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nerdallwritey · 3 months ago

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Perfect Every Time

Summary: You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly. “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. OR Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 7.2k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, hand job, piv sex, water sex, dirty talk, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, extra mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), Illmater's blood-stained rack Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 4 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Surprise!! I'm back with a new chapter of Beauty and the Bard! This part is shorter than the other ones (who cheered) because it morphed from a little smut scene into one that deserved its very own part. One million thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed the series so far, it's so much fun chatting with you guys and hearing your thoughts and it truly means the world that you guys care so much about these goofs. I already have an idea for Part 5, so that will be coming soon, but I have a request to fill first! Thank you all for your patience. In the meantime, please enjoy our regularly scheduled silliness with Astarion and bard!tav :) (Thank you once again to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part was the Tiefling party!

Taglist: @a66-1, @khaleesiofthewolves, @khywren, @lollipopsandlandmines, @mizuki-nautilus - Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

Several days had passed since the hijinxs of the Tiefling party had taken place. By now, the former refugees of the Emerald Grove were well on their way to Baldur’s Gate, the looming threat of goblins and power hungry druids far from their minds, their thoughts instead replaced with hope for new beginnings in the city.

Just like he’d promised, Halsin had returned the next day to discuss the parasites, officially joining your party of misfits on your journey towards the Shadow Cursed Lands and Moonrise Towers. His calming presence and sage advice was a welcome addition to the group, especially given that this leadership role had been thrust upon you by the others with next to no discussion. Having Halsin around finally felt like there was a responsible adult among you. Not that you all weren’t adults, but you definitely had your… quirks. Sure, Halsin turned into a bear if he let his emotions go unchecked, but Gale was a bomb.

As for you and Astarion, not much had really changed, you were both still yourselves, but now you openly tortured your companions with more pet names and cheek kisses and obnoxiously loud banter. Lae’zel had threatened to cleave you both in half on multiple occasions, but had yet to follow through on that threat. The others would groan loudly or avert their eyes politely.

Your days with Astarion were spent fighting side-by-side and teasing one another, and your nights were spent chatting and reading together. Aside from the physical intimacy and emotional vulnerability that came with being in a new relationship, it was really as if nothing had changed. And those were small prices to pay for where you currently found yourself: wrapped together with a trancing Astarion.

Ever since the Tiefling party, Astarion would worm his way into your tent at night. Whether he asked permission, or stayed a little too late into the night reading or talking or drinking from you; you would never ask him to leave. You’d slept together every night, sometimes beside each other, and other nights wrapped in each others’ arms. You were allowing Astarion to set the pace, as you were in no rush to get anywhere in particular. You simply enjoyed his company and his magnetic presence.

The pair of you hadn’t been too intimate since the party, barring stolen and sometimes steamy kisses. That was plenty for you, and Astarion continued checking in to see if you were okay with his touches and advances. Whenever you assured him that you were, he’d smile and return to your lips. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give, and even though you knew he wouldn’t say anything about it, you could tell he appreciated the courtesy despite the smug mask he so often wore.

Now, you found yourself stroking your hands through his hair as he tranced on your bare chest, breathing quietly; a habit he told you he’d picked up to look more alive when prowling the Gate.

It was funny, honestly, how sweet and unassuming he looked when he wasn’t fully conscious. And yet, you knew the kind of violence and debauchery and bad jokes he enacted and adored when he was awake. A small sound escaped his lips and you paused in caressing his hair to make sure you weren’t waking him. When his breathing returned to normal, you resumed raking your fingers soothingly over his scalp.

The hour was a little before dawn. Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, knowing that today was the day your party would pack up camp and make your way into the Underdark for the foreseeable future. You’d re-emerge eventually to find the crèche Lae’zel knew to be nearby, but the Underdark was worth investigating for the sake of further answers about the tadpoles and a possible alternate route into the Shadow Cursed Lands. Plus, Shadowheart was adamant about seeing the rumored temple to Shar hidden down there.

All that to say, you and your companions wouldn’t be seeing the sun for quite a while. The thought saddened you immensely, knowing how much the man trancing on you would miss it terribly. How cruel, you thought, that your adventure was leading Astarion back into the shadows after he’d just gotten a taste of the sun for the first time in centuries.

“Why are you awake, my darling?” came Astarion’s raspy voice from the dark. He shifted his head to look up at you, his grip around your midsection tightening a bit, his eyes heavy with grogginess.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “You should get a little more if you can.”

Astarion chuckled. “Too busy thinking about me to sleep? I wouldn’t blame you.”

You sighed. “And if I was?”

Astarion’s face fell a little. “Why the hells would you allow yourself to lose sleep on my behalf, pet?” His voice was soft and one of his hands unwrapped itself from your body, taking your hand, and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of your fingers. He cleared his throat. “I mean, obviously I can understand why,” he tried deflecting the sweetness that had seeped into his words by injecting his tone with fake bravado.

You let out an amused breath and allowed your hand in his hair to continue petting him gently. “I want to watch the sunrise with you again this morning.”

Astarion hummed. “And that kept you awake?”

“I didn’t want to oversleep.”

Now it was Astarion’s turn to let out an amused breath. “You could have asked. I would have woken you up.”

“No you wouldn’t, you keep letting me sleep in. It’s like you enjoy watching me sleep or something, you creep.” You poked his nose playfully.

“It’s just amazing how much drool someone of your stature can produce.”

You smacked the side of his head and he laughed softly. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a little while before you decided to speak again.

“This will be the last sunrise we see for a while.”

Astarion let out a long sigh and remained silent. After a moment, he said, “I know.”

He sounded sad.

“It’s not forever, though,” you assured, moving your hand to stroke his cheek and regaining his attention.

He chuckled. “I know that, too.”

You yawned, a little more loudly than you meant to. “Good. I promise you’ll see the sun again.”

Astarion tsked. “Honestly, darling, did you get no sleep at all?”

“I got a little,” you lied.

He held your gaze, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“What does it matter?” you asked, caught. “I can handle a little lack of sleep.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sat up to look at you more directly. “It matters because we need you alert. None of us knows what awaits us in the Underdark and I- we can’t have you getting hurt because you didn’t get enough rest!”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured, bending upwards to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I’ll have you to protect me when I get sloppy.”

Astarion groaned. “You shouldn’t get sloppy,” he complained. “I swear, if you somehow hold us back down there, I’ll slaughter you myself.”

“Promise?”

He groaned again. “Would you, just once, allow me to threaten you seriously?”

“No,” you patted his cheek lovingly.

He sighed and pushed some of his mussed hair out of his face. He took your hands in his. “Just… stay vigilant, alright?”

“Can do,” you said, withholding another obvious yawn.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

He shook his head at you and sat up fully, stretching his arms above his head and giving you a clear view of the scar on his back. You sat up and kissed his bare shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated.

“Mhm.” Astarion passed you one of his shirts. “Come on, darling, let’s get a move on.” He tossed on a spare shirt and watched you as you pulled his shirt over your head.

“There’s still a little time before sunrise,” you said.

Astarion snorted and fixed some of your hair that was sticking up from putting on his shirt. “You could stay here if you want. Drown in your own drool. Up to you.”

You huffed at him, making him laugh again.

“Only joking, my love.”

“Sure,” you said, opening the flaps of your tent and crawling out into the blue that preceded dawn.

You went to stand, but felt Astarion’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you back. He turned you slightly and caught your lips in a kiss, one that wiped away whatever fake ire you had towards him and replaced it with a dopey grin.

“What was that for?” you asked when he pulled away.

“Delicious,” he breathed, raising a seductive eyebrow.

You laughed and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

You’d only been able to catch two more sunrises with Astarion following the one you watched the morning after you’d slept together for the first time. You’d woken up once on your own after Astarion gently shifted himself away from you, and another time when he woke you up purposely, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. You’d whine and moan whenever he let you sleep in, despite the fact that it was probably for the best to keep you in tip top shape for fighting and recharging your magic. He’d always find his way back to you, and you knew he needed his own space sometimes, but you still loved to watch him bask in the golden light of the morning and you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed whenever you felt his gentle hand on your back before opening your eyes and seeing that the sun was already up.

Astarion led you through the forest again, his hand holding yours firmly. You knew your way to the ravine lookout by now, but you liked not having to take the lead for once. He helped you across the little stream that led into the clearing where you first laid together and you felt your cheeks flush at the memory.

“I can hear your heart picking up speed, darling.” He turned to smirk at you. “You’re adorable.”

“Pardon me for still being shy,” you half-joked.

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed. “I’ll pound that out of you eventually.” He furrowed his brow sensually at you and you scoffed.

“Shut up.”

“I, of course, don’t have to-”

You made a whiny sound and he laughed.

“I know, my love,” he said, removing his hand from yours and instead wrapping his arm around you to pull you close. “You’ve been so patient for me,” he nipped at your earlobe. “So good.”

“I’m in no rush,” you reassured on a shaky exhale.

Astarion made his own whiny sound and pulled you closer, leading you to the cliff’s edge where he’d opened up to you willingly for the first time, just a few days ago.

He sat, pulling you down with him, far enough away from the edge, where he knew you wouldn’t be nervous of falling. In the distance, the sky was just starting to indicate the sun’s arrival.

You sighed happily and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him tense a little. “Is this alright?”

Instead of answering, he leaned his head on top of yours.

“What’s something you want to do in the Underdark?” you probed.

Astarion groaned. “You don’t need to make small talk with me, darling, sometimes silence is golden.”

You scrunched your nose, knowing he hated pure silence. “I wasn’t being polite, I genuinely wanted to know.”

He groaned again. “Even worse.”

You laughed lightly and felt him laugh too, his arm gently shaking against your own.

He thought for a moment before he responded. “That Zhentarim fellow we met mentioned a cache of supplies hidden somewhere down there. That might be fun to pillage.”

You laughed. “I’m surprised you ever stopped thinking about that!”

“Oh I didn’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face.

“Want to try and rephrase that?”

“Not particularly.”

You hummed fondly, taking one of his hands in your own and examining how your fingers slotted together just so.

“I suppose you want me to ask you the same question?” Astarion asked, clearly not wanting to ask.

You laughed. “Your interest in my interests always astounds me, Astarion.”

He rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. “Get better interests and I might actually want to pay attention.”

“Rude,” you muttered, a smile on your face. “But since you so desperately want to know, I’ll answer anyway.”

“Oh, goodie.”

You thought about it. There wasn’t actually all that much you knew about the Underdark, aside from the few mentions of it in the books you’d read growing up. One thing did stick out in your mind.

“Singing mushrooms.”

“........What?”

“I read somewhere that apparently there are colonies of sentient mushroom people who communicate through song.”

Astarion pulled his head off of yours to hang it in front of himself instead, groaning loudly. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s not! It’s fascinating!”

“Sentient mushrooms?”

“Yes.”

“That sing?”

“Yes.”

Astarion shook his head. “Am I still asleep? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m not making it up!” you exclaimed incredulously. When he didn’t say anything else, you crossed your arms in front of yourself. “We’re going to see the mushrooms.”

“Whatever you say, darling.” He kissed the top of your head almost pityingly.

“You’re an ass,” you said, pulling away from him and sitting back on your forearms. The sky was turning a faint pinkish orange in the distance. You snickered to yourself. “More like Ass-starion.”

The ass in question scowled. “That will not be one of your pet names for me.”

You shrugged. “I’m surprised no one’s called you that before.”

“I’ve been called far worse.” Astarion tilted his head up pompously, as if nothing you could say would hurt him.

“Okay great, so ‘Ass’ is nothing new.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s like you want me to throw you off the cliff.”

“Go ahead,” you challenged, catching his eye mischievously, knowing his threat was empty.

Astarion looked at you and then towards the horizon. He inhaled deeply and rose to his feet.

“What are you doing?” you laughed nervously as he approached the cliff’s edge that gave way into the ravine below.

He peered over the edge, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

You shifted uncomfortably and sat up completely straight. “Astarion, please be careful, you’re making me nervous.”

He ignored you and walked along the edge, looking past a batch of trees and into the distance to your right. He nodded and turned back towards where you sat.

“Up you go,” Astarion approached you and gestured his thumb upwards, indicating that he wanted you to stand. When he reached you, he helped you to your feet.

“You’re not actually going to throw me off the cliff, are you?” You kept your tone playful, but the anxiety you were masking was obvious.

Astarion smirked. “Stop annoying me and I won’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and began to follow him as he started walking to the right, down a slanted slope and into a patch of trees.

“What’s happening?” you asked when you caught up with him.

Astarion tilted his head. “I just thought an occasion such as this needed a change of scenery.”

“‘Occasion?’” you echoed.

He nodded. “It’s my last day in the sun-” he saw you about to protest and quickly added, “-for a little while. Might as well start the day off right.”

You hummed. “Why do I get the sense that you’re up to something?”

Astarion stopped in his tracks, a hand held to his unbeating heart in mock offense. “Me? Up to something? You’re far too paranoid, darling.”

“Uh huh.” You kept walking, but quickly realized you didn’t actually know where you were going. You looked back at Astarion for help and found him watching you.

He rolled his eyes affectionately. “This way, dear, it’s not much farther.” He walked past you, deeper into the trees, and kept talking. “Did you know that that ravine we’ve been sitting above gives way into what I can only assume is either the Chianthar or the Sea of Swords?”

“I didn��t,” you said. “Though those are two very different bodies of water.”

“Give me a break, my geography lessons occurred well over 200 years ago. And we’re in the gods damn middle of nowhere, might I remind you.”

“Mhm,” you affirmed with a smile. “Go on.”

“Well, it just so happens that that ravine’s mouth isn’t far from our little sunrise spot.”

“‘Our?’” you teased.

“Focus, darling,” he said. He turned to the left, leading you back towards the cliff’s edge that had continued along the treeline.

“Astarion, please be careful,” you called after him, hesitantly following him towards the sound of rushing water.

He turned back and held out a steadying hand for you as you approached the edge. Not too far below you were narrow rapids that gradually became calmer. The cliff that had been on the other side of the one you currently found yourself on had disappeared, forming a mouth where the ravine did in fact empty into a much larger, much calmer, body of water.

You wrapped your arms around Astarion’s middle to anchor yourself and leaned forward a little to see where the cliff you were on ended. A little farther down, you squinted to adjust your eyes to the dim lighting, and saw a tiny beach that quickly shot upwards into a new cliff. Rocks surrounded the shore, keeping it slightly out of view, and gentle waves lapped at the sand, far enough away from the rapids of the ravine to remain serene.

You caught Astarion’s eye and pointed towards the small patch of sand in the distance. “Is that where we’re going?”

Astarion pursed his lips. “Yes, that would be much easier than jumping in, wouldn’t it?”

You scoffed. “You expected me to jump in from this high up? There could be rocks we can’t see! And we don’t know how deep it is!”

Astarion sighed. “You’re no fun. Though I suppose you’re right, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” With your arms still around his middle, he started walking back into the trees and down towards the tiny beach.

You laughed as he dragged you along. “You can’t possibly be serious. You’d get your hair all wet!”

“Nobody said I was going to jump in with you,” he teased.

“I’m not going in alone,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Pity,” he tutted. “I like it when you’re wet.” He smirked and you shoved yourself away from him.

You picked up your pace to put distance between the two of you. When you didn’t hear his footsteps gaining on you, you decided to quickly slip behind a tree, hoping you’d lost him and that you’d be able to jump out to scare him as he sauntered past.

Unfortunately, nothing but silence greeted you. After a heartbeat or two, you peered around the trunk of your hiding spot but saw no sign of his sleek frame or shock of white hair. You started to second guess yourself; was it possible he’d passed you already? Or that he stopped, out of sight for some reason?

“You’ll have to do better than that, darling,” came his voice softly next to your ear.

You yelped and clutched at your heart, which raced with surprise.

Astarion sighed happily. “I do love the sound of your blood pumping.”

“How do you do that?” you asked, breathing deeply to calm yourself.

“Years of practice.” He paused. “Centuries, even.”

You conceded with a nod. “I shouldn’t have even tried.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. The effort was hardly there, either.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes and continued on through the trees down to the beach.

“I mean honestly, have these weeks on the road with me taught you nothing about stealth?”

“I play music for a living. My job is making noise.”

“And I don’t know why I even try at this point.” He raised his eyebrows playfully.

“You like my noise,” you said, sing-songingly.

“You’re loud, I’ll give you that.”

It was then that you emerged from the trees and onto a grassy dune that sloped downward onto the flat sand below. You slid down the dune with as much grace as you could muster, only falling on your ass once, before taking off your shoes and sinking your toes into the cool sand that made up the shoreline. Astarion followed after you, his long strides keeping him upright and as elegant as ever. He came to stand next to you, taking his own shoes off and placing them neatly beside yours.

You exhaled wistfully and grabbed Astarion’s bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder. From here, you had a clear view of the sun on the horizon. The sky was a deep shade of pink, giving way to golds and oranges the closer you watched. You looked at Astarion, whose eyes were focused on the sunrise in the distance.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

Astarion looked over at you and blinked. Then he smiled. “Just that it’s truly a wonder you’ve made it this far in life.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, shocked and amused.

You could tell he was holding in a laugh. “You are inept at hiding and fall down sand dunes. What were we thinking when we started following you around Faerûn?”

“I’ll push you into the water, pretty boy.”

“I’d pull you in with me, my love.”

“Touché,” you smiled and released his arm, sitting on the sand. You pulled your legs to your chest and rested your cheek on your knee. Around you, reeds and tall grass swayed in the morning breeze. Astarion remained standing, watching the horizon.

As much as you enjoyed watching the sunrise, you enjoyed watching Astarion watch it more. The way his attention became transfixed on the sky, the way the vibrant light painted itself onto him like a blank canvas, the way his entire body relaxed when the warmth of the sun finally reached his skin.

You heard him sigh and watched as he walked forward a little, allowing the tiny waves rolling off the water to rush gently over his toes. He flinched a little in shock and you let out an affectionate breath through your nose.

“Cold?” you asked.

“You know, it’s funny,” Astarion said, his voice a million miles away. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to move through water like this.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow. “I’ve seen you in the lake at camp before.”

“I don’t know, I guess I haven’t given it too much thought until now. Normally, I can’t move through running water like this. Don’t ask me why, it’s one of those idiotic vampire laws dictated by some ancient devil with an infuriating sense of humor. I can bathe, sure, but I haven’t been proper swimming since… before.”

You stayed quiet as he moved further into the water, letting the waves wash over his ankles.

“I have to imagine I knew how to swim at one point,” he said quietly.

“I could teach you,” you offered. “I was going to teach Shadowheart at some point too. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Astarion snorted. “And look like a fool in front of the cleric? I’ll pass.”

“You don’t need swim lessons to look like a fool,” you clarified.

“Ha ha,” he said humorlessly.

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?”

Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.

“What?” you matched his smile.

Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.”

He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks.

“Oh,” you said, stiffly watching him undress. “Should I-?” you awkwardly pulled at the collar of his shirt that was currently resting on your shoulders.

He straightened, naked but for his underwear. He frowned a little.

“You don’t have to do anything, my love. I just thought we might have some fun while watching the sunrise.”

You bit your bottom lip, thinking it over. “I do like fun.”

“I know that about you.” Astarion walked towards you and reached for the hem of your shirt. “May I?”

You nodded and lifted your arms to help. He took the shirt and tossed it over to where he’d discarded his own clothes. He stepped closer to you, pulling you to him so that you were chest to chest, and nuzzled his nose into the area where your neck met your shoulder. He placed a slow, gentle kiss there that had you inhaling sharply and exhaling unevenly. He groaned with need before pulling back and readjusting to kiss your lips. He came at it with more force than you were expecting, causing you to stumble back a little, but his hands firmly gripped your biceps, keeping you steady. You suppressed a giggle and instead smiled against his mouth before opening up for him and allowing his tongue to meet yours. Astarion hummed with pleasure, moving his mouth against yours and bringing his hands up to tangle in your hair. When he finally pulled away, he left one more chaste kiss against your lips before fully pulling back.

His eyes were alight with something that morphed into joy when he saw the gooey grin on your face. He rolled his eyes affectionately before looking you up and down and exhaling a laugh.

“You are perfect,” he said, almost in awe.

You smiled. “When?”

Astarion pulled you closer, his eyes narrowing seductively. “Every time.”

You snickered and pulled away from him, a teasing grin plastered on his face. You bent to remove your own pants and watched to see what Astarion would do next. When you saw him reach for his underwear, you averted your eyes and heard him laugh.

“Nothing new over here, darling,” he said, and the soft splashing sounds that followed indicated he’d walked into the water.

“I know,” you replied, embarrassed. You turned back towards him and shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

“Well, cut it out,” he called, now knee deep in the water. His body was rigid from the temperature, his shoulders rising up to his ears. He turned back to look back at you, still standing on the shore. “Illmater’s blood-stained RACK, this is cold!”

“I don’t know what you expected,” you called back, hugging your arms to your chest and trying to convince yourself to brave the frigid waters and join him.

“I rather expected you would be in here with me to keep me warm,” he said, turning back towards the sunrise ahead of him.

You quickly pulled off your underwear and started walking into the water, tensing at the cold, but willing yourself to keep going.

“If you wanted my blood, you could have just asked,” you said when you finally reached him.

“There you are, darling,” Astarion said and grabbed your hand.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Brace yourself,” he tipped his head forward a little.

“What?”

Without warning, Astarion lowered himself into the water so that it was just below his shoulders, and pulled you down with him. You hadn’t expected to be yanked so forcefully and unsurprisingly lost your footing. You plunged downward, reaching your free hand out to break your fall and ended up dunking your face below the surface. You were submerged for less than a second, but you came up sputtering and made eye contact with a gleeful vampire. He sucked in his lips to keep from laughing.

“And what was that?” you asked blandly, flicking wet tendrils of hair out of your face.

“Apologies, darling, I didn’t mean for you to get your pretty hair all wet,” he pouted at you and sounded less than sympathetic.

“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You crawled closer to him, made weightless by the water, and sat beside him, the water level reaching slightly higher on your chest than his. You scooted back a little and dragged your arm out behind you. You pushed it forward quickly, creating a splash that soaked the back of Astarion’s head. He instantly hunched forward and yelped.

“How dare you?!” he exclaimed, his curls flattening and falling partially into his face.

“Whoops,” you shrugged. Your eyes widened when you saw him wind his own arm back in retaliation and quickly dunked your head below the surface to avoid his onslaught of water.

When you reemerged, you heard Astarion snicker.

“Look at that,” he said, his tone mocking, “you’re all wet for me.”

You wasted no time in splashing him directly in the face.

“Let’s not do this,” he said flatly, his eyes closed. He brought his hands up to wipe the water off his face, even though his hands were equally wet.

“But now you’re all wet for me,” you teased.

“I’ll show you what I am,” Astarion growled and took your hand underwater. He pulled you closer and led your hand to his cock, which was already rigid with desire, despite the temperature of the water.

You made eye contact with him as you started pumping your hand up and down his shaft and he hissed out a breath.

“Easy, darling,” he said shakily.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, close to his ear. “Don’t you want to cum while watching the sunrise?”

Astarion groaned and you moved your hand up to swipe your thumb across his tip and then back down to continue pumping. You lifted your weightless body up and swung your leg around so that you were sitting between his legs, facing him head on with the sunrise at your back.

“I know what would make you even harder,” you cooed, wiping wet hair out of his face with your free hand. Instead of finishing the thought, you tilted your head to the side, offering up your neck to him.

Astarion’s eyes, half lidded with lust, went wide and looked at you. You nodded to him, and he pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your throat feverishly upon contact. Your hand was still wedged between your legs, twisting around Astarion’s length. He moaned as he nosed along your throat for where your pulse thrummed the strongest.

“Thank you,” he said before sinking his fangs into you.

You let out a moan of your own, your mouth falling open as goosebumps broke out along your arms. The cold water mixed with the ice in your veins created a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. The hand pumping Astarion’s length started to slow as you felt yourself focusing instead on the satisfyingly dull thrum that came with him drinking from you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your throat and licking a few wayward drops of blood that had escaped before returning to his meal.

You made a noise of affirmation and squeezed his dick before continuing to twist your hand up and down, from base to tip and back down again.

Astarion whined lamely and dug his nails into your scalp and shoulder, which in turn made you moan wantonly. You rolled your hips, trying to find some relief of your own and ended up brushing your clit against the base of his cock. You both groaned in pleasure and you brought your free hand up to tangle into his hair as you continued rolling your hips.

“Hah,” Astarion huffed sweetly as he pulled himself away from your throat, his cool breath made warm by your blood. He licked at the wounds he left behind and kissed them gratefully before angling his head to kiss your mouth deeply.

The metallic tang of your blood on his tongue sent a chill through your body and you opened your eyes when you felt Astarion’s hands make their way to your hips. You broke the kiss to give him a curious look.

He returned your look with a blissed out smirk. “I want you to ride me,” he drawled.

Your eyes widened and the hand that was still working his cock slowed to a stop.

He surged forward to kiss you again and moved his hands to your ass, where he lifted your weightless form to position you over his length.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I thought I was close to getting you off.”

“You were, sweet girl, but I’d much rather finish inside, if it’s all the same to you.”

Your lips quirked up. “I think we can make that work.”

Taking his cock into your hand again, you guided the head to your entrance before sinking down on him slowly. Astarion’s eyes closed in satisfaction and he tipped his head up to the sky, golden light painting his beautiful face into something ethereal. You sucked in a breath and rested your forehead on his shoulder, taking a second to adjust to this new sensation. You hadn’t ridden him yet, nor had you ever fooled around in water, by yourself or otherwise.

Astarion kissed your ear before encouraging you: “Use me, my love. You’re deliciously warm.”

You nodded and tested lifting yourself up a little and bringing yourself back down. Your mouth dropped open and you adjusted your legs so you were resting on your knees, making it easier to bob on his dick. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you lifted yourself higher and brought yourself down with more force.

“That’s it,” Astarion cooed, “take your pleasure from me.”

“Touch me,” you whined, rolling your hips and picking up the pace of your bouncing.

“With pleasure,” he bent forward to kiss your neck, bringing his hand down to circle your clit. His other hand came up to squeeze your breast.

“You make me feel so good,” you sighed, raking your nails over the ridges on his back.

“The feeling is mutual, d-arling,” his voice caught when you brought yourself down on his cock. “And I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” he grazed his fangs across your collarbone.

“I don’t know,” you said, your body shuddering with euphoria, “Halsin seems like he could give you a run for your money.”

Astarion raised a disbelieving eyebrow at you.

“Teasing, my love,” you kissed him softly before letting out a loud “Ah!” when he started raising his hips to meet yours.

“Oh really?” he asked, his voice coming out like a growl. “You think Halsin could fuck you as well as I can?”

“Hah,” you half laughed, half moaned. “I think technically, in this position, I’m fucking you?” A lopsided grin graced your lips. “But I don’t know, I’m new to all this.”

“Funny,” Astarion remarked sarcastically and pulled his hand away from your clit, making you whimper in protest.

“Hey!”

“Take it back.”

“Take what back? I already said I was teasing!”

“Say I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

You smiled, panting and still riding him beneath the surface of the water. “Are you jealous or something?”

“Hardly,” he rolled his eyes. “But you’re mine and it wouldn’t kill you to remind yourself of that.”

“Sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me.”

Astarion groaned in what sounded like frustration and pleasure. “Do you want to cum or not?”

You leaned forward and kissed him deeply, moving your mouth slowly in time with the rhythm of your hips. When you pulled away, a string of saliva connected you to his lower lip.

“Astarion,” you said softly, “I don’t ever want anyone else to fuck me. Only you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

The smirk on Astarion’s face was smug. “Because?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I’m yours, you stupid bat.” You kissed him, then whispered conspiratorially, “And I like you the most out of everyone at camp.”

“You flatter me,” Astarion said, immediately returning to his ministrations on your clit. You gasped at the contact, which quickly morphed into a moan of delight as you rested your forehead on his shoulder again. His hips rose to meet yours once more and the moan he let out as a result sounded as if he’d been holding it in for a while. Perhaps it was to sound eloquent during your back and forth, but the noise was music to your ears.

“Am I making you feel good?” you asked a little shyly.

Astarion opened one of his eyes to look at you. “My sweet, you’ve only ever made me feel good.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“It’s not, but it is true about the sex.”

“Thank the gods,” you laughed, though you shut your eyes tightly when Astarion hit a particularly pleasant spot inside you with a roll of his hips. “Whatever you just hit felt heavenly,” you relayed to him.

“Good to know,” he said mischievously, and repositioned you on his lap so he could rise to meet that spot every time you sank down on him.

“Oh, Astarion,” you sighed, a grin overtaking your features.

“You like that, love?” he nipped at your shoulder.

“Yes,” you sighed again.

Your bounces on his cock were starting to become sloppy as the knot of your climax began to build low in your stomach. You moved your hand to his and reversed the direction he was currently circling your clit.

“I’m close,” you confessed.

“Thank the gods, so am I,” Astarion’s voice was strained.

You opened your eyes to watch him as he approached his own peak and exhaled dreamily at the sight of him, bathed in the orange glow of the sun which was now halfway risen.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, “and I like you so much.”

“Don’t make me throw up when I’m trying to cum,” he opened up an eye and smirked at you. “You’re not half bad yourself, gorgeous thing.” He groaned when you sat back down on him forcefully. “Now, would you cum for me already? I’m dying here.”

“Almost there,” you laughed. “And you’re dead already.”

“You’re making this very difficult, darling.”

“Let me help you then,” you said, reaching a hand forward and lightly caressing his balls.

Astarion’s mouth hung open in silent pleasure, his fangs glistening in the emerging sunshine. He watched you wordlessly as you leaned forward.

“You’re so powerful,” you purred next to his ear. “You make me feel so good, and you’re the only one who can fuck me this well. The others will never know how good I feel because I’m yours and I’ll only ever be yours. You’re the only one who will ever be inside of me.”

“That’s right,” he groaned. “Your cunt is mine and I love the way it feels around me. The way it grips me so tight. You filthy thing, letting a vampire take your innocence. I could have killed you and instead I brought you the most pleasure you’ve ever felt. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Astarion, please. Need to feel your cum in me.”

“You want this cock forever, darling? Prove it. Prove you want it by cumming for me and screaming my name.”

His command brought you to your peak and you wailed out in pure ecstasy. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, over and over, and your cunt gripped him like a vice, as if claiming it for itself. In return, Astarion groaned loudly and spilled inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly and throwing his head back in rapture and delight.

As you came down from your high, you leaned forward to place sloppy kisses on his exposed throat. He brought both his arms around you and pulled you closer as he returned from his climax.

“You are-” he didn’t finish his sentence before crushing his lips into yours, moaning pathetically and you giggled in response. He bit your bottom lip with his blunt front teeth before releasing it and peppering kisses along your cheeks and jaw.

“Go on,” you teased, encouraging him to finish his thought.

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead gave in and said, “You’re wonderful.”

The words caught you off guard and you bent forward to kiss him in a way that you hoped conveyed your gratitude.

“I think you’re wonderful, too.”

“Obviously,” Astarion smirked.

You pushed him backwards, causing him to slip and submerge his head fully underwater briefly.

“My hair was just starting to dry, you wretched beast!” he sputtered, looking appalled.

“Aw, but you’re so pretty like this!” You brushed some wet hair out of his eyes.

“Um, hello? I’m always pretty, darling.”

“Ah, you’re right, how could I forget.” You gingerly lifted yourself off of Astarion and floated yourself to sit beside him, facing the sunrise.

“Perhaps you’ve had the lovely head of yours hit in battle one too many times.”

“That must be it,” you agreed jokingly, resting your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours in return. You sighed happily, enjoying the vibrant hues of the sky above, still filled with the euphoria of your high and the presence of the man beside you.

“I really do like you, so much,” you said softly, accompanied by the quiet lapping of the waves on the shore nearby.

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned. “Let’s not get sentimental, darling. After we just had such an excellent time together.”

You laughed. “Pardon me for wanting to express my feelings.”

“You are pardoned.” He gave you a sideways smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Magistrate.”

“Of course, beloved citizen.”

You both laughed quietly and returned to a pleasant silence. The sun rose steadily up into the sky and you knew you’d have to head back to camp soon to help pack up, but for now, you were content to sit and watch the horizon with your favorite traveling companion.

“How are you doing that?” Astarion asked, breaking the silence.

“Doing what?”

“Tickling my thighs. Did you cast mage hand or something of the sort?”

You sat up a bit more to look and snorted.

“Astarion, my love, I think it’s a fish that’s tickling you.”

“Ah,” he said calmly. Then he shot up, flinging you backwards and underwater. When you came up for air, he was rushing towards the shore, barreling through the water.

“At least it had the decency to wait until we were finished!” you called after him.

Astarion ignored you. “Slimy, disgusting, vile creatures!” He shook out his entire body as if he couldn’t rid himself of the sensation.

You watched him with adoration as he muttered to himself about how irredeemable that particular fish was as he pulled on his pants. It was then that you felt your heart swell with something big and alarming.

Oh no.

You were in love with him.

Fuck!

279 notes · View notes

light-yaers · 4 months ago

Text

Take Care: Chapter Thirteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: so... yeah it's been 7 months. whatever! i'm back bitches!

Word Count: 7k+

Chapter Thirteen:

You gasped when you woke, folding yourself upright in shock. You only had a few seconds to stabilise yourself before the headache from hell hit you like a drill to your skull. Groaning, you brought your hand to your forehead, and you could have sworn you could feel your brain throbbing.

“Morning,” Roy said lowly, and you almost broke your fucking back as you turned to look at him abruptly.

“Fuuucking hell,” you whispered. That was all your voice could handle at that moment.

As your heart thumped incessantly in your chest, your eyes ate him up. Roy sat at the dining room table, legs crossed and donned in a pair of tartan pyjama trousers. A loose fitted white cotton t-shirt covered his top half, and his hair was just slightly ruffled. He brought a coffee mug to his mouth, and smiled to himself in amusement as he took a sip. Nothing of what you’d previously imagined Roy would look like in the morning was what met you there– it was so much better. He looked softer, and calmer.

Regretfully, you had to look away. It wasn’t just from the way your gut coiled, but from the stabbing pain that had begun in the middle of your forehead. “What the fuck happened last night?”

“Well, as the guys say it.”Roy stood slowly, and made his way to the sofa. Dropping himself next to you, he took another sip of coffee. “You got Danied.”

Your groans could have been heard all the way over at Nelson Road. The guys would already be there, prepping for a game later that afternoon. You wondered how badly some of them were suffering, or if their bodies were already used to dealing with Dani related hangovers. Yours, however, was not.

“I guess I went a bit overboard,” you croaked. “We were just having fun, and being festive, and possibly decking the halls far too much for my body to handle.”

Roy smiled. “Yeah, well it’s lucky you didn’t deck the halls with your fucking vomit last night, either.”

You scrunched yourself into a ball immediately, armadillo style, and grumpily shrugged the blanket you’d slept with over your head. You didn’t want the world to see you today, didn’t want to be exposed to the stares of your friends or neighbours, yet– here you were. In front of the one man you’d promised not to see over this holiday period. Drunk you hadn’t read the fucking rule book.

Gently, Roy placed a hand on your ankle. Your entire body buzzed, as a shudder ripped its way up your body from his point of touch. “It’s fucking Christmas. Don’t worry about it.”

You swallowed away the urge to be sick, but not from your hangover. Roy squeezed your ankle ever so slightly. “Where’s Phoebe?” you asked, trying desperately to change the subject and revert his attention onto something– someone– else, other than groggy you.

“My sister came by about an hour ago to pick her up.”

“And I didn’t hear them?” you exclaimed, muffled beneath the blanket.

Roy shrugged. “You were out cold.”

“Fuck my life,” you muttered, before you realised something. Quickly, you revealed yourself from beneath the blanket and smacked your hands into your lap. Your hair was everywhere, an utter mess, but nevertheless you looked towards Roy. “What time is it?”

Roy glanced at his phone. “Just after midday–”

“Fuck!” You practically jumped out of your skin. Scrambling up from your section of the sofa, and struggling to fling the blanket off yourself, you finally stood up. “The pre-game is at quarter past two, which means I’m already fucking late!”

Roy watched as you panicked, but nothing could be done to slap away the affectionate smile he held on his face. You busied yourself by pacing the living room and checking your various messages, a few of which were obviously from the guys themselves, and you cringed incessantly when you read them. When you started counting on your fingers, Roy hoisted himself from the sofa with a subtle growl.

“Will you calm the fuck down? You’re giving me hives.”

You shot a death stare at him. “I said I’d grab coffee with Rebecca at one o’clock, which I’m now probably not going to make. And I still need to shower, and get the stench of tequila off my body, and–” You stopped talking at the thought of alcohol, and had to place a hand on your chest to stop yourself from gagging.

Roy abruptly reached out and grabbed your bicep softly. “Stop fucking thinking about tequila.”

You swallowed painfully. “Sorry.”

Roy’s fingers squeezed you softly, and the sensation alone was enough to ground you. You inhaled deeply, and got the thought of booze and lateness and stress out of your mind as much as you could. All the while, as your eyes were stamped shut and your chest shuddered through struggling breaths, Roy was there. He held onto you thoughtfully and with patience; two qualities that Roy definitely wasn’t known for.

