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lewmagoo · 2 days

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we own the sky | rhett abbott

part one: ain’t no love in oklahoma

series info: new parts will be uploaded every friday at 7pm est. want more? read the synopsis here. listen to the playlist here. see the posting schedule here.

description: in which you return to the place where you lost everything

warnings: 18+ only, heavy themes, character death, grief, blood and injury, angst with a positive ending, allusions to sex, eventual smut, inaccurate weather terms, please do not check my science lol this story requires some suspension of disbelief. i usually try not to say anything about reader's family in fics but i do mention them having an unnamed great-aunt, as it was necessary to the plot

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

notes: this story is inspired by twisters. you do not have to watch the movie in order to understand this story, because aside from the storm chasing aspect, it has nothing to do with the twister universe. i've been working on this story for 2 months straight, and it is my pride and joy. i am so excited for everyone to read it! without further adieu, here is we own the sky!

You never thought you would return to the place where you lost everything.

When you left, you had sworn to yourself that you would never come back. This part of your life, the unspeakable tragedy you had endured, had to stay in the past where it belonged. And for six years, you managed to make yourself forget while you moved on with life.

You knew it wasn’t just you who had been affected by what happened. It had touched the lives of multiple people, shattering everything around them. But while they had stayed, you had decided to run. Away from the agony, away from the memories, away from the man you loved. It was better that way. At least, that was what you told yourself.

Now you found yourself standing in the middle of the rolling plains of the place that you used to live, wisps of tall grass brushing against your legs as the breeze rushed over the earth. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign. You felt so out of place, like an alien that had just descended the sky and landed on Earth for the very first time.

As you bent to pluck a stalk of switchgrass, you were struck with a memory of the day you left. Sprawled out in the long grass, your first love lying at your side. Rhett Abbott. The man you had known since you were mere babies in the church nursery together. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest part of leaving. But in your heart of hearts, you knew this was the way it had to be. You couldn’t look at him without being reminded of all you had lost. Of all he had lost.

“I wish you’d stay,” his voice, filled with longing, cut into the still morning air. Such a contrast to the chaos that had transpired in recent days.

“You know I can’t,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break, and you would succumb to tears.

“We can figure things out, you an’ me. Work through it together.”

“Rhett–”

“Fuckin’ twister took so much from us. Now you’re leavin’, too.” Defeat was evident in his voice.

You sat up, turning to look down at him. “We talked about this, Rhett. I have to leave.”

He sat up, too, nodding somberly. “Y’don’t have to. You just can’t stand the thought of facin’ reality. So you’re runnin’ from it.” Then he rose to his feet, grass crunching beneath him. “Not all of us have the luxury of bolting when things get tough, honeybee. The rest of us have gotta stay and face it head-on.”

Then he walked away, and you let him, knowing this would be the last time you would see him. A love lost.

Yet here you were again, in the same field where your romance had ended. However, you weren’t here to see him. You had returned to tie up loose ends, and face the past you had spent the last handful of years running from.

Rhett had been right about one thing. You needed to face it all head-on. But you weren’t sure if you had the strength to do so.

Being back in your hometown of Wabang, Oklahoma was a surreal experience. Nothing and everything had changed all at once. Dorothy McIntyre still owned Mac’s Diner on Main Street. Mrs. Simmons still tended to her rose garden every single day, keeping it in pristine condition. The local Baptist church still looked exactly the same as the day you left.

It felt like the town was stuck in time.

But there were also some changes. A new bar had opened up in town. A coffee shop, too, which was quite the upgrade. Even though life was slow moving here, it still continued on, just like it did everywhere else.

Coming back was never something you thought was in the cards for you, but a handful of your family members had remained here when you left. Including your great-aunt. Sadly, she had recently passed away, and you’d surprised yourself by willingly volunteering to go sort through her belongings and prepare her house to be sold.

You had a good portion of vacation days saved from your job at the National Weather Service Headquarters, and you decided to take them while you had the chance. Instead of going on a fun getaway, you were cleaning out a house that was just a few steps down from a hoarding house.

Your poor aunt had gotten rather forgetful in her old age, and had let so much clutter accumulate. Her declining physical health and mental capacity had inhibited her from cleaning, and, unfortunately, her children were not the most diligent when it came to looking after their mother, so no one had helped her with clearing any of the clutter when she was alive.

That was where you came in. And you certainly had your work cut out for you. But you didn’t mind too terribly. You were glad to have a break from work. Monitoring weather was quite literally a 24/7 thing. You loved your job, but you often felt as if you were running about like a chicken with its head cut off.

Especially now. It was late spring, and the weather had been wild and unkempt. It had a mind of its own, and with all the freak storms ripping through seemingly every state in the US, the National Weather Service was extremely busy.

And here you were, in the heart of Tornado Alley, which had seen a record-breaking uptick in tornado activity this season. You couldn’t deny that the thought of being here during this season made your anxiety skyrocket.

Where you lived now, in Maryland, tornadoes weren’t commonplace. They happened, yes, but not nearly as often as they did in your home state of Oklahoma.

You had once loved studying the phenomenon of twisters. There had been a time when they fascinated you. A time when you chased after them to analyze their data. And then, one terrible, fateful day, while observing one of those vicious twisters, the unthinkable happened.

Six Years Ago

“This one’s gonna be a big one. I can feel it,” Rhett’s voice was laced with electric excitement. He was a live wire, blue eyes wide and glimmering with his eagerness.

His excitement rubbed off on you. You loved doing this together. It was what you were meant to do. “I can, too,” you replied with a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

He leaned in, his gaze flickering to your lips before he ducked his head to kiss you languidly. “Ready to wrangle this twister?” He asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Could’ya get a room?” Another voice cut across the site, interrupting your moment.

Rhett scowled as he looked over your shoulder to find his brother approaching. “Just for that, I’m kissin’ her again.” He pulled you in and planted another kiss on you, dialing it up to disgust Perry all the more.

You shoved at Rhett’s chest, giggling when you parted. “Maybe let’s not gross out everyone within a ten-mile radius,” you joked, though you still leaned in to steal one last peck from him.

“When you two are done neckin’, you might wanna pay attention to the radar. Winds are pickin’ up,” Perry explained, tapping the screen that was currently resting on the tailgate of Rhett’s truck.

“Think this one’s gonna touch down?” Came the voice of Rebecca, Perry’s wife, as she approached, tugging her ball cap down over her blonde ponytail.

“Look at them clouds. It’s gotta,” Rhett mused, motioning toward the sky. Angry, black clouds roiled in the distance. Perry was right, the wind was picking up. Although it wasn’t cold, it still sent a shiver down your spine.

Lightning crackled across the gray backdrop, and thunder subsequently rumbled in the distance. As you felt the first drops of cool rain, you locked eyes with Rhett. His face broke into a grin.

“Let’s get goin’!” He called out, retrieving his worn felt hat, the one you’d gotten him on his eighteenth birthday, and placing it atop his head.

You found yourself laughing with glee as you moved to scurry to the passenger seat of his rickety old GMC Sierra that had seen more storms than you could count. As you wrenched the door open, the sound of scrambling footsteps alerted you that someone was approaching quickly. You turned to find Lydia, your best friend, running toward you, her French braids bouncing wildly about.

“Don’t forget this!” She called out, shoving a walkie-talkie into your hand. Her own remained clipped to the waistband of her cargo pants.

“Thanks!” You replied. “You riding with us or with Perry and Bec?”

“I’ll ride with them, since they’ve got more room and all,” she told you. Unlike Rhett’s truck, Perry’s had a backseat.

“Okay, see you after the storm. Be careful, alright?” You surged forward and gave her a quick hug. Your friendship went way back to childhood, when you had met each other in kindergarten. You had been inseparable ever since. With your shared fascination with the weather, it was only natural that she would decide to chase twisters alongside you.

“Let’s go to that new ice cream place when we’re done!” She suggested when you parted.

“Sure, I’ll mention it to Rhett. See ya in a bit!” With that, you yanked the truck door open and climbed inside, while Lydia rushed off to get into Perry’s truck.

As you settled in the seat, you set your walkie down in the cupholder and grabbed the monitor you used to keep an eye on the weather radar. There, at the top of the screen, you saw the red banner that listed which counties had just been put under tornado watches.

Glancing back up at the sky, your heart quickened in your chest. While it wasn’t guaranteed that a twister would touch down, it was a very high possibility, especially with the string of storms that had ripped through the area lately.

“Let’s go chase this son’bitch,” Rhett murmured as he settled into the driver’s seat, tugging his seatbelt into place. He turned the key, and the truck roared to life. Without wasting a single moment, he threw the gear into drive and peeled out of the vacant lot you’d all been congregating in.

He kept to the east of the storm, offering you the best vantage point. Most storms moved northeast, at thirty to forty miles per hour, so you had to move fast to keep up. Rhett stepped on the accelerator, wasting no time. He was vibrating with adrenaline beside you, and it was infectious.

He always had been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. When he was in high school, he’d started bull riding competitively. He loved the thrill, the danger, the electricity he felt atop a thousand-pound animal.

Chasing twisters was similar to bull riding. Trying to hold on for dear life as an angry, churning force threatened to toss you through the air like a rag doll. Once he’d had a taste, he couldn’t get enough.

His love of the thrill and your fascination with weather made you a dream team.

Turning it into a family affair wasn’t necessarily the goal, but Rebecca found the phenomenon of tornadoes fascinating, and Perry was simply along for the ride, so the four of you started storm chasing together.

And of course, Lydia had been on board from the moment you suggested it. Much like Rhett, she also loved thrill seeking, and was content to join your little team. She was particularly good at analyzing storm data. Her entire motivation was figuring out how twisters worked.

Meteorology was a science that was relatively new. While the study of weather itself had been around for millennia, it didn’t quite progress until scientists began utilizing computers to analyze meteorological data.

Even with all the progress that had been made, tornadoes were difficult to study. Things like hurricanes and tropical storms were easier to predict and monitor. But not twisters. They were wild, uncontrollable beasts that could touch down at any moment and wreak all sorts of havoc in mere seconds.

Lydia wanted to learn all she could about the phenomena, and so did you. Your shared interest allowed you to work very well together.

You were so grateful for the little group you worked with. Four people you loved very much. You’d known Rhett, Perry, and Lydia your entire life, of course, and Rebecca was a newer addition. She’d joined you in the last five years, but she was an excellent asset with her history as a news meteorologist.

What a merry band of storm chasers you were, heading into the face of danger, hoping to encounter one of the most mysterious weather anomalies in existence.

“How’s she lookin’, darlin’?” Rhett asked, one hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh lovingly.

You gazed down at the screen in your lap, paying attention to the large highlighted region that showed which direction the storm was moving. The severity was mounting.

“Pretty intense,” you answered. Then, as if on cue, the telltale sound of hailstones began to patter against the roof of the truck. Your face broke into a grin.

Over the walkie, Lydia’s voice could be heard. “We’ve got hail!” She cried in excitement.

The shift in temperature was a good sign. These were peak conditions for a tornado to form in. You grabbed the hand Rhett had placed on your leg, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed right back.

Moments later, the hail died down, and you opened the truck window, listening. A crack of thunder in the distance. And then, a split second of utter silence.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end.

You turned your head, looking straight at Rhett. The blue of his eyes was bright as could be, shining with anticipation.

And then, just beyond him, you saw it.

“Holy shit.”

He glanced to his left and saw it too. A few hundred yards from you, in the open fields, a funnel cloud had begun to form. Your eyes never left it, staring at the sky, willing the funnel to touch down.

“Come on, come on, come on.”

“We got touchdown yet?!” Rhett asked, eyes half on the road, half on the funnel.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there.

And then, all at once, it made contact with the ground. Lydia was shouting through the walkie, and you grabbed the device to answer her. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your teeth chattering as adrenaline began to course through you.

What a beautiful sight it was. Terrifying and destructive, but beautiful.

“Goddamn, look at that,” Rhett breathed in awe. He kept his foot planted firmly on the accelerator, maintaining a fast pace, staying just ahead of the swirling tunnel of wind.

But your spirit of wonder soon dissipated as you noticed something. “It looks like it’s getting bigger,” you remarked. The change was obvious. It was covering more ground. Moving faster and faster.

Within seconds, your entire life was turned upside down.

“Oh my God. Rhett…” Your voice failed you, coming out as more of a whisper. You gripped his arm, and he quickly brought both hands to the steering wheel, knuckles white.

He gazed out at the approaching swirl, and he knew he was no longer chasing the storm. No, this time, the tides had turned.

Now it was time to run.

You scrambled for the walkie-talkie, fingers closing around the plastic, but it flew out of your hands as Rhett slammed on the brakes. You let out a yelp as you plummeted forward, seatbelt stopping you from hitting the dashboard.

“We gotta find cover!” He shouted, throwing the gear into park and unbuckling his own seatbelt. His face was awash with fright, pale as could be. He pointed to your right. “Old Miller property’s over there. Maybe we can make it to the storm cellar!”

Terror-stricken, you scrambled to open your door, tumbling out onto the asphalt. As soon as you righted yourself, Rhett was grabbing you, hand tight on your bicep, dragging you across the road. Your boots crunched against gravel, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the roar of the wind.

It was so close you could feel it tugging at your clothes. A vortex threatening to swallow you whole. If it overtook you, you’d never make it out alive.

Together, you dashed across an old wheat field, straight for the Miller farm. It had been abandoned for years, but the storm shelter remained, and it was your best chance at survival.

You could see it just up ahead, jutting slightly from the ground. But your legs ached, and your lungs burned like fire as you struggled to take in gulps of air. So close yet so far. Just a little further.

You’d never been so terrified in your life. You understood now what people meant when they said their life flashed before their eyes. Yours did at that moment, as you ran alongside the man you loved.

Images of your family, memories of all the good times you’d had with Rhett, flashes of laughing and singing and being young and foolish and so full of wonder. Was it all for naught?

“C’mon, baby! We’re almost there!” His desperate shout filled your ears. He yanked you toward him and you nearly lost your footing, and for one horrifying moment, you thought you were going to fall, but Rhett caught you in his strong arms, continuing on across the field.

By the grace of the Almighty, you made it to the shelter. Rhett threw himself down, lifting the iron bar that was fastened across the rusted doors. Hinges squealed as he heaved them open, and he pulled you forward, urging you down the rickety old ladder into the abyss below.

You scrambled down, and he followed, slamming the door shut as he did so. When you reached the end of the ladder, your feet hit the floor unsteadily, and you yelped as your foot gave out beneath you, ankle twisting painfully. But your injury was the least of your worries.

In the inky darkness, Rhett landed beside you and reached out, grabbing you, pulling you close.

“Rhett!” You sobbed, burying your face against his chest as he cautiously guided you away from the overhead doors.

“I’ve got you!” He assured you, holding you tightly. He pulled you both to the damp ground, and you curled up beneath him as he laid his body atop your own. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

He held you, his large hands covering your ears as the violent storm raged above you.

Often, tornadoes were described as sounding like a freight train, and you would agree with that statement, having witnessed so many of them. But right now, as you huddled beneath the ground right below the savage phenomenon, it didn’t sound like a train at all.

It sounded like the world was coming to an end.

You weren’t entirely certain how long you stayed down there, pressed against the earth, as Rhett shielded you. It felt like hours. Days. Weeks.

And then, all at once, it stopped.

The world went quiet again. Nature went back to its natural order. The danger had passed.

You laid there for a few moments, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing. You were trembling. So was he. But you were alive.

“Are you okay?” Rhett asked as he lifted his body from yours, kneeling beside you.

You sat up, trying to find your voice. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed.

And then, “Oh my God. Perry, Bec and Lydia!”

You hurried to stand, and Rhett grabbed your arm, leading you both through the dark, feeling for anything that might be in your path. Once he’d grabbed onto the ladder, he ascended it first, grunting as he reached up to open the doors.

Daylight flooded the cellar, and you shielded your eyes for a moment before you took hold of the ladder yourself and began climbing.

As you both emerged, the sight you were met with was harrowing. The old Miller farmhouse was entirely decimated, blown flat to the ground like a house made of popsicle sticks. The barn was destroyed, too, pieces of red painted wood littering the surrounding property.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. That had to be an EF4. Maybe even a five,” Rhett said in utter disbelief, his eyes wide, jaw slacken.

A sob tore itself from your throat as you turned, fully taking in the level of damage around you. There was seemingly no sign of Perry’s truck.

“Do you think they found cover?” You asked, voice trembling.

Rhett’s face was grim, but he still said, “‘m sure they did, they’re smart, they’re probably just hunkerin’ down in a ditch somewhere.” Then he grasped your hand. “Let’s head out to the road and see if we can fine ‘em.”

You intertwined your fingers with his and followed, but your stomach was in knots. What if your friends had been consumed by the storm? What if they were dead?

As you walked, you both called out for them, hoping they’d hear and yell back. But your voices bounced off of the eerily silent countryside. Such a contrast to the chaos that had just transpired.

“They can’t have gone too far. They were right behind us,” Rhett spoke. You could hear the distress in his voice, although he was trying to keep himself steady for you.

You scanned the horizon, and that’s when you saw it. A long ways off, the silhouette of an overturned truck could be seen. Perry’s truck.

“Rhett,” came your whisper.

“I see it.”

Together, you broke into a run, sprinting across the road and into the field on the other side. Faster and faster, desperate to see what was inside the truck. Praying it was empty, that your friends had found cover.

You came to a stop once you were within a few feet of the truck, and Rhett held out his arm, glancing back at you as he caught his breath. “Just wait, I’ll check,” he told you.

You shook your head, breathing still labored. “No, let’s look together.”

Holding his gaze, a beat passed before he reached for your hand again. Together, you cautiously approached the truck, which was turned onto its side. It was severely battered, damaged beyond repair.

As you rounded the front, you peered down into the window and your blood ran cold. “Oh dear God.”

Rhett jumped into action, climbing atop the side of the truck. The driver's side glass was shattered, allowing him to reach in. “Per!” He exclaimed, gripping his brother’s shirt, tugging him upward. “Perry!”

But he got no response. The man was unconscious. A nasty gash marred the side of his head, crimson blood trickling down his face. He was terribly pale.

Beneath him, Rhett could see Rebecca. His heart sank like a rock. Just from the way she was positioned, he could tell she was not going to fare well. He couldn’t see if her chest was rising and falling or not. And when he squinted to look into the back seat, he saw Lydia, slumped over, but he couldn’t tell if she was dead or just merely unconscious.

“Are they alive?!” You couldn’t tell from your vantage point. All you could see was Perry and Rebecca. If Lydia was still in the truck, she was concealed in the back.

“I-I can feel a pulse, but Perry’s bleedin’ real bad. Call 911!” He didn’t give you any information about the girls.

“Rhett, the girls! Are they—”

“Just call an ambulance!” He repeated with urgency.

You did as you were told, hurrying to grab your phone from your pocket, hands shaking fiercely as you dialed the emergency number. You prayed you would get an answer, knowing the call lines would be flooded after the storm.

Moments later, an operator answered. Panicked, you explained your situation, begging them to send help. The woman remained calm, asking for your name and location, assuring you that assistance was on the way. You had no recollection of what you said to her. Everything was a blur, adrenaline giving you tunnel vision.

After you hung up the phone, Rhett jumped down from the truck. You threw yourself into his arms as he neared you, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They said they’re on their way,” you whimpered.

He hugged you close, and you could feel the way he trembled. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to pull him out. The EMTs should be the ones to do it, just in case anythin’ is broken.” While that was partially true, he was also terrified that if he started pulling everyone out, he’d find the girls were dead. It would bring reality crashing down upon him. The thought made his gut churn with dread, and he found himself praying to a God he didn’t even believe in, asking Him to spare his brother and his sister-in-law, and your dearest friend Lydia.

It took longer than usual, because so many ambulances had already been dispatched to aid those harmed in the storm. But as time ticked on, the more worried you became. “I’m scared,” you whimpered.

Rhett held you tighter, resting his cheek atop your head. He felt so powerless. “I know. Me too.”

Moments later, the wail of emergency vehicle sirens could be heard. Multiple ambulances and a firetruck approached, all pulling into the grass toward the scene. Rhett let you go, the two of you jogging ahead to meet the first responders.

“There’s three of ‘em in the truck!” Rhett exclaimed, “they’re all unconscious, from what I could tell!”

“We’ll get them out!” One of them assured you both.

You watched as they all rushed toward the truck, firefighters and EMTs alike. Helplessly, you remained on the sidelines, clinging to Rhett, fingers clutching the fabric of his t-shirt.

He wanted to tell you they’d be okay. That everything was going to be fine, that your friends were unharmed. But in his heart, he knew nothing would ever be okay again.

Perry was pulled from the vehicle first, still unconscious. Together, you watched as he was placed on a gurney, where an EMT hurriedly checked his vitals, searching for life.

“I’ve got a pulse, but it’s weak!” The young woman shouted.

He was alive. That was a good sign, right? Maybe it meant the girls were alright as well. You could only hope.

A saw was taken to the door, and it was removed so that the inside of the truck was more easily accessible. Then they pulled Rebecca out. She was so still, unresponsive as she was hauled down to a second gurney.

You heard a voice shout that they couldn’t find a pulse.

You placed your hand over your mouth, a grieved whimper escaping your throat. Rhett’s name slipped past your lips, and you buried your face in his chest, unable to watch. You could hear his sharp intake of breath.

Then Lydia was pulled from the wreckage. While you kept your face hidden against Rhett, he watched on, and he knew, just from the sight of her, that she was gone.

His grip tightened on you. It felt as if a dagger had been plunged into his chest. He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, his eyes falling shut for a moment as the weight of what was happening settled upon him.

You lifted your head at that very moment, and you turned, realizing your best friend had been taken out of the truck. On instinct, you tried to pull away from Rhett. Tried to run toward the scene, to see for yourself if Lydia was alright.

But Rhett held you back. “No,” he told you.

“Let me go, I need to see if she’s okay!”

He repeated himself. “No.” He would not release you, no matter how hard you struggled.

Tears blurred your vision. “Rhett, please! I need to know if she’s alive!”

He grabbed both of your shoulders and looked right into your eyes. “Darlin’, stop! Just let ‘em do their jobs!” He didn’t want you near it. Didn’t want you to witness death up close and personal like that. It would haunt you forever.

Your knees buckled, and he caught you as you fell into him, wailing from the weight of your pain. Brokenhearted, Rhett cradled you in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut as his own tears made their way down his cheeks. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It had to be a dream. A nightmare.

And then one of the sheriff’s deputies was approaching. Linden Haynes. “You two need an escort to the hospital?” He asked, voice low. Knowing you’d both want to go in support of your friends.

Rhett nodded, trying to find his voice. “Yeah…yeah. Thanks. I, uh, don’t know where my truck got blown to.”

Linden hummed, his face sympathetic. “No problem. We’ll find your truck somewhere. Once things calm down, I can see if we can get some deputies searchin’ for it.” He moved to walk away, motioning for you both to follow.

“Linden, are…are they okay?” you heard yourself speak.

He turned, trying to mask his expression, but you could see it in his eyes. He had witnessed the wreckage firsthand. He’d seen the EMTs and firefighters rescuing your friends. He knew.

“Let the docs and nurses at the hospital tell you that, they’ll know more than me,” was his response.

Defeated, you followed him to his squad car, your body still leaning into Rhett. You climbed into the backseat together, and as soon as you were settled, you buried your face in your hands, trying desperately to hold yourself together. But you were unraveling, and the dread was threatening to swallow you whole.

The hospital was in a frenzy when you arrived. So many people hurt in the storm. You heard murmurs of the tornado being an EF5, which made your eyes go wide as you looked at Rhett. It was a wonder you’d even made it to safety.

Sitting there in that hospital waiting room was the most excruciating moment of your life. Hoping your friends would survive. Knowing that they might not.

Rhett was on the verge of potentially losing his brother. And while his relationship with Perry had been tumultuous over the years, he cared about him deeply, and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing him.

You sat side by side on vinyl-covered chairs, holding each other’s hands in a death grip, startling anytime a doctor or nurse walked by, thinking one of them was coming to give you an update.

Finally, an update did come.

You had no recollection of ending up on the floor. But there you were, crumbled against the cool tile as Rhett tried to console you, while simultaneously wracked with grief himself.

They were dead. Lydia and Rebecca. They were dead, and they had been since they were pulled from the wreckage. Perry, however, was alive, but just barely holding onto life.

The doctor was a family friend. He offered to contact yours and Rhett’s respective families. It was all a bur. And then you found yourself in Perry’s hospital room, which was stone silent, filled with dreadful anticipation.

Your memory of that day was patchy at best. Your brain had filtered out some of the more traumatic parts, forcing you to forget. The weight of your anguish made it feel as if you were underwater, being pulled down by a cinder block tied to your ankle. No matter how hard you pedaled, you couldn’t come back up to the surface.

Late into the night, Perry succumbed to his injuries, too. He slipped away, with his family surrounding him. Worst of it all? His four-year-old daughter was left an orphan in the wake of her parents’ deaths.

You lost a piece of yourself when three of the dearest people in your life were taken from you. It sent both you and Rhett into a spiral. He blamed himself. You blamed yourself. It was something you could not move past. Every time you looked at him, it was a reminder of that fateful day a twister took everything from you.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. So you ran. You left Rhett. You left all you had ever known. And you told yourself you would never come back.

Present Day

Until now.

You were hoping to go undetected. You weren’t sure if you could handle seeing anyone from your past. Least of all Rhett. With the way you left things between you and him, you doubted he wanted to see you anyway.

But you should have known you couldn’t hide forever.

You had been planning to stay in your aunt’s house while you were in town, but when you arrived and saw the dire state it was in, you realized sleeping there wasn’t feasible. So you decided to stay at the only motel in town.

Before checking in, you needed to stop by the store to buy a few necessities that you had forgotten to pack. You wondered if anyone would recognize you. Had you changed much physically over the last six years? You thought you had, but maybe others wouldn’t notice the change.

