#especially when we see that isn’t the case for other people in inside out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonstudios · 2 months ago

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dextrocardia | 16

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6.5k

warnings: none besides.... fictional police work...

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 16/?

Despite everything, you fill with a sense of excitement as you drive off, Sana in the passenger seat beside you. It’s nice to feel like you have a purpose again, and even if you technically had one during the last mission with Jeongguk, it was overshadowed by the danger you believed resided under the same roof.

It’s a comfortable journey, and soon enough the highway turns into a pristine neighborhood, bearing no trace of the traumatic events that occurred there months ago. Most of it looks the same as you remember it but other parts don’t. There’s an unfamiliar car parked outside ‘your’ house, and not only that, but glancing through the large windows as you cruise by, you spot movement inside. Children? You knew people would eventually move into the house–a house that never even belonged to you to begin with–but it feels weird.

Putting your more than illogical feelings aside, you focus on parking your car outside the Jungs’ house instead. Before stepping out, you and Sana give each other one last once-over. Despite the relatively low risk of this initial part of the mission, you’ve still made an effort to appear inconspicuous, and it’s not only for your own sake. Considering what they’ve done for you–Hoseok especially–you don’t want to be a bother if they’d rather not have law enforcement be seen knocking on their door.

It’s Eunha who opens the door, eyes going wide when they land on your face. For a second, your worry grows; what if your presence isn’t actually appreciated? At all? But then her lips pull into a smile.

“Oh, hello?”

“Hi, we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions? About another case, not… yours,” you find your greeting turning into rambling.

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course. Come on in. I’m a little busy baking at the moment, but Hobi is home, and I’m guessing he’s the one you really want to speak with?”

She wipes her hands on her light blue jeans, leaving a white, powdery residue on the fabric before opening the door wider.

“Thank you,” you smile as you step inside, looking around to see that, as far as you can tell, everything looks the same as when you last paid the Jungs’ a visit. When you think about it, Hoseok never brought up the bugs you placed in their house, so you’re guessing they never found them. Or if they did, they haven’t brought it up for some reason or another. You’re not sure, but what you do know is that you’re not gonna be the one to do it, just in case.

“Make yourselves at home. I need to check on the cookies. Hobi!” she turns to call out into the house, “We have guests!”

With an apologetic smile, Eunha excuses herself, and then you and Sana are left alone in the entryway. You share some kind of look. Sure, you didn’t expect too much hostility, but to leave you, two detectives, unsupervised in their home?

A second later, the sound of footsteps approaches, and you smile toward the brown-haired man as he comes into view, his confused features turning happy. He takes in the sight of you before he closes the distance to give you a warm hug.

“How are you? You look good!” he compliments, also turning to shake Sana’s hand, a very sweet smile on his lips. “Hoseok.”

“Sana,” she greets.

“I’m doing well,” you answer, “He is too; made a full recovery.”

Hoseok’s smile falls, and he takes on a rather baffled look instead. “We saw on the news. About the station and the investigation and all that. Crazy. I mean, we knew there were corrupt cops, but to that extent?”

“Yeah.”

“So what brings you here?” he asks, a glint slowly returning to his eyes. “Was it maybe something I said one time at a hospital?”

You nod, “Yeah. Can you tell us what you know? Or give us any tips at all so that we can stop Kyung Sunghyun once and for all?”

You watch him contemplate. Since he first let that comment about Ksung slip at the hospital, you’ve felt that he’s a good enough man to at least not mind Sunghyun being investigated and possibly put behind bars. But what can he say without incriminating himself for essentially planning a robbery? And can he trust you if he accidentally lets something slip? You might seem like you’ve stopped pursuing him, but can he trust you not to, ever?

“Why don’t we take a seat in the living room?” He gestures for you to follow him, and after quickly taking off your shoes and jackets, you do, with Sana in tow.

Sitting on the Jungs’ couch, you wait for Hoseok to get comfortable and for Sana to pull her pen and notebook out of her bag.

“Hey, love?” Hoseok calls out to his wife, turning to the two of you, “You want something to drink?”

“Oh, water would be fine,” Sana accepts, and you nod, “Yeah.”

“Hm?” Eunha appears in the doorway. She seems to have more flour on her pants than last time.

“Could you bring us some water?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

Hoseok thinks about it for a second before he lights up, “Oh, do we have some of those brownies left?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll bring a few pieces.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as Eunha leaves, Hoseok turns to you again, a look of concentration coloring his features. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Well, everything,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll warn you that I might not know as much as you think, and some things–not that I know them–I can’t say. I guess I can start by saying that, hypothetically, if I were a criminal of any kind, I would probably still stay as far away from other criminals as possible; especially if I had… valuables that might make me a target. No honor amongst thieves and all that, you know?”

Although his words deny any criminal activity, his expression reveals that he’s well aware that everyone in the room knows that he’s far from innocent. At least as far as the law is concerned. You watch him intently, waiting for whatever information he has and praying that it’ll help.

Sana drives you both home an hour or so later, you sitting quietly in the passenger seat and staring out the window as the world passes by.

“We need to tell Jihyo as soon as possible,” Sana says, “I can drive you home after if you want me to? Unless you’d rather stay with me?”

“No, it’s… fine. I’m fine.”

You are fine. Although it could’ve sent you into some sort of panic attack, it didn’t. It’s just a reminder of why you don’t trust men, and you feel yourself withdrawing instead.

Hoseok didn’t have too much info on the Ksung trafficking case. As you expected, they spent a pretty significant amount of time trailing Sunghyun and his closest men in order to map their routines. Not that Hoseok admitted it; it was very ‘hypothetical’. But from what you gathered, it was difficult to get close to the top men and almost harder to follow anyone. Then, when everything happened and Hoseok and Yoongi understood that you’d been watching them, they put the plans mostly on hold. Except for one thing.

“He, of course, doesn’t actually get his hands dirty if he can help it, and we weren’t–you’d have to be a whole team to keep track of everyone and what they’re doing. But …there might be a private plane flying mostly under the radar about once a month. Someone might’ve found… ‘receipts’ for fuel from different places, and when pieced together, they form a vague route.”

“I guess the question is, why the need to fly incognito? Is it possible it flies… cash or other valuables from the bank that they’d rather not have everyone know of?” Sana asks, and you nod in agreement. It’s a very valid concern; you wouldn’t want just anyone to know if you’re transporting valuable cargo, even legally.

“The plane is refueled more often and with less fuel than a cargo plane, according to the receipts. It seems to be a very small plane, with a correspondingly small fuel tank. And these days, flight tracking is the default; it’s definitely an extra step to opt-out. Sometimes even difficult to achieve.”

“So we’ll be looking into this plane, alright. Where are the receipts from? Is there a pattern? Somewhere we can go to see if we catch them as they’re refueling?”

“The first stop is around three hours from their headquarters, so you’d assume the plane is stationed around there somewhere, but it might have proved hard to actually find it. I’ll give you the coordinates for that and the other locations.”

“Thank you.”

It’s with genuine gratitude that you thank Hoseok. It’s truly ironic that one of the sweetest men in your story is a bank robber, while the police have taken on the role of your enemy.

“So how is your case coming along? You haven’t found them yet, I assume?”

You press your lips together briefly before sighing. You know you shouldn’t disclose anything, really, but again, with how much has been on the news, the public would’ve known if the wanted police officers had been apprehended. And they haven’t. You’ve been told not even the Jimin-lead actually led to anything.

So you shake your head. "Still looking.”

To your surprise, Hoseok looks to be thinking hard about something.

“Okay, so… this might not lead anywhere, but if you’re stuck and possibly trailing Ksung’s people anyway… rumor has it that Ksung has been paying off the cops for a while. Not sure what station, but maybe, someone–at least up until around two months ago–used to meet up with someone at seven a.m. on the fifteenth of every month. Like I said, it’s supposedly around two hours away from here, essentially smack dab in the middle between the closest stations, but given your previous colleagues’... reluctance to follow the law, it might be worth checking out.”

“But they’ve been on the run for months now,” Sana questions, “If Ksung has been paying for police protection or their deliberate ignorance, then what would be the point now? They don’t have anything left to offer.”

“Their silence, maybe?” Hoseok tries to offer an explanation. “They could be blackmailing Ksung into giving them the money they need while on the run. Pay up, or they’ll tip someone off?”

“If what we think about Ksung is true, wouldn’t he just… get rid of them if that were the case? Can’t be that much of a leap between trafficking and murder? Especially if they’re a threat to everything Sunghyun built?”

You adjust your position on the couch, sitting quite literally on the edge of your seat and looking at Sana. “Yeah, I honestly think so too. It wouldn’t make sense to let some of the most wanted people blackmail you like that. There’s a big risk that they’re caught and then they might blab and drag you down too. Better to get rid of them.”

“Maybe,” Hoseok adds, “But there were a lot of officers caught in the investigation, weren’t there?”

“Yeah. All fired,” Sana confirms.

“Again, I can’t promise it’ll help because it’s somewhat of a long shot, but what if you didn’t catch them all? What if…”

“--Someone’s still working at the station,” you continue where Hoseok trailed off. “And taking bribes?”

“And you think that person is helping Hoseong?” Sana wonders, her eyes wide.

“Don’t know, but what are the odds of two separate groups of officers being corrupt?”

You really don’t want to answer that.

Jihyo is surprised at your findings, but when you turn it around to look at it from another angle, it makes an awful lot more sense. Instead of questioning the odds of your two cases being connected, it’s not so strange to think that a criminal bank CEO might be bribing the town’s corrupt police. It’s just strange for you to have found yourself in the middle of it.

“So what do we do?” Sana whispers, glancing at Jihyo’s closed office door behind her.

“Wait. What’s today’s date?” Jihyo asks, her eyes going wide as she realizes what you’ve already had time to see.

“January fourteenth,” Sana explains.

Jihyo looks at you and Sana and the look you give each other. “No. We should wait for backup; the outsourced detectives will be here in a week.”

“We’ll miss the window,” you argue quietly.

Jihyo raises her eyebrows. “What if it’s not true? What if it’s a trap to get rid of you?”

“Set up by Hoseok? I don’t think so. He could’ve gotten rid of us today if he wanted to, and I don’t think he would; he saved us, after all.”

“Well, you more or less surprised him today, and people knew where you were, so it would’ve been stupid on his part. Getting rid of you while you’re ‘looking for someone else’ would be a better plan. And like you’ve said before, when he saved your life, he didn’t know that you were investigating him yet. Now that he does, he might’ve just been waiting for an opportunity. What are the odds of you finding all of this out on the fourteenth when the supposed meeting is taking place tomorrow?”

Well, when she’s putting it like that you have to agree that there’s a risk. Not a big one, you don’t think, but a risk nonetheless.

“I want to go,” you say before lowering the volume of your voice further, “If there is someone here still… if there’s a mole, we need to… we need to act as soon as possible. The longer we wait, even if we try to be discreet, the higher the risk of him finding out.”

Jihyo sighs, lifting her hand to rub her forehead until she seemingly decides.

“Fine. Do you want to go tomorrow? Together? Maybe you should bring someone else as well?”

“Who? We don’t know who the mole or informant is, and if you suggest bringing Jeongguk…” you trail off. Jeongguk is great, but this is not his area of expertise.

“He’ll want to go, regardless.”

“He’s not a detective.”

“He’s out on a call right now?” Sana asks.

Jihyo nods. “Yeah, I think so. Out patrolling, at least.”

“Don’t tell him,” Sana suggests.

“You don’t think it’s him, right?” Jihyo asks in disbelief.

Sana continues, “No, but… the more people who know, the bigger the risk. I think he’ll do more good here, keeping up the charades.”

A few hours later, you’re already in the car, heading toward the spot Hoseok pointed out on a map. The meeting isn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow morning, which gives you a valuable opportunity to scope the place out beforehand.

The sun has set by the time you reach a hill, the road ending in an empty cul-de-sac with a low stone wall overlooking the arches of a large, gray viaduct. There’s a road running parallel to you, only on the other side of the wall, below the hill. It doesn’t pass under the viaduct, which stands almost perpendicular to you, but instead turns to run alongside it. You lean your gloved hands against the stone wall, following the road and its sidewalk below with your eyes.

The meeting point is supposedly a few meters from the sidewalk, up underneath the viaduct’s closest arches. From this spot, you can’t see beyond the arch, except for a few bushes and trees. It looks like it might be downhill.

Hidden by the elevation, the stone wall, and some trees, the current spot will be where you park the car tomorrow, and before checking in at a nearby hotel for the night, you decide to also check out the other side of the viaduct.

“So, how does it feel to be back for real?” Sana asks, stepping out of the bathroom and putting her toothbrush in her mouth.

Sitting on the bed, you flip through the TV channels. “Uh, good. I really missed this… feeling of having a purpose?”

She pauses the brushing, toothbrush still in her mouth as she speaks. “Mhm, I get what you’re saying. And… how does it feel, knowing that there might be someone we… missed?”

You take a moment to think about it. “I don’t know. I’m so used to walking around the hallways, paranoid of who might be waiting around the corner. Waiting for me to be alone somewhere. After a while, you just don’t have the energy to be that scared anymore.”

Sana nods in understanding, brushing her teeth thoroughly for another few seconds before she enters the bathroom again to spit the foam into the sink.

“Did you know that I basically didn’t fight them at all when they came for us during the undercover assignment?” you ask, fiddling with the remote on the white bedspread.

“Jeongguk mentioned something about feeling like you’d given up, but not a lot more. He wanted us to stay close and check up on you; said he thought the last year had taken a bigger toll on you than we’d assumed.”

“Yeah. I’ve been so scared for such a long time; felt for so long that I stand no chance whenever they actually decide to try it. I didn’t think there was any use in fighting them when they came, so I just… stood there. I closed my eyes.”

“But Jeongguk saved you.”

“He did, yeah. Let himself be stabbed by a fucking samurai sword.”

Sana’s quiet as she exits the bathroom again, a white robe in her arms.

You let out a deep breath. “What would you do? If you were me?”

Immediately understanding, she sits down on the other bed. “I don’t know. I want to say that I’d give him a chance, but I think it might be easier said than done.”

You look down at your hands. “Yeah.”

“I do believe he’s a good guy, and I think he’s learned his lesson, but a relationship can’t depend on whether he’s good or not, if he deserves you, or whether you should forgive him, can it?”

“It shouldn’t?” you raise your eyebrow at her, smiling a little.

“No, I mean, you shouldn’t be with him if the answer to those questions is ‘no,’ but the next question is just… Do you want to be with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then… does being with him make you happy?”

You feel your whole body practically answer her question. Your eyes drop sadly to the bedspread again, and your shoulders lift a little anxiously. “I think he makes me feel inadequate.”

She looks at you sadly. “You know that you’re not, though, right? You get to feel that way, and he has no say over your feelings because he’s the one who caused them, but you’re more than enough. We’ll support you no matter what you decide to do.”

Nodding slowly, you take another deep breath, getting up from the bed to brush your own teeth.

Usually, you find it hard to wake up fully when the sun has yet to rise and it’s freezing cold. Even the hotel’s hard but warm bed would be tempting you to stay in. But not today. The moment the alarm blares, you’re already reaching for your phone to quiet it, sitting up and looking around. On the other bed, not far from yours, Sana is rubbing her eyes and yawning. Today’s the day you might actually find a good lead.

Due to the nature of today’s assignment, you’re armed, just in case, and you’re clipping small body cameras to your thick, black jackets. On your head, you’ve got black beanies, and your hands are gloved as well to withstand the cold.

The sun still hasn’t made it far on its journey across the sky when you park the car in the same spot as you did yesterday.

“I’m in my position,” Sana informs through the earpiece. You dropped her off closer to the other side of the viaduct, where she’s currently hiding a little farther down a walkway and behind some parked cars.

“Good. Me too,” you confirm, leaning your elbows against the wall. Thanks to the trees and the relative distance, you’re well hidden as you kneel behind the stone wall, focusing on the meeting point through your black binoculars.

“It’s five fifty a.m., and we’re both in position,” you repeat, more so for the recordings.

“And so we wait,” Sana concludes.

Despite the thick jackets, it doesn’t take long before you’re freezing. If you could, you’d sit in the car, at least to be protected from the biting wind, but the angle from there wouldn’t let you see over the wall. Sana complains quietly about her fingers while your cheeks hurt the most. Every glance at your watch is painful.

Six fifty arrives, and you focus further. But there’s no one. Once every few minutes, a car or two passes on the road below you, but that’s it. Seven o’clock. Still no one. You’re starting to fear that maybe you missed them? Did they change location? Or maybe they decided on another time? What if they really just stopped meeting up, altogether? Hoseok didn’t seem too sure, after all. You bite your lip, trying to keep your cold body still. If there is an informant, you need to catch him.

Then, at seven twenty, you hear something. It’s the rustling of thick fabric as Sana adjusts her position.

“Dark-clothed male, moving in. 4 o’clock.”

As slowly and inconspicuously as you can, to not draw attention, you turn your head. Sure enough, a man is walking on the sidewalk below and to your right.

Just like you, he’s dressed in all black, a bulky jacket covering most of his body except his legs. He’s got the hood pulled over his head and his hands in his pockets.

“Can you get a visual of his face?” you ask, watching wide-eyed as he passes below you.

“No, he’s got something–a shirt or something–pulled up over his mouth and nose.”

“Okay, looks like he’s headed for the viaduct,” you say, waiting to see if he follows the sidewalk as it turns to run parallel to the viaduct, or if he steps in under the arch. “We’ll wait and see if anyone else shows.”

But the man doesn’t stop to wait for someone. He steps off the sidewalk, casually walking over to the closest of the huge pillars, graffitied in blue and green, and swiftly retrieves something from under a small bush. A bag?

“It’s a dead drop,” Sana exclaims as the man continues on his path, heading in her direction. It only took a few seconds, and anyone less observant would’ve missed the pickup.

“Do you recognize him?” you ask, on the edge of your seat. “Can you follow?”

You’re too far away to follow him on foot, and driving down would be impractical and likely draw his attention, so you stay put.

Instead, Sana moves, the rustling loud in your ears, and you hold your breath. It’s always more nerve-wracking to watch someone else pursue and track a target than doing it yourself. If this man discovers her, you don’t know what will happen, much less what he’ll do if he recognizes her.

The man disappears from view, and for a while, all you hear is Sana’s breathing and that same occasional rustling of her jacket as she moves. Then, there’s a bout of silence before her quiet, shocked voice comes through.

“I can’t follow him further; he’s getting into a black car. I… I think it’s JJ.”

As quickly as possible, you drive back to the station, wondering if you ever missed a clue about JJ. Considering how many men work at the station and how you’ve had to keep a very close eye on some of them, JJ has flown under your radar a bit. The tall man wasn’t anyone you’ve paid much attention to or interacted with, but he never came across as weird or suspicious; just as a regular man. He never outright harassed you, but he never stood up for you either, but then again, he wasn’t the only one using that approach. Additionally, you’ve seen him with Jeongguk a bunch of times, and you figured Jeongguk had cleared all the remaining men. Not that it’s Jeongguk’s fault, but still; you don’t think he’s easy to fool.

“How sure are you?” Jihyo asks in a hushed voice, her worried eyes flitting between you, Sana, and the closed office door. You know JJ is already at the station, you walked past him in the hallway, dressed in uniform. You weren’t able to follow the man, but considering you had to wait a bit and then drive down to collect Sana, it’s entirely plausible he made it back before you.

“Like eighty percent. It was hard to see, but… I’m pretty sure. Don’t know if I captured anything of value, but we can go through the recordings to be sure?”

“Maybe we can look through the work schedule as well?” you suggest. “If he hasn’t been clocked in at seven to eight a.m. on the fifteenth of the last few months–probably since they went on the run–then–”

“–We still can’t rule him out,” Jihyo interrupts sadly. “Even if he’s been clocked in, he–maybe together with his partner–could’ve simply driven there while on duty, assuming they weren’t on an active call. Maybe not super likely, but not impossible. So if he’s been clocked in, we’d need to look at those exact hours and place him on specific calls.”

“Which might take a while,” Sana adds, and you nod, realizing that she’s right.

Your heart races. “So what do we do?”

“His car’s in the garage, right?”

Jihyo gives Sana a warning look. “We’ll need a warrant to search it, and this is not enough for one.”

“But not to take a look through the window,” you say, biting your lip and meeting Sana’s eyes.

You wait for Jihyo’s objection, but it doesn’t come. “Be careful,” she whispers instead, following you toward the door. “If there’s one, there might be more.”

“Yes, boss.”

Being the first one to step out of Jihyo’s office, you glance the other way, just in case JJ happens to be watching. However, you don’t look where you’re going, and of course, you run headfirst into someone’s chest.

“Hey,” a deep voice says, its owner steadying you by your arms. Of course.

Embarrassed, you look up, only to meet Jeongguk’s dark eyes. He’s dressed head to toe in uniform, the sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms, tattoos and all, and it’s clear that he’s on his way out to patrol. You didn’t know he was really patrolling again, but then again, it doesn’t seem like they were getting anywhere on your case, and well… you don’t talk much these days. Like always when he’s near, your heart rate picks up, and your skin heats under his hands despite the fabric between you.

“Uh, sorry,” you apologize, looking away. You know you’re normally a pretty good actress, but today, you just feel too wound up and on edge. Jeongguk holds onto your arms, his observant eyes gazing over you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” you say with a nod, glancing at Sana. “But we need to go.”

But Jeongguk doesn’t give up. “There’s something’s going on, isn’t there?”

“No,” you lie again.

“You’re making me worried.”

“You don’t need to be.”

His gaze flickers between you and Sana, and even though you don’t think he’s completely buying it, he lets go. “Promise me you’ll tell me if you find out anything.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, already moving away. Technically, you being ‘off’ can simply be explained by the fact that you’re not entirely comfortable around him.

After getting rid of Jeongguk, you and Sana enter the station’s parking garage. The personnel floor is empty, save for about twenty to thirty vehicles, Jeongguk’s motorcycle included. Still, you make sure to look around before you start.

“What did the car look like?” you ask, peering through the back window of the closest one, a small dark blue car.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out much besides the color and size. It was black and a pretty small one, I think.”

You look around. Almost all cars are black. Or at least dark enough to be mistaken for black. "Do we even know what his actual car looks like?"

“Well... Let’s just check all of them. Just to be safe.”

Even though you make sure to check carefully, the process goes quickly. Until Sana calls your name quietly, the black car in front of her being her sixth or seventh.

“That could be it, right?” she points toward something barely visible, halfway under the passenger seat. But yeah, it looks like black fabric, maybe part of a small bag, but you can’t be entirely sure.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If we could only look inside,” Sana mutters.

“Yeah,” you sigh, your shoulder dropping in disappointment. “But all he did was maybe pick up a bag of unknown contents outside. It’s not enough. Should we just check the rest of them and then head back?”

Sana nods, “I’ll finish this row.”

Jihyo is still in her office when you return, having found nothing but the maybe-bag. She’s pacing on the phone to someone, motioning for you to enter when you cautiously peek your head through the door.

“Okay… Just get back to me as soon as you can, alright?” she says, sitting down behind her desk. “Yeah, okay, bye.”

“We saw what we think could be the bag, halfway hidden under the seat of a car that looks about the one the man got into,” Sana explains quietly after you’ve closed the door behind you.

“Okay, so nothing’s ruled out and nothing’s confirmed,” Jihyo concludes.

You nod, trying to think of the next steps. “Well, what if we review the camera footage? We were probably too far away, but you never know, right? And Jihyo, you could check the schedules and work hours, start cross-checking them with the calls responded to. I’ll see if I can dig up anything else about him.”

For a few hours, you work in Jihyo’s office, all three of you focused. Jihyo sits behind her desk, trying to see if she can match JJ to specific calls on any recent fifteenths and thus provide him with an alibi.

Sana sits in a chair on the other side of the desk, her laptop open in front of her as she goes through every frame of your recordings, and you sit on the floor, back against the wall, scrolling through both your phone and laptop.

“Finding anything?” Sana wonders, sighing in frustration–a sign that the recordings aren’t giving her anything useful.

“Maybe…” Jihyo replies, eyes locked on her screen. “Can you read line thirty-seven for me?” She hands Sana a sheet of paper listing the calls.

“Sure. Uh… Call about vandalism came at six twenty-seven a.m., reported closed at eight thirty-two. October fifteenth, last year.”

“Six twenty-seven to eight thirty-two,” Jihyo repeats as you scroll through JJ’s instagram, clicking on yet another tagged friend.

“Mhm,” Sana hums.

“Well, he was clocked in… But it seems like… yeah, Min and Mark were the ones who responded to it.”

The room feels… tense in a way, something Jihyo is about to put into words. Meanwhile, you focus on your phone, fingers tapping away quickly and your heartbeat rising.

“Doesn’t seem like we can rule him out. Which, you know, sucks because we all trust him–maybe trusted him–and we don’t want yet another one to have betrayed us. But if it is him, then maybe… we might finally be getting somewhere? Maybe?”

“Yeah, I agree. Don’t like the direction we’re moving in, but at least we’re moving.”

“Hey, guys,” you say, your eyes still glued to the screen in your hands. “JJ has a stepsister named Jimin.”