When you opened your eyes, you found Roy’s steady gaze on yours already. “Sorry,” you repeated. “I’m good, I’m fine.”

“And I’m Shania fucking Twain,” he said sarcastically. You let out an amused huff, and his face softened.

The mere seconds you had looking at each other in this way was enough to make your heart hurt beneath your ribs. Just a little bit, just a tinge, but it only acted as a reminder of how this– you and him– wouldn’t ever work. You saw it in Roy’s gaze, too, and when he swallowed the words that rested on his tongue, just waiting to be said out loud. Maybe they never would.

Roy gently removed his grip from you, but the softness didn’t leave his face for a second. “Can I get you a coffee?”

You relaxed instantly, hardly registering your problems in that moment after his offer. You didn’t care about time anymore, or the fact that you had plans; you only cared about him. All you could do was nod, hit with the sudden urge that you didn’t want to leave so suddenly. It was you that had instigated this Christmas meeting, you who had shown up at his house– drunk– with no other intentions, other than wishing him a Merry Christmas. The word ‘wholesome’ had never come to mind alongside your actions, but you were struggling with what to describe the situation now.

It was wholesome, and it was all you.

Until it wasn’t wholesome anymore, and certainly not all you.

“Last night,” you started, swallowing back some nerves that fluttered up from the pit of your stomach. “Before I fell asleep.” Roy took a small step back. “What were you saying?”

You looked at him as innocently as possible, despite the increase in your pulse. Roy’s demeanour changed instantly, as he quickly raced his eyes up and down your hungover form. Quickly, he swivelled around and headed for the dining table. He picked up a small package that lay in the centre, next to other Christmas cards and scraps of old wrapping paper, before he turned back to you.

Roy stopped a metre from where you stood and stuck his hand out slowly. “I got you a present,” he said softly.

As you took in the image of him, your make-up stained eyes almost started to well. You could feel the tears ready to form, and begged to whatever fucking god was out there not to burst into tears. You sucked in a breath, but scoffed it back out as an inappropriate giggle erupted from within you.

“Jeez, Roy,” you said, smiling. You stepped closer before taking the gift from him, and shot him a golden stare when you held it in your hands.

Roy smiled. “Sorry it’s late.”

You scoffed again. “That was definitely my fault for falling asleep with a beer in my hand.”

Roy chuckled lightly, and innately you knew you’d never forget the sound of it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back.

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. Roy caught on immediately and stepped forward quickly, going to comfort you in whatever capacity he could– but you stopped him. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said, waving him off as if everything was fine. “I’m just hungover, and tired, and late– fucking late!” You remembered the entire situation so fast that you almost dropped your gift. “Coffee will have to wait. I need to run home.”

“I can drive you.” Roy offered, almost desperately, but you waved him off again.

“No point. You have a studio to get to, and I have a very tall blonde woman to try and meet before the Richmond game.” Quickly, you shuffled out of the living room and towards the front door. You clutched your belongings in your arms– your jumper, your scarf, your jacket, Roy’s gift– and attempted to slip on your boots as fast as humanly possible.

Roy appeared at the end of the hallway. He no longer looked soft, as he started stomping closer to you. “I’m not due at the studio till two o’clock. Let me drive you to Nelson Road, or fucking something–”

“Really, you don’t need to.” You tied your laces messily, knowing that you only had to survive getting out of his door and off his drive before you could finally burst.

This was just it, wasn’t it? This– him and you, the gift giving, the coffee, the softness– was all too fucking much. You regretted going to see him last night, you regretted infringing on his Christmas like this, and now he desperately wanted you to stay.

It was all a recipe for disaster.

You whipped yourself up to standing and dared to look at him. “Besides, I’ve already overstayed my impromptu visit.”

Roy furrowed his brows angrily, getting worked up. “You haven’t been here in a fucking month, fell asleep after two bloody minutes, and you think you’ve overstayed your welcome? Just– fucking stop, and I can drive you, and we can–”

“Roy.”

With the tone shift of your voice, Roy stopped. His chest rose and fell quickly; an attempt to calm down the erratic beat of his heart. You looked into his eyes deeply, and everything translated as clear as if you’d spoken the words.

We’re not supposed to do this, remember? This is what you wanted, and I can’t be here anymore without it being painful. Let me go.

He stepped back a little and un-balled his fists. He nodded, and bit down on his tongue to stop himself from choking, or saying something he’d definitely regret.

You nodded back. It was all that needed to be exchanged for you both to understand. Grabbing the handle, you opened his hulking, oak front door and stepped into the cold Richmond air. Before you closed it behind you, you turned back to him.

Roy looked defeated, tired, slumped. His arms dangled by his sides without strength, and the look on his face had you rethinking your entire decision to leave; love-sick, or swarmed with thoughts of what could have been, if only he hadn’t put a boundary on how far this thing between you could go. His jaw was the only thing that stayed rigid, stuck, like he was clenching every single muscle to stop himself from spilling words onto his porch.

You smiled sadly. “I’ll see you on the telly.” The front door slammed shut.

You grappled for air as you ran up the steps to the Dogtrack. Coffee with Rebecca had been postponed, and you’d savoured the time you had to recover and get ready before you had to shoot out the door again. You navigated the inside of the stadium like the back of your hand, until you emerged outside into Richmond’s box. Rebecca sat in her usual spot. You dropped yourself down next to her and sighed deeply, finally letting yourself relax after an eventful early afternoon.

“Hm.” Rebecca huffed in amusement. “Hello, darling,” she said with an air of knowing.

“Don’t.” You dropped your bag to the floor and crossed your legs sturdily, wrapping yourself up comfortably and warmly within your puffer coat.

“Good Christmas?” she still asked. You refrained from rolling your eyes, but knew you owed her an explanation.

“I got Danied.”

“Oh, how those boys love you,” she said, laughing to herself. “They were quite jovial in the locker room this morning. There was something circulating about you performing Elton John’s Benny and the Jets after dinner.”

You shut your eyes and tried not to cringe at yourself. “Was that all?” you said, opening your eyes slowly.

Rebecca shrugged. “Other than the abrupt departure and denial of needing a lift home while pissed beyond belief– no.” She smiled at you so widely that you couldn’t help but copy her. You sighed again and faced the pitch, praying innately that she couldn’t divulge you from a single stare.

“I’m never gonna live this down, am I?” you asked.

“I can drop it altogether,” she stated. “If– you tell me where you raced off to so suddenly afterwards.” You turned to her, your smile all but gone. You swallowed painfully, traipsing through a maze in your head at how you were about to go about this conversation.

You hadn’t told Rebecca about what had happened between you and Roy after the double date. You hadn’t told Keeley, either. It was a secret that you hadn’t intended to keep, but it had all seemed like the easiest option. To let things dissolve until the prying questions from your friends about yourself and Roy came to a close. That– and the fact that talking about it out loud made it all the more real.

Sure, it’d been a month since the talk, the deal, the confession– whatever you could call it without it being too sad. And sure, you’d told yourself everyday that it was the easiest option to take. Less complicated, no strings attached, all that jazz.

But– and it was a massive but– it didn’t mean you and Roy could immediately switch everything off when you were around one another. It didn’t stop those tired stares from earlier that afternoon, or the soft way Roy handed you your Christmas present (and the fact it was burning a hole through the lining of your bag, unopened).

You smiled sadly at Rebecca. “I have something to tell you.”

Rebecca shuffled in her chair, her expression dropping into one of concern. Quickly, she reached out and grabbed your hands with her own. “What’s going on?”

You sucked in, ready to speak, but were cut-off by the whirlwind that Keeley Jones took with her everywhere. She dropped herself into the seat next to you, making you and Rebecca flinch. “Fucking hell– I almost got stuck in the mob outside!” Keeley exclaimed. She turned to you both, and her face dropped instantly. “Oh god, I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

You smiled at her softly and let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” you said gently, meaning every word. She embraced you without question– firmly, warmly, as if she was attempting to make you feel better without even knowing what was wrong.

“Right on time, Keeley,” Rebecca said. Keeley reached over you to grip Rebecca’s hand in her own. She took one of yours in her other, and the three of you held each other’s hands lovingly.

“What did I miss?” Keeley asked.

“Well–” You sighed. “Where to start?”

You told them everything, your girls. They listened, and squeezed your hands in their own at the right moments. They smiled sadly when you spoke, and looked at you like you were gold, and never interrupted. At the end, they hugged you from both sides.

The boys ran out onto the pitch, with Ted, Beard and Nate at the sidelines. The whistle blew, and the match started.

You tried not to think of him, but it was impossible. You thought of Roy as the ball was kicked into play in the centre; cameras on him, suit donned, hair slicked back and beard shaved to perfection.

You thought of him because you’d finally said it out loud– he’d turned you down, stopped this thing between you before it’d even had the chance to start, and it would be okay. In time, sure, but it would be okay.

When you got home that night, you remembered the present in your bag. It was wrapped neatly, too neatly for what you’d assumed Roy was capable of, and topped off with a small card. You opened it in the darkness of your bedroom and read the words slowly.

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy.

You swallowed away the want to cry and opened the gift. Inside a small box was a strip of four photos, the kind you get from a photobooth. You stared at them in awe, flashing back to the night in which they’d been taken– a month before your departure from the club.

Yourself, Ted, Roy and Sam were shoved uncomfortably into a photobooth in a local Richmond night-club. The four of you were squished beyond belief, but that didn’t stop you from thinking of it fondly. A drunk and impromptu night, right before the beginning of Roy’s troubles with playing the game. It had been your idea to get everyone into the booth, and you’d practically dragged Roy in against his will. You and he were shoved into one corner so badly that you’d practically had to sit on his lap. Sam sat on Ted’s lap beside you, and they smiled together into the camera. Each photo showcased a different laugh, a different smile, but not from Roy– until the last picture.

That’s when you’d draped your arm around his shoulder and looked at him face on. He’d looked back, and, in that millisecond of softness behind his eyes, the photo had been snapped.

You’d totally forgotten about that moment, had never actually seen the photos until now. Roy had picked them up. He’d kept them all to himself for this long. Even after the end of his career, his time at Richmond, all of it. He’d kept them.

It had been there once, the possibility of something. It had been there more than once. You and Roy, Roy and you. It was snapped up in moments like then that you hadn’t realised until the end of his career. He may not have realised it either, until that time in his Jeep where feelings had seeped into the leather of those fancy car seats.

There was only so much you could think of the what could have been before it all became too much. The one that got away, the right person, wrong time, whatever it was. You’d been thinking about all of that since after the double date, but you didn’t want to think about it anymore.

There was nothing you could do about it but move on. You couldn’t ponder or think in hindsight or imagine a different possibility. You had to move forward, and that’s what you were taking his gift as. Recognition that it was there, but now it was gone.

You clutched the photo strip to your heart, just for a moment, and then you let it go. Perhaps this was exactly what you’d needed. Perhaps it was what Roy had needed, too. In some backwards way, it made everything clearer. There was no bad blood and there never would be. Your feelings were free, and a weight had lifted from your shoulders.

At the end of the day, you’d run after Roy Kent once, and it had still resulted in this outcome. At the end of the day, you’d both confronted what you felt and still picked the option that was best.

For the first time in a month you slept soundly, without thoughts that rattled around your head. Your mind was clear, so was your heart. Christmas in Richmond had finally come to a fucking close.

A few weeks into the new year, Roy Kent was restless. His routine was static now. The constant grind of getting up, of filming, of dealing with the press. He was still a favourite on the telly, and you still watched him religiously. Alongside your own sluggish work, getting home to a new episode of Soccer Saturday spurred you forward. It kept you in the loop, in the know, and despite Roy being on the other end of the television screen, it kept you in his life.

Pluto Press had become worse. There was no reason for you to deny it, and no way you even could. You’d been there for eight months now, and were very much out of the honeymoon phase. You hadn’t touched your novel since before Christmas, and you were feeling the repercussions of it.

On the other side, Roy was feeling that same shift. The disconnect from the football world was grating on him more and more, and with every match missed or only seen from the insides of a studio, parts of him were disintegrating alongside.

He texted you a lot.

Jeff won’t stop talking about his wife. I can’t fucking stand it.

Did you watch last week's game? I can’t believe Bumbercatch scored that shoddy fucking goal.

Isaac is really struggling right now, isn’t he?

You replied to them all, because Roy was always right about football to an extent. You’d noticed it, too. Isaac McAdoo’s sudden struggle with being captain. The pressure that was placed upon his shoulders last season suddenly came to light.

At every game you saw live, you noticed it even more. Perhaps that was a knowledge that Roy wouldn’t ever have now, but only saw over VTs.

During the final week of January, you grabbed lunch with Sam. Sat opposite him in a small Richmond cafe, something lurked in the air. He scanned his menu a dozen times before he picked something, and smiled whenever he caught your eye, but you knew something was up.

“Hey.” You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “What’s up?” you asked sincerely.

Sam let out a long sigh, and his shoulders collapsed. “Truthfully, I cannot pinpoint it. We are doing well in the FA Cup, the days are starting to get longer, yet I feel this immense pressure that I cannot explain.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. “Richmond are under a lot of pressure. I’m not surprised that you’re feeling it as a player.”

“It’s Isaac, too,” Sam said smally. “He has not been himself for a month now. We’ve tried to help him, to reassure him and show him how hard we’re working, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in.”

You retracted your hand and went for your glass of wine instead. “Hm,” you hummed.

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “He’s overthinking it all. I can see it as clear as fucking day.”

“I know. I just wish he could see it, too, so he could start easing the reins. He has been tough to be around, you know.”

“How so?”

“During debriefs, he yells at us. On the pitch it’s even worse. You saw him during our last game.”

You thought back to Richmond’s match from the week prior, where Isaac had started on Colin after a missed assist. He wasn’t himself in the slightest, and his team were trying and failing to deal with the repercussions.

“What’s Ted doing about it?”

Sam shook his head. “I do not know, but I hope he does something soon. We are up against Leicester City next week, and we need to be ready for it.”

You smiled at him apologetically, trying to offer hands on support. There was nothing you could do to fix this for the guys, which was always a hard pill to swallow. You missed them so vibrantly. Half of your days at work were spent thinking about the next time you’d get to watch them all play, or drop by during training, or see them like this with Sam; outside of the office or the stadium.

“Anyway– enough about football. How are you doing? How’s work?”

You grimaced immediately, but tried to hide it by taking a large gulp of your wine.

Sam saw through your facade, and frowned immediately. “Is it that bad?”

You slammed your glass on the table. “Define bad?”

Sam copied your grimace, but sat higher in his chair. “Come on, lay it on me.”

You sighed deeply, and readied yourself to word vomit all over the table. “It’s not even the hours, or the commute, it’s everything else. They delegate work to me like I’m two levels higher than my current position, and sure, it’s nice that they trust me for that, but what I’m paid hardly covers my job description, let alone the extra work. I have no time to write anymore, my boss is a creep, my colleagues never want to grab a drink after work anymore, the centre of London fucking sucks, and– well–”

You inhaled, paused, and exhaled again.

“It’s not AFC Richmond. It’s not you guys.”

Sam’s smile filled you with warmth, and it was his turn to reach across the table for your hand. He squeezed your fingers affectionately, and you thought about whether or not to tell him about Roy. It was probably best not to divulge everything to him, not because you thought he’d spill to the team, but because you were trying to move on still.

Still.

“You know you are always welcome at Nelson Road. We miss you too.”

“God, that just makes it worse.” You dropped your head into your free hand. “I know Rebecca would find a job at the club for me in a heartbeat, but Keeley has taken over my role and is so much better at it. She deserves the spot more than I do, and I just– I can’t fathom asking for favours.”

“What about Roy?” Sam asked, and your body stalled. You sat up straight, and slid your fingers away from him quickly.

“What about Roy?” you repeated.

“Is there nothing you could do for him? You know, a personal assistant, or his agent, or something like that.”

You snorted immediately. “Are you joking?”

Sam smiled in amusement. “I’m just saying it could be a good opportunity,” he joked.

“Oh, fuck off,” you huffed.

“You have always been an unlikely pair, you and Roy,” he said. “You make a good team. Plus, I have never seen someone put him in his place like you have. It takes a strong person to do that.”

“Enough,” you said, smiling. You finished off your wine and looked sadly at your empty glass. “I need another fucking drink.”

“Get a bottle,” Sam said. You perked your brows at him excitedly. “I have– what is it called?- gossip.”

“Sam Obisanya has gossip. What the hell has been going on?”

Sam shuffled on his chair in excitement, and your heart melted. You loved him so. “Keeley encouraged all of the players to get this dating app–”

“Bantr,” you said the name before Sam even could.

“Ah, she has got to you, too.”

“Long ago. But go on.” You rested your elbows on the table and dropped your chin into your hands, ready to hear everything.

“Well, I have been talking to someone.”

“Someone,” you repeated, widening your eyes.

“Yes. And, well, she is intelligent and smart and loves literature.”

“Awh, Sam!” You almost exploded out of your seat, too full of excited energy to care about others sitting around you in the cafe. “Have you met up yet?”

“No, not yet. But I hope to ask her soon. The guys are being very supportive.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all the gory details when you finally meet up.” You grinned at him mischievously, and he slapped your arm playfully.

“I don’t kiss and tell!”

“For me, Sam Obisanya, you will kiss and tell.”

For the remainder of lunch, you and Sam gabbed like you’d known each other since you were children. It always felt foreign whenever you were reminded of just how little time had passed. You’d only known the guys for less than two years, yet Richmond and the team had become your home. You’d only known Roy for that same amount of time, and… well. Look what happened there.

In fact, not to your knowledge, these same thoughts littered the minds of every member of AFC Richmond alike, every once in a while. For Rebecca, she thought of her departure from Rupert, and how much she’d grown in that time without him. For Keeley, she thought of her career, and what else she could do to open doors for herself as a businesswoman. For Isaac, he thought of his leadership, and how he’d never be able to replace the likes of Roy Kent.

And for Roy– he thought of you, and what he’d halted before it’d even started. He thought of Richmond, his old team, and what he’d left behind after he’d all but abandoned them.

Secretly, Ted thought of Roy, too. He thought of picking up his phone and texting him, he thought of asking for his help while Isaac struggled to see the bigger picture of the game. Ted’s thoughts soon became reality, and then it was too late to take back the text that he chose to send to the ex-Richmond captain.

A few weeks later on your way back from work one Friday, battered and bruised both physically and metaphorically, you caved. You got out your phone and clicked the call button next to Roy’s name, not even thinking twice about it.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said softly, as soft as Roy Kent could possibly say anything.

“Hey,” you spluttered, smiling to yourself.

“Hey,” he repeated, both of you at a loss for words just a tad. You hadn’t called each other many times, and never without a warning text beforehand.

“We should probably stop saying ‘hey’ before it becomes an endless cycle.”

“Hey,” Roy said again, and you giggled down the phone. “What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“Long day– week– at work, and I’m in desperate need of a drink with someone that doesn’t care about useless things like gossip, or shit reality telly, or… or…” Your mind went blank.

“Two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.” Roy finished your sentence.

“Exactly! Useless!” you exclaimed.

“A drink sounds lovely,” Roy began. “But, I can’t tonight.”

You stopped walking suddenly, overcome by disappointment. You swallowed back the urge to cry just a little, but crying about Roy being too busy this evening to go for a pint was fucking crazy. You weren’t crazy, and you blamed it all on the general lack of sleep and emotional trauma from your fucking day job.

Instead, you opted for a joke. “Got a hot date?” you asked, panicking slightly. Roy growled lowly. Evidently, it had not been funny. “Okay, so no date, then.” You attempted to save yourself.

Roy thought to himself, sat on his sofa in his gym gear about to leave his house– what could he actually tell you? This evening, he’d agreed to meet Ted and Isaac to impart some wisdom onto them in an attempt to help Richmond at their next game. This was the closest Roy had come to being around AFC Richmond since he’d retired, and he knew you’d latch onto that idea immediately.

Perhaps, a lie was best. Perhaps, it was easier this way.

“No, you’re right,” he said convincingly. “I am going on a hot date.”

“Oh,” you let out. You didn’t mean for it to sound so sad, or for your voice to be so coarse. It just slipped out like that. You coughed dryly. “Oh, right!” you exclaimed, trying to save this trainwreck of a conversation, and a poorly made joke that you couldn’t actually believe was real.

Roy was dating. Four months since he’d shut you and he down, and he was back to dating.

“I need to go soon, actually.” Roy knew he’d fucked up. “But– how about next Friday?”

Truth be told, you’d love to say yes to his offer. Inside, however, you were deeply raging. It wasn’t the fact that you hadn’t had sex in borderline two years, or that Roy had moved on far quicker than you had since before Christmas, it was because he actually had a fucking date. And you didn’t.

Or, perhaps, you did.

“I can’t,” you blurted. “I actually have a date, too.” Jesus, you should have gone to school for Drama. You started walking again as you felt something that resembled confidence surge through you. You wouldn’t let Roy win, not this time around. Sure, there was nothing there anymore in ways of romance or more, but there was still competition.

“Oh, right.” Without meaning to, Roy said exactly the same as you had.

“He’s not much of a football fan, either. It’s quite refreshing.” You lied.

Roy stood up from his sofa as fast as humanly possible. “What?” he almost bellowed it. “Well, he sounds boring as fuck. Great job.”

“Well, my previous experiences with footballers haven’t exactly gone perfectly, have they?” you said smugly.

Roy short-circuited in his living room. To anyone that saw him from outside, he’d look like a statue about to fall off its perch. “I– well. You–”

“Am I wrong?” You knew you’d got to him.

Roy breathed in deeply through his nose. “No. Now fuck off,” he said sternly. “Have a good evening.”

“Have a good date!” you yelled in amusement, before Roy hung up the phone immediately after.

You strolled back from Richmond underground station with a smile on your face. With each passing day, things between you had got easier. In some weird way, talking about dating other people had allowed a barrier to descend. Friends. Good friends. You were content with that.

The Saturday after, you entered the Dogtrack on a particularly cold afternoon in February. The air cut you deep to your core, but the buzz of electricity from the approaching match was enough to warm you. AFC Richmond were still very much contenders in the FA cup, but McAdoo’s captain tactics had still been subpar at their last game.

As you made your way to the home box, you prayed that he’d eased the reins. Football was a game after all, and you missed seeing that spark in Isaac’s eyes whenever the ball came into his corner. Rebecca and Keeley were talking away as you sat in your seat, too engrossed in conversation to notice your arrival.

“Ted said it was a success, so I guess we just have to believe him,” Rebecca said.

“Good on Roy, though! It’s been fucking months since he’d even stepped foot on a proper football pitch,” Keeley said jovially.

“What’s this about Roy on a football pitch?” you questioned, crossing your legs to get comfortable. Keeley twisted herself to face you happily, wrapping her arms around your neck in greeting. “Hi, babes,” you whispered to her fondly.

“Roy didn’t tell you?” Rebecca replied. “Last Friday, he helped Ted with the Isaac problem.”

Keeley sat back in her seat once more, tightening the Richmond scarf around her neck warmly. “We’ve nicknamed it the Isaac problem. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”

Last Friday. Last Friday night. You sighed heavily and raised your shoulders to your ears from a lack of what else to do. “Well, I’m sure Ted was a very hot date,” you muttered.

Rebecca and Keeley caught eyes confusedly. “What?” they said simultaneously.

You waved your hand at them. “Nothing. I’m just an idiot. Nothing new.”

Keeley found your hand quickly. “Everything alright, babes?”

You nodded at her, softening your expression. “Yeah, yeah. Just been a long few weeks at the office.”

“God, you need to get the fuck out of there.” Rebecca crossed her legs strongly, raising her chin. “You know, I could speak to admin and see if there’s space–”

“Rebecca,” you interrupted her.

She waved her hand this time, brushing off your sternness. “I know. It’s fine.”

“Let’s just watch the match, okay?” you leant over Keeley to grab Rebecca’s hand. “It’s positive that Roy helped Isaac out, he’s got heaps of experience being captain here to have done something. And it’s… well.” You smiled to yourself. “It’s good that he’s back around the game a bit more, isn’t it?”

Rebecca patted your palm. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The three of you settled into your seats in comfortable silence, feeling the growing roar of fans as the time until kick-off loomed ever closer. You surveyed the pitch before you, noticing the thin layer of frost on the green grass, the white breath of ten-thousand fans, the blue tint of the sky as if colour graded by an expert film editor.

You always associated the Richmond team colours with one person, not the entire team as a unit: Roy. It was Roy you’d first met almost two years ago in that car park out the front of the training facility. Sure, he was wearing black as is his custom, but when you’d spotted him in his football kit on the field, the colours were forever imprinted behind your eyelids. The reds and blues all over the Dogtrack, the blue letters on Ted’s believe poster, the number six above Roy’s all cubby. He was everywhere. He was everywhere around you.

But, he wasn’t here today. He hadn’t been to an actual Greyhounds’ game since his retirement. He hadn’t stepped foot on the grounds, or spoken more than a few chaste words to Ted and Beard in the city– he’d only really spoken to you. And you weren’t a part of Richmond anymore, not really. You didn’t have an office a few doors down from the locker room anymore, you didn’t have lunch with Rebecca with too much wine involved for a working day, you didn’t have Roy.

All of a sudden, your chest compressed painfully. Your heart rate accelerated, your breathing spiked. You felt sick, ill, like you could easily sit on the cold concrete of the stands and never stand up again. You didn’t know why it’d taken you so long to realise that everything had changed, and you could have sworn you’d felt the shifts from last year when they’d all happened. If that was the case, then why now, why here, did you feel so utterly alone that you could hardly stand it?

You’d moved past this! You’d settled somewhere new, with new people, in a different, grey part of the city. You’d adapted to the ways you’d still fit in– lunches, quick drinks, impromptu visits to Roy’s or Mae’s or Keeley’s or whatever. That’s how it all worked for you, and it had been doing so since last year. So, why now?

“Babes.” Keeley grabbed your hand swiftly. “Are you okay?” she questioned, but you didn’t have the emotional capacity to look her or Rebecca in the eyes. You knew you’d burst if you did.

“Darling.” Rebecca leant closer to you. “Breathe. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

They watched as you broke down in the stands again, not four months after Roy had broken things the first time. Now, this was a different ball game. Complete and utter rejection of the life you thought you’d finally made for yourself, by yourself. A life that wasn’t actually what you fucking wanted anymore. It was all shit. This was all shit.

You sucked in a stuttering breath. “I don’t think I can be here right now,” you said coarsely.

Rebecca and Keeley nodded quickly. “Okay, what do you need? To go inside? To wait for the game to be over?” Rebecca said.

“To go.” You gulped down a large breath. “To go now.”

“Okay,” Keeley said strongly. “Go, babes. Do what you need to do.”

You got up as quickly as you’d sat down, and started towards the inside of the stadium. You moved slowly, needing to clutch your hand to your heart at the halfway mark just to make sure it was still beating. Anyone could see this was a panic attack, but you didn’t want to admit that things had gotten this bad. The culmination of everything finally hit you in the face. Innately, you’d known this was going to happen, but you didn’t think it’d happen here. Your home.

The crowd growing louder didn’t exactly help, but when they cheered suddenly at the teams arriving on the field, you could feel the vibrations within you. You could feel your blood, your flesh, your heart beating. You shut your eyes and breathed it all in, not daring to turn around and look at the pitch.

Then, the cheering increased. They were screaming, yelling, exclaiming, doing whatever football fans did when something big happened. Had someone scored already? That wasn’t possible– kick-off was another thirty seconds away.

“Oh my fucking God!” Keeley jumped up from her seat immediately and bound towards you. “Babes.” She gripped your shoulders gently. “You might want to turn around.”

“I just need a minute,” you said, calming down slightly.

“No, I think you’re really gonna want to see this,” she tried again. “Come on, just one small look, and then you can go wherever you need to go for some peace.”

Reluctantly, you followed her instructions. You turned back towards the pitch, overseeing the players in their starting positions, the ball not yet in play. The fans weren’t yelling at the team, they were screaming at something– someone– else.

As your eyes focused, you realised what you were seeing.

Adrenaline spiked through your blood, as invigorating as an ice pick to a frozen heart. You lunged towards the home box wall, gripping your fingers over the edge as you looked down at him. As if on cue, Roy Kent tilted his head to the stands in search of you. When he found you, he stopped. He smiled. Your frozen heart shattered instantly.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Rebecca and Keeley. Then, quite stupidly, you jumped the wall of the home box and into the stands.

“Hey!” Keeley.

“Be fucking careful!” Rebecca.

As soon as your feet hit solid concrete, you ran down the steps of the stands without a second thought. That’s when you heard it all– his chant.

He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where, Roy Kent! Roy Kent!

It echoed throughout the pitch like a homecoming song. It hadn’t been heard here since last May, when Roy hobbled off the pitch during his last game of football ever.

“Roy!” you yelled. You didn’t think he’d hear over the immense noise, but he turned back to you immediately. Almost like he’d been listening out for you this entire time.

Roy paced it to your side of the stands, past Ted and Beard, past the guys on the pitch, past the incessant roar around him. You did the same, descending more stairs each time you stepped forward. When you reached the last few, you jumped them, bombarding into the locked gate at the bottom barrier.

Roy caught you by the shoulders before you folded in half like a lawn chair. His grip sprouted those same colours in your mind– blue, red, blue, red, blue, red.

“Thanks for dropping by,” Roy said, smiling so excitedly that you could hardly believe what was happening.

“I could say the same for you, you know,” you replied, utterly overcome.

“Turns out I missed it here. Just like you, I missed it here.” His thumbs gently rubbed your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine.

“We missed you, too.” You wrapped your fingers around his forearms, just as an excuse to hold him a bit longer.

“Coach!” Ted yelled from twenty metres away. You caught his eye quickly, and you knew the game was about the start. Roy heard him, too, but didn’t move a muscle.

“Go. You have a team to coach.” You pushed Roy ever so slightly, just a small nudge to remind him of where and what he was. A coach at AFC Richmond. “Go!” you chuckled, pushing him gently in his chest this time.

Roy sent you one last colossal smile, then dipped forward to place a warm kiss on your cheek. He bound away as soon as he had, and jogged back to Ted, Beard and Nate at the sidelines. The stadium erupted as the whistle blew, signifying the start of a new era for the Greyhounds, and perhaps– for you, too.

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#roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #ted lasso #lightyaers #ao3 #take care fic #update #hiatus ended #fanfiction #ff #ted lasso ff #roy kent #brett goldstein #wattpad #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #writeblr

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perksofbeingpoet · 6 months ago

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a small thing that is promised to calm todd down when everything gets too overwhelming is playing with or brushing his hair.

which, unfortunately, is way too intimate a thing to ask his friends for- they help as good as they can already, trying to be quieter when todd gets that very intense look, passing him food that isn't too spicy or salty, talking loudly when a teacher is looking for people to get up front to the board, so that they'll gleefully pick the loudmouth.

but this is different; involves a kind of gentleness, of vulnerability that todd can't ask for. it means baring the parts of him that are most sensitive, revealing he's a baby bird in thunderstorms, asking for whispers and warmth in a place that doesn't offer these things.

neil still finds out.

which shouldn't come as a surprise to todd - neil has a way of catching him where he's most vulnerable, closing his palms around him as if he was a ladybug in a child's hand. careful now, don't hurt it. i'll keep it safe. i'll carry it off the pavement, put it where the grass sprouts in may-coloured strands.

so neil finds out, when they're laying on todd's bed (better sun in the evening), neil reading the script of his newest play, todd just breathing, trying to match the tides of neil's heartbeat below him, trying to slow down his own. and neil isn't sure what happens, because to his mind, nothing's changed, but suddenly todd's eyes have that frozen panic in them.

neil thinks he can feel the way todd's drowning in his own thoughts, and todd's thoughts tend to be quicksand in these moments. it's desparation, in the end, that gets neil to bury his left hand in todd's hair, carefully weaving his fingers through the sandy strands. he knows it's silly, but the urge to physically wipe the thoughts off todd's head is what makes him lightly trace his nails across the other's scalp, gentle, always so gentle.

and todd melts.

his breathing slows, and suddenly he's back, and neil's heart flutters like a dragonfly drying off its wings. he can help. not much, not always, but he can try.

he soon discovers that it helps after showers, too - todd is embarrassed enough to snap at him the first time, the first time neil's heard him rashly angry, but it only takes todd a week to come back and apologise, to say neil was right, but could he not make a big deal out of it. (and neil perry, king of theatrics, doesn't)

because showers can be overwhelming in these times, when todd's mind is a bridge wobbling on brittle foundations- standing there all wet, knowing he'll need to get out the stall, and dry off, and get his clothes and put them on and they'll still stick to him a bit and his toes will stay wet because the floor is cold, and- it's too much.

but neil can brush his hair, still wet and darker than usual, and the scratch of it along his scalp grounds him, puts his thoughts on a leash. neil will hum a song, and todd will ache with the sweet cruelty of love, the stinging tenderness of vulnerability.

and when todd gets into bed in exam season, and the sheets are fluffy and full of fresh air, smelling of spring and melancholy, he breathes in deeply through his nose. and neil walks over to him for a second before going to his own bed, three extra steps that make todd close his eyes and bury his face in the pillow.

and he runs a hand through todd's hair, and it feels like warm notes on a cello. like autumn sun falling through tall tree trunks, like a mug of cocoa, like a childhood kitchen table. his fingers trace lines across todd's scalp, reminiscent of the contrails of the plane that divides the sky three years later, like neil is already dreaming of it.

todd breathes and smiles.

good night, little poet <3

(i put this on ao3 even though it's ridiculously short, so you guys know what that means- the time of poet writing dps fanfiction has started, and the next ones are gonna be way longer)

#dead poets society #dps fandom #dead poets headcanons #dps fanfiction #dead poets fanfic #dead poets society fandom #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #neil and todd

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luxaofhesperides · 8 months ago

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if you give a ghost a trauma: a parody fic

read on ao3.

Danny wishes to be sent someplace he could have a better family. Unfortunately, that lands him in a Gotham where tropes are made reality to the extreme. He really just can't catch a break. (or: a dcxdp parody fic where i make danny the only one able to see how bizarre things are. this does not help him in any way.)

. . .

“We’re gonna get you!” Maddie Fenton, a Bad Parent™ cries as she shoots her gun at Danny, her half dead son.

“No!” he wails, flying around as he dodges the shots. “I wish my parents weren’t trying to capture me for Evil Science Reasons! I wish I had a better family!”

“Lol, done,” said Desiree, snapping her fingers.

Danny only has time to say Uh-oh before he’s sucked away into a magic portal and spit out into a dark and dreary city. In just the one second he’s there, before he even hits the ground, he hears gunshots, screaming, and the wailing of police sirens. Then he hits the ground and groans, releasing his ghost form to go back to being a human.

“Where am I?” he asks himself, getting to his feet and looking around. The alleyway he’s in is empty and full of garbage just scattered around. Wherever he may be, it clearly needed to invest more in its sanitation department.

He spots a fire escape on the side of a building and uses it to climb onto the rooftop, a totally normal course of action. Then he stares at the city, glowing with the street lights and neon business lights and a spotlight with the shape of a bat in it glowing on the clouds.

“This might as well just happen,” Danny says, “My life is already so weird anyway.”

He stands there for some time, at a loss of what to do next. The wind is cold and brings with it a promise of rain, and from the looks of the dark clouds above him, it’s going to rain soon. Danny needs shelter, fast.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” says someone who snuck up behind him.

Danny shrieks and jumps, nearly going over the edge of the roof.

“Woah!” the person says, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to safety. “That was close!”

Danny blinks up at his savior, then squints. This guy’s definitely not normal, since he’s wearing a domino mask and a lightly armored black suit with a blue bird emblem stretching across his chest.

“Way to nearly kill him, Nightwing,” says a new person, dropping down onto the roof from the sky. This new person wears red and black, a pair of bandoliers crossing over his chest.

“Well, I saved him, didn’t I!”

“Um, hi,” Danny interjects. “Thanks for grabbing me before I fell, but who are you?”

“You don’t know who we are?” blue bird asks rather incredulously.

“Do you think I’m asking just for fun.”

Red and black steps in with a smile. “I’m Red Robin, that’s Nightwing. We’re vigilantes trying to keep Gotham safe.”

Danny makes an educated guess that the city they’re currently in is Gotham. Not a city he’s ever heard before, but what does he know?

“Okay,” he says. There’s really not much else he can say.

“You never answered my question,” Nightwing says. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine. No idea where I am or how to get home, but it can always be worse, you know?”

“Did you get lost?” Red Robin asks, pulling a holographic computer up from his wrist. Tucker would kill to get his hands on something like that. Danny wonders if he can get his own as a souvenir.

“Something like that, yeah,” he replies. Another few gunshots ring out loudly through the streets, closer than they were before. Danny flinches, then ducks down a little, looking back towards the street apprehensively. “Um. You guys gonna do anything about that?”

The two vigilantes shrug, as if that’s an acceptable course of action. And then a hand shoots up and grabs the edge of the roof by Danny’s foot, making him jump in the air. Nightwing catches him yet again and moves him away from the ledge.

A red helmet, leather jacket wearing guy built like a pro-wrestle hauls himself up the roof easily. There are guns tucked into holsters on his thighs and a red, block bat stuck on his chest.

