alicent, Oto hovered with one hand on his daughter's shoulder and a serious look on his face. Beside Alicent was Helaena, smiling happily as she adjusted her golden flower tiara. Beside her, Daeron smiled discreetly, smoothing his hair with the palms of his hands and whispering something softly to his older sister.

Aegon stood behind Helaena with Jaehaerys in his arms. The boy looked curiously at his aunt and just by looking into his eyes, you could see that he was considering the idea of ​​taking one of the shiny hairpins from Helaena's head, but his father was too busy keeping his eyes on his younger brother to notice.

Aemond stood beside Aegon, looking deadly serious as he clenched his jaw so hard that the older man thought he could hear it creaking. His gaze was clearly directed at Y/n, who was staring back at him in the same way.

Whenever Viserys asked for photos like this at charity balls or even at simpler events, Y/n would run to Aemond's side with a smile on her lips, and they were so close that there was barely room for an atom, but that night she looked away and walked towards her father, stepmother and younger sisters, receiving a sweet smile from Laena and a discreet curve of lips to her father. Daemon placed his hand gently on Y/n's shoulder and she stood before him with Baela and Rhaena on her left side.

The eyes of everyone at the ball were turned in that direction, and even a layman could notice the glares exchanged between Aemond and Y/n, while Alicent and Oto looked worriedly at both of them.

The flashes went off blinding them all, and as soon as the photos were taken everyone separated at the same moment.

-Don't worry Oto, I've been overcoming the challenges of parenthood every day, but I assure you that at least I don't intend to pimp my daughters for social positions. - Daemon whispered only for Oto to hear before moving away.

-You insolent man! - Oto hissed furiously as Daemon walked away.

-Helaena! - Y/n's excited voice rang out as she gently hugged her cousin. - I missed you so much.

-Ah Y/n, I felt you too! - The eldest gently tilted her head as she spoke. - Do you know that I work at the beach now? - She rambled excitedly. - Those little turtles I told you about once are finally being protected.

-That's great Hel, I'm so happy. - Y/n hugged her once again and Helaena smiled, reciprocating softly as was her custom.

Until Jason said something in a low voice to Y/n and guided her in another direction. At the same time Aemond went after the two, feeling his head exploding with anger and frustration when he saw that filthy man touch her waist. But before he could reach them, Aegon stepped in front of him, stopping him discreetly.

-Aemond, what are you doing? - He gave a fake smile to those watching from outside and took a glass of champagne from the tray that was passing by.

-I'll do it the old way. I'll cut off his hands and then make him swallow them. - He hissed with so much anger and seriousness that Aegon swallowed hard, not knowing if his brother was serious or not.

-Alright, take it easy, knight of the realm. - Aegon frowned. - Public dismemberments were banned about 500 years ago.

And before Aemond could say anything else, Floris appeared in the middle of the crowd, burning him with her look of fury that was visible even with her hiding it behind a smile.

-Mrs. Stark loved my ring and found it in extremely good taste. - She said in a falsely gentle voice. - She wishes to greet us.

And crossing her arm through Aemond's in a firm grip, she practically dragged him towards the Stark table. The two once again received a shower of congratulations and greetings for the engagement, which made Aemond's stomach churn as his eyes frantically searched for Y/n among the people, never losing sight of her for more than a minute with her being easy to identify in the red dress.

Until the inevitable happened and the two couples met in the hall, staring at each other vehemently.

-Floris, my dear, it's been so long since I've seen you. - Y/n smiled cynically.

-Really a long time, Y/n. - She looked at her up and down bitterly. - I didn't think you would come back so soon, I heard that you were going to become a septa.

Y/n frowned and almost choked upon hearing that, but she recovered almost instantly.

-Who made you think such a thing?

-Your aunt? - Floris arched her eyebrow.

-Although she doesn't look like it, Aunt Alicent has a very good sense of humor. - Y/n forced a smile as she gave Aemond a prickly look, who barely noticed the conversation, too busy glaring at Jason.

-It's a beautiful dress, but from what I can see, it's not a famous signature. - Floris teased Y/n with a look of superiority as she pointed out her dress.

-Oh no, my dear, it's from Tyrell, the new collection hasn't even been released yet. - Y/n smiled provocatively, pouting slightly. - I'm a personal friend of Olena Tyrell, she insisted that I choose a more recent one.

-Yours, on the other hand… Yves Saint Martel, isn't it? Two years ago… - Y/n sighed cynically, her hands on her hips, smiling internally when she saw the angry look on Floris' face, so Olena was right about the dress. - I would have chosen something better for such an important occasion.

-Come on, Jason, I want to talk to Cece. - She pulled him away, leaving without giving Floris a chance to respond.

❦❦❦

-Floris is stunning. - Pia murmured to Jane, enchantedly observing the dress with a golden fabric that shone as if hundreds of tiny diamonds were sewn through the fabric.

-Yeah, it's a shame her fiancé is more busy mentally murdering Jai Lanister than asking her to dance. - Elyrio rolled his eyes, carefully observing the movements around the room.

-Just look at their skin. - Lion arched his eyebrow. - I knew she would be as tanned as him, in person she looks even more sunburned than in the photo in that magazine.

-I think that if he could kill Jai, he would have already killed him. - Jane whispered, observing Aemond discreetly and feeling a little uncomfortable with the strength of the anger that emanated from his gaze.

-He's having an affair with his cousin and Floris probably knows about it. - Pia murmured slightly astonished, as if even after all the previous assumptions this was a shock.

-They both announced their engagement. - Nia spoke without even a drop of the certainty that was in her voice a few days ago when talking to her friends.

-That doesn't stop him from cheating on her. - Elyrio shrugged, taking a sip of champagne as if that was totally obvious.

-Did you see Flo's face at the opening of your sister Nia's restaurant? - Jane arched her eyebrow a little tensely as she remembered. - I asked her about Aemond and I thought she was going to strike me down alive.

-Did your sister tell you if Floris told her anything? - Lion looked at her, bursting with curiosity.

-No, she didn't tell me anything, but I think Floris just didn't tell her. My sister wouldn't be able to hide something that big from me. - Nia still seemed shocked by the situation as she watched the glances exchanged between Aemond and Y/n, who were walking with their respective partners through the hall, but didn't even seem to know they were there.

-Even better, did you see the photo of Y/n leaving his building shortly after the engagement announcement? - Elyrio brought the subject back to Y/n and the photo that had been almost more talked about than the engagement. - He seemed to be out of his mind! Disheveled and crying in public, I've never seen her do that, not even when we were kids at school!

-From what I've heard, the rumor circulating among the hotel staff is that she disappeared after she arrived in the city and came back on the day of the engagement announcement, locked herself in the room and never came out again. - Jane muttered

-I heard that Aemond went there! - Lion shrugged. - But I don't know if it's really true. The driver was telling our cook that he heard it somewhere, so I'm not sure.

And the trained eyes followed Aemond as he moved away from Floris and headed once more towards the bar, followed closely by Aegon.

-Wait a second, was Aegon dancing with Cece's aunt? - Elyrio whispered with wide eyes, starting a new gossip in the group.

❦❦❦

-I hope your bloodlust has reduced after that walk. - Aegon put his arm over Aemond's shoulder, and the youngest removed it in the next instant.

-Mmmm. - Aemond almost growled, drinking another glass of champagne in one go, making Aegon scratch his head apprehensively.

The minutes passed and Aegon watched Aemond while Aemond watched Jason and Y/n. And when the urge to go to the bathroom became too much to bear, Aegon waved to Daeron discreetly and the younger crossed the dance floor towards them.

Aegon just gave him a look and Daeron nodded, standing next to Aemond while the older brother went to the bathroom.

-Hey big bro, I think it's best not to drink anymore. - Daeron smiled very kindly, advising Aemond who just rolled his eyes and took another sip from the glass.

But then moments later he saw Y/n walking alone towards the bathroom, and without thinking twice he put the glass on the counter and went towards her.

-Where are you going? - Daeron said trying to be casual and failing miserably, making Aemond roll his eyes deeply.

-To the bathroom. - The oldest continued walking but stopped abruptly and without turning around he growled. - Daeron, I swear that if you follow me into the bathroom I will kill you, and then Aegon.

The younger brother just swallowed hard and let him go while watching from afar with wide eyes as he took a sip of champagne to disguise himself, almost choking as he drank from Aemond's glass realizing that what was there was clearly not champagne.

❦❦❦

Y/n was walking towards the bathroom when she felt a strong hand pulling her into the dark hallway next door, and she almost screamed but as soon as she felt the touch on her skin she knew almost instantly that it was Aemond pulling her.

-What do you think you're doing? - Aemond growled at her as soon as they arrived in the corner.

-I just came to the ball, It's not a big deal. - She laughed carelessly as she spoke venomously.

-With Jason Lanister? - He hissed softly, getting even closer to her and Y/n could smell a slight smell of alcohol on his breath.

-Did you drink whiskey? - She whispered with concern, bringing her palm to his face, momentarily forgetting her anger.

-That's not the point. - He muttered, still enraged. - He's always been following you around like a stupid dog! Get away from him right now!

Y/n's anger resurfaced redoubled with those words.

-Who I hang out with is none of your business anymore. - She hissed angrily, pulling her hands out of his reach. - And don't you dare touch me again!

-Jason has been very kind to me tonight. - She mocked, her smoldering eyes hidden behind a sweet smile. - A true gentleman. Maybe I'll give him a kiss at the end of the party as a reward!

-You won't let that fucking bastard touch you! - Aemond shouted muffledly so that only the two of them heard

-Oh really? And who's going to stop me? You? - Y/n sneered, throwing her neck back. - I think you're too busy receiving your engagement congratulations for that! - She growled and left him alone and furious in the dark side hallway.

That was the problem with Y/n and Aemond knew it, she was too sweet for her own good. But even the gentle beast can bite when it feels threatened

❦❦❦

When Aemond returned, Aegon and Daeron were arguing lightly and the older man sighed in relief when he saw him.

-Thanks to the gods.

Aemond couldn't even express his anger, he just rolled his eyes and ignored the two of them, feeling that the only thing that would make him happy that night was to strangle Jason Lanister. And to make things even worse, he felt an unwanted touch on his right shoulder.

-Darling. - Floris called him in a sweet voice that didn't match the angry look in her eyes at all. - Your mother asked us to take more pictures.

She pulled him by the hand away from his brothers, leading him towards one of the ball photographers. Amidst the smiles for the pictures, Floris subtly touched his chest between his shirt and jacket, caressing it affectionately and after the last picture was taken the girl smiled and left a soft kiss on Aemond's chin. Making his stomach turn, not with pleasure or joy like when Y/n did it, but with pure repulsion.

And while Floris pretended very well, walking and smiling among the people, he just went back to the same corner with a vacant look, barely noticing that Daeron had disappeared and only Aegon was there watching him.

-Listen… - The older man sighed, staring at him. - This whole shit show is going to be over soon and then we can just go home and be quiet…

-Daddy… Daddy… - Jaehaerys arrived, pulling on the hem of Aegon's jacket. - I need to go to the bathroom!

-Just a second, little mouse… - Aegon looked around, looking for Daeron in the crowd, but couldn't find him.

-I know what you're doing and I don't need a babysitter. - Aemond practically growled, still looking in the direction of Y/n and Jason Lanister.

-Stop staring. - Aegon hissed, pulling the youngest to the corner. - It's already getting bizarre, people are noticing. -Mmmm. - He rolled his eyes, taking another glass of champagne.

-Daddy! - Jaehaerys called once again with a demanding voice and jumping with his eyes closed.

-Daddy's going, just a second, little mouse, I swear… - He smiled at the little one as he spoke softly, then turned to Aemond.

-I'll be back in five minutes. Try not to burn a hole in Lanister's forehead just with your withering glare in the meantime. - Aegon whispered hurriedly, then hoisted Jaehaerys by the armpits and picked him up in his arms, heading towards the bathroom.

-Idiot. - Aemond rolled his eyes in a bad mood as he watched his brother disappear into the hallway.

Aemond's blood was almost boiling in his veins. He watched Jason from afar with his body pressed against Y/n's while he murmured things to her, as if he had any kind of intimacy with her. Hatred made his stomach boil, and he gripped the stem of the champagne glass so tightly that it could very well break.

❦❦❦

Y/n's eyes were burning, she couldn't tell if it was from anger or jealousy, the only thing she knew was that seeing Aemond next to Floris Baratheon all handsome and hot while they took all those pictures of them made her want to jump on Floris and pull out every single strand of her hair.

The moment Floris Baratheon touched his chest and then kissed him on the chin in public just like she always did in secret, Y/n felt like an arrow of pure hatred had pierced her heart, and she had to hold herself back from crying in public.

But that's when her mind lit up and Y/n got even angrier, that wasn't Floris' fault. This was Aemond's fault. And if he thought things could be like that, she would give him a taste of his own medicine. At that very moment she swallowed all her anger and put on a mask of smiles and satisfaction for everyone around her.

And minutes later, when Jason Lanister asked her to dance again, unlike the other times, Y/n broke into a sweet smile and accepted the request. As she walked to the dance floor, she had to contain her victorious smile when she felt Aemond's gaze burning against her back. Y/n only forgot one thing, Aemond was not very good at being subtle when he was angry.

Jason was dancing very close to Y/n, certainly much closer than the music playing at the moment required. And she smiled and feigned satisfaction as she moved with him across the dance floor, when Jason spun them around and she could see Aemond and momentarily Y/n's heart raced. The look of murderous jealousy on his face almost made her moan in satisfaction.

And suddenly Jason spun her around again and she lost sight of him amidst the other people in the room. Jason got even closer and discomfort and repulsion took over Y/n when he firmly squeezed her ass, that was only good when Aemond did it.

But she didn't need to think about it twice, because she had barely finished thinking about what Jason had just done and Aemond had already pulled him off her by the arm with his face contorted in fury and punched him in the face making horrified screams ring out throughout the Ball.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries

Final notes:

Aegon blinked for a second and Aemond is finally going to attempt his murder! I hope you enjoyed it!! 💕💕

Next Chapter

[icarusredwings]

Im watching poolverine the movie- UUHHH, I MEAN Deadpool and Wolverine for the 6th time, and not only did I accidently stream it downstairs on accident, but I made some notes.

Ngl mcu wade scarred or not is hot as fuck. Like, idk man, I'd bang him as long as al didnt yell at me. She scares me.

I like how self-aware he is in the beginning. That he lashes out when nervous or upset.

How he tries his best to apologize for cursing but accidently ends up backhanding it with even more inappropriate information (do we think our boy has Tourettes or do we think he just lets the inside thoughts outside too often?)

The implication that he's dreamed of having children is very sweet but dude lowkey just said "Yeah but I get too much anal and oral for that :( ah well. Maybe one day"

He's fully aware that he hates his life, and all he has to look forward to is his little dysfunctional family, such as talking to Colossus about medicore tv

His current best friend being a little weirdo who asks barely legal lesbians to tug his literal chain (not a good look on you peter- like seriously dont... dont do that.. Logan would have punched you so hard if he saw that)

Coming to Al half way through the party to decompress, his banter with negasonic and happy little face when he see Yukio

Love his and vanessas "make a wish buddy" "going down 10 4" thing. How she looks at him so fondly. As if wishing he was like this all the time but knows just how hard he's masking. How he tries SO hard to make normal small talk but Vanessa made the mistake of telling wade her new boyfriends name so now he's concreting that shit in his head so he can kill him later.

Saying 'Stop that, eyes on me' worked a little TOO well. Baby boy needs 1st grade instructions. Someone write a fic of this. My boy loves him some simple instructions. Its something his adhd can handle.

Love (sarcasam) how this is supposed to be a buddy movie but the second an old man slaps his ass he is SO happy and confident LMAO like Bro CHILL you're a victim. AGAIN. Try not to be too happy about that bud. Also Once that mask is on, he's GONE. Way more rude and flirty, 100 times less apologetic, more violent, and less understanding. You can tell it's been a while since he's let it out.

[abiiors]

persephone - matty x reader ˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧💌˚.⋆🌿

a/n: this is kinda loosely based on the myth of persephone and also this is just one interpretation of it, obv several exists in the media :) and like matty's barely hades lmao, this is mostly just the connection of persephone, demeter and spring ♡ cw: this contains themes of parental neglect, dysfunctional families, emotional abuse/neglect and alcoholism, and they're very much PRESENT and DETAILED. this isn't angst but it's def bittersweet (emphasis on the bitter whoops) wc: 5.1k

the first word she learns is “mama”. 

she has a faint memory of this—a woman with shining brown hair, smiling and cheering at her. everything is blurred around the edges and filtered in through a haze. everything has a foggy white quality to it but the woman’s eyes are crystal clear and looking at her, focused solely on her. she has a memory of others laughing and clapping along, encouraging her to say the word again and again. 

mama.

the brown haired woman looks tired—she’s young and, looking back, barely even an adult. but the woman smiles at her and coos along. “mama,” the woman says in an exaggerated baby voice and points to herself. 

“mama,” she babbles again at the woman she now recognises as her mother. the woman gives her a bland smile, playing with her almost absently. the woman even lets her grab onto her fingers and bite on them—not that it counts much as biting, she barely has teeth at this point. 

the next memory she has is of an older man with a freckled happy face and salt-n-pepper hair. he throws her up in the air and catches her until she’s giggling and breathless and light as air. he's often at their dining table, peeling pomegranates.

mama says she can't eat them yet—they're of course a choking hazard for a baby her age. but the old man peals it for mama, because mama looks happy when she sits next to him and pops the seeds into her mouth, sighing at the sweetness.

“these are delicious, daddy,” mama says to him and he smiles at mama with all the tenderness in the world.

when mama needs a break from her, he takes her to the nearby pond, and lets her touch leaves and rocks. he points at the tiny things in the water and says a word she barely recognises. 

fishies.

he clicks his tongue and waits for her to imitate the word, but she only claps her hands and says “mama” again. 

the man laughs. “let’s get you home to mama then.”

the younger woman gets mad at him when they get home though. mama grabs all the treasure—their entire day’s hard work—and puts it away somewhere where she can never reach it again. 

the man grumbles about it too but she’s far too young yet to understand words and tone, much less full blown fights. all she knows is a distinct sharp feeling of fear when mama snatches her away from the old man’s hands and puts her away in a room alone. 

there are white bars around her that she can’t climb, even though she cries and cries and screams for mama. even when a pungent smell fills the room and she feels uncomfortable wetness in her onesie. 

but mama doesn’t come. and the old man’s voice can’t reach her anymore. there’s only the sound of her cries and an eerie music box lullaby that plays on repeat as if it would ever be enough to pacify her.

mama doesn’t come for hours. 

years later, she’d know why mama can’t be bothered. 

the last time she calls her mother “mama” is when she’s seven years old. 

it’s rained all night and the backyard is wet and muddy. mama grimaces the moment she looks out the window but for a seven year old girl, it’s the most fun thing to ever exist. mama makes a sound of disgust when she runs outside, whooping with joy and slipping and sliding in the mud. 

all she wishes for is a companion now—a sibling or a dog or a cat, she’s not picky. a friend works too, but she’s not entirely sure where someone gets those. 

“if you get mud on my carpets, i swear!” mama shakes her fist from the back door but she can’t care less.  

she’s drenched in mud and having way more fun than she’s had in days. so much so that she doesn’t even realise when mama shakes her head and goes back inside. 

the winter chill is almost gone, there’s even a few little saplings sprouting from the ground and she can’t wait for the whole backyard to be filled with weird little weeds and wallflowers. she can’t wait until it’s warm enough to sit outside in the afternoons and make her little witchy potions from mud and weeds and flowers and see if any butterflies would be curious enough to land near her. (or maybe even on her like they do in the movies she’s seen!) 

she forgets the movies for a moment, though. today is the best day a girl could have. 

her grampy—her grandpa—is supposed to visit too, and she knows he’s going to bring treats; sweet honey from the hive on their farm or tiny red strawberries that dribble juice down her chin. she knows he’ll sit in their kitchen and peel her a pomegranate (she can eat those now!) and tell her about the new calf on the farm. (she’s asked this story twice now but it only gets better each time) it’s all so exciting that she even forgets about her aversion to the kitchen for a bit, forgets how a pit opens in her stomach every time she has to be in the kitchen with mama. 

she can’t wait for the after, but right now she runs through her backyard again, whooping and cheering and smiling. 

she’s slipping and slipping, just like before. the fence comes closer, her little mind tries to calculate the distance, her feet try to slow down but the mud’s grown too slippery and she just can’t stop, can’t put her arms up in time. 

her jaw collides with the fence with a sickening crunch. pain flares in her mouth along with the sharp coppery taste of blood. it almost makes her gag and she tries to spit it out. something white falls on the ground, covered in blood—her first tooth, the one that’s been loosening for days. 

she stays curled on the ground, covered in mud, sobbing and spitting out more blood until her saliva runs clear, then she somehow shuffles inside, hoping mama would have a magic fix. 

mama’s eyes widen the moment she walks in, dried mud crusted around her feet, blood on her chin.

“what the fuck?!” mama yells, the glass in her hand jostles dangerously and the dark liquid inside almost splashes out. mama’s words also have an unnerving, slurred quality to them but she’s too much in pain to care. 

“what’s wrong with you?!” mama screeches again and gets up. through tears, she manages to splutter out what happened. she shows mama the tooth, (girls in school have told her about the tooth fairy) but mama only smacks her hand away. 

“i told you not to get mud on my carpets. who’s going to clean them huh? not you, you’re useless. you’re all useless.”

more tears fall on her cheeks and she looks at mama, horrified. but mama slams the glass hard enough on the table that a crack goes through it. she’s worried mama’s going to yell at her more, but mama only yanks the mop from the corner and waits for her to move out the way. 

she takes the hint, grateful it didn’t get worse. she tries not to get the mud onto anything else but a little gets on the bathroom tiles anyway. 

under the hot water, she finally lets her sobs free and scrubs her little body until the skin is all red and raw and stings from the temperature of the water. until each stream of the showerhead feels like a bb bullet. 

then she gets on her hands and knees and scrubs the bathroom floor clean, occasionally flicking her tongue over the now-empty spot where the tooth used to be. it tastes vaguely salty, and it still aches but not as much, definitely nothing in comparison to her jaw which is turning a nasty shade of purple. her tooth’s still safe on the counter, though—free of blood and mud now. gleaming white. 

at least that’s the saving grace of the day. at least she’ll get a visit from the tooth fairy. 

grampy cancels his visit—his knees hurt, mama says—but she tries not to be miffed about it. she’ll make sure to get grampy something nice with the money from the tooth fairy. 

that night she gingerly places the tooth on the bed, carefully places the pillow on top so that the tooth is protected from all sides. nice and snug. 

then she closes her eyes, dreaming of tiny fluttering wings and shiny pennies. but the tooth fairy never visits at all. 

her mum ages rapidly in a decade. by the time she’s seventeen, her mum’s already gone grey—unravelling at the seams, fraying with each passing day. not that anyone’s seen her mum in days. or months even. her mum’s not coherent enough to hang out with people most of the time. 

she’s started spending less and less time at home. it helps to have a part time job on top of school—a place that delivers chinese food. a couple guys from her school work there too, not that she really knows a lot of them. except one. 

matty. 

he’s the one person she’s ever considered a friend. 

the one person who’s been worthy of that title. 

matty’s all casual smiles and laughs—he flirts shamelessly and kisses people on the cheeks when he gets drunk. he offers her fags and spliffs even though she always denies them. he nicks leftover chinese so they can eat it in his car, giggling and laughing, way prouder of their heist than they should be. 

the food tastes better when she’s with him. everything’s better when she’s with him—even the shitty, off-brand beer he keeps buying. with him it tastes like expensive champagne. not that she knows what champagne tastes like to begin with, but she imagines the bubbles settling on her tongue feel like his laugh spilling from his lips. she imagines it tastes like the sparkle in his eyes.

matty looks at her differently too—she’s not stupid, she knows what interest looks like. 

she’s been the object of fascination since she turned thirteen and developed boobs seemingly overnight. she shies away from attention most of the time—wears t-shirts twice her size, keeps her hair a bland brown. she barely even looks at boys or men who tell her she looks mature for her age. but when matty looks at her, it’s different. 

when matty looks at her, she wants to be seen. 