“What?” Sana exclaims, her voice hushed and eyes wide as she turns to you.

“Yeah. JJ’s mom seems to be dating this Jimin’s dad, but it doesn’t look like they’re married; not even like they live together.”

“So there are no ties on paper?”

“No, no ties.”

All three of you exchange silent looks, realizing what this could mean. You might have an address.

After discussing your findings–all hushed voices and big eyes as you conclude that, yeah, maybe Jimin visited her brother at the station and stumbled across Hoseong–you decide to take a break. You need to pee and Sana complained only a minute ago of her rumbling stomach. To be fair, you haven’t had time to take any real breaks, much less eat.

Determined, you leave the office, discreetly looking around before heading toward the bathroom. Sana leaves for the cafeteria.

After using the bathroom, you sit on the closed toilet lid to gather your thoughts. It almost feels like you need to catch your breath, too. Do you dare hope that you might finally get them? Still, you find yourself imagining what you’d do if that were the case. It’s not like they’ve haunted you for decades, but even a few months stretching into years feels like such a long time. A lifetime, almost. You experienced life at the station before everything went down, but is it even possible to return to that? Maybe it isn’t; you’re not the same person anymore.

Still thinking deeply about what this revelation might mean, you head back toward Jihyo’s office. Occasionally–like now–the white halls are empty, but as you approach the wooden door with the frosted window, you hear voices inside. They’re not abnormally loud per se, but louder than they should be.

You open the door, and for a moment, the voices fall silent. Already back, Sana stands with a Saran-wrapped bread bun and coffee in her hands. Jihyo sits behind her desk as usual, her laptop open and the call papers scattered across her normally tidy desk. And Jeongguk is standing in front of it, still in his uniform, wild eyes looking back at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything for the better,” you say, stepping in fully and closing the door behind you. “You’re with the guys more than we are. We don’t want them to find out.”

“There’s a risk anyway,” he says, turning to Jihyo, “We need to go there as soon as possible.”

Jihyo meets his gaze, her expression understanding but firm. “Jeongguk, like I said, we need to wait for backup. We’re understaffed, and there’s too much of a risk that they’ll recognize you. Besides, all of you inside this room are too emotionally involved at this point.”

His hands fly out, and though he tries to keep his voice down, frustration seeps through. “They were allowed to watch JJ accept a bribe in the first place?” he argues.

“Yes, and that was risky enough. If they recognize you, they’ll probably try to kill you. They’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re the reason they’re in this mess to begin with. Just hang in there until backup arrives.”

He shakes his head in frustration and disbelief. “This is crazy. They’ve tried to kill her so many times, and someone connected to them is still here. For all we know, he could be planning something on their behalf as we speak!”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I understand you’re frustrated; we all are, but this is the best course of action.”

He gestures toward you, “She needs to leave in that case. She can’t stay here.”

To be honest, you’re not that scared of JJ. He’s never seemed particularly interested in you, and you don’t think he’s planning to kill you or anything like that. Months have passed without you even suspecting he might be involved, and nothing has happened. Sure, you were mostly with Jeongguk until recently and not that often at the station, so while the opportunities might not have been plentiful, JJ has had his chances.

Jihyo sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s up to her.”

He turns to face you fully. “Come stay with me? Take a week off, stay at my place.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m staying at my place, and I’ll continue to work if I feel like it.”

“Please?”

You’ll never stop being surprised at how easily Jeongguk lets go of his pride. But by doing it so quickly, with so few reservations, it’s almost as if he grows in your eyes. You try not to think about him in that way.

You shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that you need to save me all the time. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He glances around at the three women in the room, none giving him the support he wants. He looks like he wants to say something, but suddenly, someone calls for him on his com radio.

“Go,” Jihyo instructs as Jeongguk gives you one last longing look before quickly exiting through the door.

Jeongguk can’t shake the new information, and as the day progresses, it keeps gnawing at him, his mind turning over every possible option again and again. While that last call–regarding a break-in—kept him distracted for a bit, his thoughts return as he enters the station again, Min heading off to the cafeteria.

He knows you’ve already gone home by the time he’s clocking out and heading for the locker room, still unsure of what to do. It terrifies him to know that there’s still someone who might want to hurt you, walking these halls. That he missed someone.

He’s got three options to choose from. The first: go home. Get some sleep. Or at least try to get some sleep. And then just hope that JJ didn’t spot you this morning and is waiting to attack you outside your apartment door. Jeongguk knows that it’s what you want him to do; go home and not get involved. But he’ll never forgive himself if something happens to you.

Option two is to drive to your apartment and sit in his car outside it all night. He’ll do it if needed, but it’s not very tempting, and it’ll render him useless at work tomorrow. Additionally, if nothing happens tonight–which, yeah, it might not–then he’ll need to guard you the night after as well. Sooner or later, he’ll need to sleep.

Biting his lip, he enters the locker room, taking a lap to make sure he’s alone before pulling out his phone. Google gives him the number to the nearest car rental, and he wastes no time, pressing ‘dial.’

He’s picking option three, and he needs a car that isn’t his.

author's note: i hope you liked it!! <3<3

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 8 months ago

Text

Paper Thin Walls

Your neighbor, Nanami Kento, comes over four times complaining about noise. And then a fifth time. AO3

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ Only. fem! reader, grumpy! nanami, angsty, some light vouyerism, through the wall masturbation overhearing (does that count?), cunnalingus, riding, penetrative sex, reader has female anatomy, dirty talk, kissing, not explicit spit this time but i sneak it in there (and i always will), DIRTY, NASTY, WET,

Word count: 8.2k,we looooove a bad neighbors enemies to lovers, sorry y'all but i eat it up every time, i hope y'all do too. This is probably the grumpiest i have ever written Nanami but i hope the soft at the end gave you guys the sweetie that we all know and love, especially on this blog.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

You nearly dropped the bottle of wine you were uncorking when you heard the loud, impassioned knocking on your front door. Your friends quieted their conversation and looked to the door, a mixture of shock and confusion on their faces.

How embarrassing.

You rolled your eyes, already fed up with what you knew would be on the other side of the wood. You gesture to your friends to continue enjoying themselves as you would handle it. They tentatively turn back to one another huddled around your small coffee table dressed with snacks and cups. You had worked hard on this party, you didn’t get to see your friends very often so being able to enjoy a night together to relax and catch up was so valuable to you. And no dickhead neighbor with a stick up his ass was going to ruin it. Walking to the door you drew in a strained breath, trying to smooth your irritation, before unlocking, unlatching and just barely opening the door. Even just a crack was enough to see him seething in front of you.

Kento Nanami, your neighbor. Your very irritable neighbor. The one man HOA of your apartment complex floor. Your neighbor who, since you moved in three months ago, has stopped by your apartment three times to badger you about your noise level. You had lived in apartments your whole adult life, not once has anyone complained about you, you were a MODEL neighbor: kind, social but not overbearing, always said hello in the hallway, happy to watch pets or plants while people were out of town, you are a goddamn delight as a neighbor.

It was this fucking guy who had the problem, huffing at your doorstep in his stupid little American girl doll glasses and overly neat button up shirt that he probably pressed every morning before getting dressed.

And once again, here he stood, vein in his head pulsing against his skin, elevens creased in his forehead between his scowling eyebrows, jaw muscle looking on the verge of snapping.

“Ms—.” He started but you cut him off.

“Good evening Mr. Nanami, to what do I owe the pleasure,” you smiled jovially, as though his presence wasn’t a nuisance, “this time.”

“Good evening. Yes, it is the evening, isn’t it?” He made a little show of checking his bulky silver watch.

“I’m sure the very expensive looking watch on your arm could tell you that it’s 8:45 pm. A very normal time for people to be enjoying themselves, especially on a Friday night.” You leaned your head against the doorframe looking at him, “Having a little…movie night in?”

He stared at you a moment, his eyes moving over your face coldly, eyeing your sly smile,

“so you know I’m here about the noise.”

“You’ve never come to my apartment for another reason.” You sighed, “call it a hunch, I guess?”

A laugh came from inside of your apartment, louder than the ambient music you were playing, not exactly helping your case.

Nanami rolled his eyes at the laughing,“Quiet hours start at—“

“10. And I plan on honoring them, I just have some old friends over tonight. We’ll be sure to keep our joy and fun to an acceptable level.” You were feeding him the lines you knew he wanted to hear, but your performance wasn’t exactly impassioned.

His jaw tightened again, you imagined the sound of his back teeth grinding together. He looked down at you silently and you stared right back up at him. A silent battle was had between your stares, him trying to intimidate you into the silence he craved, and you not backing down even an inch.

Finally he caved, “I would appreciate that. I am sure the rest of the hallway would as well. Good night.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.” You called down to him as he turned and stomped down the hallway to his own door.

Right. Next. Door.

You rejoined your friends and enjoyed the rest of your night exactly as you had before. Not turning any music down, not stifling any laughter, not dulling any conversation for the sake of thin walls. Every now and again you took a private moment to imagine your neighbor seething in his quiet, perfect little apartment all by himself.

“So….are we going to talk about how hot your neighbor is?” Soph, your best friend, posed.

“Thank you for saying something. I barely saw him but oh my GOD.” Kat, your oldest friend added.

You laughed, it was undeniable how handsome he was, when you first saw him as you settled in in your first week you secretly hoped he might stop by to introduce himself, entertaining the fantasy of him coming over to help you “fix something” a few too many times before even finding out his name.

“Sure he’s hot, when he keeps his mouth shut.” You sighed, annoyed, busying yourself refilling glasses, “What a waste, honestly. I’m tired of guys who think they’re too hot to be nice to people. Not even nice, just fucking polite is fine.”

Your friends laughed.

“When I moved in, a bunch of the other neighbors stopped by to say hello. Not him, I would only ever see him in the hallway and he wouldn’t wave, wouldn’t say hello, nothing. He’s so…..serious.” You sipped your drink remembering the times you had tried to say hello to him in the hallway only to be met with a half nod and a hurry into his apartment, “First time he ever even spoke to me was to tell me the sound of my moving in was too much.”

Soph pouted, sipping her refilled, “That’s a shame. I was going to say you should try and hit that.”

“Who knows,” Kat posed, “maybe getting laid would help him relax?”

The three of you laughed, surely sending the noise through the wall and into the subject of debate’s apartment.

This had been your fourth offense against him. Nanami was fed up, he had been polite the first few times, but this was getting out of hand. You had only moved in a few months ago, there was no excuse for him to have had to go over there this many times already. Sitting on his couch, drafting a complaint email to the main residential office, another roar of laughter rang from the back wall of his apartment. Nanami groaned and slumped against the back of the couch, rubbing his aching forehead. This much irritation can’t be good for him.

He had been spoiled by the place next to him having gone unoccupied for so long. He’s lived in this apartment for two years, going on a third, and nearly all of that time has been spent with no one next door. At first he assumed he was just sensitive and needed to acclimate to having someone nearby, but it was like you were broadcasting every sound directly into his living room.

The worst part was the bedroom walls. He deduced that the layout of your apartment must be a direct mirror of his own, inverted but identical, meaning the back wall of his bedroom must be the back wall of your bedroom as well. He could hear the noise from you sleeping with your television on, a terrible habit that he abhorred. He could hear the music you would play in the mornings when you were presumably getting ready for work. And for you to be so curt with him when he politely tries to let you know how easily he can hear you? It was unreasonable.

The first time had been within the second week of you moving in. You were setting up some furniture, sounds of hammering, scooting, drilling ringing through the walls and keeping him from sleeping in on a SUNDAY morning. He had gotten up from bed, thrown on some more presentable loungewear and knocked on your door. That was the first time he had really seen you, kind eyes, pretty smile, smooth, even skin. You smiled up at him when you opened the door, all too awake for such early weekend hours.

“Excuse me. My name is Nanami Kento, I live next door. Would you mind keeping the noise down a bit? It’s still pretty early.”

Your smile sagged a bit, “sure! I’m sorry, I guess I’m getting used to how thin the walls are here. I’ll keep it down.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, “and…welcome to the building.”

“Thank you! It’s nice to meet you.” You had smiled back at him, small dimples appearing by your mouth.

He could have fallen for you, allowed himself the rare indulgence of crushing on you. If that had been your only offense.

The second incident was how he discovered that your bedrooms shared a wall. He had come home late from the gym. It was around two o'clock in the morning, he drug himself back home and into the shower, sleeping threatening to take him even under the heavy spray. Work had been about four hours too long, his head was aching, his workout had offered some relief but the only thing that would truly fix it at this point was the hard reset of sleep. Nanami pulled himself into bed, not even bothering to dress, choosing to ignore the remaining water that would sink into his sheets. That would be a problem for another day. Head on the pillow, cool bedding soothing his heated skin he could barely contain how excited he was to finally sleep, when he heard it.

“o-oh….”

It was so faint he assumed it was in his head, the product of an oncoming dream seeping over into his waking world. Ears tuning in against his will, he was able to hear the faint buzzing. He shot up, renewed energy brought about by the awareness of what was happening next door. You, his neighbor, were masturbating and he could hear you. He felt his ears get hot, his heart quicken, and --- oh christ his pants tighten. Soft moans sounding through the wall, quickening in pace, buzzing battering his brain to mush as he began to panic. He didn’t want to listen, it was wrong, this was wrong. Fuck, was his mouth watering?

Fuck. fuck. Fuck!

He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his pillow, clamping the cushion around his head over his ears in desperation. Nanami was relieved when your wimpers were snuffed out. Under the darkness of his pillow he hoped he could finally begin to fall asleep, but through the void an image began to appear behind his eyes. You, his pretty neighbor laying on your back, legs open, finger in your mouth trying to quiet yourself. How ineffective. You had been just the slightest bit sweaty when he first spoke to you. The act of dragging and pushing furniture having given your skin the slightest sheen. He was willing to bet that you had a similar glow about you now; working a toy between your legs, bed covers discarded at your ankles, a wet spot growing underneath your shaking hips---

FUCK.

Nanami sat up in a jerk, shaking his head side to side as though he could physically dislodge the picture out of his mind through one of his ears. With the pillow removed he could hear your moans rising in pitch, his dick pulsed. Fuck, this was so wrong. Were you about to climax? His heart was pounding, he was rock solid between his legs, he gripped the bed sheets tight to restrain himself from caving and pumping himself into oblivion with you. In the sickest part of his mind he wanted to press his ear up to the adjoining wall, listening to your languid moans, indulging himself fully in your passion.

Finally, as though fate could feel his resolve starting to crumble, he heard a long high pitch whine escape through the drywall. Then silence. Then the sound of laughter from whatever tv show you put on to go to sleep. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, much as he imagined you were. He laid back against his pillow, staring up to the ceiling, mind reeling over the possibility of this happening again. How could he avoid this in the future? Should he politely inform you of the mirrored apartment layout and the thinness of the walls?

Nanami purchased a white noise machine the following day. Only after stopping by your apartment and asking you to keep the television noise lower at night, saying he was a light sleeper. He hoped you would make the connection that he was struggling towards, voice clipped and cheeks blushing furiously as he nodded and retreated to his own domicile. He leaned up the door as he shut it behind himself, sighing in relief, praying that this would be the end of it and he could forget the saccharine sweet sound of your moans.

The third incident was far less indecent, but no less annoying. He was home early from work, having taken off an hour or so before he usually would as he completed a big project that had taken over two weeks and was dead tired. All he wanted was to eat dinner, watch a movie, relax and push all the numbers and negotiations out of his head. Apparently you had the same idea. When you arrived home, he knew because your slamming door shook his wall as well. It had been a week or so since he last heard you but still the sound brought a crimson flush to his face. He didn’t hear much after that for about a half hour, that is, until you turned on your music. Loud, bossa nova or jazz or whatever it was sponging into the insulation between your two abodes and resounding around his own apartment. He couldn’t hear the movie he had put on, he couldn’t enjoy his dinner, hell— he could barely think. He had given you a pass when it was intimate noise but this was unruly and excessive.

He stomped out into the hallway, the music echoing out there as well. And over to your door. He knocked, maybe a bit too hard, and waited for your arrival. When you did open the door, after just enough time for him to consider knocking again, he once again had to look down to meet your eye line. Music flooded out from the doorway, warm amber light, and the smell of sizzling peppers and oil wafting out, carried by the soundwaves.

“Hello again, neighbor!” You greeted him, smiling warmly with big, full eyes.

“The music.” He hadn’t meant to sound so stiff, he had intended to greet you politely and remind you of the wall's thinness but he had had it. Here you were enjoying your cooking and music and inhibiting his ability to do the same, it was unfair, unjust.

You sighed leaning against the door frame huffing out, “We just can't seem to find a comfortable level, huh? You picked a good movie, very suspenseful soundtrack, one of my favorites actually.”

Nanami straightened up like a shot, how could he have been so stupid? His television was right up against the “back” wall of his apartment, right against your kitchen wall. The sounds of his apartment, although infrequent, had echoed through your walls too. How many sounds, he wondered.

“You--I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He began but then hardened again, “You should have told me to turn it down, I would have been more than happy to oblige.”

“Hm.” Your lips formed a tight line, “I’m not really into ordering strangers around in their own homes.”

It was the first and only time you had sassed off to him. He was taken aback, he could feel his neck heating up under the collar of his shirt, his fists balling up at his sides as he furrows his brow at your disrespect.

Scoffing, he finds the words, “just be courteous to your neighbors.”

Nanami descends down the hallway, flexing and un-flexing his hands in measured attempts at cooling himself, before he could step into his apartment you called down after him.

“The therapist was dead the whole time, that’s why his wife won't speak to him! The guy at the beginning shot and killed him!” You shouted and slammed the door behind you.

It was an incredibly childish move on your part. If someone had done that to you, or if you had even heard of someone desecrating the ending of one of the best mystery thrillers of all time, you would have been furious. But something about this man brought out such pettiness in you. You couldn't help it. You half expected him to knock again and berate you for spoiling his night once again, but instead you heard the sound of his apartment door shutting and the movie resume.

Credit for sticking it out and watching the movie anyway. You couldn't help but smirk a bit, impressed.

It has enough legs to stand on its own even without the twist, it really is a good movie, you felt bad for wrecking it. It really was one of your favorites, similar tastes. Maybe this whole time you could have been friends. Although, you couldn't imagine being friends with someone so stuffy and entitled. It didn’t matter that he watched some of the same movies, so did lots of people. It didn’t matter that he was handsome and well dressed. It didn’t matter that when he played music in the mornings it overlapped with your favorite artists. He was an ass and never even bothered to introduce himself once before complaining about you.

This back and forth had brought you all the way to tonight, him trying to reign in your party, stifling your enjoyment of it and making you hyper aware of every loud burst of laughter or adjustment of the volume. Despite your efforts to ignore it at this point, the desire to be a courteous neighbor occasionally won you over and you found yourself engaging in more subtle, intimate conversations, lowering the music and talking softer.

When the party finally came to an end and your friends kissed you goodbye and left, giggling down the hall, you waved to them and watched as they slipped down the hallway. Your eyes fell on the neighboring apartment's door, you checked the time. It was just after ten, Nanami was probably asleep, snoozing soundly after having gotten his words in about your party and your carelessness. Feeling the bile of anger rising in your throat, you decided to turn back and retreat to your own apartment. The soft unlocking sound brought you back to the empty hall.

Nanami stepped out, wearing a pair of expensive looking sweatpants and a dark grey sweatshirt. Even through such baggy clothing you could see his impeccable build, thick, ropey neck, broad shoulders, long, sturdy legs. His hair was down and unstyled, sandy stranded falling onto his forehead, some even extending far enough to brush against the bridge of his nose. A pair of headphones hung around his neck. He looked right back at you.

“You’ve had headphones this whole time?” Was all you could think to say.

“Everyone has headphones.” He shrugged leaning against his door frame.

You wanted to think of something snappy to say back, but your tongue felt fat in your mouth. You had never seen him like this before, completely undone, hair mussed, body relaxed in place of his rigid posture, clearly exhausted enough that bothering you would be too much energy.

“Your friends leave?” He asked, peeking down the hallway past you.

“Mmhm. Right on time.” You pointed to your wrist where a watch would be.

To your surprise a low chuckle emanated from his chest. It was warm and hearty and genuine. The sound tugged at your stomach. No -- lower than that. Maybe it was the wine, or your friend's insistence on his beauty that made him have this effect on you suddenly.

“Sounded like a good party.” His voice mimicked his earlier clipped irritation but it felt less authentic this time, as though he were playing a part.

“It was.” You smile already nostalgic for the company of your friends, their warm energy, “You could come to the next one, you know. We don’t actually have to not like each other.”

Nanami’s head cocked to the side a bit, dark amber eyes crinkling in confusion, “I don’t not like you.”

You almost laughed out loud, to think that he could pretend that this whole time he has just been being neighborly?

“Right. Because badgering people every other week for three months over petty shit is something you do to people you like.”

Nanami made a small clicking sound, “There’s just…Rules. It’s not personal, you’re just loud and other people live here. I don’t not like you!”

“I’m not loud!” You shouted, which did not help your argument, “You’re just uptight.”

“I’m not uptight! There are rules, both in this apartment and just socially! Who blasts music at eight am on a sunday?” Nanami stepped closer to you, almost at the midway point between your apartment doors.

“Who goes to the gym and comes back slamming doors at two in the morning? You don’t hear me complaining about that, even though it happens every night.” You matched his advance, standing at the equivalent point to wear your living room wall would meet his inside of your apartment, “Some people are trying to sleep.”

Nanami couldn’t stop the words before they spilled out, he leaned his head down to you venomously, “Doesn’t sound like a lot of sleeping to me.”

Your eyes flew open, your chest caved and your throat knotted. You searched desperately for another meaning, scrambling your brain for recent late night annoyances he could be referring to, but you knew. And he knew too. Shames burned your cheeks, you felt so exposed.

“You’ve been listening to me?” You gasped, “What are you, some kind of pervert?”

“Pervert?” Nanami gaped at you, “Our bedrooms share a wall, I’m not staying up late to listen to your little audio drama. You're whimpering practically loud enough for everyone on the street to hear.”

You flushed deeper, cheeks practically on fire, “y-you should have said something.”

Nanami sighed, “I’ve been trying!”

You started to put things together. His flushed, nervous expression whenever you ran into each other in the mail room or the hallway. The increasingly sterile way he spoke to you about the noise. This whole time he had heard you…intimately…and tried to tell you as discreetly as he could. A bit too discreetly.

You buried your face in your hands, “Fuck. I’m so embarrassed.”

Nanami’s gut twisted at your distress. This was the exact situation he wanted to avoid, he didn’t want to embarrass you, he didn’t even want to tell you if he didn’t have to. For the first time in this whole mess, he touched you. He reached out and gripped your shoulder lightly. The heat of his palm warmed your clammy, shame soaked skin.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s…personal and I understand that, but it’s not anything to be embarrassed about.” He attempted to soothe you, his thumb experimenting with small strokes.

You looked up at him, swallowing down the lump in your throat, “I never hear you…do that. You probably think I'm some weird sex freak.”

A soft rosy blush came over his nose and cheeks.

He decided to try and level the vulnerability, “I-uh…usually…do that… in the shower.”

Suddenly his hand on your shoulder felt hot and heavy, he wasn't sure if he should remove it or if that would send the wrong message. What message was he hoping to send? This had suddenly become loaded and confusing.

You nodded in response, feeling a bit better now that he had exposed part of himself to you. You couldn't keep your mind from picturing him breathing hard in a steam filled shower, his head falling back in pleasure, hand running down his body to pump his-----

Fuck!

“I don’t think you’re a weird sex freak.” Nanami offered.

“Thanks.” You let out a small laugh.

You looked up at him, catching his teak wood eyes. Long, dark lashes encircled them, a light dusting of freckles resting atop his chiseled cheekbones. Shapely, rose hued lips were parted slightly as he looked down at you. The air between the two of you became thick and sticky. He was curved over you slightly, maybe even subconsciously.

“Can I ask you something?” He whispered, just barely loud enough to hear.

“About…that?”

He nodded.

You nodded.

Nanami swallowed, eyes scanning over your lips, “I haven’t…heard anyone else…with you.”

You waited a moment, “That isn’t a question.”

“You sound, sometimes, like you might…want some help.” Nanami leaned in closer, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, “Do you?”

Your breath left you, your voice had long abandoned you, you could only try desperately to parse out how you had gotten here. He waited patiently for an answer, suddenly suave and confident. He had always been self assured, you just assumed it was arrogant entitlement. It never occurred to you that he could be so charming, so flirtatious. He knew what he was offering, you knew what this would mean. The instances of rigidity morphed in your memory into a heated chase, reaching its end here and now. You had been caught.

Finally, you nodded your head, “Yes.”

He closed the distance between you, pressing his hot lips to yours in an instant. The hand from your shoulder moved to the back of your neck, pulling your chest against his, as the other arms snaked around your waist. After the initial moment of shock, you moved your arms around him to grip his rippling back. The first kiss is long, passionate and deep, his arms feel so strong around you, you can feel the curves and cuts of muscles that you hadn't even considered. He pulls away only for a second to move his head to the side and realign himself to give you a hot, fevered open mouthed kiss, sliding his tongue between your lips and massaging it against yours. You felt dizzy, gripping him tighter, for stability of course, you move your hands up his back and brush your fingers against the cropped undercut at the nape of his neck. He let out a low moan, almost like a purr, into your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile a bit, testing it again and pulling another throaty sound from him. You pulled your lips away momentarily.