You managed to slip into the store without being recognized. You went about your entire shopping trip, remaining anonymous. You paid for your things without a single soul uttering your name. But just when you thought you were home free, you saw someone who made you stop dead in your tracks for the briefest of moments.

Cecilia Abbott.

Your heart rate picked up, anxiety sizzling through your veins like a live wire. She hadn’t seen you yet, too busy bagging her groceries to notice. Perhaps, if you were quick enough, you could evade her and make your escape.

You almost did, too. Until you heard the sound of your name being called.

You flinched, pausing for a moment, debating whether you should keep going. But then she was descending upon you and you had nowhere else to go.

“It can’t be! After all these years?!” The woman exclaimed.

Slowly, you turned around, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression, masking your look of distress. “Cece, hi!” You greeted. You had no idea how this was going to go. Would she be angry at you for walking out on her son? Would she welcome you back to town with open arms?

She stared at you in disbelief, shopping bag balanced in the crook of her elbow. “Goodness, how long’s it been?” But she knew how long it had been. She never lost count of how many years had passed since the death of her child.

“Six years,” you heard yourself reply. You wanted to crawl out of your skin.

“Wow. I can’t believe it.” Cecilia shook her head. “It’s almost like seein’ a ghost! Never thought you’d come back.”

“I didn’t either. But I, uh…I’m here cleaning out my aunt’s place.”

Her face softened, and she shifted, leaning toward you. “I’m sorry. She’ll be missed around here, that’s for sure. S’ a good thing you’re takin’ on the responsibility of cleanin’ that house, though. She did let it go in her old age.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, she really wasn’t there mentally the last few years of her life. It’s sad. But, I’m hoping to have the house looking good as new when I’m done with it.”

Cecilia shifted her bag of groceries to her other hand. “Say, you got a place to stay while you’re in town?”

“I was going to stay at the house, but it’s too much of a disaster. I’m just gonna get a motel room.”

You should have known what she would say next. Gasping, she reached out and touched your arm. “Nonsense! You should come stay at our house!”

Your eyes widened. She wasn’t serious, was she? After all that had transpired? “Oh, I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

But once Cecilia Abbott’s mind was set on something, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “No imposition at all! Home cooked meals, and a clean bed that doesn’t have bed bugs like that nasty ole motel does. The Bed Bug Inn, that’s what everyone calls it. Plus, we’re not that far from your aunt’s, just down the road. Closer than the motel is.”

She did have a point. But you couldn’t fathom the thought of stepping back onto the Abbott property again. You couldn’t face the demons you’d left there. “Cece, I appreciate it, but—”

“I insist. You at least need to come for dinner! I’m makin’ roast tonight, y’know, the one Rhett always loved? If you decide you still don’t want to stay after that, that’s fine. But you have to let me feed ya, I’m not gonna let you go hungry, girl.”

At the mention of Rhett’s name, your breath caught in your chest. “Oh, um… Rhett, how is he?” Your voice raised a little in pitch, and you cleared your throat.

“He’s fine. Still livin’ in the house with us, but he’s gone all the time. Storm chasin’ business keeps him busy.”

He was still chasing? “I can’t believe he’s still going after storms,” you spoke in disbelief.

Cecilia shrugged. “He never lost his love for it,” she mused. For a moment, there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was remembering something. Likely the way she had lost her son to the very thing Rhett loved doing.

Then she snapped out of it. “Anyway, come over for supper! Five o’clock!” Without giving you a chance to protest, she turned on her heel and bustled out of the store, leaving you with no choice but to take her up on her offer. You didn’t want to offend her by not showing up.

But could you handle it? Stepping back into the past, into a version of yourself that you had not been in six years. You thought of Amy, Perry and Rebecca’s daughter. She would be nine years old by now. Would she even remember you? Would she blame you for the death of her parents?

Surely not. She had been four when they died. You doubted a four-year-old had the emotional or mental wherewithal to blame you for the loss of her parents.

But it wasn’t Amy you were afraid to be reunited with. Not really. You were utterly terrified at the thought of seeing Rhett again. Would he be happy to see you? Would he be angry? Hurt? Confused? What would he say to you? How would you respond?

All these questions swirled through your mind as you sauntered back to your car. Maybe he wouldn’t even be home. But if you chose to stay at the Abbott’s, you would likely run into him at some point. Besides, you weren’t sure how long you were going to remain in town. You felt like you were taking advantage of Cecilia’s kindness. So, you determined that you would only go over for dinner. You would not stay the night.

With that thought in mind, you climbed into your car and headed back to your aunt’s house.

A few hours later, you were back in your car all over again, thrumming with anxiety, wondering if you were making the right decision. It would be so easy to turn back around, but you forced yourself to continue on, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

When you turned into the Abbott farm, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia so intense you slowed your car to a stop, staring at the house in the distance. It was the same as it had always been. A cozy house boasting of a well-kept garden, a bran off to the left with a nice coat of bright red paint. Chickens milled about the yard. Horses played in the field. Cows lowed in the distance.

It still felt like home.

With a deep breath, you eased off the brake and urged your car down the long driveway. As you parked near the house, you caught sight of a young girl with honey-colored hair, swinging on the rope swing that was tied to the tree in the front.

Your heart clenched in your chest. She’d grown so much. It was a reminder that life had continued in your absence.

Upon seeing you, she hopped down, eyes alight with joy. “Gramma! Gramma!” She called, rushing into the house to alert Cecilia to your arrival.

You took a moment to steel yourself before you climbed out of the car, shoes crunching against dirt and gravel as you approached the porch. As you ascended the steps, you were once again greeted by the little girl. Amy.

“Hi!” She exclaimed. “I’m Amy. Gramma says you can come on in!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Hi, Amy. It’s been a long time. Last time I saw you, you were this big!” You held your hand low, indicating her size.

“I don’t really remember you. But Gramma and Grampa do. They said you and Uncle Rhett used to date.”

You were slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Uh, yeah…yeah, we did. That was a long time ago though.”

Amy shrugged. “I wish he was still dating you. You’re super pretty!”

“Oh…thank you!” Was all you could say in reply. She certainly was prone to saying whatever came to mind. However, she moved on from it quickly, motioning you inside.

“C’mon!” She said, waving you on, and you moved to follow her, stopping at the door to take your shoes off before you ambled into the kitchen.

The smell of food cooking made your stomach growl, and you realized only then that you were very hungry. A home-cooked meal would do you some good.

At the sound of your footsteps, Cecilia turned, her face lighting up at the sight of you. “You made it! I’m so glad. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You wanted to make yourself useful, rather than standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.

“You can help me set the table!” Amy chirped, already walking to the table with her arms full of plates.

“Silverware’s in the drawer to the right of the sink,” Cecilia reminded you. But you remembered from the countless dinners you had been a part of here.

With a nod, you moved to gather enough cutlery for everyone, and as Amy set each plate down, you folded a napkin and placed the silverware upon it. You fell into a rhythm, stopping only to grab drinking glasses from the cupboard.

You noticed that the number of place settings was five. That had to mean Rhett was also joining the family for dinner, unless it was a place for someone else. You wanted to ask Cecilia if he was coming, but didn’t want to make things awkward, so you left it alone.

You were kept busy as she handed you different serving dishes full of various foods to put on the table. As you placed a basket of dinner rolls amongst the rest of the food, the sound of the back door opening caught your attention.

Your heart leapt in your chest, and you lifted your head, expecting to see Rhett. Instead, you were met with Royal’s look of surprise. Cecilia looked over at him and motioned to the sink. “Wash up, supper’s ready. We’ve got a guest.”

He nodded as he hung his hat on the peg on the wall, pausing to take off his muddy boots. “I’ll be damned,” he remarked, directing it at you. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Saw her at the market today, so I invited her over. Didn’t tell ya because you an’ Rhett have been in that darn pasture with no signal all day.”

Royal hummed gruffly as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Storm wiped that fence clean out. We had to replace every last post,” he sighed, “took us all day.”

“S’why we need to hire some hands, Roy,” Cecilia lowered her voice, but you still heard her.

Clearly this was something they talked about frequently, because he huffed and shook his head. But he didn’t continue the potential argument. Instead, he turned, drying his hands on a towel. His eyes regarded you kindly. “Been a long time,” he murmured. “Good to see you.”

You managed a smile. “Good to see you too.”

“Rhett on his way?” Cecilia questioned as she placed the final platter on the table.

Again, your heart fluttered anxiously at the mention of his name.

Royal nodded, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and taking a seat. “Yeah, he’s right behind me, he was just puttin’ up the horses.”

“Alrighty, we’ll wait to say grace until he comes in then.”

There it was again, that deep feeling of utter nostalgia. Cecilia had always been a religious woman, and not a meal went by where she didn’t pray over the food. That aspect hadn’t changed at all.

“You can sit here!” Amy announced, patting an open chair next to Royal. “Me and Uncle Rhett will sit across from you.”

You’d have to look into his face. You wouldn’t be able to hide your expressions from him. Rhett had always been so perceptive, more so than anyone gave him credit for. He was always considered to be aloof by those who didn’t bother to get to know him, but you knew that was far from the truth.

There had been a time when you knew him like the back of your hand. You wondered just how much he’d changed, if at all.

Just as you took your seat at the table, the squeak of the screen door opening filled the room, and the scrape of boots against linoleum followed. Seconds later, there he was. Blue flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. Same brown hat he’d had since he was a teenager, which he pulled from his head to place on the hat peg.

“Uncle Rhett! Uncle Rhett! We have a guest!” Amy exclaimed.

He hadn’t turned yet. Didn’t know you were there. “Who’s that, li’l pea?”

“Your old girlfriend!” She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

He saw you then, and his eyes went wide. You swore the clock hanging over the sink stopped, causing time to stand still. Everyone else in the room faded into the background as Rhett became your sole focus.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, as if someone had taken their hands and squeezed the air right out of your lungs. In the background, you heard Cecilia talking, likely explaining that she’d seen you at the store and invited you over.

You doubted Rhett heard her, either. He was too busy staring at you.

Seeing him again brought so many overwhelming emotions to the surface. Pain. Sadness. Longing. And suddenly, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. You needed to bolt.

Abruptly, you stood up, silently cursing yourself for your dramatics. “I–I’m so sorry, this was a mistake,” you squeaked, the legs of your chair scraping against the floor as you scrambled away from the table.

And then you were fleeing. Just like you had six years ago.

But this time, Rhett wasn’t going to let you go that easy. Shaking himself out of his momentary shock, his feet moved beneath him, carrying him after you. “Go ‘head an’ eat! I’m gonna talk to her!” He called over his shoulder to his family.

He threw open the front door, lurching out onto the porch. You were already at your car, wrenching the door open. “Wait!” He called out, dashing down the steps.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see.

“Would ya just– just stop!” He reached out, hand against your door, impeding you from opening it.

“Let go of my door, please.” You were surprised you had it in yourself to speak.

“Not until you look at me.”

You were afraid you’d fall apart if you did. “Rhett, please.”

A beat passed. Then another. You could feel his body heat, he was standing so close. You could smell the sweat and dirt that clung to him after a hard day’s work. But there was something else, too. Something sweeter. Like freshly baled hay.

Against your better judgment, you found yourself turning, drawn to him like a magnet. Your eyes finally met his, and you gasped softly. They were even bluer than you remembered. So clear and bright.

But there was so much emotion there, too. It swam within his irises, and you saw the glint of gathering tears. He drank in the sight of you, and his chest heaved as he took in a breath, then another. “I…I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, as if speaking louder would cause his voice to fail him.

“Me too,” you agreed, as quiet as he was. There was so much you wanted to say. But most importantly, there were a few words he needed to hear. “I’m so sorry, Rhett.” You succumbed to your tears, as they slid down your cheeks in hot trails.

His bottom lip quivered slightly, and he shook his head. “No, I…I should apologize. I shoulda been more understandin’. You were grievin’, same as me, and I wasn’t letting you do it in your own way. I made you feel like you had to run away, and I’m sorry.”

“Is that what you think? That it was your fault?” Your voice trembled.

He shrugged, sniffling softly. “S’what I always assumed. Thought it had to be somethin’ I did.”

The thought of him living with that these last several years made your heart ache. “It was never your fault. It was me. I couldn’t face what happened. I thought…if I left, it would be easier. I could move on faster.”

Being reassured that it wasn’t his fault made him relax slightly, the tenseness leaving his shoulders. But there was still a shadow of sadness on his face. “Was it easier?”

At that, you shook your head, scoffing slightly. “No. Honestly, I think leaving you made it worse. I’m so sorry I did that to you. I’ve never really been able to forgive myself for it.”

“Guess we both have a lotta things we couldn’t forgive ourselves for,” he murmured. Then he bowed his head for a moment, gathering himself before looking at you again. “For what it’s worth, I ain’t holding it against you. Losin’ the three of them was the hardest fuckin’ thing we ever had to go through. I don’t blame you for leavin’ to see if it would make you feel better. You did what you thought you had t’ do.”

A fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes. “Oh, Rhett.” Without a second thought, you found yourself moving forward, wrapping your arms around him. He was caught by surprise for only a moment, and then his own arms, strong and steady, came up to encircle your waist.

You stood there in the middle of the driveway, holding each other for what felt like hours. When you parted, you were both wiping at tear-streaked cheeks.

“S’good to see you again, by the way,” Rhett said. “I mean it.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you replied honestly. Now that your initial upset was out of the way, you realized it felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

“What, uh, what are you doin’ back in town?”

“Cleaning out my great-aunt’s place,” came your answer, and he nodded in realization. “I ran into your mom at the store today, she invited me over. I didn’t really want to come, I was scared to face you again.”

He hummed in understanding. “She knew what she was doin’. She wanted us to talk. She’s a meddler like that.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke.

You couldn’t help but smile despite yourself. “I should’ve known it was a ruse. She’s convincing, that’s for sure. She’s also watching us right now.”

When Rhett turned, he found his whole family watching through the front window. Upon seeing him turn, they all rushed away from the window, dropping the curtain.

He faced you again, and there was a smile on his face. “I’m glad she convinced ya, then. Can’t tell you how good it feels to clear the air after all this time. Losin’ you was rough on me, but I’m happy you’re back, even if it’s only for a small visit.”

“I’m happy too. And I’m happy you stopped me from leaving this time.”

His eyes twinkled like stars, and he nodded toward the house. “Wanna head back in for supper?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Together, you walked back into the house. While there was so much you had missed in your time apart, and so much you still needed to reconcile with each other, you were relieved that the air was clear for the time being. You hadn’t expected Rhett to welcome you back with open arms, but you were thankful he had.

It broke your heart that he had spent so much time believing he was to blame. It was your own inability to face your grief that was the culprit, not this sweet, blue-eyed cowboy. Never him. But maybe there was a new beginning between you. A chance to let the past remain where it belonged.

When you stepped into the kitchen and took your seat at the table, the trio was pretending they hadn’t just been spying on you and Rhett. However, it was Amy who gave it away, giggling behind her hand.

“You guys’re menaces,” Rhett grumbled as he placed a serving of potatoes on his plate.

Cecilia tried to hide her smile, though ultimately failing. She looked at you, and her gaze was kind. “I’m sorry. Maybe I was a little…overzealous about makin’ sure you and Rhett saw each other again. But it worked, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t hold it against her. Without her meddling, you never would have spoken to Rhett. You likely would have done what you came to do and left town without a single glance in his direction.

Cecilia had known that it was a chance for you to reconcile with Rhett. Holding on to something that happened years ago wasn’t healthy. She saw the opportunity to ease her son’s pain, and yours, and she took it. Thankfully, it had worked out in her favor.

You couldn’t believe it had been that easy to reconcile with him. Even after you’d stormed off, upset, he’d still been willing to talk to you. It spoke volumes of his growth. Past Rhett wasn’t very good at communicating. But present Rhett seemed to have gotten much better at it.

Dinner passed without a hitch, although there was still some slight tension. No one spoke of Perry, Rebecca, or Lydia. You got the sense that Royal and Cecilia were avoiding the subject. Likely because Amy was present. You had no idea how much she knew about that day, but you had no desire to bring it up.

Conversation instead shifted to what you were doing with your life.

“Where you workin’ now?” Royal asked, leaning back so that Cecilia could take his plate and clear the table in preparation for dessert. She’d denied your offer of help, insisting you sit and talk, because you were a guest.

“I work for the National Weather Service, up in Silver Spring, Maryland.”

“No kiddin’?” He replied, eyes glimmering with intrigue. “What d’ya do there?”

You took a sip of your water before you answered. “I’m an analyst. I analyze weather data from all over the country. I work with a team and we try to predict, as best we can, what the weather is going to look like.”

“Sounds intense,” Rhett spoke up. You glanced over at him. He was leaning back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs.

Until his mother slapped her dish towel against his arm. “Stop leanin’ back in that chair. The legs’ll give out.”

He corrected his chair right away. You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. “It is kinda intense. But I love it. Keeps me on my toes,” came your reply.

“Can’t take the storm chaser outta the girl, huh?” He hummed, catching your eye with a knowing look.

He was right. Although you’d stopped chasing storms, you still did just that, except it was from a much safer distance this time, through a set of screens. There was no chance of those around you dying grisly deaths brought on by a wicked twister.

“Guess not,” you finally agreed.

Before the conversation could continue, Amy happily interrupted, flouncing up to the table to set down a handful of dessert plates. “Gramma made your favorite, Uncle Rhett,” she announced, beaming at him.

He grinned, pulling her into his side as she squealed. “Did she?” He asked, laughter in his tone as he jabbed his fingers into her sides, while she laughed uncontrollably and tried to wriggle away from him.

You watched the exchange, and your heart went warm in your chest. But you were also hit with a wave of sadness. This sweet little girl was growing up without a mother and father. These three people in this room were all she had in the world.

“Y’alright?” Rhett’s voice jarred you, bringing you back to reality. You hadn’t realized that tears were making their way down your cheeks.

“I…I’m fine,” you answered.

“Alright, here’s some blackberry pie!” Cecilia’s voice rang across the kitchen, interrupting your moment of melancholy. But you were grateful for the distraction.

The pie was cut, and everyone was given a slice, along with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and a cup of coffee. Conversation around the table shifted to Amy’s schooling, and she eagerly listed the number of weeks that were left of school.

But you could feel Rhett’s eyes on you from across the table the entire time. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if he could see right into your soul. That was how it had always been. Looking at him felt like staring into the sun, at times. So bright and beautiful, but impossible to stare at.

That hadn’t changed, even years later. Same intense look.

When dessert was finished, Amy got up to help Cecilia clear the table. Royal headed upstairs to presumably get ready for bed. And Rhett stepped outside onto the front porch.

“Can I at least help you clean up for the night, Cece?” You asked, hoping to do something, anything to feel useful.

“Don’t you lift a finger. Amy and I have got it.”

“You sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure,” the woman insisted. Then, “Have you given any thought as to if you might stay here?”

You hesitated. “Oh, I, uh…I don’t know. I really don’t want to be a bother.”

She huffed, shaking her head. “I already told ya at the store, it’s no bother! ‘Sides, it’s gonna be dark soon, and it gets so pitch black out here, drivin’ into town isn’t safe. And if you stay, you’d be wakin’ up to a home-cooked breakfast in the mornin’.”

With a sigh, you finally relented. Mostly because you were too tired to argue with her. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine, I’ll stay.” It was a good thing you hadn’t taken your luggage out of the car yet.

Cecilia beamed. “Then it’s settled.”

“I’ll just go get my stuff from the car,” you remarked, already turning to put your shoes back on.

“Have Rhett help you. I think he just stepped out onto the porch,” she suggested.

With a nod, you made your way out the door, hinges squeaking as you stepped onto the porch, shoes thudding lightly against weather-worn wood.

Sure enough, Rhett was there, seated on the bench near the door. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and he was leaning back, eyes fixed on the sky.

When you came out, his gaze shifted to you, and he smiled softly. “Hey,” he said, sitting up a little straighter.

“Hey.” An awkward silence soon followed. There was so much hanging in the air between you both. Words left unsaid. “Your momma asked me to stay the night.”

He hummed, nodding as he looked back out across the sprawling land that was the Abbott farm. “Figured she would. Her and that bleedin’ heart of hers.”

“She suckered me into it with the promise of a home cooked breakfast.”

He scoffed playfully. “You get a home cooked breakfast and I get a piece of fuckin’ toast.”

“I’ll share with you.”

His smile turned into a grin. Then he fell serious. “Speakin’ of sharing, you can sleep in my room.”

At that, you shook your head. “Oh no, that’s asking too much. Isn’t there a pull-out bed in the living room couch? I can sleep there instead. It’s where I used to sleep when I’d stay over, remember?”

“Boy, do I,” he hummed. When you were teenagers, Cecilia was insistent that you did not share a bed if you stayed the night. You’d sleep on the pull-out bed in the living room, far away from Rhett’s bedroom upstairs. It didn’t stop him from sneaking down to talk to you in the middle of the night, though.

He continued, “But ya already served your time on that old couch. I’ll sleep there. My bed’s all yours.”

“Rhett—”

“Hey now, don’t argue with me. We both know I always win ‘em anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest as you shook your head. He was right, after all. He’d always win you over with kisses dispersed all over your face until you relented with laughter.

“Fine. I’ll take your room then,” you replied.

He hummed in satisfaction, and silence fell between you again. It felt so strange, being back in his presence. You felt as if you didn’t belong here, on this porch with him in the late spring night. In your anxious imaginations, you had always assumed he’d never reconcile with you, so you never tried to reach out and make things right.

But all it had taken was one tearful conversation, and a sense of civility had been restored between you.

“Why did you forgive me so easily?” Came your question, spoken into the quiet air that hummed with the sounds of nocturnal creatures.

Rhett eyes flickered to you. “Because I spent too long wallowin’ in hurt, and I couldn’t handle carryin’ all of it anymore. I don’t wanna be stuck in the past. I want to move forward. Forgivin’ you is the best way to do that.” Then he added, “plus, I never could stay mad at you. Guess that still holds true to this day.”

Tears welled in your eyes again as you digested his words. You hated that you’d caused him so much pain. If only you’d been able to work through your grief instead of running from it. But that was in the past. There was nothing you could do to change it. However, you could use it to be a better person in the future.

“I’m sorry I—”

But he held up his hand. “Don’t need to ‘pologize again,” he assured you, gentleness in his tone.

You closed your mouth and nodded, and then you decided to take a seat next to him. Several minutes of silence passed again. Again, you were the one to break it.

“I’m glad I decided to come tonight. I almost didn’t take your ma up on it.”

“I’m glad y’ did too.” He turned his body toward you so he could look into your face. “Six years is a long time.”

“It really is. I can’t believe it’s been that long. And Amy…she’s gotten so big.”

“She has. That little girl’s the apple of Mom and Dad’s eye, I’ll tell you what.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly. “Looks like she’s the apple of yours, too.”

Rhett made a noise of agreement. “I see ‘em in her. Bec and Perry, that is. She’s a bit of a firecracker. Takes after her dad in that way. But she’s smart as a whip, we’re talkin’ wicked smart, like her momma. And some of the things she says, the tone she says them in…god, it sounds just like Bec.”

“It must be so cool to see them live on in her like that,” you whispered.

“It is. But it’s hard, too. Thinkin’ about the way things would be if they were still here.”

“Does she remember them?”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to the night sky above you, shimmering with stars. “Bits an’ pieces. She doesn’t remember whole details. Plus she was so small…I don’t rightly know what she pictures in her head when she talks about it.”

Your heart broke for the girl. “Poor thing.”

Rhett nodded his head. “I know. But she’s doin’ alright. Brings a lotta joy into our lives.” Even in the dim light, you could see the way his eyes sparkled with love. Family had always been so important to him. Even more so now that he’d lost part of it.

You had to swallow the urge to cry. “That’s good.”

A beat passed before Rhett changed the subject, eager to move on to lighter conversation. “So…weather analyst, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

That drew a shy smile out of you. “It’s no big thing. I have a whole team of people who work with me.”

“It’s a pretty damn big deal to me. You an’ that smart brain of yours. It’s no wonder you want on to work for the fuckin’ National Weather Service.”

At his compliment, you ducked your head, a little embarrassed. “I really like the job. It’s kinda stressful, though. Weather never takes a break like us human beings do.”

“You’re tellin’ me. You shoulda seen the storms that rolled through here last week. One right after another.”

That prompted you to ask the question you’d been dying to know the answer to all night. “Your mom said you’re still chasing.”

Rhett nodded his head as he shifted against the bench, wood creaking beneath his weight. “Yeah. It ain’t just me, either. I’ve got a whole team workin’ with me.”

Your gaze fell to your lap, where your hands were loosely clasped. “Was it…was it hard getting back to it, after they died?” You softly questioned. That was why you’d never gone back to storm chasing. You couldn’t bear the thought of doing so after all you'd lost.

“Sure was. I didn’t start back up until a year later. That first time I got back out there…man, I almost couldn’t do it. I just kept thinkin’ of them. But then it sorta turned into a way to honor them an’ keep their memory alive. So I’ve been doin’ it ever since.”

“That’s good you were able to get back into it.”

“How ‘bout you? Been out there runnin’ after any storms lately?”

“No,” you answered quickly. The thought made your stomach turn.

“Y’ should join us next time it storms,” came his suggestion.

“I’d rather not.” You were hoping he would drop it.

“C’mon, it’ll be like old times.”

“I don’t want it to be like old times. We lost three of our best friends during old times. I can’t…I can’t face another tornado. I’m scared to death of them now. I’ll never storm chase ever again.” You were on the verge of tears.

He got the message then. “Alright, fair enough. Didn’t mean to upset ya.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. “You didn’t upset me. It’s just more of a sore subject than I realized,” you said. Then, “and now that I’m back here, I’m so scared more twisters will come through.”

Rhett understood where you were coming from. But he also believed in facing one’s fears. For the most part, at least. There were still some things that filled him with fear that he couldn’t bear to face.

“More will definitely come. They ain’t been that bad this season so far. Last week was rough though. Had a couple EF3s that hit some neighborin’ towns. We’ve been helpin’ out a lot. The team I’m workin’ with…they’re big into charity. We’ve been able to donate to people who lost their homes. We’re hopin’ to raise enough money to get building supplies that can help rebuild all the damaged homes.”

