#though of course he could be older than that
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seosracha · 2 days ago
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⸻ SAINT MATTHEW'S ACADEMY
─"do you know about all the filth that goes on in here?"
SYNOPSIS ⸻ being a smart kid comes with a lot of advantages; one of them being a full scholarship to one of the best schools in the country. one of the best school's that's filled to the brim with disgustingly rich teenagers. Heeseung knows you're not like them, and he also knows that'll be easy to take advantage of.
PAIRING ⸻ toxic!heeseung x innocentfem!reader
GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, private school au, smut, fluff, angst (idek tbh)
TAGS ⸻ characters are all 18 or older, toxic relationships, misogyny, alcohol abuse, smoking, marijuana/cannabis mention, partying, underage drinking, foul language, cheating (not really though) power imbalance, abuse (punches are getting thrown..) , kinda love triangle?? , making out, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), virginity loss, p in v, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, tell me if i missed something!
WORDCOUNT ⸻ 21k
everything here is FICTIONAL, it is not real. this was created for entertainment purposes only. MINORS DNI.
“No Eunseok, I don’t want to go anywhere!” you grit your teeth, backing away from your older brother. 
He sighed, and with his hand pulled your wrist towards the doorway. You were acting like a brat, and he had absolutely no interest in fighting with you right now. From your standpoint, you had every reason to be behaving this way. 
“There are thousands- no, millions of people your age who would die for an opportunity like this, and you're going to act like a child? Grow up, Y/n” he let out a steady breath as an attempt to calm himself down. 
In some way, you put yourself in this situation. Flawless scores on all your exams, juggling multiple extracurriculars and excelling at every single one of them, participating in every Model UN you could get your hands on, making a name for yourself- being somebody. It all led to you being noticed by prestigious schools, who practically begged to host you, even though deep down, you were a nobody. 
Your parents weren't snobby rich people, who thrived off of other people's ideas and failure. They weren't greedy either, working normal 9 to 5 jobs. 
When you were merely 12 years old they had left to go work at your uncle's company overseas, hoping that it’ll allow them to make enough money to pay for your brother’s med school tuition and potentially have the money to fund a future clinic of his. They promised to come back as soon as Eunseok finished school and started a stable job. But they never did. 
Eunseok, who was 7 years older than you, was always the favorite child. No matter how well you did or how bad he did, Eunseok was number one in your parents' hearts. There was never a family reunion where Eunseok’s medical career as a surgeon wasn't brought up- and when it did end up getting shoved into the conversation, it didn't stop until all the lights turned off. 
And of course, you felt bad for your brother. He had to balance taking care of you and being a surgeon for fucks sake, but that didn't mean you couldn't feel lonely most of the time. You had a free hand when it came to inviting friends over, but unfortunately their strict parents and every other circumstance never allowed them to stay longer than one night. Your only family,  your older brother who you looked up to was just never there, and you just sank deeper into your loneliness whenever he called and apologized for a sudden surgery that came up. 
But still, Eunseok, was just perfect, you had no choice but to try and keep up with him. 
So when the letter from Saint Matthew’s Academy came in the mail, offering you a spot in their school, with the tuition fully paid for by them, you didn't even think twice. 
And now you regret that, badly. 
St. Matthews Academy was a private school next to the town you grew up in. It was also an exceptionally expensive place, with tuition fees racking up to about $80.000 per year. Going there would be a privilege to most people your age, but the students there saw it as a regular school without anything special to offer them. Even if they weren't going to inherit their parents’ company's, they were truly set up for the rest of their lives anyways. 
You hadn't really done any research on the school before accepting their offer, only aware of their students academic achievements and high level of education. The more you found out, the more the idea of being a student terrified you. 
You would stick out like a sore thumb amidst the successful people who had a chairman position prescribed before birth. 
“It’ll be okay, do you think if I let the fear get to me, I’d be a SNU alumni now?” Eunseok asked, focused on the road as he drove you right into the gates of your own, personal hell. 
“We get it, you finished SNU and are a surgeon now, blah blah blah” you said, and he rolled his eyes playfully. 
“I’m just trying to help you. I doubt those kids are going to be that bad. They have a reputation to upkeep anyways, can’t be caught bullying” he tried to calm you down, but everytime he opened his mouth, he just made it worse. 
“Eunseok, you’re making it worse” you murmured, tucking at the skin of your thumb. He placed his hand on yours, preventing you from continuing with your bad habits “That’s exactly why I’m scared. These kids are disgustingly rich, and people like us-  well we're like ants compared to them. They have an image to polish, and I have none of that” you continued, and he frowned lightly, his heart breaking at your, his little sisters, words. 
“Do you seriously think you got to be in this position cause you’re a nobody? I don’t think regular and undeserving people have been given a full scholarship to a school like Saint Matthew’s. Nobody has been given a scholarship from them really” Eunseok said, making you feel slightly more confident “I can turn around, you can withdraw, but I think you’ll regret that” he said, with a light smile which you reciprocated. 
Maybe you should have told him to turn around back then, maybe you should've denied the offer or thrown it away the moment you saw the letter with that heinous stamp. 
_____ 
No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about what your first day was going to be like. Some dreams portrayed you as the future top 3 of the school, and some seemed to make you out to be the outcast loser who can’t seem to find anyone who’d befriend her. 
It was nearly impossible to get those images out of your head. You thought about lying about your background, falsifying stories about your parents who own giant multi-utility corporations that supply petrol and energy to half the country, but that was pointless. 
You could either be made fun of for lying or made fun of for being a ‘poor nobody’. None of them seemed right, but one didn't lead to being incredibly embarrassed for the rest of highschool. 
The building did not have any correlation with the one that you imagined, the one that you constantly dreamed about. It looked nothing like the modern, smart, couple story construction that clouded your mind beyond arrival, and because of their strict laws, pictures and videos of both the inside and outside were strictly prohibited. 
So all you had left was to make up your own assumptions, and the old fashioned, palace looking property was definitely not one of them. You assumed that the millions of dollars in tuition that flow into the headmaster's account every year could at least allow him to renovate the building. 
But it seemed as if the gray, dirty, moss covered outer walls had a special meaning you didn't quite understand. 
You definitely weren't a sucker for historical architecture, and this building looked more like a nightmare than a dream to you. 
At the front office, the lady had confiscated your phone, with a smile explaining why they do it, and asking you to pick it up after classes are over. She had a creepy aura surrounding her, and you begged for her small introduction to finish as soon as possible. 
“I’ll let Wonyoung, your class president, give you a tour around our school. She should be here in a moment, dear” she smiled eagerly at you, and you found it hard to reciprocate her seemingly innocent expression. 
You never expected Wonyoung to be an actual angel, her figure already shining brightly as she strides towards you. You wondered how it was possible for someone to make a school uniform look this good. Her hair was long and silky, and her bangs just looked fake with how fresh and bouncy they were. 
You smoothed down your uniform and fixed up your hair as she got closer to you and the eerie lady next to you. 
“You're the new student, right?” she waved at you, and shot you with a pretty smile. 
You had no idea how to behave, acknowledging that she probably came from a wealthy family that practically owns the country. 
But Wonyoung was a little different. Her parents didn't own any big corporations or participate in any other money making schemes. Both her mom and dad met on the set for a movie that later led them to become the highest paid actors in the industry. It was pretty comical to say she was different as she still was considered a product of nepotism in the modeling world that she was so active in. She hadn't even finished highschool, but had already walked for brands like Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Maison Margiela and more. Maybe it was her pretty face or just her parents' wild connections. 
“Mind if I give you a small tour? It can get complicated around here” she asked, her tone so delicate. 
If anything you should be thanking her for sparing you with a little bit of time, thanking her for even allowing someone like you to be in the presence of someone like her. 
You nodded your head not able to let a single word out, afraid to embarrass yourself. With a smile Wonyoung locked her arm with yours, and kept you close by her side as she showed you around the place. 
“This is the cafeteria, but I wouldn't recommend you going there, the food is awful” she said, and you laughed lightly at her expression. 
Was it awful cause it wasn't a three course meal with caviar, steak and truffles for dessert or was it actually not that good. You really did not fit in here and you haven't met anyone else.
“Well I see that guy is enjoying it” you commented, noticing a tall, skinny boy laughing with his friend as he consumed something you couldn't quite recognize. 
Wonyoung laughed, in the most elegant way possible, and her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink “That’s Park Sunghoon, my boyfriend. He will eat anything, seriously” she stated and you nodded with a chuckle. 
Park Sunghoon was son to Park Jiwon, the CEO of ParkJin Electronics. His mother had worked hard all her life to build up her own empire, resulting in him being raised mainly by nannies and his cousins. Still, he was spoiled and cocky, his family allegedly had royal roots, and even though he didn't know himself, he boasted about it every single occasion he got. He didn't seem to care much about studying, since he was the only child his mother ever had, he was next in line to inherit her electronic empire. Yet something in him felt the desire to prove to everyone that no matter what, he deserved to take over.  
He also surrounded himself with people of the same social status and net worth as him, so that’s probably why he treated Wonyoung so differently, even though she was his literal girlfriend. Wonyoung was rich, but she could never compare to the millions his mother earned yearly. 
Yet he was so good at pretending and gaslighting the girl into believing she's the bad person for lashing out on him after he called her ‘the type of person who polishes shoes for people like him’. He was just joking around, right? But the poor girl took it because the good moments overshadowed the absolute idiot Park Sunghoon was capable of being. 
“And next to him? Who’s that” you asked, politely pointing towards the blond boy next to him who’s jawline looked like it was shaped by Micheal Angelo himself. 
“That’s Jongseong, but we just call him Jay,” Wonyoung answered, looking at you with a pretty smile. Did everything she does have to be so annoyingly beautiful and perfect? 
Park Jay was born in Seattle, so he was the American heartthrob that flexed his posh English skills in order to pull girls he had no interest in having serious relationships with. His dad owned the biggest hospital in the country, and on top of that had plastic surgery salons opened in practically every city. His parents had divorced when his dad's businesses started to gain popularity and bring in more money. His father assumed that his wife no longer appealed to him, and she would just be like a parasite- living off of his success. And since Jay had been harshly raised by his rough father, he shared the same opinion about his mother. Not having a motherly figure present in his life, surrounding himself with his fathers girlfriends who were only 10 years older than him, he became a Andrew Tate worshiping incel who’s main focus was making money and convincing everyone to join his self-betterment program. 
“He’s nice, but I think his political and social views are a little far from the ones that girls like us have” she attempted to explain, and pretty quickly you understood he’s a misogynist. 
“I see, is your boyfriend the same?” you asked, trying to sound as polite as you can, since you didn't quite know where Wonyoung wouldl draw the line. 
“No, at least I’d hope he isn't” she chuckled lightly, and slowly tugged you towards another large hall in the school “He was raised by women, his dad passed away when he was around 3, so I guess he has at least some respect for us” she added, and you nodded in understanding. 
“This school is really freaking big, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find my way around here” you commented and she chuckled at your use of words. 
“You can say fucking, I really don’t mind” Wonyoung looked at you, and you breathed out a steady breath “I don’t want you to think of us as some posh, elegant and royal like teenagers who use a fork and knife every time they eat. I genuinely think most of us are pretty normal considering our backgrounds” she explained, and you had to stifle a laugh. 
Although Wonyoung seemed like an incredibly nice and sweet girl, she truly had no idea how privileged she was. Truly, her only worry was you not thinking she’s a snobby rich kid. And that applied to all of them, you just didn't see yourself empathizing with these people, seeing how you were raised in two completely different worlds. 
“It’s my first time talking to people like you, don't have much experience” you smiled and raised your hands in guilt. 
She laughed at your action, and asked “What do you mean, what do your parents do then?” 
You didn't want to answer that question, you didn't even want anyone to ask it in the first place. But you had to answer honestly. 
“Both of my parents live overseas, but they're no one special. My dad is a construction worker and my mom has a simple office job” you said, and she didn't seem to laugh or find your parents’ profession amusing in any way “I live with my brother, he’s a surgeon” you added, and she seemed to light up at the mention. 
“I want to be a surgeon too!” she beamed and you smiled as she ignored and didn't care about the fact that you weren't the future heiress of a major conglomerate “I need to speak to your brother one day, maybe he’ll give me some advice” she added and with a smile you assured her you’ll set up a meeting for the two of them one day. 
She pulled you through a dark, narrow, dimly lit hallway to a giant room with a high ceiling where most of the students were currently spending their time. 
“This is the common room” she said, as the two of you stood in the entryway. 
Laughter ringed in your ears as you attempted to examine every student present in the area. 
“Let me introduce you to Niki!” she beamed and pulled your wrist towards the unknown boy. 
Niki was the son of the owners of the biggest pharmaceutical company in the country. Even though he had no interest in taking over the business, his younger sister wasn't seen as competent enough to take over, so he was forced to be the next CEO. His parents and Jay’s father were close friends, planning on merging the two companies by arranging a marriage between Jay’s younger sister and Niki. His true passion was dance, he hated everything that had to do with medication, but he knew there was no chance he’d ever get to pursue his passion for a living. 
“Niki!” she called to the boy, and he turned around, swiftly taking off his headphones. 
“Not gonna go shop for makeup with you today, forget it” he claimed, not even noticing you standing right next to her. 
“Oh please, as if I’d want to go with you” she sneered and he chuckled under his breath. “I wanted to introduce you to Y/n, she’s new here!” she continued, and he took a judging look at you. 
Or at least it felt as if he was judging you, scanning you up and down as if you weren't wearing the same exact uniform as him. But quickly he shot you with a small smile, and stuck his hand out for you to shake. You applied and as nicely as you could, returned the expression. 
“You’ll regret coming here, Y/n” he warned with a laugh, and you chuckled, but deep down felt like maybe he wasn't joking. 
“Stop scaring her” Wonyoung said sternly, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow “I like it here, don’t listen to him Y/nnie” 
“Maybe because you're a fucking nerd who’s a teachers pet?” he asked sarcastically, and Wonyoung just rolled her eyes playfully. 
You stood there listening to their bickering, already getting a weird feeling that you didn't really belong here, these people were not the usual kind you surround yourself with. 
“What brings you here?” he asked, which turned your attention back to the two people in front of you. 
“I got an invitation, full ride scholarship and all” you explained and his eyes widened. 
“You're a smart girl, aren't you?” he asked, and you chuckled lightly. 
“You could say that, I guess” you said, and he looked towards Wonyoung. 
“I guess you’ll finally have a smarty pants friend to talk to about the theory of relativity, or whatever you call it” he cooed, and she flipped him off. 
“Jake used to be my nerdy bestie, well until he started hanging out with Jay and attending his dumbass courses” she laughed looking towards you, and he did the same nodding his head. 
“Let’s be honest, ever since they created their little frat circle with Heeseung and Sunghoon, they suffered insane brain damage. But the courses were also bad enough” Niki inquired, and she laughed, agreeing with him. 
Jake’s parents were real estate giants, owning at least half of the properties in the city. He had been raised with the thought of taking over his parents’ business, so he was actually the only one in his friend circle that studied and strived to achieve something. His mother or father would never let him take over if he had nothing in his head. Jake actually wanted to become a real estate agent, because after seeing his parents succeed, he wanted to be just like them. 
“What exactly are these courses about?” you asked, and Niki quickly opened his phone to show you the website Jay and his computer geek friend Jungwon set up. 
You didn't even bother asking the boy how he managed to sneak a phone in, assuming the one lying in the basket at the front desk, was probably one of his many devices. 
“He tries to convince men that they need to unleash their inner sigma to fully embrace their manliness or something like that” he explained as you grabbed his phone to look through the website. 
It looked like a failed IT project they had to do in class, and honestly you didn't understand why anyone would trust him enough to receive life advice. 
“I can't believe that people actually listen to his advice” you commented, handing back Niki his phone. 
“That’s not even the worst of it, he genuinely thinks that if men were to become pregnant, they would give birth in two weeks since they’re stronger, something along those lines” Wonyoung added, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. 
Maybe you were getting along with them, but the eerie atmosphere around you and the blank stares you received from other students grounded you. 
“Yo new girl, wanna come to a party tonight?” Niki turned towards you with a questioning expression. 
You have been studying your whole life, cramming information until late hours of the night, which resulted in you having to give up your social life or anything of that sort. You had friends, but never the time to go out with them. So this would be your first party ever, and you had no idea how to behave. 
“Sure,” you replied, not giving it any more thought. If you started overthinking it, you’d probably deny the request. 
“Put in your number, I’ll send you the address” he gave you his phone once again, and you swiftly typed in your digits, saving your contact under ‘Song Y/n’. 
“Show me your schedule, I’ll walk you to your next class” Wonyoung turned to you, and you dug up the crumbled piece of paper you received at the front office. 
_______
Niki had eventually texted you the address, offering a ride along with it, unless you already had one. You gladly accepted his offer, although his kindness seemed weird and suspicious to you. 
Maybe you just weren't used to people being nice to you simply out of human decency and without any ulterior motives, but someone as high up and rich as Niki or Wonyoung should not be bothered by someone like you. They definitely shouldn't be offering you rides in their expensive sports cars. 
“Oh c’mon Wony, we gotta give our transfer the princess treatment” he said, shooing her away from the passenger seat with his hand. 
She rolled her eyes playfully, but agreed to give up her front seat, which you tried to convince her to take back for a little over a minute. 
“No Y/nnie, you're probably going to meet our little devil tonight, you need as much peace as you can get before that” she assured, and you just shook your head at her reluctance. 
“And who exactly are you talking about?” you asked, turning around to once again face Wonyoung who already got comfortable in the back seat.
“I’ll ask you that question tomorrow morning, it’s more fun that we keep it a secret for now” she giggled childishly, and Niki nodded his head approvingly at her idea. 
You sighed sarcastically, and tried to remember any person they didn't go into full detail about just a couple of hours ago. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, all of them kept getting mixed up in your head as you had no real idea as to what the three looked like. You passed by the cafeteria with Wonyoung earlier, where you didn’t quite register what Jay and Sunghoon looked like. Maybe it’s someone completely different, or someone affiliated with the three guys you had a fair amount of information about. 
“You drink, don’t you?” Niki asked, turning his head to face you for just a mere second, before focusing his eyes back on the road. 
“Not really” you answered unbothered. 
Drinking was nothing to be proud about anyways, and assuming Niki doesn't want to lose his recently acquired drivers license, he probably wasn't going to do it either. 
“Same here. Me and Wony don’t drink” he smiled “But the rest of them, their a different kind of fucked up. Especially your precious, sweet, innocent boyfriend, Wonyoung” he added, and looked at the girl through his rear view mirror. 
She screwed her face jokingly “Sunghoon doesn't drink that much, at least now that he’s with me” she defended, and he scoffed. 
“And you’re stupid for thinking he’s not getting shit faced every weekend with his demonic cult of a friend group” he commented, and she huffed in annoyance crossing her arms. 
“Y/nnie, you know what Hoon looks like, right?” she turned her attention to you. 
You shook your head, causing her to pull out her phone in order to present you with pictures of her beloved boyfriend. 
He was smoking fucking hot, but his expression and lack of emotion on every picture made you think that maybe Niki was right, he truly looked like he didn't give a single fuck about the girl. Well it seems to be working out for them so far, so who are you to butt in. 
“Keep an eye on him, I need to prove that my boyfriend is not the alcoholic and druggie you-” she pointed her finger at Niki “make him out to be” 
“No problem” you smiled and she excitedly held your hand. 
“Just when you do catch him chugging down shot glasses like a pig, don't tell her cause she won't believe you anyways” he murmured, but the both of you heard him anyways. 
You turned to Wonyoung and rolled your eyes playfully which she gave you a hushed giggle at, agreeing with whatever you were thinking about. 
The road felt like it had been going on forever, you swore you already saw the same street signs and lanterns a couple minutes back. It felt like Niki had been going in circles, but those thoughts were most likely caused by your absence in this area of town. 
After what felt like an eternity in Niki’s uncomfortable low-floor car, that was impossible to get comfortable in, he had finally pulled over into a gravel filled space. In the distance a modern house was illuminated by colorful lights, and the music could be quietly heard from the place you were standing in. 
The interior of the place was suffocating you, the music giving you a headache, the smell of cigarettes, weed, alcohol and sweat seeping into your skin, as you and Wonyoung pushed through the crowd. Wonyoung didn't seem to be affected as she pushed through the bodies in order to find her boyfriend who she must have missed terribly for the past five hours. 
“Sunghoonnie!” she beamed, and his body instantly turned to the sound of her squeaky voice. 
He was hard to read, you didn't exactly know if he was excited to see her or praying for her to leave him and his friends alone. He held a glass with a brownish liquid in his hand, and you knew for a fact Wonyoung was trying to ignore it or pretend it wasn't what everyone else knew it was. 
Sunghoon was obviously drinking whiskey. 
Even they're choice of alcohol was so different from what you knew back in your public school. Those kids could barely afford the cheapest liquor, and here you were witnessing Sunghoon and his friends downing bottles worth more than the pocket money your brother gave you every month. 
“Oh great, two Wonyoung’s. Can’t women just stick to painting their nails and doing their makeup? This is not the place for you” Jay commented as he finally noticed the two of you. 
“Did your daddy teach you that? I wasn't talking to you, dickhead” the girl next to you answered with a sarcastic pout to her face. 
“I’m Jake” the brown haired boy stuck his hand out “You're new, right?” 
Wonyoung had already let you go to entertain her boyfriend who obviously was not having it. Even as she was eating his face, he wasn't half as passionate about it as she was. 
“Yeah” you took his hand “Y/n” 
He had a devilish grin as he and the blond boy exchanged glances. 
“So where are you coming from?” Jake asked, but his eyes weren't even focused on your face, instead staring right into your partially exposed chest. 
You sighed, and leaned against the wall “Doesn't matter” maybe you had a terrible judgment of character, but you knew that admitting to coming from a public, low income school would end you right then and there. 
“You’re right, it doesn't” he smirked, hoping that you had understood his intentions by now, “Want a drink?” he asked, turning around to unveil a couple glasses and a bottle of Dalmore whiskey. 
“I don't really drink” you explained, trying to keep up with your nonchalant facade that you prayed would spare you some embarrassment tonight. 
It felt stressful to be around them, their demeanor intimidating. 
“Oh c’mon, one little glass never hurt anyone” Jay uttered, already pouring a glass that he was shoving into your hand a couple seconds later. 
He looked incredibly hot doing so, his slicked back blond hair and white button down almost making you forget he’s a mentally unstable and misogynistic idiot. 
Did they all have to be so irresistibly hot? Was being rich not enough? 
“Drink it, there’s a reward afterwards” he added, as his attempts to place the glass in your hand turned out to be successful. 
“Only if you’re a good girl” Jake added, and Jay with a devilish smile hit his shoulder. 
You examined the glass, remembering all the stories of boys spiking drinks with drugs that Shotaro told you about, but all that seemed so unimportant right now. 
You promised yourself to never go against what your mind told you, but that was broken the minute you downed the glass, the unfamiliar, burning flavor coating your throat. 
“Atta girl” Jake praised, as he took the glass from your hand.
“Women are so easy, it’s crazy” Jay whispered, assuring you wouldn't hear his words “Let me pour you another one” he said, his voice a little louder this time. 
You shook your head, but he seemed to ignore that all together, grabbing the cup and filling it to the brim once again. 
“Drink up” Jake slurred, and focused his eyes onto the way your throat looked while you swallowed the liquid. 
They were disgusting. The way they objectified you, the way they looked at you like you were going to let them hit without any problems. 
The boys you knew would make jokes, but they’d never act on it like Jay and Jake did. 
You slammed the glass on the table where it was previously laid, and without a word turned away from the two men who were clearly confused about your sudden departure. 
“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” Jake called, and with a forced smile you mouthed a ‘Maybe’. 
“She still doesn't know about all the filth that goes on in here, eh?” Jay chuckled devilishly, and Jake smirked, pouring himself a drink in the cup you left behind. 
You had already thought that Wonyoung and Niki were completely different from the people you used to surround yourself with, but after meeting Jake and Jay, you cursed yourself for even thinking that. You had given up your social life, so meeting new people regularly was never something that you did, but you never met someone so deranged. Were the girls at this school all so easy and compliant to their orders? You just wondered where their ego came from. 
Squeezing through all the damp bodies was definitely a challenge, but finding a quiet and empty room surely made it worth it. 
The room was practically empty, you assumed something that was supposed to resemble a guest bedroom, but you doubted any guest would wanna sleep here. A single bed in the middle of the large room was not enough. 
You closed the door behind you with a quiet squeak, and threw yourself on the bed, your eyes facing the ceiling. 
Amongst the weird smell that surrounded the room a voice called you “You're the new girl, aren't you?” 
You didn't notice the open balcony door upon entering. 
Your body automatically turned to face the voice, a handsome and presumably tall boy sat on one of the plastic chairs. Smoke circled around him as he looked at you with heavy eyelids, taking another hit from the joint between his fingers. 
You leaned your head on the palm of your hand “How do you know?” 
“News spreads fast around here. You don’t know, do you?” he gave you a childish smile, and with a nod to his head he without a word offered you to smoke with him, which you declined. 
“What’s your name?” you asked him, his dark eyes bringing discomfort to your body. 
“Why should I tell you, transfer?” he laughed, and you stiffened up at his answer. “It’s Heeseung” he said after a moment, noticing that you were not enjoying his jokes. 
Lee Heeseung was the youngest son of Lee Guwon and Kim Shinhye, the founders and owners of the largest hotel line in the country. They just recently went international, opening yet another hotel-restaurant in the heart of Singapore. His older sister, Lee Rina, had no interest in the company, firmly convinced that it's a greedy industry. She moved to Norway to study and just never came back. But his older brother, Lee Haejun, was different. He was stuck on the idea of becoming the next CEO. After both him and Heeseung were old enough to understand what benefits came with being a leader of a major hotel line, they stopped treating each other like brothers, instead focusing on the rivalry that was brewing. They wanted so badly to prove to their father who's more competent, who deserves it more, that at one point it became too much. 
Heeseung at one point no longer wanted any of it. He just wanted his brother back. Haejun just never was the same brother Heeseung learned to love. He didn't care. Heeseung felt like he lost both of his siblings although they weren't actually gone. 
“I don’t think they mentioned you” you murmured, trying to recall the conversations you had with Wonyoung and Niki. 
“Wonyoung and Niki? Probably because they don't like me” he laughed, and put out his blunt on the tiles of the balcony, throwing what was left into a jar filled with water. 
“They like everyone, I think it’s a ‘you’ problem” you assumed, and he scoffed. 
His body sluggishly stood up from the chair, as he tried to not fall over the balcony “Both of them are fake as fuck, and I don’t think you’re one to judge” 
You sighed “You don’t know them” 
“I know them better than you, transfer” he chuckled, “They always cuddle up to new students, just like Wonyoung did to Jake, and whenever they go slightly out of line, they drop them” he explained, and you foolishly didn't believe his words, choosing to stand with your new friends who you in reality, knew nothing about. 
“I don’t know, I don't think the Jake that I just met, and got forced to drink by, is a good example” you murmured, playing with your hair, avoiding eye contact with the boy. 
He had this dark aura surrounding him, his hooded eyes just adding into his image, making him look much more scary. 
He slowly moved towards you, accompanying you on the silk covered bed. That’s when you could truly analyze his face; bloodshot, brown eyes, a curve to his lips, his nose slightly pointed and eyebrows straight. His skin was glistening, a soft tan to it. He looked at you so intensely, and you couldn't quite reciprocate, scared of his intimidating presence. 
“Jake was always like this, they just didn't know how to handle him” he smiled, his hand inching closer to where your legs lied “They love saying that Jay ruined him, but he didn't even have to do that” 
“What do you mean by having to do that? Why would he have to?” you asked, as your body froze, not allowing you to move further away from him. 
He didn't stop attempting to close the gap between the two of you “You know what I mean” he smirked “This isn't the place you think it is, pretty girl. We can't have a goody two shoes prancing around” his smile was straight, as his hand moved to sooth your lower thigh. 
You never were this close to a boy before. 
“I still don't get it” you said, your voice trembling as he moved further up. 
“You don't need to, you’ll see for yourself. Soon, don't worry” he cooed, and you could feel his sinister words burn through your skin. 
“You like this? Tell me” he asked, his grip on your thigh tightened, and you felt words get stuck in your throat. 
“ I don’t know you, Heeseung” you answered out of breath. 
He liked the way his name slipped from your lips, your tone mellow and soothing. He could definitely get used to it. 
“You don’t need to know everyone you want to have a little fun with” his eyes twinkled slightly, as he spoke softly, trying to distract you from his touch moving to places you  probably wouldn't like him being in. 
“Do you do this to every girl you just meet?” you piqued, and he chuckled, finally taking out his hand from under your dress in order to move a strand of hair out of your face. 
“Only the ones I find pretty” he answered. 
Heeseung was such a lightweight, he couldn't stop his smile and laughter as he played with you, knowing you could pretend, but not resist him. He wanted to undress you right there and then, behind an unlocked door, which he’d hoped some disgusting pervert like Jake would open, they could perhaps have you together, share your body. But he was smarter than that. He couldn't alienate you so early on. 
“Maybe another time” you murmured, giving up your previous position to stand up from the bed. 
He didn't let you, standing up with you, blocking you from walking to the door. He stumbled a little bit, but managed to hold you down. 
“You wanted to get to know me, what happened to that?” he whispered. 
“I never said that” you replied, and attempted once again to leave the room. 