“Should I be concerned,” Danny says blankly.

“Nah, it’s just Red Hood,” Red Robin replies, “The only person he ever tries to kill is me.”

“Cause you’re a replacement. And also, get over it, that was ages ago We’re good now. I haven’t even had a Pit Rage episode in months!”

“So the bullets you shot at me last week were just for fun?”

“Yeah, and they were rubber, so it’s not like you would have gotten hurt.”

Danny takes a few steps closer to Nightwing, hiding behind him. He’s getting bad vibes all around from that guy.

“Tch,” a new voice says right behind Danny, making him flinch. A young boy with a sword steps out from behind him and joins the crew of vigilantes just hanging out on the roof. “As if he’s even worth that much attention.”

“Hello to you too, Demon Brat,” Red Robin says.

“How many of you are there?” Danny asks. “Don’t you need to like, protect the city?”

“Batgirl and Spoiler are working on it,” Nightwing says.

“We’re doing what?” another voice says, and a energetic blond girl dressed in purple armor hops onto the roof, tucking her grappling hook away. Following her is another person in all black, face fully covered, with stitches covering the mouth portion to make it seem as though they can’t talk. The person leaves the blond girl behind to head straight to Danny, making him take a few nervous steps back.

“Dead,” she says, poking his chest with a finger.

Is that a threat? It feels like a threat.

“No?” he tries.

“What are you talking about, Batgirl?” Red Hood interrupts. “We all know the only dead person here is me.”

Everyone promptly groans, telling him to shut up about it and go one night without mentioning his death.

Okay, that seems concerning! Is he another halfa? Is he like Vlad? Danny’s going to be so mad if he got dropped into another world directly into the hands of another Vlad.

“You’re dead?” he asks, leaning away from Batgirl as she pokes him once more.

“Yeah.”

“Same hat?” Danny tries, squinting at him.

“The fuck?” is the answer, which tells him that he probably doesn’t know what Danny’s on about. There’s still a 6% chance that he’s just lying to make Danny look like a fool, though.

6% is more than 5%, which means it’s enough for him to just act on instinct and walk right up to the gun-wielding Red hood. He tries to consciously use his ghost sense, which is an odd feeling that reminders him of the moment before he hiccups.

A light blue mist wafts out his mouth.

Yep, the rumors are true: this man is dead.

“Once, again,” Red Hood says, “The fuck?”

“Seconded,” Nightwing adds.

“Third!” Spoiler joins in.

Danny takes a page out of Batgirl’s book and pokes Red Hood’s chest. It’s very solid, only hard muscle, and reminds him a bit of Dan. That’s never a good sign. Something about Red Hood is making his skin crawl though, a sense of wrongness that sets alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

“Did you come back instantly when you died?” he asks.

The white lenses of Red Hood’s helmet turn neon green. “Why the fuck are you asking me that.”

“Just checking. The green I’m seeing right now is making me think you’re a halfa.”

“What’s a halfa?” Red Robin interjects.

“An unlucky soul like me,” Danny responds, distracted. He lays his palm flat against Red Hood’s chest. The vigilante holds still, as if frozen, letting Danny do as he please. The ectoplasm he feels in other ghosts is usually calm, made unique by the personality of the ghost it belongs to, but it doesn’t roil and try to hurt the host like the ectoplasm in Red Hood is doing.

He pulls back and looks around at the circle of vigilantes surrounding him. “Can anyone answer how he came back? Where did he even find this must rotten ectoplasm?”

“Pit,” Batgirl helpfully answers.

“Pit,” Danny repeats. “Like a pit of death? Toxic sludge? Landfill pit gone evil? What am I working with here.”

“Lazarus Pits,” the little one with the sword says. “How do you know about them?” He then pulls out his sword and points it at Danny, ignoring the way Nightwing hisses Robin, no!

His name is Robin? Isn’t that just Red Robin’s name? Did this Robin have a color added to his name as well?

“I literally don’t, but if it’s green and weird, then it’s probably ecto.” He turns back to Red Hood. “I’m gonna take care of it now.” And then he shoves his hand into Red Hood’s chest, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the other vigilantes. They try to pull him away, but Danny goes intangible, making their hands fall right through him as he gets a good grip on the ecto, sending his own out in a steady stream to chase the rotten flow towards his hand, then yanks it out.

It’s green and goopy in his hands, steaming slightly in the air. “Ew,” Danny says. “That’s nasty. You were just living with this inside you?”

Red Hood doesn’t seem to hear him.

Red Hood takes off his helmet and stares at the rotten ectoplasm in Danny’s hand. Nightwing approaches him cautiously, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Hood? You doing okay? How are you feeling?”

“It’s gone,” Red Hood answers, shocked. “The Pit Rage. It’s gone. I haven’t felt this clear headed since before I died.”

“That must have sucked,” Danny says empathetically, then shakes the nasty ecto off his hand. It lands on the roof with a wet splat.

Once again: ew.

“How did you do that?” Red Robin asks, crowding into Danny’s space. Batgirl slides up behind him, trapping him between them.

“Did you not just watch me yank it out? It was easy. Anyways, y’all got jobs to do, and I got places to go. So I’ll see you never!”

He tries to fly away, but only manages to get a few feet before he’s pulled down by multiple people grabbing at him.

“What is going on here,” A low, gravelly voice demands. Yet another vigilante appears, gliding out of the shadows. This one is much bigger than everyone else, cloaked in darkness, with a helm that has two little ear things poking out on top.

“Batman,” Robin says, “This meta cured Hood of his Pit Madness.”

“I see,” Batman replies, looking Danny over. “Are you an orphan?”

What the fuck. Who just asks that?

“No.”

“Are your parents well?”

“Sure? My mom was pretty energetic while shooting at me before I came here.”

“You do not have to be unsafe in your home again,” Batman says, grabbing something out of his tactical fanny pack. “You can live with us instead.”

He holds out fucking adoption papers.

Danny backs up as fast as he can, shaking his head. “Oh, no! No you don’t! I did not trade one fruitloop for another!”

“No new brother?” Batgirl asks sadly.

“Definitely not,” he insists. “No thank you! I’m fine as I am and fully plan on going home.”

Batman frowns. “You said your mother was shooting at you.”

“Yeah, and? The food in our fridge comes to life every meal and we have to fight it. This is normal for us. Chill out and put those papers away.”

The entire crew of vigilantes seems very put out with Batman obligingly puts the adoption papers away.

“Yeah, I’m done here. Go back to protecting the city. I’m just gonna… go.”

Danny doesn’t wait for them to say anything else before flies away, remembering to go intangible this time. He soars through the polluted streets of Gotham, weaving between tall buildings made with dark stone and decorated with gargoyles. It’s all very dark and dreary, which means Sam would love it.

She would not be loving the pollution, though. Danny certainly isn’t.

“I wish I could go home,” he says loudly, looking up at the sky expectantly.

No magic portal appears to yoink him back.

“I wish I was at home again, and not here!”

Desire does not appear to help him out. She leaves him stranded in Gotham, pouting at the sky until he gives up and flies down to sit on a new roof and angst about his situation. Hopefully this time a gaggle of vigilantes won’t bother him.

Resting his head against his hands, he sighs. Then again, and again, loudly. “Man, this sucks,” he says to himself.

“What’s got a kitten like you so down?” someone says behind him.

“I’m so tired of random people sneaking up behind me on rooftops,” he informs them without turning around. If they wanna talk to him, they gotta got to him, not the other way around.

“Ah, ran into the Bats, did you?”

They’re called Bats? But only two were Bats. None of the other vigilantes fit the theme. That’s just lazy and inconsistent. They should rebrand to something better.

The person walks over and sits down next to him. Danny glances over and is startled to find a woman in a leather body suit, with a hood that has cat ears and googles with an orange tint.

…Is everyone in this city just dressed strangely at all times? Is this the normal fashion of Gotham?

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. Who are you?”

The woman laughs. “Oh, so you haven’t heard of Catwoman?”

“Nope. No clue who you are.”

“Well,” she purrs, “A pleasure to meet you. I’m a thief.”

The dots connect in his mind. “Like a cat burglar!”

“Yes, like that.”

“Man, this city is wild and I come from a place that deals with ghosts on a daily basis.”

“So what are you doing in a place like this? Gotham isn’t kind to newcomers.”

Danny sighs, yet again, and tilts his head back to look up at the cloudy, starless sky. “I made a dumb mistake and got sucked into a magic portal that spit me out here. I have no clue how I’m going to get home.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

He glares at Catwoman. “I’m not open to being adopted. I’ll just eat any papers you send my way.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she reassures, “I have no interest in being a mother. But I have a spare bedroom if you need it, and I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few tricks of the trade. It’ll be fun, messing with Batman.”

Ah, so she’s doing this for Trickster Reasons. Danny can respect that.

And he also doesn’t have any other options. Considering how much gun violence and general violence he’s hearing in this city, he’ll probably be killed an embarrassing number of times just from trying to find a place to sleep on the streets for one night. Between cold, dangerous streets with storm clouds hanging heavy over his head or a guest bedroom in the home of a thief with a theme, there’s really no choice.

“If you don’t mind me hanging around, I’d really appreciate having a place to sleep until I figure out a way home.”

“Come along, then! I was just about to turn in for the night.” Catwoman stands up, stretches, then takes hold of the whip on her waist and snaps it out. She takes a running leap off the building, then throws her whip out to wrap around a billboard to swing across the street.

Danny watches her go, then follows her lead, flying behind her, ready to catch her just in case. But Catwoman moves with ease, clearly experienced in recklessly moving through the streets, and makes her way to a highrise apartment with no trouble at all.

They land on a balcony just as the sky rumbles with ominous thunder. Another second later, and the clouds open up and heavy rain begins to fall.

Catwoman throws the door open and they both scramble to get inside before they get drenched. The lights flick on, revealing a stylish modern apartment, filled with art pieces and ornamental bonsai trees. A few quiet cries come from corners of the room, and then cats appear, one after another, moving around Danny’s legs curiously before turning to Catwoman.

“That was a close one,” Catwoman says conversationally as she takes off her hood and googles, revealing her face. Her pixie cut is messy and her eyes are bright and sharp, just like a cat’s. “I suppose since we’re going to be working together from now on, that we properly introduce ourselves.” She holds out a hand for to shake. “Selina Kyle. I look forward to the trouble we’ll cause together.”

Danny stares down at her hand, then takes hold of it. Looks like he’s going to be a thief! Well, it’ll be a fun story for later.

He doesn’t want his name attached to his new life of crime, though. And, he figures, this is a fresh start. New life, new name. There’s one that pops into mind immediately, and he latches onto it, ready to step into the world of crime.

“Call me Neal Caffrey,” he says, shaking her hand. “I’m ready to start when you are.”

#my writing #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dp x dc fanfic #purposefully writing something bad is actually so freeing. everyone do this it will make writing so much easier #if ure confused abt the neal caffery joke check my end notes on ao3 ;)

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months ago

Note

I'm 99% sure it was called "Forever Yours" and it was a yandere oneshot series basically of a ton of popular anime boys from the time. The ones I remember were the Tokyo Ghoul dude, there were some Death Note guy chapters, there was the ML from Kamisama kiss, OH and the white haired guy from Psycho-Pass. There were like 50 chapters. It had probably a million likes or something it was INSANELY popular.

Ryntymy also had some other ongoing fics (and a ryntymny/reader crack fic, god, love them for that), but god it's soooo hard to remember.

i DID find a post about one of the fics i knew of that was actually REALLY GOOD that you would have LOVED (it was very similar to saltburn although it's quotev so this yandere was ofc pretty tame):

https://www.reddit.com/r/Quotev/comments/1b652gu/trying_to_find_old_x_reader_fic/

as for what's still up... hm. i do remember parallel ink, and also psychadelic peanut (they had this really trippy izaya fic):

https://www.quotev.com/story/9754667/Unfortunate-YandereIzaya-Orihara-x-Reader/1

AH parallel ink wrote kingdom of possession, which i DO remember:

https://www.quotev.com/story/6759314/Kingdom-of-Possession-Yandere-King-x-Reader

and there was this one series that was ACTUALLY quizzes, which was neat:

https://www.quotev.com/quiz/8085561/Out-of-Sight-Out-of-Mind

this one was a pretty fun sort of mystery style thing:

https://www.quotev.com/story/11260294/Seesaw/1

and this one was like. formative for my longing for pathetic masochistic men. i wasn't super into it back then but THE SEEDS WERE PLANTED:

https://www.quotev.com/story/8901227/Then-Came-You-Sadistic-Reader-x-Yandere-Character-One-Shots/2

SEESAW????? I lovedddd that fic so so much ahhhh it was amazing!!! the fic put me in so much denial cuz i was like 'its him! wait no its not him? wait it IS him? no wait-' very very entertaining

speaking of murder mystery yandere fics...there was this one where the reader was isekaid onto a train and quickly pieces together that all of the passengers resemble ppl from this book they read years ago...except they cant remember the ending aka they dont know who the murderer is. pretty sure the author deleted it but it was good!

its so funny you mention psychedelic peanut cuz i remember they got canceled???? actually...pretty sure parallel ink did too...as well the rest of their clique....and thats why i zipped outta the quotev yandere community!

actually that one aot isekai i was talking about was hosted on quotev! pretty much the height of literature, there's no competition. if i dont find it im just tempted to just rewrite it.

Curse of a Broken Promise is still up there and i think it still holds up! its a yandere kaneki ken fic and the writing is so....whimsical? idk how to explain it but it whenever i read it i always felt so sad. good read!

Imperishable affection (yandere!mafioso x reader) is ALSO written by the same author. basically yandere mafia boss guy threatens you into loving him or else your family dies yada yada so ofc the mc does. for a quotev yandere fic its pretty dark actually.

You Need Me (Yandere Manipulator x reader) THIS was the fic that brought me into the yandere thing. and the author used to update EVERY day so this whole this was an event. and the TWIST i remember being 14 and gasping like 'omg he did EVERYTHING???' very very good

If you want a izayax reader fic whos author WASNT wierd might i suggest Twisted Obsession. Beautiful writing. Its better than most ao3 writing actually and wayyy above mine. I love the way this author characterizes Izaya in this and the backstory for why hes so strange is pretty believable. like i fully believe it should be canon.

Savior Complex is an aot isekai where the mc gets whisked into a yandere sim where Petra is the love interest and the rest of the aot cast is obsessed with her. but we can all guess what happens. pretty good tho!!!

BUT EVERYONE GO READ PRETTY its a gojo x LATINA READER AHHHHHH YESSSS. i just LOVE LOVE LOVE the way this author writes. its so poetic and there's so much left up for interpretation.

#logged into my old account to find these and omg the memories it brought up #yandere #yandere recs #fic recs

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justmymindandstuff · 2 months ago

Text

Bounded by fire and love - Helaena Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen (18+MDNI; smut)

This is a sequel to bounded by fire and pain but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: Aegon has tried to be a good brother. He knows he hasn't always been successful. Now the day he had feared has come, his wedding day. He must marry his sister and do his duty. Now he will drag her into his dark abyss with him. But Helaena surprises him with her desire and he manages to find comfort in her arms.

Warnings: age up characters, hurt/ comfort, self-hate, thinking about suicide (briefly), dark!, angst, family issues, Aegon is a product of family issues, Alicent is a bad mum but she tries, , drinking, sexual trauma, blood (briefly), marriage night, loss of virginity, insecure Helaena, incecure Aegon, sibling incest (obvious), p in v sex, oral (f), fingering, innocent/virging Helaena, innocence kink, pet names (?idn Aegon calls Helaena good girl once), smut, 18+, MDNI!

Words: 10.066

A/N: My Helaegon brainrot starts as a joke, but guys its not a joke anymore. I can´t stop thinking about them and the crumbs the show gives us doesn´t help.

English is not my first language// Gif not mine// AO3 // This turned out much darker than I originally intended.

I will write Dragons and Roses 03 over the next few days I promise (and there will be a part 04 bc I have no self control)

Since the fateful night at Driftmarkt, something has shifted in Aegon. Since that night, he is trying to do better. He tries to be a good brother.

He is no longer mean to Aemond and Heleana. Aegon even took Aemond to the brothel at his 13 nameday. Just like his father had done with him. Viserys had said that this is a Targaryen men tradition. Aemond was angry, but Aegon tried. He also has learned to listen to his sister. Her riddles still confuse him, but he knows that he can make her happy with a new insect, and he even tried to learn something about the little crawlers. But the book that the teacher had given him was so boring that he gave up after two chapters. He prefers to listen to Helaena as she explains why certain beetles cannot fly while others can. He tries to remember as much as possible. He is really trying.

But Aegon likes it best when all three fly on their dragons together. Sunfyre's back is his only source of happiness. Experiencing this happiness with his siblings gives Aegon strength. For hours the three dragons fly over the Crownlands.

However, there has been no time for that in the last weeks. The last few weeks have been filled with wedding preparations. Every day Aegon escapes from the Keep. He wants to avoid reality. He spends his days with Sunfyre, and every time he takes his golden dragon to the skies, he thinks for a moment about flying away. But Aegon comes back every afternoon. One bath and a cup of wine later, he has usually disappeared from the Keep again. He spends his nights with drinking, gambling and prostitutes.

But he cannot run away from reality. When his mother waits for him in his chambers three days before the wedding, holding his elaborate embroidered weddingshirt Aegon feels unwell.

"Mother I don't want to get married," he says but tries on his wedding outfit without complaining. The tailors bustle around him, and one accidentally pricks his skin with a needle. Aegon flinches but bites his lip to suppress a curse.

"It must be," Alicent replies, smoothing the embroidered fabric over her chest before taking a step back and looking at her eldest son. Aegon cannot read her facial expressions. He has never been good at that. How is he supposed to recognize emotions when he can't even sort out his own feelings?

"Why?" he asks defiantly. A thousand times he had asked this question and never received an answer. Now his mother sighs.

"Leave us alone." she commands and all the tailors, pages, and servants leave Aegon's chambers. The feeling of relief only lasts a moment.

His mother moves through his rooms as if they were her own. She goes to the table and first pours herself a cup of wine, and then Aegon. Aegon takes a few steps towards her, takes the cup, and waits so she finally answers his question. Aegon knows that Helaena did not ask for this wedding either. This is all his mothers doing.

"You want to protect your sister, right?"

"Of course." but why doesn't his mother understand that Helaena needs to be protected from him?

"Do you know who is her alternative?" she sounds exhausted.

Aegon didn't even know that there was an alternative. But everyone is better than him. Maybe he could arrange for that other man to marry Heleana in his place? He can smuggle her out of the Keep and bringt her to the man who she deserves. Bring her to a better man. He shakes his head and is already making plans on how he can get Heleana out of the Keep.

"Jacaerys Velaryon."

Aegon's plan is falling apart like a house of cards. He would never allow that his sister have to marry that bastard. All his defiance and anger towards his mother dissipate, and Aegon lets himself fall weakly into the next chair.

"Oh."

His mother doesn't punish him at all. She doesn't punish Helaena either. Alicent protects Helaena.

"Yes. Oh. And even if it weren't Jacaerys, it would be some other Lord who takes her away from us. Do you want that? Do you want to say goodbye to your sister?"

"No," he replies softly. His mother is right. He hadn't looked at it that way before. Aegon sighs and concedes defeat. "I will marry her," he whispers.

Alicent sighs, approaches him and sets down her untouched cup. Her hand caresses gently over his cheek. Her lips are twisted into a sad smile. "You don´t have a choice in this."

Her words should perhaps provide comfort, but they only drain all strength out of Aegon and ensure that he drowns himself even deeper in wine by evening. Only after he has vented all his frustration on one of the prostitutes and is back in his chambers he can cry. He lies on the softest bed linens in all of Westeros, surrounded by expensive food and fine wine, his clothes feel soft against his skin, made from the finest material, surrounded by jewelry and every luxury someone can imagine, yet he smells like a beggar, is as powerless as a small child, and feels as broken as a dead man. Aegon closes his eyes. He wishes he could just disappear, sinking into his mattress as if he had never existed. That would be better. Then all the suffering he has caused would not exist either. Helaena could then be free from him. Perhaps Mother would then marry her to Aemond instead of the Strongbastard.

Aemond. His little brother Aemond. Aegon opens his eyes again, tears streaming from them into the pillows. Aemond wouldn't make it without him. The stubborn, headstrong, disciplined Aemond. Aegon can hardly help but laugh at the thought. Aemond wouldn't know what fun is without him. He would throw himself into his training, obsessed with being a warrior and a scholar. An impossible task. Aegon knows that Aemond does all these things to distract from the fact that he is broken. Aemond is broken in a different way than Aegon. But still broken. He can't leave him alone. His little brother needs him.

Helaena is the only one among them who isn't broken. Helaena is perfect, pure, kind. Helaena is the only one who is good.

And in two days she would be his wife, and he would ruin her. Aegon just manages to turn to the side before he expels the contents of his stomach. It's almost all wine, his esophagus burns from the acidity, and the disgusting taste lingers in his mouth. Aegon would prefer to throw up again, but nothing comes out. He turns onto his back and just stares at the ceiling. When sleep comes Aegon is glad, and just before he loses consciousness he wishes for a second not to wake up again.

Aegon chambers are full of servants, pages, tailors, and maids. His brother Aemond sits in an armchair by the fire, looking around with a bored expresion. Aegon know it is his mask. Aemond is already wearing his festive attire, yet he still has steel at his belt around his waist. Aegon has already been bathed and smells of the oils and perfume in which his servants have soaked him in. He is rotting inside. The chaos around him causes a headache, and an uneasy feeling crawls through his stomach. His hands tremble and he longs for a cup of wine. Aegon focuses his gaze on his brother's drumming fingers. On the outside, Aemond appears calm, just like Aegon, but inside he is also tumultuous. Aegon tries not to pay attention to the fact that his chambers have already been rearranged and many of Helaena's belongings were brought in. From this evening on, these will no longer be his chambers but their shared ones, their marital chambers. One of the maids pulls at his hair as she clumsily tries to cut it. Aegon grimaces as his scalp tightens.

"Enough," he says, roughly pushing her away. "Get Helaena. Heleana always cuts my hair," he says. Quickly, the maid curtsies and runs out of the room.

"Our sister will surely prepare for the wedding herself." Aemonds voice comes from the fireplace.

"Probably and she will surely find it lovely when so many people are swirling around her and touching her," he replies grimly. A tailor's apprentice stumbles against a chair while turning, causing a pile of sewing materials to fall to the floor and the chair to scrape against the stone floor with a disgusting noise.

Aegon can't take it anymore and explodes.'"Everyone out of here! I don't want to see anyone anymore who isn't part of my family." he screams and jumps up from the chair. For a second, no one moves, and Aegon tries to calm his heartbeat with heavy breaths. Then the hustle begins again as everyone grabs their things and disappears from Aegon's chambers. Aegon takes two steps and reaches finally for his wine cup. In just a few sips, it's empty, and Aegon pours himself another right away.

"Mother says I should prevent you from drinking today."

"Try to stop me." they both know that Aemond could do that with ease. But hje just shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't worry, not today."

Aegon lowers the cup from his lips and looks at his brother. Aemond's expression is unmoving, but compassion is reflected in his eyes. Aegon does not want his pity, but the fact that it is there calms the fear in his gut just a little bit.

The doors are open again and Helaena steps in. She wears a simple dress made of green silk, yet her hair is already intricately braided and tied back, with a diadem perched on her head. The light catches in the green gemstones. Helaena glances around briefly and then smiles. Aegon is relieved that she is smiling.

"Jen said you want me to cut your hair," she says. Aegon fills his cup with wine once more and then returns to his chair.

"Yes, please." he says and drops himself onto the chair. Helaena takes the scissors and walks over to him.

"She says you were mean." cautiously as always, she begins to cut his hair. Aemond huffs from his spot by the fireplace, which makes Aegon roll his eyes. Helaena remains unruffled. As her hands gently glide over his scalp, Aegon briefly closes his eyes. He rarely allows Helaena to touch him, but in those moments, he wonders why. "Aegon?"

He flinches slightly but then responds. "They annoyed me."

"You should still be nice. They are here on Mother's orders."

"I really tried to stay calm."

"I know. It's all right."

He feels like a little child being scolded by his mother. Only that his mother never explained with gentle words what he had done wrong, she had just screams at him and slaps him. He now he deserves every hit from her.

Helaena sets the scissors aside and gently wipes the loose hairs from Aegon's shirt. His wedding outfit is still lying on the bed. Aegon cannot bear to look at it.

"Thank you," he says and stands up. He is glad that the only mirror he has in his chambers is turned around. He cannot bear to look at himself. "Would you like a cup of wine?" he asks. He knows that Helaena actually has to return to her own chambers.

She nods anyway, and they sit down with Aemond by the fireplace. Quickly Aegon pours wine for Helaena and hands her the cup. He made sure that he always has her favorite type of wine in his chambers. Aegon stares into the fire.

"You both look like you're going to your own funeral." Aemond suddenly says. Aegon and Helaena both look up and then at each other. They look that way because they both feel that way. But then Helaena straightens her shoulders.

"No. I'm doing well," she says then. Aegon doesn't believe her. He takes a sip of his wine to avoid saying anything but Helaena addresses him directly. "Aegon. I am truly doing well. And you?"

He sets down the cup and shrugs his shoulders. The nervous feeling in his stomach is getting worse again. Everything in him screams to run away. But he stays seated and instead starts to play with his fingers. Then he forces a smile onto his face.

"I'm doing well too," he says, managing even to look directly at Helaena. He doesn't know if her smile is genuine.

"Today is not our funeral. Not today. I haven't dreamed of today, and I only dream bad things," says Helaena, and her tone makes him perk up a bit, but the strange feeling disappears right away as he remembers his wine. But before he can take another sip, the doors to his chambers are flung open again. Out of the corner of his eye, Aegon sees Aemond's hand going straight for his sword, and he is ready to jump up but his tense posture disappears immediately when he recognizes their mother.

"I thought you were here, Helaena," Alicent says, sounding relieved. Ser Criston closes the door behind them. Then Alicent's gaze shifts from her daughter to Aegon and the cup of wine in his hand, she grimaces. "Aemond, I asked you to make sure he doesn't drink so much."

"That's his first cup, Mother," Aemond lies, and Aegon sends a silent thank you to the gods for his brother. "We thought we would drink to today's special occasion as siblings."

Alicent nods, "Fine." she agrees. "But Helaena mus get ready now."

Helaena sets down her cup and smiles at her brothers once more. "See you in the Sept." she says. Alicent steps forward and grabs the wine jug from the table before taking Helaena by the hand and leading her to the door. "See you in the Sept" Aegon whispers as Helaena walks past him. His mother stops once more.

"Ser Criston, please make sure that Aegon changes and accompany him to the sept, and remind him that Sunfyre is being guarded by additional guards today," she gives the order before leaving the chambers with Helaena. Aegon sighs, now he has a babysitter too. But at least it's Criston.

"Sit down." Aegon stands up and points to the spot that Helaena has just left. The sworn shield of his mother takes its place. Aegon walks through his chambers and retrieves a new jug of wine from the cupboard. As if he had no reserve. He filles Criston, his brother, and himself a cup and then sits back down in the chair. He would need one more cup of wine before he could put on his wedding attire and make his way to the sept.

Aegon first looks at his brother, then at Criston. He has known this man his whole life, as far back as Aegon can remember, Ser Criston has been his mother's sworn shield.

And as far back as he can remember, he has dutifully carried out her orders. So it is today. He makes sure that Aegon puts on his wedding attire and then takes away the wine so that he doesn't stain the light fabric. The ride in the carriage to the Sept is silent. Aemond rides alongside them on horse back.

Only after Aegon has walked down the long aisle of the great sept, nodded to a few of the Lords and Ladies, and stood next to the Septon at the front, does Ser Criston leave his side and take up his position. Aemond stays next to Aegon, he is glade about his presence. It grounds him. Let him feel less lonley. It takes a moment, but then his mother appears. She smiles when she sees him and nods, then she takes her place next to the king. The Sept becomes quiet. Aegon feels as if he is about to vomit.

Helaena enters the Sept next to her grandfather Otto Hightower. The King felt too weak to walk her down the aisle.

As Helaena steps through the large door, Aegon looks from his brother to the entrance. He has to swallow. Helaena had pinned a delicate veil over her hairstyle, the cream-colored lace cascading down her wedding dress and flowing to the floor. It has the same color as his outfit. They are perfectly matched, as if they belong together. And maybe they do that? Aegon never wanted to admit it, always forbidding himself from even thinking about it,but now he can't help but acknowledge it. Helaena is beautiful. As she gets closer, he realizes that all the people make her uncomfortable. It reveals how she holds onto Otto's hand, her knickles white because of her tight grip. Helaenas gaze shifts restlessly back and forth. But then she looks at Aegon, he is glad that he is smiling at this moment because Helaena also starts smiling. Aegon takes a deep breath and suddenly Otto stands before him, handing over Helaena's hand. Her skin is cold. Aegon carefully pulls back her veil. She is paler than she was an hour ago, yet she bravely keeps a smile on her face.

The Septon begins to speak, but Aegon can hardly understand him. He has a ringing in his ears, he tries to focus on his breathing, but because he can hardly control it, it only makes things worse. Pull yourself together! Breathe in, breathe out. It gets a little better, but it is only the gentle pressure of Helaena's hand that brings him back to the moment. He takes the dagger from the Septon's hand and cuts into his palm, then he hands it to Helaena, and she does the same, grimacing for a brief moment as the blade slices through her skin. When she hands the dagger back to the Septon, her hand trembles. but when Aegon takes her hand, her grip is firm. For a brief moment, Aegon feels her blood running over his hand, but then it mixes with his own and he gets used to it. The Septon binds their joined hands. The only Valyrian part of this wedding ceremony is over, and the Septon is following the script of the Faith of the Seven.

Helaena and Aegon speak the words. They leave a strange feeling on his tongue, but they don't sound wrong. The kiss is nothing more than a slight touch of their lips, and then it’s over. They are married.

He looks at Helaena, she nods and smiles. Then he turns her halfway, and those present begin to clap while the newlyweds walk back down the aisle. Aegon keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead. He cannot look at his mother. Outside a carriage is waiting to take them to a banquet at the Red Keep. Aegon is not hungry. And he doesn't want a banquet, he doesn't want to dance. He would prefer to have something to drink.

Aegon chokes down a bit of the food. Helaena, who is sitting next to him at the high table, hardly touches her food too. Alicent instructed the servants not to give Aegon any wine, but Aemond and Cristion always manage to secretly slip him a cup. Aegon thanks all the gods for the two of them.

Speeches are being given and music is played. Aegon dances exactly one song with Helaena before he flees back to his seat and takes a sip of his wine.

He hates it here, finds all of this repulsive. He can hardly stand to stay in this room for another moment. But he pulls himself together and clings to his chair and his wine.

His gaze sweeps across the room. Helaena is talking with her old nanny. A woman long past her fortieth nameday and one of Helaena's confidants. Alicent couldn't bring herself to send her back home when Helaena got older, so she stays at the Keep in Helaenas services.

Aegon looks at his hands, the nail beds are bloody, yet he can't help but keep picking at his skin. To distract himself he looks at his mother to see if her hands are bloody as well. Alicent sits in here seat next to the king, watching the dancing people. Her foot is tapping to the beat of the music. Aegon had heard that his mother, when she was young, had danced for hours on end with his half-sister. But Viserys is old and sick and hasn't danced in a long time. So his mother doesn't dance anymore either.

The thought is not yet fully formed when Aegon is already on his feet and walking over to his mother. He remembers his courtesies and bows slightly before the queen and the king.

"You allow your Grace?" he says to his father, but he looks at his mother while saying it. She looks surprised at his outstretched hand. Viserys laughs briefly beside him and then suppresses a cough before he responds.

"Of course, of course." his voice almost breaks with joy. Alicent reaches for Aegon's hand and allows him to lead her to the dance floor. The other couples respectfully make room and limit their dancing to the sidelines.

Aegon hopes that enough of the hated dance lessons have stuck with him so that he doesn't completely embarrass himself. But his body seems to remember the dance steps. After a moment of uncertainty he manages to lead his mother safely to the music. She shows a radiant smile, tears welling up in her eyes. Aegon is not quite sure, but he hopes that she is happy.

"I don't know if you remember," Alicent begins to speak softly. "But when you were little, we always danced in my chambers. You were standing on my feet. I hummed the melody because we didn't have any musicians. You always laughed so much." she swallows and her smile trembles.

"I remember it." Aegon lies, feeling a lump forming in his throat. For a brief moment, he does not see his mother, the queen, but Lady Alicent, the young girl she once was. Then guilt overwhelms him, because he is the reason she is no longer that young girl. Through him, she has become a mother. He forced her into the role of a mother.

"And now you are married and grown up." she sounds sad, and Aegon doesn't know what to say. His mother sighs softly, but then confidently executes her dance steps with a quick turn. When Aegon can look at her again, she smiles again. "I am glad that Helaena has you as her husband."

Everything in him wants to scream that she is mistaken. Helaena cannot be happy that he is her husband. But Alicent keeps talking.

"I know that you will protect her. You will be good to her. Because you are my little boy and she my little girl." she sobs and can't manage to keep her smile up. "I'm so sorry."

Aegon is glad that the dance is over at this moment because he feels frozen. His throat is dry, but he knows he has to say something. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. His head is empty. And after a blink of an eye, his mother put on her perfect smile again and wearing it like a mask. She takes a step back, and as her hand slips out of his, he feels as if she is slipping away from him. I will not fail you. He wants to say it, but it's too late. Alicent smiles and curtsies, then turns around and walks back to her place next to the king. Viserys claps his hands, and immediately everyone turns to him. Aegon is glad about his father for the first time in his life because he still cannot move.

"It's time. We have decided that there will be no bedding ceremony, so we will now bid farewell to the newlyweds here." Viserys hadn't decided anything at all, it was all his mother. She would probably have burned down the Red Keep before she would have allowed strange men to lift Helaena and tear her clothes off her body. Aegon is glad about that. The attention of the people turns to him, Aegon looks around and is relieved that Helaena is already approaching him. He reaches out his hand and she grabs it. This time her hand doesn't tremble, she stands so close to him that he can feel her body heat. The king stands up unsteadily and reaches for his cup. "Let's drink to the prince and the princess. For health and a good and fruitful marriage." The bystanders also raise their cups. "To the prince and the princess." Helaena and Aegon can only stand there and receive the false blessing. No one cares about them. Aegon can hardly stand it any longer and leads Helaena out of the hall.

Aemond, Ser Criston, and two other Kingsguards follow them to his cambers. He closes the door to his chambers behind Helaena and hin and leans his forehead against the wooden door. He takes a few deep breaths.

Aegon knows that Aemond will now withdraw, just like the Kingsguards. Ser Criston would stand by the door. Aegon's skin crawls at the thought that Criston's task tonight goes beyond just keeping watch. Aegon is not sure if Helaena knows that they are being listened to. He doesn't want to tell her. He is not even sure if he is capable of fulfilling his duty.

Despite it he turns to Helaena. She had taken off her hair ornament from which the veil was hanging and placing it on the table. Her gaze wanders to her things that are already here. Skeptically, she furrows her brows as her fingertips glide over the fabric of the veil.

"Nothing has gone broken." says Aegon. That must surely worry her right? He wishes he could read her thoughts. Are they as confused as her words?

"Tomorrow they will bring the rest of my things," says Helaena, turning her head to look at him. "I'm sorry that you have to share your chambers with me now."

Aegon shrugs his shoulders. It had been a decision, his decision. It doesn't bother him. It is not foreign to him to sleep next to Helaena in a bed. Countless nights, the siblings had crawled into each other's beds. On particularly terrible nights, Aegon had even bring it over him to show up at his mother's doorstep. She never rejected him when he stood before her with tear-streaked cheeks, reeking of wine. She would alway pull him into his arms. No one talked about these nights. It is a silent agreement between Alicent and her children. Aegon imagines that it can be nice to never have to sleep alone again.

"I like having you with me," he says, wanting Helaena to not feel guilty for moving into his chambers.

The two of them are standing indecisively in the room. Aegon would prefer to run away. Instead, he goes to the table and reaches for a cup. "Wine?"

"Mother took your wine with her." Aegon goes to one of the dressers and takes out a carafe with Helaena's favorite wine to pour it into the cup.

"If there's one thing that's for sure it's that I always have some wine hidden somewhere." as he hands her the cup, she smiles gratefully. Helaena takes a big sip while Aegon pours himself a drink. He notices that his hands are not trembling. Only after he has drowned his cup does he dare to say what has been swirling in his mind all evening.

"The dress is beautiful." he takes a deep breath. "You look beautiful."

Helaenas eyes widen in surprise and blood rushes to her cheeks, Helaena begins to play with the fabric of her dress. Now in the candlelight, it shimmers more gold, and Aegon has to swallow at the sight.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Is she insecure? Did he unsettle her? Words form on his tongue, but he swallows them down. He stares at Helaena, he knows he should look away but he can't. Forget it. That's just Helaena. His Helaena? He has known her her whole life. She is now his wife. She is now his Helaena. Or maybe she has always been his? Always been a part of him?

"Is it okay if I say that kind of things?" he feels dumb and insecure. A smile appears on Helaena's face. Aegon is sure that it is real.