You raised a brow, surprised. Not over the fact that Rhett wanted to help people in surrounding communities, but over the fact that his team had done so much. That was more than you’d ever been able to do when you were chasing with Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia.

“That’s really amazing,” you remarked.

“Yeah. Hate seein’ the damage twisters can do, but I’m glad we can at least do somethin’ to help, even if it’s small.”

You had so many more questions about his storm chasing. But you also wanted to change the subject. Your heart was heavy from the old memories going through your mind. So, you asked about another thing that was part of the past.

“Did you ever go back to bull riding?”

Rhett let out a sharp breath, suddenly finding a small tear in his jeans very interesting, fingers sliding over the work fabric. “Hell no.”

“I always wondered about that. If you’d gone back to it after I left.”

“Nah. Never could stomach the thought of gettin’ back on one of them beasts.”

“Yet you’ll chase twisters with no problem.”

“That’s different.”

“How? Both could kill you.”

Rhett didn’t have an answer for that. But he did know he never wanted to experience what he’d been through in that arena all those years ago.

It happened before you’d started storm chasing together. He was gunning for a career in pro bull riding, and he was headed toward the top. He had it all. Until it came crashing down one night when he suffered a life-threatening injury when he didn’t get out of the way of an angry bull fast enough.

You’d never forget that night. And neither would he. You’d been volunteering at the rodeo. You were certified in first aid, and you were able to work alongside the on-site medics tending to riders with injuries, so you had access to the riders-only area.

But what Rhett suffered was no minor injury. The bull’s horn caught him right beneath the hem of his protective vest, impaling the soft flesh of his lower abdomen. You remembered so vividly the way you’d cried out his name. The way he’d been carried out on a stretcher.

You remembered tearing his vest off of him and seeing blood. So much blood. You remembered pressing your hands to the wound in an effort to slow the bleeding as he grew pale beneath you. You remembered begging him to hold on, assuring him that help was on the way.

You almost lost him that night.

The injury scared the hell out of him. It required surgery to repair the internal damage, and it took him out of riding for months. And by the time the doctor cleared him to ride again, he knew he couldn’t. Not after he’d stared death in the face.

He had a permanent scar on his abdomen, a reminder of what he had endured.

Rhett never wanted to experience that again. So he hung up his riding vest for good. But he was still a thrill seeker. And when you expressed an interest in storm chasing, he’d eagerly agreed, because it gave him a chance to feel alive again, just like he always felt when he was sitting on the back of a raging bull.

Now you had traded places. He was too afraid to mount another bull. You were too afraid to go after another twister. It seemed that you had more in common than you realized.

“Guess we’re both scared of something,” you remarked, wrapping your arms around yourself as the evening chill crept up on you like the chilled fingers of a ghost touching your skin.

“Guess so,” Rhett agreed.

Your conversation fell stagnant, and you found yourself growing sleepy. You had only just arrived back in Oklahoma that morning, and the night before, you hadn’t slept well. The exhaustion was beginning to catch up with you.

“I should probably turn in before I fall asleep out here,” you mumbled, followed by a yawn.

Rhett made a sound deep in his throat before he rolled his neck, joints cracking. “I’ll help ya with your stuff,” he offered as he stood.

You followed suit, motioning to your car. The two of you headed down the porch steps, where you popped the trunk, revealing your luggage. You watched as Rhett heaved the bags out of the car, his forearms and biceps bulging beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt.

You were reminded that he was still just as strong as ever. Lifting your suitcases hardly took that much strength, you knew, but Rhett was a farm boy. He’d been strong his entire life, thanks to lifting bales of hay and performing other tasks of manual labor. When he was riding bulls, his core and leg strength had been excellent. Those strong thighs of his allowed him to hold tightly to those raging animals.

He’d taken on some size since you’d seen him six years ago. His shoulders were more broad. His arms were bigger. His thighs were meatier. Or maybe his jeans were simply too tight, hugging the curve of his quad muscles.

In the kitchen, you hadn’t fully admired him. But here, beneath the night sky, illuminated by the glow of the porch light, you saw him. His stubbled jaw, his twinkling eyes, his small pink mouth the button nose you’d always loved.

You remembered teasing him and telling him he had an elfin nose, that he had inherited it from a mystical creature. You had adored the way his ears would turn red whenever you said it.

Oh, how things had changed. There had been a time when you couldn’t picture your life without him. And now, you’d been without him for so long that you’d forgotten what it felt like to love and be loved by him.

“Y’alright?” Rhett’s voice jarred you, and you shook yourself out of your reverie.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just sorta zoned out.”

The knowing look in his eye told you he’d caught on to the fact that you were staring at him.

“C’mon, I’ll take you upstairs.” With that, he slammed your trunk shut and gathered your bags again before he headed toward the house.

You trailed after him, closing and locking the front door behind you, assuming everyone was in for the night. Then you ascended the stairs, allowing Rhett to lead you down the hall, all the way to the end, where his room was.

He nudged the partially open door with his foot, and stepped into the dark confines, depositing your luggage onto the bed before he bent to turn on the bedside lamp. You were met with the sight of a surprisingly neat bedroom.

The times you’d been here in the past, his room had never been terribly messy, but random clutter would accumulate in different corners. He was never really the type to make his bed either, because he always said, “I’m gon’ sleep in it again, so why bother?”

But now, the bed was neatly made, and hardly any clutter hid in the corners.

“I ain’t been stayin’ here much, so it stays pretty neat,” he explained, as if reading your mind.

“Too busy storm chasing?” You asked.

“Yeah. Stay in a lotta motels when I’m on the road.”

You sauntered into the room, taking in the coziness of it all. Hardly anything had changed. His plaid bedspread was the same. His curtains still matched the bedding. Art pieces of cowboys riding bulls decorated the walls. A picture of Lane Frost hung just above his desk.

A sense of nostalgia washed over you. Being in this room felt like coming home.

“Welp…guess I’ll, uh, let you get to bed,” Rhett murmured. He paused in the doorway, as if he wanted to say something. “I’m glad you’re back, by the way.”

That brought a smile to your face. “I am, too.”

He rapped his knuckles against the door frame. “Anyway, ‘night.”

“Goodnight.”

He reached out to pull the door shut, leaving you in silence, alone for the first time since you had arrived at the house. You let out a breath, and lowered down to sit on the edge of the bed, allowing yourself to process everything.

Your arms splayed out on either side of you, palms skimming over the softness of the bed. You closed your eyes, and allowed the memories to wash over you. It was here, in this very bed, that you had lost your virginity to each other. You were young and in love and driven by your passion for one another.

Many times after that, you had made love in this room. And as you closed your eyes, it was as if you were reliving those memories. The feeling of his mouth on yours, and his hands on your heated skin. The way he would moan your name into your mouth when you shifted your hips against his own, searching for delicious friction, so eager to have him inside you.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were struck with a feeling of emptiness. How long had it been since you’d been with anyone in such an intimate way? Your job hardly left you time for romantic relationships. You hadn’t really put yourself out there, because you knew your busy career would likely deter anyone who wanted any sort of future with you.

As you readied yourself for bed, you thought about how alone you had felt these last few years. Alone in your grief. In your pain. At least Rhett had his parents to lean on as they endured the loss. You had no one who truly understood.

Silver Spring was a perfectly nice community to live in, and you had made some good friends during your time there. But nothing compared to the community you once had here in Wabang. No one compared to Lydia, your dearest friend. Your bond had been a sisterly one. You were kindred spirits. You’d never been able to find that again in any of the friends you made in your current home city.

But now that you were back in Oklahoma, the sense of familiarity was nearly overwhelming. You were home. Even if you didn’t realize it yet.

That night, you got the best sleep you’d gotten in a long time. Rhett’s bed was comfortable, and the house was quiet. All that could be heard outside was the distant howl of a coyote, and the sounds of nightlife creeping about.

When you woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a rooster crowing. You lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, relishing in the feeling of being rested. Your body didn’t ache. Your head wasn’t swimming with tiredness. You were at peace, which was something you hadn’t felt in ages.

You could hear the sound of the Abbotts milling about the house. Cecilia was likely in the kitchen starting breakfast. Royal was probably already outside, getting a head start on the day’s chores. Rhett, too, who’d always been responsible for checking on the animals and making sure they were fed.

Not wanting to walk out in your tank top and sleep shorts, you were quick to throw on some clean clothes before you headed across the hall to the bathroom to wash your face and make yourself look somewhat presentable.

When you finally made your way downstairs, you were hit with the smell of food cooking. The coffee pot hissed and sputtered in the corner, nearly finished with its brew cycle. Amy sat at the table, doodling in a notebook. When she saw you, her face lit up.

“Mornin’! I was wondering when you’d come down! You slept for a super long time.”

“Amy,” Cecilia cautioned.

“It’s okay,” you assured her, before turning to Amy, “I needed the rest.”

“Well you came down just in time! Gramma’s making pancakes.”

“Sounds good!” Came your response, as you moved to grab a glass from the cupboard to fill with water. Your mouth felt parched.

“How’d you sleep, hon?” Cecilia asked as she stirred a bowl of pancake batter.

“Like a baby,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips to take a sip. You watched as she poured the batter onto a hot skillet, bubbling with melted butter. “Just so you know, I don’t expect you to make breakfast for me every day. I know you only make big breakfasts on Saturdays and Sundays, I don’t expect pancakes and eggs and bacon every day of the week.”

It was Thursday, so it wasn’t a typical day for her to make breakfast for the family. The weekday mornings were always called “fend for yourself” mornings, where the family was responsible for preparing their own respective breakfasts.

“Nonsense! I’m happy to do it, you need fuel if you’re gonna be cleanin’ that house all day,” she insisted.

You smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Really, it means a lot.”

She ushered you to the table, assuring you breakfast would be ready momentarily. You chatted with Amy once you settled into your seat, and just as breakfast was being put on the table, the screen door squealed open, and in stepped Royal, lifting his hat off his head and placing it on the peg on the wall.

He greeted you, nodding in your direction. “Mornin’,” he said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Cecilia placed a cup of black coffee beside his plate, and he thanked her with a wordless hum. Typical morning small talk followed as everyone began filling their plates. But the quiet chatter was soon interrupted by the screen door opening again.

Rhett hurried into the kitchen, boots scraping against the floor as he made a beeline for the table. You could see a wildness in his eyes, and it made your heart rate quicken. Your gaze flickered to the kitchen window, where you could see distant gray clouds.

“Gotta take breakfast to go, storm’s brewin’ over in Cimarron County,” he announced as he reached over Amy’s head to grab a pancake. He shoved a few pieces of bacon inside and folded it up like a taco. “Team’s on the way here to meet me.”

“Please be careful!” Cecilia called after him as he turned on his heel to head back to the door.

He grabbed a backpack that was sitting on the bench in the entryway, presumably packed with necessities. “Always am, Ma,” he replied. Then he looked at you, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “You wanna come?” Hope was in his tone.

His offer shocked you. You certainly didn’t expect it, not after what you had told him last night. “No, I…I’ll stay here,” you answered.

“Alright, see ya soon!” And with that, he was off, door slamming shut behind him.

You weren’t sure what drove you to do so, but you found yourself surging up from your seat, feet carrying you quickly to the door. You flung it open and rushed out onto the porch. “Rhett!” You called.

Midway to his truck, he stopped, whirling around. “Yeah?”

“Be safe!” He’d just come back into your life. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

His face softened, and he smiled. “I will be. I promise.” Then he turned and continued on to his truck. Still that old GMC Sierra with the light bar on top. It had been blown off the road during the twister you’d narrowly escaped, but somehow, the truck was perfectly fine, and just needed a few repairs to render it driveable again.

Seeing that it had survived after all this time gave you hope that Rhett would make it back safely home again.

He was gone for three days. You learned of his well-being through Cecilia. He would always text her after a storm passed to assure her he was okay. He was so good about giving her peace of mind.

In his absence, you busied yourself with sorting through the overwhelming clutter in your great-aunt’s house. It provided a distraction from your worry.

Living in Silver Spring, you’d had no cause to worry about Rhett. He crossed your mind often, yes, but you had no idea he was still storm chasing, and therefore remained blissfully ignorant.

Now that you were back home, all those old memories had resurfaced, and you were forced to face the fact that you still cared deeply for Rhett. The thought of him dying out there made your stomach turn.

At least when you’d been chasing with him, you were together, and he would die by your side if something did happen. Being apart from him now, you had no idea if he was okay or not, aside from updates from his mother.

You were forced to come to terms with your feelings. Why did you feel so strongly about this? Yes, you cared about what happened to him, just as anyone else in his life did. But there was something more.

You realized that perhaps you were still in love with him.

However, you buried that realization deep. You couldn’t rekindle your romance with him. You had moved on, made a life for yourself, had a career you loved. You needed to leave your relationship with him in the past, and move forward with only a friendship between the two of you.

Easy as pie, right?

You hoped so.

Three days later, just as you were arriving back on the Abbott farm after a long day of cleaning and organizing, Rhett returned.

Relief washed over you from head to toe when you saw that old Sierra coming down the driveway. But he wasn’t alone. You could make out the silhouette of a woman sitting in the passenger seat. Behind the truck, a Ford F150 followed closely behind, and beyond that, an old RV.

So this was the team he’d been talking about.

Your gut fluttered at the sudden anxiety of meeting new people. You knew you looked worse for wear in your cleaning clothes. You’d been sweating all day, and you were planning on heading straight for the shower when you got into the house.

But it would be rude to just turn and go inside, so you stayed put, waiting until all the vehicles came to a stop.

Rhett jumped out first, slamming the truck door shut behind him. He was wearing his hat, and he was grinning. “Made it back in one piece,” he assured you.

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “I can see that,” came your answer.

Your eyes flickered beyond him as the woman in the passenger seat climbed out. She was beautiful, in the most natural of ways. No makeup adorned her face. Her eyes were large, the deepest shade of brown you’d ever seen. Her hair, a deep chestnut color, was curly and unkempt, pulled back into a ponytail.

Her deep brown skin glimmered with perspiration. You could hazard a guess that the air conditioning in Rhett’s truck was broken. It always had been finicky.

“Hi,” she spoke, reaching out her hand to shake yours, “I’m Zara Marshall. Nice to finally meet you! Rhett told me all about you.” Then she added, “good things, of course!”

“Nice to meet you, too. I didn’t realize you all were coming. I would’ve at least tried to look presentable.”

“Oh, you look beautiful, don’t even worry about that.” She blew a stray curl out of her face.

“Zara here is the genius behind all our chases,” Rhett boasted.

The woman looked at him and beamed, shaking her head. “Oh, hush. I’m no genius.”

An odd feeling blossomed to life in your chest as you watched their banter. The easy way they interacted. It wasn’t jealousy, was it? It couldn’t be. You had no right to be jealous. Not after you were the one that left him six years ago.

Your moment of distaste was interrupted by the sound of car doors opening and closing. The rest of the team was getting out of their vehicles, clearly eager to stretch their legs after driving for so long.

“You have to meet my wife!” Zara exclaimed.

Oh.

How silly of you to entertain the thought of jealousy when the woman wasn’t even interested in Rhett.

Another woman came rushing over to the three of you, tall and lean, shoulder-length brown hair hanging loosely against the middle of her back, Tattoos decorated different parts of her body. Mostly her hands and wrists, and a few on her neck. When she smiled at you, it was warm like sunlight.

“Hi!” She said, “I’m Jeslyn.”

You shook her hand and told her your name. Then you were quickly introduced to everyone else.

There was Finn, handsome as could be, with bright green eyes and auburn hair. And then there was Danny, with eyes that were just a little less blue than Rhett’s, and graying curls that fell against his forehead. He couldn’t have been older than his early thirties, but he was already going gray. It suited him.

They were all so personable, and their welcome was warm. It made you feel at ease instantly. You should have known the people who chose to associate with Rhett were good people.

You learned that they were all staying for dinner, per Cecilia’s insistence. It was a flurry of organized chaos as everyone offered to help set up the tables outside, rather than crowding in the small kitchen to eat.

While they were busy with that, you slipped away to take a quick shower, eager to wash the sweat and grime off of your body.

You turned the water as hot as you could stand, stepping under the spray and closing your eyes. You hadn’t expected to be so exhausted. Your shoulders and arms ached from scrubbing and heavy lifting. Your legs were sore too.

The steamy water helped loosen your tight muscles considerably, and once you were finished, you breathed out a sigh of satisfaction. Now you felt a little more prepared to face a dinner table full of people.

But when you stepped out of the shower, you realized that you had forgotten something very important. A towel. Swearing under your breath, you stood in the middle of the bathroom for a moment, debating what you should do.

The linen closet was right across the hall. If you could sneak out there unseen, you’d be able to grab a towel and slip right back into the bathroom unnoticed. So, you cautiously opened the bathroom door and made sure the coast was clear before you dashed for the closet, yanking the door open and scanning for a towel.

To your horror, the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard, and you gasped, reaching for your towel, but you weren’t fast enough. A split second later, Rhett appeared at the top of the steps.

He froze, eyes widening, as you let out a squeak of surprise. Out of respect for you, he quickly turned away. “Shit, sorry!” He apologized.

Wordlessly, you clutched your towel and scurried away, slamming the bathroom door shut. On the steps, Rhett let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. He hadn’t seen you naked in years. Of course the first time would end up being an awkward moment like the one you’d both just been subjected to.

He hadn’t seen much, in his haste to give you privacy. But he’d seen enough to make his brain short-circuit for a moment. Mentally, he scolded himself, but he knew, now that he’d seen you in that way, he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head. Especially because there had been a time when he knew your body, inside and out. He’d had you in the most intimate of ways. And that was something he would never forget.

“Get it the fuck t’gether,” he grumbled to himself as he turned back around, heading toward his room, where he wanted to grab a clean shirt before you came back. He simply couldn’t entertain thoughts about you naked. It would do him no good.

He shook the encounter off, and quickly changed his shirt, tossing the old one in the hamper. He stopped to glance in the mirror that hung above his dresser, running his hand haphazardly through his hair, which was slightly tousled from all the activity of the day.

Then, quick as he came, he strolled out of his room and back down the steps before you ever stepped out of the bathroom again.

Meanwhile, you were hurriedly going about your post-shower routine, your mind spinning. You knew you were making this into a bigger deal than it needed to be. Perhaps you should be grateful it was only Rhett, who’d seen you naked many times before, rather than his parents or Amy.

But you still had an odd feeling swirling to life in your gut, a feeling that you didn’t want to face, because if you did, that would mean admitting you’d never gotten over Rhett.

You pushed it down again. Choosing to deny, deny, deny. It would simply go away if you didn’t acknowledge it.

With that, you headed out of the bathroom and back into Rhett’s bedroom, where you set your shower items down and made sure to hang your towel on the hook mounted on the back of the door.

Then, with a deep breath for courage, you made your way downstairs.

There was a flurry of activity happening. Cecilia was prepping Sunday dinner, while Zara and Jeslyn were gathering plates and silverware to set the table outside. Danny, Finn, and Rhett were carrying chairs outside.

Royal and Amy were in the living room, where she was very intently watching him whittle a figurine out of wood. Cecilia had likely shooed them out of the kitchen because there were enough people in the way as it was.

For a moment, you stood there, in the middle of the house, taking in the sights and sounds, and it transported you back to the past. Sunday dinners with the Abbotts were always your favorite. Lydia and her family would join, and everyone would eat outside, weather permitting, just like they were going to do today.

Many a good time was had around the large oak table that Rhett had built with his own hands when he was in high school, in woodworking class. One of the of the few classes he thrived in. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and it was still in good condition to this day.

“Hey, y’alright?” Rhett’s low cadence filled your ears. You looked up to find him standing near, gaze soft.

“I…yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just reminiscing.”

He nodded. “Mm. Sure this brings back a lotta memories for you.”

“It does,” you agreed.

He lingered for a moment. Then, with the lowering of his voice, he said, “I, uh, I’m sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that.”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

“Good. That’s good.” He let his hands rest upon his hips, grimacing at the awkward silence that followed.

“Guess I’d better see if your mom needs help,” you finally volunteered.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m gon’ make sure the guys set up the table right.” He took a few steps backward before he turned and sauntered out the door.

You breathed out a sigh, mentally berating yourself for the awkwardness. You hoped it wouldn’t linger for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, it did not. Once dinner was ready and everyone was gathered around the table, the atmosphere melted into one of warmth and laughter. You didn’t feel like an outsider. The group of friends treated you like one of your own, and it did wonders to put you at ease.

“I thought you’d like t’ hear this,” Rhett’s voice caught your attention from across the table. “Zara here’s workin’ on a way to stop twisters dead in their tracks.”

That definitely piqued your interest. You looked at her, where she sat between Rhett and Jeslyn. “Really? How do you plan to stop them?” You asked her, leaning forward in your seat.

Tornadoes were impossible to stop. To your knowledge, no one had succeeded in doing so before. They were so unpredictable, one couldn’t possibly figure out when and where one was going to touch down fast enough to stop it.

She sprang into her explanation. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s never been done before. But Jes and I have spent years coming up with a solution. There’s a lot of heat and moisture at the center of a twister. My theory is if you can cool down the center to the freezing point, you can stop the twister.”

You stared at her, eyes widening. There was no way it could work. Was there? “How would you cool it down?”

“Essentially, we release liquid nitrogen into the core of the tornado and it brings the temp way down.”

“Have you tested it out yet?” You inquired. You were still skeptical, but fascinated at the same time.

Beside her, Jeslyn piped up. “We started small scale tests when we were still students at OU. Me, Zara, and some classmates built this machine that uses heat and moisture to simulate a tornado. Our nitrogen tests worked on it, but seeing as that was only a small, contained event…”

“You’d need a lot more nitrogen for the real thing,” you finished for her.

“Yep.”

Zara continued where Jeslyn left off. “During the run we did this week, we decided to actually test it out and see if we could stop a twister. But…it failed miserably.” She laughed ruefully, and the rest of the team joined her, reliving the memory.

You were struck with an odd feeling. Fear of missing out, maybe. Which shocked you, because you’d refused to go on the chase in the first place, because you couldn’t face your fears. Now you felt left out? It didn’t quite make sense to you.

Maybe you did miss storm chasing, after all.

“It’s hard to gauge how much nitrogen we need, especially because every tornado is different. We’ve been working on collecting as many tanks of nitrogen as we possibly can, but we also didn’t want to use up our whole reserve. We used half of it on what turned out to be an F3. Didn’t do shit,” Zara continued to explain, motioning animatedly with her hands as she spoke. Her face was incredibly expressive.

You decided you really liked her. You could understand why Rhett enjoyed chasing with her.

“So, how does that work? Like, do you set tanks of nitrogen on the ground and then open them and hope for the best, or?” You had so many questions, and you simply couldn’t hide your fascination.

“We use that,” Rhett said, pointing over at his truck parked in the driveway. Hitched to the back was an open trailer, with several tanks of liquid nitrogen situated inside, metal gleaming in the light of the setting sun.

“But how do you open them? Does someone have to open each one before the twister hits?” You suddenly became very aware of everyone’s eyes on you, and you shrank slightly. “Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions.”

“No, you’re good!” Zara insisted, “it’s just, we’re all used to people telling us we’re crazy instead of actually showing interest.”

“I told ya she’d think it was cool,” Rhett said to her with a smile. He caught your eye. He still knew you well, even though time had driven you apart.

“Basically, opening the tanks is up to us,” Finn piped up from beside you, motioning to Danny, who sat on the other side of him. He took a swig of his water before he continued. “We made these special remote control valves. As long as we’re within range, we can open the valves with the touch of a button and release the nitrogen into the air.”

“Honestly, it sounds crazy. But also brilliant,” you said, completely in awe. “You gotta show me all the equipment after dinner. I’ve never heard of anyone doing this kinda thing before.”

Part of you still doubted what they were trying to do would ever work. It went against all odds. Even if they did succeed in stopping a tornado, the method wasn’t necessarily feasible for stopping others in the future. It would require countless tanks of nitrogen and a lot of manpower.

But just to be able to say one had stopped a tornado was a feat in and of itself. You couldn’t hold it against Zara for trying. It was clear she was passionate about her work and believed there was a possibility that it could be successful.

The conversation around the dinner table soon shifted to other things. You noticed that none of them asked you about your storm chasing past. You wondered how much Rhett had told them, and if he’d instructed them not to ask about the details, at risk of upsetting you.

It was very considerate of him, if he had.

After dinner, everyone helped clean up while Cecilia ushered Amy upstairs, against the girl’s protests. “You’ve got school in the mornin’, early bedtime isn’t optional!” Her grandmother insisted.

But Amy had to make sure she said goodnight to everyone first before she made the reluctant trudge up the stairs. Oh, to have the innocence of a child again, unwilling to go to bed because all the adults were still awake.

The evening carried on, and once the dishes were washed and the table was cleared, you were led outside to see all the equipment Zara had told you about. And what a setup it was.

The trailer attached to the back of Rhett’s truck was full of nitrogen tanks, sealed with remote controlled valves. The trailer itself was also remote controlled, according to Rhett.

“Come see,” he motioned for you to follow as he opened the driver’s side door. He pointed at the center console, where there was a board of switches, framed by labels indicating what each switch was for. “Danny and Finn helped get this up an’ running. If we need t’ let the trailer go, all I gotta do is press a button and it’ll release. S’how we get the tanks in the path of the twister.”

You stared in amazement at the device. “How? Like, how do you figure out when to release the trailer? And how does it not just get blown away?”

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Figured that one out too.”

He led you to the side of the trailer, where he pointed at a compartment positioned directly between the wheels. “Soon as I get the trailer in place, I flip a switch and stakes lower outta this compartment here and into the ground. Usually we’re cuttin’ it close, but I can get the truck positioned in the path of the twister. Then I get the trailer settled and get the hell outta Dodge.”

“Then I hit the remote control for the tanks and release the nitrogen into the air,” Finn piped up eagerly.