“you sure it’s okay for us to be out so late?” he asks one night when they’re sat in his car. the world around them has already gone quiet—it is a school night after all, she should be in bed too. but she sees the cigarette dangling loosely between his lips and for a second she forgets to respond. matty quirks and eyebrow and she realises she’s been staring at his mouth. 

“my mum won’t mind.” her response is a bit curt, but she leaves it at that. there’s no need to mention that her mum’s probably drowning in wine by now, tripping and spilling the liquid onto floors and sofas and carpet. 

“she must be chill,” matty hums to himself and takes a drag of his cigarette. she watches him hold it into his lungs, some of it escapes through his nose and curls around his face. 

she keeps quiet, unwilling to get into that topic of conversation. 

“i’m thinking of dropping out,” matty says quietly once the cigarette turns into a tiny stub. his voice is carefully neutral, monotonous. she whirls to look at him, jaw practically dropping to the (dirty) floor of his car. matty stares straight ahead, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but the tension in his shoulders gives him away. 

images flash in front of her—walking the school corridors alone, eating lunch alone, doing her homework alone. working at her job alone. 

alone, alone, alone. no one but her mum around her again. that wretched fucking woman occupying every atom of her existence.

“did you h—”

“i heard you.” her voice has gone quiet now but there’s an edge to it that doesn’t go unnoticed by matty. 

“and?”

“and what? if i said no, would that convince you to stay?”

she doesn’t mean to sound so sharp, so bitter. certainly not so selfish. but an ugly feeling bubbles up so deep inside her that all the excitement from before just dies—all the butterflies from just a moment ago, now dead and rotten, making her feel nauseous. 

“no but—”

“i don’t want to tell you why it’s irresponsible, matty. frankly, i don’t know if i believe that myself but… it’s… it’s big.”

his face falls further and further the more she speaks. with each word she wants to press a hand to her mouth, wrap it around her throat so it would strangle everything else that’s about to come out. with every word she wants him to tell her to just shut the fuck up, that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. but matty only looks at her and a different sort of quiet spreads around the car. 

“you think this… this thing you’ve got going on. music. you think that’s enough?! you play for fucking retirement homes, matty! you play for old people who probably won’t even remember what they heard twenty minutes later. and you want to–what? you want to leave your education incomplete? you want to leave a-levels and school and your job? you just want to…leave?”

which is the real problem. 

he gets the luxury of leaving. 

she gets the misery of staying. 

“thanks,” he says dryly, trying to roll his eyes. she catches the extra shine they now have, she catches the way his throat bobs. and suddenly the car is so stifling she can’t stand it anymore—can’t stand the taste of the nasty, cheap beer and the too-salty, too-greasy chinese they’re eating and she can’t stand the cliche, indie rock music playing at low volume. 

she can’t stand him anymore. 

“i need to go,” she says curtly, wiping her hands on her jeans and already halfway out the door when matty grabs her wrist. 

“wait—”

“what.”

“n-nothing.” it’s the first time she’s heard him stutter, first time he’s ever said something without sounding completely sure of himself. “let me just drop you home.”

it’s also the first time he’s offered to do that. 

“i have my bike.” besides there’s no need for you to see the state of the house right now, no need to come across that belligerent woman in case she’s still conscious. 

“it’s late.”

she can’t really argue with that logic. it is almost 11 at night and she might not live in a very shady neighbourhood but it’s still not the safest at this time of the night. still, she doesn’t want matty driving her around and dropping her home. that feels too vulnerable. besides, she just wants to be away from him.

he’s leaving anyway, she might as well start practising that from now on. 

“i’ll text you when you get home,” she mumbles and forces her wrist out of his hand. 

she’s out of the car and slamming the door shut before he can even protest. she’s marching across the empty road and to her bike before the absence of his warmth registers, before her body realises that she can no longer feel his skin against hers. 

before she really has a chance to let anything sink in. 

matty honks and she hisses. 

“what!”

“i’m following you home.” and then the little shit rolls up the window. 

she has half a mind to stubbornly wait him out, see how long he stays if she just refused to move but that’s a stupid plan. like it or not, it’s happening. he’s following her home. 

like it or not, she’s going to have to let him. 

“i’ll only accept your apology on one condition.”

it’s two days later that they’re back in his car—her with a guilty conscience, matty with a smug smile. 

“ugh, if you’re about to be a boy about it!”

“you haven’t even heard me out yet!”

the pit in her stomach shifts, the hollow cavity catching in her throat until she has to forcefully clear her throat and blink rapidly. it’s not that she’s completely forgiven him for wanting to leave, she hasn’t completely given up on that yet either. but she realises the way she went about it was perhaps…a bit shitty (okay it was definitely a lot shitty) 

“spring dance”

“what?!”

the words jerk her out of her thoughts so violently that she almost forget about everything else for a second. the spring fucking dance. 

matty healy, the boy who nicks chinese food and drinks cheap beer and wears ripped, skinny jeans wants to go to the spring dance. 

“right don’t look at me like i’ve asked you out to a strip club—”

“that’d be more in character—”

“oi! just… let me speak!”

and so she shuts up, puts her hands under her thighs so she won’t impulsively chew on her nails while her crush is…trying to ask her out. 

matty rolls his eyes at her and the fond smile on his face takes her breath away. 

“i want to do it. i want one last cheesy school experience before i…” he trails off, maybe not wanting to finish that sentence for her sake. or maybe because it affects him more than she thinks. “and i want to do it with you.”

“me? ooh like i’m special or something.” she tries for it to be teasing and playful, but the words come out sounding so hopeful that it knocks the breath out of her. 

“don’t pretend,” matty’s voice goes all quiet then. serious too, and suddenly he can’t meet her eyes. “don’t pretend like you don’t see it.”

“see what…”

there’s a lot in her life that she pretends not to see—half the things at home, sometimes her failing marks, sometimes the way other people look at her and whisper. but he is the one person she can’t pretend with. can’t pretend to not see the way he looks at her and acts around her. can’t pretend to not notice the way his touches linger and his smiles last longer. 

even now, she can’t pretend like he’s not looking right at her lips, leaning in a smidge at a time. wishing she’d close the gap. 

involuntarily, her eyes flutter shut. anticipating. 

she wants to feel it so fucking bad—his hands on her waist, his fingers on her skin. she wants to feel his faint stubble against the palm of her hand, his lips on hers. most of all she just wants to feel him close, to feel his breath on her skin. 

matty jerks away and a loud horn of a car breaks the spell. 

“fucking dicks!” matty rolls the window down and yells at the retreating figure of teenagers in a car, one of them even flips him off and next to him she seethes. 

fuck this, fuck everything. why can’t she just have nice things. 

why must someone come and ruin it every time. 

it takes them both a minute to breathe and settle down and meet each other’s eyes again. even then there’s a slight pink tinge on his face that makes him look adorable. 

“sorry about that…” matty mumbles and taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “so…spring dance?”

“i’d love that.”

she hopes the smile she gives him is genuine. she hopes he sees it plain and simple all over her face—all the words she hasn’t said and cannot say. 

matty smiles wide. “then i forgive you.”

and it’s like a weight gets lifted off her chest. 

“you look pretty,” her mum’s eyes roam over her body, eyeing her from head to toe, flicking over certain places again and again until she almost feels naked—like the blush pink fabric doesn’t even exist. like her mum sees right through her. 

years of this has taught her that it’s not a compliment. if anything, it’s just another trap, so she focuses on her reflection in the mirror and smiles with as much warmth as she can muster. “thanks!”

her mum reeks of wine already, maybe even a little weed but it’s nearly not enough today which is surprising. she would have expected her mum to be at some bar by now. 

“i’ll be a bit late. don’t worry i have my keys though.” 

then she scoffs to herself. when has her mum ever worried? 

“who’s taking you? to the dance.”

“wha–? oh. uh, just a few friends. only met them recently.” she winces, trying to get the last of the curls in place, trying not to be too cagey in front of her mum. she doesn’t want her mum to think she’s hiding something—mostly because it never ends well, and she can’t be arsed to deal with another screaming match right now. not when there’s a ball of anxiety and anticipation in her chest, wound so tightly that it’s slowly choking the air out of her lungs. 

she just wants to be outside. she just wants matty to see her, to call her pretty and maybe even kiss her. 

she just wants this one night with him. 

just one. 

her mum huffs and stumbles into the room. everything about this woman wants to make her shrink away—the days old stink of sweat and alcohol and cigarettes, the grime under her fingernails, her beady stare… 

even when her mum’s fingers twirl around her curl, she fights not to shrink back, to slap her mum’s hand away. 

“you look pretty,” her mum repeats. “prettier than i did when i was your age.” 

her stomach churns at the cruel edge to those words but her mum isn’t done yet. “huh–not so easy to be pretty with a seven month pregnant belly. like a fucking whale…”

and there it is. 

her fault that her mum was robbed off having normal teenage experiences. 

“right, mum,” she smiles shakily, “need to get going.”

it’s almost a miracle that her mum doesn’t say anything else. mum just backs away and lets her gather her things. she quickens her pace, heart beating in her throat, hands trembling when she picks up her small purse. 

it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay

“don’t spread your legs for that boy.”

she freezes in place, almost out the door.

“wha—”

“act dumb again and i’ll make sure you never see that boy again.” 

“mum…” she swallows harshly, prays that the tears pricking her eyes don’t spill down her cheeks. then she nods and books it out of there. better to go before her mum changes her mind. 

better to go before leaving becomes impossible. 

matty makes her forget all of it. 

the moment she sees him, the shakiness in her limbs disappears, her heart thuds in her chest for all the right reasons. he’s in a suit. a fucking suit that makes him look all grown up and handsome but then his unruly curls go all over the place and suddenly she’s laughing with the boy she’s had a crush on. 

no matter what he wears and what he looks like, he will always be that boy.

the school auditorium is full of flowers—some fake, some real. all the girls around her look stunning, dressed in colourful pretty gowns. it’s all spring incarnate. 

all night he dances effortlessly, twirls so many people around him like he’s friends with everyone. and maybe he is—he’s certainly always been so much more popular than she has. she should be the one leaving. 

but she also can’t help but stare. she wonders if he is a daydream, something her lonely mind conjured up during hours filled with boredom or after long, exhausting fights with her mum. and suddenly, he is looking right at her. sweat makes his white shirt stick to his body in the most flattering way possible, makes his sweaty curls fall into his eyes until he can barely see straight.

stop ogling! 

“staring is rude, you know?” he walks—no, saunters—over to her. suddenly, there’s not enough air left in the giant school auditorium. 

“you’ve been staring too,” she counters. and she’s right. all night she’s caught his long lingering glances that make her feel like she’s coming alive. 

like a flower blooming in spring. 

“you kinda make it hard not to stare.” so does he, she thinks. but everything, from his half smile to his relaxed posture, tells her not to inflate his ego further. she stifles the faint blush creeping up her face and shakes her head bashfully.

“come on,” he says. 

at first, she doesn’t realise what’s happening. then he whisks her away to the dance floor and her shriek of surprise turns into one of delight. she has never danced like this before but that night they dance till her heart pounds in her ears, till she can’t stand straight anymore. then they sway softly, in spite of the rock and roll playing in the background. 

“you’re beautiful,” matty smiles at her, sincere and real. 

if she discovers anything about herself that early spring night, it would be her love for dancing. it’s a feeling she’s never felt before—something that almost feels like…freedom. it’s foreign at first, all the blood coursing through her body at the speed of lightning. she tries to keep track of how many times she shrieks and laughs and jumps in excitement. all of it until matty picks her up and twirls her around. 

round and round until she’s breathless and light as air and fucking free. 

somewhere after that, she loses count. at the end of the night, her dress clings to her and matty can’t stop staring. can’t stop letting his eyes roam all over her until he’s grinning himself. his smile is boyish. perfect. and just as she’s getting self-conscious, he pulls her closer. 

“you’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

next thing she knows, matty is holding her softly against the wall and kissing her bare neck. he softly caresses her waist through her dress and she shivers against the warm spring breeze. she can feel him shaking too, almost like he’s…nervous to do anything more. to actually kiss her and shatter the moment. she can’t have that, can’t let this moment slip through her fingers. 

“kiss me,” she pleads and matty moves in an instant, his warm mouth capturing hers. like he was only waiting for her permission.  

his lips are a little chapped. far from perfect and yet electricity zings through her all at once. if it weren’t for the wall, her legs might have given out from under her. she might just be a heap on the floor, surrounded by all the spring flowers. 

matty kisses with such reckless abandon that it steals her breath away. kisses her until her heart swells in her chest, ready to burst. her fingers tangle themselves into his hair and she kisses him back with everything in her. she can’t care less about how public this is, there’s only him in this moment. 

only the two of them on a warm spring night suspended in this one moment.

she almost whines when matty pulls back. annoyed beyond belief that he’d pull away now. 

“mat—”

“it’s late.”

“it’s not!”

“it is, love.” suddenly his voice has gone gentle, almost quiet. matty pulls his old phone out of his pocket (with the screen cracked and all) and holds it in front of her. the screen flashes with 11:17

shit where did all the time go?

matty makes no move to untangle himself from her arms, still pressed against her. in her ead she forms a childlike grudge against his phone. if it weren’t for it, they would have never known what time it was…

“i hate this.” her voice comes out thick with tears and something wet hits her nose. “i don’t want to go, i don’t want you to go. please.” but even then she knows how unfair it is to put him in this situation. 

matty’s caresses her cheek, wiping away her tears, smiling at her like she’s the most gentle precious thing in the whole world. 

and maybe she is. in his world. 

“you’ll finish school too,” he says, voice a low murmur, “and then you have a uni to attend. so much shit to do. god, you’re brilliant enough to get everything you want.”

but it’s you i want. still she doesn’t say it. not just yet. 

she nuzzles his palm instead, placing a soft kiss on it. “i hate spring. i wish it was autumn instead. i’d be starting uni at least.”

“and you will,” matty reassures again. “you’re going to do so many things.”

“you won’t be here to see them…”

and there it is, all the things she’s been holding deep inside laid bare. matty looks at her for a long time and smiles sadly. “who said that? i’d find you, we will keep in touch. isn’t spring meant to be about new beginnings and all that? so why don’t we start a pact?”

“that’s a silly idea,” she teases but even then she’s eager to know what he means. 

matty ignores it. “stay here for spring and summer, finish school. i’ll find you when autumn comes.”

“you’d really do that?”

“who’s gonna help you move into uni halls huh?”

through tears she laughs. only matty could make it sound so exciting. only matty could make her hate it so much less. 

she doesn’t trust herself to speak anymore so she kisses him instead. he tastes like peaches, mint and something sweet. the very first boy she’s ever loved. the boy she will always love. 

he’s leaving soon, she knows it. who knows maybe she will wake up tomorrow and he will be gone. she feels all that passes between them and she tries to send all her longing and all her yearning down that bond. for a brief second she is determined to make matty stay through sheer willpower. 

but that would be the most selfish thing she’s ever done. and so she smiles and lets him go. 

matty might be leaving but she’ll always have this one warm spring night. even as the clock inches towards midnight and a new day threatens to arrive.

for a brief moment she wonders if she can make time stand still. this one moment stretched into eternity. 

but the minutes tick by anyway. and tomorrow comes anyway.

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[secondhand-snow]

a body of impulses

chapter 3: letting love devour

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★chapter 2★

wc: 8.4k+

warnings: dysfunctional family, swearing, fluff, smut, age gaps, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, virginity loss, vaginal sex, making out, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), corruption kink, aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: After Italy, things are hard. Your family is divided, your life is disordered, your brain is on fire. Lukas knows you better than yourself, and proves it by repairing your sanity in a way only he can.

author's note: here's a nice little fluffy chapter for you after our last installment! hope you enjoy, it was so fun to write ♡ please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

The past few months have been hard, to say the least. The day of Caroline’s wedding was like a bomb had been dropped on your family. Logan wanted to sell to GoJo, and no matter what your siblings did, they couldn't change his mind. They felt betrayed, he felt discredited, and the whole thing ended up in flames. After that night, you didn’t have the energy to reach out to your siblings. They continued messaging you, half accusing, half blaming, you left their messages unopened. Except for Kendall, who you responded to in order to gain more information on his hospital visit. When you were satisfied he was okay, he got the silent treatment as well.

Worse than the bomb was the fallout. You left Italy alone the day after the wedding. Logan stayed in Italy for a while, his loyal executives staying by his side. You aren’t sure what your siblings ended up doing, you only know that Tom flew back alone as well. When you get back to New York, you throw yourself into your work. You get to the office at 6 in the morning, you leave at 10 at night, you never take lunch breaks. It’s the only thing that keeps your mind occupied. You barely sleep, you barely eat, you barely speak.

The rhythm finally ends with Lukas. Everything always ends with Lukas. He knows you’ve been struggling, knows how things ended with your family. Every night he begs you to take a break, get some sleep, and relax for the first time in over a month. You try to convince him you’re okay, that you're just busy with the deal and coping the best you can. He doesn’t believe you. Lukas keeps asking every night when you call. He offers to pay for a spa visit, a vacation, anything to get you out of the office. Like the money is what’s stopping you.

You play a game of cat and mouse, him chasing you and you denying him. It goes on for weeks. Until he doesn’t give you a choice.

“You’re coming to Sweden tomorrow.”

“Lukas… It’s 12 o’clock at night.”

“I’m sending my jet, your flight is 7am.” You roll over in your bed, moving from your back to prop yourself up on your elbows, eyebrows raising as he speaks. You were exhausted, just getting home from work an hour ago and getting into bed as quickly as possible, even if you couldn’t sleep. 

“I have to work tomorrow, I can’t just ditch everything for a vacation.”

“They’ll survive without you for a few days.” He sighs, you hear fabric rustle like he’s leaned back onto where he’s sitting.

“I have so much to do…”

“You’re coming.”

“I can’t just go to Sweden on a whim!” Your voice isn’t really upset, just surprised and a little frustrated at the intrusion.

“It’s not on a whim, I planned it for you.”

“You’re fucking insane.” 

“I miss you. I want to see my girlfriend.”

You pause then, letting out a low sigh. Lukas always knows what to say to you, always knows how to get you to do what he wants. 

“I miss you too.”

“I knew it.” You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks now. He knows he’s won.

“I tell you that every day, it’s not a new revelation.” Lukas laughs quietly on the other line, the sound bringing a shy smile to your face. “I don’t think this is a good idea though. If we went public without me telling my family first…”

“Then we won’t. We’ll be careful and stay private until it’s a good time. Nobody will know unless you want them to, I promise.”

“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll come to see you. But you know I can’t stay long.”

“We’ll see.” He half-sings, and you’re glad he can’t see the grin on your face when you try to sound annoyed.

“Lukas!” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hangs up before you can change your mind, leaving you staring at the bright screen of your phone in your otherwise dark apartment, an embarrassingly large grin on your face. You try falling back asleep that night, but don’t manage to get more than an hour or two before waking back up. It’s not the worst night of sleep you’ve gotten, and you needed to pack anyway. Sending a quick message to your assistant, you quickly cancel your plans for the week. You know you said a few days, but you also know Lukas can persuade you like no one else. So, at 7am sharp you find yourself seated on an unfamiliar jet, making excuses to try and influence yourself enough to leave, call off the trip and head back to the office. It doesn’t work. 

Lukas’s Swedish house is everything you thought it would be. Just outside of Stockholm, the building was modern and luxurious, with a long driveway and tall fir trees keeping the property private. The mansion was made of stone and dark woods with huge glass windows. It was simple and quiet, while simultaneously being incredibly opulent. It’s so Lukas it almost made you laugh. You took in the landscape, peering out the window of the SUV you were sitting in. Lukas insisted on sending you his personal driver, not trusting anyone else to bring you here safely. 

When the car finally rolled to a stop and you exited the vehicle only a few seconds passed before Lukas was running out the front door of his mansion towards you. He was shoeless, wearing a pair of plain sweatpants and a shirt, with his hair messy and arms open. The goofy look on his face and the gawky way he rushed towards you made you giggle, your lips parting into a beaming smile. When he reached you, his arms tucked under your armpits and scooped you up, your feet lifting from the ground as he held you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking your head into the top of his chest.

“You’re here!” His voice was slightly muffled from the way he had his lips pressed into your hair, but his tone was happy, maybe the happiest you’d ever heard him.

“I am. I finally made it.” Lukas set you back down onto your feet, dropping his arms around your waist before pulling you in for a soft kiss. You could feel his smile on your lips before you separated.

“Let me show you around.” He intertwines your fingers, presses his arm against yours playfully, and begins leading you into the house.

The inside is contemporary, filled with the highest end furniture and appliances that money can buy. It's minimalist and chic, and looks a little more lived in than Lukas’s Swiss villa. You recognize a few areas from the background of Facetimes and photos Lukas has sent you. The bookshelves in his office, the painting in his dining room, the mirrors in his home gym. It feels strangely nostalgic to see the spaces in real life, strangely like home. When you reach his bedroom you’re a bit surprised to see your luggage sitting there. The surprise quickly fades with the realization that he trusted you enough to share a space with you. Self-pride takes over your emotions, a small smile finding its way to your face.

“So, what do you have planned for me?” You release Lukas’s hand to walk over to his bed, sitting gracefully on the edge of it to look up at him.

“You’ll see.” He moves to stand closer to you, your knees brushing the front of his legs as he reaches out to run a hand through your hair.

“You really won’t tell me?”

“It’s a surprise!” His hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your head up even further to look him in the eyes. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“I am not a fan of surprises.” You raise your eyebrows at Lukas, making him snicker at the pouty look gracing your face.

“You’ll like this one.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with the statement, you both know it’s the truth. Lukas knows more about you than your own family. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable and stayed, a feat nobody else in the world can claim. The months you have spent with him feel like centuries, and you don’t think you can ever go back to how your life was without him.

The rest of that day consisted mainly of lounging around, getting used to time difference and catching up on the few things you hadn’t shared with your boyfriend already. You watched a movie on his couch, casually resting your head in his lap while he worked on his phone. Lukas wasn’t the biggest cuddler, but he did enjoy your small displays of affection. Dinner was spaghetti and wine, prepared by his personal chef since neither of you were great cooks. As the sun set, the pair of you found yourself outdoors, in Lukas’s hot tub. 

Your hair pulled back so it wouldn’t get wet, his shirt off exposing a light scattering of blonde hair on his chest. You sat next to him in the water, your head laying lightly on his shoulder while your feet stretched out in front of you, slightly floating. For the first time in months, your brain was quiet and your surroundings were calm.

“Have you ever used your pool before?” Your head moves from its resting point you look up at Lukas, your brows furrowed in question.  

“Of course. Do people do that?”

“You mean- buy a house and not use the features it comes with?” He nods. “Yeah, all the time. That’s like… a norm in old-money social circles.”