No one has ever had this effect on you. You didn't truly want to leave, not only his firm stance was keeping you away from that door. 
You had boyfriends, but all of them were too scared to even hold your hand in public, not to mention kiss you. So you were aware of these things, but not familiar with them. 
“Why do you have to be so tough? I just want to make you feel good? What’s the crime in that?” he cooed, and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. 
“I always wanted it to be special, not some one night stand” you voiced, and he hummed. 
It felt so weird and embarrassing to talk to him like this. You didn't know him. You also couldn't say no, cause some part of you wanted it too. 
Maybe it’s because you wanted to fit in, maybe because you didn't want to be any different from the people that went to this school. But you’d always be different- as long as your parents weren't owners of a giant conglomerate or business, you’d always be different. 
“My sweet girl is a virgin? That’s okay, don’t be embarrassed” he cooed, and squeezed your hand tightly. 
You never knew how hard it is to be sober and talk to a high person. He just didn't fully comprehend the environment that surrounded him, not a single ounce of fear or embarrassment in his veins, just nothingness. 
“Can I kiss you?” he asked with a soft voice.
Heeseung knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly how his slurred words sounded and how they affected you. 
You nodded, and he grabbed your jaw, pulling you into his embrace. Nothing could have prepared you for his wet, plump lips that molded perfectly into yours. You felt so good against him, and he couldn't find himself pulling away, the bulge in his pants growing as you fingers slightly brushed along the longer strands of hair on the back of his head. 
It was all so new to you. Maybe it was the alcohol that Jake and Jay forced down your throat, or maybe you just couldn't help but naturally feel attracted to Heeseung. It’s been barely 24 hours, and you’ve broken all the promises you made to yourself. 
While you were overthinking, Heeseung wondered just how long until he gets to fuck your pretty, virgin hole.  
“Mmm, it wasn't that hard, was it?” he smiled as he was forced to pull away out of lack of air, his eyes practically closing on him. 
You avoided his gaze, a small smile on your swollen lips. He laughed softly, and grabbed your hand in his. 
“I just want to help you. You’re a big girl, you should know how the world works” he cooed, dumbing you down. But you accepted it. Every word of his you took in and analyzed. Maybe he was right. 
He was this big, important rich guy from an important family, and you were just living in his world. You were nothing like him, his worries surrounded taking over the company or not, while you had to wonder if you had the money to go out with your friend on the weekend. You could try, but you’ll never be the same. 
And Heeseung knew that. He knew how much power he had over you simply because his bank account was decorated by nothing less than quadruple digits. 
“I don’t think you should be hanging out with Wonyoung and Niki. They're fake, you know?” he whispered, and focused his eyes on you “Let me be the one you come to when you need help, okay?” 
You nodded, and he just hummed in approval, liking the way you agreed with anything he said. 
You knew he was treating you like a child, babying you and bossing you around like he even had any right to do so, but you didn't find yourself stopping him either. 
To you he spoke with such delicacy, and he paid attention to you in a way no one ever has. Heeseung was different from anyone you encountered, and that’s exactly what pulled you in, forcing you to uncover more about him. 
But he just liked how you gave into his words way easier than he thought you would. He never knew it would be this easy to manipulate you. Heeseung never expected you to so naively believe that Wonyoung and Niki were the ones who were going to do you wrong, that they were the ones to cuddle up to new students in order to drop them just moments later. He had you where he wanted you and it didn't even take him a full hour. 
______
“You didn’t text me last night, did you get home alright?” Wonyoung asked, settling down next to you in the study hall. 
You ignored her gaze, her shuffling and moving, making an annoyed groan escape from your lips. 
“Yeah,” you replied swiftly, turning your attention back to the worksheet in front of you. 
Heeseung’s words had stuck with you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of Niki and Wonyoung, one of the nicest, most welcoming people you have ever met, being bullies. But perhaps that was the reason for their warm introduction. They wanted you to trust them. 
Niki, noticing that Wonyoung had finally joined you in the study hall, turned around in his chair, taking out one of his airpods. 
“Did you find who we were talking about in the car? A special someone told me they saw you together last night” Niki smiled widely like an idiot, and Wonyoung giggled, awaiting your answer. 
You scoffed “The so-called devil” and murmured “Heeseung, right? He was very nice, I don’t get it” 
They laughed, and you felt something twist inside of you at the sound of their forced posh, and elegant laughter. 
“That’s the point. He’s nice at first, to get you to like him, trust him, and then he strikes” Niki told, and to you it sounded like he was describing his little mutual admiration circle with Wonyoung. 
“I don’t know, honestly. He seemed like a good person” you inquired quietly, trying to focus on the work you had to do. 
“Let me guess, he asked for consent, or said he ‘just wants to help you’, and you believed he’s a respectful guy? Y/n don’t be so naive” Wonyoung said sternly, and you scoffed, remembering how her boyfriend’s best friends treated you. Sunghoon was probably no different, so who was she to judge? 
“You're dating Sunghoon, Wonyoung. Mind you, he’s one of the all so bad Heeseung’s friends” 
Niki and Wonyoung looked at each other confused, wondering why you were suddenly being so cold and distant. 
“He wasn’t like that always,” she said, and you looked at her questioning. 
“You think people can change so drastically, just like that? He always had it in him, he just found the right people to unleash it with, that’s all” you answered, and she felt her body shift slightly. 
Sunghoon transferred to Saint Matthews in his sophomore year, after studying abroad in an international school in Singapore. No one could really know if Sunghoon was any different before he joined, because he almost immediately hit it off with Heeseung, and his friend group. 
“You don’t know what you're talking about” Niki said, with an annoyed look on his face. 
“Oh kill me then. All I know is the shitty little gig you’re playing on me. I know what you guys do to new students- shape them to be your perfect little servant, and then drop them when it stops being amusing to you. Just like you did to Jake. So stop trying to blame everything on Heeseung when you know damn well he's not a bad person” you replied frustrated, collecting all your things, and standing up to leave the space. 
Niki and Wonyoung were stunned at your words, following you until you disappeared out the door. 
They realized you truly had met Heeseung, and that there was no turning back now. 
Just like any girl, he had you tied to his leash, and they were powerless. 
____
“Yeah, it’s crazy. I didn’t expect her to fold so easily” Heeseung laughed, as he downed another shot of tequila Jay stole from his dads alcohol cabinet. His father owned so many bottles he probably wouldn’t notice one of them went missing. 
Just like he didn’t notice his son's worsening alcoholic tendencies. 
“No trust me, she didn’t even fight back that much when we offered her whiskey” Jake sneered, and Jay grinned evilly. 
Jay was the first one to notice you. He caught a glimpse of you as you stood so shyly in the cafeterias entryway, Wonyoung happily talking to you, as you looked around the place. He didn’t recognize your face.  
You were pretty to him. Your face gleaned with innocence, and he could smell the way you were so intimidated by the people and sinister atmosphere of the school. He couldn’t even bother listening to whatever Sunghoon was going on about next to his ear, focused on only you. He knew exactly what happened to sweet girls like you, and he couldn’t wait for it. 
And maybe at one point in time he could have you too. His big hands would slowly take off your shirt, his fingers slipping down under your jeans, pressing against your pulsing core. You’d tell him to stop, and he’d only laugh in your ear, unbuckling his belt. 
“Wonyoung said she flipped off on them today when they mentioned you” Sunghoon tuned to Heeseung, pouring himself another shot “Niki said it’s like this with every girl, and she totally went bonkers on them or some shit” he laughed before his face twisted as the burning liquid slid down his throat. 
“That’s so pathetic. She doesn’t even know him” Jake chuckled, and leaned back in his seat, his back melting into the soft cushion. 
“That’s like the whole point, she isn’t supposed to know,” Heeseung noted, and they nodded slightly. “And I don’t think that’s more pathetic than Wonyoung leeching onto Sunghoon even though he doesn’t even hide the fact he doesn’t like her in the slightest” 
Jay scoffed sarcastically “Defending her so quickly, sure” he hummed, and Heeseung rolled his eyes. 
“My mom got her a campaign with our company, and now she thinks we’re gonna get married. It’s so annoying” Sunghoon explained, and they laughed. 
“Then just breakup with her. She needs you, but you don’t need her, dude” Jake commented, and Sunghoon shook his head lively. 
“She’s nice to have around. And it’s not like I don’t like her at all, she just gets on my nerves” he explained. 
“When my mom pissed off my dad, she got divorce papers handed to her, and kicked out the door. Women are supposed to serve men, not be an obstacle. All she is, is an obstacle. You’re taking over your mom’s company, you can’t let her get in the way” Jay turned to Sunghoon, who just pretended to listen to his nonsense. 
Maybe Jay was one of his best friends, but he couldn’t bear listening to his bullshit. He grew up around women- a single mother, his nannies who were strictly women (since his mother didn’t trust men around her only child), and cousins who were practically only girls. He knew women could achieve things alone, his mother being his best example. 
“So, what is your plan?” Jake averted his gaze to Heeseung, who didn’t seem to be amused by the conversation surrounding you and Wonyoung. 
“Was there ever a plan? She doesn’t even put up a fight, and already blew up on her new friends. This won’t be hard” he answered, and Jake nodded, satisfied with Heeseung’s answer. 
“I think you guys are wasting your time, honestly” Sunghoon commented. 
Jay looked at him annoyed “You and your feminist bullshit again” he murmured, and didn’t even bother pouring the substance into his shot glass, drinking straight from the bottle. 
“Jesus Christ, Jay. Just cause I have the tiniest percentage of respect for women, doesn’t mean I’m some fucking feminist. I’m not stopping you from seducing that girl, I just think it’s a waste of time. If you want pussy so bad, just find yourself a hook up, it’s not that hard” he answered, and Jay seemed to accept his answer, too tired to start another fight about this with his friend. 
“We’re only 19, Sunghoon. It won't hurt to have some fun while we can” Jake piqued, and with a swift movement of his hand, grabbed the bottle from the floor, tilting it to pour the rest of liquid into his mouth. 
“I just think that's kind of unappreciative” he murmured, and all of them turned to him. Jay rolled his eyes and with a sigh ushered Sunghoon to continue “A shit load of kids our age don't get to have half the opportunities we do, so if I were you I wouldn't fuck around so much, but actually put in the work to maybe prove that we aren't fucking imbeciles who just sit around and get chauffeured all day” he explained, and they all looked at him with a confused gaze. 
“Says the one who is failing practically all his classes. And what does any of that have to do with Y/n? What do you like her or something? You can hit if you want, it’s an open game” Jay laughed, and Sunghoon sighed.
But he wasn't annoyed, just incredibly frustrated that none of his friends understood what he was trying to convey to them. 
He didn't study, at least not much, and even though he was always aware of the fact that he will most definitely take over his mothers company, he didn't quite like the idea of people thinking he only did because there were no other options. In some way he wanted to earn it, or at least feel like he did deserve it. 
“It’s most definitely not an open game” Heeseung commented, and Jay looked at him with wide eyes. 
“What? C’mon dude, she’s some public school transfer, it’s just fun and games. Don't start being all protective and jealous over her” he scoffed, this being the second time that Heeseung made a comment of that sort about you. 
Jay didn't like this new found protectiveness Heeseung had acquired for you even though barely 24 hours ago he was making equally nasty and perverted comments about you. 
“You're being an asshole today, you know that right?” Heeseung started, his eyes scanning the room, avoiding Jay. 
“I’m being an asshole? All of you suddenly started acting like some fuckass henpecked husbands, when this would be the exact behavior you’d make fun of just a month ago” he groaned, gritting his teeth. 
“I’m sorry Jay that your mom doesn't love you, and your dad only sees you as a token of business, but we weren't raised like that” Sunghoon said, standing up from his seat, ready to leave. 
“That’s fucked up Hoon” Jake whispered, looking at Jay’s spechless expression. 
“You know what else is fucked up Jake? That Jay is a fucking misogynist and Heeseung is some otherworldly type of addict and no is trying to help them. I have been the only person who has been putting in the slightest amount of effort to try and get them help, but I can't possibly do it alone. That’s fucked up Jaeyun. I’m leaving” he blew up, grabbing all his things, and with a tired sigh he left the living room, going straight for the door. 
It was true. Maybe Sunghoon was an idiot and sometimes acted like a huge asshole, but he was right. He loved his friends and seeing them ruin and throw their lives away hurt him. But everyone who was caught up in the same wind, didn't seem to notice. 
“Call me when you fucking grow up, Sunghoon” Jay shouted, an angered expression plastered all over his face as the door slams abruptly. 
All three of them sat in silence as they tried to figure out what happened in the span of just a couple minutes. How did the conversation come down to Jay and Heeseung having issues, and why was Sunghoon suddenly trying to act all sweet and caring when he never did care.
 Or at least they didn't notice the countless times Sunghoon tried to stop them, but to no avail. 
“I think I’m gonna go too,” Heeseung said, after a moment of dead silence. 
Without a word, Jay and Jake nodded, still not quite present in the moment. 
That’s exactly how Heeseung ended up in your home, dumping all his issues onto you as you attempted to comfort him with a slight brush of your fingers against his soft hair. 
Your outbreak with Wonyoung and Niki, left you feeling alone once again. Those thoughts kept eating you alive, but you knew that's exactly what they wanted. They wanted you to desperately crawl back to them, begging for another chance as you cried out an apology. 
You knew that coming back to them would only prove this (untrue) point of them using you and many others for their own pleasure. Turning around, and apologizing would hurt your pride beyond repair. 
And it wasn't like Heeseung was making this up either. His heart genuinely cracked at the sight of his friends fighting. 
They fought, all the time, but there was no comparing this to a fight over who gets to take the first hit or who gets to play the better character, to Sunghoon leaving completely, his harsh words still lingering in the air. 
He wasn't an addict. He was a normal teenager doing normal teenager things. He wasn't wrong for being curious.
“I’m happy that you stood up for me today, at study hall” he said, his voice low as your touch was putting him in a sleepy state. 
“How do you know about that?” you asked, not even having the time to tell him about it. 
He smiled, rolling on his side to face you “Sunghoon told me” 
“Are you really not mad at me?” you tilted your head curiously. 
He laughed, and lifting himself from your lap, he grabbed your hand in his. You could feel his warm touch embrace you fully, the action alone was enough to calm your uneasy heart. 
“No one stands up for me. I could never be mad at you for being on my side even though you barely know me” he admitted, and it made your plush lips form into a small smile. 
“Your friends never stand up for you? I find that hard to believe, Hee” 
He likes the way his name slips from your lips, the usage of the nickname forcing him to stifle the growing, uncomfortable feeling in his pants. He hated the fact that he had to control himself around you. But still, he loved the innocent look on your face as you were so oblivious to the boner in his pants. 
“They just don't know how to, I think,” he said in a whisper. “They're too caught up in their own lives, and I don't blame them. They have a lot on their plate as it is” he added, his lips forming into a straight smile, as he tried to look apologetic in front of you. 
Heeseung wanted you to see him as this complex, emotional being that's only purpose on earth is to help others. His financial situation wasn't helping him create this image, he feared that you’d think he’s just searching for problems, wanting to experience life with all the hardships that a person like him doesn't usually get bothered by. 
But you never thought so, you viewed Heeseung the exact way he wanted you to. You believed in every word he said. If only he knew that though, his cocky nature would probably fight its way to domination. 
“You’re a good friend, Heeseung” you smiled, squeezing his hand tighter. He chuckled lightly, looking at you with the same straight smile “You have me now, you know that? You said you’d help me whenever, and I want to do the same for you” 
You vividly remember his lips on yours. You can recall exactly how he tasted and how he felt against your own skin. He helped you reach some otherworldly ecstacy without going further than a simple touch. You knew you wanted him to be more, but it was too early for that admission, too early to let yourself sink in that feeling. 
You didn't understand what was going on between the two of you, where this connection was heading, and in some way it thrilled you. You couldn't possibly be friends, not after what he said that night. 
“I hope you know I meant everything I said” he uttered, and you slowly nodded, trying to recall every word that slipped from his pretty lips “I think you’re special” he added. 
Heeseung didn't know himself if this was all fake, cause at that moment it felt too real to him. He was speaking from his heart, in some way. 
Lee Heeseung was beautiful, the closest you’ll get to any godly figure. He couldn't possibly be flawed in any way. 
But there were some things the boy wouldn't even admit to himself. All the fighting, and neglecting, made him out to be this way. He always longed for the type of love no one but a parent could give him. He wanted to be loved so much it picked him apart. Heeseung never experienced what it’s like to care for someone so much, to care for someone unconditionally. 
And as the youngest sibling, no one had that love for him, because there was someone before him. 
“I’m definitely not special, Hee. It’s all you” you smiled, and he laughed softly, his eyes falling onto his lap as a rosy tint decorated his cheeks. 
“It could always be just us. You could come over, and stay till morning” he turned to you, a newfound sincerity in his eyes, as he spoke to you. 
“You’d want that?” you uttered quietly. 
The faint melody playing from the radio became muffled as you sat next to him. You never felt closer to another person, and it was all so new to you. 
“Mhm, really” he confessed, and you believed. 
It was all so domestic- he wanted to escape his family line, but he behaved just like them. Heeseung could never change the blood he was born with, blood of condescending, arrogant, manipulative, money hungry assholes. 
“Will you promise to stay with me?” he asked, ending the comforting silence that embraced you. 
You laughed lightly, finding his worries sweet “I promise” you said sticking out your pinky finger. 
“You still do that?” he said with a soft chuckle. You pouted awaiting his finger that could solidify the promise. 
He laughed and intertwined his pinky with yours. 
_______ 
Spending time with Heeseung was easy. He just always knew what to say and what to do. He was like the sweetest thing bee’s like you would fly towards. 
He had eventually introduced you to Jake, Jay and Sunghoon who eagerly apologized for coming onto you and forcing alcohol down your throat at the party, and stupidly you laughed it off not wanting to give them reasons to dislike you. 
You wanted to fit in with them. Eunseok wasn't as happy, trying to keep up with your new lifestyle, but something deep inside him didn't want to stop. He knew he owed it to you after the years of neglect his parents had presented you with. After the years of living in his shadow maybe this was the only way to repay you. 
Jake had seemed awfully desperate when you first met him. He looked and acted like one of those sleazy guys who adds girls on snapchat and sends them unsolicited dick pics, but he quickly managed to prove you wrong. You rarely spent time alone with him, almost never, but whenever that moment came, Jake became a completely different person. He was nice. He was actually so painstakingly nice to the point where you would ponder his existence in that friend group. 
And Jay- you felt nothing towards the boy. The one thing Wonyoung and Niki got right was his obvious desire to become a Korean Andrew Tate. He had nothing to give except misogynist comments he’d pretend were only jokes, and if you dared to be offended then you simply had no sense of humor. 
Sunghoon, it was hard to describe him. He just didn't really talk much. He was never there, he wasn't present although sitting just across from the ongoing conversation. Maybe he always was this way, or maybe you were the problem. 
But Heeseung, he felt some kind of obsession towards you. He wanted to carve his initials deep into your skin until you bleed a deep shade of red, all out of love for him. He wanted to touch you in the places your mere, inexperienced fingers couldn't reach. He couldn't understand you, he couldn't bear the fact that you didn't fit into the pattern, and it made him sick. 
“Get a fucking grip Y/n!” Wonyoung screamed, tugging at the thick material of your blazer. 
She pulled you discreetly into a dark hallway that connected the music hall to the rest of the school. 
“Don’t touch me” you uttered, trying to peer away from the girl. 
Wonyoung didn't look mad, angry, her face was full of desperation as her glassy eyes looked at your tired face. 
“Don't you see what he’s doing to you? He’s trying to ruin you. Why are you being so fucking stubborn!” she begged for understandment but your face was blank. 
“Are you jealous? What is this about, Wonyoung? God, If you want Sunghoon’s attention then go ask him for it. I don’t know you, and you don't know me” you grit your teeth, as she looked at you terrified. 
“What are you even talking about?” she uttered, her voice cracking. 
“I’m done playing your game. Find another person to play with, I’m sure there's plenty” you replied. 
“Y/n you're not one of us. You never will be, so stop trying so hard. Getting with Heeseung won't help you fit in either. And you better not come to me when he destroys whatever reputation you have left” her words were harsh, and it seemed like your mention of Sunghoon riled her up completely. 
Wonyoung and Sunghoon have been dating for a while now. Only Wonyoung would know the exact timeline since Sunghoon had no interest in celebrating milestones with the girl. 
It wasn't like he didn't like her at all, he wouldn't give her the time of day if that was the case. He just found it thrilling and entertaining, the way she called his name, the way she’d give up everything for him if he asked. Sunghoon’s mother had set him up with the eldest daughter of Taesung Group the moment she found out he’d be a boy, so to him, Wonyoung was just a distraction from the tiring business life his mother engulfed him in. 
“Give it up, Jang Wonyoung” a male voice echoed, footsteps coming closer. 
She looked disgusted when the vision of the boy became clearer. 
“Didn't manipulate her enough today, so you had to come do it here? Fuck off, Heeseung” she sneared. 
Heeseung laughed, and grabbed your hand ostentatiously. Her gaze was glued to your intertwined hands. It made you smile slightly, the way her lip twitched at the vision, it was satisfying. 
“No one’s manipulating anyone. Sorry if that messes up your little narrative” he replied, with a smile that made her want to throw up. 
“I’ve been here long enough to know that's bullshit. You’re full of shit, Lee Heeseung” 
Your eyes flew back and forth as you tried to analyze everything about the situation. 
“Open your eyes, Y/n. Can’t you see it?” she whispered, her expression changing as she turned towards you. 
“I’m not like you, remember? So stop trying to give me advice, it’s pathetic” you voiced, and she scoffed.
“Did she say that to you” Heeseung looked down at you worriedly, and as soon as you nodded slightly, he looked back up to Wonyoung “And I’m the bad guy? At least she didn't have to convince Kim Sunoo’s parents to forcibly get her into the school” he smirked, and Wonyoung with a frustrated groan, positioned her body towards the music hall, leaving you two in the eerie hallway. 
Wonyoung was the best scoring student, but things used to be completely different. She despised studying, keeping a large distance from all sorts of books. But her parents couldn't fathom the idea that Wonyoung would not attend Saint Matthews. So with a bottle of expensive wine and some sweet words, the girl's parents got her in using their connection to Kim Sunoo’s parents who were major politicians in the country. 
She didn't like people bringing that up ever since it drunkenly slipped her while at a birthday party, so Heeseung exposing it in front of you had her embarrassed for the rest of the day. She wanted you to believe her badly, but the revelations only confirmed all your speculations about the girl, making it practically impossible for you to listen to anything she has to say to you from now on. 
… 
“God Wonyoung is such a bitch! Is she jealous? What is her issue seriously” you complained, pacing around Heeseung’s terrifyingly large room. 
It was your first time over at the boys house. It was unusual for you, all the maids showing you around, treating you like royalty, guiding you to every room. Their fake smiles, and forced acts of kindness made you sick. 
His house was colossal, massive, it extended into a vast land and the drive up to it alone was long-lasting. The walk from your apartment to a nearby store wasn’t half the length of his home, and it was appalling to you in a way. 
Heeseung’s room, for contrast, was bright, warm and welcoming. The sunlight shined down on his belongings from the ceiling high window, creating a special space where all his piano, guitars and other musical instruments lay. You recall him telling you about his passion for music, but you took it as more of an underground soundcloud rapper type of situation. 
“It’s just Sunghoon. It’s always been about Sunghoon” he answered calmly, sitting down on his couch, and with his wrought hand, patted down his lap, beckoning you to come to him. 
“Your friends are nice, and all, but you know nothing can substitute a girl best-friend. I just hoped she would be different” you sighed, and placing yourself on Heeseung’s lap, your arms automatically wrapped around his neck, head slightly leaning on his shoulder. 
His hands instinctively encased your waist, his head moving along with his eyes, as he tried to get a better look at your worn out face. 
For a moment Lee Heeseung felt bad, seeing how much comfort the two of you found in each other, knowing he can’t possibly let this go on longer. It started off with pure lust, a need to ruin the scholarship student that knows nothing about life from this side. Now  he was finding himself wanting more, knowing he can’t give it. 
Heeseung wanted to wreck your innocent image, but found himself losing it far before he even had the chance to start his plan. 
“They’re your friends now too, Y/n” he whispered, the moment feeling way too sacred “She’s lying, you know that right?” he asked after a moment of silence. He looked at you once again, checking for your expression. 
“I know, Seungie” your voice is muffled by the material of his jacket, but he can hear your words loud and clear. 
He feels like all the air in his lungs has been vacuumed up, as his last breath hitches in his throat. He feels sick. Your pretty eyes look at him with so much sincerity, trust, yet all he can think about is vivid images of your small frame under him. He can't help but wonder just how much prettier you’d look with tears in your eyes as you’d tell him it hurts. 
His fingers slightly slide over the buttons of your blouse, as he continues to stare deeply into your face, searching for signs to stop. But you look towards him indifferently, a calm expression decorating your features. 
Heeseung’s hand hovers over your uncovered thigh. He wants to feel the wetness that seeps through your panties on his fingers so badly. He wants to slowly unbutton your blouse, his eyes scanning your figure, his hands grabbing onto anything. 
“Do you want to smoke with me?” he asked, hoping that his lessons on how to properly inhale would lead him to something a little more intimate. 
“I haven't done that yet” you admit, and he chuckles. 
“I know. This could be your first” he smiles “Remember, I told you I want to help you. Well I’m doing it now” he added, quickly 
“Am I going to be fine?” you asked, peeling your head off his shoulder to look at him properly. 
Heeseung smiles leaning back on the couch. His fingers delicately push stray strands of hair behind your ear “I’m fine, so I’m sure you’ll be okay” he assures and you nod moderately. 
You deliberately slide off his lap, as he stands up to rummage through the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulls out a tin box with an adorable puppy on it, and you find it humorous in a way, considering the pretty design is hiding something so toxic inside. 
You remember the sight of high Heeseung very well. He seemed to scare you a little back then, his words slipped from his mouth with so much ease and confidence. 
“You don't have to worry, nobody really gets high on their first try” he places the box on his coffee table, carefully opening it up. 
“Well that’s no fun” you comment. 
“It isn't the case for every new smoker, but still no one really knows why,” he explained, using his extensive knowledge to educate you. 
It wasn't the ideal area of knowledge to know everything about, but it made Heeseung feel good. It made him feel safe whenever he smoked with his friends or new people. He always knew what to do and how to act if something were to go wrong. 
“This weed Jay sold off to me is hella dank, maybe you will feel something after all” he smiled, and even though you had no idea what he was saying, you reciprocated. 
Heeseung pulled out one of his filters, folding it and rolling it into a cylinder. He placed it at the end of his paper, filling it with cannabis and sprinkling just a bit of tobacco inside. He tightened it  and with his tongue moistened the shiny edge of the paper. 
“You need to feel the smoke travel down to your lungs” he explained, searching for a lighter in his pockets “Inhale for like 2 seconds, and take smaller hits so you don't cough so much” he smiled, finally pulling out a green lighter. 
You never were interested in smoking or drinking, but some part of you couldn't deny Heeseung. It was stupid, but perhaps this was your one way ticket to his heart. 
Heeseung lit the joint, staring intensely as the flame moved across the surface, waiting for the right moment to take the first hit. 
He inhaled, his teeth slightly gritting as he exhaled the smoke, the familiar scent hitting your nose. 
He held the blunt between his fingers, and moved closer towards you “I’ll guide you” 
Heeseung propped the lit cannabis next to your lips and with a nod to his head, ushered you to take it into your mouth. You assuringly looked at him, counting down the two seconds in your mind as a burning sensation coated your throat. You felt the smoke travel down to your lungs, pulling away to take a deep breath. With a small cough you exhaled, making Heeseung smile. 
He didn't know he’d enjoy seeing you like this “Good girl” 
You took a long sip of the water that has probably been on his coffee table for a long time, the liquid tasting a little weird. But you didn't care, the need to moisten your throat overpowering the unfresh taste.
“Was it good?” he asked, taking another rip. 
The smoke hit you in the face “Not the best” you answered honestly and he chuckled. 
“It gets better” he assured, and passed you the blunt again. 
… 
It felt weird. Weird in a good way. 
Your eyelids felt heavy, the laughter coming to you naturally. Obviously you didn't feel half as high as Heeseung who swore he was walking in slow motion, but you most certainly were enjoying yourself. 
To Heeseung it feels like an attack on his fragile ego, the fact that he has gotten so far but not on top of you just yet. And even with the minuscule bit of confidence he has earned right now, he needs to at least try. 
Your purity radiates off of every one of your laughs as you intently look at him, just slightly fiddling with the loose string on your skirt. If he moved just a little bit he would probably be able to see what's under the navy material. 
Heeseung’s pants start to feel uncomfortable against his skin once again as you keep on laughing so innocently at his ambiguous jokes only a virgin like you wouldn't understand. 
He wants to feel your lips against his again but this time he knows he won't stop at that. He can't. 
“I want to kiss you so bad” he admitted, and you felt an unknown wave rush through your veins, his face slowly inching closer. 
He waited patiently for a response, his mind well aware that any sudden move would cause his plan to backfire. 
But instead of letting him take the lead, you nearly closed the gap between the two of you, letting your lips just slightly graze against his, smiling as he waited impatiently. 
“Such a tease” he murmured before pressing his pretty mouth against yours, his hands traveling to the back of your neck, holding you still against him. 