"Yes, it's okay. I just didn't expect it. You've never said that you think I'm beautiful."

Aegon takes a deep breath. He chooses absolute honesty, only then does he feel like he is not failing. He has always tried to be better than he is. Now he has to be better than he is. For Helaena. He has no other choice.

"I have never thought it. I forbade myself to see you this way years ago. But today I couldn't help it," he explains. Helaena nods and then takes a sip from her cup before pushing it aside.

"I chose the color of the fabric myself, and then Mother had your festive outfit coordinated with it. It was nice to be able to make a decision." Aegon furrows his brows, trying to find the deeper meaning in her words. Is there even one?

"Can you help me take it off?" It's a bit heavy. Or should I call the maids?"

"No, I can help you," he says quickly. When the doors to these chambers are opened once more, he knows that he cannot hold himself back and would run.

Helaena turns around and Aegon begins to untie the laces of the dress at her back. To his surprise, Helaena starts giggling after a moment.

"What is funny?"

"I was just thinking that you've probably done that a few times already." again, she giggles. She doesn't seem to be angry at all that he has already been with other women. Aegon's lips also curl into a smile.

"Yes. I've done this a few times," he admits as he carefully pulls the fabric over the loose strings, causing the dress to slip from Helaena's shoulders. His breath catches for a moment before he forces himself to take a step back. Helaena pulls the dress off her body, the fabric pooling around her feet, and she steps forward out of her shoes and the dress. Aegon suppresses the need to take a step back again.

Under ber dress, Helaena is wearing a silk nightgown. Aegon can't help but stare at her.

"We can talk around it for half the evening now, but you know what still needs to happen for me to truly be your wife."

Aegon flinches slightly at her words. She is clearly braver than he is. He starts fiddling with his hands again.

"You are right," he says softly.

"I don't know what to do." Helaena says, fiddling with the white fabric of her nightgown.

They dressed her up for him, and that's wicked, and it drives him crazy that it works. He forces himself to turn his gaze away from the almost transparent fabric and the curves beneath it.

Aegon thinks about the whores he takes. Always fast and hard, he never looks them in the eyes, they always have bruises when he is done. He looks at Helaena's pale skin, and when he imagines that it is also stained with bruises, he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

"I don't know either." Silence spreads before Helaena hesitantly begins to speak. "But you already have done…I mean, I often hear about your visits to the brothel."

Aegon laughs joylessly. "Yes," he answers to her unasked question.

He doesn't even need to ask if Helaena is a maiden. Not only did she grew up under the watchful eyes of her mother as a princess in the Reed Keep, but she is Helaena, the girl who sometimes can hardly bear it when her mother holds her hand. Helaena in a passionate embrace with a man? Aegon can't even imagine it. And in the next moment, he realizes that he has to do the unimaginable today.

"So you know what we have to do?" her cheeks are flushing and stand in contrast to the radiant white of her nightgown. On top of that, the way she looks at him with her big eyes paints the perfect picture of innocence.

Aegon knows that he will be send into the deepest of the Seven Hells because he cannot suppress the burning desire that this sight awakens in him. He wants to take away her innocence. He is a wicked man.

"What happened in Silk Street and in the brothels are things that you don´t do to your wife."

"Oh."

He glances at her briefly, and this time he is sure that she is insecure. He doesn't want her to feel that way. It is now his task to take that from her. He will not fail. Aegon briefly closes his eyes to sort his thoughts before he speaks.

"There are two ways we can do this. We can see this whole thing as an obligation. We handle it like a task or we try to find passion and pleasure in it. "

"Pleasure? How?"

Aegon must pull himself together so that his thoughts don't drift off to all the ways that could worship her body. Instead he takes a step closer to her. Aegon hesitates for a moment, then places a hand on her cheek. She does not flinch at his touch.

"I can't explain it. I want to show it to you. May I kiss you?"

Helaena nods slightly, and Aegon leans in further and places his lips on hers. The kiss is only brief, like a test. Aegon doesn't know what he had expected, but not that a pleasant warmth would spread within him. And also not that Helaena follows him when he wants to withdraw. He stops and her lips are already on his again.

This kiss is more passionate than he had expected, and Aegon feels a shiver run through him as she parts her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide over hers. Breathless, Helaena pulls away from him. She rests her forehead against his, Aegon's thumb caress over her neck.

"Did I do it right?" she asks softly. Aegon feels that the only appropriate reaction would be to sink to his knees and pray to her. Instead, he curses quietly before he answers.

"That was perfect. You are perfect."

He strokes her cheeks and kisses her briefly once more. Helena's hands wander over his clothed chest.

"Can you take that off?" she asks, a slight blush already shimmering over her cheeks. Aegon feels the need to relieve some tension from the situation.

"Should the answer to this question ever be no, please take a dagger and stab me," she giggles softly like he had hope. Aegon begins to unbutton his shirt, but Helaena places her hands on his. They are a little warmer than before.

"May I?"

Aegon nods at her question, and Helaena opens his shirt. Her fingers gently glide over the exposed skin, and a shiver runs through Aegon's body. It tickles slightly, and Aegon can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Gently Helaena strokes his upper body, and Aegon places his hands on her hips. She stops a his chest for a moment they simply stand there breathing in each other's scent. Aego feels calm like he hasn't felt in weeks or was it months?

"Can you let your hair down for me?" Aegon asks into the silence.

Helaena smiles and nods. Then she takes a step back and starts pulling hairpins out of her hairstyle. Aegon's hands lose contact with her hips, and he has to suppress a sigh. While Helaena undoes her braids, she walks back to the table and places her hair clips on it. Aegon pushes his shirt off his shoulders. He runs both hands over his face and takes a deep breath once more. Then he looks over at Helaena. She had already undone almost all of her braids, and her blonde hair was falling over her back. Aegon slowly approaches her. When she undoes the last braid, he places his hands back on her hips and gently pulls her closer to him. She leans into his touch. Aegon stands behind her and gently brushes her blonde hair from her neck and over her shoulder with one hand. Slowly, he leans down and kisses her neck.

Helaena gasps for air, goosebumps rise on her neck.

Aegon is very aware of these two facts, and they send a hot desire racing up his spine. His lips wander up her neck to her earlobe. "I'm not good enough for you," Aegon whispers in her ear. "I am a sick man."

She responds in a heartbeat. "Then I am also a sick woman." Helaene's voice trembles. Aegon needs a moment to understand what she has said. She wants him, desires him. Presumably not in the same twisted way, but in her own way, she desires him. She turns to him, letting her hands wander over his bare arms and shoulders until they rest on his neck.

There is no trace of hesitancy as she speaks. "I want to choose option two. I want to try it with passion and pleasure."

Aegon can no longer resist her. His lips crash onto hers. Helaena presses herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Aegon turns them both around, his lips wandering over her cheeks to her neck. He lightly sucks on the pale skin, and Helaeana lets out a moan.

In this moment, Aegon vows to himself that he will find every spot on her body that makes her make those sounds again. He needs all his willpower to tear himself away from her one last time.

"Helaena you look like a goddess in that nightgown but you have to take it off, otherwise I will have to tear it."

Once again Aegon is relieved that she is giggling. Helaena takes half a step back and reaches for the hem of her nightgown to pull it over her head. The fabric carelessly lands on the floor. Aegon doesn't even try to stop himself from letting his gaze wander over her naked body. Of course, she is perfect for him in every way. Hot disire washs over him, like he never experience before.

"Perfect. You are perfect. Beautiful." he says before even a trace of uncertainty can appear in her. Helaena smiles. Aegon glides her to the side of his bed. As she stands before him, his arms slide to her knee pit, and with a smooth motion, he lifts her onto the bed. Helaena shifts and adjusts a bit on the soft sheets.

This morning, Aegon had observed how the maids had changed the bed sheets with fresh white sheets. Sheets just for this one night. Aegon quickly pushes the thought away. He wants to concentrate on the beautiful, naked woman in his bed now.

He follows Helaena onto the bed. His lips find hers again as he bends over her. Helaena's hands caress his shoulders and Aegon gets goosebumps.

Some of his blood has long since wander down from his brain and he feels his hardness pressing against his pants. The kiss becomes more intense and he lets a little more of his weight sink onto her. Helaena leans towards him and wraps her legs around his waist. The sudden contact makes Aegon moan softly. Helaena rubs herself against him and moans softly into the kiss. Her hands clench and he feels her nails lightly scratching the skin on his shoulders. Aegon suppresses a curse and a groan.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He has to make sure one last time that he is not completely misinterpreting this whole situation. He has to make sure that he is not failing her.

"Yes, I am fine. That feels good." Helaena answers him quietly.

"Yes." he groans. "But you have to stop." She stops moving immediately and takes her legs off him, afraid of doing something wrong, but Aegon continues. "Otherwise I'll come in my pants like a twelve-year-old."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks innocently and strokes the hair on his neck.

"Well, that would be very embarrassing for me." he grins at her neck and moves a little lower to her breasts. Gently he presses her hips down with one hand to prevent her from unconsciously rub against him again. It turns him on so much that he would probably actually come in his pants. Aegon kisses her breast while his other hand gently strokes the other's nipple. Helaena lays her head back on the pillow and bends towards his hand. Her breathing is rapid and Aegon has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He would like to sink his teeth into the pale skin under his lips. He wants to mark her as his, but he suppresses this urge. She is innocent. Don't drag her into your abyss. At least try to keep her away from that abyss for as long as possible.

Instead he pushes his hand along her hips a little further towards her middle. Would she let him touch her there? His hand wanders a little lower and then he notices how Helaena spreads her legs further for him. She makes room for him and Aegon lets his hand wander the last bit. When he notices how wet she is, he groans. The next moment he lets go of her breasts and instead bends up to kiss her lips. Helaena gasps at his sudden movement. Aegon wipes his finger on the bedsheet and puts his other hand on Helaena's cheek. She looks at him curiously he also recognizes lust in her eyes.

"I want you to relax. Is that possible?"

"Yes." Helaena leans back slightly into the pillows her hands sliding from his shoulders and resting on the soft bed linens beside her body.

"Good." says Aegon and kisses her lips once more. "You have to tell me if something doesn't please you or doesn't feel right." he kisses her cheeks and plays with one of her strands of hair. "And you have to tell me when you like something and it feels good." he kisses her other cheek, and Helaena giggles softly again. "Can you promise me that?"

"I promise it."

"Good Girl." his voice is a bit rough, and Helaena whimpers beneath him. Aegon's lips wander again over her neck, his hands gently glide over her body. He takes his time. He caresses the soft skin of her perfect hips, letting his lips and tongue wander over her nipples and kissing down her belly. He enjoys the feeling of her writhing beneath him, the soft whimpering and moaning searing into his brain, and Aegon already knows that he will become rock hard just from the memory. He shifts his weight back and sits back. Helaena's breath comes heavily, and she looks at him with half-closed pleasure-drenched eyes. Aegon lets his gaze wander over her perfect body. They say Targaryen are closer to gods than humans and as she lies naked in front of him, Aegon believes it. He looks forward to all the future nights he will spend exploring every inch of her body. Then he makes himself comfortable between her legs. He places her slender leg over his shoulder and begins to kiss her thigh. Helaena gasps slightly in shock, but then reaches out to him and his touches. Aegon kisses her thigh downwards with practiced ease. If Aegon learned anything during his years in Flea Bottom and Silk Street than how to satisfy a woman. Her wetness glistens slightly in the candlelight, and Aegon can hardly wait to taste her. The desire surprises him but he allows it. Enjoys it even so he let himself dive into his lust.

Just before he finally reaches her center with his lips Helaena flinches slightly and sits up a bit in bed. Aegon lets her withdraw and loosens his grip around her legs slightly as he looks up at her.

"Is that appropriate?" Helaean asks, and Aegon could die right here and now because he has seen all the beauty of this world. He lightly kisses the inner side of her thigh and lets his fingers glide over her bare skin.

"Yes" he replies then. "That is even necessary so that you have as little pain as possible."

"The pain is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"I don't know." he says honestly. He had never cared about the woman pain. Now nothing is more important to him than Helaena's well-being. "But I am as careful as I can be. Hurting you is the last thing I want."

"Okay. I trust you, Aegon." she lies back down on the pillow and stretches out toward him again. Aegon thanks the gods for Helaena before he kisses down her thigh again and finally he can close his lips over her center. Helaena gasps and Aegon pulls back slightly to give her a moment to adjust to the new feeling. Her wet middle is right in front of him and he has to hold himself back from diving into her as if she is his last meal. Aegon can hardly wait to slide his cock between her wet folds. At the thought his cock twitches in his pants. Aegon closes his eyes for a moment. He needs to pull himself together. He can´t fail now. Not with Helaena.

He leans forward again and as his tongue glides gently through her folds. He can't suppress a moan. She tastes better than anything that has ever touched his lips. She flinches slightly, but Aegon gently holds her at her thighs. He dives into her, licking carefully upwards to her clitoris. He carefully sucks on it and is rewarded with a moan from Helaena. Aegon needs all his willpower not to completely dive in. Pull yourself together! You can´t overwhelm her.

So Aegon takes his time, his tongue explores her folds, leaving no spot untouched. He lets his tongue glide over her center and her pearl, alternating the rhythm and intensity. He remembers exactly which spot, which movement elicits a whimper or moan from Helaena. She writhes beneath him, stretching out towards him.

"Aegon." his name slips from her lips as her hand buries itself in his blonde hair. It's over, all restraint is breaking down. He dives deep in. His tongue glides into her, curling inside her. Once again, she moans his name. Aegon feels her moisture running down his chin, soaking him. He licks up every single drop. She twitches, her legs begin to tremble, and her hands claw into the sheet beneath her.

"Aegon stop."

Immediately he withdraws although everything in him screams to continue. Worry floods through him. Was it too much? Did he fail? He looks up at her.

"Are you in pain?"

"No. It felt good. But there was such a tension in me, a knot. Is that normal?"

Aegon has to bite his lips to avoid cursing or groaning. His cock twitches at the thought that Helanena ruined her first orgasm because of her innocence. It shouldn't turn him on that much. He is wicked.

"Yes, that is normal. Let it happen. It will feel good." he leans forward again and sucks on her pearl. "Let yourself fall."

She relaxes again, trusts him completely with her body. Helaena lets out a sigh as Aegon glides his tongue between her folds once more, Her legs tremble again. She writhes beneath him, but Aegon only quickens his tongue's strokes. Helaena moans loudly, Aegon notices how she pulsates around his tongue and starts to twitch. And then she comes onto his tongue. Her whole body shakes as she leans toward him once more before collapsing with a groan. He carefully licks up her cum wanting to taste every drop. Only when she stops twitching and pulsating he lets go from her.

Trembling and breathing heavily she looks at him with wide eyes. He kisses the inside of her thighs, caresses her belly, her hips. Under his fingertips, she gets goosebumps. His cock pulses almost painfully against his pants.

"Are you good?"

She nods vigorously. "Yes. I´m good. It was... I have no idea what that was. I let myself fall." she sighs and lets her head fall back into the soft pillows. Her loose hair forms a crown around her head. Once again Aegon can't help but think that she looks like a goddess. How could he have been so blind all this time? "Is it always like this? I mean, if we share the bed, will it always feel this good?" she asks while stroking his neck and running her fingers through his hair.

Aegon doesn't even try to suppress a moan at her touch. He lets his lips wander over the soft skin again. He can't get enough. She leans towards him again, relaxing right beneath him. He breaks free to answer her.

"I will do my best to make you always feel like this." he says secretly vowing to himself that he will never come with his cock near her before the bed sheets are stained with her wetness and she has moaned his name at least once in a moment of passionate climax. His hand caresses her waist, she doesn't flinch. "Are you ready?" he asks before kissing her slender belly.

"For the consummation? Yes!"

He laughs softly. He would have never dared to dream that she is so eager to be dishonored by him.

"Not yet." he carefully slides a finger into her. Helaena gasps for air, but she doesn't pull away. "How does this feel?"

"It feels strange. But not bad. Unfamiliar."

He nods, pushing his finger a little deeper into her tightness, up to the second knuckle. He carefully curled his finger. Helaena stretches towards him she doesn´t even trying to suppress her whimpers and moans. Her wetness runs over his hands, he carefully adds a second finger. She is so damn tight that for a brief moment he doubts if she can take him. He moves his fingers slowly and then slightly spread them, trying to prepare her. His thumb caresses over her clitoris. Helaena cries out in pleasure and begins to move with him. Aegon stops his movement for a moment, but Helaena simply starts to pleasure herself on his fingers. He can't take his eyes off this sight. He has never seen anything so hot. He notices how she pulses around his fingers, her hips moving faster. Aegon can't wait any longer. It must be enough. He has to have her now. Aegon carefully pulls his fingers out of her. She lets out a disappointed whimper. He sits up, letting his gaze wander over her body once more. His eyes stop on her breasts with the erect nipples. He bends forward to close his lips around it. His cock is throbbing painfully again and craving his attention. Aegon thoughts start racing, he definitely doesn't want to hurt her and is afraid that he is too big for her.

"Let's switch places. You can sit on me, then you can have the control," Aegon suggests. Helaena briefly furrows her brows as she thinks, then her cheeks turn red and she shakes her head.

"What if I do something wrong?"

"You can't do anything wrong," he explains to her, stroking her cheek. She leans into his touch, close her eyes for a moment. Aegon yields to the need, leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"I am unsure," says Helaena. "Is there another way?"

"Oh sweet Helaena," he sighs kisses her cheek. Thenhe wanders with his lips to her neck and then up to her earlobe. He bites carefully, and Helaena lets out a soft moan. Her eyes stay closed as she tilts her head to the side to give him more space. "There are thousands ways and if you allow it, I will show you each and every one." She giggles softly. When he sucks on her neck, she moans.

"Yes please," she says. Aegon thinks for a second that he's going to comes like a twelve-year-old. He releases her neck braces himself on his arms to avoid putting all his weight on her, and looks at her. Her eyes are drenched in desire, a few dops of sweat have gathered on her forehead. His gaze lingers on the red hickey on her neck. It is clearly marked on her porcelain skin. He has marked her as his own. Aegon takes a deep breath and kisses her briefly on the lips. He climbs out of bed and starts to unbutton his pants. Helaena watches him. As he pulls down his pants and his member springs free, her eyes widen slightly. He is hard and pre-cum is leaking from the tip. Helaena looks like a shocked deer. Aegon knows that he is not small, above average and for the first time in his life, he wishes it weren't like this. Everything in him resists causing her pain. He comes back to bed positioning himself between her legs which she opens for him. He kisses her, and Helaena returns the kiss, their tongues playing around each other. Her hands caress his neck, running up and down his back and over his shoulders. Everywhere she touches him he gets goosebumps and his skin tingles. Aegon lets his hands wander over her breasts, his lips move over her neck, continuing down to her collarbone and then to her breasts. He sucks on her nipple while his fingers caress the other one. She gasps and stretches out towards him again, her hips twitching and her waist rubbing against his shaft. Aegon groans at her breasts. He extends his hardness into her moisture. Helaena crys and he captures her lips in a kiss. Aegon shifts his weight slightly and pushes his tip between her folds. Helaena takes a sharp breath. Aegon needs every shred of self-control not to mercilessly hammer into her. Hot desire races up his spine, he feels how his cock twitches inside her. He has to breathe deeply to avoid coming right away. His hand grips her hip, he gently presses her into the sheets to keep her still. If she twitched upwards now, he wouldn't be able to hold back. He needs it to ground himself. Slowly, he pushes himself forward. She whimpers beneath him, slightly grimacing in pain. Aegon stops in his movement.

"Should we stop?"

"No!" she claws at his shoulders, the slight pain as her nails dig into his skin makes him moan softly. "Please don't. I want the Aegon." she leans up to him and kisses him. This time it is her tongue that glides into his mouth and plays with his.

He continues to sink into her his tip gliding inside her, she is so damn tight. Aegon noticed how her wetness ran down his cock. He feels a resistance and stops. He slowly pulls out again. He caresses her body, kisses her soft skin, and then slowly thrusts in again. This time she manages to take him a little further before he pulls back again. Inch by inch he slides inside her.

Helaena tenses up a bit while Aegon tries to distract her with kisses, kissing her neck and allowing himself to nibble on her skin. Careful not to leave any bite marks. With his next thrust, Helaena bites her lip to keep from screaming as he fully enters her for the first time. Aegon's whole body is tense as his cock is enveloped by her warm tightness. He trembles but tries to stay as still as possible while she gets used to him. Helaena takes a deep breath. Then she places her hand on Aegon's cheek strokes it and smiles.

"I'm doing well," she says even though tears are welling up in her eyes. Aegon can't help but kiss her. It is a soft, innocent kiss. But only for a few moments. Helaena wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him closer, and then pushes her hips forward as a sign that she is ready. Aegon moans at her lips. He completely withdraws only to then glide fully between her folds again.

What has he done to deserve something so good? He is a broken man. A sick man. But as he sinks into the wet warmth between her legs, he is sure that the gods have forgiven all his sins and rewarding him with heaven.

He maintains a slow rhythm, even though everything in him screams to selfishly take her and spill his seed deep inside her. Helaena moves her hips with his, her breath quickens, her kisses become sloppy. Aegon reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers. With the next thrust, Helaena moans again and wraps her legs around his hips. So she pushes him further inside her and Aegon curses against her lips. He won't last long.

Aegons hand wanders between her bodies and he begins to gently rub her pearl with the flat of his hand while continuing to thrust into her. She moves with him, fitting him like a glove. Aegon feels as if they fit together perfectly. Sweat drips from his forehead. He notices how she trembles again, her walls pulsating around him as she moans. His name falls from her lips. Aegon quickens his movements around her clit, and then she comes. As she pulls him in and starts clenching abround him, she drags him over the cliff with her. Aegon moans her name like a prayer as he comes, painting her walls white as he spills into her. He moves his hips carefully, riding out their orgasms before collapsing on top of her. He tries to keep his weight off her, but she wraps herself around him and pulls him closer. Helaena starts to scratch his neck. Aegon buries his face in the curve of her neck and takes a deep breath of her scent while trying to calm his pulse. He notices how Helaena is still pulsating around him. He gently pushes his hip a little forward. Helaena inhales sharply before she lets out a groan. A moan escapes his lips as he gently thrusts one last time, and then they both sink into each other, completely overstimulated. For a few heartbeats they remain like that. Helaena tucks a blonde strand of hair behind his ears. Aegon leans into her touch.

"You did not fail me," she whispers in his ear. Aegon notices how tears gather in his eyes. He quickly closes his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He breathes in the scent of Helaena's hair deeply and swallows his tears. For a brief moment, he still enjoys the feeling of her scratching his neck. Then Aegon carefully pulls himself out of her and rolls from her.

He doesn't know what to say. Should he say anything at all? Or would he say exactly the wrong thing now? Aegon remains silent and simply pulls Helaena into his arms instead. He kisses her lips and then her forehead. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles up to him. Gently, her fingertips glide over his shoulders. Aegon closes his eyes and pulls her closer to him at her waist.

Helaena takes a deep breath, turns slightly in his arm to look at him.

"The way you have give me pleasure." she starts. "How can I do that for you?" Aegon laughs softly and kisses her forehead. "Oh sweet wife. First of all it gives me the greatest satisfaction to see you come, and secondly, we still have enough time for that." Helaena smiles and nods. She snuggles back into his arms. Of course, her head fits perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

"Okay sweet Husband."

It's the first time she calls him that and it makes Aegon's heart race for a brief moment. Maybe he wouldn't drag her into his abyss. Maybe she would pull him a little away from his darkness.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aegon ii x helaena #aegon x helaena #helaegon #aegon ii smut #helaena Targaryen smut #Helaegon smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen smut #hotd smut

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verstarppen · 3 months ago

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A THANK YOU LETTER

an apology and update! for all you beautiful people - 2 for the price of 1

hello! over the months i've written and deleted this letter because i was too much of a coward to show my face after i left. i contemplated if it would be adequate enough, if it even matters. At the end, i owe this fandom too much, so here it is:

THE APOLOGY

i am truly sorry. there's no better way of putting it.

the more i create the more i realise how this fandom held my hand and i simply wouldn't be the person i am now if this blog never existed. i've always struggled with sharing art and writing online, as i thought it was too lame and took the coward route of keeping it to myself and my closest friends.

ever since this blog, i've found that less of an issue. the more i think about how much i let you and myself down by disappearing the more i feel the shame weigh me down. i never wanted to leave, but life has this funny way of forcing your hand when you least expect it.

without getting too personal, this year hasn't been great for me or anyone close to me - friendships died, family members were hospitalised, university crushed me, expectations from everyone around me made me question if i'm failing in every aspect of my life, i lost passions like art - something i've always thought of as my dream career, and i fear the stress will only grow rather than die down.

in some of those harder moments i would always turn to a distraction, create something for a fandom i enjoy to get my mind off things. to see your comments and your messages always kept me going even when i physically couldn't take the stress of everything around me anymore. being busy made my flame for F1 dwindle, too. it's one of the main reasons i didn't return earlier. I've missed half the races this year, yes that includes both lando and oscar's wins, and although im looking forward to the summer break ending and the racecs coming back, i don't think the enthusiasm will ever return to the way it was when this blog was at its peak.

i feel like a coward for disappearing and it's a big regret of mine this year. i can't promise to write for F1 again, but what i've made will always be archieved here :)

THE UPDATE

not great. i can't even lie i'm not doing too hot right now. i promised i would return to writing when things finally calmed down and yet the more stress there was the more one off projects i made to combat it. throughout the months i've accumulated a lot of side projects for different fandoms like star wars, star trek, dc, merlin and lesser known fandoms such as heavy rain, mortal kombat, the sims (no seriously have you seen the lore) etc. that i have nowhere to post. in april i decided i can't afford (literally) to distract myself with any hobby projects for the sake of my situation and thus... i was an idiot and i deleted my ao3 account. there weren't that many stories on there anyway, but i regret it even if it was the right decision.

i owe @wtfisakilometer2 so much for telling me that the people who love the blog wouldn't mind what fandom it is as long as it's by me, even if i don't fully believe it. it did open my eyes to finally write this, though, so direct all your love to her.

so that leaves me here, sort of homeless on my own blog and with very conflicting feelings about it's direction. i intend to preserve it as an archive of my F1 writing without messing with it, but still let you know about my new ao3 and everything on it so i can keep both our interests in mind.

thank you for reading if you made it this far, i hope you have an awesome day and a lot of cat memes in your pinterest. thank you for all the lovely messages (i read everything) and thank you for everything this fandom has offered me. i will truly never get over you guys.

- star :)

#star apology vid when #thank you if you read this #verstarppen is dead party #verstarppen has spoken #im still down bad for max dw that's something im NEVER getting over i fear

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melancholy-of-nadia · 1 year ago

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love u lately (m) #1 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately chapter title: #1 - lavender haze pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: In the midst of your college journey, life takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself moving into a "pseudo frat" house with your childhood best friends Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin. The college experience you envisioned seems promising, but as Namjoon and Jimin get caught up in flings, their focus shifts away from you, Yoongi, and everyone else in the house. The strong bond you once shared starts to feel strained, leaving you to question your feelings and changing dynamics. Though, the haze of a single night at a party sets off a chain reaction of emotions that leaves you grappling with a question you never thought you'd ask—could you be in love with all three of them? warnings: pwp, swearing, making out, subtle body worship, penetration, cunnilingus, CONSENSUAL!! sex, nipple play, breast play, overstimulation, mutual orgasm, touch of aftercare, frustration bc guys are dumb sometimes note: thank u to @daegudrama (as always) for beta reading and editing my fics. much appreiciated. this is the first fic series i have written in 10 years (i used to be in the anime/pokemon fandoms lol) so i apologized if it isn't that great, but i will keep improving! note 2: this is also for the yoonminjoon stans !! such an underrated subunit! total word count: 8.3k drop date: august 29th, 2023, 1:00pm pst cross posted on AO3 here | Series Masterlist | #2 →

October 4 (Thursday)

The morning sun streams through the blinds, gently coaxing you awake. You catch the aroma of sizzling bacon wafting from the kitchen as you continue to fight the urge to sleep in longer.

With a quick stride, you open your door to find your close friends, Yoongi and Jimin, seated at the dining table, enjoying breakfast. Their subtle waves are met with your ecstatic waving. You glance at Namjoon standing near the stove wearing a tank top and basketball shorts. He tends to the bacon in the pan as it sizzles and pops.

"Joon, could you set aside two pieces for me?" you call out, causing him to jolt as he hadn't noticed your presence in the room due to him being in zen focus trying not to burn everyone’s breakfast.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "You better hurry and brush your teeth, or I might let Jungkook have the rest once he's out of the shower in a few minutes."

Nodding, you hurry to the second bathroom in your home to prepare for the day, aiming to grab some fresh homemade breakfast before your noon class.

This spacious house has been your shared sanctuary with your childhood best friends – Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Park Jimin – since the start of your second year of college in September. Last year, some older guy friends from your hometown who went to the same college as you lived at the house originally. Then over the summer, your best friends moved in with them to take summer courses and on-campus internships. You got added to the mix when you were desperately trying to find housing as the university waitlisted you in favor of the 29,000 new freshmen they admitted to the campus who they prioritized housing for. After looking at expensive off-campus apartments and sketchy leases, the boys couldn’t bear seeing you struggle and potentially homeless, so they let you live with them in their 4 bedroom home. Your housemate Seokjin gave up his single room, with a bit of hesitation, so you could live comfortably. The rest of the boys share rooms with each other.

With eight people living together, the house unofficially earns the nickname "Beta Tau Sigma," or the “pseudo frat”, as some people around campus called it. While not officially recognized as a fraternity due to various complicated reasons, the BTS house still became known for its "poppin’ house parties” hosted by your lovely housemate Jung Hoseok last year.

Your friendship with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin goes back to a little over a decade ago. Namjoon became your next door neighbor as a kid, eventually he introduced you to Yoongi who was a family friend of his, and finally, you all befriended Jimin when he transferred to your middle school. You all remained close during high school. Namjoon and Yoongi, being a year older than you and Jimin, graduated and went to college. Eventually you and Jimin graduated, and the two of you got into the same college a few hours away from your hometown as them and attended together.

However, moving in with a bunch of men was something you prefer that people didn’t know about you. You wanted to avoid any rumors being created, especially considering the guys living with you are popular among the girls at your campus. If there is something that you don’t miss from high school, it is the petty drama and baseless rumors people make to tear others down. For now, people assume you are living in the dorms with your only female friend: Hwasa. You always think that it’s for the best things are this way. You decide not to think too much beyond that, despite the probability that a few people are catching on to the fact that you probably do live with these guys platonically.

After washing up, you enter the kitchen again, taking a seat next to Yoongi who is engrossed in his Twitter feed. He finally acknowledges your presence.

"Took you long enough, huh? Don't you have Stats at 10?" He quips.

You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “Good morning to you too, Yoongs?” You retort playfully. “No stats today. It’s Thursday so I have Finance at noon!"” You exclaim loudly to the room.

Groans resonate through the kitchen. Yoongi's teasing backfires, much to his chagrin. Taehyung descends from upstairs, puzzled by the commotion in the room.

“What’s wrong with her finance class?” He asks innocently.

"There’s nothing wrong with the class, but it's the classmate in that class!" Namjoon sighs, leaning on the counter after placing your bacon and avocado toast plate on the table.

"Lim Jaebeom," Jimin snickers, promptly earning a discreet kick from you under the table. "Ow! Hey! No need to resort to violence! Hey! I’m only speaking facts!” He winces as he holds his knee up and rubs the pain away.

Lim Jaebeom, also known by everyone as JB, is the cute guy you met in your Macroeconomics class last year. He is popular as a member of a real fraternity, Gamma Omega Tau and the professional frat, Kappa Psi Pi (or JYP, as some called it?). Part of both fraternities, he radiates talent as a business major and an underground SoundCloud artist on the side. While your interactions remain class-related, he greets you often outside of class even after the course finished, much to your best friends’ annoyance.

Over spring semester of last year and the initial weeks of the current fall semester, you’ve developed a small crush on Jaebeom. Though when it comes to your love life, it’s been a few years since you’ve had some kind of thing going on. There’s only been two people so far: Wonwoo, captain of the Men’s varsity volleyball team who you slept with once when you boldly asked him if he would take your v-card. You and your best friends were going through an experimental era during your junior year of high school. They teased you a lot about being “innocent” but were left speechless when you told them what you’ve done. They said that was the end of the experimental era. Later on you also found out he’s your housemate Jungkook’s cousin.

The second guy is Yeonjun. You don’t like to talk about him much, but he was in the same year and you guys talked often (much to Namjoon’s dismay). He was your fake date at your housemate Seokjin's brother's wedding the summer after you graduated high school. One thing led to another and you were sneaky links for a while. It didn’t end well though.

"She's got eyes for JB, but is too scared to make a move," Jimin teases, earning him another kick under the table to which he dodges.

"In case you forgot, it took you a month to see Irene Bae wanted you so badly," Taehyung rolls his eyes while a hint of a smile tugs your lips as you struggle to suppress your laughter seeing him call out Jimin.

The Jimin and Irene power couple relationship goes back to spring semester last year. Taehyung needed Jimin to go on a double date with him to the Psi Gamma Epsilon Formal, which is the co-ed fraternity that Taehyung’s girlfriend Jennie is in. While you have many mixed opinions about Taehyung’s tastes when it comes to women, you hate that he influenced some of those tastes on Jimin. Thus, Jennie introduced Jimin to her friend, Irene (the Sigma Mu Epsilon Campus President) and the rest is history.

Though, you weren't aware that they were dating until a month ago when they had already been dating for three months. You are not sure how they managed to hide it from people for a while.

“Ya!! How was I supposed to know that getting asked to eat ramen together on a Friday night meant anything BUT eating ramen.” Jimin sighs as he gets up from his chair. “Maybe you should ask Jaebeom out for some ramen.” He playfully suggests, emphasizing Jaebeom's name, sending your face into a blush.

"I'm not interested in sleeping with him!" you protest, cheeks burning. In Korean slang, sharing ramen implies spending the night together. You’d rather romantically share ramen like the spaghetti eating scene in “Lady & the Tramp” than fuck him and ruin your friendship.

“Isn’t that what he’s known for? Sleeping with girls, taking sex polaroids, and plastering them on his frat bedroom wall? Taehyung butts in, since he too, knows of Jaebeom’s lifestyle like everyone else on this campus does. You, of course, are aware of it too, which is why you haven’t bothered to try your chance with him.

“Exactly why I’m okay being the nice friend saying hi from across campus when he says hi instead of becoming a faceless polaroid in his room of him giving me backshots.” You cross your arms as you roll your eyes at him.

“Please don’t give me mental images of that.” Yoongi finally speaks up, groaning at your words again. You playfully elbow his side at your remark. He covers his face immediately as he feels himself blushing at these thoughts.

“Well, when you decide to get the balls to do something, I shall be here to give you advice. Just let me know.” Jimin says as he grabs his bag from the couch and heads to class with Taehyung, leaving you with Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Wow, can you believe him? He thinks he can talk big now that he’s dating little Miss Sigma Mu Epsilon’s President Irene.” You let out an annoyed sigh as you take a bite out of the avocado toast Namjoon gave you.

At first you were excited for one of your guy best friends to be in a relationship again after years, but that excitement was short-lived as you noticed Jimins’ absence in the house became more evident. He would either be at his dance club, studying in the library, or spending the rest of his freetime with Irene. Maybe doing all of the above with her.

When you and your best friends were in relationships or flings in the past, they promised that they would never leave or ignore the group to prioritize those other people first. And they were always true to their word.

But as of lately, not anymore. While you once were used to having Jimin at home or at the dorm common area with the guys for Friday Night Game Night, this sight was slowly becoming a memory. It’s hard to admit how these subtle changes of seeing Jimin prefer to do other activities saddens you. You eventually decided to bottle up your feelings of sadness, not wanting them to see, and focus on other things filling up your plate.

Namjoon wasn’t paying attention to what you said as he uncontrollably smiles at his phone with a Kakao talk chat with someone pulled up, making your eyes narrow at him.

“O-Oh, sorry. I was texting Jihyo.” he admits blatantly, before widening his eyes at what he just said. “What did you say?” Namoon glances at you briefly.

“Park Jihyo? Your group project partner slash sex–?” Yoongi narrows his gaze at Namjoon, before he quickly launches to cover Yoongi’s mouth.

What? Is this seriously another sudden revelation incoming this early in the morning? You didn’t think you’d spiral into a pool of further questioning the future of your friendship with your guy best friends. Especially when it comes to Namjoon dating the campus’ kindest angel, Jihyo. Compared to Irene, you don’t have anything snarky to say about Jihyo. You admit she is better in hundreds of different ways than you. You wonder if your friends’ recent dating or fling escapades are a sign of a bigger issue in your friendship with them. You wonder if Yoongi’s also hiding someone away from your sight.

"So you’re also seeing someone?" Your pout is playful, but a hint of disappointment peeks through. "Don't tell me you're bailing on Friday Night Game Nights just like Jimin…"

Namjoon's response carries a weight of hesitation as he takes a thoughtful pause, considering his next words carefully. "Well, kind of…" His words hang in the air for a moment, a sense of complexity in his tone. "It's complicated... and no, I won't be skipping Friday Night Game Night every time like Jimin... except for this week."

