#the END. everyone can stop tormenting each other now

[rileyslibrary]

HR thought it’d be a good idea to handcuff you and Ghost together as a team-building exercise. It wasn’t. Or was it?

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,345 (approx. 5-6 min reading time)

Notes:

Fluff and the typical shenanigans

Warnings: language, suggestive content

For @ddiamondsdancing, who inspired me through her story

More of these.

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He secures one end of the handcuffs to your wrist and adjusts them.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“It’s beautiful, Lieutenant, you shouldn’t have,” you reply and flick your wrist.

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, does it hurt?”

He’s one of the most feared men on the base, yet he worries about hurting you. That’s… new.

You twist the handcuff, and he advises against fidgeting too much, asking you to let him know if it hurts so he can readjust it.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you finally say.

“Good,” he responds and clicks the other end of the handcuff to his wrist, “shall we get going?”

You nod.

Things have started changing around the base since HR got their hands on your superiors. They switched their focus away from resorting to punishment and toward more effective ways of communication.

That was all good and fun until Captain Price and the other higher-ups decided that this training shouldn’t be limited to them alone. They believed that everyone at the base could benefit from the same approach.

And here comes today, where you find yourself assigned to Ghost as a buddy with a pair of handcuffs—key not included—and instructed to spend the entire day helping each other. Or torment. Whichever comes first. Or more naturally.

He starts walking, but his strides are so broad that you get dragged along.

“Can you—” you struggle to find the words while keeping up, “can you chill for a second?”

He stops in his tracks, which causes you to bump into his back. You look at him, annoyed, and he stares down at you.

“You need to slow your pace, Lieutenant.”

“You need to pick up yours.”

“I can’t lengthen my strides,” you explain, “but you can shorten yours.”

He looks down at his boots briefly and lets out a sharp chuckle. You wonder what’s going through his mind. He turns his feet outward like a ballerina and starts taking little steps forward.

“Are you mocking me, Lieutenant?” you ask.

“Do you walk like that?” he asks back.

“No.”

“Then no, I’m not mocking you,” he replies, although you can hear the amusement in his voice. He stops and turns to face you.

“Go on,” he says, gesturing with his head for you to move to the front, “you take the lead, and I’ll adjust my walk.”

The rest of the day wasn’t easy, but it was manageable.

You went to the training room, where you had to do the same exercises simultaneously and adjust to each other’s pace to get work done, except in some cases where the Lieutenant wanted to put in more reps. So you sat on the ground, cross-legged, with your hand attached to his, and waited until he finished his push-ups.

“Ready to hit the showers with me, Lieutenant?” You tease and anticipate his reaction.

He stands up and helps you off the ground.

“From bonding to bondage...” He says, and you immediately get flustered. You weren’t expecting this kind of reaction, that’s for sure.

“Tempting offer, soldier,” he says in a flirtatious tone, “but first, you have to tell me...”

He pauses and seizes you, looking at you from head to toe. Your heart beats so fast in your chest that you can feel your pulse in your throat and head.

“...how are you going to remove your shirt?” He asks and shakes your handcuffed hands.

Good question. But you won’t let logic, or Ghost, take hold of you now.

“When there is a will, there is a way, sir,” you reply. “I can cut through it.”

“And what about putting another shirt on afterwards?” he adds, raising an eyebrow. “Will you be sewing one back on?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Always with the logistics, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to think ahead,” he explains, pulling you gently to keep moving, “just in case we have to explain to HR why we’re both handcuffed and naked.”

Touché.

You organised the warehouse for your next task, and the handcuffs forced you to communicate and collaborate more closely than ever before. Navigating through the cluttered aisles and shelves became a shared challenge. You relied on each other’s strengths to find the best way forward. Every movement had to be coordinated, and every decision was made together.

Even when you wanted to take a break and have a snack, he helped you by holding up your water bottle while you munched on your sandwich. It was as if the handcuffs became a synonym for unity and teamwork rather than restraint and suppression. You had to trust each other’s judgement and, by combining your resourcefulness, turn every obstacle into an opportunity.

Up until you had to pee.

“Can’t you hold it in?”

“Until the end of the day?” You ask, squeezing your legs together, “No way, Lt., sorry. I—we have to go now.”

“No wonder why,” he snaps and pulls you with him, “you drank the entire water bottle.”

“It was you who fed me the entire water bottle,” you snap back and follow him to the toilets. “You were squeezing too much water in my mouth—that’s why it went empty.”

You approach the bathroom stall and squeeze into one of the cubicles. Ghost looks away to allow you some privacy.

“Sir?” You ask, and he turns halfway.

“I need your hand; I mean my hand to unzip my pants.”

He lets out a long exhale and relaxes his arm, so you can use it as you wish. With his hand very close to your zip, you pull down your pants and squat.

But nothing’s coming out. You need more privacy, and unfortunately, under these circumstances, you had none. How didn’t HR think of that? The HR, of all the departments!

“You done?” He asks with his head facing the door.

“I haven’t started yet,” you explain. “I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”

“A couple of hours ago, you wanted to shower together, but now you’re uncomfortable peeing in my presence?”

“That’s different, Ghost; I think you know that.”

And, as if things weren’t awkward enough, someone knocks on your bathroom door. Ghost lifts his heels and peeks from the top of the door. He instinctively turns halfway to talk to you, but you kick him to look in front.

“It’s Janet from HR,” he jokingly tells you. “Want to say hi?”

“What the hell, Ghost?” You whisper, “Shut up.”

He chuckles and then turns to face her.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologises, “you’re going to have to find another loo; we’re trying to pee in this one.”

You glance at Ghost’s back, and your face flushes with embarrassment.

“We’re... experiencing a tiny issue, Janet,” you explain, “the handcuffs, you see...”

Before you can finish your explanation, Ghost interrupts you.

“It’s a team-building exercise, Janet!” He says in a threatening tone while peeking at Janet, who’s hurrying out of the bathroom, “We’re exploring new levels of trust and communication; ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU FUCKERS WANTED US TO DO?”

“GHOST!” You shout.

“What?” he asks, acting innocent. “They should have considered the consequences before implementing stupid shit.”

“Speaking of shit...”

“Don’t tell me you have to do that as well,” he says, throwing his head back. “We’re going to stay here forever.”

“No,” you reply, “I’m done—your feud with Janet helped me.”

With Ghost’s help, you zip up your pants, wash your hands—all four of them—and head to Price’s office, where you’re about to report how the team-building exercise went. In return, you will receive the key to your handcuffs.

You stand at the captain’s door with several other soldiers, handcuffed in pairs.

“I’ll miss you, Lt.,” you whisper, “my other half.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, really,” you continue, “who will I have now to unzip my pants when I want to pee and squeeze the fucking ocean in my mouth when I want water.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies, “I’m sure you’ll find another poor soul to torture.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” he says, taking your hand discreetly and interlocking your fingers in his, “not one bit.”

———————————————————————

[twstunes]

hello and welcome to the Rollo Torment Nexus, designed to impart the absolute worst academic experience to everyone's favorite deranged church boy.

rationale:

1. Rollo has to be surrounded. There is no easy way out short of vaulting over the desk, and we all know he's not gonna do that while class is in session.

2. Floyd "Malicious Noncompliance" Leech has to be sitting directly next to Rollo. This should be self-explanatory. Whether he's actively doing something annoying or just taking notes in sloppy handwriting while wrinkling tf out of his notebook pages, his presence will be enough to test Rollo's patience.

3. Someone Floyd loves to annoy and/or talk to needs to be sitting on Rollo's other side. I've chosen Ace for this example, but Jade, Kalim, Grim, and Lilia would also work. Jamil would also be a good choice, as he would likely find a way to redirect Floyd's attention onto Rollo.

Riddle and Azul also have potential, but there's a solid chance they would take their lessons too seriously & ignore Floyd to the point he stops trying to get their attention. This would result in him being less annoying to Rollo, which is antithetical to the point of the Rollo Torment Nexus.

4. Malleus, naturally, has to be present. Though having him sit directly next to Rollo would be funny enough on its own, having him sit behind Rollo is the advanced play here. After all, if Malleus is within view, Rollo can keep an eye on him, thus keeping his own paranoia at bay. If Malleus is looming ominously behind (& above) him, Rollo has no way of staying watchful without blatantly ignoring the lesson/letting Malleus know he's wary. This would vex Rollo to no end, AND Malleus would find it funny.

5. Now, I know what you're thinking. Why Ruggie? Why not Idia or Azul, since Rollo would be more cautious of them?

Like Jamil & everyone else present for the Glorious Masquerade misadventure, Ruggie doesn't like Rollo. He's also one of the wilier students at NRC, meaning he wouldn't think twice about getting a little revenge at no cost to him.

Ruggie and Floyd are chill, but not overly involved with each other; further, Ruggie's physical presence in the classroom isn't particularly unusual, unlike how Idia's would be. Both of these points minimize the chance of Floyd abandoning his "talk across Rollo" endeavors to chat with Ruggie instead, meaning Floyd will spend longer maximally annoying Rollo.

Ruggie and Malleus get along pretty well! Even with Malleus' lack of Normal Person Social Skills™, it wouldn't be hard for the two of them to strike up a conversation – which would result in Rollo having to hear and be acutely aware of Malleus' presence behind him the whole time.

Ruggie would 100% start talking quietly to Malleus, just loud enough for Rollo to kinda-sorta hear, JUST to get on Rollo's nerves. Like–

Ruggie: "Hey, Malleus, how're you doing today?" Malleus: "I'm doing well. Why do you ask?" Ruggie: "No reason, really. Just, y'know...it'd be funny if Rollo thought we were plotting something right behind him." Malleus: "Oh that's brilliant. Let us continue, then."

[randomdragonfires]

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part Three

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him. 

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of Substances and Alcohol; Complicated Relationship Dynamics.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 24.5k [I'M SORRY]

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!  

A/N | By now it's obvious. I really don't beta read things -_-

She starts with small changes. 

She takes different routes around campus, chooses study spots on the opposite end of the library, and declines any parties where she might run into him. They’re usually in different parts of the campus anyway, so avoiding him should be easy. But it isn’t. They run in the same circles, and all her friends know him. She has to be mindful, strategic, careful not to linger in places where their paths might cross.

The one shared class they have is her biggest challenge. She slips into the lecture hall just as the professor begins, taking a seat in the back, hidden among the sea of students. She keeps her head down, her attention fixed on her notes, refusing to let her eyes wander to where she knows he’s sitting.

But she feels his presence, even without looking. She can sense the way his gaze lingers on her, like a weight pressing on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of her willpower to ignore it, to pretend she doesn’t notice, that she isn’t affected by it. She keeps her mouth shut, barely even acknowledging the professor, just so Aemond won’t have a reason to notice her.

But he’s seen her. She knows he has. And yet, he hasn’t made any attempt to approach her. He hasn’t tried to talk to her after class, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even sent a cryptic message through a mutual friend.

The silence from him is both a relief and a torment. On one hand, she’s grateful that he’s giving her space, that he’s not forcing her to confront what happened. But on the other, she can’t help but wonder why. Why hasn’t he reached out? Does he understand that she needs space, or is he simply indifferent?

The conflicting thoughts whirl around her mind, making it impossible to focus. She’s avoiding him, yet she can’t stop thinking about him. She wonders if he’s reached the same conclusion she has - that whatever happened between them was a mistake. Or maybe… maybe the girl he’s seeing is back, and he’s realized that what they had was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that he regrets.

The thought makes her skin crawl.

It stings more than she’d like to admit. It’s ridiculous, she tells herself. She should be glad that he’s keeping his distance. It’s what she wanted, after all. But the doubts creep in, feeding the anxiety that’s been gnawing at her ever since that night.

Her finals don’t help either. The pressure to perform well, to maintain her grades, is a vice around her chest. She spends long hours in the library, her nose buried in textbooks, trying to drown out her thoughts with the relentless march of deadlines and exam schedules. But he is a constant presence at the back of her mind, and she cannot shake him off.

The final exam of the semester passes in a blur, each answer she scribbles onto the paper feeling more mechanical than the last. When it’s over, she walks out of the exam hall with a numbness that clings to her. The weight of the past weeks - the stress, the sleepless nights, the constant battle to keep her emotions in check - finally catches up with her.

She spends the entire day holed up in her flat, the blinds drawn to keep out the bright summer light. The silence is thick, the hours stretching on as she flits from one distraction to another. She tries reading, but the words blur together on the page. She turns on the laptop, but the shows barely hold her attention. Even scrolling through her phone feels empty.

As the afternoon fades into evening, a slow realization dawns on her: she can’t keep hiding forever. The exams were a temporary distraction, an excuse to avoid dealing with everything she’s been running from. But now that they’re over, she’s left with nothing but her thoughts - and the gnawing certainty that she can’t keep avoiding Aemond.

He’s likely finished his exams too, probably somewhere out there, living his life as if nothing’s changed. The thought brings a fresh wave of frustration. He hasn’t reached out to her, hasn’t made the slightest effort to clear the air.

It’s almost as if he’s content to let things remain as they are. But she's not.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that waiting for him to make the first move is futile. He’s not going to reach out, not after the way she’s been avoiding him. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing - that she doesn’t want to see him, that she’s already moved on.

The idea of confronting him terrifies her, but the thought of continuing on like this - of pretending that she can keep dodging him forever - is worse. She can’t live in this self-imposed exile, trapped by her own fears and doubts. If there’s any hope of moving past this, of getting closure, she needs to take the first step.

With a deep breath, she makes up her mind. The decision brings a strange sense of calm, like a weight being lifted from her chest. She can’t predict how it will go, but at least she’ll be taking control, no longer at the mercy of her own avoidance.

The evening sky outside her window is turning shades of pink and orange, and for the first time in days, she feels a spark of determination. She’s not going home for the summer, and neither, as far as she knows, is he.

There’s no more running, no more hiding.

Her eyes settle on Aemond - sprawled across his bed, completely at ease, as if he’s got not a care in the world.

The familiar scent hits her first - weed, strong and pungent, curling through the air and invading her senses. She pauses at the threshold, taking it in, before leaning against the doorway.

He doesn’t notice her at first. He’s too absorbed in the book he’s holding, his fingers lazily turning a page. She can’t make out the title, but she recognizes the Valyrian text on the cover, the ancient script curling elegantly along the spine.

For a moment, she watches him. There’s a strange, almost surreal quality to the scene - like she’s an outsider looking in on his life. His face is calm, his expression softened in the dim light, but there’s a tension in his posture, a quiet restlessness that she can’t quite place.

“So this is what you do when you’re high? Read Valyrian books?”

“They’re interesting,” he replies, his voice casual, detached. He doesn’t look at her, his eye still roving over the page, words spilling out as if she wasn’t there. Almost as if they hadn’t been icing each other out for weeks.

She doesn’t know what to say. The weight of their silence presses heavily down on her chest. She hesitates, her mind racing, but before she can form a coherent thought, he gestures toward her, a lazy wave of his hand as he adjusts himself on the bed.

“Come here.”

It’s not a request; it’s a command, spoken with the kind of casual authority that’s so inherently him. She swallows hard, the tension in her stomach coiling tighter. Part of her wants to resist, to stay rooted in place, but there’s another part of her - smaller, more vulnerable - that aches for the familiarity of being close to him again.

She pushes off the doorway, her steps slow and hesitant as she crosses the room. The air feels warmer near him, the scent of weed and smoke mingling with the faint smell of his cologne, a combination that’s both comforting and disorienting. When she reaches the bed, she pauses, unsure of what to do, where to sit, what to say.

Aemond looks up at her then, his gaze locking onto hers. There’s something different in his eye now, something softer, more aware. It’s like he’s really seeing her for the first time since she walked in.

He nods and she gives in, sitting down beside him, the mattress dipping under her weight. There’s a tension between them, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment, but for now, it holds.

She hesitates for a moment, then slowly lies down next to him, feeling the warmth of his body radiate through the thin fabric of her shirt. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts slightly to make room for her, and as she curls into the mattress, he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer.

His hand rests on her side, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on her skin through the fabric, the movement steady and soothing. She feels his breath against her hair, steady and calm, and for a moment, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to melt into him.

She takes her time, letting her gaze drift over him, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The book is still in his other hand, balanced carefully as he continues to read, the pages illuminated by the dim light of the bedside lamp. He’s so absorbed in it, yet his hold on her is firm, as if he’s anchoring both of them to this moment, this shared silence.

She shifts slightly, her head resting on his shoulder as she glances at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers stilling on the page as he looks down at her. “It’s called The Last Embrace.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He chuckles softly at her remark, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through his chest. "It’s a Valyrian classic," he says. “I know someone who can find the premium first edition copies.”

“Hm.” She moves into him, and his hand roves over her clothed back, warmth seeping through. She nestles against him, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Read to me?” She asks softly, almost shyly, as if the request might shatter her pride.

He considers her for a moment, then gently adjusts his position, making sure she’s comfortable as he continues from where he left off. With his arm still wrapped around her, holding her close, he begins to read. The words flow from his lips - his voice deep and rich as it carries and fills the quiet space between them. She listens, captivated by the way he brings the story to life.

One word in particular catches her attention, its lilting syllables intriguing. She stops him, her gaze curious. “What does that mean?”

He looks down at her, his gaze tender and slightly dazed. “Gevie means ‘beautiful,’” he explains, his tone mellowed by a subtle high. She repeats the word, her attempt tentative. “Gevie.” Her pronunciation falters, and he gently corrects her, his voice a soothing murmur. “Gevie,” he reiterates, his lips curving into a soft smile.

She tries again, her voice more confident, “Gevie,” and he nods in approval, his hand squeezing lightly on her arm, a touch that sends a shiver down her spine.

The reading continues, and she’s captivated by another word. 

“Jorrāelagon,” she asks. “And this one?”

“It means ‘love.’” He replies, his eyes soft and hazy, the high giving his voice a languid quality that almost lulls her to sleep. She echoes. “Jorrāelagon,” but her pronunciation is awkward at the first try. He guides her gently, his voice dropping as he enunciates the word.

 “Jorrāelagon.”

She repeats the word again, and he nods, pleased. She doesn’t want to dwell on how pleasing him feels.

When they reach 'Vūjigon', she leans in closer, her curiosity and desire blending seamlessly. “What does this one mean?”

“To kiss,” he murmurs, his gaze growing more intense. She wonders if she’s seeing the slight red on his cheeks, or if it’s actually there. She repeats, “Vūjigon,” her pronunciation faltering again. He corrects her, his voice a velvety whisper.

As she practices the word, the anticipation builds between them. Her body shifts, aligning with his, and she straddles him, her movements deliberate and sensual. The mattress dips under her weight, and she feels the heat of his body radiate through the thin fabric of their clothes. His hands find her sides, gripping firmly but tenderly, his touch sending electric currents through her skin. She leans in closer, their foreheads touching, and she inhales deeply. The scent of his cologne mixes with the distinct smell of the weed. The high he's on adds a dream-like quality to his touch and his gaze, making every sensation more vivid and intense.

“Vūjigon,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. The correct pronunciation flows from her lips, and the air between them is heated and heavy.

His eye darkens with desire as he gazes at her, the effect of the high amplifying his senses. He responds to her unspoken invitation, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that is both urgent and tender. The kiss deepens quickly as his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, the heat of his touch igniting a fire within her.

His hands tighten on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she can feel the hard line of his desire pressing against her. The sensation sends a shudder through her, a wave of heat that pools low in her belly.

This is happening, this is truly happening-

His kisses are a heady mix of passion and need, his tongue exploring her mouth with a fervor that leaves her breathless. She responds in kind, her own desire spiraling out of control as her fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently as she presses herself against him. The weight of him beneath her, the feel of his body so close, so real, is intoxicating.

With a low, rough sound in the back of his throat, he flips them over, his body covering hers, pressing her into the mattress. His hands are everywhere - roaming her sides, cupping her breasts, sliding down to grip her hips. The urgency of his movements is matched by the haze of the high, adding a surreal, almost dream-like quality to the moment.

She arches into him, her back curving as she seeks more of his touch, more of the heat that’s building between them. His mouth leaves hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, until he’s tugging her shirt aside, his lips finding the sensitive skin beneath. Every touch, every kiss, feels amplified, the high making her hyper-aware of every sensation.

He’s moving with purpose now, his hands tugging at the waistband of her pants, sliding them down her hips with a practiced ease. She helps him, kicking them off, leaving her bare beneath him. He follows quickly, discarding his own clothes until there’s nothing between them but heated skin.

His hands are back on her, rough and gentle all at once as he positions himself between her thighs. She feels the blunt pressure of him at her entrance, the anticipation so sharp it almost hurts. She meets his gaze, his eyes dark and blown with lust, the effect of the high making them seem even more intense. He pauses, just for a moment, his breath ragged. “I’m on the pill,” she murmurs, as if sensing his hesitation.

He thrusts into her with a single, powerful stroke.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that has her gasping, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he fills her completely. He stills for a moment, letting her adjust, his forehead pressing against hers as he takes a shuddering breath.

Then he’s moving, his hips snapping against hers in a rhythm that’s fast and unrelenting. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through her, the friction, the heat, the intensity of it all pushing her closer to the edge. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her own hips meeting his in a desperate attempt to keep up with the pace he’s set.

His breathing is ragged in her ear, a rough counterpoint to the smoothness of his movements. She can feel him tensing, the way his thrusts grow more erratic, more desperate, as he nears his own release. His hand moves between them, fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

With a low growl, he slams into her one last time, his body tensing as he comes hard, the force of his orgasm shaking him. He rides it out, his hips still moving in shallow thrusts as he chases the last remnants of pleasure.

But he doesn’t stop. Even as his breathing slows, his hands remain on her, one sliding down her body until his fingers are slipping between her folds, finding the wet heat there. He pulls out of her slowly, and she whimpers at the loss, but the sound quickly turns to a moan as his head dips between her thighs.

His mouth finds her, his tongue licking a slow, teasing stripe up her center before his lips close around her clit. He sucks gently, his fingers pressing inside her, filling her again as he works her with a relentless, skillful rhythm. She’s already so close, her body still buzzing from the intensity of what they’ve just done, and it doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build again, fast and unstoppable.

As his mouth works her, his tongue drawing her closer and closer to the edge, he lifts his head just enough to murmur against her skin, “Gevie… ao gevie issi, jorrāelagon.”

His voice is thick with desire, the words rolling off his tongue with a reverence that sends shivers down her spine. She’s too far gone to try and grasp the meaning, her mind clouded with the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving her. But something about the way he says it, the heat in his voice, makes her gasp.

“What… what does that mean?” she manages to ask between moans, her voice breathless, shaky.

He doesn’t answer right away, his mouth returning to her with renewed focus, his fingers curling inside her in just the right way. The pleasure is dizzying, her body trembling as she’s pushed closer to the brink. When he finally speaks again, his words are low and guttural, vibrating against her skin.

“Gevie… beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with lust as he looks up at her, his eye dark and filled with heat. “Jorrāelagon… love.” His hand moves in sync with his words, drawing more moans from her lips, her mind barely able to process the translations as the pleasure intensifies.

Her body arches into him, desperate for more, needing more, and he gives it to her, his fingers working her relentlessly. She’s on the edge, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps, when he murmurs one last word against her skin.

“Vūjigon,” he says, the word slipping from his lips like a caress, his voice deeper, rougher, as he lifts his head to look at her, his gaze burning into hers.

“Kiss,” she breathes, finally understanding, the realization sending a fresh wave of desire crashing over her. Her body moves of its own accord, her hips grinding against his fingers as she chases the release that’s just out of reach.

He doesn’t give her time to dwell on it, his mouth returning to her with a fervor that’s almost too much to bear. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and need that builds and builds until she’s teetering on the edge, her mind a haze. Her hips lift off the mattress, seeking more, needing more, and he gives it to her, his tongue and fingers moving in perfect harmony until she’s falling over the edge, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. She cries out, her hands fisting in his hair as he pushes her through it, his mouth never leaving her until she’s trembling with the aftershocks, her body spent and sated.

When he lays back down and his lips meet hers, she thinks there could be no better feeling than being held in his arms.

The fact that he may still have another woman in his life slips her mind completely.

Tonight, he is hers.

The morning after, he's gone off for an early class, leaving her to rest. She finds The Last Embrace on his nightstand and picks it up, her nimble fingers turning the pages as she scans his notes scattered throughout the book.

Love is a disease of the mind, but one we willingly suffer for.

It’s the kind of observation she can easily imagine him making aloud, his voice detached yet tinged with a subtle irony. She almost pictures him writing it, pausing to consider the implications of the passage before inscribing his thoughts with careful precision. It’s a stark reminder of how his mind works - always a step removed, always observing from a distance, even when he’s most deeply involved.

It’s so very Aemond, the way he can reduce something as chaotic and overwhelming as love to a mere intellectual curiosity, and yet, in doing so, reveal more about himself than any grand declaration ever could.

A small smile plays on her lips as she closes the book, gently smoothing the folded corner.

She least expects it, but it hits her with the force of a brick wall when it does.

She finds herself at Aemond's apartment again, perched on the familiar countertop in his kitchen, picking at a bowl of leftover pasta he’d casually reheated for her. Aemond stands at the stove, his attention focused on a kettle of water beginning to steam. He moves with his usual grace, every action deliberate and precise, but there’s something slightly different about him today—a subtle energy that she can’t quite place.

Almost offhandedly as he reaches for a mug, he speaks. “I might not be around tomorrow night. I’ve got…plans.”

He says it so casually, the words slipping out as though they’re of no consequence. But there’s a flicker of something in his tone, something that makes her glance up from her bowl, her curiosity piqued.

“Plans?” she echoes, trying to keep her voice light, nonchalant, though a strange tightness begins to form in her chest.

“Yeah,” he continues, filling the mug with hot water before turning back to her, his expression as composed as ever. “Dinner, actually. With someone.”

The way he says it - "with someone" - is so deliberately vague, so carefully chosen, that it sends a chill through her, the pieces beginning to fall into place. The quiet confidence in his voice, the way he doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t feel the need to explain. It’s a subtle giveaway, but one she can’t ignore.

“Oh,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping back to her bowl, her appetite suddenly fading. She forces herself to take another bite, though it tastes like ash in her mouth. “That sounds…nice.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his tone so matter-of-fact, so indifferent, that it stings more than anything else. “It should be.”

For a moment, she doesn’t know what to say, the silence between them suddenly feeling heavier, more oppressive. The realization settles in slowly, a painful clarity that makes her heart ache. To him, what they have is just…convenient.

He isn’t even trying to hide it. The ease with which he mentions his plans, the lack of any concern for how she might feel about it—it all points to one thing. 

Casual. Non-exclusive.

Then again, he made no promises.

The realization - reminder, if she was being practical - is a bitter pill to swallow, and she fights to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to betray the sadness that’s creeping into her. She allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this. But now, sitting there on his countertop, she sees it for what it truly is.

“Enjoy your dinner,” she says, her voice sounding distant to her own ears as she pushes the half-eaten bowl away and slides off the counter. She offers him a small, strained smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Thanks,” he replies, his gaze flicking over her briefly before returning to the kettle, as if her words are of no particular importance.

As she moves to grab her bag, her movements slow and deliberate, Aemond turns to look at her. The casual indifference that colored his words just moments before falters when he sees the expression on her face - something distant, guarded, as though she’s trying to shield herself from the truth that’s just settled between them.

“You’re upset,” he says, not as a question but as a statement, his tone flat. He’s always so direct, so infuriatingly precise in his observations, as if everything in the world can be neatly cataloged and understood.

She hesitates, her back to him as she reaches for her bag, fingers brushing over the strap, but she doesn’t pick it up right away. She can feel his gaze on her, sharp and assessing, waiting for her to respond.

“It’s nothing,” she murmurs, forcing herself to keep her voice steady, even though the words feel like they’re sticking in her throat. “Just…you could’ve mentioned it before.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air between them taut with unspoken things. She knows he’s searching for the right words, something that won’t sound like an admission but also won’t deny the reality she’s trying to ignore.

“You always knew there was someone else,” he says finally, his voice low, almost gentle, as if that can soften the blow.

She swallows hard, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag as the truth of his words settles in. Of course, she knows. There’s always been something in the way he holds himself slightly apart from her, something that hinted at the boundaries she was never meant to cross. And yet, she crossed them anyway, hoping—foolishly—that maybe he would meet her halfway.

“Did I?” she asks quietly, her voice trembling just enough to give her away. She turns to face him then, her eyes searching his, looking for something - anything - that will contradict what he’s just said. But there’s nothing. His expression is calm, measured, as though they’re discussing something inconsequential.

He doesn’t answer, but the silence that follows is more telling than anything he could say. She can see it now, how he’s always been careful with her, careful not to let things go too far, careful not to give her any false hope.

But he never really needed to, did he? Because she already knew, deep down, that whatever they had was just a small part of his life - a convenience, a passing thing that will end the moment someone else comes along. Someone more important, more permanent.

She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, the sound heavy in the quiet of the kitchen. “Right,” she says, nodding to herself as if that will help make sense of everything. “I guess I did know.”

She hesitates, the words tasting bitter on her tongue as she adds, almost too casually, “Daeron texted about coming to Oldtown over the weekend. I probably have plans with him anyway.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, and when she dares to meet his gaze, she catches the subtle shift in his expression - a small, almost amused curl of his lips. It’s as if he can see right through her, peeling back the flimsy layers she’s tried to build around herself. The realization that he sees her so clearly, that he understands her attempts to guard herself, makes her feel smaller, more exposed than she ever intended.

His smile fades, replaced by something darker, more contemplative, and the weight of his gaze makes her want to shrink away, to hide from the way he’s dissecting her. He steps closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing as his presence looms large, overwhelming. She feels like she’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something that could shatter her if she’s not careful. But she doesn’t move, rooted to the spot by the intensity of his gaze, by the way he’s looking at her like he’s trying to decide if she’s worth the effort of breaking down completely.

The resignation in her voice must cut through him because he shifts, leaning back against the counter, his eyes never leaving hers. But he doesn’t move toward her, doesn’t try to reach out. It’s as if he knows that any attempt to comfort her now would only be hollow, empty of meaning.

She can smell the faint scent of the coffee still lingering on him, mixing with his cologne, and it makes her head swim, makes the room feel smaller, more suffocating. Everything feels too close, too real, and she needs to leave before she says something she can’t take back.

“Look, it’s fine,” she says quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should get going anyway. I’ve got things to do.”

He doesn’t stop her. He just watches as she slings the bag over her shoulder, his gaze cool and detached, like he’s studying her, trying to understand why she’s making such a big deal out of something they both knew had an expiration date.

But just as she turns to leave, he reaches out, taking hold of her hand. The contact is brief, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to make her pause. There’s something in his touch—something that feels more like pity than affection. It twists in her chest, making her feel even smaller, more exposed.

“Take care,” he says, his voice polite, almost distant, as if the gesture was merely obligatory.

The words sting, made worse by the way he immediately lets go, his hand slipping away as if it never held hers at all. She walks away.

She pauses for a moment, hand on the doorknob, before glancing back at him. There’s so much she wants to say, but she knows it will all sound pathetic and desperate, and she refuses to let him see her like that.

“Yeah,” she replies softly, her heart aching in a way that feels almost physical. “You too.”

She sits on the edge of her sofa, her fingers idly tracing the patterns on the faded fabric. 

She stares at the shadows, feeling them stretch and distort, like her own thoughts, twisted and knotted.

The apartment is a mess - books splayed open, cold coffee mugs scattered about, and a half-burnt vanilla scented candle that hasn’t seen use in days. The quiet hum of the city outside the window is distant, almost surreal, as if it belongs to another world entirely. Inside, it’s as if time has stopped, leaving her in a stagnant pool of self-pity that she hates like nothing else.

Her mind drifts to Aemond. She can’t shake the image of him talking with his date. The warmth of his voice, the way his eyes subtly light up - it all feels so tangible, yet so out of reach. She imagines him in those moments of connection, and each thought pulls her deeper into the mire of her own emotions. The more she dwells on it, the more isolated she feels.

The room feels colder now, the silence pressing in on her from all sides. She wraps her blanket tighter, but it doesn’t offer much comfort. Her phone buzzes on the coffee table, jolting her out of her reverie. She hesitates, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling inside her. It’s probably not Aemond, she tells herself, but she can’t help the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, it is.

She reaches for the phone, her hand trembling slightly. The screen lights up with Daeron’s name. She swipes to open it, her heart pounding as she sees the photo he’s sent. It’s Daeron at Oldtown Airport, his face lit up with a smile that seems to brighten the whole frame. A text follows.

Lunch tomorrow?

She smiles.

She waits outside Moonbloom, the café's warm, inviting light spilling onto the pavement. She watches as people bustle by, each face a fleeting moment in the urban blur. Her nerves are a tight knot, and she checks her phone for the umpteenth time, though she already knows Daeron will be on time. She hears his voice before she sees him.

"Hey," Daeron says, a smile tugging at his lips as he approaches. His eyes, as familiar as they are, carry a weight that wasn’t there before. They embrace awkwardly, and it makes her bristle.

Inside, the café is bustling with midday energy. They choose a corner table, its cozy atmosphere offering some solace from the crowd. Daeron settles into his seat, his movements slightly hesitant. She follows suit, their conversation initially faltering as they tiptoe around the more profound emotions that linger between them.

“So, um,” she begins, fidgeting with the menu, “have you been to this place before?”

“Not really,” Daeron replies, his fingers tapping nervously on his coffee cup. “I mean, I’ve passed by, but I’ve never actually been in. It’s...nice.”

“I love the way they’ve decorated it.”

Daeron looks around, taking in the mismatched furniture and the array of quirky knick-knacks. “Definitely. It’s kind of...charming. I guess I didn’t expect it to be this warm.”

She smiles, relieved to have found a neutral topic. “Yeah, it’s cozy. I come here when I need to get away from everything for a bit.”

“Sounds like it’s a good spot for that,” Daeron says, his voice warming slightly. “I could use a little escape myself.”

They both pause, a slight awkwardness settling over them. The menu sits between them, a practical distraction from the underlying tension. Daeron glances at it, his brow furrowing as he tries to decide.