He smiled into the kiss, his tongue tasting the familiar vanilla chapstick, the scent of your perfume hypnotizing, making a blur of Heeseung’s mind. The way your lips felt against him even though you were so inexperienced, it felt much more special to him. 
Heeseung’s lips never left your skin, traveling so delicately down to your jaw, placing chaste kisses everywhere he could. His ivory fingers held tightly onto your waist, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he continued to slide down to your neck. 
He wasted no time leaving small, and visible marks, his teeth slightly biting into your skin, the quiet breaths that left your mouth, riling him up even further. 
“Can I?” he asked, Heeseung’s eyes going back and forth from your face to the buttons of your dress shirt. 
With your mouth parted and an unsteady breath you nodded. 
He smirked, and continued to attack your collarbones, his fingers unbuttoning your blouse with ease. 
“You’re so hot” he breathed onto your chest, pressing you down onto the mattress fully. 
The sweet noise that slipped from your lips, made a sly smile reappear on Heeseung's face, his cock twitching in his pants, the material suffocating him. 
If he moved down even a little bit, he’d probably be able to notice the soaking wet patch on your panties. 
The way his lips felt against almost every part of your body, the soft yet sudden touch of his fingers, it all felt way too good to give up. 
Heeseung gave you a knowing look, his face just a couple centimeters from your heat, his hands digging into your thighs. 
He noticed your relectuance “You know I just want to help you” he cooed, soothing down your skin, crawling right back up to face you “Let me make you feel good, pretty girl” 
You weren't afraid of many things in your life, but most importantly, being unraveled by Heeseung and him finding nothing he wants in there. 
You nodded slowly, his smile growing with each one of your nods. You didn't know what he’d do next, the blood in your body pumping faster as you anticipated his next move. 
Heeseung moved up your skirt, and as the fabric moved up, your skin burned with anticipation. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your covered cunt, begging for his attention. 
“So wet” he commented, his hand gently pressing your sensitive core “I barely even touched you” he added, chuckling. 
He gave you one last glance searching for confirmation, which you once again gave him, before sliding off your underwear. Heeseung didn't even bother removing your skirt, his mouth wet with desire.
 Heeseung’s fingers barely hover over your folds, the sole heat that radiates off of him making you squirm, twitching slightly. 
He laughs “So sensitive and for what? Relax, pretty thing”. 
He positions himself against you, his eyes locking with yours as he places swift kisses on your inner thigh. His lips move down in a slow pace, and you have to stop yourself from pushing his head forward. Each peck burns on your shivering skin, overwhelming you to the bone. His breath felt soft on your bare flesh, fingers digging into your thighs. 
His tongue flicked out, coming in contact with you after what felt like eternity. Your legs fight the urge to close on him, his mouth sending shockwaves of pleasure down your body. 
You grab at the nearest pillow, covering your face with it, embarrassed at how exposed you felt in front of him. His tongue delved deeper, lapping up all he could taste of you. 
The heat of his touch, the place that warmed you. The pulse, he could hold onto it alongside other rythmns. He just couldn’t get enough, he wanted to pry you open. Time faded away slowly, as he continued to devour you. 
You were on the edge, teetering between pleasure and pain, your body begging for release, as the knot in your stomach tightened.  
His mouth latched onto you, sucking and flicking with expert precision. He was enjoying himself, the sweet taste of innocence lacing his tongue. The sweet taste of crimson red innocence that he worked so hard to diminish, that he worked so hard to scrape you of. 
Heeseung was probably the closest you'll get to heaven in this lifetime. He was God's favorite, right at your thighs giving you the most beautiful form of pleasure avaliable. 
“Fuck” his chest heaves uneasily, his fingers gripping tightly onto your thighs “I could eat you out everyday” 
You wanted to beg him for more, beg him to let you release as it became even harder to hold it in. Completely and utterly lost in the new sensation, you roll your hips, gliding against his parted lips. 
“Keep doing that, fuck” he slurs, lost in a trance, his only goal being making you feel good. 
You caught a glimpse of him for just a moment- his pretty eyes so focused, his lips swollen and covered in your arousal. With every sound, every small movement, his actions became rougher, the feeling in your stomach becoming unbearable. 
“Cum for me, please” he mumbled against your skin, his desperation to make you cum fueled by the way you can't even form a proper sentence in response. 
Your fingers grip his bed sheets, his name falling from your lips multiple times before you feel the knot in your stomach quickly coming undone, a wave of intense pleasure washing over you. 
“Oh my god” you cried before fully releasing onto his face, his tounge desperately trying to lap up every single drop of his own hard work. 
Your whole body twitched in the aftermath of your climax, Heeseung still holding you down, his pretty lips back on your thighs and stomach, as he waited out your high with you. 
“So pretty,” he murmured, looking at you with lovesick eyes. 
With just a small blunt that barely got any of you high, Heeseung managed to get you just halfway where he needed you. Obviously, he’d rather have you on your knees in front of him, tears filling up your eyes as he pushed your head further down his cock, but this was enough to satisfy him, for now. 
He was peeling apart your innocence slowly, but surely, and his ego was never higher. 
______
It’s been a long time since you’ve talked to Aeri Uchinaga. 
Aeri, or how everyone liked to call her, Giselle, was one of your closest friends from the “lower class” school you used to go to. She was like a sister to you, the only ‘family’ you ever truly had in your life.
You promised yourself to never let go of your values and never let your relationship with Aeri falter, but both of those things went down the drain a long long time ago. 
Seeing the messages between the two of you lose all their momentum, become less frequent, and come down to ‘How’s Saint Matthews’ or ‘How are you holding up over there?’ frightened you. 
Would she even want to talk to you? Would she pick up if you called? Would she care? 
“I don’t know. Maybe I should just let it go?” you said, scrolling through all the messages you and Aeri shared over the past month, noticing how you could probably count them with two hands. 
Heeseung hummed, turning away from his calculus worksheets “I think if she cared enough she’d reach out. She should understand you're busy with your new life and be the first one to initiate conversations and all” 
It was partially true. Why should you be the only one to care and keep the friendship going? She should also try more, shouldn't she? 
��I’ve known her for years, Hee. I can't just let go that easily” you murmured, and he scoffed quietly. 
“But you have me now, isn't that enough?” he asked, his expression emotionless. 
Heeseung didn't even realize his words came out much more arrogantly than he intended. 
“I know, I’m sorry” you looked down “I just still want her to be in my life, that’s all” he hummed in approval, finding it annoying, the way your words implied like he wasn’t satisfying you in every sector. 
Jay, who sat opposite of you in the study hall, sighed ostentatiously. 
“Then just text her? I don't see the issue, seriously” he commented, pulling one of his airpods out of his ear, apparently tired of hearing you complain about such an ‘easy matter’. 
“It’s not that easy, Jay” Sunghoon mumbled, not taking his eyes off the work in front of him. 
Jay gave him a questioning look, deciding not to continue the conversation, way too tired for another fight with Sunghoon. 
Sunghoon had been behaving awfully weird ever since the fight at the apartment. He suddenly felt the need to comment on everything slightly negative that Jay or anyone else said towards you. That was one of the primal reasons for the group's continuous fighting. 
“Let’s get out of here” Heeseung turned to you after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 
You nodded reluctantly, still not finished with the stacks of papers you had to complete by tonight. But you could never deny Lee Heeseung. Not with the way his eyes glare at you intensely, and definitely not with the way his hand grips yours tightly, pulling you away from the table, not leaving a second for goodbyes. Not like you’d want to fakely smile at Park Jongseong with a wave; you fucking hated his guts. 
“You’re being weird today” you notice, his body facing away from you, pulling you towards an unknown destination. 
You still haven't fully addressed the lingering tension that stuck to you after what happened. But since Heeseung didn't bother mentioning it, you decided that it probably would be better to leave it at that. Sex, with all the ways it came in, was normal, and you were sooo normal about it too. 
“I’m not” 
Heeseung couldn't avoid the growing pain in his heart, recalling whatever the fuck he did back at his house, seemingly starting to realize that it probably wasn't something he needed to do, but something he wanted to do. 
For fucks sake, he never came out with the initiative to eat a girl out, and he most definitely never just left it at that, not even getting his dick wet in the process. 
The usually loud and bustling atmosphere of the student common space seemed to be gone, the bean bags and couches empty, no student in hindsight. 
“I just can't be around them anymore,” he added after a rather long moment, sitting down with a thud on one of the black couches. 
“Did you fight again?” you asked, placing yourself down next to him, your hands almost automatically finding their way to his own. 
“You could say that” he chuckled, recalling how Jake once again brought up your topic, which led to yet another heated discussion. 
“You should talk to them, this has been happening way too much recently” you ushered, and he shook his head with another small laugh. 
“They are most definitely not those kinds of people. Don't think I've had a serious conversation with them like ever”
Heeseung, Jake, Jay and Sunghoon have been friends for quite a long time now, especially Heeseung and Jay, and their lack of communication was astonishing. Every fight would be brushed off, they’d just pretend nothing happened and laugh it off. Every hard decision would have to be made individually because asking for advice was pointless. It wasn't easy with them and Heeseung knew that. 
“Either way, I’m happy you talk to me about it, maybe it can ease your mind just a little” you smiled, and he reciprocated, looking at you. 
“Yeah, it does help” he confirmed, and leaned back. 
Heeseung lived by night. As soon as the sun set it was as if his sins were disguised. So he hated the way his mind was slowly coming to the realization that the stupid plan he made was set for disaster the moment he sought out for you in the morning. 
“Do you want to come over after classes?” he asked, playing with the hem of your skirt, the seemingly innocent action making your heart flutter nervously. 
“I’m over there almost everyday” you laugh, and so does he, a snide smile on his lips. 
“You know your fate then” he says, his hand still inching closer, the public space that surrounded you having no effect on him. 
“Why are your parents never home?” you ask, and he finds it humorous in a way. Obviously owners of a multimillion company would never find time to spend back at home with their adult sons. 
The difference between you and Heeseung was that you knew your parents wouldn't be there to welcome you home everyday. You knew it was impossible. Heeseung could only suspect or assume, because his parents had given up on telling him when they’ll return from a business trip a long time ago. 
“They’re busy, I guess” he said, with a small sigh “Or at least they pretend to be, I wouldn't be shocked if the multiple business trips were just vacations” he laughed, his gaze falling onto you again. 
“At least you have your brother there” you smiled and he chuckled, he most definitely did not have a brother in reality. 
“Honestly, if he wasn't there it wouldn't make much of a difference” Heeseung sighed, and even though he’s gotten used to the relationship he shared with his brother, it still saddened him in a way. 
“It’s about the company, right?” you asked, and he nodded with a chuckle. 
“Smart girl” he cooed, ruffling your hair softly. You laughed, and shoved his hand off playfully. 
It wasn’t so hard to assume after all. What else could rich siblings be fighting over, who gets to sit in the passenger seat? Who gets to have the last slice of pizza? That's so fucking humorous. He was fighting with his brother over millions and a couple more millions, and didn’t even realize how materialistic and stupid that sounded to someone like you. 
Heeseung pulled your body closer to his, feeling an otherworldly connection course through his veins as you gave away your warmth to him. And how much tighter did you need to be pressed against each other before he finally admitted that he wasn't doing this for warmth. 
How many times did his thumb have to press against the edge of your mouth for him to realize he's gone too far?
“Did you hear that Sunghoon broke up with Wonyoung?” he asked, his body melting into yours with every passing second. 
You looked at him with wide eyes, but on another note, you would be lying if you said you didn't expect it. And it most definitely didn't shock you that Sunghoon was the one to initiate it. 
“Why?” you asked, even though it wasn't a hard deduction to make yourself.
“I think me and you both know why” he huffed, a hint of humor lacing his tone “Honestly good for him, that girl is insufferable” 
“Oh I know” you agreed, and he smiled “Go easy on him, still” 
“I'll try my best” he rolled his eyes playfully “We should definitely throw him a celebration party” Heeseung inquired and you chuckled. 
“Is that really something he’s celebrating, or just us?” you asked and he smiled. 
Sunghoon was so incredibly hard to read, and knowing if the breakup is impacting him negatively or positively was something nobody would ever know. 
“It’ll still help him get back up on his feet, if he even needs to” he replied, and you nodded smiling. 
You had no idea about the status between you and Heeseung. Things happened, and things were most definitely still happening, you both knew it, but nothing changed within the label itself. But then again, you took Heeseung as the type that didn't like labeling things. 
Of course you wanted to be his girlfriend. You wanted people to start knowing you by “Lee Heeseungs girlfriend”, not “Broke Transfer” or “Poor Scholar”. 
You relied heavily on Heeseung. He was like your life support in the walls of this school. He helped you make decisions and was there for you whenever you needed him. He felt just like flying too close to the sun, and it was addictive. You knew that very well. 
He truly was the only person you had. And well, you assumed that maybe calling Aeri isn't that good of an idea.
 Well, that’s what Heeseung agrees with anyway. 
__________ 
You were so out of it. 
You had told Eunseok that you’ll be staying the night at a new friend's house, but would he really care if he were to find out you’d actually be getting shit faced at a massive house party in a mansion you didn’t really know the owner of. 
Probably not. 
The music was so loud you could barely register the words Kim Sunoo spoke to you so enthusiastically. You had come here expecting to spend some time with Heeseung, but no matter how much you wanted to go look for him, the never ending white hallways that led to countless guest bedrooms frightened you. 
From your comfortable position on the couch, you could spot Sunghoon’s lonely figure at one of the tables. He was supposed to be the main attraction, the whole event centered around his new found freedom, but it seemed like everyone around him was having much more fun than him. 
You quickly waved off Sunoo, unsure of what he truly was going on about for the past 10 minutes, heading towards Sunghoon. 
“Are you okay?” You asked without having to shout in the boy's face, finding the corner he sat in much quieter. 
He looked startled, he didn't catch the moment where you came to him “I’m fine” Sunghoon replied swiftly, blinking a few times. 
You found it cute. 
“Why are you alone? Where is everyone” you asked him another question and for the first time you saw him smile so sweetly. 
He always had the same emotionless expression on his face, conversations with him felt like a punishment. Seeing him like this made your knees weak, a slight pain in your heart as you wondered what he was thinking about. 
“I hoped you’d tell me that” he said, his small smile never fading. 
You chuckled “I thought all this was supposed to be for you” 
He shook his head with a laugh “I never wanted any of this. They just used my situation as an excuse to get black out drunk, I guess” 
Even though it was sad, he never stopped smiling at you. His head rested on his knuckles, his eyes twinkling as his gaze was focused on you. 
“That’s rude” you inquired, and he laughed again, but this time it much more resembled a scoff. 
“Heeseung has done and is doing things much worse” he murmured, and even though the music was still very much blasting through the speakers, you heard him.  
You thought about it before questioning him again. Did you even want to know? Or are some things better left unspoken. 
“Like?” you finally said, and that’s when Sunghoon went quiet. 
With a thud he slammed his glass on the table, and stood up. He nodded his head towards one of the rooms at the end of the hallway signaling for you to follow him. He extended one of his hands towards you, and with the smallest bit of hesitation you took it, allowing him to lead you towards the space. 
Park Sunghoon looked so beautiful that night. His ivory skin glowed under the bright, colorful lights, his gaze was so piercing, and his lips just begged to be kissed. The pair of glasses hanging off his nose complemented his white fitted dress shirt, and his black pants showed off his perfectly long legs. You saw a different side of him and didn’t exactly like the way it made you feel. 
He closed the door behind you after assuring that the two of you would be alone. He didn’t know why he was doing this, why he was betraying one of his closest friends. 
But he thought about it all the time. He couldn’t get peace of mind. He couldn’t let his heart hurt for you, watching you fall for a fraudulent man that didn’t deserve someone as loyal and caring as you. 
“What is going on Sunghoon?” you asked, standing above him, as he placed himself on the leather couch with a sigh. 
“I know you like him, I know you believe everything he says and I know you won’t like what I’m about to say” he started explaining, and the suspense was killing you “But he’s not the guy you think he is. You’re not the first one, Y/n” 
“What the fuck do you mean I’m not the first one Sunghoon. First, what?” 
He was trying to stay calm, but you were already getting annoyed and he hasn’t even dropped the real bomb on you. 
Sunghoon thought about it for a second. Was using Pham Hanni a good example or should he reach deeper inside his mind to find another person Heeseung has used to fulfill his own perverted and psychotic desires. 
“I mean you’re not the first girl he has used this way” he uttered without looking at you, too scared to see your expression. 
Were you scared? Or were you mad? Hurt or in disbelief? 
You didn’t respond, letting the silence devour the two of you for a moment. 
“Please say something, Y/n” he whispered, grabbing your hand. 
His hands were cold, his fingers long and ivory. His touch was so smooth, and welcoming. He managed to pull you down next to him, yet you still couldn’t slip a word out of your mouth. He wondered if you’d ever reply or if you would just sit there, forever, next to him in silence. 
He’d like that. He’d like that more than he should. He was already betraying his friend, but his heart still wanted more. He wanted you to be more. 
“Why are you telling me about this, Sunghoon?” you finally said, and he looked at you, his gaze softening. 
“Because I like you” he said, his gaze falling to your intertwined hands “And I can’t stand looking at you getting lied to like this” he added after a short moment. 
It didn’t hit you when he said it. It felt like a moment that passed by quickly, it felt like it wasn’t anything significant. But looking at him, feeling the coldness radiate off of him, and feeling his scent made you realize he actually said it. 
“Don’t say that, Hoon” when the usage of his nickname slipped off your tongue, and he knew you didn’t mean it. 
He knew you felt it too, you just couldn’t say it, right? There was this invisible string tying you tightly to Heeseung’s grip, holding you back from giving into him. You wanted to. You’ve always wanted to, and so did he. From the moment he saw you, standing there with Wonyoung on your first day. 
Neither of you moved, caught in each other's closeness, both aware of it, both unsure. 
Sunghoon’s slender fingers grazed your jaw, softly pulling you to face him. His lips were slightly parted, and you could feel his breath, laced with alcohol and cigarettes. His gaze was heavy on yours and you could feel your heart racing in your throat- but you couldn’t pull away. 
He traced the curve of your jaw, his hand slipping down to your throat. His grip was firm, his lips grazing over the edge of yours. 
‘Tell me to stop” he whispered, smiling when he only heard a faint breath slip from your mouth. “Tell me and I will” he smiled against your cheek. 
“I want you so bad” he murmured, his voice low “You don’t even know” His nose was pressing against your cheek, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel him all over you. 
All at once, the restraint you had, faded away. His back fell to the soft padding of the couch, your legs straddling his lap, keeping him still and open for you. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, eyes dark and hooded. 
His hands slipped down to your lower back, pulling you in closer, skin to skin. You felt dizzy, his mouth eating at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He grabbed your waist tightly, moving you back and forth on his growing bulge. 
His hands moved up to your jaw as you rode his clothed crotch without his assistance. 
You felt shivers down your spine, an uncontrollable force pushing you for more. You wanted him whole, completely forgetting about the boy that was somewhere in this house, laughing with his friends. 
But you didn’t want him to stop, finally closing the last breath of distance between you and Sunghoon, pressing your lips to his. 
The kiss was sloppy, he met you with even more eagerness, your hand moving down to his chest, feeling his carved muscles against your fingertips. His tongue pried your mouth for entrance, deeping the connection between you. He held you as if he had been waiting forever for this moment, holding your body firm against his own. 
You pulled away, your faces inches apart, your forehead resting against his. Your lips coated in his saliva, trying to catch your breath, he looked at you with so much passion and longing. 
The regret started to settle in, but you couldn’t move away, even when his fingers caressed your cheek, you leaned into it. 
“You should be with me,” he whispered, a hint of desperation coating his voice “We’d be so good together, I’d make you feel so good” he added, his hand slipping past the band of your small skirt. 
“Sunghoon” you breathed out, your face falling to the crook of his neck as he played with the material of your underwear. 
“You were made for me to love, let me please” he pleaded, his breath shaky. 
You could feel his soft touch caressing your skin, his erection firmly against your clothed heat, it all felt like a dream. If you looked at him, it would all become real again. 
“We shouldn't” you said, your words muffled by the silky material of his dress shirt. 
He heard you, he didn't want you to stop, he was so desperate to have you, he wanted to show you just how much better he was than Heeseung. 
“It’s not wrong when he doesn't know” he took your jaw into his fingers, forcing you to look at him. You looked so pretty and innocent, your lipstick slightly smeared around your lips. 
Sunghoon pressed his hungry lips against yours once again, and you complied with his movements. The kiss was messy, sloppy, and at that point, he lost any control that was left in his body. 
Dazed, he didn't even hear the door jerk open. Neither did you, focused on his lips that have moved down to your neck once again. 
“What the fuck is this?” a familiar male voice shouted angrily, causing you to pull out of Sunghoon’s touch, scared to look at the man standing in the doorway. You knew it was him. 
“Heeseung” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes wide as the realization started to settle in. He stood up from the couch, walking towards the boy who looked like a ticking time bomb. 
You sighed, hands in your hair, no words left to be spoken. You felt nothing, Sunghoon’s touch still lingering on your skin, and Heeseung’s words in the air. 
“Calm down, Heeseung” Sunghoon said softly, still unsure of the situation that surrounded him. 
Instead of that, he got hit with a punch to his face, harshly stumbling backwards, his back pressing against the glass table. He touched his cheek, the sensation causing him to flinch. He could feel the taste of blood in his mouth. 
“I’m sorry” he said, looking down, spitting into the glass cup that someone left on the table. 
Heeseung smiled seeing his friend's reddish saliva slide down the walls of the glass. 
You stayed quiet, hoping the same fate wasn't waiting for you. You wanted to disappear, already creating the monologue you’d spill out to Eunseok as soon as you came home. ‘Please, I need to go back to my old school’ you’d plead until he’d finally give in. 
“I’m sure you are, Hoonie” he chuckled, slapping his forearm, taking the cup from his hand “I’m sure you regret it, don’t you” he looked intently at his friend who was struggling to keep eye contact. 
Heeseung slammed the cup on the floor, the glass shattering across the wooden panels, causing both you and Sunghoon to flinch. 
Sunghoon nodded his head, trying to stand up straight, but failing miserably as Heeseung kicked his lower abdomen with his knee. 
“You think it’s okay to mess with your friends girl behind his back?” he asked, holding Sunghoon’s bleeding jaw in his fingers “Is it?” 
“No” Sunghoon spat out, looking at Heeseung with his watery eyes, the pain in his stomach unbearable. 
“Heeseung, please stop, just stop it” you pleaded, looking up at him from teary eyes, unable to watch anymore “I came onto him, it’s all my fault” you lied, trying to somehow fix what was already broken. 
“Is that true” his gaze shifted back and forth from you to Sunghoon, waiting for one of you to give him a straight answer. 
You nodded ferociously, while Sunghoon kept his gaze plastered on the floor. 
“Get out” he turned to his vunerable friend, his lips dripping in blood, his hand holding onto his stomach. 
The view didn't move him one bit. 
Sunghoon looked at him and then at you, stumbling on his way to the door, slamming it shut when he finally managed to exit. 
“You came onto him, yeah? Did you like it?” he chuckled, a devilish grin on his face as he looked at you, so fragile and afraid of him. 
“I’m sorry Hee, I wasn't thinking straight” you explained, mentally preparing for him to strike you at any given moment now. 
You should be the one asking for an apology, he should be the one saying sorry for using you. 
“Get up” he ordered, extending his hand to you. You looked at him sheepishly, his dark figure standing over you. 
You obeyed, taking his cold hand, frightened a little bit by his intimidating and unpredictable behavior. He led you to the bathroom that was placed just across from the couch you were making out with Sunghoon on, stopping in front of the sink. 
He looked at you through the mirror, his lips falling to your ear “Spit” 
“What?” you asked, your voice cracking. 
“You heard me the first time” he said sternly, his gaze never falling from your eyes. 
“W-why?” you mumbled, and his small smile dropped. 
His fingers squeezed your waist painfully, his other hand shoving your face down towards the sink “When I tell you to do something, you do it” he groaned, and with your eyes shut, you completed his order. 
“Wash your mouth” he ordered after a moment, his body pressing against your ass as he held your head in place “Wash all that’s left of him” 
You just listened to every word he said. He let go of your hair, letting you look at yourself again. Heeseung smiled, his hands wandering from your waist to the band of your skirt. 
“Did you like it when Sunghoon touched you here? Did you feel taken care of? Tell me, pretty girl” his hand slipped down lower, his fingers easily slipping past your panties, hovering over your core. 
“I asked you a question” he said more sternly, as you refused to reply to him, your brain fixated on the feeling of his fingers on you. 
“I liked it,” you replied truthfully, and he smiled. 
“You like when my friends take care of you, don’t you? You’d let Jay fuck you, you’d blow Jake if he asked, wouldn't you?” he asked, and you winced at his words, the sound mixing with the way his fingers played with you. 
“But you’d come back to me. You’d come back all swollen from their house to me. Cause you love me” he said, and you nodded, your hips riding his hand that was buried deep in your underwear. 
“Want me to fuck you now? Show you who you actually belong to?” he whispered in your ear sweetly, his fingers still teasing your entrance. 
“Yes” you managed to utter. Your heart was pounding so hard, a part of you craving Heeseung’s touch, while another one trembled with fear. 
He turned you around, you could finally face him. His eyes were dark, his anger mingling in the air. His lips were wet with desire. 
“Playing with my best friend, making me watch, you loved it, didn't you baby?” he laughed, his hand escaping your skirt, finding its way to your hips. He pressed himself against you, his hands wandering under your top. 
“You’ll get what you want, don’t worry” he smiled, his fingers caressing your lips “That pussy wouldn't give it to you anyway” he laughed, catching you in a sloppy kiss. 
“Get on your knees, baby” he said, his tone soft, a caring facade covering his internal rage. 
You nodded, softly, sliding down to your knees in front of him. The dimly lit space made him look so beautiful, his harsh words leaving with Sunghoon a while ago. 
“You can take it right?” he asked, unbuckling his belt, the material of his black dress pants brushing against your skin as he slid them down. 
You felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation as he teased you, palming himself through his boxers. You could see his pulsing erection, the way his face twisted as he continued stimulating himself. 
“You wanna see, huh? Dirty girl, you love every second of this” he laughed, his voice laced with innuendo. 
Finally, with one hand he slid down his underwear, freeing his thick, hard cock. It slapped against his sculpted torso, and he smiled seeing your face light up. 
“You like what you see, yeah? So fucking hard just for you” he asked with amusement, grabbing your jaw. 
You nodded, finally being able to see him whole, raw in front of you. 
He was now completely exposed before you, fully vulnerable and at your mercy.
“Good. Feel how hard I am for you. Touch me” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. 
You reached out tentatively, unsure of your actions, your cold fingers wrapping around his rigid shaft, coating its surface with his arousal as you slowly stroked him. He was hot and pulsing with his heartbeat. 
He groaned “Yeah, like that” his eyes closed with pleasure instinctively “Now put it in your pretty mouth” he ordered after a moment. 
You leaned forward, as he pulled your hair aside, twirling it in his palm. Your breath tickled his tip, his teeth gritting as he watched you open your mouth for him, and wrap your sweet lips around the head of his cock. 
He groaned, your warm mouth hugging him reluctantly. You could taste his bittersweet pre-cum on your toungue, the sensation of his hardness making shivers go down your spine. Your head began to move deeper down his length, finding it difficult to fit all of him inside you. 
“Fuck, s’good, suck me nice and slow just like that” he moaned, slightly pushing your head down his cock. He could see the tears forming in your eyes, and it made him twitch in your mouth. 
You did as he instructed, taking your time with him, finding the spots that made him react the most, teasing his sensitive underside. Hollowing your cheeks, going faster, Heeseung’s grip on you only tightening with every movement. 
You looked so helpless and lost, your mouth full of him. He fought to keep quiet, his other hand gripping the counter, his chest heaving unevenly. Your head bobbed up and down, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. 
“Fuck, keep going, I’m close” he whined, his lips parted as he guided you back and forth on his length. 
His cock twitched, your movements becoming sloppier as you awaited his climax. You could feel him deep down in your throat, the feeling accompanied by his intense breathing and hoarse moans. His hand gripped your hair tightly, he began to thrust gently, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.  
“I’m gonna cum, fuck” his voice was strained, his heart racing in his chest “Gonna cum in your mouth, take my load baby” 
He groaned, his warm, thick cum spilling all over your tongue, Heeseung’s body shuddering as he emptied his load down your throat.  
“Swallow it,” he said, his breath shaky as he rode out his high. 
He pulled out after a moment, his cock glistening with your saliva and his juices. 
“You’re so perfect” he breathed out, still trying to steady himself “Get up, sweet girl” he instructed, and with an ache to your knees you managed to get up. 
His lips hurried to connect with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. Your lips were so soft and wet, your eyes watery. He wiped a salty tear that slipped from your eye. The look on your face took him back to the day he first met you, so pretty and untouched. 
“Let me make you feel good now” he whispered, guiding you to the bed, his pants and boxers left abandoned in the bathroom, as he got rid of his shirt while locking the door. 
He remembers just how much he fantasized about fucking you behind an unlocked door, hoping one of his sickly perverted friends walked in. But he no longer wanted to share you. 
He yearned for you, needed you just like the flesh that wanted to knit itself back together after a fresh wound. His desire was so primal, so intuitive. He was peeling his skin back, the layers slowly unfolding before your eyes. 
“Undress for me” he waited, his eyes tracing your every move, his body shivering as he watched you. 
