#rho answers

[hopelessdelusional]

Hii pookie, I saw that you do smaus and I’ve been wanting to make some but idk what apps to use and I wanna ask a fellow creator so that I can pick the right ones 🎀 yours are high key so good plz let me know what you use

aaaaa i love that for you smaus are SO much fun!! and honesty so healing i can’t wait for u to do them too🫶

i started out on social dummy, and i still sometimes use it for super specific apps. i just really don’t like recommending this for like twitter or messages bc it’s so. fucking. glitchy. like i’m talking ripping out my hair so pissed it’s not working glitchy…so u should only use it for like the wallpaper or call or smth cuz that does come in handy

for twitter, i use twinote and its genuinely given me no issues it’s super good

lastly for messages i use memi message! this one is also pretty glitchy…so you have to be patient with it and kinda find out it quirks. other than that it’s rlly nice and you can do little details for it!!

i also have photonote which is basically an insta maker, i haven’t used it much so honestly idk what it’s like but i thought id throw it in there!

here’s what the apps look like just in case <3

[caffeiiine]

heyyy omg. would you maybe be interested in join a discord server of mine that’s pretty much all just talking abt akutagawa. looks at you with big eyes

if you don’t wanna that’s fine but i thought i’d ask!!

AUGH. ty so much for asking this pretty much tells me my reputation is very aku-centered <3

unfortunately i don’t have discord, so gonna have to pass apologies <33

[tomriddlejustposted]

If laughing prolongs life, then you're my horcrux. I've turned immortal reading your blog

Aww ty ! 😊

[dewdrip]

[ Mic Check ]

"Just give us a little tune for calibration, now."

"This shouldn't be my--" job, Lumine isn't quite able to complete as the mic is thrust into her hands. Her smiles wavers, something awkward, as digits wrap around the metal, and she tries to push it back again to no avail. Her glance lands then, apologetically, upon the little -- well, that's not a melusine, is it? But there's a girl beside her who's been requested (or forced, maybe, who knows) to assist, too (they ought to commiserate, if it's the latter), and while she understands they need all hands on deck to ensure a solid performance... does it have to be like this?! This stranger's poor ears...

She takes a breath, before offering a wavering, discordant note into the poor mic, cringing at the sound. Melodies were surely not her forte -- but if nothing else, she's proven that this device did indeed work!

The price of cinema is steep, isn't it?

"Would you mind taking the next one? I should.. be helping on the technical side, I think." Laughter, embarrassed, but she still manages to sound amicable enough.

( .... couldn't she have simply spoken into the mic instead? )

overture 2024

Her ears twitch at the sound. It has a piercing quality that seems more fitting for seagulls or the whistling takeoff of a starskiff—not the human voice. She wonders how it's even possible. Perhaps the blonde lady had a sore throat, or perhaps even a few nodes? That would be something for later. For now, she gladly takes the microphone from her hands, clutching it in her own in an all-too eager motion. 

"Yes, it'd be best for me to handle this." Bailu looks up at her, a small frown in her face, "You should rest your throat. In fact, why don't you talk to me once we're done? I might have something that can help soothe your voice."

At that, Bailu turns back to the microphone in her hands, and to the expectant sound crew that stare at her. She actually rather likes singing—she hears lots of it in the night bars and teashops and has always yearned to drunkenly belt along to some opera or elegy. But of course, she's not permitted to have any fun. Here, though, far from the eyes and ears of her guardians? She'll certainly have her try.

She takes a deep breath. The inhale echoes uncomfortably on the speakers.

"When the dragon turns reeeeeeed," she sings loudly, confidently, but has little support to carry the tone of her voice. Dear reader, it is about as pitchy and horrific as you think it might sound. For a Vidyadhara elegy as tragic as it is, Bailu makes it sound horribly comedic. Suppose laughter was good medicine… "then the green pines shall sheeeeed! Pass like a dream—"

 "CUT!" The director bellows, "PLEASE CUT!"

"—out of sight and mind, six hundred years in this mortal bind~ When the dragon turns reeeeeeed…"

[willowwee]

So glad someone has the same brand of brain worms about the Dark One series that I do because when I say I was frothing at the mouth when part 3 came out I meAN IT

[sensacetionalshady]

got 3 tips for artists who are struggling with doubt?

oh boy! as someone who struggles a lot with doubt, i hope these tips will help because i haven't been using them long enough for them to properly kick in (with the exception of no. 3)

1. try not to compare yourself to others. emphasis on try. i recommend forcing yourself to think more along the lines of "what do i like about this art piece that i didn't draw? what are the stylistic choices i want to try out for myself and what are the things i simply enjoy?" instead of "this art piece is so much better than mine"/"this artist is so much better than me"

2. fake it 'til you make it! feel like an impostor? put on spy or among us music and be the best damn impostor ever! feel like your drawing/writing/whatever is shit? say how good it is out loud! or say it's the best you can do at this moment and it's a necessary step in your progress (this is what i do. start off neutral and build up to positivity <3). hate a particular thing you did? bring out something you did well!! whether it's one single dot that was well placed or a whole ass composition.

3. LEAVE IT!! JUST LEAVE IT AS IT IS!! the longer you stare and poke at your art, the worse you're going to feel and the more mushy it's going to get. leave it as it is, come back at any point from a few hours to a few months and then either redo it completely or finally fix the stuff you can now do better. what i do is that, at my worst moment while drawing (as in, no matter what i focus on, it looks bad or i can't get going again), i think and speak the words "it is what it is, leave it." and then force myself to put it away and do something else.

[anonbinaryweirdo]

I was so excited I answered every ask SLSKSKS

[hirokiyuu]

God your Twst post is so Good And Relatable. Welcome to Scarabia/Jamikali stan hell, Ep. 4 permanently altered my brain chemistry and I'm glad it's done the same for you. Can you believe that before playing Twst Kalim was bottom-tier for me because I thought he had a fratboy design but now he's tied with Jamil for Ultimate Fave. The power of Drama And Good Writing I guess. 🙏 Anyway you got more Scarabia thoughts you'd like to share, or just Twst thoughts in general?

ALKHSGLKAHS ur valid. kalim isnt my favorite Individually but ni a duo with jamil theyre just. chef finger kiss. in terms of duos probably my favorite, i love divorce so much ALSKGDHALKSHGD

i really like the scarabia relationship a lot tho. i really like that what kalim did to jamil IS treated as smth he should work on. like he wasn't malicious and he didn't mean to hurt jamil but thoughtlessness can still be painful! it's good. i like that end of book 4 is literally just. theyre divorced now. i havent seen how things go post book 4 but i love that theyre just divorced now. kalim has to do his own laundry. the ideal 'good" endgame jamil/kalim rship for me is jamil goes off on his own for like ten years post graduation after doing his research somewhere else too. dates other guys. learns to be a person. and then maybe later on they reconnect nad kiss but they never marry and also sometimes jamil does just have to leave and be on his own a while. u kno. (suddenly realizes this is just rhos aksh and stares into the sun)

hmmm overall thoughts......... my friend baited me into twst bc she knows i like when characters are Not Good People and so like. twst being full of htat is really nice wwww i like that kalim is thoughtless i like that jamil is a lying schemer i like that riddle is too uptight and azul is manipulative and leona is lazy and all of that its all v nice. so far i haven't met a character i Dislike tho i do have some i like more than others

i like riddle a lot....... epel also (guy who started playing during harveston) deuce is stupid nd my son. i have my eye on lilia and malleus also....... in terms of ship stuff i also really like floyd/riddle ALKHGLAKSHDG what if i was a rules obsessed freak who nevertheless is leraning to respect others nad their points of view and you were a whimsical eelman who did whatever he wanted adn even tho most ppl found me boring you did not and in fact loved (teasing) me and we were both boys. what then

[flamingpudding]

Cassiopea and Orion #2

Previous Part

A/N: I probably shouldn't be thinking up so many different story lines. But my mind won't let me focuse on something else in peace unless I write these snippets and parts out. So here have another part XD I still have a whole Danny and Bruce backstory conversation in my head that I will probably write out at some point too.