The curiosity in your expression is mirrored by Yoongi's raised eyebrow. “What’s the excuse that you so kindly will be telling Yoongi and I?” you ask, the intrigue evident in your voice.

“Well actually, I may need to borrow the house so I was wondering if you guys could have Friday Night Game Night somewhere else.”

“Why should we go somewhere--” As you begin to protest, an epiphany interrupts your words, causing them to taper off. A realization dawns, connecting the dots between Yoongi's earlier comments and the direction this conversation is taking. “Wait what!? KIM NAMJOON YOU-!”

“You’re seriously going to sexile everyone in this house?” Yoongi's words burst forth interrupting yours, his laced with a mixture of genuine surprise and a hint of humor. His widened eyes are concealed behind a hand that covers his mouth, almost as if he's trying to stifle his amusement at the sudden request.

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, his expression playful as he confirms, "Potentially! But I'm not sure yet. I might go back to her place, but I wanted to keep my options open so we could..."

Your voice cuts in before Namjoon can elaborate further, a mix of jest and sincerity in your tone, "Okay, okay, okay, I get it! We'll move game night somewhere else then!" The words rush out of you as you shield yourself from whatever details might follow that your ears weren't prepared for. You shoot Yoongi a look, seeking affirmation. "We’ll figure it out..right, Yoongi?"

Yoongi doesn't miss a beat as he follows up with a response laced with dry humor, “Right. I really don’t want to hear my best friend fucking while I’m trying to relax at the end of a stressful week.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you playfully reprimand Yoongi, your palm meeting your face in an exaggerated facepalm, "Yoongi, please spare us from any more visual details." Your laughter mingles with a hint of embarrassment, but you quickly regain your composure. "But thank you for letting us know, Namjoon..."

Namjoon's easy smile returns, and he jests, "Have fun without me, though. I know Jin and Jungkook will keep things lively without me or even Jimin there."

Even without any truly scandalous events transpiring, an air of awkwardness hangs over the conversation. The remainder of your breakfast passes in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Eventually, you rise from the table, making your way back to your room to prepare for class, which looms just an hour away.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

By the time you come out of your room again, only Yoongi and Jungkook are in the living room doing last minute assignments. You assume Namjoon already left for class with Hoseok and also figure Seokjin left even before that. He’s the only person in this house taking 8am classes.

This is the norm. On Thursdays, you walk with Yoongi to class, as his class is in the same building as yours. Sometimes, Jungkook joins you guys when he procrastinates the hour before class to finish assignments.

“Are you ready to go? Jungkook’s done now.” Yoongi gets up from the couch already expecting your response to be yes. Jungkook looks up from his textbook to give you a thumbs up.

“Yep, all ready to go.”

The three of you step out onto campus, engaging in conversation that weaves between the events of the week and the anticipation of the impending game night. As you discuss plans, you consider the limited guests—Namjoon engaged with his "complicated" fuck buddy situation, Jimin on his weekend outings with Irene—leaving only you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin, and Taehyung for the upcoming Friday Night Game Night. At least you thought it was just the 6 of you.

Jungkook interjects, scratching his head apologetically. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention earlier, but Taehyung and I are going out bowling and drinking with the Woogas on Friday..." His voice trails off with a sheepish smile, his plea for forgiveness evident in his gesture. The Woogas were a group of grad students who were close to Taehyung.

Surveying the group left, you pose a question, preempting any plans that would end up getting canceled. "Anybody else have plans?"

Jungkook takes a bit to contemplate, his mutterings finally clarifying the situation. "I remember Jin hyung texting the gc that he has a Kappa Psi Pi chapter till 9:30 tomorrow—pledging's keeping him busy. He might go out with his frat brothers afterward for drinks. Hoseok is out of town tonight for a competitive dance tournament with the uni dance club."

A collective sigh of resignation hangs in the air as you and Yoongi register the inevitability—it's just the two of you for the upcoming Friday night. Your expressions communicate mutual understanding, as if exchanging an unspoken acknowledgment that it won't be just this one time moving forward.

You bid farewell to Jungkook as he heads off to his own class, then turn to Yoongi with a hopeful glint in your eyes, silently urging him to weave his magic and devise a plan to fill the void left by your absent friends.

"Maybe we could hit that popular bar downtown? What's it called...Arena?" Yoongi suggests, a hint of excitement lacing his words.

A shake of your head expresses your skepticism. "On a Friday night? I heard too many weirdos go at that time, Yoongs.”

“Then, why don’t we go house party hopping? We haven’t done that since freshman year.” He smirks, as he adds the nostalgic suggestion.

The words "house party hopping" elicit a mix of memories, both good and not-so-good. It's a ritual familiar to college freshmen to excessively drink and dance at multiple parties in one night, but it gets too difficult to do through the rest of undergrad. You, however, have only done this activity of going to multiple different parties in one night, twice.

The first time, things went smoothly when Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin went to five different house parties on the frat house row. The second time was not so smooth. Contrary to popular belief of Beta Tau Sigma, everyone at the house are light-weights when it comes to drinking, with Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung probably being the strongest drinkers of the bunch. That night of house party hopping ended with Namjoon and Jimin getting drunk and losing their student access cards at one of the five houses you went to. Because they couldn’t get into their dorm, you and Yoongi had to carry them back to your dorm and have them to stay at the dorm’s study lounge for the night. At some point, you all almost got caught by the dorm RA making their nightly rounds to make sure everything is good. Yoongi quickly excused all of you being cramped in the small room as “studying for an accounting midterm”, to which the RA didn’t question anything further after hearing the words “accounting” and left you alone for the rest of the night.

Based on that experience, you are reluctant to even try doing that again. However this time, it is just going to be you and Yoongi, the most mature ones in the overall friend group. Or at least you like to think so.

"Well, considering how the last time went..." Your voice trails off, your narrowed eyes revealing your internal debate. "I'll think about it more and let you know."

Yoongi nods at your response and you both say goodbye as you part ways to class.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

Entering your finance class, You secure a seat near the door and the front board, a vantage point that lets you observe the classroom's dynamics. Today, however, your routine is disrupted when someone unexpectedly occupies the seat next to you.

As you set up your notebook, your gaze lifts, revealing Jaebeom sitting beside you. A faint flutter tugs at your heart, a pulse of anticipation racing through your veins. A steady stream of thoughts races through your mind, echoing, "This is definitely sus." You've consumed enough romance novels and coming-of-age stories to recognize when circumstances take a pointed turn. You've shared casual conversations and greetings with Jaebeom, but sitting next to each other is unprecedented—there's surely more to it.

A subtle "Ahem" draws your attention, and Jaebeom turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey, Y/N… do you mind if I sit here today? I left my glasses behind, and I can't really see from my usual spot."

Your reassurance carries a softness as you reply, "Hi, Jaebeom! Of course, no problem." A smile graces your lips, and he returns it, dispelling the suspicions you had entertained. So you guess there’s no special reason for sitting next to you.

The rest of class goes by smoothly, but you can’t help but to think that Jaebeom has something else to ask you about. The overthinking from your wild imagination is getting to you. As the class concludes, you hurriedly pack your belongings, eager to continue with your day. Yet, before you can make your exit, Jaebeom's voice halts you in your tracks.

"Hey! I've been meaning to ask," his words are loud, receiving attention from your peers, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow? The Gammas are hosting a party, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming."

Bingo. This is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. Not an invite to a party per se, BUT now you suddenly have something to do with Yoongi tomorrow night after being ditched by everyone else.

“I’m down to go! I actually changed plans with a few friends so I don’t have anything to do tomorrow night.”

Jaebeom's response brings an even wider smile to your face. “Then I’ll see you there! You can bring a friend with you if you’d like.” And with that, you and Yoongi are definitely booked for tomorrow night.

With those words, your plans for tomorrow night are sealed. The newfound excitement has you beginning to wonder whether it’s actually alright to go considering Yoongi feels indifferent towards Jaebeom. You decide to call him about the plan on your way to the library for your daily fix of iced tea.

Dialing Yoongi's number, you initiate the conversation. "You and me, Gamma Omega Tau house party," you declare, your voice laced with anticipation.

His response holds a curious tone. "...So, I'll take that as a yes to house party hopping."

Chuckling, you clarify, maintaining your stance. "Well, we could do that if you're set on it," You explain, continuing your lowkey refusal to repeat that experience. “...but I actually got personally invited to the GOT party by Jaebeom.”

Yoongi's groan resonates through the line, conveying his reluctance but also a willingness to compromise. "If there's free booze and a chance to catch up with some other friends, then count me in."

“That’s perfect!” Excitement in your voice is clear to Yoongi as you both finalize plans for tomorrow night. Perhaps it’ll end up being a fun night for the both of you compared to what everyone else was doing instead. The upset feeling from all the sudden changes continues to linger in your chest, but you brush it away with the hopes of getting wasted on Friday.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊ October 5 - (Friday)

Friday comes by like a quick breeze. The day passes in a blur of classes, assignments, and hanging out with Yoongi and the rest of your friends. Evening comes around, and you find yourself getting ready for the Gamma Omega Tau party. You choose a cute yet comfortable outfit consisting of a revealing v-bar black tube top and ripped boyfriend jeans, hoping to strike a balance between looking good and feeling at ease. After a bit of makeup and fixing your hair, you are ready to head out.

You walk over to knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He opens the door revealing his outfit: a black tank top, acid-washed ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket to top it off. It definitely makes him exude his signature nonchalant charm. As he greets you with a nod, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement for the night ahead. You guys look so hot and would definitely make the other guys jealous of your totally awesome alternative Friday night plans if they were here.

The two of you make your way to the party a couple blocks away on frat row, the streets buzzing with energy as students get ready to party for the weekend. The Gamma Omega Tau house is alive with music, laughter, and the glow of colorful lights. You both enter the party, and immediately the atmosphere hits you—a mix of pulsating music, chatter, and the distinct scent of alcohol.

Yoongi heads to the makeshift bar in the kitchen to get drinks, while you decide to explore the party on your own. You bump into a couple of familiar faces from classes, exchanging greetings and catching up briefly. Some of these faces included Hwasa, your only dear female best friend who you haven’t seen much since moving out of your shared dorm freshman year. She is a little busy taking shots with who seems to be your old dorm floor neighbors Soyoon and Jieun. But overall, the night is young, and the anticipation of what it could bring is building up inside you.

A little while later, Yoongi returns with drinks in hand—something colorful and sweet for you, and something stronger for himself. You clink your cups together before taking a sip. The music is loud, and bodies are moving to the rhythm all around you. It was a sight to behold—the carefree spirit of college life on full display.

As the night progresses, you find yourself playing various party games, dancing a little with Hwasa, and meeting new people she introduces you to. Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself from a distance, laughing and chatting with a group of guys from his music class. He occasionally watches you from afar to make sure you don’t get lost or that something even worse doesn’t happen. Frat parties can be dangerous after all. It makes you feel a little happy that he does these little things and shows how much he cares about you. More than you thought before. However, there’s a sudden moment in the lively ambience when you start to feel a pang of loneliness. A sense of being adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Time seems to slip away as you’re lost in the lights, and before you know it, you are on your third drink. The alcohol is starting to take its effect, making you feel warm and a bit more uninhibited. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice. Maybe partying is not what you needed tonight to get your mind off of things.

And these thoughts are only amplified with the next thing you see. In the corner of the crowded kitchen, you catch Namjoon and Jihyo making out, and your heart races. You suddenly excuse yourself from the group you are chatting with and head towards the front door, seeking some space to clear your head.

However you stop yourself from bursting out of the open door. Instead, you lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. The noise and chaos of the party feel overwhelming now rather than numbing your thoughts from earlier. You clutch your cup as you look around, feeling like an outsider in your own surroundings. It’s in this moment of vulnerability that someone bumps into you, spilling their red jungle juice all over your clothes. You look down at your stained jeans emotionless.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the girl exclaims, looking genuinely apologetic as she hands you some napkins. Your vision is blurring and you can’t tell if you know her or not. Her voice sounds familiar though.

Though, you manage a weak nod letting her know it was fine. It is in that unfortunate moment that you see your crush, JB, appearing out of nowhere walking in your direction. In the several hours you’ve been here this is when he decides to show up?! Your heart continues to race faster as he approaches, his eyes locking onto yours. Not right now, you plead to the gods internally that he isn’t coming towards you. But he does.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" JB asks, his concern evident in his voice as he looks you over.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, not wanting him to see you in this state of vulnerability. Your eyes well up, and you fight to hold back tears. This isn't how you want him to see you, at your lowest point, struggling to keep it together.

Just as you are about to break down, a strong hand gently takes hold of your left arm, pulling you away from JB. You are led into the dimly lit hallway, away from the noise of the party. Not many people looming in this area. The door to the bathroom opens as someone leaves, and the person guides you inside before locking the door behind you.

Your visions starts to focus fully again. And you see…

It’s Yoongi.

His presence is a lifeline you forgot that you needed moments before.

"Y-Yoongi!" The exclamation trembles in the air, a mixture of surprise, relief, and the weight of your unraveling emotions.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you finally let your guard down, the tears streaming down your cheeks. Yoongi is momentarily taken aback by the intensity of your reaction, but swiftly recovers. He extends a napkin from his pocket, offering it as a gesture of support. His features, though, oscillate between concern and puzzlement, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The alcohol is making it hard to articulate your feelings, but you manage to explain how seeing Namjoon and Jihyo had triggered a sense of loneliness and panic within you. Jimin dating Irene in what seemed to be a serious relationship also has you spiraling. It all makes you question the stability of your friendships and fear that you are slowly losing the people who once meant the most to you.

Yoongi listens intently, his gaze unwavering as he lets you pour out your feelings. When you are done, he leans against the sink, his expression thoughtful.

"I get it," he says, his voice soft but steady. "Change is hard, and sometimes it feels like everything is slipping away. But you know, life just keeps moving forward, and people change, I guess. But it doesn’t mean Namjoon or Jimin are leaving you behind."

You nod, sniffing as you wipe away your tears. "I know, but... it's just overwhelming seeing everything unfold."

He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze with his warm eyes. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We're here for you, and we're all figuring things out as we go along."

His words strike a chord within you, a sense of comfort washing over you in the midst of your emotional storm. Yoongi's presence feels like an anchor, grounding you when everything feels chaotic.

Then, without warning, he looks at you intensely and asks, “Since we’re having this conversation, I’m questioning whether you like Jimin based on what you just said…"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What? No! Jimin's like a brother to me. A reliable brother who understands me pretty well…” You pause a bit and mumble, “Well at least he used to."

He nods, his gaze unrelenting yet thoughtful, as if he's trying to read between the lines of your response. But then he asks another question that left you momentarily speechless.

"What about Namjoon?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Your feelings for Namjoon have always been a bit more complex, and you aren't sure how to put them into words. Namjoon was your first friend out of the trio of him, Yoongi, and Jimin. He was 7 when he moved in next door from Korea as his dad got a new job working as a Chemical Engineer for an energy company in the US. You got along well with him as kids who both played Pokemon games and he was the only person you could trade with. He’s also the one who gave you his shiny purple Wailmer from his Pokemon Emerald. Eventually as you got older, you both came to enjoy reading books and art history. What does he mean to you?

Before you can muster a response to that, Yoongi suddenly adds another question, his voice gentle yet persistent. “What about me?”

Your gaze flickers to him, and you find yourself locking eyes with him. Then you quickly look away, focusing on the purple lighting in the bathroom.

This questions starts to add new thoughts that you hadn’t really considered due to your worries about Namjoon and Jimin. However now, the intensity of this current moment is almost overwhelming, and you feel a swirling mix of emotions within you. Yoongi's proximity, his unwavering gaze, and the weight of his questions are all converging, pulling you into a realm of introspection and vulnerability.

Yoongi seems to sense your uncertainty, your inner struggle. He steps closer, his presence enveloping you. His gaze remains fixed on yours, his face just inches away from yours. The air between you is charged, heavy with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. "You can tell me," he urges softly, his voice a gentle whisper that brushes against your skin.

As you look into his eyes again, your heart races. The alcohol has lowered your inhibitions, and in this moment, everything feels so intense, so raw. You try to form words, but they fail you. Instead, you let your gaze speak for you, letting your emotions flow through the unspoken connection between you. Suddenly Namjoon and Jimin are blurring away to only afterimages in your current state of mind. All you see in great focus is Yoongi right now.

Without another word, Yoongi closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the rush of emotions that swirls between you.

The kiss is a silent confession, a release of feelings that have been building up for far too long. When Yoongi finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath slightly uneven.

"Y-Yoongi..," you whisper, a mix of surprise and wonder in your voice.

Yoongi chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sometimes, things don't need to be said. They just need to be felt."

As you stand there, locked in each other's gaze, you realize that this unexpected turn of events has brought you closer to Yoongi in ways you didn’t anticipate. It’s a new chapter, a chance to explore something deeper and more meaningful between you.

With a gentle smile, he leans in to kiss you again, and this time, there is no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the promise of a connection that has been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.

And so, in the dimly colored bathroom of the Gamma Omega Tau house, amid the sounds of distant laughter and music, you and Yoongi quickly unite lips once again.

As the intensity between you and Yoongi grows, the bathroom seems to shrink around you, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of shared emotion. His lips press against yours with a newfound urgency, a hunger that mirrors the feelings you have both kept hidden for so long. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and warmth that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a wave of electricity through your body, igniting a fire deep within you. Your own hands instinctively move to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

The kiss deepens, a passionate dance of lips and tongues that leaves no room for doubts or reservations. Yoongi's fingers trail up your back, the sensation making your breath hitch. The world outside that bathroom seems distant, irrelevant, as your focus narrows down to the connection between your bodies and the raw emotion that flows between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips, a sound that seems to fuel the fire burning between you. Yoongi's lips leave yours, trailing a path of heated kisses down your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin. His hands move to your hips, pulling you against him, and you can feel his own desire pressing against your abdomen.

With a mix of urgency and tenderness, he captures your lips once more, pouring every unspoken word and hidden longing into the kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips explore your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each touch, each sensation sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

The soft fabric of your clothes seems like an obstacle now, an unnecessary barrier between your skin and his. Yoongi's fingers deftly work at the buttons of your tube top, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your exposed skin. Your breath hitches as his lips find the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin gently, causing a shiver to course through you.

In a moment of boldness, your hands move to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his bare chest. Your fingers trace the contours of his muscles, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. His lips find yours once again, a hungry, fervent kiss that speaks of the intensity of your emotions.

With a skillful touch, Yoongi lifts you up onto the bathroom counter, the cool surface sending a shock through your body. He stands between your legs, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You can only respond with a breathless nod before his lips crash against yours again. Not fully understanding the words that just left his mouth. The kiss deepens, a mixture of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy with sensation. His hands explore every curve of your body, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

Your own hands aren't idle either, roaming his chest and back, reveling in the sensation of his skin against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with every passing second. And in that bathroom, amid the swirling emotions and the touch of your lips, you feel an unspoken promise taking root—a promise of something more, something real and beautiful.

The outside world fades into insignificance. The party, the noise, the worries about Namjoon and Jimin and everyone else—all of it melts away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of this moment. As you hold onto each other, lost in the depths of your feelings, you know that this is a turning point that will permanently alter your friendship with Yoongi.

As the kisses between you and Yoongi continue, the electricity in the air grows stronger, pulling you both further into the depths of your shared desire. Every touch, every caress is a testament to the unspoken connection that has been building between you for so long. It’s as if the universe has finally aligned, allowing you to explore the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface.

A soft, almost desperate, sound escapes Yoongi's lips as he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and you can see the raw emotions swirling within them.

"We should... we should get out of here," he murmurs, his voice rough with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves course through you. This is a pivotal moment, a decision that could potentially change the course of your relationship. With a shared understanding, you both turn away from the party scene and make your way through the crowd towards the exit.

The cool night air hits you as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the heated intensity of the party. Yoongi's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you walk side by side down the dimly lit streets. The silence between you is charged with anticipation, every step bringing you closer to a new chapter in your story.

When you finally arrive back at the house, the atmosphere is different—quieter, more intimate. Namjoon didn’t come use the house like he said he would yesterday, you briefly recall. Maybe that’s a good thing. The GOT party is still in full swing, he is there with Jihyo, but you and Yoongi are in your own world here with no one to stop what is happening. The journey up the stairs to your shared house feels like a blur, your heart racing in anticipation of what is to come.

Once inside, you both head straight to your bedroom. The air is thick with tension, the unspoken yet silly question hangs in the air: Is this really happening? As you close the door locking it behind you, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your own space.

Yoongi turns to you, his gaze searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you step closer, closing the distance between you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you gently against him. The touch of his body against yours sends a shiver of electricity through you, a reminder of the desire that has been building between you.

His lips find yours again, a kiss that holds all the pent-up longing and emotion that have been simmering beneath the surface. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, is intoxicating. His hands roam your body with a reverence that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With each kiss, each touch, the world around you fades away, leaving only the intensity of the moment. The bed is just a few steps away, an inviting sanctuary where you could explore the depths of your connection in private. Without breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him towards the bed, your heart pounding in anticipation.

As you stand at the edge of the bed, your eyes meet Yoongi's, a silent agreement passing between you. With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, you begin to undress each other, the air heavy with the weight of your shared desire. Yoongi's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing every curve of your body as he reveals the skin beneath your clothes.

Soon, you are both standing before each other, bare and vulnerable, yet completely unburdened by the weight of your emotions. You shyly stare down at Yoongi’s dick, admiring its pink, veiny appearance. It looks very girthy, potentially filling to the core. You're embarrassed to admit you might have imagined Yoongi naked before. When you were a middle schooler curiously imagining bodily differences between you and your male friends. But now seeing his beautiful body before you brings some excitement to your soft skin, some heat rushing through your core and nearly down your thighs, onto the floor. Your mouth suddenly dries and you feel self-conscious that your expression may be as plain and eager as it might be. He clears his throat, but that makes him more embarrassed. You bite your bottom lip, unsure of what to do.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Yoongi's lips find yours once more, a kiss that speaks of promises and possibilities. With a gentle push, he guides you onto the bed, his body following yours as the kiss deepens.

The softness of the sheets beneath you, the heat of Yoongi's body against yours—it is a sensory overload, a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless. You feel the cold sweat of his skin on yours as your bodies press together. His lips are against your jaw and your hands are exploring his body as much as you can with your legs around his hips. He climbs down to your mound and opens his mouth letting his warm, wet tongue lap over your clit. One of Yoongi's hands finds purchase on your hip to help you move with him while the long fingers of his other hand tease your enterance before pushing inside. His hot breath on your clit and his fingers inside you makes you want to beg for more. But the sensation is so intense it has rendered you speechless, the only noise to leave your mouth is a choked, muffled groan that only urges him further.

His tongue on you feels too good and you can only let him explore. You are enjoying the sensation and the way his fingers play your body like an instrument. You let out a loud gasp when you cum, your whole body arching towards him as pleasure washed over you, your thighs tightening around to his back. You feel your insides clench and throb as your orgasm washed over you in waves.

Yoongi smirks at you for a second as he lifts his head, removing his fingers from inside you. He climbs up your body until he reaches your lips. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and you kiss him with fervor. You taste yourself in his mouth and it makes you hungry for more. You feel the pressure in your abdomen again, desperate for more. His body is hard, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. It’s a gentle pressure, a delicious tension that makes you want more.

"Y-Yoongi... I need more.." You whimper against his mouth, your tongue running over his bottom lip before you pull away and look into his eyes. "Please, I need more..."

"I've got you, angel." He whispers reassuringly before he moves away briefly to retrieve the condom he keeps handy in his wallet in case he ever needs it. The new nickname catches you off guard as he usually tends to call you Sunshine unless you’re having a serious conversation, like earlier. However you kind of like this name.

He opens the package with his teeth and rolls the rubber on himself. You whimper when you feel the head of his cock press against you. He slowly pushes inside, but it’s enough to make your head spin. His length fills you perfectly and you can feel yourself pulsate around him. He makes his way slowly inside you, pushing deeper until he is completely inside you. He then rests his forehead against yours. You look into each other's eyes and the intensity of his gaze is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"You're doing so well for me," He speaks softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. His praises pull a moan from your lips you can't supress.

He slowly pulls out then pushes back in watching as his cock disapears inside you. He pulls out again and does the same thing. His thrusts become faster with each time he pushes back inside. As your moans become louder, his thrusts become more eager. He adjusts himself until he finds a position that has his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, your legs lifting over his hips and your hands roaming his body to keep yourself grounded.

Yoongi's leaves small kisses along your neck and down to your breasts as he continues to fuck you. He acts carefully with each action he takes, and makes a point to watch your reaction for the slightest sign of discomfort. He never stops praising you, whispering how good you were for him and how much he loves having you like this, taking all of him. His sultry low voice is making you even more sensitive and it’s a bit overwhelming, but it somehow helps make your depressing thoughts from earlier at the party disappear. With him, you felt safe and cared for.

His hands come to cup your breast and you cry out as your body arches towards him. He keeps one hand cupping your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers and gently pinches it, eliciting a softer whimper from you.

You pull Yoongi against you closing the gap between your bodies, your fingers grip his hair tightly as you cry out, your insides clenching around him. Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm washed over you once again. He fucks you through your orgasm, and when your legs relaxed over his hips, he keeps pushing inside you. The sensation makes you want to cry from overstimulation, but at the same time you beg for more. His cock inside you feels too good, the pleasure is too much. You don't know what to do with your body or if you should be doing something at all. Your hands find their way up his forearms and hold on to them tightly.

"Do it," You whisper intimately. "Cum for me, Yoongi..."

Your words are added motivation for him to do just that. As he moves, his thrusts pushing deeper inside you, a cascade of sensations courses through both your bodies. Your back arches instinctively, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that envelops you. He responds by lowering himself, his forehead meeting yours in an exquisite intimacy that intensifies the connection between you two.

Amidst the whirlwind of ecstasy, a thought flits through your consciousness—a moment of profound gratitude for the intoxicating sound of Yoongi's moans. It's a melody you never envisioned hearing, a symphony of vulnerability and shared pleasure that resonates deep within you. This unexpected harmony adds a new layer to your connection, stoking the flames of desire and amazement that consume every inch of your being. It leaves you feeling content and relaxed.

Yoongi's body shudders against yours, his moans gradually subsiding into contented sighs. With a gentle sigh of satisfaction, he slides his cock out and shifts on the bed, rolling over to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in tandem, the rhythm of your breaths slowly synchronizing as you find yourselves tangled in the aftermath of passion.

You both move again, laying side by side. Both of you catch your breath, the world around you receding into a hazy background as your gazes lock. Eyes that have seen each other's vulnerabilities, laughter, and shared moments now reflect a new layer of intimacy that words could never capture.

The lingering cocoons you both in a silence that speaks volumes. It's Yoongi who takes the initiative to pierce through the quiet, his voice carrying a breathless quality that mirrors the aftermath of your passion.

"How are you feeling now?" His words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and concern, a testament to his attentiveness even in the midst of his own unraveling.

A playful smile tugs at your lips, your voice laced with a hint of mischievousness as you respond to his inquiry. "Never better," you answer, your words bathed in the soft notes of a giggle that dances between you.

His laughter echoes yours, a harmonious symphony of shared joy that envelops the space between you. It's a sound that transcends the physical, a connection that binds you beyond the realm of touch. In his laughter, you sense a quiet affirmation—a declaration that the bond you've nurtured extends beyond the passionate moments, into the realm of comfort, friendship, and a connection that defies categorization.

As the night wears on and the intensity of your connection slowly ebbs away, you find yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, your bodies intertwined in a tender embrace. Yoongi's touch is reassuring, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"I want you to know," Yoongi's voice was soft, his breath tickling your ear, "that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want you to ever doubt that."

His words warm your heart, a balm to the insecurities that have been lingering in the back of your mind. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and valued—emotions that have been elusive for so long.

"I feel the same way," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've always been there for me, Yoongi, and I'm grateful for that."

The quiet moment between you is filled with unspoken understanding. It is a pact, a promise to stand by each other's side no matter what challenges lay ahead. In this moment, the weight of your fears seemed to be lifted, replaced by a sense of comfort and reassurance.

But the hours drift by, and as the night grows deeper and the two of you grow more sober, the lingering consequences of your actions begin to cast a shadow over your thoughts. The warmth of Yoongi's embrace can't dispel the nagging worry that what you’ve done could have far-reaching ramifications.

It was the alcohol that further fueled your doubts, the liquid courage dulling your ability to rationalize. In the haze of your tipsy stupor, you begin to wonder if the intensity of the night is a result of the moment, the shared emotions, or simply the effect of alcohol clouding your judgment.

Despite Yoongi's assurances, the fear of what could come next gnaws at you. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins the friendship that has been the foundation of your relationship? The questions spiral in your mind, a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty that refuses to be silenced.

In an attempt to push those thoughts away, you cuddle closer into Yoongi's chest. It is a fleeting distraction, a way to drown out the voices of doubt that echoed in the back of your mind. The feeling of Yoongi’s warmth becomes a welcome distraction from the complex emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

A/N: HELLO! Did you like the first chapter?! would it be crazy if i told you I had been planning this fic since 2021 but never got the chance to really delve into it until right now?? Well that's exactly what happened. I'd love to hear your feedback on this fic! pls reblog and like if you enjoyed! I am currently working on chapter 2 and bits of chapter 3, so I hope to get it done by early/mid-September, so please look forward to it!

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year ago

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Five-Point Star: The Aftermath (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Bodyguard/Assassin!Chan x Mercenary/Assassin!F.Reader Themes: Smut | bit of Fluff | Angst Word Count: ~17k | AO3 Synopsis: After months of hindering a mercenary’s attempts to get to the person Chris was hired to protect, after months of many fights, injuries, and plotting, he had expected for the resolution to be much more satisfactory than this. [This is the second and hopefully final part to Five-Point Star]. Warnings: pet names · cold weapons · firearms · questionable morals · graphic depictions of violence · mentions of cheating [not involving the main characters] · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut) · open-ish ending.

Author’s Note: here’s the promised second part to FPS! i just couldn’t bring myself to leave these two the way i did in part 1… like, part 1 can totally stand as its own thing, but i HAD to have some closure. i’ve been working on this one for quite some time, so here it is! i hope you enjoy it💜 especial thanks to @notastraykid & @channieskies for beta-reading this one💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!)

Smut Warnings: fingering [F.Rec] · oral [F.&M.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv] · no thoughts, head empty sex [aka having sex in questionable locations].

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

After months of hindering a mercenary’s attempts to get to the person Chris was hired to protect, after months of many fights, injuries, and plotting, he had expected for the resolution to be much more satisfactory than this.

Well, he wasn’t sure if this was a resolution, if the problem had been eradicated or not… He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Seungmin, along with Chris and his team, had nicknamed that mercenary the Wraith, since it was hard to predict when they would strike, and it was pretty much impossible to find traces of their identity no matter how hard they tried.

Whenever Chris managed to once again frustrate the Wraith’s attempts at–presumably–harming Seungmin, there simply weren’t any signs that they’d been there in the first place at all. Well, save for any injuries Chris sustained during their encounter.

He had no doubt as to what drove the Wraith to do what they did–or at least he thought he didn’t have any. This hadn’t been the first time someone had been hired to do something to Seungmin. After all, being the child of one of the most powerful families in the city certainly put a target on his back. However, this had been by far the most difficult enemy Chris and his team had to deal with.

It was frustrating, really. The Wraith seemed to always be one step ahead of them no matter how hard they tried to keep the young Kim’s schedule and plans a secret. It wasn’t until they discovered that the phone of Seungmin’s personal tailor–Hyunjin–had been wiretapped, that they were finally able to get the upper hand.

Chris had conjured this plan to get the Wraith to believe Seungmin would be attending an event in one of the oldest theatres in the city. There, Chris would be waiting for them.

He’d admit he was cocky. He’d asked his team to not come with him, he’d told them he had to do this alone, giving them a bullshit excuse.

‘If we’re all there, Seungmin won’t be as protected as he should be, so I’m gonna be there on my own while you guys make sure he’s safe’, that was exactly what he’d told them back then, but, in reality, Chris just wanted to do this on his own because his own pride was hurt.

Chris was decent at his job. Sometimes–admittedly most times–he even believed he was good at it. But in the deep recesses of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel like the Wraith was better than him. It was more than obvious. If they hadn’t been, he would’ve been able to kill them on their very first encounter.

Regardless, he’d gone to the theatre on his own, where he waited for the Wraith to make their expected appearance. He figured that playing the piano would elevate his plan. He hoped it’d give his opponent the impression that nothing was out of place, that this was a normal concert, and they had nothing to be suspicious of.

Funny thing, how after so many months of pushing and pulling, it was almost like Chris could already tell when the Wraith was close. So the moment they’d stepped into the hall, he’d immediately stopped his piece and shot on sight.

It all became a blur of flying knives and missed shots, until there was no other option but to physically fight.

The Wraith was better than Chris, and he came face to face with this fact the moment his back had hit the floor and a knife had been pressed to his neck. He’d been, once again, defeated. He was blinded by rage, by frustration…

How could this person be better than him? No one had been until this point. Sure, he’d sustained many injuries throughout his career as Seungmin’s personal bodyguard, and he’d certainly been close to dying many times, but the Wraith had managed to beat him every single time they met. It irked him beyond belief.

Chris liked to cover his face when he was on duty, at least when he was out in public. He didn’t want people to know his face, he liked to be able to go to the grocery store or meet his girlfriend without having to worry about someone recognising him and trying to kill him, so he wore his mask diligently.

But, of course, his opponent had to remove it.

Of course they wanted to see his face, it made sense to him. But the fact that it made sense didn’t diminish the blow to his pride, though.

‘…Chris?’

No one had ever spoken his first name out loud while he’d been on duty outside of the Kims’ estate. Not even his team members, they knew not to expose him like that. He liked to keep his civilian side and his professional side separated, so he figured he’d give some use to both of his given names.

Which was why, hearing it in that context, from the Wraith, made his blood freeze in his veins. He was beyond confused, borderline panicking, but even then, the voice sounded… familiar.

Chris realised then he’d never heard the Wraith speak. And as he looked into their eyes, even the shape of their eyebrows–the only discernible feature on their face under the hood and kerchief they wore to keep the rest concealed–recognition started to settle in his brain.

But there was no way. It couldn’t have been…

His opponent was stunned, as was he. But that didn’t stop him from slowly reaching for that kerchief covering half of their face so he could pull it down.

Nothing would’ve prepared Chris for what he’d find under that piece of fabric.

Chris always loved to see his girlfriend whenever he could. It was honestly a miracle that he was able to have a relationship in the first place, but she’d just made it so easy from day one, so he always tried to make time and space for her in his life. Seeing her always brought him this immense sense of comfort and familiarity that just couldn’t be matched.

However, this was a setting in which he would’ve never expected to see her face. This didn’t feel comforting at all.

Your name came out of his mouth in a breathless whisper, almost as if he needed to say it outloud for his brain to truly process that it was you on top of him, pressing a knife to his throat. His head started to spin right then and there.

Had you… had you known all this time? Had you been using him? There was no way. Something in the back of his mind told him it was just impossible. He’d been careful…

The few times he actually wanted to reveal his profession to you, something always seemed to prevent him from doing so, and he always took it as a sign that it wasn’t the right time. But maybe you’d known who he was this whole time…

‘I had no idea…’

The look on your face, coupled with the way your voice trembled, made him believe you. And maybe, he wanted to believe you. There was no way the love you’d shown him all these months could be faked, not when it’d felt so genuine…

How fucking twisted… What were the odds of you being both his girlfriend and one of the most annoying mercenaries he’d had to deal with?

God, these past handful of months… He’d been dealing with you.

He’d been trying to kill you.

He’d aimed and shot and hit you with the intent of killing you.

Chris wanted to vomit. He was disgusted with himself, confused, he wanted to cry. This was all so absurd and cruel… It’d been a long time since he’d felt this way, but at that moment, he genuinely just wanted to die.

He was used to killing and hurting people. He was never fazed by any of it at this point, but he’d done it because he wanted to protect the people he cared about. You being on the receiving end of this treatment was just completely wrong. You were one of the people he cared about. He’d never wanted anything other than to protect your safety and wellbeing.

Chris was a firm believer that men who mistreated their loved ones were just scum, that they deserved to die. He’d often killed men like these and felt absolutely no remorse about it.

But now he was one of those men.

How could he go on after this? After knowing what he’d done to you? He couldn’t… He didn’t want to.

At that moment, he firmly believed he deserved to die. He’d hurt you, not only that, but Seungmin’s life was way more important than his own, so if you absolutely had him as your target, he’d just have to continue fighting against you.

And, again, he didn’t want to…

So he asked you to kill him.

However, you refused.

The fact that you wouldn’t take his life puzzled him. How could you not want him dead? After all that had transpired, why wouldn’t you?

Chris had always known he wasn’t a good man. At least, not in the eyes of some. But, he’d made it his mission to be a good man to you, for you… And, most times, when he was with you, he truly felt like he was.

This changed it all. His own perception of himself had just been shattered to pieces. Who was he now? Who were you?