If you were ready, he wanted to make you shiver like that too. 
You pulled down your black skirt, squeezing your thighs together as you were left only in your underwear. He came towards you, helping with your top half. He puts your hands up, the material gliding against your shaky skin. The fabric falls to the floor with a small thud, leaving you bare for him to adore. 
He stood back, admiring the beauty of the girl in front of him. He regretted every spoken word at that moment, every curse, every joke and everything that led up to this moment. 
Those words stained his mouth like a pomegranate, the lingering sensation still on his tongue as he took you in. 
Heeseung’s lips crashed down on yours, his shivering hands roaming down to your enclosed thighs, spreading you open enough for his fingers to slide through. He explored you with rough urgency, his mind blank as he focused on you and only you. 
He moved you down to sit on his lap, his hard on pressing against your ass. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest. Desperation sat heavily on his tongue. 
“You’re so pretty, all mine, all this is for me” he mumbled into your skin, his fingers digging at your hips. Your teeth grit, hands pulling his dark hair. 
Heeseung was so hungry for you. Hungry for your lips, your flesh, your bones that he wanted to intertwine with his. He was so drunk on love. 
His hand slipped down your body, his thumb circling small circles on your clothed heat. He felt the wetness seep through. 
He lifted you up, lying you down on the mattress swiftly. He situated himself in between your legs, his eyes scanning your body. You were such a pretty girl, so obedient and welcoming to him. You didn't protest, just did what he asked you to.
“Heeseung, please..” you whispered, and he could feel his heartbeat speed up “I want you inside me” he was amused by your eagerness, the way you were so direct with your words. 
“Sweet girl” he murmured, his fingers hooking the band of your pretty pink underwear “So fucking ready for me” 
He looked at you one last time, his fingers pulling at your panties, and with a nod to your head, he rolled the fabric down your legs, throwing it next to his abandoned shirt. 
“Already this wet?” he raised an eyebrow questioningly “I barely even touched you” a smirk adorned his lips.
He could come just by looking at you, your greed only fueling his own desire to fuck the shit out of you. But he'd hurt you, wouldn't he? 
Heeseung’s heart was racing just from the sight of you, his body reacting instantly to the view in front of him. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his pretty blue veins popping out from under his skin. 
He aligned himself with you, coating his length with your arousal. His throbbing cock glided in between your folds, your body trembling at the new feeling, as heavy breaths slipped from your mouth. His tip nudged against your entrance, your heart racing. You had never felt anyone this closely, and nothing made you more excited than it being Heeseung after all. 
“I won’t hurt you, yeah?” he laughed, his tone low “You think you can take it?” he teased, his tip slipping in and out, each time going just a little further. 
“Mhm” you nodded your head, looking at him with your mouth slightly parted. 
He leaned down to squeeze your cheeks “Yeah? And you won't cry?” you attempted to nod again, but his grip on you was firm. You just blinked eagerly, and he chuckled, shaking his head.
His tone was inciting, it could almost seem as if he was making fun of you. Yet no other man had ever made you feel so wanted, so good. No man has ever touched you like Heeseung did. 
He pressed you down underneath him, holding onto your lower back, his lips wandering all over your damp skin, His touch was rushed, he wanted this just as much as you. 
“Ready?” he asked, stroking himself, his gaze glued to you. You breathed out a short conformation, grabbing into his arm that flexed under your touch. 
Heeseung nodded, his eyes dark with desire and need. His hands were shaking, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. 
He grabbed onto your leg, and with a slow movement, buried himself deep inside you. You gasped, pleading for your body to adjust to the sudden invasion. Heeseung’s cock filled you completely, stretching you out in a way you’d never experienced before. He didn't move, waiting for the look of discomfort to wipe off your face. 
You had wanted this. You waited impatiently for Heeseung to take away the one sacred thing you owned- your virginity. You wanted him to be the man that gets to have you first, the love and thirst for him overpowering any rational thoughts. 
“Fucking tight” he breathed out, as his head fell back, a low, gutteral moan escaping his lips as he continued to move, his body conusmed by the sheer pleasure. 
It didn't take him a long time to bottom out, groans falling from his slightly parted lips. The pain of his thickness was almost exciting, your nails digging at his skin, eyelids becoming heavy. His cock buldged in your stomach, making him moan out loud with no sense of embarrassment. 
Your walls gripped onto his length “Feels s'good, shit” his thrusts were slow and delicate, not wanting to break your fragile frame “See this, so fucking deep inside you” he took your hand and pressed it down on your stomach so you could feel him. 
“Does it feel nice?” he kissed your neck, his face hugging the side of yours as he picked up his pace.
You turned to look at him “It d-does” you whispered. 
He rammed into you, his strokes becoming more frequent and sloppy. His face twisted with pleasure, a stream of euphonious sounds slipped from your lips, powering his own arousal. The music slightly entered the room through the shut door, the sound of skin slapping and heavy breaths overpowering it.
“That’s it, baby” his hands gripped your hips as you moved with him in sync, his body almost automatically responding to any of your movements. Your breathing became increasingly uneven and ragged “Just like that, just like that” 
“Fuck, Heeseung” you struggled for breath, his pace becoming infernal. 
His eyes ran down your body like never before, his face looking down at you intently, almost like a wolf looking down on its prey. His fingers continued to grab onto anything he managed, his mind going blank as the sound of your cries filled his ears. 
The sight and sensation drived you further into ecstasy, his warmth so strong on your skin. You couldn't help the pleasure, a small, salty tear escaping your glossy eyes. 
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a desperate, rough kiss, his body shaking with need. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His thumb wiped down the tear from your cheek, his eyes hooded as he stared down at you, analyzing the state he had put you in. 
“You’re so perfect, so perfect for me” he whispered, his body on fire, every fiber of his being consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy of being inside you, of feeling you beneath him. 
Your moans become guttural, body shuddering with overwhelming pleasure at his words, at the thought of having him like this all the time. 
“I’m so in love with you, fuck” he breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. 
He knew he was in too deep, knew that he couldn't stop this even if he wanted to, not when he felt like this, burried so fucking deep inside you. 
“I’m close” you managed to articulate, your voice strained. 
Heeseung nods, his body feeling like he’s on the edge, too. He speeds up his movements, his cock pounding into your tired core at an almost demonic pace. His own senses are overwhelmed by you, his mind and body consumed with desire and pleasure. 
He gasps, his mouth moving down to your chest “I’m close too. Just a little more, you can do it. Just a little more” his voice a low, raspy whisper. 
You grip his hand tightly, a low moan escaping your lips as Heeseung pushes himself closer to the edge. You were hanging on by a thread, desperate for release, desperate for him. 
“I can’t hold back” he groaned, his thighs shaking, control slipping him completely “I’m going to fill you up so deep with my cum, baby. Don’t move” 
Heeseung took your heart, his mouth stained red. He kisses you with that mouth, he’s all over you again. He can no longer control himself, each movement throwing him over the edge, his own bravery breaking as you look so much sweeter and smaller under him. 
With one last thrust, his body shuddered as he shot his load of cum inside your pulsating walls. His body collapsed on top of you, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. He continued to move inside you, his fingers holding onto your body, helping you chase your own high. 
You close your eyes, releasing your own arousal on his length. Your body shivers and arches beneath him. He groans against your neck, gripping your hip tighter, his own body trembling with pleasure and exertion. 
He buries his face into your neck, his breathing slowly starting to even out after a few moments. He can feel your breathing start to even out under him as you came down from your own climax. He held you close, letting the waves of otherworldly pleasure wash over the both of you.
“You were so good” he whispers, his voice still laced with a hint of breathlessness “I love you, so much. I love you so much it hurts” 
He couldn’t help it. Those three words have never fallen from his lips, and this time he couldn't blame it on the slip of his tongue. Every bone in his body, his flesh, his tissue, the sinews that bound him together, it flowed in his veins- the uncontrollable desire to love you. 
His words struck you to the core. It felt so real, Sunghoon’s confession long gone as you couldn't help but reciprocate his words. With the way he cared for you, it couldn't be true. Heeseung wouldn't use you, he loved you, and you loved him. 
 You look down at him, and this time he looks much less scary. His eyes aren't so dark and hooded, his hair is messy, and his lips are puffed out.
It’s been so long since you first saw him, your mind completely swapping the first impression he made on you, to something much sweeter and beautiful. You remembered him so well, he was your precious, doe-eyed baby deer. He was never wrong, he was never the bad guy. 
The world turned on him, he was innocent. He didn't have a drinking problem, he wasn't smoking too much, he just gave into his teenage curiosity. 
He continues to lay on top of you, arms wrapping around you, his face buried into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, savoring the feeling of you beneath him. 
“I’m sorry, baby” he whispers, his voice laced with a hint of shame and regret. “I’m so sorry” he repeats and you look at him, confused. 
“What? Is everything okay?” you ask, caressing his hair, twirling small pieces in your fingers “You're scaring me” 
He sighs, his heart breaking “Sunghoon was right. I told him to do it. I told him to tell you the truth” 
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taglist: @deobitifull @yunhoswrldddd @parksunghoonsgf @itgirlalisaa @alienqbrain @cyjhhyj @missycheif1404
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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 2 days ago
Text
A DC X DP IDEA #39
Timeline, which timeline?
Imagine dis…
It is always with the future going to the past, even with the limited time travel fics I see in the DC x DP tags it is always the future going back to the past to prevent something whether it is the end of the timeline or it is when Dan went back in time to ensure his younger self does the same thing to create him.
Flash family members going back in time to prevent another apocalypse, but let me offer you another idea here that involves my favorite tags.
….
Danny finds himself on another time-related mission in courtesy to Clockwork also known lovingly by the gremlin child as CW. At this point, Danny was no longer a stranger to the impromptu missions and errands by CW to fix timelines or to ensure a certain event happens. It happens too frequently to the point it turns Danny into an expert in exploring the past without creating a stray butterfly effect. As he got older, though 16 years old is still not adult whether you came from a related mission Danny.
Danny knows the importance of blending in choosing, rather than stealing, clothes that are time and period-accurate/authentic both in and out of the appearance of the clothing despite irritating his skin. Rather than buying clothes from the modern era aka his timeline he quickly saw how vastly different clothes feel and were created during such time. Danny even took the time by using CW’s medallion to stop time briefly to learn period-specific slang and mannerisms that made him look like he was part of their time.
Danny learning? Something that isn't about space, what’s more, it is about history?
Let’s just say, it was after a particularly embarrassing slip-up during his mission in a Victorian timeline.
As Danny went to more missions he began to understand how delicate time is, how Clockwork gambled with Fate in terms of him despite it was even before he had CW’s time medallion.
It was the early 1600s, and it was another time mission by CW to accompany some guy named Samuel Wayne and his wife toward an unnamed part of the US. Sorta became their guide and defacto bodyguard to the couple as CW gave him a brief explanation of how the couple is important in modern times.
As he waved goodbye to the couple that had just settled down to their newly built mansion, just as he was to open a portal home the ground below him began to open like some sort of portal. It wasn’t any portal the Ghost Zone could naturally form. As he fell through the mysterious portal he cant help but sigh a relief as the portal opened below him without any people to witness this.
It sent him tumbling across time, as moments later he landed hard on the concrete which after taking a quick feel and looking around the place he concluded to be in his time. It was a fight, between the JL heroes and some guys dressed in white. Not the GIW but scientists if he sees those formulas correctly.  
Before he could even think of going ghost or even turning invisible he was scooped up by a hero that he didn’t much recognize and fled from the fight with him in tow.
Even after the battle he tries to sneak out but for some reason, the entire JL is looking at him, especially Batman.
 To understand what on earth Is the JL doing, let’s go back a week prior.
The JL faced multiple threats from both in and out of their home planet so believe me when I say they have seen it all. This time, it is unique, they had heard in the form of vague rumors. Some scientists preach about their knowledge in creating a working time machine without any alien tech or magic to help it power it o, they only needed a sponsor to do it. Of course, all brush them off, after all, all bright minds are either already required by the heroes or by the villains themselves. When they hadn't heard from those wacko's for a while they just thought that those quacks stopped when they noticed nobody was going to take them seriously.
The heroes thought wrong, someone gave those scientists the funding they needed and was able to create a time machine fueled by one of Earth’s most toxic naturally occurring substances known by mankind.
Though the benefactor of the said scientists mysteriously vanished, the scientists on the other hand hired goons to be their bodyguards from anyone who dared to try to steal their work, as goons also cost less than hiring an actual bodyguard. The heroes were only summoned as the substance that was used not only did they have no proper certification but also they were following another lead thus leading some of the JL heroes who are in charge of the case towards the said scientist's headquarters.
They had just pulled the lever to test their machine, fearing for the worst and the thought of a rather large explosion due to the hazard around them started an immediate and forced evacuation as some of the scientists lifted a chair to defend their work, when it suddenly spat out something.
A young man dressed in what looked like a 1600s era of fashion, black hair and blue eyes. Looking bewildered at the sight around him, before anyone could even stop and think at what had just happened they immediately scooped out everyone outside just in time for an explosion to occur.
Of course, the scientists who were rescued are crying at their life’s work being blown up to nothing but ashes.
The rest of the heroes on the other hand are panicking, not only do their machinery work but they manage to pull someone from the past.
At first, they thought that he was just a civilian but when he uttered his name all eyes turned to Batman for help.
Danny didn’t like being interrogated while also maintaining his 1600 persona, as much as he would like to geek out to the heroes he still needed to maintain his mask. He didn’t come out to a portal that was made by CW add the fact that the majority of said heroes also saw him come out of that weird portal, so when they asked him for his name he gave them Samuel’s name to throw off them.
Still maintaining his persona, now adding Samuel’s lore to his acting, asked who are they and that he needed to get back his carriage to his now wife to find themselves a home.
Now he is surrounded by the vigilantes mainly from Gotham, with each of them being his bodyguard and his babysitter as Danny tries to exaggerate and be surprised and in awe of practically everything, from the floor to the glass to the food he ate.
As much as he would like to just swallow up the greasy cheeseburger he was given, he needed to gag and be horrified as he remembered the actual food he tasted during the times Samuel and his wife shared their food with him.
He just hopes the Robin with the sword would stop at subtly tell him about how great his linage would be, he barely has time for both the time missions that CW sends him and also his school work he does not want this about his love life in front of a kid.
PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.
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its-avalon-08 · 2 days ago
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Could you write a story with Franco Colapinto where maybe the reader is in a bit of a “toxic” relationship with an older boyfriend who takes advantage of her like he wants to control her and everything, and even wants to marry her—a bit of a strange situation. Franco helps her get out of it because he’s madly in love with her.
all mine always (fc43)
✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader
✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff
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Franco Colapinto had always been Y/N’s favorite person. From the moment their mothers introduced them as toddlers in their small Argentinian neighborhood, they’d been inseparable. Where Franco went, Y/N followed, and vice versa. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could count on for anything.
As Franco’s racing career took off, Y/N was his biggest cheerleader, whether screaming at the TV during live broadcasts or waiting for hours at the airport to welcome him home. And for Franco, no matter how loud the crowds were or how far he traveled, he always came back to Y/N. She grounded him, reminded him of who he was when the world made him doubt.
But lately, things had changed. Y/N wasn’t the bubbly, carefree girl he’d always known. Her laughter was more strained, her smiles less frequent. And Franco knew why.
It was because of him.
“You’re quieter than usual. What’s going on?” Franco asked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder as they sat on the hood of his car, overlooking their favorite cliffside view.
Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Tired of what? Life? Me?” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
“Of course not you,” she mumbled, and he caught the slight tremor in her voice.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Franco’s voice softened, and he leaned closer. “It’s me, Y/N. I’ve seen you bawling over rom-coms, eating half a tub of ice cream in one sitting. There’s nothing you can say that’ll scare me off.”
She let out a weak laugh but didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“What is? Him?” The edge in Franco’s voice was unmistakable.
Y/N’s boyfriend, a man ten years her senior named Marcus, was everything Franco wasn’t. Wealthy, powerful, and utterly controlling. Marcus didn’t like Franco. He didn’t like how close they were, didn’t like how Y/N lit up when she talked about her best friend.
At first, Franco thought Marcus was just jealous. But the more he saw, the more he realized it was something darker. Marcus dictated what Y/N wore, where she went, who she spoke to. He even made her quit her part-time job, claiming he’d “take care of her.”
“Why do you stay with him, Y/N?” Franco finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.
Y/N’s face fell. “He loves me, Franco. He wants to marry me.”
“Marry you?” Franco’s voice rose, and Y/N flinched. “Y/N, he doesn’t love you. He wants to own you.”
“Don’t say that!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Franco. He’s been good to me.”
“Good to you?” Franco stood, pacing in frustration. “Y/N, when was the last time you smiled? When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”
She was silent, and that silence broke his heart.
Later that night, Franco lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N’s tear-filled eyes out of his mind.
He couldn’t lose her to someone like Marcus.
He wouldn’t.
---
It started with the small things. Y/N had always been the loudest laugher in the room, her giggles contagious and uncontainable. But one evening, during a rare dinner at their favorite burger joint, Franco noticed her laughter was muted.
“Remember when you tried to convince me ketchup was a vegetable in second grade?” Franco joked, hoping to coax a smile.
Y/N chuckled lightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she glanced at her phone lying face down on the table, as though it held some unspoken threat.
“Y/N, you okay?” Franco pressed.
“Yeah, just… Marcus doesn’t really like when I eat stuff like this,” she murmured, picking at her fries.
Franco frowned. “It’s one burger, Y/N. You’re not signing a lifetime commitment to unhealthy eating.”
She smiled faintly but didn’t touch her food after that.
---
Y/N’s wardrobe had always been a mix of quirky prints, bold colors, and comfortable outfits. She loved experimenting with fashion, her style as vibrant as her personality.
But during one of Franco’s rare visits home, he noticed her wearing muted tones: a beige sweater, black trousers, and flat shoes that looked nothing like the chunky boots she adored.
“Wow, did someone steal all your colors?” Franco teased, eyeing her outfit.
She tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously. “Marcus says these look more… sophisticated. He says I should dress like the woman I’m becoming.”
Franco’s stomach churned. “Since when do you need his approval to dress the way you want?”
“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “He just wants what’s best for me.”
But Franco couldn’t shake the way she avoided his gaze.
---
Y/N had always been the type to show up unannounced at Franco’s house, snacks in hand, ready to rant about anything and everything. But those visits became less frequent.
One evening, Franco called her after weeks of barely hearing from her.
“Hey, stranger! Do I need to make an appointment to see my best friend now?” he joked.
“Sorry, I’ve just been busy,” she said, her voice hesitant.
“Too busy for me? C’mon, Y/N, that’s not you. What’s really going on?”
“Marcus doesn’t like me hanging out too much. He says it’s distracting me from our future.”
“Our future?” Franco repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N, he’s not your entire life.”
“He’s important to me, Franco,” she snapped, but her voice cracked at the end.
Franco sighed, the weight of her words sinking in.
---
Y/N had always been fiercely independent, never afraid to voice her opinions or stand her ground. But that spark seemed dimmed.
One day, Franco overheard her on a call with Marcus while she waited for him at the karting track.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be home soon, okay? Please don’t be mad.”
When she hung up, Franco approached her.
“Why were you apologizing?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a small misunderstanding.”
“Y/N,” Franco said firmly, his tone demanding honesty. “When did you start apologizing for existing?”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it looked like she might break down. But then she shook her head. “You don’t get it, Franco. Marcus just expects a lot from me. It’s not a bad thing.”
But Franco could see it—how she shrank in on herself, a shadow of the person she used to be.
---
The final straw came when Y/N showed up at Franco’s house one evening, tears streaking her face. She was holding a gift Marcus had given her—a diamond bracelet—though it felt more like a shackle to Franco.
“He said I’m too friendly with other people,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “He thinks I’m not committed enough to him.”
Franco’s jaw tightened. “So what? He bought you this to guilt you into proving it?”
She didn’t respond, just stared at the bracelet with hollow eyes.
“Y/N,” Franco said gently, stepping closer. “This isn’t love. Love doesn’t make you afraid to be yourself.”
She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw it—the fear, the doubt, the realization that she was trapped.
And that’s when Franco vowed to get her out, no matter what it took.
---
Franco sat across from Y/N in his dimly lit living room. The cozy space that had always been filled with their laughter now felt stifling under the weight of her silence. Her eyes were glued to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet Marcus had gifted her.
“Y/N, enough.” Franco’s voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained. “Tell me what’s going on. All of it. No more ‘I’m fine,’ no more ‘It’s nothing.’ Because I can’t keep watching you like this.”
Y/N’s hands stilled, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.
“I—” she began, but her voice broke.
“Just say it,” Franco urged, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees. “Whatever it is, I’m here. Always. You know that.”
And then, like a dam bursting, the words spilled out.
“I feel like I’m losing myself, Franco,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky. “It’s like… it’s like nothing I do is ever enough for him.”
Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He controls everything. What I wear, what I eat, who I talk to. If I laugh too loud, he tells me I’m embarrassing him. If I spend too much time out, he says I don’t care about our relationship. And when I try to stand up for myself…”
Her voice cracked, and a tear slid down her cheek.
Franco’s heart shattered. “What happens when you stand up for yourself, Y/N?”
She hesitated, then finally whispered, “He gets angry. Really angry. He doesn’t hit me, but… he’ll yell, or give me the silent treatment for days. And then he’ll apologize, say he just wants the best for me, and I… I believe him. Every time.”
“That bastard,” Franco muttered under his breath, his eyes blazing with fury. “That manipulative, controlling piece of—”
“Stop!” Y/N cried, her voice rising as more tears streamed down her face. “You don’t understand, Franco. He says he loves me. He says he wants to marry me because he can’t live without me. What if he’s right? What if no one else could ever love me like he does?”
Franco shot out of his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. He stood towering over her, his hands trembling with anger.
“No one else could love you? Are you hearing yourself, Y/N? That’s not love—that’s control. That’s manipulation. He doesn’t love you, he loves the idea of owning you.”
Y/N flinched at his harsh tone, and he immediately softened, crouching down in front of her.
“Y/N,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re brilliant, funny, kind—you’ve got this light that draws people in. Don’t let him dim that light. Don’t let him make you think you’re less than you are.”
“But he’ll never let me go, Franco,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “He’ll find a way to keep me under his thumb. And I… I don’t know how to fight him.”
Franco’s protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He placed his hands firmly on her knees, looking her directly in the eyes.
“You don’t have to fight him alone,” he said fiercely. “You’ve got me. And I’ll fight him, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you, who tries to take you away from the person you’re meant to be.”
“But how?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Franco’s eyes darkened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes, we’ll get you out of this. You’re not marrying him, you’re not staying with him—you’re not going to lose yourself because of some controlling prick who doesn’t deserve you.”
Y/N broke down completely, sobs wracking her body as Franco pulled her into his arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her tears soaking his shirt.
“I’m scared,” she admitted through her tears.
“I know,” Franco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter. “But I’m here. You’re not alone, Y/N. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”
And in that moment, Franco vowed to do whatever it took to protect her—even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Marcus himself.
---
Franco sat in the back corner of a quiet café, nursing a cup of coffee he didn’t care to drink. Across the table sat Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen—three of Y/N’s closest confidants, all equally concerned about the situation she was trapped in.
“This guy sounds like a parasite,” Carlos muttered, leaning back in his chair with a scowl. “He’s feeding off her, controlling her life. It makes me sick.”
“Controlling isn’t even the right word,” Franco added, his voice sharp. “He’s obsessed with her. She’s terrified to even think about leaving him because of what he might do.”
Fernando leaned forward, his expression dark and calculated. “If he’s that obsessed, just walking away won’t work. He’ll follow her, pressure her, maybe even blackmail her. We have to remove him from the equation completely.”
Max raised an eyebrow, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “What are you suggesting? Breaking his legs?”
“I wish,” Franco growled. “But we need something smarter. Something that gets rid of him without putting her in the middle of it.”
Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Does he have any weaknesses? Anything we can use against him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Franco said, pulling out his phone. “Y/N mentioned that Marcus has been pushing for marriage because he thinks it’ll lock her down. If we can prove he’s not as perfect as he pretends to be, maybe we can destroy his image. The guy’s got to have skeletons in his closet.”
“Everyone does,” Fernando said, his voice cool and composed. “We just have to dig deep enough to find them.”
Max smirked. “Lucky for you, I know a guy who’s great at digging. He’s done some work for me before—discreet and efficient.”
Fernando raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had people investigated before?”
“Sometimes it’s useful,” Max said with a shrug. “Let me make a call. If Marcus has anything to hide, we’ll know soon enough.”
While Max stepped away to make the call, Carlos leaned toward Franco. “What about Y/N? Does she know we’re planning this?”
Franco shook his head. “She’s already scared out of her mind. I don’t want her worrying about this too. I’ll tell her once we have a solid plan.”
Carlos nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. But Franco… if this guy doesn’t back off, I won’t sit back and play nice.”
“Neither will I,” Fernando added, his voice like steel. “But we’ll try it the clean way first. For Y/N’s sake.”
Max returned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “My guy’s on it. Give him a couple of days, and we’ll have everything we need on Marcus.”
A heavy silence fell over the table, the weight of their plan sinking in.
“You think this will work?” Franco asked, his voice quieter now.
“It has to,” Fernando said firmly. “If it doesn’t, we’ll come up with something else. But we won’t let her stay trapped. Not while we’re here.”
Max smirked, though his tone was serious. “Don’t worry, mate. He’ll wish he’d never met Y/N by the time we’re done with him.”
Franco leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, guys. Seriously. I couldn’t do this alone.”
Carlos clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re all in this for her. And when she’s free of him, she’ll finally see what an idiot she’s been for not choosing you sooner.”
Franco blinked at Carlos, heat rising to his cheeks. “This isn’t about me.”
“No,” Fernando said, smirking faintly for the first time. “But it’s obvious how much you love her. She’s lucky to have you, Franco.”
Franco swallowed hard, determination flashing in his eyes. “She’s the one who deserves better. And I’ll make sure she gets it.”
The four of them exchanged grim nods, their shared goal uniting them. Marcus had no idea what was coming for him.
---
It was late in the evening when Franco received the call from Max’s contact. Standing in his apartment, he listened intently, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone.
“Are you sure about this?” Franco asked, pacing the floor.
“Positive,” the voice on the other end said. “Marcus has a history. Fraud, manipulation, even harassment complaints from two previous partners. It’s all there, buried deep, but enough to destroy him if it gets out.”
Franco’s jaw clenched. “Send me everything. Now.”
As soon as the call ended, Franco stared at the incoming files on his laptop. Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut—not for Marcus’s sins, but for the fact that Y/N had been stuck with him, blind to the extent of his darkness.
He called Fernando, Carlos, and Max to his apartment. Within an hour, they were all seated around his laptop, reviewing the damning evidence.
“This guy is a predator,” Carlos said, his voice seething. “How did Y/N get caught up with him?”
“She didn’t know,” Franco said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s too kind, too trusting. He preyed on that.”
Fernando leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. “This is enough to get him out of her life. Publicly exposing him would ruin him. He’d be too busy cleaning up his mess to focus on her.”
Max tapped a finger on the table. “But we need to be smart about this. If Marcus suspects Y/N’s involved, he might retaliate. We have to keep her out of it entirely.”
Franco nodded. “Agreed. So, we leak this anonymously. Make sure it hits hard, fast, and far enough that he can’t trace it back to her.”
Carlos glanced at Franco. “How’s she holding up?”
“Barely,” Franco admitted, his voice low. “She’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she’s breaking inside. She doesn’t even know about this yet.”
Max crossed his arms. “She won’t have to. We handle this, she stays safe, and Marcus is gone. End of story.”
Fernando, ever the strategist, stood. “I’ll make a few calls. I know someone who can ensure this hits the right places—media outlets, law enforcement, even his employers if he has any. Marcus won’t have time to even think about Y/N once this explodes.”
“Do it,” Franco said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, just make sure it’s over.”
The plan was in motion, but Franco couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. He’d seen Y/N earlier that day, and the haunted look in her eyes was etched into his memory. She didn’t deserve any of this.
When the others left to put the plan into action, Franco sat alone, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He wanted to call her, to tell her it would all be okay soon. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him—not yet.
Instead, he texted her:
Franco: I’m here if you need me. Always.
Her response came almost immediately:
Y/N: I know. Thank you.
Franco set his phone down, his determination solidifying. By this time tomorrow, Marcus would be nothing more than a bad memory. And Y/N would finally be free.
---
Y/N sat in Franco’s apartment, curled up on his couch with a mug of tea clutched in her hands. She hadn’t said much since arriving that morning, her anxiety bubbling over as Marcus’s world began to collapse. The plan was in motion, but the waiting was unbearable.
The knock on the door made her flinch, and Franco immediately went to answer it. Carlos stepped inside, his face grim, but the small glint in his eyes told Franco what he needed to know.
“It’s done,” Carlos said simply.
“What?” Y/N’s voice wavered, her head snapping up.
Carlos crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Marcus has been arrested. They found enough evidence to charge him with fraud and harassment, and with the media leak, his reputation is in shreds. He’s not getting near you again.”
Y/N’s mug slipped from her hands onto the table, her hands flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as the weight of his words settled in. “He’s… he’s really gone?”
Franco sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “He’s gone, Y/N. For good.”
She broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Relief poured out of her in waves, shaking her frame as the months of fear and anxiety began to melt away. Franco held her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back.