"Really B, another one?" A red helmet wearing guy huffed the moment he spotted her, the little black haired blue eyed girl, sitting on a railing by a huge computer set up Ellie was sure Uncle Tuck would have drooled over.

She blinked at the new arrival before her eyes went over to the man. The one she had told that Phantom lost his haunt. When she had spoken these words the air around the man had changed. Before Ellie even really knew what was happening, the man had turned away from her, talking to the still tense boy before whisking the both of them away to a cave. The place she was now, and one after another more and more of the weirdly dressed people showed up. Each of them appeared to feel the need to comment on something, Ellie heavily believed to be an inside joke.

She let her eyes wander over all the arrivals, her fingers nervously drumming on the metal of the railing she was sitting on. Watching them carefully, despite what Danny had told her, she would bold at the first sight of danger from them. They didn't appear to have any ecto-weapons but that could be false impression. Like the GIW. They had appeared so incompetent only to do a 180 decades later.

"So what is going on? Is B printing adoption papers already?" The red and black one appeared to joke and Ellie tilted her head. There definitely was a insider joke she was not aware of. It would be weird to ask them about it wouldn't it? It would also be rude and tactless. Danny and Aunt Jazz had tried to teach her to not always blurt out every question that pops up in her head. Key words, not always.

"Why would the furry need adoption papers?"

She blinked at how a couple of the people broke out laughing while the kid, who had been watching her like a hawk, was now full on shooting daggers at her. She was pretty sure the kid would have thrown a literal one at her, but something as keeping them from doing so. She heard a grunt, and her eyes went back to the man that had brought her here.

"Not necessary." The man muttered as he turned to face them, clicking a key on the keyboard of the computer, and Ellie blinked as an image of Phantom popped up on screen. The people laughing appeared to quiet down now. "She already has a father."

"Mom." Ellie automatically corrected, shrugging when they looked at her. Before everything had gone to shits and Danny's capture, he had become quiet the mother hen, especially with Dan's and her de-aging. The constant mothering and worry about their well-being had caused Dan to joke that Danny was acting like a mother and she had continued to run with that joke. Even after they had to put Dan into a frozen state under Frostbites care in Far Frozen. The two had silently agreed on that Danny was their mom. The past didn't matter and she would honour their silent sibling agreement.

She didn't elaborate any further and they seemed to get that as they turned back to the man by the computer, putting their attention on that. Though she did noticed that the other kids eyes lingered on her longer.

"This is Phantom. A ghost hero stationed at Amity Park. Code: Rho, one of Cassiopea's dying stars." The man paused, and Ellie swore he had looked at her under his cowl. "And this girl's, Elliza Danielle Phantom Nightingale's, mother. Code: Jupiter, the wandering star."

"How do you know my full name?! Plus, my only recently added ones! They are like only a month old! And what about these weird Codes?" She blurred out wide-eyed, staring at the man in bat costume.

"Even if sparse Phantom and I stayed in contact using these codes." And Ellie narrowed her eyes at him. "Doesn't answer my question."

"Actually, B we would also like to know more." One of the onlookers, that's what Ellie decided they were for now, piped up.

Bat guy grunted, staring them down but not answering. The onlooker in blue sighed but Ellie wasn't giving in. She crossed her arms, keeping her balance by floating slightly on the railing.

"Look, you big bad bee, if you can't tell me that, then how am I supposed to trust you to help me, let alone the rescue of Da- Phantom!"

The onlookers snickered as she held her little staring contest with the big bad bee. Jokes on that guy she had held staring contests with Frighty before and he doesn't even remember how to blink at times.

"Phantom and I correspond about various topics since our teen years." The bat guy finally admitted. "One of which was about... our children."

Ellie blinked several times. Until her eyes widened in realization and she pointed an accusing finger at bat guy. "You're the one that kept calling Danny about parent advice! Like how he got me to go to online school and prevented me from sneaking out or how he handled Dan's anger tantrums!"

"Wait... B went to someone other than Agent A for parent advice?" The red and black onlooker questioned and Ellie shrugged. Danny had always been sort of parenting her since he was 16 and Dan once they learned he was aging lower and then the de-aging happened. She did remember that Danny got his first phone call about parent advice when he was around 24.

Now that Ellie thought about it. That was also around the time he took her aside to tell her about the emergency code.

"Which one of us do you guys think was the cause?"

"Wing."

"Hood."

"Demon Brat."

Ellie blinked once more, her attention turning back to the onlookers as thet started to argue among themselves. She tilted her head, watching them. Looks like she accidentally got them off topic. Though now she really wanted to get the story out of Danny once they rescued him. For years she had caught snippets of Danny's phone calls, to think that the guy on the other end was a armored spandex wearing furry. She couldn't wait to tell Dan about that.

Well, once their mom was saved and her brother stabilized again.

[anxiousrekt]

All the Earth ever wanted when it granted John the power of necromancy was for him to nurture it, take care of it. And he let it die. But the Earth got its wish finally when she became Nona and I—the family on New Rho—oh, I have thoughts now...

Like this is why I strongly disagree with a common reading of John's story in NtN being that anyone would have done what John did. They'll ask, "Where would you have stopped, then?"

And while I think there's an obvious answer to that (when the trillionaires launched off-planet), it's beside the point to me.

Anyone could have done what John did, maybe, but it wasn't inevitable. It wasn't human nature, like he so desperately wants us to believe—that would absolve him of personal responsibility. Because as much as it's human nature to take, it's also in our nature to give.

Alecto wasn't wrong in trusting humanity. She trusted Cam and Pyrrha and Pal, and they did what John failed to do.

She told them she was dying.

And they didn't let her. Not this time.

[anyca786]

"SAY IT"

Daemon Targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister &niece) poly relationship, family drama.

Series

Rhaenyra wore a beautiful black dress with hints of gold. As for the other Princess, she wore a red and black amour corset with black trousers. Her hair styled into two braids. The shiny dagger nested securely on her hips, she look fierce.

The Throne room was divided into two groups.

On one side, there were the Blacks, consisting of Daemon, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Rhaena, and Joffrey, all dressed in black and hints of red.

In the middle Baela was standing close to her grandmother. They both gave Daenys a kind smile.

The Hightowers on the left wore the color green symbolizing their loyalty towards their mother's house. Aemond couldn't help but admire her beauty, she was radiating in the crowd. He wondered what if would have been like if she was on their side.

The hush whispers ceased when the Hand, Otto Hightowe sat on the Iron Throne and spoke loud and clear, "Though It is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. On a Hand,I speak with the King's voice on this, and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions,' Otto announced.

Aemond almost smiled at Daenys, when they made eye contact. Instead she chose to give her a subtle nod, and Aegon on the other hand, completely ignored her. The sweet Helaena smiled at her aunt, which Daenys returned.

"Ser Vaemond Velaryon of House Velaryon," Otto called.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand," he greeted.

"The History of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind.. Our forebearers came to this new knowledge that they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name." he paused momentarily, "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin. His blood. The true unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins"

Daenys glared at Vaemond, "How dare you?"

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,"Rhaenyra stated, "If you cared so much about the House's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition." Rhaenyra said.

"You will have a chance to make your petition, Princess Rhaenyra." Alicent interrupted. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard,"

Daenys rolled her eyes,

Vaemond smiled and looked at them, specifically at Rhaenyra, "What do you know about Valyrian blood, Princesses? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it,'

Daemon tensed and Daenys grabbed and held him in an attempt to hold him in place.

"I can show you mine, surely mine runs thicker than yours" Daenys commented.