“Really?” His head tilts, a confused smirk coming over his lips.

“Really. Roman has a house in Puerto Rico he’s never even been to. Says its ‘just in case.’” You laugh candidly at the admission, your head falling back onto his shoulder as you realize just how odd it sounds.

“Just in case what?”

“I have no clue. You should ask him, he likes you.” Lukas just hums in response, a hand coming around your shoulders to hold you close to him. You stay that way for a minute, just breathing and being together. Eventually, you move from your position, his arm falling away as you shift to settle in front of him in the water, bending a bit at your hips to stay at his eye level, hands resting on his thighs as you lean your weight forward. It gives him a great view of your cleavage, which you immediately notice as his eyes drift down to your chest.

“Do you think this is weird?” You look up at Lukas through your lashes, his gaze moving back up to meet yours.

“What? Us?” You nod. “Yeah, a little.” He shrugs, his mouth forming an indifferent line.

“I just feel like we move so fast, like nobody else would really understand it if we told them.”

“Well they don’t have to understand it. Are you happy like this?”

“Very.”

“Then that’s what matters.” He reaches forward, grabbing onto your arms to pull you into his lap, straddling his hips as his hands move to cradle your ass. “ I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks. The media, our companies, your family- it’s all unimportant. I only care about you.”

You pause for a second at that, gnawing on your bottom lip as you look into Lukas’s eyes. Your arms move from resting at your sides to circle around the back of his neck. 

“You’re serious about this? About our relationship? About me?” There’s no hesitation before he answers.

“Yes.” A soft smile comes to his lips. “I’m more serious about you than any other relationship I’ve been in, to be honest.”

Something in his eyes tells you that it’s the truth. There’s a tenderness there you haven’t seen before. His answer satisfies you enough to make you lean forward, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. Of course, he deepens it. You’ve learned that Lukas can never do something halfway, with him it’s always all or nothing. The realization calms you a bit, dulls your fears of manipulation and misuse. You almost can’t believe that someone would care for you as much as Lukas does, you think there must be an underlying reason. But it feels so good to be with him, the potential for damage is worth it.

When Lukas said he was planning everything for you, he wasn’t kidding. The following days of your trip are planned perfectly, with every fine detail figured out for you. You don’t have to make any decisions, just let yourself be led and take things as they come. Part of you loves it, part of you hates it. You go along with it despite your uncertainty.

The first day, you go on a spa trip. The entire building had been rented out for the two of you, a needed step to take for maintaining the privacy of your relationship. Lukas assures you the working staff have also signed NDAs, just to be safe. You spend hours in matching robes getting pampered with the finest and rarest ingredients in the world. The massage you get disposes of all the stress you’ve been carrying, leaving your back and shoulders feeling the best they have in months. You convince Lukas to get a facial, snapping a photo of his face with cucumber slices on his eyes and setting it as his contact photo in your phone.  But more than that, you’re able to be in a semi-public place with your boyfriend and not hide the connection between you two. There’s no harm in pressing a wayward kiss to his lips, in holding his hand as you walk together. Your affection being unconfined in the open is more of a luxury than anything else you receive that day.

The day after that Lukas takes you on a hike. You haven’t had the time to get out in nature in so long, and he knows it. It’s only a short drive to the area, a gorgeous forest of towering trees and lush vegetation. You hadn’t brought active clothing with you, but luckily were able to obtain some via Lukas’s assistant in time for your activity. When you promise to repay Lukas for the money he spent on your outfit, he just scoffs and presses an affectionate kiss to your temple. The hike itself isn’t too hard, only 5 miles round trip with a few uphill treks. On the way Lukas takes the time to point out native plants to you, and you pretend to understand when he pronounces their names in Swedish. At the end you’re left with the view of a beautiful lake and acres of rolling green hills around it. You take a selfie to commemorate your experience, the image showing you smiling at the camera happily and Lukas stooping over to press a kiss to your cheek. You’re so tired at the end that you fall asleep on his shoulder on the drive back, his hand covering yours and blissful smiles on both your faces.

The third day, you stay at home. Lukas apologizes profusely that he can’t take you shopping in old town Stockholm, but knows it's too much of a risk for you to be seen together. Instead of a public outing, you camp out in his living room and spend the day watching your favorite movies. He brings out a horde of Swedish candy, making you try every single one no matter how strange they sound. Bilar ends up being your favorite, you finish an entire bag between the two of you. You show him your favorite childhood movie, cuddling into his shoulder on the couch as you look up at his reactions. He tells you about his favorite movies, the tv shows he loved growing up, the books he read in primary school. It feels familial and a little cutesy. It’s a nice break in the intensity of your relationship.

Later that night you look over at Lukas, stretched out on the couch as he watches the TV intently. You roll over onto your stomach, propping your upper body up on your elbows, bending your knees to hold your feet in the air. 

“Tell me something about yourself.” His head turns to you, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“What do you want to know?” Lukas moves his attention fully to you, shifting his upper body in your direction. You pause, thinking for a second before responding.

“Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else.” 

“Ever?”

“Ever.” He takes a minute, head tilting to look at the ceiling as he thinks.

“I don’t know if I have one of those. I’m a pretty open person.” You give a small laugh at that. He mocks offense at your reaction, mouth opening wide and shoulders raising.

“That is so not true Lukas.”

“I tell people all sorts of things!”

“You calculate what you say though. Like- you tell people things to make them think you’re less threatening.” The smile on Lukas’s face makes you know you have him caught. “You only share what you know people can’t use against you.”

“You know me too well.” You smile at that, move to crawl over to him and roll over, putting your head on his lap, looking up into his eyes. Lukas threads his fingers through your hair, tilts his chin to return your gaze.

“Have you ever been like that with me?” He considers for a minute, eyebrows raising to accentuate the few wrinkles on his forehead.

“Maybe at first.” You nod. “But after I ate your pussy I stopped.” He laughs, a little smug. Your hand comes up to swat at his chest playfully.

“It’s weird seeing you talk to other people, though. Like a switch flips in your brain and all the sudden you’re this social mastermind.”

“Yeah…” Lukas lets out a small sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip before he continues. “I guess I keep my guard up, it can be a little intense.”

“Intense is a good word. For both of us.”

“It is.”

“You really don’t have anything that you haven’t told anyone else? Anything at all?” You widen your eyes and pout your bottom lip.

“Let me think.” Lukas takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment. “I sent this girl my blood once.”

“What?” 

“An ex of mine, I sent her frozen bricks of my blood. Like, these half-pint blood ice cubes.” You hesitate before responding, a genuine question in your voice.

“Why did you do that?”

“It was a joke at first. Then I just kept doing it. I don’t know- I just like being able to do that shit, you know? Like- having some power over her, even though we aren’t together.” He shrugs, averts his eyes from yours for a second before glancing back down as you speak.

“That’s pretty bad, Lukas.” Your tone is more lecturing than actually upset, like a teacher reprimanding a student for bad behavior.

“Yeah, yeah I know. You gonna break up with me?”

“Nah. I know people who have done worse.” You give him a little smile. “Who’s the ex?”

“My comms head. Her name’s Ebba.”

“Well that makes things complicated.” You laugh a little at the strangeness of the situation. Lukas sheepishly smiles.

“Yeah. You’ll probably end up meeting her at some point.”

“I don’t think I wanna meet her, honestly.”

“Because she’s my ex?”

“Yeah. I’d be jealous.” Lukas cracks a grin at that, but you're partially serious. You rise up from your spot in his lap, moving to sit so you face him, legs crossed in front of you. “For real! How come she gets your blood and I don’t?”

“You want my blood?” His eyebrows furrow, a genuinely surprised look spreading over his features.

“I dunno… maybe.” You blush a little at the strange admission and bring a hand up to push your hair back. “ I just want all of you.”

A cheeky smile returns to Lukas’s lips at the confession. “You’re almost as crazy as I am.”

You don’t respond to that, just move a hand to jokingly push him away. A move that causes Lukas to retaliate by bringing a hand to your chin and pulling you into a soft kiss. You huddle up together to finish the film, with him actually focused on the screen and yourself slowly drifting to sleep. When the movie finishes, you’re fast asleep, head resting gently on Lukas’s shoulder as quiet snores leave your mouth. You don’t see the smile that rests on Lukas’s mouth when he notices you. You don’t see the gentle kiss he presses to your forehead before he picks you up and carries you to bed for the night.

You wake up in the early hours of the morning, moonlight still shining through the large windows to illuminate the room in front of you. Your hair is spread out on the pillow like a circlet around your head. As you roll from your position lying on your back, the sleeping form of Lukas comes into your view. He’s on his side, facing you, with his eyes closed and shoulders rising with even, deep breaths. He looks so peaceful like this, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. You reach out, your hand brushing his hair back off his forehead before falling to cup his cheek. You can’t help but lean in and press a sweet kiss to his temple.

Lukas stirs, when your hand falls away, a lighter sleeper than you realized. His eyelids flutter for a second as he wakes, then open to reveal sleepy eyes staring back at you. A small smile comes to his lips at the sight of you, his shoulders rolling a bit as he comes further into consciousness. 

“You brought me up?” Your voice is quiet, still a bit hoarse from sleep when you speak. Lukas nods in response. A smile comes to your lips, one wide enough to show your teeth. Your hand comes up to his cheek again, the arm closest to the bed moving to prop your upper body up a bit as you lean into him. You kiss him, smile still on your mouth and he reciprocates with twice the force. His hand comes to your waist, pulling your body in close to him as he deepens the kiss, tongue tapping against your lips for permission. 

You allow him entrance, his tongue moving to trace on the roof of your mouth as you let out a soft moan. Your hips tilt into his, pressing your mound to the growing bulge in his fleece pajama pants. The effect is instant, a delicious pressure against your clit that pulls a soft gasp from your throat. Lukas shifts your position, rolling onto his back and using the hand on your waist to pull you to a straddling seat on his lap. He’s still laying down, with you now supporting yourself with a hand to be almost crawling on top of him. 

His pants his feet on the bed, allowing him to slowly roll his hips into yours, grinding you on on his bulge with the hands on your waist. You can’t help moving back from the kiss then, an involuntary moan leaving your mouth at the unexpected sensation. Lukas’s mouth moves to your neck, sucking a mark onto your skin before nipping hard enough to earn a small squeal from deep in your throat. You grind your hips into his again, moving back from your place on your hands to sit upright on Lukas’s lap. His lips follow you for a moment as you move before he drops his head back against the pillow, mouth open and breathing heavy.

Your hands move to Lukas’s chest, bracing yourself as you rock your hips into the hard outline of his cock. A muted hum rumbles through his chest at the feeling, his hands moving to grip your ass and encourage your movements. Your motions are a bit delicate, but your body responds all the same. The heat between your legs builds, shocks running down your thighs at the pressure on your clit. A steady stream of sighs fall from your mouth, a blush gracing your cheeks at the unrestrained showing of your pleasure. Your head falls back a bit, eyes shutting with heavy lids as your face is turned towards the ceiling.

“You’re so perfect.” Lukas briefly moves a hand from your hip to push himself into a seated position. His lips fall to your neck again, peppering you with small kisses and bites, then brushing against your ear. “You’re gorgeous like this, all needy and wanting.”

You can’t argue with that, your moans speaking for themselves. In response, you move to capture his mouth again in a passionate kiss, your sounds muffled against his skin. Lukas’s hands begin helping your movements, creating a steady rhythm of rolling and grinding. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. Your thighs shake with the pressure on your clit, but your core clenches around nothing, feeling terribly empty. You pull back from Lukas’s mouth as a truly desperate whimper leaves your lips.

“I want you.” The confession is breathless, your eyes heavily lidded and your chest rising and falling quickly.

“You have me.” He plants a kiss to your chin, your hand coming up to his jaw.

“No, I mean…” You sigh for a moment, heat creeping up your back at the strange embarrassment you feel. “I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck me.”

Lukas pauses at that, his head moving to look you deeply in the eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in your answer, him barely finishing his question before you respond. “Please, Lukas.”

He nods, a gentle smile on his lips as he leans back into you with a quick kiss. When you separate, he gently moves you off his hips. You land in a seated position, knees bent with feet planted on the bed and arms behind you to brace your back up off the bed. Lukas moves on top of you, slotting himself between your legs as he sits back on his knees. His fingers come to rub small circles on the exposed skin of your lower thighs. 

“Can I take these off? And your panties?” His voice is low and thick with his accent, barely a whisper as he asks. You nod, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate the clothing removal. He leans into you, hands moving to the waistband of your casual shorts before slowly pulling them down. You lift your hips a bit, helping as Lukas eases the fabric down the curve of your ass. He moves back from between your legs as the garment moves down your thighs, quickly working them down to your ankles before discarding them completely. Your skin exposed, your body spread out beneath him, you instinctually move to press your knees together.

Lukas just chuckles lowly, a lopsided smirk on his lips as he gently presses your knees back apart. His fingers slowly move to the inside of your thighs, snaking closer to your core. His hands land right under the swell of your ass, cupping your sighs there as he bends to look at your slit. You’re embarrassingly wet, already so worked up after just a little dry humping. Gently, so gently, his thumb moves to part your folds, brushing gently against your clit and causing you to squirm under his touch.

“Shh, I know… I gotta make you cum at least once before you’re ready to take me.” He doesn’t move from his place between your legs, just directs his words up to you. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You give a small hum in acknowledgement, moving to let your back fall against the covers, a pillow under your head to allow you to continue watching Lukas. His movements are slow, borderline teasing as he begins his work. A finger comes to your clit, beginning to toy with it in small circles. The effect is instant, growing the heat between your legs at a pace that never fails to amaze you. Gradually, Lukas’s movements increase, both in pressure and speed. Your chest heaves as the gasps leaving your throat grow louder and louder. You’re so lost in the pleasure, don’t even realize your hips are bucking against his touch until Matsson’s hand migrates to push your pelvis back against the bed, anchoring you in place.

His thumb remains on your clit, with his middle finger moving to gently prod against your entrance. Delicately, so delicately, his finger slides in. The movement is easy, no stretching against his width, though his finger is longer than you’ve had before, tapping further back in your cunt than your own fingers ever have. It feels divine to finally have something to clench down on, your silk walls tightening against his digit as he stimulates your clit. You’re already content with the feeling of being full, well, fuller than you’ve been before. But then, Lukas moves. He crooks his finger up, gently beginning to thrust it back and forth into you. 

The pad of his finger easily finds the spongy spot inside you, sending shock waves through your core. It’s only a few thrusts before you’re cumming, tension in your lower stomach finally peaking as your legs shake around Lukas. Your head rolls back, back arching up from the bed as a moan rips through your body. Lukas groans with you, fingers still moving as he fucks you through your orgasm. As your breathing regulates, you whine, a hand coming down to feebly push him away. 

“Good girl… Come on, give me one more.” Lukas’s voice is a low growl as he speaks, slowing his motions while his eyes flick up to yours. “You can take it.”

His ring finger moves, slowly pressing in to join his middle finger deep in your pussy. This time, there’s a stretch. The wetness helps, slicking his skin enough to not provide too much resistance. Even so, there’s a slight stinging sensation between your thighs as you get used to the new feeling. Lukas’s two fingers are the widest thing you’ve taken so far, and he knows it, taking a moment to let you adjust before he begins moving again. A mewl escapes your lips as his fingers take a hook shape, the pressure you previously felt on your g-spot intensified by the extra weight. 

Your hands grasp against the sheets near your hips, finding no purchase as the pleasure in your core begins to build again. When he brushes your clit again, you nearly pull away. The bundle of nerves is throbbing, hyper-sensitive from your first peak and incredibly responsive to Lukas’s touch. It’s almost too much, but it feels so good you lean into his pressure, hips gently rolling to meet his thrusts while he softly plays with your clit. Your fingers travel to the oversized t-shirt you wear, tangling in the fabric there, gently pulling in up to expose more of your stomach. Lukas’s hand on your hip moves up, exploring the new skin as he doubles his efforts on your pussy.

Gasps and faint moans fill the air as electric shocks run down your thighs. Soft words of “please” and “yes” leave your lips as you begin to reach your climax. What sends you over the edge is the feeling of Lukas’s nails as he gently rakes his fingers down your skin. The climax hits you like a wave, satisfaction running through your body with a heat that makes you gasp and whimper for more. Your eyes fall shut as you cum this time, hips moving against your will as your legs fall further open, limp with pleasure. You take time to catch your breath, leaving your eyes shut while you feel Lukas slowly withdraw his digits from you. It’s a strange feeling, being empty again, clenching around nothing in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The bed shifts as Lukas moves, sitting up to pull his shirt over his head. You open your eyes at the sound of fabric rustling, vision still heavily lidded. His muscles are toned, skin lightly tanned and blonde hair growing a pattern on his chest. Your gaze draws down to the small trail of hair below his navel, disappearing underneath the waistband of his pants. He notices you looking, giving you a goofy smirk before he moves to cover your body with his.

“How do you feel?” His face is close as he talks, gazing into you with his icy blue eyes. You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, giggly and blissed out as you respond.

“So good.” Your hands move to his chest, fingers lacing into his light hair as you gently stroke over his muscles. “Will you help me with my top?”

The grin on his face speaks for itself, his hands moving to pull the fabric of your shirt over your head, you helping by shifting your weight. When your chest is exposed, Lukas immediately palms your tits. He squeezes, gently rolls your nipples between his fingers, smirks at the way this causes you to moan. It’s not long before his mouth dips to press kisses along your collarbones, falling to your breasts before he takes a nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking on the skin. Your hand moves to his hair, gasping and arching your back to press yourself against him harder. He chuckles in response, the hum vibrating through your body.

“Lukas…” You don’t have to finish your sentence for him to know what you mean. Know what you’re asking for. He presses a parting kiss to your chest, just between your breasts. Lukas sits back on his legs before moving to stand off the bed, making quick work of his pants as he strips them down his legs. His cock springs up, tip already glistening wet with pre-cum as he approaches you again.

You bite your lower lip at the sight, half from anxiety, half from arousal. He moves between your thighs, sitting up on his knees as he wraps a hand around the base of his shaft. His other hand comes to your thigh, spreading your legs wider as he slots himself in the space between them. Lukas is so close to you now, the front of his thighs pressing against the bottom of yours. His cock hovers over your mound, hand moving to gently stroke up his length while he looks down at you. Your breath comes deep and measured. You don’t blink under his stare, don’t look away, just gaze back into his eyes with the same intensity.

Lukas moves slowly, bending at the waist, his hand traveling to brace himself as he covers your body in his. The kiss he presses to your lips is electric, sending sparks down your body and through your brain. You can feel his cock lightly grazing the skin of your stomach, the realization making you moan into Lukas’s mouth. He swallows the sound eagerly before separating your lips, almost as breathless as you.

“Ready?” 

“Yes.”

His position moves, back to sitting up on his thighs as he begins to guide his cock into you. The hand that was holding him up goes to one of your hands, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. You feel his tip against your entrance, smooth and hot and large. Little by little, he presses into you. The stretch is instant, a stinging pain that makes you inhale roughly and squeeze Lukas’s hand. It’s not unbearable, but it is uncomfortable. Your brows furrow, face pinched with the harsh feeling.

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s motion pauses for a moment, his mushroom tip almost fully inside of you.

“Yeah- just… keep going.” Your voice is quiet and breathless, tinged with discomfort.

“Okay, it’s okay. I have you.” He presses in further, fully sheathing his tip inside of you, a movement that causes a small groan to come from your mouth. “Good. Good girl. You’re doing so well.”

You don’t respond to that, and he doesn’t expect you to. Lukas waits a moment before continuing to press in, so slowly it almost feels tortuous. The worst of the stretch seems like it's over, the pain staying constant instead of increasing like it had been. Lukas’s cock is heavy inside of you, the feeling new and pleasing. You can feel his tip pressing against every ridge inside of you, further and further back. Before long you feel him press against your cervix, a sensation that makes you jolt, pulling back a bit from his form. 

He frowns at that, squeezing your hand quickly before letting go to grab your hip. Lukas’s touch directs you to angle your pelvis differently, the movement causing his cock to sink further into your cunt. He barely has to press any further in before he bottoms out. His hand comes back to yours, the fingers that had been gripping his base moving to gently hold the outside of one of your thighs. You’re fuller than you’ve ever been before, and the pain between your thighs is slowly beginning to fade as he keeps himself fully sheathed inside of you. 

“Wait- just stay for a second.” Lukas nods, face caring and solemn as he watches the expressions cross your face. Your brows unfurrow as the sting in your vulva subsides, a low sigh leaving you as your body relaxes into the bed beneath you.

“Okay?” He notices the change in your posture, hand on your thigh rubbing small circles into your soft skin. 

“Fuck, yes. Move… please move Lukas.” Without the pain occupying your mind, you're able to focus on your other senses. He’s so close to you. His body is warm and strong and everything, everything, everything. Your clit is rubbing perfectly on his pubic bone with him fully inside you, your cunt feeling so full you swear you might implode. It’s so good, but you need more, you think you’ll die if something doesn’t change soon.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. Lukas nods as he hears your request, softly pulling back until just his tip is left inside you before pushing back in. This time, he brushes that spot in you, the one that makes your vision go white and your toes curl. You moan low in your throat, earning a matching groan from Lukas as you involuntarily clench around his length. His thrusts steady, a gentle rhythm beginning as he starts to really fuck you.

The pleasure in your lower stomach builds as he moves, your hips starting to roll to meet him in time with his thrusts. Each motion grazes your g-spot, sending sparks of satisfaction through your body. He pants over you, deep groans leaving his mouth while he moves. His noises blend with your gasps and moans, filling the room with the sounds of depravity. Your free hand had been grasping at the sheets next to you ineffectually, now you moved it to squeeze one of your breasts, a sort of anchor as your body rocked with the motions of Lukas.

“Can you… harder?” Your sentence partially trails off as you gasp, barely getting out your question before another moan leaves your lips. 

“Harder?” He confirms, strengthening his thrusts as you nod in response. The effect is powerful, his tip now hitting your g-spot with a force that makes your toes curl and voice whimper. You move instinctually, wrapping your legs around his torso, forcing him even deeper into your soaked cunt. Lukas’s hand on your thigh moves to your waist, gripping the skin there harder than he means to as he becomes lost in the change in sensation.

“God, yes. Please don’t stop.” You swear you hear him breathlessly chuckle at your pleading, but you're too lost in your own pleasure to be sure. The unmistakable sounds of skin slapping fills the room, nearly as loud as your noises of pleasure. His cock bullies that sensitive spot inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to your peak. 

“Fuck. You’re so tight for me.” Lukas’s voice is practically a growl as he speaks. You can only nod helplessly to show your understanding, too overwhelmed by sensation, too close to your climax, to muster any words. “All for me- you’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

His words go straight to your core, a final push that makes you fall from your peak. Hard. It’s more intense than any orgasm you’ve experienced before, the pleasure white hot and blinding. Your thighs shake, back arches, eyes clamp chut, head rolls back. Lukas groans as you clench on his cock, squeezing him so hard his own head lulls back at the sensation. Your climax hits so hard you don’t even moan, just gasp and whine, letting the feeling roll over you in a wave. You aren’t sure how long you're stuck in this trance of pleasure, but when your eyes finally reopen your boyfriend isn’t far behind you.