“Meanwhile, Zara and I are tracking the storm pattern and trying to figure out exactly when to release the trailer,” came Jeslyn’s explanation.

You stared at all the equipment in total wonder. These people had thought of everything. More than you or Rhett ever had when you were chasing. Your operation then had been very bare bones, and really, you were just following storms for the fun of it.

But this? This was an entire science experiment, and it was fascinating. Despite your refusal to chase again, you were very curious about what all of this would look like in action. If Zara ever succeeded in stopping a twister, she would make history.

That was something you almost wanted to be a part of. Almost.

Later that night, you found yourself curled up in an Adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as everyone sat around the fire that Rhett had built in the old fire pit. The place held so many memories. Namely, the night Rhett had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was right here.

He remembered that night, too. You could tell he was thinking about it when he caught your eye from across the fire.

Around you, the group settled into comfortable conversation. The kind that happened when old friends got together. Anything and everything was discussed as the night gave way to inky darkness, the stars twinkling above, like glitter spilled across a black velvet canvas.

Before she’d retired for the night, Cecilia had warmed some apple cider on the stove, and a mug of it was currently situated in your hands, its taste spicy and comforting. You enjoyed listening to Rhett’s friends tell stories of different storms they’d chased, reliving all the exciting times they’d had together.

You wondered if you would be running with them, too, had you stayed here instead of moving to Silver Springs and taking your weather analyst job. Would it just be you and Rhett, or would fate have still decided to bring these people into your life?

Their passion was admirable. Zara was a very driven individual, hellbent on making a difference. “If I could at least slow down a twister, even if it doesn’t fully stop it, think of all the lives we could save. That’s why I do all of this. I wanna protect people.”

That was just it, wasn’t it? Saving lives. You thought back to the fateful day you had lost Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. If you’d had a way of slowing down that twister, or even stopping it altogether, perhaps they would still be here.

But you couldn’t think that way, because it was already done. There was no way to go back in time and save them.

The thought made your chest ache, and you had to swallow the wave of grief that rose in your throat. Rhett caught your eye over the flames, and shot you a reassuring look, almost as if he knew what you were thinking.

To your relief, the subject soon changed from storm chasing, and moved on to lighter things.

“Hey, rodeo’s on Saturday. We were all thinking of going together. You should totally join us!” Jeslyn suggested, nodding in your direction.

“Yeah, you should!” Finn agreed.

That piqued your interest. “Sure, I’ll still be in town, so why not?” You hadn’t been to a rodeo in so long. Not since Rhett’s last ride, which had ended in disaster.

Jeslyn grinned over her mug of cider. “Great! We’re gonna have so much fun. We’ll take care of your ticket, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You raised a brow in surprise. “Really? You don’t have to do that.”

Everyone protested at once, insisting that they wanted the rodeo ticket to be their treat. You were touched at their generosity, and accepted the offer gratefully. Might as well make the most of your time in Wabang.

Soon, it was time for the group to disperse and head in their own respective ways. Rhett threw some sand over the dying embers, while everyone else folded up their chairs to store back in the barn. As you walked the group back to their cars, Zara turned to you, her face kind.

“I know you’ve got your reasons for choosing not to chase, I want you to know the invitation for you to join us is open, in case you ever change your mind,” she told you.

You weren’t entirely sure what came over you then. Maybe it was your desire to make a difference. Maybe you were just foolish. But for whatever reason, you were emboldened enough to say, “y’know what? I’ve got a proposition.” You stole a glance at Rhett to make sure he was listening. “I’ll go on a chase with you guys if Rhett agrees to ride at next weekend’s rodeo.”

You knew Rhett. He had a competitive nature. He was going to say yes. Everyone’s eyes landed on him, awaiting his answer.

“Shoo-ee, you gonna accept that challenge, Rhett?” Danny asked with a grin, fully invested.

Beside you, Rhett grimaced. “Ain’t no way they’ll let me in the ring,” he protested.

“Does Beau still oversee the bull riding contestants?” You inquired.

You and Rhett both knew that Beau would agree to letting him ride, because only Beau Wilson was crazy enough to allow such a thing.

“Yeah,” Rhett answered your question. He was well aware of the direction this was going.

“Then I’ll go talk to him. He’ll get you a spot in the ring. If you can handle it, that is.” You gave him a pointed look.

“I can handle it, darlin’.” Despite the determination in his tone, the nickname settled over you like a warm embrace. He hadn’t called you that in so long. “So if I do this, you swear you’ll go on a run with us?”

“Pinky swear.” You held your hand out, pinky up.

Rhett eyed your hand for a moment before he linked his pinky finger with yours. “Fine. You got yourself a deal.”

Finn and Danny whooped in excitement, while Zara and Jeslyn looked between you and Rhett, bewildered. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the one to get him back on a bull? We always say he should try riding again, but he always says no,” Zara explained.

You looked at Rhett, and he ducked his head, hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck. You swore you saw his ears turn red. “Guess he just needed some friendly competition,” you replied.

Not long after, goodbyes were said, and the group parted ways, climbing into their vehicles and driving off, leaving you and Rhett standing there in the driveway. Immediately, you realized that your proposition was a bit preposterous.

“Oh my god, if you don’t want to ride, you don’t have to. I don’t know why I said that, I just…”

But he waved his hand, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll do me some good to get back on a bull. Just like it’ll do you some good to face another twister. Might help us both process some shit,” he reasoned.

You let out a breath. “Maybe so.”

You both turned to walk toward the house, and he asked you a question as you went. “What made you change your mind?”

You paused, glancing down at your feet before you looked at him. “I dunno, all of Zara’s talk about saving lives…it got me thinking. It would be so cool if it could work. Imagine all the people she could save! She’s making a difference, and I want to be a part of that.” And then, “maybe if…if we had something like that six years ago, Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia would still be alive.”

Rhett’s boots crunched against dirt as he absently kicked a few pebbles out of the way. “Don’t go spiralin’ into the ‘what ifs’. Universe saw fit to take ‘em, so it did. No machine could’ve stopped it. Not that kinda twister.”

You studied his expression. “Do you believe in Zara’s project?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I do, but there ain’t no way it would stop an EF5 tornado. We’d be fucked if it hit us.”

“It’s still worth a try, though, isn’t it? If it works, and if she can get it going on a larger scale…she could save entire towns from being destroyed! Think of the history she’s going to make!”

Rhett’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “There she is.��

“What?”

“My storm chasin’ gal. You’re back.”

You shrugged. “I guess so. But just know this isn’t a permanent thing, ‘kay? I’m only going out there with you guys to see how Zara’s invention works. After that, I’m going back to Silver Springs. To my job, where I don’t have to live off of McDonald’s and Whataburger every day and stay in shitty motels while I wait for a twister to just fall out of the sky.”

He bit back his ever-widening grin, shaking his head. “Sure thing. I’m just glad you decided to face your fear, s’all.”

Facing your fear. That was what this was, wasn’t it? You knew that if you could do this, it would show you that you were capable of moving past your grief that still felt crippling at times. But you couldn’t help but wonder; when staring into the face of a tornado, would you be able to stand your ground, or would you let your fear send you running like a frightened child?

You would soon find out. But you didn’t realize just how soon.

taglist: tagging those who expressed interest or asked to be tagged (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

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#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #we own the sky

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Fire on the Mountain - Chapter One

Pairing: Otto Hightower (House of the Dragon) x OFC (Lia Costayne) Warnings: Canon typical death and mild angst. Word count: ~8.4k

Chapter summary: Lia suffers bitter disappointment at the king's tourney, and finds herself uncertain of her future in the wake of an unexpected shift in dynamic.

Series masterlist

Author's note: Header by @vampire-exgirlfriend who also beta read this for me - this story would be nothing without you. Thank you for the care and attention you have put in both myself and my writing. I love you.

The wheels of the carriage squeaked and rattled over the bumpy roads of King’s Landing, accompanied by the thumping of the horses’ hooves that pulled them towards their destination. Lia shifted uncomfortably, repositioning against the plush cushions that she sat upon. It was not the instability of their short journey towards the Dragonpit that irked her, however.

Click. Click. Click.

She cast her gaze down towards Alicent’s fingers, the sound of her nails moving against her skin was audible even over the din of the wheelhouse. The flesh was red, raw and bloodied, and Lia had to force herself to suppress the way her lips attempted to curl in disgust, instead leaning forward to place her own hand over top of Alicent’s, squeezing gently, a comforting gesture that halted her friend’s nervous habit.

Alicent smiled softly at her, but Lia could tell from the way she lowered her eyes that she was embarrassed at having been caught outwardly expressing her anxiety. Lia could not help but pity her, she had plenty to feel worried about herself, but had never allowed it to manifest itself in such an unseemly manner. House Costayne was sworn to the Hightowers, and so it was no question that Lia, youngest daughter of Lord Owen Costyane, would serve as a companion to Lady Alicent, the young daughter of the Hand of the King. Whisked away from the Whispering Sound at the age of six, the two years in Oldtown had been extraordinary—the largest port in the Reach, full of bustling excitement and things to see, all temptations to a precocious and formerly sheltered little girl. When King Viserys took the throne, Lord Otto called his daughter to the capital to be a companion to the young princess and of course, Lia joined as part of Alicent's household.

At the age of fourteen, she had spent more of her life away from her family than with them. They were leagues away, and the memory of the castle in which she was born was but a distant memory. The silver chalice and black rose that adorned the Costayne House sigil felt more tangible to her than the faces of either her mother or father.

She could not pretend that she had suffered in their absence though; she had had every luxury she could ever desire at her disposal, and though her family were far away, at least they still lived. Alicent had suffered through the loss of her mother, and had to keep her composure through all of it. The royal court was no place for the weeping and wailing of a young girl. Lia supposed that if she had been forced to endure that, then she would likely have taken to picking her nails bloody too.

The death of Alyrie Florent had brought Lia and Alicent closer together, and with it their shared bond with Princess Rhaenyra had blossomed too. Lia helped to bring Alicent out of her shell, allowing her an outlet for behaviours that were otherwise considered unseemly for a young lady at court; they gossiped, laughed loudly, and did so with the unspoken bond of secrecy that runs like an invisible thread through the fabric of friendship. Alicent had a calming influence on both Lia and Rhaenyra, serving as the voice of reason that helped to keep them out of trouble–most of the time. Oftentimes, it would take but a look from Alicent for both girls to know they had gone too far, a trait she had doubtless inherited from her father. It had taken just a simple widening of those big brown eyes to halt Lia and Rhaenyra’s ascent up through the branches of the Heart Tree in the Godswood; a foolish attempt to gain a vantage point in order to spy through the higher windows of the Red Keep, that would likely have resulted in broken limbs. Rhaenyra shared Alicent’s knowledge of propriety, though not her love of it, and the wild, adventurous side of her played well with Lia’s, her status as The Realm’s Delight allowing them a margin more leniency than most would be afforded.

The three girls were inseparable, yet in the unwavering foundations of their bond, Lia had never felt more uncertain about her own future. Otto clearly had plans for Alicent, and Rhaenyra’s comfort was secured in her position as the King’s daughter, however, no such fate awaited Lia. She was every bit the spare part, aware of the fact that her destiny is one she will have to build on her own. As such, she delights in being Otto’s confidant, sharing news of the movements of Rhaenyra and Alicent in exchange for his favour. It had begun innocently enough, a fatherly figure taking an interest where the patriarch of her own family was unable to. She had taken pride in recounting her lessons to him, beaming up at him with girlish exuberance as he had listened carefully, amusement glittering in his eyes. It had never occurred to her that he had any ulterior motive, and so the unspoken vow of secrecy she afforded Alicent slipped in front of her father, allowing him to be privy to the gossip they indulged in and the adventures that they embarked upon with Rhaenyra within the walls of the Red Keep. As Lia had grown older, she had started to suspect that Otto’s questions served a deeper purpose than simple interest, however, it did not deter her; acting as a confidant to the King’s Hand would not be without its advantages. She hoped that when the time was right, the loyalty of both her and her family would not be forgotten.

The wheelhouse pulled to a shuddering stop just outside of the Dragonpit, and Lia moved to push the door open, stopping as they were plunged into sudden darkness. A forceful gust of air shook the carriage. They had arrived just in time for Rhaenyra’s return on Syrax. Lia and Alicent hovered apprehensively by the door, waiting until they heard their friend’s dragon thump heavily against the earth, before tentatively peeking out. Lia was brave enough to descend the small set of wooden steps to the ground below, while Alicent opted to remain in the safety of the wheelhouse, standing in its doorway.

She could not help but feel envious of Rhaenyra, watching as she slid gracefully from the back of her golden dragon, pulling her riding gloves off with her teeth, staring up at the great beast in admiration as it was coaxed back to the pit by the dragon keepers. Lia longed for the sense of adventure and freedom that the princess experienced high above the clouds of King’s Landing, the walls of the Red Keep felt as much a cage as they were an extravagance at times.

Though as Rhaenyra drew closer, the sulfurous stench of dragon radiating from her leathers, Lia wrinkled her nose in repulsion, deciding that if she were to experience freedom then she certainly had no desire for it to be atop the back of a dragon.

“Syrax is growing quickly,” Alicent commented, nodding towards the dragon’s retreating form. “She will soon be as large as Caraxes.”

“That’s almost large enough to saddle two,” Rhaenyra replied with a grin.

“I believe I am quite content as a spectator, thank you,” Alicent quipped, the gentle smile reserved only for Rhaenyra spreading across her mouth.

“And you?” Rhaenyra regarded Lia with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I prefer to keep both my feet firmly on the ground, I am afraid.”

Rhaenyra tutted. “Cowards, both of you,” she jested, stomping up the carriage steps.

The three of them huddled together on the same seat on the way back to the castle, talking excitedly about which knights they expected to be in attendance for the tourney being hosted by King Viserys in honour of the impending birth of Queen Aemma’s second child.

Their laughter carried through the Keep’s corridors as the three of them walked back towards Rhaenyra’s chambers, linked arm in arm, Rhaenyra sandwiched between Alicent and Lia.

While Alicent and Lia reclined comfortably on couches, nibbling on candied lemon slices, Rhaenyra went to change out of her riding gear. The two exchanged a surprised glance as she reappeared in a yellow gown, much too quickly to have bathed. Lia could not imagine being allowed to conduct herself at court smelling quite so pungent; it was a privilege only afforded to royalty. Her and Alicent had to always present themselves as clean and well groomed, a necessity that Lia did not mind at all. She was well aware of her own beauty, and took a level of care with her appearance that bordered upon outright vanity. She would never dream of being seen outside of her chambers without her long, dark curls having been meticulously brushed and styled. Whereas Rhaenyra, Lia often thought, could have been mistaken for one of the scullery maids were it not for the finery she dressed it. She was lucky she was pretty.

Rhaenyra swept into the Queen’s apartments, leaving her friends to stand awkwardly in the doorway, looking in on the queen and her ladies. They both greeted Aemma courteously, and she responded with a polite hello and a strained smile.

A sense of unease crept over Lia’s flesh at the sight of Aemma, fanning herself as she lay on the settee by the open balcony windows. She looked more uncomfortable every time she saw her. It was not a state she wished for herself, though it was an inevitability. Such was the role of a woman, though Lia hoped her fate would be one more fortunate; she was all too aware of the fruitless pregnancies that Aemma had endured prior to this one.

“Take a bath, you stink of dragon,” Aemma gently scolded her daughter.

Lia bowed her head, concealing the way her lips curved upwards in amusement, suddenly pretending that the golden stitching of her ivory coloured gown was the most interesting thing in the world. She kept her blue eyes fixed upon the cuff of her sleeve, her fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the delicate golden rings upon the fingers of her left hand. At last, someone was saying it aloud. A statement only a queen could get away with saying to a princess.

Rhaenyra ignored her mother, settling beside her. “Did you sleep?”

“I slept.”

The princess huffed. “How long?”

“I don’t need mothering, Rhaenyra.”

“Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you.”

“You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the realm.” The queen’s voice was tired, though of the pregnancy or of this oft repeated conversation, Lia could not tell.

“I’d rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory.”

“We have royal wombs, you and I. The child bed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.”

Lia lost herself in her thoughts as Rhaenyra conversed with her mother, continuing to twist the rings upon her fingers and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, as her mind conjured scenarios she would prefer not to dwell upon. She wished for a secure position in life, but did not want to be confined to the birthing bed. She longed for power, to have authority, over herself, surely, and perhaps over others, yet did not share the princess’ desire to fight in battle. Her days of climbing trees and skinned knees were well behind her.

She was roused from her thoughts as Rhaenyra hurried past her.

“Where are you going?” Alicent called after her.

“I am late!” She replied over her shoulder, running in the direction of the Small Council chamber.

Lia propped herself up on her elbow, lying on her side as she watched Alicent carefully stitch delicate powder blue flowers into the fabric suspended within her embroidery hoop. Her own lay discarded beside her, she had given up when the thread had become knotted, in no mood to attempt to fix it.

“Alicent…” she began slowly, “do you ever think about why your father wanted to bring you to King’s Landing?”

Alicent kept her eyes upon her needlepoint, her tone matter of fact as she continued her work. “To instruct me in what is expected of a highborn lady.”

Lia huffed, leaning across and tugging Alicent’s sleeve to get her full attention. “Yes, but why?”

The other girl sighed, lowering her embroidery hoop into her lap and fixing Lia with an exasperated stare. “To give me the best possible opportunities in life, so that an appropriate match may be made for me.”

“And that is enough for you, is it? To simply be married off to a man who is not of your choosing?”

She lowered her gaze, her voice soft. “My mother did not choose my father, and yet they were very happy.”

“But is that what you want?”

“What is it that you are trying to get at?”

Lia hummed, flopping down onto her back against the plush rug that they sat upon in the solar, clasping her hands across her front as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “I am unsure of my own purpose, what it is that I want.”

Alicent nodded in understanding. “Well, there will be plenty of eligible knights at the upcoming tourney. Gwayne is going to be there,; he is competing in the jousting.”

She scoffed, recalling the gangly boy of ten, a mop of hair the colour of rust, that they had left behind in Oldtown all those years ago. “Ah, yes, how fares your older brother?” she asked, turning her head to the side to look at her friend.

“He is a knight now,” Alicent said proudly, “and quite handsome too.”

“Handsome?! How would you know?”

“He tells me so in his letters.”

The pair burst into peals of laughter, stopping abruptly as Otto stalked into the room, casting a disapproving glance at both of them. “Do the pair of you not have lessons to attend this afternoon?”

“We were waiting for Rhaenyra, so that we might all go together,” Alicent said apologetically, scrambling to her feet and smoothing the skirts of her dress down.

Lia rolled her eyes, knowing their fun was over, and rose to her feet too, running her fingers through her dark curls, rumpled from having laid upon the floor.

“Well, the Small Council has concluded its business for the day, and with it Rhaenyra’s duties as cupbearer, so run along. Do not keep your septa waiting.”

“Yes, Father,” Alicent said quietly, making her way out of the solar. The skirts of her pale blue gown swished behind her, the cascade of her auburn hair down back appearing as Autumnal leaves against a cloudless sky.

Lia readied to follow suit when Otto reached out, gently grasping her forearm and halting her movements. “I trust you are behaving yourselves?”

“Always,” she said with a saccharine smile, moving to pull away from him.

He tightened his grasp, and Lia lifted her eyes to meet The Hand’s, his gaze steely and unblinking, apparently unaffected by the mischief that glittered within her own. “The Princess is…spirited. Do not allow her to lead you or Alicent astray.”

She slipped away from him, pausing once in the corridor to look back over her shoulder at him. “You have raised a well mannered young woman, Ser Otto. She will heed your wishes, though I cannot say the same for myself.”

Lia did not know why, but she had always enjoyed testing how far she could push Otto Hightower. He seemed to have more patience for her misdeeds than that of Alicent’s, and there was a certain thrill to watching his features pinch into annoyance. Perhaps it was because she allowed him to be privy to the secrets of her and her two friends, and he did not wish to sever that connection with too harsh a scolding for misbehaviour. She still remembered when he had taken it upon himself to instruct her in the art of handwriting, claiming that hers looked as though “a spider had fallen into the inkwell and then scurried across the page.” She had taken her quill and flicked the end at him, watching as spots of black had splattered across his doublet. He had scowled, snatching up her wrist, but then she giggled. His grip on her had loosened and his expression had softened. If she did not know him better, she would have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Rhaenyra did not turn up for lessons, leaving Lia and Alicent to endure the presence of the stern Septa Marlow without her. Lia would not have minded, except for the fact that that day’s lesson was history, her least favourite subject. She endured a scolding for not remembering that Princess Nymeria departed Rhoyne for Dorne, and by the time the hour was over she felt tired and irritable.

Alicent had always been more studious than she was, her ability to focus surpassing Lia’s, who was far too easily distracted by the world around her. The comings and goings of the Red Keep’s staff was far more interesting to her than what was contained within any book. She preferred to focus on the whisperings found within darkened alcoves of the castle, than the monotonous drone of Septa Marlow.

“Come,” Alicent said, pulling a thick historical tome from the library shelf. “We shall study in the Godswood, the fresh air will help you to remember.” There was no heat in the subtly pointed look she directed at Lia, so she followed without complaint, merely returning a glare of her own.

They had been seated beneath the heart tree in the Godswood not five minutes when Rhaenyra arrived, quickly settling herself between them, as was her customary place within the confines of their group. She placed her head in Alicent’s lap, and her legs across Lia’s, letting out a sigh as she gazed up at the clear blue sky through the branches of the tree.

“You did not attend lessons today,” Alicent said to her, hefting the book onto the grass beside her.

“I did not,” Rhaenyra replied simply.

Lia spied the Valyrian steel and ruby necklace that now rested around Rhaenyra’s neck. It had not been there earlier. She leant over, lifting the pendant delicately between two fingers.

“A gift from your father?”

Rhaenyra furrowed her brow, as though she found the idea ridiculous. “A gift from Daemon.”

“He’s back then?” Lia’s interest is piqued. Daemon had never paid her much attention. As a ward of House Hightower, she was of no consequence to him. However, he was endlessly fascinating to her; his volatility and reckless behaviour served an endless supply of gossip.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, “to take up his position as Lord Commander of the City Watch, and compete in the tourney.”

“And give you gifts,” Lia teased with a smirk, letting the pendant drop softly back against Rhaenyra’s clavicle before settling back against her palms upon the grass.

A look of worry flickered across Rhaenyra’s face, her mouth turning downwards as her gaze grew distant. She studied her fingers for a moment, then asked “So what did I miss today?”

“History,” Lia said bitterly, “Princess Nymeria’s escape from Rhoyne.”

“Have you read it?” Alicent asked her.

“Of course I have read it,” Rhaenyra said, “there was no need for me to be there.”

“Then when Princess Nymeria arrived in Dorne, who did she take to husband?” Alicent silenced Lia as she opened her mouth to answer. “Not you, you actually turned up today,”

Rhaenyra groused, shrugging her shoulders as she continued to lay across their laps. “A man.”

Alicent scowled, her tone clipped with annoyance. “And what was his name?”

“Lord something,” Rhaenyra replied petulantly.

“Gods, if only you had been there today,” Lia giggled, “you would have made me look good. Septa Marlow was furious.”

Rhaenyra smirked, playing with the rings upon her fingers. “She is funny when she is furious.”

“You are always like this when you are worried,” Alicent commented softly.

“Like what?” snapped Rhaenyra.

Alicent did not hedge her words, the only one to speak to their princess in this way. “Disagreeable. You are worried your father is about to overshadow you with a son.”

“I only worry for my mother. I hope for my father that he gets a son. As long as I can recall, it is all he has wanted.”

“You want him to have a son?” Lia asked.

“I want to fly with you both on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake.”

Lia snorted as Alicent clicked her tongue. Lia did not mind the idea of seeing the great wonders, or existing solely on cake, however, the notion of taking flight on Syrax made the prospect seem far less exciting.

“We are trying to be serious,” Alicent protested, glancing warily at Lia, “well, at least I am.”

“I never jest about cake,” Rhaenyra said with a smirk.

“You are not worried about your position?” Lia asked, her curiosity piqued, masking the envy she felt that Rhaenyra possessed a position that could be threatened in the first place.

“I like this position,” she told Lia, wiggling her feet in her lap, making her laugh aloud, “it is quite comfortable.”

“Rhaenyra! Lia! It is impossible to have a serious conversation with either of you!”

The princess groaned, moving out of their laps and sitting cross legged in front of them. “Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea on ten thousand ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers. She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband and burned her own fleet off Sunspear to show her people that they were finished running.”

Lia raised her eyebrows, impressed by her knowledge, glancing over at Alicent to gauge her reaction. Before Alicent could respond, Rhaenyra leaned across and tore the page free from the book, letting it flutter into Alicent’s lap.

“So you remember.”

Alicent chewed her lip nervously. “If Septa Marlow sees this book–”

“Fuck the septa!” Rhaenyra interrupted.

Not for the first time, Lia felt envy burn acrid in her chest. Only a princess could get away with defacing a book from the Crown library and not have to suffer the consequences. She wondered if Rhaenyra had any awareness of the power she yielded over both her and Alicent. And if she was aware, would she even care?

Lia meandered through the halls, slippered feet quiet on the stone floor as she made her way to the library the next da She looked up, her attention stolen by Otto walking in the direction of the Small Council chambers. Changing course, she fell into step beside him, taking in the way his features were furrowed into annoyance. There could be only one explanation for it.

“So, you have heard that Prince Daemon has returned to the Capital?” she asked with a wry smile.

Otto paused, eyeing her carefully before ushering her into a nearby alcove. “What do you know?”

Lia shrugged. “Little and less. He gifted Rhaenyra a necklace, Valyrian steel.”

“An empty gesture,” he remarked bitterly, an exasperated sigh escaping him as he adjusted the collar of his forest green doublet. He cast a cursory glance over his shoulder to ensure they were not being watched, before fixing her with a heated stare.

“Oh, I am not so sure, you would be surprised at what people are willing to share if one is generous.” She reached up, tapping the bronzed hand that was pinned to his breast, as if to punctuate her point.