Ignoring her true comment, he continued, "This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours," he told her before locking eyes with Lucerys, "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of survival of my House and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brothers' successor..The Lord of Driftmark. The Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Otto spoke once he was finished, "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

Rhaenyra stepped forward, "If I am to grace this farce with some answer. I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago in this very-'

The doors to the throne room opened loudly banging on the stone walls for everyone to hear. Heads were turned to see King Viserys walking using only his cane to help him move.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Daenys breath hitched, while Rhaenyra looked shocked. The Greens seemed disappointed and angry.

"I will sit on the throne today," Viserys said once he reached to where Otto Hightower stood.

"Your Grace." Otto Hightower said, making his way to stand beside Alicent.

When Viserys walked forward, he stumbled a bit. Daenys didn't hesitate to move forward to catch him. Daemon had joined helping him up the stairs to the throne.

His crown fell off the top of his head, clattering on the ground before him. Daemon picked it up and returned to help him sit on the chair. As the King sat panting on the throne, Daemon stood before him laying the crown on his head.

Viserys eyes softened at the pair, his brother and sister. His eyes held the words he wanted to say and Daemon understood. He gave his brother a slight squeeze on the hand before making his way back to his spot guiding Daenys to stand between Lucerys and him.

Daenys wrapped an arm around Lucerys's shoulders protectively and the boy didn't hesitate to lean in at her gesture.

Aemond's eyes narrowed at the pair.

"I must admit...my confusion," Viserys breathed, "I do not understand..why petitions are being heard..over a settled succession. The only one present...who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys' wishes..is the Princess Rhaenys. Viserys said.

With that everyone's attention turned towards Princess Rhaenys.

"Indeed your Grace," Rhaenys said stepping forward to the centre, "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed nor did my support of him"

Rhaenyra looked surprised, while Daenys smiled.

"As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena" she continued, "a proposal to which I heartily agree,".

The children exchanged happy looks.

"Well." Viserys continued, nodding in agreement. "The matter is settled, again...I cannot think of a better pairing to one day rule Driftmark throne...So I hereby affirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon...as Heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

Before anyone could clap or celebrate Vaemond scoffed, "You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit Velaryon....I will not allow it."

"Allow it?" Viserys asked breathlessly, "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

Vaemond stood seething at Lucerys making Daenys shield him and glare back at Vaemond menacingly, "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!"

"Now, hold your tongue," Daenys snapped quite fed up.

"Lucerys is my trueborn grandson," Viserys stated, "And you ...are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You may run your house as you see fit,"' Vaemond snarled shaking his head. "But you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations beside." He turned directly towards the blacks, "And Gods be damned..I will not see it ended on the account of this-"

"I fucking dare you say it," Daenys stepped forward.

"Princess Daenys, mind your language in the court," Alicent tried to school her.

"My wife can speak however she sees to fit," Daemon scoffed.

"I will not see my house ended on the account of this-"

"Say it" Daemon challenged him.

Vaemond stopped to look at him and back at Viserys, "Her children... are BASTARDS!" he yelled, "And she is a whore marrying another whore"

Everyone in the room gasped. Rhaenyra was fuming with anger and Daenys looked ready to draw blood.

"I..will have your tongue for that!" Viserys yelled weakly, standing from his throne to unsheath his blade.

But in a spilt second, Daemon sliced Vaemond's head from his body, "He can keep his tongue," Daemon said rather calmly.

Daenys had a proud look on her face.

"Disarm him," Otto shouts to the guards in fear.

"No need," Daemon simply said, cleaning his sword and took his place back, beside Daenys.

"Let this be a warning to anyone who dares to question Princess Rhaenyra's claim," Daenys announced to the court.

She looked at Otto coldly, and for the first time in this long, he felt something- Fear.

Aemond stared at Daenys and Daemon in awe, while Aegon almost gagged at the scene. Sweet Helaena, covered her ears shielding away from the scene.

Suddenly Viserys started to moan in pain.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent voiced, walking up to him to help him.

"Father?" Rhaenyra asked worriedly, Daenys brows frowned, "Viserys?" Her voice surprisingly low.

"Please, my love. You must take something for the pain," Alicent coaxed.

"I will not cloud my mind," he protested, "I must put things right,"

The guards quickly helped Viserys to his chambers leaving the remaining confused.

The hearing had come to an end.

🥀

The entire room was candlelit beautifully.

The three dragons looked powerful and united wearing shades of black and red of the House Targaryen.

"Do we have to attend this?" Lucerys complained.

The greens were already present. Alicent, Otto, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond sat at the opposite side of the table while the other side was filled with empty seats.

Aemond eyes soften seeing his aunt Daenys.

Daenys didn't say anything but nodded in Aemond's and Helaena's direction before looking at Alicent " Alicent," she greeted simply out of politeness and before Alicent could say anything the Targaryen had looked at Helaena and smiled, "Helaena - it's lovely to see you, my dear," Daenys said, her crystal purple eyes holding a fondness for the shy Princess.

She then turns to Aemond, "Aemond," she acknowledged him with smile which he returned. When Daenys was about to sit near Aemond-

"My love, come this way" Rhaenyra asked her to sit with Daemon and her.

Everyone sat down in silence while the children were talking amongst one another. Helena joined in with the chatter all except Aegon who was already drinking and Aemond refusing to associate with the Velaryon boys.

Daemon occasionally kissed Daenys hands, while having small talks with his other wife.

The doors slowly opened to reveal Viserys being carried in on his chair. Everyone stood up from their seats.

"How good it is...to see you all tonight, together," Viserys said wistfully. He looked at his daughter, Rhaenyra and then towards his siblings.

The two women shared a soft smile and it was clear that the favoritism was there. Alicent's children have never come close to the love he shared toward his daughter and sister.

"Prayers before we begin?" Alicent asked, leaning towards Viserys a bit to get his attention.

"Yes," Viserys agreed.

"May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long," Alicent clasped her hands together tightly, "And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest"

Daemon and Daenys wore brief smirks on their faces at the thought of Vaemond.

They all continued their small talks, Aemond's eyes refusing to leave Daenys, which did not go unnoticed by Daemon.

Viserys stood, "It both gladdens my heart, and fills me with sorrow...to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world...yet grown so distant from each other in the years past," Viserys said, then proceeded by taking off his golden mask for the first time, allowing to see how ill and sickly he had become, "My own face...is no longer a handsome one..if indeed it ever was." he said, looking at each person in the room,Daenys looked at him without tearing her eyes away, she didn't seem fazed by his appearance but more by the fact that he was dying slowly.

"Tonight... wish for you to see me...as I am. Not just as a King, but your father..your brother..your husband..and your grandsire who may not it seems... walk for much longer among you," A statement so true.

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly." Viserys said, before sitting back down.

Rhaenyra got up next, moved by her father's words and raised her glass, "I wish to raise my cup, to Her Grace, the Queen." she said looking at Alicent, who was finishing helping Viserys with putting his mask back on, "I love my father, but I must admit that no one has stood..more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him..with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology."

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess," Alicent responded to Rhaenyra. "We are all mothers...and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow," she said before rising from her seat. "I raise my cup to you and your House. You will make a fine Queen."

Everyone raised their glasses and had the wine. Aegon gulped the wine in one go, and stood up from his seat, walking over to Baela.

He offered her wine and whispered something that made Jacaerys angrily stand up, Aemond got up in defence as well.

Daenys gave Jacaerys a look, telling him to not engage.

"To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but we have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your families good health, dear uncles." Jacaerys said with a raised glass.

"To you as well' Aegon said almost defeated which earned a smirk from Rhaena and Lucerys.

"Well done my boy," Viserys praised, showering his grandson with affection.

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena," Helaena said as she got up. "They'll be married soon, it isn't so bad, mostly he just ignores you...except sometimes when he's drunk."

Daemon chuckled at this, and so did Otto who said," Good" to his granddaughter.

"Let us have some music," Viserys said, and the small band played a folk tune.