“I see why you need the shower.” You tease.

He nods against your forehead, catching his breath. You capture him in another kiss, leading him clumsily back to your apartment door, struggling with the knob a bit before he reaches around your hip to turn it for you and push inside, using his foot to swing the door shut behind him. Leaning back against your front door, he pulls you close to him once again, holding your body close to his, feeling the heat and weight of you in his arms. The way your apartment smells, like food and candles, earthy scented; sandalwood, laurel, magnolia. The dim, warm secondary lighting. He absorbs it all. It's so, you.

Your tongue is moving against his now, and he finds himself being kissed as much as he is kissing. He likes how active it is, no part of you feels not focused on him at this moment and he's so grateful. You lead him back to your bedroom, exactly where his own would be on the other side. He lets his hand travel down your back, feeling down to your waist and over your hips, experimentally gripping the flesh there. Fuck, when you werent annoying the life force out of him, you were so gorgeous. A beautiful, full, woman’s body, confident movements, alluring in every sense of the word. Your bedroom was the same as his, no shock there, still just slightly too small to comfortably house a king bed, which he cursed himself for squeezing in. You had a queen, a perfect size, the window on the side wall had sheer cream colored curtains allowing moonlight to coat the room in a magic, blue glow. You had pulled away from him, doing some light mood setting, lighting a bedside candle, brushing discarded clothes and a book from your bed. He recognized the cover of your book, he had read it too last year.

“She dumps the creepy coworker guy and goes back to working at another store. It’s incredibly cathartic. A shame you’ll miss out on it.” He runs his spine down the copy of your book on your bed, lifting it and flipping through a few pages, a devious smile itching the corners of his lips.

You look at him, eyebrows raised in alarm.

Nanami shrugged, “you ruined my movie. I ruin your book’s ending. Good read though.”

To his surprise, you laughed through a wide smile, “It is a good read, especially the second time.”

He laughed and shook his head. It was maybe the first time you had seen him actually smile, warm and easy. The just starting lines on his face extending around his mouth in little arches. He really was radiant, sharp features highlighted by the dream like light of the bedroom, blues and amber licking shadows over his face as the firelight moves. The laughter fades and you both look into one another. He looks over your features, lips swollen from his kiss, your eyes meeting his in a trusting, conspiratorial gaze. He feels his lips twitch again into a smile, and steps towards you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He cups your face, tenderly, his other hand circling your waist as he brings you to his lips.

The kiss has morphed into something deeper, kinder, less fevered, more focused and somehow even more passionate. When his tongue enters your mouth its not pushed or pressed, it slides languidly and easily against your own. As a polyglot’s tongue drips words, his drips kisses, sensuality. Your hands find the hem of his sweatshirt, slipping underneath, feeling the hardness of toned muscle and bone underneath. You did hear him return from the gym at god awful hours, it makes sense that he has something to show for it. Nanami hisses as you slide your hands around his hips to his back, moving up further, feeling every valley and peak of his hard work. Spurred by your action, he mirrors you, moving his hand under your shirt. Instead of following your lead, he opts to go for the front, gliding his hand up your abdomen and cupping your breast in his hand over your bra. He gives it a small squeeze, making you squeak. Another throaty hum comes from his chest.

He guides you with his hips, not breaking the kiss just yet to seat you on the bed, with him stood between your legs. Encouraged by your pawing at his torso, he breaks from your lips to remove his sweatshirt, revealing rows of carefully built abdominal muscles, as you had felt already. What you didn't expect was the melange of scars in various stages of healing across his chest, stomach, and shoulders. Some white and flat against the surface, some pink and recessed still healing themselves. You couldn't help the small gasp you sucked in at the sight.

What the hell happened to him? Or was it still happening to him?

“It's just skin, grows right back after enough time.” Nanami looked down at himself, following your eyeline across his body.

You sat up further, carefully moving your hand over his toned stomach, across a particularly large, although healed line on his side.

“Seriously, it’s--” Nanami started but you cut him off by removing your own shirt, pointing to a scar on the lower right side of your stomach, above your hip bone.

“Appendectomy.” You smile at him wickedly, “You’re not so tough.”

Nanami can’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes and climbing over you onto the bed.

“I didn’t realize I was in the bed of such a badass.” one of his big hands moves over your barely scarred hip, then up your side.

You moan and arch up at his touch trying to control your shaking breath, “m-mhm, I’m very b-bad a-a…”

Another moan consumes your sentence as he kisses the side of your neck. Taking his time to suck and lick at the soft skin from your shoulder to behind your ear. You make no effort to hide how good it makes you feel, squeezing his large, tight bicep and rocking against him, head lolling to the side.

“That’s right, you are very bad.” Nanami bites lightly at your jugular point.

You whimper against him, his teeth on your neck setting your body ablaze. You nod.

“You’ve been such a bad girl, whimpering just like that all night while i'm trying to sleep. Pretending you don’t know I can hear you.” The dirty words drip off of him like honey directly into your waiting mouth.

He has moved to hover completely over you, one hand on your thigh, pulling it around his hip, leaning on the other crooked near your head. You can feel his hips against yours, even through his pants you can feel how hard he has become. He can certainly feel how hot and wet you are becoming, you pray that your panties and pants are helping you maintain some kind of decency. That prayer goes unanswered as Nanami moves his hand from your thigh to between your hot writhing bodies, cupping your sex.

“Is this what you need, baby? You need someone to help you feel good?” He whispers into your ear, one finger starting to move up and down your clothed slit.

You nod before you can speak.

“Ask me. Ask for my help, baby.” He grunts against you, you can no longer feel his erection pressed against you, but you can hear his voice becoming strained and rougher, indicating his own resolve has wavered as much as yours has.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him back to your lips and plead into a kiss.

“Please, please Nanami, please help me.” The kiss is sloppy and wet, saliva and sweat spilling between desperate lips.

“Kento, please. When I’m fucking you, please use my first name.” He snakes an arm between your body and the mattress and removes your bra, moving down your body with hot, wet kisses.

You arch up again, the eroticism of being undressed by him titillating your sense beyond your imagination. He latches onto one of your hard nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh, dark eyes watching closely for your reactions.

“Kento…oh Kento.” You try the name out, it fits perfectly in your mouth, tastes like honey when you speak it.

It was like he was studying you, gauging reactions and preferences in fractions of a second that other partners had been too hurried to discover. You returned your hands to his hair, threading your fingers and his blonde strands together. He bit and sucked and kissed and lapped at your breasts, giving each one equal, focused attention, squeezing them together and separately like he could never get enough. Finally he detached, a string of saliva connecting him to your skin. His eyes flicked up at you, catching his breath and moving down your body further, his hands moving over the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitched up in anticipation, your bottom lip clamped between your teeth. He met your eyes and searched for any sign of hesitation, if he were to allow his mind to process what was happening he might have stopped himself, citing how messy it could be to be involved in a sexual tet-a-tet with his next door neighbor, perhaps you were doing exactly that.

But you moved your hand over the side of his face, brushing a few strands of hair off his forehead, smiling sweetly.

“Please Kento…I need your help,” your voice was so sweet and so soft as you pleaded with him, “....please.”

He kisses underneath your navel and slides your pants off of your legs, discarding them onto your bedroom floor. He took the moment of readjustment to remove his own pants, leaving both of you in only your underwear. He moved back in between your legs, he could practically see through your flimsy white panties, wetness having made the fabric dark and molded to your skin. He could see the curve of your labia, where they separated, the inner folds hidden but begging for him. Wetness has spread to your thighs, making your skin glisten and sparkle. He looped his thumbs into the band of your panties and slipped them off, joining the mess of clothes already on the floor. Now bare before him, he could feel himself drooling at the sight of you spread out on your bed. Just as he had imagined you, no. No, much better than he could have imagined. Soft, full body, marks blooming on your skin from his kiss, chest heaving and jiggling in turn as you pant for him. Between your legs a perfect oasis of petals waiting for him to part and indulge himself.

“...stop staring..” Your cheeks burned as he sat back taking you in.

Nanami leaned down, lips nearly brushing your mound, “I’m admiring.”

You open your mouth to say something sassy but he licks up your slit, silencing you. He smiles a cocky smile at you and does it again, this time taking even more time to reach the top.

He’s fucked. He knows it from the first taste. He has always had a proclivity and a preference for eating pussy, enjoyed and indulged in the tastes of many women, but none like this. None that have brought him into a haze with a single taste. He dives further, separating your outer lips with two v-ed fingers, showing him the pearl of your clit and your drooling hole. He experiments with pushing his tongue into you, hearing and gauging your moans. It feels good, so good, but he knows he can do more. Feeding his tongue into you once more before he flattens it against you and laps up to your clit again and again. Your hips buck up at that, one of his big hands presses down on your stomach, keeping you in place. He swirls his devil’s tongue around your clit again and again in an agonizing whirlpool before sucking hard at the swollen bud. You can't contain the cries and whimpers spilling from you, you try to move against his hand, you try to pull at his hair to detach him from you, offering you a moment to catch your breath but he doesn't move an inch. He’s a messy eater, chin and nose dripping just as much as his mouth. He’s a loud eater too, moaning at your taste, at the sound of you writhing for him, grunting as his hips rut against your mattress unwittingly.

“K-kento, I--I think I…” You struggle to string together cohesive words but the fevered lapping between your legs keeps you stammering.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum on my tongue.” Nanami’s voice was low and gravely, full of need and desperation of his own.

But this was different, there was a tightness in your abdomen that was unfamiliar, you were confused and panting, worried that something else may happen.

“W-wait, I--” You tried to move yourself onto your elbows just as Nanami pressed further down on your stomach.

Before you knew it you were cumming, squirting into his mouth, onto your sheets. You cried out in one long pleasure filled scream, partially his name, partially just exaltation. Nanami drinks from you like a holy well, reverent and indulgent all at once. As though he may never taste you again. FInally he lets you push him off of your twitching sex. His face is soaked, he licks his lips, fingers too, anything that may carry some of your release. You watch him with hazy, drunken eyes. Sat back on his heels, coming out of his own cloud of pleasure, he watches you come back to your body. You look beautiful, panting on your back for him. He leans over you again and kisses your lips softly, then deeper, and deeper still. His tongue tastes like you, your hands are quick to pull his hips to yours.

“Think you can go again?” Kento huffs out as your grind against his clothed crotch, he can feel the wetness of your climax seeping into his boxers, commingling with his own leaking anticipation.

“I need it. Please fuck me, Kento.” You have no room for coyness or pride anymore, you have only room for him.

He nods, burying his head in your neck and removing his boxers with your frantic help. You feel his hard length freed against your thigh. He’s bigger than you imagined, thick and leaking already. You wanted to taste the beading precum, feel the heat and weight of him in your mouth, but you would have to find another time because Nanami was just as desperate to be inside of you as you were to be filled by him. He lined himself up with your begging hole, not yet pushing inside. He looks into your eyes before kissing you, hard and deep, no barriers, no holding back, as he pushes into you. He’s thicker than you even thought, the stretch burning as you arch up into him, whimpering.

“Take it all baby. I know, I know, just a bit more. You can take it.” He soothes against your lips, thrusting further.

You let out a small, cracked cry as he continues, pressing kisses to your neck. You rake your nails across his hip, desperate for something to cling to. You’re grateful for your surprisingly wet climax earlier, the lubrication helping to ease the insertion. When he finally bottoms out, and you feel his hips flush against yours, he stills. His tip is kissing your cervix, he's trembling above you as he too struggles to adjust to the tight fit.

“You feel so fucking good, you’re so tight, so fucking wet for me.” He mutters against your neck, your jaw, anywhere he can find to kiss.

“Fuuuuuuck, Kento.” Your pain finally gives way to pleasure.

Just in time for him to pull his hips back slightly and thrust into you further. Both of you moan into the silence of the bedroom, as he repeats this over and over. Setting a medium pace of intense thrusts deep inside of you. You're squeezing him tighter and tighter.

“Please baby, relax a bit. I can’t move much more.” Nanami begs, moving one hand to your clit and circling it gently, attempting to extend your pleasure.

You try to obey, taking a deep breath and allowing him to make you feel good, as he promised. You release some tension and find his pace more languid and fluid, assisted by his careful thumbing of your clit. Your hands move up and grip the pillow behind you as he increases his pace, pumping into you faster and faster by just a deep. A dance begins with your two bodies, moving in sync, maximizing the joint pleasure.

“Fuck! Ah, baby. Yes!”

“Oh! Kento, Kento! Yes!! Right there, fuck!”

“There? You like that? Of course you do, bad girl”

“Uh huh, Fuck me like a bad girl, Kento! Fuck”

Cries of pleasure fill the room, Kento luxuriates in the fact that his own bedroom, sitting empty, is just on the other side of the wall, where the headboard is smacking rhythmically. He brings you to another mind melting orgasm with his thumb and cock working in tandem. You whimper out praises of his skill, his size, his words, Him. Once you have caught yourself again from the freefall of climax, you sit up, pushing on his shoulders. He's too big of a man for you to really push, but he sees your desire and rolls the pair of you so that he is now on his back. Your thighs ache already from being spread so long, but not to be out fucked you hitch your hips up and down his length as fast and accurately as you can. His hands settle on your hips, squeezing bruises into the supple flesh.

“Fuck baby.” His jaw hangs open as he watches you bounce and grind on him.

Emboldened by the blush settling on his face, you take one of his large, calloused hands from your hip and slide it up your body and to your mouth, where you suck two of his fingers into your mouth. He shudders and a dangerously loud moan spills from his lips. You swirl your tongue around his thick fingers, tasting remnants of your climaxes, tasting his heated skin. Your hips never stop, riding him and sucking his fingers. You see him sweating beneath you, eyes rolling back, mouth agape, tongue threatening to flop out. The hand on your hip squeezes and pushes you down further on him.

“Baby I-- Fuck!” Nananmi hoped he would catch it in time but you surprised him and he couldn’t contain himself in time.

He holds you down on his pelvis as his cock twitches inside of you releasing a heavy load of white into you. You both let out long, whining moans as he fucks up into you desperately. After his long release has completed, Nanami pulls his fingers from your lips and pulls you down to kiss him, whimpering as your shifting squeezes his overstimulated cock. The kiss is sticky with cum and sweat and spit, and delicious all the same. The combined flavors of your endeavor sweeter than any wine, better than any meal you could have shared over a candle lit dinner. Nanami licks into your mouth, holding you flush against his chest as his cock begins to soften inside of you. You pull away enough to look at him, foreheads still pressed together. You smile, and he smiles back, so warm and relaxed. He takes in a breath to speak

THUNK THUNK THUNK……….THUNK THUNK THUNK

You two look at one another. The confusion apparent on both of your faces as the knocking continues. You pull off of him, already mourning the feeling of his cock no longer inside of you. Nanami is ready to kill whoever is on the other side of the door for pulling him away from your tight, wet heat. You wrap yourself in your bathrobe, and Kento pulls on his sweatpants. You both exit your bedroom, although you want to assure Nanami he doesn't have to come with you, it feels comforting to have him there when answering the door at night. If he weren't in the room with you, you would have assumed it was him at the door, but since it can’t be you are lost for who could be knocking so late.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

You open the door to find Mrs. Sonomura, your neighbor across the hall. You often watched her collection of houseplants when she went out of town to visit her daughter. Her cheeks were dark pink and she was wearing her housecoat. You pulled the top of your robe tighter over your chest, praying your hair which you had not thought to fix wasn't too obvious.

“Good Evening, Mrs. Sonomura. W-what can I do for you?”

She took you in and flushed even deeper, “I-I heard shouting and I…well..”

You were mortified, knowing that any respect this woman had for you must have completely dissolved. Before she, or you, could speak, you felt a heavy hand clap over your shoulder and Nanami’s body came behind yours. He had donned his sweatshirt quickly at the sight of Mrs. Sonomura.

“My apologies, Mrs. Sonomure. I came over to complain about how loud her party had been tonight and I suppose things got a bit heated. I apologize for the yelling, we’re trying to find a way to be more….neighborly.” He looked straight at Mrs. Sonomura, smiling a charming smile, all while squeezing your shoulder.

Mrs. Sonomura nodded hurriedly, seemingly happy to take such an obvious lie in place of the uncomfortable truth.

“Well, I trust the two of you can work it out with the front office. Please keep it down after quiet hours.”

You nodded, “So sorry, Mrs. Sonomura. It won't happen again, Goodnight.”

You waved and watched her enter her apartment before shutting the door to your own. Nanami cocked his head down at you.

“Won't happen again, huh?” He teased.

“Oh shut up. We should be careful letting our ‘arguments’ get too loud again.” you sighed out, just relieved to have avoided the complete mortification of your kind, older neighbor thinking you're a slut, “Those walls really are thin.”

Nanami wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in to kiss the top of your head. You hugged him, pressing your face into his chest.

“You should probably spend the night.” You turned your face to the side, pressing your cheek against him as you spoke, “I’d hate for something to happen to you taking the train this late.”

Nanami laughed, you could hear it resonate from his chest, “That’s a good point. I’d hate to walk home in this weather.”

The pair of you smiled before you led him back into your bedroom to sleep.

OKAY YALL: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one, its been bouncing around in my head for a while and im so pleased with how it came out. Bonus Points if you know what movie//book got spoiled. Anyway, love you guys, and always i would love to know what you thought or if you have any ideas of your own! XX- Doodle.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu nanami #kento smut #kento x reader #kento x y/n #jjk kento #nanami x reader #kento

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tryslora · 4 months ago

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Disability in fiction

This was a tough post to write.

I saw a post about disability rep, and I kept thinking about it, and wanted to share my own takes on the topic.

I thought about it for days, trying to figure out how to word it. Then after drafting it, I stuck it in a file for a couple of weeks, trying to decide if I could even post it. This is not a topic that can be boiled down to a simple yes/no kind of answer.

Let’s start with two examples.

1 - I have a short story I started writing (it wants to grow up to be longer, so it’s waiting for time) where my original concept was to write about an older woman who is short and has major chronic pain, and I wanted to dig into fantasy reasons why this pain exists, but at the same time, have her be able to kick ass despite being exhausted and dealing with excruciatingly painful issues.

2 - I once drafted a portal fantasy storyline wherein a young man was transported into a fantasy world, and when he was given a horse to ride, he approached it very warily. He was encouraged to mount, did so, and sat there and exclaimed in shock, “My brain isn’t exploding with snot!” because his allergies hadn’t come with him into the body he had in the fantasy world.

Both stories were designed to be fun, a bit light, maybe even cozy.

So.

In one case, the disabled character remains disabled and kicks ass anyway. And in the other case, the character is magically “healed” and no longer has debilitating allergies that had wrecked his way of life.

This is the difficult part to express: I think both storylines are valid.

Bear with me while I dig into this.

First and foremost: I completely agree that we need more representation in all forms of fiction, especially when it comes to disabled people being able to live their lives. Characters with missing limbs, or non-neurotypical brains, or anxiety & depression, or hearing issues, or sight problems, or chronic pain, or… or… you get the idea. We need all of it, and we need it to not need to be magically healed in order for a story to be considered happy and cozy. Disabled people can be happy, too.

I’m all in for this, and I wouldn’t write the stories I do if I weren’t.

However, there are also moments where I am so exhausted by my body and by everything I deal with inside of it where I do wish for that magical ability to forget that my pain exists. Or for the ability to actually process information in a straight line, or make decisions without writing a hundred lists and accomplishing nothing from them. Or to be able to lie down in a field of grass without regretting it for days while I drip snot and fight sinus-pain-induced migraines.

Sometimes I want to imagine that my life is different.

And that is one of the joys of writing. I can choose to write a story where people like me or the people I know are the heroes/heroines exactly as they are, different abilities and all. Or I can choose to write a story where the problems magically resolve.

Both can be cozy, sweet, and adorable. I can give the character with chronic pain the ability to kick ass, take names, and have a sweet reunion with her ex-girlfriend. I can show all the ways that my disabilities may define how I handle my life differently than someone else, but do not define what I can and cannot do.

But I can also daydream about a life where it’s different, the same way I can daydream about having wings, or being able to teleport. For me, imagining a day with no pain is the same as a day where I can walk through walls. It is absolutely a fantasy, and about as likely to happen.

Here’s the thing: It’s okay to be angry to see what looks like disability being erased. It’s okay to wonder why the author did that, why they magically healed someone instead of letting them be who they were. But at the same time, maybe ask why, and what point of view it’s coming from. Or look a little deeper into the story and how the resolution occurs, and the effect it does have on the character (I suspect that were I to suddenly have a day of no pain, I’d be intensely reckless, given what an idiot I am while IN pain, y’know? And WOW would I regret that later…).

And for authors, think about what you’re writing. WHY is this particular event (keeping disability, erasing it, whichever or both) happening, because the reader will take note of it. They may see things that weren’t intended, but are there as unintentional biases.

Make conscious decisions for why things happen.

Someday I want to get back to both of those examples from the start of this post; I still like both concepts. But I’ll be writing them for very different reasons, and both will be healing my soul in different ways. Different kinds of daydreams. And again, I think that’s valid, too.

#writing #disability #my own thoughts

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lxmelle · 9 months ago

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Gojo was once described by Gege as a “man of resignation”.

It is a facet of enlightenment - in which the concept of “non-attachment” is a big part of (attachment is viewed as the root of suffering).

We can interpret “resignation” in so many ways, as it explains so much about his immense capacity for love / acceptance, but also his tendency to... simply resign himself to an outcome / fate I guess - a form of passivity that can be either considered positive or negative, perhaps depending on outcome.

Going with the flow, neither chasing nor halting anything in particular with his immense might and potential. He swayed things to gently influence an outcome. Followed a designated path trying to rebuild the sorcerer world through being a teacher... which he couldn’t fully commit too either, because he had a role as a special grade who had to keep working.

That’s not to say he didn’t achieve anything - because of course he did. But nothing revolutionary. He said so himself to Geto: he didn’t see a point in it. There were just some things he didn’t think would change - someone else would replace the higher-ups.

And thus. Despite his massive strength, he never did ever manage to go all out. Perhaps this is symbolic of an inherently gentle/accepting nature? But there was indeed a monster inside him too - the one that thrived on the thrill of killing and defeating. It was a beast he seldom let out. It was a beast with a thirst.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll paraphrase: like a sprinter limited to go at 8kmph, like a singer who is only allowed to whisper her song, a painter unable to use any paints for their desired masterpiece - how dreadfully, painfully unfulfilling.

So of course it was FUN to have this final brawl with Sukuna - to give it his very best, especially when he also didn’t feel lonely anymore with a bunch of monsters he can pass the gauntlet (his body and his will) onto in the worst case scenario.

But of course Gojo doesn’t have the ability to predict the future, so how can anyone expect that he make decisions and judgements perfectly or accurately? All he can do is consider based on his own judgement. Alone. As the only other person who help him plug those holes in his judgement, Geto, had left him.

It is up to interpretation whether Geto was left behind first, but this really isn’t a competition or about assigning blame… because where do we even start?

One cannot hold Gojo totally accountable for things that happen around him or how others interpret his actions. He was born different to everyone else. Probably treated as if he had this role to fill where people had an idea of what they wanted or needed him to be, but never gave much thought over what it would feel like for him.

Gojo, Shoko, and those left behind have had to suffer the same resignation. After all: What else are you supposed to do but resign yourself, in the face of a reality where even to things you don’t wish to happen, have to happen? All you can do is what you can... and if you can, you wield it with all your might.

Geto tried it to the best of his ability.

He wasn’t Gojo, who could do it if he wanted to.

Understanding that Gojo wasn’t, and accepting that he (Geto) shouldn’t change that about him (Gojo), as he was likely more suited to be at the school - essentially following nanami’s words and “leaving it to him” as Gojo was in his element / thrived on it, but Geto couldn’t be complicit in the system that would lead them to watch their own kind die one by one — Geto left to follow his ideals.

Gojo was referred to as the only one who can take that curse into his own hands. I used to see it as “the only one to kill Geto” after he failed and almost lost his humanity for the sake of power (killing Yuta would go against his principles) but now it also has a new meaning: the only one who can take charge and pursue the ideals to actually change the world.

The curse is the sh*t that is in the world of sorcery in jjk. Gojo seemed to (imho) now feel the need to catch up and hold the reins this time.

It is the end of Resignation Man Gojo Satoru. The emergence of The Monster Gojo Satoru (who Geto assisted in helping Gojo keep at bay through being the “model of humanity” that Gojo could follow) who was then fully ready to take the stand. Like Geto on that stage.

Bye higher ups.

Before, despite his immense strength, he didn’t force his way through. Perhaps this was the outcome of having been forced to be born and live with no choice but to be the six eyes + limitless. You do not actually have freedom.

Unless, you’re willing to become a pariah. To wield these cards that were dealt to you and completely become the extraordinary.