Otto’s much larger hand clutched hers, enveloping it, though it did not pull hers away. Her eyes shifted to where their hands now rested upon his chest, the gesture stirring something within her that she could not quite identify, filling her with both warmth and unease.

“I know a girl as clever as you cannot be swayed by trinkets,” he said softly, the low timbre of his voice vibrating through their connected hands.

Lia swallowed thickly, slowly pulling her hand back and letting it drop to her side, though still able to feel the place where his palm had rested. She felt an overwhelming need to push back against whatever had transpired, and so doubled her efforts to be cheeky. “If you are not feeling generous, perhaps Prince Daemon may have additional trinkets to spare.”

Otto straightened, his expression turning stony.

There it was, the annoyance that she felt much more at home with.

“You should not covet the actions of that brute of a man. Keep away from him.” He glared down at her, a silent warning before leaving her alone in the alcove, as he continued on his way.

Lia smiled to herself. Provoking Otto suddenly seemed much more appealing to her. If she could capture the interest of Daemon, then perhaps the Hand of the King would be more forthcoming in furthering her position at court, and making clear his plans for her.

“My dearest Lia,

It is with deep regret that I must inform you that your mother and I will be unable to attend the King’s tourney. Your mother is suffering a fever and we did not wish to risk the journey to King’s Landing when our efforts must be spent upon ensuring her recovery. Your mother has requested that your brothers stay here at the Whispering Sound, as she fears her worry over them both competing will worsen her condition.

We have passed along our apologies to the Lord Hand, however, please send him my regards. I hope that life in the capital is treating you well and that you are behaving as befits the royal company that you keep.

Warmest wishes,

Your loving father, Lord Owen Costayne”

Lia gripped the parchment tightly between her fingers, having lost count of the number of times she had read it since it was brought to her by the maester two days prior. She lost herself in the words, the din of hoofbeats and roar of spectators fading to nothing as her eyes flitted between the letter and the lists, as though if she concentrated hard enough she could will her brothers into attendance.

Rhaenyra sat beside her, equally morose, her brow pinched in worry. Shortly after the tourney began, King Viserys had announced to all in attendance that Queen Aemma had begun her labours. It was obvious that Rhaenyra would rather be at her mother’s side than watching this display. However, it had not been allowed.

Sitting on the other side of Rhaenyra, Alicent had picked her nails bloody once more. A combination of worry for both the Queen and her older brother, Gwayne, who would be competing in the tourney.

Lia crumpled the parchment between her fingers, stowing it up her sleeve as she leaned forward, looking out across their elevated position on the stands, eager for a distraction.

“Who is that?” she asked, nodding towards a young man she did not recognise.

“The Tarly squire?” Rhaenyra responded, clearly as keen to focus on something else as she was.

“Mmhmm,” Lia affirmed, glancing back at her.

“Lord Massey’s son, I think. He is promised to Elinor Stokeworth, they are to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.”

“Best get on with it,” Alicent chimed in, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.”

Lia and Rhaenyra gasped, the three of them quickly falling into fits of giggles, though she was pulled out of her mirth when she felt a firm hand upon her shoulder. Looking back, she saw Otto seated directly behind her. He leaned in close enough that both his breath and his beard tickled softly at the shell of her ear as he spoke quietly, isolating her from the huddle of her two friends.

“I thought you might offer your favour to Gwayne.”

She pulled back, regarding him impassively, before speaking much louder than he had to her. “Actually, I intend to offer my favour to Prince Daemon,” she said with an amused smirk, “I have not yet had the pleasure to welcome him back to the capital.”

Otto’s nostrils flared in obvious annoyance, his gaze unblinking as he exhaled heavily, sitting back against his seat beside the King, though his focus remained upon her. His eyes raked carefully over the delicate manner in which she had pinned up her ringlets, revealing the slender slope of her neck. Lia suppressed a laugh as she turned back towards Rhaenyra and Alicent, pleased with her efforts, and the three of them continued to share gossip about those participating in the lists.

She eyed the knights carefully, wondering to herself if any of them would be a suitable match for her. There was no denying that Daemon cut every bit the imposing and extravagant figure, the plume of his dragon shaped helmet blood red and striking against the grey of the stone walls. It was a pity he was already wed, albeit unhappily, to Lady Rhea Royce. Daemon’s presence within King’s Landing had always been so sporadic, coupled with Lia’s being too young to appreciate what a handsome man he was, that she supposed he was never destined to be a suitor for her anyway. A pity, but it would not stop her from expressing interest, if only to incite the look of irritation on Otto’s face that she had grown to enjoy so much.

So engrossed in what was going on, she did not notice when King Viserys slipped away from his seat. Daemon rode towards the stands, a cocky grin upon his face as her, Rhaenyra and Alicent rushed to the railing to greet him.

“Lady Lia,” he drawled with a courteous nod, “a fine young woman you are growing into.”

She felt her skin flush at the compliment, glad of the fact she had opted to wear her house colours for the occasion; she knew that the gold and black of the gown complimented her complexion. It was an effort to resist the urge to both giggle and look behind her for Otto’s reaction.

“You flatter me, my prince,” she responded sweetly, “I wish you luck, though I am not sure you will need it.”

“I am confident that I can best my opponent, but I would ask for the favour of the Lady Alicent Hightower to ensure my victory.”

Lia’s face fell, her heart sinking in disappointment. She watched Alicent move sheepishly back towards their seats, meeting her father’s eye as she took the intricately woven band of flowers and ribbon. She knew from Otto’s sour expression that it was merely a ploy from Daemon to further upset the King’s Hand, having already beaten his son spectacularly in the lists. However, the rejection stung all the same. She wanted it to be her favour that Daemon had asked for.

As she took her seat again, she grasped her own hoop of feathers and twine, half turning to toss it haphazardly into Otto’s lap. “Here, you might as well have it,” she muttered sullenly, “I have no one else to give it to.”

Misery clung to Lia like a black shroud as she leaned back in her seat, visibly sulking and crossing her arms, as she watched the tourney, but did not really see it. She had hoped that the day would prosper a potential match for her, though, with Alicent’s favour already given away, Rhaenyra was her only rival. There was no way she could compete with a princess.

Her lips twitched with smug satisfaction when the mystery knight with the red and black spotted shield bested Daemon; a small retribution in Lia’s eyes for having snubbed her favour for Alicent’s. She did not bother to join her friends when they rushed back to the railing, both eager to greet the man who managed to unhorse The Rogue Prince, not even swayed by Alicent’s gasp of “he’s Dornish.” What was the point? She saw the way his dark eyes glittered with interest, but it was not interest directed at her; no, they glittered only for Rhaenyra.

Lia knew that she could be the most comely of maidens in all of the Seven Kingdoms and it would do little to sway a suitor when presented with a Targaryen Princess. She could not help the jealousy that swirled like a maelstrom inside of her as she watched Rhaenyra throw her favour down towards him.

The smile that graced the princess’ fair features as she returned to her seat only faltered as Otto touched her delicately on the shoulder, the colour draining from her face as he whispered to her. As the news spread throughout the royal box, Lia’s eyes remained fixated upon the floor of the stands where her favour now lay, trampled under foot as people rushed back towards the Red Keep. It was crushed, and with it her hopes for the day.

Queen Aemma was dead.

The wind whipped Lia’s dark curls around her face as she stood upon the clifftop, the bite of the icy sea breeze nipping at her cheeks. The wrapped bodies of both Aemma and her short lived son, Baelon, laid prone upon the pyre that stood before the modest crowd gathered for the funeral. Syrax looked over them from her perch, awaiting Rhaenyra’s command, her neck undulating with discomfort under the feeling of her rider’s grief.

She could not imagine a more brutal death; cut open like livestock in the birthing bed, and for naught. The babe that had been tugged from the Queen’s womb had lived but for a few hours after her passing. Her heart ached for Rhaenyra, who choked on the command of “drakarys!”, the word faltering with unshed tears as she ordered her dragon to engulf her deceased mother and brother in flames.

Lia knew she felt pity for Rhaenyra, but was she truly sad that Aemma was dead? She did not know. She knew it was proper to express condolences, but she did not think she was experiencing grief. Would she feel sadness at her own mother’s passing? She was as much an acquaintance to her as the Queen had been, considering how many years had passed since she had last seen home. It was a disquieting thought, and one she was eager to push from her mind.

She desperately wished she had a hand to hold, to squeeze for comfort, and could not help but notice the way that Alicent gripped her father’s with such intensity that her knuckles were white. Stood to the other side of him, Otto had ensured that Lia’s arm linked through his, a gesture which she found oddly mature in comparison to the childlike manner in which Alicent’s fingers entwined with his. Perhaps it is just because she is not family, she pondered, though memories of the intimacy with which he had held her hand to his chest just a few days prior linger at the back of her mind. She was being treated as though she was a lady, when she had never craved more to be comforted as though she was a little girl.

A cavernous void opened between Lia, Alicent, and Rhaenyra in the weeks that followed, filled only by loss. Lia spent much of her time alone, not knowing how to comfort Rhaenyra in her grief, for it had made her angry. Her tone was curt whenever Lia attempted to engage her in conversation and she had withdrawn so far into herself that she did not know how to coax her back out. Deep down she knew that her friend was justified in her bitterness towards her father, for he had killed her mother in his desperate attempt for an heir, an heir that barely lived long enough to draw his first breath.

Lia wondered what her own expression of such grief would look like, had the circumstances befallen her.

Otto had become more protective of Alicent. He sought Lia’s company less often, instead looming over his only daughter like a shadow, summoning her to his quarters to speak to her of things that Alicent would not allow Lia to be privy to. In all of her years in King’s Landing, despite missing her family, she had never felt lonely. Now it was a feeling that overwhelmed her with such potency that she had picked up a quill more than a dozen times, hurriedly scrawling a plea to her father to allow her to return home. Each time she had thought better of it and tossed the balled up parchment into the fireplace. She had yet to find her purpose within King’s Landing, but she knew in her heart that her fate was not to run away like a mewling child, simply because her friends were preoccupied.

Deciding she could bear her own company no longer, Lia emerged from her quarters, seeking the comfort of a familiar face. She found it in Alicent, but as she was about to call out to her, she faltered, thinking better of it. There was something strange about the way her friend carried herself, her gaze downcast, trepidation in her step. Lia slipped into an alcove, peering out discreetly from behind the wall. Alicent was not dressed as she usually was, the royal blue gown she now wore was much too grown up. She narrowed her eyes as she studied the fabric. It was a dress that had belonged to Alyrie.

Curious to see why Alicent had suddenly taken to wearing her late mother’s clothes, Lia quietly followed behind her, mindful to keep her steps light and maintain her distance, so as not to get caught. She froze as she saw Alicent slip through the door of the king’s apartments, a feeling of dread forming a pit in her stomach. Rhaenyra had not spoken to her father properly since the passing of the queen, so what possible reason could Alicent have for keeping such close company with him?

It was with this question in mind that she stormed into Otto’s quarters the next day, a seething and lingering anger bolstering her. She did not knock, though her intrusion was met with only the slightest raise of an eyebrow by the king’s Hand as he looked up from his writing desk.

“Lia, to what do I owe the interruption?” he asked, his tone friendlier than she had been anticipating, causing her courage to waiver as her outrage quelled slightly.

She opened her mouth to speak, stammering over her words as she struggled to get them out. Why on earth was he not annoyed by her just bursting in? She had been prepared to be met with resistance, and it completely unraveled what she had planned to say. Closing her eyes and exhaling heavily, she shook her head as if to clear her mind and tried again.

“Alicent has been visiting the king.”

Otto pursed his lips, carefully placing his quill back into the ink pot, before he leaned back against his chair. “She has,” he said matter of factly, “the king is alone in his grief. Alicent has been of great comfort to him.”

Lia blinked rapidly, a wave of nausea churning her stomach, as she realised that this was not only information that the king’s Hand was already privy to, and he did not have an issue with it, but he was also the one that has arranged these visits in the first place. She narrowed her eyes as her shock and disgust turned to sudden anger, simmering hot beneath the surface of her skin.

“So it would not be an issue were I to offer him comfort also?” Lia asked, her jaw jutting out defiantly.

Finally, a flicker of annoyance passed across Otto’s face, his brow furrowing as he clasped his hands upon the desk. “You shall do no such thing. And you will speak of Alicent’s visits to no one.”

“Or what?”

“Or,” he began, rising from his seat, suddenly towering over her, “the pleas to return to the Whispering Sound that you crumple into the fireplace may just find their way to your father.”

Her blood ran icy cold as, simultaneously, her cheeks blazed with heat. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to her. Tears of humiliation pricked her eyes. He knew. Of course he knew; the Hand had spies everywhere, she had acted as one herself on many occasions.

Otto’s expression softened as he took in her look of upset, and he sat heavily back in his seat with a sigh. “There is no need for tears, you—”

“Why am I even here? You may as well return me home,” she interrupted, her voice thick with emotion.

His features remained gentle and impassive as he regarded her silently for a moment. He then reached into a drawer of his writing desk, pulling out her favour and holding it out for her to take. Each feather and intricate loop of twine was undamaged, in seemingly pristine condition. She examined it in wide eyed wonder as she accepted it from him. It was as good as the day she had made it, no longer crushed as it had been when she had last laid her eyes upon it.

“How? Why?” She whispered, disbelief and confusion causing her brow to furrow.

“You may have need of it yet. Your time here is far from over. Now run along, I have important matters to attend to.”

She wanted to protest, to press him for further answers, but instead the authority in his tone had her obediently turning and leaving with more questions than she had initially arrived with.

The late afternoon sunshine beat down upon Lia as she sat on a stone bench in the gardens, the soft rays warming her skin, casting the last of its amber brilliance in the hours before dusk. She held her favour delicately, fearful that too tight a touch might cause it to break apart again, as she studied it for imperfections, wondering how it could have been so expertly mended, and why.

“I would have thought you would have given that away at the tourney.”

Lia startled slightly, lifting her head at the sudden sound of Rhaenyra’s voice. A playful smile graced the princess’ lips as Lia watched as she came to sit beside her. Rhaenyra reached out a delicate finger to stroke across one of the favour’s feathers.

Lia returned her smile, though it did not meet her eyes. “I found no one I liked enough to give it to.” It was a half truth, but admitting that Otto had it repaired and returned to her would have raised questions that she is unable to answer.

Rhaenyra hummed in acknowledgement, before facing forwards, her eyes fixed upon the row of rose bushes planted into the flower beds in front of them. The two girls sat in uncomfortable silence, until Lia could bear it no longer.

“I am sorry I have not been there for you, it is not an easy thing to lose your mother,” she said softly, glancing sideways at Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra shook her head, turning to face Lia, gripping her hand in one of hers. “It is me that should be sorry. I have not made it easy for you, for anyone, to comfort me. I was just so, so…”

“...angry?” Lia offered, intertwining their fingers. The warmth was soothing, and she had not realised until this moment just how dearly she had missed her.

“Hmmm. Did you know that Father sent Daemon away?”

Lia’s eyes widened, though it was no surprise that Daemon, prone to coming and going as he pleased, was no longer in the capital. Tt was a shock to her, however, that this time his absence was at the command of his own brother. “What for?”

Rhaenyra swallowed thickly, averting her gaze. “My father would not say, but I have heard whispers. He made a jest about my brother to a crowd in a pleasure house, apparently.”

“And your father banished him?”

“I am sure there is more to it than that, especially considering that Daemon has been removed as my father’s heir.”

Lia raised her eyebrows, her lips parting slightly as she struggled to take in the information. It appeared she had missed an awful lot in the weeks that she and Rhaenyra had not spoken. “So, who will be his heir now?”

“He has asked me to be.” Rhaenyra appeared less sure of herself than usual as she said this, her voice quiet and uncertain, as though she felt simultaneously crushed by the weight of the responsibility, but also terrified it would be taken away from her again.

Lia smiled at that, a gesture of both gentle comfort and genuine happiness, though she could not help the pang of envy she felt at both her friends having secured their futures. Alicent’s own advancement under the watchful eye of Otto, and now Rhaenyra’s succession to the Iron Throne.

“You will make a fine queen.”

Rhaenyra gave Lia’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “So, where is Alicent?”

‘With your father, most likely.’

Lia knew she should not say; it would have devastating consequences for their friendship, and Otto would be furious. Yet she could not help the pang of guilt she felt at withholding such information from Rhaenyra.

“I am unsure. Does she not know yet?”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “I had hoped to find the two of you together. I will need you both to help ready me for my proclamation. I feel too nervous to allow my lady’s maids to do it.” She paused, her fingers tightening once more, twisting their hands together further. “Lia, I need you, I need my friends.”

Lia’s heart ached for her, and she leaned in, resting her forehead softly against Rhaenyra’s in silent assent. The two girls remained like that, the void between them bridged by a desperate need to cling to the other for support.

Lia stood on a wooden step stool to the side of Rhaenyra, the tips of her fingers sore from the sheer number of pins she had had to press into the princess’ intricately braided hair, simply to keep her headdress in place. She pulled back to admire her work, a small smile pulling at her mouth. The intricate gold and black halo was positioned perfectly upon Rhaenyra’s head. Satisfied, she stepped down to move towards the bureau to fetch the jewelry.

Alicent stood behind her, helping to drape the heavy black cloak around Rhaenyra’s shoulders, beaded gold and red dragons adorning the lapels. It was not until Lia moved back towards them that she noticed Rhaenyra’s sombre expression in the looking glass.

She stood rooted in place, running her fingers over the smooth gold of the earrings, not quite knowing what to do.

‘We could run away from all of this.’

‘Let us cross the narrow sea on dragonback and eat only cake.’

It appeared that Alicent had also noticed Rhaenyra’s sadness, as her hands had stilled upon her shoulders, her gaze soft and sympathetic as it met the rincess’ in the reflective surface.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra tugged Lia towards her and the three girls embraced, as much a gesture of comfort for them as it was for her. A silent reassurance of ‘I am okay. I must do this.’

Lia clung tighter, part of her wanting to reassure her friend, another simply wanting to smother the voice in her mind that raged in jealousy over the fact that Rhaenyra would one day rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet somehow had the audacity to feel sad about it.

As Lia entered her own chambers to ready herself for the ceremony, her eye was immediately drawn to the emerald green fabric that lay across her bedspread. As she drew nearer, she saw that it was a gown, long sleeved with a plunging neckline, and intricate golden thread in the seams. She ran her fingers over the material. The brocade felt expensive to the touch, far grander than anything she had worn before. There was a note sealed with wax resting atop it.

“A trinket, and a gesture of generosity - O.H”

Lia did not need to peer into a looking glass to know her cheeks had turned scarlet. A gift from Otto, and with the timing of when it was delivered to her, she knew he would be expecting her to wear it to the proclamation.

She felt far too grown up, the dress accentuating dips and curves upon her body she was unaware she even had until she had put it on. Yet another step away from girlhood, but towards what she had no idea.

Lia had never felt self conscious before, but she was certain that, as she walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, she shone like a beacon, a lurid invitation for all that she passed to stare at her. She longed to run back to her quarters, to tear off the dress and change into something more unassuming, but knew that a refusal of such an extravagant gift from Otto was a line that even she dared not cross.

As the lords of the Seven Kingdoms gathered in the Great Hall of the Red Keep to swear fealty to Rhaenyra as the heir to the Iron Throne, she looked every bit the future queen in her Targaryen finery, and it was not until Lia saw this that she understood the significance of Otto’s gift.

Her friends were ascending towards womanhood, and she must too.

Lia watched on, with Otto stood between her and Alicent. She wanted to feel pride for her friend.However, it was hopelessness and uncertainty over her own future that held her firmly in their grasp. She stood in the presence of two future monarchs, but what was to become of her?

“You look lovely,” Otto leaned down to murmur in her ear, his breath ghosting across her neck.

And as she felt the warmth and weight of his hand come to rest upon the small of her back, it seemed as though the walls of the castle closed in around her as tightly as the bodice of her gown.

#otto hightower x ofc #otto higtower x oc #otto hightower #otto hightower fanfiction #otto hightotwer fan fiction #otto hightower fan fic #otto hightower fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic

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ikeucity · 21 hours

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moonstruck. | chapter one pt 2 - smoke and surrender

warning. contains explicit sexual content, drug use, angst, domination, spacestation!au, slight action, slow burn, strong language, intense sexual tension, a more technologically advanced iss, explicit fantasies, and adult themes. reader discretion is strongly advised. mdni.

wc. 30k

with just 24 hours left until the drug is supposed to completely take effect, the crew is on the brink of losing control. with the clock ticking and their self-restraint nearly shattered, tensions are boiling over, fights breaking out as the crew's patience wears thin.

── .✦⸝⸝ previous chapters: ✦ pilot - locked in orbit ✦ chapter one: orders from above pt. 1

disclaimer. this story is a work of fiction and does not represent real-life events or the members of enhypen

"whose fucking idea was this? how is this supposed to be physical wellness?!" jake yelled, firing off rounds as simulated monsters closed in, his shots barely connecting. ducking behind a boulder, he cursed under his breath, frantically reloading next to jungwon, who, of course, was unbothered, calmly taking out each alien with unnerving precision.

"jake, for the love of—keep it down," jay muttered, hunkering behind some debris, irritation etched into every line of his face. sunghoon was right next to him, visibly pissed at the situation—or maybe just pissed off at jay. "why are you yelling like it's gonna help?"

"why are we even acting like this shit matters? it’s a simulation, we’re not actually gonna die," sunghoon mumbled, frustration slipping into his voice as he aimed and shot an alien in the head, the kill almost too clean. then, as an afterthought, he added, "right?" his confidence faltering for a second.

"got 'em all cleared over here," heeseung’s voice crackled through the comms, way too relaxed for the chaos unfolding. he was enjoying this a little too much, his gamer instincts taking over. "let’s regroup," he added, his voice carrying a smugness that made it clear he was thriving in this chaos.

you, on the other hand, were perched up high, hidden behind the walls like heeseung had suggested. you were chilling, taking your shots at the aliens whenever the opportunity arose. the tech was impressive, too—real guns, simulated ammo, the kind of shit that made you wonder how much had changed on earth while you’d been up here.

"that was sick," you breathed, more to yourself than anyone else, marveling at the seamlessness of the whole setup.

"how are you so calm right now?" jake shot back, glancing over at jungwon in disbelief. jungwon, not even breaking a sweat, methodically picked off another alien, his demeanor unshaken.

"this is supposed to help us de-stress," jungwon said evenly, his voice calm as ever over the comms, making it sound like he was explaining a basic fact rather than shooting his way through an alien horde.

"de-stress my ass," jake muttered, clearly not convinced. his frustration was evident, not just with the situation, but with the fact that you weren't near him.

he could tell you weren’t paying him much attention anymore, and that fact stung more than the simulation itself. maybe it’s because the other guys keep hovering around you.

as if sensing jake’s irritation, sunghoon chimed in with a bite to his words. "yeah, well, some of us don’t need to act like it’s life or death just to get through it." his eyes flicked over to where you were perched, his annoyance obvious.

he’d noticed, too. noticed how the others, especially jungwon and heeseung, seemed to be getting more time with you than he was comfortable with.

"cut it out, sunghoon," jay muttered, his patience thinning as he reloaded his weapon. but sunghoon didn’t seem interested in backing down, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he returned to firing at the simulation.

after regrouping, you all found yourselves in a dimly lit cave module. the uneven terrain was tricky to navigate, and you brought up the rear, jungwon in front of you.

it wasn’t long before your foot slipped on a loose rock, and you stumbled. the pain was minimal, but a whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it, echoing through the confined space and over the comms.

everything stopped.

jay whipped his head around, his hand gripping his weapon a little tighter. "you alright?" his voice was tense, concern barely masking the shift in the air.

"she tripped," jungwon said smoothly, moving to your side in an instant, helping you back up. his hand on your waist lingered, fingers pressing a little too firmly as he steadied you. "you good?" he asked softly, though it felt like more than just checking on your physical state.

you laughed it off, embarrassed. "yeah, i’m fine."

your voice, however innocent, carried a weight over the comms that made the others pause, especially jake, whose gaze hardened as he watched jungwon’s hand on your waist. too close.

"what happe- i’m coming," jake muttered, already moving toward you before sunghoon stepped in his way, shooting him a pointed look.

"she’s fine," sunghoon said, his voice sharp, almost defensive. his eyes flicked toward jungwon, clearly annoyed by the way he was handling you. "focus on the task, jake."

jake hesitated, torn between frustration and concern, but nodded, falling back in line. still, his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, watching jungwon’s arm wrapped around you.

heeseung’s voice cut through the comms, his usual commanding tone laced with something a little more possessive this time. "she’s good to go. let’s keep moving."

you could feel the tension rising, the air between you all charged in a way that had nothing to do with the simulation. jungwon kept close to you, his arm steady around your waist as you continued walking, his touch burning through the fabric of your suit. it felt deliberate, like he was making a point—both to you and to the others.

and then there was sunghoon. his eyes hadn’t left you since the stumble, the irritation practically radiating off him. he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

the way jungwon was practically glued to your side, the fact that heeseung kept sneaking glances your way—it was all too fucking much. they were taking up way too much time with you, and it was getting under his skin.

jake, on the other hand, felt the shift. he saw it unfolding right in front of him—how you were being pulled in all these different directions, each one of them fighting for your attention. but what bothered him the most was how you weren’t looking at him like you used to. it was because they were circling you like vultures, wasn’t it?

he was first. he made the moves. you flirted back, smiled at him like you meant it. you wanted him too, didn’t you? he was sure of it. so why did it feel like you were slipping away?

but sunghoon couldn’t stand the way jungwon was glued to your side, his eyes constantly flicking to the hand that rested on your waist, each touch like a silent taunt. "jungwon," he said, his voice laced with irritation, "how about you give her some space?"

jungwon raised an eyebrow, not even pretending to hide his smirk. "why? she doesn’t seem to mind."

before sunghoon could fire back, jake cut in, his frustration finally spilling over. "both of you, knock it off." his eyes flicked between them, his voice tight with anger. "we’ve got enough to deal with here without this shit."

sunghoon’s eyes flared, his irritation clear as he took a step forward, squaring his shoulders. "that’s not the point, jungwon," he snapped, his voice dripping with frustration. "you’ve been glued to her since this started. give her some damn space."

jungwon didn’t back down, his smirk only widening as he glanced at you before turning his attention back to sunghoon. "like I said, she doesn’t seem to mind." his voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to his words, a deliberate jab that made sunghoon’s jaw clench.