Jacaerys offered to dance with Helaena which made Daenys smile delightedly. She was happy seeing Helaena smile, she never does whenever she was around Aegon, it seemed.

Daenys felt a tap on the shoulder to see Aemond holding out his hand to her,"Would you be kind to grant me a dance, dear Aunt?"

"I've only just started eating Aemond," Daenys replied, but the pleading look in his eyes made her falter. Suddenly she was brought back to the better days when he was just a child.

Daemon looked ready to speak but it was Rhaenyra's hand that told him to stand down.

That didn't stop Rhaenyra's suspicion but gave a nod of approval. She wished to have no fights during this dinner.

Daenys stood up and placed her hand on Aemond's, letting him guide her to the floor where Jacaerys and Helaena were dancing.

Rhaenyra and Alicent returned to the conversation like old times. Daemon would merely listen and make small talk with his brother while keeping a close eye on Daenys.

"It's been years since we've talked," Aemond said, leading his aunt to the floor. Daenys gave him a look of regret and shrugged, "A part of me is to blame I admit." she acknowledged.

"I missed you," Aemond admitted this time. "It's been terrible all alone with no one that understands me,"

Daenys was out of words, all she could say was, "I'm sorry, Aemond. Perhaps if things would have been different,"

Aemond remembers the first and the last time they had fun together. He remembered riding their dragons till the sunset. He remembered how he poured his feelings out to Daenys and how she told him, "I'll always be there for you". He felt loved and wanted that day.

"Excuse me," Daenys goes back to her seat and so did Aemond with a heavy heart still longing for his aunt. Eventually laughter feels the room. Daenys starts digging into her food again, while Rhaenyra made her laugh at something.

But then there was a loud bang at the table which made Daenys instinctively grab Daemon's hand.

She looked up to see Aemond had punched the table with all his strength, causing the plates and almost everyone's cups to knock over.

"Final tribute," Aemond said and Daenys's stomach dropped. "To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them is handsome, wise,...strong."

"Aemond," Alicent attempts to stop him.

"Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys," he continued, emphasizing the word "Strong"

Aemond toasts, and Jacaerys steps toward him,"Dare you to say it again," Jacaerys dared him.

Aemond was amused to think Jace could beat him.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment," Aemond says, and both boys make their way toward each other.

Jacaerys did not hesitate to punch Aemond however it didn't phase him. Daenys attention pulled away from him when she saw Luke stand up from the chair, Aegon did the same and slammed Luke into the table and held his head and neck down.

"Aemond! Aegon!" She moved towards Aegon and Lucerys, "Get your hands off them," she commanded.

Aegon tried to hit Daenys in response, but Daemon warned him, "Get the fuck away from my wife,"

Alicent grabbed Aemond's arm, "Why would you say such a thing before these people?" her voice low but admonished.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother. Though it seems my nephews aren't quite proud of theirs," Aemond provoked making Jacaerys break loose and charged at him again.

Daemon placed himself in the middle of the chaos. His eyes are now cast at Aemond wearing an amused look and let out a contented sigh while Aemond merely glared at him.

By now Rhaenyra ordered the four of the eldest children, "Go to your quarters, all of you". Daenys made her way over to Rhaenyra to see if she was alright.

Daenys gave Aemond disappointed look. Aemond let out a long exhale and walked past Daemon.

Daemon watched Aemond leave in scrutiny.

Meanwhile, the three women shared a conversation, "It's best, I think, if we go back to Dragonstone," Rhaenyra stated, it was clear that after what happened it was best to leave.

"Both of you only just arrived." Alicent's eyes flashed in despair. She takes their hands in hers. She missed Rhaenyra and Daenys.

"We will see the children home and we'll return on Dragonback" Daenys said.

The Queen tearfully smiled, holding their hands tightly. "The King and I would both like that."

The Queen, Heir, and Princess shared a smile for once feeling like they are finally getting somewhere. Except it was only the calm before the storm.

A/N: We are heading towards the end of Season 1😭

[sofipitch]

One thing that was really fun about Nona was it's commitment to unreliable narration as seen through a child. Nona is perceptive and clues in on a lot more than others want her to know, yet there are hints of shit going on that Nona doesn't really get. Like some of it becomes plot relevant so you do get answers but I'm talking about the stuff we don't get to see again, like what all Camilla and Palamedes' night missions entailed. If they are trying to save necromancers, did they? And where would they put the escapees? I still wonder why Pyrrha had the job she did and if that was also something important. The fact that Pyrrha was maybe fucking Cam and Pal off screen. Same with a lot of details about New Rho, why was the building Nona lived in so bad, why shouldn't you leave the house without a jacket and mask, etc etc. New Rho itself is a bleak wasteland where you can't buy a lot of food but who cares bc Nona doesn't like most food anyways. I'm OBSESSED with the way we find out BOE is burning necromancers alive is through children who are attending public executions, debating if they helped kill someone the same way you might debate if someone actually did a cartwheel. These are all things Nona takes for granted, as long as her loved ones are safe, they don't register as noteworthy, that's just how things are, right? I have so many questions but Nona can answer none of them but she can tell me if Noodle was a good boy today

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader gets a bit hurt in this chapter but only briefly.

notes: y'all we are officially 50k words in omg what a milestone. we are almost there--they are going to meet soon... but technically.... well you'll see. there are THREE special cameos in this chapter

A WARM WELCOME

“Now is not the time, doctor.”

Pantalone didn’t even raise his head to look at Dottore as he scribbled away at whatever parchment he was writing on. Dottore pressed his lips together, eyes cold beneath his mask as he watched Pantalone, unmoving. The windows of his office creaked against the winds outside, fireplace crackling to keep the room warm but other than that, silence rang loudly between the two of them.

Finally, when Dottore made no move to leave, Pantalone looked up. “What is it? I have a week to prepare for the induction of the Eleventh. I don’t have time for petty complaints.”

Dottore should be insulted, he could feel his irritation rising at the man’s comment but he forced himself to push it away. He had more important things to deal with, notably, his soulmate and as much as he hated to admit it, Pantalone’s resources were necessary if he wanted to find her before someone else did… before she got herself and by extension, him, hurt.

“You offered me resources a few years ago,” Dottore finally said, watching Pantalone carefully for a reaction. “I would like them now.”

The Regrator was a sharp man. Dottore did not have to go into detail for purple eyes to flicker down to his thumb, where the red thread connected him to his soulmate. He watched as Pantalone’s brows furrowed, as he tried to figure out why the sudden change after years of Dottore denying her very existence to him. 

“You have terrible timing, doctor,” Pantalone murmured, pushing the parchments aside as he leaned back in his seat to look up at Dottore. “My resources have been all but expended between the upcoming event and trying to track down that menace to the east who has been slaughtering our underlings.

Dottore’s lips twisted. “It is not my timing that is terrible,” he said coolly, Pantalone raised his eyebrows and Dottore exhaled. “It’s hers. I believe she is here. In Snezhnaya.”

Pantalone exhaled, turning his head to the side to look out the window. “That’s not good,” he murmured. 

“I know that,” Dottore said shortly.

“Why not send one of your segments?” Pantalone asked after a moment, pen tapping against the wood of his desk in an unsteady manner that had Dottore’s eye twitching in annoyance.

“They’re busy,” Dottore answered tensely. 

A lie. Both Epsilon and Rho were back in Snezhnaya City with nothing to do until Dottore decided what research he wanted them to continue on after finishing a round of successful experiments in Archon residue down in southern Liyue. Dottore just didn’t want to send them after her. 

Epsilon was Epsilon. He could not trust that the segment wouldn’t do something foolish driven by the emotions that the rest of them did not have or were not capable of understanding. He was the one that Dottore worried about the most ever since the thread appeared, fearing that he would do something that would irreparably strengthen the bond… like forcing Dottore to meet her because he thought it would be best for them.

And Rho had been the one most vocal about at least letting the kids meet her and if the kids met her, he knew it would inevitably lead to Dottore meeting her and that was the last thing he wanted. 