‘Baby…’ Chris honestly almost started sobbing when you called him that. It was his preferred pet name, he’d told you many times before how much he liked it, how it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside… Right at that moment, it didn’t make him feel that way. It felt like one of your knives had just stabbed his heart. ‘I’m sorry… I don’t think I’ll make it to our vacation this weekend’.

Oh, that stung.

Your vacation this weekend… He’d planned it all out. A relaxing getaway to the coastside, perfect for enjoying each other’s company… He’d even wanted to seriously tell you everything about this side of his life, and if you’d been fine with it, he wanted to ask you to move in with him.

Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen now.

Chris was too stunned to move from his place on the floor. Too stunned to move and do anything to stop you from leaving. He was torn, confused, he was here to kill the Wraith, and not only did he not achieve that, he’d also found out that the person he’d been trying to kill was one of the people he loved most in this world.

The rage he felt coursing through him was uncontainable. So much so, the moment he did manage to stand up from that floor, he started thrashing the stage.

Every piano had been turned to nothing but a pile of useless pieces of wood and ivory. He’d emptied his guns by shooting at the seats and walls. He did all that as tears wouldn’t stop running down his cheeks.

How fucking pathetic.

He was pathetic.

Even when he had composed himself enough to return to the Kims’ estate, Chris still felt like he was nothing but the worst man on the planet, like he was useless as a bodyguard, like he was useless as his loved ones’ protector, and like he’d become the universe’s punching bag…

“Based on that look on your face, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you didn’t get the target?” Felix’s voice greeted him as soon as he entered Seungmin’s home, further aggravating those feelings inside of him.

“No, I didn’t”, was the only thing he said to the younger man as he walked past him and made his way straight to his assigned room.

Chris was in no condition to speak of the matter. He needed to sort his thoughts out. He knew he had to tell his team about what happened, he had to tell them who you were. He had more than enough information about you to finally stop you from getting any closer, he had enough information to end you.

As he entered his room and started taking his gloves off, as he looked at the tiny plastic gnome figurine he kept on this room’s bedside table, Chris wasn’t really sure he’d be able to do any of that.

The sound of choked coughs filled the previously quiet space.

Chris sat up abruptly on the bed, coughing violently since he, once again, had choked on his spit in his sleep.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the bottle of water he kept next to the bed. When the coughing had lessened, he chugged half the bottle in one gulp.

‘You should really go to the doctor’s, baby…’

Your voice resonated in his mind, an echo of the mix of memories from the numerous times you’d woken him up before he started coughing. He remembered the gentle murmur like it’d been whispered to him yesterday. He could practically feel the soft caresses of your fingertips on his back.

It made him feel like his throat was closing for real.

After placing the bottle back on the bedside table, he plopped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Chris couldn’t help but remember you. It seemed like it was all he did these days.

His brain was certainly his worst enemy, especially at times like these, when he wasn’t on active duty, when he was just trying to get a few hours of sleep in his assigned room. Within the solitude of these four walls, it was easy for his brain to attack him, to send him in a spiral of memories that did nothing but make his heart ache and his eyes sting…

“Aaahhh… The food was absolutely delicious”, you rubbed your belly as you walked, with a big smile on your face. “I feel like I’m about to burst… But seriously, though, you should’ve at least let me pay for my food”.

Chris looked at you, amused at how you slightly swayed side to side with each step. He, too, felt like he was about to burst. The meal had been good, it’d been amazing, but… the company had certainly been much better.

When was the last time he felt like this? This… calm? Calm, but somehow still a bit giddy. He genuinely couldn’t recall…

“Nonsense”, he waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the thought. “I invited you for dinner, didn’t I? ‘Least I could do was pay”.

You turned to look at him, pouting, and it was honestly… adorable.

You were adorable, he’d known this since the very first day he met you, but every time he saw you after that, you somehow managed to step it up a notch. And he truly couldn’t cope.

Chris could hardly believe he was here tonight, having a date, and with a person he genuinely liked at that. It’d been a long time since he’d done anything remotely close to going on a date, but a few nights ago, after spending another evening talking to you at one of his friend’s gatherings, he found himself asking you out before he could stop himself.

It was unplanned, uncalculated, which was so unlike him… He always tried to plan ahead. Considering the profession he was in, he had to carefully choose who he associated himself with. Chris hardly ever mingled with civilians, but when he did, it was usually with this particular friend group from his childhood, who you seemed to also be acquainted with through a friend of yours.

The first time he spoke with you, he thought he was making a fool of himself, but as the night progressed, something started to linger between you two… Call it tension, or chemistry, but he was certainly intrigued.

Every time he went to his friend’s house to socialise, you were there. And every time, his always ended up with him sitting next to you, talking well into the wee hours of the night, about the silly shows you watched, or anything you felt like talking about, really.

Chris genuinely enjoyed talking to you, which he figured was exactly the reason why he’d asked you out on a date. He was honestly tired of seeing you only in the confines of his friend’s fence, it just wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

“C’mon, no pouts”, Chris chuckled, taking your hand. You seemed to be a bit surprised at the action, and, being honest, he was surprised at the action. But he’d already done it, so he wouldn’t back down. Thankfully, even if it had surprised you, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you intertwined your fingers with his, effectively agitating the butterflies in his stomach. “Let’s take a walk, hm?”

With leisure steps, you walked until you found yourselves at the pier. There were people here, but it wasn’t overly crowded, which Chris was grateful for.

Just before you both made it to the railing so you could look at the sea, you exclaimed an excited ‘Oh!’, and bent down to pick up something from the ground.

“Look!” You showed Chris what you found, and he couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his lips. “It’s just a little guy!”

Chris chuckled at your outburst. He giggled. You’d just made him giggle… When was the last time he giggled like this? “It really is!”

“D’you wanna give him a home?” You wiggled the figurine in front of him. “I heard these can be tokens of good luck”.

Chris immediately extended his palm, and you carefully placed the plastic toy in his hand. A gnome, around half the size of his finger. For having been found on the ground, it didn’t look in bad shape, it was honestly cute, so he put it in his pocket, and placed his hand over his heart after.

“Promise I’ll take good care of him”, Chris smiled at you. “I do need some luck”.

You chuckled at that, before you tugged him along so you could finally make it to the railing. With your elbows propped on it, you both spent a good while there, just talking, joking, and enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the breakwater.

It was… nice. Relaxing, even.

He didn’t really know how he found himself standing so close to you, moving a few strands of hair away from your face and caressing your cheek with his knuckles. Most shockingly to him, was how you let him do these things. You looked comfortable, like you were genuinely enjoying spending time with him.

“If I tried to kiss you… would you let me?” The words escaped from somewhere deep within him. A question that he’d had in the back of his mind every time he looked at your lips, every time he saw you smile or laugh. He’d never thought he’d say it out loud, but here he was, saying them to you directly.

“Yes”, there wasn’t a single gram of hesitation in your voice, although he was sure he could hear a hint of surprise. It was almost like, just as his question, your answer had come out of your mouth before you could stop to think about it.

Your lips were so soft… you tasted like the balm you’d applied a few minutes ago, and the minty gum you’d been chewing earlier. Your cheeks, too, were soft under his palms when he held them between his hands.

Chris was certain you were soft all over. You looked soft, and maybe that was why his hands had found their way to your hips, where he could mindlessly knead the flesh over your jeans while his mouth was too busy getting acquainted with yours.

He pulled away from the kiss briefly, only to be met with a shy smile on your face before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in again. He couldn’t stop the delighted laugh that bubbled within him, nor the way he dived in fully into your kiss.

Maybe that gnome was lucky. Maybe it was thanks to that gnome that he’d somehow managed to come back to his flat accompanied for once. At least the one time he did want to come back with someone…

Chris could barely remember the last time another person was here with him. It must’ve been with one of his siblings, for sure. He had no doubts that he’d never brought anyone he was remotely attracted to in here, but he figured tonight was a night of trying new things.

Like pretending he could be just some guy… that he could be normal.

He hadn’t truly processed what was going on until you were both on his bed, dressed in nothing but your underwear. Propped on his elbows, he just looked at you.

You were wearing a black set, with a repeating pattern of red hearts on both pieces. It was… cute. In his humble–and absolutely correct–opinion, it fit you amazingly, you looked gorgeous under him like this, looking up at him like you genuinely wanted him. Like you saw him.

Which… made him feel nervous.

Anyone else would’ve told him it was a silly thing to feel in this context. Chris had had plenty of sex in his life, but right here, right now, he wasn’t sure if this was anything like the sex he used to have. It didn’t feel like it, for sure. Mostly because he was feeling things. It wasn’t a chore or a commitment, there was genuine desire spreading within him, and it was a bit scary…

“What’s wrong?” you mumbled, cupping his cheeks.

Chris swallowed, suddenly aware that he’d zoned out for a moment there, long enough for the need reflecting in your eyes to start mixing with concern. Should he tell you what was going through his mind? If he did, would you mind…?

Tonight was indeed a night of firsts, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to open up fully. It was enough of a miracle that he’d let you into his flat, that he himself had willingly brought you here after a date.

“I…” Chris figured there were things he shouldn’t talk about just yet, but he really, really liked you, so saying something that was true, without revealing any details of his past, felt right. And he did just that. “I haven’t really… It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, okay? I guess I’m just… a bit out of my element”.

“Oh…” Your eyes widened in surprise, and your hands moved away from his face to rest on his shoulders instead.

Fuck… He fucked up. He probably shouldn’t have said that. Why did he have to be honest? He should’ve pretended, like he always did…

“Yeah, sorry to be a disappointment”, he chuckled, although it didn’t sound very humorous, not even to his ears.

“What? No, no”, you squeezed his shoulders, and your gaze immediately softened. “I’m just surprised! I just wasn’t expecting someone like you to just… y’know, not be having sex”.

That made him chuckle, genuinely this time. “What do you mean? I can’t even believe you’re here. I’ve got no idea how we managed to get to this point, honestly”.

“You’re very charming”, bringing your hands to his face again, you smiled at him. “If it makes you feel any better, I also haven’t… really done this in a while. I don’t usually go on dates at all… but I guess you’ve really made an impression on me. Clearly”.

That did make Chris feel slightly better.

“We don’t really have to do anything, y’know?” You said it very seriously, with no hesitation. “It’s fine by me, really. Although, I’d appreciate some cuddles anyway, if that’s okay with you”.

It was such a simple thing.

He didn’t have to do anything.

He could say no if he wanted to, and, somehow, he knew you’d respect that. Or, at the very least, he wanted to believe you would respect that. You hadn’t shown him any differently so far.

“Oh, we’re definitely cuddling…” Chris dived in, finding your neck with ease to attach his lips to your skin. “Later, though…”

“Later?” You chuckled, burying one of your hands in his hair, and placing the other on his lower back.

“Mm…” With a trail of kisses, Chris made his way down your neck, your chest, finally using his hands to further push your breasts together so he could bury his face between them. “I really want you”.

And he really, really did. Probably more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time.

“I want you, too”, you replied simply, honestly.

It was one of the things Chris had liked about you since the very first moment he spoke with you. Your honesty, your transparency… you never really seemed to care about keeping pretences, always went straight to the point and voiced your thoughts.

Chris was a taker. He took lives, took money, took territories… he took things from people as he saw fit. Whether it was the right thing to do or not he didn’t care.

But that wasn’t his inherent nature, and he’d always been painfully aware of this. For a long time, he’d been trained to take things, he was good at it, but, deep down, he was a giver.

To the people that were close to him, to the people that really knew him, he yearned to give all he could offer.

That night, he really wanted to give you everything. So he did.

It was all so vulnerable, but so exhilarating at the same time. To not feel judged, nor belittled, to be open with his wants and needs, to be consumed by fire and passion… It was something he wasn’t used to, but the more time passed with you two in his bedroom, the more he realised just how much he liked it, how much he liked you…

With the first orgasm he managed to coax out of you, he realised just how much he wanted this to be a thing, he felt that you were just so compatible. Physically, emotionally, and, with a bit of luck, romantically, too.

Even after a couple of hours, when he was already giving you those cuddles he’d promised, when he asked you to stay the night, basking in the post-orgasm buzz, he believed wholeheartedly that this could work.

‘You’ll call me back, right?’ Chris couldn’t help himself when he asked you that the morning after your date.

It was crazy. There was no real space in his life for a relationship, not when he had to hide his profession from you. What would you think of him once you knew that the majority of the time he was a cold-blooded assassin, and not the dorky guy you met through a friend of a friend?

He would’ve liked to be like you. Honest and straightforward, but maybe it was for the best to not mention this just yet. It was only just one date, just one night of quite possibly the most fulfilling sex he’d ever had, but he already knew that this was something he wanted. He wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible, he wanted you.

‘Would you like that?’ You’d asked amusedly, before you kissed him, standing right on the entrance of his flat.

‘I would’.

You’d smiled at him. After pressing one final kiss on his cheek, you mumbled against his skin. ‘Maybe I will, then…’

And you did.

In recent years, Chris had never felt as happy as he did when he was with you. He wholeheartedly believed that his relationship with you was one of the best things to ever happen to him.

At least, until that night in the theatre.

Reminiscing the past was hard these days, especially after the first month without hearing from you. He’d gone through so many different emotions. He felt angry, sad, and sometimes even betrayed…

He’d always believed you to be a transparent person, and maybe you were, but, just like himself, you clearly wanted to keep this part of yourself in the dark. He supposed he couldn’t blame you, but it still bothered him.

Why didn’t you tell him before?

If you’d told him, you would’ve probably never been in this situation. The Wraith’s attacks started well after you’d gotten together, so, if he’d known who you were, and you’d known who he was, he was convinced none of this would’ve happened at all.

Chris would’ve liked to tell you all this, to shout and get all these thoughts and feelings off his chest. But every time he picked up the phone to call you, he chickened out.

At first, he told himself that it was to keep things less complicated. In reality, he just couldn’t stand the thought of the call not going through…

So he didn’t do anything.

He was too tired, and maybe too much of a coward to face this.

Maybe one day, he’d grow the balls to do it. Maybe one day he’d get some sort of closure, but that day clearly wouldn’t be any time soon.

Chris often spent his nights on patrol around the Kims’ estate. He couldn’t really bring himself to sleep at night, so he was usually working well into the morning, until they changed guard.

Although, no one really dared come here. Since he became one of Seungmin’s personal bodyguards years ago, there’d been only two instances in which someone tried to infiltrate his home.

Both times, the person had ended up dead, of course. That was the Five-Point Stars’ sole purpose, to keep the young heir safe. Chris was genuinely proud of his team, they always carried out their task without hesitation, and he was convinced their skills were unmatched.

Tonight, though, something didn’t feel quite right. There was this feeling of dread inexplicably pooling in Chris’ stomach, and it was making it really hard to focus on doing his job.

It was close to midnight when the feeling started intensifying, so Chris moved from his post outside Seungmin’s wing of the estate, leaving Jeongin on his own to guard the space. If anything went down, the younger man would be more than capable of taking care of it, Chris was very confident in this, so he felt no reservations when he started patrolling the outer areas.

After a while of just walking, he just couldn’t ignore his gut feeling any further.

There was someone sneaking around in the Kims’ estate, Chris could feel their every move, but he couldn’t see them, and that made that feeling of uneasiness grow inside him. Not because he was scared, by any means, but because it all felt just how it did whenever he had to deal with the Wraith… whenever he had to deal with you.

Chris hadn’t heard from you in three months, not from the you that was his girlfriend–…ex-girlfriend?–nor the you that was the Wraith. He supposed, ultimately, you were both, just like he was both Chris and Chan, but it was still just so surreal to him…

Three months and his head still couldn’t wrap around the idea that you were both the person he loved, and the one he despised. Anyone that dared come anywhere near Seungmin with ill-intent was an enemy to him, but the more he pondered on the fact that you were doing that, the less he could see you as an enemy… And that, maybe, just maybe, did scare him.

You’d become his weakness, to the point where if he were to see you now, in this estate, trying to kill Seungmin, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry out his one and only task. He’d spent these last few months begging to the stars above his head that you wouldn’t try to get to Seungmin again, because he genuinely didn’t know if he’d be able to stop you.

As Chris followed his gut instinct, trying to chase that phantom of a presence that seemed to glide through the corridors, he started to come to terms with the fact that the possibilities of the intruder being you were just way too high, it was all too familiar…

And he hated it.

He hated it all…

He caught a shadow moving in his peripheral vision, and not even thinking twice about it, he chased it–as quietly and stealthily as his skills let him.

Before he knew it, he had raised his gun and pressed it against the back of the person’s head, right against their hood. They raised both of their hands to signal they didn’t have any weapons at hand, and even if the movement should’ve eased his mind, it didn’t. It only confirmed his worst fear.

Knowing what he knew now, he could just recognise the fingers poking through the gloves’ holes, and the overall frame.

There you stood, after three months of nothing, dressed just how you had been the last time he saw you. Chris tried his best to ignore the lump that seemed to be growing in his throat, the desperate need to both scream and cry and hug you and push you away.

Instead, he just pressed the muzzle of his gun a bit harder against your skull, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “What’re you doing here?”

Your shoulders seemed to relax the tiniest bit as you heard the sound of his voice, which, in other circumstances, Chris would’ve deemed a very foolish reaction on your part. But, being honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if you already knew it’d be incredibly hard for him to harm you.

“Looking for you”.

Cursed be his heart for jumping in his ribcage, it was almost embarrassing how quickly and easily the sound of your voice was able to kick-start it into a messy, erratic pace. Chris couldn’t let that show, though. He needed to bluff, and he needed to do it well.

“Bullshit”, he swallowed, trying to get rid of that knot in his throat. It just made it worse. “What are you truly here for?”

Your shoulders rose and fell with your deep breath, and slowly, so very slowly, you started to move, to turn around so you could finally be face to face with him. You kept your hands up in the air, to show him you weren’t going to attack, but he just couldn’t let his guard down. Not any more than it already was.

As usual, the lower part of your face was covered by a black kerchief, and the hood of your outfit almost fell over your eyes. The sight was almost revolting, if he thought about it too deeply… His gun raised, pressed against your forehead, ready to be shot at any second. It was something out of his worst nightmares, of those that showed him himself hurting the people he loved.

“I’m telling you the truth, I’ve been looking for you. I’ve come to warn you”.

“Warn me?” The statement was so unexpected Chris couldn’t even hide the surprise in his voice, but he recovered quickly, trying to mask his emotions with a condescending scoff. “What could you possibly need to warn me about?”

“They’re coming for you”, you said simply, your eyes unwavering as they stared deeply into his.

“They being?”

“The Guild”, your fingers moved, but you weren’t doing anything particularly malicious, you simply used your thumb to crack each knuckle, a gesture he knew you did only when you were nervous.

You must’ve known he knew this detail about you. He’d tried to stop you from cracking your knuckles many times in the past, whenever you were watching a scary movie that made you anxious, or whenever you had to order at a new restaurant. Back then, he would always take your hand in his, and drag his thumb on the back of it to help ease those nerves.

Chris couldn’t do that now.

To display such weakness in front of him messed with his head. Were you doing it out of real nervousness, or were you doing it as a tactic to distract him…?

Regardless, he knew of the Guild. He’d heard of them before. Essentially a hub of guns-for-hire, with an extensive catalogue of many different mercenaries, who specialised in different activities. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was who you really worked for, that it’d been through them that you were hired to get to Seungmin.

“Someone has been hired to do what I couldn’t do. I heard them talking and I just… I felt like I needed to warn you”.

“You could’ve just called, why come all the way here for that?” Chris’ arm was getting tired from holding up the gun, but he just couldn’t lower it.

“I tried”, you sighed. “I tried, but you wouldn’t pick up, so I came here…”

Chris’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You called? There was no way… He would’ve seen it. Hell, he would’ve picked up. Unless… “When did you call?”

“Around thirty minutes ago”.

That’d explain why he wouldn’t have heard it. He never carried his personal mobile phone with him when he was on duty–or at least he tried not to. He used to do it a couple of times a week, on the days that he missed you, that he wanted to know anything that had been going on in your day–what you ate, what you were doing, what you were watching, anything that could make him feel close to you… He hadn’t done that in three months.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Chris was doing an excellent job at keeping the scowl on his face and the annoyed tone in his voice, probably because he was feeling exactly like that. Annoyed. “You tried to hurt Seungmin and now you care about what happens to him? Hard to believe”.

“I don’t fucking care about Seungmin”, your eyebrows knitted together, and in a movement way too fast for someone that had a gun pointed to their forehead, you pulled your kerchief down, revealing your face fully to him.

It was almost pathetic how his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“I’ve got no ill feelings towards the kid, truly, but I also don’t really care about him. The people talking… They said they were going for Seungmin’s guard dog first, in hopes of debilitating his security system, so I… I just…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. When you opened them again, the glint of vulnerability shining in your gaze made his heart ache.

“I know it’s crazy, fuck… I didn’t think this through. They’re planning on striking sometime this week, and I just felt like I needed to come and tell you, so you could be prepared”.

Chris swallowed thickly. His hand trembled the tiniest bit, he wasn’t sure if you could feel his gun tremble against your skin, too. “If any of this is true, how could I even know you’re not here to distract me from doing my job? That this isn’t one of your schemes?”

“You can’t know”, you said, matter-of-factly. “There’s no way for you to confirm what I’m saying is true. All you can do is trust me and my word. I dropped the job after our encounter in the theatre. I just can’t do it when I’m this emotionally involved”.

When I’m this emotionally involved…

When I’m…

I’m…

I am…

Present tense.

You said that in present tense, like you were… like you were still emotionally involved.

Chris was weak. He was weak for you. Three months with no contact couldn’t change that, the fact that you had tried to kill him couldn’t change that, and the fact that he had tried to kill you also didn’t seem to be able to change that.

He was weak, and he couldn’t hide it.

With a sigh, he lowered his gun, and your frame immediately relaxed as soon as the weapon wasn’t pointed in your direction. “How infuriating…”

“What? Me? Or the people coming for your boss?” There was the tiniest bit of a humorous tone in your voice, and it just made him sigh again.

“Both”, he took his communicator from his belt, and clicked the communication button to speak with his colleague. “SpearB, do you copy? Over”.

There were a few seconds of silence, until the communicator crackled and Changbin’s voice resonated from the device. “I hear you, Channie. Over”.

You arched an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest, mouthing a ‘Channie?’ at him, which Chris decided to ignore completely.

“Check in with Yongbok and make sure the perimeter is secure. Something doesn’t feel quite right, so we need to keep a close eye on each and every entrance. Over”.

The device crackled again. “You think it’s the Wraith? Over”.

Chris looked at you, and you looked right back at him. Your body was tense once again, and a spark of doubt flashed in your eyes. Licking his lips, he clicked the button on the device once more. “No. No, I don’t think it’s the Wraith. Just do what I said, and let me know if you find anything out of order. Over”.

‘Roger that. Over!’ was the last thing Chris heard from Changbin. He returned the communicator to its holster on his belt, all without taking his eyes from you.

There was a moment of silence, a moment that seemed to be stretching far too long for his liking, so he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “So… You’ve delivered your message. What now?”

You attempted to pop your knuckles again, the action obviously gave no results, since you’d done this already earlier, but Chris knew that wouldn’t stop you. It never did, your nervous habits always shone through.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a door opened somewhere in the area, and the sound of Changbin’s whistling filled his ears. Your eyes widened, just like Chris’ did as you stared at one another.

This was dangerous. If anyone saw you, you were at risk of being tortured for information, or straight up killed because of your numerous attempts to hurt Seungmin.

Chris wasn’t thinking, he just had to act, and he had to do it fast. Taking your hand, he quickly pulled you further down the corridor, where he could push you against the wall, right behind a column to hopefully hide you both from his teammate.

You opened your mouth again to say something, and Chris simply placed a hand over your mouth to stop you, bringing his index finger to his lips to signal you to not make any noise.

As the sound of steps drew closer, Chris mindlessly pressed you further against the wall, hopefully minimising the chances of Changbin seeing you.

He held his breath, waiting patiently as he looked at the shadows his friend’s body casted against the nearby wall.

When it seemed like the steps were becoming more and more distant, Chris looked back at you, and only then did he realise just how close you both were. Your bodice was rigid against his chest, and the handles of your knives poked his abdomen. Noses almost brushed against each other, the hand he’d placed on the wall was itching to hold your waist, and as he looked into your eyes, as he saw galaxies and a plethora of feelings swimming in them, he was almost winded by how warm you felt.

Chris could barely hear Changbin’s footsteps over his heart beating this fast and loud in his ears.

Fuck, he was a weak man.

A weak man who was still hopelessly in love.

It took a couple of minutes for Changbin to finally leave the area completely, his exit was signalled by the sound of a door opening and closing. Just to be safe, though, he kept quiet for a while longer, he kept pressing you against the wall and his hand firmly on your mouth.

Just to be safe… No other ulterior motives at all…

After a few moments, he finally removed his hand away from your mouth, slowly, so very slowly moving it to rest against the wall instead, right next to your waist as well. You mindlessly licked your lips as soon as his hand was off your face, and Chris couldn’t help but focus on the movement.

Oh, your lips… how he missed them… He missed the way they moved with every word you said, how you would mindlessly chew on them when you were focused, how they felt like against his own, against any and every part of his body…

“Why are you here?” Chris’ voice was barely a whisper. He didn’t intend for the words to come out unsteady, nor for his hands to start trembling slightly against the wall, but it was hard for his body not to react this way when he’d spent all these weeks just steeping in his own misery.

You took a deep breath, your chest rose and fell against his own, and right then, with the barely there illumination of the bulbs on the roof, he could see your eyes start to shine with the tears that welled in them.

“Because I care about you”, you said it so easily, like you weren’t just reaching inside his ribcage and squeezing his weak little heart with such a simple statement. “I know it’s stupid. That it’s insane, considering everything that’s happened. But I really can’t help it. Every day, all I can think about is how you’d be. If you’re eating well, if you’re getting enough sleep… And I hate it”.

You were trying really hard not to let the tears fall, it was obvious to Chris, yet your voice didn’t waver, not a little bit.

“I hate that I worry about you knowing what I’ve done to you. I hate that I can’t stop caring. When I heard them talking tonight about how they wanted to hurt you I just… I couldn’t think straight, I had to do something”, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall.

Chris couldn’t say anything. He just couldn’t. He wanted to tell you that he couldn’t stop caring, either. That he felt guilty, yes, but he still cared. That he’d always care, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

When you opened your eyes again, those tears you were trying so hard to hold back started to silently fall, and he wanted to cry himself. “Warning you… it’s not much, and it’s probably more a selfish act than anything else, but I had to do it. I had to… had to see you. Because I miss you, Chris, fuck… I miss you so much it hurts more than any blow Chan has ever landed on me”.

Chris was doomed. He was weak, and in love, and he was absolutely doomed.

His brain shut down completely. He knew it the moment he felt his lips on yours, the moment your fingers tangled in his hair and the quietest moan escaped your mouth.

The kiss was messy and desperate, he couldn’t seem to be able to be any closer to you, and yet he still tried. He held your waist tightly, like you would vanish if he didn’t. He pressed you further against the wall, dizzy with the violent stir of his feelings, with the feel of your tongue against his own and your yearning kiss.

At that moment, the fact that he was Chan, bodyguard of Kim Seungmin, didn’t matter. The fact that you were the Wraith, an assassin that had been hired to harm the person he was supposed to protect, didn’t matter, either. All that mattered was that he was Chris, that you were you, and that he’d missed you and that he needed you.

When he pulled back from the kiss, panting slightly, the sight of you, all flustered, breathless, of your blown pupils, was enough for his walls to crumble. That look in your eyes was unmistakable to him, it set his insides alight and sent his mind into overdrive.

“Come with me”, without hesitation, Chris took your hand and tugged you along the corridor.

He vaguely recalled taking his communicator and calling Jeongin to ask him to continue covering for him as there was something he needed to attend to, just like he vaguely recalled the younger man telling him he had it covered. The only thing he could register for sure was the tight hold of your hand in his, and the moan that came out of your lips when he pushed you into one of the supply closets and kissed you again.

Chris blindly reached for the lightswitch before he pushed you against the closest wall. One of your legs wrapped around his hip to pull him closer to you, and he immediately took a hold of your thigh to keep you securely in place.

“Have you… been with anyone after…” You started to ask, your words broken between desperate presses of lips and tugs of teeth.

How absurd. As if he could have. As if he would’ve ever even wanted that in the first place… Regardless, even with the hazy state of his mind, he knew exactly why you were asking, so he shook his head. “Have you?”

You shook your head as well, further pulling on his hair so your lips wouldn’t detach from his. Although there was a part of him that kind of expected you to not have been with anyone, it still made him feel relieved. It made him feel… hopeful.

What a dangerous emotion to feel.

Letting go of your thigh so he could free his hands, your leg fell to the floor while Chris unbuttoned his gloves. “Are you still on birth control?”

“Yes”, your reply came immediately, eagerly, and his mind just fogged up further.

“Good”, he pulled his gloves off and dropped them somewhere on the floor.

With a tight hold on your hips, he flipped you around and pulled your hips back a bit towards him, so your ass could be flush with his crotch. Chris kept kissing your cheek, your neck, any bit of exposed skin he could, just as you ground your backside against his growing erection, while he frantically fumbled with your belt buckle and the buttons of your trousers.

“How many fucking buttons does this thing have?” Chris mumbled against your skin, quickly popping open what seemed like hundreds of studs. “How impractical…”

“Looks better than a zipper–Oh!”

Chris pushed your bottoms down as soon as he’d popped open the very last button, just enough to expose the delectable flesh of your ass to his hungry eyes. He wanted to smack the luscious fat so badly, but even in his desperate state, he knew it was a really, really bad idea, so he settled for holding one of your buttocks tightly with one hand, while he brought the other close to your face.

“Open up, bun”, your lips parted as soon as he’d asked you to, and he quickly pushed two fingers inside your mouth.

A moan muffled against his digits when you sucked on them, and Chris could almost start feeling his head spin with arousal. God, your mouth… He’d always known it’d be the death of him one day…

“That’s it, baby. Make sure you get them drenched”, after letting go of your buttock, he hastily unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his trousers, and pushed the zipper down so he could reach inside his underwear and finally free himself.

The air was cool against his heated flesh, especially at the tip where pre-cum had started to leak. He pumped himself a couple of times, it was nowhere near as satisfactory as he knew your cunt would be, but it was certainly a pleasant warm-up.

As soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth, he brought them to your centre, where he made sure to coat his fingers in your essence to spread it all around your opening before he finally stuffed those two digits into you. You bit your lip to muffle the noises threatening to escape your throat, leaning your forehead against the wall as Chris tried his best to prep you in such an unfortunate setting.

“Tell me if it hurts. Hm? You know you can tell me, right?” Chris whispered in your ear, and you immediately nodded in response.

“Just… Fuck, just get inside, baby, please”, how could he stall any further when you sounded so eager and desperate for him, in the same way that he was for you? When you called him ‘baby’?

So he pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the loss of contact. It didn’t last long, though, because he stepped closer almost immediately after. He spat on his hand, and smeared his saliva all over his length before he lined himself with your entrance.

As he started to push in, he brought his free hand to your front, finding your clit with expert ease, rubbing slow circles on it to hopefully aid his intrusion. There was a whine, a quiet one, and Chris hushed you, kissing your cheek.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing well, so well. Remember to tell me if it’s too much…” He mumbled. It was almost funny how quickly he got into his role, he was so used to treating you like this, to checking in on you, that not even the place you were in, or the outfits you were wearing could stop him from doing it. All he got from you was a nod, a sigh that vaguely sounded like his name, and a push of your hips. “Impatient, bun? Hungry for my cock, are you, baby?”

You nodded, pushing back as much as you could to get him all the way in, making him hiss. “I am. I fucking am. Need you to fuck me, and I need it now, Christopher”.

“Fuck…” It was an awkward angle, but he needed to kiss you. There was hardly anything he enjoyed more than kissing you while he was balls deep inside your warmth. Every push of his tongue, every bite on his lips, everything made it so your walls continuously clamped around him, all of it combined made him delirious, and even more so when he finally started to move.

Chris was trying his best to go slow, his mind was hazy with lust and need and want, but he still wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you. You, however, weren’t making it easy. You pushed back to sharply meet his calculated thrusts, and all he could do was match your pace, until the only noise in the room were the contained groans and moans and the obnoxious clattering of metal as both of your belt buckles swayed with your movements.

His fingers sped up, and very quickly, the obscene sounds produced when your bodies met joined the messy symphony playing all around you. Your grip on his hair was tight, the way your moans were catching in your throat was getting him impatient, he wanted to hear you properly, he wasn’t used to you holding back, and the sudden increased speed of his motions felt like it was his subconscious desperately trying to pull all those delicious sounds out of you.

He was talking. He knew he was talking, but he could barely hear what he was mumbling to you, all he knew was that, whatever it was, it had you whining quietly, meeting his thrusts harder, mumbling things back to him.

Chris wanted to feel more of you, as much as he could, so he pulled his vest up, and took the hem between his teeth. He couldn’t talk like this, but he figured it was a small price to pay so he could feel your bottom freely bounce off his skin. Returning his hand to your hip, he held your soft flesh tightly, relishing the way the flesh dipped under his grip.

“C–Chris… Gonna–gonna come…” Your fingers flexed against the wall in what looked like a futile attempt to get a hold of something, to keep yourself grounded.

He wanted to tell you to come. Hell, he needed you to come around his cock right now or he would die, he was sure. But he couldn’t speak with the stupid fabric in his mouth, so he simply fucked you harder, faster, diligently rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs in that way he’d learnt to do throughout your numerous intimate encounters since the very beginning of your relationship.

Your relationship…

Were you two still in a relationship?

In all honesty, right then, with your presence consuming him, he hoped you were.

The sight of you biting your fist to keep your moans contained, coupled with the feel of your warmth fluttering around his length as a result of your orgasm, made him lightheaded. His pace didn’t relent, though. He fucked you through it, just how he knew you liked it, while you did your best to weakly keep meeting his movements.

His lower abdomen tightened, he could feel his own climax nearing increasingly fast, and God, if he wanted that feeling to wash over him right the fuck now…

He finally let go of the hem of his vest so he could speak. “Where–Shit… Where do you want it, pretty?”

At this point he would come anywhere, in you, on you, out of you… But he needed to do what you wanted, and what you wanted became painfully clear to him when you hastily removed one of your gloves, pushed him away from you a bit, and dropped to your knees.

Oh, how he’d missed the feel of your hand on him, and the squelching sounds it made when you jerked him off while he was still covered in your juices. You held him with that perfect pressure that you’d learnt to use all those months ago, looking up at him with dark eyes and your moist lips slightly parted as you still tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you, fuck–!” Chris threw his head back the moment you took him in your mouth, getting in as much of him as you could while gently squeezing his balls.

You hummed around his length, trying to get his attention, so Chris opened his eyes again, finding that look in your eyes that always got him close, the one that begged him to move. So he did, placing a hand on your head and shallowly thrusting into your mouth to complement your own movement.

“Fuck, bun… Gonna blow, shit–”

It was his turn now to bite his fist to contain his desperate noises. Three months of tension seemed to evaporate from his body when he found his release. He could only feel the tingles of pleasure shooting to every one of his limbs as your lips dragged around his cock, as you hummed and moaned in your own bliss.

His legs felt like they were going to give out, his arms felt like jelly, and his brain was void of anything other than you and your devious mouth. For a second, Chris wondered if you were going to try to overstimulate him, but you didn’t. You simply got your mouth off of him to lick the remnants of his cum that beaded at the tip.

Before he could even think about it, he was already helping you to your feet. Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you. Slowly, deeply, getting the combined taste of him and you from your lips and your tongue.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, and Chris wrapped his around your neck as he waddled forward to press you against the wall again. Partially because he enjoyed the feeling of it, partially because he felt like his legs were really going to give out, and the wall certainly provided much needed support.

As his kiss slowed into simple pecks of his lips on yours–and yours on his–the haze that seemed to have clouded every single one of his senses started to clear up.

In what was quite possibly the worst case of post-nut clarity he’d ever experienced, it started to dawn on him just how stupid and reckless this was. He shouldn’t have brought you in here, the longer you stayed within this estate the more at risk you both were.

You seemed to be coming to the same realisation, because the gentle pecks of your lips on his stopped, and you pulled back to look him in the eyes, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. Your arms unravelled from around his waist, only for your hands to rest on it. “Chris…”

He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I know…”

Stupid. You wanted to tell him this was stupid, he didn’t need you to say it to know.

Pressing lingering kisses on your cheek, he pulled up your trousers, and started fastening the trillion buttons, just as you did the same to him. You gently buckled his belt, and it was now your turn to start pressing kisses on his cheek, just as he finished with your belt-buckle.

His heart felt as if it was both swelling with love and being harshly squeezed with agony.

What was this? What did this mean for you two now? He couldn’t undo the past, what he’d done, what you’d done… It was going to have repercussions, ones he didn’t even want to think about right now.

When he took a step back from your space to finish fixing his clothes, he watched you as you did the same.

“Need to get you out of here”, Chris mumbled, trying to fix the mess his hair had become from your continuous pulling and his own sweat–all that time straightening it this morning for nothing… “You’ve been here for way too long”.