Lukas’s thrusts have gotten erratic, pace stuttering and strength escalating as he chases his own release. He’s more vocal now, groaning and growling deep in his throat, little murmurs of praise coming from his lips. You can’t help but bite your lip at the sight. It’s not often you get to see Lukas Matsson desperate, there’s something gratifying in being the cause of his frenzy. His head is thrown back, his lips parted and panting, his Adam's apple bobbing with his heavy breaths. The entirety of his body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his skin hot and muscle flexing with his efforts. He’s a picture of sexuality, just the sight of him like this making your heat throb with want.

It’s only a few moments after your climax that Lukas finds his. Thrusts faltering, he pushes himself deep into your cunt, cumming inside of you with a loud moan. His spend coats your insides, hot and wet inside of you, a feeling you haven’t experienced before. The sensation causes a quiet mewl to fall from your lips, the sound making him breathlessly chuckling above you. His head falls back forward. You roll your hips against his a bit, his cock beginning to soften inside of you after his heavy release. This draws his attention back to you, a blissful smile on his face as he gazes back up at your face with heavily lidded eyes. He pumps himself inside of you lightly a few times before slowly, so slowly, pulling his cock from your body.

As soon as he’s out, you feel the warm, wet stream of your combined cum leak from your hole. It’s a strange feeling, being empty again after having been stretched so wide. But the discomfort is gone, and you feel blissed out and satisfied and closer to Lukas than ever before. The smile on your face is embarrassingly wide, blush pink on your cheeks as you gaze up at him, the two of you still quiet and catching your breaths. Lukas moves first, gently bending down to place a light kiss on your smiling mouth before speaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I feel really good, like, tingly all over.” You giggle, your laughter joined by his own light chuckles. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

“Like what?” His eyebrows furrow a bit in question as he moves to stand at the edge of the bed. You follow his movements, sitting up on the mattress with your legs stretched out in front of you. 

“Like… an explosion.” 

“I think you’re cum drunk.”

“Probably.” 

He laughs again at your nonchalant tone, moving to his en suite bathroom to grab a towel for you. You take the moment of calm to raise your arms up, stretching your back and shoulders after laying for so long. You bend your legs, tucking them up against your naked body and resting your head on your knees. Lukas comes back into your view, moving to kneel at the end of the bed, his eyes level with your hips. He grabs onto an ankle, lightly tugging you towards him. You follow his nonverbal request easily, scooting to the edge on the bed with your legs once again open to give him a clear view of your cunt. His fingers move to either side of your slit, spreading your folds, a devious look on his face as he watches his creamy spend drip from your used hole.

“Hell of a creampie…” Lukas’s eyes flick up to yours, a small gasp having left your mouth at his touch to your sensitive vulva. He bites his lower lip then, cursing under his breath while he sits back a bit, shaking his head as he realizes. “Shit, I didn’t even think about protection.”

“Got too caught up in it?” There’s a small smile on your face, the expression calming his nerves. He nods in response. “It’s okay, we can Doordash Plan-B or something. Do you have that in Sweden?”

Lukas chuckles then, moving back with the towel to gently clean between your legs. The rough terrycloth of the towel drags on your sensitive clit, making your hips wriggle a bit in protest. He just smiles at your movements, continuing his work until he’s satisfied. When he moves the fabric away from you, your eyes catch on a red patch marking the white cloth.

“Did I…?” You move your feet to hang off the end of the mattress to aid you in standing just in front of Lukas. When you're comfortably standing on the floor, albeit on slightly shaky legs, you turn the upper half of your body to peer at the sheets behind you. There on the white fabric is a small blooming stain of red blood. It’s not enough to concern you, but it does cause a small blush to come to your face as you back to face Lukas, who is now standing in front of you, hands coming to anchor themselves on your hips. “Oh I messed up your sheets… I didn’t think-”

“Shh, hey it’s okay. It’s just sheets, ’s fine. You’re more important than linens.” One of his hands moves you to rub against your cheek comfortingly. You nod slowly, looking up into his eyes. There’s a gentle look on Lukas’s face, a look you only see when you two are alone. He places a kiss on your lips before speaking again. “You want to head to bed? Get some sleep?”

You pause for a second, moving your hands to trail up the skin of his back before they land on the back of his neck. You press your chest against his, the hand on your cheek moving back to grip the meat of your ass to stabilize you. “Yeah… or we could do it again?”

The rest of your vacation is spent in Lukas’s bed. Well, that’s not entirely true, it’s also spent in his pool, and on his kitchen counter, and on his couch, and against his bedroom wall, and in his tub… You’re convinced he’s trying to get you to stay, but you fly back at the end of the week as scheduled. Despite his very persuasive attempts. 

After Sweden, things get better. It’s like Lukas fucked the fog out of your brain and your back to thinking clearly. You cut back your hours at the office, maintain your work-life balance a bit better, though it’s never great with Waystar. You sleep better at night, usually falling asleep on Facetime with Lukas or reading his text messages. You even schedule some time to get your hair done, a task that your split ends thank you greatly for. You’re functioning the most normally you can given the circumstances. Lukas says maybe your reset switch is in your pussy, you say maybe all the additives and preservatives in American food were finally catching up to you. 

Even your status with your siblings gets better. A month or two after the initial shit show of Caroline’s wedding, Kendall reaches out to apologize to you. He tells you he’s staying sober and says he misses you, wants to see you in person, talk things through. You end up meeting at a cafe in Manhattan. Ken almost immediately tries to convince you to jump ship and join your siblings on their new project. To his credit, he understands when you decline. It’s not long after that meeting that your other siblings reach out. Roman sends a half-assed, jokey apology. Shiv doesn’t say sorry at all. But at least you have your family back.

Both your siblings and your dad are upset that you’re talking to the other side, but you stand firm in your place as a neutral party. Once again, you’re the peace keeper of the Roy family. You can’t get them to speak directly, can only make offhand comments to try and slightly influence their perceptions. It’s not much, but it makes you feel less useless at least. You’re sure your siblings won’t miss Logan’s birthday, so you hold out hope they’ll make up by then. They have a few months so it’s not impossible, stranger things have happened.

In the weeks leading up to your dad’s birthday, you visit Lukas again. You stay with him in Sweden again, this time staying only 3 days instead of a week. It’s the same blissful, honeymoon-esque vacation as your first trip. This time with even more sex, if that’s even possible. Lukas teaches you to give blowjobs, and lets you try any position you want. He’s even caring when he’s fucking you roughly, pulling your hair and swallowing your moans with his mouth. He cleans you up after every session, dries your tears and draws you a hot bath for your sore muscles. Again, he hits a reboot button in you, makes you go back to New York with a stupid grin on your face and your head filled with rainbows.

As good as Lukas makes you feel, he leaves you entirely unprepared for the firestorm that your siblings unleash on your dad’s birthday.

© secondhand-snow 2024

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

“The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

[sohnric]

[TEASER] partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. acquaintances to lovers. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: for the teaser :: 1k || for the full fic :: approx. 32k

warnings: for the teaser :: existential dread, a fake gun, robbery || for the full fic :: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), more to be added as i edit lmao

SEND AN ASK/COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST! Posting when the editing is done and my beta reader gives me the approval and validation <3 (end of may??)

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

[raylazuko]

New headcanon.

That Diluc and Crepus are alike in a lot of ways and I get the impression that Crepus also lived vicariously through Diluc in terms of “I couldn’t be a knight so you go do that” even if he may have had some reservations with the Knights himself but wouldn’t wanna alienate them because of his kids or because of business reasons.

That Crepus and Varka have a begrudging mutual respect for each other but do not agree with each other’s tactics.

Crepus, like later Diluc, finds the knights inefficient. That he was working to bring down the Fatui in his own way secretly. There is some underground vigilante anti-Fatui group that Diluc later joined because he has contacts in Mond when he gets back.

Diluc is a kid and delluded into thinking the Knights are perfect and Crepus doesn’t wanna crush his dreams.

Then reality happens.

That Diluc has noticed some corruption already and has his reservations and annoyances. That that night was his final straw. That he’s relieved to be out of the Knights but feels like he let his father down but also has a weird feeling that he did the right thing by him.

And that he later learns more about the underground efforts and just how stupid the knights are being and that diplomacy doesn’t solve everything.

But he doesn’t wanna alienate them too much because of his begrudging respect for Kaeya.

And also he’s annoyed and slightly jealous that Kaeya took his position.

He secretly wishes Kaeya would leave but if he told Kaeya everything he knows it would destroy him. Or he just wouldn’t listen.

Or that Kaeya does know and wants to change things from the inside.

Or he stays because he thinks that’s what Crepus wanted and actually sees Diluc as disrespecting their father’s wishes.

Or Kaeya stays because the knights treated HIM well, and he doesn’t have any other family left. They ARE his family. His dad abandoned him and he doesn’t know where his mom is (if shes alive). If he has other siblings they’re probably working for the Order. His adoptive dad died and his adoptive brother views him as a pushover for staying perhaps.) Let’s also not forget that Kaeya was probably pressured into doing whatever he was forced to do as a kid as being an heir to the Abyss Order basically. He probably doesn’t know HOW to say no or stand up against institutional injustice. Anything is better than where he came from. So he mostly just distances himself from the Knights by hunting treasure hoarders for fun and gathering intel because his position is literally useless.

I also think Jean’s hands are tied because she’s also barely legal and has too much pressure and is probably going off some some handbook and can’t reorganize things too much to not piss of Varka when he gets back. Plus they’re short-staffed. It’s very likely Varka groomed Jean in some way to succeed him and just put way too much pressure on this kid so now all she knows is how to work. Yeah I don’t like Varka lol.

For Kaeya it’s like “don’t bite the hand that feeds”. Kaeya leaving the knights would lose him EVERYTHING and he cannot risk that. There’s also a real chance that Varka knows about his past and if he leaves, he would become a target due to him being potentially dangerous.

It’s just a big mess all around and Ragbros+Jean are dysfunctional adults that had unrealistic pressures put on them as kids.

[gyllenhaalstories]

DON'T LET THE GRINCH STEAL CHRISTMAS — TOMMY CAHILL 🎄

summary: not even a christmas miracle can save a familly dinner with the cahills from turning into a debacle.

warnings: i'm quoting a scene from the movie but i'm taking creative liberties, food & eating, curse words, family feud, smut (quickie, semi public sex, pussy eating & fingering). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2440

photo credits: me (@/gyllenhaalstories) / divider credits: @/saradika & @/saradika-graphics

notes: ending a second year with a tommy fic just felt right. ❤️💚 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"This food is great, Elsie. Thank you." Tommy broke the awkward silence that loomed over the dinner table. Despite the smaller plate full of discarded peas in front of him, he still enjoyed the homemade dinner offered to him.

You opened your mouth to thank the older woman, too, for being such a lovely host but you were cut off by a wave of arrogance and bitterness that washed over your side of the table.

"Compared to what?" Hank Cahill huffed mockingly.

You helped Tommy's youngest niece and silently prayed that this would not degenerate for the sake of the kids. But of course it would. It was not a proper dinner at the Cahills if it did not end up in a screaming match. "Let it go." You leaned closer to your boyfriend to whisper those words, but your attempt at calming him down was, rightfully, vain.

Tommy dropped his fork on his plate and threw his hands up, shrugging. "Other food." He sounded defeated, knowing he already lost the fight that had barely started.

"Prison food?" His father retorted.

Tommy was a ticking time bomb around his family. Again, rightfully so. Hank just loved to handle his oldest son like a grenade, throwing him in a ditch once he started the explosion so he would not have to take the blame for the collateral damage. Tommy slammed his closed fist on the table.

"Tommy!" Sam called out his name, so quick to protect his father.

And, just as quickly, Tommy shut up. He reached his arm in front of you so he could reach to the other side, trying to reassure Maggie.

You could feel that he was fuming and he tried to hold it in so things would settle down. Instead, Hank mumbled into his plate and ate a spoonful of green peas.

Unable to handle the tension, Tommy promptly sprang to his feet and walked away to hide in the bathroom.

Nobody ever stood up for Tommy. Elsie would excuse herself to the kitchen. Grace would focus on her daughters. Sam would watch with his mind lost elsewhere and, mostly, without a care for the way his father treated his brother. Nobody truly ever ever stood up for Tommy except you. If Hank took a certain malevolent delight in being mean to his son, you took just as much pleasure in calling him out for it.

You stood up just as promptly as Tommy did and threw your napkin on the table. "With all due respect, mister Cahill..."

That sentence always succeeded in putting an angry smirk on the elderly man's face. He knew you had little to no respect for him, which was exactly what he deserved.

You looked at Maggie and Isabelle, bringing your hands to your ears so they would imitate you. They giggled as they pretended to hum a little sing-song to cover up the sound of your potty mouth. "You have no room to talk as the poor excuse of a father that you are." You took advantage of the fact Tommy was out of the room to lay the truth before his father. He would not allow it otherwise. "Tommy appreciates the hard work your wife did to prepare us a lovely Christmas dinner more than you ever could. He sure as hell didn't learn thankfulness from you and you should be glad he didn't learn how to be an asshole like you 'cause that's all you know how to teach."

Isabelle and Maggie uncovered their ears and resumed to eating and talking to each other. It broke your heart a to witness just how used they had gotten to this dysfunctional family.

You pushed your chair behind you and walked around the table. You stood by the head of it and, on the other side, there was Sam standing up and looking at you with a hint of disdain, but mostly surprise. Even he could not stand up to Hank in such a way. All the bravery and courage and praise about how he was so strong for serving his country so proudly turned into dust when it came to facing a bad guy such as his father. You held his gaze for a few seconds before you huffed, in the same manner as Hank did earlier. "So much for being a hero." You looked at both Sam and Hank one last time before you made a beeline to the bathroom.

*~*~*

You closed the door behind you and took a moment to assess the scene.

Tommy was pacing back and forth in the small bathroom. He looked tense but his demeanour softened when he locked eyes with you. He shrugged, silently apologizing.

"They'll be fine." You reassured him, easily guessing that he worried about his nieces. "You'll be fine too." Your hand reached to his cheek that you stroked lovingly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Tommy nodded, pressing his lips together. He kissed your forehead and lingered, as if he was charging his batteries up and as if they were fuelled by the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth that emanated from you and comforted him effortlessly. "It's just that—"

You shushed him with a peck on his lips. "Let's forget about it for now, alright?" You were met with a frown and a quizzical gaze. "They're gonna keep on being annoying. They're your family, it's what they do best." He agreed with a shrug. "Your father has already ruined so many things for you. Don't let that angry old man ruin Christmas."

You heard a faint chuckle coming from Tommy. "Like the Grinch?"

You laughed along with him. "Exactly like the Grinch."

He leaned forward for a kiss. He inhaled your scent again and further calmed down. He pulled back with a grin on his face. "I thought it was good that I talked about my feelings?"

"It is!" You defended yourself quickly. It was something you put a lot of emphasis on, to help Tommy better himself like he wanted. All that pent-up anger would lead nowhere if he followed the example of his brother and father. "I'm proud of you for working on that and talking about how you feel with me. You're doing so good at talking."

He mouthed the words 'thank you' but he frowned again while you caressed his arms up and down, the sleeves of his shirt awkwardly following your movements. It took a few seconds, but he caught on. "Let me guess..."

"Enough talking for now." You moved in closer and whispered at his ear. His family made enough noise to cover whatever sounds the two of you could make. You both knew it, it was not the first time you sneaked away from them. "But..." He squinted at you. "It's not a crime to find your boyfriend hot when he's lashing out at other people, right?"

He shook his head, telling you that it was not a crime either for him to think what you did earlier was even hotter. "Yeah, enough talking for now." Tommy smirked and pressed a kiss on your lips, a kiss that got deep and rough in no time. The mood shift was very much welcome.

Your hands caressed their way up to the collar of his shirt, clinging onto it. You kept making out, only taking quick breaks to catch your breath.

Meanwhile, Tommy's hands moved down to your ass and gave it a hard squeeze. He guided you towards the vanity so you could lean on the counter, not once did his lips leave yours. Instead, his tongue invaded your mouth and he swallowed your moans.

You held his face in your hands for a moment or two, enjoying the kiss to the fullest before you moved on to something else.

He pulled his head back when he felt your hand now in his short hair. Tommy smirked and, without any resistance, he let you push down on him until he got on his knees.

"You look so pretty down there." You murmured.

You thought he was too distracted to hear you by the way he hungrily peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, but the words you spoke sent a wave of pleasure down to his cock. That's not what he wanted to focus on right now.

The main focus was you and the soft whimpers you let out when he kissed your pussy over your panties. You were glad Tommy convinced you to wear a skirt for Christmas dinner.

He grunted, displeased by how his brain reminded he did not have the luxury to take his time. He pushed your panties to the side and held the fabric out of the way with his thumb as the rest of his hand pushed your leg open for him. He buried his tongue between your folds and let out a moan louder than yours.

You covered your mouth with one hand and bunched your skirt up with the other.

Tommy’s tongue lapped at your pussy, closing his eyes blissfully at the taste of you.

You started to move your hips, disregarding the uncomfortable counter that rubbed against your ass. You humped Tommy’s face and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his nose bumped on your clit, and as his tongue teased your entrance.

With his spit and your wetness, it was like your body was begging for him to fuck you. You had to wait for that, and he was already getting impatient. He pushed his middle finger inside of you and sucked on your clit, that was as close as he would get to feeling you wrapped around him.

Luckily for you, the Christmas music coming from the living room kept your activities safe between Tommy and you. There was no way your moans, and Tommy’s, could be heard.

But, to be even more careful, Tommy’s hand on your thigh gave it a squeeze. He flicked his tongue on your clit just how you liked it, pumping his finger in and out of you quite fast.

You abandoned your skirt to put your hand on his head and hold him in place. It was the most subtle way you could think of telling him that he felt so fucking good.

And he knew it. He pulled away for a short moment, just long enough to catch his breath and to give you one of his cocky smirks. His beard was glistening, his lips were wet and his eyes were dark with lust.

You barely had enough time to admire this beautiful sight that he was back at it. His beard burned on your sensitive skin, but, in the heat of the moment, it felt too good to stop. He was making your head fall back in pleasure as you felt the familiar tension of your orgasm approach.

Tommy's finger curled up inside you, finding that sweet spot that made you whimper. His tongue met with your clit and this time, he was not stopping. He was not stopping even if you tried so had to close your legs around him. He was not stopping even if you tried to control the pace with your hand on his head. He wanted, and needed, you to cum and he knew just how much you needed it too.

"Oh, fuck!" You moaned out, immediately biting on your finger to prevent another slip up. You wanted to tell him so badly how close you were, but it was pointless.

He already knew. He sucked on your clit and pumped his middle finger in your wet pussy a few more times until he felt your walls clench tight around him. Tommy fought against your body, just carrying you over the edge until he was convinced you could no longer take it.

Your vision was blurry aside from the little stars that were spinning around Tommy's head when you looked down. You forgot how to breathe, how to move even, until Tommy slowly slid his finger out of you and let you come back to your senses.

The sloppy kiss you shared after that was heavenly. You could taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, and it only got the two of you even more eager for what would happen the second you were left actually alone.

Tommy adjusted your panties back in their place and flattened your skirt, or, well, he tried to. You looked rough and so did he with his face shiny from your wetness.

You kissed him again, quickly, before you turned the faucet on and helped him wash himself clean as best as you could get it. While the water was running, you moved closer to his ear and asked a rather important question. "So, what's the escape plan?"

Tommy's eyes widened. Right. You guys needed a plan. It was not the first time you sneaked away like that, but he always forgot how awkward it could be. "Can you fake a tummy ache?"

"You're so clever." You chuckled and patted his face dry with a tissues.

The two of you took deep breaths and tried to darken your expression, although it was hard to shake off the pure pleasure you had experienced.

They were surprisingly gullible and believed in your lame excuse, at the exception of Maggie who whispered to her sister that you were one of Santa's elves and uncle Tommy had to drive you to the toy factory. They were so caught up in their conspiracy theory that they barely let you out without a hug, but they rushed to the front door for a kiss goodbye.

Hank looked at his son disapprovingly, Elsie promised to save slices of pie and cake to be picked up when you felt better. Grace smiled and focused her attention back on her kids and her husband.

You got out of there as if nothing happened. As if there had not been a huge fight, as if that same fight had not been resolved by Tommy devouring your pussy like it was his last meal.

A last meal that needed to be followed by dessert, Tommy's hand that was on your thigh while he drove his truck home reminded you of the rest of your evening plans. You watched him drive and you played the game of whether he could be patient enough to wait for you two to be home or if he would give up halfway and take you in the back of his pick-up.

Judging by the way Tommy was smiling and beaming, one thing was for sure: the Grinch was not successful in stealing Christmas this year.

[taleasnewastime]

All that remains | Part 1

[ PART THREE TO GROWING PAINS ]

Summary: You betrayed them all, acted on your own selfishness; will Jimin ever forgive you?

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; slow burn; mafia au; angst

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, mentions of death, blood, depression, mentions of a slight alcohol problem, drinking alcohol, feelings of being alone and isolated

Authors note: Sorry this has taken so long, and thank you for sticking around and waiting for this. Not as long as others in the series but there is more to come! Possibly a slow start but I promise that there is lots more to come and things will start heating up in no time. Part 2 won't take as long!!

Masterlist | Next

THREE MONTHS AND TWELVE DAYS LATER

The cold hits you as you exit the café. Turning, you lock the door, checking you’ve remembered to turn all the lights off. You managed to get this job not long after everything fell apart, climbing up to assistant manager quickly. It’s not your dream job, not the best pay and you could definitely get something better, but the job isn’t stressful, you don’t mind the people, it pays the bills and it’s all you need right now. You don’t want to lose this job because you forgot to turn the lights off.

The evening is dark. Beams of light coming from the streetlights. The weather’s turning cold, but you’re thankful it’s not raining like it does seemingly every day recently. It’s reflecting your mood. Dark, moody, just generally down. There are few days at the moment when you feel happy.

It’s been months since the police raid, tipped off by you with enough solid evidence to bring the organisation down. Months since your brother got locked away. Months since your whole life changed. Months since you betrayed everyone who raised you.

It’s just you and Jungkook now. The two of you supporting yourselves. In the same city just in a different part to the house you were raised in. The two of you barely scrapping by.

Oh, and Jimin.

Not working, hardly talking and barely showing his face. You and Jungkook working to support three, like some dysfunctional family. You’re struggling, only just keeping your heads above water. The flat you live in is old and cold, just enough space to squeeze the three of you in. On the sixth floor of a building with no elevator. Your neighbour’s people who the government have forgotten. People living on the margins, with little education and hardly any income, people just trying to survive like you, many of them people you’d avoid at all cost, as dangerous as people you’d meet in the gang only now you hold no status.

You take a breath when you get to the bottom of the steps to your building, mentally preparing for the six flights of steps to come and the lonely flat after that. The damp, the cold, the loneliness, hardly things to look forward to. You hate it, but it’s all you can afford and for the roof it provides you’re happy enough.

“Hello?” You call out into the quiet flat getting no reply.

Unsurprising, though you wonder if you truly are home alone. Jungkook will be out at work, either the personal trainer job or working security at a new club in town. Jimin will probably be holed up in his room doing you don’t know what.

You sigh as you head to the kitchen, routing through the freezer for something to heat up. There are only a few things to eat, nothing exciting but you’re too tired to cook anything.

Life isn’t any better, it’s not any easier, it’s not sunshine and rainbows. Your plan worked. Now you just need to try and get on with life. You knew this would be the outcome, you didn’t expect a life of luxury, you just didn’t quite expect this. The quietness. The monotonous days. The barely scraping by. The loneliness.