Over the Next Few Weeks
Y/N took slow but steady steps toward reclaiming her life. Franco was with her every step of the way—helping her rebuild her confidence, reminding her of who she was before Marcus had taken over her life.
One evening, as they sat on a park bench eating ice cream, Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It was a small laugh, but it was real, and Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You’re staring,” she teased, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.
He grinned, his heart flipping at the sight of her smile. “Can you blame me? I’ve missed that laugh.”
She looked down, swirling her ice cream with the spoon. “I’ve missed it too. I didn’t even realize how much I’d lost until… until now.”
Franco nudged her playfully. “Well, it’s coming back. Little by little. And I’m here to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere this time.”
Y/N tilted her head to look at him, her gaze soft. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Franco. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”
A Month Later
“Close your eyes,” Franco said one evening, leading Y/N by the hand into his living room.
“Franco, what are you up to?” she asked, her tone suspicious but amused.
“Trust me,” he said with a grin.
When she opened her eyes, the room was lit with fairy lights, and her favorite snacks and a cozy blanket were laid out on the couch. A projector screen displayed her favorite childhood movie.
“Movie night?” she asked, her voice catching slightly.
“Not just any movie night,” Franco said, gesturing grandly. “The start of the new, sparkly, unstoppable Y/N era. Consider this a celebration of you being… well, you.”
Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged him tightly. “You’re too good to me, Franco.”
He hugged her back, his chest tightening. You deserve the world, he thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “It’s what you deserve.”
Weeks Turn to Months
Y/N began finding joy in the little things again—taking walks, experimenting with new hobbies, even joining Franco at karting tracks where he indulged her playful trash talk about his skills.
One afternoon, as she beat him in a casual race, she threw her arms in the air triumphantly. “Told you I’d wipe the floor with you, Colapinto!”
Franco laughed, pulling off his helmet. “Alright, alright, you win. But don’t forget who’s the professional here.”
She winked. “Professional loser today.”
He watched her, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. She was glowing again, her spark fully returned. And every day, he found himself falling deeper in love.
But he kept those feelings locked away—for now. Because seeing her happy was all that mattered.
For now.
---
Franco stood nervously in the middle of the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the tall trees. Their childhood spot had transformed—fairy lights twinkled between the branches, and soft candles lined the pathway leading to the small wooden bench they had carved their initials into as kids. He had spent hours making it perfect. Tonight, he would tell Y/N everything.
He heard her soft footsteps before he saw her. Turning, he saw Y/N step into the clearing, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Franco…” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “What is all this?”
He smiled, though his heart was racing. “A walk down memory lane. Do you remember when we used to come here every summer? When the world felt simple and small?”
She nodded, tears already forming in her eyes as she took in the glowing lights and the warmth of the scene. “I… I can’t believe you did this. It’s beautiful.”
Franco held out his hand, and she took it, letting him guide her to the bench. They sat side by side, the soft glow of the lights illuminating her face.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. Months, actually. Maybe years, if I’m honest.”
She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “What moment?”
He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “The moment I stop pretending that I’m just your best friend. That I don’t feel everything for you, every single day. The moment I tell you the truth.”
Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she said nothing, her eyes searching his.
“You’ve been through so much,” Franco continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you lose yourself and then fight to get your light back. And every step of the way, I’ve loved you. Not just as my best friend, but as the person who makes my life brighter just by being in it.”
Y/N blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Franco…”
“I love how you challenge me, how you make me laugh, how you see the good in everyone—even when they don’t deserve it. And I hate that I waited this long to tell you, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Of scaring you away.”
Her hand covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling as his words washed over her.
“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I want to be the person who makes you feel safe, and loved, and free. Forever. If you’ll let me.”
For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
Then Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears. “You idiot,” she said softly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just thought you’d never see me that way.”
Franco’s breath caught. “Wait… what?”
She nodded, laughing through her tears. “You were always the one, Franco. I was just too scared to ruin what we had.”
He let out a breath of disbelief before pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You could never ruin anything, Y/N. Not with me.”
As they pulled back, she cupped his face, her eyes shining. “You’re my everything too, Franco. And I’m so glad you didn’t wait any longer.”
He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “So, does that mean you’ll go out with me? Officially?”
She laughed, nodding. “Yes, you idiot. A thousand times yes.”
Under the glow of the lights, Franco kissed her—soft and slow, pouring years of love and longing into that single moment. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.
203 notes · View notes
ceoofglytchell · 22 hours ago
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Caterpillar (Prequel to “Butterfly”)
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Summary: Before you were Aegon’s cherished little butterfly, you were nothing more than an insect he wished to crush under his shoes. Over the years his feelings grew from hatred, to indifference, to friendship and to the beginning of a young love that was doomed from the very moment he first laid his eyes on you. This is the story of how the young prince and the princess slowly began to fall for each other.
Pairing: Young!Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader 
Word count: 5936 words
Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong features, Reader is Aegon‘s niece and Rhaenyra’s second child, enemies to friends to lovers, young love, brief mention of abuse from Otto and Alicent, fluff, longing, hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, no mention of Y/N 
Notes: I AM BACK! For the lovely anon who requested a prequel to „Butterfly“. This is my first requested fic and I had much fun writing it. Enjoy 💛
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
Aegon, second of his name and a proud boy of almost four years, stared with an expression of disgust and disinterest at the small newborn babe in his half-sister's arms, who was still lying exhausted in bed, sweat dripping down her forehead and neck, while you screamed so loud as if there was no tomorrow.
Next to him stood his father the king, staring down at his firstborn daughter with an expression of pride - an expression he had never seen in his eyes whenever he looked at him. His own mother was not here with them and he wondered why. Where was she? Did she not want to meet you?
"Would you like to hold her?" Rhaenyra asked the king exhaustedly, holding out her newborn to him. It was a little girl who was actually only due in a few weeks, but you had apparently decided to come earlier than, for example, your brother or Aegon with his own mother, which is why you were smaller and more delicate. At least that's how the midwives explained your delicacy.
"I would feel honored," said King Viserys the Peaceful with a little laugh and took you in his arms while he gently rocked you back and forth.
Aegon had actually just wanted to play, but he had been sitting in the library with his Septa earlier, who chatted far too much and whom he could hardly listen to properly, which is why it was just right when a guard asked him if he wanted to meet his niece, who had just left the womb at that time. Of course he had ran off immediately, but you were somehow... ugly. Your loud crying and screaming hurt his ears and he had to hold back from making a face.
Suddenly his father leaned down a little so that he could get a better look at you, whereupon his half-sister sat up a little in bed as if she didn't trust him, even though he was only a little boy and didn't know what kind of burden he would one day carry on his shoulders. The king's firstborn son, but he was not the heir to the Iron Throne. He was a prince who inherited nothing. A life without meaning. Of course, he didn't realize that at the time.
"Look... it's your little niece."
Rhaenyra whispered your name once and the young prince nodded and tried to remember it. Another face had seen the light of day and another sound of happy laughter would soon echo through the cold corridors of the Red Keep.
Of all his half-sister's children, you were by far the one he disliked the most. Aegon came to this realization when he was almost ten years old, when, out of boredom, he asked you instead of your older brother Jace if you would like to play with him, but after you tripped and accidentally fell you immediately started crying as if you had been impaled with a lance, and his mother later gave him a slap in the face behind closed doors that he could still feel on his pale cheek days later.
You had simply fallen over the ends of your dress when you were playing a game in which he had to catch you, but hitting your forehead on the hard stone floor of the Red Keep was definitely too much for a delicate thing like you to bear.
But while you, at the age of six, had already stood up for him and assured your mother several times that he had not pushed you on purpose, Queen Alicent forbade her eldest son to play with Rhaenyra's only daughter again, not because she really cared about your wellbeing, but because in her eyes you were nothing more than a bastard who did not deserve to be called a princess.
Instead, the silver-haired prince had taken to annoying his younger brother Aemond and called for the help of his brown-haired nephews, always excluding you and Helaena.
To the world you seemed like a happy girl, always friendly and always carrying a smile on your face, but you too secretly felt lonely. You never really understood Helaena and you were very afraid of everything that crawled and had more legs than four, which is why you avoided the other girl rather than spending the day with her. Aemond was the same age as you and you liked reading books with him in the library, to be engrossed in thick history books with him and your nose being buried deep in a fairy tale, but at least you could talk to the younger Targaryen prince and share some nice moments.
At least until Aegon and your brothers started making fun of you, which had quickly made your only friend leave your side, as he had already heard enough jokes about how he hardly spoke a word or especially about how he did not have a dragon.
Neither did you, but that didn't seem to interest either of them, except maybe sometimes Jace and Luke, who at the end of the day from time to time apologized for their statements and also for Aegon's taunts. The prince, however, never apologized.
The hatred that you believed your uncle had for you was about to change on a cool summer evening on the day of your eighth birthday.
Dressed in a yellow gown that reminded you of the petals of a sunflower and with your brown hair intricately braided, you sat alone in the garden of the castle, leaning against the Weirwood tree that had probably been growing here for centuries. On your lap lay a new book about fables and songs from the distant lands of Essos, which your "father" Laenor had given you.
You were not stupid. Of course you were aware of the fact that Laenor could not be your father, since you looked too different, but your mother had forbidden you to bring up the subject. She hadn't even answered your question about who your real father was and what the deal was with her and Ser Harwin.
Completely lost in thought, you hadn't realized how a person had slowly and quietly approached you from the side, until he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and made you scream loudly.
"Aegon!" you shouted angrily, while the boy just held his stomach in laughter, a full cup of wine in his left hand. When had he started taking his drinks with him?
"Oh, come on! It was just a harmless jest, niece," he answered you, giggling, while he collapsed onto the grass a little further in front of you, which was still glistening with dew, the action not looking particularly graceful. He seemed slightly drunk, which made you wonder why no one took the cup away from him if you had noticed it yourself. Why didn't his mother, the Queen, pay attention? Or his grandfather, the Lord Hand?
"Jest or not, you scared me," you grumbled, folding your arms in front of your chest, while a pout formed on your face that even he couldn't miss.
"Hey, don't pout. Today is your name day, remember?"
"Yes. And you have not thought of giving me a gift, Uncle," you noted in a slightly disappointed tone, while your dark eyes searched his.
"Yes, I did," Aegon countered and threw something at you that you were only able to catch so quickly thanks to your reflexes. "Here you go."
"What is this?" you asked him, confused, as you took his gift in your hands and examined it curiously. You had already wondered why he was the only one in the family who hadn't given you a gift when even the queen had entrusted you with a bracelet from her hometown.
In your delicate hands was a small wooden box, which you did not open yet in fear that it might be one of his jokes again and that there would be something disgusting in it. Hopefully it wasn't a spider...
"Open it. The woman I got it from told me girls like that kind of stuff," Aegon said with a shrug, as he brushed his long wavy curls out of his face.
Carefully and with an expression of suspicion, you opened the small wooden box a crack and stared at its contents with wide eyes. Inside was a beautiful golden brooch in the shape of a coiled dragon, whose eye was represented by a fragment of a pearl. It was beautiful...
Aegon looked at you unnoticed as you looked at the brooch he had given you in awe. He had not thought that this little piece would impress you so much. The best thing was that he didn't even have to pay gold for it, since the old woman had just given it to him when she saw his silver hair. He himself didn't wear such junk, but you in your pretty dresses and shimmering earrings and necklaces would certainly appreciate the piece of jewelry and apparently he was right.
With eyes sparkling with joy and a wide grin on your lips, you took the piece of jewelry out of the box and immediately put it on your dress right above your heart and when you looked at him, he needed a moment to come to terms with his thoughts.
It was probably the wine that was clouding his senses, wasn't it?
"And? Does it suit me?" you asked him excitedly in your normally gentle voice.
He swallowed. "Yes... it's pretty. You are pretty.”
For a moment you just stared at him, unable to believe that he-of all people!- had just called you pretty and given you the most wonderful gift of the evening. You liked the dragon brooch even more than the book and also much better than the wood carvings that your brothers had given you.
"I-I think I'd better leave you alone again now," the prince said suddenly and began to stand up, whereupon you quickly shook your head and instinctively reached for his hand in the hope that he would stay and maybe keep you company for a while. He might annoy you sometimes, but you certainly didn't hate him for that.
"Stay! Please..."
You batted your eyelashes and if Aegon had been stronger, he might have been able to resist. But he wasn't.
With a sigh, he let himself fall back into the grass, whereupon his cup tipped over and the dark red liquid soaked the ground next to you, but for some unusual reason he didn't care.
"And what do you think we'll do, princess? I see neither dancing fools nor musicians for our amusement.”
You seemed to think for a moment, then your gaze fell on the book, which was now lying neglected on the ground next to the tree. You picked it up and held it right in front of his nose.
“I could read to you! It is a collection of legends and songs from Essos. Perhaps you will appreciate them more than your brother.”
His shoulders sagged a little and a quiet sigh escaped him, but he nodded his head anyway, because after all, you were the one who had the special day and had turned a year older. Today was your day to make decisions.
“Fine. Read to me then,” said Aegon, leaning against the bark of the old tree that had stood in the courtyard of the Red Keep for generations, a face carved into its center that sometimes seemed to stare at him judgingly. He didn’t like it.
His little niece immediately moved closer to him, almost snuggling into his side, and opened the book to the page she had stopped on before he had interrupted her. Appropriately, it was even a legend from Oldtown, the home of his mother the queen.
Her soft voice immediately enveloped him like a warm blanket as she began to read to him and his initially stiff posture eased as he began to allow himself to relax.
He hated to think about it, but maybe you weren't as bad as he had thought.
The first time he thought about kissing you was on a quiet evening when nothing really special had happened except that you, now a girl of almost eleven, had secretly gone riding with him.
Sitting on your snow-white mare, your long brown curls blowing in the wind, a wide grin on your pretty face, and your arms stretched out to feel the headwind, you looked like a midsummer night's dream. The brooch he had given you a few years ago hung on the fabric of your coat.
It was early in the morning and the two of you had sneaked to the stables before anyone else but you and a few guards had walked through the corridors, but he had managed to get you past the watchful eyes of the King's Guard unnoticed. You had mounted your horses as quickly as you could and ridden together into the King's Wood until you found a clearing that seemed good enough to rest for a while.
You sat on the grass in the shade of a tree and ate cakes that he had secretly stolen from the kitchens before as a surprise for you. You had managed to talk him out of the wine.
Crumbs were lying on your lap and you held your hand over your mouth to hide your laughter after he had been frightened by a bug that had crawled onto his arm, causing him to screech as if he were the girl and not you.
His usually pale cheeks were red with embarrassment - as red as the ripest strawberries you loved to eat for breakfast - and he crossed his arms grumpily in front of his chest, but he couldn't blame you for laughing. After all, he often made fun of you because he loved to see you sulk.
But suddenly your happy laughter froze when you felt something on your head. A small white butterfly had landed on your hair and was slowly flapping its wings up and down. Your laughter disappeared and you looked at him with wide eyes. Aegon's heart skipped a beat.
"Aegon... what is that?" you asked him fearfully, not moving a single muscle.
"Well... it's huge. Horrible. The biggest bug I have ever seen," he lied with a mischievous gleam in his purple eyes, causing you to whimper softly and he could swear tears began to form in your eyes. How sweet.
"Make it go away. Help me." You begged him with a trembling voice. Apparently you had actually believed his lie, which made him feel proud.
Very carefully he slowly moved closer to you until your elbows brushed, which made him feel hot on the inside, and you felt the same, even if you didn't notice it, too afraid of the monster that had settled on your hair. You had no idea what innocent creature had chosen you as its resting place.
The prince stretched out his hand and very carefully approached the butterfly with his fingers. He felt you and the little insect looking at him, and it was then he did notice that you were just as delicate and lovely as the butterfly. Perhaps you had been born into the wrong house? You were not at all a dragon.
The butterfly fluttered its wings and hopped onto his index finger, which he held in front of your nose with a wide, triumphant grin on his lips. A sweet blush immediately spread across your cheeks and your slender shoulders sagged as you realized that you had made a fool of yourself.
In front of him of all people. In front of the boy you had secretly admired for several weeks at this point.
"Oh..." you murmured quietly to yourself and looked down at your lap while the butterfly continued to rest on the tip of his finger.
"Look how small and delicate it is... just like you."
You blinked up at him again and at that very moment the little insect jumped off his finger and fluttered away until it finally disappeared behind a nearby rose bush and you were both alone again, your only company being the birds that flew over your heads or nested in the nearby treetops.
"That was not funny, Uncle," you grumbled quietly to yourself and crossed your arms in front of your chest once again, while a small pout adorned your lips, which he found absolutely adorable.
"I thought so, little butterfly," he replied with the hint of a smile on his face, which was slightly tickled by the warm rays of sunlight that fell through the canopy of leaves - at least his nose was.
"Little butterfly?" you repeated the nickname he gave you with a wrinkle of your nose, because you yourself didn't know whether you should feel flattered or insulted. How did he always manage to make you question your feelings over and over again? It was a phenomenon.
"You heard me."
His smile widened and you couldn't help but try to smack him on the arm as best you could, but he just chuckled at your efforts, because it felt like anything but a punch. In his eyes, you were a butterfly, sweet, pure and innocent, deserving to be protected as far away from the scum of House Targaryen, Hightower and Velaryon as possible. You deserved better than this. At the same time, the thought of you leaving him and living somewhere else made him furious.
He wanted you to be happy, but he also wanted you to stay right where you were and where you were comfortable - with him, your annoying, drunken uncle who couldn't wait to see the girl he was sitting with grow into a mature, beautiful woman he could claim for himself.
And hopefully, when the day came, you would want that too.
Laena Velaryon was dead and House Targaryen had gathered for her funeral on the island of Driftmark to mourn the loss. At least those who knew her, which the young children did not and therefore stood rather bored to the side.
Heleana was talking to a spider, Aemond was standing around alone, and the sons of Rhaenyra stood with the daughters of Daemon. Two, however, had sneaked away from the funeral and sat down on the beach, a jug of wine in one hand and a plate of cake in the other.
Aegon, now sixteen years old and almost a man grown, sat to your left on the white sands of the island. He was dressed head to toe in green - on the orders of his mother and grandfather the Hand - and his hair now fell to his chest, even though he secretly wished it were shorter. He didn't really like the length and the tradition behind it. The expectations.
You sat next to him, now almost thirteen, and you were getting more beautiful by the day. Your brown hair, the proof of your mother's shame, now fell to your elbows and your petite body was wrapped in a purple dress and black cloak, due to the grief you had to pretend to feel, even though you had never known this woman. Your mother had wanted to force you to wear red again, but you had stood up to her and bravely confronted her, telling her that this constant hostility was foolish.
Such disagreements were becoming more and more frequent between your mother, your brothers and you, because you and the eldest prince had become truly inseparable in recent years. The bond that bound you together was strong and apparently unbreakable, because even though he continued to make jokes and antics and you mostly felt insulted and hurt as a result, you still felt this feeling. This warmth around your heart, this tickling in your stomach that felt like little butterflies that were locked inside you like in a chest.
You had learned to love him and without your knowledge he had learned to love you too.
"She told me again today to stay away from you," you told him, staring into the horizon and hoping that fate had other plans for you.
"I know, sweet butterfly. Just don't listen to her. What does she know about us anyway? Nothing. She knows nothing.” Aegon replied, instinctively holding his cup, which was filled to the brim with Dornish wine, tighter in his hand. Actually, he felt no hatred towards his half-sister - your mother - but he disliked the way she told you over and over again that his company was not good for you, that his ways were spoiling you like a worm spoils a ripe apple.
Perhaps his own mother was right and Rhaenyra would seek his life at some point. He would not be surprised, as much as she seemed to despise him. What had he ever done to her? Or was it his very existence that she detested?
You stared down at the cake that was on the plate you held in your hand. You had been hungry a moment ago, but now you were not anymore.
“I don’t understand why we have to be here at all. None of us knew this woman." The prince grumbled, swirling the wine around in his cup, slowly moving it back and forth.
"She was my aunt-"
"But did you know her?"
You shook your head, one of your brown curls falling over your face and hiding half of your features from him like a veil. Sometimes he caught himself imagining a life with you, and lately his thoughts were not so innocent anymore. More and more often he woke up in the morning, desire burning through his veins, and he thought about you, how beautiful you were and how much more beautiful you would become if your curves continued to develop.
Criston had told him such desires were normal for a young man, but if the prince had admitted that you were the one who kept him awake at night, the man who was a second father to him probably wouldn't have understood either.
He carefully reached out his free hand to you and gently tucked the wild strand of hair behind your ear so that he could once again look into your dark eyes, which had always reminded him of a young doe. "What's going through your mind, niece?"
"Nothing. But... won't the others wonder where we are?"
Aegon was about to contradict you and tell you that you had absolutely nothing to fear when he suddenly heard his grandfather's loud, stern voice echo across the beach: "Aegon! Come here. Now."
You watched your friend anxiously as he straightened up and walked with slumped shoulders to the stone steps that would lead from the beach up to the fortress where the funeral was being held. You couldn't see exactly what was happening, but you swore that the old man grabbed his grandson's arm hard. The words he spoke to him did not seem particularly kind or compassionate, as the young prince quickly pulled away from him and disappeared in another direction.
However, he did not come back to you. He left you sitting alone on the beach with nothing but a glass of wine and a piece of cake. Now you had lost your appetite once and for all.
It was evening when you saw him next. The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon and most people had returned to their chambers for the night or were getting ready for bed.
You did not know where your mother had gone or why there was suddenly no trace of Prince Daemon when he seemed to be in such a good mood at the funeral, even though he had just become a widower, but you were sure that you could not go to sleep without knowing where your friend was and how he was doing.
You found Aegon on the stairs that led to the beach behind. He was leaning drunkenly with his back against the cold, wet stone and his eyes closed. Next to him lay an overturned gold cup from which a small puddle of red liquid was running.
You had never seen him so drunk before.
Had he drunk himself to the point of unconsciousness?
This was the first time. The previous times you had seen him very drunk, he had at most strolled through the corridors slurring his words - or rather stumbled - and you or Aemond usually had to lead him back to his chambers, where he usually immediately fell onto his bed and sank into a deep sleep. But he had never fallen over because of the alcohol. You wondered what his grandfather had said to him that his first reaction was to get so drunk that he simply fell over.
You approached him carefully and knelt next to his sleeping form. Slowly and careful not to startle him, you reached for the now empty wine cup and put it to the side before gently placing a hand on his shoulder in the hope that he would open his amethyst colored eyes again. But he didn't.
"Uncle? Uncle, can you hear me?" you asked him timidly, leaning closer to him, so close that if he were awake he could feel your warm breath on his snow-white skin.
A mumble was all you got in response, but you couldn't understand any of the words or even guess what he was trying to say. Maybe he shouldn't drink so much... That couldn't be good for him in the long run.
When he didn't answer the second time either, you gently shook his shoulder and then finally his eyes fluttered open again and he blinked a few times in a row, as if he didn't understand where he was or why you were sitting so close to him, almost as if he couldn't remember what he had done before.
"What... what happened?" he asked you dazedly and sat up a little, whereupon a small, tortured groan escaped him.
"I was just about to ask you that," you replied with a smile on your soft, rosy lips. "You suddenly disappeared."
The older prince shrugged and stretched out his arm as if he wanted to reach for the wine cup that he assumed was at his side, but he only grabbed for air, as you had fortunately put it away a few seconds ago.
"I wasn't well. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, darling."
His answer wasn't enough for you, as the memory of Otto Hightower grabbing his arm and whispering angry words to him had not yet left your mind. There was more to it. You knew not what it was, but you suspected that it had something to do with you - or rather your features.
Your mother didn't want to name it, but you knew what you were. A bastard.
"You know that you can always be honest with me, Aegon. You don't have to hide anything from me. I am not your enemy."
At your words, his shoulders sagged and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, but at the same time a warmth spread through him that he couldn't control and that burned in his eyes like the fire of his young dragon. He would not cry in front of you. He wanted to be strong for you.
"What was it?" you asked him again carefully, stroking his silver curls over his shoulder with one hand so that he would not be able to hide his face from you. You were already well aware of his tricks and you could guess what storm was sweeping through his head and throwing his thoughts into disarray like a hurricane over the sea.
"Did he scare you again? Told you you would be king?"
With every word you spoke, his heart tightened more and more in his chest and he could feel the tears burning hot in his eyes, ready to roll down his cheeks and disappear under the green fabric of his coat. You were too good for him, far too good. You were innocent and pure and he was corrupt and filthy. What had he done to deserve your affection? No one else seemed to think like you.
"Did he tell you to stay away from me?"
Without him being able to stop it, the first tear fell, then the second and suddenly he was sobbing bitterly and you could do nothing but take him in your arms and let him lay his head on your shoulder while you laid your cheek against his hair. He held on to you as if you were the last thing that bound him to life, as if you were the Mother herself who had wrapped her protective arms around him.
"He... he said the future king doesn't bother with the likes of you and that... that I would soon be married anyway and you too..." he sobbed into the fabric of your dress, while his arms wrapped themselves around your slim body and he pressed himself tightly against you, like a plush pillow he could bury his face in.
"That's not true and you know it. Mother would never give me to a man as a bride just yet. She wouldn't do that." You assured him while gently stroking his back. However, you didn't understand why this fact hurt him so much. One day, each of them would be married and bring more heirs into the world. That was the order of things, as the Septa's had taught you.
"But I don't want you to get married. I don't want you to be taken away."
More and more tears fell from his eyes and he couldn't help but tell you all the things that had been going through his head for weeks, months, and maybe even years. All his deepest desires, all the thoughts he hoped would never come to light, he laid at your feet like on a silver platter.
He only hated himself all the more for it.
"Why would they take me away from you? The Red Keep is my home. Mine and yours." You tried to talk to him, keeping your voice calm and collected, but you could feel yourself becoming more and more confused with every second that passed and with every word he whispered. He was falling apart in front of you and yet there was nothing you could do to ease his pain. You felt powerless.
"I don't want to marry just any woman," he murmured, hoping that you would recognize the pleading in his tone and understand what he longed for without him having to say it. He couldn't.
"She will be beautiful, Aegon. Beautiful, kind, smart and witty.”
Your list didn’t make it any better, because in his eyes you embodied all of those things. You were the woman you described, the one he wished he would marry sooner or later, but how would you know? How could you even guess what a bad friend he was to you. He was a bad man, a bad prince, a bad son, a bad brother and now a bad friend as well.
You listed other attributes that you hoped would calm him down, because what prince wouldn’t want a woman like that? Sometimes you wished you could be that one woman for him, the one he would spend his life by and learn to love. One who could call him “husband.” But that would probably never happen. You were just a foolish girl with equally foolish dreams.
“But I don’t want just any woman. I want… I want…” He couldn’t say it. He couldn't bring the words out of his mouth and instead he just clung to you tightly, burying his head even more in your shoulder before he managed to actually whisper those words that would haunt you from now on.
"I want you."
For a second it felt like the world stood still. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore stopped and the cool breeze of the evening wind only felt like a gentle touch, a light pat. There was a chance that you had misunderstood him, but you knew what you had heard. You knew it exactly.
"Uncle..."
"No, no, please listen to me," he begged immediately when he felt your arms, which were wrapped around him, loosen just a little and you tried to wriggle out of his grip. It was very important that you listened to him now.
"My little butterfly, you are the only one who sees me for who I really am and I know that I am not always easy, but you have to understand that you are the most important thing in my life. You mean everything to me."
You leaned back and let your eyes wander over his face, hoping to find a sign that this was just another one of his jokes and that he wasn't actually pouring his heart out to you. It reminded you of the books you loved to read. The poetry and the romance.
He wasn't lying. His eyes were honest and from the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing to him, you knew that your relationship would be even more difficult in the future than it already was. The friendship between you two was not accepted by your family, but love? Like in the stories, this love was also forbidden, but in all the books the couples always had a happy ending with each other. Maybe everything would turn out well for you in the end too?
"My mother... she would never allow it," you muttered, shaking your head. and now you were the one who could feel your heart tightening painfully.
The prince shook his head firmly and he placed his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms while his thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, which were red from the cold and his words.
"I don't care. I promise you that one day I will marry you. I will take you as my wife, no matter the cost."
Without thinking, you closed your eyes and gently pressed your forehead against his. Your breath mingled and he closed his eyes too, continuing to gently hold your face in his hands. It wasn't a kiss, but for the two of you this moment had about the same meaning. It was the start of something new, something wonderful.
At that point, none of you could have guessed that not far away from you, a young, brave Aemond was approaching Vhagar with the intention of claiming the old dragon for himself. You did not know that he would soon lose his eye at the hands of his brother, nor that a discussion would then take place in the halls of Driftmark that would tear the two sides of your house apart, forever.
You could not have known that the very next day he would see you one last time and that you would then be torn away from him for six long years. How could you have known that beforehand?
But in that moment, in that embrace, everything was fine for you and you imagined together what your future might look like.
It would certainly be different than you had hoped, but your story would also come to a happy end eventually.
The dragons would dance and yet your souls burned to become one with each other.
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
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redvelvetcupcakes21 · 1 day ago
Text
And this might drag since I'm in a write-y mood.
A continuation of this
Buck wasn't thinking, he hadn't called anyone. All he could think was about Tommy being on some OR table.
He barely got out an apology as a nurse yelled at him to not run in the ER, he looked around wildly and found the front desk and saw a man, Black, older than Buck with scars on the side of his face.