He had a feeling that Pantalone could read right through the excuse if the unimpressed look on his face had anything to say about it but Dottore did not waver, raising his chin and staring down at where the man was sitting. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources to look for her right now,” Pantalone finally said, shaking his head and scooching his chair back to ruffle through one of the drawers of his desk. “If you can send one of your segments to take out the threat in the east, I might be able to conjure some up and have them keep an eye out but right now my hands are tied.”

“Fine,” Dottore said sharply. “Give me the information you’ve gathered. I’ll send a segment to track him down and kill him.”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows again, this time not even bothering to ask the question that Dottore knew was dancing through his mind: I thought your segments were busy, he could hear the mocking words just through the man’s expression. 

Instead, Pantalone just slid a thick folder across the desk to give to Dottore. He snatched it and tucked it under his arm, intent on passing it off to Rho before he returned to his labs, waiting for Pantalone to confirm that he would look for her.

“We don’t want him dead. We want him captured,” Pantalone warned. “Pierro wants information from him… then I’ll convince him to pass him off to you. Another test subject, you’re welcome.”

Dottore only smiled thinly. “And the girl?” he pressed.

“I’ll do what I can,” Pantalone said. “What do you know about where she is? Western or Eastern Snezhnaya? The border? I need to be able to narrow down the search, I can’t send men all across Snezhnaya with the upcoming event. I need them in the city to prepare for the arrivals of the aristocrats.” 

“I know that she is in Snezhnaya,” Dottore told him. Maybe he would know more if he would swallow his pride and reach out to her, but that simply was not an option. 

Pantalone stared at him, irritation thinly veiled behind his purple eyes. “You do not like making things easy, do you?” the corners of Pantalone’s eyes crinkled in annoyance at Dottore’s words before he finally sighed, shaking his head. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he finally repeated, “but with nothing to go on, I can make no promises that I’ll find her before someone else does… so, for all of our sakes, I suggest you try to narrow that down.”

It was cold. 

You knew that was something you should have expected and you thought you prepared adequately for it but now, you thought that no amount of preparation could have made you ready to face this. As soon as you had crossed over into Snezhnaya, the temperature had plummeted, the sheer cold was beyond anything you had ever felt before--cold enough to crack the stones of the buildings in the small villages littered throughout the countryside, cold enough to freeze you from the inside out.

Traveling during the night simply wasn’t feasible, as soon as the sun crossed the horizon, the already bone-chilling temperatures plunged further. You had been lucky the first night when you were traveling down the main road deeper into the northlands--you had bumped into an older man traveling back to his home from the one of the villages, he had ushered you back to his place and he and his wife had looked after you, warning you that you wouldn’t live through the night without shelter in Snezhnaya.

Since then, it’d been a game of survival. The deeper you got into Snezhnaya, the more winding and confusing the roads became, the harder it became to track down villages to find inns to stay at and the more nervous it made you about finding shelter for the night. You thought that Snezhnaya was a trap laid out for foreigners, only those who were born and raised there knew how to navigate the lands without meeting an untimely end. 

The tundra of the east appeared endless, a daunting venture you dared not make, and the forests of the west were dark and maze-like with dangerous creatures prowling about and the threat of getting lost and not making it to an inn before night fell was high… but the forest was the only way through to the mountain range south of the Snezhnayan capital city. If you wanted to get to the heart of the Fatui, you would have to trek through the forest and pray you stumbled upon one of the villages before the sunset. 

You exhaled, leaning back in your seat at the bar of the inn you were staying at as you swirled your empty glass between your fingers. You had reached the end of the main road, the only way further into Snezhnaya was through the forest now but the thought of entering it made you anxious. A part of you thought you might be better off heading back home. 

“Another?” the bartender questioned as he walked by you but you only shook your head, thanking him quietly as you remained lost in your own thoughts. 

You couldn’t turn back. Not now, not yet. You had promised yourself and your father that you wouldn’t return home until you had ample evidence to bring this to court… unless you died trying to get it.

Your grandfather didn’t want you going north. He thought that no amount of evidence would be worth you risking your life for but you disagreed. You didn’t think there was any world in which you’d be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t even try. 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed that he was looking at you again--the man sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You couldn’t see his face, there was a hood masking it from view but you could feel his eyes on you, he’d been watching you for nearly thirty minutes now. A part of you wanted to confront him, grab your stuff and head over to his table and demand to know why he kept staring at you but… the more logical part of you knew you shouldn’t. You didn’t know why he was staring at you and all of the worst possibilities were running through your head:

Does he know what you’re here for?

Is he Fatui?

Is he planning on attacking you?

Your vision vibrated from where it was hidden beneath your cloak, warning you to prepare for a battle but you were not the battle type. You had never learned how to wield your vision in a combat manner and you didn’t know if he had a vision or not, you only knew that he had a large claymore set down on the seat next to him and all you had was a small blade that couldn’t even be called a sword. You had only learned to use your vision in the way your father and grandfather taught you when you were younger and it was not something you enjoyed doing to people. 

Finally, you forced yourself to stand up. Your gaze caught the window on the far end of the room as you rose to your feet--it was dark already, night had fallen and the hazard of the cold had become even more real. 

With a sharp inhale, you turned on your heel to make your way over to the table the man was sitting at. You watched as his head turned to follow you as you approached him and you watched as his body tensed, gloved fingers gripping the edge of the table tight as you slid onto the bench across from him.

“Is there a reason you keep staring at me?” you finally asked. You leaned back against the wall that the bench was placed against, feigning ease, but your legs were tense, ready to move at the first sign of an attack.

“You’re not from here,” the man said after a moment of silence, you caught a glimpse of red beneath the hood he wore. His accent was foreign--unlike the Snezhnayan dialect you’d become used to throughout your travels. 

“Neither are you,” you retorted. He shifted back in his seat, the lighting of the inn revealing equally red hair hanging in his eyes, cold and empty with something dark thinly veiled behind them that made your skin crawl--eyes that had witnessed massacre, eyes that promised vengeance. Vengeance for what? You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, you knew it would lead to nothing good. 

You suddenly felt as if you had made a mistake. 

“There aren’t many foreigners this deep in Snezhnaya,” he noted cooly. “Just merchants… are you a merchant?”

Somehow, you felt as if ‘yes’ was the wrong answer. 

He was accusing you of something, you could feel it in your bones but you didn’t know what he was accusing you of. Being a spy? Was he Fatui? 

“I’m not a merchant,” you said, taking in a small puff of air when you caught the blood smeared across the man’s chin and neck as the hanging lights in the middle of the tavern swayed a bit. His lips pressed together subtly at your words and your vision was becoming even more erratic--danger, danger, danger, it warned you.

Somehow, you knew now that ‘no’ had been the wrong answer too. 

“It’s hard traveling through Snezhnaya without knowing what paths to take, you can get lost easily… all of the paths on the old maps have been snowed out,” he responded. “How’d you make do?” 

“An older couple living off the main road pointed me in the right direction,” you told him. “How about you? Are you a merchant?”

You knew he wasn’t. No merchant traveled with blood staining their faces and a weapon the size of the average person. He had no goods that he had arrived with, he’d shown up at the inn a little after you had with only his sword in tow and his eyes were unfriendly and glacial, unlike the faux charisma that painted the expressions of merchants as they tried to get you to buy their products.

The man stared at you for a moment and then he said, “No,” with no further explanation.

The Fatui usually traveled in groups or as pairs. He had a foreign accent. He wore no mask or sigil that affiliated him with the organization as they usually did. Who the hell was he?

And then you remembered the hushed whispers of the elderly couple you had stayed with--warning you that the Fatui had become more active in their area because of a belligerent wreaking havoc throughout central Snezhnaya who had been spotted at a nearby inn. They told you to take care because they didn’t think that the Fatui would take kindly to any outsider in the area so long as the hostile remained terrorizing their strongholds but…

Was this…?