It’s been months since everything went down. Months since you ratted to the police, used your leverage in the gang to bring them down. You backstabbed them all, just like they did to you all those years ago. And while your plan paid off, you got what you wanted, you don’t feel complete satisfaction.

It was never something you planned. Or at least you never sat down and plotted it all out. The idea itself manifested over the years, grew from a simple conversation. It was never something you thought you’d do, more a fantasy than reality.

It was Jungkook’s idea originally. A seed he planted in your mind that grew the more distance you had, the longer you had to think it over.

You felt so alone, for so long and then Jungkook appeared. Seeped into your life so thoroughly that you no longer felt as lonely. You’d never trusted anyone enough to tell them your story, but for some reason Jungkook was different. Maybe it was because he was from a similar background, maybe it was because he made you feel less alone or maybe it was just as simple as him listening to you. Whatever it was, piece by piece, it all started to come out of you. Slowly at first, and then one night when you’d had a little bit too much to drink, all at once.

It was Jungkook that planted the seed, a mere comment about how he heard a company going down because of a whistle-blower. The CEO was bullying its staff, guilt tripping them into staying later than they should and never being happy with the outcome of work. Not comparable to your gang or situation at all. But it was that comment that blossomed everything.

For months that turned into years you mulled over the thought. Whistle-blower. Someone on the inside who knows everything that’s going on and reports it. Reports wrongdoings. Can take down the company with mere words.

Your bitterness rotted over time to hatred which quickly turned to vengeance. The fact you had little contact with anyone only made it worse. Sure, it was your father who instigated it, but you’d have thought there would be one person on your side. And even though your brother contacted you, it was so infrequent with so little information that it felt like he needn’t have bothered. It felt like he was doing it as another job, contacting you because he had to not because he wanted to. You resented him; for having it all, for not helping you, for letting you leave, for not standing up to your father.

Whistle-blower. A much nicer word than grass, snitch or rat. Just a word, but a word that made you think maybe you could do it.

You knew so much. And yet part of you knew you’d never do it.

And then you got the call, your father was dead.

Even as you flew back home, the thought still in your mind, you didn’t think you’d go through with it. The funeral was cold, everyone avoiding you as if you were infected. Your meeting with Yoongi didn’t make you feel any better. He wanted proof, wanted you to show he could trust you as if everything you had done up until that point wasn’t enough. Your whole life was to appease them, everything you did was to make them happy. And it was then that you realised that nothing you could do would be good enough. Even if you gave Yoongi proof you doubted he would ever truly welcome you into the family.

Hearing Jimin scream about wanting you out only sealed the deal. If they didn’t want you, you’d show them where they could stick it, show them how strong you could be.

You knew they would be arrogant enough to think you’d want back in, that you’d do anything if it meant you’d get your place alongside them. All you needed to do was play along. Because who wouldn’t want to be part of what they had? No matter how they treated you, no matter how you grew, they’d always think your feelings would remain the same.

But you did grow, you did change. And you realised Jimin was right. The gang wasn’t what you dreamed it was. It wasn’t your family, it wasn’t the only option you had. It didn’t want you. And now you didn’t want it.

Jungkook did most of the work because you weren’t stupid enough to be meeting the police when you were supposed to be looking into your father’s death. He did other things when he drifted off in the mornings on his own, but a lot of the time he was feeding information and planning how best to raid the gang. It was you who suggested that if you found out who the killer was you could line it all up, get the confrontation to be in a place the police could surround.

You knew it was a risk, had been told by everyone who knew what you were doing that it was a risk. They wouldn’t be able to get them all and even if they did, they wouldn’t charge them all. People would know it was you or would be able to connect the dots given long enough. It was a risk to your life and yet you still decided to do it.

After it all went down, the police gave you protection for a bit. Helped get you onto your feet, some money so you could afford a small but relatively safe flat and a rotation of plain clothed officers outside. But when weeks went by with no threats they were quick to decide it was a waste of their money and resources and you were safe. Sure, you helped them, you were key in them getting the evidence to bring the gang down. But the deal was always two sided, they always knew that there was something in it for you, even if that was some sick satisfaction in bringing down your own family.

Is it worse that you did all of this because of revenge, or would it have been worse if you’d been paid off by the police to do it?

And now it’s all done.

But was it worth it? All you have now is a crappy flat you share with Jungkook who you hardly see and Jimin who actively avoids you. A job that barely gets you by. A brother in jail because you put him there. A guilt that will stay with you forever.

No family, barely any friends. You’ve never felt so lonely.

Eyes still half closed from sleep; you look up to wish Jungkook a good morning. Only when you look up it’s not Jungkook you see.

The clattering and movement you heard was Jimin. The guy that lives with you but that you’ve only seen in passing or heard through walls in the past month. Now stood in front of you. Just like you he’s stood staring back at you, only rather than the shock and spark of joy you feel in seeing him, he only looks mildly annoyed back at you.

“Hi,” you say after a long pause, voice breathy even as you try to act normal.

He doesn’t reply, just stares at you for a second more before twisting to look back at the coffee he was making.

Ok, you think, taking a breath before you walk further into the room. The joy still remains, just a little dampened.

“Did you want food with that?” You ask. “I brought some pastries home yesterday from the café. They’re in the bread bin.”

You’re not even sure Jimin’s aware you work in a café, that that’s the wage that’s keeping you all a float, or at least is with the help of Jungkook. And now, Jimin doesn’t say anything or do anything to suggest he cares. His back muscles tense below his top, his shoulders hunched and his face looking resolutely down at the coffee machine.

Deciding he’s not going to give you anything else you move to the bread bin of your own accord. You know he hates you, know he’s probably wishing he weren’t here right now, but he is and you’re not going to let the opportunity pass.

“Well, I’m going to have one,” you mutter, still putting fake happiness into your tone as if to try and prove that this situation isn’t bothering you.

Your eyes keep flicking to Jimin when he’s no longer in your direct line of site. You can still hear him making the coffee and yet you’re worried he’ll disappear into thin air. You can’t blame him for the way he’s acting, part of you is annoyed at him, still hates him and yet you’re worried about him. It’s not good for him to be cooped up for so long, it’s not normal nor healthy. And yet you can’t get him to even look at you.

You wish Jungkook were here. He’d know what to do or say. And maybe Jimin would talk to him.

Pulling two plates out, you place a pastry on each. Awkwardly you turn and place one of them between you and Jimin. It’s not close to him, he’ll have to reach out and get it if he wants it. Worse than that, you imagine, is that he’ll have to turn back in your direction.

Sighing, the happiness getting harder to keep hold of, you decide that it’s not worth sticking around for. He doesn’t want you here. If you can give him anything, then at least you can do that.

“I’ll just,” you mutter, pausing only for a second before grabbing your plate and shuffling to the door. Words you want to say get lodged in your throat and you have to force yourself not to look back at him.

Maybe he is better off without you.

“The usual?”

A smile threatens to lift on the man’s lips. “Do I come here that often?”

“I think the question should be, am I that predictable?”

The man chuckles, his eyes dancing away from you before coming back when he’s controlled the noise. “Well, I already know the answer to that.”

“Black coffee and a croissant then?”

He hums, his eyes going to the counter which holds all the cakes as you start to type in his order.

“Which is your favourite?”

You pause and look at him, he waits with that same smile on his lips. You find your own eyes going to the cakes. No one’s asked that before, no one’s particularly interested in you. Sure, customers ask you questions and take an interest but there’s something about this guy. It’s not weird, just … different.

“Uh,” you pause, trying to keep the smile on your lips. “I like the lemon drizzle.”

He smiles at you, again not weird but something about it makes you uneasy. Especially when he just smiles and doesn’t say anything. You put it down to be an odd customer, maybe he’s lonely. Or maybe it’s you. So unused to someone being interested in you that you’re putting the blame on him rather than on yourself.

He moves to the end of the counter and watches as you prepare his coffee and then pick out a croissant.

“Here you go,” you plaster a smile on your lips as you hand over his coffee and pastry.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, eyes darting to your name badge and back.

You heart stutters as you watch him leave. Just a harmless man but you always read into things since leaving. Everyone you meet knows who you are, everyone who looks at you the wrong way wants you dead. Despite leaving the gang in your past, you can’t help but still live that way. Always defensive, always thinking the worst in people. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to shake it off.

“I have an idea,” Jungkook says it casually, but you can hear the note of edge in his voice. He’s expecting you to ask what the idea is but when you don’t enquire he’s forced to carry on. “So, uh, Colin at work mentioned that Ed might be leaving because his ex-contacted him, the one that moved to Scotland, and they were asking if –” Jungkook cuts himself off when he sees your face, realising he’s giving too much detail and not getting to the point. “Anyway, Ed’s leaving so I mentioned to my manager that I might know someone who’d be good for the job.”

You still don’t speak, you think you know what he’s saying from this, but you want to hear him spell it out. For a few seconds there’s a stalemate of silence, Jungkook not wanting to spell it out, you not wanting to assume.

“He needs to get out of the house, he needs to do something,” he’s finally turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.

“You don’t need to plead with me,” you say earning an eye roll. “He’s not going to take it.”

There’s a pause and when Jungkook talks his tone is hesitant, “but, you’ll still ask?”

You can read the meaning behind the words, you caused this, you need to sort it out. There’s no way to argue with that. You did create this mess and you dragged Jungkook into it. He’s at least done something to try and help out. It sounds like you have to do the rest.

“We can’t keep living like this. Only the two of us supporting all three of us. Only just scraping by. He needs to pull his –”

“I get it,” you cut him off. Gritting your teeth, you force your lips into a smile as you narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll ask.”

Jungkook waits, sizes you up as if he can read whether you’re going to do it or not. You’re not sure when your relationship became like this, stilted, forced. Maybe in the gaps between seeing each other. Or maybe when you dragged him over here just to blow everything up. Or maybe it was when he felt the expectation not to leave you, to stay with you and help you through this mess, ruining his own life as well as your own.

You miss him. But just like everything else in your life right now, you don’t know what to do to get him back. You can barely keep your own head above water, how are you supposed to think of anything else?

Taking a small breath, loosening your face so you’re not so tense, you say in a voice that’s more certain, “I’ll ask him.”

Jungkook’s features soften the same way yours do. He nods before walking towards you.

“He’ll come around,” he says, hand going to your shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’ll see you later.”

You swallow, nod even though he’s not looking at you and then mutter, “have a nice day.”

You don’t want to do this. Really don’t want to do this.

It’s just a door. All you have to do is reach a hand out, form a fist and knock. Simple. But it’s who might come to the door that terrifies you, what they might do when they answer the door, or more what they won’t do.

Taking a breath, you knock on the door.

You hear the footsteps, your heart pounding to the same beat they walk. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, Jimin stood staring expectantly at you. Voice caught in your throat it’s him that breaks the silence.

“Want a squash?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just brushes past you leaving you standing outside his door. Heart still pounding, blood swirling in your ears you take a second before following. Jimin’s already pouring an inch of squash into a pint glass when you get to the kitchen, no sight of a glass for you.

Stood like a spare part you watch Jimin’s back as he fills his glass with water and then takes a long gulp. Feeling awkward and conscious that you left this conversation until the last possible moment before you need to go to work, you head to the fridge. Almost unseeing you pick out the first thing your fingers land on.

Hip leaning on the counter, Jimin’s dark eyes follow you as you walk around the room, first for a plate, then for a chair at the small breakfast bar that couples as the only place to eat in the flat.

“You wanted to tell me something?” He asks the second you take your first bite of food.

Chewing slowly, you mull over the words while also not wanting to give him too much time to walk out and not speak to you again. It’s the first time it’s occurred to you that maybe Jimin already knows what this is about. It’s a small flat, the walls not exactly thick and you and Jungkook weren’t being careful to stop him overhearing the other day. The fact he might already know what you’re about to suggest only makes you more nervous.

“Jungkook mentioned there’s a job going at his place,” you speak to your food rather than Jimin but when he doesn’t reply you flick your eyes to look up at him.

The glass of squash is empty on the counter next to him. His arms crossed against his chest. His face still broody and eyes half lidded looking at you. You fight the urge to look away from him. There was once a time you took down a whole gang. You can take on Jimin.

“The hours aren’t ideal, but the pays ok,” your voice comes out steady, you’ve always been good at hiding your true feelings behind a mask of indifference. “Jungkook thinks he can get it for you, but he wanted to ask –”

“So why didn’t he?”

It surprises you, makes your heart ache a little how flatly he says it. Still, you hold yourself together. “Because he’s at work. He asked me to pass the message on.”

He hums, a short, unimpressed noise. A noise that makes you twist to take another bite of food. It tastes like sand in your mouth.

“Would you just say it?” You mutter, the ache caused by your heart making you hot headed. You look back at Jimin seeing it’s his time to be surprised. “You clearly have stuff you want to say. So would you just say it already?”

It doesn’t take much convincing. You can see one of his fingers tapping on his crossed arms, his jaw tight.

“You betrayed us, Y/N, why would I ever trust you again?”

“I betrayed you? Jimin, you were the one who always said you wanted out. I got you out.”

“At the cost of my best friend? At the cost of the people who I classed as my family losing everything? At the cost of me losing everything? You think I wanted that?”

It hurts and you don’t point out that he hasn’t lost you, that surely that’s something; because clearly it’s not. Clenching your teeth, you just focus on not showing him your emotions. You didn’t expect your decision to be popular, but you could have let him go down with the rest of them, you thought that would have amounted to something, you thought that would have confirmed some of your feelings you had for him were still there.

“You betrayed your own family, Y/N,” he’s looking at you as if he doesn’t recognise you and it breaks you that much more.

You didn’t want to fight with him. You expected him to be angry with you, to say things that upset you, you just thought you’d be able to take it better than you are. But it all hits you. The emotions long bottled inside you finally come crashing out.

“My family?” You bite, frowning at the words, your hurt boiling down into frustration. “What family, Jimin? Tell me when they ever treated me like family? Was it when they forced me out, or when they refused to welcome me back? Maybe it was when they failed to recognise the fact that even as a woman I could do as much as them?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t reply verbally. It tells you everything. He has no argument against anything you’ve just said. And yet he still defends them.

“I’m not expecting a thank you. I don’t expect you to necessarily forgive me, but come on, you need to move on at some point. I’m doing all of this, giving you a home, the least you can do is contribute a little.” Or just leave, you add in your head.

A nerve ticks in his jaw. Despite his words and the way he now looks at you, you still feel hope. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, but if he hated you that much he could have left by now. He’s not contributing anything to this household, but at least he’s still here.

Still, you worry about him. Despite your words, you don’t want him to leave. You hardly see him, and yet if he wasn’t here you think that would be your breaking point.

“Let me know what you want to do about the job,” you sigh the words as you stand from the table.

Taking the bowl to the sink you place it with the rest of the dirty dishes, knowing you’ll have to clean them later but not having the energy to do it now. With Jungkook working two jobs and Jimin clearly not wanting to be here it always falls on you. You try and not let it get to you but sometimes you wonder if all of this was a mistake. Maybe you should have stayed away. Maybe you should never have come back.

As you turn to leave Jimin speaks, stopping you.

“There’s just one thing I keep wondering,” you wait for him to say it, your features hard so as not to betray your feelings. “Why did you come back for me? Why did you get me out?”

Your focus is on the door rather than him. You’ve been expecting this, not least because you’ve been questioning it yourself. Even Jungkook brings it up at any opportunity he can.

“Because you wanted out,” you say and before you can think better of it, carry on. “And honestly, Jimin, at this point if you don’t know why, then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

Before he can come back with anything you carry on towards the door. You’ve got things you need to be doing, even if Jimin doesn’t, you’re trying to get back into a normal life.

“Let me know if you want that job.”

Your life becomes monotonous. A drag of waking up early to clean the flat, heading off to work and doing long shifts, coming home to a quiet house that is mess of dishes and clothes again, a storm left behind in Jungkook and Jimin’s wake. You don’t berate Jungkook, he’s doing so much for you that you can tolerate cleaning up after him. But some days that thought doesn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t complain to Jimin if you wanted to, still hardly ever see him.

It’s lonely, boring, a life you never thought you’d have. And yet here you are.

You carry on going only because of Jungkook and Jimin. Though you never see them, you feel like you’re why they’re here. If you hate this, then they surely hate it. You caused this, the least you could is not abandon them.

Slowly, you open up to people at work. Enough that you can have small conversations with them on breaks, but not enough that they know anything significant about you. They’re still more co-workers than friends. But it’s nice to have people in your life to talk to even if it is mainly about the weather and their lives.

It’s repetitive. Boring. Lonely. And you start to find the only thing that helps is a glass of wine in the evenings. Not much, but even the small amount of alcohol helps take the edge off. It helps your mind become quieter, helps the day feel less long, helps you actually look forward to something. It helps your heart stop aching. Helps you drift off to sleep a little easier.

“So, uh, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask as you shove the jam covered slice of toast into your mouth, only half listening to Jungkook as you pour a cup of tea.

“Can you sit for a minute?”

“I have to get to the shop for opening.”

“Y/N,” he doesn’t say it sharply, but the tone he uses is still enough to get you to look at him. “It’ll only take a minute. Please, will you just sit?”

It does its job, you finally stop long enough to look at him. You hadn’t realised just how nervous he was. He’s holding it together but you can see it in his tense shoulders and stiff posture. Your nerves peak as you place your toast on a plate and stop pouring your tea. You don’t rush to sit down, your mind whirling with thoughts of what he could possibly be about to tell you.

“You’re worrying me,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t immediately spit it out.

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not. But it’s good.”

“Ok?”

He pauses, the silence only increasing the sick feeling in your stomach, only increasing the amount of thoughts swimming around your head. You’re about to tell him to hurry up but he beats you to it.

“I met someone,” he rushes to say. “A girl. And she’s asking me to move in with her.”

A wave of emotions run over you. Surprise, since when did that happen? Anger, because moving in with someone is a big thing, which means he must have been hiding this from you for a while. Hurt, that he didn’t talk to you, that he hid this from you. And a sad happiness for him. Because although he looks worried you can see the hope and desire there, he wants your approval for this but worries you won’t give it.

“Who is she?”

“A girl I met at work.”

“And you know her well enough to be moving in together?”

He’s flushed but keeps a straight face. “I met her my first day, but we only started dating a few months ago.”

Months. Your heart drops with the information. Because he never told you about it, because he has more of a life than you, because it only solidifies how lonely you are. He’s your family and he’s only telling you about his girlfriend, someone he likes enough to be moving in with, months after they met. You once would have been the first person he told. He once would have been too excited to keep the information from you. You once would have been too observant for him to even try and hide something like this from you.

And just like that, more walls of your life crumble around you.

Heart beating in your throat you try not to show him your emotions. It’s been easy to hide how depressed you’ve felt recently from him, more because you hardly see him, but you’re also a master at hiding behind a mask. Now, you have to turn away from him to hide your face, a sure fire way to tell him just how you feel.

Predictably, you hear him take a step in your direction, “it won’t change –”

“I know,” you curse your tight throat as another give away.

“I’ll come back all the time,” he adds. “I can still help you with bills.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say before taking a deep breath and looking back at him, forcing a smile onto your lips. “I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But before he can continue to protest you carry on.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“But I’d like it,” he says, slipping into your old roles. “There’s not enough room for me here and we can’t all live here together forever. But I also don’t want to leave you here. I know you’re struggling but we all need to move on from what’s happened.”

Move on from the mess you made. Move on from the betrayal. If everything had gone to plan you would have moved on, or at least Jungkook would have. Jimin would have been behind bars. You would have been on your own wallowing the same way you are now. Maybe there was a small part of you that hoped you’d be able to move on too, to make something of yourself, to start a new life. But a large part of you knew this would be your life. You at least imagined you’d be able to pretend, push your thoughts down deep, try to not think of your brother and Jimin locked up all day, of Jungkook moving on.

Jungkook has only stuck around so long because you changed plans, because you went back for Jimin. Jungkook deserves to go live his life.

“You think leaving me and Jimin here alone is a good thing?” You feel guilty as soon as you say the words.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he says, “maybe it’ll help bring you closer.”

You glare at him. “He barely leaves his room.”

“Maybe you should force him out a bit more.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

You regret the words instantly, but even though Jungkook has time to flash you a cheeky smile, you don’t have time to interrupt him before he says, “I can think of several things that you could do to get Jimin out of that room.”

“Gross,” you say flatly, pushing past him. “If you’re saying all of this to get me to tell you to leave, it’s working.”

There’s a small chuckle behind you, but there’s no smile on your lips now. Your heart still thumps in your throat.

You’re happy for him, really you are. It’s just sad. You can’t help but feel like everyone’s slipping away from you.

It’s no good, with Jungkook gone it fixes nothing between you and Jimin.

Jungkook visits still but it’s not the same. While he’s getting on with his life, creating something new, you’re still stuck. In a different place, under different circumstances but going nowhere. And now you don’t have anyone.

You grow lonelier. Hardly seeing anyone besides the people at work. Inside your own head more only makes things worse. Gives you time to remember how things used to be, how different it is now. It makes you remember the smiles. Because life wasn’t always bad, there were good times.

And you ruined it all.

You brought this on you. You couldn’t get over the fact your family didn’t want you and you destroyed it for everyone. There’s no pretending that there wasn’t good from it, that you were helping people as much as ruining many people’s lives. But it was selfish, you did it all for you. And now you can’t help but wonder if it was worth it.

To be in this tiny flat, barely getting by. With Jungkook moved out and moving on. Hardly seeing Jimin, the little you do he says little and avoids your gaze. Your brother in jail. You have no one.

And still you get up every day. Still you clean and cook and go to work. You try to carry on with your life as best you can. Try to push the bad thoughts away. Try and pretend life is normal.

Jimin’s door is open when you get home. It feels like slow motion as you walk to the door frame and creak open the door and peer in. Empty.

This is it, you think, he’s finally left me.

Your eyes glance around the small room. A single bed, blue sheets crisp and neatly tucked in. Cream shades pulled down over the window to block the night out. A wooden chest of draws leaving enough room to shuffle between it and the bed. A small desk, only big enough for a lamp and laptop. No personality. No indication of who lives here. No attachment, ready to be left at the drop of a hat.

He wouldn’t leave, would he? Part of you thinks he would. But the other part thinks of his room, all of his stuff still sat in there and thinks he wouldn’t leave without it. Another part hopes he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Maybe he’s just gone out, the first time you’ve caught him doing that, you expect because he only ever risks leaving his room when he knows he won’t see you. But Jungkook text you earlier letting you know Jimin finally accepted the job, so maybe this is the start of him getting back into himself.

You know it’s your insecurities talking. Because though you don’t doubt Jimin doesn’t wants to be here, you also know he has nowhere else to go. He doesn’t have the money from his job yet, he’s still having to rely on you.

You walk back to the kitchen, get as far as opening the fridge to see what you can find to eat for tea. But you stop there. A thought occurs to you.

It’s stupid really. He’s probably just gone out for food or to the pub. But you can’t stop thinking about it when the thought occurs.

What if he’s on the roof?

He won’t be. And even if he is what would that mean? That he wanted some fresh air probably. But he won’t even be there.

You take a box of leftovers out of the fridge walk over and place it by the microwave but get no further.

What if he’s on the roof?

The thought takes you over enough that you end up forgetting about food and instead head to the front door again. You don’t even put your coat on as you head up the stairs rather than down them. You feel a little out of breath when you reach the steel door at the top. Pausing you take a breath, try to wrangle your thumping heart into a box, settle your expectations so that you won’t be disappointed.