"Hi- hi, I got a call about Tommy Kinard? I'm Evan Buckley, I'm his-"
"His emergency contact." The man replied giving Buck a once over, "I was the one that called you. I'm Amir." Buck felt fidgety as Amir gave him a solemn look and started typing something on the computer. "Mr. Kinard is still being operated on, more than likely it will still an hour or two for the doctors to finish. They were concerned about Mr. Kinards hip leg, and head; he was pinned by a few boulders and his teammates mentioned he suffered a hear injury."
Buck felt his throat tightened, Tommy went through a crush injury. He went a crush injury and was still being operated on.
Buck felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, his brain fuzzy and fighting with heart about everything. He wanted to panic, scream, cry, hit something...
"What- wh- you said something about this happening on a call? Where's his team? The 217 should be here."
Amir shrugged, "A few people came here with him but didn't stay, you're the only person who was listed as an emergency contact and no one else mentioned calling his family. The only person who has been asking for Mr. Kinard is the kid he saved.'
"Kid?"
Amir gave him a brief smile, "Mr. Kinard was able to protect a 2 yrs old from the avalanche. The kid was already hurt from a prior injury, which was why the 217 responded, but the kid was alert throughout the rescue. Both rescues and besides asking for his parents, the kid has been asking for Mr. Kinard. Or as the kid has been calling him "Tummy".
Buck felt his eyes well up with tears, smiling despite himself. "That-that doesn't surprise me. Tommy is- he's great guy."
Amir nodded, "Mr. Buckley, why don't you wait in the waiting room. I'll let you know when Mr. Kinard is out of surgery."
Buck nodded, numb to the core as he began to process what was really happening.
A part of him wanted to reach out to Maddie, Bobby, or Eddie- but he thought better of it.
He knew he had plans with Eddie and Maddie, he checked his phone. It was only a quarter to eleven. He was suppose to meet with Eddie at 11 to help him pack. He shot a short message to Eddie, 'Something came up, can't help. Sorry.'
'You good?'
Buck sighed, hands still shaking as he lied 'Yeah, all good. Will call you later.'
He sent a message to Maddie, hoping he would get a round of questions from his sister. 'Hey, raincheck? Something came up. I'll you later.'
Of course Maddie would call him.
Buck rejected the call, insisting via text that he was okay.
He wasn't though. He could barely handle sitting down and kept shooting glances at the nurses station, hoping somehow Amir or another nurse would tell him Tommy was safe. That he would be okay.
For the all the times Buck himself was admitted into the hospital, he always hated being on the other side of things.
The waiting game wasn't a game at all.
It was a crappy middle finger from the universe reminding him that the people in his life weren't invincible.
"Did anyone receive a call from Mr. or Mrs. Johnson's family yet?" he heard Amir ask the other nurses.
"Mr. Johnson's mother called back, she's on her way here from Florida though. Mrs. Johnson's sister and mother also called back, they're trying to contact family in the Ventura county area so that Daniel can be taken care by family till they get here. Mom has MS, so sister is trying to find suitable care for their mom so she can fly down from Washington."
Buck frowned at that, that sounded...familiar.
He heard Amir sigh, "Did they say who the family member in Ventura was? We need someone to come by the end of the day otherwise Anita is gonna need to call CPS. Both parents are still in critical condition and I doubt the hospital is going to babysit Daniel till Mr. Johnson's mother shows.'' He huffed.
Buck took out his phone again, his heart hammering in his chest as he called a number he hadn't called in nearly two years.
"Hey, you reached Conner..."
Buck swore softly as he called Kameron next.
It went immediately to voice mail too.
Connor's mom lived in Florida.
Kameron's mom was diagnosed with MS a year before Kameron got pregnant and she had a few aunts, uncles, and cousins that lived around Ventura.
'They named their son Daniel?'
Buck felt nauseas.
There was no way.
No.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
He wasn't going to panic.
But it seemed more than a coincidence...
Buck was never told the name of the baby boy. Conner and Kameron had sent him the official baby photo, announcing the birth of their son. But there wasn't a name, just a "Welcome baby Johnson to the world!"
They didn't know about Daniel.
About Buck's Daniel.
"Tommy saved Daniel?" Buck mumbled to himself. His ex-boyfriend, the man he was still in love with, saved the the boy who not only was Buck's kid biologically, but also coincidentally named Daniel as well?
Buck wanted to curse out the universe.
He found himself in front of the nurses station, standing quietly as the nurses looked at him as though he was computer buffering.
"Can we help you?"
Buck braced himself for what had to be the dumbest thing he would ever do.
"Is there anyway I could take care of Daniel Johnson? At least till his grandmother or aunt show? I'm-uh-I'm his biological father."
Now it was staff's turn to look as though they were buffering.
"Sir-"
Buck cut the nurse off, knowing full well what was coming. "I know you guys can't confirm who the patients are, but my friend Connor and his wife, Kameron, they aren't answering their phones. I know Connor's mom lives in Naples, Florida and Kameron's mom? Her name is Jane Nowak, they lived in Oxnard before Kameron's dad moved them to Seattle. Their son...he's biologically mine, they-they asked me to be a donor. He was born May 15th in Downtown LA because his mom gave birth at my apartment."
An odd silence fell over station as the staff looked at each other.
Before Buck could beg for confirmation, a hint or anything. He heard Amir's voice behind him. "Mr. Buckley?"
Buck turned around swiftly, Amir stood next to a woman in scrubs, both looking at him quizzically and staring over at the nurses station as well.
"Is Tommy okay?" Buck asked immediately, he was getting emotional whiplash at this point.
The woman nodded, her smile strained as she introduced herself, "I'm Doctor Abdullah, Mr. Buckley. I can say Tommy is okay, he's not out of the woods yet, but thankfully the injury to the head wasn't severe as we thought originally. He did suffer a skull fracture, but fortunately bleeding into the brain was minimal but he's going to be on bed rest and physical therapy for some time. The good news is that he didn't crush his hip like we assumed, so he managed to avoid surgery there for the most part. His leg and shoulder will be another issue. Are you re-"
"I'm his boyfriend." Buck said, it felt automatic and right, even though it was a lie. "I can take care of him, we're both firefighters, we know these kind of injuries. I-Just tell me what he needs and I can make sure I get it done."
Dr. Abdullah nodded, sharing a sympathetic glance with Amir. "I'm sure Tommy will appreciate that, he's still under and he's going to be under till we're sure there's no more bleeding, but once we move him into a private room, we'll notify you. Is there anyone else you would like us to contact?"
Buck thought briefly about calling Maddie, Chim, hell even Lucy. But found himself saying "No." He didn't want to bring in anyone just yet.
Dr. Abdullah looked taken back but collected herself quickly, looking over at Amir and nodding at Buck, "Okay then. We'll notify you once Tommy's moved into a private room, I need to make my rounds but I'll follow up with you once we get Tommy out of post op."
Amir didn't follow Dr. Abdullah instead looking over at the staff at the nurses station and then at Buck, his expression pulled into a grimace.
"Something wrong here?" he asked, a slight edge to his tone that had Buck revving up just in case.
One staffer seemed to find the situation entertaining since they were smirking, "You might want to call down Anita, things just got interesting."
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eggtargaryenii · 2 days ago
Text
EAST OF THE SUN | PART V
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Aemond leaned down then, looking at the man as if he were a pest—a stain beneath his boot. “My justice is not a lenient one, ser,” he murmured. A red glow pulsed on his left periphery, in the spot where he was blind: a phantom vision from his missing eye, the absence of which he felt everyday. “The next time you lay your hand on my lady, I shall cut it off myself.”
6k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for sexual harassment/misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.
SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.
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X. JUSTICE
Aemond had never liked the way men looked at you.
He noticed this from a young age, watching as his brother’s eyes roved over your body. Aegon looked at you as a man would view a decadent feast or wine rather than a human being. Something to be owned. Something to be devoured. Aemond did not know entirely what it meant until after that day in the tourney stands, listening to his brother explain what a whore was, and what his brother wished to do with you—to debase you as he would a woman on the Street of Silk.
As soon as he understood this about Aegon, he understood it about other men as well. You were aware of it too, had likely been aware of it your entire childhood. You never did explain to Aemond, growing up, why you were so often upset, but he pieced it together eventually. You always ran to the dragonpit after some lord eyed you too hungrily, after some squire or guard or knight tried to put his hands on you, after Aegon did put his hands on you to squeeze at whatever part of your body he could. And of course no one helped you. His mother could not stop Aegon’s impulses to dishonour you, his father was too neglectful to care, and Aemond—
Aemond had been too weak.
It incensed him beyond thinking. He had been a powerless child, unable to defend himself, so of course he could not defend you either. He would be patronised by the grown men he ordered to stop, who always smiled politely at him and claimed that they were only being friendly. Aegon was worse—Aegon did not feel the least bit ashamed of his desires and repeatedly told Aemond that he would do the same to you if he were a real man. (Never, Aemond always thought viciously, never would he touch you like that, never would he make you cry like that.) He felt a vicious anger in those moments that he could barely contain. It was nearly as terrible as it was after he lost his eye and he realised that he could not defend his mother from either Rhaenyra’s manipulations or his father’s wroth.
While Aemond was weak though, you eventually began to retaliate. First by kicking his brother in the shin, then by throwing things at him. It already shamed Aemond that you had to do this for yourself, but what made it worse was that his mother punished you for defending yourself, lecturing that your family should always show unity before others. It was not so different from how she advised Aemond to tolerate his brother’s mistreatment of him in both public and private.
Aemond was never upset with Alicent over his own misgivings, but your hardship was something else altogether. It was easy to for Aemond to swallow public humiliation for himself, for he loved his queen mother and considered himself a loyal son—but for you?
He could not swallow it for you. He could not bear to let you suffer the indignity of being treated like an expensive cut of meat by the entirety of the court.
Aemond resolved to put an end to it when he was older—just as he resolved to put an end to his own torment, and just as he resolved to put an end to his mother’s worry. She had a precarious position with a King who did not love her or her sons, and you had a precarious position with the men at court who felt entitled to touch and insult you as they pleased. It was natural that he wanted to protect you both, and he could only do so if he gained power.
So power he did obtain. Aemond honed himself into a weapon, and he did not hesitate from using his blade’s edge. His presence around you became constant, imposing. Whenever men demanded your presence, he made sure to smile sharply and make it known that you were under his protection: “Return her to me once you are done,” he always commanded. Return her to me whole and unharmed, or else face my wrath if she is hurt, he always left unsaid.
When he was only newly a man, having seen ten-and-six name days, there were occasionally those who chose to defy him anyway. The most egregious was a visiting lord of the Stormlands who made it known that he found you quite comely. “No wonder kings and lords often go to Lys to find their concubines,” the lord had said, his eyes greedy upon you. “The women of their pillowhouses appear to be quite beautiful.”
You could not afford to offend him, for you could not afford to offend Otto Hightower. You only smiled stiffly, taking the hand he'd offered you. “Thank you, my lord,” you replied. “You flatter me too much. I was born in the Red Keep, and I was raised among the noble houses of Westeros. I am, in truth, as Westerosi as you.”
It did not matter to the Stormlands lord, just as it never seemed to matter to any other man. He took you to dance, and Aemond saw what he did to you, what you could not defend yourself from in the middle of a banquet hall filled with oppressive, heavy gazes. Stinking of Arbor gold and perfume, the older man openly grabbed you, pressed his body against yours, manhandled you like the Great Hall was a pleasure house and you were his preferred whore.
You were going to strike him, Aemond saw. Your brow twitched and your arm wound with tension, the way that it always did before you slapped Aegon. You were going to hit this lord and the consequences would be dire, for it would be a disgrace to House Targaryen for one of its ladies to conduct herself with such violence and inhospitality.
But Aemond was a man—and men are not so easily punished for violence.
He moved quickly, serpentlike. Not even Ser Criston, who had begun to cut a path toward you, could match Aemond’s pace. He placed a hand on the offending lord's shoulders, and suddenly the oaf was thrown like a ragdoll, body sliding across the marble floor as the crowd parted around him. Aemond’s boot crushed the chest of the drunken fool, pinning him down. Screams teared from several throats; an angry yell from the lord.
“How dare you,” he snapped. “Is this how House Targaryen comports itself to other nobles?”
Aemond only smiled. Steel flashed like lightning under the chandelier, and the edge of his blade pressed neatly against the wrist of the lord, drawing a thin, red line across his skin.
“House Targaryen,” Aemond declared loudly, “does not tolerate dishonourable behaviour toward any of its princesses or ladies. I imagine that your liege lord would not either, nor any of the other nobles in the Stormlands.”
He leaned down then, looking at the man as if he were a pest—a stain beneath his boot. “My justice is not a lenient one, ser,” Aemond murmured. A red glow pulsed on his left periphery, in the spot where he was blind: a phantom vision from his missing eye, the absence of which he felt everyday. “The next time you lay your hand on my lady, I shall cut it off myself.”
Ser Criston escorted the man out, and the lord departed from court the next day. Suddenly every lecher who had ever pestered you kept a wide berth from you, and every man you encountered was nothing but polite. You moved with so much more ease after that: less tense, less small, less sombre. You were no longer afraid of existing in the presence of others, Aemond observed. You even seemed to laugh and smile more openly, the sight of which he would never tire.
“I am grateful for what you did,” you said after the fact, “but I still think it was very extreme. Your mother was quite unhappy with you, you know, and your grandsire was displeased as well.”
“Alicent was indeed startled,” he admitted, “and the Hand prefers to keep his relationships cordial for the sake of his own plans, but this was the only way to ensure your safety. If men do not fear, then they do not obey. Sometimes it is necessary to demonstrate one’s might for the sake of order.”
You gave him a long look. “Such is the way that our ancient house thinks, but I am unsure that it is always true. Sometimes it helps to exercise self-restraint.”
Aemond’s mouth curled. He wondered if you knew how gentle your disposition could be, how naive you could be.
“My lady,” he replied, “I was exercising self-restraint. I was even being merciful. He kept his hands when he should have lost both, did he not?”
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XI. THE STAR, REVERSED
Alicent seemed apprehensive on the night before the tournament, just as Aemond thought she would be.
He sought her out in Maegor’s Holdfast: one of the few places in the castle free from eavesdroppers by way of servants and listeners within its walls. If any whispers came from the tower, it was due to the folly of the people residing there, and Alicent would not err in this matter. She would stay tight-lipped to everyone but him—for he was his mother’ son, and he knew how to appeal to her weaknesses.
“You intend to wed my cousin to Ser Arthur Tyrell,” he said. His voice was soft, a statement rather than an accusation.
She swallowed. “Yes. The Tyrells are a great house—a match nearly unimaginable. And you met Ser Arthur: the man is dignified, handsome, and cares not for the girl’s origins. She will be treated well.”
“It may seem that way outwardly,” Aemond said, “but I must inform you of some devastating news I heard from Ser Criston.”
“News?”
“Yes. It seems that Ser Arthur is a raper—Ser Criston saw it for himself during his time in the Dornish Marches. Acts that were an affront to the Seven. Crimes to the Mother, Maiden, and Crone alike.”
Alicent was almost certainly aware that he had deduced she'd already known this. The flicker of doubt in her eyes and tension in her body gave it away. Still, she quickly donned a mask of surprise and revulsion. “A raper?”
“Yes.” The corner of his mouth turned down. “You must know, Mother—I worry for my cousin. You know how dear she is to me.” Everyone in the Red Keep seemed to know it except for you, Aemond thought dryly. “I would not be able to live with myself if I did not plead for you to stop this match.”
She breathed in deeply, tried her best to look reluctant and fretful. “I know how much this must worry you, but the matter has already been settled, Aemond. We cannot offend the Tyrells by dissolving this betrothal. But your cousin is quite resourceful—I am sure she will find a way to stay safe. Doubly so, since the Tyrells will not want to offend us.”
“But my grandsire has a greater wish not to offend them,” he said softly. “He needs their support when we claim the throne, and he intends to trade her body to secure it. It leaves her without any leverage.”
It was difficult to keep his voice gentle when the thought drove him mad. Always, always—people wished to buy and sell you, to treat you like a bed slave to be used. He would cut off the hands of every man in the Red Keep if it meant that no one would ever try that with you again. Sometimes, he even believed that he would cut off even those hands belonging to his own brother.
Alicent would never consent to such violence just to protect you, but she sounded earnest when she replied, “It is not easy for me to do this to your cousin.”
“I know it is not.” Aemond kept his face solemn. “It is already difficult for you to turn a blind eye to all those maids that fall victim to my brother’s impulses”—except it was not difficult for her at all, he thought, for Alicent staunchly needed her family to maintain the appearance of unity—“but I imagine it is unbearable to watch it happen to a girl you raised and cared for as your own. You were practically a mother to her.”
A subtle frown. “I am hardly anything like her mother.”
Are you so blind as to think you are not? he thought. For Alicent tried to teach you the values that she taught to her children, and she struck you for your disgraces as hard as she struck Aegon, and she told you to swallow your humiliations as often as she did Aemond. And she resented you as much as she resented all of them—for giving birth to them when she was still yet a child, for being saddled with the responsibility of raising them, for doing it all alone because his father did not love her nor any of them.
Aemond considered himself a loyal son, but he had no delusions about any of this. It was so obvious that not even Aegon was fool enough to miss this fact: his mother did not love either of the sons she had raised.
And just as equally, she did not love you.
“But even if I am not a mother to her,” Alicent mused, “you are right in thinking I mislike this. I find it unbearable… but sometimes we must do unbearable things to protect the people important to us.”
“Yes—truer words than any. Sometimes we must do the worst to protect the ones we love.”
His mother knew him well. He watched as Alicent’s eyes flickered with understanding. She took a deep breath and regarded him as if he was something to fear: a threat or a monster, rather than her own son. The moment was brief, but Aemond noticed it just as he had noticed it all the times before. He could not help the sharp knife of disappointment in his heart.
“What are you planning, Aemond?” she asked.
His mouth curled, and he did not answer her question. She likely already knew.
“Do not resent me for this, Mother. You have said it yourself: this marriage isn't something you want, either. Allow me to do what you cannot.” And let me free you from the guilt that will burden you should you condemn your daughter to this match that Grandsire has orchestrated.
Alicent gave him a long look. “You ask for me to allow it, but I cannot stop you.”
He hummed, still smiling—guiltless. For Aemond considered himself a loyal son, and that meant that he must do all the things that his mother was too gentle to know she should do. It meant that he must make men fear their family when she was not capable of it. It meant that he must show might when she was weak.
It meant that he must maintain order when no one else would.
“No,” he agreed. “You cannot.”
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XII. KNIGHT OF CUPS
You were not fond of tourneys when you were younger.
Social pariahs do not do well at social events. While tournaments and feasts were a source of joy for everyone else, they—like every other celebration—only served to highlight how friendless you were. At first you tried to enjoy them with Helaena, but her mother eventually forbade it, so worried she was about your influence on her daughter. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. You then tried spending the time with Aemond, but Aegon was always made to sit near him, meaning that he also sat near you. It quickly became intolerable: Aegon’s hands would always curiously end up on your body—your lower back, your thighs, your bottom, and so on.
Aegon’s behaviour used to make you cry from the discomfort (privately, for you would have rather died than showed weakness before him), but after a time you grew tired of the crying and you started to kick him in retaliation. While this effectively kept his hands off you, it also meant that Alicent eventually also forbade her two sons from sitting near you. She could not have Aegon making a fool of himself during every tourney, yelping as you defended yourself.
In the end, you were left to sit alone in every tourney, which was simply uncomfortable. You loved a good joust as much as anyone else, but it was not nearly so fun when you had no one to spectate with or speak with between rounds. You would only sit there alone, with a favour that the septa had forced you to make, for which no one would ask, acutely aware of the gazes of other people. You always squirmed in your seat, trying not to think of the judgements being passed upon you: how lonely you were, how pathetic you were, how few people of noble standing would ever want your company except to touch you as if you were a bed slave like your mother.
All of this changed when Aemond grew up.
As soon as he was old enough to have the freedom, he began to accompany you during any festivities, sitting next to you in the stands. And when he began to join the listings, you always looked forward to seeing him cut down his opponents, knocking them brutally off their horses or making them yield to his sword. Even though you sat alone, you were never lonely, for Aemond spent the idle time between rounds with you, smiling in genuine amusement as you leaned over the barrier to jest and speak with him, once so deeply that you nearly fell over.
Eventually, you got into the habit of sitting in the front row, not hoping to bless anyone with a favour, but simply so you could speak more easily with him. You sat now in the same spot as always—but for once, you were not alone. Jacaerys was next to you, and Lucerys next to him. It was their first tournament in King’s Landing, and their excitement for it was evident.
You could not have asked for a better day for a tourney: the sky was a rich blue and the wind tempered the heat of the sun. The banners and shields all seemed so vivid in the bright daylight, stags and bears and towers and wolves emblazoned across them all. Jace and Luke recognized every house sigil, of course, but it did not stop you from pointing out every knight in the tiltyard. You gave a particular pause to the knight that carried a green shield blooming with a golden flower. “My betrothed,” you said. “Ser Arthur is apparently quite the splendid knight.”
“Ah.” Jacaerys’ expression was unreadable, his tone neutral. “I'll need to keep an eye on him.” He glanced down at the favour on your lap: a ring of golden blossoms with a green silk ribbon woven through it, obviously inspired by the Tyrell coat-of-arms. “Did you prepare that for him?”
You nodded. “No one ever asks me for my favour, so I stopped making them long ago, but I made one this time in case he thinks to request it in courtship. It was the Queen’s recommendation.”
“A good one,” Jace admitted, though he looked neither happy nor approving. “What do you think are the chances that he’ll win the crown of love and beauty for you?”
“None at all, I hope. I’ve bet quite a bit of coin on Aemond,” you said neatly. “Tyland Lannister will lose a great deal of money today.”
Jace’s mouth was slanted with something that might have been amusement. “Are you always so confident in my uncle’s victories?”
“Well, he does always win,” you replied, grinning.
“So I've heard,” he said, sounding exasperated, and you had to stop yourself from feeling embarrassed. Over the years, you had mentioned occasionally in your letters about how much time Aemond put into training, and which tourneys he had won, and all the things you were learning about warfare from him. You did not think that Jacaerys would have minded it, but he currently looked distinctly sour.
“Sorry.”
“No, it's all right.” He studied the yard carefully. “I look forward to seeing what sort of fighter my uncle has become.”
His dark gaze landed upon Aemond then, a silhouette of night-black armour chased with gold. His helm was off, revealing his silver hair and sharply carved features. You did not often think about how handsome your cousin was, and typically you thought of him too frightening to be gallant, but you could not ignore it today: Aemond Targaryen was a very beautiful man. You had to remind yourself that he was Alicent Hightower’s son, which was a fact that never failed to stop you from admiring him. If ever you should lose your wits and find yourself besotted with Aemond, the Queen would instantly banish you from the capital. Though Aemond, himself, was far too ambitious to enter a marriage as politically useless as yours would be.
Rather than lingering on your undesirability, you instead turned your focus to the two knights about to joust, a Tarth and a Dondarrion. You'd seen both the year before, and you were unsurprised when the Dondarrion brutally unseated the former. Every house of the Dornish Marches had fierce warriors forged by true battle, and Dondarrion was no exception. The nobles around you clapped politely; the smallfolk in the commons cheered.
More rounds. Caron against Frey, then Tully against Stokeworth, then Dayne against Lannister. Then, finally—Aemond Targaryen.
As a prince, Aemond was allowed to choose his opponents. Never one to be craven, he stopped and pointed his lance at the knight carrying a brown shield with three stalks of wheat: the emblem of House Selmy of the Dornish Marches. Their knights were on par with the Daynes, and just as battle-hardened.
Though Aemond was skilled, he had never seen war unlike his opponent, and you could not help but feel anxious as you watched him guide his courser into the lane. He was starting out with Ser Selmy on his left. No matter how many times you watched Aemond joust, you always felt a sense of apprehension about his blind side. You did not know how he saw without his missing eye; you only knew how much he struggled after losing it, training with Ser Criston day and night, determined to regain his balance and aim, determined to take back what he'd lost…
Both warriors readied themselves. Selmy did not hold his reins, but Aemond did, so certain of his victory. Their lances were in hand, the ends rounded but no less dangerous.
The horses cried as they began.
Your heart pounded nearly as loud as the hooves beating against the ground. They race past one another and their weapons glanced against steel: Aemond’s lance on Selmy’s shield, splintering and bursting on contact; Selmy’s on Aemond’s arm. Neither faltered. As soon as your cousin was given a new lance, they resumed, with Selmy now charging on Aemond's right.
This time, Aemond’s lance crashed right into Selmy’s neck, just beneath his chin. The knight’s destrier screamed, nearly toppling over as Selmy was thrown off. The commons roared with delight, while all the nobles clapped politely—except for you. You could not help but stand on your feet and cheer in a distinctly undignified manner. When you looked down, Jace was studying you with amusement, and you could only grin.
Aemond, as always, rode over to where you sat. He looked up at you, mouth curled into a satisfied smile. You waved at him, practically hanging over the edge of the balcony.
“Well done, my Prince!” you exclaimed. “A splendid show as always! And against such a fearsome opponent, too!”
“Thank you, my lady, but you need not congratulate me yet. Other opponents equally fierce await me.”
“And you will best them as well,” you shouted, “for I have a great number of gold dragons staked on you! You are not allowed to lose!”
Aemond seemed amused. “If my lady wishes for my victory, then I would ask her for her help.”
You gave him a quizzical look. “My help?”
He held out a hand. “Your favour.”
You stared at him.
The nobles around you went quiet. You could feel the gazes of Queen Alicent and the Hand boring into you. Aemond One-Eye had never once asked a lady for her favour. To think that he was now asking for it—and asking it of you, a woman betrothed to another man—was pure scandal.
You glanced at Ser Arthur, whose gaze on Aemond was nearly piercing. This could only be part of Aemond’s play, you determined—an attempt at humiliation, and perhaps a feigned declaration of his intent to court you? The Tyrells could hardly ignore a Targaryen prince competing with their offer, even if he was doing it without the consent of his queen mother. If Aemond challenged Ser Arthur for your hand, it would complicate matters for them. You were unsure, though, if such a complication would deter them.
But Aemond told you to play along, so play along you did. You tossed at him your ring of blossoms and ribbon, and felt something in your chest twisting oddly as he caught them. No one had ever asked you for your favour before, and even though Aemond was doing it only as a ploy, it still made your heart pound to see someone wear your flowers.
“I don't imagine Ser Arthur will be happy about that,” Jace remarked after you sat down.
“Aemond is trying to slight the Tyrells.”
“I figured. Bold of him.”
“As is his disposition.” You settled back into your seat, trying to seem normal. “Well, now he has to win. I’ve bet a hundred gold dragons and my favour on him.”
“A hundred gold dragons?”
“I have inherited enough money to own half the city of Lys. A hundred gold dragons is nothing, especially when I will double it. A Lannister always pays his debts, you know.”
“You seem to have your father’s gift for making coin.”
“I only know when to hedge my bets.”
You both went quiet as several more rounds of jousting occurred. Ser Arthur was as fierce as the whispers told; he knocked a knight of Swann clean off his destrier, and even unhorsed the Dondarrion. Aemond eventually rode against Dayne and sent the great warrior crashing into the stands. They drew swords following the unhorsing, steel dancing and clashing violently. Aemond eventually forced the Marcher knight to yield.
The next time Aemond rode, he chose Ser Arthur for his opponent.
The commons cheered raucously, and every eye in the audience was heavy upon them. All throughout the stands, you heard people making their bets, and you sent Tyland Lannister a smile in reminder of your own. All the while, the two frontrunners for the tournament positioned themselves on opposite ends of the tiltyard. Ser Arthur was on Aemond’s left, you noticed, and your heart raced as the horses galloped.
Ser Arthur was formidable, and while Aemond was renowned for his skill, all the knights he'd chosen had still challenged him. He required two, three rounds to unseat most of them. Everyone expected a fight, an equal match of several rounds, perhaps even a swordfight—
But in a single, savage motion, Aemond’s lance speared right through Ser Arthur’s neck.
It took several moments for people to realise what had happened. Once they did, chaos gripped the crowd. Deaths happened occasionally during tourneys, but typically during melees, for the jousting lances were intentionally designed not to kill. And rarely was a death so stunning nor swift. Several women screamed at the sight of the bloodied lance, at the corpse that was falling from its horse; many of the men roared and cheered. Across the stands, you noticed Lady Tyrell sitting still and quiet.
You did not react yourself. You only sat there, numb with disbelief. You could think only of one thing:
“Did”—you swallowed thickly—“H-how did he do that? Was that on purpose?”
“I don't know,” Luke replied, voice trembling, but Jace sounded confident when he replied, “No. It was an accident.”
You turned to him. “How are you so certain?”
He seemed stoic when he replied—not cold or cruel, but solemn. Dignified in the face of death. “Aemond has a habit of aiming for the upper chest or neck when he jousts,” he explained. “You saw it for yourself, didn't you, with that knight of House Selmy? It is a brutal move, but not fatal. The gorget protects the opponent. But”—Jace frowned—“did you see the gorget on Ser Arthur? It wasn’t fastened correctly.”
You did not know what a gorget was or how one would see that it was loose, but you trusted Jace. “And Aemond would not have noticed?”
Jacaerys looked troubled. “I might have. But Ser Arthur was on his left…”
Aemond’s blind side, you realised.
“Then,” you asked, “who exactly is to blame?”