“I can get out. That’s no problem”, you sounded confident in your statement, and, honestly, based on what he’d seen the Wraith do, he wouldn’t really be surprised if it truly was no problem for you to sneak in and out… Good for you, but bad for their security system, he figured…

There was a moment of deafening silence, a moment of you looking into his eyes and Chris looking into yours. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he sighed.

“We need to talk about this. But not now, not here in these… circumstances”.

“I agree”, you replied simply, picking up your glove from the floor and grimacing when you put it on your still sticky hand.

Chris reached for his own gloves he’d haphazardly dropped on the floor earlier, and tucked them in his back pocket before he opened the door and looked out the corridor to make sure no one was there.

Coast clear, so he turned back to look at you. “If… If you want, I’m free tomorrow evening. You could… drop by. After eight, preferably”.

You took a deep breath. It took you a moment to do anything, but when you did, you moved into his space, placing a hand on his chest and the other on the nape of his neck. You leaned in, and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“After eight”, you confirmed, and it was honestly pathetic how fast his heart started to beat when he heard those two words.

After offering him one last, small smile, you finally removed yourself from his space. Pulling the kerchief back over the lower part of your face, you went through the door and eventually disappeared somewhere by the end of the corridor.

This was completely crazy, insane, and the fact that you were still pretty much considered an enemy in his circle should’ve filled him with anxiety. He’d just had sex with you, after knowing who you were and what you’d tried to do…

And yet, oddly enough, he could only feel relaxed. Like he had finally breached the surface after swimming underwater for too long.

Seven forty-five in the evening.

Chris had arrived home two hours ago and had done nothing but try to get his flat to look presentable.

When was the last time he slept here? Probably a few weeks ago… It was hard to be in his flat when everything reminded him of you. After all, he’d mostly stayed here when you did.

He honestly hadn’t spent as much time in this flat as he did after he started a relationship with you. He’d been living here for around three months before he went on that date with you. He used to only come here to sleep on his days off, and even those days he tried to spend them out of the flat as much as possible.

After he met you, though, every day off he had he either invited you over, or went to your place. Week by week, the place started filling up with your stuff as well as his. Things you left behind, things you brought on purpose, things he himself placed there, like that one picture you’d asked a stranger to take of you two by the lake in the park… The place was filled with your presence, and being here, on his own, only reminded him of that night in the theatre, of the fact that you weren’t here and what he’d done to you.

Thankfully, the place wasn’t too bad, it was mostly just dusty. Chris didn’t bother hiding anything of yours that was still on display. There was no point in that when his feelings were more than obvious after what happened last night.

So, fifteen minutes before the agreed time, his flat was clean, his hair was damp from the shower he’d just gotten out of, and food had been ordered. He was starving, and, since you had a tendency to not eat dinner because you got too overwhelmed sometimes, he figured ordering for you as well wouldn’t be too risky of a move. Worst case scenario, he’d just have extra left-overs tomorrow…

Seven fifty-two.

Chris looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. His hair was already starting to curl, there was a bit of a flush on his skin still from the hot shower, and he was second-guessing his outfit choice.

A cropped top he’d cut himself out of an old, oversized band t-shirt he’d thrifted, and shorts… Was it too casual? He hadn’t really thought much about what to wear, he had grabbed these on auto-pilot. Whenever you came over, it was usually just to relax and spend some time together, so it was a no-brainer for him to wear these two garments.

That was before, though… What if you came to his door looking like a goddess, all dressed up and he was like this? Would it matter? Would you mind? Three months ago, you wouldn’t have, but three months ago you were still together. Maybe things would be different now…

Seven fifty-eight.

What if you didn’t come? You did say ‘After eight’ before you left the Kim estate yesterday, but what if you changed your mind? It was a complicated situation, after all. Maybe too complicated. Why did he even invite you over? It would’ve probably been best to just meet at a café or a neutral place, why did he even suggest his home for this?

And, most importantly, what did he want from this encounter? Chris hadn’t even thought about it, and, honestly, he kind of didn’t want to think about it. He’d asked you yesterday to come here because he figured talking about whatever the fuck was going on would be the only way to get answers, to get this heavy feeling in his chest to go away, but he hadn’t thought ahead.

You were a mercenary that had tried to hurt Seungmin numerous times, he was risking everything by keeping quiet about your identity, by asking you to come here even knowing who you were. So why? Why would he do this?

The doorbell startled him.

Slightly panicked, he ruffled his hair and looked at himself in the mirror–admittedly, he’d been standing there the whole time, but he wasn’t really looking at anything…

It was too late now for an outfit change, too late to back down from this insanity he himself had started. So, he bolted to the door, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he looked through the peephole.

Once Chris opened the door, and came face to face with you, dressed in your comfy clothes, still pretty much looking like a goddess regardless of your outfit, he remembered the reason why he was risking it all.

Because you made his heart rate spike. You made him feel again. After years of having seemingly nothing but a hole where his heart should’ve been, you had managed to defrost his insides with your warmth.

“Hey…” You fiddled with the straps of the backpack you always brought along with you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other right where you stood.

“Hey”, Chris wasn’t really sure what to say, he just looked at you for a moment, and you looked right back at him.

Silence enveloped you two. You wouldn’t move, save for your fiddling, just like he wouldn’t, he remained frozen on the spot with the doorknob in his hand. Normally, he would’ve kissed you to greet you, but… should he do that? Was it appropriate? You did fuck last night, but that was a heat of the moment thing… Maybe you wouldn’t want him to kiss you at all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the delivery guy popped up right behind you, startling the both of you. So Chris just asked you to come in, and quickly got his card from his wallet that he had discarded by the kitchen counter earlier to pay for the food.

“Have you eaten? I ordered some for you just in case…” Chris asked as soon as the guy was gone, just as he placed the food on the counter.

“No, I haven’t”, you replied simply, finally putting your backpack down on one of the chairs. “What’d you order?”

“Cantonese…” Chris didn’t look at you as he took the containers out of the bag, nor did he acknowledge the quiet ‘Oh…’ that came out of your mouth in response. “Wanna eat on the coffee table?”

“Of course”, you said it like it was an obvious thing, and, honestly, it kind of was. Whenever you both met for dinner, especially when it involved your favourite food, you’d always eat at the coffee table, why would it be any different this time? Not like three months had passed since you last spoke or anything…

While Chris brought the containers with food to the table, you got a couple of plates, two glasses, and the necessary cutlery. By the time you were at the table yourself, he had already gone to the fridge and taken the pineapple juice you both liked.

It was all so… normal. Normal, but like things had been placed slightly to the left. The motions were the same, the same routine you had as a couple, but there was something odd lingering between you two, and Chris figured it made sense, all things considered.

When he finally sat down next to you on the floor, with his back against the sofa, you were already serving the food. Chris busied himself pouring the juice, and in no time, you both had started eating.

It was silent for a while. Well, save for the murmurs coming from the television after you had switched it on for some background noise. Reality was seemingly looming over your heads, or, at least, that was how it felt to Chris. Yet, none of you said anything, you both just ate your food.

It almost felt like an eternity, honestly–even though it’d been probably just shy of ten minutes since you sat down to eat. But, eventually, you took a deep breath, swallowed the food in your mouth, and finally spoke, reaching for your glass of juice.

“I’m sorry this is so awkward… I just don’t know what to say”, you took a sip of your drink, finally looking at him.

Immediately, Chris’ shoulders slumped, and he placed his plate on the table before he turned his body towards you. With an arm on the sofa, he propped his head on his hand while he looked at you. “Me neither, honestly”.

You took a deep breath, chewing your food slowly, deep in thought.

“I’m… I’m gonna be fully honest. I’m tired of secrets. Sick of ‘em. And I feel like you deserve better than that”, you placed your plate on the coffee table as well, and took a napkin to wipe your hands. “I’ll just… I’ll start from the beginning, okay?”

Chris swallowed, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“It started with my dad…” You wouldn’t look at Chris, you just placed your arms on your bent knees and fixed your gaze on the table. “He joined the Guild when he was a teenager. It was tradition in his family, you see? His mum had been a member for years, so she taught him everything she knew. Eventually, he made a name for himself, and he actually managed to get quite high in the ranks… But then he met my mum”.

You took a deep breath, leaning your head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “He fell deeply in love with her. To the point where he realised he wanted to have a peaceful life, so he retired and did just that. Certified himself as a PE teacher, of all things, and then they had me”.

“Problem was… my mum isn’t exactly a good woman. She wasn’t good to him, or me. When I was still a child, she took everything my dad had and left us both, ran away with some guy she’d met… She’s still with him, last I heard. Good for her, I guess”, you chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of humour. “After she left, my dad just… he went through a deep, deep depression, lost his job, we could barely make ends meet… That was when he decided to return to the Guild, and, of course, like his mum had done to him, he brought me along…”.

You spoke a lot from then on. How you were taught to fight, how your father passed on to you his stealth technique, which was your signature trait to this day, how many people you’d had to kill, kidnap, or extort. You kept a tally, apparently, which in Chris’ experience wasn’t an uncommon thing to do. He himself kept records of his own milestones, as gruesome as that might sound to some people. It always helped put things into perspective, in a way.

“Seungmin… He was just another target. I wasn’t even going to kill him. I try not to kill when I can. It’s too messy… But, I must admit, at some point I was trying to kill Chan”, you finally turned to look at him, and the pained look in your eyes must’ve been a perfect match to his own. “In all honesty, I’m glad I failed. You’re really good at what you do, you know? If you hadn’t been, I would’ve succeeded, and being honest, I don’t think I would’ve been able to continue going on with my life if I had killed the man I love”.

The man I love…

There you were again, using present tense. Was it stupid of him to feel hopeful about that?

Maybe it was.

Before Chris could say anything, though, you looked away again, straightening your head to reach for your plate of food. “What I told you last night… Dropping the job, in the eyes of the Guild, is a sign of weakness. We are supposed to carry out our tasks or die trying. The fact that it took me so long to do what I was hired to do, and the fact that I essentially gave up, it’s all enough for them to consider me a burden, so I’ll have to either prove my worth again, or they’ll just get rid of me”.

You said it so nonchalantly, like you had accepted this as your fate. And Chris honestly hated it.

“How long do you have to prove it?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I could either be given a super hard task soon, or they could’ve already decided I’m no longer worth their time and just try to kill me. I need to be wary now. You’ve got no idea all the trouble I had to go through just to make sure no one was following me when I was coming here”.

As the guard of Kim Seungmin, as Chan, there was a small spark of pride at the fact that he had managed to stop anyone from doing harm to Seungmin. But, as your boyfriend–ex-boyfriend…?–as Chris, there was also guilt pooling in his gut at the fact that you were now being targeted by your own people because of him.

How fucking convoluted this all was…

You remained silent after that, just slowly putting food into your mouth, chewing leisurely. Chris knew you were waiting for him to speak. You had bared your past to him, and it was now his turn to do the same.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to speak, he wanted to do it, he’d wanted to do it for months, way before the theatre situation, way before the Wraith came into his life, back when it was just you and him. But, even though the fact that he’d tried to kill you didn’t seem to have fully pushed you away from him, he was sure that what he was going to reveal to you now could potentially do so. As odd as that might sound…

Chris figured it was now or never. Everything was already complicated, the future of you two was already murky enough, so he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly only to finally open them again when he started to speak.

“You remember I told you… about my brother and sister, right?”

You nodded, focusing your entire attention on him.

Chris hadn’t disclosed much of his family or career to you, but he had told you about his siblings. Not in detail, but you were important enough to him that he wanted you to know, especially when sometimes he’d get texts or calls from either of them and he didn’t want you to get the wrong impression when you saw their contact names with hearts and random emojis next to them.

“We didn’t really… have much. Our father abandoned us right after my brother was born. He left my mum on her own to raise three children, one that wasn’t even a month old, while she was still recovering from her difficult pregnancy…” The memory always made him angry, his father embodied everything he ever hated in this world, and whenever Chris thought of him, he had to make the conscious effort to not give into this need of looking for him and give him the beating of his life, preferably kill him if he could…

Chris shook his head, trying to once again ignore the thought altogether. “Anyway, mum worked really hard to keep us three fed and to give us proper education. She really did her best, and even if we didn’t have much we were at least somewhat pushing through. But…”

It was always hard to talk about these things. Chris hardly ever allowed himself to think of this period of his life. He much preferred to remember his mother as the loving, hardworking woman he knew her to be, but he wanted to tell you this, he needed you to know the whole context, so he kept talking.

“She was sick. We didn’t really know, one day she was seemingly fine and the next she was in a hospital bed, telling me it would all be fine…” It wasn’t fine, clearly. His mother had always been overly optimistic, and even back then he knew this was just her holding onto the foolish hope that she’d make it.

She didn’t.

The very next day, she had passed away, and Chris and his siblings had been entrusted to their uncle.

“It was all so sudden… Very quickly, we realised our uncle just wasn’t a good man. I put myself as the shield between him and my siblings, but even that wasn’t enough. I had to find a way for us to leave, I couldn’t just let my brother and sister live with this guy, it wasn’t safe”, Chris tapped his fingers on his thigh, looking at the only picture of him and his younger siblings he had placed on one of the shelves close to the television.

After a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts, he took a deep breath and started talking again. “I was sixteen, what can a sixteen year old boy do? It was so frustrating, and I was incredibly desperate, so I…” Fuck, this was much harder than he expected it to be, but he swallowed regardless, pushing away the little voice in the back of his mind that urged him to shut up. “Back then, all I had was my charm and my body, you know? So I used just that”.

There were a lot of cruel, disgusting people in this world. People that didn’t even stop to ask how old he was, people who could clearly tell how old he was but weren’t put off by it–on the contrary, those were usually turned on by that fact.

For many years, Chris sold himself to other people. He became whoever they wanted him to become for a few hours, and eventually got himself enough regulars to financially support his siblings and himself. He managed to keep the three of them well fed and studying.

Only problem was, the psychological toll such a profession took on him was almost immeasurable. It was hard to remain empathetic towards other people when he’d had to constantly experience physical and emotional abuse, when he had to do things he just didn’t want to do every single night. But he had to. For the sake of his siblings and himself, he just had to.

You didn’t seem at all surprised by what Chris was telling you, but he could see the look of disgust on your face. Knowing you, his logical mind told him it had all to do with his clients, with the situation, not with himself. But, there was a small part of him–a very self-destructive part of him–that was sure you’d be disgusted at him. After all, you’d been physically involved with someone who was nothing but a whore for a good chunk of his life, with no knowledge of the fact.

Chris swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry after telling you all this, so he reached for his glass of juice and drank some to quench that nervous thirst. All while you looked at him, clearly deep in your thoughts.

“Mmm… So that’s why you’d been so insistent on me getting that STD test when we were talking about dropping condoms… Why you were so sure you were clean yourself”, you said simply, just as he was placing his glass back on the table. “Not gonna lie, I found it odd back then, considering most guys don’t really think about that stuff, they just want to get it wet”.

“Yep. I always made sure to be careful and keep that in check. I couldn’t afford to catch something dangerous. Who would take care of my brother and sister then?”

You hummed in understanding, but you didn’t really say anything else, and suddenly looking at your face was too much…

“Honestly, I almost never had unprotected sex with any of my clients, but whenever I did, I was super insistent on this, and old habits die hard, I suppose…” Chris picked at some loose threads of the rug under the coffee table, and he swallowed, avoiding your eyes before he braced himself for what he was about to say. “I’m… By the time I met you, I was no longer an escort, obviously. But you… That night with you after our first date was the first time I was able to actually enjoy sex in a long, long time. It was all just so… intimate. The fact that sex could feel like that… I don’t know, it absolutely blew my mind”.

Chris went silent after that. His fidgeting increased considerably, and very quickly, he realised he was nervous. Even before the whole theatre situation, he’d always been more scared to tell you about this part of his past than his current job. He’d always considered telling you about the Kims, about what he did, but whenever he thought about telling you what he used to do for a living, his mind would always convince him you’d just see him differently, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford.

Maybe it was silly of him, considering killing people for a living was probably way more morally incorrect than having sex for money, but unlike the former, the latter was something he never truly found pride in. On the contrary, he was ashamed of it.

All of a sudden, Chris felt your hand on his knee, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement of your thumb against his skin. It wasn’t until you muttered a soft ‘Hey…’ that he finally pulled his eyes away to look at you instead.

“I hope you know I don’t… I don’t think any differently of you because of your past. You did what you had to do to survive, and that’s completely respectable”, you squeezed his knee a bit, almost reassuringly, and for a moment, Chris feared he was going to cry. “Even knowing what you do now… I get it. I truly do. I’m totally no one to judge, all things considered”.

Once again, you’d shown him why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. And, once again, he couldn’t help but feel that the world was just so unfair.

Out of all people in this whole wide world, why did it have to be you under the kerchief that night…

Chris took a deep breath, looking away from your face to your hand on his knee. Warm, familiar… Your touch seemed to shoot straight to his heart. Without thinking much about it, he placed his hand on top of yours, and held it firmly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

He wanted to tell you more. He didn’t just want to leave it at that, he wanted you to know everything, he needed you to know. So, after a few moments of silence, he started talking again.

“How I transitioned from what I did to working with the Kims was a very circumstantial thing… Turns out one of my clients had business with them. Problem was, he was trying to scam them, which, in retrospect, was very stupid on his part”, he had found himself tangled in this guy’s mess, he was setting Chris up to take the blame, and as soon as he realised that, he immediately ratted the guy out to the Kims.

In doing so, they had offered him not only protection, but also a different career path.

“They found me a mentor, trained me, all while I was still pretending to be this guy’s fucktoy. And, eventually, when the Kims got what they wanted from him, I got to kill him”, even as he said it, Chris knew a normal person would’ve felt some remorse when telling this story. But he didn’t.

Very quickly after that, he realised that killing, torturing people, deceiving them, were much more dignified ways of using his body and his skills, which was exactly what he told you.

“To me, it feels like the Kims gave me my individuality back. I do what I do because I like it, because I am grateful for what the Kims did for me, and because I feel proud of it, as twisted as that might sound…” Somehow, Chris knew you would understand the feeling, considering what you did for a living yourself. “I’m able to provide for my brother and sister by doing something I can find pride in. I love my team, they’re like family to me as well, but I suppose all these things I learnt throughout the years ended up making me a bit… cold”.

“Oh, I know all about that…” You mumbled, with a small smile on your lips.

Chris chuckled at that, maybe a bit incredulously.

He looked at your face in silence for a moment. There was no judgement in your eyes, and the soft caresses of your thumb on his hand had his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Seriously, though…” Chris said after a while. “When you appeared in my life, I was reminded of how it was like to feel normal. I feel like I’m a bit more human”.

“It’s a very mutual feeling, you know?”

Chris remained silent, looking at you, until your words registered fully, and he offered you a nod. Somehow, what you said had heat pooling on his cheeks, and he looked away from your face to stare at your joined hands.

“I was even… Before it all went down, I was genuinely considering retirement”, taking a deep breath, you brought your free hand to hold his hand between your palms. “I should’ve told you what I did for a living. Maybe this whole thing could’ve been avoided if I had, but I was afraid you’d just… leave”.

“I wouldn’t have”, Chris replied before he could think twice about it, but with the words out there, he realised he meant them. How could he leave? You were just like him, after all.

“I know that now”, your hands were so warm, so familiar…

“Come here…” Wrapping an arm around your waist, and taking a hold of your thigh, Chris guided your body to move, until you settled on his lap.

Your hands immediately found his face, just as his arms wrapped around your waist. You looked him in the eyes, in a way that made him feel exposed, like you were reaching deep within his mind and soul. He realised then that he wanted to be exposed. He didn’t want any more secrets or half-truths, you were already his weak spot, so might as well let you fully in.

“You’re so handsome”, you said all of a sudden, with a bright smile on your lips, and Chris immediately chuckled, looking away and shaking his head. “Don’t laugh! You are”.

“You want me to blush? ‘Cause it’s working, baby”, Chris tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. With the same motion, he found your earlobe, and he caressed the skin while his other arm was firmly around your waist.

“Maybe I do want that. It’s my only ulterior motive”, you chuckled, tracing patterns on his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Mmm… Is that so?” Chris supposed this was your way of confirming to him that you, in fact, didn’t have any ulterior motive. He also supposed he could do nothing else but believe you, to trust you.

“Mm”, you leaned in, leaving a tender kiss on his forehead before you pulled back to look him in the eyes again. “It is”.

The warmth of your palms, the soft drag of your thumbs on Chris’ skin, your weight on his lap… All combined had Chris closing his eyes, it had him leaning into your touch, and even questioning if this was a real thing that was happening, if you were truly there. You were. Logically, he knew you were, but it was hard for his brain to catch up with the fact after spending so long doing nothing but yearning for you.

There was a sigh, a sound of relief that further anchored Chris to reality when it came out of your mouth.

“You, too, make me feel alive. These past couple of months… I’ve just missed you so, so much, Christopher”, your voice was so quiet, it was steady, but Chris could’ve sworn he felt your hold tremble on his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes, just took a deep breath and brought one of his hands to lay on top of one of yours on his face. “I know it’s… weird. All of this. It’s weird and complicated and there’s a lot we’d have to work on, but I… I don’t want to lose you. I can’t”.

Chris could feel your words reach deep within him. They might’ve sparked some doubts, maybe even a bit of anxiety at the prospect of facing the results of both of your actions, but… they also warmed him up from the inside out.

He figured that, if there had ever been anything worth protecting, what you both had was one of those things, no matter how difficult it could be. And right then, when he finally opened his eyes and looked at your face, he wholeheartedly believed it was possible.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Chris nodded. With a hand on the back of your head, he pulled you closer to him, close so he could press his lips to yours, and the soft whimper that escaped your mouth was enough to make him want to cry right then and there.

Your hands left his face so you could wrap your arms around his neck. With his arms around your waist, he pulled you further into his lap, chest against chest sharing one breath. Your words kept resonating in his ears ‘missed you so, so much…’ Added to the feel of your tongue against his own, to your hand playing with his hair, he was sure his heart was about to burst.

You kissed for a while. Slowly savouring the feel of one another, almost like you both wanted to catch up on all those kisses missed in the past three months. Quiet moans slipped between your lips, his hands roamed your back, confirming that this was, in fact, very real. Even more so when your hips started to roll, grinding against him when his hands settled to squeeze your backside and your thighs.

“Missed you, too”, Chris breathlessly mumbled against your lips, taking a tight hold of your hips to guide your movement. You just nodded and kept kissing him, more frantically this time, and all he could do was match your pace, in hopes to convey just how much he had truly missed you.

His mind fogged up. There was nothing but you, and you, and you… He didn’t want for there to be anything else. Before he knew it, articles of clothing started to be removed and dropped on the sofa behind him, until skin was touching skin and even the minimal distance between your bodies felt like it was just too much.

Chris needed you closer, as close as you possibly could be, and in his haze, he’d found himself kissing down your body while you laid on his rug. Slowly, he left kisses on your cheek, your neck, between your breasts–where he took a brief pause just so he could be smothered by them for a bit before he continued his path…

With your legs over his shoulders, with his mouth at the apex of your thighs, Chris couldn’t help but groan at the familiar, undeniable taste of you. Oh, how he’d missed this, too… Your hand gripping his hair, and his own roaming the softest areas of your body while he got to drink you up, was absolutely how he’d been dreaming to be, especially when you started making the prettiest noises, those that made his chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

He supposed it was more than fair. You’d gotten your taste of him last night, and it was now his turn.

Your words of encouragement, your sighs of his name, and the quiet sounds coming out of your mouth made his head spin. How had he even survived all these weeks without this? Without you?

As he fixated on gently sucking on that sensitive nub between your legs, as your thighs started to shake a bit around his head, Chris just felt lucky. As unfortunate as this whole thing had been, he had to cherish this second chance. There was a lot to talk about, a lot more truths to tell to each other, but all that could wait. Until later or tomorrow or the day after… It could all wait.

Right now, all that mattered was to feel.

For him to feel you, for you to feel him, and for both to just satiate the burning need for each other.

Getting you to come with just his mouth and his fingers was certainly one of his favourite things in this world. Hearing you gasp and moan his name made him lightheaded, filled him to the brim with arousal and love… Especially so when your legs trapped him right there, when he got to pin you down by the hips so you couldn’t pull away from him while he continued to drink up your essence.

Your body slumped a bit when Chris finally found his way up your body. As soon as he was within reach, you simply pulled him down to you with a firm grip on his hair, sealing your mouths in a slow kiss, uncaring of your taste on his tongue, his lips, or even his chin when you started to leave kisses all over his face.

Chris gave you time to catch your breath. However, when he told you he was doing just that, in that teasing tone that he knew would just rile you up, you just chuckled and told him it was difficult to do so when his lips so deliciously gave attention to your neck.

“What? Want me to stop?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as well, leaving lingering kisses on your skin.

“As if”, was all you mumbled back when you hugged him close and buried your hand in his hair to keep him right there.

After a couple of minutes where Chris just got to place his lips on every centimetre of skin they could find, you pulled him by his hair in that enticing way you always did, and brought him close to you once again, muttering his absolute favourite combination of words you could ever say.

“Fuck me”.

Gladly.

Chris was hard, leaking pre-cum, needy in ways that only you had ever made him feel. There was not an ounce of restraint in his body tonight, no wish to tease or delay the inevitable. There’d be time for that in the future. Or so he hoped.

So when he finally pushed himself into your sopping warmth, when he started that slow, but precise pace of his hips that he knew you enjoyed so much, he was dead set on diving fully into it, into you. Just like he’d done countless times prior to that night in the theatre.

“I love you”, Chris mumbled in your ear, and even before he said it, he had already started to feel his eyes water.

“I love you”, you mumbled back, further digging your nails on his back, tightening the hold of your legs around his torso. “With my whole heart”.

Your words coming out as a shaky whisper were enough to shatter the remaining protective layer around his heart. He could feel himself tremble, and even though he saw the tears running down your cheeks when he kissed you again, he hadn’t really needed to do it to know they were there. Just like he was sure you hadn’t needed to see his to know, too.

Chris had almost forgotten how it was like to sleep with you–in the literal sense of the word.

Your warmth, the way you clung to him sometimes in the middle of the night, how you’d wake him up when he was about to choke on his spit… It was all so, so familiar, it was comforting, and last night, even if you both had gone to sleep late after a couple more mind-numbing orgasms, after finishing your food, and after even more cuddles and deep emotional talks, this had probably been the best he’d slept in weeks.

Which was why, when he turned to drape an arm around your waist because he just needed to pull you closer to him, he almost got whiplash from the feeling of the cold sheets under his hand.

Chris’ eyes snapped open to find your side of the bed empty. Why was it so cold? Had you just left? When did you leave? Had you woken up today filled with regret? Had you decided that trying to work things out was actually too complicated and not worth your time?

Chris’ heart was beating fast in his chest, and just before he flung himself from the bed in a panic to see if the things you brought last night were still in the flat, he heard a sound. It was quiet, but he definitely heard it, and that feeling of panic was quickly changing to one of dangerous hope.

He didn’t even bother putting clothes on, just stood up and walked all the way to his bedroom’s door. As soon as it was opened, he could hear things more clearly.

Music.

Very low, but it was certainly playing somewhere down the hall.

He could hear the sound of a spatula against metal, as well as the crackling of oil, and the unmistakable hum of the airfryer.

“Morning, sleepy bear”, you said as he stepped into the kitchen, not even turning to look at him. Chris had light steps, but he supposed it made sense that you of all people were more than capable of hearing him walking closer. “M’making some eggs and bacon”.

Chris couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips. He walked into your space, and wrapped his arms around your waist to hug you from behind. “So, the only things that were in the fridge”.

“Basically. You should really go grocery shopping. How are you gonna have energy for work if you don’t eat proper meals, hm? Who’s gonna protect Seungmin then?” There was a hint of a smile in your voice, and it only made Chris’ own smile widen.

It was odd to hear you talk about his job, especially so… neutrally. Resting his chin on your shoulder, Chris watched you carefully and methodically cook the eggs, and he couldn’t help but tighten his hold around your waist.

There was a moment of silence as you placed the two perfectly fried eggs on a plate, next to the already cooked ones. The airfryer timer went off, you switched off the stove, but you remained standing there in Chris’ hug.

One of your hands came to his arms, and you started to softly caress his skin. “Baby… I don’t wanna get you into trouble, you know?”

Chris knew. Being with you would definitely get him into trouble if the Kims found out who you were. He was aware of this, there was no way he wouldn’t be. “I know, love”.

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t… don’t really know what to do. How to fix that. I can’t let them hurt you because of me”.

Taking a deep breath, Chris let go of your waist to take a hold of your shoulders instead. With a gentle grip, he coaxed you to turn around so he could cup your cheeks in his hands. “We’ll figure something out. About the Kims, about the Guild… We’ll just… figure it out”.

You swallowed, but a small smile found its way to your lips. “Why do I get the feeling that this is gonna be some ‘you and me against the world’ bullshit?”

“Because it is”, Chris chuckled, squishing your cheeks, making your lips jut out into a pout. “It’s you and me, bun. We might need to improvise a bit, walk around the truth, but I have hope that we can find a solution to this”.

He pecked your lips briefly, and his hold on your cheeks relented.

You immediately looped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you just as his hands found the small of your back. “I suppose we can put our two scheming brain cells together to think of something. I must say… doesn’t seem that difficult of a task when you’re here with me”.

Chris agreed completely. As long as he had you there, with him, it didn’t seem a difficult thing to achieve. Either getting the Guild to trust you again, or for you to defect, or even getting him to come clean to at least Seungmin, or keep you a secret, or for both of you to disappear completely, maybe leave the country and get new identities… It didn’t matter what course of action you both decided to take.

As long as you got to be together, happy, and in love, it just didn’t matter.

Even when he leaned in to press a kiss on your lips, when he hugged you close, Chris held onto that possibly foolish hope that everything would be okay. That you both would, in fact, figure it all out.

tagging (people from my taglist + people that asked to be tagged in this part 2 specifically):

@comet-falls · @princelingperfect · @iadorethemskz · @kileidoscope · @maknae00 · @dundullresident · @vitrealisbunny · @yeetfellx · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @oiminho · @binchangf · @luxsonny · @mamieishere · @straylightdream · @bintificreads · @seo--changbin · @ppiri-bahng · @letsbangchanblog · @fun-fanfics · @armystay89 · @iightsung · @noellllslut · @100layersofdaddyissues · @toplinehyunjin · @biribarabiribbaem · @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad · @stayconnecteed · @floatingcoffecup · @5starlee · @ven-fic-recs · @poutypoutybin · @straydhampir · @svintsandghosts · @kim-hao-han · @brownriceocean · @kpopsstuffs · @crisle19 · @drhsthl

If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form. you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

General Masterlist

#neverendingdreams #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #✨🌙✏

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esamastation · 1 year ago

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Part twenty-nine of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight

Rude releases a breath when he sees the door leading to the helipad opening and Hewley and Sephiroth finally exiting. He's not terribly thrilled about having to chauffeur a man so fresh out of metal breakdown - especially with the way Reno is cackling in his earpiece - but at least the man is officially out the building.

Now he just has to get him off it, and they'd be good, the building would be secure.

"Oh man, I am so glad that got caught on video," Reno giggles in his ear. "Nothing against the Professor personally, but hoolyy shit, it was downright poetic."

Rude sighs, watching as Hewley and Sephiroth stop to talk by the door - too far to be heard over the helicopter rotors and too obscured by their positions for accurate lip reading. "Perhaps we should be more concerned with Sephiroth's health."

"The man's walking and talking and brushed off Hewley's offer for a Curaga," Reno says. "If he wants to be bleeding internally, that's his problem - all we need to do is get him out of Midgar."

"And then keep a watch over him in Wutai."

"Yes, and that, but nowhere does it say we need to nurse him into health too," Reno says. "Just get him and Hewley in the air and out of here before Hojo realises he's leaving."

"Hn," Rude answers, not looking away from Hewley and Sephiroth and not relaxing until they finally approach the helicopter and Hewley stoves away their blades.

Rude has seen Sephiroth personally a number of times - they often serve together as bodyguards for the President, Rude sent in by the Turks and Sephiroth called upon by the President, because the SOLDIER looks good in papers. So most of the times Rude has seen him had been him being annoyed, resigned, and bored.

The Sephiroth that awkwardly enters the helicopter looks a little queasy and embarrassed - but also excited.

Hewley hands Sephiroth a headset and pulls another one on himself. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" He says over the headset.

"I'm fine, Angeal - I promise I don't have internal bleeding," Sephiroth answers, indulgent and looks around. "... There isn't a seatbelt in here, is there?"

"What's a seatbelt? No, never mind," Hewley sighs, sounding a little exasperated. "Sephiroth, you threw up blood! That's not normal."

"Maybe I just bit my tongue and swallowed some blood before, it's fine -"

"Some blood - it was a lot of blood!"

"Barely even a litre -"

"A litre! Of blood! You would've had to have bitten your tongue clean off to swallow that much!"

Sephiroth sighs. "Angeal, I swear I didn't bite my tongue off -"

Well, he sounds fine, Rude decides, and after making sure the helicopter is secure and there's no one else on the pad, he takes off. "Phase two complete," he reports to Reno. "The big guy is off the building."

"Sweet," Reno says. "I'm off then - meet you at the airport."

"Roger that," Rude agrees, bringing the helicopter above the Shinra Building and then turning it towards the airport. Below them the city whirls around, its lights leaving streaks in Rude's vision.

The bickering in the backseat takes a pause as Sephiroth peers outside in apparent amazement. Then Hewley continues to poke and prod at the man, and Rude pretends to tune them out - all the while listening to every word. Mostly it's Sephiroth trying to convince Hewley that he isn't in some kind of acute organ failure or about to hack out a lung. Hewley isn't very convinced.

"You're very nonchalant about this," Hewley says dubiously.

"Trust me, it was bad blood, it's better out than in," Sephiroth answers, craning his neck to look down through the window. "Oh wow…"

"Bad blood. That's what you said to Hojo," Hewley points out. "Like it actually means something. What do you mean by bad blood?"

Sephiroth doesn't answer, pretending to be utterly preoccupied by the view.

Hewley sighs. "Sephiroth, please. I'm really concerned - if there's something wrong, you should tell us -"

That makes the other SOLDIER react. "Oh, please, spare me the power of friendship speech -"

"I absolutely will not," Hewley snorts. "If it's the only thing that gets you to talk about this, I'll even throw in sincere emotions."

Though jokingly said, it seems to be an effective threat, judging by Sephiroth's disgusted expression. "You're an evil man, Angeal."

"Yes, how dare I be worried about my friend, how utterly unforgivable. Now please tell me why you throwing up blood isn't a health concern."

Sephiroth sighs. "I… it's hard to explain."

"Because you don't know."

"No. Because the terminology doesn't exist," Sephiroth mutters and then sighs, looking outside again. "Before I was interrupted, I was attempting to, uh, align my internal energies properly, and repair some of the damage done to my system previously. It's a delicate process and can go horribly wrong if interrupted, which is exactly what happened. As a result of the interruption, my internal system went wildly out of alignment, which caused some issues. I fixed those after, as much as I could, and what I threw up was essentially… waste produced by the progress."

Rude wishes, not for the first time, that there was a way to record stuff said on board a helicopter. Thankfully, judging by Hewley's expression in the mirror, the man doesn't understand what Sephiroth is saying any better than he does.

"Internal energies - you mean your MP?"

"MP," Sephiroth repeats and hums thoughtfully. "That's part of it, I guess."

Hewley shakes his head. "So your… MP is out of alignment?"

He sounds confused, and Rude can't blame the man. He didn't know MP could even have an alignment.

Sephiroth is quiet for a moment, looking away. "Tell me, Angeal. What is MP? Where does it come from, where in your body does it reside - how is it produced?"

"Uh. It's just an intrinsic quality people have? Which increases the more you use it - and with Mako exposure? I don't know, I guess I never thought about it," Angeal admits. "You'd have better luck asking Genesis."

"Hmm. Is he coming to Wutai?"

Hewley shakes his head. "I don't know, but there's no shortage of missions to be completed there. Still, Sephiroth. That was a lot of blood."

"I'm not throwing up blood now, am I?" Sephiroth says. "I'm fine, Angeal, I promise. Hopefully that was the worst of it."

Hewley doesn't look particularly reassured. "Hopefully?! Wait, you don't mean to say you're going to continue with this… alignment stuff?"

Sephiroth hums noncommittally and looks outside the window again. They're getting to the airport now.

Rude blows out a breath. "It's time to land," he informs his passengers and hopes Reno wouldn't take too long to catch up with them. Maybe he would have some idea what the hell Sephiroth is on about. If not, then he'd at least pretend he did.

Rude is with Hewley on this one, though. Sephiroth intending to continue with his alignment practice with the risk for further… misalignments… It didn't sound good.

Interesting though that Professor Hojo clearly had no idea what his son was doing either. Whatever it is, it isn't anything Shinra Science had figured out. Hmm.

Something to add to Sephiroth's file, Rude muses, and brings them to the ground.

#Fanfiction #ffvii #Ff7 #svsss #rude of the turks #reno of the turks #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #angeal hewley

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applespants · 12 days ago

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Crystal Cluster {NSFW}

Orion Pax x D-16

Read on Ao3 Here!