And now, Yuta embraces the same resigned acceptance of becoming a monster. After all... only a few will be able and willing to turn into a Monster.

Out of love. A Monstrous love indeed.

Geto had monstrous motherhood in him. I guess this extends to others now too. To cast away humanity because nobody else will. Nobody else can. So they have to wield it. Become it.

Yuta represents both the old and new world... in some way, he is like Gojo and Geto combined... power / strength + sincerity / kindness. Of course, like the yin and yang, each half has a bit of the other in it - so Gojo and Geto had a combination of power and compassion, but they symbolically represent each,

Arguably, had Geto someone else by his side, things may have been different.

All of this mess… ugh.

It didn’t have to come to this, right? Nor did it have to be the extermination of humans, but it could’ve been a collaboration of the special grades (Yuki, Gojo, Geto) all trying to solve the 3 different factors to the problem: humans as the origin of curses (research), the old-fashioned higher ups + clans, and the elimination of the curses. There may be others, but you get my gist.

But alas, this is the jjk world.

Just some thoughts, I’ll end it here before it’s more word vom.

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hyperfix-wip · 4 months ago

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Octobie Wildcard: Double Interrogation

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Detective! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Detective! Reader

Summary: Hobie reluctantly accepts going into a police interview but bites off more than he could chew once he realizes his ex will be interviewing him.

Word count: 4.8k

Author's Note: I MADE IT IN TIME FOR WEEK 3!!! I'd like to thank @pinksugarscrub for beta reading an earlier draft of it! Event by @the-kr8tor and banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment . This prompt is based on a DND campaign from Dimension 20’s Unsleeping City: https://youtu.be/Ukt_uoeh_YY?si=laDicS-fMXIMazGB

Tags: Ex!Hobie, Older!Hobie, Ex!Reader, Older!Reader, Detective!Reader, American!Reader, Explicit Language, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

As far as Hobie can remember, this is probably the first time he’s been inside a police station without being charged for something.

He sits back against the backrest of the metal chair in the interrogation room, tipping the chair back and balancing it on its back legs while his long, gangly legs rest on the dark wooden table. It was a surprise for Hobie when his friend Gwen begged him to go into a police interview in her stead for a freak criminal attack at a wedding in Manhattan, resulting in a few civilian casualties and the capture of some obscure criminal duo he can’t seem to remember at the moment. She knows damn well about how he feels about those blue pigs– especially with his history with the corrupt law system back home– but any inkling of refusal died on his tongue the moment she mentioned that the interview was going to be with her dad of all people. Seeing Gwen’s desperation to keep her identity a secret as she trembles in front of him, Hobie could only sigh and reluctantly agree.

Damn, he’s getting soft.

A quiet groan rumbles in his chest as he rolls his head back to look up at the ceiling. The room itself is dim, with only a couple of barred windows filtering sunlight inside and a small light hanging in the middle of the ceiling. The dingy fan quickly spins around, making the silver plastic pull chain swaying back and forth with soft clinks echoing in the room. His spider senses tingle in a low hum against his skin as another bored groan rumbles up from his throat. His eyes glance over to the one-way glass, his brows furrowing from his spider senses not picking up any bodies on the other side of the window, before brushing it off and glancing back up at the ceiling.

Thought there were supposed to be a group of them watching over these kinds of interviews, Hobie thinks to himself as his hand reaches up to the hem of his mask and pulls it up halfway. He absently tugs on his lip ring with his front teeth while he scratches his chin, his scruff brushing against his calloused fingers. He’s tempted to push himself off the uncomfortable chair and get the hell out of this room, but the hairs of his arms barely stand up before the heavy metal door finally opens. A uniformed young woman with a police badge walks into the room with a tray of small chocolate biscuits and a paper cup with the tea bag string hanging off the lip.

“Sorry about this,” the young officer shyly sets the plate and cup down on the table in front of him. “I know you were supposed to meet with Captain Stacy and the rest of the Criminal Investigations Unit, but there was an emergency hostage situation at Upper Manhattan, and… well, I’m sure you and the rest of the Spider Gang are already aware of it and are already taking care of it with them.”

Her eyes then widen as she nervously smiles at him, “but we do appreciate you coming here to cooperate with one of our other cases! I just hope this isn’t a waste of your time being here instead of with your team.”

A small scoff slips through Hobie’s lips as he grabs the warm paper cup, his nose subtly crinkling from the familiar smell of Lipton tea wafting into his nostrils before he politely takes a sip. “S’alright, love,” Hobie reassures her with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure all of the other Spiders are handling it without me.”

Although being over there would probably be a lot more interesting, Hobie thought to himself before grabbing a chocolate biscuit and taking a bite of it. The bittersweet chocolate and hazelnut flavor floods his mouth before he reluctantly washes it down with the hot flavored water (he refuses to call that tea). “Should I come back at a later time if the captain–” Hobie internally grimaces from the polite term– “is unavailable?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry!” the young woman smiles at him sheepishly. “One of the detectives from the CIU will still be able to interview you. She just needs to gather all of the files Captain Stacy left her before he and the rest of the unit left.”

The young woman then starts to head towards the door, “I’ll check up on her, so hang tight.”

As the young woman leaves the room, the polite smile ghosting Hobie’s face instantly disappears before a bored frown takes over. He lifts his arm to check on his Web-Watch, already scanning through the updates from the other Spiders and their missions, including the hostage situation mentioned earlier. His eyes soften as he sees a small photo of Mayday and Peni hanging over a ledge with some Jamaican patties in their hands while Gwen, Miles and Pavitr swing into what seems like the Alchemax building.

A small snort slips through his nose as a small smile curls up on his lips. Even after working with them for almost ten years, he still can’t help but remember all of them as the bright-eyed young Spiders. Even Mayday, who he met with Peter when she was only a year old, has grown up into the fiery little spitfire that he knew she would become, helping out behind the scenes with the rest of the younger Spiders while the veterans handle the more dangerous missions.

Fuck, Hobie’s getting old.

Hobie shakes his head and tugs his mask back down as he continues to scroll through all of the updates, his eyes quickly spotting an exasperated Captain Stacy and a bewildered Captain Morales-Davis of the Emergency Service Unit, before a private message from Gwen pops up. His brows furrow as he taps onto the message on the screen while more messages pop up.

Gwen: Just saw my dad at Alchemax

Gwen: Almost all of CIU actually

Gwen: Well…except one

Gwen: Sorry, Hobs 😭

Wait, what?

Before Hobie can respond to the messages, his skin crawls underneath his spandex and his heart almost drops to his stomach from the familiar tingle in the back of his head, that tingle sending an overwhelming, bittersweet wave of emotions he was not prepared for. He instantly jumps up from his seat and knocks the metal chair over, the chair clattering against the linoleum flooring, but the heavy metal door opens before he could pry the bars off one of the windows.

His eyes quickly dart at the young officer standing underneath the doorway with some papers in her arms, and right behind her is you.

You, one of the youngest detectives of the Criminal Investigations Unit in the New York Police Department. The rookie detective who helped the newly-formed Spider-Gang at the time figure out and crack down the notorious Sinister Six at the height of their power. The detective in the running to be promoted to Sergeant despite your age. One of the few people who personally knows all of the Spider-Gang’s identities.

And his ex-girlfriend.

Hobie quietly mutters an “ah fuck” under his breath before he reluctantly picks the metal chair back up and flops back down on the seat, resigned to the awkward conversation awaiting him. At the same time, you stare at him with a stoic face while slowly walking into the interrogation room, setting an old-school recorder down on the table across from him while the young officer sets the files down in front of you. You quietly thank her as you take your seat across from Hobie, and she nods back at you before glancing over at Hobie again. With a slight blush on her cheeks, she turns away and scurries out of the room, closing the metal door behind her.

An awkward silence instantly looms inside the interrogation room as you adjust the recorder and straighten out the stack of paperwork, your eyes staying downcast and on the items in front of you while you ignore Hobie’s tensely apprehensive figure. His skin crawls and tingles at the sight of you in spite of his dread of seeing you again after the tumultuous breakup before your transfer to the CIU. After that you mainly kept in contact with the rest of the Spider-Gang throughout your career, seeking their cooperation when there were metahuman cases that you deemed too dangerous for the NYPD alone, and made no contact with him for five years until today.

And he's going to have a very long talk with Gwen after he’s done with this damn interview.

With everything set up to your liking, you let out a reluctant sigh of your own before finally looking up at him.

“You can take the mask off,” you finally break the silence as you massage the bridge of your nose. “Nobody else is here to watch over this, and I already disabled all the cameras in the room. Per request by Ghost Spider, of course.”

Hobie furrows his brows at your cool, formal demeanor, as if you don’t go out for lunch with Gwen during your rare days off– not that he needed to know that– but he shrugs it off. True to your word, his spider senses only sense you in the room and no one else on the other side of the one-way glass, and with a grudging sigh, his hand reaches up to the hem of his spike-mohawked mask before slowly peeling it off his face. His newly twisted dreads flutter down to his shoulders, and his silver piercings glint against the lights as his piercing dark eyes land on yours again. His eyes briefly soften at the obvious dark circles under your eyes and the slight gauntness of your cheeks before hardening to a bored stare again.

You stare at him back with your own impassive look in your eyes before speaking again. “Thank you. Now, per protocol, I will ask for your permission to record this interview–”

“Is that really necessary?” Hobie interrupts you, his annoyance slowly peeking through as he clenches his jaw and furrows his brows again.

Your eyes sharpen with an unamused narrow as you sit back against your seat and cross your arms against your chest. With a click of his tongue and a scoff, he looks away from you and waves his hand, signaling you to continue.

“...as I was saying,” you resume with a hint of irritation in your voice, “do I have your consent to record this interview?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Hobie mutters under his breath, and you ignore the slight twitch in your eye before continuing.

“Alright then,” you manage to keep most of your irritation out of your voice as you press the play button on the recorder with a click. “This is Detective Y/N L/N of the New York Police Department 21st Precinct Criminal Investigations Unit. I am currently interviewing a member of the vigilante group Spider-Gang, Spider-Punk–”

“Spider-Man.”

“No, I’m not calling you that–”

“Spider-Man.”

“There’s like five Spider-Men in the group. I am not confusing Captain Stacy with which Spider-Man I’m talking to when he reviews this tape–”

“Spider. Man.”

You let out an exasperated groan and massage your temples as a small headache ebbs out from his stubbornness. Breathing in a deep breath before slowly exhaling until your lungs briefly deplete, you stare at Hobie with a deadpan before relenting with a roll of your eyes.

“Correction, the member is Spider-Man–” you narrow your eyes at him with an annoyed look as he gives back a mocking smirk before reverting back to his guarded nonchalance, “ –also known as Mr. Brown as provided by Ghost Spider–”

Hobie instantly sits up on the metal chair with a loud scrape, staring at you with disbelief as you instantly stop the recording with a scowl of your own.

“Have you lost the bloody plot?! The hell are you doing giving my last name–”

“Hey– Gwen was the one who gave the damn list of aliases for you guys. I don’t know why the hell you were just written as Mr. Brown, but that’s what she picked for you!”

“Goddamnit–” Hobie clenches his fists in the air with a frustrated inhale, briefly lamenting why none of the Spiders know how to lie properly, before heaving out another sigh. “Y’know what, whatever. Fine. I don’t– just– just keep going.”

As Hobie drops back down on his seat with a disgruntled huff, you roll your eyes with a slow angry exhale before you press play on the recorder again. “As stated before, Spider-Man, also known as Mr. Brown, is in interview room 138 with me today for the metahuman criminal attack at a wedding in Central Park. As requested by Ghost Spider, the interviewee will be referred to by an alias to protect their civilian identities if there is an unforeseeable future where any tapes involving the vigilante group fall into the wrong hands.”

You clear your throat before looking up at him with a professional, impassive deadpan. “Now, Mr. Brown, thank you for coming into this interview–”

“You seriously gon’ call me Mr. Brown,” Hobie scoffs under his breath as he crosses his arms against his chest, and your eye twitches again as you glare at him across the table.

“Are we really doing this now?”

“Oh my god– no, I just– this thing is just–”

“I’m at work, okay–”

“Yeah, I get that, but Mr. Brown is just fucking stu–”

“So the thing here with me, ‘bie, is that I’m at work right now. Okay?”

Hobie clicks his tongue and looks away from you again, ignoring the small flutter from hearing your slip of the tongue with that stupid pet name. Meanwhile your eyes harden and sharpen at him as you stare daggers at him, one of your hands balling up into a fist as you take another breath to calm down before you continue on with the interview.

“So, Mr. Brown,” you emphasize with as much irritation in your voice as you can without breaking your professional demeanor while glancing at the papers, “Based on my understanding with one of the written interviews with Spider-Byte at the crime scene, you were one of the first respondents who arrived at the scene to stop the attack of…”

You glance at the paper again and raise an eyebrow, your eyebrows furrowing in slight disbelief of the next words coming out of your mouth.

“...Styx and Stone.”

“May break my bones,” Hobie mutters under his breath as he glances at you with a bored look again before straightening up on his seat. “Yeah, I was one of the first respondents to arrive at the scene, along with another vigilante who was there before me.”

In a petty impulse, a strained smirk curls up on his face. “Black Cat, who I have personally worked very intimately with along with the rest of the Spider-Gang–”

CLICK!

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you–”

“Fuck you–”

“No, fuck you–”

“Go fuck yourself–”

“A’ight, I don’ actually want to do this–” Hobie growls out as he holds his hands up in a frustrated surrender, but you were still fuming across from him.

“I always knew there was something going on between you two–”

“No, there was nothing–” Hobie sputters out as he slams his hands against the table and pushes himself up from the table and glares at you– “there is NOTHING between me and Felicia–”

“Felicia?!” You bark back as you follow suit, slamming your own hands against the wooden table and pushing yourself up. “Oh, so you two are on first name bases now, since you two are so intimately acquainted–”

“Oh my fucking god–”

“You’re such a piece of shit, you fucking dog–”

“No, don’t even start this shit!” Hobie’s voice grows louder and rumbles against the walls.

“Oh, please–” you scoff as an overwhelming surge of adrenaline grows and lumps up in the back of your throat– “so you’re telling me you were faithful, protector of New York City–”

“I AM FAITHFUL!” Hobie screams out in anger and anguish, his hands balling up into fists as he slams one of them against the table, “I WAS FAITHFUL! I WOULD HAVE CONTINUED TO BE FAITHFUL–”

Both of you scoff and look away from each other as you both slowly lower yourselves onto your seats again, the brief fire of the familiar, bitter back-to-back from the end of your relationship now extinguishing into a slow, quiet simmer. After a long moment of awkward silence, Hobie lets out a defeated sigh.

“...’s not actually like that,” he quietly admits as he slowly slumps down on the metal chair, the hard edges digging into his flesh. “I just…”

Your eyes flick back to him, his figure almost shrinking under your scrutiny before Hobie finally looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“I…I’m just miffed, alright?” he adds on with a slight sulk. “She was there to try to nab some expensive necklace the bride had ‘cuz the groom was from some rich family, so it was just a coincidence for her to be there during the attack…”

Hobie squirms under your hawk-like gaze, oblivious to your eyes softening slightly the longer you look at him. “I don’t– I don’t why I said it like that, it was honestly just business as usual…”

You stay quiet as he trails off, the raw hurt and resentment still lingering in your chest, before you look back down at the papers with a tired sigh of your own. “Business. Right.”

You absently worry your bottom lip with your front teeth, which Hobie’s eyes briefly linger onto before flicking away, before you glance back up to him and press the play button on the recorder again. “So, what? Was that attack from Styx and Stone just a coincidence or something, or are they connected to like a bigger organization like the Sinister Six–”

“No, no,” Hobie instantly shakes his head as he runs his fingers along his dreads, “it’s a fucking coincidence. The gang and I made sure to look into them ‘n everythin’. Think one of them had some personal connection with the bride’s side or sumthin’.”

You let out a low acknowledging hum as you flip through some of the papers. “Hm, yeah, I think one of my colleagues got that written down, but I don’t think they got the full details.”

Your fingers continue to leaf through the paperwork, your eyes downcast to avoid looking at him now. “Did you or any other member find out what the connection was, or if you heard any other conspiracy of another attack from the duo or a key witness at the scene?”

Hobie’s face drops to a pensive frown as his hand reaches up to scratch the scruff of his chin. “According to Stone, I think, his partner used to work for the bride’s father’s research company, and the father laid him off and cut the funding of his lab work or sumthin’. Tryin’ t’ r’member what that company’s called. Sumthin’ Chemical–”

“No, the name is fucking pretentious,” you mutter under your breath as you grab one of the papers and bring it closer to yourself. “Symbi-Ottic Chemical.”

“Yeah, that,” Hobie nods along with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Apparently they had some scandal involving some animal-testing that they had to sweep under the rug. Pinned the blame on the scientist one of the duo, and he wanted some revenge ‘n shit. Petty shit.”

You give another hum of tepid acknowledgement as you grab the rest of the papers on the table and shuffle them, your face reverting back to that impassive deadpan before you stop the recording again. Hobie raises his pierced eyebrow in confusion before you prop your elbows on the table and lean forward.

“This is strictly off the record,” you sigh with reluctance, your fingers fidgeting slightly against each other, “I just came across this information, so not even Captain Stacy and the rest of my team know about this, but…”

Hobie slowly leans forward against the table, waiting for you to continue. You hesitate from his gradual closeness before you glance away and brush it off.

“Symbi-Ottic Chemical is a branching company of Alchemax.”

Hobie’s eyes widen as you continue. “And knowing that Alchemax was a merger between Oscorp and another chemical company, I am merely speculating that the attack at Central Park and Alchemax might be more connected to each other than we both initially thought…”

You shrug while setting the stack of papers down on the table. “I don’t know. I’m just… I doubt this can actually be related to the Sinister Six since Osborn is gone, and I don’t have any conclusive evidence or anything like that, but…I’m trusting you guys could look into that hunch for me, okay?...”

Still reeling from that small revelation, Hobie quietly nods as he grabs his mask from the table. Your eyes glance over at the spiked mask before you shake your head and look away with a huff of disbelief.

“My life’s a fucking comic book.”

“Okay, seriously–”

Hobie stares at you in disbelief while you glare back at him, “No, because this whole–” you gesture to his spider suit in frustration– “costume getup, supervillain attacks and conspiracies, and the whole secret identity - slash - double-life bullshit is getting ridiculous!”

Hobie groans as he rubs his face against his hands before looking back at you with a tired stare. “Y/N, you’re still in law enforcement. You’re still taking care of normal crime shit, not just the metahuman cases–”

“Oh, oh– so I should just get used to stopping some purse snatcher that may or may not have some fucking superpower that could–”

You quickly cut yourself off and hold your hands up in the air, the headache from before gradually throbbing as you take another breather. “I…probably… go through, like, six cups of coffee a night just to go through all the paperwork for these metahuman cases–”

“That is so bad for you, Cherry,” Hobie interjects with a flash of concern in his eyes, not noticing his slip of the tongue, “you could at least call me or something if you’re struggling with that–”

“Oh, what, so you can do your fucking–” you wiggle your fingers in agitation– “spidey hands?!”

Hobie groans into his hands again, his fingers pressing against his eyeballs in frustration as tension builds up in his shoulders. His hands slowly drag down to look at you with a haggard stare. “Look, I- I don’t want to argue with you about this…”

“I joined the forces so I can help people, Hobie,” you cross your arms against your chest as your eyes grow glassy, ignoring the burning sensation rising up in your chest. “I didn’t sign up to deal with the politics between humans and metahumans and the cleanup of the aftermath–”

Hobie swallows down the bile burning the back of his throat as you look away with a sniffle, refusing to look vulnerable in front of him before you look back with a tired look.

“...when Peter and Miles were trying to stop The Sandman from rampaging last week, one of my colleagues and I got hit by a sand attack,” you grumble with a slight flush on your cheeks. “Do you realize how unpleasant it is to get sand out from between your ass cheeks and other crevices in your body after a fucking week?”

Hobie lets out a small huff of laughter in spite of himself before clearing his throat to stifle the rest of the laughter. “I-I can only imagine…”

He continues to look at you, his eyes traveling along your face and body as you sit in front of him. Your dark circles are more prominent to him now, your shoulders tense and in a proper need of a massage, your cuticles picked to hell– god, you picked up your skin picking habit again– and the dimmed light in your eyes. His heart painfully lurches at the sight as his face drops to a pensive frown.

“Look, Y/N, what the hell do you want me to say?” Hobie whispers to you, struggling to keep his voice even. “I’m sorry? I’m sorry that we met? I’m sorry that I fell in love with you? That you fell in love with me? That we got together and I trusted you with my secret and everybody elses’?”

His breath hitches as he continues, the back of his eyes burning while his eyes start to get glassy too. “I’m sorry that when you graduated from the police academy and joined the forces, you got caught up in one of Green Goblin’s attacks and almost died in your first year? I’m sorry that I was stubborn and kept trying to push you to quit when you didn’t want to? I’m sorry that I broke up with you when you kept refusing? That I basically dragged you into this whole thing where you have to be a fucking mediator between the gang and those blue pigs now. That you’ve been talking to Gwen and Miles while avoiding me this whole time for five years even though I gave you a bloody fucking Web-Watch to contact me–”

He quickly looks away to the ceiling, refusing to let the tears in his eyes roll down his cheeks, before he lets out a shaky exhale and looks at you again. His chest aches again at the sight of you shaken up, your own eyes welling up as your face pinches up to fight off your own tears.

“What do you want me to say?” his voice comes out in a defeated, broken whisper. “And please, please, don’t call me Spider-Punk, Spider-Man, and especially Mr. Brown…”

A stray tear rolls off your cheek at his quiet plea, hesitation and longing briefly flickering in your eyes, and you turn your head away to wipe the tear streak off with a sniffle before clicking the play button on the recorder again.

“...Mr. Brown, thank you for your time.”

A sharp sting stabs at Hobie’s chest at your answer, but he reluctantly nods before languidly standing up from his seat and slides his mask back on. “Yeah, sure. I’ll…I’ll give you a ring or have someone else in the gang to, if we find out anything more about your case.”

You nod with a solemn frown as you slowly stand up and shuffle the papers before stopping the recorder one last time. With a heavy heart Hobie starts to walk towards the door, his heavy combat boots echoing against the walls as his body itches to finally leave the stifling interrogation room.

His hand wraps around the cold metal door handle, but before he can pull it open, his ears pick up soft footsteps behind him.

“Hobie…”

You slowly approach behind him, your eyes lingering on the planes of his back, even with the layers of his spandex suit and leather vest covering his towering figure. Memories briefly flicker in your mind, one of a younger, much happier Hobie wrapping his arms around you, peppering kisses against your face until you burst out laughing with him. Ones of him holding onto you as he swings through New York with his web-shooters, both of you flying against the sunset and over the cityscape with adrenaline running through your veins. Ones of the quiet nights in your little crappy one-bedroom apartment where you both fall asleep in each others’ arms after he comes home from patrol, safe and sound and with you–

You swallow down the lump in your throat before you quietly speak again.

“...please be safe.”

For me, you end your last words in your thoughts, not finding the courage to say it out loud after seeing him for the first time in five years.

Hobie stands frozen in front of you, his back still facing you, making you stare at that spider emblem on his vest, his symbol for his role as Spider-Man.

Before you can take it back, he suddenly turns around and pulls his mask halfway up before pulling you closer to him, pressing his lips against your forehead goodbye. He just as quickly pulls away from you and lets go of you before yanking his mask down and slipping out of the interrogation room, leaving you standing there alone stunned and flustered.

Meanwhile, Hobie rushes out of the police station with a flick of the wrist and a web shooting out of his shooter before he swings off and escapes to the city, his mind racing and his heart thrumming against his ribcage. Depending how the rest of the day goes, he’s either going to be dealing with more silence or an angry/flustered call from a soon-to-be sergeant.

#hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie brown x reader #hobie october event #hobie x y/n #octobie #octobie'24 #octobie wildcard #octobie fanfic #across the spiderverse #spider punk #the kr8tor

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reidscanehand · 1 year ago

Text

Just a Trifle

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Fluff

TW: insecurity in relationships

It’s still odd to stay the night.

You’re not quite the girlfriend, but not quite…anything else. The two of you stopped seeing other people long ago, months ago now, though it feels longer. He teases you, touches you, kisses you seemingly whenever he can, but…you’re not his girlfriend. At least he hasn’t said and you haven’t asked. And it feels silly and stupid and immature to wait for it, to even want to, or, rather, need to call him something…to make him yours, feels silly. But still.

You don’t live here, though there are pieces of you, like demarcations of your existence all over the place. A cushion the two of you purchased together that you’d meant to take back to yours, but had looked just as sweet on his couch, especially the morning after the two of you used it to prop up your head as you laid on the sofa and he laid in your lap, playing with his hair until the both of you were asleep. Or the coffee creamer in the fridge; Remus takes his coffee black, so it could only be yours. Or the toothbrush in the travel case next to his in the cabinet, purchased just for you. Even the hand soap in the bathroom - ginger mandarin, another shopping date find - served as a symbol of your presence in his life.