“I did not think the day would ever come that I would defend my uncle, but I don't believe that Aemond is at fault. It would be Ser Arthur’s squire, if anyone were to be held accountable—though such blunders are not unusual for an inexperienced squire. It was strange that Ser Arthur himself did not notice. He is—was—an experienced knight. He should know how his armour feels.”
“Aemond goaded Ser Arthur to anger,” you said, thinking not only of the favour, but their incensed conversation the night before, “so he was likely too distracted to notice. People are stupid when they're angered.”
The thought unsettled you, but Jace seemed unbothered. “You're speaking true. That is precisely why anyone would try to anger their foes before a battle—a stupid opponent is a weak one. It is not foul play that Aemond did so.” He gave you a pitying look. “Still, this is a tragedy. I am sorry for the loss of your betrothed.”
“You need not be,” you said, and you nearly added I had no desire to marry a raper anyway, until you remembered that you were in a crowd. “It is no one's fault, as you said,” you recovered. “I cannot blame anyone. I only mourn for Ser Arthur and his family.”
You tried not to wince as you remembered them. It was an accident, Jace had explained—but the death of a Tyrell son at the hands of a Targaryen prince would still be cause for strife and offence. You dreaded the consequences, and they loomed over you for the rest of the jousts.
The crowd, however, moved quickly past Ser Arthur’s tragedy. They cheered as the last several rounds finished, and by the time Aemond Targaryen unhorsed his final opponent, it was as if he had not just killed a knight. The commons cheered for him raucously, the nobles clapped and nodded in approval. It felt like you were alone in your discomfort—the only one suspicious of the incident.
You were so deep in your musings that you nearly did not realise it when Aemond was given his crown of winter roses to bequeath upon his chosen queen. The crowd murmured in curiosity as he drew toward them, though you watched almost with boredom. Aemond was utterly disinterested in the pageantry of tournaments, and nearly skipped the crowning the first time he won one. It was only at the urging of the crowd that he crowned his sister in his first year, then his mother in the next—with the least enthusiasm possible both times. Doubtlessly, he would crown one of them again.
You almost thought he made a mistake when he stopped in front of you.
“Who else should I crown as the queen of love and beauty,” he declared, a nearly roguish smile on his face, “other than my lady cousin?”
Although the crowd gasped in equal parts shock and delight, you only stared at him, aghast. “Me?”
He raised a brow. “Are you so surprised? You are the loveliest and most beautiful here to my eye, my lady. The title suits you well.”
You were stunned. Dumbstruck. You could not match this bold flattery to the Aemond you knew: a man who focused only on duty and politics, and who seemed utterly dispassionate about both marriage and women. Staring at the man before you, you wondered if he had been replaced by a changeling—or perhaps he had been possessed by some kind of demon?
But where you were confused, the younger girls around you seemed only excited. Cheers and giggles erupted around you. Ladies who had never in their life wanted to speak with you were now suddenly enamoured with you—or perhaps enamoured with Prince Aemond, who was known for his cold behaviour and complete disinterest in matters of courtly love. But right now Aemond was the very image of a gallant prince rather than a terrifying killer, and all the girls around you must have been excited by it.
Several of them urged you forward:
“Go on, my lady! Go on!”
“You can't turn down a prince!”
“Especially not Prince Aemond, of all people!”
“Who knew he was such a romantic!”
“Who knew! He must be serious in his intent to court you, my lady!”
“Yes, yes—he is always seen with you, is he not? Oh, I know the whispers were false, but he must truly wish to be your lover!”
“It is as they say, my lady. He wishes so badly to crown you, just see how he is looking at you! Do not keep him waiting!”
Never had you gotten so much approval from strangers. It was as foreign and unfamiliar as the experience of receiving attention from a man that was not absolutely repulsive and violating. You had never once imagined in your life that someone would ever want to crown you at a tournament or display such gallantry toward you, and it deeply affected you. Rather than feeling the butterflies of a newly discovered love, however, you were so overwhelmed that you only wanted to throw up.
Giving Jace a mildly terrified expression, you made your way down the stands. You tried not to look at Queen Alicent as you did, trying to avoid what you were sure was a gaze of complete wrath.
When you were finally on the tiltyard, facing Aemond, he dismounted from his courser. Even standing before him, you were convinced that he was confused, that this was some kind of error, that he was unwell or mad or had some other lady cousin you did not know of. Nevertheless, he laid the crown of roses upon your head, its blooms so blue and rare that the crowd exclaimed at their beauty.
Even though the masses were unrepentant in their delight, you could only give Aemond a blank look.
“What are you doing?” you asked in Valyrian, and he replied in kind.
“Courting you—was that not obvious?”
“Of course it is obvious. I am asking why.”
“It will be difficult for another house to request your hand if it means angering the Targaryen prince who rides the largest dragon in the world.” He looked self-satisfied. “Our family is known for madness, after all. People generally do not want to provoke it in us.”
You felt a headache coming on, disbelieving that this was his brilliant plan. And it still remained to be seen whether he had meant to kill Ser Arthur—for despite Jace’s staunch belief in his uncle’s innocence, the thorns upon your head led you to doubt him.
“You are mad for doing this, cousin,” you said.
“Perhaps. But have I not solved the problem of your betrothal?”
“For now. But we will be forced into this ruse of courtship, and once we stop, we will once again face the same problem.”
He smiled. He took your hand into his, and even though this was not his first time doing this, you were still startled when he pressed his lips to your knuckle. This time, your heart pounded in reaction and there was a mildly concerning flutter in your stomach.
Aemond replied only once he returned your hand to you, his expression as amused as it was cunning.
“Why need we ever stop?”
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END PART V
hiii thank you for reading <3 i hope everyone enjoyed aemond's freak behaviour in this!
now that this chapter is out of the way, I would like to discuss a major shortcoming of this story. I did not have the foresight to write the earlier chapters in a way that expanded on the psychic damage that years of gendered microaggressions and sexual harassment has had on the reader. it was something I didn't want to focus on because I just wanted to have fun writing about some court politics and romance lol, but I've realised that it's going to play a very big role in the future of this fic (rip).
I've tried to introduce some of it here through aemond's pov, but I do want to emphasize how much of an influence it has had on the reader's mentality. it actually has even passively influenced the narrative even though I was actively trying to avoid writing about it - for instance, it's partly why she has zero expectations for ever having a romance, why she has no romantic/sexual experiences even though she gets a lot of attention, why she is very pragmatic about marriage, why she has no plans to have sex beyond a purely political marriage, etc... the trauma response does run even deeper than all of that though!
anyhow - thanks again for reading! please let me know if you enjoyed this. reblogs are greatly appreciated too! ^^
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syndrossi · 2 days ago
Text
Restoration AU: Jon I
Previous part, Ned I, here.
x~x~x
Jon knew where Robb would go next, and that his presence would be more unwelcome than ever, so it was the solitude of the godswood he sought instead. Better than roaming the castle halls or grounds, where he could already feel stares following him, and hear whispers falling to silence in his wake. Theon’s handiwork, no doubt.
Brothers. Jon stared into the dark pool at the base of the heart tree, feeling as though he might wake up from a dream at any moment. He had always longed to know more about his mother, and it was plain as day that those boys were kin. With the other Jon—my name, why would she give him the same name?—it had been like staring into a mirror. They looked even more alike to him than Arya, which surely meant they shared a mother too.
Why is she not here with them?
Jon burned with questions. He had been since Jory had helped the boys up onto the horses, the one named Jon with the captain, and the other with Robb. The choice had felt deliberate on Jory’s part, as deliberate as their return by the Hunter’s Gate, bearing further shame for Lord Stark.
Had he loved his mother, then? Jon knew that it did not take love to sire children, that base lust would suffice, but his father was no Theon. If he had gone back to her, that meant he had missed her.
He took me from her, but not my brothers. Had he known about them? There had been a wide-eyed recognition in his father’s eyes when he beheld them, but Jon did not know if that was because he had not expected them, or because he had not known of their birth.
They had been abandoned in the wolfswood, too, at risk of freezing in the cold. Two children who could not be older than Arya.
She is dead. Jon knew it in his heart. If she had kept his little brothers for this long without telling his father, then she would not have easily parted with them, and certainly not in such a way as to endanger them. She is dead and I will never know her.
But his brothers had, and he could not help the ache of jealousy in his heart. They had not known their father, he reminded himself. Each of them had grown up half-orphaned, mistrusted for their very nature.
And it was plain to see that they had grown up in a lord’s household as well. Their dress was fine, and they had been comfortable speaking to Robb. Despite their shivering, they had walked confidently through the halls of Winterfell. That sense of belonging was not one that a baseborn bastard would possess.
Had she been highborn herself then? There was so much he longed to ask his father, questions he had not dared before. If he will answer, even now.
Motion flickered in the periphery of his vision, and he turned his head to see his father approaching as though summoned by his thoughts. His little brothers were at his side, and they had been changed into warmer clothing that Jon recognized as belonging to him and Robb when they were younger.
I looked like that once, he thought as he watched the other Jon. There would be no confusing his other brother, Raymar, for Robb of course. Their mother must have had uncommonly fair hair, more silver than golden. It was a color Jon had not seen in the north. The closest he could recall was a blond-haired whore who Theon had favored for a time, and the memory of it brought a clench to his stomach. He could already hear Theon’s voice drawing the comparison.
“Jon,” his father called in quiet greeting once they had reached him. His face, which could be by turns stern or gentle, was neither. It was almost uneasy, as it had been when they had come upon Ghost’s mother, dead in the snow.
“Which one?” Jon asked.
His counterpart did not react to the bite in his question, though their father grimaced. “I am Willam now.”
Lord Stark put a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders. “These are your twin brothers, Willam and Raymar.” He glanced down at the boys, taking in a breath. “And this is your brother Jon.”
Jon had stolen sidelong glances at the boys on their way to his father’s solar. Now that they were right before him, no longer shivering with cold, he took his time in study. He and the other Jon—Willam—were not exactly alike, he could see now. His own face was slightly longer, his hair and eyes a shade darker. There were subtle differences in the shape of their eyes and mouth, though they were close enough that Jon felt like he was looking into a mirror some five years before.
He could easily see himself in Raymar as well, though his coloring made the differences more dramatic, the boy’s eyes a striking purple. Jon struggled to find their father in him, however. He must favor our mother, the way Robb does Lady Stark. Jon had been teased before for his own locks, which he wore longer than Robb’s or Theon’s, but Raymar’s were far longer, giving him an exotic look that did not match his name.
Both children were subdued, as though numbed by the shock of the day’s events, and there was a tension to either of grief held in check. Jon, who had been ready to demand answers of their father, felt some of his hurt-fueled anger falter.
They had been alone, abandoned, their lives upended. Winterfell was at least Jon’s home, and the Starks his family. But to his little brothers, they were all strangers. Jon tried to imagine someone setting Bran or Arya loose to wander alone in a cold summer snow, far from home, and his blood flared hot.
“Hello,” Jon said, softening his voice. “I am glad to meet you.”
Willam approached first, gaze solemn with understanding, and Jon hugged him. His brother did not relax, though he returned the hug. Raymar was next, his violet eyes taking in Jon’s features with the same intensity as his own study, shifting between him and Willam. His upset seemed to grow, and Jon could feel the shake of it in his limbs as Jon pulled him into an embrace.
I have true brothers and I never knew. But on the heels of that anger came guilt. Robb is no less my brother, nor are any of my siblings.
“What happened?” Jon asked, meeting his father’s gaze. “Why were they abandoned in the snow? Where is—”
Where is our mother?
“Come,” Lord Stark said. “Such matters must be discussed in the privacy of my solar.”
Jon felt his eyes narrow. “First I would have you stand before the heart tree and tell me of my mother.”
Lord Stark’s discomfort seemed to grow, only confirming Jon’s suspicions. He wishes to continue to withhold the truth.
It was Willam who spoke, moving to press his hand against the weeping face of the weirwood tree. “Our mother’s name was Rhea. She died two years ago.”
Jon had been expecting it, but still the blow caught him in the chest. Rhea. He knew his mother’s name at last, and she was dead. He could not help the sagging of his shoulders, or the sudden ache of his throat.
“Did you love her?”
His question was for his father, who stepped before the tree as well, his sorrow plain as he placed his hands on Jon’s shoulders. “I loved your mother, yes.”
Jon had dreamt of hearing his father say those words for most of his life, but they left him hollow now. He had been a product of love, born of a woman his father had perhaps wished he could marry instead, and yet it did not matter. She was dead, and the legacy she had left was one of regret.
“Come,” Lord Stark repeated, hand squeezing his shoulder.
The stares were even worse in Lord Stark’s presence, his father’s face a stony mask as he led his three bastard sons through the halls of Winterfell and into his solar. Jon sat down by the hearth, half-numb, while his brothers settled on the couch. He should have sat with them; they looked overwhelmed, but he could not bring himself to.
“Who was she?” he asked, knowing that he should be asking what had happened to his brothers instead. “What was her house?”
His father had chosen to stand by the fire, his back to it, shrouding his face in shadow, but it could not hide the tension in his frame at the question. Even now, with her two years dead, he does not wish to speak of her. Perhaps it was love or guilt or grief—or perhaps it was regret that the evidence of greater dishonor still had come knocking upon his door.
“Her family was from Lys,” Raymar said, answering the question instead. “House Perzane. We grew up in Gulltown, but were sent to live with kin there, after her death.”
House Perzane. Jon did not know much about the houses of the Free City of Lys, but it explained both Raymar’s odd coloring and the twins’ noble upbringing. He had never considered that his mother might not even be of the Seven Kingdoms.
“What did she look like?” Jon asked.
Raymar’s gaze dropped. “Me,” he said, his voice small. “She looked like me.”
And now he was surrounded by kin who looked nothing like her. Willam reached for his brother’s hand, but he snatched it away, angling away from his twin. Jon leveled a look at their father, whose fists had clenched but otherwise made no move to comfort his own child.
Jon stood then and joined them on the couch, squeezing in next to Raymar to gather him in for a hug. “I am sorry,” he told the boy. “I wish I had known her.”
“They were taken from their mother’s kin,” Lord Stark said stiffly. “I assume their abductors had learned of their relation to me and sought ransom.”
Or perhaps blackmail, Jon thought cynically. How much would Lord Stark have paid to keep their existence a secret, had they not been found wandering alone?
“How did you come to be on the edge of the wolfswood?” Jon asked, turning to the twins.
“Jon—Willam stabbed that man who took us,” Raymar said, still staring into his own lap. “We ran into the wood.”
“We were close,” Willam added. “We could see smoke from the castle rising into the sky.”
Jon wondered what their captor’s plan had been. To march them directly to the gates of Winterfell? Perhaps he had thought that Lord Stark would want his bastard sons, since he had taken Jon in as a babe, and had instead sought a reward.
“He did not hurt you, did he?” Jon asked, looking them over for signs of injury.
They shook their heads in unison, and it was his father who spoke. “They were dosed with dreamwine to keep them docile.”
A wise measure, given that little Willam had managed to wound their captor gravely enough for them to escape. “Has their captor been found?”
“I have sent men in search,” Lord Stark said grimly. “If he yet lives, I doubt he will come here.”
Jon frowned at the thought of the man escaping. “Let me join them.”
“No. Your brothers will need your strength.”
His meaning was plain. “You spoke with Lady Stark.”
His father grimaced. “I have not. Once your brothers are settled, I shall go to her.”
Who will she hate more? The bastard she knows, or the two that are proof that she comes second in his heart? Jon looked down at the dark and light-haired heads of his brothers, feeling a surge of pity. They do not deserve her scorn.
“Take them to your chamber,” his father continued. “They will stay with you for now.”
For now. “Do you mean to be rid of them?” Jon demanded.
“No,” Lord Stark said with a quiet sigh. His gaze swept the three of them, and Jon caught another glimpse of that unease. He is worried. Did he fear reprisal from House Tully? Unrest amongst his bannermen? Jon was unsure why. He would hardly be the first lord to sire three bastards. “You do not shame me, Jon, nor do they. The shame is mine alone.”
Only it wasn’t. A lord was untouchable to most, above jeers and japes. A lord’s bastard sons, however, were not. And it was not Lord Stark who had borne Lady Stark’s jealousy.
“When do you mean to introduce them to the rest of their siblings?”
Jon had shied away from thinking about them, especially Robb and Sansa. Robb had always admired their father, and held him as a man of upstanding character. It had been easy for his brother to dismiss his infidelity before as a young husband at war who had not yet had enough time with his new wife. He had not blamed Jon, but now—
And Sansa had never viewed Jon with particular kindness, preferring to keep a distance. It did not bother him too greatly these days, since she was just a girl while Jon was near a man, but his little brothers would not have the same armor if they had grown up with their mother’s family. 
“Tomorrow, perhaps,” his father said after a long moment in thought. “I need to speak with their mother first. It would be best if you took supper with your brothers in your chamber tonight.”
Jon smiled without humor. “But we do not shame you, of course.”
“Jon—”
“I will take them there,” Jon interrupted, not caring that their father looked sad and tired. He sprang to his feet, and held out a hand to his newfound brothers, forcing warmth into his smile. “Come along.”
x~x~x
They did not go directly to Jon’s chamber. He did not care if it was a bad idea to venture out, there was one thing capable of cheering him and comforting young boys, and he was currently nursing in the kennels, which were at least mostly out of the way of any would-be gawkers.
“Wait out here,” Jon bade them before slipping into the building.
Ghost was curled up next to his direwolf littermates, as well as their adoptive hound siblings, dozing lightly. He wriggled with excitement as Jon picked him up and tucked him into his shirt, and his smile felt like his first true one since finding the twins shivering in the snow.
It instantly faded as he stepped out to find Theon outside the kennels, leaning on the fence as he looked the twins over.
“I heard we had some fresh snow,” Theon said with a smirk. “I did not take the honorable Lord Stark for a man who would keep a mistress. Some pretty thing from Lys, maybe, with a bush as white as her hair.” He thrust a hand out, ruffling Raymar’s hair for a second before the boy ducked out of his reach. “Where did he find the time?”
“It must have been when he was on the way to crush the Greyjoy Rebellion,” Willam said, his voice cold as ice. “He made quite a few widows there before your father begged for peace.”
Theon’s mirth disappeared, hand twitching at his side as though he wished to cuff the boy, and Jon immediately stepped between them, fists balling. He was hungry for a fight, and he did not care that Theon was larger and close to full-grown. “Try it, Greyjoy.”
His father’s ward backed down after a moment. “They’re as mouthy as you, Snow. You would do well to teach them what a bastard’s place is in the world.”
With that, Theon shoved off, disappearing through the gate into the castle’s courtyard. Jon took a few breaths to reclaim his composure, not wanting to walk into the yard looking upset. Willam was glaring after Theon with a dark fury that surprised him, leaving him to wonder if bastards were treated differently in Lys. Perhaps it was more like Dorne, where it was said a man’s bastards were held as equal to his trueborn children.
The quiet shock that had yet to leave Raymar seemed to tell a similar story. Jon put a hand on his back. “Let’s go.”
Jon did not relax until they had successfully navigated the halls without running into Lady Stark. He did not want his little brothers to face her venom just yet, not without warning. Once they were safely in his chamber, he dragged his chair from the hearth over to his bed, and gestured for his brothers to take the bed.
“Here,” Jon said. He reached into his shirt and withdrew a sleepy Ghost, setting him gently on the bed between them. “This is Ghost.”
Their eyes went wide, both children extending a hand to the direwolf pup, which he happily nosed and then licked. But before Jon could feel any triumph at managing to comfort them, he realized that Willam was crying. He could tell the boy was trying to hold it in, but the bed practically shook under the force of his quiet sobs.
“It’s all right,” Jon assured him, though the words felt empty. 
His brother’s tears seemed to unleash a similar flood in Raymar, and Jon was faced with two silently crying children on his bed, their pain reaching deep into Jon as well. There was something hauntingly familiar about strangling the hurt until you choked, knowing that it was not your place to burden others with it.
If their birth came from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they cannot be older than Bran. They looked closer to Arya’s age, but it was said that bastards grew faster than trueborn sons. Jon abandoned his chair, clambering up onto the bed with them to pull them into a hug, one in each arm. Just because he had been alone with his pain in this room, it did not mean they need be.
“I want to go home,” Raymar said, the words half-mumbled into Jon’s chest.
“All will be well,” Jon promised. “I will look after you, and so will Ghost.”
He helped them out of their boots and their borrowed cloaks, noting their exhaustion through the tears, and tucked them in beneath the furs of his bed. Ghost licked worriedly at their faces, until the heartbreak on Willam’s face turned to a tremulous smile, his fingers burying into the pup’s fur with each stroke.
“Take some rest with Ghost,” Jon said. “I will wake you when it is supper, and I can tell you all about Winterfell.”
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madd-nix · 3 minutes ago
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Thank you to everyone for showing so much love to this au! I'm so glad so many people are interested in it! As thanks, I wrote a short little (possibly) one shot story here. Just Ingo and Emmet first realizing Ingo (in Unova) has amnesia.
Arceus had a plan. It knew that Its children were going into frenzies in Hisui, and It knew the reason why. And It knew exactly who to send to fix it. However, human lives were intricate, complicated, and fragile things. It would need to handle this carefully if It was going to displace someone from their home. Unless... Arceus never fully removed the human from their home in the first place. If It could split the human in two - one to leave in their home, and one to place in Hisui - then there would be less strain on the human's life.
Right?
~~~~~
You wake up. You feel drowsy and disoriented, like being hit by a metaphorical train. Hopefully not a real one. You look around to gauge your surroundings. Immediately, you can tell that you're in a hospital bed. It's not as comfortable as your normal bed, and there's an IV hooked to your right arm and a pulse monitor on your finger. You don't remember being injured though. You look up and see your brother, Emmet, leaning over the end of the bed. He's sitting in a chair with his torso leaning over to let him lay across the bottom of the bed by your feet. You immediately feel relieved knowing he's there. Sitting up, and being mindful of the cords connected to you, you reach out and gently shake his shoulder. You do your best to whisper to wake him up.
"Emmet. Emmet, wake up."
He groans and opens his eyes, then he's suddenly awake as he smiles at you, relief written all over his face.
"Oh, thank the dragons you're okay! How do you feel? Are you hurt?" He sits up and moves to sit closer to you, allowing you to move back into the bed more comfortably.
Now that you're thinking about it, there is a soreness to your head, as if you had fallen down.
"My head is a bit sore. Nothing terrible, but still." You rub the back of your head where it hurts the worst. There's a slight bump.
"Well, I did find you passed out," Emmet says with a nod, seemingly expecting that answer. "But the doctors checked it out and you do not have a concussion. That is good."
"Emmet, what... what happened? We were at work, right?" You have vague memories of working the late shift with your brother, but other than that, your memories get hazy.
"We were working the late shift," Emmet confirms. "We checked the tunnels one last time to make sure no stray passengers traveled down there. We went down separate tunnels to get through them faster. Like usual."
You nod along. That sounds familiar.
"I could not find anything down the tunnels that I searched," Emmet continues. "So I turned back and called for you on the radio. But you did not answer. No matter how many times I called. So I came to find you. And you were unconscious. No one was around and there were no pokemon nearby. I have depot agents and police looking at the security footage to find out what happened. You don't remember anything, right?"
Your mind buzzes at the one word that Emmet had said.
"Pokemon...... um, I know what those are..." You say that as if trying to remind and reassure yourself more than anything.
"What? Of course you do. You are a Subway Boss." Emmet looks at you as if you've lost your mind. Maybe you have.
"Emmet... now that you say that... um, how do I put this? Well... who am I?" You look to your brother for answers as his eyes get wide with confusion and concern. "You say I'm a Subway Boss, and I know you are too, since that is our job title, but..... what is my name? I... I-I can't remember it."
"...Ingo. Y-your name is Ingo. You are my older brother. Older by about ten minutes," Emmet says slowly, as if trying to process all of this. "I-I am Emmet. I am going to get a doctor. Maybe your head injury is worse than we thought."
Before you can say anything, Emmet is gone, rushing out of the room. You are alone with just the realization that you can't remember who you are.
Your name is... Ingo?
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Au where Arceus tries to fix things by fucking things up more. It knows It has to send Ingo to Hisui for Its whole plan to work, but It doesn't want to separate Ingo from his home and family. So split him in two! That'll be fine!
So basically, Ingo in Hisui is as we know him in the game. Only knows his name and about pokemon and battling. But Ingo in Unova can't have the same knowledge, especially if Arceus plans to eventually fuse them back together. So he remembers basically everything other than his own name and stuff about pokemon and battling. Obviously, when Emmet realizes this, he gets his brother to a hospital for testing to see what's wrong, and a lot of their time is spent just trying to reteach Ingo about himself and pokemon. And lots of brain scans and medical staff psychic pokemon trying to figure out what's wrong.
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magicshopaholic · 2 days ago
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Thinking of You (Taehyung x OC)
Summary: Dilara has a nightmare.
Pairing: Taehyung x OC
Genre: Angst
Word count: 1.1 K
Rating: 18+
Warnings: mentions of war, blood
A/N: Short, but... well, not sweet. Probably not what you're expecting. Takes place almost two years after A Stormy Night.
Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet @jihopesjoint (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)
Listen to: "thinking of you" by katy perry
taehyung masterlist| main masterlist
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Dilara wakes up in a cold sweat, her heart beating a mile a minute. The dream was vivid, like a 4D movie where she couldn't run out of the theatre. She closes her eyes again, snapping them open a moment later when the image behind her eyelids stay the same: a broken body, camouflaged comrades, smoke and patches of fire, and death. Everywhere.
She doesn’t know where the images came from; probably a combination of the handful of war movies she's seen her entire life. But the faces weren't from the movies. They were familiar; achingly, heartbreakingly familiar, enough that the thought of them once again makes her stomach churn painfully. A moment later, she stumbles out of her bed and runs to the bathroom where she falls to her knees and vomits into the toilet.
Her throat burns as she stays there for a few more seconds before slowly standing up, feeling unsteady. Reaching in the dark for her toothbrush, she brushes her teeth in the darkness as she waits for her heartbeat to go back to normal. It doesn’t, not really. Her feet don’t move towards the door either. Giving up without much of a fight, she slides down to the floor with her back against the door, all vestiges of sleep gone.
This nightmare was a new one. Dilara is prone to them in general, especially when she’s stressed. More often than not, they’re related to whatever she’s stressed about: a bad chemistry exam, getting rejected by Red Bull, crashing out and getting buried under the wreckage of her car. After the conversation she'd had with Kaya yesterday where the older girl had revealed how Namjoon was doing in the military, Dilara's thoughts had started wandering. That, coupled with what she'd overheard at the Red Bull office later in the day ("They're at war - it's nuclear now.") makes it clear what caused tonight's horrifying dream.
Of course, the "war" was figurative, referring to a Red Bull and Mercedes battle at a critical point of the season. But the direction her thoughts had gone in by default are more telling than the nightmare before she remembers that if North Korea had truly gone back on their ceasefire, it would be international news being broadcasted in every corner of the world.
Right now, she feels suffocated. She places her palms on the cold floor, trying to focus on the feel of the tile and cool her sweaty hands as she thinks of the only person in the world who can make her feel better, and her heart clenches. Kaya is lucky, she thinks, so lucky that she can contact her boyfriend whenever she wants and at least expect a response as soon as possible. Namjoon loves her, adores her, cherishes her; so much so that even halfway across the world from his girlfriend, stashed in the barracks of wherever he’s stationed, he would do everything in his power to reassure her of that fact, and that he’s safe.
Dilara herself could expect no such thing from Taehyung, though, especially since it’s now nearly two months since they last had any contact whatsoever. She tries not to think about that; it hurts too much. There were multiple messages she'd begun drafting, each a variation of the few things she desperately wanted to say. Are you okay? What's happening with you? Do you think about me at all?
But none of these are questions he wants to hear, much less answer. His monosyllabic responses, abrupt goodbyes and deliberate omission of his visit to Seoul had been enough to give her an idea of how he was dealing with their break-up and the last thing she wants to do is reopen old wounds at a time when fixing them would be near impossible.
Dilara drops her head on her knees, shoulders shaking with emotion. It isn’t the first time they’ve been apart. Being separated from him in another timezone was an unfortunate reality of a long distance relationship, common enough that she'd slowly and agonizingly gotten somewhat used to it. It was never ideal, but she could picture him at least: warming up in the dance studio, peering into the pot as his ramen cooked, swaying to an old Dave Brubeck number as he stepped out of the shower, hair wet and droplets glistening on his shoulders and back.
Now, there is nothing. He can’t share pictures, there are none online, and she hasn’t the faintest idea what South Korean military barracks even look like. She doesn’t know what he does on a daily basis, what branch he’s serving in, what he wears, what he eats, what his hair looks like, whether he's put on or lost weight, or how often he shaves his stubble. Everything is left to the imagination… and her imagination is a dangerous place to be in.
A sound interrupts her thoughts and she gasps, her heart jolting dangerously. Her first thought is gunshot, before it happens again, slightly louder this time but clearer. Someone is knocking on the door.
"Dilara?" A pause. "You okay, babe?"
Despite the genuine concern and sleepy affection in his voice, she cringes. It’s not the voice she wants to hear; in fact, for a few minutes there, she'd forgotten about him altogether. Kim Taehyung was taking up every thought, especially during the defenseless hours of sleep, and the image of him bloodied and broken was too much to bear. Swallowing a dry sob, she answers her boyfriend.