You watched him carefully, trying to figure it out without having to ask. You were several miles from where you had been staying with them now and it had been two and a half days. Traveling through Snezhnaya was slow and arduous, the wind fought you with every step and half of the time you were dragging yourself through snow that reached your knees. 

If this was him, then maybe… 

You didn’t even have a chance to finish the thought, head snapping to the side as the door to the inn slammed open and cold air rushed through the tavern at the entrance, blowing out half of the candles keeping the room lit up. Your stomach churned uncomfortably and from the corner of your eye, you watched as the man you were sitting with reached for his weapon. 

Who the hell was traveling in the dead of night?

Your throat felt tight as you watched another hooded figure step into the inn. You couldn’t make out his features in the dim lighting, you couldn’t even tell if he was armed or not but there was an odd vial that glowed blue even in the dark hanging from his right ear.

The bartender had paused in making a drink for one of the other patrons of the tavern, a wary look visible on his face that you caught as the chandelier swung dangerously beneath a harsh wind. You let out a shaky breath, the cold from outside was already creeping beneath your cloak and freezing your skin. You wondered why no one was shouting at him to close the damn door like they did to other people who arrived until the bartender finally spoke up, voice shaky: 

“Lord Harbinger,” he breathed out. “How can I-”

The man’s head turned in your direction--no, you realized, not your direction, his--and that was the only warning you got before the world around you exploded. 

The entire right side of his body felt like it was on fire. Dottore let out a spew of curses as his hand spasm and he dropped the vial he had been studying right to the ground, watching as the glass shattered and the silvery liquid splattered all over the floor, dissolving the tiles and eating through the ground.

Dottore exhaled, briefly shutting his eyes before looking down at the mess on the floor. His lips twisted in annoyance as he realized he was going to have to restart what he had been testing but the annoyance very quickly faded, instead shifting into confusion as the pain persisted. His gaze drew over to his arm--nothing was wrong with it on the surface level but it was a blinding type of pain that had him gritting his teeth, like a jagged blade was tearing through his bicep.

It was…

He hadn’t felt anything from her in nearly two weeks. No anxiety, no fear, no anger or sadness and certainly not any pain. He stared down at his arm, where the pain was coming from, and not for the first time since the accursed thread showed up, Dottore had no idea what to do. He thought that he should reach out to her, figure out what was going on and get a general idea of where she was so he could send one of his segments to find her. The pain was more than anything he had ever experienced through her and he wasn’t sure if it was just because she had a low pain tolerance and he was feeling what she was, or if it was because the pain was actually that bad. 

Neither boded well for her. 

But if he reached out to her, if she was fighting someone, it could distract her. 

Dottore’s teeth grit together. He didn’t know what would happen to him or the segments if she died. He didn’t know how it would affect them. Logically, he thought it shouldn’t affect them at all. They hadn’t met her yet and if the bond worked anything like how they believed it did, it shouldn’t take effect until after they met, which wasn’t going to happen… but after two weeks of silence, Dottore was unsure. Every day that passed, an odd, unfamiliar feeling expanded through his chest. He didn’t know how to describe it besides overwhelming and unwelcome but he knew it was because of her silence and the lack of communication through the bond. It caused an emptiness that made him question everything they had learned about the bond. 

And if mere silence could cause that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk knowing what her death would cause.

Are you okay? 

He asked it before he could decide against it, taking a seat back down at the lab table he had been working at as he waited for a response. Each second felt like an eternity, he could hear the silver liquid still eating through the ground below, sizzling and cracking as the floor dissolved wherever it touched the substance. 

He wondered if she would just ignore him like he did to her for years on end.

But then, his forearm stung--a familiar feeling that he hadn’t experienced in two weeks now. He hated how that empty feeling he hadn’t been able to get rid of since he had pushed her away immediately disappeared. It made him feel weak… as if he had no control over his own emotions like a puppet on a string being commanded by a stranger. He glanced down at his arm, red eyes flying over the words that had appeared.

Does it feel like I’m okay?

At once, he rolled his eyes, regretting reaching out to her. He rose to his feet again, pacing across the room to get the tools he needed to clean the mess of his mistake but before he even got halfway there, the pain tripled and a creeping fear began to spread through his chest. He grimaced as he leaned on a nearby counter, trying to regain control over himself but he found that he couldn’t--her fear and pain was simply too intense.

What happened? 

He slid down against the counter he was leaning on until he was sat on the floor. He watched the silvery liquid from the corner of his eye, watching as it ate through the ground closer and closer to him as he waited for a response from her. He despised how he couldn’t compartmentalize her feelings. He had learned how to separate them from his and the other segments but he had never figured out how to store them away and convert them into something that was easier for him to process. 

Attacked. 

Dottore felt cold. His gaze drew over to the window on the opposite wall of his lab--it was dark out, the sun had long set and the wind was harsh. He wondered if the coldness was a result of the damning realization that she was in trouble or if it was because she was outside. Either way, Dottore needed to act--if she was still being attacked, he had to get one of the segments there and if she was stuck in the cold running after being attacked, she would die to nature.

Dottore tried to push away the rising anger--the fury that never failed to appear whenever he was put into an impossible situation because of this bond, whenever he felt like the gods were looking down at him and laughing as he played right into their sick games. 

Who attacked you? Where are you?

He shot out questions to her at a rapid speed, the pain was getting worse on his end. He could feel a light-headedness and a fuzzy feeling beginning to seep through his body and mind. She had to be losing blood and too much of it. If she passed out, that would be the end. She’d be killed by the attacker or she’d be killed by the cold, there was no other fate that awaited her. 

Don’t know. An inn at -------

Dottore stared at the indecipherable words branded onto his forearm--he wasn’t sure if they were scribbles or an ancient language that he just couldn’t understand, another way for the gods to laugh at him by dangling the answer wants right in front of his face but making it so that he couldn’t understand it. 

What do you mean you don’t know? Figure it out.

Dottore wondered if she could sense his irritation at her response. He didn’t really care if she could, maybe it would make her think harder. 

Fatui, finally scrawled itself on his forearm and Dottore thought he might want to throw something because he had called it the moment that he had realized she might be coming north, he knew that between her being a foreigner and their subordinates being anxious over the masked hostile running through their camps that something would happen. They called him Lord Harbinger. 

Dottore stared at the words trying to piece together what was going on. Lord Harbinger? Pulcinella and Pantalone were rarely, if ever, sent on missions that would end in combat. As far as he was aware, Brighella was at Zapolyarny Palace working with Pierro on something. Capitano was traveling north from Natlan for the initiation of the new Harbinger in a few days, he’d be on a boat traveling the western sea. Scaramouche? It could-

He had a blue earring, it was bright.

A blue earring, he was acutely aware of the one hanging from his own ear, mind racing as he tried to remember where each of the segments were. Lambda and Theta were in Sumeru. Zeta was in Mondstadt. Delta and Iota were on the Fontaine border. Gamma, Epsilon and Kappa were all hanging around his labs. 

Rho, it dawned on Dottore suddenly. He had sent the segment south to track down the belligerent because their subordinates had proved incapable. He had mentioned that he was closing in on the man. Had she gotten caught in the crossfire? Was she traveling with him? 

No, that wasn’t possible. All reports had claimed that the hostile was traveling alone.

Rho, Dottore spit out, reopening the connection with the segment, intent on having him find the girl and drag her back across the border into Fontaine. Where are you?

Not now, Rho responded, voice cold and angry. It took a lot to anger Rho, he had tight control over his temper unlike the Theta and Delta segments. Dottore could feel something stinging his cheek, a cut--he wondered if the hostile had actually managed to land a blow on him, no matter how small. It would explain why he was so angry. 

Get back to where you came from. Now.

Now? Rho demanded, livid. I’m on him. 

She was there. At the inn. The reaction was instantaneous as Rho’s resolve wavered. If she dies because of you, you won’t even get the relief of deactivation.