“So, have you tried anything here that’s a must-have?” Daeron asks, attempting to steer the conversation back to safe ground.

She looks at the menu thoughtfully. “The avocado toast is really good, and the latte is pretty great too. It’s one of those places where you can’t go wrong with pretty much anything. Oh and they have a really good cheesecake!”

“Sounds good,” Daeron says, nodding as if making a mental note. “I’ll have to try both then.”

She chuckles softly, trying to ease the nervous energy between them. “You won’t regret it.”

The menu arrives, and they both laugh over the choices—an easy distraction from the real conversation they know is coming. They talk about trivial things first: the new book she’s reading, Daeron’s latest coffee obsession. The conversation is light, almost too light, as if they’re both waiting for the right moment to dive into the deeper waters.

As their meals arrive, Daeron takes a deep breath, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his coffee cup. “I didn’t realize how much I missed this. You.”

She looks up, surprised by the shift in tone. “Yeah, moving away does that to you.” 

Daeron’s gaze meets hers, a mixture of nostalgia and hesitation in his eyes. “It’s like, I’ve been so caught up in trying to manage everything that I forgot to appreciate these simpler things. I’ve been trying to figure out what really matters, and I think...I think that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Her curiosity is piqued, the earlier awkwardness giving way to a more genuine connection. “What do you mean?”

Daeron hesitates, fiddling with the edge of his napkin as he searches for the right words. “Floris and me. You know, things seemed okay, but I was always looking for the next problem, the next thing that might go wrong. I never really stopped to appreciate what we had, or how well things were actually working.”

She listens intently, her eyes softening as she senses the depth of his struggle. “And?”

Daeron sighs, his gaze meeting hers with a sincerity that tugs at her heart. “I’ve realized that I need to take a step back and figure things out. It’s why I came to stay here for the next month. It’s not just about getting away from everything. It’s more about taking the time to understand myself better. I want to be in a better place for her - when I go back, I want to be someone who’s really ready.”

The café hums around them, the sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation. She absorbs his words, feeling a mix of sadness and a surprising sense of relief. “You’re actually going to do this?” she asks quietly.

Daeron nods, a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. “Yeah, I think it’s what I need. Just some time to be with myself, to figure out what really matters. I want to make sure I’m not just rushing through life, looking for the next thing. I want to be present for her, for myself. You know?”

There’s something endearing about Daeron, who he’s grown into, and his willingness to admit he needs to take time for himself. It is eons ahead of the boy she knew. For a brief moment, she sees Aemond in him, and she takes a deep breath before she lets her thoughts carry her away.

“I think that’s really brave,” she says softly. “It’s not easy to take a step back and admit you need to sort things out.”

She wonders if her words are for him, or herself.

Your Starry Sept postcards are at my place.

The afternoon sun hits just right as they walk through the market with their condensing iced coffee cups in hand. The stalls around them are alive with the scent of fresh bread, spices and flowers. It’s been days since she’s seen Aemond, and she ignores his texts and any chance to see him like the plague.

They sip their coffee, exchanging easy smiles as they pass by vendors selling everything from handmade jewelry to antique trinkets. The atmosphere is relaxed, yet a tension lingers beneath the surface. Daeron, seemingly content, glances at her and notices a shift in her demeanor as they approach an antique store.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, his tone light. “You’ve been a bit...off today.”

Now more than ever, she hates how well the Targaryen brothers know her. Her heart skips a beat.

“Uh, it’s nothing,” she says, her voice a bit too high-pitched, betraying herself. “Just...a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Daeron raises an eyebrow, his concern deepening. “Come on… We’ve known each other long enough. You can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

She looks away, her eyes darting over the colorful array of vintage items displayed in the store’s window. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. The prospect of confessing her recent history with Aemond is daunting, especially since she had poured out her feelings to Daeron not so long ago.

If anything, it makes it all feel a lot less valid if she thinks of it that way.

“It’s a bit complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

The question hangs in the air, and Wylde feels a lump form in her throat. She swallows hard, weighing the consequences of her next words. She recalls the emotional turmoil she experienced when she admitted her feelings for Daeron and how vulnerable she felt. The idea of now revealing that she’s been seeing Aemond—his brother, no less—feels like an insurmountable hurdle.

She takes another sip of her coffee, trying to buy time. “It’s just...I don’t know how to explain it. There’s been some...changes, you know?”

Daeron looks at her intently, sensing her hesitation. “Look, if you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s okay.” Her heart aches at his genuine concern. She knows she should be honest, but the fear of how Daeron will react clouds her judgment. She finally meets his gaze, the weight of her secret pressing heavily on her shoulders.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...complicated.”

Daeron’s expression shifts from concern to confusion. “Someone? Who?” She sees his frown lift into a smile.

“Who… that’s not relevant.” 

Before he can interrupt and charm Aemond’s identity out of her, she continues. “He was already with someone, but I caught feelings for him anyway. Then we hooked up, and I worry that I just…”

“You worry that you’ve made a mistake.”

“Among other things. I…” She sighs. “I just want someone that’s mine, you know? It is a bit of a shame that the boys I like always belong to someone else.”

He chuckles. “I’m going to ask you to think well and be honest. Do you know him well enough?”

“Very well.”

��Do you think he’s the type to cheat?”

“Definitely not.”

“And did you ask him about this? What he wants from you, and what his situation with the other person is like?”

“I guess.”

“And what did he say?”

“He made no promises. He said I always knew there was someone else. I… I messed up. I shouldn’t have encouraged him, to be frank. He always knew what it was. He always knew, and I… did too. Just took a while for it to sink in. And… I was slightly foolish in hoping that he’d be just for me… for a while there it felt like… the last few months, it was all building up to it.”

“And you’re sure a fling is what he wants?”

“He went out for dinner with this other girl yesterday. Safe to assume.”

“I guess the question is…” He sighs. “Having as little of him as he can give you… is that something you’re willing to have? Because if not, you’ll have to push him away entirely. Protect yourself.”

She closes her eyes and brings a hand up to her mouth in resignation. “I feel so stupid.”

Daeron places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it takes two to make something work. Don’t beat yourself up if he isn’t.”

When she walks back to her flat that night, Daeron’s words echo through her mind like a fast growing wildfire.

Is he worth it? 

She knows the answer long before she even ponders on the question. It is simply a question of whether or not she can handle it.

There’s more cheesecake in the fridge.

She avoids Aemond and his texts for the next few days, her thoughts spiraling as she wonders what he really wants from her if he’s seeing someone else. Every time her phone buzzes, she tenses, half-hoping, half-dreading it’s him. 

Of course he won’t say he misses her. He won’t say he wants to see her. That’s just not his style.

She stares at the screen for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before she decides to leave him on read. Her heart pounds, but she doesn't know how to respond. It’s easier to focus on Daeron, easier to avoid the growing confusion that Aemond has brought into her life.

They lie on the blanket, the sound of waves crashing below the cliffs filling the comfortable silence between them. The sky above them shifts in shades of pink and orange as the sun inches closer to the horizon. It’s a scene that could easily be romantic if things had turned out differently between them.

“You know,” Daeron starts, his voice light but thoughtful, “we’re pretty compatible.”

She turns her head to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, we are. It’s kind of a shame things didn’t… I don’t know, grow between us the way they could’ve.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, his tone carrying a hint of wistfulness. “It just never… happened.”

With you, she wants to add. I loved you for so long, you just didn’t love me back.

They both know there’s no regret in those words, just a shared acknowledgment of something that could have been but never was.

“I remember the first time I realized I had feelings for you,” she says, her voice softer now as she gazes out at the sea. “I was probably eight years old. That day on the school grounds, when you and Luke fought because he was bothering me. In my defense, I was eight years old and that was the most romantic thing ever.”

Daeron laughs, a genuine sound that makes her smile. “Eight years old, huh? Wow, I didn’t know I was such a charmer back then.”

“You weren’t. I was just an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, you had your moments,” she teases, nudging him with her shoulder. “But really, it was just a silly crush. I got over it eventually. Wasn’t great, but I managed it somehow.” The gravity of underselling her feelings hits her, but she’s not quite upset about it anymore. Daeron is a thing of her past - how much power can feelings from the past hold anyway?

“It all seems silly to me now.”

Daeron nods, understanding. “I get that. I always thought you’d make an awesome girlfriend, though.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?”

“You’re cool and smart, and we always have a good time together. But I just… never felt much more than that. I do love you, just…”

“You’re not in love with me. I don’t blame you.” She sighs. “At least, not anymore.”

“You know what I mean,” Daeron says, chuckling. “We were close, and it always felt like we could’ve been something more, but it never felt… right. I think I just always saw you as my best friend.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it? We’re practically perfect for each other in so many ways, but the spark was never really there. No matter how much I used to want it.”

“Practically perfect,” Daeron agrees, smiling as he echoes her words. “Maybe we’re too practical.”

“Or maybe too perfect.” She grins, looking at him through her sunglasses.

“On paper, definitely.” They both laugh, the sound mingling with the crashing waves. They’re not sad about what could have been; they’re content with what they have.

She realizes she quite likes it this way.

“Hey, you know what?” Daeron says, his tone suddenly playful. “If we’re both still single at forty, we should just get married.”

She snorts, covering her mouth as she laughs. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” he says, grinning. “We’d make a pretty awesome couple, don’t you think?”

She looks at him, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, perfect on paper.”

“Come on, indulge me.”

“Fuck no. What if I’m actually single at forty and have to follow through?”

“It won’t be so bad, I promise.”

“If I’m still single by forty, I’d rather throw myself off this cliff.”

“Be a little brave for once. It’s just a far off possibility.”

“Ugh, fine. You have a deal.” Just as she says it, she extends her hand to him.

“Deal.” He laughs, and the realization is devoid of any pesky feelings as she thinks this is the best laugh she knows.

Hearty, boyish and pure.

Came by the flat, it’s locked. Tell me you’re okay. It’s been more than a week.

I’m fine.

She doesn’t want to see him till she knows exactly what she wants to say. He’s made his stance very clear - that this is very casual to him, and that he doesn’t take what they have as seriously as she thought. She envies him, in all honesty. Why can’t her heart be as straightforward as his?

Daeron had met Aemond and their uncle Gwayne for a game of tennis at the Hightower Townhouse and invited her - but she refused politely and chose to not dwell. A few days later, he takes the private jet to Essos to visit Helaena during her exchange year and she clings to him in a tight hug before letting him go.

Like Daeron, who has chosen to relax this summer, she knows that first-year internships aren't mandatory. If she wanted one, she could easily get it - her name carries significant weight in the world of art and history. Her great-great-great-great-grandmother, Coryanne Wylde, left an indelible mark on the Westerosi art scene with her scandalous and groundbreaking series of erotic paintings titled A Caution for Young Girls. The collection - now cared for at the Citadel in Oldtown - is notorious for its bold sexual depictions, and is considered a turning point in the history of Westerosi art. That, coupled with her family’s considerable wealth - she has the luxury to forgo work during the first year holidays and focus solely on herself.

This summer, she’s embracing that privilege fully. Her days are spent immersed in books, wandering through museums, and exploring the city. She takes day trips to quaint coastal towns, armed with her sketchbook and ready to draw.

Summer will come to a close in less than a fortnight, and she’s grateful for the rest. As much as she loves studying art history, it does take a lot of energy out of her to channel that interest into wading through a structured syllabus that doesn’t run on her own time or pace.

Mornings begin with walks through the city, sketchbook always in hand, capturing the delicate lines of the older architecture or the vibrant chaos of modern installations. She takes her camera too, and each photograph she takes feels like a small rebellion against the uncertainty that has plagued her thoughts.

Afternoons are reserved for exploring the smaller towns along the coastline. She finds solace in the simplicity of these places—the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and wildflowers, the way cobblestone streets wind past charming cafes and artisan shops. She sits by the harbor, sketching boats bobbing gently on the waves, or wanders through quaint markets, photographing the scenes. She lets the local old women near the port weave flowers and shells into her hair, and wears loose fitting bright gowns that she finds in smaller stalls.

As the weeks pass, Aemond’s messages become sparse. When the texts stop altogether, she feels a pang of guilt she can’t quite shake. She knows it’s probably for the best, that she needs the space to sort out what she wants from him, but the silence echoes in her mind, leaving her to wonder what she might have done differently.

In every possibility, she realizes she wants him. But she never dwells in her thoughts long enough to understand what that means for them.

One evening, a few days before the next semester is set to begin, she finds herself at the Quill and Tankard, a charming little pub nestled in a cozy corner of the city. The warm, dimly lit space is filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses. She orders a drink, the amber liquid swirling in her glass, and settles into a secluded booth. The conversations around her blur into a comforting background noise as she sips her drink, the alcohol loosening the tight knot of anxiety in her chest.

As the night wears on, her thoughts drift back to Aemond. She has tried so hard to avoid him, to drown out the questions and doubts he has stirred within her. But here in the pub, the memories feel sharper, more insistent. She glances around the room, watching other couples laugh and share stories, and wonders why her own connections feel so fraught with uncertainty.

Her phone buzzes on the table, a reminder of the texts that have long ceased. She glances at it, feeling a pang of longing and frustration. The lack of communication from Aemond leaves her with unanswered questions and unresolved feelings. She takes another sip of her drink, the warmth spreading through her, and feels a surge of impulse.

With a deep breath, she reaches for her phone. Her fingers hover over the screen for a moment, trembling slightly. She knows she shouldn’t be doing this, that reaching out might only reopen wounds she isn’t ready to face. But the need for some semblance of understanding is too strong to ignore.

Finally, she presses the call button and holds the phone to her ear. The familiar ringtone feels both comforting and jarring in the quiet of the pub. She takes another sip, steeling herself for whatever comes next.

"Hey, can I come over?”

Despite living a stone’s throw away from each other, she hasn’t seen him in a month - and the moment she lays eyes on him again, she’s struck by how effortlessly captivating he is. Aemond sits at his desk, a stack of papers spread out before him, his focus completely absorbed by whatever it is he’s reading. The dim white light from his half-open laptop casts a soft glow on his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity in his expression. He’s in his element, completely at ease in the quiet of his own space.

She realizes, not for the first time, that it’s easy to stare at Aemond. Easy, because he’s always so absorbed in whatever task demands his attention. His head is often down, his gaze fixed on the papers, books, or screens in front of him, making it simple for her to observe him without the risk of getting caught. But more than that, it’s easy to stare at Aemond because there’s something about him that draws her in. He doesn’t have the easy, effortless charm of Daeron or the overwhelming presence of Aegon, but his appeal lies in the subtleties.

There’s a sharper, quieter beauty in Aemond that reveals itself in the smallest of ways. The way his brow furrows slightly when he’s deep in thought, the almost imperceptible lift of his lips when something amuses him. His beauty isn’t meant to be obvious or attention grabbing; it’s there for those who take the time to notice, for those who can appreciate the details that make him who he is. It’s the kind of beauty that makes her wonder about the thoughts that flicker behind his stormy eye, those that he keeps so carefully guarded.

In many ways, Helaena is much the same. There’s a quiet elegance to her, a softness that’s easy to overlook but impossible to forget once you’ve seen it. The two of them, siblings with such contrasting temperaments, share this unspoken, understated allure. They leave a lasting impression, like a delicate piece of art that grows more intricate the longer you look at it.

She stands there for a moment longer, taking him in - the way his long fingers trace the edge of the paper, the way a few stray strands of hair fall across his forehead. The familiarity of this scene almost comforts her as she leans into the doorway, unsure if she’s ready for this confrontation, but knowing it’s inevitable.

“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” she murmurs, the words slipping out like a secret, barely more than a breath. They drift into the space between them, fragile and hesitant.

“I told you to,” he replies, his voice steady, almost indifferent. His eyes remain fixed on the papers before him, the rustling of the sheets filling the silence between them.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “What are you working on?”

“Going through some numbers, drafting reports for Otto,” he answers, still without looking up.

“Did you work with your grandfather? For the summer?” she asks, grasping at the small talk like a lifeline.

“Yes, father wanted me to train with him.”

“Hm.”

The conversation stalls, and she moves away from the doorway, retreating to the kitchen as if the physical distance might help her regain her composure. She rifles through his fridge, finding a slice of cheesecake and brewing a pot of coffee. The mundane actions feel almost grounding, but the tension remains, coiled tight in her chest.

As she watches the coffee drip, her mind races. She’s tense at his curtness, but a part of her knows she deserves it after avoiding him for so long. Still, she can’t help the anger simmering beneath the surface. She left to protect herself, but he’s acting as if her absence was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

She walks back into the room, determined now. She nudges herself between him and his work desk, leaning back with her palms pressing against the surface. He finally looks up, his gaze sweeping over her from top to bottom, assessing. His hand rests over his lips, elbows braced on the armrests of his chair. The quiet intensity of his stare sends a shiver down her spine, but she doesn’t back down.

“What are we doing?” she asks, her voice low but firm.

“You disappeared for weeks on end, and now you’re back,” he responds, his tone maddeningly calm, as if nothing has happened.

Her nostrils flare in irritation. “What were we doing before I left?” She’s not letting him off that easily.

“Hm.” He takes a deep, audible breath, the kind that makes her want to scream. “We slept together, and you walked away to sort yourself out.”

“Are you serious right now?” she scoffs, her voice rising in disbelief. “I left because we slept together, and then you told me you were still seeing someone else! Something I asked you about, and you never bothered addressing!”

The frustration bubbling inside her threatens to spill over. She feels like a petulant child, but she knows she’s not entirely in the wrong. Yet his infuriatingly level-headed tone only makes her feel more on edge.

Without warning, he stands up, looming over her like a dark shadow. His presence is overwhelming, and when he steps closer, she can feel the heat radiating from him. His hands slam down on the table on either side of her, caging her in. Their breaths mingle in the small space between them, and she refuses to break eye contact, challenging him with every ounce of defiance she has left.

“Did you, for once, consider that I may not have wanted to wreck whatever it is you have with this other girl you’ve been seeing? For more than a year too, if I might add?” Her voice is laced with bitterness, but there’s an edge of vulnerability there too, one she can’t quite hide.

“Hm.”

His nonchalant response is the final straw. “Do you have nothing to say to me?” she nearly pleads, her tone wavering. It’s borderline pathetic, and the entire situation feels far messier than she can handle. “You blindsided me.”

He watches her for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he finally speaks. “Do you regret it?”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her, that answer is easy. “I probably should, but no.”

Her words hang between them, and for a moment, neither of them moves. Then, almost imperceptibly, his hand brushes against hers where it rests on the table. It’s a tentative touch, the barest graze of his fingers, but it’s enough to send a jolt of electricity through her. She inhales sharply, her breath catching in her throat.

He leans in closer, the distance between them shrinking to nothing. She can feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the tension thickens, wrapping around them like a vise. His gaze drops to her lips, and she feels her resolve weakening, her anger melting away into something far more dangerous.

“Aemond…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

He tilts his head slightly, his lips almost brushing against hers. “Wylde,” he murmurs, the sound of her name on his lips making her heart stutter. His eyes darken, and she knows there’s no going back now.

She can feel the tension, heavy and palpable. And then, without another word, he closes the final gap between them, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. 

It’s messy, complicated, and far from perfect, but at this moment, he is all that matters.

His lips find the tender skin of her neck, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone. The wet warmth of his mouth sends shivers down her spine, his breath hot against her skin. His hands are everywhere - exploring, claiming, running up and down her sides under her shirt, fingers pressing into her flesh as if trying to memorize the feel of her.

“Been too fucking long,” he murmurs, the words flowing like water.

She pulls his head up, capturing his lips with hers in a fierce kiss, a desperate melding of mouths that leaves them both breathless. They move together with a practiced urgency, her shirt sliding over her head, his following a second later. Her bra is discarded just as quickly, tossed aside without a second thought, as their bodies come together, skin to skin, the heat between them searing.

But when she reaches out, shifting his papers aside to sit on the edge of the desk, he laughs quietly, a low rumble that sends a thrill through her. He shakes his head, amusement flickering in his eyes, and lifts her effortlessly, his hands strong and steady beneath her. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding on tight as he carries her toward the bed.

“Those papers took me a while to organize,” he murmurs sharply, his tone laced with mock seriousness. If she didn’t know him better, she might think he was truly annoyed.

But she does know him, knows the way his eyes glint with barely concealed mirth as he lowers her onto the bed. The cool sheets contrast with the heat of their bodies, and she arches up into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him down for another kiss. 

Aemond’s hands trail down her body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants as he pulls away slightly, eyes dark and intent. She watches him, breathless, as he slides her pants and underwear down in one smooth motion, the cool air hitting her skin making her shiver.

He kisses his way down her body, lingering at her hips before settling between her thighs. The anticipation coils tight in her belly, her breath hitching as he looks up at her, his expression unreadable but undeniably hungry. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she feels the tension in her body build with each brush of his lips against her skin.

When he finally touches her where she needs him most, she gasps, her hips arching off the bed in response. He holds her down gently, his strong hands firm on her thighs as his mouth moves with skillful precision. The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending alive and thrumming with pleasure as he takes his time, drawing out every gasp and moan that slips from her lips.

She threads her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as she loses herself in the feeling, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. His name slips past her lips, a breathless plea that only seems to spur him on, his tongue and lips working in tandem to push her closer and closer to the edge.

It’s a slow build, a steady climb toward something that feels almost too intense to bear. 

When she finally falls over the edge, it’s like the world shatters around her, a white-hot burst of pleasure that leaves her breathless and shaking, her hands gripping his hair tightly as she rides out the waves of her release. He stays with her through it all, his mouth still moving against her until the sensation becomes too much and she gently pulls him up to her, needing to feel his lips on hers, to ground herself in the warmth of his kiss.

Her breath is still uneven as she pulls him closer, her hand sliding down his chest, tracing the hard lines of his torso. She meets his gaze, eyes dark with desire, and murmurs, “I need you.”

Without breaking eye contact, her hand slips into his slacks, finding him already hard and straining against the fabric. He hisses at the contact, his jaw tightening as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking slowly, deliberately.

But it doesn’t last long. With a low growl, he pulls her hand away and stands up, quickly shedding his slacks and boxers, the clothing falling to the floor in a heap. The sight of him, fully bared to her, sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through her.

He’s back on her in an instant, his mouth on hers, urgent and demanding, as he positions himself between her legs. She wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, and when he enters her in one smooth thrust, eliciting a gasp from them both.

He stills for a moment, buried deep inside her, his breath hot against her neck. Then, with a groan, he starts to move, slow at first, each thrust measured and deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way her body reacts to him. It doesn’t take long for the pace to quicken, the room filling with the sounds of their bodies moving together, the bed creaking beneath them.

She clings to him, her nails digging into his back as he drives into her, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. His grip on her hips is firm, his movements powerful and unrelenting, as if he’s intent on losing himself in her.

“Ae-mond…”

Their breaths mingle, their bodies slick with sweat as they move together, the world outside fading away until all that exists is this. A conversation is due and far from over, but her mind is clouded by thoughts of him, him, him-

She breaks the kiss, her head falling back as her body tightens around him, pulling him deeper as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear. He buries his face in her neck, his breath ragged against her skin, and with one final, languid thrust, he comes in pleasure as he moans into her skin.

For a moment, they remain tangled together, their breaths harsh and uneven, the aftermath of their release leaving them both dazed and spent. He stays inside her as long as he can, as if reluctant to break the connection, before finally pulling away and collapsing beside her, pulling her into his arms.

Her head rests on his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm beneath her ear. His arm is draped over her back, holding her close as if to keep the world at bay for just a little longer.

But as the silence stretches on, the reality of their situation begins to creep back in, and she feels the familiar weight of her thoughts clouding her mind. What are they really doing here? What does any of this mean? The questions swirl in her head, tugging her back to the uncertainty she’s been trying to avoid.

He notices the change in her immediately. The way her body tenses slightly, the furrow that forms between her brows. He’s seen this look before - when she’s lost in thought, when something’s weighing heavily on her. His grip tightens around her, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, trying to anchor her in the present.

She tilts her head up, meeting his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, a tenderness that makes her chest tighten. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the air thick. His hand comes up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on her cheek.

Her heart skips a beat as she tries to find the words to express the tangle of emotions inside her. But before she can speak, he abruptly breaks the silence.

“It’s never going to be exclusive or long-term with her. That’s not what we have.” he says, his voice steady but laced with something she can’t quite place. “You’re not destroying anything.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy and final. He’s said them almost as if to preempt whatever she was going to say, as if to take away the guilt and confusion that’s been gnawing at her since this all began. His eyes search hers, gauging her reaction.

She blinks, trying to process what he’s just said. The admission should bring some relief, should ease the turmoil inside her, but instead, it leaves her feeling more conflicted. The clarity she sought doesn’t come; instead, she’s left with a hollowness that only deepens the questions she’s been grappling with.

“You think saying that makes this easier?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying it because I don’t want you to feel guilty,” he replies, his tone firm but not unkind. “This—whatever this is—doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be just us, without any strings attached.”

She bites her lip, the words sinking in. He’s offering her an out, a way to keep whatever they have without the burden of labels or expectations. But is that really what she wants?

Especially now that her heart skips a beat whenever he comes around? 

“You were in love with him for a long time. This is what you need. Something that won’t trouble you.” His hand trails down her arm, grounding her in the moment. “You don’t have to overthink it,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “We want each other.”

She likes him. More than she should, if a fling with her is all he wants. But she can't bring herself to push him away.

“We can just be.”

She looks up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. He’s being honest with her, laying it all out so she can make her own choice.

“You're saying you've been seeing a girl for more than a year, but she's alright with you sleeping with me?”

“Think that's how an open relationship works. Don't you?”

She wants to ask who it is, but she has a feeling that's more trouble than it's worth.

“And what if I don't want this?”

“You can stop anytime. But you won't.”

His functional eye narrows and there's knots of muscle in both corners of his jaw, a slight twitch of the eyebrow. She likes him when he's like this.

She likes when he knows her. She likes that he's indispensable to her. She likes that he knows that too.

She kisses him and goes to sleep in his arms.

Does any of it matter if she gets to have him like this?

The room is quiet except for the faint rustle of pages as Aemond flips through her sketchbook, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. She traces absent-minded patterns on his chest, the tip of her finger skimming over the faint lines of his muscles, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

The dim light filters in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over them, highlighting the contentment on her face. Her head rests against him, hair fanned out over the pillow as she relaxes into the moment, her mind drifting aimlessly. 

Aemond’s fingers lazily flip through the pages filled with rough pencil strokes, some finished, others abandoned halfway. His gaze pauses on one drawing in particular - a silhouette of a woman standing at the edge of the sea, her figure gazing out toward the endless horizon.

He runs his thumb over the page, his voice low. “What’s this one?”

She turns her head, glancing at the sketch. Her lips curve into a small smile, though her mind drifts back to the scene that had inspired it. “I was hanging out at the Sunset Sea for a few days. I’d been studying Jaeron of Lys in my class with Professor Rivers, you know, the old painter?” He shifts slightly, and she shifts along with him. “His work was all about those distant, far-off humans in his portraits, always framed by these huge, sweeping landscapes.” 

Aemond listens intently, his fingers still resting on the paper as she speaks. He turns his head slightly toward her, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s why his work is so widely discussed. The people in his paintings are always so still. Silent. You barely notice them at first, almost like they’re not even the focus. But the longer you look, the more you wonder what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling. He made the audience do the work to comprehend them.”

Aemond’s brow furrows slightly, intrigued by the thought. “I’ve seen some of his work in the books. There’s this tension in it, like the figures are waiting for something, even though the rest of the world moves on around them.”

She nods. “Exactly. That tension is what makes it brilliant. What’s even more tragic, though, is what happened to him.” Her voice softens, the weight of the story pulling her deeper into it.

“Jaeron went blind in his later years. He couldn’t paint, couldn’t create for years. The grief of not being able to see art, beauty… it destroyed him. He never touched a brush again, not until he was on his deathbed. And even then, he wished for one last chance to paint.”

Aemond turns fully to face her now, propping his head on his hand, captivated by the story. “And did he?”

She nods, her gaze distant as she recalls the details from her class. “He did. Blind and frail, he recreated his first-ever painting—a woman looking into the sea. It was perfect, down to the smallest detail. His final masterpiece.”

“The class was about muscle memory in art,” she continues softly. “How creativity, no matter how burnt out you feel, is what makes you… you. Even after all that time, even when he couldn’t see, his body remembered. His hands knew the strokes, the curves, like he’d never left it.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s noncommittal sound hums through the air as she turns her head, her eyes searching his face. “It is,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I think about that sometimes - how you can leave something behind, but when you pick it back up… it’s like it never left you either. You just know.”

His thumb traces slow, soothing circles over her hand, his attention fully on her as she sighs, lost in thought.

“A lot of it translates into real life,” she continues, her voice softer now. “Like cycling, or swimming… even driving. Things that require focus and rhythm.”

She pauses, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s like learning to be in sync with something, or someone.”

Aemond’s eyebrow quirks up slightly at her words, a hint of curiosity flickering in his gaze as she drops her eyes, feeling the warmth of his chest beneath her cheek. She presses on, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Like how we didn’t see each other for the entire summer,” she says, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, “but when we came back together… the chemistry, whatever it is. It was there. You didn’t forget what I liked, and I didn’t forget either.”

Her words hang in the air, the silence stretching. She feels a pang of doubt, wondering if her attempt at lightness had been too blunt, too revealing, too… stupid. She glances up at him, ready to brush it off, but Aemond is staring straight ahead, his fingers threading gently through her hair, the weight of his thoughts visible. She can see the wheels turn in his head.

“I wouldn’t want to forget anything about you,” he says. His voice settles deep within her chest.

Her breath catches, and for a moment, she’s at a loss for words, the intensity of his statement catching her off guard. A flush creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks, and she feels the fluttering in her chest threaten to overwhelm her.

Desperate to lighten the mood, to distract herself from the way his words made her feel, she lets out a shaky laugh, trying to mask her flustered mind. “You’re being fucking pretentious now,” she jokes, but her voice betrays her, a bit too breathless, a bit too forced.

Why say things like that if you don't mean them?

Aemond doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze steady on hers. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, just keeps looking at her with a quiet intensity that makes her heart race. The flutter in her chest doesn’t fade, and the realization hits her, taking her down with the force of a well-aimed punch to the gut.

He’s seen right through her.

When she wakes, she glances at the clock—her classes start in an hour or so, but Aemond's are earlier, and he’s already gone. The quiet of the apartment feels warm, almost comforting.

She heads to the bathroom and steps into the shower. As the steam fogs up the glass, she notices faint traces of where his fingers must have absently brushed across the condensation, drawing random patterns. 

Proof that this isn’t a dream, he was hers last night.

After her shower, she rummages through his cupboard to find something to wear, but instead finds a shirt she left behind long ago, forgotten until now. She pulls it on, feeling the fabric cling to her still-damp skin, and shimmies into the same pants from yesterday. The hunger hits her suddenly, and she practically inhales the toast, eggs and coffee, savoring every bite.

As she prepares to leave, she looks for the keys to lock the apartment. By the keystand, a small note catches her eye. She picks it up, her heart giving a small flutter as she reads the familiar handwriting.

Remember your postcards.

She finds the small stack right next to the note and smiles. She picks it up and almost walks out, before she walks back in and takes the note along with her too.

They sit across from each other at one of the long, narrow tables, the polished wood catching the golden hour light filtering through the tall windows.

Months have passed, and classes have begun again. Their time together has been good, even great, filled with moments that make her heart flutter more often than she’d care to admit. But with each passing day, a nagging feeling settles deeper in her chest - a constant reminder that they’re not dating, that her feelings for him shouldn’t matter. It’s something she has to tell herself over and over, especially when he does something that makes her smile in his own subtle way.

She’s focused on her laptop, typing away at her latest assignment, but her concentration wavers every now and then. She can’t help but sneak glances at Aemond, who’s engrossed in one of his textbooks, his brow furrowed in that familiar way that tugs at something deep within her.

Every so often, his foot nudges hers lightly under the table, a small gesture that sends a tingling sensation up her spine. It’s almost as if he does it without thinking, but the effect on her is anything but casual. She tries to keep her mind on her work, but the reminders keep coming - small touches that feel too intimate, like the brush of his hand against hers when they both reach for their coffee, or the way he sometimes squeezes her knee under the table, just for a moment, before going back to his reading as if nothing happened.

The thoughts swirl in her mind, making it harder and harder to focus. She needs a break, something to pull her away from these confusing feelings. So, she stands up, mumbling about needing a book for her research. Aemond doesn’t look up, but she can feel his presence, his quiet attention, as she walks away from the table.

She wanders through the rows of books, her fingers brushing along the spines as she tries to steady her thoughts. The library’s quiet, the only sounds the soft rustle of pages and the distant hum of conversation. She’s been walking for a few minutes when she suddenly stops, feeling a familiar presence behind her.

His shadow falls over her, unmistakable in its solidity, in the way it looms, tall and certain. Even without turning, she knows it’s Aemond. There’s something about the way he stands, the way his silhouette feels different from anyone else’s—broader, more composed, with an intensity that seems to fill the space around him.

She senses him draw closer, the warmth of his body pressing gently against her back. Her breath catches in her throat when she feels his hand brush her hair aside, the strands falling softly over her shoulder. Aemond’s fingers graze the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He leans in, his lips just barely touching her skin, teasing her with featherlight kisses that make her knees go weak.

“Hi,” she faintly murmurs. He grumbles just slightly, his voice low and rough in her ear, laced with a quiet amusement that makes her heart skip a beat. His breath is hot against her skin, and she can feel the faint rumble of his laugh as his lips travel along the curve of her neck.

Her breath catches as one of his hands slides under her skirt, fingers brushing over the curve of her ass, squeezing lightly before venturing lower, teasing the sensitive skin at the top of her thigh. The other hand moves up, slipping beneath her shirt. His touch is firm, confident, as his fingers trace over the fabric of her bra, finding the sensitive peaks of her nipples. He brushes over them, his touch sending a shudder through her that she can’t hide.