The door feels cold as you push it open. Your heart plumets when you first see empty space, but then soars when you see a figure huddled off to the side. You can’t stop the words escaping your mouth.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Jimin looks across at you, his eyes are heavy and make him look like he’s had little sleep. His smile is small and compared to his normal smile does nothing to light up his face. But it’s still a smile.

“It’s not quite the same as our roof.”

Our roof. The words make your breath catch in your throat. Looking out at the night to hide your emotions at the words you walk towards him until you can rest on the ledge next to him.

“The views not as good,” you agree after a few seconds of silence.

He hums in reply, a silence falling over the two of you. It’s not just the view that’s different, it’s everything. The silence eats at you in a way it never has before when you’ve been with Jimin. He’s lost his spark and you can’t help but blame yourself for that. You’ve changed his life, whether or not it’s for the better you made such a monumental decision on his behalf without considering how it might affect him. While you’re in no doubt he would have done the same for you, you can’t help but let the decision eat away at you. Should you have done it? Would it be better if you hadn’t dragged him away under false pretence? Would it be easier for him to hate you if he wasn’t sat next to you?

“Jungkook told me you’d accepted the job at the club,” you say meekly, not wanting to rock the boat too much. “I’m happy for you.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, doesn’t hum or nod like he normally does when you talk to him these days. And like always you try and pretend it doesn’t hurt you.

“And hey, maybe it’ll mean you can start paying towards the bills.”

As soon as the words leave your lips you regret them. Even though you say them in a light-hearted tone, clearly as a joke, you know Jimin won’t hear it that way. He’s probably thinking that you mean it, that you want him to give you money, that you want him gone. All of which is the opposite of what you want.

“Sorry I –”

“No,” he cuts you off with a mutter. “You’re right, I should be doing more.”

Well shit.

That was the last thing you expected him to say, which effectively stops your brain from coming up with any other words.

The two of you stand in silence looking out at the city. The noise of the road and some young people shouting and laughing reaches you from the street below. Part of you hates this, but another part doesn’t want to do anything to stop it. At least Jimin’s here. At least you’re not entirely alone. At least you’re not fighting.

“I went to see Yoongi.”

Your head snaps his way. When did he do that? How had he done that? The questions forms in your head but your mouth is unable to create the words. Jimin doesn’t look at you, his features not showing any emotions. He’s impossible to read. But, despite your silence, he must know what questions you want to ask as he goes on to answer them all.

“I found out where they locked him up and requested visitation. I wasn’t expecting it to be accepted, I thought the second they had him they’d throw away the key. It took a few weeks, but my request was accepted.”

Your breath becomes laboured. Your brain working faster than Jimin can get the words out, trying to second guess what he’s going to say.

In the pause after his words he finally turns to look at you. His eyes dart around your face as if trying to remember you. You wait, give him time to say whatever it is he’s thinking. Your heart hoping, but your mind reminding you how much you’ve hoped in the past and how every time Jimin’s let you down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now it’s you avoiding his face. The words, the way he says them and the gentle yet pained look on his face makes your throat dry. You can’t answer him. You don’t know what he wants you to say, because even if you had an answer, you don’t know how it would make it better.

“You let me think this whole time you’d locked him up,” he carries on. “But you made a plea deal for him.”

It’s not a question but you still find yourself nodding in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats.

“I wasn’t sure he’d accept the deal,” you say, not the real answer. After a beat you add, “would it have changed anything?”

“Maybe,” he mutters but you know it’s a lie. It wouldn’t have changed anything, it’s one of the reasons you never said anything.

The silence drags out. Both of you staring out at the world below you, cars honking, people getting on with their lives, buildings standing steady and tall. The world hasn’t changed, it’s still going on. It doesn’t provide any comfort. All these weeks you’ve been struggling, silently getting on with life and Jimin’s been seeing Yoongi and clinging onto your old life, blaming you for everything.

You’ve had enough of it.

“You know,” you say, ignoring the fact that your voice his raspy and full of emotion. “It still hurts that you don’t believe in me. It’s stupid, because you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but you really have a knack for making be me believe you. I could have told you about Yoongi, but would that have changed anything? You’re only saying all this because you feel guilty, but you’ve always thought the bare minimum of me until I’ve proved the opposite. I’ve always had to work for your approval, Jimin, no matter what you want to think. And it’s stupid, but it still breaks me when you automatically think the worst of me. After everything I’ve done to show you the opposite.” You pause, still unable to look at Jimin, unable to see what he must be thinking. “I didn’t know he would accept it,” you mutter, voice once again thick. “I set up the option for him to work with the police, but I didn’t think he’d actually take it.”

You push away from the wall and as you walk away Jimin doesn’t try to stop you. His head twists to look back out across the city, his body slumping a little deeper into the wall as you turn to walk back to the flat.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/cishet female reader explicitly over 50.

Tags/warnings: This takes place after season 1 but nothing bad happens, everybody's fine, Ellie and Joel are cool. Teasing, Joel is a soft sub/switch, Joel and reader have aches and pains, vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction mention, cunnilingus, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, Joel is a master of vaginal health.

Summary: You and Joel may be middle-aged and sex may be something of a challenge sometimes, but all good things come to the ones who wait.

Words: 4,768

My masterlist

”I hate that fuckin’ rooster.”

You agree with Joel’s throaty mutter as you blink your eyes open against the first light of day. It’s nice and warm underneath the covers, and Joel’s got his heavy, thick arm thrown over you, but just as you’re about to fall back to sleep, the obnoxious cock-a-doodle-doo from next door rouses you enough to fully open your eyes.

”It’s effective, though,” you yawn before stretching until several joints pop. Joel only grunts, sprawled out on his belly, face buried deep in the embrace of the pillow, arm around you. He’s not a morning person, and here in the safety of Jackson, he can afford the moments of laziness before taking on the day’s chores.

You turn towards him and press a quick kiss to his forehead before inching out of bed, Joel keeping his hand on you for as long as he can before you get up.

”Get back here,” he grumbles, but you just smile on your way to the bathroom for a quick shower. When you reemerge, Joel’s sitting up, feet planted on the floor, scratching his neck with one hand and his soft belly with the other.

”Leave any hot water for me?”

”Don’t I always?” You give him a playful little slap on his ass when he gets up and drags his feet past you to the bathroom. He glares at you, but you’re already on your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee lies strong when Joel comes out of the shower, a towel around his hips. He putters around the bedroom, picking up his clothes from yesterday, turning inside out and then back again, sniffing the armpits, discarding something to the laundry basket, deciding something else is okay to wear. You watch him quietly through the open door, thinking how very normal and domestic this is. How long it took you to reach this. How lucky you are to have Joel.

He arrived in Jackson with the girl barely a year after you. You had settled quickly, he took his time. He was difficult to approach, and he mostly spent time with Ellie and his brother. You worked a lot with Ellie, taking care of the sheep, and once she seemed to decided that you were trustworthy, she started to open up a little about what she and Joel had been through. At Maria and Tommy’s place, you had seen the little memorial to Maria’s kid, and Joel’s.

You didn’t have a plaque like that yourself, for which you were thankful. Had the outbreak not happened, who knows, maybe you would’ve had a family. As it was, you and your boyfriend got separated two days into the catastrophe, and you never saw him again. Since then, you had focused on survival. Sure, there had been comfort sex, a couple of times. It was never good, but it had provided escape, if only for a moment.

It was different with Joel. When you started hanging out with him, sex was the last thing on your mind. You had accepted that you’d probably go without for the rest of your life, and you were okay with that. You barely even masturbated: it took too long for you to get off, it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. Then Joel came along, and you found that your interest in sex awoke again when he kissed you the first time.

Turns out, you were both old enough and damaged enough to find sex difficult. Joel’s knees are bad, your back is shot. Even without those problems, your first time sleeping with each other had been such an embarrassing experience that the only thing that kept you from never looking at each other again was exactly the thing that caused your complications: your age. You had been able to laugh about it, what little there is to laugh about vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction, and then talk about it. Because lube and Viagra were luxuries of the past, you just had to make it work on your own. You may not enjoy sexual penetration as often as you’d like, but you had a good life together, you and Joel, better than you thought was possible, considering the circumstances.

Joel’s cute little ass disappears into a pair of boxers, and he pulls on a t-shirt. You feel something stir inside of you, and you put down your coffee mug, instead going straight to the bedroom to embrace Joel from behind. Hugging him tightly, you inhale the scent of clean man, and sawdust from his t-shirt.

”I love you,” you tell him quietly. Joel finds your hands on your chest, and take them into his own. His big, strong, capable hands that have hurt and killed countless people but are now callused from building futures for the community.

”I love you too, darlin’.” His voice is still raspy but there’s no mistaking the sincerety. When he turns around in your arms and faces you, you see a soft smile on his lips.

”Hi.”

”Hi,” you reply with a similar smile before leaning in and nipping at his lips. The taste of mint lingers on his lips: he brushed his teeth before breakfast, like he always does. You sometimes wonder about these small things: what in his early life made him take to this habit? To you, brushing your teeth before coffee makes no sense. Joel doesn’t seem to reflect on it, and you don’t bring it up, because it doesn’t really bother you.

His lips are soft, and they part willingly when your coffee-soaked tongue gently prods in-between them. You slowly move your hands over his back, then down to his ass, and his hands mirror the flow of yours. The kiss deepens, as does the tingling sensation in your core.

You break the kiss just as Joel lifts his hand to the back of our neck to bring you in closer. Stepping back, you throw him a teasing smile.

”Plenty more where that came from later tonight, cowboy,” you tell him, and Joel chuckles.

”Is it gonna be like that, huh?”

”You’re damn right it is.”

You return to the kitchen and finish your coffee. It’s time to go milk the goats.

///

You don’t see Joel again until lunch, which is taken in the communal dining hall. You and Ellie have been tending to the animals and arrive to eat together, finding Joel already inhaling the food on the plate in front of him. You set your tray down across the table from him, and Ellie takes the seat next to you. As you sit down, he throws you a warm smile.

”How’s your morning been?” you ask. He stuffs his mouth and nods, humming approvingly. You taste the soup, finding it heavenly, and tear a piece of the breadroll to dip into the bowl.

As you, Joel, and Ellie enjoy small talk, the tip of your boot touches Joel’s considerably larger footwear and moves up his ankle and calf. You haven’t played foosie since you were twenty or something, and doing it in boots isn’t maybe as arousing as slipping you bare foot between his thighs, but you do your best. When Joel realizes what you’re doing, he falls quiet and stares intently at you while chewing.

”Hey, are you even listening?” Ellie demands his attention, and without breaking eye contact with you, he nods.

”Sure.”

Ellie looks from him to you and shakes her head. ”Whatever, man.”

He gathers the rest of his soup broth on a piece of bread and pops it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. A drop of brown broth gets stuck on his lower lip, and you lean over the table to wipe it away with you thumb. Your heart is beating fast, and when you sit back down and put your thumb in your mouth, you see his nostrils flare.

”Gross,” Ellie mutters, takes her tray with her now empty bowl, and gets up. ”Get a room, you two.”

”Sorry,” you shoot after her, your eyes not leaving Joel’s.

”No, you’re not.”

When you’ve finished up as well, and have left the dining-hall, Joel pulls you in behind the building. Pressing you gently against the fragrant timber wall, he covers your mouth with his.

”You make me weak at the knees, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You taste the same garlic on him that you know is on your breath.

”You mean weaker than they already are?” you smirk, and Joel punishes you for your jab at his bad knees with a little bite of your lower lip.

”Bad, bad girl...”

You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him like a teenager, enjoying the rather tame excitement of making out in a place where you could be seen, but nobody would care. The community is loving enough not to give a damn if two consenting adults are kissing each other in the middle of the day.

When you finally part swollen lips, both panting and like jelly in each other’s arms, Joel leans his forehead to yours.

”You wet?”

”You know I am.”

He places a little kiss on the tip of your nose. ”Hold that thought ’til tonight.”

”What do you think I was doing?”

He chuckles, warm eyes soft as he looks at you.

”I gotta go back to work.”

”Yeah, me too,” you nod, and both of you start a slow, unwilling detangle from each other.

”Don’t work too hard,” you tell him before parting. ”You’ll need your strength tonight.”

///

A few hours later, you take a break from your own work, and take some coffee and snacks to the building site Joel is on, along with a few other men. You stand for a while and admire the confidence with which he, board by board, erects a home for someone else. When he takes a step back to inspect his work, you step forward. His critical gaze turns soft the second he sees you.

”Time for a break?” you suggest, holding up the basket. He wipes his palms on his thighs and turns his broad frame towards you.

”You’re really butterin’ me up today, aren’t you?”

”Tryin’ my best.”

You put one arm around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

”I missed you,” you murmur into his good ear as he slides his hands over your waist. ”Missed your hands, your mouth...”

”Baby...” he breathes, but then his head jerks up as his fellow builders show up.

”We interrupting something?” Charlie grins.

”Yes,” Joel deadpans, but you turn around to face the men unphazed.

”I brought coffee and cookies.”

”Much obliged, ma’am,” Sam nods, and you hand him the basket. Hand on Joel’s back, you steer him after the men. Knowing how hard he works every day, you’re keen on him taking a break. Soon, all of you are sitting on the porch steps, drinking coffee and eating butter cookies. The men are talking about this and that, and you have found a knot in Joel’s shoulder and are carefully working it open. He doesn’t say much, but you can see from the relaxed line of his jaw and smooth forehead that he’s enjoying himself. When the men are getting ready to go back to work, you lean into Joel and whisper:

”You like my hands on you, don’t you?”

He exhales audibly, eyes flickering to your face after a quick glance at the men. His eyes under the eternally knitted brows are smoldering, and they set off the pull in your core.

"You're gonna make me take a long break, sweetheart," he tells you in a low voice. "Take you home and bed ya."

"In the middle of the afternoon, Mr Miller?" you grin, and close your eyes when he leans closer to nuzzle your neck. His bristles scratch the sensitive skin, and you shudder.

"Like we had no responsibilities at all in the world..."

He doesn't take you home and bed you, of course, but goes back to work after a kiss and another look that just about consumes you. You return to your own chores with a damness in your panties.

///

"Are you two gonna be gross again?"

You laugh at Ellie's question as she stands by the table holding her tray. Joel, who is next to you, keeps his dignity.

"Most probably."

She takes the risk, though, and sits down with you. Tommy and Maria join you as well, Tommy carrying their one-year-old Samuel. You all enjoy dinner and the conversation, Joel's hand only sporadically rests high up on your thigh, hidden by the table. After you've eaten, you take a moment outside the dining hall, talking and laughing until Samuel grows fussy and needs to be put to bed. Maria and Tommy excuses themselves, Tommy asking his brother if he's up for a drink later on.

"Nah, long day," Joel shakes his head, as his hand slowly moves from your lower back to your ass. "Early night for me."

Tommy and Maria wish you all a good night before walking away, and Joel's hand finds the back pocket of your jeans, sliding in and cupping your ass. You smile at him and put your arm around him, cupping his flat ass with your hand inside his back pocket.

Ellie looks from you to Joel, and shakes her head.

"You're not 14 years old," she grimaces.

"Neither are you," Joel reminds her, "so act your age, and deal with it."

"You telling me to act my age?"

"Whatever." The discussion is over for Joel's part. "We're callin' it a night."

"Good. I'm going to see a movie, and I don't want you two kissing in front of me."

"Good night, Ellie," you smile at her, knowing that Ellie's just ragging on you out of love. When you turn around and start to walk home, she calls out a Good night, and you hear the affection in her voice.

"Messing with teenagers is fun," you giggle, and Joel pats your ass.

"They're easy to upset," he agrees, pulling you closer. "But I don't wanna talk about Ellie anymore."

As soon as you get home to your little house, he pushes you up against the door, chasing your lips.

"Been thinkin' about this all day..."

You'd reply something sassy, but he has your mouth covered with his, tongue plunging in greedily, and you put your hands on his cheeks and slide your fingers through his hair, tugging at it at the back of his neck. He crowds you with a gentle urgency against the door, kisses the breath out of you, his own hot breath disappearing into you. His facial hair scratches and burns the skin around your mouth before long, and you savour that burn.

His lips are swollen with kisses by the time they leave yours, and he cups your cheek and strokes his thumb over it as he looks into your eyes, like he's trying to remember the shape and color of them. You smile, making him smile as well, and then you put your hands on his shoulders and start to walk him backwards towards the bedroom.

You turn on the bedside lamp for soft light. Joel tries to unbutton your plaid, but you shake your head and catch his wrists in your hands.

"Let me, baby."

Exhaling deeply, Joel lets his arms hang down and watches you as you start to pop open the buttons of his denim shirt. When you lean in to caress it off his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a kiss that you let bleed onto his cheek when your lips continue their soft brushing along his jawline. You sneak your hands underneath his t-shirt, caress the soft swell of his stomach before running your fingers up his sides. Joel nods his head down so that you can take the shirt off, and as soon as his head is free from the garment, you press your lips to his again. It's more playful now, the way you fondle different parts of his naked upper body and pour your smiles into the kisses, and he smiles back and tries to cop a feel of you.

"You in a hurry there, cowboy?" you tease him between the kisses, and Joel hisses softly when you pinch his nipple.

"Just want you so badly."

"I know, I want you too..."

You unbuckle his belt and push down his jeans and underwear, ghosting your hand over his still soft cock. He doesn't want too much attention to it, that only stresses him if he can't get it up, so you go back to kissing him while squeezing his ass.

"I should be doin' that t'you," he grunts between kisses.

"But now I'm doin' it to you..."

He ends up sitting on the bed, and you untie his shoelaces and take his boots off, then pull his pants off. You then push him down on the bed, take a step back, and start to slowly unbutton your shirt.

Joel sighs deeply.

"Is that how it's gonna be?"

"It is," you acknowledge with a smile. It's not going to be a sexy You can leave your hat on striptease, you're too old and jaded for that, but you're going to get undressed in your own time, and Joel can only watch.

And he does watch. He watches your every single move, mouth open and eyes slightly glassy. Each revealed inch of skin is noted, and by the time you're taking your panties off, you can see that he's getting hard. He doesn't like too much attention on his cock before he's fully hard, it stresses him, so you keep eye contact, and crawl into bed. You straddle his hips, settling your warm, dripping core over him.

Joel groans and his hands come to a rest on your thighs.

"Darlin'..."

You put your hands over his and make him squeeze your flesh.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Want nothin' else."

"You can, but I get to choose where."

You have to smile at his frown. Joel doesn't appreciate not being in control. His love for you and trust in your capability to make him feel good makes him accept your terms, though.

You guide his hands up your sides and under your breasts. Having passed the age of 50, you're secretly thankful you didn't have to age in a world of glossy magazines telling you the various ways in which your body is wrong. You don't have to compare yourself to lingerie models or the neighbor's young hot wife, who has a better job and tighter tits than you. You are alive, you are doing your part in Jackson, you are valued, and you are loved. Sagging tits and excess fat mean nothing, especially to Joel.

You let him cover your tits for a second before moving his hands to your hips, and his subsequent whine of frustration almost makes you feel sorry for him. You lead his hands back to your chest and let him fill his hands with your tits as you bend down to kiss him. A muscle in your back twinges, making you hiss.

"Babe?" Joel is immediately concerned.

"My back," you hurry to reassure him, "it's fine, I'm good."

"We could switch," he offers, "before you hips start to act up too."

You're already feeling a strain in your hips from sitting astride him. Getting older sucks.

"And what would you do to me if I agreed?" you smile sweetly, feeling his dick twitch underneath you.

"Treat you right," he replies a little inelegantly. Joel's not good at the talking bit, but he tries.

"Yeah?" you prompt him softly, touching your lips to his. "How?"

"I'd eat that pretty pussy of yours..."

You clench around emptiness. "Yeah...?"

He kisses you softly as he bends one knee, lifts his hip, and very gently slides you off of him. You rearrange yourselves, intertwining arms and legs as he rolls onto his side, facing you, and your lips meet again. You can feel your pulse in your core by now, a long day of anticipation finally catching up with you.

"Will you let me?" Joel now breathes against your lips, and you hum your approval. He immediately gets up on one elbow and starts to kiss his way down your body, pausing around your breasts to gently fondle and bite.

"Pretty," he murmurs, mouth full of soft flesh, sending heated tingles through your body and making your pussy clench. You thread your fingers through his hair until he takes your hand and holds it down on the bed. When he finally has had enough and moves down to the apex of your thighs, his breath on your folds alone makes you chew your lower lip.

"God, Joel..."

"Like it when you sound like that," he lets you know, his arm sliding around your thigh. "Now, just lay back and take what I have to give you, darlin'..."

The first lick melts you immediately, the second stokes the fire within. When you're fisting your hands into the sheet underneath you and moaning his name, he slides two fingers inside your dripping pussy. Your hips twitch at the intrusion, and he soothes you with broad, slow laps of his tongue at your clit, his fingers crooking to touch you just right.

"Joel..." you keen, "yes, there, please..."

He massages that spongy spot inside you, slowly and steadily, knowing that he can't rush this if he wants you to orgasm. It's difficult for you, maybe from the many years of living in fear, maybe from the same amount of years of no sex, sex drive, or romance. When you and Joel started exploring sex together, you were astonished by how horny you could be for another person while simultaneously finding the mechanics of sex so difficult. It surely hadn't been this complicated twenty years ago.

But both you and Joel were adamant to make it work, and that's what he's doing now. Your mouth is dry from panting, your thigh muscles are tensing up, your mind is going blank as you let his ministrations take you higher and higher. Painfully near the final soar, your hands clamber for Joel's at your hips, finding them and holding on tightly as you let go, your legs stiff as a board as your hips jut up, your thighs pushing shut, Joel's scruff suddenly too much on your sensitive skin. Your blood rushes and you let out a long, moaned sigh as your legs tremble before relaxation floods your muscles. Joel places one final, soft kiss on your clit before dragging his lips over your thighs, up your hip and over your stomach where his tongue dips into your navel. You hum, almost purr from his care, and when your eyes blink open, you find him smiling up at you.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. You release one hand from his and pass your fingers through his hair, then cup his cheek. He turns his face a little so that he can kiss the palm of your hand.

"Perfect," he whispers against your skin before your hand sneaks behind his head, and you pull gently to beckon him up, to you, to your lips.

His lips are covered in your slick and you lick at them, suck his full lower lip into your mouth, let your hands get lost roaming his broad shoulders. His cock is heavy and stiff against you, and you feel a surge of yearning within your core. The day of teasing, the foreplay, his service to you worked as it should: he's fully erect, stiff as a board, and it's so sexy that you think you're going to go crazy just from thinking about it.

"I need you," you whimper, pulling him down over you as you spread your legs to accomodate him. "Joel, I need you inside me."

"Can you take me?" he asks hoarsely, fingers running down your body to your weeping sex.

"Won't know for sure unless we try," you manage to quip, and he grins at you before pressing his lips against yours again. Kissing you deeply, he nocks his cock at your slick lips, rubs the head against your clit, then starts to push it in. The kiss is filled with moans, yours and his mingling with tongues, and despite your wetness, he's a lot to take. Still, you encourage him to fill you completely, your arms around him hugging him in, in, all the way in until he bottoms out, and stills. He breaks the kiss and draws back to gaze into your eyes. You smile, blissfully full.

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay, you feel so good," you reassure him, words coming out breathlessly. Joel groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Darlin', you're killing me..."