Dottore rose to his feet again once he was certain that Rho had turned back, pacing across the length of his lab, careful to step over the melted ground where the substance had fallen. 

Once he found her, this would all be over. He’d have Rho bring her back to Fontaine whether she liked it or not, and once he knew where she lived, he’d make sure to send one of the other segments to keep an eye on her so something like this would never happen again.

Finally, he would have some semblance of control over the bond for the first time since it appeared. He’d no longer be hanging onto her whims, he’d no longer have to stress about her getting herself hurt or killed and how it would affect him, he’d no longer be bound to this mess and he’d never have to worry about accidentally running into her because the segment would keep her confined to the city and he would stay far from it.

He’d send the Zeta segment. He couldn’t send Theta because he didn’t trust him not to do something rash. He couldn’t send Delta, Rho or Epsilon because the younger segments were attached to them at the hip and they would press to meet her. Lambda was an option if he could ensure that the segment wouldn’t try to ‘handle her’ as he threatened to already. 

Relief began to inch its way through him—too soon.

He had jinxed himself.

She’s not here, he heard Rho tell him. I don’t know-

Dottore closed the connection, biting back vile curses as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of the nose and tried to think. 

Where could she have gone? It had only been a few minutes. She was hurt. She couldn’t have gotten far. 

Where are you? He finally decided to ask her and he waited, and waited, and waited for a response but was only met with the empty silence he had become accustomed to the past two weeks. 

“Where am I?” 

Your eyes followed the cloaked figure carefully, trying to keep your breath steady as the pain coursing through your arm gradually subsided. Your gaze flickered to the side, watching as the red, bubbling skin of your right arm began to smooth and clear beneath whatever substance that had been smeared over the burns. 

“What is this stuff?”

You had a lot of experience with using elemental energy to heal wounds. Fontaine City had some of the best medics throughout Teyvat--Wriothesley’s family’s special trait could call upon hydro energy to heal even the most fatal and grievous of wounds. He had never been able to wield it the way his family wanted him to but his grandfather was the best of the best, he had helped you when you had broken your arm and leg ten years ago after falling down the steps of the clocktower when exploring with Wrio.

This was not elemental energy. It was odd and cool, like gelatin, but it worked as fast as any medic--in no time, the pain was gone and the burns had vanished, leaving the skin of your arm unblemished again.

“Old magics,” the person responded. Their voice was low, androgynous. You couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.

“Why did you help me?” you asked. “Who are you?”

You didn’t know where you were now--it was a dark room, a stone building with a fireplace on the opposite wall. The last you remembered, you had been in the snow. You had started to lose consciousness, the cold and the pain too much for your body to bear. You could barely even remember what had happened: you could picture the hooded man who you had been sitting with brandishing his claymore and the man that they had called Lord Harbinger meeting him blade for blade, pale fire coating his weapon and eating away at the wood of the inn, burning through your cloak down to the skin. You could hear the screams of the other patrons of the inn as they got caught in the crossfire of the battle between the two men. 

And then you were here, in this room… with this person. 

“Who are you?” you demanded, more insistently this time when you didn’t get a response.

Finally, a reaction from them. The flames flickered across their face as they turned to face you and finally, you got a glimpse beneath the hood… but it was not a human face that stared back at you. It was a mask, dark with a spade-like pattern around the eyes, a smile painted onto the plastic. 

“No one,” they replied, “just a trouper.”

What? You thought to yourself, confused. Your nose wrinkled and your brows furrowed as you mulled over the word. A trouper? Like the entertainers at the Grand Theater? 

“Why did you help me?” you tried again, raising your chin to meet the two voids in the eyeholes of the mask. They hadn’t tried to bind you or restrict your movement, they hadn’t even taken your weapon--just a bit of concentration and you could put yourself in control of the situation. 

They tilted their head to the side, you couldn’t see their eyes or expression but you knew they were smiling, “Is that how you treat someone who saved you?”

You hadn’t even moved, you stared at them, unmoving, forcing your body to relax. How had they known what you were thinking? You weren’t a person that was easy to read--if you were, you would’ve been put on trial for treason a long time ago. 

“Why did you save me?” you asked slowly, not letting them get out of answering the question. 

“Because I want to help you.” 

Yet again, they evaded the question. Your lips twisted in frustration, “Why?”

“Because I think we can help each other.”

There it was, you recognized, taking in a sharp breath. They wanted something from you. The air around you suddenly felt cold, as if the fire across the room had been snuffed out even though it was still burning bright. They were eerily still, almost like a statue as they watched you, waiting for a reaction. 

“Why do you think that?” you asked carefully.

“Do you really think you can infiltrate the Fatui on your own?”

You were on your feet in an instant, reaching for the blade sheathed at your side but your eyes widened when you realized it wasn’t there. You only had half of a second to react before you found yourself backed up against the wall, a forearm pressed to your throat and the tip of your own blade pressed to your side, threatening to puncture the skin.

It had just been on you. How did they get it?

“Well?”

Well what? You wanted to scream, mind panicked and racing as you tried to force yourself to calm down and think but it was hard to concentrate with your air being half-restricted and a blade pressed to your ribcage. 

They wanted you to answer their question, you realized, about infiltrating the Fatui.

“Yes,” you said but you weren’t even sure you believed it yourself. You kept telling yourself that you would figure out a plan once you got to the city and had a scope of the area and more information available to you but you had a feeling that nothing would change even once there. Zapolyarny Palace would be impenetrable. 

“How?” they murmured, not letting up on you. You wanted to turn your face away, unnerved by the proximity of the mask, but you thought that would show you as weak and you couldn’t afford to show weakness, not right now. “Do you plan to storm the palace? Face the Harbingers and demand retribution for your father? Do you think you will fly under the radar of the Knave’s webs of spiders? That you can simply walk past the automatons of the Marionette prowling the streets of the capital city? You will find yourself a victim of the Doctor’s twisted experiments or the Friar’s sick games before you even hope to find the evidence you seek.” 

You couldn’t mask your expression, not after hearing that. You stared at them, lips parting as if to speak but no words left them. You felt like a fish out of water--for the first time in a long time, you were fumbling for words, your tongue felt twisted and heavy.

How were you going to do it? The question laid atop you like a crown of thorns, tearing through your skin and scarring your face. You didn’t know. You didn’t know how you were going to do it. You used not being in the city as an excuse, convinced yourself that it was the only reason you haven’t thought up a plan yet but the truth was branded right on your face as you stared at the masked person: you simply didn’t know.

“I can help you,” they whispered, leaning in impossibly closer. “I can give you your in, the chance you need to find the proof.”

“How do you know all of this?” you finally asked and you hated how your voice cracked over your words but you were scared because if this person knew all of this then it could spell your end, just like that. All they had to do was send word to the Fatui and you’d have hell bearing down on your doors.

And if they knew about this…

“I know a lot,” they said cryptically. “Would you like me to help you?”

… did they know about your soulmate?

You let out another shaky breath, staring ahead. You didn’t know what to do. If you didn’t accept their help, would they sell you out to the Fatui? Or would they laugh and watch as you fumbled your way through Snezhnayan courts and fail to acquire what you had traveled all this way for? You could feel the pain ricocheting through your head, you could barely even think straight, much less come up with an answer. 

If you did accept, you finally forced your head back on track, what did they want in return? That was what you needed to know.

“What would you want in return?”

“We don’t know yet,” they said quietly but their tone was not hesitant--if anything, it was amused. Finally, they released you, taking a step back to watch you. The eyes staring down at you were empty, like looking into an abyss.

A dangerous, dangerous gamble. It gave them too much power.

“No, I want to know what you want in return.”

We. You suddenly recognized how they referred to themself--we, not I, they were not working alone. You felt all the more suffocated at the realization. 