"Yeah." A breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Be out in a minute."
Dilara can still hear him out there. She pictures him with difficulty; a frown under his black hair, grown long over the last few weeks, one hand in the pocket of his shorts, an old blue t-shirt. No, brown. She can’t remember. Eventually she hears his footsteps retreat softly and she exhales shakily.
She can’t stay here forever. There’s comfort in it, no doubt, but it’s lingering, fleeting. She climbs to her feet, swaying for a moment, before quietly turning the doorknob and silently treading back to her bed. Feeling for the curtains in the darkness, she slides them open halfway, letting the dim, silvery moonlight fall into the bedroom as she shuffles underneath her covers and curls onto her side.
From behind her, an arm appears to pull her close, a few of the tattoos around his wrist coming into focus in the light. Dilara hesitates, for it feels uncomfortably heavy, but then reaches up to hold his hand loosely, hoping it will ground her to reality.
He shifts slightly. “Everything okay?” he mumbles.
“Mhm.” She nods, parts of the dream already fading from memory. But not all. Never all.
“Jet lagged?” he asks, his voice a bit clearer this time. “Or ready to hit the gym already?”
That makes her chuckle half-heartedly. “Not for a couple hours at least.”
“Good.” He sighs and settles in more comfortably. “Night, Dilara.”
“Night, James.”
Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)
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gingacat · 22 hours ago
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my third Yuu!!
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(yes....... i actually tried to draw her in twst style 🤯)
personality, background and trivia under the cut!!
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Personality
Ameyuki is a very gentle girl. She's more soft-spoken and calm than Miyuu, but also presents a calculating side.
Ame is a person who's careful with things and objects since she believes everything has a life (kinda like Toy Story). She has a nurturing nature and is overall really sweet and docile when she takes a liking to something or someone.
However, she has a tendency to see people as dolls and treat them like so.
As a kid, for example, she would incite fights between her classmates as if they were her dolls and she was playing with them, and afterwards would mediate the fight and help the classmates conciliate, just like she would do with her own dolls.
Now that she's older, she doesn't do that anymore, but is very aware of how she could easily manipulate and control people. Ame is careful and gentle because she associates the fragility of porcelain dolls to the feelings of people, and just like she wouldn't ever want to hurt or break a doll, the same applies to people.
Just like Ame would always take care of her dolls, she does the same to people. When she sees someone hurt, she'll always tend to them and take care of their injuries (if allowed of course). She even got to actually learn first aid because she doesn't want to see Miyuu nor the other students hurt.
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Background
Ameyuki was born in the Chūgoku region of Japan, more specifically in Shimane, but was raised in Osaka.
Ame's mother, Matsuko, is the Prime Minister of Japan, while Ame's father, Daijirō, is a conman that made a living out of scamming people.
Ameyuki was raised by her father and never had any type of contact with her mother — and wasn't even aware of Matsuko's existence.
Being raised by a conman, Ameyuki was exposed to not the most ethical situations, especially when watching the relationships her father would establish with people. He would trick them, lie to them, control and manipulate them as if they were merely pieces of his Chess game.
But as an innocent kid, Ame's father was her hero. She loved Daijirō and every time he came back home, she would be scared that he would be hurt. Ame always worried for his well being, after all, he was involved with dangerous people. And she wasn't aware that he was dangerous too, and that all the things he did were actually hurting others.
But he would come back home, and everytime he did, he would bring a doll for her. Everyday, a new doll would be added to Ame's collection — and she loved all of them.
Despite being allowed to go to school, she wasn't allowed to go anywhere else on her own — not only because Daijirō's enemies could kidnap and hurt her, but also because she held value. After all, she is the daughter of the Prime Minister and Ame wasn't meant to be born. Because of this, Matsuko would do anything in order not to let Ameyuki's existence become public. This means that, well, Daijirō had control over the Prime Minister solely because of Ameyuki.
The only thing Ameyuki had to do in her house was playing with her dolls. It wasn't a problem for her, since she loved playing with them and the imaginary world of her dolls was real to her. Each of the dolls had a name and Ame loved them so much that she learned to make clothes for them. Sometimes she would sew little dresses, other times shirts, skirts, pants, and even make little shoes with materials she had at home. Ame would wash their hair, clean them so that they wouldn't get dusty and incredibly enough she also built a dollhouse alone (she had too much free time in her hands).
Unconsciously though, Ame would replicate her father's manipulative and controlling behavior with the dolls. Because the dolls were her friends, but it was Ame who would control them and decide everything about them, varying from the way they behaved to even their names or looks. And it got much worse, since before even realizing, Ame was already associating real life people to dolls too. She could control them and play with them — but they were frail, so she had to be careful not to break them.
Eventually, at the age of 17, Ameyuki found out she had three younger brothers that shared the same father as her, but the mother apparently was different. Her brothers seemed to live in an orphanage, which means that Daijirō probably had abandoned them (and the state of their mother was unknown). This broke Ame's heart and she snuck out of her house to meet her brothers despite not knowing the consequences, because her heart spoke louder.
When she arrived at the front of the orphanage, just as she saw three figures of what seemed to be a 13 year old, an 11 year old and an 8 year old boy, she was abruptly run over and lost her consciousness.
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Trivia
Ameyuki: Ame (雨) means "rain" and yuki (雪) means "snow".
Amayado: Ama (天) means "sky, heaven", ya (谷) means "valley" and do (奴) "guy, fellow".
Her given names: Iridescent Shark (Floyd), Mademoiselle Pluie (Rook), Ame-san (Miyuu), Second Henchman (Grim)
Ame and Pluie mean "rain", and it is supposed to symbolize gentleness, but also carries a melancholy within.
Similarities she share with Miyuu: both of them speak in Kansai dialect, and both of them were raised by their fathers only.
Ame is scared to death of insects.
Her favorite animals are cows and horses, and she has this silly dream of owning a farm so that she could take care of the animals.
Her favorite club to visit is definitely the Equestrian Club.
Before going to Twisted Wonderland, she was considering becoming a nurse when older. (She's practically one now)
She has a tendency to only call people by their last names. Not only because it's more polite, but it's her way of replicating her father's behavior.
With Silver she doesn't have a choice, because he doesn't have a last name. 💀
Her favorite board game is Shogi and she taught it to the members of the Board Game Club.
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tagging @moonyasnow @gimmeurmoneyagh @day-dr3aming
if anyone else wants to be tagged in my posts, pls let me know!!
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daydreamgoddess14 · 9 hours ago
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Sweat
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Declan O'Hara x f!reader
(little mention of Tag x Rupert)
~1k words, no real warnings - the 'c' word is used once.
While I wait for my man Jack Lowden to return from war (filming season 6 of Slow Horses), I thought I'd dip my little toe into a very short Declan O'Hara one-shot 😬
If you're reading The Escape Artist, fear not, the final TWO chapters are coming this week! Yes, of course I do have other prompts to get on with, but I was in spin class last night, and every time my instructor shouted, "Ride, ride, ride" all I saw was Declan 😅 The moustache would make a wonderful handle as well ��
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Another bead of sweat drips from your forehead onto the towel.
“Ride, ride, ride, ride, don't stop ladies,” the instructor, an Adonis of a man, coaches you through the pumping music. Next to you, Taggie blows a stray curl out of her face.
“This is torture,” she hisses through gritted teeth.
She isn't wrong.
The newly installed ‘Bicycle Hub’ has raised eyebrows at the local leisure centre, with few expected to actually attend.
The Hub overlooks the squash courts, not that you'd know.
They were so filled with cigarette smoke you could hardly see a thing at all.
From the front row of bikes, you had a prime view looking down.
Usually older gentlemen with portly stomachs and red wine noses who were one play away from a heart attack.
“Oh look, it's daddy.” Taggie peers down. “And Rupert.”
Even through the glowing pink caused by the exercise class you can see her blush.
The two men look up and catch you watching them.
A real shame you couldn't lip read.
Not that they'd be saying anything about Tag, Rupert wouldn't dare in front of Declan.
You were fair game though.
Taggie waves but you don't dare break your rhythm on the bike for fear you'd fall right off.
“Concentrate, ladies,” Adonis warns. “Left, right, left, left, right, right. Stay with the beat, ride, ride, ride.”
You tear your eyes away from the squash court and look back at your bike, regretting it instantly.
“My legs are killing me,” you mutter, feeling your thighs burn.
You go back to looking at the squash game Declan and Rupert are playing, it looks more like they're trying to hit each other with the ball rather than play to the rules.
Each of them roaring with laughter whenever they make contact.
“I'm sure that's not how you're supposed to play,” Taggie grumbles.
“Could be worse, they could be just hitting each other with the racket,” you suggest.
Your breath comes in short gasps now, your stamina rapidly declining.
The rhythmic sounds of the squash ball combine with the squeak of running shoes, the beat of the music, and the hum of the fixed wheels of the bike.
A cacophony of sounds.
You find yourself watching their game more intently, it powers you through the changes in resistance on the bike.
You tilt your head to brush your earlobe against your shoulder and catch another drip of sweat.
As you do so, another works its way down the side of your neck and down into your cleavage.
“And down, catch your breath. Next, we're going to run,” Adonis tells the class.
You let your legs slow down a little and take the opportunity to run the towel over your face and take a long drink of water.
Your chest heaves.
As you put your water bottle back on the machine, you automatically look again at the squash court, this time catching Declan watching you.
You notice the quick lift of his eyebrow as he stares.
He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and then smiles.
“OK ladies, stand up -”
“On the bike?”
“Yes, madame, it's time to run.”
“I don't understand, I'll fall off!” You think it's Valerie Jones who's protesting, but you've yet to look away from Declan.
Holding his gaze, you do as Adonis asks and you stand up, straightening your legs on the pedals.
Even from this distance you can tell where he's looking.
Your tight lycra crop top pulls your breasts together and his eyes are drawn like a magnet.
When you lean forward on the bike, he wipes his hand over his mouth.
The next track starts building in momentum and so do you, each rotation of the wheels making you bounce a little more vigorously.
Neither of you has looked away yet, goodness knows where Rupert has gone.
Taggie is mercifully distracted, a tight frown of concentration on her face.
There's a wicked glint in Declan's eye and you tilt your head to the side, a silent question.
Whatever he's about to do in response, he doesn't.
Rupert is back, distracting him, talking to him.
He looks away at last, but you can tell it's under duress.
“Thank you ladies, great class for today!” Adonis is off the bike and leading his own round of applause.
You roll your eyes at Taggie and grimace.
“He's single! So I've heard,” she tells you with a giggle.
“No thanks, his biceps are huge! He'd suffocate me!”
You leave the class very much in need of a shower and as you make your way down to the changing rooms, you pass the squash courts.
Taggie's looking out for Rupert, you can tell.
Desperate for a moment alone with him.
You spot him first, by the water fountain, and nudge her in his direction.
His face lights up at the sight of her.
"Looks like you ladies have been getting all hot and sweaty,” he grins slyly.
You leave them to talk, and open the glass door to the court.
Taggie and Rupert are in full view of most of the leisure centre so he only has his words to charm with.
Inside the court, Declan has been watching you through the glass.
“Water?” You offer, holding out your bottle.
“Prefer whiskey,” he grins.
“So do I.”
“I'd also prefer an exercise that'll leave us both breathless," he says quietly.
There's a line you're about to cross but neither of you seems to care.
“So do I.” You repeat equally quietly.
“Sure I can find a much more comfortable seat for you as well.”
The lilt of his accent runs over your body.
He looks through the door but Taggie and Rupert are out of sight, for once, he doesn't seem to care.
He takes a step towards you, as if he's about to whisper in your ear.
Instead, he drags his tongue from your throat to your earlobe.
“You taste delicious.”
Your power of speech is non-existent.
Your hands shake as the adrenaline from the class and from his proximity mingle together.
He kisses your temple, your hairline damp with sweat.
“I think it's time to put a stop to this little game, don't you?” he murmurs.
You can only nod as your body trembles and your cunt clenches.
And then you hear Rupert in the atrium outside.
Declan takes a measured step away from you as Taggie arrives, though neither of you can stop staring.
“Ugh, let's go, I feel disgusting,” she pulls a face. Rupert clearly thinks quite the opposite.
“Yes, let's. Enjoy your game, gentlemen.” You smile brightly.
“I certainly am,” Declan responds, the low rumble of his laughter following you from the court.
You can still feel the heat of his stare as you pile into the car to leave.
You can still feel the weight of his body on yours as you climb into bed that night.
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crime-prince-of-gotham · 2 days ago
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Recording start.
Before any words could be spoken the sounds of medical equipment could be heard beeping slowly in the background.
"Time: Roughly eight almost nine in the morning? I have no idea at this point."
"Little wing got attacked by B earlier this morning. He's... He's not doing okay. Honestly I'm not sure with how extensive his injuries are, especially after taking alot of blows to the head like he did, will actually pull through.
He's currently here at Gotham Central hospital on 57th and 34th. At the moment I am currently here with him and with me is-"
He pauses for a moment as movement could be heard. Nearby. A new and pretty young sounding voice could be heard. They couldn't be any older than fifteen at most if that.
"You don't have to say I'm here 'wing."
"I need to. He would appreciate that I did. It's Robin. The current Robin."
Another long pause before a knock on the door sounded before it opened.
"Hi there, my name is Doctor Roshaunda and I am the head doctor overlooking your sibling's care, I just have a few... Concerns that I would like to clear up first before we send him in for surgery."
"But of course. I can answer the best I can but I may not be much help and our father is currently out of town and isn't answering his phone at the moment."
Dick responded though not very convincingly. A hum came from Doctor Roshaunda.
"That's alright just answer what you can. So in his medical records the patient has had extensive blunt force trauma to the head... Are the three of you living in a safe environment?"
"We are now yes. Our father is very protective over the three of us and actively had us all in some sort of self defense class that we had a sort of calling to."
Another hum from the doctor.
"Well that's all I wished to ask. I will be having a couple nurses come in within the hour to prepare Jason here for surgery."
"Of course."
The door to the room opens then shuts. Dick let's out a sigh.
"It's okay Dick.. He's gonna be okay."
There's a very long pause.
"I hope so Timmy I hope so..."
Recording end.
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nether-ending-dream · 11 hours ago
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What do the LADS Boys Think of Each Other?
What would happen if they met face to face?
Silly Semi Canon Blurb ♡
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From what I'm aware (as I'm still learning), the boys have yet to directly mention each other by name. I know Xavier and Rafayel have briefly talked to MC about the N109 Zone and Onychinus, and they've mentioned locations that the other boys may have visited or worked. But they've never talked to MC about whether or not they know each other directly. Therefore, I'll be exploring a less-than-canon idea of what they think of each other. This is, of course, ignoring any deep lore and mainly going off personalities and first impressions. Enjoy!!
♡♡♡
Rafayel
Xavier:
Jealous that he lives in the same building as MC.
Closest in age (assuming Xavier is 23), they feel like it's easy to talk to each other and can't chat about lots of different concepts and topics.
Thinks it's odd that he's constantly tired yet sleeps all day. Doesnt think he's particularly lazy, but thinks he's a hermit.
Zayne:
Is confused as to why Zayne is not familiar with his art and work. Gives him a rundown of his portfolio.
Shocked by how cold his hands are.
Accidentally interrupts him often when speaking.
Sylus:
Since he's from the N109 Zone, Rafayel knows better than to let his guard down and act chummy. Thinks he secretly wants something from him.
Respects his sense of style and thinks he dress well.
Secretly envious of how naturally charismatic and charming he is.
Xavier
Rafayel:
Thinks that him being a Lumerian is fascinating.
Is worried that Rafayel is MC's type and starts adapting his mannerisms to impress her.
Wants to be his friend/acquaintance.
Zayne:
Thinks Zayne is older than Sylus
Doesn't mind that Zayne isn't talkative but feels awkward if left in a room with him.
Likes his style and hair.
Kind of sees him as someone to ask for advice.
Sylus:
Believes his seriousness must be tiresome
Not worried about MC liking Sylus because he thinks he's not her type.
In terms of connections, he views Sylus as a valuable contact.
Likes his motorcycle.
Zayne
Rafayel:
Doesn't like how dependent he is on MC.
Thinks Rafayel can't be too blunt and abrasive. Has definitely had misunderstandings with him.
Not big into pop-culture or art, though he thinks his works are pleasant.
Xavier:
Doesnt like how "rogue" he tends to be or how often he disappears. He thinks Xavier is unreliable to a degree.
Appreciates that Xavier can be as quiet and introverted as him.
Doesn't feel threatened by his flirtatious nature because he finds it to be playful.
Sylus:
Thinks the way Sylus acts is a front for alterior motives.
Not at all intimidated by him, but worries about MC hanging with Sylus.
Doesn't like the way he dresses and thinks he's too rugged and reckless.
Sylus
Rafayel:
Thinks his art is impressive but pretends he's never seen it.
Finds him to be a bit pathetic and weak.
Reminds him of Luke and treats him similarly.
Xavier:
Thinks the way he texts is annoying and has probably muted his chat.
Wary of him since he's a solo hunter, but doesn't feel particularly threatened.
Reminds him of Keiran and treats him similarly.
Zayne:
Respects his title and job as a top surgeon.
Thinks he's too uptight and not MC's type.
Would like to be his acquaintance because he thinks knowing him could be useful.
For the most part, he sees him as an equal.
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atqh16 · 2 days ago
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Please hualian modern au fic. I want a 32 year old Xie Lian who's just gotten his life together (after a violently abusive relationship with his step father) even though he's living in studio apartment that's barely bigger than his second hand car that has had the 'check engine' light flashing for the past month but he hasn't had the time to actually do anything about it so it will keep flashing for now. He's rekindled his friendship with his two life long best friends that he'd parted ways with in college and they're both trying to help him in their own way but the status quo that used to exist among them has changed so much that the duo have lost their footing. Mu Qing in his effort to push Xie Lian to just live with him in his 2 bedroom apartment keeps making passive aggressive backhanded comments about Xie Lians living situation that he scolds himself for the moment he's alone. Whilst Feng Xin becomes an overprotective mother hen everytime Xie Lian so much as coughs but also keeps talking about how it's his cars fault, or his apartments fault, or it's about how his job as a janitor (best job he could find as a college drop out) is making him sick because of all the fumes from the cleaning supplies even though he knows Xie Lian of all people would be careful about that sort of thing.
But Xie Lian, for the first time in so many years, is so genuinely content with what he has. He has his fluffy cat waiting for him at home. He has an actual stove to cook his food instead of just cup noodles, and a working refrigerator which is all so amazing compared to the 6 years he spent homeless while trying to run away from his abuser.
Then he meets San Lang who asks him out on a date but instead of some fancy place he makes a picnic with homemade sandwiches and sparkling water and they would eat and play games and then look at the stars when it got late. Every date they go on always has San Lang doing something special but inexpensive because he knows tossing money at something isn't going to be what Xie Lian cares about.
It's revealed, of course, that San Lang was actually the 12 year old boy that 16 year old Xie Lian had saved from committing suicide by grasping his hand just before the little boy could let go. As San Lang got older, he craved to find Xie Lian again to tell him how much his help and words had meant to him. But when he stumbled on Xie Lian working as part of the clean-up crew at one of his events, suddenly the long forgotten crush he'd felt for his savior suddenly revealed itself after a very long time
And Xie Lian would realize that he wasn't just content. He was... actually.... happy.
He didn't wake up every morning with hope that it would be a good day. He knew it would be the second he opened the morning text San Lang sent to him every day. He doesn't eat alone anymore. San Lang always joins him on his meals, and if San Lang could persuade him, he would even take him out to eat somewhere he thinks Xie Lian would like. San Lang doesn't try to persuade Xie Lian to quit his job though, because he knows Xie Lian loves his work and the kids at the school. But he always makes it a point to drop him off and pick him up and if anyone's jaw drops to see the school janitor popping out of a sleek, dark red Ferrari, Xie Lian doesn't notice. Too busy giving his boyfriend his goodbye kiss.
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gothamitewriter · 8 hours ago
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Whumpcember Day 2: "This Is Your Fault"
This is a continuation of my Day 1 fic! Read that one first to find out what happened to Dick.
Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth
Words: 1387
Warnings: Medical descriptions, arguments between parent and child
Summary: Dick is on the mend, but Jason's still worried, and about more than just his brother. What is it that Bruce wants to talk about?
“Dick you’ve gotta wake up, please,” Jason sat by Dick’s bedside, taking in the battered state of his predecessor. The older teen, and that’s really all he was, only 18, was covered in bandages and had a thick brace wrapped around his neck. A tube snaked into his nose, where Alfred had already finished administering his feed. In total, Dick had been asleep for 32 hours, including the time it took to repair the damage to his throat and to place the NG tube.
“He’ll wake up when he’s ready, Master Jason. In the meantime, you need to eat something. Why don’t you come upstairs, you can help me in the kitchen,” Alfred offered. Jason was tempted, but he couldn’t. Dick’s face was peaceful, the pain meds clearly doing their job, but Jason’s mind couldn’t help but overlay the injuries he knew lay beneath the bandages and brace. The horrific bruising wrapped around his throat in the shape of a too-large hand.
“Sorry, Alfie, no can do. I’m staying right here until he’s better, I don’t want him to wake up alone, he hates waking up alone. I wouldn’t say no to lunch, though.” It was like 3 pm so it was already a bit late for lunch, and Jason hadn’t exactly had much for breakfast either.
“Of course, I’ll bring down something shortly,” With that Alfred left, shoe-falls echoing up the stairs.
Jason took Dick’s hand in his, fingers firmly against the pulse point. He could hear the heart monitor but there was something different about being able to actually feel someone’s heart beat. Just as he took hold, the rhythm quickened, as Dick shifted in the bed.
“Dick? Can you hear me?” Jason asked, still holding on with both hands. Dick’s eyelids fluttered before he squinted against the harsh medical bay lighting.
“Ja-“ Dick cut himself off with a cough, thankfully sounding much better than he had the night of the incident.
“Don’t talk, your throat was shredded by your broken hyoid, it’ll heal but you need to let it rest.”
“Throat hurts.” Dick took his hand back from Jason’s grasp to sign.
“Yeah, no shit. Let me get you some water, but be careful. Alfred said you might have some trouble swallowing for a while.” Jason got up and moved to the mini-fridge where they kept bottled water. Can’t trust Gotham tap water for shit, after all.
“Thanks,” Dick signed one-handed as he sipped slowly on the water.
“Of course. Alfred’s gonna be down with my lunch soon, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see that you’re up. You’re not in much pain, right? I don’t think you’re due for painkillers yet but I can check,�� Jason was just rambling at this point, restraining himself from launching himself at Dick and never letting go. He wasn’t going to do that, though, because Dick very much had a broken rib.
“Indeed I will be. It’s good to see you awake, Master Dick. Your throat will be tender for quite some time, both from your unfortunate hyoid fracture and from the feeding tube that needed to be placed. Master Jason, Master Bruce has requested your presence in his study,” As Alfred spoke he handed Jason a plate with a sandwich, vegetables, and ranch dressing.
“Right, um, if you’re still awake when I’m done would you like me to bring you anything from upstairs? A book maybe?” Jason offered Dick, who just smiled and shook his head.
Jason ate as he walked up the stairs. Usually Alfred would make him sit down and have his meal, but today wasn’t a usual day. He was almost halfway through his sandwich by the time he got to Bruce’s office.
“Jason, we need to talk about the other night,” Bruce started as Jason sat his plate down on the ornate desk.
“What’s there to talk about? Dick needed help and so I helped him. I thought you wanted us to be brothers, that’s what brothers do,” Jason crossed his arms, leaning against the wall opposite to Bruce.
“You were reckless and endangered both of your lives. If you had waited just a few more minutes I could have gone with you. You don’t know Bludhaven well enough to be going off on your own like that, Jason,” Bruce stood from his chair, starting to pace in that way that let Jason know the lecture was only getting started.
“If I had waited a few more minutes he could have drowned in his own blood! Or one of those goons that were waking up could have finished him off, or taken him somewhere. I am more than willing to risk going into unfamiliar territory if it means that I save a life,” Jason was getting worked up a bit, just like he knew that he would. He couldn’t help it, Bruce was such an ass sometimes, unable to see past his own protocols and guidelines.
“And that’s admirable, it really is, but I could have lost both of you. You’re so young, Jaylad, I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because I wasn’t there to help you,” Bruce had moved closer, his voice was low and serious.
Jason could never decide if this was worse or better than screaming and throwing things. It was clearly better in every way, and yet, it hurt far more. “Stop worrying about me! Dick did get hurt, Bruce, I didn’t. Nothing happened, I took out a few goons and helped stabilize him. That’s it, you know that’s it. Why are you so hung up on this?”
“You stole the Batmobile, you went out of comms range, I couldn’t reach you to confirm the situation. Do you know how worried I was? How terrified I was that I was going to walk into that warehouse and find both of my sons dead or missing? Dick got injured because he was working without backup, and then what do you do? Go in without backup at the ready. For all you knew I could have ended up stuck in that fight for another ten minutes, and then what? You, a single thirteen year old in brightly colored spandex, practically a beacon for every criminal in Bludhaven.”
“I was saving a life. That’s the job, Bruce. That’s what we go out every night to do. We risk our lives to save people. If you’re going to be mad at me for doing what you’ve trained me to do, maybe you should have never made me Robin in the first place. Not to mention, this is all your fault anyway, if you hadn’t driven Dick away he never would have been without backup,” Jason was almost yelling at this point, tears prickled at his eyes but didn’t fall.
“You’re right, maybe I shouldn’t have made you Robin. Clearly I did a horrible job with the last one. You should be playing sports and thinking about school, Jason, not fighting criminals. That’s my burden to bear, it never had to be yours. I shouldn’t have let it be yours.” Bruce sighed, deflating as he looked at Jason.
“I asked for this, you didn’t force me into it. When Dick left you were on your own out there, I wanted to help you. You trained me and you said I was ready for this and clearly I am.” Why couldn’t Bruce just trust him? He had trained so hard for this.
“You’re as ready as I could expect you to be, but I don’t think I ever thought about just how young you are. I can’t let a kid go out and risk his life for me, that’s not how being a parent works.”
“Dick was out there when he was what, nine? I’m thirteen, Bruce!” Jason was yelling now, tears falling as he saw the direction Bruce was heading.
“And I shouldn’t have let it happen then, either, but I was pretty sure if I didn’t he was going to go kill the man who killed his parents. I’m benching you, Jason. At least until Dick is fully recovered. I need time to think.”
“Fuck you! Robin is mine, mine and Dick’s. And I don’t think that he’s going out in the scaly panties any time soon. Just. Fuck you.” Jason turned and left, sandwich forgotten on the desk.
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bleue-flora · 3 days ago
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Weeks later and I’m still thinking about old man Quackity in a wheel chair… unfortunately, if we were to say they joined at their real age and aged from there, then Quackity would actually be only 62 (joined Aug 8th) on his first visit while Dream would be 84 (joined April 24) and Sam would be 83 (joined April 28) years old.
However, what if Sam being a creeper has like slow aging and Dream is immortal/doesn't really age at all because of being an admin, so you get a 62 year only coming to torture this like 20 year old daily for 16 years and it’d be funny because it’s like whose physical condition is worse as time goes by - Dream from the torture or Quackity cuz of age and intense physical exertion, because Quackity would be around 78 when he stops and you can’t tell be swinging around heavy axes and swords daily for 16 years doesn’t cause problems… like talk about back pain.
Oh and then of course, Techno is obviously immortal so almost 20 years later you have 120 year old Sam (looking younger because of being a creeper) wheeling in a 99 year old Quackity to torture Techno (technically 80) and Dream (technically 120) who look like they are in their 20s lol XD... no wonder in that stream, you got Techno who is unafraid and hardly worried about Quackity slashing him with shears, he’s this like decrepit old man, but poor Dream on the other hand, is frantic in the corner after spending 16 years dealing with shears.
Though… huh, realistically this logic doesn't work or at least the way I determined it because Tommy the youngest member would be 102 (joined July 4th), which is older than Quackity because he joined the server sooner. So perhaps the better reasoning is to start them all from day one (April 24th) and age them together, so Quackity starts off as 19, Dream and Sam start off at 20 and Techno is 21. If September 14th, is 36,576 Minecraft days from the start of the server, then Dream and Sam are 120, Quackity is 119 and Techno is 121. I suppose, to make it work, we could reason that Quackity being a duck hybrid means he ages slower (even though a duck life span is actually shorter lol) and Sam being creeper ages even slower (maybe not at all?) and then you have Techno and Dream being immortals you could still have Sam pushing Quackity across the lava in a wheelchair to torture them… I don’t know why that is so funny for me to imagine XD… think I’m gonna dub this the old man au lol
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[reblogged post]
@sketchehm now that is an interesting thought…
So let’s see, if a Minecraft day is 20 minutes long and the dsmp was 933 days long then converting that to see how many Minecraft days that’d be [(933(days)x24(hours)x60(mins))/20(min)] we get 67,176 days or about 184 years. Meaning if we determined time by the Minecraft day and night cycle, the dsmp happened across a span of 184 years… lol yea that doesn’t quite work huh…
For funzies though let’s look at some other events:
L’manberg (101 days) & Techno’s imprisonment (100 days) -> around 7,200 days or almost 20 years.
Quackity visited for 83 days -> 5,976 days or over 16 years (no wonder he’s tired and bored of it lol :] )
Finally, Dream’s imprisonment (314 days) -> 22,708 days or a little over 62 years……… yikes
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