He starts to slowly move his thick cock inside your embrace, lips open against your shoulder, teeth scraping without biting. You answer by wrapping your legs around him, left hip protesting a little but you don't care, you need him deep inside, need to feel that tight drag, need him to understand just how good it feels when he loves you like this.

"Harder," you beg, "take me harder, Joel, I want to feel all of your big cock."

He moans at that, his hot breath burning your skin.

"Can you take it?"

"I can take it."

He thrusts hard into you then, making you catch your lower lip between your teeth, your chin rising and one arm coming loose from him to brace yourself on the headboard.

"That hard, huh?" he smirks with his lips against your ear, and you chuckle breathlessly until he starts to fuck the smile off your face. Shifting his weight, he reaches for your hand braced against the headboard, and you let go to instead clasp his hand as he continues to steadily chase his release with one deep thrust after another.

"So good, darlin'," he gasps, "you're so good to me, fuck, I wanted to do this to you all day, wanted to bury myself in your warm pussy..."

You're all his when he talks to you like this. Joel finds the words when he's drunk on you, not before. Grinding into you with purpose, he keeps moaning out filth like this into your ear until his breathing becomes too laborous and his movements too  irregular.

"Come," you beckon him as he crashes his mouth to yours to swallow your words, "come, baby, come, I want you to come."

His moan when he empties himself deep inside of you is a helpless sound of surrender. You wrap your arms around him and hold him tight, forcing him to lay all of his weight on you. His quick heartbeats echo against your own ribcage, but slow down as his breaths become deeper and more controlled. You stroke his hair, thinking briefly how extraordinarily lucky you are. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you rouse him from his rest.

"Go piss," he murmurs, and you have to laugh softly.

"Is that the first thing you tell me after sex?" you tease him. His lips quirk before he presses them to your cheek.

"I love you. Now go piss."

"You're on top of me, Miller."

"Hasn't stopped you from knocking me on my ass before..."

He does, however, roll over, freeing you up to find your bearings and get out of bed. After having used the bathroom, you return to bed where Joel is waiting for you underneath the covers. You turn off the bedside lamp and join him, letting him gather you into his arms and sighing deeply once the two of you are settled.

"Okay?" he asks quietly.

"M-hmm," you yawn, nuzzling his neck. "Sleepy."

"Me too."

Silence descends along with the darkness, and you're almost asleep when Joel speaks again.

"Hey?"

You murmur to let him know you're listening - just barely.

"I'm still standing."

You murmur again, not understanding. Joel takes your hand and leads it to his crotch, closing your fingers around his thick, sticky shaft. That makes you open your eyes.

"Oh..."

"You did that," he groans when you start to rub him slowly.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, you did. All that waiting all day..." He moans when you drag your thumb over the head. "Baby, can you...?"

You smile at the wonder and anticipation in his voice. Twice in one night has happened before, but never this soon, never like this. You grow wet and heavy in an instant. To hell with sleep deprivation and sore joints.

"I can."

[macaroonff]

This Autumn, - Shin Ryujin

Genre: Roommates x lovers, College +Domestic Au, Autumn feels Pairing: Shin Ryujin x fem! Reader ↪Content warnings: Mentions of a dysfunctional families, slight angst, mentions of homophobia, mention of insecurities Word Count: 7k+ words Suggested Songs: We found Love in October- Girl In Red I wanna be your girlfriend- Girl in Red Bubble gum- Clairo Duvet- Bôa October Passed Me By- Girl in Red Girls-Girl in Red Softly- Clairo You know where this playlist is heading- feel free to recommend more ↪not proofread

Sometimes fall meant that the clarity of summer had ended, and that the dryness wasn't accompanied by sweat, but by the heaviness of hoodies and the bareness of barks. A bore compared to the freedom and excitement that summer offered; a dispirited time when you look back to the last three months. 

Of course autumn wasn't all bad. The colours took on a warmer palette as the trees bore themselves devoid of its warmth: warmth which could be found in campfires and cosy sheets; in people's hugs and weighted blankets; in hot lattes, crunchy leaves and early sunsets.

But when assignments piled up from the start of the season, finding opportunities to revel in such warmth seemed unsuccessful. You hurriedly tried composing yourself from last month's activities: internships, staycations and pool parties, returning from a whirlwind of adrenaline. It was exhausting, and you were burnt out before the semester even started. 

But a student you were; a decent one you tried to be, as you file your assignments, albeit slowly due to sleep deprivation. The first week of autumn went by with professors dumping assignments immediately as you try to ease the pace at which you deal with it. Clearly, autumn had you drained from day one.

Autumn hated you more than you hated it.

Autumn, two weeks in wasn't too bad. You took time to catch up on deadlines, you made plans with friends, went on walks and you got especially close to your new roommate. Her name was Ryujin, a dark haired divinity with prominent features that meshed gently. Someone who never forgot to get you your daily dose of iced latte and her favourite mocha bread from the café opposite your dorm.

It started when she came back from her evening lectures on a Thursday, holding one mug in her hand, a woolly scarf tucked into her shirt. She came in to see you with hands knitted in your hair, frustrated at the work you had, feet bobbing in concentration. 

A small 'hi' was all that you returned when you noticed her presence.

"Another stressful assignment?," she asks, concerned. Her low timbre is soothing and takes you out of your sums for a brief moment, a sigh escaping your chapped lips.

"It’s calculus." You make eye contact for the first time since she entered, a polite smile greeting her, though the frown almost tilted the other way. 

She waved her hands in a light motion acknowledging your concern, the room key in her palm dangling in it to make a soft clack. 

"Understandable, it's a real headache, especially since you're in Mr Lee’s course. Anything I could help you with?"

"I just need a break," you reply dejectedly, hoping to get away from your monotonous, monstrous tasks. 

"Wanna watch a movie?" she asks, a soft grin hiding on her face. She watches your ears perk up and your eyes shine at the suggestion, to which a chuckle remains stuck in her throat.

"Why don't you choose something and I'll join you after I'm done freshening up." she hands you the remote before walking into her room, grabbing her white towel from the laundry rack.

You sit in silence and wallow in contemplation. Choosing a movie, should be easy. 

Would a sappy rom-com distracting you from your lamentable, gapingly non-existent love life suffice? Or did you need another of those poorly directed and filmed action ones, which would, undoubtedly help you fix your sleep schedule. But then again, would Ryujin watch it? What’s a movie she’d like? Slice of life? Coming of age? Horror?

A change in the lighting of the room, and Ryujin’s tap on your shoulder was what eventually brought you out of your dilemma, and you take your vacant stare off of the blank tv screen towards your roommate instead.

The warm lights had blurred everything in the background in a way that it brought Ryujin’s face into focus, a soft glow emanating from her cheeks. Her hair was wet, the towel lazily wrapped around her supple hair, doing a measly job at keeping it from seeping into her t-shirt. Her oversized black t-shirt had patches of darker spots that clinged to her because of it, making you worried she might catch a cold. You rush to hand her a new towel, one that would actually help. 

“Don’t catch a cold, not the best time of the year to fall sick.” you whisper.

She smiles in appreciation and holds your arm, accepting the fabric for you. "You're cold too y/n. It'd probably be best for us to grab some blankets." 

After ten minutes of rummaging through your creaky cabinets and five minutes of popping corn, you were ready to distance yourself from your headaches, with new-found warmth in your newly washed duvets. 

Snug and pressed against the cushions of the sofa, with your head on her shoulder. Snug as she pats your back until the television's whisper no longer has your attention and you find your heavy eyelids closing on their own. 

Snug as you embrace sleep after months of running away from it.

Snug, however, wasn't what you felt when you woke up in the morning, blankets tangled between your legs, and an annoying ache in your ribs, due to the crushing weight of your favourite cushion. 

Snugness was replaced by the bitterness of another new day, and your long forgotten assignments weighed heavier than they did before. 

All of a sudden last night's peace was something you regretted. And you regret having been swayed by someone you considered an acquaintance.

If Shin Ryujin hadn’t offered, you'd never have taken a break. You'd never have given yourself the opportunity to be wasteful with time. You shouldn't have been tempted by the thought of a moment's freedom. 

Freedom that remained a mirage. A mirage that showed you a time of comfort. Comfort that would last one evening until you'd have to revisit everything you ran away from.

What's the point in having comfort if it's given by someone you interact with for three hours a day? What was the point in comfort if it was momentary?

Shin Ryujin was a roommate you'd have for only two more months until her grandparent's apartment was done with renovations.

Shin Ryujin was temporary.

Autumn three weeks in, was no different. Except that your backlog had increased, your sleep schedule got worse and all that you cared about was getting over with your to-do lists. How you had energy to do everything one by one remained a mystery, but you soon realised that it wasn’t energy that drove you to finish work, but the fear of running out of it sooner or later. As if it wasn’t already obvious, you were on the brink of burnout.

Not that you hated burnout. For some reason being burnt out meant that you'd be forced to take time out for mental health sooner or later. You would be forced to slow down like you did last week. 

Sitting down and finally looking back, last week felt like a distant memory so far away from your reality. It was a privilege you gave yourself, and it was so worth it, contrary to what you felt immediately. She was right, the movie did help, the movie did get you back into a safe space from your anxiety; and you never cared to thank her for it. 

You’d do it today. Thanking her. You absolutely had to.

You spent the next ninety minutes planning the best way to return the favour. Essentially, you spent the next ninety minutes going back on all the little things Ryujin did for you. Which led to the realisation that her love language was a careful amalgamation of acts of service, quality time and physical touch. 

“Maybe I’ll just bake mocha bread. I couldn’t go wrong with that,” you contemplate. You weren’t the best baker on earth, however you had enough experience to go ahead with it.

All you needed was milk, eggs, flour, yeast, sugar and coffee. Everything you had at home, really not much could go wrong.

Until it did. There was no way the universe would let you have anything good before your semester tests. Of course it had to sabotage you when you tried to do one thing with actual love behind it.

The microwave oven she brought in with her beeped once before a loud pop stopped you in your tracks. It was overheated, and nothing you did brought the irksome device back to life. No matter how many buttons you pushed vigorously, or hit the back of it tiresomely, the empty  black box on the door showed no sign of the tiny numbers signalling time left.

Time left. You look at the Ikea clock hung on the wall. Ten minutes more for the bread to be baked until completion, and thirty minutes until she’d come back and discover this mess and the damage to her microwave.

And boy does she love that microwave.

Shin Ryujin knew something was wrong when she entered later at night, almost too late for you to be up right now, just a little before midnight, the smell of sweet coffee greeting her. She’d gone to visit the apartment her grandparents had bought for her, a half hour from here. She was so caught up in finalising the layout that she forgot to mention that she’d be late home. What’s worse was that she had got caught in heavy traffic, and her phone lost charge in the middle of dialling you. 

And when she got up here, completely spent from the work, it took very little for her to be consumed by frustration. Not particularly because of you. None of it had to do with you. She knew that the tedious microwave was ancient and that her parents only gave it to her to get rid of it. She also knew that she should’ve told you about it sooner, before it actually became a problem. So no, in no way was this your fault. 

She looked at your head buried under your arm on the dining table with a mitten on one hand and a post-it under your elbow. The post-it didn’t say much, just scribbled and crossed out words that all seemed to resemble different “I’m sorrys" and “microwaves". You had multiple other post-its crumpled nearby and she picked all of them up and carefully opened them one by one. Between the creases, one said, “I’m so sorry for the microwave Ryujin, ik you treasure it because your parents lent it to you. I just wanted to thank you for last week and I thought I’d bake your favourite but -” it stopped there at which point you must’ve crumpled it. 

Ryujin let her sight wander across the baking utensils washed and stacked neatly on the drying rack and a box of half baked, burnt dough nearby. She smiles, both grateful and apologetic, an urge to caress your head settling in. She takes a closer look at you, trying to figure how she could deposit you to your bed. 

She slowly lifts your head up, wiping excess dough from near your frowning mouth, and her eyes wander up, to your slightly fluttering eyelids facing the yellow lights. It was then under the warm lights that she noticed semi-dried tears under your lashes. Another surge of guilt ran through her, thinking of how worried you must’ve been. 

In the cold kitchen, she lifts you off the chair as carefully as she can and gently drags you across the living room. It was when she’d propped you against the headboard that you stir awake.

Through half-lidded eyes, you take in whatever you can. Ryujin was holding on to your hand gasping slightly.

“Ryujin?” you whisper.

“Shit I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she looks at you a little surprised.

“I’m so sorry-” you mumble in desperation.

“Shh," she places a palm over your eyes, "don’t worry about it love. Go to bed, we’ll talk in the morning”

You aren’t convinced but you also realise that now isn’t the best time to talk. Ryujin’s eyebags seemed deeper in the warm light and you knew both of you needed a decent rest. It had been a hectic time for the two of you, and all you needed was sleep.

Ryujin still had the benevolence to pull the blanket over you and stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

It was the second time you fell asleep in her arms.

The following weekend you were on a shopping trip.

At a semi-large Ikea warehouse about forty minutes away from the campus. It was Ryujin's idea to come out here despite you convincing her to find a shop closer, but she insisted.

"Trust me, it'll be fun. We can look at furniture too."

Of course, she needed new furniture. It slowly dawns on you that you have very little time to spend with her in your home. Home.

You don't remember the last time you called your dorm a home. For all that you knew, it was a messy damp space that you couldn't wait to escape from, an absolute nightmare with it's cramped furniture. But it was cosy, something you couldn't deny now.

Maybe because you were with her. All her little habits that grew on you, her impeccable daily routine that had become a source of stability in your life, even her lesser known quirks such as keeping a picture of her two cats at home framed on her desk and kissing the before going to her classes in the morning.

You admired all of it, and it wouldn't have been the same if it were someone else. You never felt like this with your previous room mates. They were just people who lived in their own solitary spaces. But with Ryujin, somehow you were involved in most housework together. You felt involved, and somewhere more loved than in your own home.

Your family wasn't bad, at least on the surface. They never compromised when it came to your education or your standard of living. But somewhere between those lines were impossible expectations they wouldn't hold themselves to either. And you got tired of them easily. They hid toxicity behind "criticism", where criticism only meant negatives beyond your control. Your last year of high school, particularly faced extreme criticism, and you felt your confidence dipping. You managed though. You're not entirely sure how you coped, but with support from school, you managed a scholarship, a meagre one but still enough to get away from your family.

You hadn't seen them in three years.

Ryujin, on the other hand, had a lovely family, and you were, at times jealous of how perfect she seemed; how perfect everything around her seemed.

She seemed to have every aspect of her life in order. Whether it be top of the class majoring in Business, or being captain of the girl's football team, or the fact that she could spare three hours to stay with her paint brushes and that they would come out having the entire beauty of the universe encompassed in them. She could manage being both a homebody, while still being popular in school, she could be assertive when she needed to be without actually disturbing the fragile ego of most in her class.

She surpassed every definition of balance mentioned in the dictionary. She was living it, breathing it. Stability.

You admired her, a lot, but you couldn't stop this ridiculously miniscule base of malevolence in your heart. And every day you were scared it would become worse.

Especially now, when all she wanted was to spend precious time with you, constantly putting effort into your friendship whereas you were held back by bitter thoughts. And you hated yourself for it.

You force back your envy, distracting yourself by browsing through the shelves of cutlery displayed. You notice the absence of Ryujin's presence, and slowly find yourself lost in this maze of a shop. Maybe it was better that she wasn't in this aisle now, or else you wouldn't be able to face her with the guilt of having thought of her so poorly.

You find yourself interested in the array of pretty pink melamine plates stacked in front of you, in the stainless steel spoons with animal handles, and little napkin holders shaped like boats. You pick up different pans, weighing how heavy each is, looking to keep your brain unnecessarily busy. If you spend a second more comparing yourself with Ryujin, you knew you wouldn't be able to think of anything else for the entire day, or week.

You remember what your therapist told you, all the comfort and validation that you needed pouring in through words. You open up your notes, all the affirmations typed out one by one. You repeat them in your mind, with a new goal in sight.

You wouldn't let your insecurity ruin another good relationship. Especially not with Ryujin.

She emerges after some time, holding in her hand, a grey device, and a grin painted on her face. "I think this is the one. It's a cool toaster cum oven sort of thing, and it's cheap," she winks at you.

How was she so decisive? you think again. It had only taken her fifteen minutes. If it were you, you'd have taken forty minutes more.

"I trust your decision," you reply, giving her a soft smile. You notice her eyebrows raise a little. "You sure?," she asks. "You usually don't agree this fast. You have this terrible habit of sitting on decisions for ages." she rambles on.

You take a moment to process this. You knew it was true, and she probably didn't mean malice, but it was not something you'd accept easily.

Ryujin never had to think twice about what she wanted. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she always got it. Whereas every decision you seemed to make bore consequences you didn't want. And often, the times you didn't heavily weight them out was when things backfired. The last time being with the microwave oven.

It was the only way you knew to trust yourself.

So it irks you greatly when Ryujin calls it a "terrible habit". Because for you, it was a habit that gave you security. Certainty wasn't achievable, but you'd try as fucking close as you could get, and Shin Ryujin won't tell you otherwise.

She'd never understand how imperfect you were. She'd never understand the little complexities that hold you back. For the most part, she had life easy. What would she ever understand?

You ignore her comment, instead picking up a ceramic mug from the shelf, thumbing on the floral patterns glazed onto it.

Ryujin barely senses your predicament, instead grabbing onto the mug placed besides the one you hold onto. "These are pretty, it's like a cute matching set. We should get them," she winks.

The rest of the day follows with more furniture in your cart, and mostly unnecessary plushies plaguing your living room. New pillows, potted plants, wardrobe organisers, a work desk and the biggest Djungelskog bear lying near the couch.

It dawns on you the next morning, after waking up to the chaos, that she was shifting out in two weeks.

On the first of October.

All of a sudden she was busy, very busy, and the two of you barely met, with bigger gaps in your schedule. Part of it was because of Ryujin arranging her main furniture in her new house, and part of it was because you were busy with academics, only that it was voluntary this time. It just so happened that you needed a few more credits to retain your scholarship, the only thing weighing your new found freedom. Along with that, you busied yourself so that you didn't have to face Ryujin later at night.

You were scared. Other than the obvious rent that you'd have to pay by yourself, you also avoided other parts of this change that bothered you. Which was spending time with her. You were scared you'd miss her a bit too much.

Sure, you were friends who were only half an hour away, but now that her colourful room started fading into a bleak white, the emptiness of it reminded you of why you hated autumn. The fall orange left you feeling lonely, and like the very leaves that craved pigmentation, you craved more life. Regardless of the minimal time you spent with her in the evenings, she slowly integrated herself into your life in the smaller ways.

Now they weigh too much in your life for you to be able to cope without it. You ended up distancing yourself from her, in a pathetic attempt to cope with the anticipation of absence. Maybe you just needed more friends, the thought crossing your mind a lot more these days. But you had plenty of them at uni, most of who you loved. But none of them were Ryujin.

None of them cared for you as much as she did. None of them taught you how to care for yourself like she did. None of them held you in their arms throughout the night, until you felt rested and loved. Nobody inspired you as much as Ryujin did.

Maybe Ryujin wasn't just a friend, something you were scared to consider in the past few weeks. It was a feeling completely new. Other than a failed situation-ship in high school, you never considered the possibility of a relationship, much less exploring your sexuality.

It was an intimidating prospect that you hadn't considered. Something that initiated urgency more than curiosity. Unlike the diverse spectrum that your feelings for Shin Ryujin belonged to, your thoughts focused on just one. She was important in more ways than platonic, and the distance that was to be would be extremely difficult to cope with. The distance that you had created seemed silly, but at the same time there was nothing you could think to resolve the conflict. You were going against this wall you'd built for yourself, and the facade of distance only grew day by day. So much so that at one point, Ryujin stopped approaching you first.

In a way, you deserved it. For someone who had been so unreceptive to her life as a coping method, this is the least you deserved for being a little jerk. Why would someone pursue any relationship, even platonic if you'd put yourself back into the mega cage you thought you'd escaped from. Something you'd escaped from only temporarily in her presence. Something you're going back to by the next week when she's gone.

You suffer multiple sleepless nights, the mid terms only a catalyst to your loneliness, when all you remember is Ryujin and her quirks.

You do accept another roommate later on, a mutual contact in your friend group, someone who was introduced to you by Ryujin herself. She'd dropped in a small text at 8 in the morning, on the way to class, you'd assumed. All it did was talk about how a common friend, Yeji needed a room to stay.

You accepted it of course, because you didn't have to foot the entire month's bill but also because you thought having someone else would curb your loneliness. And this loneliness was stupid. Ryujin wasn't the only thing you had in your entire life, and she should've been inconsequential, the same way the daylight hours gradually decreased. But it isn't too hard to notice once the sun's gone down.

The new roommate was like a transition from summer to winter, but unlike Ryujin , who helped ease the transition between the seasons, this one only reminded you that it would be cold. She wasn't a bad roommate, no she was perfect, did the laundry on Wednesdays, did the evening dishes at 6 and gave you lots of personal space. She was nice, but not like Ryujin.

You hated how you compared her to Ryujin, how you compared everything to her. "She isn't your entire world," you remind yourself. "Shin Ryujin was only temporary."

You'd decided that your feelings for her were only a means for you to be validated. That was all you'd craved from her, and that was all she'd given you- validation.

On October 15th, you feel relieved. Your mid terms were over with and you had a little bit of free time. Were you going to spend it wisely? Of course not.

You were going to sit in bed all day, scrolling through Youtube, a luxury you'd afford yourself rarely in the last month. You went home early, to a somewhat excitable Yeji. Another rare sight.

"What's up?" you ask her, noticing her vibrant demeanour.

"Nothing much, Ryujin's coming over today."

You're surprised to hear this, and a little disappointed that Ryujin never told you herself. Or maybe there was no reason to, it's not like you kept in touch with her.

"That's cool, are you guys ordering something? Or should I make food for you two?" you offer, realising the amount of free time you had.

"We'll just order pizza," she replies. She hesitates for sometime, as if she has something to say. "Y/n?" she calls out slowly.

"Hmm?" "...you're nothing like what Ryujin described you as."

You still in your spot.

"It's just that you're really kind you know. I thought you'd be more distant, and cold."

"Ryujin said that? About me?"

She nods her head.

Is that really how she saw you? Distant and cold? Sure you were closed off towards the end, but is that really who you were to her? After all the good memories? You weren't sure anymore, insecurity creeping inside you.

It hurt. Was it this easy for people to be unforgiving? But then again, you never apologised, so in a weird way what Yeji relayed sounded justified.

You offer her a stiff smile.

"I'll be in my room then, tell me if you need anything."

Dejected, you go back to your blank room, where even the orange of autumn feels comforting, something you hated previously. You stay inside the entire evening, occasional sounds of muffled laughter behind your walls being all that you focus on for the duration. Every time you heard her laugh loudly from behind the door, you wondered if she ever laughed like that in front of you. Did you ever make her feel happy? The same way she did to you?

You want to go out and say hi, but after what Yeji said, you stop yourself. She must hate you now, there was no other way.

It isn't later at night, after you're sure the laughter was no more, and only when the silence of the room becomes comforting, you step out to see a dim blue light in the darkness of the living room, Yeji working on the dining table. "Y/n, didn't come out to say hi to Ryujin?" she asks, with pity that sounds forced.

"Yeah, no I was just napping," you lie, "did anything fun happen?"

"Mhm, we were discussing Ryujin's blind date tomorrow with a senior from the engineering department. Apparently, he's handsome," she shrugs her shoulder.

"Ryujin likes boys?" you ask without realising.

"Hmm, I'm not sure actually."