“Aemond…” she whispers, her voice a mix of plea and warning, but it only makes him smile against her skin.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says softly, his voice full of a challenge she’s not sure she can meet. His fingers pinch lightly, just enough to make her gasp, the sound swallowed by his quiet groan of approval.

But she doesn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she leans back into him, her body betraying her mind as it seeks more of his touch. His hand on her ass tightens, pulling her against him, and she feels the heat of him, the way he presses against her as if he can’t get close enough.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs, his lips trailing back up to her ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. “You know that, right?”

She nods, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts as his hand beneath her shirt continues its slow, deliberate torment.

“Say the word,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that makes her insides twist with want. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

But the words won’t come. Instead, she turns her head slightly, catching his gaze out of the corner of her eye, the intensity there stealing whatever resolve she thought she had. His eyes are dark, filled with something deep and consuming, and it’s in that moment she knows she’s lost.

“Aemond…” she breathes again, but this time, it’s not a warning. It’s an invitation, and he knows it. His hand leaves her ass, sliding around to her front, pulling her even closer, and she feels the low, satisfied hum in his chest as he kisses the side of her neck, harder this time, more insistent.

The hand slides further down, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers move with agonizing slowness, tracing the curve of her before dipping into the heat between her thighs. She bites down on her lip, trying to stifle the gasp that escapes her as his fingers brush over her entrance.

“So wet for me,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice thick with desire. His fingers start to move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and tormenting her with a touch that’s just enough to make her want more but not enough to satisfy the growing ache inside her.

She grips the edge of the bookshelf in front of her, knuckles turning white as she tries to stay quiet, but every slow, precise movement of his fingers makes it harder. Her breath hitches in her throat as he presses harder, moving against her in a way that makes her whole body tense with need.

“Please, Aemond,” she whispers, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she’s feeling. She wants more, needs more, and she knows he can give it to her.

A low, dark chuckle rumbles in his chest as he withdraws his hand, making her whimper at the loss. But before she can protest, he’s turning her around, his movements quick and deliberate, as if he’s been waiting for this just as much as she has.

He pushes her back against the shelves, his body pressing into hers, trapping her between the cool wood and his heat. His mouth is on hers before she can say anything else, kissing her hard and deep, swallowing the moan that escapes her as he reaches between them to tug her panties down. His fingers work deftly, the fabric falling to the floor around her ankles as he frees himself from his pants.

He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, his gaze dark and filled with something primal. “It’s a shame,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “I quite like it when you scream.”

Her breath catches at his words, the anticipation tightening in her stomach as he leans in, his lips brushing against her ear. “But you’re going to have to be quiet, or they’ll hear you.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before he’s lifting her leg, wrapping it around his waist as he guides himself to her entrance. She gasps as he pushes into her slowly, stretching her inch by inch in a way that feels both torturous and utterly perfect.

She bites down on her lip to keep from crying out, the intensity of the sensation almost too much to bear as he fills her completely. His hand slides under her shirt again, pushing the fabric up and palming her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that makes her arch against him, her body desperate for more of his touch.

He begins to move, thrusting into her with a slow, steady rhythm that has her head spinning. Each movement is deliberate, controlled, as if he’s savoring every moment, every sound she makes. She can’t help the small moans that escape her, each one muffled against his shoulder as she clings to him, her body trembling with the force of her need.

But even her attempts to stay quiet aren’t enough to satisfy him. He kisses her again, harder this time, swallowing her cries as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that makes the bookshelf behind her rattle. The sounds of the library fade away, leaving only the echo of their ragged breaths and the wet, slick sounds of their bodies moving together.

“So fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips brushing against her ear as he pounds into her, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

She can feel the tension building inside her, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Her fingers dig into his back, holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

“I need you,” she gasps, her voice a desperate whisper against his neck. “Please, Aemond… don’t stop.” The thrill of being caught only seems to make her want more.

His response is a low, guttural sound that sends shivers down her spine. He shifts slightly, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside her, and suddenly she’s teetering on the edge, every nerve in her body alight with sensation.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his voice a dark command that she can’t resist.

And she does. Her body shatters around him, her release crashing over her in waves that leave her trembling and breathless. He kisses her again, swallowing her cries as he thrusts into her harder, faster, riding out her orgasm until she’s nothing but a quivering mess in his arms.

Aemond isn’t far behind. With a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself deep inside her, his body going rigid as he finds his own release, groaning her name against her lips as he spills into her.

They stay like that for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together as they come down from the high. He kisses her softly, his lips lingering on hers as if he’s reluctant to pull away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, lost in the aftermath of what they’ve just shared.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that she can’t quite place, something intense and raw that makes her heart skip a beat. He smooths her hair back, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before helping her adjust her clothes, his touch now tender, almost reverent.

When she’s done with adjusting herself, she brings her hands over her mouth and lets out a long, shuddering breath - disbelief, over what they’d just done. He seems quite unfazed, almost as if he constantly engages in semi-public sex and she can’t help but wonder.

Has he done this with her too?

When he pulls her into his chest with an arm over her shoulder, she smiles. She smiles and smiles and smiles until her lips go taut and her dimples are seemingly permanent.

Aemond pushes open the door to her room, stepping inside with a quiet creak of the hinges. He pauses, his gaze taking in the chaos that greets him: clothes scattered across the floor, stacks of books and sketch pads teetering on the edge of her desk, and an assortment of half-packed bags and boxes cluttering every available surface. 

Raising an eyebrow, he surveys the scene with amusement. “You’ve been busy,” he says, his tone both teasing and intrigued.

She glances up from where she is hunched over a suitcase, her hands busy stuffing garments into it with an absentminded efficiency. “I am,” she says with a sigh, straightening up and brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I’m packing to go back home next week. One of my older half-brothers is launching his business, and my dad called me today. He’s got plane tickets for me, so I thought I’d just stay at King’s Landing until the Targaryen Charity Benefit.”

Her eyes flicker over to him, a hint of apology in them as if she were embarrassed by the state of her room. “I’m taking my classes online while I’m there.”

Aemond hums, his gaze drifting to the cluttered bed as he sits at the edge. He runs a hand through his hair, still processing her news. “You’ll be gone for three weeks.”

She leaves the mess behind and stands in front of him, between his legs. Almost as though it’s second nature, she straddles him, her legs wrapping around his waist. His hands settle on her hips, holding her in place, and she smiles. “Yes, whatever will you do without me?”

Aemond’s grip tightens around her hips as she straddles him. He lifts a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender. Without a word, she leans down, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s gentle at first. His hands roam up her back, steadying her against him, while her fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the sharp angles beneath her touch. She melts into him, savoring the warmth of his chest and the familiar feel of his arms around her.

Her mind betrays her, hitting her with the sudden realization of how much she cares for him - how her feelings have resurfaced in full force despite everything. She told herself before that this was casual, but now, pressed against him, it's impossible to ignore the tenderness of the moment, how much it means to her.

Just as she's about to lose herself entirely, Aemond pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks softly. “Come with me… to the Targaryen Charity Benefit.”

She blinks, his words cutting through the haze of her thoughts. “What?”

He meets her eyes, his thumb stroking her side. “Come with me.”

“As your date?” She raises her eyebrows, knowing very well that going with him to public events is probably not a safe bet to make.

“As whatever you’d like.”

Her heart skips a beat, the invitation sending a flutter through her chest. For a moment, she hesitates, her mind whirling. She can see herself there, on his arm, but doubt quickly gnaws at her. What about the other woman? The one she knows he’s seeing? Wouldn't that complicate things further?

But she pushes the thoughts aside, smiling softly at him as she whispers, “Okay.”

Before she can overthink it, she leans down and kisses him again, her lips urgent against his, as though trying to drown out the uncertainty lingering in her mind. But as the kiss deepens, the doubt creeps back in. Can she really be the girl on his arm without stirring up more trouble? Will his other entanglements only complicate things further? What are they even doing?

She can’t shake the feeling that it’s not as simple as he makes it sound.

Pulling back from the kiss, her breath still mingling with his, her fingers still on his chest. The question that’s been nagging at the back of her mind breaks through, and she can’t keep it at bay any longer. “What about her?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “The girl you’re seeing… is that not going to be a problem?”

Aemond’s expression shifts ever so slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze. He sighs, his hands resting lightly on her hips as he looks down, avoiding her eyes for a moment. “It’s not what we do,” he says, his voice soft but edged with a weight that makes her heart sink. “We don’t… go out.”

There’s a heaviness to his words, something almost resigned in the way he says them. It breaks her heart just slightly, the realization that this other girl—whoever she is— isn’t someone he even takes out in public. But why? Why would he hide someone if she wasn’t important to him in some way? Why come to her if she was important?

Her brows knitted together as she looked at him, searching his face for answers. “Why?” she asked softly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself. “Why hide her if she’s not…?”

He met her gaze then, his expression hard to read. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, as if weighing his response. “It’s complicated,” he finally said, his voice low, almost distant. “It’s not what we do. We can’t… it’s not what we do.”

The way he said it, the way the words hung between them, sent a pang through her chest. She had no idea what he was dealing with, but it was clear that whatever this was with the other woman wasn’t as simple as she’d imagined. Still, it left her wondering if she’d ever really have him, all of him, or if he was always going to be torn between worlds she couldn’t fully understand.

She looked away, trying to process it all. The warmth of his body against hers, the comfort of his arms around her—none of it could quiet the confusion that swirled in her mind. Aemond’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on her hips as he noticed the way her expression shifted, the light in her eyes dimming.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He lifted a hand to cup her face, gently turning her head so she’d look at him. His thumb brushed lightly over her cheek. “It’s not what you think.”

She held his gaze for a moment, her expression guarded, but the doubt lingered in her eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Aemond exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment press down on him. “It’s not like that with her,” he said, his voice low, steady. “She won’t mind.”

She won’t mind. She won’t mind. She won’t mind. She won’t-

Her time with him was all because this other girl did not mind. And if she did? What then?

The words echoed in her mind, reverberating off every wall of her thoughts until they drowned out the sound of Aemond’s voice, the warmth of his touch. She won’t mind. It burned into her, the reality she had been pushing aside - her time with him, their moments together, the intimacy they shared, all hinged on the indifference of another woman. Her existence in his life was allowed because someone else didn’t care enough to stop it.

But what if she did? What if this other woman, whoever she was, suddenly decided she did care? What if, one day, Aemond had to choose? She already knew the answer, and it made her stomach twist painfully.

Her mind raced, flicking through every moment they’d shared - every touch, every kiss, every lingering glance - and she saw it clearly now. This arrangement, whatever it was, wasn’t the casual thing she had imagined. It was precarious, temporary, held together by his convenience and Aemond’s careful balancing act between her and someone else. And if that balance tipped? If the other girl did mind?

The thought is ugly, but she can’t help it.

She’ll be the one left behind, a brief chapter in his life, an afterthought in the wake of his real relationship. The thought makes her sick. She doesn’t want to be with someone who can’t put her first, who keeps her around because it’s easy and doesn’t disrupt his life. She doesn’t want to be the girl waiting in the wings, always wondering when it’ll end, when she’ll be discarded because something else took precedence.

Aemond’s touch no longer feels like a comfort. His words, however sweet, now seem hollow. She wants him, yes—wants him desperately, but not like this. She doesn’t need him. Not so much that she would destroy herself, let herself be diminished, just to be with him.

She doesn’t want to help him keep up his image while he spends the entire night waiting to go back to her.

The realization hits her like a wave, flooding her with a clarity she hasn’t grasped before. She’s been clinging to him, holding on to the fragments of what they have because she thought she couldn’t let go. But now, she sees it for what it is. She deserves more than being someone’s second choice, someone’s convenience.

She exhales softly and looks at him, really looks at him. His sharp features, silver hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression holding mild confusion as he notices her shift. He’s beautiful, enigmatic, the kind of person who draws you in without even trying. And she loves him. That much is clear. But she loves herself, too. And this—this isn’t good for her.

For a long moment, she stays silent, her heart thudding in her chest as she gathers the courage to say what she knows has to be said. Her eyes search his face, memorizing him, this moment. Because after this, everything will change. There will be no going back.

All of this is happening on borrowed time - she deserves more.

Before she can fully process her resolve, Aemond moves. In one swift motion, he lifts her effortlessly, a startled gasp escaping her lips as he throws her back onto the bed. Her body bounces lightly against the sheets, her heart pounding as she looks up at him. He looms above her, a quiet intensity in his eyes, and for a second, everything else fades away - there’s only him.

His thumb grazes her bottom lip, slow and deliberate, as if he’s committing the feel of her to memory. She can’t tear her gaze away, her breath hitching when he leans down, pressing his forehead against hers. The warmth of his skin, the closeness of his breath - it’s intoxicating, and despite everything, despite her earlier resolve, she feels herself crumbling.

“Come with me.” His voice is low, a quiet plea she can't resist. Their foreheads press together, breath mingling, and for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath.

Her heart wavers, but the word slips out before she can stop it. “Okay.”

And then he's on her, kissing her with an intensity that steals her breath. His hands roam her body, rough yet tender, like he can't get enough of her. She melts beneath him, her hands tangling in his silver hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

Their bodies move together, a rhythm they know too well. He pushes into her slowly at first, drawing out her pleasure until she's arching into him, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His hands grip her hips, holding her steady as his thrusts become more urgent, more insistent.

She moans, her nails digging into his back under his shirt as she rides the waves of her release, trembling beneath him. But he isn’t done.

Before she can catch her breath, Aemond flips her over, positioning her on all fours. The cool air hits her back, sharp against the heat of his touch, and she shivers. His lips trace her spine with sweet kisses before he grips her hips again, pulling her back towards him.

Without warning, he thrusts into her hard and deep, and she cries out, her fingers clenching the sheets as he fills her completely. His movements are rough, every thrust powerful, almost desperate, as he chases his own pleasure. She can feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers dig into her skin, the low growl escaping his lips as he loses himself in her.

Each thrust sends her reeling, her body arching as he pounds into her, the bed creaking beneath them. The pressure builds again, her senses overwhelmed by the roughness of his touch, the way his body dominates hers. It’s primal, raw, and she gives in to it, letting the pleasure wash over her once more.

He moves faster, harder, his breaths ragged as he pushes them both to the edge. His fingers tighten on her hips, pulling her back into him with each powerful thrust, his control slipping. She feels him tense behind her, his rhythm faltering as he reaches his peak, his final thrusts erratic and frantic.

With one final, forceful push, he groans, his body trembling as he spills into her, his grip tightening as he holds her close. She gasps, her own body quivering from the intensity of it all, pleasure mingling with the rawness of what they’ve just shared.

Aemond shifts beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her into his chest. His warmth envelops her, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing against her skin. She nestles closer, feeling the way his body fits perfectly around hers, his arm draped possessively over her stomach.

The room is quiet, just the sound of their breathing filling the space. She stares at the wall, her mind still spinning from everything—the way he held her, the feel of his body against hers. It feels so real, so perfect, and it terrifies her.

"I'm hungry," she whines.

And then, he laughs. It’s quiet, just a low chuckle, but she feels his whole body move behind her, his chest pressing into her back as his shoulders shake slightly. She doesn’t need to see his face to know how he looks when he laughs - his lips upturned slightly, the sound soft but genuine, his whole body leaning forward with it. It’s rare, but she cherishes it every time.

She smiles to herself, her heart swelling in her chest. She likes him too much, more than she ever thought she would. Maybe she even loves him. The thought sends a pang through her, bittersweet and undeniable. Loving him wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this, but it’s too late to deny it.

But she’ll leave soon. And when she comes back, she’ll tell him the truth. She needs to know if there’s space for her in his life, or if the woman he guards so fiercely already holds that place.

Her chest tightens at the thought. She wants to be the one he turns to, the one he holds like this, the one he laughs with. But she can’t let herself be second. Not again.

She closes her eyes, breathing in the moment, memorizing how it feels to be wrapped in his arms. Because when she returns, everything will change.

One way or another.

She sits cross-legged on Arianne’s living room floor, nursing a glass of wine as she absentmindedly swirls the deep red liquid around in her glass. The cozy, dimly lit flat is filled with the soft sounds of an old record playing in the background, casting a nostalgic haze over the room. Arianne, always effortlessly composed, lounges on the couch, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she watches her with a knowing look in her eyes.

"You sneaky little bitch," Arianne says, narrowing her eyes playfully, lips curving into a teasing smirk. She exaggerates a cross-eyed look, making her wince and laugh in guilt.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner,” she mumbles, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass.

“Yeah, you should have,” Arianne huffs, tossing a pillow at her. “I would’ve liked to know you were fucking Aemond Targaryen, for gods’ sake! Girl, you should have told me!”

She winces again, guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sor—"

“Aemond. Fucking. Targaryen of all people,” Arianne says, incredulous, her eyes wide as she takes a gulp of her wine. “He doesn’t seem like your type, though. What’s going on there?”

She blinks, a little taken aback by that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Arianne begins, leaning back into the couch with a lazy smile, “he’s Aemond Targaryen. The man calls Facebook ‘Book of the Face,’ for crying out loud. Posh, arrogant prick.”

“He’s posh? You’re a bloody Martell!” She retorts, raising her glass to her lips. “And for the record, he’s not even on Facebook.”

Arianne rolls her eyes dramatically. “Weird. I’d have thought the youngest one, Daeron, would’ve been more your type. The life of the party, you know?”

Of course, she’d say that. Arianne has known the Targaryens for most of her life. The Martells, like the Targaryens, are part of Westeros' seven most prominent families—the others being the Starks, Lannisters, Tullys, Tyrells, and Baratheons. In these circles, it’s not just about wealth or influence; it's about legacy. Apart from the reclusive Starks, the children of these families grow up in each other's orbits, attending the same elite schools, galas, and events that reinforce their status at the top.

Wherever life takes them, they find one another, keeping close within their exclusive, almost impenetrable social circle. Friendships and rivalries are passed down from generation to generation, their connections as powerful as the fortunes they control. She understands this better than anyone. Her family, after all, has sat on the board of Targaryen Consolidated for generations, their fates intertwined with the silver-haired dynasty. It’s a world where the personal and professional are inseparable, where trust is as valuable as the wealth that surrounds them.

She shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, Daeron’s... charming in his own way, but he’s basically Aegon if he wasn’t trying to screw anything in a dress.”

Arianne bursts into laughter, loud and unfiltered, leaning her head back. “Aegon’s fun though! I’ve hooked up with him a couple of times, and the sex was goo-ood!”

She groans, burying her face in her hands. “Ew, stop!”

“I’m just saying,” Arianne continues, completely unbothered. “Aegon may be a bit of a mess, but at least he knows how to have a good time. Aemond, on the other hand…” She trails off, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole situation. “I can’t believe you’re with him.”

She rolls her eyes, though a small smile tugs at her lips. “It’s not like that. Not really.”

Arianne scoots closer, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

She sighs, taking a deep breath before the words tumble out. “I think I’m falling for him, Ari. But... It's so confusing. I mean, I was in love with Daeron not even a year ago. How does that even look? Like I’m hopping from one brother to the other.”

Arianne’s teasing expression softens at that, and she reaches out, placing a hand on her knee. “You…” she says gently, her voice lacking its usual playful edge. “You’re not hopping from one brother to the next. You’re figuring out what you want. It’s okay to change, to grow. And it’s okay to love someone new.”

Arianne tilts her head, considering her words carefully. “Look, if Aemond thought you were confused, he wouldn’t be spending all this time with you. He’s smart—too smart to waste his time on something that doesn’t matter to him. And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he does care about you.”

She lets the words sink in, her chest tightening. “But it’s so much more complicated. He’s seeing someone—or was seeing someone. I don’t even know. He says it’s not serious, but…”

Arianne lets out a sympathetic sigh, pulling her into a side hug. “You need to talk to him. Really talk to him. Figure out where you both stand.”

She leans into her, resting her head on Arianne’s shoulder. “I’m scared. What if telling him ruins everything?”

Arianne rubs her back gently. “And what if it doesn’t? What if this is exactly what you both need to figure out where you’re going? You can’t keep avoiding it.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him when I get back.”

“And if it’s real,” Arianne adds softly, “you won’t lose him. But if it’s not... you’ll be okay. I think you deserve better anyway.”

“Stop!” She whines. She then smiles, feeling lighter. “Thanks, Ari.”

“Anytime,” Arianne grins, nudging her playfully. “Now, can we please watch something trashy and stop talking about your Targaryen boys? My brain needs a break from all this drama.”

She laughs, grateful for the distraction. “I brought soda and chips!”

Arianne cheers, grabbing the remote. “You know just how to spoil me.”

“Ae-mond, please…”

On their last night before her flight back to King's Landing, they move slowly together, every touch deliberate and heavy. Their bodies come together with a fervor that’s almost desperate, as if they’re trying to hold onto something that’s slipping through their fingers.

Each kiss feels like a search, an attempt to erase the lingering traces of someone else’s touch from his skin. She wonders if she’ll ever fully wash away the imprint of another’s fingertips, or if she’s merely adding her own layer to him. Every caress, every kiss is an exercise in forensics, a quest to mark him with her own brand, hoping that her touch will replace any remnants of someone else.

As he presses into her with a familiar, almost instinctive harshness, she can’t help but wonder if the other girl’s body was fuller, more curvaceous. The way he handles her, the way he’s rough and gentle all at once, speaks of an experience that goes beyond her. His touch is meticulous, as if he’s dedicated to exploring every contour of her body with a reverence she feels he must have practiced before.

She’s acutely aware that he isn’t new to the art of adoration. His hands, his lips, his entire presence seem to carry a certain expertise—each stroke, each touch is a testament to a history of worshiping a woman’s body with precision and care. He seems to know exactly where to touch, how to press, as if he’s memorized the map of desire and is determined to chart every inch of her.

With every touch, she is reminded that there is someone else. It breaks her like nothing else.

Aemond’s hands roam with purpose, tracing every curve, every hollow with a skill that leaves her breathless. She can’t shake the thought that this is a ritual of sorts, a final act of devotion before she departs. Each touch, each kiss feels like an affirmation of what they’ve shared, an attempt to seal their moments together into something tangible, something she can carry with her.

As she nears her release, her body arches and shudders beneath him, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He follows soon after, his movements urgent and final, his breath ragged against her skin.

Afterward, they lie together in the dim room, the sounds of crickets chirping softly through the open window.

“How are you getting to the airport?” His voice is soft in a way that she wishes she can bottle up and take with her.

“Dad’s sending a car to the flat,” she replies, her voice muffled by the pillow and his embrace.

The room is filled with the subtle buzz of the lamp and the gentle rustling of the curtains in the night breeze. Aemond pulls her close, his arms wrapping around her as he kisses her shoulder tenderly.

When they wake, he says nothing as she takes a shower in a hurry to leave. He cooks a quick breakfast for them both with whatever he could find in her fridge, and she eats like a woman starved. He kisses her gently before he lets her go, and she cannot help but think.

She’s leaving every inch of Aemond to another woman exclusively for three weeks. What if he decides he does not want her when she comes back?

Then the thought at the back of her mind resurfaces - that she’s the other woman. No matter what Aemond says, she knows that much to be true.

“Aemond…?” She murmurs, quickly debating whether or not she should tell him now, if only so that he’d be tempted to not push her aside completely in her absence.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” 

The words die on her tongue, just like a piece of her heart does when she gets on the plane.

The weeks pass by in a blur, and soon she finds herself standing in a crowded event hall, meeting her half-siblings after what feels like an eternity. Two of them are launching their new venture in the city, and the occasion has brought them all together. She interacts with them as much as she can, offering polite conversation and smiles, but she can’t help but feel a quiet astonishment at how little she truly knows about them. Despite the shared blood, they seem like strangers bound only by a distant connection.

It isn’t surprising, really. Jasper Wylde’s five children by his first wife had been adults long before he met her mother, and by the time she was born, the youngest of them was just leaving for college. The age gap, the separate lives - they had grown up worlds apart. There’s only so much they could have in common, and that knowledge weighs heavily on her as she exchanges pleasantries with them, feeling the disconnect more keenly with each passing moment.

She watches them closely - the way they move through the crowd, how they speak to each other with an ease that she’s never known with them. They have their own inside jokes, shared memories, and a rhythm that she’s never been a part of. It’s like watching a family dynamic she can’t quite break into, one she’s always been on the outskirts of. Even as they make small talk, she feels the invisible walls between them, the years of absence and unfamiliarity creating a distance that no amount of cordiality can erase.

But she plays her part—engages when they speak to her, listens as they recount their stories, and smiles when it’s appropriate. Yet all the while, she feels that sense of being on the outside looking in. They talk about their father, Jasper, with a familiarity that she can’t match, their experiences with him vastly different from her own. It’s clear that, in many ways, they had a father she never really knew.

What amazes her most, though, is how much closer she feels to the Targaryens than to her own blood. The realization strikes her with a quiet weight as she stands among her half-siblings, exchanging polite words, but never quite connecting. With the Targaryens, everything feels different—natural, easy, as though she belongs in their orbit in a way she never has with her own family.

With the Targaryens, she doesn’t feel like she’s on the outside looking in. She belongs. In their world, she’s more than just the youngest child of a man with a complicated past - she’s someone who matters.

Being home has made her feel strangely untethered. It’s not that she isn’t used to it—this distance from Aemond—but somehow, this time it feels different. Maybe it’s because she knows she’ll see him again soon, in just a matter of weeks, but it feels like the days are dragging by, each one marked by the weight of missing him.

She lies in bed late one evening, her phone resting on the pillow next to her, waiting for the familiar buzz. It’s become a routine—Aemond calling just before she falls asleep, his voice the last thing she hears at night. When the phone finally lights up with his name, she answers without hesitation.

"Hey," she says, trying to keep her voice casual, but her heart picks up the pace as soon as she hears his breath on the other end.

"Hey," he replies softly. There’s a brief pause, and she can hear the faint sounds of his apartment in the background—the muffled hum of traffic, the creak of his chair. "How’s home?"

"Fine, I guess. Quiet." She smiles a little, thinking of how everything feels slower here. "I saw my half-siblings today, for the launch thing."

"How was that?" His tone is neutral, but she knows he’s asking because he cares, not out of mere politeness.

"It was... weird. I don’t know, I barely know them. I guess I’m just realizing how distant we are." She pauses, feeling the words settle in the quiet between them. "I feel closer to your family than to mine. Maybe because yours is the better family. Although, I do have the better father."

He’s quiet for a moment, and she imagines him leaning back in his chair, considering her words. “I can assure you, your family is just fine. You don’t want mine.”

She laughs, a little caught off guard by the softness in his voice. "Yeah, maybe."

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking about nothing in particular—work, the weather, what he had for dinner. It’s all so simple, so familiar, and yet she finds herself hanging on every word, savoring the sound of his voice, the way he says her name. It’s the closest she can get to him right now, and it isn’t enough.

There’s a pause, and then Aemond asks, "So, how long now? Two weeks?"

She bites her lip, her heart skipping a beat. "Yeah, just about."

"You’re counting the days?"

She can hear the smile in his voice, and she feels her cheeks flush despite herself. "Maybe."

"You miss me," he says, his voice gentle, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, and it lands with a weight that she can feel in her chest.

"Maybe I do," she admits quietly, her heart pounding. There’s a moment of silence, and in that space, the truth presses at the edges of her thoughts, threatening to spill out.

When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more serious. "Aemond, we need to talk.”

She hears him shift on the other end, a subtle rustling of fabric. "What is it?"

She hesitates, not ready to say it yet. "A conversation best had in person."

"Alright," he says, his voice low, almost tender. 

She hangs up, her heart racing, her fingers still gripping the phone tightly. The warmth of his words lingers, solidifying her resolve. When she sees him again, she’ll tell him. She’ll tell him everything.

The event takes place in a grand hall, tucked away in the heart of the city but worlds apart from the modern, bustling life outside. The walls are lined with rich mahogany wood, centuries-old oil portraits of stern ancestors in gilded frames, and shelves stacked high with leather-bound books whose spines are worn with age. 

She steps inside and is immediately enveloped in the hushed murmurs of conversation, the gentle clinking of crystal glasses, and the soft rustle of fabric as guests move gracefully through the dimly lit space. Despite the outward calm, there’s an electric tension in the air as the auctioneer lifts the gavel to announce each winning bid. There’s a certain satisfaction, almost smug, in the faces of those who come away with a prized possession, as if they’ve secured another piece of their heritage. For the others, there’s no outward disappointment—just a cool, composed silence, knowing there will be another opportunity to prove their worth.

She sits back, observing it all, feeling both a part of this world and strangely removed from it. The dark paneling on the walls, the rich smell of leather and smoke, the soft glow of the fireplace at the far end of the room - it’s all familiar, yet there’s something about it that feels performative, as if the evening is a carefully constructed illusion. The charity, the good intentions, seem secondary to the ritual of it all. As the final item is brought out - a centuries-old manuscript in a glass case - the room stills. In the end, the manuscript is sold for an astronomical price. The gavel falls with a sharp crack, and polite applause ripples through the crowd, though it’s more a gesture of respect than enthusiasm.

As the final round of applause fades, the grand oak doors at the back of the room swing open, and Viserys Targaryen steps forward. His presence is immediately felt, even if he looks frail and thinner than ever before. She heard from Aemond that he’d taken up residence at Dragonstone now, having bought an apartment for himself to stay after his parents' secret, unofficial separation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice is smooth, warm, and commanding all at once, carrying easily over the subdued murmur of the crowd. "What a night this has been. I’m not sure what’s more impressive - the art we’ve auctioned off or the fact that some of you managed to keep your bids as discreet as you did. Subtlety, after all, is an art in itself," he says with a slight chuckle, eliciting polite laughter from the audience.

"Your generosity tonight is overwhelming," he continues, his tone shifting to one of sincere gratitude. "These contributions will go a long way in supporting the causes we hold dear, ensuring that history is preserved for future generations to appreciate - something I think we all understand better than most."

"And now," Viserys adds with a glint of amusement, "I know you’ve all been quite serious about your bidding, but it's time to relax a little." The room hums in agreement.

"Please," he gestures toward the doors leading to the adjoining ballroom, "join me for a night of music, dancing, and, of course, more wine. I think we’ve all earned it after such a spectacular evening."

With a final smile, Viserys steps down from the podium, the soft clapping of the crowd filling the room as guests begin to rise from their seats, gathering their evening coats and handbags. The heavy double doors to the ballroom swing open, revealing a space even grander than the auction hall. The light spills out, golden and inviting, as the soft strains of a string quartet begin to play from within.

She takes her father’s hand and walks in with him, their pace in tandem with each other. 

Do you think we’ll make it through this evening without someone bringing up a new investment opportunity?" she murmurs, her voice laced with dry amusement, eyes scanning the sea of chandeliers, gilded mirrors, and finely dressed people mingling as they enter the ballroom.

Jasper Wylde glances down at her with a half-smile. "Doubt it," he says. "There’s always someone with a 'brilliant' idea that just needs a little backing."

She lets out a soft chuckle. "Maybe we should place bets on who brings it up first."

"Ten crowns on Lord Massey," he says, his tone casual, but the glint in his eye betrays his amusement. "He’s been circling us all night."

"You're on," she replies, feeling lighter as they reach the grand archway leading into the ballroom. The gentle strains of the string quartet swirl around them, and she allows herself to soak in the surroundings.

Their moment of ease is brief. As soon as they step fully into the room, a cohort of middle-aged men in dark suits, all clutching glasses of whiskey, make their approach, their faces lighting up at the sight of her father. She can see the shift in his demeanor - the casualness dropping ever so slightly, replaced by a more guarded, professional air.

"Ah, here we go," Jasper mutters under his breath. 

One of the men, a stocky figure with graying hair and a booming voice, claps her father on the shoulder. "Ironrod, just the man we were looking for!" he says, raising his glass. "We were just discussing the latest venture down in Storm’s End. Care to weigh in?"

Her father gives her a rueful look, the corner of his mouth quirking as if to say I told you so. "Duty calls," he says softly to her, before turning to the group with a more affable expression. "Gentlemen, lead the way."

And just like that, he’s swept up into the conversation, nodding and exchanging knowing glances with the men as they disappear into a corner of the ballroom. Before she can fully orient herself, Daeron appears at her side, his usual easy grin plastered across his face.

"Well, look who it is," he says warmly, pulling her into a quick embrace. "I thought I'd have to search the entire ballroom to find you."

She laughs lightly. "I wasn’t hiding, just waiting for you to make your grand entrance. How was Essos?"

Daeron’s face lights up, and he launches into a recount of his summer abroad with Helaena, his energy infectious. "It was wild. Good time with Hel, she took me along to the coastline and we went around looking for almost-extinct bugs in Lys." He rolls his eyes but there’s fondness in his voice.

She smiles at the thought of Helaena. "Sounds like her. Where is she tonight?"

"With our grandfather and Aemond, somewhere over there," Daeron says, nodding toward a nearby cluster of people. Sure enough, she spots Helaena waving enthusiastically, her face alight with joy as she talks to Otto. Aemond, standing next to her, gives a small, almost imperceptible nod when their eyes meet. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than it should, and her heart stirs in response.

She can’t help but smile softly, and, on a whim, she winks at him. She’s had a bad feeling about this night ever since she woke, but it all dissipates massively the moment his gaze meets hers. He doesn’t react outwardly, but there’s something in his posture that shifts ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment.

Daeron catches the exchange but remains oblivious, laughing as he gestures to the ballroom. "Come on, let’s take a look around. It's the same as always, but a little darker, don't you think?"

“Perhaps,” she remarks dryly, glancing around at the decadent decor.

As they stroll through the room, their eyes catch Will Tyrell, who is deep in conversation with an older man near the far end of the ballroom.

"Ah, Will," Daeron says, grinning as he gestures toward him. "His father's expanding their business, you know. Will's been training to take over soon. Everyone's talking about it."

"I’ve seen him around campus," she replies, keeping her voice casual. "We almost hooked up once, actually."

Daeron raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really? What happened?"

Her stomach twists at the memory, a flash of the panic that had overwhelmed her that night. She remembers calling Aemond, his voice steadying her over the phone as she told him where she was. He’d picked her up, no questions asked. The bitterness that rises in her throat is unexpected, but it’s there, sharp and real.