"are you fucking serious right now?" sunghoon shot back, his fists tightening at his sides. "you act like she belongs to you."

"and what about you?" jungwon countered smoothly, tilting his head. "acting all territorial when you’ve barely even talked to her today. what’s your deal, sunghoon?"

jake, who had been standing off to the side, couldn’t hold back any longer. "both of you need to shut the hell up," he barked, stepping between jungwon and sunghoon. his eyes flicked briefly to you, frustration etched deep into his expression. "this isn’t about who’s getting more time with her. we’re in the middle of a fucking activity. so maybe focus on that instead of—"

"oh, and you’re one to talk?" sunghoon cut him off, his eyes narrowing in challenge. "you’ve been sulking ever since she stopped paying attention to you."

jake’s face reddened, his teeth clenched hard enough to crack. "i’m not sulking." but even as the words left his mouth, he could feel the truth in sunghoon’s accusation sinking in.

the jealousy gnawed at him more than he’d like to admit. the possessiveness that had been building up inside him was getting harder to ignore.

"i’m pissed because you idiots are making this harder than it needs to be. we’re supposed to be working together, but you two are too busy fighting over her like it’s some goddamn competition."

jungwon, standing with his arms crossed, scoffed, eyes sharp. "you’re just mad because you feel like you’re losing."

"what the fuck does that even mean?" jake growled, stepping closer to jungwon, frustration blazing in his eyes. but deep down, it stung—jungwon had hit too close to the truth.

jake wasn’t used to this feeling, this irrational need to keep you closer to him, to be the one you turned to. it was messing with his head in ways he wasn’t ready to admit.

sunghoon, still glaring at both of them, muttered under his breath, "fucking whatever," not even bothering to hide his disdain.

"shut up," jake snapped, his voice rising, a sharp edge of anger slicing through his words.

the tension in the room had reached its peak, every word dripping with jealousy and frustration, neither side willing to back down. jungwon held his ground, cold and unyielding, while sunghoon looked ready to snap.

and there you were, right in the middle of it all. their possessiveness weighed heavy, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. the way they argued, the intensity of their stares—it overwhelmed you, each word pulling you deeper into their desires.

it wasn’t just about them fighting with each other anymore; they were fighting for you, and you could feel it, the heat of their unspoken claims burning in the air.

"are you serious right now?" you snapped, voice cutting through their bickering. you’d had enough. "you’re acting like kids. this is a simulation, and all of you are too wrapped up in your egos to remember why we’re even here." your gaze landed on jungwon’s hand still resting on your waist, and you pushed it away, firm but calm. "stop treating me like a prize to fight over. it’s fucking embarrassing."

silence fell, thick and heavy. they looked at you, shock flickering across their faces. no one expected you to speak up like that, but they should have.

jay, who had been quietly watching from a distance, finally stepped forward, shaking his head. "she’s right," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "this isn’t about who gets more time with her. we’ve got bigger issues, and this isn’t helping anyone."

heeseung sighed, standing off to the side, clearly fed up with the situation. "you’re all making this harder than it needs to be," he said, frustration clear in his tone. "focus on the mission, or don’t, but stop dragging her into your bullshit."

jungwon’s smirk faded slightly as he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. jake crossed his arms, still irritated, but held his tongue. sunghoon grumbled under his breath, jaw clenched, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed, at least for now.

"thank you," you muttered, tension still thick in your voice as you exhaled, trying to shake off the frustration. "we’re supposed to be a team. stop making it about me and start acting like it."

for a moment, no one spoke. the tension hadn’t disappeared, still simmering just beneath the surface, but at least the arguing had stopped.

heeseung gave you a nod, his gaze softening slightly. "let’s move," he said quietly, taking control once more. "we’re wasting time."

then, with a slight smirk tugging at his lips, heeseung muttered, "i ain’t about to lose a game." the tension shifted, just a bit, as nostalgia flickered in his eyes. the familiar competitive spark returned, and for a moment, it cut through the frustration.

"remember when we used to play shit like this back on earth?" he added, his grin widening as he readied his weapon. "except, you know, without all the drama over her."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. heeseung had a way of diffusing tension, even if he wasn’t letting anyone off the hook entirely.

jake scoffed, shaking his head but appreciating the shift. "yeah, well, it’s a little different when it’s not a damn game," he muttered, though his tone was less harsh now.

sunghoon, still visibly irritated, mumbled something under his breath but didn’t push further. jungwon chuckled softly, finally easing out of his defensive stance.

"fine, let’s finish this," you said, stepping forward, done with the back-and-forth. you glanced at heeseung, who was already back in position, his cocky grin growing.

"don’t worry," heeseung teased, aiming down his scope. "i’ll carry the team—like always."

his comment did the trick, cutting through the tension like a knife. as he confidently took the lead, the atmosphere lightened, if only slightly. even jake let out a small sigh, shaking his head with a reluctant smile on his lips.

you glanced at them, your heart beating a little faster. something about seeing them like this—competitive, bickering, but still a team—made your eyes soften. the jealousy, the tension, it was all still there, but moments like this reminded you why you cared about them.

sunghoon, though still tense, chuckled quietly, watching heeseung with his usual cocky grin. jungwon’s smirk widened, and jay rolled his shoulders as if getting ready for the final round. even jake caught your gaze for a split second, something softer flickering in his eyes, like he was glad to see you smile again.

your heart swelled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you looked at them. these guys—they drove you crazy, but there was no one else you’d rather be stuck in this mission with.

“alright, let’s finish this,” you said, steady, a small smile tugging at your lips.

heeseung glanced back at you, his smirk softening just a touch before nodding. "let’s win this." his voice carried that familiar spark of confidence, pulling everyone back into focus.

when the simulation finally ended, you all stumbled back into the main area, adrenaline still thrumming through your veins. everyone was sweaty, breathless, but the thick tension from before?

it hadn’t gone anywhere. if anything, it had only gotten worse, like the simulation had fanned the flames.

you stood there, trying to catch your breath, but their eyes were still on you—all of them watching you, their presence took up too much space, pressing in on you from all sides.

heeseung, still panting slightly, broke the silence as everyone’s eyes shifted toward the scoreboards. his smirk was cocky, almost too confident, like he knew he was the top scorer. "good job, everyone. hq’s gonna love this," he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

jay, leaning against the wall, let out a dry laugh, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "yeah, if we don’t melt first," he muttered, tugging at his collar, sweat beading on his skin.

"yeah, real fucking great," sunghoon muttered, his voice sharper than usual. his gaze slid toward you, his jaw tightening as he wiped sweat from his face. "is it just me, or does it feel like my body’s on fire?" he asked, irritation clear.

you felt it too. the heat. it wasn’t just adrenaline from the simulation—it was deeper, more intense, creeping through your skin. you shifted, wiping sweat from your neck, the burning sensation only growing. it wasn’t just sunghoon; all of you felt it.

"fuck, it’s too hot in here," jake grumbled, his voice rough as he ran a hand through his damp hair, his eyes flicking toward you like he couldn’t help himself.

jungwon, furrowed his brows, glancing at you for just a second before looking away. "this doesn’t feel right," he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. mind already working, to think of a reason why

you nodded, feeling the heat crawl up your spine, tingling your skin. the room felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. "we’ll cool down in a bit," you said, though even you weren’t sure you believed it. "just… take a breather."

heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, his smirk fading slightly. "maybe it’s just the sim," he suggested, but even he didn’t believe it.

so what did you all do? it was like an unspoken agreement—avoidance. everyone was way too pent up, way too on edge, but there was a collective decision to just… ignore it.

to push through. no one said it out loud: stay away, keep your distance, pretend like you weren’t all about to fucking lose it. avoidance felt like the only option left.

it’ll only be a few more days, right?

those questions haunted every one of you. if you could just make it through the next few days… but deep down, you all knew what came after that. once the drug fully worked its way through your systems, once you had control again—if you ever did—none of you were going to hold back.

jake, jungwon, sunghoon, heeseung, jay—they all had the same hungry look in their eyes, even if they tried to hide it. they all had the same thought: if we make it through this without snapping, then what happens next? would any of you even be able to keep the floodgates closed once the pressure finally released? the thought was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

and yet, no one wanted to be the first to admit it. no one wanted to be the first to break the fragile illusion that you could all survive this, untouched, unscathed.

it was a cruel joke, really. why didn’t hq even think to send condoms or normal birth control pills? how the hell were you supposed to get through this when everything had been amplified to the point of unbearable? but then again, how would that even work up here? where do you even dispose of a condom in space?

you chuckled bitterly to yourself when you realized the answer. oh right. you don’t. every ounce of waste had to be accounted for. and birth control pills? those probably wouldn’t do shit anyway, not with the way your bodies were being pushed to their limits. being in space already messed with your systems—hell, your period barely functioned as it was. what the hell would a bunch of hormones do when everything else was already out of whack?

but hq—those assholes—clearly hadn’t thought any of this through. they sent you up here with experimental drugs and didn’t even bother to consider how those drugs would interact with the unique effects of living in space. maybe they knew, maybe they just didn’t care.

either way, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

and the worst part? you were all too far gone to care anymore.

on the sixth day, everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of disaster. you had done your best to avoid unnecessary contact, kept your distance, and stayed focused on the mission. but the air was thick, almost suffocating, and the tension you’d all been pretending to ignore was now impossible to avoid. it felt like you were all walking through a minefield, one wrong step and everything would blow.

you made your way to the helm, tablet in hand, your mind buzzing with the routine diagnostics you were supposed to be focused on. but then, without warning, you collided with sunghoon.

your body slammed into his, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. the contact sent a shockwave through you, heat flaring under your skin as the air between you practically sizzled.

“watch where the fuck you’re going,” sunghoon snapped, his voice rough, thick with irritation. his hand grabbed your arm to steady you, but the touch lingered, his grip tight—too tight, his body rigid with the effort of keeping himself in check. his breathing was heavy, ragged, as if he was barely holding on.

“i—i didn’t see you, i’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to step back, but he didn’t let go. his eyes, usually cold and calculating, now burned with something much more dangerous—desire. anger. frustration. his jaw clenched, muscles flexing beneath his skin as he stared down at you.

“you think sorry’s gonna fix this?” he growled, his voice dripping with something darker.

“you think you can just walk around like this, pretending everything’s fine? look at us.” his hand dropped, pointing at the obvious bulge straining against his pants, his expression turning almost feral.

“we’re all fucked. we’ve been avoiding each other, without even fucking talking about it. because we know. we fucking know what’ll happen if we don’t.”

your breath hitched as his words hit you like a punch to the gut, the heat in the room only growing worse. your pulse quickened, your patience wearing thin. because, yeah, you felt it too.

the constant pull, the unbearable pressure building with every passing second—they were driving you to the edge of insanity. and now sunghoon, with his hard-on and his rage, was pushing you past your breaking point.

“and you’re not helping,” sunghoon continued, his voice low, venomous. his gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the unspoken accusation in his words.

“what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?” you snapped back, your own frustration bubbling over. “you think this is easy for me? i’m trying to get through this just like the rest of you. but it’s getting worse, and i’m fucking losing it, too.” your voice shook with barely controlled anger, the heat in your body matching the fury in your words.

“yeah? well, you’re making it harder. look at me,” he gestured again to his erection, his eyes wild. “every time you walk into a room, it’s like this. and i can’t fucking take it anymore. none of us can.”

your patience snapped. the drugs, the tension, the constant avoidance—it was all too much. “you think i don’t feel it too?” you hissed, stepping closer to him, your body reacting to the proximity, the heat rolling off him in waves.

“you think i haven’t noticed the way you all look at me? i’m doing everything i can not to lose it. but right now? right fucking now, i want to fuck you so badly i can’t think straight.”

that shut him up. his eyes widened for a split second, shock flickering across his face before it was replaced with something far more dangerous. desire. raw, unfiltered desire. his lips parted, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“then what the fuck are we waiting for?” he growled, stepping even closer, his body crowding yours, pinning you against the wall of the helm. his hand came up, gripping your waist, pulling you toward him. “because i’m this close to losing my shit, and if you want me, you better fucking say it.”

but before either of you could go any further, the door to the helm slid open, and heeseung walked in. his eyes immediately locked onto the two of you, and his expression darkened, taking in the tension, the heated air, the way sunghoon had you pinned against the wall.

“what the hell is going on in here?” heeseung barked, his voice cold, a sharp edge to it that cut through the room like a knife.

you and sunghoon turned to face him, both of you still breathing heavily, your bodies thrumming with unspent energy. you tried to step back, to regain some semblance of composure, but sunghoon didn’t move. his body was still pressed against yours, his gaze flicking to heeseung with a challenge.

“nothing,” you managed to mutter, though your voice was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

heeseung crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between the two of you. “get it together,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. “we’re all fucking on edge, but you don’t get to let it turn into this.”

“you think i’m not trying?” sunghoon shot back, his voice full of frustration. “look at us, heeseung. it’s getting worse. we’re fucking losing it. and no one’s saying a goddamn thing.”

heeseung stepped forward, his eyes hard. “you think i don’t know that?” his voice was low, dangerous, as he stared sunghoon down. “but we don’t get to crack. not here. not now.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. his body was still rigid, the anger radiating off him in waves.

“this ends now,” heeseung said firmly, his gaze locking onto you for a brief second before he turned back to sunghoon. “get out of here. cool down.”

sunghoon let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing with frustration. “cool down? yeah, sure,” he muttered, turning and storming out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a sharp hiss.

as the door closed, you let out a shaky breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of the confrontation. heeseung stood there for a moment, watching you closely, his expression unreadable.

“this isn’t over,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than to you.

as sunghoon departs, heeseung’s eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race, locking you in place. the beeping from the console felt deafening, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence between you two. your jaw was still tight from the argument with sunghoon, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of it all.

you moved to leave, wanting to shake off the tension, but heeseung’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly and pulling your closer. your breath hitched, the sensation overwhelming your already sensitive body.

the second his fingers reached out and brushed against your waist, it was like being jolted with electricity. your skin burned, and a small, unintentional whimper escaped your lips, loud in the tense silence between you.

the sound broke something in him. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face, and he immediately let go, his hands pulling back as if he had been burned. “shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, stepping back like he had crossed a line. "fuck, i didn’t mean to—"

you stood there, still feeling the lingering heat from where his hands had been. the space between you now felt like an unbridgeable gap.

“heeseung,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. you weren’t sure what you were about to say, but the words just wouldn’t form.

heeseung took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides as if trying to fight the pull between you two. for a moment, he just stared, like he was caught between wanting to move closer and knowing he shouldn’t.

then, without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, your body still tingling from the brief contact.

he didn’t even look back.

you stood frozen, feeling the heat from where his hands had been, his absence a punch to your gut. the silence that followed felt deafening, and the frustration burned hotter than before.

your skin still tingled, aching for something more, something that had been taken from you the second he pulled away. you wanted to scream, to call him back, but your voice caught in your throat.

as the door slid shut behind you, you couldn’t take it anymore. your body still tingled from the brief touch, frustration boiling over into something you couldn’t quite contain. the thought of heeseung leaving, the tension left unresolved, drove you mad. you needed to get out, clear your head.

you walked through the dimly lit halls, each step feeling heavier, the cold steel of the ship’s floor beneath your feet doing nothing to cool the fire inside you. the endless view of space through the windows felt surreal, like a vast reminder of how far away you were from normality, from any sense of control. all you wanted was a break—a moment to breathe. something, anything, to quiet the chaos inside your head.

coffee—that’s what you needed. something simple, familiar. maybe it would help you focus, keep the drug from dragging you deeper into this mess. as you made your way toward the dining area, you tried to shake off the tension, the lingering heat crawling over your skin, making you desperate for relief.

but the second the door to the common room slid open, you weren't alone.

they were all here and they turned to look at you at the same time, their heads snapping toward you in sync like they’d been waiting for you. each of them had been doing their own thing—jay lounging on the couch, scrolling through something on his tablet; jake standing by the counter, hands gripping a cup; jungwon sitting cross-legged at the table, absentmindedly playing with a datapad, his eyes unreadable; and sunghoon, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, gaze sharp. heeseung, on the other hand, sat in the far corner, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, tracking your every move. his legs were spread, one arm draped over the back of the chair, while the other rested on his thigh, fingers twitching slightly, as if itching to grab something—or someone.

the room felt suffocating, their eyes burning into you.

for a split second, none of them moved, the silence stretching out. your breath caught in your throat as their gazes lingered on you, like they knew exactly what was going through your mind—because it was going through theirs too. the drug was making sure of it.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as you stepped further into the room. the weight of their stares clung to you like a second skin, but you forced yourself to focus. coffee—just make the damn coffee, keep your head down, and act like nothing was wrong.

"morning," you muttered, your voice barely breaking the thick silence. no one replied, but you didn’t expect them to.

you crossed the room, feeling their eyes track your every move. your fingers fumbled a bit as you grabbed a cup, your hands shaking just enough for you to curse under your breath. you could feel the tension rising behind you, like the air itself was alive, pressing in from all sides. the coffee machine sputtered to life, the sound breaking through the quiet like a crack of thunder.

as the coffee dripped into the cup, you felt it—the way sunghoon’s gaze bore into you. more intense than the others. his arms were still crossed, jaw clenched so tight you could hear the faint grind of his teeth. you avoided looking his way, pretending you didn’t feel the heat of his stare burning a hole into the back of your head.

you reached for the sugar, your hand trembling just a bit, and that’s when it happened. the packet slipped from your fingers, falling onto the floor with a light thud. such a small, insignificant thing, but in the charged air of that room, it felt like a bomb going off.

"seriously?" sunghoon snapped, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. you froze, your hand still hovering in midair, your pulse racing. "you can’t even hold on to a fucking sugar packet now?"

your breath hitched, and the room seemed to shrink. the tension that had been building over the last few days finally cracked open, raw and exposed. you could hear the frustration in his voice, the way the drug had been chipping away at his self-control, just like it had with everyone else.

"what’s your problem?" you shot back, your voice shaky but defensive. you weren’t about to let him get away with snapping at you like that, even though you knew—fuck, you knew—he was feeling the same unbearable pressure you were.

“dude, cut it out,” jay jolted up from his seat, glaring at sunghoon with a warning edge in his voice. “turn off your asshole mode for one goddamn moment.”

sunghoon’s fists clenched, but he didn’t fire back immediately. the room was tense, thick with frustration, and you could feel the heat radiating off them.

jay wasn’t backing down, and the silence that followed made it clear that no one was about to challenge him. his eyes locked on sunghoon, daring him to keep pushing.

“fucking bitch,” sunghoon mumbled, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

the shift in the room was immediate. tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. jake slammed his cup onto the table, the loud clatter echoing through the silence.

“woah.” jake’s voice was low, dangerous. in seconds, he was in front of sunghoon, eyes blazing with disbelief and fury. he had sunghoon cornered against the wall, his grip on sunghoon's shoulder hard enough to make it clear—this wasn’t just a conversation. “what the fuck did you just say?”

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. he wasn’t backing down, even though his breath came in heavy, uneven bursts. but he didn’t speak, refusing to give jake the satisfaction.

“say it again,” jake’s voice dropped colder, his grip tightening. “go ahead, say it again. i fucking dare you.”

jay and jungwon exchanged glances before stepping forward, their expressions unreadable but ready to intervene.

“jake, man, chill,” jay said, his tone calm but firm, cutting through the charged air. “this isn’t how we handle this.”

sunghoon, not one to let things go, shot a glare at jay. “oh, so now you decide to talk, huh? you’ve been real fucking quiet, jay.”

his words hung heavy in the air, a sad attempt to shift the blame, deflect attention from the fact that he had crossed the line. he was scrambling, and it was obvious to everyone.

jay’s gaze turned steely as he stepped further into the circle of tension. “oh, i’ve got plenty to say,” he said, voice sharp. “been sitting back, watching you all fall apart like amateurs.” his gaze swept the room, finally locking onto you.

“me? i’m making sure i don’t lose my shit and do something reckless—like calling her a bitch. that's low, man.”

the atmosphere grew thick, everyone holding their breath. jay’s words hit hard, the room now electric with barely-contained tension.

“trust me,” jay continued, his voice dipping into something darker, “you’d have to be a fucking idiot not to know what’s at stake here.”

jake’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “and you think you’re handling this better?” he growled, clearly not liking the way your face softened while listening to jay.

before jay could respond, jungwon stepped in, his hand gently pulling jake back. “he is,” jungwon said quietly. “you have to admit it.”

jay’s smirk faded as he met your gaze. “i’m backing the fuck off because if i don’t, i’m gonna do something we can’t undo. with these drugs? any sane person would’ve put a baby in her by now if they got too close.”

the silence that followed was deafening. jay had ripped open the truth everyone had been avoiding. the tension, the desire, the drugs—everything had been building to this, and now, it was all laid bare.

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. every lingering look, every accidental brush of hands—it had all felt dangerous. but hearing jay say it out loud made it undeniable.

jungwon broke the silence, his usually calm exterior now showing cracks. “he’s not wrong,” he muttered, his voice strained, like he was barely holding himself together. “this shit is dangerous. for all of us.”

sunghoon let out a bitter laugh, more frustration than humor. “so what, you’re just gonna back off and leave her to the rest of us?” his eyes flicked to you, sharp and possessive, challenging anyone to take his place.

jay didn’t miss a beat. “i’m stepping back because none of us are thinking straight. and if you were smart, you’d do the same. because right now? all you’re doing is letting the drugs push you toward something you’ll fucking regret.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. the anger radiated off him in waves, but he held his tongue.

“just drop it, you're stressing her out.” heeseung’s voice boomed finally taking the chance to intervene, his eyes locking onto you for a brief moment before returning to sunghoon.

sunghoon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “fine,” he muttered, storming out of the room.

as the door slid shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension seep out of your body. your heart was still racing, the intensity of the confrontation leaving you rattled.

you couldn’t deny it— it was a dangerous mix, and the line between control and chaos had never been thinner.

heeseung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. instead, he sighed, frustration heavy in his voice.

“let’s just… call it a night.” he ran a hand through his hair, the others silently agreeing, even though sleep seemed impossible.

you turned and walked out without another word, your footsteps echoing down the cold, metal corridor. the dull throb behind your eyes pulsed in time with the tension still hanging in the air. everything felt too tight, too close. the once-familiar hallways now felt suffocating, closing in on you with every step.

when you reached your quarters, the temptation to lock yourself away was overwhelming. all you wanted was space—any kind of break from the constant pressure, from them.

you slid down against the door, letting the cool surface steady you. closing your eyes, you tried to will the headache away, but it stayed, just like everything else.

you didn’t think it could get any worse, but it did.

the ship’s hum, once soothing, now grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. the dim lights barely pierced the darkness, casting jagged shadows that made the room feel more like a cage than a sanctuary.

now that you thought about it, the hours blurred together, each one more unbearable than the last. frustration grew with every second. each morning was a repeat of the last—everyone keeping their distance, their eyes lingering too long on you, simmering with tension that never seemed to break. the fight that happened only made things worse. waiting it out wasn’t helping—it was a ticking time bomb.

hq, oblivious to the storm brewing inside the ship, continued with their routine updates, spewing rehearsed bullshit. they couldn’t see how the crew was falling apart—the heated glances, the touches that felt like fire, the way everyone was one misstep from tearing each other apart. but it couldn't last too much longer, right?

jungwon was doing his best to keep it together, but even his usual calm was cracking. his eyes darkened every time they flicked toward you, his jaw clenched tighter with every passing interaction. he was feeling it just as much as the rest—just better at hiding it. for now.

jake? he was a fucking mess. he hardly spoke, keeping to himself, but the tension around him was like a live wire. he was always there, always watching, his gaze burning into you from across the room. he wanted you—needed you—and the drugs were turning that need into something nearly uncontrollable.

subtlety? sunghoon was done with that. every conversation felt like a battle. his sharp, biting words barely hid the hunger in his eyes. he wasn’t playing games anymore. the tension between you two was a powder keg waiting to explode. his irritation was impossible to miss when jungwon or jake stepped in—his possessiveness simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

heeseung kept his distance, but his watchful gaze never left you. he was calculating, waiting for the right moment. more than once, you caught him staring, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. he was just as deep in this mess—he was just better at keeping his desires under control.

and jay? fuck. he claimed he was "backing off," but that was bullshit. he might’ve kept his physical distance, but his presence was suffocating. his eyes always found yours, and for just a split second, you saw the raw hunger before he hid it. he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all you.

the air on the ship was suffocating. every meal, every briefing was thick with tension. conversations were clipped, bodies stiff, movements calculated to avoid any accidental contact. but their eyes lingered, their restraint slipping. everyone was fucking cracking.

then there were the drugs. goddamn the drugs. coursing through your veins, amplifying everything until you couldn’t think straight. your senses were overloaded—their scent, the heat from their bodies when they got too close, the way a glance sent shivers down your spine. it was too much. everything was too fucking much.

you were in the last 24 hours, the countdown to what felt like an eternity of agonizing, drug-fueled fever dream that had turned the ship into a pressure cooker.

you woke up, your body ablaze, every inch of your skin tingling with raw, desperate need. it was leaving you breathless and trembling. your hand slid over your heated skin, but it wasn’t enough.

all you could think about was them—each one of them—and the way their hunger for you was growing, spiraling out of control.

your hand moved between your thighs, a soft moan escaping your lips as you tried to ease the ache gnawing at you from the inside. but it wasn’t enough. nothing was enough.

you needed them—all of them. their hands, their mouths, their bodies. you imagined their touch, the heat of their breath against your skin, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

the ship was silent, but you knew you weren’t the only one awake, fighting the same losing battle. you could hear it—the quiet creaks of the bunks, the muffled sounds of frustration, the ragged breathing as they struggled to hold on to the last remnants of control.

you stumbled into the dining area, your body buzzing with pent-up tension, the dull throb of desire pulling at your every nerve. even the brush of your arm against the cold metal wall sent a jolt through you, making you bite your lip against the overwhelming ache deep in your core.

this was hell.