And now it’s Christmas. Christmas Day had been spent with your respective families only for the two of you to end up back at Rem’s. Frankly, it’s been weeks since you were home. Every time you return, your flat is like a living memory, forgotten oranges rotting in the fruit bowl on the counter, bread going stale, always cold even when it isn’t cold outside because you turn the heating off. You don’t really live there, not anymore. Most of your clothes live at Rem’s, space in his drawers opening up, seemingly if it’s own accord. It had all felt so natural…so why can’t you ask?

It’s as though he’s determined not to notice your predicament. There’s no way he can’t, though. Right? The two of you sit on the couch with the cute pillow, the tv quietly playing “It’s a Wonderful Life”. You know he’s not really watching, he’s probably asleep with your fingers running through his hair - it’s his favorite thing in the world or so he says. Suddenly he sits up and kisses your nose as he is wont to do.

“I can hear your brain moving, bun,” he whispers affectionately, as though unwilling to interrupt the film. “I know we didn’t really talk about presents, but I got you something.” He stands briefly and walks over to the cabinet he keeps coats in near the door. The top is out of both of your reach, but he tips on his toes and blindly reaches until he pulls down a small, shabbily wrapped little box.

“Just a trifle,” he assures you in his quietly formal way. You stand rather than take the gift right away.

“Good thing I got you something, too,” you laugh quietly, suddenly shy. You go into the bedroom and reach into your overnight bag, long since unpacked and taking up space in the closet. You’d hidden the gift in there, deciding to keep it for his birthday if the two of you didn’t exchange gifts.

“On the count of three,” Remus states almost mischievously as he takes the small gift bag from you and hands you the small box. He counts and the two of you open. His is swifter, it’s in a bag after all, requiring less effort.

“Oh, thank you, doll,” he says softly, his mind clearly elsewhere even as he admires the record you’d picked out. But you can’t say anything. Because inside the tiny box is a small, thin key. Imprinted on the key is “3B”. That’s this apartment. This is a key to his apartment. You hear Rem take a deep breath, your gaze still locked on the key.

“It’s taken me too long,” he practically whispers, Jimmy Stewart’s voice still whirring from the telly a good deal louder. “And you’ve…you’ve been far too kind about it, really.”

“Not too kind,” you whisper, surprising yourself. “Never too kind for you.”

Remus smiles and pulls you to him, crushing the key between the two of you. “See? Far too good for me you are.”

“Too good to be…what exactly?” you ask, dreading the feeling of it leaving your mouth.

“To be mine,” he responds, his voice firm. “To be my girlfriend, my partner…I want you to live here. With me. As long as you’ll have me.”

You beam into his chest, your heart thundering.

“Just a trifle?” you giggle, looking up at him. He smiles down at you, pressing ever closer, eyeing your mouth.

“You know, a trifle? An ultimate token of my love an affection? A symbol of my need to have you near me forever?” he laughs as your eyes grow wide. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“I want it to be…I want it to be a step.”

“A step?” he asks, eyes flicking between your mouth and eyes, arms still holding you close.

“A step to forever,” you say, voice just as sure as his now. “That okay?”