"Don’t even ask," she mutters, her voice tight as she glances away, trying to shake off the heaviness of the memory.

Daeron, sensing her shift in mood, just nods, his usual carefree demeanor faltering slightly. He doesn’t push for details, instead flashing her a soft smile as they continue to walk through the room, the tension between them dissipating into the hum of the ballroom.

"Oh look, it’s the little runts," Aegon drawls, his speech a bit slurred. He saunters toward them, an empty champagne flute dangling from his fingers, Sara Snow by his side. She’s looking slightly amused, though there’s a softness in her expression that suggests she's trying to rein him in.

"Aegon," Daeron greets him with mock surprise, a grin spreading across his face. “Dude you’re already drunk, mum’s going to kill you.”

"Give it time," Aegon quips with a lazy smirk. "The night’s still young, brother."

Sara stifles a laugh, though her eyes are warm as she glances up at Aegon. "I’m doing my best to make sure he behaves," she says, her voice carrying a playful edge.

"Oh, please," Daeron rolls his eyes. "Aegon behaving is like...what, dragons coming back to life?”

"Exactly," Aegon retorts. "No fun at all."

"Yeah, you're all fun and no taste," Daeron jabs back. "In...well, pretty much everything."

Aegon dramatically clutches his chest as if wounded. "Excuse you, I happen to have impeccable taste."

"Oh really?" she chimes in, unable to resist the tease. "Let's not forget the time you tried to convince everyone that that neon green sports car was ‘classy.’ Or when you spent a fortune on that God-awful abstract painting that looked like a child had spilled paint on a canvas."

Aegon raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Hey, that car is an acquired taste, and the painting? It’s avant-garde. You wouldn’t get it."

Daeron bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "Right, keep telling yourself that."

But before anyone else can jump in, she adds with a smirk, "To be fair, Aegon has great taste in women."

Sara, who had been quietly listening, suddenly blushes furiously, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. She ducks her head, trying to hide her smile, but it’s clear she’s both flattered and embarrassed by the comment.

Aegon, however, grins wickedly. "Ah, finally, someone recognizes my true genius," he says, draping an arm around Sara, who shoots him a look but doesn’t pull away.

"Yeah, genius is the word I’d use," Daeron deadpans, earning another round of laughter from the group.

Aegon, noticeably tipsy and grinning like a Cheshire cat, leans in close to Sara, his words slightly garbled. "You know, Sara, I just remembered I left something...um, somewhere. How about we go find it together?"

Sara looks at him with a mixture of amusement and mild concern, but before she can respond, Aegon takes her hand and starts to guide her toward the door.

"Careful with that one," Daeron calls out, his tone light and teasing. "I’ve seen him turn a charity event into a rave before."

"Ah, don’t worry," she replies, her voice tinged with a hint of laughter. "I think he’s already got plans for a private after-party."

With a final chuckle, Daeron watches as they exit, the door closing behind them.

She turns back to Daeron, her gaze thoughtful. "By the way, what’s up with Floris? I haven’t seen her around tonight."

Daeron’s expression shifts, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "Oh, um, we broke up," he says quietly, almost as if he’s still coming to terms with it.

Her heart twinges with genuine sympathy. "I’m really sorry to hear that. I hope you’re okay."

Daeron nods, managing a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. It’s been...a lot. But I’ll be fine."

"Where is she, then? At the event, I presume?"

"Yeah, she’s here," Daeron confirms. "Probably with her parents and sisters. It was a bit weird to be honest.”

“I can imagine.” Just then, a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes comes by. They each take one, and Daeron is about to take a sip when he is called away by Otto Hightower.

As Daeron makes his way through the crowd, she turns to find Arianne Martell approaching her, her presence immediately drawing attention with her striking elegance. “You look amazing, Ari!”

Arianne’s eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief as she greets her. “So do you. But let’s cut to the chase. That’s not the Targaryen I was expecting to see you with tonight.”

“I haven’t told him yet. The time isn’t right. Soon though.”

“You mean you keep putting it off.”

“No, I just… I don’t know.”

“Look around you, babe. Half of these people are on the lookout - and those Targaryen kids? All their mothers are training their girls to get one. If my father had his way, I’d be throwing myself at Aegon!”

“Ari! Don’t be so crude.”

“I’m being realistic. Make your move.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your best friend.” 

As they talk, she feels a strange unease settling in her stomach. Her gaze drifts across the room, taking in the opulence and the perfectly polished ambiance of the ballroom. Something about it all feels off, like there’s an underlying current she can’t quite grasp.

Noticing her silence and distant look, Arianne asks, “Is everything okay? You seem a bit… off.”

She hesitates for a moment before responding, “I don’t know. It’s just… something feels off. I have this gut feeling, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Arianne’s brow furrows in concern. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, trying to shake off the unease. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere. Everything is so perfect, almost too perfect.”

Arianne’s brow furrows in concern. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, trying to shake off the unease. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if it’s just me being paranoid or if there’s actually something going on.”

Arianne nods, her expression thoughtful. “It’s in your head babe. Calm down alright? You’ll be fine!”

Aemond finds them, cutting through the crowd with an ease that only someone accustomed to these events could manage. His presence alone seems to command attention, and she feels her heart flutter as he approaches. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, his breath warm and comforting. “You look pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and genuine.

Her eyes follow him as he straightens, unable to help herself from shamelessly ogling him. The way his dark suit fits him so perfectly, the sharp cut of his jaw, the glint of his eyes—it’s all so striking that she finds it hard to look away. He’s right in front of her, and yet he feels like a distant star that she can’t quite reach, but desperately wants to.

Arianne, ever perceptive, catches the look on her face and raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, her tone dripping with teasing. “You know, give you some space.”

She winks at them both before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and slipping away into the crowd. Her departure leaves a space between them that feels both comforting yet like too much. “You look very nice,” she says.

Aemond’s lips curl into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he replies, his tone a mix of aloofness and affection that she finds utterly endearing. “Though I must say, I’m quite taken with how you look tonight.”

She catches his gaze, her smile widening. “Well, I’m glad I managed to impress you.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “You always manage to.”

There’s a pause, a moment of quiet intimacy, as their eyes lock. Aemond’s hand on her back feels reassuring, grounding her in the present. He then wordlessly gives her his hand, and she takes it. She always will, she is his.

With a gentle but purposeful tug, Aemond guides her through the maze of the ballroom, leading her into the darker, quieter corridors of the estate. The soft hum of distant conversations and the clinking of glasses fade as they move further from the main event.

Eventually, they reach a secluded room, dimly lit and private. Aemond closes the door behind them, cutting off the noise from the outside world. Without a word, he steps closer, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens. Aemond’s hands find her waist, his grip firm and possessive. 

His lips are demanding, their kisses fiery and passionate. She responds with equal fervor, her hands sliding up his chest to grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. The connection between them is raw, almost desperate, as if they’re trying to make up for lost time with every touch.

Aemond’s hands roam over her back, his fingers pressing firmly against her skin, as if he’s trying to imprint her presence into his memory. She can feel the heat of his body through the fabric of their clothes, the tension in his muscles as he holds her tightly.

She gasps into his mouth as he pulls her even closer, his touch igniting a fire within her. His hands travel down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, his lips trailing hot, urgent kisses along her jawline and down her neck. She arches into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him back to her lips with a desperate hunger.

Gods, she likes him too much for her own good.

Finally, their lips part, and they break away, both gasping for breath. The room is filled with a lingering tension, the air heavy with the intensity of their embrace. They take a moment to collect themselves, their faces flushed and eyes still locked in a shared, heated gaze.

Aemond gently brushes a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender despite the fervor of their earlier kisses. “I have to go shake more hands,” he says, his voice reluctant. He offers a small, apologetic smile, his knuckles lingering on her cheek for a moment longer before he pulls away. “I’ll find you later.”

She nods, her heart still racing from their encounter. “Okay,” she replies softly, her voice a touch breathless. She watches as he turns to leave, and the moment he does - the feeling of unease comes back.

She walks back into the ballroom, smoothing down her dress and taking a deep breath to calm the rapid beat of her heart. The lingering warmth from Aemond’s touch is still on her skin, but the feeling of unease that had vanished in his presence now returns in full force.

As she steps further into the room, she spots a familiar face from across the crowd - one of the curators from the Westeros National Museum. He strides toward her with a knowing smile, gesturing to a nearby exhibit of her ancestor Coryanne Wylde’s paintings. “I was just about to ask if you’d seen these,” he says as they exchange pleasantries. “It’s rare to come across someone with a direct connection to the artist.” She smiles in response.

The curator nods in appreciation, and together, they walk over to the group of art enthusiasts who are gathered around the paintings. As they approach, she immediately recognizes someone else among them: her professor Alys Rivers. The professor’s sharp gaze softens slightly when she spots her, clearly surprised to see her here.

“Professor! So good to see you here, I wasn’t expecting you! Are you with someone?”

Alys chuckles lightly, offering a polite smile and points her finger beyond her shoulder. “That’s my brother.” She raises her eyebrows as she follows her gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Your brother’s Headmaster Strong?”

“My half-brother, yes. Which explains the different surnames.”

“Wow, small world.”

“We were just discussing some of the first-edition Volantene classics that we’ve been trying to source for the museum,” one of the curators says, a note of excitement in his voice. “A few Valyrian classics as well. It’s been quite the hunt.”

Her interest piques at the mention of Valyrian literature. The conversation drifts toward a particular Valyrian classic, The Last Embrace, and her attention locks in immediately, memories of Aemond reading it to her still vivid in her mind. One of the curators leans forward, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s such a beautiful work,” he says. “That passage where they talk about love being both a gift and a curse? The language is so intricate, it’s no wonder it’s one of the rarest Valyrian texts we’ve managed to preserve.”

Another curator nods in agreement. “Yes, I believe the exact line is something about love being a disease, but one we choose to suffer from?”

Before Wylde can speak, Professor Rivers steps in, her voice measured and calm. “Love is a disease of the mind, but one we willingly suffer for. It’s one of the most poignant lines in the entire text.”

Wylde's breath catches at the familiarity of the words. It was the same phrase he had marked, tracing the words as he read.

“That line,” Professor Rivers continues, “it’s always struck me. The complexity of love in Valyrian culture—how it could be both destructive and profound at the same time.”

The first curator smiles thoughtfully. “It’s fascinating how much depth there is in just one sentence. That’s what makes it a masterpiece. We’ve been trying to source a first-edition copy for years now.”

Rivers nods. “It’s difficult to find. I was lucky enough to own one of the first editions. Loaned it to someone close a while back, actually.”

Her chest tightens. The same line. The same book. She tries to push the thought away, but it grips her, the unease from earlier settling deep in her bones.

I know someone who can find the premium first edition copies, he had said.

But she doesn’t even teach him. And he’s Aemond Targaryen - he probably knows a hundred people of resource who can find him all the books he wants.

But there’s only three known copies of the first print in Westeros…

The feeling of unease that she had pushed aside the entire night comes back in full force - she doesn’t know why. It is a nagging feeling that refuses to go away, and she does not know what she’ll do about it.

Before she can dwell on it further, an attendant addresses her. He tells her that her father is asking for her from across the room. She excuses herself, turning away from the group with a polite smile. As she moves, she catches a fleeting glimpse of Professor Rivers’ necklace, the light glinting off the familiar design. Her breath falters.

She recognizes it.

A few months ago, she had seen that very necklace at Aemond’s apartment. She remembers asking him about it, how he had alluded to it belonging to a woman that he’s seeing. At the time, she hadn’t pressed him, unsure if she even wanted to know the details.

One of the curators points out the necklace, commenting on its unique craftsmanship. “That’s a Strong family heirloom, isn’t it?” he asks with admiration. “Quite the rare piece. One of a kind, if I’m not mistaken.”

Alys smiles, her hand brushing over the pendant. “Yes, it is. Passed down through generations. Only one of a kind.”

She feels like the ground is shifting beneath her feet. She can’t stop the flood of thoughts now, the connections falling into place. Her chest tightens as she pulls away from the group, her steps unsteady, her mind whirling with possibilities she doesn’t want to entertain.

No. It’s not what you think. It can’t be.

“It’s very beautiful, professor,” she says. “It was… uhm… it was nice to see you here. I’m going back to… my father’s expecting me.” The torrid nature of her thoughts shows on her face, and she can feel her palms sweating as the music and the crowd threaten to overwhelm her.

“Are you alright, Ms Wylde? You seem quite disoriented,” her professor says. She holds her onto her elbow to help steady her even if she hasn’t quite careened to the floor yet. Her skin burns where she holds her, and she wonders if she knows.

She looks her professor straight in her eyes, hoping to find any recognition. Then again, she doesn’t want to know too. 

“No, just… you know how these things can be. They tire you out quickly I suppose. I’m just going to…” 

She walks out of the ballroom and into the vast expanse of open gardens. She breathes and breathes and breathes.

It can’t be.

MASTERLIST

NO TAG LIST. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON POST NOTIFS FOR @randomdragonfics for fic updates!

[limonmelon]

armandaniel reclist

Because I really have to start putting these somewhere and because I need everyone to read these and give them the love they deserve:

outcast of all this night by gaypiratedivorce - "After a month in Dubai, Daniel Molloy is back home and miraculously alive, eager to get to work on his first draft. The vampire Armand has other plans." first in an insanely good (and complete!) series.

two truths and a liar by andrealyn - "Facing down the press junket for his book, Daniel Molloy is prepared to hype up his hit novel. He's less prepared to have Armand crash the tour to play bodyguard and doting assistant and he's definitely not ready to have his secrets spilled on a world stage because Armand wants to play games. The longer he sticks around to torment Daniel as he chases him across the country, the longer he stays. So, who's really winning this game?"

to the edge of the earth by andrealyn (you can tell I love her Daniel voice) - "There's nowhere that Armand can run where Daniel won't find him. Using the Talamasca's information, his own dogged determination, and eternity sprawling ahead of them, Daniel's going to find his maker and figure out why Armand keeps running. When he catches him (and he will), he's going to prove that it's going to be the two of them, forever, and that he's going to love Armand the way no one has before."

and then what? by andrealyn - "The droning hum of Louis' boredom is going to drive Armand mad. Instead of accepting it, Armand seeks out the kaleidoscope chaos that is Daniel Molloy's mind to learn why he's so special, so fascinating, so interesting. Every city he finds him in, he learns more before he makes Daniel forget. Every city, Armand grows a little more addicted. And every city, Armand does something he's not supposed to do -- falls a little more in love and eager to give Daniel the memories of who they are together."

his thoughts were red thoughts by spqr - "Daniel’s barely thirty; he can’t fathom one century, let alone five. It’s probably a wonder Armand doesn’t spend his time skulking in a cave somewhere, muttering to himself, covered in the blood and muck of his innocent human victims."

care and keeping by katplanet - "Louis shakes his head. “And now he's got you stepping on him.” Daniel picks his drink up and necks the last half of it. “I have not,” he says, “stepped on him, as of yet.” “But you want to.” “I think so?” Daniel puts the empty glass back on the table and scoots it out of their immediate limb radius. “I think I could want to. I want to want to.” “There you go,” Louis says, “tell him that. That'll set the mood.”" With some really great Louis/Daniel friends who love each other and also fuck too.

Endearments by Nothing_But_Paisley - "Daniel never compared him to a Botticelli angel or a Bernini cherub, never called him a demon or an imp. Such images scarcely existed within that wonderfully secular modern brain of his. Daniel was entirely a creature of the flesh."

open up your skull, i'll be there by typefortydeductions - "He shakes his wrist free and brings it to his mouth, licking up the trail of blood, his eyes never leaving Armand’s. He turns, and walks away, and spends a restless night in his own bed with his dick half-hard and the memory of Armand’s blood and Armand’s hands and Armand’s final whispered words before he upped and left Daniel sprawled newborn on the floor." this series floored me it's so good please read it.

mystic seaport is that way by exastris_scientia - "Daniel should really get more sleep and stop getting himself into these situations..." this series has it's boot on my throat. written pre-Season 2.

bend your dream with the road | VOTE TO END OTW RACISM by meronicavars - "Daniel is asleep dreaming of his own unreliable recollection of Louis at Polynesian Mary's all those years ago and Armand wants to dive into his dream and wrench Louis out, shake him until he realizes that Daniel is his, Daniel has always been his. Isn’t this something Louis should know? That Daniel was his gift to Armand. Why must you torture me with his presence? He wants to ask. Why would you bring him here if not to punish me?" also part of great series and written pre-Season 2.

the man who wasn't there by obstra - ""I just couldn't bear to lose you and Louis in one day.” Armand is looking away from Daniel now and picking more ferociously at the edge of his sleeve, like he's avoiding something big. He's almost afraid to ask, somehow he can tell this is going somewhere significant “Why would losing me be the same as losing Louis Armand? Just some kid you met decades ago in San Francisco, tortured a little bit then threw aside? Explain to me why. Does this have anything to do with the fact that my memory of the 70s has more holes in it than swiss cheese? I thought it was just drugs but I also thought San Francisco was just drugs and look how that turned out.”"

a haunting just for company by valkyrisms - ""I know what a breakup looks like," Daniel says. "The better question is, why are you coming to me about it? I'm the one who broke up your little sham." "This is what humans do, don't they?" Armand asks, letting his voice drop. "Crashing on their friends' couches when there's a blip in their romances?""

Simplicity by WendigoDreaming - "Daniel's memory is a gaping hole morphing slowly into the shape of Armand." also part of an ongoing series!

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning by trinityofone - "He should have left when he had the chance. But he wanted to see how it ended. His mistake. Because the story wasn’t done with him. All at once it was grabbing him by the throat. (A version of Daniel's turning featuring visions, sex, and sexy visions.)"

forever's gonna start tonight by trinityofone (actually just read all their IWTV fic thank you) - "I’ve lost my mind, Daniel thinks, still lavishing kisses to the chest of the creature that killed him. He says the next part out loud: “I fucking hate you. And you hate me. So something is making us do this.” “I don’t hate you,” Armand pants. “You mean nothing to me. Don't stop.”"

more to come!

[365granitegirlx]

⋆☀︎｡Smile Back ... At Me ⏾⋆.˚

Grumpy!Vessel x Sunshine!Reader

grumpy/sunshine, sickfic, housemates, fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff goes smut

a/n: there's easter eggs in here for three people 🧍🏻‍♀️

Taglist (that I decided I have now): @inv3ga

“No no no. Don’t do this. Please. Please!” Vessel was distraught. Panicked. Verging on crisis. He stared at himself in the mirror, white knuckling the vanity. “Get it together, Ves. Don’t…don’t.” His breath was ragged…”fuuuuuck...”

How many sneezes in a row was that? 5? Oh…oh they’re still going. You knock on the bathroom door softly. Vessel rips the door open with a scowl, his nose and eyes red from whatever irritant deigned to infect your intrepid workaholic housemate. 

“What?” He asks, deadpan.

“I heard you sneeze like…8 times in a row. That’s concerning.”

“Yes. Thank you, doctor. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get cleaned up and go to work.” He looks you up and down. “Think you ought to do the same?”

You look down for a second at your pjs and gasp. Work? “Oh shit! I…hey… wait a minute!” Vessel just titters as he splashes some water on his face. “It’s my day off!” Again, he chuckles and pushes past you. “You know for someone so crotchety with me you sure know a lot about my schedule!” But he’s already down the hall. Of the housemates, Ves was the one you had the least positive interactions with…and yet…you saw each other the most. It just worked out that way with your schedules. Ves could go to the studio or work from home at will, and you seemed always to be home at the same time. 

“You’ve done this on purpose. To torment me.” Ves said once as his phone buzzed incessantly with notifications as you input your schedule in the shared housemate calendar. And, in your endlessly witty, carefree way, you responded “Aw Ves, finally you’re noticing all I do for you!” For the record, Vessel doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t really hate anyone. No. He’s just a little brusque. And short tempered. And he just likes things done a certain way, ok? You, on the other hand, seem too happy to be here. What are you plotting, he wonders sometimes. 

But today those thoughts are dulled by a throbbing pain behind his eye and the annoying feeling of his nose leaking at any moment. By 2:30, he’s ready for a 20 year long nap. He rubs his face in agony as he sits at the control panel. Usually the studio is a reprieve but one of his worst nightmares is unfolding. He’s sick. He has a cold. A sinus infection? Christ…the flu? He has to push through. He has to see this day to the end and finish this…”fuck it I’m done. I’m going home.”

“Literally just asked how the cymbals sounded, man. For fuck’s sake.” Even poor ii wasn’t safe from Vessel’s sick tirade. The two share a silent look of “the hell is wrong with you/me?” 

“Sorry mate,” Vessel rubs his temples and sniffs. “Uhm…yeah…there could be more…definition or whatever. I’ll see you lot later.” Vessel sulks out of the studio and towards the bus stop. If this was a comic strip, he’d be kicking a can with little fumes over his head. Vessel hates getting sick. It throws off his groove. Makes him unproductive. He’s no stranger to powering through but it doesn’t seem worth it this time around. This makes him feel weak. Like once he gets better he’ll need to work 10x harder just to make up for his time off. Make it up for who? Well…the label, for one thing. And ii. Part of his brain says “it’s only for yourself,” but he pushes that aside. Yeah he’s proud but he still needs to prove to everyone else he’s fine. He can manage. Hasn’t he always landed on his feet? Looking out the bus window at the passing houses and buildings doesn’t provide any distraction—just more fodder for his migraine. As Vessel rests his temple against the window, his phone vibrates, but he ignores it. Whatever it is couldn’t make him feel any worse...oh but he was wrong. So very wrong.

You: I’m sure you saw this on the calendar but it’s just us for the weekend. Are you still feeling sick? Want me to get some soup? Let me know. :)

You’re not surprised Vessel doesn’t reply to you. He’s at work and, well, you’re you. As you’re about to text him again, because you reaaaaalllllly want to get a jump on ordering food, he comes through the front door. “Tsk, you look miserable.”

Vessel so badly wants to be snarky. To tell you what an astute observation you’ve made. “I am…where is everyone?” You look at him a bit quizzically and tell you texted him…and that their trip was on the calendar, etc etc. Oh the defeated sigh he lets out! The misery of being cooped up with someone so chronically pleasant might do his head in if this migraine doesn’t first. And maybe it wasn’t your best idea to follow him to his room to ask if he needed or wanted anything, if he was hungry, did he have a fever, can you do— “Have you considered leaving me alone? You’re not my mum and you’re definitely not my girlfriend! Can take care of myself just fine without you flitting about trying to fix everyone’s problems…maybe you should...” He stops himself and rubs his hand down his face with a heavy sigh. “Fuck it. It’s not worth what little energy I have. Let me know what takeaway you’re thinking.” He shuts the door and leaves you in the hall. Was he suggesting that you spend more time on others than yourself? How dare he? How dare he be right and sound mean about it. But you don’t pout long because he opens the door again, but this time his shirt is off. Your eyes trace the curve of his shoulders…down to the ridges of his chest and abs. Close enough to touch. ‘Stop…he’s sick. And your roommate.’ He sniffs hard. He’s so stopped up. “I…should not be like that. I’m sorry. Pizza?” You look away, feeling shitty after overstepping…he must be really sick if you got an immediate apology. 

“Don’t you think something like soup or…you know what? We’ll do whatever you want.” That elicits a soft smile from him...with teeth no less.. Wait…”you just smiled at me. An honest to god smile...Ves…”

“Oh, sh-shut up.”

After dinner Vessel feels…weird. His head and body hurts…he can’t even think straight. And you notice. He can barely stay awake but there’s no way he’d be comfy on the couch. His long legs…you imagine him trying to curl up and get comfortable like a big dog on a tiny bed. You take a chance and put your hand on his shoulder. “Let me help you get in bed.” He sighs heavily like you asked him to give up music. “Is it really this hard to accept some kindness?” Apparently that was a shit question because he huffs and takes himself to bed. Fine. Maybe you should leave it alone but damnit he needs help…and attention. You come into his room with your arms full.

“What are you…” But you cut him off by dumping a big blue quilt on him.

“I always always always sweat shit out with this quilt.”

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Oh well, it’ll make you feel better. And…alsooooooo…” you hand him a stuffed puppy with floppy ears and a dumb, goofy look stitched on his face. “Just give him a squeeze.” Vessel looks at the stuffed dog and the quilt but can’t seem to look at you. If anything he’s looking down and past your feet.

“As persistent as my cold, you know that?” 

“You deserve a break. Let me know if you need something…you know where I am.”

“H-hey…wait…” You look back at him, and it’s as if he’s forgotten how to breathe. Did he ever know in the first place? All he knows is that any breath he takes after this night is for something beyond the music. Beyond himself, even though his efforts there are questionable. “Sit with me…for a bit?”

And you did. All night. Waking up next to him hugging your stuffed dog under your “sick day” quilt was such a sight. His eyebrows knit together like he was thinking. It must have been a fever dream, you think, as he groans softly and clutches the dog closer. You want to reach out, move the hair off his brow, feel if he has a fever…caress him. But you have to at least act like you know better. When he blinks awake he gives a lazy smile.

“You shouldn’t have stayed in here. What if you get sick?”

“I could deal.”

“Hm. Maybe you’d accept some kindness in return?”

After his cold finally fucks off, Vessel looks at you differently. Not necessarily because you did something for him. No. There was something different. After he snapped at you, and then later after you two had a long conversation about nothing before he drifted off, Vessel noticed something behind your eyes. God, those eyes. His walls came down. He was defenseless. It’s not like you’re best friends now or anything, but he felt moved to treat you gently. Hell, to smile back at the very least. 

Late one night, long after everyone went to bed, Ves notices your bedroom light is still on. “What am I doing?” He whispers to himself, but apparently too loudly because soon you’re opening your door.

“Oh thank fuck it’s you. Thought I was hearing things.”

“Jus’ me…I…why are you up? It’s 1:30.” You shrug. There’s that look again. He has to dig. He has to pry just a little. Just like you had with him. “Can I come in?”

You nod and let him in, motioning for him to sit on the bed. He sees your laptop out and wants to ask what you were up to, but you quickly put it away. “Better question is why you’re awake, Ves.”

He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “So no one has a good excuse, hm?”

“Hm.” You tease back, gently pinching his arm. He looks down at your fingers on him and his heart flutters. Ves lets his gaze drift slowly up your body…taking in every curve and slight movement before resting on your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?”

“W-w-what…? What are y-?” You try to act nonchalant. 

“Can just tell…something’s off with you.”

You sigh heavily and look up at the ceiling. “This…” you put your hands out, “is actually my natural state. Tense. Not nearly as bubbly or…like”

“A sunshine girl?”

“Yeah or…a sunshine girl.” 

Vessel looks at you with a sympathetic smile…he can see that blush dusting your pretty cheeks. He  lets his hand rest on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly but then pausing. “You’re knotted up, love. Can I…?” Without even hearing your answer, he moves behind you and rubs your shoulders. It hurts a little, only because you’re so tense. His wide hands cover your shoulders and luxuriously knead into your muscles. “What’s made you so tight,” he rasps close to your ear, “Hm? What’s eating at you?” 

You can’t help it. Your head lolls back to his chest and turns so you can look up at him. “All I do is run around taking care of business and other people. I don’t know how to care about myself.”

He can’t stop himself. Brain shutting down. Hands and lips have a mind of their own now. “I’m not gonna sit here and let you run yourself into the ground like I did. You should care about yourself…I…I could teach you…” Vessel trails his nose up your neck and kisses your ear softly before you jump up. 

“Jesus, dude, you can’t just come in here and…” but fuck it he doesn’t look precious wiping his hand down his face and hiding the strain in his pants. “Oh…fuck… actually you totally can.” Immediately you’re straddling his lap, held in place by his soft hands cupping your face…pressing you desperately into his. His kisses trail hungrily down your jaw and to your neck. He finds your pulse point and claims it with his hot, open mouthed kisses. Your hips grind against him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world…but of course, he adjusted to press his strong thigh against you...you are supposed to do this. Suddenly your thoughts are poisoned with guilt as you realize how tightly you’re squeezing his thigh and how you weren’t being exactly quiet. Vessel gently guides your head down so he can whisper to you.

“I’d take you far away from here…anywhere you wanted…just to hear it…I want to hear what I can make you say…how loud I could make you…”

“V-v-es we-...“

“Shh shh shh. It’s ok. Do you want to stop?” His voice is warm and sincere, like he’s meant to take care of you.

“No.”

“Then let me do this…for you. Some comfort…” he turns slowly to lay you on your back, “would you like that…” his fingers gently trace your breasts and tummy over your shirt… “could make you feel good…safe”…your shorts and panties are thrown off the bed…”when was the last time someone did that for you, darling? Made you cum…just to cum?”…your shirt is lifted, tits exposed to the chilly room and his starving eyes.

“Never.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he murmurs as he kisses your thighs and settles on his tummy, “no pressure for me then.” But you’re moaning softly already. You’re a live wire as the hands you’ve desperately tried to avoid fantasizing about explore your inner thighs and folds. His finger glides up and down the length of your needy pussy as he looks up at you…pure bliss etched all over his face in the dim lighting. “Atta girl, love. We’re just here to feel good. Hm?” You hear and then feel a wad of his spit hit your clit, followed by his fingers pressing against either side of it. Vessel wraps his left arm around your tummy as your body chases his touch. “Found something you like, did I?”

“Vessel,” you whisper breathlessly but it’s cut off by a strangled moan. His tongue gently darts out for little kitten licks on your clit. You don’t know if your reactions or what he’s doing is making him whimper like that, but you don’t care. Your hand caresses his hair lazily until you have to grab it and keep him in place. He’s taken your clit in his mouth…something you’ve never experienced. Forgetting every wall you placed around yourself with this man, you let your hips grind shamelessly against his perfect mouth. Vessel’s moans and hot breath nearly push you over the edge multiple times. 

“I…” he exhales, trying to catch his breath and contain himself, “am really going to enjoy this.” His middle and ring finger work into your wet cunt and find your g-spot quickly.  “That’s it…that’s it…you feel that? Feel my fingers rubbing you from the inside, yeah?” You can’t respond directly…you’re too busy squirming and whimpering fuck fuck fuck. It feels like you’re on fire as Vessel licks and sucks at your clit, your eyes rolling as your brain tries to compute that the same spot is being stimulated from different angles. It’s too much. 

“I’m yours…I’m yours….please I’m yours.”

“Mine, yeah? Good. You sound s’perfect…haven’t even had my cock.” It’s a miracle that you aren’t screaming out loud now as he sucks at your clit. Both hands tangle in his hair when he starts thrusting his hips against your bed. He moans pathetically into your clit, his hips landing soft blows into the mattress. “I…I’m sorry.” He stops and quickly pulls off his clothes…you swear you’re cumming a little just from the sight of his cock alone. “See what you do to me?” He breathes heavily, standing at your bedside with his cock throbbing without contact. “Seeing you…let yourself go… enjoying yourself… so fucking hard for you. Could cum just licking you out, babe.” You’re tempted to tell him to try it…but you feel empty.

“Make me yours…”

“How would you have me?”

You’re speechless for a second…he’s really into this. Into you feeling good. “Get on your back, angel.” Vessel does as he’s told and blushes at the pet name. He teasingly rubs his cock against your slit…tells you how tight you felt around his fingers…how good you are for him. You moan quietly…weakly…dreamily as you slide down each inch of Vessel’s cock. The stretch is beyond perfect…not uncomfortable…but still more than any stupid toy in your bedside drawer could do. You grind against him and bounce on his cock seemingly without much thought other than feeling good. And he doesn’t stop you, nor does he grab you and fuck up into your pussy. No…he just lays back like a good boy and takes it. Luxuriates in the feeling of the warm stickiness of your pussy…how it hugs his cock and threatens to drain him. You wince a little as your hips tense; still you weren’t fully relaxed despite your blissful state. 

“I’ve got you.” Vessel pulls you close to his chest, pressing your hips down. “Just lay down on me. Let me feel you.” He moans softly as you lay out, your legs scissoring with his just enough to keep his cock buried deep. Your lips crash together. You taste yourself on him…his mouth…and your mind goes even fuzzier. “Sweet girl…you like being lovey, don’t you? Hm?” His hips snap up and press into your cunt. “Little lover girl??”

“I’m…fuck I’m yours Ves…I’m your girl…”

“Let’s make it real then…” his hips thrust back and forth again before pressing deep into you, holding his cock hard against the limit of your pussy…”I’ll fill you to the fucking brim with my cum…leave my handprints on your ass…and-“

“And I’ll leave…little love bites on your chest,” you add, trying to weigh in and stave off your climax. Vessel groans out in response and holds you in place like a toy as you suck and lick at his soft skin. So much for handprints on your ass, though; he can’t help but cradle your back and head. Neither of you have ever felt this before. The soft, warm middle of equal parts wholesome chemistry and earth shattering lust. What was that in the delicate in-between? You bury your face in his neck and forget the world…forget your name…it’s just him. 

“So tight…” He gently lifts your head. “There she is…mmm. Need to see you…need you to see what you do to me.” Vessel tangles his hand in your hair to help fix your gaze on him. His throat bobs with each broken moan…god he wants to cry out for you so badly. For the way your body melts into his as he rolls his hips up and into you. For the way your slick runs out all over him, making a mess of you both. It’s all too much. You press your forehead to his and bear your hips down. Vessel grabs you and presses his hot, greedy lips to yours not just for a kiss, but to muffle the pornographic noises your pussy rips out of him. The feeling of his tongue on your lips pushes you over the edge. Your fluttering orgasm squeezes and milks Vessel’s cock for all it’s worth, causing him to fuck up into you like a rabid animal. He completely and unapologetically ruins you.

You wake up the next morning curled up against his back. He’s already awake and smiles brightly when he feels you pull him close. 

“Guess what.” He whispers. You barely mumble “hm” back to him, still sleepy and fuzzy from your late night tryst. Vessel chuckles and rolls over, your stuffed whale shark from the aquarium clutched to his chest. 

“Hey! That’s mine,” you grumble.

“Oh and suddenly you don’t share anymore…hm? Not my lover girl when the sun’s up,” he teases. “Anyways…it’s just us this weekend. We have some wasted time to make up for…don’t you think?”