"good morning," you managed, your voice shaking, betraying the sleepless night that had left you on edge.

sunghoon, standing by the counter, clutched his coffee mug with trembling hands, the usual calm on his face shattered, replaced by raw frustration. his knuckles were white, gripping the porcelain as if it was the only thing anchoring him. “morning,” he grunted, his voice rough, thick with need. “this shit’s worse than we fucking expected.”

you slid into a chair, avoiding their eyes, but the tension in the room was impossible to ignore. you were the epicenter of this storm, and pretending otherwise was pointless. little did you know this would be the last relatively calm moment before everything unraveled.

jake stormed into the room, his easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. frustration was etched into every line of his face, his movements aggressive as his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam. he slammed a stack of papers onto the table, the sound echoing harshly in the confined space.

“how much longer are we supposed to deal with this?” he snapped, voice raw and barely restrained. “it’s driving me fucking insane.”

“tell me something i don’t know, jake,” you shot back, your own patience frayed. the words came out sharper than intended, but you were on edge. the drug was messing with your mind, and their relentless focus on you wasn’t helping.

jake’s eyes flared as he stepped closer, fists clenched. “watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, simmering with frustration.

you leaned back in your chair, a smirk tugging at your lips. “my tone?” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “you’re the one losing it, jake. if you can’t handle a little attitude, maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

before jake could respond, jay stormed into the room, his usual calm shattered. desperation was clear in his eyes as he approached, tension radiating from him with every step.

“we need to call hq now,” he growled, his gaze sharp. “i’ve jerked off eleven times, and i’m still hard as fuck. this shit’s unbearable.”

jungwon entered next, his fists clenched, jaw set tight enough to make his teeth grind. the room grew even more suffocating with his presence.

“i can’t even get off,” he muttered darkly, frustration heavy in his voice. “is fucking you the only solution-”

you rolled your eyes, pushing your chair back. “oh, please.”

jungwon’s eyes darkened, his irritation barely contained. “cut me off again, and i’ll make sure your mouth’s too busy to even breathe,” he threatened, his voice cold.

“it’s affecting all of us,” jake growled, stepping closer, his frustration simmering. “and it’s your fault. everything about you—your scent, your presence—I’m about to fucking lose it.” his voice trembled with barely restrained need.

the tension was unbearable, pressing in from all sides. sunghoon slammed his clipboard onto the table, the sharp sound breaking the thick silence.

“you don’t get it,” he snarled, his voice a low growl. “every breath, every second near you—it’s driving me insane. all I want is to bury my dick in you, over and over.”

jake moved closer, his breath hot against your neck. “you think you’re keeping it together?” he whispered, voice thick with desperation. “i’m losing my mind. just being near you is fucking torture. i’m this close to throwing you on this table and fucking you until you can’t think.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, fear and excitement tangling together as you stepped back—right into jay’s chest. his hands gripped your shoulders, steadying you but trapping you in place.

“back off, jake,” jay snarled, his grip tightening, eyes burning with possessiveness.

“shut the fuck up,” jake spat, shoving jay hard enough to make him stumble. the air crackled with tension as they squared off, ready to fight or fuck.

jungwon leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. “enjoying this, y/n?” he taunted, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure. “watching us lose control, tearing each other apart over you? must be fun, knowing you can take your pick whenever you want.”

you gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as you fought to keep control over the storm raging inside you. "i didn’t ask for this fucking chaos," you spat, glaring at jungwon, your voice trembling with barely contained frustration.

sunghoon moved closer, his presence suffocating, eyes burning with a mix of fury and lust. his breath was hot against your skin as he growled through clenched teeth, “i fucking swear, y/n. you’re going to beg me to stop,” his voice low and threatening, “and then beg me not to.”

a violent shiver ran down your spine, your body reacting to the intensity of his words, the heat between your legs growing unbearable.

jake groaned, leaning in even closer, his voice shaking with desperation. "just one touch, please. you don’t understand how bad this is. i’m aching all over, and looking at you is fucking killing me." his words hung in the air, his need palpable, making your pulse race.

just the sound of their voices had you soaked, arousal dripping down your thighs as you sat down, the sticky mess squishing uncomfortably against the cold steel beneath you.

your legs trembled as you squeezed them together, desperate for any relief from the ache building inside you.

"shut up," you whispered, barely audible, but they heard. the raw need in your voice made everyone freeze for a moment, their breathing heavy. "just fucking shut up."

the simple act of rubbing your legs together for friction sent a wave of sensation through you, and they noticed. the low groans they let out were enough to make your heart skip a beat.

heeseung, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally stepped forward. his eyes dark with desire, he towered over you, his voice dangerously low.

"can’t believe getting talked down on made you wet," he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear, sending a shockwave of heat through your body. "it’s crazy how after all this, you still don’t get how far we’re willing to go. you have no fucking idea, y/n."

his words made you shudder, your breath catching as the throbbing between your legs intensified. your thighs clenched tighter, but it only worsened the ache, the wetness pooling between your legs making it impossible to think straight.

everything was spiraling out of control. every fiber of your being screamed for release, for something—anything—to break this unbearable tension.

“we can’t keep this going,” you breathed out, your voice barely steady, chest heaving as you fought to regain control over yourself. the weight of their eyes on you felt overwhelming, each of them watching, waiting, ready to snap.

jay, pacing restlessly, let out a low, dangerous chuckle. “oh, but we can,” he muttered darkly, his gaze locked on you like a predator closing in. “this isn’t about control anymore, y/n. we’re past that. pick someone. now. before this blows up in ways you won’t like.” his voice was thick with impatience, his words vibrating with raw, untamed desire. well, it appeared that the fight yesterday and the conversation about backing off went right out the fucking window. whatever thin thread of self-control they had clung to had snapped, leaving the room simmering with tension.

there was no more pretending, no more playing along with the idea that this was just a temporary phase to ride out.

"fuck this," sunghoon growled, patience shattered as he yanked your chair toward him, his frame looming over you, heat radiating off his body. his eyes burned with frustration, and hunger.

“you think you can keep teasing us?” his voice dripped with venom. “sitting there, soaked, trembling—like we wouldn’t fucking notice?” his tone dropped, dangerous and possessive. “shit, you look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

the second his hands gripped your thighs, your body jolted, heat flooding through you, your moan spilling out louder than you intended. sunghoon’s grip tightened as he pushed your legs apart, revealing the soaked mess of your uniform.

cold air brushed against your skin, and you shuddered, but worse than that was the room’s collective reaction—their eyes locking onto the wetness between your legs.

“fuck,” sunghoon muttered under his breath, fingers digging into your skin as he stared down, primal need flashing across his face. his body went taut, every muscle coiled with tension.

the others reacted just as violently. jake slammed his fist into the table with a loud crash. jay knocked a chair over, sending it clattering to the floor. heeseung gripped the counter, knuckles white, his jaw clenched as if he were on the verge of snapping.

“look at what you’ve fucking done,” jay muttered, pacing, his voice low and dangerous. “you’re driving us insane.”

the air buzzed with electricity. sunghoon’s hands didn’t leave your body, his grip firm, possessive. he leaned closer, eyes flicking between your flushed face and your legs spread before him.

“this isn’t going to end how you think,” he whispered darkly. "you’re not walking away from this, not when you’re this desperate."

sunghoon dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands moving with reckless desperation, tearing at your soaked pants. the fabric ripped easily, leaving you exposed, vulnerable. the cold air on your skin only amplified the heat coursing through your body, the throbbing ache between your legs unbearable.

for a second, all you could hear were your own ragged breaths and sunghoon’s, both of you caught in the intensity of the moment. his eyes were fixed on the wetness between your thighs, his tongue darting out as he stared at your pathetic excuse of panties, barely holding together.

but then, chaos.

jake lunged forward, grabbing sunghoon by the collar and yanking him away with a feral snarl. "dude, stop!" jake’s voice was raw, frustration boiling over as he shoved sunghoon back, his face twisted with anger and jealousy.

heeseung followed, stepping in, eyes blazing as he pushed sunghoon further. “are you fucking insane?” he growled, fists clenched, the restraint in his voice hanging by a thread.

sunghoon staggered back, his eyes wide and wild, trying to process everything. "make up your damn minds!" he snapped, voice shaky.

jay, pacing furiously, kicked a chair, sending it skidding across the room with a loud crash. "you’re not getting first fucking dibs, sunghoon!" he spat, barely holding his anger in check.

sunghoon, trembling and panting, made another move toward you, his hand reaching out, but jake grabbed him, his grip tight. "back off, man," jake growled, his voice low, eyes hard.

you shook, heart pounding as you watched them unravel. their raw frustration, the hunger in their eyes—it was overwhelming. your body quivered, every nerve on fire, the heat of their desire pressing down on you.

sunghoon’s eyes met yours again, wild with need. he wasn’t giving up.

you glanced down at yourself—disheveled, thighs still slick, body a mess. you wanted this, god, you wanted it so badly it hurt. the craving burned through you, desperate for their touch, for their bodies against yours.

but then the thought of pregnancy cut through the haze—being filled by all of them. that was the only thing stopping you from fully surrendering.

on shaky legs, you stood, gripping the table for support. the room was heavy with silence, the tension unbearable. their eyes were locked on you, devouring every inch, their frustration and need a mirror to your own.

you were barely holding it together, torn clothes clinging to your sweat-soaked body, but you couldn’t let them see you break.

the quiet stretched, thick and suffocating, every second dragging out as the weight of what just happened hung between you all. your breath hitched, chest tight, trying to stay calm.

then jungwon spoke, breaking through the suffocating tension.

"fuck, this isn’t working anymore," he said, voice low, strained. his eyes lingered on you briefly before shifting to the others. "i didn’t think i’d say this… but follow me."

the atmosphere shifted instantly. confusion flickered across their faces as they glanced between each other. your heart raced, unsure what jungwon meant—unsure what was about to happen.

"where?" jake asked, his voice sharp.

jungwon’s jaw clenched, frustration evident. “just follow me,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his calm starting to crack.

jay stepped forward, glaring at him. "where the hell are you taking us?"

"the greenhouse," jungwon answered, his tone tight, barely keeping his composure.

“the greenhouse?” jake echoed, his disbelief momentarily cutting through the tension. “what the fuck are we gonna do in the greenhouse?”

"just... trust me," jungwon snapped, his eyes locking onto each of them in turn. you could see how hard he was fighting to hold it together. "we can’t stay here. it’s only gonna get worse."

the words hung in the air, the tension thickening. for a moment, no one moved, uncertain. the greenhouse was isolated, quiet, but why take everyone there now?

reluctantly, they exchanged looks. the tension was unbearable; staying here was a risk. one by one, they followed jungwon out of the common room, frustration simmering beneath the surface, but trusting his judgment enough to go along.

jungwon glanced at you, his voice softer now. "come on." something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable.

your heart pounded, but you nodded, taking a shaky breath as you followed, unsure if leaving would ease the tension—or make it worse.

as you all walked, the silence stretched out between you like a taut wire. no one spoke. the only sound was the soft echo of footsteps through the narrow corridors. they kept their distance, eyes focused ahead, but you could feel the weight of their gazes trailing after you, their restraint barely holding.

your legs trembled with every step, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin only sharpened the sensations, your torn uniform clinging to your damp body.

you were still soaked, your thighs slick and uncomfortable, the heat between your legs impossible to ignore.

would the greenhouse ease the tension? or was this just delaying the inevitable?

as you stepped inside, the usual peace of the greenhouse was lost on you. the soft glow of the lights and the lush plants that surrounded you faded into the background.

all you could focus on was the pulse between your legs, the tension hanging thick in the air between you and the others. each of them was fighting their own battle, their barely-controlled desire palpable.

you all spread out, keeping a foot of distance between one another, but it felt pointless.

no one spoke. jungwon moved to the far end, his back turned to the group, hands fumbling through the drawers, the soft clink of metal breaking the silence.

you watched him, trying desperately to focus on anything but the ache inside you. every second that passed felt like an eternity.

his fingers brushed over something soft—a silky texture—and he froze. you saw his posture stiffen, his jaw clench, and you didn’t need to see what he was holding to know it was something dangerous.

it was a baby pink silk restraint. his hand lingered on it for a moment, his breath catching before he muttered a curse under his breath.

god, it would look so good on you, he thought, frustration flickering across his face as he bit back whatever dark thought had formed. but not yet. his fingers slid past the restraints with a clenched jaw, reaching for something else.

he grasped a vacuum-sealed pack of leaves, pulling them out carefully. your breath hitched, mind racing with questions, but you stayed silent. then, he grabbed a small glass test tube, snapped the ends off, leaving tiny holes on both sides. what the hell was he doing? there was a clinical precision to his movements, but the tension in his body told you he was just as affected as everyone else.

“this should help,” he muttered, mostly to himself. his voice was tight, strained. though he wasn’t looking at you, his clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip on the glass were telltale signs he was barely holding it together.

his words hung in the air, and something about them felt wrong. the room froze, confusion settling over everyone as they glanced between him and the odd supplies he was handling.

“fucking weed?” jake’s voice sliced through the tension, disbelief and frustration spilling out. his glare locked onto jungwon. “you had weed this whole fucking time?”

the already thick atmosphere tightened further. all eyes turned to jungwon, their shock mirrored in expressions of disbelief.

“you’ve been sitting on this while we’ve been going insane?” heeseung scoffed, his restraint unraveling as anger simmered in his voice. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“what the hell, jungwon?” jay muttered, pacing furiously, running a hand through his hair. “you had something that could’ve helped while we’ve been losing our goddamn minds?”

jungwon, still focused on the leaves, barely glanced up. “you think i was sitting on this for fun?” his tone was tight, laced with frustration.

“this isn’t some regular plant. it’s from an alien planet. i had to be sure it wouldn’t mess with whatever experimental crap they pumped us full of.”

sunghoon, who had been unsettlingly silent until now, stepped forward, his eyes burning with fury as he glared down at jungwon. "so you waited until we’re this close to tearing each other apart to bring this up?" his voice was low, dangerous, barely restrained.

“it’s not that simple,” jungwon snapped, holding up the plant like it was a fragile artifact. “this thing could either help or completely screw us if it reacts badly.”

“you could’ve fixed this sooner,” jake growled, his fists clenched at his sides, stepping closer, frustration boiling over. “what the hell were you waiting for? an invitation?”

jungwon didn’t flinch. his eyes were sharp, jaw tight as he stood his ground. “you want to keep losing your shit?” his voice cut through the tension, hard and challenging.

he scanned the room, meeting each glare with a look that dared them to push further. the silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid threats. no one spoke, but the air crackled with tension.

the anger that had been fueling them all seemed to hit a wall, the realization settling in that despite their frustrations, they had no choice but to trust jungwon. the weight of it hung heavy in the air, no one willing to admit it out loud, but the decision had already been made.

“fine,” jay muttered darkly, glaring at jungwon. “but if this doesn’t work, you are the first one we’re coming after.”

the room was still buzzing with tension, but it seemed like, for now, they were willing to let jungwon do his thing.

you let out a small sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’d kill for some indica right now,” you muttered under your breath, not realizing it until the words were already out.

there was a pause before a chorus of chuckles broke the silence. jake raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as the tension finally eased, just a little. even jay, still pacing, let out a low, reluctant laugh, shaking his head.

“never figured you for a stoner, y/n,” heeseung chimed in from his spot, leaning back with a hint of amusement in his voice. his eyes flicked to you, playful, though the tension between you wasn’t entirely gone.

"guess there’s still a lot we don’t know about her," jungwon muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced over at you, the dark intensity in his eyes softening into something more amused.

your comment had loosened the grip of tension that had everyone on edge, even if only for a moment. everyone seemed to breathe a little easier, their anger simmering into something manageable.

“indica, huh?” sunghoon finally spoke up, shaking his head with a slight smirk. “figured you’d be more of a sativa type, to be honest.”

“nah,” you replied with a half-hearted shrug, feeling more at ease as the mood shifted. “i like to be relaxed, not bouncing off the walls.”

jake snorted, running a hand through his hair. “well, let’s hope jungwon’s got the good stuff, or we’re all fucked.”

jungwon rolled his eyes, his hands still working quickly on the mixture, though you caught a flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips. “if this works, you’ll all be thanking me soon enough.”

heeseung leaned forward, his eyes sharp as they locked on jungwon. “so what, you haven’t tried it yourself?”

jungwon didn’t look up from his task, fingers deftly moving, but the brief pause before he answered brought the tension creeping back into the room. “no, not exactly.”

jake’s eyebrow shot up. “not exactly? the hell does that mean?”

jungwon sighed, the annoyance clear in his voice. “i’ve done the research. i know the compounds, and it’s designed to counteract the enhancement drug they’ve been giving us. i just haven’t had a reason to use it yet.”

“so we’re the fucking guinea pigs now?” jay scoffed, his frustration bubbling back to the surface.

jungwon huffed, his voice edged with irritation. “i haven’t smoked a day in my life, alright? but i’m smart enough to know it’s got the compounds to calm us down.”

the room fell silent for a beat before jake let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “so you’ve never smoked, and now we’re trusting you to dose us with some alien space weed? you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

sunghoon, arms crossed, still fuming, shot jungwon a glare. “so, what? we’re supposed to just hope you don’t screw this up?” his voice was sharp, dripping with irritation. “you really think we’re gonna go along with this when you don’t even know if it’s gonna work?”

jungwon’s jaw clenched, eyes flicking between them, clearly over their shit. “do any of you have a goddamn degree?” he snapped, not even looking up as his hands worked swiftly.

“because last time i checked, i’m the one with a background in biochemistry. so unless you’re secretly holding out on some phd in alien botany, shut the hell up and let me do my job.”

sunghoon's glare didn’t waver, but the sharp edge of his frustration dulled for a moment as jungwon's words hit. there was a flicker of acknowledgment in the silence that followed.

jake, however, wasn’t ready to let it go so easily. “yeah, well, last time i checked, your degree didn’t come with a guarantee this alien weed won’t mess us up even more,” he quipped, arms crossed, but there was a slight grin tugging at his lips.

jungwon rolled his eyes, finally looking up, clearly done with their bullshit. “you want to keep arguing, or do you want to get out of this without tearing each other to pieces?” he shot back, his patience visibly thinning. “because i’d love to stand here and debate this, but we don’t exactly have time for a fucking TED talk.”

heeseung, who had been watching from the sidelines, let out a low chuckle.

“fine, doc. we’ll shut up and let you save the day with your alien potions. but if this goes sideways…”

jungwon cut him off, deadpan. “yeah, yeah. you’ll all come for my ass. i’ve heard it. now, can we get on with it?”

sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing on jungwon, but he didn’t push any further, taking a step back with a begrudging sigh. “just don’t screw this up.”

jungwon stayed focused on his task, ignoring their complaints. "if we get through this without killing each other, it’ll be a miracle," he muttered, his hands working swiftly over the alien plant like it was routine.

jake snorted, watching jungwon carefully, though some of the tension had eased. "if we do, you’re never living this down."

jungwon shot him a quick glare. "good thing i don’t give a shit about your approval, huh?"

the room remained thick with tension as jungwon sealed the mixture and set it aside. everyone was on edge, eyes shifting between you and jungwon, frustrations bubbling just beneath the surface.

sunghoon’s arms tightened across his chest, his jaw clenched. "so what now, jungwon? gonna roll it up and hope it works?"

jungwon shot him a sharp look, pulling out a small device. "no rolling. we’re vaporizing it. faster, cleaner. you’ll feel it in minutes." his voice was steady, but the tightness in his posture showed he was feeling the strain, just like the rest of you.

heeseung chuckled under his breath, his foot tapping against the floor. "minutes, huh? guess we won’t have to wait long to find out if it works."

jay, who had been pacing, paused, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward you. "what about you, y/n?" he asked, his tone pointed. "you trust jungwon with this? or are you as skeptical as the rest of us?"

you swallowed, your voice quieter than you intended. "i don’t know," you admitted, glancing at jungwon. "but we don’t have any other options."

sunghoon grunted from his spot against the wall, his gaze sweeping over you. "yeah, well, this better work. because if it doesn’t, i don’t know how much longer i can keep my hands off you." his voice was low, frustration and desire mixing into a dangerous edge.

jake, still glaring at jungwon, crossed his arms. "let’s just get this over with."

jungwon nodded, his movements precise as he set up the vaporizer. the tension thickened in the room, each second stretching as everyone waited for the first hit, anticipation hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

finally, jungwon took the first hit, exhaling slowly as the vapor filled the room. “one at a time,” he said, passing it to jake. “just try not to lose control yet, alright?”

jake inhaled deeply, his eyes flicking toward you, though his expression remained hard. the vapor passed through the group, each taking their turn as the scent thickened in the air.

when it reached you, you hesitated before lifting the device to your lips. the warm vapor filled your lungs, and for a moment, nothing changed.

then, you felt it—a subtle shift.

the tension in your body eased slightly, the tightness in your chest loosening. the ache in your core dulled just enough for you to breathe easier. you exhaled, the weight still there, but lighter.

"anyone feel anything yet?" jungwon asked, scanning the group, his own face showing a bit of relief.

jay leaned back, exhaling. "not gonna lie, jungwon. if this works, i’ll take back all the shit i said."

sunghoon, his eyes still locked on you, let out a low breath. "it’s working… but this is just the beginning, isn’t it?"

heeseung, now more relaxed, nodded slowly, the relentless tapping of his foot finally stopping. "yeah… it’s taking the edge off, but it’s not gonna keep us from snapping completely."

jungwon’s jaw tightened, but he gave a small nod. "it’ll help us hold on. that’s all we need for now."

as the minutes passed, the atmosphere in the room began to shift. the sharpness of desperation started to fade, replaced by a warmth that slowly spread through your body, relaxing muscles that had been tight for what felt like hours. the effect settled in like a haze, making everything feel slower, softer.

sunghoon, who had been rigid with frustration, let out a low chuckle, leaning his head back against the wall. "shit... this actually feels kinda good," he muttered, a hint of surprise in his voice.

jake, still leaning against the table, blinked a few times, his frown fading into something more relaxed. "yeah..." he murmured, a lazy grin forming on his face as he glanced around. "this is... better."

heeseung, who had been sitting tensely moments before, now leaned back in his chair, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. "jungwon, man... you actually did something here," he said, his voice lighter, a bit dazed. the others were clearly feeling the high too.

jay, who had been pacing earlier, was now casually leaning against the wall, his usual dark intensity replaced by a half-smirk. "yeah, i’ll admit... didn’t expect this. i feel... fucking mellow." he laughed, running a hand through his hair as if he was still trying to process it.

jungwon, the most tightly wound of them all, finally looked up from his seat, his expression softening with a mix of relief and satisfaction. "it’s working," he said, his voice low and smooth, clearly feeling the effects himself. even his usual controlled posture had relaxed, his eyes slightly glassy.

you felt it too—the pressure that had been suffocating you for days seemed to melt away, replaced by a warm, buzzing sensation under your skin. the tension that had gripped your body so tightly was gone, and you were undeniably high. the lightness in your limbs was intoxicating.

sunghoon chuckled again, his gaze shifting to you. "you look like you’re finally not about to explode," he teased, his voice softer, the sharp edge gone. "how’s it feel, y/n?"

you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, the tightness in your chest loosening. "better," you admitted, leaning back, feeling their eyes on you, but without the suffocating intensity from before. "a lot better."

jake grinned lazily, his shoulders slumping as he settled into a more comfortable stance. "so this is what it feels like to not be two seconds away from losing it," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

heeseung stretched out in his chair, his foot tapping finally still. "yeah, i could get used to this," he drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. for the first time in days, he wasn’t on the verge of snapping.

jungwon, who’d been quiet, looked over at you, his eyes softer, the tension gone from his voice. "told you it would help," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

jay chuckled, shaking his head. "fuck, jungwon, you really had us doubting you. might be the best idea you’ve had."

sunghoon, still watching you, smirked lazily, his gaze no longer sharp but relaxed. "we should’ve gotten high sooner. would’ve saved a lot of trouble."

the room felt different—lighter. the tension that had suffocated everyone for days was replaced by a calm that had been missing. it wasn’t completely gone, but the edge had softened, smoothed out by the haze now filling the air. for the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe.

"shit, we’ve got weed in space," jake muttered, laughing under his breath, his words slurred slightly. "if this ain’t the best thing ever... how the hell are we supposed to work now?" he leaned back against the table, a lazy grin on his face. "i don’t even want to touch a holo-pad."

jay chuckled again, his body loose as he glanced around. "yeah, fuck the mission for a second."

you caught jay’s eyes lingering on you, his gaze soft but still intense. he smirked, pushing off the wall, taking a slow step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. "shit, y/n... you look real pretty right now," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low rumble, the high relaxing him completely.

heeseung chuckled, nodding in agreement. "he’s not wrong... the weed’s hitting, and damn, you’re glowing." his voice was smoother now, the usual restraint gone, replaced with easy confidence.

sunghoon leaned in slightly, a slow grin spreading across his face. "yeah, this is... nice," he muttered, his gaze heavy with the haze but carrying a new kind of appreciation.

jungwon, clearly struggling to keep it together, was out of his element. his lips kept twitching, fighting off a laugh as his eyes darted around the room, wide and a little glassy, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor.

you watched him press his lips together, body stiff as he fought the high. but when jake caught sight of him, it was over.