“That’s perfect,” he replies, “perfect, my love.”

~~~

Happy Holidays xx

#remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus x you #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin x reader

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marlynnofmany · 11 months ago

Text

Monkey Chase

I stepped off the loading ramp and got a good view of the reason why we’d landed in the wrong part of the spaceport. A giant cargo hauler lay on its side, broken and bent — had a ship crashed into it, or had the engine exploded? I couldn’t tell from here — and large slabs of spaceship insulation gel sprawled everywhere. The hauler’s cargo, clearly. As I watched, three people with a hovercart tried to shove one aside to no effect, and another slab as big as a cross-section from my old apartment on Earth slowly peeled off from inside the remains of the hauler. It hit the ground with the squishiest thud I’d ever heard - the thing was the color of smoke, but dense enough to make the ground vibrate from here.

I whistled, then regretted it when the tentacle alien on the ramp beside me scrunched up at the sound. “Sorry,” I told Mur.

“Ow,” he said, uncurling his blue-black tentacles. “Was that a human swear? It’s sharp.”

“More of a ‘wow-look-at-that’ kind of noise,” I said. “But swearing would sure be appropriate. What a mess.”

“You said it. Glad it’s not our problem.”

Captain Sunlight came down the ramp to join us, regal as ever in the bright yellow scales that had given her the name. “Our client isn’t answering,” she said. “I’ve put in a request at the local medcenter to see if they’ve been injured in this crisis, but haven’t heard back yet. Anyone interested is welcome to join me in walking over to where their ship was meant to be parked.”

Three other crewmates followed her out of the ship: Blip and Blop in their flowiest silks that both matched their fin colors and also showed off their biceps, and Zhee with his purple exoskeleton as shiny as always. They all made quiet noises of dismay at the state of the spaceport.

(Well, Blip and Blop seemed dismayed. Zhee was looking down his nonexistent nose at whoever had been careless enough to cause such a mess.)

Mur waved a tentacle. “Lead the way,” he said to the captain. “Here’s hoping the ship isn’t buried under all that.”

“Yeah, it looks heavy,” I said as we moved out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a little ship could be crushed under that, especially if it also took damage from whatever kaboom happened in the first place.”

As we got closer, I made several observations in a range of importance. A medical shuttle was zipping off toward the city center while another appeared to be waiting around just in case; the medics were standing there chatting instead of tending to anyone. The gel slabs couldn’t be pushed, though they could be lifted with a big enough gravity platform. There was only one of those here. Cleanup was going to take a while. The slabs covered a large area of ground as well as a couple ship-sized lumps, turning the spaceport into a sea of smoky gray translucent rubber.

A small creature bounced around on it. People were shouting about that.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked.

Captain Sunlight sighed deeply and sped up. “I really hope that’s not our cargo.”

“Our cargo’s an animal?”

“Yes, among other things. I thought I told you, but I guess not; it was a last-minute addition to our load. Someone’s exotic pet.” She looked up at me with concern on her lizardy face. “How are your animal-catching skills?”

“Depends on the animal,” I said, squinting at the fast-moving thing. I was the critter expert on the ship, but I didn’t want to promise anything. “What species is it?”

“I’ll bring up the description in a moment,” Captain Sunlight said. “I think I see our client over there.”

She was right. The slender Frillian with a leash and an exasperated expression did turn out to be the person we’d come to meet, and the various spaceport officials on the scene had no any easy answers about how to catch his pet.

“Normally he comes running for food!” the client exclaimed. “But he’s got plenty to pick from here!” He pointed accusingly at the spill of fruit from a truck smashed open by a slab of gel.

“Oh, like that’s my fault?” said a Heatseeker who was busy gathering fruit. “Half my stock is ruined! Go catch your little menace and stop complaining.”

This led to a rant about how impossible the menace in question was to catch when he didn’t want to be — giving him a bath had to be done by trickery — and he was never going to come down from this playground full of food, and oh the man should have just paid for a transit that allowed him to bring pets.

Zhee muttered agreement at that last, but I don’t think the guy heard him. Spaceport officials offered calming words and a reminder that nets had been sent for.

Captain Sunlight asked one of them, “Is there an animal-handling service anywhere nearby?”

“Nowhere close,” was the answer.

She looked back up at me. “Any bright ideas? Here, I’ll show you the description.”

While she unfolded a screen and brought up the information from this particular courier gig, I watched the jumpy creature carefully. He was close enough for a good look now, since he’d come back to snatch another alien citrus off the ground, making the owner yell after him.

My first thought was “monkey,” followed by “frog.” The animal was long-limbed and green, though with velvety fur instead of an amphibian’s shine, and had a tail that could hold fruit just as well as his hands could. Pointy nose, round ears, and the biggest eyes of anyone here except for Zhee. He could probably see a person sneaking up from behind. He was fast. And he was clearly having a great time jumping from one bouncy surface to another, making chattering noises and spitting citrus peel everywhere.

“It’s called a treeleaper,” Captain Sunlight told me. “Warmblooded, diurnal, omnivorous, and ‘a bit of a troublemaker.’”

Mur snorted. “Sounds like your species,” he told me.

“Just with a tail,” Zhee added.

“I wanted a tail as a kid,” I said absently, thinking hard. I’d just caught sight of a shipful of humans disembarking nearby, on the other side of the biggest pile of gel. They looked like they were in pretty good shape. One was already walking on the gel and laughing about the bounce.

I had an idea. “Excuse me, Captain. I think I see reinforcements,” I said, then ran off toward my unsuspecting kinfolk. When I got close, I took great pleasure in yelling, “Hey humans! Who wants to help me chase a monkey across a trampoline??”

They were all smiles and questions, then when I led the way to where they could see the monkey-frog jumping around with stolen fruit, they volunteered immediately.

“I’ll get the small cargo net!”

“Do you think the big gravity wands will slow it down?”

“Bet you a cleaning shift that I can grab it in a towel.”

“You’re on!”

I told Captain Sunlight that I had successfully recruited some animal-catchers, and she didn’t bat an eye, just suggesting that our crew gather similar tools from our own ship. Zhee and the twins rushed off while Mur stayed to yell suggestions.

The other humans were already venturing into the bounce zone. I hurried to follow, grabbing a fist-sized lime thing from the ground as I did. We made a wide circle before closing in.

The treeleaper saw us coming, of course. Threw a half-eaten fruit at one person and made a rude noise at another, then sprang up to ricochet between surfaces like an unholy pinball.

Thus began a merry chase.

It brought back memories of bouncy houses and birthday parties at the trampoline gym. The gel was tough enough to take an impact without doing more than denting briefly and launching a person hooting into the air, to rebound off another surface and hopefully not smack into anyone else in midair. There were a couple close calls. But that just made everything funnier somehow.

I jumped off one gel wall with and hit another with my shoulder, making the monkey-frog turn a 180 back towards a pair of guys with gravity wands. He tried to spring away to the side, but I threw my lime to bounce off a surface nearby, spooking him enough to change direction yet again. Somebody slid down a gel slab like a rubbery playground slide, yelping as that turned into a wild tumble. The animal didn’t know what to make of all the flailing and laughter. His hesitation was enough for the gravity wands to lift him partway off the gel, then when he stuck a leg out far enough to jump free, he was immediately bagged by a grinning lady with a cargo net.

Everybody cheered.

The treeleaper growled and tried to scramble free, but no luck. Somebody else caught up and helped tie the net off with a scarf. Everyone settled down to minimal bouncing, and many hands worked together to carry the bundle of ropes and disgruntled animal back to solid ground.

“You got him! Is he okay? He didn’t sprain anything in that net, did he? I hope he didn’t eat too much fruit. He’ll do that if given the chance, you know.” The owner was grateful and worried and relieved and talkative.

Eggskin had arrived from our ship with a medical scanner, and thankfully they could put everyone’s mind at ease about the state of our animal cargo. The treeleaper was fine. It had a stomach full of fruit and a bloodstream full of adrenaline, but all it needed was a nice nap in its carrying cage.

I considered asking why it hadn’t been in the carrier before, when the rented shuttle got its windows smashed, but I didn’t.

A small hand patted my back, as far up as it could reach. “Earning your keep once again,” said Captain Sunlight.

I laughed. “That was my pleasure.”

Another human lingering nearby asked, “Is there anything else that needs catching? That was great.”

“Yeah, you should sell tickets to this!” agreed another.

A Frillian in a port uniform said, “No, but thank you.” She paused, then added, “Hm. I wonder if that’s worth suggesting to the owner of all this insulation. It’s useless for its intended purpose now that it’s breached the sanitation shielding.”

I smiled. “It still makes an excellent trampoline even with footprints all over it. Lay those out in an empty field and charge people entrance, and they could make back a decent amount of money. You get plenty humans through this port, right?”

The woman who’d caught the treeleaper said, “We’re here early for a family reunion before the big festival, then there are three or four sporting events in a row. Let us know if that does happen, because we can get you a lot of humans interested in jumping on this stuff.”

I had to leave with the animal cargo back to our courier ship, so I didn’t hear how the rest of the conversation went, but I saw the official bring the representative of the hauling group over to meet the humans. He looked very interested in what the spokesperson had to say.

I grinned at the scene as I walked away: the intense conversation in front of the vast playground of bouncy surfaces. I wondered if we’d get a chance to come back for a visit when they got it set up properly.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #and today #humans are space monkeys #who enjoy certain things just as much as the next primate-adjacent entity #add another one to the list of things I've made up that I'd love to do in real life

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issacballsac · 2 years ago

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“Being Mileena’s Girlfriend„

Saw someone say there isn’t enough MKfem characters x fem reader so here we are ! Fem Reader

Meeting | MKX

You’d def be from Outworld

From the time where she ruled Outworld; before Kotal Khan rebelled against her

Her being Khan obviously you adored her and you couldn’t rlly get close to someone of such high status

However! When she was overthrown it wasn’t too hard to get close to her seeing as she was stripped of her previous status

Just go and join her rebellion lmao

Bonding

Ngl I don’t think she’d care if you’re strong or not just if you’re loyal to her cause

Her multiple failures in trying to regain her throne put her in quite the sour mood

So she’d appreciate if you threw in any new ideas or if you’re dumb as hell like me comforting her is fine too

If you shared any of your food/supplies with her personally(rather than the whole group) she’d be kinda embarrassed to rely on you

Especially if she is physically stronger than you

If you talk about how untrustworthy Tanya is in the beginning she’d be upset with you and distance herself so just wait until ur closer with her/have tangible evidence

She doesn’t take her mask off often in daily passing; excluding during battle ofc

But if you do catch her with her mask down she’d be hasty to put it back up

“You’re really beautiful, Mileena. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that.”

She’d def play off your comment but she’s DYING on the inside of embarrassment

If you specifically pick out a gift for her she’ll be happy and smile under her mask

She’ll start to linger around you more and when planning she’ll always sit next to you

She’s really desperate for love and will grasp onto anything like Shao Khan and Tanya who obviously didn’t truly care for her

Light | End

Depending if you convince her to stop the rebellion/run away with you changes the outcome of your relationship during the original/MKX timeline

If you don’t and go along with her plan to use the amulet you’ll probably die protecting her

Of course the same events as MKX go down with her execution but it’ll be prolonged💀

Kiss one another, die for each other 😦 - Katy Perry or Demi Lovato I don’t remember Ngl

If you do convince her to call off the rebellion it’ll be great!

Of course you can’t just throw a rebellion and walk away unscathed

So you’re gonna have to go into hiding or just cross realms altogether

Methinks she likes physical touch

Think hugs, kisses, hand holding, etc.

You probably wouldn’t be able to stay in one place for long so you’re constantly on the move

Mileena is a big fan of sleeping together though she rlly jus needs comfort bro💀

She’d pick you up and carry you if your into that(totally wouldn’t start freaking out if she dropped you)

When/If you escape to another realm you’ll take on a more relaxing life

Of course you guys don’t stop training just in case but it’s better than being on the run constantly

Taking on a more domestic lifestyle

You’d do a lot of single person tasks together just because

Taking out trash? She’ll help

Washing clothes? She’ll hang them up to dry

She’s not a good cook by any means but she’ll help where she can

She’ll def match outfits with you especially if you guys are the same size she’ll just wear your shit

Depending if you live amongst a dense population she’ll keep her face hidden in case anyone were to recognize her

If you live in a secluded village she’ll take off her mask more often and when the people get used to you guys she’ll keep it off

She can’t sew/patch up clothes for shit so if anything rips she’ll just stand there and watch you do it

You’d never have an actual wedding but the people of your community would totally come over if you guys hosted an informal relationship confirmation

“I’m grateful to take you as my wife.”

“And you as mine.”

Raiden the nosy bitch would obviously notice your presence no matter how much you try

Being EarthRealm’s protector ‘n all

Seeing as you guys are peaceful living he would only tell Kotal if Kotal asked for additional information

Pre-Shinok Raiden ofc

Overall she’ll defend you against the world all at the expense of you loving her

#mortal kombat #fanfic #fanfiction #x female reader #mortal kombat x reader #mileena #mileena x reader #Mileena x fem reader #x fem!reader #x feminine reader #mortal kombat x fem reader #mortal kombat x female reader #mortal kombat x feminine reader #dating headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #sfw #sfw headcanons

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slothsluv · 1 month ago

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the gentle but harsh sins — william h. bonney; tom blyth

“ we were born sick, you heard them say it. but we love it. there isn’t a sweeter innocence than our gentle sins. ”

(solely based on take me to church by hozier bc i was listening to that while writing this :))

——————

Billy would question his insanity. Integrity. Behavior. Intentions.

He would question everything that made up the sole source of his being.

He couldn’t understand the entirety of what he was feeling or what he was even thinking.

The only thing that made sense for him was the fact his heart beat a little faster and his eyes wandered too long anytime you came around. It was instinct, his own filthy intentions, to look for you anytime you came around. To crave the sight of you. His body was lured to yours and he would ever so slightly make his way towards you to hear the softness of your voice. The music to his ears that came about since he heard you.

He couldn’t understand it at all.

Why would he catch feelings for you? Especially you?

Now, he was no man of god, no saint of a child… but he knew it was wrong to feel what he was feeling. To think of what he was thinking.

He caught onto something for a man that looked no different than him. It was a sin. It was a crime to look at you the way he did, as a man.

He knew he wasn’t what people would kill simply by the course of their lips on another man; hell, he had slept with many women before and enjoyed it. But why was he looking… admiring you like he would a woman. Why was he wishing to lay you down and kiss you upon your lips and down your skin just like a woman. He couldn’t understand it at all. He hated himself for it.

Not because of who you are but because of what you are. He admired everything about you. To the way you talked, thought, and even groomed the horse you sat upon. Something bloomed into his chest anytime a mention of your name was heard. He felt disgusted for thinking the way he was. He wanted you.

He yearned for you.

Not like any of the women he had been with before.

No, this was something different. This feeling of confusion and infatuation that built up inside him over these past few days angered him to his core. He wanted you gone. Out of his sight.

He was terrified of what his intentions and ungodly mind wanted him to do while you were around. He wished you were never brought into the gang he resided in.

Yes, he was older than you, more experienced than you but that didn’t change a thing about the heat that rose to his cheeks anytime you looked his way. He should just shoot himself with his own gun to prove the case of denying his feelings for you simply because you were also an outlawed man like him.

———————

Night has fallen among the land the men had encamped. They were taking shifts to keep cover from any of Jesse’s men trying to shake their way through. It was part of the job that two men were paired together, to sit far from the camp and keep guard over the others. It was also part of the job for you and Billy to end up on watch together; he wanted to run away when he was called to go.

Both of you exchanged glances before grumbling, making your way to the outskirts of the camp. The stars in the sky creating a light perfect enough to make out the faces of both the men but difficult enough to see what was out afar. The grass below your feet crunched along with your boots.

“This far enough?” You asked, looking at the older man for approval.

Billy avoided your eyes, looking down at your feet before nodding. “Should be fine.” He grumbled.

You nodded, settling down in the cool grass of the evening with a small groan. “Been a long day..”

Billy hummed before doing the same, sitting right across from you. You looked at him, smiling but realizing he paid no mind to you so your mouth altered to a thin line. You let out a small cough. You never could bring out small talk in the man ever since you joined.

“You think we’ll be good for the night?” You asked.

A couple seconds goes by. You glanced up at Billy to see him already staring. Once he meets your eyes, he’s quick to look around, the sound of his tongue clicking in his mouth. He shrugged. “Should be.”

You nodded, looking down, leaning back against the small log that occupied the space you made comfort for the night.

For a while, you would just hum to yourself. Both of you took turns getting up, walking around the small perimeter laid out, then come and sit back down. It felt like a game to you; stealing glances at each other, the feeling of your own body heat rising and heartbeat skipping anytime you caught wind of his blue eyes. It went on for an hour or two before you let out a small yawn. The older man took notice of your state.

“Tired?” Billy broke the silence. The sound of his voice felt foreign from the lack of talking the past hours.

You shrugged your shoulders, adjusting the strap of the rifle you held in your grasp. “Ain’t something I haven’t been through.” You tried to keep your replies nonchalant. Distracting yourself from the impurity of your own thoughts and feelings about the man. You, too, had conflicting opinions about what you were feeling about the man. But neither of you knew the true circumstance of it.

Billy hummed in response. He seemed to eye you up and down before looking away. His leg swaying back and forth in the dirt, the heel of his leather boot making small marks that were indenting in the earth.

You glance over at him, rubbing the tip of your nose and sniffling. “Where you from?” The words slipped off your tongue before you could stop.

Billy looked at you and raised his eyebrows in a slight manner. His expression was mixed with confusion and amusement at your question. “Where am I from?”

A low chuckle erupted from your chest. “Yea, that’s what I said.” You repeated, reaching up and scratching the stubble on your chin. You avoided his gaze, knowing he was looking at you. It made you nervous knowing his attention was all on you.

“New York.”

You let out a low whistle. A smile crept up on Billy’s face from your reaction.

“Long way from home.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Your mouth formed a smile as well, finally looking up at him. He was matching your expression. His eyes stared at yours then he looked down at his hands. “Anywhere you call home?” He asked.

You clicked your tongue and shrugged. “Y’know, here and there. Wasn’t much of a place to call home.” You admitted. You began fiddling with the weapon in your grasp.

Billy hummed.

“Guess I can take that. I ain’t too different from it.”

You nodded at his words. The both of you went silent. You racked your brain, trying to find any words to cling to, to try and salvage the conversation before you both. This was the first time ever that you got him to say more than a few words to you. It was exciting and made you feel giddy in a sort of calm way.

“You have a girl?”

You turned your head to him. This time, his question catching you off guard. You blinked a few times, letting the question sink into your head. You swallowed, shaking your head.

“Nah… no time for that, yknow with all the running around.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, embarrassment started writing over the manner of your face. Your hand reaches up and scratches the back of your neck. For some odd reason, the question caught you completely off guard, feeling of shame rose to your stomach.

“So, no partner or nothin’ to worry about?”

You shook your head quick in response. It felt like answering him completely. You had no idea what had got into you. But you felt your face go hot at the question.

“My type ain’t seemed to be around these parts.” You chuckled awkwardly. You internally rolled your eyes. You began regretting those words the second you heard them through your own ears. You felt sickening by what you were finally admitting to yourself.

Billy tilted his head, his gaze stayed on you. But he noticed the lack of your own attention turned to him, your face popped with red the last few seconds. He too, felt his heart beating faster as he came to the realization of what you were implying.

“And what type do you look for?” Billy whispered. He knew the answer to your question. It felt rhetorical to both you and the man who sat in front of you. Your boots almost touching from what seemed like the enclosing of the prairie.

You looked around, watching to see if any of the other men were hearing the conversation between you and the “ruthless” outlaw you’ve known. You could be hung with what you wanted to say to him.

You swallowed a small lump that seemed to appear in your airways of your throat. You looked at Billy. He was already looking at you, curiosity blooming through his gaze but it seemed to be mixed with amusement at your snub reaction. You cleared your throat and rubbed the back of your neck; a nervous tick you seemed to pick up from years ago.

“A type you ain’t interested in.” You finally said, chuckling a little before looking down at your rugged and scrapped hands. “It don’t matter. It’s not like it’s something I need to worry ‘bout right now.” You were quick to try and dismiss the question, the indulging way Billy found that was enticing to his peak.

Billy hummed. His stupid hums. You thought. You wanted him to say something. Something to clear the air of the awkwardness that seemed to plague it. It felt painful; him waiting for the response he wanted and you knew what he wanted to. But you dared to not say it. Maybe he was just curious, that’s all. No need to dig deep into it.

Billy felt motivated to scoot closer to you. He wanted to test the waters to see with what he was thinking was true. That what his mind was stewing over was actually the truth and not some dumb, daydream he wanted to try out. So he did.

Billy placed his palm on the small patch of dirt, using his strength to lift his body and make his way closer to you. Your head was quick to snap over when you realized what was happening. You looked everywhere but his face; his gaze felt like it was burning holes straight into your skull.

You cleared your throat as you felt Billy’s thigh rub against yours. Both of your trousers sticking together in fury of the patterns on the fabric. You sucked in a breath when you watched him leaning closer to your face with his.

Billy glanced down at your lips then back up at your eyes. He had looked drunken by the sight of his contorted face. But both of you were sober; you were wishing there was a drunkenness between you two already. Maybe it could counteract what you knew what was about to happen with the two of you. Maybe it could bounce the awful sins right off both of your mouths. Maybe, maybe. It was the only things you could wish.. pray for.

Your instinct to the close proximity of the older man made you flinch back. It seemed that the action sprung life back into his dead eyes when he realized what he was doing. He pulled away too.

This time, he was the one that cleared his throat. A shaky throttle rattling through your ears. The tips of them burning bright red alongside your face, matching a pile of firewood.

“Sorry.” Was all he managed to say before he stood up. You let out your breath you were holding. All you could do was stare up at him. Watch as he dusted off dirt that stuck to his pant legs. He wouldn’t dare look down at you.

“I’ll let one of the men know to cover my spot for the rest of the night.”

Before you could protest to his newly found claims, he was quick to grab his things; the rifle, his holster that ended up unchained from his waist.

You couldn’t help but feel a pit being burned through your chest, into your heart at the sight of him disappearing, back towards the camp with the other men.

You sighed, letting out a frustrated groan before throwing your face into your hands.

This was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

——————

a/n: I have no idea what I wrote, this just came straight out of my ass but I’ve been wanting to write a sorta complicated love story between Billy and a man. I need the angst and sadness in my life. I love it.

#tom blyth x you #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x male reader #billy the kid #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x male reader #take me to church #hozier #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #male x male reader #male reader

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sewerpalette · 8 months ago

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Little rant I might make a video out of:

Edit: disclaimer I wrote this directly after waking up so it’s very awkwardly paced and hard to read I’m so sorry.

AL-AN is not a good person, now I’ll start this off with saying that I looove his character, especially before the rewrite and this certainly isn’t an attack on anyone, just something I’d like to point out because I think the shift of perspective between both games is fascinating.

If anyone remembers the subnautica fandom before Below zero was even remotely announced, there were certain opinions flying around, people believed the architects to be the grand villain(s) in the bigger picture of the game lore for just how messed up they were, they literally hated those guys for being at fault of the sea emperors suffering and there were even theories going around that they made the kharaa to wipe out all other life around them- but it had went wrong.

But now it’s not like that anymore, no AL‘s previous actions are completely ignored because he showed some remorse for being responsible for the deaths of 7 architects specifically, together with messing up before pretty much an audience of billions, it must’ve been embarrassing- but when he apologizes he specifically only mentions the other architects, because he isn’t sorry for the other things he’s done, clearly. I mean dissecting a fetus is one thing, especially with their goal in mind, DISPLAYING it is another, like that’s just purposely gruesome. Together with all the other dissected experimented on animals in the shelves just hung up like prizes (I know the concept itself is not inhumane, but in this case it just wasn’t necessary.) also research specimen THETA anyone? Yeah we know it didn’t die because of the facility collapsing because there’s no injury displayed on its bones that would suggest that, and that part of the facilities insides also didn’t collapse, they just left it there until it either succumbed to the virus or starved to death, same with the sea emperor but they survived, kept alive by unfinished business for the next couple thousand years. Not to mention who the fuck comes up with a quarantine program that includes semi sentient killer machines and a giant gun made to shoot anything down from atmosphere, there were so many better solutions, I get the warper thing, I mean kill anything that’s infected makes sense, but the gun?? Literally why, if they send a signal through the network that this planet is diseased nobody is going to go there (we know that at that point humans weren’t advanced enough to travel space and they knew that so for who was that even for??) it was completely unnecessary to create a giant weapon in wich even more destructive weapons are stored wich let me get into that real quick because there’s also some implied stuff there, appearently AL was so desperate to get rid of his mistake that he attempted to blow up a doomsday device?? (Which would’ve destroyed most of the solar system in an instant.) In the entry it says it malfunctioned so they must’ve tried to use it, and even if they didn’t why would they have it on them anyways? Including all the other weapons. Also let’s talk about the architects in the little sanctuaries in the first game, it’s implied they stored multiple souls in like one of them, literally cramped up all their data whilst AL stored himself in a big ass sanctuary like idk man that’s kind of an asshole move. And those were just the first game events! (And there’s probably even more there.)

In BZ he can’t really do anything except for talk to robin because he doesn’t have a physical form, so there’s less to go off here but even then it didn’t seem like there were other sanctuaries in BZ for the other architects. and sure, you could make the arguement that architects don’t feel at all connected to their physical forms, wich is true, but don’t you think seeing a dead architects body, an architect from his team, a colleague, would illicit some kind of emotion from him beyond “great, now fetch me their skin.” (/j) even if he doesn’t see the attachment to the vessel, if it’s all that’s left from that time and from the crew, there would still be projected attachment onto it realistically. Also he was smart enough to hide himself from alterra because he guessed they didn’t have good intentions- scraping himself off the grid both physically and on any radars they had (presumably with hallucinations), but wasn’t smart enough to distract the critters running around infront of the sanctuary to idk get the help he needed with the failing sanctuary from the mercury, marg, or the alterrans that genuinely wanted to help instead of being eaten by sharks right infront of it.

Like man I love you but that’s just messed up.

And we know he knows he messed up, that’s why he’s so gloomy and does attempt to apologize at the end but like??? He said he wanted to make amends to his people showing that he still doesn’t care about everybody else he hurt, only those he deems as important, not the over 150 people that died on the aurora or the mercury or the degasi or the sunbeam or the research specimens or even the alterrans he’s indirectly caused death to, it is all his fault but he doesn’t see these people as important because he feels they are below him - sure you could make the arguement that he didn’t know about the ships that crashed, fair point. But seemingly he did if he could sense that alterra was there without even seeing alterrans in the first place, especially because Ryley has made contact with the thermal plant and other architect tech before, so he’d definitely know- especially based on the data robin has of the missing sunbeam and aurora incident on her PDA wich he has canonically said he read through.

And I’ll say it again I love AL, next to Bart he’s probably my favorite subnautica character in the whole game series, but I don’t like the portrayel of him suddenly being completely redeemed or being an inherently good person, he still doesn’t understand empathy or morals (you can be a good person without having those, don’t get me wrong.) and acts like a total idiot whilst victimizing himself, like yes, the other architects on the mission died and it’s his fault, they weren’t stored to keep him company and that’s his fault; neither did they like him, wich is very fair in my opinion. He can’t pull all this crap, disobey orders and get everybody killed and then pull the “but I’m sad about it so that erases everything I’ve done” like oh my god. I like him, but I would also like more content showing all this.

Sorry this was a very long kinda pointless rant and I don’t have any images because my phone which has like a whole folder of these is at home and we’re still stuck in England so it’ll have to do without for now.

TLDR: I want more morally dubious AL please and also he killed a fetus (well pretty much borderline newborn at that point) so he’s going into the fictional child murderer category for me.

#long rant #rant post #al an subnautica #subnautica #al an #al-an #video game fandom #subnautica below zero #sbz #video games #video game rant

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sashi-ya · 16 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 5: Desperate. lust can't wait

❄ a/n: sorry for the delay! vacation got in the middle but my "hornyness" for this man (men, count Ryuken too) never goes away. Enjoy a slightly longer chapter! ❄ tw: MDNI. This chapter contains smut. their first time together, tinted by desperation and desire. oral. fingering. passionate love making. vag. no protection. creampie asked and given :p. sorry about the end, but I just can't let it pass... from now on shit is about to go down... AGAIN. ❄ wc: 3,6k ❄ masterlist

“Ryuuken!” Uryu calls his father from the door of his room, allowing you to swiftly slip past him into the hallway. With your heart pounding, you make a beeline for your office.

The door finally closes behind you, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Quickly, you strip off the wet clothes and replace them with dry ones. Both sensations, cold and warmth, attack your skin; how embarrassing? Will Uryu make up for some random excuse? What if you tell a different lie?

“Never mind, back to work” you murmur, easing the anxious thoughts away. However, the smirk on your face seems plastered, inked. It would take a lot to erase it from your lips, and especially to get rid of the soft touch of Uryu’s hands on your skin… of his kisses, of his hardness against your core.

Soon, and without noticing, the hours pass. You weren’t really worried for Uryu’s fever, as his father hasn’t left the room since the moment he came back; you can assure he is in good hands.

However, as the leaving time approaches, you most definitely visit your patients one last time. You decide to leave Uryu’s room to be the last, and when inevitably the moment comes, you take a deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Can I come in?” you ask, a little shy. “You may come in” Ryuuken’s voice, low and almost whispery, sounds from the other side of the door.

Slowly, you get yourself inside. No lights but a little reading bulb on top of Dr. Ishida’s book and the blue hue of a snowy night coming from the window.

Uryu seems to be asleep, but even with the lack of illumination, you can see his skin tone looks healthier; he must have stopped running a fever a long ago.

“How is he doing, Dr.?” you ask. “He is doing better; no fever since you left the room” Ryuuken comments, barely looking at you from over the glasses.

You can tell he is back at being the cold man he used to be when Uryu was still around six years ago… does he know already?

“I see… we use cooling methods” you comment, writing on Uryu’s report.

“Hmm…” Ryuken answers, as he continues reading a book completely written in German.

A shiver runs through your spine; he hasn’t acted that distant for so long with you, it feels you’ve done something wrong. In any case, you won’t stay to find out.

“My shift is over, Dr. Ishida… I’ll go back home now and shower so I can come back and take care of Ury-“ you inform, but you get interrupted by his hand being lifted up to stop you.

He stands up and shows you the way out of the room. You comply, scared. What did Uryu tell this man?

Ryuken closes the door behind him, both being in a very empty hall already. When the shifts are over people seem to vanish, to disappear from work -which is totally valid-.

“You’ve done too much for my son already. I’m thankful but now he should be at peace. Please, go home and rest” the snow haired doctor commands; his hand on your shoulder feels cold, distant… almost mad at you. “I don’t want you him to be a complete distraction on your job, remember you are my most important collaborator here”

You look down at the paperwork in your hands; you aren’t able to look into his blue eyes. Somehow, you understand what’s happening now, and he isn’t mad at you for taking his son away from him… But he is mad at his son for taking you away from himself.

You nod, in silence. And equally in silence you walk away, feeling the intense sight of the man that should only be your boss – and the father of the man you love- fixed in between your shoulder blades, or perhaps, down, down your waist.