[kurokens]

In The Night I Miss You | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 1.5k

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: sorry for the wait!!! but part 2 of In The Middle, my first satosugu piece, is finally here! a little bit more angsty this time and from satosugu's pov

not proof read

song rec: The Night I Miss You - Lee Changsub

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious, insecure and self conscious reader

Satoru and Suguru were quite the pair, always together since they can remember, as if fate created them for each other. Two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. They knew that, hell, everyone around them and their mother knew that. And yet, they both felt like something was missing, they spent years happily loving each others, and they never stopped, but they couldn't help but feel some kind of longing for something more.

At first it drove them crazy, how could they feel like that when they already had everything they ever dreamed of? They're both each others soulmate, and yet it's not enough, not anymore, not since they met you. You came and wrecked their perfect little world. You and your stupid smile, you and your stupid laugh, you and your stupid kindness, you and your stupid gentleness, just you and your stupid self. It was such a hard time for them to accept these feelings, especially with the growing guilt towards each others, clueless about the other similar torment. Until one day, the cat got out of the bag. "Say sugu..." The white-haired man started softly, a gentle hum coming back from his lover. "Are you satisfied? I mean, with us? Our couple?"

"Why? Yes, of course. Is something the matter? Have I done anything to make you think otherwise?" Suguru exhaled through a trembling breath.

"No, god no. It's just, god, how do I say this without sounding selfish. Have you ever felt like something was missing?" Satoru breathed out, closing his eyes in shame.

"You mean, like someone?" The black-haired man whispered shakily causin Gojo to spring up from his previous position, biwildered eyes meeting the ones he was ashamed to look at earlier.

"I didn't, I didn't say that, I mean not exactly, but, but maybe? Do you?" He murmured, a glint of hope in his orbs.

"Do you?" Suguru asked, just as hopeful.

"Yes, god, yes. I'm so sorry Sugu, I love you, I do, I promise. Like I've never loved anyone, but lately I've felt this way and I don't know why, and I didn't know how to tell you. Please tell me you do too. I can see it in your eyes, you do too right?" Satoru begged, his hands now clamped on the sheets below him.

"Yes, I do. God I was so scared to tell you, I'm so glad you feel it too. Oh, I'm so glad." Geto let out, his breathing calming down as well as his nerves. "You're thinking about someone in particular are you not?" He continued, reaching out to take Gojo's hands in his, easing down his stress.

"Yes..." He answered, tightening his grip around Geto's hands. "Do you?" Only receiving a nod along with the brightest smile he's ever seen his lover give him. "It's them, right?" Another nod came his way, just as he was pulled into a hug. "I'm so glad you feel the same. I was so scared. I thought I would lose you if I said anything, I don't want to lose you." He sobbed, finally letting out all the repressed feelings he's been having for the past couple of days.

Suguru stayed quiet, nuzzling his head into his lover's neck, grateful for the conversation, but also for the fact that they both felt the same. Of course the universe wouldn't betray them like that. They were soulmates, and it was destiny for both of them to fall for you, and maybe it was how it was always meant to be, not just them, but the three of you. And Suguru was more than content with this idea, he wished nothing more but to be able to share this overwhelming love with you as well. But he knew it would take time, it's not something they could act on just like that. They needed to proceed slowly, they didn't want to scare you, let alone lose you. Hell, losing you would shatter them, they could handle rejection just fine, but not having you in their life anymore just wasn't possible.

That's why Suguru had to physically stop Satoru from screwing this up. It was quite hard for the white-haired man child to refrain himself from acting on his desire to confess to you, and make you theirs. Since you lived with them, seeing you everyday and not being able to love you like he truly did, was the worst hardship he ever had to face. He wasn't used to not getting what he wanted, so having to wait for you to be theirs was proper torture. Don't get him wrong, it was also very hard for Suguru, but he knew they had to do this properly, and one of them had to be strong, because Satoru sure wasn't going to be. And because of that they would regularly have the same conversation in their room late at night, or early in the morning because it's when they were yearning for you the most. In the comfort of their bed.

"I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu..." Satoru sighed, burying his head in his lover's chest, muffling his next words. "They're so pretty, and so nice, and so caring, I love them so much. I would give anything to crush them between us right now."

"Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied, laughing at his antics.

"I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on, on the verge of throwing a tantrum because of how much he yearned for you.

"Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned. "We will get there, we just need to take things slow Toru, we can't rush them into something like that."

And he was right, Satoru knew he was right, but it's been weeks and nothing changed. They tried being more affectionate towards you, complimenting you, being a little bit touchier and clingier without crossing any boundaries. Hell, they were looking at you so lovingly you could compare them to teenage boys going through their first ever crush. And yet, nothing changed, you were so clueless, it was driving them insane, but at the same time it was so endearing how oblivious you were to their adoration.

Everyone around you three noticed it, but you. It was quite amusing for your friends, but it was proper torture to them. And Satoru was growing reckless, he could'nt look at you in the eyes anymore, scared he will do something on impulse and regret it later because it could jeopardise your relationship, and your potential future together. Suguru wasn't much better to be fair, he could still look at you, but it was getting harder, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything to you that wasn't a heartfelt confession about their undying love for you, and his need to make you part of their life. So they decided to ton it down a bit, grow some distance between you, just the time for them to get themselves together, and to elaborate the perfect plan to confess to you properly without forcing you into anything. Yes, that was a good plan, or so they thought. Not once have they ever imagined this plan of action could backfire. Because why would it? It was the perfect plan!! Just until it wasn't.

After some time of putting distance between you, (literally a single day, Satoru couldn't more), the couple deciding to put their plan back into action but with a bit more hints being thrown into it. But, unfortunately for them, when they came back from work, the house was oddly silent, not a trace of you to be seen. "Sweetcheek?" Satoru called, walking towards your room, only to be met by complete silence. "Hey gorgeous, you in there?" He knocked, but once again silence was his only answer. So he opened the door, to see if maybe you were sleeping, but you weren't. Your bed was made, but something was off. Your room was clean but it felt like something was missing.

"Sugu, come here real quick." He urged, and Suguru footsteps were quickly heard. "Something isn't right."

They both stood at the entrance of your room, analysing everything, trying to find what was amiss, this odd feeling growing stronger and stronger. And then they spot it, a letter neatly placed on your desk, which read:

'The walls are thins here you know. Anyway don't worry I'll be out of your space soon. Sorry about the stuff I've left there, it's just for the time it takes for me to look for a new place and then I will give you back your much needed space. Thank you for letting me stay this long, and sorry for the trouble I've caused.'

The couple grew livid. Their worst fear became reality, and they didn't know how to fix it, but they knew they had to. And the sooner, the better.

part 3 is out, find it here!!

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 16

part 1, prev part

Despite the advice of both Steve and Wayne, Dusitn returns to the hospital the next day. Stands outside of Eddie’s room for longer than he should. Wondering if walking through the doors will bring the same torment as before. If anything will change.

He can’t bring himself to do it. Turns from the door and continues down the hall, deciding to visit Max. The rest of the group is already there. He was just going to be late.

They are sitting around the bed and talking. As if it was a lunch table. Or the couch of one of their living rooms. Bringing back the warm feelings of friendship. Of a never changing form of love. Reminding him that there is light in the dark, as long as he searches for it.

But just because there is light, doesn’t mean the dark isn’t suffocating.

Dustin’s mind lingers in the realm between rooms. The hallway that melds happiness and sorrow. As people reunite or lose their loved ones. Cope with the understanding that everything has changed. Or nothing has changed at all.

Everyone here is deciding to ignore the change for a moment. Try to look straight at the light for as long as they can. Until it leaves spots in their eyes and forces them to turn away. Ignoring it almost hurts as much as acknowledging it.

Maybe not for everyone, but it causes Dustin to remain quiet. Adding things to conversation, when necessary, but otherwise no words form. Laughter dies before hitting his lips. Feels so foreign. The muscles that pull the smile up on his face pulled down by weights. Each formation marking itself with burned energy.

But in the end, it’s the first moment he’s had in weeks where he isn’t fully drowning. Where part of the pain sets itself aside and allows him to breath. He forgot how nice it felt to be unburdened.

“Alright, what’s up with you,” Max asks when the rest of the group leaves. Dustin procrastinating traveling down the hall again.

“What?”

Max tilts her head to the side, the annoyance still ripe in the clouded glare. “You have barely said anything since you got here. You’ve never been this quiet. What’s going on?”

“How can you act so, not different? Like nothing has changed.” Dustin pauses, trying to find the right words to say. “You’re acting so ok. I’m not sure I would have I gone through what you did.”

Max shrugs, picking at her cast. “If I’m not laughing, I’m crying or shutting down. And I do when you guys leave. But laughing feels so much better than crying, so I try to laugh when I can.”

She has a point with that. Dustin feels how the laughter lifted weights. Made the joy trapped away in the pain start to flutter again.

“But don’t you wish that things turned out differently?” The question seems stupid now that it’s asked, but Dustin still wants to know.

Max raises her head, her clouded eyes looking towards Dustin but missing him slightly. “Of course I do. I miss seeing you guys. All I can see are the shadows of you when you stand in front of the light. It’s hard to remember things that I thought I didn’t have to memorize.”

She takes a breath to blink away the tears. “But, I can either be miserable because of the way life turned out and get caught up in these possible scenarios that could have happened. Or, I can learn to live this life that I almost lost. I was stuck in the what ifs before, I don’t want to be stuck in them again.”

Dustin wishes it were that easy. To just push them away and forget that the other possibilities exist. That there could have been a lifetime that he could have stopped Eddie from cutting that rope. From stopping and running out into the hoard of bats. Stop him from enduring all this pain.

“I heard about Eddie,” Max says when Dustin doesn’t respond. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Me too.”

“It’s not his fault you know, the anger and the yelling and stuff. I had a moment like that when I woke up from the coma. It only lasted a few hours for me, but I was only in one for a few days. Eddie’s been stuck in one for over a week.”

Dustin lets out a deep breath. Tears threatening to fall. “It looked like he didn’t even recognize me.”

“He did,” Max quickly says. “Somewhere in his mind, he did. It just might not have come to the surface that fast. It’s weird waking up from a coma. It’s like your body is brand new, and everything feels wrong. You have to relearn everything. Including memories.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“You’ve never been in a coma before,” Max shrugs. “Most people don’t.”

Dustin sits with her for a few more minutes before going to leave. Max stopping him on his way out to say one last thing.

“He’s going to remember, Dustin.”

He turns to look at her again. Seeing the pain engulf her face. Realizing how much all of this has affected her too.

“Be there for him when he does.”

Dustin nods, not realizing that she can’t see it. Stopping himself before he shuts the door to call out to her. Make sure she knows he understands.

“I will.”

He walks down the hall. Stopping in front of Eddie’s door again. Hand hovering over the handle. Pushing himself to make it turn. Step into the threshold and sit in his chair. Alone in a hospital room with his friend.

Eddie’s asleep. Looking more peaceful that yesterday. The pain and anger faded from his face. Leaving only the calmness that comes with sleep. Dustin thought the calmness of his face would sting, but all it does is bring comfort. Knowing that right in this moment, Eddie feels nothing.

Doing what he has done for the past week, Dustin pulls out the battered-up copy of The Fellowship of the Ring and turns to the page he left off on. Letting the words of this great adventure fill the room. One where lowly hobbits left the only town they ever knew, to do something grand. Something for the betterment of their entire world.

In a way, all of them were the hobbits. Broken out of the innocence of unknowing and thrown into the unbelievable reality. Walked themselves to Mordor and back. With their scars and bruises. But in the end, they continued to have lives. Be able to continue on with their own adventures.

Eddie stirs as Dustin makes it to the last chapter. Opens his eyes and turns towards Dustin. Blankly stares as the book concludes. Tries to sit up as Dustin closes the book. Falls back onto the pillows with a wince.

“Help,” he whispers. “Please.”

Dustin stands from his chair. Raises the back of Eddie’s bed slightly higher so Eddie’s sitting more vertically. Still with a slight recline.

Eddie takes a deep breath, eyes closing as he licks his chapped lips. “I yelled.” Another deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Dustin shakes his head, not wanting to add to Eddie’s pain. “It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Tears gloss over Eddie’s eyes. Dripping down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He realizes that Eddie means for more than just yesterday. For everything he doesn’t even remember doing, but deep in the depths of his mind knows he did. Understanding that he is here for some reason. And it caused both of them pain.

Dustin reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand. Feels the life as he grips Dustin’s fingers with all the strength that Eddie has right now. “Don’t be.”

“Love you, Henderson.” Eddie whispers before closing his eyes again. Falling back to sleep.

Dustin cries. He remembers. “Love you too, Eddie.”

Note: This full chapter is now posted on my ao3. Now back to Wayne

next part

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[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

the prompt; “I love you. Now say it back.” “Please— stop talking, save it till we get you help—” “Say it back—“ “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me—”

with Steve harrington or Peter Parker? whatever feels right to u, ly!

FUCK!!! WHY MY TWO BEST BOYS AGAINST EACH OTHER!!!! i went with steve cause this just fits season4 vibes more. kinda au since im letting eddie live.

you almost made it out. everyone almost made it out alive and relatively unscathed. eddie was cut and bleeding horribly, lucas was screaming over the walkie about max and her bones, and steve was trying to hurry everyone through the gate in the trailers ceiling. robin and nancy got through fine, eddie with the help of dustin got free so it was just you and steve left.

steve’s wounds were starting to bleed again, black streaks crawling up his neck and along his hands. he started to stumble, his legs crumbling and bringing him to the vine infested floor. “steve!” rushing to his side and looking over his injuries, it wasn’t looking good. “we need a hospital,” whispered to yourself as you realized the extent of his wounds.

you threw one arm over your shoulders and tried to hoist him up but his dead weight pulled you down. “come on, baby. we gotta get you through.” tears starting to wet your eyes and voice starting to crack when encouraging steve forward.

“i- i don’t-“ “no, come on, steve. we can do it.” trying again to hold him upright and towards the hanging rope. with a groan he tried to take some of his weight when taking small steps closer and closer to freedom.

“i love you, just so you know. i love you so much.” he coughed at the end and black goo covered his chin. “steve you’ll be fine, don’t accept this.” choosing denial to get you through this.

“say it back, please. i- i want to remember your- your voice.” his breath getting wheezy. “please save your breath, we need help first-“ guiding his hands onto the bedding line.

his paling face turned to you, one hand moving to caress at your dirty cheek, his thumb a welcoming weight. “please, just in case. i don’t want you to- to torment yourself over this. please, sweetheart.”

the tears started to stream down your face, cleaning away bits of grime to show the terrified you underneath. “i love you,” your voice hiccuped, “i love you so- so fucking much, steve harrington. so please! please just hold on longer until we can get to the hospital! i- i need you.” lips wobbling from a swallowed sob.

steve smiled stiffly, holding back a wince at just the simple action. “i love you until my dying breath.” and then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell down. “steve! steve, no, no!”

-

a/n: most of the request will be short since it’s just easier that way for me.

[hexed-padlock]

Hi. As requested by a few people, here’s a fic of my AU/Headcanon where Tav killed Strahd but keeps it a secret from the party. I’m planning a few different scenarios of the reveal, but here’s the first (and most serious). Next ones are gonna embody the original premise more. Couldn’t get this scene out of my head though. Also a bit of Astarion x Tav here.

Takes place as you meet Cazador, where he starts mocking Astarion.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Do the cattle not know you?”

They were below the Palace, facing Cazador as he readies the ritual for his Ascension. 200 years of torment and this is where it all ends. Here and now.

Astarion tenses, seconds from lunging. This was his tormentor, the bastard who robbed him of his freedom, the monster who destroyed thousands of lives. A vampire hundreds have tried and failed to kill.

The room grows colder as Cazador continues to humiliate, to mock, to belittle.

Astarion’s jaw clenches and-

Tav laughs, loud and mocking. They’ve barely reacted thus far, and the sudden noise catches everyone off guard. Their eyes glint, one natural and the other burning with fiery, infernal magic.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you seriously anymore. You truly are pathetic.” Tav taunts, head tilting as a lazy smirk crawls onto their face.

Cazador’s own mocking grin turns down into a sharp frown as he finally turns his attention to Tav. “Just what makes you think you can speak to me that way? You’re nothing more than a lamb led to slaughter. Cattle to be consumed. An animal at best.”

“Are all vampires this delusional?” Tav voices the question to no one in particular. Cazador seethes, and the party tenses.

What was Tav doing? Were they insane?!

Astarion moves to grab Tav as they take a couple steps forward, but misses as they smoothly sidestep away from his grasp.

Tav pulls out a sword hilt from the pouch on their hip, testing it’s weight in their hand absentmindedly. The party never understood the significance of this old sword hilt. Sure, it was beautiful, made of an elegant platinum, but it has long since lost it’s blade. Dammon once offered to forge it a new blade but Tav politely declined.

“I’ve met another vampire before you. He was always prattling on and on about being all powerful, lord of the night… something something.” Tav pauses to shift the sword hilt to their left hand. Slowly, deliberately, Tav locks eyes with Cazador (pointedly ignoring their party). “He’s dead now, of course.”

For a moment, Cazador pauses, before the same mocking grin returns. “A spawn is hardly considered a vampire. Though perhaps to you, worm, you see no difference.” Cazador then begins speaking slowly, as if communicating with a child or an animal. The mocking grin grows. “Allow me to enlighten you-“

“I never said ‘spawn’,” Tav cuts off Cazador. “Maybe your old age is finally getting to you, leech.”

Tav shifts the sword hilt back to their dominant hand, subtly maneuvering the hilt into a proper grip. “Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name eludes me. Forgive me, but it’s been a few years. I think it starts with an S.”

All the while, the party is flabbergasted. Sure, they’ve seen Tav do some questionable things over the past few months such as walk straight into a goblin camp, lick some spider meat, and even taunt Mizora—but this is a new level of insane.

Astarion tries to get their partner to stop, because for the love of everything, shut up. He’s never seen Cazador this mad before. Sure, they’ve survived some pretty dangerous situations before, but taunting a vampire lord is madness. However, each time he tries to move or speak, his voice dies in his throat. He’s terrified, he’s rooted on the spot. He’s afraid of Cazador yes, but he’s even more afraid for Tav. The brilliant, shining light of his life. The one person who showed him kindness, love. He’s afraid of Cazador, but he’s more scared of losing them.

Before Astarion could try to intervene again, he feels Tav send a wave of reassurance through the tadpole. They glance back at him for a moment, narrowed eyes softening, before turning once more to face Cazador.

Tav hums for a couple seconds as they pause to think. “Samael? No. Maybe it was Seraph?” They huff for a bit as they make a show of wracking their mind for the name. “Aha! I remember now.”

They brace for combat and the Sunsword answers its wielders call.

Tav’s smirk turns into a cold sneer. Their eyes glow as the hilt in their hand erupts in a fiery plume, a blade of radiant light now burning in the darkness. “It was Strahd.”

————————

Idk… if anyone wants to be notified of a new fic in this AU/series you can let me know?

Anyway, next these will all be independent of each other. Each will be an alternate take on the reveal.

I haven’t written anything besides D&D backstories in literal years so please forgive me if this is rather rough. Always open to constructive criticism.

[elliaze]

Taste of desire

Parring: Jake Lockley x fem!reader, mentioned Steven Grant x fem!reader and Marc Spector x fem!reader (but in like one sentence only, so it's mainly Jake x reder)

Warnings: smut, rough sex, creampie, sex in public place, both Jake and reader are crazy about each other, but they are so in love, this is my first time writing a smut so probably this is also a warning

Summary: Y/N and Jake are in the club.

Words Count: 1400

MASTERLST

Evening’s with Jake had their regular moments. First he would take you to your favourite restaurant, then you would end up at a nearby club to unwind after a long day. Mostly it ended with one or two drinks and a few dances, but you noticed that tonight was going to be different. 

“What are you doing?” You asked curiously, glancing at Jake. 

He was sitting next to you, sprawled out on a couch in one of the boxes you had managed to occupy. Jake put his hand on your uncovered knee and there would have been nothing strange about that, as he had held it almost all this time, showing that you were taken. This time, however, his hand slowly headed up the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. 

“ I have no idea what you're talking about, hermosa.” 

You rolled your eyes. Sometimes you forget what a cunning bastard Jake could be. Lockley actually acted as if he didn't know what was going on and was quietly drinking his whisky. You knew him too well and knew that it was just his game, which he mostly won, because at the end of the day you would let him do anything he likes to do to you. Just like now, when you felt getting hot at the thought of what state he could bring you to again. 

“Jake” you said his name with warning as you felt his hand travel higher. You quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him between your legs, but you still managed to feel the heat coming from him. Something tightened in your stomach at the fact that he was only inches away from touching you where you needed it. You looked around to see if anyone had noticed that his hand was under your skirt, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you noticed that everyone was busy with their own. “We're in a public place. This is not funny.”

Lockley tsked in satisfaction. He slid his hand out from under your skirt and for a moment you hoped you might have talked some sense into him, but then he grabbed you around the waist and moved into his lap. He put his hands on your hips, not letting you move anywhere. There was a devious smile on his face, and you could see that dangerous glint in his dark eyes. Jake leaned over you and placed a hot kiss on your neck. As hard as you wanted to fight it, you couldn't ignore the fact that this alone made you feel yourself getting wet. You moaned softly and tightened your fingers on his shoulders. You knew by now that you were at a loss.

“Fuck you, Lockley,” you whispered directly into his mouth, moving your hips back and forth. Jake was unpredictable, but you weren't going to let him be the only one to torment. He only laughed, as if he had heard the best joke. 

“That's my intention, querida, but only with you. That's why you have two options,” he said, bringing his lips close to your ear. “I can take you right now, right here, where everyone can see us. Or you can be a good girl, and we'll go to the bathroom, because you look too sexy for me to wait until we get home.”

You drew a loud breath as he gently bit the lobe of your ear. You had forgotten about the world around you, and he could actually fulfil the first option. But you still had some sense, and all you could do was clasp his face in your hands, and kiss him hard, showing that you were agreeing to whatever he was thinking about. 

“The bathroom,” you whispered.

Jake set you on the ground and you could feel your legs go weak under you. This was to be the first time he had acted this way towards you in public. He had teased you, and made you blush, but you had always been able to wait until you got home. This time, the journey in the car would be too long, and you needed to feel his touch and kisses on your body.

“That's what I thought,” he spoke up slyly.

Lockley threw his arm over your shoulder and, paying no attention to whether anyone was watching you, led you into the bathroom. As soon as he closed the door, you had the feeling that some wild animal had entered him. He kissed you immediately, and the kiss almost left you breathless. You moaned protractedly as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He pushed you towards the washbasin against which he leaned you, and you widened your legs, allowing him to stand between them. He was so close to you that you could feel his bulge in his trousers growing larger. 

“I swear you're going to drive me to death one day,” he said between kisses. 

Jake reached one hand up and placed it on your throat, squeezing gently. He didn't hurt you in any way, but it only made you want more. You could feel his familiar touch on your body, which was causing you to lose your mind completely, and that was all that mattered to you. Everything he was doing was not enough for you. You craved more and more. 

“Jake…”

“Don't worry, princesa. I'll make you feel like you're in heaven.” 

You believed him, because he was able to do it every time. Whenever he touched you in this way, you felt like he was discovering some new place that you had no idea of, where his touch could give you such pleasure. Jake sat you down on the sink and pulled your skirt up to your hips. He moved you to the edge of the counter so that your body bent at an unnatural angle, and you moaned into his mouth when you felt his other hand land between your legs. He slipped his fingers under your underwear and as he ran his fingers over your clit, you heard him curse under his breath. 

“I haven't even done anything yet, and already you're wet for me. This is all just for me, isn't it?”

“Just for you,” you said and pushed your hips forward, impatient with the fact that he kept teasing you. “Only for you, Jake.” 

You kissed his neck and slipped your hands under his shirt, immediately directing them to his back. You ran fingernails over his skin, and he growled at the small gesture. 

“That's right, that's my name, baby. And you will be screaming it so that everyone who walks by will hear you and know who's giving you so much pleasure.”

Without warning, Jake slipped two fingers into you at once. You cursed loudly and leaned your head against the mirror behind you. You were breathing heavily, and your chest was rising and falling at an irregular rate. You were on the verge of euphoria, and Lockley only smiled to himself with satisfaction at seeing you in such a state. He leaned over you and, still exploring your delicate insides, began to descend lower and lower with his kisses. He started from a place behind the ear, down your throat and neck, on to your breasts and chest, which were hidden under the material of your dress. He placed a kiss just above your most sensitive spot, until finally he grabbed your underwear and pulled at it. 

All you could hear was the crack of the material, and that sobered you for a moment.

“Did you…just…destroy my underwear?” You asked, struggling to form the words into a question. 

Jake just laughed and lifted his hand, which contained the torn fabric.

“I'll buy you a new and sexier set.” 

“Asshole, how am I supposed to get home now?” 

“No one but us will know you're acting like a pequeña puta.”

You hated being addressed that way. You considered it a completely sexist text and, above all, disrespectful. But when Jake lost his temper and addressed you with these kinds of words... Oh, you knew it only turned you on. You didn't have time to answer him when Jake crouched down and his lips were between your legs.

Lockley was unrelenting. His fingers had driven you mad before, but now, combined with his tongue, they were a pleasurable torment. You slipped your fingers into his hair and clenched them, trying to find something in the way of balance. This was extremely difficult as Jake touched you in ways you could only imagine. Then Jake slid a third finger inside you, and you felt as if something slowly broke inside you. Pain and pleasure were merging together. You felt the pressure in the pit of your stomach becoming more and more unbearable, as if waiting for the right moment to let go. 

“I'm holding you, querida. Just give in. Come for me.”

His words of encouragement made something inside you relax. One minute you could feel the end approaching, and the next the greatest fulfilment had completely taken over you, and you came with his name on the lips. However, Jake did not pull away immediately. He ran his tongue over your sensitive folds once more, and only then did he straighten up. At the same time, he slid his fingers out of you, and when your gazes met, he slowly began to lick them.

“You are so sweet,” he muttered. You smiled blissfully, trying to focus all your attention on him, although it wasn’t that easy. You were shaking all over, and you were glad to be sitting, because you wouldn't have been able to stand on your own feet.

“I have no idea how I'm going to get out of here,” you said, struggling to normalise your breathing. It felt like your heart was about to fall out of your chest, and you felt as if you had run a marathon. “I don't think I can walk.” 

Jake just smiled with satisfaction. Your words had tickled his ego pleasantly. He couldn't take his eyes off you and, in some way inexplicable to him, you were even more beautiful than normal and, above all, he wanted you even more. 

“You don't think I'm done with you, do you?”

You merely said his name, and he used that moment to slip his fingers into your mouth this time. There was something disgusting about it, but at the same time, so sexual that you could feel it starting to work again. If you had somehow managed to normalise your breathing, now you felt it accelerate again, and all you were able to repeat in your mind was his name. Jake grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back to start kissing your neck and throat. He was doing this extremely aggressively and was finding it increasingly difficult to hold back, especially when he had you in front of him, ready to receive anything he was able to give you.

Jake moved his hands to his trousers, quickly unbuttoning them. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, and a shiver ran through your body. “I need you now.”

You didn't even have a chance to reply as Jake grabbed you by the hips and rolled you over onto your front. He bent you forward for better access and then slid his hands down to your exposed buttocks and slapped one of them. You let out a surprised squeal, but quickly forgot about it as you felt him begin to slowly enter you, giving you a chance to get used to the feeling. 

“Fuck, I always forget…” you began, but were unable to finish when Jake entered you full length. You took a deep breath, and although it wasn't the first time you'd had sex like this, you felt like you were feeling it doubly now. You leaned your head forward, accepting the feeling of fullness that you only felt with him, Marc or Steven. You entwined the fingers on Jake's head. 

Lockley at the same time reached forward and placed his hand on your neck again. He pulled your chin so that your gazes met in the mirror. There was a devious smirk on his lips, but you were too absorbed in what he was doing to care. 

“Forget what?” He began to whisper in your ear, slowly moving inside. “That I'm so big you can barely fit me? Or about the fact that you're always so tight for me, no matter how many times I take you?”

“YES! Yes, yes! Fuck… Jake, please…”

You were in a state where you couldn't string a single sentence together. You didn't even have a clue what exactly you were asking for, but you knew you needed it more, faster. 

“What are you asking me, hermosa?”

Jake brushed your hair away from your face, and leaned over to start kissing your neck. You tightened your fingers in his hair. You pulled at it a tad harder than you had expected, but Jake only growled into your hot skin. 

“Don't stop,” you said with difficulty. “And don't hold back. I know you won't hurt me.” 

It worked on him, like the best spell. Jake clamped his fingers tighter around your throat and you held your breath for a moment. But then Lockley sped up and amplified his movements so that you had no idea where he ended and you began. He moved inside you so sharply and aggressively that you could feel your hips thumping against the sink. You were sure you would have bruises later, but at that moment that was the last thing you worried about. You were thinking about how you would be able to get to the car later, as you knew you wouldn't be able to stand on your own. Jake's action was taking away every ability you had. 

“Can you do this?” Your gazes met again in the mirror. This time, Jake could see the tears gathering in your eyes. You merely nodded her head. “Say it.”

“I can do it,” you repeated after him. “Jake, fuck, I…”

You paused as another moan escaped your lips. Jake moved his hand down over the neckline of your dress until he finally slipped his fingers under the fabric of your bra and squeezed your breasts. You cursed again and leaned your head back, resting it against his shoulder. You closed your eyes at the feeling that slowly wanted to leave your body. Jake ran his thumb over your nipple. 

“Yeah, me too,” he answered slowly, losing the ability to form sentences properly.

Jake sped up even more, and you began to move, mimicking his pace, until you finally came, once again shouting his name, and he did the same literally seconds after you. You were panting and breathing heavily and needed a longer moment to recover from what had happened. When you were finally able to function normally, Jake slid out of you, and you felt his seed running down your legs. You didn't have the strength to do anything about it, but you didn't need to because Lockley quickly took care of you. He washed you thoroughly and then helped you to fix your dress and hair.

“You were so good to me. So beautiful. Let's go home, shall we?”

You nodded her head.

“I love you, mi corazón,” he said.

“I love you too, Jake.” 

You smiled and allowed him to place one hand on the side of your head. You entwined her fingers around his wrist and immediately felt him place a brief and tender kiss on your forehead. Later, supporting you firmly at the waist, you left the bathroom together, and he led you to the car.

[lvrdrafts]

Hi, could you please write a happier ending for it is just a joke, cause that was so sad

Joke Taken Too Far

★ Summary: You hear Bucky compare you to Natasha and it makes you question if Bucky ever really loved you, but can Bucky fix what he has done before it is too late

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Being compared

★ A/N: FUNNY ENOUGH UR NOT THE ONLY PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS LOL

★ Word Count: 2,000+

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Angst Version

GIF by tfatwsdaily

You had a past filled with heartbreak, as you had encountered one boyfriend after another who cheated on you, citing your looks as the reason for their breakup or abusing you physically. Your self-esteem suffered immensely, leaving you feeling unworthy of love and affection.

However, everything changed when you became an Avenger and met Bucky Barnes, the man who made you feel cherished and appreciated in ways you had never experienced before. You were still going to therapy from the trauma they left you but Bucky helped you get through it and you depression even if he didn't know that.

Your shared experiences as Avengers brought you two closer together. Bucky understood the pain you had endured, and you connected on a deep level. He saw the beauty within you, which went far beyond your physical appearance. Your love grew strong, and you became inseparable.

One day, you happened to overhear Bucky talking to Steve and you wanted to surprise him with an attack full of kisses but you stopped in your tracks as you heard Bucky say, "Steve, you've seen Natasha's body, right? She's incredible. I sometimes wish she was my girlfriend."

“I know I see you staring at her all the time," Steve says chuckling "You really should stop staring before you make it obvious, you are dating someone punk”

Your heart shattered into pieces as you felt the old wounds of insecurity resurface. You couldn't bear to hear the man you loved longing for someone else, especially someone as stunning as Natasha.

"I care about her a lot, Steve, but sometimes I can't help but think about Natasha and how much better it would be with her," Bucky says and you felt as if your heart is being ripped out.

Steve frowned, sensing where this was going. "Bucky, you know it's not fair to compare Y/N to Natasha or anyone else? Everyone's different."

“Y/N’s pretty I know but she just doesn’t compare to Nat,” that was all it took for your heart to completely obliterate into a trillion pieces. You were no longer the only one that thought you were nothing compared to her. You didn't want Bucky to leave you for someone else, you didn't want him to leave you like how they all did.

In the solitude of your room, tears streamed down your face as the weight of Bucky's words crushed your spirit. All the progress you had made in feeling loved and cherished was unraveling before your eyes. The old wounds of heartbreak and insecurity resurfaced with a vengeance, enveloping you in suffocating darkness.

Questions plagued your mind. Were you not enough for Bucky? Would he eventually leave you for Natasha or someone else? Did he only settle for you because he couldn't have her? The demons of self-doubt tormented you, and you felt utterly inadequate, unable to compete with the image of perfection you held in your mind of Natasha.



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You couldn't bear seeing Bucky, it felt as if you were gonna burst into tears every time you saw him. You tried avoiding him as best as you could for a few weeks but being in the same building together 24/7 was harder than you expected.

Each time he tried to reach out or spend time with you, you made excuses, declining his invitations and pushing him away.

"Bucky, I'm really busy right now," you replied one day when he asked if you wanted to grab a coffee. "Maybe some other time."

His face fell, but he tried to hide his disappointment. "Sure, Y/N," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "Just let me know when you're free."

In an attempt to bridge the growing distance, Bucky decided to reach out to you. "Hey, baby want to hang out later? Maybe we can grab a bite or train together?" Bucky says with a huge grin.

"Sorry, Bucky, I have a lot of work to catch up on. Rain check?" you say making up another excuse to be away from him.

He sighed, knowing he couldn't push you. "Sure, no problem. Just let me know when you're free," he replied, trying to hide his disappointment.