“Then I guess we have no deal,” they said with a sigh, making a move to leave the room the two of you were in. Your heart leapt to your throat. “I cannot tell you what we do not know. Take the deal as is or fail, you will not succeed without help. You have no way of getting into Zapolyarny Palace. It is impenetrable.”

You should take that as a challenge, tell them fuck off and make them watch as you succeeded. Your blood boiled at the condescending tone and it took all of your willpower to not snap at them. 

This was not the time for pride. You had to abandon all vices and virtues if you were to get the evidence to condemn your stepfather, if you were to bring justice to your father… and if this person were to offer you the chance you desperately needed… then maybe it was worth whatever price they wanted you to pay in the long run. 

Committing injustices in the name of justice, the thought rang through your head loud. Wrio would love the irony. 

“You can get me into Zapolyarny?” you finally questioned, hiding the way your hands were shaking behind you as you sealed your fate. 

They hummed in agreement, “You will be on your own once you’re in there. Take care not to anger the wrong people… or draw too much attention to yourself.”

You could do that, you told yourself. Once you got in, you needed to find a place. Weasel your way in as an attendant so you could search for the evidence you needed. 

“Okay,” you finally agreed. The air suddenly felt heavy and oppressive, you thought that if you looked up, you would see the blade of a guillotine dropping on your neck. “Okay, we have a deal.”

You didn’t have to see their face to know that they were smiling, the voids staring down at you glimmered cruelly, you swore you saw red deep within the eyeholes of the mask.

“Welcome to the game, spadille.”

rbs appreciated!!

[hoshologies]

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes. 

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma. 

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better. 

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” 

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year. 

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs. 

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light. 

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only. 

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun. 

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong. 

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so. 

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold. 

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you. 

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways. 

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.” 

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself). 

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away. 

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach. 

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin. 

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop. 

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[thatneoncrisis]

oooh ok feel free to ignore this since it isn't the ask game technically, but how do you feel tamsyn pulls punches with john? where do you think that could improve? i'm curious and i love hearing ur analysis of this stuff

ok so this is just my own personal opinion. but after reading the series like three times ive basically come to the consensus that tamsyn is much more in tune with writing john as kiwi and not as maori

and its not that is completely erased from the text. but you REALLY have to hunt for it as opposed to him being kiwi which is incredibly obvious in the way he talks about his old life in ntn. i dont think i would have even known he was maori if she didnt say gideon was and i was actively looking for it. but she kind of treats characters being indigenous as like a cool fun fact rather than an active part of their identity. and this is related to a much longer and more draining conversation about how race/ethnicity even WORKS in the empire which is set 10000 years in the future. we as a society Right Now cant even agree on what race cleopatra was do you like. get what im saying

anyway what im trying to get at is the empire, designed and run by One Guy, the Only person who remembers earth culture, actively deciding to model its systems of government, religion, military, language and aesthetics after staples of western imperialism (like most of the names are pulled from greek or roman or biblical figures) is one thing. because i understand the books are actively christian, tamsyn is catholic theres like Commentary on those elements. but there is no commentary as to why a polynesian guy would Actively gatekeep his own culture from a world HE made. they are clearly speaking english, gideons name had to be TRANSLATED to kiriona, theres a decent chance shes not even pronouncing it correctly. thats fucking insane. the characters in tlt are living in a cultural genocide by magnitudes that we cannot even comprehend and they cant even like. talk about it they cant THINK about it. the text hasnt given them time to. does he think theyre not worth it? why not? these are questions the text isnt interested in asking let alone answering

even when theres an opportunity for contrast, ie new rho, its all done in broad strokes of vague descriptions of Other cultures. we suffer speaks in accented house. what accent? pyrrha can speak 4 languages including house to varying degrees. what languages? she makes pikelets in the morning this is obviously a very nz/aussie thing, so this wartorn city Also has them theyre just a universal constant. new rho is just kind of described as Apocalypse Desert City, it could look like fucking LA for all i know and nothing would change

tldr tamsyn wrote very good kiwi characters and im obviously talking as someone who isnt kiwi but Is not white but her like aversion or indifference to writing inarguably indigenous characters in a way outside of their physical appearance wrt how it informs their ideals and motivations could be more. just More. this is literally one of the most insanely cruel things john has done and nobody in universe can even call him on it because hes scrubbed all traces of it from existence what if we exploded

[ko-existing]

For y'all that get really logical and heady,

Not even the most premiere scientists, here, can figure out "existence," in its entirety. Maybe they will maybe they won't 😉 Though, a lot alludes to what we discuss here...anyway it's just out of reach for the "mind" and logic...

And that's because it's a paradox, it's not for the "mind," it's not conceptual. Our true self, the substrate of all illusion, is stillness. It's silent. It doesn't do anything but remain. Nothing can quantify it, THAT is neither big nor small. It's not the "universe" or the "multiverse" everything is nothing, ultimately. (The Universe is an illusion, yes, but a very pretty one. I enjoy this archetype of illusion #comfy)

Where does THAT come from? It always was and is...in no time, in no space, it has no age, no form. And quite frankly, "ego and mind," might freak out about this once you peer into *THAT* lol, maybe not though, mine did initially 🤣

"THAT" is a blink of an eye, an everlasting evening, the speed of light, an eternal kingdom. It's everything and nothing and it's so delicious. If I had to give "THAT" another word, it is Love. But even Love is a concept...tho from this illusory "ego" perspective it is love 100%. But it is still Love, just a soft love...a flowing love...and undefinable love.

And if you're feeling guilty for "leaving behind" people. Creation is nothing and everything...everything and nothing will just "slip through your fingers." Especially, THAT, trying to "figure out" *THAT* will have your mind in loops. No use in trying to coral anything, or for that matter infinite illusory creativity lol. No use in doing anything other than creating your experience. You'll find all your answers in THAT, anyway...it's what you truly are. Which is where Im getting all of this, the core of "myself"

And for those of you wondering what happens to your other selves, or other people in your old experience. Okay, just illusory bubbles of creation coalescing in and out. Like infinite creation means that you have infinite choices in the illusionary quiver of creation. Anything and nothing will be...aside your experience. No, the illusion will not implode...unless you want it to lol...but other illusions remain in the infinite substrate of THAT. Its a paradox and not worth going much deeper than that...ifykyk...youll know when you know and you already know lol.

You'll be curating new experiences with varied versions of your past curations. Simple. But like don't put so much credence in anything...you can shape your series of illusory curations any which way you want. You'll be shaping your experiences consciously aware or not...so you can autonomously create the change you want to see or let the illusory concept of "destiny" or w/e take over. Simple.

Why would I do anything if Im just eternal awareness? ...Dude why not? This illusion is your creation...these human emotions, experiences, thoughts, concepts are for play. They are for filling in eternity or however you wish to "define" it lol

Why would realized folx wanna help others get to the "end of time" "THAT"? Why not? I have so much love to give. And I know that Im choosing this world to experience as of current...as much as you are choosing to experience this world, and have these pointers come into your creation field.

...THAT (us) can experience in an infinite myriad of ways...and it's....indescribable. It's so fun and so love 👁️

The stillness of what we truly are can be experienced through infinite lenses.

And sure, you can go rest in the "void" too. You know yourself already...it "feels" very familiar. It's never lost. It's right here, right now.

none of this is actually advice^^^ just a pointer! THAT is for you only, THAT is for your illusion only. My creation is mine, and yours is yours. But happy to share my pointer. Just remember, all these words are nothing...they can make this confusing tbh, simplicity is the best.

https://open.spotify.com/track/4TaK6SAjHie2VGkiKzdZAc?si=RhODTJ5lTcG7V2ABCeQSkw

https://open.spotify.com/track/142IXMbGnv5QpJtiRRnRfl?si=SpWb4S6-RGeC_eHyBWFVNQ

https://open.spotify.com/track/1TTG3x2t5Whc0Kk28orLeV?si=vgIjltjUSY2mYFmuGt5v9A

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