You practically run away, grabbing your coat and bag all at the same time. Never have you ever wanted that cold slap of winter to hit your cheeks faster than tonight. No matter how much it might be snowing, you only want to walk away from that hospital.

“What the fuck…?” you murmur to yourself, feeling your feet become two blocks of ice as you run through the streets of Karakura. “I must be delirious… I haven’t slept well, that’s all it is” you continue as the pedestrian sign turns red and you wait to cross the street.

The sudden vibration of your phone scares you a little; it comes as a surprise, but you are still able to tell whose that number is.

Unknown > what did he say? Why did you leave? You > to go home and have some rest. How are you feeling? Unknown > going home rn. Send me your location, will be there later. You > Uryu… your whole point is to never let me rest, right? You > 📍 location Unknown > you bet I won’t let you rest tonight

You giggle, noticing your cheeks become hot and your stomach a butterfly mess. Not enough cold outside can compete with your inner heat right now.

“Do I have something to offer when he arrives?” you think, making a quick stop by a convenience store before going back home. Truth is, you find yourself trying to remember Uryu’s favourite snacks back then, annoyed by the fact that the sunflower seed store he loved has already closed a couple of years ago.

Something savoury should do, despite knowing, deep inside, all he wants to eat is you.

You quickly -and panting- arrive at your apartment. As always, everything looks like an organized mess. You can’t waste time on being a perfectionist, but you most definitely take time to hide the panties you hanged inside to dry; or the chocolate wrappers you left the other night on your bedside table while you were watching One Piece.

Your reflection catches you out of guard, as you run through the little hall that separates your room from your kitchen. There, a little mirror shows your face tinted in every shade of anxiety; now, a lot more mature than six years ago, absolutely sure and unsure at the same time, waiting for Uryu to be finally yours. For you to be finally, and once and for all, his.

The sudden ring on your door scares you a little; your hands, that had fallen upon the little table that still holds old picture frames of your younger days, curl their fingers around and carve your nails against the wooden surface.

You take a deep breath and run to open the door; it’s cold outside, and Uryu shouldn’t be waiting after being sick.

Uryu’s fist helps the door open faster, making space for his desperate self to pass. No word said before his hand slid through your waist to pull you closer against his body.

You gasp, with your lips barely millimetres from his. Your chest goes up and down, your cheeks on fire getting a little bit of relief as the cold breeze filters from the still opened door.

“Hi” he grunts before attacking your lips.

Your eyes open big in surprise; but soon remember that Uryu can be more than impulsive when he desires something. And right now, he is desperate for you.

You take little steps back without separating from him. Your arms have already surrounded his neck, your body begs for more.

His tongue, disrespectful, dances with yours; lustfully, unstoppable, like fire burning. Soft little whimpers scape in between the little gaps of your mouths; his nails carve like claws on your waist, and then, down until your ass.

“Do-door- close- mnh- it” you mutter, muffled by his imprudent, freed love.

“Let them watch” Uryu murmurs, perhaps jokingly… perhaps not.

You are out of breath, unable to escape his arms, watching everything happen through black strands of hair and the metallic little side of his glasses carving on your face.

Uryu chuckles sexily, kicking the door close with the back of his heel. As if he wanted you to notice, he allows you to look while he takes his glasses off.

“Sorry, not used to” he comments, showing you his modern eye glasses on his hands.

“Uh- It’s – UH-“ you are simply out of words; is this man really not “used to” kissing this way?

Though it doesn’t matter if you can’t think of what to say, because his lips are immediately back all over yours.

Your back hits the wall behind you; feeling even more trapped underneath Dr. Ishida, your legs tremble in excitement, perhaps eager to be split open already.

The taste of his kisses is by far delicious; like biting a fistful of juicy raspberries, like chocolate dripping down your tongue.

Oh, but for him, no ambrosia is enough if he hasn’t still tasted the whole extents of your flesh; And after trapping your lower lip in between his teeth, pulling ever so softly and yet so deadly, his butterfly kisses land down your chin and into your neck.

You throw your head back, lips semi open, allowing sweet moaning to reach Uryu’s ears. It makes the man shiver, to attack the skin closer to your collar bones, harder. He seems to be inhaling your perfume, the scent of your flesh, letting his right cheek rest on your chest for a couple of minutes when the lust for your body gets even too much for him.

“I’m sorry” he huffs, closing his beautiful blue eyes for a second, still with his cheek pressed against your breasts.

“I don’t want to hear more “sorrys”, you know that belongs in the past…” you whisper, caressing his head, playing with his straight, soft hair.

“No, I’m being desperate…” he confesses, ashamed of the need, of the lust he experiences when it comes to your body.

“I’m as desperate as you...” you reply, this time not ashamed, almost in pain because you want a lot more.

Uryu looks up at you, like earlier today, though his eyes don’t show regret… this time, they show love. Love and madness. Sex, desire.

He stands up, turning you around, allowing you to face your kitchen. His hands surround your waist from behind, his nose buries on the small of your neck.

“Where’s bed?” he asks, with his lips against your nape. His presence behind, his chest against your back, his hardness against your ass cheeks... lord.

“Follow me…” you whisper back, turning around sexily as you grab his hand to guide him. As sexily you walk towards your bedroom, like the snake incited Adam and Eve to sin, you do.

Uryu is pleased your apartment is small, should he wait a little longer he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from fucking you on your kitchen table.

“Looks like your old room” he jokes, before pushing you softly against your bed.

“Despite all, it’s still me…” you purr, grabbing him by the belt, pulling him closer.

“You are right, you are still you…” he replies, letting his white jacket slide down his shoulders and fall into the ground.

He doesn’t even think of taking any more clothes but yours, that’s why immediately after, Uryu crawls in between your legs.

The longest part of his bangs tickles your cheek, while the tip of his nose grazes yours. You both look into each other’s eyes, with a pure expression of longing and need. For how long has this been due?

Dr. Ishida slides his right hand until your thigh, while his lips become closer to yours. No matter how desperate he might be, he needs to clearly state what he wants the most right now.

“Now I need you to be mine…”

You nod, biting your lower lip before he could kidnap your mouth for a violent deep kisses torture. It makes you shiver; how mature he can be at certain times; those six years have passed for the both of you.

Uryu lifts your leg, allowing his core to reach yours. Even underneath his jeans, the erection makes its presence more than clear, perhaps even being painful for him to bear, to tolerate.

You buck up your hips, just to let him know how much your sex desires him, his intrusion. Your hands work to unbutton his shirt; it is hard to do, but they come undone one by one.

“I still wonder how you got this” you whisper, in between kisses, while tracing the inked Quincy star on his chest with the tip of your fingers.

“The price I had to pay to regain my powers…” Uryu replies, now standing up just a little to undress you. It’s been enough waiting; he needs you completely naked now.

His skilful hands take no time to rip your polyester coverings; inpatient, he wants instead, to see fine lace against soft skin… but even though Uryu enjoys the look of it, nothing can match the beauty of naked anatomy. Of your naked anatomy.

Again, fighting desperation, he pounces back at your chest. The scar on it, still makes his whole being hurt, but the need to bite your erect nipples grows stronger, almost inevitably, on him. And so, he indulges on them, trapping a hard button in between wet lips.

Uryu sucks, Uryu bites, Uryu nibbles. You moan, you grunt, you whine…

Ah, delicious, he knows exactly what to do to turn your skin all bumpy, to make your brain a mess.

And despite your wish to touch, to give that man at least a little bit of pleasure in return, he won’t allow you to do so. Not now, not yet. Uryu slaps your arms softly away, making them bounce back and behind your head.

He just wants you to focus on one single thing: your own pleasure.

Dr. Ishida’s hand slides down as he kneels in between your spread legs. A swift motion allows him to lower your pants, taking the panties with them too.

A shivering grunt abandons his lips when your femininity flashes before his cerulean eyes; you can tell his erection has grown a little bigger, a little harder because of it.

Uryu can’t stop himself from touching your warmth, burying his index in between your folds, getting them soaked with the honey he’s been dying to try. He wishes he could go slower, but there is much he could do. Nothing can stop a crave like this.

When the fingertip of the young doctor encounters the little bump of pleasure, you react curling your back. The simple touch, the simple graze on your clit triggers your body like with no other man. Ah, the power of love, the power of lust.

“You like it like this?” he dares to ask, maybe even enjoying this with naughty intent. You can tell, because it is all over his face, with a smirk you’ve rarely seen on his pale façade.

“More…” you whimper, as he begins to trace circles and ups and downs.

Uryu smirks grows even bigger;

“More?” he murmurs, going faster, dragging your juices up and down and then back inside your entrance.

You nod, with lips trembling, sloppy eyelids and little spasms here and there.

Uryu then, lured by the carnality of your gestures, snakes down your core until his face reaches your heat.

You try to lift yourself from the bed, but he won't allow you to do so. What must be lifted, are your legs, that soon are made to rest on each of his shoulders while his lips seal your intimacy. A furtive tongue slips in between your slit, getting full of unholy syrup.

The doctor slurps, almost disgustingly but definitely deadly deliciously, everything your body produces. And the more he does, the more your core engulfs his pretty face… you have clenched your fist on his hair, moving his head up and down, and against.

Uryu is sure his lips must have turned blue a long time ago, as oxygen became scarce, muffled by your folds… but he doesn’t care, in fact, he won’t tell as he feels lightheaded from pleasure.

You contort and retort to a coming orgasm, carving your heel on his back, throwing your head back, waking your neighbors up with your loud moans.

“Uryu… I- ugh… nghh!” all you can whine, all you can whimper.

“Come… come…” all he can murmur, or try to.

When the explosive sensation takes over your whole body, and his chin and chest gets bathed by you, you let go of his hair. He doesn’t mind, in fact, while he recovers a little bit of air, Uryu already crawls back to kiss your lips.

“I love you…” he lets you know before trapping your panting with his kisses.

“I – lov..love you-“ you pant, bringing him to receive his mouth on yours.

You can tell he wants you to rest, despite the pain on his crotch… those jeans must be a prison to his masculinity. So, you take action, no matter how tired or how much you still shiver due to climax.

“Lay by my side, please…” you plead.

Uryu lets his body flop to your right, trying to hug, to pull you closer to his chest. But that should wait, unless until you both decide to go to sleep.

“Do these pants hurt? Why are they still on, Uryu?” you ask, smiling, leaving your tongue against your upper teeth.

He scoffs tiredly, allowing you to work your way over his lap. While your naked core sits on his legs, you unbutton the jean prison, eager to discover his sex for the very first time.

Exactly like you imagined, you can see it is perfectly trimmed, clean, pale with a hint of purple… your toes curl to the imagery, causing that man to blush at the feral look on your face.

“(Name), I must warn you… should you do anything, I won’t be able to stop myself” Uryu claims, worried for your safety.

“Are you telling me you won’t be able to control yourself once you are inside me, Uryu? Is that what you mean?” you answer back, already crawling on top of his lap, grabbing his shaft to guide it inside of you.

You let your body fall, devouring his whole sex with your core. No protection, completely raw and risky, something you knew you shouldn’t do but did anyway.

Uryu takes his hands to his face; he wasn’t lying when he said he won’t be able to stop… his hands then land on each side of your ass, locking you in place, unable to move away from his dick. His upper body stands up from the bed, moving a little to the side so he is able to move you easier. If you thought you were the one riding, you were wrong.

You can feel the throb, the twitch of his warm rock surrounded by your walls. His lips reach yours; his gaze turns serious, almost demonic.

“I told you I won’t be able to stop myself” he lets you know, with his lips grazing yours and his hips starting to drill into you. No humping nor jumping can surpass this man’s thrusts, as he fucks you mercilessly raw.

Some minutes into it, Uryu feels he must need to change positions. “Turn around” he commands, helping you to lay on the bed.

You do, allowing him to top you, surrounding his waist with your legs the moment he slides back inside. The hip work goes back at full speed, as his lips traps once again yours.

Deep kisses, as deep as his ramming. The sound of skin slapping against skin, tinted with wet little splashes… the grunts and whines, the “fucks” and “love yous” mixed.

“I’ve been dreaming of this…” Uryu lets it slide out of his thoughts.

“me… too… keep going… please” you beg, carving your nails on his back, feeling the muscles move underneath your fingertips.

Uryu keeps going, just as you asked for, decides to turn his common sense off as much as he can. That includes allowing his body to do everything to make you full of his seed…

“I told you… I won’t be able to stop… you understand?” he asks, or maybe simply informs you.

“Then don’t stop…” you bite your lower lip. “Don’t stop, and make me very, very full… Dr. Ishida” you whisper in his ear.

Uryu can’t help but laugh, almost like finally accepting you have become a deadly addiction for him. “You want it deep, babe?” he asks, feeling the spasming, milking motion of your climaxing walls.

“Very, very deep inside Uryu…”

Your sweaty bodies tangled into each other rest still attached, kissing sloppily each other’s shoulders. The time passes, letting you both know this night is about to end. Ah, to sleep on each other’s arms, to rest and perhaps start again a couple of times…

Or so you thought until your doorbell rang, unexpectedly.

“Did you order something?” Uryu asks, putting back his glasses on.

“No…” you reply, confused. “I must take a look, though” you continue, kissing his forehead before you surround your body with your bathrobe.

Your naked feet walk through the cold floor of your apartment, noticing a familiar silhouette through the frosted glass of your door standing outside.

“(Name), it’s me. I’m sorry I came in this late, I wanted to talk with you for a moment” “What…?”

Uryu, unaware, gets his pants on quickly. He still tries to button them as he walks semi naked to join you. He fixes his glasses when he sees the man standing right by the door, holding a very modest flower bouquet in his hands.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” “Son… I”

[to be continued]

#ishida uryuu #uryu ishida #ishida uryū #ishida uryu x reader #uryu x reader #bleach x reader #bleach uryu #bleach #bleach anime #bleach x reader fanfic #bleach fanfic #sashi ya #bleach tybw #ishida uryuu x reader #uryuu x reader #bleach imagines #bleach manga #bleach fanart

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damn-stark · 2 years ago

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Chapter 5 Journey to the future

Chapter 5 of Moonlight

A/N- Youre there to annoy Aemond this time around

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Fuck. What if he’s ugly?

Worse, what if he’s just like his brother Aegon? He wasn’t when you knew, but that’s it, you don’t know him anymore, he can be just like his brother now. And if that’s the case then your life is ruined, and you’ll live a miserable life.

Unless you save yourself before…

You’ll have to wait and see. But then again…if he isn’t like Aegon will you be able to be what you once were? Close and kind to each other? Or will you be like his mother and father? Distant and like strangers?

If that’s the case then you’ll have to run away too, run back to Cregan and hide there. You don’t want to live a miserable life.

Damn, you want to know what the future holds for you now! But no, life is cruelly slow. You’ll have to wait and see, damn.

You groan at the unknown and glance out of the window gaps, from what you’ve seen already the Red Keep seems a lot bigger than you remember it being. There are also more people working within the yards, making it louder than what you’re used to now. Albeit the one thing that people do have in common with those in Winterfell is that people gawk here too; you can see them trying to sneak a peek inside your carriage. And not only those people out on the streets but everyone from the dock, up to the moment the carriage rolls to a stop in the courtyard outside the castle doors. They’re all curious to see the realms Golden Girl return from the deep north.

As their eagerness runs rampant though, you feel your stomach twist.

“Here we go, Wolf,” you whisper to your kitten. “We’re officially here.” You exhale deeply as you stroke your kitten's gray fur one time before putting him away in his crate.

“I’ll see you later okay?” You try to assure him after he’s spent the majority of the month out of his crate and never far away from you. You also try to prolong going out and coming face to face with your welcome party waiting for you on the steps.

“It’ll be alright Princess,” your handmaiden now assures you as she helps you put the kitten away.

You let out a deep shaky sight and offer her a nervous expression.

“Yes,” you try to muster confidence. “Here goes nothing,”

Nevertheless, your heart begins to race as you anticipate coming face to face with Aemond; who should be waiting to greet you alongside his mother and siblings, as it befits your station, and the fact that you’re family. If he isn’t out there then he’ll be an even bigger asshole in your mind.

“If it all goes wrong then we just write to your friend.” Your handmaiden offers you a clever solution while she shoots you a smirk. But, GODS! It’s not a good time to joke around like that! Especially not about Cregan!

She’s lucky she’s your most beloved friend or else you would fire her.

“Hilarious,” you grumble with a pointed glare, making her giggle as she grabs Wolf’s crate.

From then on, your continuous prolonging finally is cut short as one of the guards outside your carriage door introduces you by your given name first before following with your mighty house, and lastly, your title, cuing your exit.

Part of you tunes it out because of the grip your nerves has on you, but the guard is loud, and you still feel the inklings of your pride seeping back in at the sound of those titles. “….Of House Velaryon, Princess of Dragonstone!”

Fuck, okay.

You draw out a deep breath and look at the carriage door as it’s getting opened. The guard immediately offers you his hand, but you hesitate and let out another nervous breath of air before you take his hand and let him help you down.

Rather than turning to face the people out to welcome you, you can’t help but look at the sky as Astraea flies overhead. She circles the courtyard once with her eyes on you before she flies away as if making sure you were actually safe before she had to leave.

She was your excuse to keep averting your eyes but once you can’t see her anymore you finally give your attention to brick towers that look blander than you last remember. You look at the lonely house banners that are on display, at the few guards that stand firmly at the sides until you have no more excuses, and finally shift around to land your gaze on the Queen, and her family standing on top of the stairs watching you; the princess that she sent away as a little girl, and came back as a woman.

There you stand, and there she stands. The Queen of course stands out the most with her deep red hair, and elegant green dress adorned with gold jewelry. She looks at you as she always had before; with judgment in her piercing gaze.

Even so, you can’t deny she looks quite beautiful, it’s like she hasn’t aged one bit, albeit it has been five years, so there can’t be that much of a change.

The others though?

Nonetheless, suddenly your name is excitedly called out in the stunned silence, when you shift your gaze to look at who called you, to the right you see a woman with silver-blond hair running at you before she attacks you with an embrace that catches you off guard.

“It is great to see you!” She says sweetly, finally letting you recognize her voice at that moment, it’s Helaena!

You pull back and grab her shoulders to study your aunt. “Helaena?” You query with a grin. “Look at you!” You point out as you see that she hasn't lost how kind she looks, or how blue her eyes gleam. She is a bit plumper than before and she does look a bit more timid, but she is still radiantly beautiful.

“Look at you,” she redirects whilst she pulls back to let her hands slide down your arms and grab your hands instead as she studies you. “You’re beautiful.” She comments, making you beam at her.

“As are you,” you counter softly. “And I’ve heard that a congratulation is in order. Twins, that’s amazing news. I have children of my own.” You smirk.

Helaena blinks and her smile fades. “What? Really?” She asks in a quieter voice.

You giggle and point to the crate. “My kitten, Wolf, and my lovely Astraea, of course.”

“Oh!” She sighs with relief, but doesn’t find it as humorous as you did, or as Arra would have.

“That's great.” Helaena acknowledges your joke before pulling back and letting one hand slip off, while she keeps the other still secured around yours to pull you with her. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs she comes to a stop and strands you there to be looked down upon by her mother and the boys beside her whom you still avoid looking at. It’s just too much to take in, you need time to progress everything slowly.

“Your Grace,” you greet the Queen, while you grab the blue skirt of your dress and curtsy before her. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

You lift your gaze and see her walking down to you, making you stiffen.

“Look at you,” she says in that voice you can’t tell if it’s sweet or condescending. “You’re a woman grown,” she adds and gently grabs your chin. “You’re beautiful.”

You offer her a feigned sweet smile before looking past her after not finding anything else to say to her. However, much to your disdain, the next person you see is Aegon; his pair of eyes creepily studying you gives him away; that, and well he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“Uncle,” you greet with a fake courtesy and a lazy smile. “It is…”

“A pleasure seeing me as well?” He adds for you since you couldn’t help but pause. And rather than showing your disgust, you offer him a smirk and a stiff nod

“Sure,” you lie sweetly.

Aegon shoots you a smirk and climbs down to stand before you. “Look at you,” he says and studies you again with a deeper smirk.

“Actually,” you add and point at him. “I am honored seeing you here, I mean am I really that special? You got up from your special afternoon nap time just to greet me?” You snicker as you touch your chest with grace, causing him to chuckle.

“I see that the North didn’t take away your feisty attitude,” he retorts. “Good. Good. I was getting bored here.”

You scoff softly and actually offer him a genuine smile, but that quickly vanishes when he opens his mouth again. “Now you must remember Aemond, right?” Aegon can't help but tease you while he puts his hand on your back to lead you up the stairs where Aemond seems to be stuck. And as much as you want to take him all in you avert your gaze out of spite and bow your head because he is nothing more than a stranger to you after he broke your friendship after one year of you being away.

“Prince Aemond,” you greet coldly and hear Aegon stifle his teasing laugh. You expect to hear something in return, you want to hear how Aemond’s voice changed, but he doesn’t say a thing, making you slowly lift your eyes up his…very tall and slim figure.

He’s very tall, and his hair is long too, it goes past his shoulders, but it actually doesn’t look bad, not on him anyway. It looks soft and well taken care of too. And! He's not ugly, that was a foolish concern. He’s majestic and beautiful.

He has a long face, but it’s pretty, well-structured, and his nose is long and straight. His freckles are gone though, bummer, but his lips, they’re thin and pink, and slightly parted. And his eye is the same eye you saw for years, it’s the one thing that hasn’t changed; it's familiar, comforting; his eye is also slightly widened and just set on you.

And finally, after a long moment of stillness and silence, he bows his head and lets you hear him mutter your name in a deeper voice than the one he had when he was a boy, but still gentle and soft.

“Aemond,” you repeat and can’t help from smiling softly at him.

However, that bliss quickly begins to fade as you see his eye shift lower on your face because when you follow his line of gaze, you notice that he’s looking at the long prominent scar he accidentally had made on your cheek, which then leads you to look back up at his face to look at his own scar; noting that his eye isn’t swollen or red anymore, but he still doesn’t have it, he’s actually wearing a leather eyepatch over his eye socket, which adds to his attractiveness.

As you look at his long scar longer though, you don’t find yourself feeling guilty anymore, not like before. Now that you look at it, you can’t help but notice one thing—and maybe it’s silly, but his scar ends where your scar starts on your cheek.

“It’s,” Aemond interjects and pauses for a brief second.

Have you made him nervous?

“It’s a pleasure seeing you again,” he finishes, making your smile revive. However, you then remember what a jackass he’s been and you quickly drop your head to clench your jaw and frown.

“I wish to see my grandfather,” you ignore him and look over at the Queen at the top of the stairs now.

Alicent blinks in surprise and Aegon continues to stifle his laugh.

“But you have only just arrived. You must be tired from your travel.” Alicent quickly says.

You shake your head and move past Aemond to walk inside the castle. “It’s all right he has more precedence.”

Alicent follows beside you and sighs knowing there’s no need arguing against you on this matter. “Well, all right then come with me.”

You hum softly in agreement even if you knew you’d go without her, and as you're walking away you feel a burning sensation on your back, so you instinctively peer back over your shoulder and meet Aemond’s gaze. He blinks in surprise when you catch him, but doesn’t look away. So you do, you make sure he sees you roll your eyes before turning your head away.

He may be handsome, and sexy, but he has a lot to make up for before you can be okay with him. Besides, he still doesn’t replace Cregan.

Oh sweet, handsome Cregan. Just thinking about him makes your body burn with desire, but he also makes your heart sad as you long to see him, and be with him again. Hopefully, you get a letter from him soon, you’ll send one later regardless to let him know you’ve made it.

As of now, your focus drifts solely to your grandfather. The walk to his chambers is eternal since it’s a quiet and awkward walk between Alicent and you—then again you also prefer that to being asked thousands of questions. However the silence does make your mind fill with thoughts of Cregan, and of Aemond and how this relationship is going to work. No matter how handsome he’s grown to be, that doesn’t change a thing about the fact that you’re nothing more than strangers forced to marry.

How funny is that? That eagerness to marry is merely memories now…

But! You can’t let that mess with your mind at this instant. Maybe once you’re in bed you’ll think. Endlessly.

As for now once again you drift your focus back to your grandfather, and on Alicent since she breaks the silence. However, the conversation isn’t pleasant. “I must inform you that your grandfather is not well. His pain forces him to cloud his mind with milk of the poppy for his pain.”

His pain or for her convenience?

Yes, you’ve noticed that the dragon sigils are missing and their place are the stars of…the faith? The new gods? You’re not much into religion, so you can’t be sure, but, whatever, the stars that decorate the halls are just like that big fat star she wears around her neck as if she’s a part of some cult.

“He won’t be as responsive as he once was,” she lets you know.

You hum in comprehension, and when you reach the King's chambers, the Kingsguard opens the doors to let you in. And the moment you’re in the dimmed lifted chamber you come to see his once precious model of Valyria, unkept and covered in dust and cobwebs.

You remember watching him work on it when you were a little girl, he even let you help him most of the time. He always said he loved the company and the help, your presence never bothered him. Plus you loved spending time with him, not only because keeping him company let you skip lessons with ease, but he was always kind and he wouldn't shoot you judging looks like Alicent.

“Come,” Alicent whispers as she guides you past the curtains that block the view of the bed. “It’s okay.”

You’re hesitant, finding your presence to be a bother now, but you also know you don’t want to linger back out of fear, you want to see him, so you slowly follow Alicent past the curtains but end up stiffening the moment you notice how terrible he looks; he’s so skinny, his skin is paler and scaly, a bandage now wraps around half his face, covering one eye, and his hair is practically gone, only a few strands stick to his head.

You almost don’t want to approach, finding your heartbeat elevating as if you’ve grown fearful, but you remind yourself that he’s your grandfather so after a deep breath you finally approach his bedside, noticing when you get close that his breathes are labored now, like if that alone is too much to work.

“Who goes there?” He asks hoarsely and slowly shifts his head to the side to follow Alicent’s figure as she stands by the end table by his bed.

“It is I, husband,” she speaks up quietly and carefully grabs his hand. “I’ve brought a visitor here to see you.”

“Oh,” he groans. “Who is it?”

Alicent looks over at you, and you meet her gaze to share your reluctance.

“It’s okay,” she assures you. “Come, so he can see you.”

You swallow thickly and bite the inside of your cheek as you take a couple of steps towards him so you can be in his point of view.

“Hello, grandfather,” you make yourself known, noticing him lowering his dull gaze to take in your face as you announce your name and offer him a kind smile before leaning in closer. “I’ve returned from Winterfell.”

Your grandfather draws out a labored breath, and you see him study your face in silence. You can’t help but glance at Alicent in confusion, not knowing if he remembers or not, but you find her just as curious to know as you.

“Ah,” he then startles you. “Sweet granddaughter. My, how you’ve grown.”

You look down at him and can't help but grin and then reach over to grab the hand that Alicent lets go.

“I'm very happy to see you,” you say softly without that same hesitance. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” he responds. “It seems our project has been abandoned since you left.”

He still remembers...

You smirk softly. “So I've noticed, perhaps, now that I will be here, I can come and restore it. It’d be a shame to let such great effort go to waste.”

He hums softly and nods very slowly. “That would be great.” He exhales deeply and his grip loosens whilst his gaze shifts around. “Where’s your mother?” He asks suddenly. “Why did she not travel with you?”

You share a confused look with Alicent, and she responds by stepping in and reminding him where you were. “She was in Winterfell, my dear. Rhaenyra has been at Dragonstone.”

Your grandfather lowers his gaze and instead lifts his hand to rub his head and groan. “Oh,” he whispers. “Yes, that’s right.”

You tighten your grip and add on sweetly. “Winterfell is such a lovely place. The snow is cold but beautiful. And I went to the wall...” You trail off before you can reveal things that can give away any bit of your relationship with Cregan. “It’s truly breathtaking. Liberating.” You quickly redirect yourself, catching the corner of his lips tug upward just slightly.

“Yes,” he mutters, “you always dreamed of adventure. Just like your mother once.”

You smile in awe and find yourself glancing away and catching Alicent’s faltering feigned smile. When she notices your gaze she fixes herself and offers you a bitterly sweet smile.

“If I could,” you add lightheartedly and return your attention to your grandfather. “I’d travel the world on Dragonback and feast on different foods.” You giggle.

He hums and the corner of his lips lift more but that alone seems like too much of a strain.

“Perhaps it’s time we let him rest,” Alicent catches you by surprise—“and you need rest too,” she directs at you. “A month on a boat with rough waters isn’t pleasant I imagine.”

You sigh and give in without a fight because you are indeed exhausted. “Yes,” you agree and let go of your grandfather's hand to instead plant a kiss on his head. “I’ll visit when I can.”

“Yes, please do,” he strains to say. “I will wait.”

You pull back and smile softly, finding peace and pride in the fact that he remembers you in his poor state.

Yet you also feel bothered that Alicent had to intervene and end it so abruptly. Why? You were enjoying each other's company…

Hm.

Was she bothered he was so taken away with your visit, or was it something else?

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

Right now if you were in Winterfell, you’d be preparing or already be with Cregan past the castle walls or in his chambers talking, kissing, and cuddling. He’d whisper sweet nothings, or he’d just hear you talk about what comes to mind or the gossip you’ve read from your cousins or brothers. You’d be each other's comfort after a long day. You’d be in his arms, or he’d be in yours. You’d be with him.

Instead, now you’re in your chambers at King’s Landing with just your kitten to keep you company as you read all alone. Your handmaidens had already left for the night, so you’re truly alone. Bored.

However, a soft knock then raps on your door, piquing your curiosity. Could it be Vanessa, your main handmaiden with envoys?

“Come in,” you say eagerly and close the book to put it aside and sit up before resting your arm on the couch's headrest to twist around and face the door.

Nevertheless, you then come face to face with Aemond.

Its Aemond at this time?

You rest your chin on your hand and then slightly tilt your head as you breathe out, noticing that he stands frozen in front of the closed door with his lips slightly parted again, and his eyes widened a bit as if in awe. You muster a feigned smile and catch him swallow thickly, letting you assume that you’re making him nervous.

“Did you miss me terribly?” You ask teasingly.

Aemond lowers his gaze and exhales before he meets your gaze again with a more collected look. “I—”

“Because it doesn’t seem like you did,” you cut him off abruptly and turn back around. “Why did you stop writing?” You get to the point while you pick up the book you were reading. “I kept writing even after you didn’t and I never got anything back, it’s as if I was writing to myself.”

Aemond’s boots approach, making your kitten rush to your lap to avoid the tall scary man.

“It was never my intention,” he finally breaks his vow of silence, causing your gaze to slide to him. “I got busy.”

You narrow your gaze and see his gaze falter away from you, letting you know he’s lying. He's always had a tell.

“Liar,” you call out and put the book back down to cradle your kitten instead. “But if you don’t want to give me the real reason then that’s okay I’ve come to terms with it a long time ago.”

You haven’t, you’re still pissed but if it gets him to leave then good.

Yet…he doesn’t.

“What do you want, Aemond?” You ask and lower your gaze to Wolf to begin petting him. “It’s late.”

You can see him standing there awkwardly from the corner of your eyes.

“I imagined you to be up on the roofs,” he interjects, making you blink in surprise. “It was your favorite spot.”

“Was,” you deadpan. “I can’t find the same joy in that anymore. Besides, what good is it enjoying it alone? It’s not like you went…did you?” You drift your gaze to him and see him avert your gaze and shake his head.

“No,” he mutters. “Why would I?” He redirects with a little less patience and while he clenches his jaw, causing you to look past the fact that he might be lying and snap back.

“What? Are you mad now? You? What reason for?” You quip. “It’s not like I was the one that stopped writing.”

“You did,” he counters and snaps his gaze to you to pierce his glare. But instead of mirroring his anger right away you can’t help but wonder if he continued to read the letters you sent?

“After 3 years,” you remind him with your anger faltering, but not completely disappearing. You’re still pissed. “And 2 of those years I wrote to myself. You were my friend Aemond, I was alone in Winterfell! You felt alone here but you had your family close, I couldn’t even hold mine when my father died,” you pause and that glare shifts to a pained look you were supposed to hide. “I waited for you to write with eagerness, you were my solace, but you forgot about me. So no, you don’t get to be mad at me. I’m the only one who’s supposed to be mad!”

You snap your eyes away and stand up to hide your angry tears that begin to form, whilst Aemond gets up and takes a step towards you. You hear his lips part, but before he can say anything the door opens.

“Princess—oh, I’m sorry, I didn't know you had a visitor so late,” you recognize Vanessa say.

You draw out a deep shaky breath and shake your head. “He was just leaving, Vanessa. Don’t worry.”

You hear Aemond huff, while Vanessa approaches cautiously. “I’ve brought your envoys that just came.”

You turn to face her with an eager smile and take the two scrolls she hands you with haste. “Mother,” you reveal who the first scroll is from. “And…” you trail off and slowly begin to grin as you recognize the Direwolf sigil stamped on the scroll; Cregan.

It’s from Cregan.

You share a happy smile with Vanessa, but when you catch Aemond approaching the small table your happy smile falls in a flash out of fear he will somehow find out your deep secret.