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Over the next few days, he tried again, asking if you wanted to join him for a movie night or go for a walk, but each time, you declined, always with an excuse. He couldn't help but feel like you were purposely keeping your distance, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

One evening, Bucky found you in the common area, sitting by yourself and looking lost in thought. He decided that enough was enough; he needed answers.

"Y/N, we need to talk," he said, approaching you cautiously.

You sighed, knowing this conversation was inevitable. "Sure," you replied, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Bucky hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I've noticed that you've been avoiding me," he began cautiously. "Is there something wrong? Did I do something?"

You looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze. "It's just... things have been a bit busy lately," you said, your voice lacking conviction.

Bucky frowned, sensing that you were holding something back. "Y/N, please, I can tell something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know."

He reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away, and he felt the rejection like a physical blow. "I get that, Y/N, but it feels like you're shutting me out completely," he said, his voice tinged with hurt. "I thought we were in this together, no matter what."

You took a deep breath, knowing that it was time to address the elephant in the room. You didn't want to bear the pain anymore "I overheard you, Bucky," you admitted, your voice wavering. "You were talking to Steve, and you said... you said I wasn't as pretty as Natasha."

Bucky's face paled, and he looked like he had been punched in the gut. "Y/N, I..." he stammered, searching for the right words.

"Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It was just a joke, I didn't mean for you to take it to heart," he said. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize, unable to confront his own emotions.

"I thought jokes were supposed to be funny" you snapped back at Bucky. "Do you see me laughing?"

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I didn't think you'd take it so seriously, and it was a private conversation," he said, trying to justify himself.

"You were in the fucking common room a public area and maybe you should think before you speak" you shot back, feeling the tension escalating.

As the argument continued, the pain and hurt seemed to escalate, and both you and Bucky were on the verge of tears. But amidst the tension and hurtful words, Bucky suddenly stopped and took a deep breath.

"Y/N, I messed up," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I shouldn't have said those things."

You looked at him, tears streaming down your face. "But why did you say them, Bucky?" you asked, your voice still trembling with emotion.

"At the moment, I don't know, talking shit about you made me feel better about myself," Bucky says. Bucky took a step closer to you, gently reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

"I don't have any excuse for what I said," he said, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I was being selfish I know but you make me a better person and after all the shit I have done I don't deserve to be happy!" Bucky yelled and his eyes widened, he stepped back realizing what he had said. He had never told anyone this before, he tried keeping the demons all for himself.

Your heart sank as you listened to him. You had no idea that Bucky had been struggling with such deep-seated insecurities. You reached out and gently held his hand, trying to convey that you were there for him.

"Bucky, you're not a monster anymore," you said softly. "You're a good person, and you've been through so much. But you don't need to tear someone else down to feel better about yourself. What you said did not make you a monster, it made you an asshole"

"I-I really am sorry, please don't leave me I will change I will do anything," Bucky says as his eyes were filled with tears as he looked up at you, his voice breaking with emotion.

But you were too hurt, too broken, to respond. You turned away from him, unable to bear the sight of him in such pain. The silence in the room was deafening, and you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you.

"I thought we had something special, Y/N before I fucked up," Bucky said, his voice desperate. "I love you more than anything, and I messed up, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make it right. Please, just give me another chance." Bucky's pleas fell on deaf ears, and you couldn't bear to see him on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

Your heart ached at his words, but you couldn't ignore the pain he had caused you. "I need time, Bucky," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need time to process all of this."

Bucky nodded, his tears flowing freely now. "I'll give you all the time you need," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "But please, don't shut me out completely. I'll be here when you're ready."

With that, Bucky slowly got up from his knees and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart torn between love and pain.

In the days that followed, Bucky gave you the space you needed, but he also made sure to show you how much he cared. He would leave little notes for you, reminding you of the good times you shared and how much he loved you. He would send you flowers and gifts, trying to show you that he was truly sorry for his actions.

But no matter what he did, you couldn't shake off the pain and betrayal you felt. Every time you saw him, you were reminded of his hurtful words, and it made it hard for you to see the man you had fallen in love with.

⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹



Weeks passed, and despite Bucky's efforts, the pain between you remained palpable. You were still hurting, unable to let go of the hurtful words he had spoken. The team had noticed the tension between you, and everyone was hoping for a resolution.

One day, a mission came up that required you and Bucky to work closely together. It involved infiltrating a highly guarded facility run by a dangerous organization. The stakes were high, and the success of the mission depended on your teamwork.

You both suited up in your tactical gear, preparing for the intense mission ahead. As the two of you boarded the Quinjet, you tried to maintain a professional demeanor, despite the lingering emotions.

Once inside the facility, things got intense quickly. The enemy was not easy to subdue, and you found yourself in a tight spot, surrounded by hostile forces. In a moment of desperation, you got separated from the rest of the team.

Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the danger you were in. Without a second thought, he put himself in harm's way, using his skills and combat expertise to fight through the enemies and reach you.

You were cornered, and just when it seemed like there was no way out, you heard a familiar sound – the whirring of Bucky's metal arm. In an instant, he swooped in, taking out the threats with swift precision. But in the midst of the fighting, a sniper had tried to get a clean shot on you but Bucky saw it coming and pushed you aside taking the shot instead.

"Bucky," you gasped, you quickly threw a smoke bomb giving you time to escape while holding Bucky over you. As the smoke filled the air, you grabbed Bucky and pulled him towards the exit. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you tried to get both of you to safety.

⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹⁀➷ ‿➹



Once you were back on the Quinjet, you laid Bucky down gently, fear and concern evident in your eyes."Bucky, why did you do that?" you yelled at him, your voice trembling with emotion. "You could have been killed!"

He winced in pain but managed to give you a weak smile. "I couldn't let anything happen to you," he replied, his voice strained. "I love you, and I would do anything to protect you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the sincerity in his words. Despite the hurt between you, he still cared about you deeply and was willing to put his life on the line for you.

"Bucky, I love you too," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "But, you didn't have to do that," you said, your voice wavering.

He looked at you, his eyes full of affection. "I would do it again in a heartbeat," he replied, his voice filled with emotion.

The tension between you seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by a deep sense of connection and love. You realized that despite the mistakes and pain, Bucky loved you with all his heart, and you couldn't deny your own feelings for him.

"I love you, Y/N," Bucky said, his voice steady and genuine. "I know I messed up, and I'm sorry for hurting you. But you mean everything to me, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally let go of the pain and fear that had been holding you back. You knew deep down that you still loved Bucky, and you couldn't deny the pull between you.

"I love you too, Bucky," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

Bucky pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "I promise I'll never hurt you like that again," he said, his voice sincere. "You're the most important person in my life, and I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

As the Quinjet soared through the sky, you both knew that there were still challenges ahead. Healing would take time, and you would have to work through the pain together. But for now, in each other's arms, you found solace and comfort.

[lokis-army-77]

Dinner for Three

Demon!Eddie Munson x Human!female reader x Angel!Steve Harrington

Word Count: 2208

It's date night with two supernatural beings and before reader can eat dinner, she becomes the meal.

Warning: 18+ unprotected sex, double penetration, anal fingering, and sex (female receiving), p in v, threesome

Masterlist

Everyone knows that old saying that you have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Well, some don't realize that it is a very true statement, at least for me. Either a blessing or a curse, I had somehow been granted the presence of two supernatural beings in the form of two of the hottest guys I'd ever had the pleasure of interacting with. 

At first, their presence were just whispers, helping me to make decisions. Then slowly, for unknown reasons, they began to manifest themselves in physical forms. I had met Steve at the grocery store one afternoon and soon after I met Eddie at a bar in town while I was out to drink with a couple of my friends. I kept running into them more and more until we eventually started to hang out separately. It wasn’t until I saw the both with one another in town that we started to hang out just the three of us.

Now, I had no intention of falling head over heels for these two, especially after they told me what they were, but here we were, on date night number three. We each sat at my small dining room table, Eddie was on my right, while Steve was on my left. I had barely gotten to take a sip of my wine when I felt soft and calloused fingers sipping up my legs and under the skirt of my dress. I tried pushing them away with my own hands, but they were back in an instant. 

“Can you two stop, I’m trying to enjoy this dinner?” I looked between both of them. 

Eddie just smiled his wicked grin as he massaged his fingers into the fat of my thigh. “How can I stop when you look so delicious? I may just skip straight to dessert.”

“That may be the best idea you’ve ever had Demon,” Steve answered, his own soft fingers traveling further up my leg. 

I gulped. Having the attention of both of them at the same time was overwhelming but somehow comforting at the same time. When both of them looked at me the way they were now, with sultry stares and tongues darting out to moisten their lips, it made butterflies flutter in my stomach and I struggled to deny myself the pleasure they could give me. 

I tried to ignore them, to pick up my fork and eat the pasta it had taken me so long to prepare. Yet, in the end, when Eddie leaned over and began nibbling on my earlobe, the metal utensil fell from my grasp and clattered onto the plate. Steve wasn’t that far behind and eventually, his lips kissing down the column of my neck had me whimpering. 

My legs squeezed together involuntarily. The two of them caught on quickly to the way they were starting to make me feel and quickly removed us from the table. Eddie stood up first, pulling me along with him. His hands were all over the skin of my arms which was exposed by my dress. 

“How you torment me so, little human. You could bring a god to his knees.” His lips attached themselves to mine. A moan caught in my throat as he kissed me so sinfully. 

Steve, practically crawled up my body, worshiping every curve and patch of skin. Slowly, he began to unzip the back of the dress, lips kissing my shoulder and down my back as he let the fabric fall, leaving my body bare. 

“Nothing underneath, you dirty little minx.” He smiled, hands filling up the curves of my ass. His hands travel up the length of my body and pull my face away from Eddie, pulling me in for his own kiss. 

I can hear Eddie groan as he takes both my breasts into his hands, squeezing them softly before latching onto the right one with an open mouth. I can't help but gasp out at the overwhelming feeling of both of them. 

“Want to ruin you, Pretty Girl.” Mumbles Eddie around my nipple. His fingers play with the left one for a while, pinching and pulling at it before his mouth and hand switch places. 

“Want to play with you, Darling. Give you something you’ve never experienced.” Steve whispers in my ear. 

I roll my head back onto his shoulder. “What do you want to give me?” I ask in a daze. 

Eddie takes that moment to pop off my nipple, rising to his full height and looking me dangerously in the eye. “The angel and I have talked and we would like for you to take both of us.” 

I look at each of them back and forth, “B-both? But I’ve never…” 

Eddie nods, reaching his hand up to cup my cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin soothingly. “We know. But with a slow pace and a bit of magic, I have no doubt you will be able to do it.” 

“He’s right, love. You can do it.” Steve is brushing the stray hairs away from my shoulder as he peppers kisses there. 

I gulp but ultimately I am not afraid. I have taken both of them separately before and in either entrance, the two of them should be no problem together. 

“O-okay.” I nod. “We can try.”

“Good.” They both speak at the same time. 

The next thing I know, Eddie is lifting my right leg up onto his hip. At a snap of his fingers, his clothes were gone. I could feel his hard cock poking into my thigh. 

Looking behind me, Steve too had no clothes on as his palms transverse my skin. Down, down, down he went before finally stopping and groping at the globes of my ass. 

Feeling them on me together was a new sort of high. My heart pounded in my chest as adrenaline poured through me. Each soft touch and firm grasp had my head spinning around and around. It was hard to focus on just one of them, so I closed my eyes trying to slow the spinning down. 

“You ready baby?” One of them asked. At this point, even their voices had melded together. 

I nodded my head anyway, ready for whatever they would throw at me. My body jostled a bit and then I felt the hard head of a cock being pressed along my slit. ‘Eddie,’ I thought, whimpering. He toyed his cock through my wetness, making sure to place pressure on my clit. 

Both Eddie and Steve laugh as my hips buck into him, searching for more. Eventually, he pushed his head into my entrance. He let out a loud guttural groan, filling the room, as I stretched around him. He felt amazing. 

“Fuck, yes.” I gasped, fingers gripping Eddies toned biceps, nails digging crescents into the skin. 

“Does demon cock feel good in your tight pussy, Darling?” Steve asks as he leans into my ear, licking up the shell. “Imagin how good it will be when I take your ass.” 

“Please, Stevie. Need you too.” My head lulls back onto his shoulder. 

“Patience baby, need to warm you up first. S’gonna be such a big stretch.” 

“I can take it,” I whine frantically, in need of as much pleasure as they could give me. 

Steve only hums. His hands massage my skin before a steady finger begins to circle the puckered hole. All the while, Eddie is slowly pumping into me at a torturing pace, he might as well have been standing still with how slow it was. 

“Take her other leg will you?” Steve asks over my head and Eddie obliges, taking my other leg my the thing and sliding it up. He was holding me now, cock hitting deeper as it seared into me.

My ass was spread wider and steve’s finger entered me. I arched my back, pushing against Eddie, at the intrusion. “Feels so good, Stevie.” I moan. 

And this is where magic entered. Normally it would take more than a few fluid pumps for his finger to stretch me out but as he started to push a second finger in, scissoring the two inside me, I knew something was aiding in the process. I didn’t mind though, as it felt amazing and had both my cunt and ass clenching in need. I worried my lip between my teeth and moaned breathlessly. 

“Look at you, taking my cock and his fingers. You’re such a good girl aren’t you?” Eddie coos. 

I have no words, mouth hanging open taking in sharp, quick breaths. It’s honestly a struggle to nod my head as an answer. 

Steve inserts a third finger and I cry out, clinging tightly to the demon holding me up. “More, more, more,” I mumble. There is a need bubbling up in my stomach and I can't begin to explain how much I need to be filled completely. 

“You heard her angel, she wants more.” Eddie snickers, hips snapping once, twice, into me harshly before going back to a slow pace. 

My back is pressed further into Steve’s chest and I whimper. Our combined body heat had me shaking. “You ready Darling?” He questions, fingers still working. 

I nod, biting my lip hard to keep my noises down but that failed when Steve replaced his fingers with his cock. Slowly but surely he pushed his fat length into me, stretching me around him impossibly far. 

A long drawn-out moan escaped from my lips. “Fuck, Steve.” Tears welled in my eyes as I was spread out and filled with the two biggest cocks I had ever taken. On their own, this would have felt great, but together? Together they touched every spot I needed and then some, making me feel like I had died and gone to heaven. 

Slowly, in tandem, the two men moved. I could feel every vein and ridge on them. It was quickly sending me over the edge. Sweat poured from my body, limbs staring and holes contracting as I was used between them. Eddie had my legs held over his forearms and his hands stretching my ass cheeks out to hold me up but to also clear Steve's way. Steve was holding my upper body up, as I had gone limp in their hold and would have fallen over if it wasn't for his strong arms wrapping around me, one hand cupping my breast and the other moving to lazily swipe at my clit. 

Stars began to appear in my blurry vision once they picked up the pace. They both fucked into me like it would be the last time they would ever do so. Eddie continuously pounded into my g-spot and with the added effort of Steve's fingers, and the fullness of both my ass and cunt, an orgasm was on its way. My whole body went ridged and my toes curled.

“I- I’m gonna. Ah! I’m gonna-” I cried, big blueberry tears of pleasure now falling down my face. 

“That’s it, Pretty girl. Give it all to us.” Eddie dives in pressing his lips to my open mouth, swallowing my moans and gasps. 

Steve hums in my ear, “You’re doing so well. Taking both of us so well. Fuck, you were really made to take both of us.”

I moan in response, fingers digging into the skin of Eddie's arms. Working me through my orgasm. They each began to grunt loudly. The sounds melded together perfectly, creating a musical experience in the room accompanied by the percussion of skin slapping skin. 

Their once fluid motions began to fall off when my holes continued to flutter around them, squeezing tightly. Each thrust became just a little more erratic, the rhythm no longer there. Now, they were each fucking me like they wanted, taking the last of what they needed before letting themselves fill me full. 

I cried out when Eddie’s hips came to a sudden stop deep within me. Soon something hot poured into my cunt and I know he was finished. Steve was close behind, rutting into my ass before letting out a strained gasp, cum shooting out, coating my walls. 

They stood there for a moment, breathing hard, holding me high in their arms. 

"God, you were amazing." They harmonized. I laughed, exhaustion taking over.

My body was pliant as they each pulled out, leaving my holes gapping and then clenching around nothing. An intense shudder rippled through me at the feeling. 

Eddie kept me in his arms and carefully carried me to my bedroom where Steve cleaned me up. I was so tired out that as I closed my eyes my hearing was going in and out. I could barely hear the whispers the two men were sharing. Whining, I reached out to them, and then suddenly I was hit with the warmth of each of them as they climbed in beside me and sandwiched me between them once more. 

"Did such a good job " praised Steve, fingers playing in my hair. 

"The best," Eddie confirmed, lips peppering small kisses up the side of my face. "Get some sleep, sweetheart, you've earned it."

I spoke not a word, only humming in a response to them before snuggling further into Steve's chest and falling asleep.

[defrosted69]

Is it alright to fall in love with you?

(New Jeans Hanni fanfic)

****Since you guys liked Hanni so much, I made another one so here you go Yohohoho****

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They say that a beautiful flower will emerge from it's beautiful stem once it fulfilled its cycle. The sun will welcome the blossom and let it shine where everyone can see the beauty of the flower. Bees and butterfly will come by to say hello to greet the flower. Everything will slow down as their eyes will land to its beautiful structure. Even the rain will pay homage to its Beauty by helping it add aesthetic to the petals that shows eternal beauty. Photographers would be at awe and would make the surroundings a photoshoot.

All glory would be given to the flower but there are those who got stuck in the middle of the process and froze on what to do next. Some wither away unable to withstand the harsh punishment of mother nature as they fall to the ground slowly getting buried and forgotten as they are not there to witness the blooming of their fellow peers who transcended to become a beautiful flower.

Just like in life, many people doesn't bloom to their full potential and they stagnate on their own state not knowing what to do to take that next step. And sadly, you ended up like them.

You have to wonder, how did life turn out like this for you. Everything was so optimistic and bright for you growing up as you have the vision and passion to reach your dreams but slowly, they began to crumble down. All that sunshine was Just your delusion thinking you can take care of it when in reality, life hit you hard like a bullet train. It didn't stop and it continued to torment your life every hour, every minute, every second and every breath you take. Everything had fallen apart from you.

That smile you once had held and showed off to was gone. Infront of your mirror was a tired and empty face that showed no enthusiasm about anything. That fire you once had that you hoped to keep burning was washed in an instant. Rekindling that fire felt so pitiful for you but nothing, nothing ever made that fire back on.

Recalling it now, you couldn't even remember the last time that you genuinely felt happy. Your days felt like a repetitive cycle that just doesn't end and it felt exhausting. But weirdly enough, you feel like keeping that cycle on repeat is your comfort area, like there was no point for you to add something in that cycle because it will just ruin everything that was schedule for you. Society and your personality made it hard for you to make friends entering college.

Gone where the days when you were making cool and enjoyable memories down town wit your bikes. There was no more time for you to mess around and have fun as the sunsets peak through the valley's. The word fun didn't exist anymore on your vocabulary and was replaced with work and money.

Your friends from high school was slowly becoming the person they dreamed off enjoying the labor of their hardship while for you? What's there to enjoy? You were working on a 7 to 8 hour work hour and sometime even have to go to overtime with less pay than what they promised. It was tiring.

So tiring.

You opened your apartment room and you were greeted by the familiar small space that you have been accustomed to. Today was the worst day for you. Job really felt like shit and your girlfriend just dumped you like it was nothing. The 4 years of loving each other, giving everything to her was all drained down the pipe for nothing. You gave all her what you can but it seems it wasn't enough.

You gave her chocolates, yet someone gave her 5 different boxes of imported sweets.

You gave her flowers, yet someone rented a whole flower shop for her on her birthday.

You skipped your days just to attend her needs, yet someone gave her what every person wanted.

You gave her a teddy bear, yet someone gifted her a whole toy store.

You spend a lot for her than yourself, yet someone offered the same but didn't even lost any penny.

You gave her your world, yet someone gifted her the universe.

You laid on your bed thinking of what you did to have this kind of life. Everything was just turning into shit day by day and nothing postive was coming out of your efforts to be better. It has come to the point that you found yourself thinking about going back to where you were truly happy.

"I just want to he happy!! What do I have to do to get my happiness back! What more can I do?!"

You thought to yourself as the alcohol has finally started to kick in your system. Your vision was turning blurry as the ceiling began dancing in perspective. The world was suddenly spinning around you yet you didn't have the energy to move up. You endure the dizziness and eventually the alcohol calmed down and so was your body.

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KNOCK

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KNOCK

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KNOCK

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"Anybody home?"

You woke up upon an unfamiliar voice. The sun was already peaking out of your room as your curtains danced slowly with the soft passing breeze that passed by. You yawned a little and stretched your arms out waking your whole body up. Your legs felt weak at the moment yet you were able to reel yourself to open the door as the sun's light blinded you for a few seconds.

"Who is it? Hmm?"

You blinked a couple times after your vision was finally back. You couldn't see anyone infront of you but your brain clarified you that there was indeed someone who called out to you-

"I'm down here Mister."

An irritated voice called out to you as you lowered your view and there you saw a highschool kid glaring at you. She looked at you as if you made the biggest crime known to mankind but you blinked a couple of times making sure you're awake.

"You're not a ghoul are you? Am I dead?"

This wasn't kindly received as the girl glared at you even more and harshly handed you a pot. You were caught off guard by her harsh action but you manage to catch the pot on your chest with your hands. The girl then began stomping her small feet away from you and mumbling the words

"Rude Ahjussi....."

You were left stunned not knowing what to do or say as you looked at the pot and there was a note attached to its cover.

"We're your new neighbors. And we made some Kinchi stew for you as our gift for you. Please treat us well"

You were honestly confused by their action because there was no way that people still do stuff like this especially in this new era of society. But if someone with a kind heart was offering you a gift then who are you to decline right?

Your day started off rather well with a free breakfast and you can even call it a hangover dish which helped you a lot since you were so DRUNK last night. You somehow ended up finishing the pot of food unconsciously because you were just taking and taking that you realized that the food was delicious. It somehow reminded you off home in sense but nonetheless, you had to return the favor for giving you such delicious food for breakfast.

You washed their pot and checked your wallet if you were still financially okay or on the brink of loaning. Luckily for you, you have enough money to pay the neighbors kindness but your mood suddenly took a dip seeing the picture of you and your girlfriend, or well, in this case, your Ex-girlfriend. You sighed and closed your wallet as you prepared yourself to buy some ingredients.

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"Yow Pham Hanni, why do you look like your pissed or something?"

"Don't start with me Minji."

Hanni snarled at her best friend who raised her hands up in surrender. Kim Minji has been best friends with Hanni since elementary and up until now. The two shared a lot of things together, spend time together and even sleep at each other's home sometimes.

"Chill, you're the one who needs to apologize to me remember? You almost broke my heart thinking your going far away."

Hanni's stoic expression suddenly cracked as she began to smile slowly and show an amused expression.

"Heh, Did I broke your poor heart Minji?"

"Of course Dummy. I was Almost about to cry my heart out the day you moved but here you are. Still in this city."

Hanni finally let her happiness get to her as she laughed whole heartedly making Minji chuckle at her. Hanni's Father was a contract engineer and sometimes, he has to move from one place to another making it for her family to stay at an original place sometimes. But this time, Her father finally was able to land a permanent spot in this city but unfortunately, they could only afford an apartment for now as their finance was still a little shambles after moving from places to places.

Though it was kinda sad for Hanni, it was more sadder for Minji because her heart would litterally crack open everytime Hanni would move away. This has been the 4th time since the Pham's move to a new home and Minji still can't take losing her best friend again.

"Haha, My bad Minji. But I promise you, this time I'm staying here."

"Promise me?"

Minji hugged her which made Hanni sigh but she found it disgusting how Minji gave her the puppy eyes. This was one of the 3 things Hanni didn't like about Minji. First is that she's quite lazy, second is that she's so soft and pure that sometimes, her kindness would lead to misunderstandings, and lastly is her puppy eyes. She just find it so disgusting and annoying.

"Yah, your an 18 year old girl yet your doing this puppy eyes? Ewww. Stop it Minji."

"Promise me? ~~~"

Minji didn't listen and just blinked more showing off her puppy eyes. At this point, Hanni wanted to puke her breakfast out but she just groaned and nodded her head. Minji smiled happily and hugged her even more tightly.

"Can't... Breath... You... Monster strength...."

"Opps, My bad hehehe~"

Minji chuckled as she let Hanni go making the small girl breath heavily.

"Why the fuck are you so strong?"

"I don't know?"

"Whatever"

"Anyway, Why did you looked annoyed earlier?"

Hanni sighed as she recalled the events from earlier. They just successfully moved last night and Hanni really wanted to skip classes today because not only she can rest, but she can finally see her childhood crush next to their house.

Yes, that's right. Hanni's childhood crush is you, your pathetic ass.

She was so excited seeing you last night enter your room but she also felt worried seeing you all wobbly and tired walking to your room. This kinda made her sad because time wasn't really that gentle with you. But then again, that was kinda true. So that night, she formulated a plan to finally see you face to face and it just so happen that her mother made the kimchi soup for you. Hearing about it, she immediately volunteered to give you the pot. Honestly, she was very nervous as every step she took towards your room made her heart race so fast.

She was afraid that she might slip up seeing you face to face but when she finally was infront of your door. She knocked 3 times and waited for you patiently. When the door opened, she finally saw you. She was a bit surprised seeing you so tall than what she last remembered but the thing that pissed her off was that, You were busy looking for her when she was standing infront of you. Hanni has a little ego when it comes to her height and this made her glare at you.

Without even thinking, she harshly gave you the pot and stared to walk away stomping her way out as her face show a bright red color. She was fuming with both embarrassment and anger not towards you but herself.

"FUXKK!! Why did I get pissed when he didn't look down on me!! Gosh, me and my temper! Arghh!"

She mumbled some words out of her frustration but she immediately covered her mouth hoping you didn't hear her and that's how her morning ended with you.

"So that's it huh? How old is he anyway?"

Minji asked Hanni as she wasn't really sure of what your age really was.

"Uhhhh, I first met her when I was 8 so it's been 10 years. He used to have a middle schooler uniform back then so maybe around 23 of 22? I'm not sure."

"Uhuh, So you like older guys huh?"

Minji smirked at her as she tried to make embarrassed but this only made Hanni giggle in delight and sway her body to the side. Minji was caught off guard by this as she didn't expect her best friend to be so deeply in love with someone older than their age.

"Woah Hanni, hide your blush girl. You're litterally telling me that you like older guys."

"I don't like older guys geez. I just like him Hehehehe~"

Hanni once again giggled like a madman in love and Minji could only chuckle. She was already aware of Hanni's first love but she didn't expect that her first love still stayed with her till now. She has to commend her best friend for her loyalty and perseverance to not let that love die.

"Is this why you rejected a lot of guys like even the popular ones like Sunoo, Sunghoon Oppa, and even Jay Oppa?"

"Yup, there nothing compared to Y/N Oppa. Heheheh~"

"Eh? What if he has a girlfriend?"

Hanni's smile dropped after realizing what her best friend said. She completely forgot about that possibility. 10 years of waiting and something like that wasn't out of the picture at all. Hanni sighed and pouted her lips indicating that she was now sad.

"Well if so, then I'll just be fine being friends with him then. I'm okay with just that."

Minji felt sad for her. She finally realized how much Hanni likes you to the point that she would throw away her happiness for yours. This somehow made her feel pity for her friend as a idea popped into her head.

"Hey, Listen to me Hanni."

"Hmm?"

"From here on out, I'll support you with your love journey with him."

Hanni smiled softly at her. It was nice for her to hear that Minji would support her whatever her decision maybe.

"Thank Minji. That means a lot."

"Heheh of course. That's what are best friends are for. Just don't turn into a Yandere though...."

"You bitch. We both know someone fits that category than us."

Minji chuckled and nodded her head.

"True, true. Well anyway, lunch is ending soon. Shall we walk Honey~"

"Shut up Minji. And yes, let's go back to class."

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School finally ended and Hanni was glad that the teachers didn't give them any homework to do cause she was tired asf. She didn't want to study anymore and her first aim to do was to go to her room and sleep. The sun was setting already when she arrived at their apartment building and the memories of earlier made her cringe. She had hoped that the events earlier was nothing but a nightmare.

"Stupid Hanni, what were you even thinking doing that."

She sighed as she opened the door to her house.

"I'm home~"

Hanni said as she removed her shoes and placed them on the shoerack near their door. She heard laughter coming from the kitchen as this made her curious.

"Did Mom brought over her friends?"

It wasn't unusual for her Mother to bring over some of her friends at their place as Hanni has grown accustomed to it. Sometimes she would think of it as a norm especially when her mother introduces her to some of her Mother friends son who's the same age as her. Honestly speaking, she didn't care about any of the guys that was being introduced to her as she was set on you and nobody else.

She got closer and there her breath hitched. Her hearth began to beat faster and her whole body froze. She gripped the hem of her skirt as a warm and hot temperature arose through her cheeks. You stood there smiling and laughing along with her mother as you converse about her.

You wanted to repay the delicious favor they did for you earlier so you went out and brought out ingredients needed for the dishes you prepared. It wasn't grande kind of dishes as you didn't have much on you but like the saying goes "Kindness isn't paid but rather showed".

A simple tteokboki dish that goes with some kimbap that your mother used to make for you when you were in Highschool. Her ways of making the food still lingered on your memory and it has become a comfort food for you whenever you feel down. It's just your laziness kicking in everytime you thought making the dish. But this time, that laziness was gone as you tried your best to make the best Gimbap there is inorder to repay the kindness they gave you.

You were quiet anxious in all honestly because this was your first time entering a place which isn't your home or your work place. But that was immediately washed away when the woman happily helped you carry the food as you thanked her for the dish earlier. The woman just shrugged it off as she introduced herself as Mrs. Pham. She wasn't korean but she was very fluent in speaking the language. You also began to help her out in the kitchen as she told you stories about her daughter.

Just by hearing the stories that she was saying, it sounded like her daughter was very smart and outgoing person. Then a sudden realization hit you in the face. The girl from earlier must have been her daughter but remembering what happened earlier, you began to question yourself why she was mad at you in the first place.

"Ah, Hanni sweety, you're home. Meet Mr. Y/N Lee. He's the neighbor you gave the soup to earlier."

You looked behind you and you saw the girl from earlier but this time, instead of glaring at you, she seems to be in a state of shock and suprise. Both of you locked at each other's eyes as Hanni's thoughts were in shambles.

"Oh my gosh oh my goshohmygoshohmygosh!"

She didn't know what to do as You gave her a small smile and a simple wave as you felt embarrassed after the incident from earlier. You were in dire need to apologize to her because of some misunderstandings. Her parents seems really cool to be with and they also seem to be very wise as well.

"Hanni, Prepare the plates already and stop standing here."

Her mother's voice snapped her back to reality as she looked down embarrassed walking past you in a hurry. You were slightly suprised by her speed but you just thought that she must still have hated for earlier. You just let it bypass your thought and decides to leave the household because you already did what you originally want to do. But then, her father saw you slowly walking away and said

"Where you going young man?"

Even though you weren't looking at them, you felt pairs of eyes staring at your back with intensity which somehow made you nervous. You gulped silently and turned your back smiling at them awkwardly.

"Oh I uhh.. I'm going home now Sir. I just want to give back the food from earlier. Thank you by the way-"

"Hiyaaah, come and eat with us. Come on."

Mrs. Pham said as she brightly smiled at you. Her hand signalled you to come and eat with them but you just bowed and shook your head. The atmosphere around the household was something that you missed dearly on your own. The sense of family that you longed ago forgotten was slowly coming back at you because of them. It was quite joyful but at the same time sad for you.

"Come and eat with us Oppa, you deserve a little break"

Hearing the words of Hanni made you stiffen as you looked at her. The glare she gave you earlier was now gone and was replaced with a soft expression that you couldn't believe she was able to do. For some odd reason, her expression and words struck a chord in your heart as you held your emotion in tact. You didn't want to embarras yourself against them after all because you know they were good people.

"If Hanni says it’s okay then you should stay Y/N."

Her father said finally making you concede to their decision for you to stay. You walked back towards the kitchen and offered a seat for Hanni, you were after all a guest and it's the owners rights to sit first and you be the last. But for Hanni, her heart was ready to explode by your gesture. Sure, some may say that it's just an etiquette to show but for Hanni, this was something she will forever embed in her memory.

"Take a seat Hanni"

"T-Thank you O-Oppa..."

"No problem."

Dinner proceeded like normal as if you were part of their Family. It was weird because that old feeling of belonging came crashing down on you and you felt your emotion slowly cracking open. You held to your chopstick tightly and gripped it tight holding yourself in. But Mrs. Pham noticed this as she felt pity towards you. What she was seeing in you was not an adult man but rather, a tired and worn out soldier who's been keeping himself strong for a long time now.

"Y/N-ssi.."

"Y-Yes?"

"It's okay. It's okay."

Her warm and comforting words was the final nail to your coffin as you bit your lips as they quivered slowly. Tears began to slowly fall out of your eyes and Hanni felt so devastated seeing you crying.

"Oppa..."

"N-No, It's okay.. I-I'm fine... I'm fine really.."

Your words didn't match your action as tears was falling from your eyes as you try your best to hide them but to no vail. Everything about the household just broke you because seeing how they were all connected made you remember the past you used to have. The happiest moment you used to have before was gone and it was painful because you didn't ask anyone to remove that happiness from you. It was taken from you and seeing the Pham family act like how you used to, made you miss the old times. You covered your eyes preventing you to lose more tears but then suddenly, Mr. Pham stood up and patted your back.

"It's all right Kiddo, let it all out."

Their kindness towards you, a complete stranger was really getting you to break down your walls that you built so much. The protection towards not showing weakness was taken down immediately. Ironically, kindness was the reason it was taken down.

Hanni clenched her fist in sadness and worry because she didn't expect you to cry your heart out. The silent sniffles was all she needed to know that you went through a lot of hardship, alone.