A small part of you feels dejected as you get a glass of water, all while contemplating if you should have reached out.

"You like her don't you?" Yeji whispers, looking up from her laptop.

It's the second time you still in your spot. Yeji had brought up something you never thought was prominent.

"Your lights were on, I could tell from your slightly ajar door. You weren't sleeping were you?" she gives you a knowing smile.

"I'm not judging you- it's just that it's obvious that you miss her. It may or not may be romantic- but you do miss her don't you?". You don't know how to reply to her. You barely knew Yeji, but somehow she very accurately read your emotions.

As if she knows what you're thinking, she continues.

"You know, every time that I've tried bringing up Ryujin, you've always changed the conversation, instead isolating yourself in your room."

Looking back, it made sense. You didn't want to think about her anymore. Your meeting with Ryujin's was temporary and never mattered. It was almost crazy how dependent you were on her within just a few months.

" I realised that I don't know much about Ryujin, nor does she about me. Sure I know she loves mocha bread, she loves her big Ikea Djungelskog soft toy, that she's watched the perks of being a wallflower more times than she can count; but I don't think I could be truly vulnerable with her. I'm scared to be vulnerable with her."

Yeji sighs, almost disappointed. She went back to working, despite her twitching lips, like she had more to say.

That night, you reflect for longer. Why was it that you felt scared to lean on Ryujin? Technically you told her about troubles with academics, problems with some of your classmates- that is considered being vulnerable right? Then what was it that you wanted her to know, but you never wanted to admit? Was it your insecurities? Was it the thought she'd never understand it?

It was like your mind had accepted that you and Ryujin had come from two different worlds, and if you invited her into yours, she would run away, like your family. Despite you coming to terms with it, the distance with your family was a wound still fresh. And nothing would change, until you could put it behind you.

25th October, Yeji handed you an invite to one of her friend's Halloween parties.

After your confession, she'd been a little nicer; she was more active in initiating conversations, and you realised she was more extroverted than your first impression. Eventually, you did watch the Maze Runner with her again, and you appreciated how she gushed about Dylan O'Brien throughout it, dispelling any awkward moments.

"I designed this invitation by the way, cool isn't it?", she asks about the party invitation in your hand. It had black bat details engraved in a glossy reflective paper. "Please come, we've had a difficult week, one party won't hurt will it?" she states, the question more rhetorical.

You agree quietly, excitement bubbling in you.

Until it did hurt, a week later.

Barely five minutes after you enter the loud, congested apartment, with strangers in costumes, you felt a part of your heart drop. There was a tight feeling in your chest, something you were sure wasn't because of the new corset you wore. Because you felt comfortable seconds before you saw Ryujin with her hands wrapped around this guys neck, kissing him on the couch as if he were her entire life. At first, you weren't even sure it was her- her hair was shorter, dyed a platinum blonde. She wore a leather jacket and a white skater dress, dressed so differently than what you were used to seeing her in.

You weren't able to comprehend how good she looked in his arms, with all her attention focused on him, smiling. The same smile that you'd missed for a month. When she does look away from the vampire- you assumed was her boyfriend, her eyes scan the crowd and she almost looks bewildered. You were stood so motionless near the entrance from where you could see them, that even the crowd that pushed past you couldn't bring you to move. It was suffocating, and unconsciously you head for the exit, looking to get away.

But fate wouldn't be so kind would it? The universe wouldn't just let you be would it? "Are you leaving already y/n?" Yeji screams from across the room, which you were sure was audible to everyone. She finds her way to you, a smile on her face. "You just came in, why are you leaving? Cool outfit by the way."

"Thanks," you offer her a stiff smile, eyes going back to Ryujin, who because of Yeji, had finally found you.

Yeji, who just noticed the tension, holds your hand and pulls you towards Ryujin.

"Atleast say hi, y/n, it won't hurt."

Yeji's assurance of "it won't hurt" was what brought you here, it was indeed what hurt you. Her saying this now wasn't helping, and you scoff. It was almost like Yeji knew this was going to happen. It was like she knew how much it hurt you, and may even enjoy it.

"Why did you invite me Yeji? You knew about this didn't you? It hurts, I..I shouldn't have come." you spit out, trembling.

"Y/n, there's something you need to know."

"What? that she has a boyfriend?" you spat, annoyed by her deception.

Yeji sighs, holding onto your shoulders, somewhat urgent.

"No, it's something only Ryujin can tell you. Please, just talk to her. This once."

At this point, you couldn't trust anyone, neither Yeji, Ryujin, nor yourself. It was like you were at different crossroads- to run away, or to confront her again. She hadn't even done anything wrong, all she did was kiss a guy. She didn't owe you anything.

You choose to run away, until you notice Ryujin approaching you with her boyfriend. It's like she withheld any decision you make, with her forcing you into a circumstance you would not choose for yourself.

"Y/n?" she asks softly. Her otherwise comforting voice now made you uncomfortable, almost bringing you to tears by how much you missed it.

"It's been so long," she holds your hand gently.

Her hands felt colder than before, and before you could say anything, the tall, matching vampire spoke up.

"Hi y/n, I'm Jason, her boyfriend. I've heard a lot about you." he looks friendly, and he doesn't seem to hold any malice. But you still hated this guy.

"You have?" you ask saltily. "...good things I hope." you couldn't help but say drily, hands fiddling with the witch hat you'd worn.

"A moment please love," Ryujin signs to her boyfriend, who goes towards the bar with Yeji.

Ryujin takes your hand and drags you towards what you assume to be the bedroom, away from the crowd.

You enter the bedroom with her, with your head ringing because of the way she called him love. You remember how she'd called you love the day you'd tried baking, the day you'd fallen asleep in her arms. You thought the word "love" meant nothing, that it was an endearing term with no implications. But if that was the case- why did she address him as love?

Jealousy eventually overrode the confusion, and the hurt that stained you previously had multiplied. You couldn't feel more stressed, it was so much more than any calculus assignment you'd ever come across.

"Are you crying?" she eventually speaks, eyes concerned. You didn't even realise the visible tears falling down your cheek slowly, your mascara ruined in the reflection of the mirror behind her.

"What do you wanna talk about Ryujin?" you huff. "Y/n, do you need time to calm down? I don't think you're in the mood to talk."

"I'm fine. Just get to the point please." you say, barely concentrating on what was going on. She comes in to hug you, but you step back.

She looks upset by this, seemingly as confused as you. "I...I thought we were friends y/n," she whispers in the same tone she'd always used to comfort you. "We weren't this far apart were we? Why do you hate me?" she raises her voice in desperation.

This was an accusation you could not believe she had made, hate was too strong for what you felt for her.

"I don't hate you Ryujin." you speak, resigned. "Then why do you look so upset, why can't you even say hi?" she emphasises, her voice breaking in between.

"Because it hurts... I can't"

You fall against the bed post. Eyes finding the bear plushie you bought her. You slowly realise that this is her bedroom, and that you were in her new house- the apartment you'd never come to before. You were barely able to process all of this when she speaks up again.

"You can't what y/n? You can't accept the fact that you like me?" You look back at her, eyes widened, as though whatever little sanity you had remaining was destroyed like the branches of an autumn tree- fallen, and weak. It was almost humiliating.

"I don't like you Ryujin," you hide behind your words like a coward. "Don't lie to yourself y/n, is it that difficult to accept that you like me?"

You don't know where this was coming from. If she knew you liked her, couldn't she just let you down gently?

"What does it matter? You have a boyfriend. Even if I did like you; no even if I loved you, nothing would change." you say dejectedly. It must have been true, because there was silence that persisted for longer than you wished it would be.

"What if it did change? What if I said I liked you too? Would you believe me?" she asks quietly, reverting back to her calm persona as she takes a big breath. You scoff, noticing how different she had become in a month. The audacity she had to ask you if you believed her, right after making out with her boyfriend in front of everyone in the room disgusted you, something you don't think you'd ever be able to comprehend.

"Why would I believe you? I saw your boyfriend. Besides, if you did like me, you'd be honest with me. I think that's the least I'd expect from you, so don't play with my feelings; because unlike yours, I can say with conviction that mine are real."

You see her expression change, her eyes becoming teary.

She sits beside you, against the wooden footboard. "I can't be honest, because I'm scared. There's so many people watching me- so many people who my family knows. I barely had, or still have any privacy in my life. Do you know why my grandparents left me this apartment? Because they don't trust me." she pauses for a minute. Taking another deep breath, eyes now fixed on to the floor.

You don't know where she's going with this, but don't say anything because this may be the last time you'd get any closure.

"There was a girl I really liked in high school, but we could never be together, because my family refused to let me meet her. They pretend to be liberal in their thoughts- but they're as homophobic as they get. There's no way they'd understand. The only time I felt safe was in our dorm, because there was no one who would snitch on me, nobody who cared. It was utopia- where you were my solace, and I just basked in the temporary peace.

But when my grandparents asked about you, they'd worry I'd gotten too close to you, refusing to believe you could be just a friend. Two months after I shifted in to our dorm, they made preparations to isolate me in this house of theirs."

She couldn't continue, as tears you'd never seen from her before, collected as a tiny stream between the cracks of the tiles on the cold floor. You understood what she meant. In an evening's moment, you realised that she wasn't this perfect being that she always projected. Yes, she was amazing, but she had her own challenges, something you thought she'd never had. Unlike the two different worlds you thought you were in, your access into her world made you realise you were more similar than you could've imagine. All of a sudden you hated your past self for being so mean to her, for harbouring insecurities that in hindsight were not worth the pain.

"Jason, is my neighbourhood friend, and he's the one of the few people I can trust. He's pretending to be my boyfriend, so that if my family ever found out, they wouldn't doubt me." she explains, trying to resolve your distrust.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, leaning your head against her shoulder, gently holding onto her hand."

The two of you sit their in silence, reflective, though relieved.

She gently kisses your forehead, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I missed you y/n. So much. But I'm also scared to go back to you, to our place. I don't know what we're going to do. I'm sorry too, for the situation I put you in. For the situation I've put both of us in."

You rub her arms gently,

"It's ok, we'll figure it out slowly. I'm sorry too . You were always there for me- and I, like the coward I am was scared of being attached to you, your generous love . I was also so insecure of how perfect you were- but now it's all so inconsequential."

To this Ryujin laughs, and she wipes her tears. "It's funny how both of our insecurities hurt us in the end. I promise, I wont' let it affect us in the future. I won't ever hurt you again y/n. I love you, so much."

"I love you too Ryujin."

You know that it's going to be a long road ahead of the two of you, but you'll be alright. You comb through her hair, leaning in to meet her lips. Her quivering lips are not soft as you expected, but slightly chapped, brushing against yours. She drags a cold finger down your spine, causing you to lose your breath. Her pulling you closer, slipping behind your corset, unzipping it. Your hands are tangled in her short locks, and you pull away in between to breathe.

With the kiss, and this new path, the autumn you hated so had come to an end. Autumn had become easier to think about, among the loneliness of the dry leaves and the warmth devoid in the air, you'd treasure the warmth that she provided. Shin Ryujin, unlike autumn wasn't temporary. Autumn will come and go, but Shin Ryujin would always stay, and you'd treasure her in every season. In the end, autumn didn't hate you as much you did, because despite everything, autumn gifted you Shin Ryujin.

Am I actually posting an autumn fic when its almost summer? Yes, yes I am. This is long overdue and idk why it took me this long to finish it ahhhh.

I appreciate any feedback, feel free to interact with this post!

Thanks for reading <3

-Macaroon

[justghostly-things]

Why Mike Wheeler should get Vecna'd

I might need to rant about Mike Wheeler (to like the surprise of no one.) because if it's gonna be anyone its gotta be him, right? I don't think he is gonna die, or it's gonna be the exact same as it was for Max. (Simply because we have seen it before.) but I don't think it would be beneficial to Vecna any of the other characters.

and assuming that the Duffer brothers aren't just bad writers we know Mike has been acting weird for two whole seasons now. (I personally think it was worse in season 3 but it was still strange in season 4.) The show established him a certain way in season 1 then nailed it into the coffin that this is who he is in season 2 but then season 3 rolls around and he is just... Different. (An ass) Of course, we have our theories and analysis (thank you, to anyone who have compiled all the hints into one place what would we do without you 😭This or This or This)

but still.

Since we are talking about Stranger Things S4 and S5 there are a lot of uncomfortable topics that are going to be mentioned, I do not go into details. I barely mention it. I do not describe anything, but I do talk about the themes. Please stay safe while reading

We should look at this in three ways.

What it brings to the story

What advantage would it give Vecna (aka why would he want to Vecna them)

And how does it help the character

Let's talk about Max first. Because we can work out the logic with her and then try and translate it to other characters.

I think its import for this section to know that what Max has delt with is a very scary real thing. Many children have a very similar life as Max, and all I am going to do is talk about them from within the show. I will say is you are not a bad person because you wish death on someone who is hurting you. But from here on I am talking about Max from both her Pov and Vecna's. None of these things are my thought or feeling on the greater topic of abuse and dysfunctional families.

From a story perspective why was Max the one who got Vecna'd and not like, Dustin or Lucas? If you answered because she watched Billy die. Yes. Anyone who understands a progression of a story can figure out why it makes sense for Max to be Vecna'd. We create this guy who shows you your trauma reflected back at you and then kills you as seen in both Fred (Nancy's friend) and Chrissy.

Which of the main cast of characters just went through a trauma event just the season before? Max.

I think if this is all you take from season 4 you have fundamentally forgotten one important thing about Max getting Vecna'd. It isn't just about the trauma of her watching her brother die. No, Vecna specifically targets the fact that Max deep-down wished-for Billy to die, she used to fantasize about it. It isn't just survival guilt. And we are shown this visually through Fred who also has survival guilt. Their trauma is different because Max's guilt isn't just about surviving. That is why it had to be Max. Because all of the characters could feel some sort of Survival guilt. They have watched so many people die and get hurt. it reveals two things. One is how Max truly feels about Billy's death, and two it tells us more about what Vacna is actually doing in the vision. Because he isn't just trying to torture a traumatized Max to the point that she willing to just give up. it is showing Max some "ugly truth" about her to herself. Because that is what Vecna is. Or thinks he is. He sees the world as horrible and should be corrected and the only way to do that is by "starting over". This is him showing max what is "wrong" with her and killing her (so he can start her over/create a new her)

I feel like I need to rewatch season 3 again because I can't remember exactly but I think Max most likely played a big part in season 3 where she kept meddling with Possessed Billy. (Mike did too but we will get to that(this thing is gonna be long btw)) She showed that she is willing and able to mess up Vecna's plans.

(It is kinda a debated if it was just the Mind Flayer or if it was Vecna himself that possessed Billy (and Will in season 2) but for the purpose of this we will say that he at least knows the role that Max (and Mike) played in the mall fight.)

All of this to say from Vecna's Perspective, he sees a group of kids who keep getting in the way, And they are all close to El? And one of these kids has extreme guilt about Billy? Yeah of course he targets her. It is so useful. It'll get to El and the rest of the party. Making them weaker and affect them emotionally so they are more likely to react irrationally. It's so perfect for him. Literally Max says so in the show.

and Max, (I can tell some people aren't gonna be happy with me for this so just know I love max so much please, but) she up until season 4 was a bit of a weird character. She is a confusing character. Especially in season 2, she has a lot of character inconsistencies. This video explains all of what I am talking about in this section this really well. but she isn't really a main character until season 4. She plays more of a supporting role. Especially in season 3 where she is helping El find part of independence. And yes, we know Max has a hard home life and how Billy is an ass to her. We know this but we don't really understand it until season 4. She just feels like an inconsistent character up until this point. (you know who else is an inconsistent character-) Her getting Vecna'd shows us a direct shot into her head and we can start to piece together the truth of her character. We really get to understand why she is inconsistent. And how it isn't a flaw of the writing, it's Max being 13 and dealing with a terrible home life.

the best part about it is that there are clues all over that are screaming at us and I can tell you right now that there were probably so many children who saw themself in Max. And people who were screaming about how this is why! It's because of her home life! while the rest of us were just calling it inconsistent writing. And yes, I am gonna bring it up because this is exactly what we see with Mike Wheelers character. Because the truth is that we haven't seen the whole story, we have barely seen anything of Mike for the last two seasons. (mentally i know he is on screen I mean mentally) we just have a theory on what is going on in his head. and I think it would be a waste not to use Vecna to do the same thing they did for Max for Mike and this is ignoring all of the parallels the two characters have. this is just from a story point of view and omg can you tell how passionate I am about this??

Now do i think it is impossible for any of the other character to get Vecna'd? No? it would probably be more similar to how Nancy got Vecna'd. Mostly because if my other theory is correct (is this shameless self-promotion?) I don't think there is time for like all the character to get Vecna'd.

But yeah, lets talk about a few of the character and why I do or don't think they could get Vecna'd. I will try to make this quick.

Steve: Steve is very interesting and I kind of wanna make like a character analysis about him at some point (probably after I rewatch the show) but I think it could go either way. Steves whole arc for the whole show is to show us how someone can change. Steve started as an ass and has slowly been evolving to become a better person. And I think there is a place for Vecna to come into that but idk if he needs it. I think Steve's can jump over the last hoop by himself (unlike some people who haven't even started jumping... (Mike)) Overall I don't think it will tell us anything we don't already know about Steve, but I can see Vecna wanting to incapacity Steve because of his physical strength. Dustin: Again, I am not sure what more Dustin getting Vecna'd will tell us about Dustin. If anyone has any thoughts, please don't be scared to let me know. I can see Vecna also wanting to take out Dustin because of his smarts. So strategically I can see this being something Vecna would want to "Take out" (but i am not sure how strategic Vecna is? I certainly don't think it would be the main reason that he targets someone.) Lucas: Idk, I think it would be great to have Lucus be more import to the plot but if he is gonna get Vecna'd it's gonna be about Max and him "teaming" up with the Basketball? guys. (I say hesitantly because I don't remember what sport it was...) Which we don't need to be told he feels bad about because he told us. So, idk. I guess we can talk about Will as well: but it's really all the same thing, I don't know what new information we can learn if we see him getting Vecna'd. Sure, its angsty and that might be reason enough for some people, but I know if I was writing Season 5, I wouldn't even consider it. We know almost everything that is plaguing Will. We see almost everything first hand. And sure, we knew about Billy for Max but like I said it was more than just "she watched Billy die" and sure maybe there is something I just don't see or don't know. I just don't see reason for this poor boy to go through more. The other thing is I don't see why Vecna would want to not just kill but make Will suffer. Make him have a pain full death? If Vecna wanted Will dead, Will would be dead. its plain and simple. the amount of times Vecna had Will in his grasps? I don't believe it was just luck. I would actually love to see if there aren't times where Will could be in danger, or it would make more sense for the danger to target will but for some reason it didn't, and he came out unscathed? (if I notice anything in my rewatch I will add it here) but yeah. also, there is all the parallels between Will and Vecna, so I think Vecna sees himself in will, maybe like how he saw himself in El and maybe will try and recite him. Idk but it seems (to me at least) that Vecna has more planed than, make him suffer and then die, in store for will. This is a really good analysis and this I agreed with on why Will was probably not gonna get Vecna'd. But it is a really good (and funny) video so go check it out if you haven't.

all of this is making me want to do an analysis on Vecna/henry. I don't think he is a partially new kind of villain, but I think it would be fun to try and dive into his head.

Hopeful this is my last point where I finally get to talk about my boy Mike wheeler. This is a Mike wheeler safe place. (I say as I am about to make my point on why he should go through pain and torture next season.)

I kind of have talked about some of this but let's dive into more detail (like we did with Max) and talk about my three main points

What it brings to the story

What advantage would it give Vecna (aka why would he want to Vecna them)

And how does it help the character

I feel like the story has been building up to this for a long time actually. Not only with the stalker shots that Mike is shot in but everything we see about his character. From how much we have seen his character change between season 2 and 3, to how little we actually know about Mikes inner workings. Mike is a puzzle right now. He is surrounded by character who are at least decently written and at most complex and compelling. And he is a main character? Like if Mike was a Minor or supporting character (like Erica and arguably robin) it would be weird sure but at least expectable. But Mike was THE main character in the opening season. We learn the most about him. And we see a lot of the story threw his eyes. And what? Were just going to throw all of that away? Like it was nothing?

But! I bring up the point I made about Max again. About what she was like in season two, what our impression of Max as a character and how that changed in season 4. The reason her character acted like that was because of things we didn't have connections for until season 4. All the parts were laid out in front of us they just needed to be connected. Mike getting Vecna'd will literally connect the dots for us. it'll show us an obvious and clear answer for what is wrong with Mike. Because how, honestly, are they going to show us all of these complex things that has been haunting Mike without a Vecna vision? It's the last season. We do not have endless time to unpack everything that is happening inside his head. Especially if the season is going to be as busy as I expect. We have like 20 other character who needs screen time, and we are getting introduced to more characters? And we have to fight the big bad? and there is gonna be a time skip (I swear to whatever higher being there is if they try to pull a "all Mikes' problems got fixed over the time skip" bs I am gonna be on the news for homicide. no-one will ever hear the end of it, omg. i don't even care if Byler becomes cannon, there will be war.) point is this matter is delicate and Mike lips on the matter are sealed so tight. If he hasn't said a word about this in 3 years he isn't gonna talk about it now. He needs a push, and Vecna is going to push him down a flight of stairs.

I do feel like I am repeating myself but it's crazy how similar Mike and Max character are. Almost like they are shining bright neon lights saying like look at this! notice this! and I know I am not the only one to point this out. But like what was stated in this video, Mike is almost the perfect person to Vecna'd , he not only has a connection with both El and Will. He, as Will would put it, is "the heart" of the party. He is connected to all the other character in some way. And if taking Max out would of killed motivation/ made the party unstable imagine what killing Mike would do to them? Which is why I do believe in the Mike was the original four victim theory (I think I saw someone go into more detail, but I can't find it. If I do, I will update with both links)

Also, remember when I mentioned that both Mike and Max have meddled with Vecna's plot in season 3, I just think I should point out how in the gym scene where they trap Billy in the sauna it is Mike taunting Him. And in season 2 he was the one who figured out that Will was possessed. All I can think of for season 1 is that he took El in and formed a kindling with her, which isn't strong evidence but idk maybe Vecna gets jealous easily idk.

And I think to understand this last point I would recommend watching or reading threw the links I linked all the way at the top of this discussion. but I would urge you to watch this at the very least: This video

if you haven't caught on yet, I do believe the Vecna visions are going to reveal to the audience that Mike is gay and has been the whole time. aemiron-main has a very good theory on how I think this is gonna go, because that falls into the same thought bubble as Max's. Where I think the theme isn't just that he is dealing with internalised Homophobia but his guilt surrounding his queerness. which we can easily explore through a vision. and it explains why he has been acting this way, especially in season 3. Like, can you even think about what this poor kid is going though mentally because, your best friend, literally your person got possessed, you watched as they lead to your friends new dad's death? like you can do nothing? and you blame yourself because if you had stop being gay for two seconds just to notice that there is something off about him you could have saved everyone? YEah I would be an asshole as well. Honestly, I think all the clues are there we just Vecna to piece them together.

And even in the very unlikely situation where I and like every other Byler are wrong about Mike being gay. Mike getting Vecna'd can only mean positive things for his character.

I feel like I had another point to make but I genuinely can't remember what it was T_T so, if I remember I will update this. But that is my point. Mike wheeler is gay and will be tormented by demonic infused visions of him being gay in the next season. so, you know. like an average Tuesday for any queer.