Nevertheless, rather than getting close to you he approaches the small table in front of your couch and places a small box down before he turns around swiftly and storms out.

Once you don’t hear his footsteps out in the hall, you put Wolf down and can’t help but take the box he put down on the table out of curiosity. Yet you don’t open it right away, you're too nervous.

“Well,” Vanessa says eagerly. “Open it.”

She gets closer and you meet her gaze before you look back at the box and sigh before you open it, and the moment you gasp softly when you see a fascinating golden ring held inside.

Seven hells.

It’s so beautiful! And so elegant too! It’s slightly heavy, but worth the weight.

The golden band glimmers against the firelight, and the mesmerizing oval-shaped blue sapphire it holds completely catches you by surprise and steals your breath away. Not only that but around the sapphire are shiny white pearls as well, adding to its beauty, and letting you know he hasn’t forgotten what you like and dislike.

“Gods,” Vanessa murmurs.

You slowly slide the ring on your right ring finger, finding that it fits perfectly. And as you admire the ring you then see a note in the box and pick it up to read the sentences it contains.

“I remembered you liked the most glimmering jewelry. Welcome back home.” - Aemond

Instead of pushing towards his forgiveness, reading this makes you more mad.

Is he trying to buy you off now? Pretend he wasn’t an asshole?

Fuck him. He can shove this up his ass.

You yank the ring off and shove it back in its box along with the note.

“What are you doing?” Vanessa asks as she notices how quickly your emotions change. “What's wrong?”

You huff and instead focus on your letters. “It won’t be that easy,” you grumble. “He can’t just buy off my anger. I’ll give it back to him tomorrow. For now,” you sigh and sit back down on your couch, “I’ll read what my mother and Cregan sent instead.”

Vanessa parts her lips but leaves it be, knowing too well not to argue with you about these matters. Instead, she bids you her goodnight and leaves you be, letting you read the kind and sweet words Cregan and your mother sent alone. And given the day you had you actually find a moment to eagerly write back to them about your day and the month you had on sea.

Once you’re done, however, you still find yourself bored and left with a bit of energy so you continue to read and cuddle with your sleeping kitten. You think about Cregan as well, about his lips, the feeling of his touch on your flesh, and you ache for him. Who knew you’d miss him so much that it would actually pain you?

Does he feel the same way you wonder? Does his heart weep for you as much as yours weeps for him? Or was it all fake?

You fall asleep on that thought. You don’t even make it to bed, the book lulls you to sleep as your memories and thoughts keep you company—And it’s while you’re fast asleep though that someone actually creeps in; Aemond.

He thought you were still awake since your candles were still on, and well, he remembered you liked to stay up very late. He thought you were too upset to answer or acknowledge him so he let himself inside, that’s when he finds you passed out on your couch with your gray kitten sleeping on top of your chest.

Aemond should’ve left, he was, but you captivate him. Even as you sleep he can't help but admire how precious and peaceful you look, how that breathtaking warmth that flowed from you continued to do so even as you slept.

He watches you, this changed person before his eyes, and wants to say that he did in fact miss you; your company, your kindness, and your beauty that compared to nothing in this shit city. He wants to tell you that he did miss you, and he wishes nothing more but for your forgiveness, so you can be friends again, so you can smile at him again, so he can finally kiss you, and so he can finally marry you. He wants you to know that, he needs you to know that.

As for now though, as you sleep, he caresses your cheek with this knuckle before picking up the book you left beside you and places it on your table. You don’t have a blanket on so he takes one from your bed and makes sure to carefully cover you at least halfway so you’d be warm and so he wouldn't drown the small kitten with the sheets. He then turns to leave, but finds a scroll with the Direwolf wax stamp and grows curious.

Who might it be that wrote to you from Winterfell? A friend? A male friend?

He reaches for the sheet of paper out of the temptation to read who it is, but he stops himself just as his fingers are going to grasp the sheet—You’re already so angry at him, if you were to find out that he went through your things you’d be even more pissed and not even acknowledge him at all. So he lets it go and steals one last glance at you before he leaves.

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

“…And may there be a solution to this match, I don’t want to be in a pitiful marriage. Please,” you finish your prayer and open your eyes to look up at the bleeding face carved on the weirwood tree.

Sometimes prayer helps your mind, or at least you’ve found that it does. Yes, religion isn’t something that most of your Targaryen ancestors dive into too much, but after living in Winterfell, you’ve found comfort in talking to the Old Gods. Besides, now as you live at the other end of the country it feels like it connects you to Cregan, and well the Heart tree seems to be your only friend here. No one talks to you here—Maybe climbing on Astraea and flying to your mother or Cregan isn’t a terrible idea, you think to yourself with a deep sigh before you stand up and turn to head back inside.

However, the moment you turn you jump slightly as you get surprised by Queen Alicent’s presence.

She notices you get startled and quickly excuses herself. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just didn’t want to interrupt. It seemed like you were praying.”

You draw in a deep breath and nod.

Did she hear what you just said? Hopefully not.

“Yes,” you respond kindly and clasp your hands in front of you. “I was.”

Alicent hums and begins to walk over to you. “I never knew you were much for religion,” she points out.

You glance back at the tree and shake your head. “I wasn’t, but after I lost my father I…felt lost. Lady Karstark turned me to the Old Gods for help, and thanks to her I found how to accept my father's death. I found…comfort speaking to them, praying.” You smile softly and see her lips turn to an actual genuine smile that slightly surprises you.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Alicent says while she stops just a few inches away from you. “If only more could think like you.”

What does she mean by that?

You scoff softly and speak your mind without shame. “You can’t force religion. Some people find comfort in other things, people, themselves. We just have to hope they find a light in the darkness somehow.”

Alicent holds your gaze and sighs softly without losing any of that genuine intruginess she just found for you. “You’re right,” she whispers her agreement.

You hum and raise your eyebrow to probe. “Excuse me for asking, but is there a reason you were searching for me?”

You’ve only been stranded all alone in your quarters for what feels like an eternity, why has she come now?

And why is she grabbing your hands?

She keeps surprising you by pulling them towards her, causing you to glance down in confusion.

“Now that you’re here, I think we should start planning your wedding,” she reveals, making you grow rigid and feel as if you were splashed with freezing water.

“Like what colors you want the flowers. The dress. Who will you want to invite? It should all be exciting considering Aemond and you are friends already. Many don’t have such luck as the two of you.”

Only if she fucking knew. If only she knew.

“You are getting along are you not?” She pulls just on the right strings that make you bite the inside of your cheek and hide the truth as best as you can.

“Quite well.”

Alicent smiles wider. “That’s good to hear,” she says with relief and then lets go of one of your hands to fall by your side and lead you out of the Godswood with your other arm hooked around hers.

“I was thinking of one thing,” you interject sweetly so she won’t see through your hesitation. “Rather than having the wedding right away. Why not…wait six months,” you suggest. “It’s just been so long since Aemond and I have actually been together, we’re strangers now, I want to get to know him better.”

Alicent stops walking and faces you with confusion that causes you to grow nervous.

“Wait?” She repeats and then grabs your hands again to whisper. “Is there something wrong?”

Shit, can she see why you want to hold back the wedding?

“No,” you quickly rebuttal with a lie. “Of course not. I just…want us to be as we were before I left.”

Alicent draws in a deep breath and leans in closer, making you stiffen and grow intimidated by her again for the second time.

“I will tell you something,” she breathes out. “I don’t know if your mother has ever told you this, but there are some responsibilities that we as women of high nobility must bear. That we can’t escape from no matter what position we’re in. We have to raise our heads up high and follow the straight path.”

That sounds miserable but a logic she praises.

“This is one of those times,” she finishes saying.

You’d argue, tell her that you feel disgusted hearing that, but you can’t argue with the Queen and someone who won’t find sense in your argument. There’d be no point in wasting your breath or growing even more grieved.

Besides just past her shoulder you spot Aemond entering the Godswood, leaving no room for further discussion.

Alicent notices your attention drift away and follows your line of gaze, spotting her son and his eyes directly on you, so she doesn’t waste any time at all to look back at you with yet another feigned smile. “Start planning, the wedding will be in 2 months’ time.”

She gives your hands a gentle squeeze before she lets go and leaves you standing there with just Aemond to keep you company now.

“Was she pestering you?” He asks once his mother is out of earshot, and as if nothing happened a few nights ago; It’s so irritating!

You would try to stop being so angry but you clench your jaw and shake your head. “She was just reminding me of my responsibilities. Have you come to do that too? I remember you being close to your mother. Or have you come to apologize?”

Aemond breaks away from his spot and shakes his head. “No,” he says.

You raise your chin and curl your lip to a scowl. “No,” you feign a laugh and approach him as well. “So what? Am I just supposed to forget what a fucking asshole you were and act like a fucking paid-painted whore?”

Aemond swallows thickly and stops, bringing you to a stop close to him with a watery gaze brought by frustration.

“No,” he simply deadpans, making you even angrier because he doesn’t argue because he simply submits.

You want him to argue, yell at you, and counter back, but he just stands there looking all pretty.

“No, what?” You snap back. “Tell me. I want to know why you stopped caring about me?”

Aemond lowers his gaze and shakes his head. He probably would have added more, but you snapped and instead dug your hand in the pocket of your silk blue dress and pull out the present he had given you to shove it on his chest.

“Keep it,” you sneer and wait for him to take it in his grasp before you shove past him. “I won’t be bought off. And just because we live together does it mean we have to cross paths.”

You pick up your skirt and storm away with no room for argument. However, just as you make it out of the archway you run into Aegon. “Trouble in paradise? That’s a shame you two were close. Perhaps—”

“Shut it,” you cut him off without a care in the world that he is your elder and uncle. “Why don’t you go back to drowning in your cups, that’s—” you quickly cut yourself off as an idea comes to mind. “Actually,” you add bluntly.

Aegon blinks in confusion but grows curious. Before you share your idea though, you notice exactly who you wanted to see; Aemond walking out of Godswood, so you can’t help but smirk smugly and then meet Aegon’s gaze with that same smirk. “I’ve been trapped in my chambers for what feels like all my life.”

Aegon scoffs. “That’s an exaggeration.”

You ignore him and grow louder so Aemond can hear. “Why don’t we do something fun?” You suggest batting your eyelashes since that’s what would work with Cregan. “Like go to town…or better yet!” You exclaim and grab Aegon's hand. “We race with our dragons. See who’s the fastest?”

Aegon glances past your shoulder at his brother watching and listening to the interaction. You look back too and notice Aemond’s disapproval of your offer, you see him clench his jaw and glare at his brother, and Aegon sees it too, so you insist. “Come on, it’s way too boring here. We need to do something fun.”

Aegon meets your gaze and begins to mirror your smirk. “Fine,” he gives in. “I accept. Just don’t weep when I win.”

You scoff in amusement and pull your hand away from his as you shake your head. “I won’t because I don’t lose. I’ll meet you on the cove behind the castle, that’s where Astraea is.”

Aegon huffs out and flashes you a half grin. “All right, but if you bail, you'll owe me.”

You begin to walk back and rebuttal him. “If you lose you’ll owe me.” You flash him a grin before you turn to head to Astraea without bothering to change into your riding outfit. And just as expected, Aemond follows you. This time he actually shows emotion and grabs your wrist to stop you and turn you to him.

“<Don’t play into Aegon's whims,” he says in High Valyrian. “He is not good company to keep.>”

You scoff. “<We’re not married yet, you don’t get to control me. Besides, why should I take your advice? We’re not friends, remember?>”

You yank your arm away and roll your eyes before you shove past him and continue towards your destination in a snobby stride that makes him watch you for a lingering moment before he trails after you. Once you arrive at the Cove you beam at your beautiful purple-scaled dragon and embrace what you can of her head.

Astraea leans towards you, making you stumble back and laugh. “I hope the dragon keepers haven’t come to try and lock you up,” you tell her whilst you pull your head back to look her in the eye. “I’ve told them you hate chains. You’re too much of a free spirit, aren't you?”

You stroke your hand down her jaw and stop your hand as you reach the cream-colored horns that decorate the bottom of her jaw—Astraea’s head is shaped just like your mother's yellow dragon, Syrax, actually. They have the same four-shaped horns that grow out of their head, except the horns on Astraea’s head are pointed up and purple, and Astraea also has smaller cream-colored horns on the bottom of her jaw.

“She’s a lot bigger for her age,” Aemond tries to make conversation, but luckily Aegon and Sunfyre are approaching from the horizon. Albeit they’re not fast enough, and so as to not make this more awkward you share your theory to his comment.

“She was never chained and kept underground in Winterfell. There's far more freedom there for her to roam the skies and hunt without worrying about people.”

“Well, I can imagine,” Aemond quips smugly. “It’s just savage so far north.”

You should be the bigger person, but you grow petty over his comment because even though that's not your birthplace, even if most of the time it’s blanketed in snow and an icy chill, the North is breathtaking and the Warden is far more so. Five years was like a lifetime, so it feels like home, which is why you can’t tolerate his slander.

“The only savagery they have is their cold weather, racism, and judgment from those who aren’t brave enough to venture so far north, but you’ll find wolves are far nicer than snakes.”

You spare Aemond an icy glare, and he parts his lips to counter but just ends up closing his mouth and swallows back thickly with discontent.

Now that you got that out of the way you drift your gaze to Sunfyre landing, and watch Aegon descend from his seat to meet you halfway

“We fly around the walls and turn around the rock there,” you point at the large pointy rock ahead. “And end back here. And the only rule is no biting.”

Aegon scoffs. “I thought you didn’t like rules,” he remarks.

You begin to wander to Astraea’s side and counter back smugly. “Yeah, well I don’t feel like getting eaten in half today, so, no biting.”

Aegon begins to head back to his dragon as well and points something out. “Fire?”

“Aegon,” Aemond warns, but Aegon ignores his brother. You hum and glance away to think, debating whether to trust him or not.

But what fun would it be if there wasn’t some danger? “Sure,” you let him have what he wants. “But not directly of course.”

“Of course,” Aegon repeats and shoots you a smirk.

Since there’s nothing more to add, or at least you don’t think, you shoot him back a genuine and competitive smirk for the first time. However, of course, your good sportsmanship only lasts until you break into sprints toward your dragon's sides, because after that you shove him to the side to reach Astraea before he can reach Sunfyre.

Aegon reacts with a booming chuckle and tries to shove you back, but you swerve and instead jump on Astraea’s elbow to quickly scale up her arm whilst Aegon does the same on Sunfyre. When you reach your saddle you don’t even bother hooking on, you just nudge the handles forward and have Astraea take flight. When you look back you see the gorgeous golden dragon stumble in the water before he flaps his pink wings and ascends to the sky.

Little can be said about Aegons character and looks, but his dragon is by far the best thing he actually has, he’s so beautiful and you're a little envious he got to bond with such a beautiful dragon. You’ll never admit that to your own dragon though.

Nevertheless, you peer back and catch Aemond with a scowl formed on his face, but you only encourage it further because that’s exactly what you desire from him, a reaction, something to know that he’s paying attention and that he might care.

So if he won’t fight back or apologize you’ll do things to spite him. That's why before he’s out of view behind the cove walls, you throw him a mischievous smirk before Astraea flaps her wings and flies faster. However, since Sunfyre is older and a bit slimmer than Astraea is, he catches up quickly and now Aegon challenges you right by your side.

You stay side to side, neither of you being able to advance past the other for a few good minutes until you’re over the Oldgate because that's when Aegon and Sunfyre suddenly break away and cut through the middle of the city instead of completing the circle like agreed.

“You fucker,” you laugh before you push the silver handles to the side, causing Astraea to quickly make a sharp turn and follow after Aegon and Sunfyre.

Rather than falling at their side though, Astraea and you dive, letting you feel the rush that makes you feel as if your heart is getting dragged to your throat, and as if you’re going to fly off your saddle. It’s kind of terrifying, but you feel free and that overcomes the fear and fills you with thrill.

But just before Astraea can hit anything, she swoops back up and starts to skim over the ceilings, casting a large shadow to cover the streets you rush over, rattling the unstable things below, and startling those unfortunate enough to be out on the streets. But you don't care, you’re too caught up in the rush to care, you just care about beating Aegon, so when you manage to be just under Sunfyre, you pull back on the handles, causing Astraea to then flap her wings and shoot up.

And the moment you get close, Astraea bumps up on Sunfyre’s wing, making him stumble to the side, and letting you gain the advantage to get past them and look back at your opponent, catching Aegon’s bewildered look.

You counter his look with a grin before you focus ahead, noticing that it looks like you’ll have the advantage and win. But just as you're above the street called The Hook, a shadow casts over you. You try to encourage Astraea to fly faster, but just as she flaps her ginormous purple wings, Sunfyre dives down and cuts you off, causing Astraea to come to a skidding stop and throw herself back before she can bump into them.

Luckily she didn't fling that far back or else you would have dangled over the fucking city. It was just terrifying for a moment, it felt like your heart stopped, but it was also exhilarating.

However, it seems like Aegon and Sunfyre are going to take the advantage of their opportunity and win this race—but! You won’t lose to creepy Aegon! Thus when you’re supposed to circle around the rock across the cove, you counter their cut-off with a dirty move just like he would've done.

Instead of following after Aegon and circling the rock, you have Astraea make a sharp turn and fly towards the cove. Once you have leeway you snap your head back and see Aegon shake his head with a half grin on his face.

You shoot him a wink and throw your arms up as Astraea flies low and turns to the side to skim her wing in the water. But in order not to crash into the cove wall or Aemond still waiting in the cave, Astraea quickly straightens out and dives in the water to slow herself down, soaking you entirely as water splashes all over you, and accidentally splashes onto the shore and rolls in the cave, but stops just at the tip of Aemond’s boots.

“Whoa!” You exclaim and swing your leg over the saddle. “What a fucking rush!”

Just as you’re climbing down your dragon, Aegon lands just as rushed as you. When your feet hit the ground, he exclaims. “You played fucking dirty!” He chuckles as he also begins to climb down. “I never knew you had it in you!”

Rather than looking at Aegon as you walk to him, you look over at Aemond and meet his gaze. He doesn’t look away right at that instant, his chest rises and falls deeply before he clenches his jaw and frowns softly for a split second before he rolls his eye away from you and watches his brother approach you.

You should have felt bad, after all, you know how much of a burden Aegon is on him—you can’t say if it’s the same as before, but you remember how much Aemond followed his older brother to take care of him. You also know that Aegon upsets him in a lot of ways, but right now you actually feel pride to get such a disapproving reaction. You relish in it.

He does seem hurt though. You can’t be certain, he’s so stoic now that you’re having some trouble reading his expressions. But maybe if he is truly hurt by this action that fills you with so much pride then he’ll argue back, or talk, or laugh with you like before.

“I owe you now,” Aegon breaks you from your train of thought and turns your attention to him. “What do you want?” He asks as you both meet in the middle.

You tap your chin and shrug. “I don’t know.” You mutter as you begin to walk around one another out of rushing excitement that still pumps in your veins. “Maybe another race soon. Or! A trip into the city!”

Aegon claps his hands. “Better yet!” He shouts. “A tourney in honor of you and Aemond. Think of it as a wedding present from me.”

You stop walking and falter as you’re reminded of what’s meant to happen, what’s going to break you from Cregan, and what will stop him from going to your mother in six months—and sure when he told you that idea it sounded bad, you didn't want him to get into unnecessary danger, but after sailing away, now that you're here, longed for him, and met Aemond the stranger rather than the friend, Cregan’s idea is all you can hope for. You want him to fight for your hand and whisk you back to him.

Can he do it before you wed?

“As long as I can participate,” you play off your faltering excitement.

“No,” Aemond cuts in and stomps towards Aegon and you. “No. There are hundreds of reasons why that’s a bad idea. We don’t need a tourney.”

Who does he think he is talking for you? Maybe if he tries to reconcile then he can interject, otherwise, you’ll keep fighting him.

“We want one,” you rebuttal Aemond. “Let’s do it, in a month's time. I’ll be too busy after that.”

Aegon shoots Aemond and you a smirk. “Let’s do it.” He closes the deal.

You flutter your eyes to Aemond and shoot him a deep mischievous smirk that matches Aegon’s, and only pisses him off more.

——

*LATER*

How infernal is this place?

The beauty you once saw in King’s Landing has snuffed out, the fun you once had where you could find it doesn’t amuse you anymore, and the once twinkling lights are dull.

Sure being here before feels like being trapped in a pretty golden cage, no matter how much freedom you have compared to others, but you found an escape; maybe it was because you were content living with your family, and Aemond was kind and a sweet friend, but you managed to find it.

Even then it never stopped you from longing for more though. No matter how many distractions you had, no matter how much you had, you still longed for more, you still felt trapped, and that feeling lingered with you until you became intimate with Cregan that night on the edge of that breathtaking wall.

All your golden walls fell that night.

Maybe it was the company or the love and passion that ended that endless search for more, but they fell and you felt everything you wanted, you had everything you wanted, and it felt like you were a part of something bigger because Lady Arra gave you the chance to help the people, to be apart of the community. You could hold weapons without being scolded or rushed off; sure most of the time it was just in the company of Cregan, but you didn’t feel restrained. Now being back here, in this tall castle with no escape, without Cregan, those golden walls are up once again.

You just want to feel it again; that rush, that breeze that blew you back, that escape and the fascination. But there’s only one way you can find that here, or at least a sense of it, and it isn't on the roofs, no, it's in your own quarters, on top of your balcony’s railing. Your chambers were high enough from the ground to feel at least of lick of what you crave.

“Oh don’t be such a worrywart, Wolf,” you tell your grey kitten that sits all pretty on the balcony floor, whilst you take your heels off and throw them aside. “I’ll be fine. And it won’t be for that long.”

You shrug off the light blue overcoat you wore over your nightgown and throw it aside so you don’t trip on it, and then proceed to grasp onto the railing with both hands.

As if actually worried about your sudden actions, Wolf lets out a loud meow and walks over to sit closer to the railing.

“No,” you express your thoughts out loud as if you’re responding to the kitten. “Cregan wouldn't disapprove. He’d just say “Darling, I’d advise you not to do that. You’re mad.” And I’d just laugh it off and do it.”

Wolf meows back and you nod as you begin to push yourself up. “Yep,” you groan. “He’d just tell me to be careful afterward.”

When you manage to have both feet on the sturdy railing your body wobbles, but you quickly tighten your grip around the stone railing. “Fuck,” you giggle nervously and wait until you’re somewhat stable enough before you slowly unwrap your hands from the railing and gently push yourself up to your given height.

“See, Wolf,” you let out another nervous laugh. “Nothing happened.”

There isn’t a strong breeze here, not now anyway because it’s summer, but you still manage to sway.

“Oh,” you gasp and get ready to crouch and grab the railing, but when you see the twinkling city past the walls that surround the castle, you relax your shoulders and find your balance.

You forbid yourself from looking down out of risk of feeling fear, so you keep looking ahead. You draw in that sweet scent of the soft summer breeze and slowly unfurl out a deep breath.

From all the way up here, hundreds of feet above the ground, above the city, the firelights lit along the streets, in the people’s houses, and in lively taverns look like twinkling stars and you can’t help but smile in admiration.

From all the way up here, balancing on the railing, feeling the breeze hit you, seeing everything so small below you, helps your longing for more. It mends your boredom.

“See, nothing to worry about,” you tell Wolf.

If only Cregan was here too. It would make this much better.

“What are you doing?” The sound of Aemond’s voice startles you.

You snap your head back and see him standing behind the balcony doors.

“You fucking scared me,” you grumble with annoyance. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did,” Aemond huffs. “You didn’t answer.”

You quirk your brow. “Then why did you come in?” You ask.

Aemond presses his lips together and hums before he completely ignores your question and repeats his. “What are you doing? Get down from there.”

You begin to smirk mischievously instead and roll your head ahead to glance at the city again. “Do you remember when we would sneak up to the roofs at night? You were always too overly cautious but you joined me on the top anyway.”

Aemond takes a step forward, but stops just under the balcony’s door frame, causing Wolf to get up and drag himself closer to you.

“This isn’t the same thing,” Aemond argues. “Get down from there.”

You laugh and peer back at him. “That’s the longest I have heard you talk to me after 5 years. You have a very soothing voice.”

Aemond blinks in surprise as you catch him off guard just like you wanted, so the corner of your lips lifts to a smirk.

“Come up with me and I’ll consider being your friend again,” you ignore his command.

Aemond stays looking serious so you move your leg over the other to begin to turn, causing Aemond to break away from his spot and rush towards you in case you fall.

“Stop—”

“I’m okay,” you cut Aemond off and successfully turn around to face him. “See, you need to relax.”

Aemond sighs. “Are you drunk?” He asks out of nowhere.

You briefly squint your gaze and remark. “Why would you say that? I don’t need to get drunk to have fun.”

“Are you sure? Your taste of company today says otherwise,” Aemond grumbles.

Is he jealous?

You genuinely flash him a smile as you roll your eyes. “It was only once. Trust me, I still don’t like your brother.” You let him know. “I'm just…” you pause and sigh. “Trying to feel something.”

Your smile fades and you wonder if he can see right through this facade and see the pain you harbor.

“Join me?” You ask.

Aemond shakes his head and instead offers you his hand. “Get down. You’ll fall.”

You look back and then grin at him. “Fall?” You taunt and begin to raise your hands.

Aemond lets out a deep sigh and takes another step closer to try and snatch your wrist, but you pull away quickly and laugh instead, causing him to finally react in the exact way you want.

“This is not a game,” he snaps, and this time your kitten walks to his side as if agreeing with him, while you only pretend to agree with Aemond with a deep exhale while you also reach over to take his hand. However, just as he’s going to grasp it you pull away and begin to laugh again.

Nonetheless, this time in doing something so reckless you actually lose balance and your laugh dies quickly and gets replaced by a frigeneted yelp. And for the first time your life also actually flashes before your eyes like people say happens before death so you do the only thing you can think of and quickly reach out for Aemond as your body gets pulled back by gravity, accepting in that moment that Aemond was right. But you don’t say that out loud.

Luckily the gods are on your side and Aemond manages to wrap his hand around yours and yanks you towards him with a force you didn’t know he had. Now rather than falling back, you fall on him as he loses balance and falls back to the ground.

For a moment after, you just stay on him with your head pressed against his chest as you try to collect your heavy breath, and calm your racing heart.

“Seven hells,” you laugh nervously. “You fucking saved—”

“Is this some joke to you?!” Aemond cuts you off with his voice laced with venom.

You pull your head back and meet his gaze as you remain on top of him. “What?” You snap with a forming scowl.

“Your life?” Aemond counters.

You scoff and push yourself off him to stand to your given height on stable ground now. “My life isn’t a joke to me,” you argue as you watch him tower over you as he stands. “But you are!” You sneer and point at his chest roughly. “You pretending that everything is fine, that you didn’t just disappear from my life should be a joke. Is that what you want to hear, Aemond?” You raise your voice and glare at him.

You want him to fight back just as he was now, but he just watches you with that…narrowed gaze you find alluring.

“Fight back,” you shout at him and push him back. “Fight back and don’t make me believe that you don’t care. Because now that I look at you, now that I see this new person before me, that’s all I feel from you.” You finish and stumble back as you begin to heave.

Yet he drops his gaze and stays quiet and that infuriates you more. “Fight back!” You bellow. “Fight back! Fight—”

“What do you want me to say?” He interrupts you and steps towards you, making you step back. “That being apart from you has been the bane of my existence? That you have plagued my thoughts every single moment since the day I left you!”

He catches you off guard and steals your breath.

“Not a day went by where I didn’t almost have my mother summon you here.” Aemond keeps saying while he takes another step forward and you take one more back, but bump into the railing now as you watch him with disbelief.

You just didn't expect him to actually say anything.

“Then…” you mutter and swallow thickly whilst you watch as his hands lift to reach for your cheeks, but end up hovering near them. “…say it,” you say breathlessly. “Say you care about me. Not by gifts or spontaneous visits, tell me you care and I will stand with you. I will stop fighting this match, I will…” you try to speak but you struggle to finish what you want to say. “…I will be what you need. I will be yours. Just tell me…please.”

Aemond nods softly and licks his lips before he finally says the words you have been craving to hear. And as always he speaks softly. “I care. I have not stopped caring. I…love you.” He finally says and cups your cheeks to pull you in for a forbidden kiss that leaves you stunned.

The only man you have ever kissed has been Cregan, feeling the taste of new lips mold with yours is odd. Yet you can’t get enough, you close your eyes and grab his jaw to deepen the steamy kiss. Aemond presses you back against the railing as he kisses you with a burning passion and an urgency as if this entire time you’ve left him starving for the taste of you.

Albeit just before this can go any further, it feels like you’re betraying Cregan so you pull away from the kiss and instead press your forehead against Aemond.

He however presses a soft kiss on your forehead before he slides his hands around you instead.

“Forgive me,” he interjects as he begins to caress your back. “I have been acting like a jerk.”

You pull back to meet his gaze with a questioning look. “Why did you stop writing? I waited for you to write.” You finally ask your long-awaited question that has been slowly killing you.

Aemond averts his gaze to exhale deeply before his eyes slowly drift up to your cheek where your scar is carved, letting you know exactly why he stopped writing.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assure him and press your hands against his chest so he can feel comfort radiating off you as well. “You didn’t do it on purpose, I got in the way. It was an accident.”

Aemond drops his gaze and shakes his head. “It doesn’t mean that I still didn’t hurt you,” he mutters. “How could I pretend like nothing happened? Like it wasn’t me that scarred you forever?”

“Well,” you try to cheer him up. “I quite like my scar now. I mean now that it’s not swollen and red.”

You tilt your head and muster a smile so he can see you’re being honest. “You could have just told me.” You whisper softly.

Aemond slowly lifts his eyes to meet your gaze. “It wasn’t that easy,” he admits bashfully. “I’m afraid I’m not so good at talking as freely as you can.”

You giggle. “You’re lucky you have me back then.”

The corner of his lips tug to a smile, and you grow curious about how his own scar turned out. And not the visible one that trails over his face, but the one he hides under his eyepatch.

“Can I see?” You're brave enough to ask.

Aemond stiffens and hesitates for a while before surprising you by stiffly nodding his head and then raising one hand to pull the eyepatch off his face, letting you see the blue twinkling sapphire that sits in his eye socket like a beautiful haunting reminder of what was taken, and what happened that unfortunate night, but not scaring you off, you’re actually fascinated, and also caught by surprise.

Now that you see the sapphire he carries you recall the ring he had given you; the one with the oval-shaped blue sapphire in the center of the pearls, and now you feel terrible for throwing it back at him.

“You know what,” you speak sweetly, causing chills to run up Aemond’s spine at the mere sound of something so beautiful and rare to hear from anyone. Not even his own mother speaks to him so sweetly or as soft.

No one has ever shown any appreciation for the scar in the way you do as your soft fingertips trail his scar. “I like it,” you coo. “It suits you. You look…sexy.”

Aemond drops his gaze and his lips twitch to a wider smile.

“You don’t have to hide it,” you assure him softly and take his eyepatch from him to throw it inside the room. “Not with me.”

Aemond meets your gaze with a soft look he’s even surprised he can achieve, and one you haven’t seen on him before. It honestly makes you giddy as well as flustered, but not timid, you manage to press a kiss on his lip before you press one on his cheek just under his sapphire eye.

He quickly cups your cheeks again, and you begin to smirk. “Can I have it back?” You mention. “The ring you gifted me and I rudely threw back at you.”

Aemond scoffs but doesn’t hesitate to dig into his pocket and pull out the small box again. He proceeds to open it for you and pulls out the impressive ring.

“I do like gifts,” you say as you put your hand out to let him put the ring on your ring finger on your right hand. “I love it,” you praise him giddly. “The pearls are my favorite. As well as the sapphire—actually one time my grandfather Corly’s said he fought a pirate that had a ruby for an eye,” you run your mouth and lift your hand to watch the sapphire twinkle against the firelight. “He stabbed his sword in his face and then gave the ruby to my grandmother. Pretty impressive.”

You grin as you admire the ring on your finger, and when you look over to meet Aemond’s gaze you notice a smile on his handsome face, and once again you grow flustered. “I thought you’d like to know,” you mumble nervously and pull away to walk to your bed. “Would you stay with me tonight? We can catch up, or just sleep.”

You peer over your shoulder and bat your eyelashes. “What do you say?” You press seductively.

Aemond holds your gaze and slowly follows you whilst protesting without any effort. “I'm not allowed.”

You scoff. “So what? We’re grown up now and you’re the son of the king,” you feed his ego to twist his decision your way.

“You can do whatever the hell you want. But then again I can’t force you, so it’s up to you.” You trail off smoothly and reach your bed to sit on the edge and await his answer with your leg over the other.

Aemond stops walking when he reaches the foot of your bed and glances at the front door before meeting your gaze and offering you a faint smile. “Fine,” he gives in. “I’ll stay.”

“Good,” you whisper and flash him a grin.

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