"Oppa...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

Hanni blames herself for being not there whenever you needed help. This was preety obvious that you were fighting your own problems alone and as great as it sounds, it wasn't a healthy way of dealing a problem. This only gave Hanni more reason to be by your side. At this point, she wasn't even thinking to be your wife, just a friend is enough for her as for the moment.

You have expected that Dinner would be awkward after your embarrassing breakdown but no, it didn't. It become more livelier than earlier as her parents told you amazing stories about their life, their struggles, and many more. Her father has told you many inspiring words that you surely will live out. You were slowly admiring Hanni's father because of her wisdom and his wife for her comforting words. You felt like you were home again with them and that brought a small smile upon your face. You offered your services to wash the dishes but Mrs. Pham decline the offer and told you to rest up. You tried to push for your agenda but in the end, Mrs. Pham won.

You thanked them and apologized for the nuisance you cause but they just brushed it off and even told you that you were welcome in their home anytime. You weren't gonna lie, you actually had a great time there and it was one of the few positive moments you have so far since being an adult. Hanni was the one who had to walk you towards your room even though it was less than a minute walk but you didn't complain.

"Listen Hanni. About earlier, I'm sorr-"

"I should be the one apologizing Oppa. I was too insensitive towards you. Please forgive me"

Hanni bowed to you with her entire back bend forward as you were surprised by her action. You actually didn't mind her actions earlier because you felt like you were the one who caused it anyway.

"N-No, it's okay Hanni. I should be the one apologizing to you because I was the one who's insensitive towards you. I didn't know you were small.."

Hanni bit her lip controlling her rage because she hates it being called small.

"But you're cute. I-I mean you being small adds to your cute factor. Gosh what am I saying to a teenager? I'm so out of touch from reality."

You groaned and gave yourself a self palm to the head as the words that came out of your mouth was something inappropriate especially since Hanni was still a teenager and your a grown ass man. Saying stuff like that in the open would immediately send you to jail and your life will forever be fucked. But Hanni was the opposite, she loved every word that you said and her face right now was Red as a tomato. She took in deep breaths in order to calm herself down before fixing her posture and looking at you.

"Well I don't mind you calling me Cute Oppa cause that's true anyway."

That sentence made you chuckle at her and shook your head.

"Yah, you shouldn't be too proud of yourself. That can bite you in the ass."

"Hmph. Nope."

Hanni smiled brightly as you just chuckled at her. Even though you two were now talking comfortably, you still somehow feel bad for her with the incident earlier.

"Listen Hanni, is there anything you want? I kinda still feel bad for earlier. Let me make up for it."

"Please be my boyfriend...”

She wanted to say those words out loud but she still has a lot of things to do and this was a great baby steps for her in order to achieve that goal.

"Hmmm well, there's a movie I really want to watch so.... Maybe we can go watch it together in the weekends Oppa?"

This was her shot, well probably her best shot of her life and she just laid it out. In her defense, this was the best opportunity to have and she might not even get another chance like this again.

"Weekends huh? Sure, I can make time in Saturday."

Hanni wanted to die from happiness. One of her dreams on going on a date with you was finally happening as she she flashed you the best smile she ever has. You on the other hand found it adorable how Hanni smiled sweetly at you.

"Alright, here's my number Oppa. Contact me when your free. Hehehe~"

"Ah right, here's mine too."

Hanni gave you her number which you saved in your contacts as Hanni did the same.

"Well, see you around Oppa. Goodnight and also, Thanks for the food, they were delicious."

Hanni gave you a thumbs up as you just chuckled and shrugged your shoulders. The moonlight was quite bright tonight as the full moon showed itself in the black sky. You waved her goodbye as she walked away smiling and happily waving at you. You entered your room and you immediately noticed the atmosphere between Hanni's house and yours.

"They are such a sweet family. I wished my family stayed together like them..."

You could only sigh at that false wish as you did your nightly routine and headed to bed.

Hanni meanwhile was smiling ear to ear and dancing in her room listening to New Jeans as her day was complete. She finally got her ultimate crush number, converse with him, and finally set a date between the two of you. Hanni's luck was truly kind towards her today and she couldn't be more thankful towards the man above.

"Thank you God for today. Please, please let me be his Woman. If not then at least let me be his shoulder to cry on."

Although everything was going great for her, she still couldn't help but feel sad for you after all.

"Y/N went through a lot in the span of 10 years huh. He really deserves a happy life ahead of him. Hmm... What should I do to make that possible..."

Through out the night, Hanni thought off many possible ways to make your smile appear once again, and this time, a smile that wasn't sad or broken but rather, a smile that showed true happiness.

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.

.

The days for Hanni was slow and she hated how time was moving so slow as if it was preventing her to get what she wanted. She has been restless lately thinking on what she would wear, how she would act, and how she should attract you. But even though she was quiet anxious and annoyed of the slow days, she was quiet glad of taking your number because the two of you have been in touch lately.

You find it very surprising that talking with Hanni on the phone was actually quite enjoyable and fun to be. You enjoyed listening to her afternoon rant and late night conspiracies because you found it amusing that someone like her is already running wild in imagination. It was something you lost before and it's probably the reason why your life has been dull. The lack of imagination and inspiration to create such imagination was long gone. There was no way for you to recreate those crazy and creative imagination of yours but hearing Hanni's crazy imagination, well you couldn't help but smile at that.

Hanni was what you were before, an energetic, creative, and adrenaline pump person. People like that are very rare to find nowadays and growing up, you lost your old self in order to adapt to society and act like the adult because you are now THE adult. Finding time to be foolish was already off your calendar as there was no time for that, everything needs to be serious in order to accomplish something.

Even though Hanni didn't like hearing advices, There was an exception towards you. Hanni would sometimes spill some days where she hated it and you would come up and tell her some advices and things she would work out on. Of course, she didn't like it at first but realizing that you went through tough times, this was the best way for her to at least Change some of her bad habits that she has grown out off. Although it was good for you that you were advising Hanni, she didn't like it completely because she felt like she was being treated like a kid by you.

She wishes that this kind of advices wouldn't just let you see her as a kid but she hoped that it would get past that. This is one of her fears especially when it comes to liking you now. You were the adult between each other so it was only natural for you to act like one but can you look past Hanni as a kid? That question was one thing that made Hanni anxious of what she will do next.

Nonetheless her questions would be answered on their Movie date.

Hanni woke up earlier than usual as her heart was pumping so fast. This was the day she finally can get on a date with you which she could only dream off. She had already prepared the clothes she was gonna wear for this day last night as she made sure that her outfit would literally captivate you. She had asked Minji about her opinion on what she would wear and the chaotic pair would end up emptying the closet of Hanni leaving her room a total mess. As if a tornado was able to enter her room, Minji was able to find the best outfit for her despite the carnage around her room.

Minji might be the best stylist Hanni has ever met in her life because Minji is that type of girl who can lead a new trend. The powers she holds if she was casted on a photoshoot, Hanni would bet that Minji would change the game in the fashion industry.

Hanni took a double shower and made sure the shampoo she was using would create a beautiful scent if passed by. She usually stay at the shower room for half an hour but today, she made sure nothing would be flaw in her body as she took longer than usual. Her father could raise his eyebrows because he would be in for a suprise seeing the water bill slightly increase.

You on the other hand was eating your ramen as you forgot to buy ingredients once again because of the tiring workload you did this week. As if last week wasn't hellish enough, this week was doubled than the last. Everyone was working overtime because they couldn't afford leaving their work in overdue. Everyone wanted a break so they all decided to do overtime which in turn causes them to lack sleep and proper rest. You were part of the suffering as you didn't even had a proper meal the entire week.

Instant food was your go to lunch, dinner and breakfast which wasn't very healthy to begin with. Even though the days were tiring, seeing the messages of Hanni every night was enough to leave a small smile on his face. Hanni was slowly becoming your happy pill because her energy is just so contagious that you couldn't help but feel a smile forming on your face every time you would see her in the apartment hallways or in her messages.

Today was the day to somehow thank her for being a reason that brings a smile on your face. You took a quick shower and checked some clothes for you in your closet. You wanted to slap yourself from embarrassment as all of your clothes were all too formal and a quick realization hit you.

"I guess I didn't even have time to buy clothes for myself huh.."

You sighed as you decided to wear your white polo and your usual formal pants. You decided to remove the suit jacket in order to look less formal because today was your off day. You hoped that Hanni wouldn't mind your attire at all considering you look like your usual uniform. Nonetheless, you got out of your apartment earlier than the supposed meet up because you didn't want to show up late.

You messaged Hanni saying your outside her apartment when a few seconds later, Hanni came out looking very preety. Your eyes landed front upon her beauty as you were star struck by her visuals. This was your first time seeing Hanni without her uniform and you immediately saw the difference between her Uniform attire and casual clothes. She wore a simple white shirt and light brown jacket that goes along well with her brown baggy pants.

You chuckled seeing how adorable she looked with her pants while Hanni blushed and pouted seeing and hearing you chuckle.

"Yah, What's so funny Oppa?"

"Ah no it's nothing."

"Nothing? You liar. You're laughing at my outfit huh?"

"No, no of course not. You actually look adorable with your attire."

Well that was enough to make Hanni flustered. She froze in place for a couple of seconds as the words that came out of your mouth replayed over and over her thoughts.

"So, what movie do you wanna watch Hanni?"

"H-Huh? Oh umm.. Let's just go to the cinema and see if it's still there."

"Sure. Let's go."

The two of you walked away from the apartment building as Hanni began to converse about you about her school life. It took you by suprise when you heard her say that she's actually quite smart. You decided to tease her making her whine at you and pout cutely which you didn't mind at all. But unknown to you, Hanni actually loved it and was blushing slowly. Through out the walk, Hanni couldn't help but glance at you whenever she has the chance too. Your simple formal attire just makes her heart weak and makes her heart flutter.

Upon arriving at the Cinema, you were suprised by how many people were there and your attention immediately landed on Hanni. Your instinct kicked in as you held her hand which made Hanni blush furiously. The way your hand made contact with hers made her loose her common sense as she stares at her hand holding yours.

"Hold on me tight Hanni, you might get lost."

Hanni didn't hear you as you pushed through the wave of people gently shielding Hanni from the tight crowd. It was quite a Challange but you managed to arrive at the ticket booth with no problem as Hanni was still ecstatic with her hand holding yours.

"What Movie are we watching Hanni?"

"I luv yu..."

"Hmm? I don't think there's a movie called like that though."

You looked over at the category of the words that Hanni said but for the girl, she was blushing madly because of embarrassment. Her mind just suddenly process her initial thought and it came out of her mouth. She was glad that you were slow to realize it or even better, you didn't realize it at all. Which in turn, saddened Hanni partially but she brushed that thought off anf held your hand even tighter as she pointed at the movie she wanted.

"I want to watch that Oppa."

"Hmm? John Wick?"

"Yup."

"It's rated SPG and I don't think your height is.."

"Do you wanna die Oppa?"

Hanni looked at you with a deadpan expression which you couldn't help but laugh a little and press her cheeks. Both of you widen your eyes after the action that you just did. Hanni blushed as she eyed you while you slowly pulled away your hand from her cheeks.

"Why... Why is my heart racing? God no.."

A slight blush appeared on your face as you eyed Hanni who was staring at you with a shock yet calm expression. You didn't even think of doing the act as you just instinctively touched her cheeks like it was the most natural thing to do. You gulped hard and looked away.

"Sorry Hanni..."

You were now completely ashamed of yourself. Once again, you fucked up a great friendship because of your usual self. For sure right now that Hanni hated you-

"I... Kinda like it Oppa.."

You quickly look back and saw Hanni smiling at you with the most brightest smile you have ever seen in your life. Hearing the assurance out of her voice and that sweet smile somewhat calmed your nerves down. Something about this girl was making you intrigue of your own self.

You bought two tickets for the movie and when you thought Hanni wouldn't supriseyou anymore, she surprised you again when she was so emerced on the movie even cursing out the bad guys. You couldn't help but laugh at her. This kind of behavior was once you had but had dissappeared so seeing Hanni act like you used to was a sight to see. But the thing that suprised you the most is that, this kind of behavior was what you hate the most especially when watching movies but for some odd reason. Seeing Hanni act like that somehow made you appriciate people like that.

"The movie was great! Isn't it Oppa? John wick is really badass! He went Woosh and then he picked up his gun and went Bang Bang to those losers."

Hanni was hyped up after seeing the movie as she mimicked the character on the movie and even did some impressions of him. You simply smiled at her cute antics as the two of you were walking at the mall hoping to find a restaurant to eat and luckily for you, your favorite restaurant was opened as you and Hanni took a seat and ordered your food.

"Say Oppa, what kind work do you do? A teacher?"

You chuckled and shook your head. Hanni had been so far the only person that has put a smile on your face. Your life has been boring yet in just a span of a week, Hanni has turned that frown into a smile that can't seem to be erased. Her presence alone made you smile unconsciously.

"No, I work at an office Hanni. You know the typical guy who works on his computer all day. Boring isn't?"

"Nope, that's sounds fun actually. Did you try folding a paper and making it into a paper plane? It's fun seeing them fly in the office. Or better yet, did you shoot a crumple paper on the trash bin and shot it saying Kobeee like that?"

Her eyes was sparkling upon saying her ideas and you couldn't even talk. It sounded like basic ideas yet when Hanni says it, it sounded like it was legit fun.

"Well, I didn't do any of that..."

"Well now you can try.. Hold on, I think I have an idea."

Hanni grabbed the tissues on the table and began to fold them in a particular manner as you sighed and saw the paper plane or tissue plane if you would call it.

"Alright Oppa, See the trash bin there?"

"Yeah."

"If I shoot this and it landed on that thing. You need to double my order. Deal?"

"What? Why would I-"

"Hmm? Is Y/N-Oppa scared? Hmm??"

Hanni taunted you giving you a smug look which you just playfully scoffed and shook your head.

"Go ahead. Try it."

"Heh, Don't underestimate me. For my name is Pham Hanni, Watch."

Hanni closed her left eye as she focus her sight on the trash bin. Her face looked so focused and her hands felt relaxed. She was confident on herself and it was preety obvious for you that Hanni was a skilled person. You gulped silently as your wallet couldn't afford another order of the foods here. With a deep breath, her hand moved forwards as the tissue plane went floating in the air twirling in some degree. The plane was getting closer to the target and this made you nervous. Sweat began to form on your forehead as your heart began to beat louder.

But at the last minute, the plane instead entered the Restaurant kitchen making Hanni bit her lips in embarrassment and you slowly looking at her. When Hanni met your eyes, both erupted in laughter making everyone in the rest a look at you weirdly. You apologized for the sudden outburst but Hanni didn't, she didn't care about there stares unless it was a woman staring at you lovingly then it's a different story.

"See? It's fun isn't it Oppa?"

"Yeah, I guess your right."

Hanni, a highschooler was able to make a simple thing fun without doing anything extra at all. Her creative imagination gave life to such simple thing and you were already captivated by it.

Lunch was fun once again with the help of Hanni and this was one of the few times where you enjoyed lunch with a companion. You were used to having lunch alone at the company building that it has grown accustomed to you that eating alone was normal but Hanni, showed you that having someone to eat with is more fun. The sun was already setting and Hanni decided to head into the park to relax her feet.

"Ahh, Did you know Oppa that this place is my comfort zone?"

"Well I just know now."

"Whenever I feel down or really tired, I go here and unwind my mind because it just relaxes me."

"I see..."

A place where you can fully unwind and remove all the thoughts away and just relax. That was one place you hoped to find soon but as of the moment there was no place close to something like that.

"Do you have a comfort zone Oppa?"

You shook your head at her question but at the same time this question struck you. You have never thought this question before because your comfort zone has always been your home but that disappeared. Home wasn't longer a comfort zone but rather a toxic environment now. It was suffocating you whenever you thought of how much it changed for the worst.

"Honesty speaking Hanni, my comfort zone before turned to a toxic one."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

Hanni felt ashamed for saying such question as she scolded herself but you could only shook your head.

"It's alright. The reason I teared up on your home was because I was reminded of how my life before was before all shit went down.."

You sighed as Hanni saw the distress on your face. Today has been a blast lately and seeing how you looked sadden by the past made her feel sad a little too. Today isn't just for her to have fun as well, this was also your day to relax so she immediately came up with an Idea. A simple yet effective way to get that heavy feeling off your chest. She was hesitant to grab your hand again but she slapped herself on her thoughts because you needed her right now.

"Man up... Err I mean Go grab her hand Hanni! This is your chance!"

She told herself as she took a deep breath and gently grabbed your hand surprising you in the process. There was a visble blush on her face as she drags you to a nearby bench. You just let her be as you noticed how small her hands are compared to yours.

"Cute... Wait. What am I saying? She's literally a kid! I need to touch grass..."

Both sat down and infront of them was the park fountain and they stayed quiet for a few seconds observing their sorroundings. Hanni didn't let her hand go as she only made it tighter.

"You know Oppa, sometimes you just need to let those go of your chest and talk to someone about it. I'm all ears and I won't judge you at all. Like what Mom said to me, she saw you being so strong for so long that she pitied you when you broke down crying."

You softly chuckled as this was an embarrassment for you.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I kinda feel bad though when I saw you crying. It...kinda made me sad seeing you cry."

You saw the sincerity on her eyes and you can tell that Hanni really cared for you. Even though it was just a few days ago that you two met, it felt like Hanni knew you for a long time now.

"Heh, well my family life was like yours. All smiles and laughter. I though that it would last like that until I grow old but it didn't. Dad was caught having an affair with another woman and they filed for divorce. Dad moved out along with his stuff and you thought it wouldn't get worse but it did...."

Hanni noticed how your hands began to quiver and your eyes began to look broken and empty. Hanni couldn't bear seeing you in such state but she has to keep herself under control or she might do something she could regret.

"Mom was diagnosed with brain tumor that she kept from us, from me ever since I was young and I had to take part time Jobs for moms recovery but guess what? She died on the day of my graduation and instead of me celebrating my degree, I cried alone and mourned my mother's death. Ever since then, the word comfort zone became nothing for me as shit just keeps getting worse for me since then. Heh, I'm pathetic aren't I? I live the worst life of them all but it is what it is. "

Hanni hated how you smiled after saying those words. She hated how you were saying to yourself that everything was okay when it's not. She hates that you have been lying to yourself to show how strong you are but in reality, your weak. She hates that you have been so much and nobody was there for you.

"Hanni, listen we should-"

She shut you up when she pulled you closer to her and hugged you tightly. She could hear your heartbeat which seems to relax her but the thing that surprised you, was how much you felt at ease with Hanni being this close to you. That warm and comforting embrace that you longed to have was now presented to you. You couldn't help but feel a little emotional with how Hanni hugs you.

"Oppa, everything will be okay from now on. You don't have to carry everything on your own. I'm here with you now."

You bit your lips not wanting to cry but Hanni's embrace was just too much for you. You ended up sobbing quietly with Hanni comforting you by your side.

Your date was finally over as both of you were now walking the hallways of your apartment. You stopped at her front door as Hanni smiled happily at you.

"I had fun with you today Oppa, I hope you did too."

"Honestly speaking Hanni, I did. It's been so long since I last had fun like this."

This sentence made Hanni giggle in delight as she achieved what she needed to achieve this day.

"So shall we go on a date again Oppa?"

You chuckled at her wording but nodded your head nonetheless.

"I wouldn't call it date Hanni, but sure. I don't mind going out with you again."

Hanni jumped in delight as she hugged you tightly again. You were surprised at first but patted her head in response. You didn't know that Hanni was such a clingy person after all but that only adds to her charms. Hanni was about to pull away when a wild idea came to her mind. A small smile appeared on her face when she looked up to you. You weren't gonna lie, seeing her look up to you was adorable and it slightly made you blush.

"Oppa, do you pack your lunch?"

"Ummm no, I usually eat at the cafeteria."

"Eww the cafeteria. No, that's disgusting."

"What do you mea-"

Hanni placed a finger on your mouth shutting you up as she smiled at you.

"From here on out, I'll make you lunch boxes so that you don't have to eat in that filthy piece of shit cafeteria. Bleh!"

You wanted to refuse but Hanni was quicker than you as she pulled away and said goodnight before entering her house. You were just stunned by how Hanni dictate her decisions towards you as you just chuckled and shook your head in amusement. Hanni was the first girl you met that was actually fun to be with.

"I'm sure she would eventually forget about the lunch box thing."

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.

.

Like the famous quote "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me" says, Hanni did in fact kept her word and gave you lunch boxes everyday to work. Initially you wanted to refuse her offer but seeing the band-aids around her hand on that day, it made you realize that Hanni was very genuine in making you a lunch box. Of course this would worry you and checking her hand if it was okay and all that but Hanni would just blush and nod her head. She was quite the stubborn yet smart girl because she would ask you out for another hangout.

Even though Hanni insist it was a date, you keep the word Hang out to not mistaken their relationship. After all, You were a 22 year old adult and Hanni is an 18 year old high schooler. Society would immediately hound you to death knowing your dating a minor. Your so called Hang out ranges from Cinema dates, Dinner date, amusement park date, or sometimes, staying at your place blasting music and dancing together. But the more Hanni do this kind of stuff to you, the more you see Hanni in a different light.

The way she worries about you when you go to overtime, the way she messages you everytime you arrive home, the way she would invite herself to your apartment room when there's nothing to do, the way she took care of you when you got sick, and more importantly, the way she argued back with your boss when you were clearly unable to work. That memory will forever be stuck with you because instead of getting fired, you were instead given more time of rest as your effort at your job boar fruit. Hanni was extremely ashamed for herself that day but you instead hugged her and twirled her around thanking her.

That was the day Hanni finally saw the old handsome smile she fell in love with in the first place.

Everything she does towards you was bringing you that joy and fun that you solely lack in life. She was bringing back that light that you lost back then.

Hanni was slowly becoming your Miss Sunshine and it's quite concerning for you. Hanni was a good person both as a person and at heart. So for you to have such feelings for her was surely not appropriate. In fact, you are clearly seen as a big brother towards her more than anything. But this also seems to have cause a stir at your work place and that's the lunch boxes.

You see, everyone in your workplace have been seeing you eat alone and getting your food at the counter but ever since you brought Hanni's lunchbox, everyone has been curious on who's been giving you such food.

"Hey Y/N, nice lunch box."

"Ah, T-Thank you."

"So did you made it?"

"Ah no, Someone else did."

That immediately cause them to gasp in a surprising manner which confused the hell out of you.

"Y-You have a girlfriend?"

"Ah, No she's a friend of mine."

"But she makes you lunch boxes everyday?"

"Yeah"

"Bro, You're so lucky because if a girl made lunch for you everyday then they are wife material. Marry her and don't let her go!"

Those words have been sitting on your thoughts for some time now and everytime you would see Hanni smiling and getting close to you, it made you realize that the girl that once glared at you and harshly gave you food, was making you fall for her.

It sounded so wrong for you to be having feelings on a girl who's so much younger than you and that's the confusing part. You suddenly began to act differently towards Hanni to which she noticed immediately. Everytime she would get close to you, you would move away. When she messages you, you just simply say a one liner and tell her good night. You were pushing her away from your life because deep down you know, you know that you don't deserve her.

Of course your actions pains Hanni because she felt like she might have pushed herself towards you too much. Her worst fear was slowly creeping up on her and she didn't like that one bit. She decided to take a step back on her plans and go back to her roots. Her first steps. Surely that would help her right?

Your alarm clock rang once again indicating your normal boring day to start. You got out of your bed and checked your phone but to your surprise, Hanni hasn't even read your message last night. You sighed and messaged her a simple Good morning and did you normal morning routine. You turned on the morning news hoping to hear something good happening at the economy as you wear your usual work outfit.

"Huh? So today's afternoon forecast is rain huh?"

You looked out your window and saw that the sun was already hiding and dark clouds were ruling over the sky.

"More like morning will rain."

You turned your TV off and wore your shoes before getting out of your apartment. Hanni hasn't still read your messages which slowly made you worried. This was the longest Hanni has left you on read and surprisingly, outside of your apartment was her Mother.

"Oh, Mrs. Pham good morning."

You bowed at her but you notice the sad and empty look she gave you. You sense something bad had happened and your heart was starting to beat faster as this could mean something related to Hanni.

"Y/N. Have you seen Hanni?"

There goes your bad feeling. Cold sweats began to form on your forehead as you tried to keep yourself calm.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Pham but I thought she went home last night"

"She didn't.. I tried calling her multiple times but she's not answering and... I feel like this is our fault as parents for her running away."

You wide your eyes. Your ears was not deceiving you at all because you heard it loud and clear. Hanni ran away from home and hasn't contacted anyone since. You were slowly on the verge of panicking but you remained calm as there could be a place for her to be in.

"Did you try to contact anyone from her friends Mrs. Pham?"

"I did. I called Minji and she has no idea that Hanni ran away. I... I don't know where my baby could be..."

Mrs. Pham suddenly began to sob her eyes out as you pulled out your handkerchief and gave it to her. You rubbed her back hoping to calm her down because you know how much a mother loves her children to their deaths. But there was something that still lingered on your mind.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Pham for asking but you said earlier about something about your fault as a parent for letting Hanni ran away? Hanni never once told me any problem she was facing but this is the first time I heard of this."

You might be nosy right now but you couldn't let anything happen to Hanni right now. Your sunshine was missing and it was your turn to return the favor she has done for you turning your life upside down for the better.

"Well you  see me and my husband-"

.

.

.

.

"Why is everything falling on me so hard? What did I do to deserve this?"

Hanni thought to herself as she hugged her knees close to her. For the past few days, everything has been shity for her. School hasn't been to kind with her as her marks was slowly falling behind because of her family issues. Her parents have been constantly getting into fights lately due to her father wanting to prioritize their financial status by moving away once again. But her mother didn't want any of that money if it means making Hanni sad.

Both didn't end up in a good deal and in their fight ended up in hot claims of divorce. Hanni couldn't take such possibility as she didn't want to lose any of her parents. She had loved them so much and for her to be the reason why they would be divorcing, it was stabbing her heart.

Add in the slow fall of her relationship with you as you were clearly trying to push her away. Her once sanctuary in you was slowly disappearing right infront of her eyes. Add all this and Hanni couldn't handle it anymore as she decided that it was better off to run away from her problems, to run away from all worries and just be free.

"Mom.. Dad, I'll miss you surely.."

A tear escaped her eyes as she was set to a new goal for herself and for the better of everyone. Surely she wasn't gonna be missed by anyone if she just dissappeared from everyone.

"Oppa, I'll miss you..."

This time, her emotions was slowly getting the best of her and it didn't help that rain was slowly falling down on her. Her walls began to show crack as she recalls the moments she felt so love whenever she was with you. The memories both of you shared flashed on her mind making her realize that she had so much fun being with you. The way her heart relaxes even now just by thinking of you shows how much you impacted her life positively.

The rain suddenly got harsher yet she stayed there, on the bench getting soaked not minding the rain at all. Her body began to shiver from the cold harsh rain and she could feel her feet and hands getting stiff from the rain.

"Maybe this is better.... Dying from the cold..."

She closed her eyes and accepted her faith. There was no hope for her to fix the problem because she is the problem after all.

"Goodbye Minji, I really appriciate you being my friend because I'm such a loser. Thank you so much for giving me such fun and memorable memories."

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.

.

"Goodbye Mom, Dad. I know that Dad was just thinking about all of us but guess what? I'm a stubborn child after all and weak one too. I couldn't handle seeing you fight because of me and I hope the two of you will be happy after all this."

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.

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"Oppa, I'm sorry for being too clingy towards you. I must have been a creep towards you huh? I'm sorry for acting like a spoiled annoying bitch towards you. I'm sorry for bothering you all this time. I'm sorry for all the mistake I did for you, all the pain and confusion I did towards you. I'm sorry.…I truly am sorry because I.... Love you Oppa and…goodbye... "

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"HANNI!!!"

You finally spotted her as you sprinted towards her faster than anyone as your adrenaline pumped to the max. You immediately covered Hanni from the rain and saw her shivering from the cold rain. She slowly opened her eyes and even though they were quite Blurry she will never forget the face of the person she loved.

"O.... Oppa..."

"Don't say anything. We're going to the hospital okay?"

You immediately removed your large jacket and coated Hanni with it. Her eyes was now slowly getting a good vision of you as notice how she looked so tired and broken. This made your heart crack as you held her cheeks warmly making Hanni love your touch. It was comforting and warm.

"Now hold on Hanni. I'm gonna carry you."

"W-What?"

Her weak voice made you more inspired as you carried her in a princess like manner as you held the umbrella on one hand while carrying her as well. By some godly strength, you carried Hanni so fast to the hospital in less than 5 minutes as upon arriving there, you called out doctors and nurses immediately. You didn't care if everyone was looking at you. A doctor and some nurses then came to your aid as you gently placed Hanni on a hospital bed.

They proceeded to do their medical stuff as you anxiously wait for the result on the waiting room. Obviously, you were the only soaked person in there as you would attract some eyes but you didn't care. All your mind could process is that Hanni will be alright and nothing bad will happen. Upon hearing that Hanni ran away, a place immediately landed on your though as you hurriedly made your way to the park where Hanni told you was her comfort zone.

Not long afterwards, the doctor would come out as you stand up hoping for the best.

"How's she doc?"

"She's fine. She's in a stable condition now but if she was 5 minutes late, she could be in critical condition because of hypothermia."

You sighed out a breath of relief as you wanted to thank the man from above.

"We're moving the patient to a private room. We just need a signature from her parents or her legal Guardian."

"I'm that person Doc. I'm......"

"You're?"

You gulped as you were afraid to say this word but at a time like this, there was no other way.

"I'm her boyfriend Doc."

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"Ugh where.... Where am I? Why is the ceiling so... White?"

Hanni spoke as she was looking around her new surroundings. This was very new to her as she tried to sit up but immediately noticed the tube injected to her left hand.

"I'm at a hospital? What happened? Hmm?"

Hanni noticed a hand holding her right hand tightly as the person was slowly waking up. Hanni widen her eyes seeing you look up at her. You immediately widen your eyes as you hugged her tightly surprising her. Her heart immediately began to face faster and her cheeks getting warmer.

"O-Oppa? Why.. Why are you here?"

"Thank God you're already awake Hanni. I was so worried sick you know."

This sentence only made Hanni blush even more as she could feel herself melting at your embrace. You finally pulled away from her as you checked her temperature on her neck and forehead. Your small gesture of checking up on her reminded her of when she took care of you when you were sick.

"O-Oppa I though.. I thought you hated me. But you saved me... Again. Just like last time.."

You softly gave her a warm smile and patted her head. You finally realize what those words meant as her mother finally told you the first time you met Hanni.

"Yeah, I finally remembered the 8 year old kid I saved from the pedestrian lane before. I didn't know she grew up so beautiful."

Hanni widen her eyes and gave you a look of shock. There was no way that you finally remembered her after all as her facial expression made you laugh whole heartedly.

"Yah, if you know then why did you kept quiet all this time?"

She pouted her cheeks at you cutely as you couldn't help but cup her cheeks on your hand making her blush furiously.

"I only figured out after your mother told me. Speaking off your mother, Your parents are kinda dissapointed at you."

Hanni lowered her head in shame as she knows that what she did was something she can't apologize for. It was an impulsive decision for her and she has nobody to blame but herself.

"But, I talked to your parents about their issues and told me that the whole divorce thing was just said because of the heat of the argument. There was really no reason for the two of them to separate."

This made the small girl smile happily as she was glad that the issue of her parents was solved. But there was still one problem that lingered on her mind.

"Oppa, I have to apologize to you."

This made you confused as you removed your hand on her cheeks. She played with her fingers as a blush was evident on her cheeks and she couldn't properly look at you in the eye.

"I.. I'm sorry for being too clingy towards you. It must have felt a little awkward with me, a high schooler getting all comfortable with an adult and-"

"Okay Hanni, Stop and listen to what I'm about to say."

You looked at Hanni in a serious expression as Hanni's heart beat was so loud and warm sweats began to form on her forehead. Your intense stare was making Hanni weak.

"I need to apologize for trying to push you away cause you see, I may have put myself in a pickled situation."

This time, Hanni notice a red stain appearing on your cheeks as her heart began to beat faster. Is her dream fantasy finally becoming a reality?

"Ever since you arrived to my life, everything has been so bright and positive with me. Like I feel like the traces of my old self dissappeared because of you. You ,Pham Hanni changed my life for the better in just a couple of months. Nobody has given me this much joy and fun in my life since I was a high schooler and because of that, I'm so forever thankful of you. "

Hanni could only nod at your words as you know the following words that will come out of your mouth is not from the brain but from the heart. With one deep breath you continued.

"Hanni, during those months of fun and enjoyment with you is something that will never be replaced and because of that I...might have caught something like.. Ummm you see I eventually-Argh! fuck it."

You couldn't properly say it but with one strong motivation, you said the words you wanted to say with your heart.

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"I love you Hanni."

Now Hanni's mind blew out as she couldn't believe what she just heard. Eight letters and 3 words, it was finally said by her first love towards her as this took a while to process but when she finally realized what she heard. She couldn't hide the happiness that her heart was beating.

"So you see, I plan to tell your parents that I love you-"

You were silenced when Hanni pulled your collar closer to her face as your lips touches hers. Her small peach flavored lips gave you an euphoric sensation that elevated your body to the top. Her lips locking with yours felt like you finally found the missing piece to your puzzle. She pulled away giggling and smiling sweetly at you.

"Oppa-No, Y/N, I love you too. Your my first love hehehe~"

Now that was a surprise but nonetheless you smiled back and cupped her cheeks and kissing her forehead.

"So you have been in love with me for 10 years?"

"Yeah, I do. I sounded desperate huh?"

"No, no you're not. That just adds to your charm."

"Hehehe, Anything to make you love me~"

The two of you shared another kiss but this time, the two were now fully aware that they loved each other and their hearts belonged to each other.

Even though that failed flower fell to the ground, it can become a foundation to bloom a better, stronger tree for flowers to bloom themselves. There is no failure in life, there is only bumps that we need to overcome in order to proceed to the next step. And sometimes, we need our own miss sunshine to guide us.