Word Count: 2.6k (under the cut)

Summary: A little cavern in the energon mines bring D-16 and Orion Pax closer together than before. (NSFW!! Minors DNI)

A/N: horny! gay! robots!!! LOL i am so horrendously obsessed with these guys theyre so silly and i need them to be in love!!! so i made them my own personal barbie dolls and made them fuck. im so sorry i literally dont know what else to say its robot smut fanfiction guys what should i say. go out and vote!!! if you cant vote then DONT READ THIS LOOK AWAY

---

D-16 huffed as he tried to keep up with Orion Pax, who was running ahead of him on a seemingly random path through the energon mines where they worked.

“Pax– Pax, wait up!”

Orion only laughed brightly in response. He finally slowed down and D-16 caught up with him, shoving him lightly despite being almost out of breath.

“This better be good,” D-16 wheezed. “I don’t want to get demoted for going out of the designated area on account of whatever crazy thing you have planned.”

Orion grinned widely at D-16 and peeked around a corner before looking back at him. “We won’t get demoted if they don’t find out!”

D-16 groaned and pinched his optical ridge in annoyance. Orion chuckled and took his servo in his own, squeezing it tight. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” D-16 smiled at that and Orion guided them slowly around the corner, not letting go of D-16’s servo.

D-16’s optics widened to take in the sheer beauty of their surroundings. There were raw energon crystals growing out of the ceiling of this small little alcove, pulsating energy as they glowed brilliantly. They were different from what they normally mined, and they did not move or react to D-16 and Orion as they walked into the small cavern.

Orion nudged D-16 gently with his elbow. “I thought you might like it. Maybe it will inspire some more poetry?”

D-16 nodded his helm slowly, still taking it in. “Oh, it definitely will.” He finally looked at Orion, the first time since entering the cave, and he felt his spark clench as he gazed into his optics. “Pax, I– I don’t even know what to say.”

D-16 could not tear his optics away from Orion’s, suddenly seeing the brilliance of the energon crystals residing within Orion himself. The way his optics danced and widened in anticipation at the slightest flutter of excitement, the soft glow and the stunning blue… D-16 looked back to the energon crystals when he realized he had been staring, but Orion did not say anything if he had even noticed.

“You don’t have to say anything, Dee. I just… I found this place, and the first thing I thought of was wanting to bring you here, just– just the two of us.” Orion still had not let go of D-16’s servo. D-16 glanced back at Orion and saw that he had averted his gaze, staring at the ground and kicking his ped into the rock. D-16 lifted Orion’s servo to his dermas and gently kissed the top of it, locking optics with Orion when he glanced quickly back at him.

“Don’t look at the ground when the very essence of life waits above.”

Orion smiled softly. “Already starting on that poetry, huh? Well, I’m looking at the very essence of my life right now.”

D-16’s optics widened in surprise and he felt his faceplate begin to heat. Orion still did not break his gaze with D-16, and instead took a step forward and closed the gap between the two of them. D-16 trembled, but he knew he was not nervous. Excitement was pulsing through him, his spark beating faster with every inch Orion got closer.

D-16 and Orion’s faceplates were so close, but there was a hesitation. This would change things. It would change their friendship, it would change their bond. But was that all D-16 wanted from Orion? No, he knew that he wanted Orion in every single aspect that was so much more than just a friend. It only took him a moment to make the decision and close the gap between him and Orion, gently pressing their dermas together in a first kiss.

Orion smiled into their kiss and put his arms over D-16’s shoulders. D-16 grabbed Orion’s hips and pulled him closer, kissing him more earnestly as they continued. It was like they were finally satiating a craving that had been pestering them in the back of their processors.

D-16 felt his spark beating fast and his HUD was sending him several notifications about regulating his heat with turning on his fans. D-16 waved them all aside, his focus entirely on Orion. Orion was beginning to explore D-16’s frame, tracing his servos across his chest and down his chassis, finding his hips. D-16 had begun to cup Orion’s faceplate, almost completely lost in bliss as he and Orion’s glossas began to mingle.

“Ah–!” D-16 yelped in surprise, finally breaking the kiss when Orion’s servos lifted him by his hips. He instinctively wrapped his legs around Orion’s waist, and his thighs seemed to fit around his pelvis like they were meant to be around them. The thought made D-16’s faceplate heat rapidly and his fans kicked into gear loudly as his HUD began to send him messages about beginning interface protocol.

D-16’s optics widened and Orion looked at him with a furrowed optical ridge, worry shining in those blue optics. “Is this okay?”

D-16 nodded quickly. “It’s– It’s so okay, Pax, I– I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

Orion smiled and kissed D-16 again. “I have, too.”

Their dermas made contact again and D-16 was once again lost to Orion’s glossa in his mouth and his strong servos holding him up. Orion spun them around a little bit and they giggled into their kiss. The energon crystals above were almost singing as the two of them finally broke away for air, pressing forehelms together.

“Dee, are you– How are you feeling?” Orion asked, his own fans having kicked in a little bit prior. D-16 cupped Orion’s faceplate and chuckled.

“I’m feeling so good– Do you want to… keep going?” D-16 averted his optics shyly as he spoke. Orion kissed D-16 quickly once more and spun him around again until he yelped and giggled and begged for Orion to stop before he got too dizzy.

“Of course I want to keep going… I just– I’ve never done it before.”

D-16 laughed. “Neither have I, Pax!”

Orion seemed to relax at that. “I should probably put you down, then.”

D-16 was set down gingerly and his hands found Orion’s servos again instinctively. Orion looked up at the energon crystals again and then back at D-16, offering a shy smile. He led him to one of the cave walls and sat down against it, patting his lap in a gesture for D-16 to sit down. D-16 felt giddiness and anticipation building up in his chest, as well as a slightly unfamiliar warmth pooling near his pelvis as he sat down in Orion’s lap.

D-16 leaned back against Orion and shuttered his optics, humming softly to himself. “Do you have any clue what to do?”

Orion shrugged. “Not really. Is it– Is it okay if I touch you?”

D-16 nodded with a small snicker. “You ask like you haven’t already.”

Despite his tease, D-16’s breath caught in his vents when he felt Orion press his dermas to his neck. While Orion peppered his neck with kisses, his servos ventured down D-16’s lower half, tracing the outline of his modesty panel before ghosting over his thighs. D-16 shuddered, more warmth pooling where Orion’s servos had just been as he leaned more into Orion’s touch.

“Y-you said you didn’t know what you were doing,” D-16 said quietly. He was a bit surprised with how easily Orion was drawing out these new feelings, and how easily he seemed to roam over D-16’s frame.

Orion kissed right below D-16’s jaw. “I don’t… I’m only doing what I’ve wanted to since I realized how much I loved you.” D-16’s vents hitched when Orion traced over his modesty panel again, only this time, his servos lingered. “It’s a bit embarrassing… But I’ve thought about how I wanted this to go so many times over. And so far you’ve made it more than I could have hoped for.”

D-16 tilted his helm so he could kiss Orion on his dermas. “Leave it to you to have a plan for this.”

Orion chuckled and began to trace the outline of D-16’s modesty panel. He angled his hips slightly into Orion’s servo, making him grin against D-16’s dermas. “I only had a plan for how I wanted to show you my feelings. Everything after is whatever we decide together.” Orion kissed D-16’s jaw once more, making him weak as he shifted against his servo as Orion whispered in his audial. “Maybe if you open your panels, we can–”

Orion could not even finish his sentence before D-16 snapped back his panels, which surprised both of them. Orion chuckled into D-16’s audial and rubbed one of his servos on D-16’s thigh, slowly tracing in toward his now open panel. His valve was already wet with lubricant, and Orion wasted no time in guiding his servos toward his valve.

D-16 jolted slightly with a gasp when Orion’s servo touched his node, and Orion immediately retracted it. “Did that hurt?”

“No– It was just– It felt a bit different than I expected,” D-16 said softly. He leaned back against Orion and kissed him. “I’m sorry, you can keep going.”

Orion nodded. “Don’t apologize, Dee. Promise you’ll let me know if anything feels uncomfortable?” D-16 nodded and Orion grinned. “And let me know what feels good.”

Orion pressed a digit to D-16’s node once more, gently massaging it as D-16 leaned his helm back. “Oh—”

Orion was back to pressing kisses against D-16’s jaw and neck while his servos began to explore D-16’s open panel. One servo focused on D-16’s pulsating node while the other explored his valve. D-16 could feel charge beginning to build up in his lower half, warmth growing in his chassis as his vents hitched and his fans kicked in due to overheating.

“O-Orion– Primus, that feels– that feels good,” D-16 murmured while Orion worked his servos. Orion toyed gently with his node, and D-16 could feel something building up inside of him the more that Orion’s servos touched him. D-16 bucked his hips upward into Orion’s servo, leaning his helm to the side in search of Orion’s dermas. They kissed, but D-16 could hardly keep their dermas together as his breath caught in his intake and he choked on a moan.

“Ah– Ah–” D-16 was struggling to formulate words as Orion rubbed his node, his digits going slightly deeper into D-16’s valve. Torn between pushing his hips down for his valve or bucking his hips up for his node, D-16 only leaned his helm back and moaned while Orion kissed and nibbled at his neck.

“Are you close?”

“I don’t know– Just– Don’t stop,” D-16 whined, his own servos gripping Orion’s thighs.

Orion chuckled into D-16’s audial, making that charge build up even more. He was so warm, he was so charged, he felt so good that he could hardly keep up with his processor. D-16 moaned and whined, but he soon felt the charge build up so much that it felt almost unbearable. He whimpered and gripped at Orion’s thighs, feeling the charge build up so much he thought he might burn from overheating.

The charge suddenly burst and D-16 overloaded with a sharp gasp and a moan. There was a wave of pleasure that rushed through his entire body, almost making him shudder. He was tingly and leaned against Orion after the overload.

“Did you overload?”

“I think so… that was amazing…” D-16 said, his voice soft and blissful. Orion chuckled and tilted D-16’s helm to kiss his dermas, smiling into the kiss.

“I almost wish I had been able to see your face…” Orion sighed playfully as he gently rubbed D-16’s thigh.

D-16 shifted in Orion’s lap, pulling his dermas away from the kiss. Orion whined softly, but he did not protest otherwise as D-16 turned around in his lap, his knees on either side of Orion as he straddled his lap. Orion’s optics twinkled brightly, watching D-16 with a loving smile as D-16 pressed their dermas together once more.

“Open your panel,” D-16 said, a bit more force than he intended in his voice.

Orion raised his optical ridge and grinned. “Are you going to return the favor?”

“Something like that…” D-16 hummed. He placed a palm on Orion’s modesty panel and rubbed it, making Orion’s vents catch. It clicked back almost immediately, and D-16’s optics widened when he saw Orion’s spike. “Oh…”

D-16 immediately regretted his awe when Orion smirked. He knew deep down that he had just inflated Orion’s ego just the slightest bit, but he did not seem to care as much as he thought he would as he looked at Orion’s spike. It was already leaking lubricant and almost pulsing with charge.

Orion shifted and D-16 realized he had been staring. He pressed his dermas to Orion’s and cupped his faceplate, using his other servo to push himself up slightly. D-16 pulled away after a few moments and positioned himself above Orion’s spike, biting his derma. Orion’s optics widened as he realized what D-16 was doing.

“Dee–”

“I want you, Orion Pax,” D-16 murmured against Orion’s audial, making him shiver. “I want you so deep in me that I cannot walk tomorrow.” Orion swallowed a lump in his now dry throat and nodded. D-16 chuckled. “Do I finally have you at a loss for words?”

Orion nodded again. D-16 hummed, guiding Orion’s servos to his aft, which Orion gave a light squeeze. He lowered himself on Orion’s spike, slowly, taking in all of his length as he bit back a moan. It was big, and it almost hurt going in, but the lubricant from D-16’s previous overload made his valve slick enough to take him. Orion held his breath from the moment his spike began to enter D-16, only releasing it with a soft moan as D-16 took in all of his spike.

D-16 took a shaky breath and lifted himself up slowly, adjusting to the feeling of Orion’s spike inside of him. He fit Orion so well, and as he lowered himself back down onto Orion’s spike, he moaned. He continued going up and down on Orion’s spike, eventually finding a rhythm.

Orion moaned loudly and squeezed D-16’s aft tightly, nearly denting his plating. D-16 huffed out a laugh between his own moans as he watched Orion, whose optics were glowing brighter than before as he leaned his helm back and watched D-16 ride him.

“Dee– Dee, you– Hah! You feel so good–” Orion could hardly catch his breath between his moaning. D-16 could feel charge building in him again as Orion’s spike slid in and out of him. His faceplate was warm and he tried to kiss Orion, but it was difficult as he rode him. Orion gripped his aft tightly as D-16 took in more of his spike, bucking his hips up slightly in tandem with D-16.

The charge was building fast as D-16 bounced up and down on Orion’s spike, panting and moaning. He finally felt it burst, washing over him again as he sank into Orion’s lap, lost to the pleasure of his overload. Orion was not there yet, and he lifted D-16 by his aft, still deep inside his valve, and lowered him backward onto the rock floor of the cavern. He thrust into D-16, pressing their dermas together before D-16 could so much as register the change in position or catch his breath.

After a few more thrusts, D-16 felt warmth explode in his valve as Orion overloaded with a gasping moan. He caught himself on his elbow beside D-16’s head, his spike still inside as he caught his breath. Their dermas quickly found each other again and they kissed, softly and lazily, their processors still sorting through their overloads.

“Dee–” Orion murmured against his dermas, cupping his faceplate. “How are you feeling?”

D-16 hummed and leaned into Orion’s servo. “I feel amazing.”

Orion laughed softly and kissed him once more. They laid there for a while, the energon crystals glowing brightly above them, speaking softly of everything and nothing.

#transformers #transformers one #maccadam #tf one #d 16 #d 16 x orion pax #orion pax #optimus prime #megaop #megatron #apples words #spicy apples

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tinycozycomfort · 1 year ago

Text

rest in the cup of my palms (part two)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter two: do you feel it, too?

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: you fight hard to keep old habits at bay. joel falls into his head first.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> semi-public dry humping, kissing, mentions/fantasies of p in v sex, possessive thoughts, no one is drunk but everyone blames the wine, joel miller loves his kid!

word count: 5.3k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: i'm in shambles over the response to the first chapter, this series is my baby and it means so much that you guys liked it. thank you a million times for reading!

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“The wait begins as soon as I wake up. There is never any “after”. Life stops from the moment he rings the doorbell and enters.”

Annie Ernaux - Getting Lost

───────

Joel hasn’t touched the plastic tube since he brought it home last week.

It’s become something he has to hide from, a nagging thought that pulls at his pant-leg like a child, clawing for his attention—open me, open me. Over and over he hears it, while in the office or cooking dinner or folding the wash, a whisper that begs him to reach in and claim his prize. When he’s really tired, brain damp from the days he has to work, the voice pours into something smoother, and suddenly it's that pretty girl—the one who’d made the thing—asking for the same; to be peeled back and stretched wide for him, cunt and heart and all.

He finds himself losing a lot of very real time in the fantasy, chunks of his life spooned out to make room.

The compulsion isn’t unfamiliar; it’s one that Joel thinks has something to do with his protective nature—or maybe that he’s seen enough living through the filters of hurt and mistrust—that makes him cling to the things he finds precious.

It traces back as far as the girls in grade school, when they would bring him little home-made valentines and wave him kisses first stamped onto open palms. He grew enamored with them, picking them flowers and scribbling symbols of promise in their note-books—the very beginnings of his acts of service. His heart would swell with it, a cartoonish thing, growing and pumping until he could keel over to one side from the size. He chased it in those early years, back somewhere between the brothering and fathering, moving through many someones he could fawn over, easing his need to possess.

He can feel the need rising now, for the first time in too long, his body hurtling itself towards the ledge of something scarier, and he welcomes it. His hands itch for it, for the kind of love with teeth, that bites and tears into the edges of a substance much meatier, providing a place for the points to pierce and hold. He won’t call it what it really is, prefering to stomp out the whisper that warns him of its arrival—obsession. He likes to use less severe terms: thoughtful, involved, fascinated.

Knowing better in his age, he tries at least to be realistic during waking hours, and around Ellie, reminding himself that he has a hard time stepping down when he builds his hope high enough. He moves instead to just dreaming about you—in little tidbits and at guest-star capacity—to tide himself over until the week rolls back around.

Now, on a new Monday, he lets his daughter head off to class before he allows himself the privilege of unwrapping his reward.

He fishes around in the back of the hallway closet where he hid the case, retreating to his room to finally have his time alone with the creature he’d made of the object, letting it free from its cage.

He pops off the cardboard top of the roll, pulling the drawing out with the very tips of his fingers to not smudge something on accident. The sound of it sliding out sets his skin alight—this gift is one he asked for, but it feels like it was given to him all the same. Sharing a piece of you with him so freely, he feels special.

He’s gotten used to seeing himself around the house, Ellie’s ever-growing library of renditions of him are fixed to the fridge by mis-matched magnets and framed in little glass panels in her room. It leans on the side of betrayal to have someone else’s version of him up, but he just wants to see it—if it’s as intense as he remembers it. As different.

His knuckle follows the curl of the paper to flatten the image, tacking it up to the wall with painter’s tape to avoid damaging the surface, like his daughter taught him. Joel sits on the corner of his bed and feels a hot wave of emotion fill his chest.

He looks hopeful. It’s a garment he’s never seen himself wear. He’s soft and shy and child-like, face penciled in with detail that reads like a well-worn novel, bending and twisting to the curve of his expression. It’s a finely crafted summary. It’s guide-lines. It’s instructions, the very important parts of him spelled out in bold, black charcoal, with the gray shades of his complexion filling in the gaps.

Was he that easy to pick apart?

He’d seen some of the other drawings, the way everyone else had chosen to capture solely his pose, perfectly articulating the crook of his elbow or the network of muscle under the skin of his calf.

But you’d chosen to show him.

Something about it looks so familiar, enough to bring forward a memory of the conversation that had him feeling the briefest pass of deja vu—of you glancing down at the ground, quieted maybe by his proximity or his compliments; bashful.

He walks out into the living room where Ellie keeps her sketchbook, the one with all the references. He thumbs through it—she’s given him permission to see this one—and flips to the page he remembers watching her use last week. And when he sees it, he feels like he’s going to faint.

It was you.

That was your face his daughter had been so beautifully replicating. Upon examining the fragmented portrait, he sees a striking resemblance to the one you’d made of him. They’re the same. Not the likeness, of course, but the visage. You knew what he felt like—had felt it yourself.

He already knew you, before you’d even spoken a word to each other. He admits that Ellie was only capable of piecing together so much of you, and even with the extra bits he’d caught in your brief meeting, he feels like he’s missing out. He wants to see the whole picture. You, in totality.

When he arrives at the school building, he’s overtaken with a wash of what he thinks might be stage-fright. It makes him feel sick, stomach rolling with an embarrassment that scorches like youth—fight low and flight high—and his body starts to feel sore with the effort it takes to keep himself from fidgeting.

Ellie’s teacher meets him in the hallway and passes him his slip, and he hums his way down to the bathroom to undress, admittedly working up the courage to confront you.

As he enters the classroom, his excitement bottoms out. You’re not there. He keeps sweeping the room with his eyes, hoping you somehow had been hidden amongst the other bodies. He tries to sell himself the idea that you’re just in the bathroom, or on a break or late, but the wooden bench you’d sat in last week is obviously untouched.

He clambers onto the stool, trying to replicate his pose from the previous lesson, much more uncomfortable now that he has nothing to distract him. The two hours are painful, and he finds himself counting seconds to fill the minutes in increments of ten until he can leave.

His back hurts when he stands.

On his way out, the blonde woman hands him a little flier, two pieces of neon copy paper glued together to make a double-sided image, advertising the group show this coming Friday. Ellie has already reminded him more times than he can count, but he takes it from the woman with the best smile he can muster, slipping out the door in a stride he’s hoping doesn’t come across as wounded.

───────

The on-campus gallery is what someone a lot kinder than Joel would call cozy—a tight, short chamber with no windows and a single entrance, like a trap.

He’s too keyed-up to be kind. He feels like nitpicking.

The metal door at the head must have been an afterthought, kicking back into the frame loudly every time someone walks through, nothing implemented to catch it. A continuous beam of fluorescent lighting wraps around the room in an all-encompassing spotlight, cooking the smell of fresh paint off the wall. It reminds him of picture day, or apartment hunting or something else equally unpleasant.

He was always going to come to this, because he can’t imagine a version of himself who wouldn’t support his daughter, but he’s not happy about it, and he’s starting to feel dizzy from the too-fast swirl of anxiety in his stomach.

Ellie had removed herself from his side the moment they made it into the building in search of her friends, with just a squeeze of his forearm and an ‘I’ll introduce you later’ left in her wake. He’s clung tightly to the wall ever since, making his way around the room to look at all the drawings, again and again and again until he feels like he’s on a track.

Discomfort is a factor, but most of his indignation has to do with not seeing you in class—pointed at himself for the absurdity of his expectations—the voice in his head taking a bitter turn. Were you avoiding him? Would you not attend this, either? Did he do something wrong? His mind rambles on as he fiddles with his imitation cocktail glass, the shiny slip of plastic sticking to his fingers. There’s still a generous portion of what has to be five-dollar wine pooled at the bottom, bitter and opaque enough to stain. The woman who poured it for him did so nearly to the top, maybe sympathetically, disregarding that there was money obviously trying to be saved—deeming his cause a worthy one. He doesn’t even want it, really, nauseous at the idea of actually finishing it, but not having something in his hand was winding him even tighter. So he nurses it—even as it goes warm between his grasp, more unappetizing now than it had been twenty minutes ago—sip after sip to try and appear engaged.

Eventually Joel grows tired of waiting, for Ellie to come back or for you to come at all or for this night to just be over, and picks a drawing to pause in front of. It’s a portrait of someone he’ll never meet, another graceful stranger coming together in an amalgamation of grays. He can hear people walking behind him, talking quietly and occasionally stopping to look over his shoulder at it in passing.

“Hm. Quite the fan of my work, are you?” He almost ignores the comment, thinking it's for someone else, as it usually is, until there’s a figure taking up too much of his periphery.

He’s a little dazed when he looks over, the hot, sour wine settled now in the pit of his belly, buzzing with a flare of something not-missed. He’s prepared to see more than one person beside him, perhaps a couple that had been talking near him rather than to him, but when he swivels his neck, it’s you. You’re just as pretty as he remembers, the face that he looks for in his sleep, but this time you’re not as shy, staring at him straight on—maybe similarly loosened by the pale yellow liquid in your own cup.

Heat gathers at the rim of his jaw—his neck is red by now, he’s sure of it. Already exposed and driven by the faint whisper in his mind, he opens his mouth to speak without thinking, “You weren’t there this week.”

You make quick quotes with just your pointers half-heartedly, “‘Sick,'” and breathe a laugh, “Had a few academic duties to fulfill. Gotta keep the scholarship intact.”

There’s a thick moment of silence, but he can’t look away, eyes weighty and cheeks stinging. It’s awkward but he finds comfort in it, embracing the adjustment like it's a step towards better connection.

Someone brushes his arm as they walk by and Joel uses it to his advantage, “Do you want to step outside? It’s a little hot in here.”

There’s a flash of something like surprise across your eyes, but you shrug, “Sure.”

He crowds behind you as you walk step-in-step out the unarmed emergency exit, just to feel the closeness of your body, much better than the distance he’d felt in your absence on Monday.

The night is worse than cold but it feels good against the heat in Joel’s chest. He can smell your perfume wafting back as he follows your movements, and it makes him pant. He’s ill, has to be—that or the wine was stronger than he thought, because the weird tie he feels is one he can’t explain as being healthy or normal or not fucking scary. But when you turn on your heel to face him, taking a seat on a hip-high planter in a secluded outer corner of the building, it feels right. Natural.

He shuffles so that he’s far enough for you to be safe from his touch, and he shoves a hand in his pocket for good measure, “Thank you again for the drawing. It’s really beautiful.”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you for saying that.”

He wants to say something more, like you’ve captured me in a way that makes me hopeful about myself, but settles instead for, “My daughter liked it a lot, too.” It’s a bold-faced lie, but he thinks that keeping your gift a secret would look less appealing.

“Is she here?”

“Somewhere, yeah. Ran off the second we got in. I’m not a comfort anymore, I guess.”

“Is she yours? Comfort, I mean.” You pick at the crown of the cup, rolling it gently in your hands like its real glass, and you both watch the fuzzy pattern of light that catches on its uniform surface. Joel wonders if you have a comfort of your own—if you need one.

“Is it bad if I say yes? It feels cheesy but the kid is my rock. Dunno what I’m gonna do when she grows up.” He shoves at the concrete under the toe of his boot. It didn’t taste as bad coming out as he thought it might. He hasn’t said that out loud to anyone other than himself, but you look at him like you know exactly what he means. The delicate beginnings of a smile crest on your face, cheek pinched, void of all the uncomfortable sympathy he's gotten from Tommy and Maria at the few things he made the mistake of revealing. He can’t find it in himself to stop now with your gesture, feeling relief in having a place to voice his heartbreak, “Honestly I’m scared, but not just for me, y’know? I worry about what she’s gonna find in the world. I just want to keep her safe.”

“She knows it, I’m sure. I know what it feels like to have no one to root for you—I would’ve killed for that. The only thing you can do for her is be there when she comes home,” You’re looking down again, and he doesn’t like whatever’s made you want to pull back from him—be shy, “Spend time with other people you care about and that care about her. Make that network for her to lean on.”

“All I got is my brother. His wife too, sometimes. My nephews. A few years ago it was just me and him. Ellie—that’s her name. She, uh, isn’t ‘mine’,” he makes the bunny-eared quotes with the hand holding his drink, “Not by blood, anyway. But she popped up out of nowhere and I don’t know how to go back to being on my own.”

“It’d be good to have a network of your own, too—if you’re up to it. It’s hard to do, trust me, but I don’t think I could do a lot without my friends.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore. I can’t conjure up much of anything worth listening to these days. Forgot how.”

“Don’t do that. You have a lot to say—you’re plenty. Just start with one person. There’s always time to make more.” He knows you’re talking to him, but it feels like you’re also talking to that little boy inside of him, small and unloved and still bleeding.

“Do you need any more? Friends.”

You look up from your lap, pushing a piece of your hair back from your face like you need to get a better look, searching for a way you could be misinterpreting him, “I might have room. You have a recommendation for me?”

He reaches out, grabbing the empty cup from your grasp, stacking it with his own and depositing them by your side. He doesn’t miss the way you watch him, how you widen the spread of your legs on instinct, enough to suggest his entrance. He wades out on one leg to bring himself in, testing the water.

Your lips are parted, and when he looks into the opening between them he imagines he’s seeing to the center of you, and everything else keys out. Cars pass by on the strip of street behind him, driven by ghosts, providing nothing but a low song for your bodies to dance to together, his chest swaying closer to yours with every breath. You move with him, and it feels rehearsed, like all of the steps you've taken to get to this moment were purposeful, done in perfectly orchestrated succession for the hundredth time.

“Do you feel that, too?” He asks, wanting to know if he’s reading too much into it, feeling that sweet edge of thoughtful-involved-fascinated scrape his skin like a sharp knife, “Do you? Like you know me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and it’s all the permission he’s ever needed.

He leans in, lips skating yours, the warm cave of your mouth begging to be explored. He tries so hard to take his time, soft brushes tethering you to each other with the weight of everything he’ hasn’t had the time to say. His whole body is pins and needles—a fierce heat that floats so high it feels like ice. You sigh into him, the start of a moan, and his composure snaps. Service, he reminds himself, act on it—it feels almost divine when he thinks about all the ways he could pledge his loyalty, ready to bend at your altar every day of his life if it meant you’d sing for him again.

Joel brings a hand to the side of your neck, thumb digging into the pulse point at the corner of your jaw to bring you forward, licking into your mouth in search of more noise. He groans when you relax into his hold, so pretty and willing, and works you until you’re just as fervent, daring to suck his bottom lip between your teeth—going for blood.

The voice in his head is yours again—open me, eat me, unhinge your jaw and swallow.

He slots his other hand around the bone of your hip, pulling you nearer to the ledge of the planter, pressing his cock into your inner thigh as it swells to life. You gather his shirt in your hand, a tight fist, shifting yourself against him so you can grind into it instead. No one else exists, no one else could ever exist in this moment, or any moment you attend, for the rest of forever. He wants to fuck you, to see how far the attachment could go, how far he could reach down before he finds a warm, bed-shaped slot for him to rest in. He wants to live inside the body of someone who sees him so clearly. He wants to know every thought in your head before it comes to fruition.

The wine tastes better coming from off your tongue, and he’s gleaning the flavor from every corner of your mouth like he can achieve a second-hand high. His full weight is rocking into you with enough force now that he has to plant a heel in the ground to keep you both from tumbling. He risks a thumb in your waistband in the flurry, tugging at it in the hope of another invitation.

Before you have a chance to decide, the loud press of the swing-door at the front of the building opens, and Joel staggers back, remembering where he is and why.

You look winded to say the least, hair bent from the imprint of his hand, mouth in a perpetual ‘o’, and he’s scared to see the state of his own face, not to mention the visible strain of his cock in his pants. He kicks an ankle out to try to adjust, heaving through an open maw at the thought that you might be affected in that way as well, picturing the slick wet in between your legs—a beautiful sheen from just his mouth on the top half of your body.

You shimmy off the edge, straightening your shirt and he immediately steps back in for more, draping the full breadth of his hand against your collarbone, curling the tips around the top of your shoulder.

“Joel. I— I need to go inside.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You lay a hand over his with a squeeze and he retracts it, “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting… I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

He can feel his breath restricting, heart plummeting down so far it feels like it’s landed in the ball of his foot; the second time this week you’ve pulled away. He thinks back to the face you made at him in the gallery, back before he fucked this up. Maybe you never meant for this to happen at all.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice strained, “I just need a little time. Just some time, I’m sorry.”

“No, no I understand. Don’t be sorry. Will you take my number? Just in case?” He wants to make sure you’re okay after this, if you want that, and selfishly he wants to give you a way to have him, knowing this might be the last time he runs into you. He’s too afraid to leave it up to chance.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” You pass him your phone with shaky fingers.

“Only if you want to, honey,” He’s disheartened by the whole thing, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he’s careful to double-check, even if it’s a blow to his hope, “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I’m just—the wine, sorry. I think it was bad.” You huff out a strained laugh, “I want it. Your number, I mean. Promise.” You practically shove the thing at him and he takes it this time, entering the contact with as little squinting as possible to save himself from any further humiliation.

───────

You all but run into the bathroom in the back of the building, needing a moment alone to consider what the fuck it is that’s going on right now—what’s been going on since he walked into your class two weeks ago and overstayed his welcome.

You stumble in, bracing yourself against the porcelain basin, switching on the faucet to drown out some of the pounding in your head. You’d been lying when you said the wine was catching up to you—very much sober—but now, in this suffocating, gray room, you feel like it must have at least accelerated the churning in your gut.

You let water gather in your hands, bending to dip your face in the too-cold pool between them.

Every day has been mostly encouraging if not indifferent but this feels like the start of a bad dream you won’t be able to wake up from, dragging you right back to that dark box you’d been existing in. He came in from nowhere, kicking down your reserve, for what? For a fuck? To enjoy you in passing? Or worse, to stay? You’re unsure which would be harder to receive.

And it’s unfair—for him to show up right at the point of being fully on your own, as soon as you’ve chosen to avoid getting caught up in that part of your life. You’re past the point of surrendering your time—know better than to want to be bogged down by a crush or the preconceived idea of the perfect stranger.

You don’t know him, and you don’t need to.

But you want him so bad it hurts; so bad you had to fake a cold to skip class because you couldn't face the idea of seeing him for the last time. You debated skipping the grade for the exhibition too, but you used any excuse to convince yourself he might not show. You weren’t sure who his daughter was, or how enthusiastic she was about the program, so you figured it was a fair shot. You outwardly willed him not to come, at yourself in the mirror and in the shower and out loud the car, all while secretly praying he’d be in attendance, right up to the moment you saw him.

When you stand up, staring at your rigid body in the plastic mirror above the sink, you’re pained at the sight. You look tired, shoulders tense and eyes bleary. Stray beads of the cool water stick to your skin, refusing to dry in the lingering humidity, balling up together to drip into the open lip of your shirt. You can barely feel it falling over your chest before being soaked up by the material. You feel outside yourself.

Someone starts to knock at the door, a quick and invasive interruption to the moment of absolute panic you’d been enjoying. You managed to twist the lock shut on the door at least, so you click your heel against the tile in a wordless someone’s in here, but the knocking persists.

“Occupied.” You try, wet hands slipping against the edge of the sink. This shit isn’t normal. None of that even comes close to normal.

Still, the heavy thrum against the hollow metal continues, and you take a deep breath before practically ripping it out from the socket of its frame. When you have it open, Ian’s posed between the V of the slot, face bewildered.

“Really, truly, I love you, but what the fuck was that?”

───────

Four days from the start of spring break, you’re out at some stranger’s place off Maple, invited by both Ian and your roommate—making it a little harder to get out of—in a joint, well-intentioned attempt to make you leave the safety of your room. A party will be nice, they’d explained, nothing serious, and a week off’s supposed to be fun, right?

The house is pretty, but whoever owns it has demanded everyone remain out on the cobblestone patio, uneven flooring making for a jagged line of bodies packed too tight to fit.

A fire burns in the middle of the yard, billowing out puffs of smoke you know will linger in your clothes for at least two washes. You swipe at some soot that's gathered in the bowl of your jacket sleeve absentmindedly. There’s no music tonight, maybe because there’s real school tomorrow—the elementary school down the street not quite on the same schedule—and you start to think going out on weeknights is quickly becoming more your speed. There's just the soft blanket of everyone murmuring, trying to stay warm in the chill of the wind.

Ian’s prepping some guy across the fire to meet you; you can tell by the look on his face, like he’s planning something elaborate. You smile at him, at least amused by his effort to help you forget the weekend. He’s right, it is spring break, and Joel is nothing but a consequence of your stress-induced impulsivity.

Still, despite your efforts, you’re thinking about him again, even if to punish him. You can still feel the line of his cock against your thigh, pressed hot and heavy into your body like an offering. You rub your thighs together, cursing him for giving you enough material to fantasize about for weeks—your punishment in return.

Ian crosses the circle with your new prospect, and you tilt your cup in mock cheers. Behind him he mouths hot and nice, tell me what you think. You nod, and the guy steps forward to block the flame. He’s handsome, airbrushed face and sweet cologne and long, thin fingers, nothing like how someone else’s had felt at the junction of your hips.

You swallow, hard.

You honestly don’t hear a word that comes out of his mouth from the second it opens, not even to catch his name. Instead, you think about how nice it’d be if you could pay attention, how much easier it would be to fuck someone you thought was nice and safe and not at the forefront of every free moment you’d been afforded in the last two-and-a-half weeks. About what a relief it would be for him to mount and rut into you without consequence—no emotional burden, just boring and lukewarm like the last bite of something you can’t find a place to throw away. It’s always been easier when you didn’t want more. Yet now you want every night, hold out a hand in your dreams and let him into the part of you that has already carved out a hole in his shape.

This guy couldn’t pull your mind off of Joel even if he was fucking you.

When he offers to grab you a drink, you agree and then head into the house, like you’re not supposed to, as soon as his back is turned. There’s a few locked doors, and then one at the end of a hallway that opens up into a bathroom. You slip in, not bothering to switch on the light in an attempt to hide out from being found.

Here you are searching for reason in a dirty mirror above another sink, with nothing but the weak glow of a plug-in air freshener to guide you, too soon after the last time.

You’re angry, suddenly, at how far he’s burrowed himself into your head, with so little to go on. He’s doing nothing but showing you yourself, a tired tactic to get you to fall in love with him while you do all the work. He was just pretending, right? He couldn’t actually want to love you. You groan, when the fuck was love even part of this equation?

You dig your phone out of your purse. The lock screen is bright—bold lettering reminding you it’s nearly midnight—but you click into your contacts anyway, because it’s not like you’re going to call him or anything. His page is still open, the Texas area code populating under Joel - Ellie’s dad—typed out with caps and all like that’s his only meaningful identifier. You scroll to see where he’d punched in ‘just in case‘ in the notes section of his info-card, and that decimates the cliff of restraint you'd barely managed, sinking in on itself under you.

Your hands are wet with unease, held hostage by the way he’d read your thoughts out loud. You did feel it too, that searing weight of knowing—of being acquainted with him despite only meeting once before. He had to have been honest in at least that confession. You ask yourself for permission—‘was he going through this as well? what exactly was he feeling? would he explain if you asked?’—until it turns into selling yourself justification—‘you could just fuck him, right? that’s all this has to be, right?’.

Yes, you decide. Just another test of will—you can do it. You can pass.

Your finger hovers over the number, closing the screen and opening it again and again and again until you just bite the bullet and fucking press it, the screen going black as you shove it against the side of your ear, covered again in darkness.

He picks up within two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Joel,” You offer him your name like a secret, “It’s me. Did I wake you up?”

“No, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“Can I come see you?”

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