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : XIV] - END

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings :  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : ‘Pick a flower on Earth and you move the farthest star.’ This describes chaos theory and the workings of fate as well, which illustrates how your final change of destiny moves the fate of the entire galaxy.

Status: Completed (Finally! 😭)

A/N : I can’t believe I actually finished writing this fic! It’s my first long English fic, and I’m pretty proud of it. I know my writing still has a lot of flaws (since English isn’t my strong suit), but I’m so happy people enjoyed it.

I loveeeee yapping about my own writing, so I plan to share more about this fic in another post—things like plot points I didn’t include and alternative endings I considered. Hope that sounds interesting to you, LOL

Lastly, a huge thank you to everyone who stuck with this fic till the end. Your comments and encouragement really kept me going, and I couldn’t have done it without you <3

Ps.Please go back and read the Intro again before starting the final chapter, as it’s part of the ending. (I used a storytelling style where the story opens with the ending) Reading the Intro first will help you understand the story more clearly.

And don’t forget to play this song while reading >> Skugge

I listened to it while writing the ending, and it really sets the mood

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13

[Episodes 14] The Power of Two. (Completed)

When contemplating deeply, every entity in the universe is intricately connected in various ways.

On the quantum level, all particles are entangled and influence each other regardless of distance. Even the smallest, minor actions can trigger unforeseen consequences that ripple through the universe. This is far more complex than ordinary humans can immediately comprehend. 

And that’s exactly how fate works.

You know that the chain reaction has already begun the moment you decided to shoot Yord yourself. 

The stun blaster is designed to be non-lethal—at most, it would knock Yord unconscious and possibly immobile for several hours. But this is all you need to save his life from the fate you've foreseen on the path ahead.

You've always known—Yord and Qimir are polar opposites, destined to kill each other. Yord stands for the light, while Qimir embodies the darkness. They cannot coexist in the same world. Whenever they fight, one must die, or both shall perish. There are only those three possible outcomes.

So you chose a fourth path: to prevent them from confronting each other so that neither would have to die.

Only now do you realize how much selfishness lies beneath love. You should have ended the calamity destined to occur a hundred years from now, but instead, you chose to walk the opposite path, all because of one word: love.

The essence of Paul that flows within you still remembers the agony of the day Chani and Alia Atreides departed. Even though thousands of years have gone by, the torment remains too vivid to forget—like your heart being torn apart while still beating and your soul shattered beyond repair. You can't bear the risk of losing anyone to fate’s cruel hand again.

That's why you did it. You gambled on a path that has never appeared in any of your visions, not knowing what the consequences would be.

And you never expected that the consequences of your choice would ripple out so quickly.

You didn’t realize it...until you had to face the truth before your eyes half an hour later.

How could this be?

You stood frozen, as though the entire world had stopped spinning. Your gaze was fixed on Jackie's body, now lying motionless on the ground among the other corpses. The deep, searing wound from a lightsaber had cut through her flesh, blood pooling beneath her, staining the Jedi robes that were once yellow but were now soaked in a dark, gruesome hue.

The acrid stench of burnt flesh mingled with the metallic scent of blood, hanging thick in the air.

Jackie is still breathing, but her breaths grow weaker with every passing second. Her face contorts in excruciating pain, a pain that lasts only for a brief moment before her final breath escapes. Her eyes remain wide open—a sign that life has already slipped away.

At that moment, you hear a scream echoing in your ears, but the haze of shock leaves everything muffled.

You don't even know whose scream it is—Sol's or your own?

Never once did you think Jackie would die. In every vision you’d seen, she always survived, though gravely injured—losing an arm in the fight against Qimir. That was why you decided to come back instead of escaping alone. You knew that as long as Qimir lived, there was no escaping him—not for you. But Jackie still had a chance. If only you could get her and Yord aboard the ship in time before everything spiraled out of control, that would be enough.

But when you arrived, it was already too late. You saw it clearly with your own eyes: Qimir’s red lightsaber pierced through Jackie’s body three times, each strike aimed at a vital spot. There was no way she could survive such an attack.

You realized too late that the death of someone you loved was inevitable and unchangeable. If Yord and Qimir lived, it meant that Jackie would be the one to die. This was the consequence of your selfish attempt to alter fate. Jackie didn't die by Qimir's hand—it was your decision that sealed her fate.

You want to cry. The corners of your eyes burn with the sting of unshed tears, but none come. The grief is suppressed by the flood of information about the future that surges through your mind. You know you’ll mourn when the time comes, but not now. Not when death is crawling toward you.

“Run!”

A sharp voice jolts you from your thoughts. Finally, you hear it clearly—it’s Sol’s voice. He stands across the way, disheveled and wounded, with a minor gash at his side. His face shows shock, his voice shaking with fear. “Run! You shouldn’t be here!”

But his warning comes too late. You don’t even have a chance to respond, let alone follow his command. Suddenly, an invisible force wraps around you, tightening with each second, squeezing the breath from your lungs as if trying to crush you completely. You gasp, struggling for air, unable to move, like a drowning person on the verge of losing consciousness.

In that instant, memories from the depths of your mind flood back, dragging you into the nightmare you once foresaw. Each scene is like pieces of a puzzle coming together to form the terrible reality before you. 

Your eyes fix on a tall figure in a black cloak, his deformed metal helmet etched with a grotesque grin. He stands amidst the scattered corpses of fallen Jedi, radiating an aura of ruthless malevolence. His gaze, hidden beneath the helmet, stares intensely at you. Though you cannot see his face, you clearly sense the fury seething within him.

And in the blink of an eye, a tremendous force pulls you toward him with ease, leaving you powerless to resist.

You are completely at his mercy, your body suspended in mid-air as his large hand grips your throat. He could crush your windpipe or snap your neck in an instant; however, he holds back. You sense his intent through the shared consciousness that binds the two of you. This is how The Stranger plays with his prey. When he wears that helmet, he becomes a merciless hunter, driven only by the instinct to kill.

Sol doesn't hesitate. The moment he sees you in danger, he charges forward, his blue lightsaber flashing brilliantly as he swings it toward the Sith Lord. But the enemy moves with surprising speed. He yanks you closer, locking you in a chokehold with his arm, then tilts his body slightly, using his helmet as a shield to deflect the attack. When Sol’s lightsaber strikes the cortosis metal, it sparks and fizzles, rendering Sol’s weapon temporarily useless.

You draw a deep breath, your body tense as the Sith Lord's lightsaber hilt presses against your neck. He hasn’t activated it yet, but you know the moment he does, your face and brain will be reduced to charred flesh in an instant.

“Don’t even think about trying any tricks if you don’t want to lose your tongue,” comes the cold whisper in your ear. You understand the threat well: Qimir is the only one who knows your true capabilities. The Voice is a powerful secret weapon for the Bene Gesserit, and he won't give you the chance to wield it.

Even if you dared to try, it wouldn’t change anything. It would only hasten the end for both you and Sol. You’ve already seen the future that awaits if you choose that path. So, you stay silent for now, your mind racing to find another way—any way to turn the tables on Qimir.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. Let it be between you and me!” Sol shouts, reigniting his lightsaber, but you can see that his hope hasn’t reignited.

Apart from Yord, who lies unconscious somewhere in the forest, Sol is now the only Jedi left breathing, while his comrades, including his padawan, are all dead. He should have been dead too, if you hadn’t intervened.

“But you brought her here, didn’t you?” the Sith taunts. “And I’m certain you wouldn’t have made it this far without this Bene Gesserit witch guiding you.”

As he finishes speaking, you feel his arm tighten around your neck, making it almost impossible to breathe. The suffocating pain forces you to struggle, your hands weakly hitting his arm to no avail. All you get in return is a mocking laugh.

“Bene Gesserit... the origin of both the Sith and the Jedi. Isn’t it fascinating that such remarkable beings still exist in the galaxy?” He reaches out, gripping your chin and studying your face closely before turning his attention back to Sol. "But what a pity that she chose the wrong side."

Sol shifts, readying himself to strike again, but the man in black is one step ahead. He lifts the hilt of his lightsaber to your temple without a word, yet his intent is clear—if Sol dares to take another step forward, you will die.

The Jedi grits his teeth, reluctantly deactivating his lightsaber. His eyes remain fixed on you as he addresses the Sith, "Tell me, what do you want?"

He’s stalling for time, you think. But how long can it last? You know you can’t rely on Sol alone. You need to find a way out too.

A harsh breath hisses out from beneath his helmet; it’s hard to tell whether it comes from exhaustion or amusement.

"At first, I thought I only wanted freedom: freedom from the Jedi's absurd rules, freedom to feel regret and anger, and freedom to follow my own desires," he answered flatly, as if what he desired were something ordinary, not the taking of lives. "But now I know what I truly want. I want to change; I want to liberate this universe from self-proclaimed guardians like you..."

His words stop abruptly. The silence that follows makes your heart tremble. You can feel his cold, burning rage—rage directed at the Jedi and rage directed at you.

"...And I would have achieved it sooner if I hadn’t been betrayed by someone.”

A scream rips from your throat, unprepared for the sudden, crushing weight of his boot as it slams hard into your shin. The sound of breaking bones is crystal clear. The pain is so intense that tears spring to your eyes, and your legs give way, no longer able to hold you up. But you don’t collapse completely, as Qimir still holds you upright, his grip on your arm unrelenting. His lightsaber is still pressed to your temple, while he turns to shake his head to warn Sol, who is ready to lunge forward again.

“Think about it, Sol. Why are you still trying to save her? She’s the reason you’re in this mess. Without her, you all might still be alive.”

The Sith Lord speaks with chilling indifference, completely unfazed by your whimpers as he presses his boot lightly against your broken leg, deliberately toying with your suffering. "But this one... she exposed me. So, now I have to kill every single last one of you."

You flinch, a cold shiver running down your spine. His voice—there’s something disturbingly strange about it, twisted and eerie, nothing like the Qimir you once knew.

Time is running out. Your heightened awareness warns you: he will kill Sol first, then possibly you.

You bite down hard on your lip, tasting blood. If there were any other way, you wouldn’t resort to this, but it’s the only option you know will work. And right now, there’s no other choice.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to speak, your voice as loud as you can manage.

"Please... don’t kill me. I’m pregnant!”

Silence falls instantly. Even the soft whisper of the wind seems unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness.

No one can see the expression behind his helmet, but you know without a doubt—he is shocked, utterly stunned by what he’s just heard.

And Sol notices it too—the brief moment when the Sith Lord’s guard drops, his grip on the lightsaber loosening without him realizing. It’s a tiny flaw, difficult to spot unless one is well-trained.

As if time stands still, Sol suddenly meets your glance, recognizing the purposeful look in your eyes. 

In that heartbeat, he knows exactly what to do.

Everything takes place within seconds: the Jedi ignites his lightsaber, lunging forward with all his strength and slashing into Qimir’s arm—the arm holding the lightsaber—sending both blood and the weapon crashing to the ground. The Sith Lord’s yell echoes through the forest.

Seizing the moment, you slip from Qimir’s grasp effortlessly. Sol pulls you toward safety, shoving you in another direction and shouting, “Get to the ship, quickly! I’ll catch up!”

He will never catch up to me, you think, glancing back at Sol one last time before turning away. Both of you know it—fate is already sealed. Sol will not leave this place tonight, and neither will you.

You force your battered body to keep moving, relying on the one leg that still functions, though each step is agonizing, nearly unbearable. Finally, you give up, sighing in resignation. With your current condition, reaching the ship is impossible. Fate has blocked every path—unchangeable and irreversible.

The only option left is to face the consequences of the choices you have made.

Weary, you sit down on a large stone not far from where you were. Jedi corpses still litter the area. A deep sorrow weighs on your chest as your gaze falls upon the faces of the fallen, remembering that just hours ago, they were all still alive.

Human life is so fragile, you think. No matter how many times you witness death, you can never grow used to it.

The sky visibly darkens as clouds turn a dull gray. The scent of moisture in the air gradually mutes the smell of blood. Rain will come soon, but you make no move to seek shelter. You place a hand on your slightly swollen belly, feeling the tiny life forming inside—the fruit of an instinctual mistake—now becoming another life reaching for the future amidst an approaching catastrophe.

At four months, it’s hard for most to see, but your Bene Gesserit training allows you to know everything about the growing flesh within you. Events unfold exactly as you’ve foreseen, and when this child is born, the future is certain—the beginning of the Skywalker and the path of a new Kwisatz Haderach.

You don’t want this child to be born, but it’s beyond your control now. The intricate weave of fate and bloodlines over the millennia has led everything to this point. Regardless of how much you try to avoid or change it, the Kwisatz Haderach will come into existence. It happened with Jessica thousands of years ago, and now it’s happening to you.

“The Bene Gesserit believe they can control everything, but the one thing they can never control is fate.”

Paul Atreides’ words resonate in your consciousness. You recall him saying this when you first discovered the truth about what will transpire in the next century through the realm of Alam al-Mithal.

“Every action in the present is a gamble for a precarious future. You cannot dictate the outcome to be what you want, and you’ll never know what will happen next until you’ve already made your choice,” Paul had said.

You tremble, feeling both isolated and terrified. It’s a profound fear—so deep that you don’t know how to express it. You know the path ahead has already changed. The universe has deviated from its course because of your actions, yet you have no idea whether things will get better or worse.

You close your eyes, forcing your mind into rapid meditation, trying to regain control over your thoughts. You push yourself into an awareness of the countless probabilities of the future, alongside everything that has occurred in the past. Those paths stretch out in every direction, twisting and overlapping in a bewildering tangle like gazing at the rippling surface of water that constantly morphs.

In that haze of uncertainty, you witness Paul Atreides wielding a crysknife, locked in a life-or-death duel with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, as per the ancient tradition. He uses that knife to kill Feyd, claiming the title of Emperor on that very day.

This marks the first turning point of the universe.

Next, you find yourself pulling the trigger of a stun blaster, firing at Yord from behind to shield him from confronting Qimir, thus altering the fate that could have led him to his death today.

This is the second turning point.

The change doesn’t only affect Yord’s fate. The ripple effect expands, enveloping everything within the universe. Multiple branching paths start to converge, merging into a singular path.

Finally... you glimpse the true outcome of the path you've chosen, which will reveal itself in over a century.

This is the gamble you've already placed your bet on, for this purpose and for this moment.

"Qimir"

His name sounds strange when you utter it, as if it's not a name you're familiar with, and the man before you is not the man you know.

You understand why you feel this way: he is no longer your Qimir but The Stranger—the Sith Lord responsible for the slaughter of the Jedi.

He stands before you, unmasked, his dark eyes cold as ice, staring at you impassively. There’s no longer a need for him to hide. Every aspect of him, every dark secret, has been laid bare—just as everything about you has.

The man chuckles softly and moves even closer, cutting off any chance for you to escape. You swallow hard, trying to turn your face away from his intense gaze. But he doesn't let you. His fingers, wet with others' blood, dig into both of your cheeks, pressing hard enough to hurt, forcing you to look only at him.

"Surprised?" He leans in closer, his hot breath on your face, and whispers softly in your ear, "I told you, you can't run away from me."

His words are not merely a threat to you; they are the truth. 

Because you both are bound by fate—an unbreakable karmic bond. No matter how much you try to run away from him, you will always be drawn back together. The only way to truly be free of him is death.

"I know, but a little effort wouldn't hurt, right?"

You respond, your tone almost playful, a smile still lingering on your pale face. It's as if everything is normal and under control, displaying no fear despite being at a complete disadvantage.

Your demeanor causes Qimir to furrow his brow, sensing something suspicious beneath your seemingly ordinary smile.

He doesn't quite understand, not until you slip your hand under your clothes.

Your body instinctively moves; muscle memory from years of training kicks in. In a flash, the knife hidden in your clothes flips into your palm, its sharp tip poised just inches from Qimir’s face.

You still remember every technique Qimir taught you—especially how to fight with a knife. You know you have numerous opportunities to thrust the knife into his vital points—his throat, neck, heart, or lungs.

But instead, you turn the knife on yourself. Without hesitation, without a second thought, you plunge it toward your own heart.

Before the knife pierces your flesh, Qimir's hand shoots out, gripping your wrist just in time. His dark eyes widen in shock, almost seeming terrified. Then, quickly, his expression twists into anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he snaps.

"I thought you wanted me dead," you reply calmly, indifferent to his anger.

Qimir falls silent, appearing speechless for a moment. "I don't want you dead," he finally says, though he doesn’t seem certain of his own words.

It's changed again,  you think, but this time, you feel an unusual sense of relief.

You're well aware that he could kill you at any moment. You’ve seen all the possibilities of how Qimir might end your life, and what just happened was one of those scenarios.

Even though you’re skilled at fighting, you know you could never match Qimir. Had you chosen to stab him moments ago, you would have failed, and he would have killed you without hesitation. You’d have met a miserable end right here, just like in the visions you’ve seen so many times before.

However, by choosing to turn the knife on yourself, you altered the course of events. Qimir was caught off guard, never expecting you would actually dare to do it.

You’ve made him angry, of course, but you’ve also ignited the fear he tries so hard to conceal. It reminds him of the time you drank the Water of Life and slipped into a near-death coma for weeks. During that time, Qimir had been frantic and panicked, not knowing how to save you and fearing that you might die.

Qimir may not realize it yet—or perhaps he’s unwilling to admit it. However, witnessing this moment again will eventually compel him to confront the truth: he doesn’t truly want you dead.

This is all part of your plan. Your reckless actions sow a seed of fear in Qimir’s heart, and from now on, the thought of killing you will never cross his mind again.

Since escaping from Qimir is impossible, you must ensure your safety while trapped by his side.

“But you broke my leg!” You pretend to remain defiant, pointing to your leg and matching his anger with your own. “And you held your lightsaber to my head. Now you’re telling me you don’t want me dead? How am I supposed to believe that?”

Qimir clenches his jaw, appearing as if he wants to grab and shake you until the frustration fades.

Instead of doing that, he lets go of you, stepping back slightly before letting out a long sigh, as if unsure how to deal with you.

“That’s because you betrayed me. The rest? I was just threatening that Jedi.” He speaks through gritted teeth, glancing at your leg before shrugging. “And I’m pretty sure a broken leg won’t kill anyone, will it?”

For a split second, you feel the urge to laugh at his sarcasm, even though there’s nothing remotely funny about this situation.

Both of you look worse for wear—blood-soaked and gravely injured. He’s just killed someone, almost killing you as well.

Who would’ve thought that the two of you would end up sitting across from each other, arguing back and forth like a foolish couple trying to figure out who’s right or wrong?

It feels strange how the tension between you both suddenly eases; for a brief moment, Qimir resembles the man you once knew.

You notice this subtle shift and realize this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. You quickly organize your thoughts and steady your emotions. Because there’s something important you need to discuss with Qimir—and this is the perfect moment to do so. There won’t be another chance.

“Qimir, I’ll help you,” you say firmly this time. “I don’t care how many Jedi you kill, but I have one condition.”

Qimir narrows his eyes, his sharp gaze scrutinizing your face as if searching for deception. He doesn’t trust you, especially after you betrayed him once and fled with the Jedi.

Yet, you don’t need to prove anything to him because Qimir needs you. Your power is what he desires, and across the galaxy, you’re the only one who possesses this unique ability.

Your assumption is correct. He finally nods. "What’s your condition?"

"The one person you cannot kill is Yord Fandar."

“Why?”

"Because I’ve seen a vision. He’s the only one who can kill you. You must avoid him," you say, though this isn’t the whole truth. Qimir has an equal chance of killing Yord himself, but it’s better to let him believe otherwise, to keep him away from Yord in the future. "But don’t worry. He won’t be a Jedi anymore after this."

You’re certain of this, as it’s what you’ve seen in your vision—a part of the altered path extending ahead.

The tragedy today will leave a permanent mark on Yord’s soul. Losing all his companions while he alone survives will haunt him like an unforgiveable sin. The guilt will gnaw at him, wearing him down until he can no longer bear the burden of being a Jedi.

Eventually, Yord will choose to leave the Order, turning his back on the Jedi way forever.

In many ways, Yord’s fate mirrors Qimir’s past. But there is one crucial difference: Yord never succumbs to the dark side. He has too much light within him to be overtaken by darkness. He becomes neither Sith nor Jedi, but a Wayseeker,[1] traveling the galaxy in search of the true meaning of life and the Force.

Yord’s life will take another turn when he reaches the planet Naboo, where he is destined to rescue the daughter of a noble family held for ransom by space pirates. This event leads to their falling in love, and Yord will eventually marry her, settling down to build a family and live out his days in peace.

His bloodline will continue, becoming a crucial variable in the future—a girl named Padmé Amidala.

In the future, she will be the love of Anakin Skywalker’s life and the primary reason for his fall to the Dark Side as a Sith Lord, plunging the galaxy into darkness. Yet, at the same time, Padmé’s existence will spark a new hope.

Luke and Leia Skywalker, the twins of Anakin and Padmé, will grow up to stop their father's devastation and restore balance to the Force.

Among the many paths branching through the stream of time, this is the only path where the Kwisatz Haderach faces total defeat.

"Promise me." You insist, eyes locked onto Qimir's with unwavering determination, barely blinking. "Promise me you will believe and do everything as I say."

"You ask for my trust after betraying me, my love?" He retorts sharply.

"You must trust me; you have no other choice." Your voice is calm, cold, and confident, as if you hold all the cards. "And neither do I, my love." The last line deliberately echoes his words.

You watch Qimir carefully, using the Bene Gesserit’s observation techniques. You notice the slight twitch at the corner of his lips—amusement mixed with satisfaction.

“You should have thought like this before betraying me," he murmurs, raising his hand. You have to force yourself not to flinch as his bloodstained fingers touch your cheek. "I have my own conditions, too."

You freeze, suddenly aware of the shifting dynamics. The familiar pressure returns, creeping in slowly and making the atmosphere heavy and uncomfortable. You immediately realize how serious Qimir is about his conditions.

This is a delicate moment for your fate, and you know you cannot afford to make a mistake.

You lower your gaze slightly, your voice dry and uncertain as you ask, "What do you want?"

"You," Qimir says with a teasing smile, though his tone betrays a far darker intent. "You belong to me. That means your life—whether you live or die—depends entirely on me. And don’t ever think about running away from me again."

His fingers trail up to your neck, brushing slowly over your shoulder. Each touch is tender, leaving you frozen as tension seeps through every muscle in your body.

"And I need to ensure this never happens again, even if it means breaking your other leg. But you won't force me to do that, will you?"

He means it, you realize. This is his way of letting you know he’ll forgive you this time, but there won't be a second act of mercy.

As you blink, fragments of the future flash before your eyes, disjointed glimpses of what’s to come—a warning, urging you to brace yourself. 

You see countless more deaths on the horizon—deaths you'll help Qimir plan through your visions. You'll have to endure this torment, bitter and broken, haunted by the overwhelming guilt of what you’ve done for the rest of your life.

And you see yourself forever trapped, with Qimir watching your every move. You won't go anywhere without him or his permission. You will never be free again, like a bird with clipped wings.

This is the worst fate possible for you, yet you understand that this is the only path that holds a chance, the last hope to save the universe. You have no choice but to do whatever it takes to protect it, even if it means living as Qimir’s prisoner and forced to commit terrible atrocities for him, without question.

But it will be worth it. It has to be worth it. You reassure yourself silently as you nod slowly in response to Qimir.

He smiles faintly before leaning in to claim your lips in an intense kiss—a kiss that serves as both promise and a vow. His kiss is cold, reminiscent of a winter stripped of warmth, tinged with a metallic hint of blood. You don’t like it, but you don't push him away. You're too exhausted to resist, surrendering to fate and to Qimir.

There's nothing left for you to do but hope—hope that the path you've chosen is the right one.

Even though you will not live to witness the final outcome.

Footnotes:

[1] A Wayseeker is actually a position within the Jedi Order, referring to Jedi who want to carry out their duties independently of the Jedi Council's directives. However, in this fanfic, I don't consider Wayseekers to be Jedi like in canon; instead, I’m writing Wayseekers as independent Force users, completely separate from both Jedi and Sith.

[jxydiel]

Dean winchester x trans male!reader

I believe it can also be read as not romantic but Dean use a lot of sweet nicknames.

Note : I was really uncomfortable today and I needed some comfort so I wrote this. English is not my first language so sorry if there’s mistake

Tw: dysphoria, I don’t know if it’s a bit angst at the beginning since (y/n) is really uncomfortable with himself.

But technically it’s just fluff because I needed it x)

->

It was summer and the sun was blasting horribly armed with his warmth. (Y/N) could see by the window of ‘baby’, people sweating even in shorts and t-shirt and that was so mood wrenching. Everything was shining brightly hurting his eyes.

Dean was blasting some Metallica, humming and tapping the steering wheel rhythmically while Sam was side eyeing him. They were all out on the hunt heading to some ladies house for investigation. Strange things have been seen and it was their duty to take care of it.

Sam was the one who founded the case while reading some news paper. It was easy, not nerve wreaking. It was supposed to be a nice and calm day. If only that was really true.

When (Y/N) was preparing himself to go, he knew how hot it was today and putting just some pants and a t-shirt would seem to be a good idea but something was feeling so wrong. He was watching himself, in the mirror of that impersonal bathroom, from head to toe. He couldn’t help himself but to feel disgusted, maybe the pants were too tight or the shirt stopped too high showing his hips way too much or even his chest was showing off too much. The young man didn’t found his binder in his stuff and didn’t wanted to make the two Winchester wait so he just told himself that everything was fine even tho it was not. He tried to forget all the thoughts and doubts he had and left the bathroom. (Y/N) definitely hated summer and that was even an understatement.

That’s how he ended being so grumpy and uncomfortable in the back of that car, pulling his shirt away from his body. On normal days he would have been singing with Dean way too loudly, annoying Sam but today he was way too silent to the brothers liking. Something was off with the boy and they both knew it but no one asked for now.

The three of them arrived at the house and (Y/N) was already regretting getting out of his sit. He felt naked, like everyone was watching at him intensively. That was kind of suffocating. Everything was awful, everything was so wrong with him. His head was looking down at his body and he knew he made a big mistake. He just wanted to become invisible right now and just go back home.

The brothers were waiting for him in the most complete silence and he joined them when he realised, ashamed. Dean knocked on the door after looking at (Y/N) with unspoken worries. The woman opened the door and stared at the three mans heavily. (Y/N) didn’t wanted to be there, he wanted to escape and go back in the car where he felt more safe. The gaze of that woman was burning his skin.

Dean took care of explaining everything at her and she let them enter the place. Sam started the little questioning after she let them sit on the old sofa, the fabric of which seemed to escape, revealing the moss inside. Being sat made it a bit better for (Y/N) but he was still absent, not concentrate on anything that was being said. He couldn't stop thinking about his appearance, his thoughts tormenting him relentlessly. He was playing with his hands trying to be forgotten, be the ghost they were hunting. The older brother put an hand on his shoulder and whispered “Are you alright sweetheart?” The young man startled, not expecting any touch and only nodded in return not wanting to worry any of them but it was kind of late for that knowing the look on dean’s face.

The latter tried to focus on the business but seeing (Y/N) like this was making it hard. The two of them were so close that they technically never needed to speak to each other to know that something was off. He whispered again softly to the young man by his side “follow me” and left the couch heading outside. When something was wrong, he had to fix it as soon as possible, as he couldn't bear to see the other unhappy. “We’re coming back” he warned his lil’ brother and the client. (Y/N) didn’t wanted to stand up because he would become more visible, at the mercy of all judgment. but he did follow Dean outside the house. He would do anything for Dean and vice versa.

The older brother stood in the front yard with a concerned frown as (Y/N) got closer to him. He clearly noticed how the other was endlessly adjusting his shirt again and again avoiding his eyes and he just realised what was happening. Dean didn’t needed to ask anything, he just took off his jacket and put it on the other’s shoulders. “Here you go my handsome man” Strangely Dean was always wearing something on top of his shirt even in summer and he was thanking himself for this on the moment.

(Y/N) smiled at Dean, hiding himself in the big jacket. He whispered “thank you” and Dean answered an “Of course love”. (Y/N) put the jacket correctly and yes it was definitely better but even tho, now, he was just feeling like a fraud. The young man sighed and apologised for creating some kind of problems but Dean reacted so quickly “Eh you have nothing to be sorry for, it’s not your fault Okay ?” (Y/N) simply nodded in response. Dean put his hand on the head of the other caressing his hair with the utmost gentleness.

“Do you want me to drive you back to the motel ? We can let Sam take care of this.” Dean asked after a long silence. (Y/N) wanted to say yes so much but he didn’t wanted to bother the two mans. It was work right now, he needed to be professional. “No, I don’t want to bother. I’m alright now.” He simply responded. “You’re never bothering sweetheart you know that. Are you sure ?” “Yes don’t worry about it. Thank you tho.” And they both went inside the house again.

When they came back inside the woman asked them if they wanted to drink something and misgendered (Y/N). She didn’t knew. It wasn’t her fault. But (Y/N)’s heart broke in pieces and everything was so wrong again. Sam was the one who corrected her pretty quickly and she apologised. “It’s fine. You don’t need to apologise.” Replied the young man to relieve her. However, when (Y/N) looked up at Dean he saw his murderous gaze that was frightening the client horribly and it made him chuckle a bit. “Don’t stare like that. It’s fine” (Y/N) pushed Dean’s shoulder playfully trying to reassure him but his eyes were still sad and the other saw it.

“Well we’re leaving the questionary to our associate there’s other thing we need to take care of.” Dean announced pointing Sam. The lil’ bro nodded agreeing with no words to Dean’s decision. They both knew it was for the better. The big brother left the house with a quick goodbye and (Y/N) followed again. “But I said I was fine staying.” Dean stopped walking and looked at him. “I’m doing it for me, I would have killed her.” And it was half a lie.

(Y/N) smiled brightly at Dean and entered the car next to the taller one. When Sam wasn’t there the front sit was his. And sometimes even when Sammy was there they switched places.

Dean drove quite quickly to the motel and when he entered the bedroom he went directly to his stuff to found some clothes of his. He knew (Y/N) always liked wearing his clothes when he was feeling down. It gave him some more comfort. He threw the clothes at the boy who escaped in the bathroom. The young man was back a small time after and Dean was looking at him sitting on the bed. “Are you feeling better ?” The latter asked with a serious frown. “Yes thank you Dean. You’re the best.” (Y/N) replied sitting by his sides. “I know” They both smirked and laughed. Dean felt a little helpless when this happened because no one could control it, but he would give everything he had so that (Y/N) would never have to feel so bad again.

“You’re the most handsome man on this planet I hope you know that.” Dean stated genuinely going for a hug. (Y/N) hugged him back tightly, hiding himself in the bigs arms of the other. He was feeling safe now. Everything would be alright. They both lay down on the bed while the older brother turn the TV on for some ridiculous but funny show to change the other mind. “Sammy will call when he’s done. I will help him with the rest but you can stay here” (Y/N) nodded. “Okay. Be careful you two” “we always are no worries.” They both smiled at each other and (Y/N)‘s head rested on Dean’s chest hearing his heart beat fast as he breath in and out. “Next time something like that happens don’t wait that long. We will, Me and Sam, always do anything for you to be comfortable.” “Yes, thank you Dean.” They rested like that for a while Dean making sure (Y/N) was laughing and feeling better until it was time for him to go help his brother.

[sanslovesblog]

Unraveling Madness: San’s Dark Secrets Pt. 1

Summary: You're a brilliant psychiatrist, but you were no stranger to internal conflicts. You had accepted the task of treating Choi San, the psychiatric ward's most dangerous patient due to his violent episodes. Despite skepticism from other staff members, you believed that beneath his destructive exterior lay a vulnerable human being, yearning for understanding and acceptance.

Genre: fluff

Trigger warning: childhood trauma

Teaser | Master list | Pt. 2

You arrived at the psychiatric ward, greeted by an eerie silence that felt heavy with secrets. The hallway stretched like a tunnel into an unknown realm, lined with closed doors hiding patients behind them. Each door represented a story of tormented souls trapped within their own minds. Your destination was Room 312. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you entered the room, the dim lights casting sinister shadows across the sterile walls. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the palpable tension that hung heavy in the air. As you approached Choi San, sitting slouched in his chair, you couldn't help but notice the haunted look in his eyes—a reflection of the torment he endured.

"Choi San," you began softly, trying to maintain a calm demeanor despite the storm brewing inside you. "My name is y/n, and I'm here to help you."

He stared back at you, his gaze cold and unwavering. "Why should I trust you?" His voice was low, laced with bitterness. "Everyone else has failed me."

You paused before responding, weighing your words carefully. "Because I believe in you, Choi San. I see potential beneath the chaos, I can help you." you said with reassurance in your voice.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his voice barely audible as he replied, "Help me? No one can help me." You could sense the pain etched deeply into his psyche, and it tugged at your own heartstrings.

"I understand that things have been tough for you," you began gently, "but we're going to work together to make things better." Choi San stared blankly ahead, neither denying nor accepting your words. You decided to take a different approach—one that might open him up to sharing his experiences. "What's the first memory that comes to mind when you think about why you ended up here?"

A torrent of words burst forth from Choi San, his voice rising in desperation.

"I remember a night, so dark and cold, my hands trembling as I held the knife," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "It was supposed to be a release, a way out of the pain I felt inside. But instead, something else took over me."

You listened intently, feeling the weight of his burden. "That 'something else'," you responded thoughtfully, "isn't just a product of your mind. It's a manifestation of all the hurt and anger bottled up inside you.

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He recoiled slightly, but allowed your touch to soothe him.

"It all spiraled out of control," he continued, "The voices grew louder, urging me to harm those who mocked me. I didn't mean to hurt anyone, but the whispers wouldn't stop." You listened intently, empathizing with his plight. "And now, everyone sees me as a danger," he lamented, his voice choked with emotion.

You removed your hand, leaning back in your chair. "Choi San, let's try something new today," you suggested, your tone soothing yet assertive.

In that moment, you realized that beneath his hardened exterior, Choi San was just a frightened young man longing for compassion and understanding. "It's okay," you murmured, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "We'll get through this together."