"holy shit—jungwon’s gone," jake laughed, loud and carefree. "look at him! man’s trying so hard not to fucking giggle, it’s killing him."

jay doubled over, slapping the wall as he tried to stay upright. "oh my god, he’s losing it," he gasped between laughs, pointing at jungwon, whose face had turned pink.

sunghoon shook his head, chuckling low. "dude, just let it out," he teased, enjoying watching jungwon squirm.

jungwon couldn’t hold back anymore. with a breathless laugh, he broke, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. "fuck," he muttered, still laughing. "this is ridiculous."

everyone in the room joined in, the tension that had been building for days finally shattering. heeseung leaned back, laughing with the rest as jungwon gave in to the high.

"beginner’s luck, huh?" heeseung grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "never thought i’d see you like this, jungwon."

jungwon, still giggling, waved them off. "shut up," he managed, his voice cracking with amusement. "this wasn’t supposed to go like this."

laughter filled the greenhouse, the heavy atmosphere replaced by a much-needed sense of relief. it was messy, chaotic, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t feel like everything was falling apart.

"so... i gotta ask," you said, breaking through the haze of laughter, your tone teasing. their attention snapped back to you, giggles fading as you continued.

"i get you guys hella horny, don’t i?" you grinned, the boldness of your words catching them off guard, a smirk spreading across your face. "when did it start?"

the room fell silent for a split second as your bold question lingered in the air, their eyes widening, expressions shifting from shock to amusement. the haze of the high made the moment even more surreal, everyone too relaxed to hide their reactions.

heeseung, the first to break the silence, let out a low laugh, stretching lazily in his chair. “damn, y/n, you really don't hold back with the questions,” he shot you a smirk, his tone dripping with that lazy confidence that came from the weed.

“but, i'mnot gonna lie, it’s been a while. you walking around like that didn’t make it easy either.”

jay, still leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow at you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “yeah, we’ve been dealing with this shit for a minute,” he admitted, his voice smooth and casual, but there was no mistaking the way his eyes raked over you. “you’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

sunghoon, always the one to speak his mind, leaned forward, his smirk matching jay’s. “she’s asking for specifics,” he teased, his voice low, playful.

“when did it start? if you really want to know... it’s been there since the beginning.” his gaze softened as he added.

jungwon, still recovering from his laughing fit, cleared his throat, his face a little pink, though he tried to play it cool.

you laughed, the sound bright and a little tipsy from the relaxed atmosphere. “oh, so that’s why all the frustration, huh?”

heeseung leaned back in his chair, the high loosening everyone up as he sighed, grinning lazily. “alright, fine, didn't think i'd ever admit this but...” he said, voice more serious but still playful.

“if i'm being completely honest, I’ve been watching you a lot longer than I’d like to admit.” he looked directly at you, his grin softening. “a bit of a... peep show, you could say.”

the room went dead quiet. your breath hitched, his confession sinking in. even the others, lost in their own buzz, snapped their attention to him in surprise.

“what?” jake muttered, wide-eyed.

heeseung shrugged, completely unbothered. “not proud of it, but yeah. i’d see you in your room, getting ready... lingered a little longer than I should have.”

you felt your face flush, heart racing as his words hit. heeseung had been watching you all this time. how?

“wait, you were spying on her?” jay’s voice held surprise, but no judgment.

heeseung nodded, no shame in his voice. “yeah, guess you could call it that. but y/n didn’t exactly make it easy.” his eyes glinted with that dark intensity again. “you were always right there, looking so damn good, almost like you wanted me to watch.”

sunghoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “so that’s why you’ve been extra wound up around her, huh? then avoiding her like the plague.”

heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “you have no idea.”

your stomach flipped, a swirl of shock and something darker, more thrilling, stirred inside you. “how long?” you asked quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

heeseung met your gaze, his playful facade dropping for a moment. “long enough to know you’ve been driving me insane.”

"but i thought," you stammered, "wow, so from the start you've been trying to keep yourself in line. not like jake." you glanced at jake, who just smirked, shrugging.

heeseung chuckled, a deep sound that made your pulse spike. "that’s what i wanted you to think," he said, leaning back with a smug grin.

"i was careful. unlike jake—" he threw a playful glare at jake—"i didn’t let it get to me. well, not until recently."

“oh, come on,” jake muttered, clearly amused. “don’t act like you’re better than me. at least i didn’t spy on her.

jungwon, watching quietly, raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, observing.

your face burned as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "so, all this time, you were just watching me? waiting for what?" your voice came out breathless, his confession settling heavily in the air.

heeseung’s grin widened, eyes darkening. "waiting for the right moment," he said smoothly. "waiting for you to realize none of us are as in control as you think."

"is this what people do when they’re high?" jungwon muttered, still sounding dazed, his wide eyes darting between you, heeseung, and the rest of the guys, struggling to keep up with the shift in mood.

jake snorted, rubbing his face as he tried to contain his laughter. "nah, man," he said, still chuckling, "this is what happens when we’ve been stuck in space too long, high as hell, and all our secrets start spilling out."

jay leaned against the wall, grinning. "welcome to the party, jungwon," he teased, giving him a playful nudge. "this is when shit gets real."

jungwon blinked rapidly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the conversation had shifted from calming down to confessions about spying and hidden desires. "i thought this was supposed to relax us, not... this," he mumbled to himself.

heeseung just laughed, clearly enjoying jungwon’s confusion. "nah, this is what happens when people get too comfortable. all the bottled-up shit comes out," he said, his gaze sliding back to you, still carrying that dark intensity. "and trust me, there’s a lot more to spill."

you smirked, leaning into the playful mood. "oh, we’re spilling secrets now? anyone else got something to confess while we’re riding this high?" your eyes gleamed with curiosity as you turned to jungwon. "how much of that stuff you got, jungwon? ’cause we could always smoke more."

jungwon stood up slowly, his posture loose, movements smooth. he looked so good right now, and you knew you weren’t hiding your thoughts well. your eyes traced the line of his shoulders, the easy way his body moved, and the heat of your gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

he caught your stare, but instead of calling you out, he just smirked, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look that sent a shiver through you.

"you wanna know how much we’ve got?" his voice low and playful as he walked over to a small section of the greenhouse, gesturing to a tree standing tall with thick, lush leaves. "we’ve got a whole fucking tree."

the room went still for a beat before jake broke the silence with a disbelieving laugh. "you’ve been sitting on that this whole time?"

jay’s jaw dropped. "holy shit."

sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath. "i thought this place was for ‘essential’ plants. guess that counts now, huh?"

jungwon shrugged, unfazed. "it’s part of my research. i made sure it’d be ready if we needed it." his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, his eyes dark, playful, and filled with quiet intensity.

you leaned back in your chair, laughing softly. "so we’ve got enough to keep this going?"

jungwon smirked, glancing back at the tree. "more than enough."

the room settled into a calm silence, everyone processing the absurdity of the situation—weed in space, a secret tree in the greenhouse, and a group of high, frustrated guys finally letting their guard down. It felt like something was about to break, but for now, it was almost... fun.

"so, what was in that vial you hid from me when i grabbed my kit?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at jungwon. the playful tone lingered, but curiosity slipped in. "i saw you stash it."

jungwon froze for a second, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Instead of deflecting, though, his smirk grew wider, and he leaned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours.

"smart girl," he said, his voice lower, more intimate. "no wonder i think about you more than i should." his eyes sparkled with something darker, sending a shiver down your spine.

the others groaned, rolling their eyes.

jake snorted. "finally, he flirts back. thought we were in for another lecture on compounds or some shit."

jay crossed his arms, shaking his head with a grin. "dude’s trying so hard to play it cool, but look at him—he's all grown up i'm gonna cry."

sunghoon leaned against the wall, laughing quietly. "guess even jungwon can’t resist."

jungwon shot them a glare, his smirk faltering for just a second before he composed himself, eyes flicking back to you. “don’t listen to these idiots,” he muttered, standing a little straighter. “but yeah… I might’ve kept that vial out of sight for a reason.”

you raised an eyebrow, curiosity spiking. “oh? and what’s in it?”

jungwon’s voice dropped, smooth but with a darker undertone. “did you really think i was that innocent?” he asked, tilting his head as he watched you closely. “i gave off that vibe from the start, didn’t i?”

you nodded, biting your lip, a shiver running down your spine. jungwon had always seemed so calm and composed—safe. but after that episode when he spanked you in your quarters you were already convinced he could be dangerous.

he leaned in just enough, voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “if we’re being honest, all i’ve been wanting to do is drug the fuck out of you and—” his lips curled into a wicked grin, “do whatever i want.”

the room froze.

every pair of eyes widened in shock, caught between disbelief and something darker.

“damn,” jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. “the fuck, jungwon?”

jay blinked, raising an eyebrow. “wow. didn’t expect that from you.”

sunghoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head, though a soft laugh escaped him. “we all knew you had some dark shit in you, but i didn’t think you’d just... say it.”

jungwon just shrugged, far too relaxed for someone who had just confessed something twisted. his eyes flicked back to you, heat radiating behind them, making your heart pound.

“so,” he said, smirking, “are we going to tell her we’ve been low-key scheming, or did you figure it out, y/n?” his voice was sharp, playful. “you’re smart—did you really buy my ‘nice guy’ act?”

sunghoon’s grin widened. “yeah, you didn’t think jungwon was that innocent, did you?”

you rolled your eyes, teasing. “i mean, the checking me out part was obvious—you guys didn’t even try to hide it. i just figured you were all perverts.” you paused, letting a smirk play on your lips.

leaning back in your chair, the tension in the air grew thicker, electric. “to be honest, though,” you added, voice light, “i liked knowing i could get you hard. it was fun.”

the room went dead silent again. shock, amusement, and lust mingled on their faces. they hadn’t expected that.

heeseung let out a low chuckle, his eyes darkening as he leaned in slightly. “well, at least you’re aware of your effect on us.”

jay raised his brows, a grin spreading as he ran a hand through his hair. “damn, y/n, didn’t think you’d just come out and say it like that.”

jake, unable to hold back his smirk, leaned forward. “so you like getting us worked up? that’s what all this teasing’s been about?”

sunghoon chuckled under his breath, though his gaze remained intense. “guess we’re getting more than we bargained for tonight.”

“yeah,” you replied confidently. “it was fun watching you squirm.”

the tension in the room was heavy now, thick with unspoken desire. you could feel the weight of their eyes on you, and it only made your skin tingle more.

"wow, this weed is definitely making it worse," you muttered, feeling the heat build inside you, the haze thickening the air around you. "sure, i don’t wanna fuck everyone’s brains out right now, but..."

your gaze drifted over them, the anticipation swirling in your stonmach. "it’s definitely getting me horny."

the atmosphere shifted, your words hanging in the air, making the tension in the room palpable. their reactions were instant—a flicker of barely-contained desire across their faces.

jake let out a low groan, leaning back against the table, eyes darkening. "you’re killing me, y/n," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration clear. "you have no fucking idea."

jay chuckled, shaking his head. "we’re all barely holding it together, and you’re just sitting there, getting off on it?" his voice strained, fists clenched. "damn."

“gimme another hit, won,” you said, your voice dropping, teasing as you looked over at jungwon. your eyes locked, and the room seemed to still. the tension thickened, nearly unbearable.

jungwon blinked, not expecting your bold request, but his smirk quickly returned, eyes darker now. "you sure you can handle more, y/n?" his voice low, teasing but laced with warning. “we’re all on edge already.”

"yeah, i’m sure," you replied, holding his gaze. "let’s see if i can handle it."

the others watched with clear interest. jake raised an eyebrow, smirking. "shit, she’s going for more? that’s either brilliant or dangerous."

jungwon stepped closer, pulling out the vaporizer, his movements deliberate. “if you’re so eager,” he muttered, holding it out to you. your fingers brushed his as you took it, the brief contact sending a shiver through you.

you inhaled deeply, the warm haze filling your lungs, intensifying the heat and desire already coursing through you. the high hit harder this time, amplifying everything—the room felt hotter, the tension thicker.

“fuck,” you whispered, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

jungwon’s eyes never left you. "better?" he asked, voice tight like he was barely keeping it together.

you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips. “yeah... but this,” you gestured at your ripped pants with a teasing grin, “this is uncomfortable.” your voice was thick with desire as your gaze drifted over the guys, taking in their reactions.

the room had grown unbearably hot, tension coiling tighter by the second. you sighed playfully, tilting your head. “mind if i strip a bit, boys?” you teased, not really waiting for permission, fingers already at the hem of your shirt. “love the gift, sunghoon, but it’s gotta go.”

sunghoon’s eyes widened, breath hitching as he leaned forward, gaze locked on you. “shit, y/n,” he muttered, voice trembling slightly. “you’re really doing this?”

jake groaned again, rubbing his face, clearly struggling. “fuck, she’s serious,” he muttered, voice thick with lust.

jay leaned back, eyes darker now, smirk still on his lips as he watched with a mix of hunger and amusement. “go ahead,” he drawled, voice low. “it’s your show.”

heeseung chuckled, watching as you slowly peeled off your clothes, revealing more skin. “well, this just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” he muttered, voice dripping with desire.

you felt their eyes on you, tracking every movement as you slipped out of your uniform, the cool air hitting your heated skin. the tension was almost suffocating as they watched, captivated by every inch you revealed.

“much better,” you teased, letting your clothes drop, now standing in just your shirt and underwear. their stares were heavy with unmistakable hunger.

"how many more hours we got?" you asked, voice laced with anticipation, your gaze flicking between them, all barely holding on.

heeseung glanced at the time, his eyes never leaving you. “twenty hours,” he muttered, voice rough with frustration.

jake groaned, his head dropping into his hands. “twenty more hours? we’re not gonna fucking make it.”

sunghoon’s eyes were glued to you, his breath shaky. “twenty hours... and you’re already stripping? how the fuck are we supposed to keep it together?”

jay chuckled, but his eyes were dark with desire. “shit, we barely held out this long, and now you’re making it harder—literally.”

you smirked, still buzzing from the high, their heated stares making your pulse quicken. “just wanted to make things... interesting,” you said, your voice dripping with challenge. “let’s see if you can last another twenty hours.”

"pass it," jake muttered, finally caving, knowing they needed something to take the edge off. his voice strained, tension clear as he reached for the vaporizer, his fingers brushing yours.

sunghoon groaned. "give it here,” he growled, rubbing his neck, clearly struggling for control. “if we’re stuck like this, might as well get fucked up.”

as the vaporizer made its rounds, the atmosphere shifted again. the weed wasn’t dulling their desire—it was amplifying it. their eyes lingered longer, the raw need in the air thickening.

you watched them, heart racing, body humming with anticipation. “looks like it’s gonna be a long night,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of challenge, daring them to hold on.

heeseung took a slow hit from the vaporizer, holding it in as he watched you, mischief glinting in his eyes. with a smirk, he leaned forward, voice low and teasing. “wanna shotgun?”

the room went silent, everyone’s attention snapping to you and heeseung. his suggestion hung in the air, thick with tension and curiosity.

your heart skipped a beat, the heat of his offer rushing through your veins. he was testing you, and they were all watching.

jake raised an eyebrow, leaning in, his grin widening. “shit... are we really doing this?”

sunghoon chuckled darkly, his eyes locked on you. “she’s not saying no.” jay’s smirk grew, arms crossed as he leaned back, watching.

you bit your lip, locking eyes with heeseung. “fuck it,” you said, your tone matching his. “let’s do it.”

heeseung’s smirk widened, and he moved closer, taking another slow hit from the vaporizer. without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, his face inches from yours, the heat between you nearly suffocating.

you closed the distance, taking the smoke from him as he exhaled. the proximity made your pulse race, the moment electric, charged with a new kind of tension.

as you finished inhaling, heeseung didn’t hesitate. his lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding past your lips in a kiss that was hungry, overwhelming. a low, sensual groan escaped you, the heat of the moment making your body buzz, his mouth moving against yours with a fiery intensity.

his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressing into yours. but after what felt like both too long and not nearly long enough, he pulled away, his lips hovering close to yours as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

you let out a breathless laugh, eyes half-lidded, a lazy smirk playing on your lips. "feels like i’m back in college," you teased, voice rough, dripping with satisfaction.

heeseung wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his thumb brushing your bottom lip before pulling back. “shit, y/n,” he muttered, breathless. “you’re making this so fucking hard.”

the tension in the room spiked as the others watched, eyes glued to the aftermath of the kiss. everything had shifted—the air heavier, pulses quickening.

jake shifted in his seat, swallowing hard, a raw edge to his voice. "fuck... i’m jealous," he muttered with a grin, though it didn’t hide the need in his gaze. "you always go that hard?"

jay leaned forward, shaking his head, still clearly amused. "that was fucking hot."

sunghoon, his eyes dark and locked on you, clenched his jaw and let out a low laugh. "heeseung’s got some balls. damn."

jungwon, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke, his gaze still fixed on you, voice low. "that was… something," he muttered, eyes half-lidded, filled with curiosity and intrigue.

you smirked, glancing at sunghoon, voice laced with a teasing challenge. "you’re not mad, sunghoon? i mean, you’ve always had that possessive streak."

his jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as a low chuckle escaped him. there was nothing playful in it. "mad?" he repeated, his voice rough, gaze intense. "nah, y/n... not mad. but you’re definitely pushing it." his eyes flicked down to your lips, still swollen from heeseung’s kiss. "you know exactly what you’re doing."

heeseung leaned back, clearly pleased with himself, enjoying the tension. "what can i say? she’s hard to resist."

sunghoon didn’t break eye contact, his smirk turning wicked. “resisting’s not the problem, heeseung.” his voice dropped, almost a growl. “i just don’t like to share. and you—" his eyes raked over your body—“you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

jake chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “possessive doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

jay raised an eyebrow at sunghoon, smirking. “jealousy’s not a good look on you, man.”

sunghoon shot a glance at jay before focusing back on you, his voice dropping. “you enjoy getting a rise out of me, don’t you, y/n?”

your smirk grew as the heat in his voice made your skin prickle. "maybe," you murmured, tilting your head. "or maybe i like seeing how far i can push you."

sunghoon’s eyes darkened further, his voice low and dangerous. "try me one more time, and i’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone."

the room went dead silent, the intensity of his words hitting you like a wave. the boldness of his threat—or promise—made the air in the room feel heavier, the tension suffocating.

heeseung raised an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "well, shit. things just got serious."

jake let out a low whistle, leaning forward. "not sure if that’s a threat or a promise."

jay, his tone laced with amusement, chimed in, "honestly, I’m not into sharing either. but the weed?" he chuckled, his eyes flicking between you and sunghoon. "it’s making me reconsider."

all eyes shifted to jay, the tension only thickening as he leaned back, crossing his arms with a growing smirk. “maybe just this once... i’d be willing to let it slide.”

heeseung chuckled darkly. "seems like we’re all reconsidering a lot right now."

jake grinned. "the weed’s making everything seem like a good idea."

sunghoon, jaw still tight, shot a glance at jay, but the playful tension between them was undeniable. "you’re lucky you’re even part of this conversation."

you felt the shift in the room, heart pounding as you caught the exchange. the energy was only growing, and none of them seemed willing to back down.

“so, jay,” you teased, eyes locking on his, “you’re saying you’d share if it came down to it?”

jay leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. “yeah,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “but only because i think you’d be worth it.”

your breath hitched, the heat inside you building as the high took hold. “if it wasn’t for this wait,” you breathed, the words slipping out, “i’d already be knocking on your doors... though not without putting up a fight.”

their eyes darkened at your confession, the room buzzing with unspoken desire.

jungwon, trying to play it cool, took another puff from the vaporizer and immediately choked, coughing hard as the smoke hit him wrong. the sudden noise shattered the tension in the room, all eyes turning to him as he struggled for breath, his face flushing both from the smoke and embarrassment.

“shit,” he muttered between coughs, trying to compose himself, eyes watering as he glanced up at you, shaking his head. "fuck, that was... rough."

everyone burst into laughter, the momentarily serious atmosphere lightening just for a second.

"you good, won?" jake asked, grinning as he slapped jungwon’s back.

jay shook his head, still chuckling. "man, you really don’t know how to smoke, do you?"

jungwon shot them a glare, still coughing, but a sheepish smile pulled at his lips. "shut up," he grumbled, rubbing his chest as the smoke finally cleared.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the high making it all feel even more amusing. "you alright, jungwon?" you teased, watching him recover.

jungwon finally caught his breath, cheeks still flushed as he met your gaze. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, still a bit winded. “just... wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard.”

heeseung smirked, leaning back in his chair. “looks like even the doctor’s not immune to getting messed up.”

sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s always the quiet ones who end up the most fucked.”

the laughter faded, but the weight of their gazes didn’t. their eyes followed the rise and fall of your chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, and the slight shift of your legs as you tried to get comfortable. it was like they were all waiting, their patience thinning by the second.

you could feel their stares burning into you, the intensity of it making your skin tingle. each glance felt heavier, more deliberate, and your pulse quickened under the heat of it.

exposed as you were, the sensation was electric, the mix of weed and desire making everything feel heightened, sharper. the room felt like it was spinning, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them either.

heeseung, who had been the most composed, broke the silence, his voice rough and low. “fuck, y/n,” he muttered, his eyes darkening as they trailed the movement of your legs. “you look incredible like this.”

sunghoon's gaze was sharp, tracking the sheen of sweat on your skin, the rise and fall of your chest with each shallow breath. “we’re all trying to hold it together,” he growled, voice thick with restraint. “but you? you’re not even trying. it’s like you’re begging to get fucked.”

jay, lounging back with his eyes glued to you, let out a low chuckle. “yeah, why don’t you just spread those legs for me, honey? no harm in giving it a shot, right?”

jake swallowed hard, his eyes burning into you, voice strained with frustration. “this... it’s fucking torture.”

jungwon, having finally regained his composure after his earlier coughing fit, stayed quiet, but his eyes roamed over your body. despite his silence, the tension in his posture made it clear just how much he was struggling.

the silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with need. you could feel their eyes on you, feel the way their breathing deepened, slowed. they were getting hard, and none of them bothered to hide it anymore.

heeseung’s gaze darkened, his chest rising and falling faster, desire burning in his eyes. his lips parted, and you saw his hand shift in his lap, trying to find some relief without being too obvious.

sunghoon, once composed, now clenched his jaw, eyes locked on you like a predator ready to pounce. his fists tightened, muscles flexing as he struggled to keep control.

jay’s smirk faded, replaced by raw hunger. he leaned forward slightly, eyes trailing down your body. “fuck, y/n... stop looking at us like that,” he muttered, voice thick with barely restrained lust.

jake, who had been leaning back, was now sitting up, legs spread, his breathing heavier. “i’m... done hiding it,” he admitted, voice raw, frustration laced in every word.

jungwon, quieter than the rest, couldn’t tear his eyes from you. the flush spreading across his face and the way his hands flexed at his sides said everything. he was barely holding it together.

the weight of their desire pressed down on you, thick in the air. every lingering look, every breath they took, felt like a pressure building between all of you. your heart raced, heat pooling low in your belly, the tension almost unbearable.

“it’s not like we can’t do something, right?” you teased, voice low and filled with anticipation. your eyes flicked between them, watching their expressions shift as your words sank in. with a wicked smile, you let the next part slip, “just... don’t cum inside.”

heeseung groaned, deep and guttural, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “fuck,” he muttered, breath hitching. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, y/n.”

jay’s eyes darkened, jaw tense as hunger overtook his gaze. “you’re terrible,” he growled, voice shaking with raw need.

jake groaned, nearly doubling over as his hand dragged across his face. “shit... don’t say that,” he muttered, voice hoarse with desperation, his body visibly tense as he stared at you, gaze burning with want.

sunghoon’s fists clenched, breath coming in uneven bursts. “you really want it, don’t you,” he growled, voice low, rough, his eyes fixed on you, every move you made driving him closer to breaking.

and then there was jungwon. quiet, soft, but somehow the most intense. his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. “can you show us your pussy?”

his words hung in the air, freezing everything for a second. the raw hunger in his voice shattered the last bit of restraint in the room.

heeseung’s breath hitched, shifting in his seat, eyes glued to you with frustration and need. “fuck, jungwon,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly on the edge.

jay leaned forward, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, voice rough with need. “we’re all fucking done for.”

their eyes stayed locked on you, waiting. the tension suffocated, every breath thick with anticipation. your heart raced, heat building inside you as you reached for the vaporizer. taking a slow hit, you held it in, teasing them with every second before exhaling, the smoke lingering between their stares and your slow, deliberate movements.

you leaned back, spreading your legs, slow and deliberate. the sight of you, open and ready, had them all teetering on the brink. the air felt electric, like it was going to snap at any moment.

“jungwon,” you murmured, voice low, teasing, “you’ve already got all these plants. probably made something to drug me, right? so is something to stop pregnancy really that impossible?”

your fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties before sliding them aside, revealing how wet you were. their eyes darkened instantly, locked on the slickness between your legs.

jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours, the realization hitting him hard. without a word, he stood up, his movements clumsy from the high but filled with purpose. stumbling slightly, he caught himself, already moving toward his workstation. the idea you planted was too tempting to resist.

the room went silent, all eyes on jungwon as he started pulling out plants and supplies with a renewed intensity. heeseung raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “shit, she’s really got him thinking.”

jake leaned back, crossing his arms, shaking his head. “leave it to y/n to get jungwon of all people worked up like this. he’s high as fuck, but he’s still about to whip up some shit.”

sunghoon narrowed his eyes, clearly intrigued by the sudden change. “what are you cooking up, jungwon?”

jungwon ignored them, his hands moving with precision as he mixed different plants, despite the haze clouding his mind. “if the alkaloid levels are stable… should interact well with the pseudo-estrogens from the herb…” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed in concentration. "can’t have the phyto-progestins canceling out the contraceptive properties..."

you watched him, your heart racing at the realization of what you’d set into motion. “jungwon, are you really—”

he shot you a look, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, hunger burning in his eyes. “you gave me an idea, and now i can’t stop thinking about it.”

heeseung’s voice dropped, “so?”

sunghoon growled in frustration, his patience wearing thin as he took another deep drag from the vaporizer, his body rigid.

“can you fucking make it or not?” he snapped, glaring at jungwon, who was still meticulously checking his data, mumbling shit only he understands and adjusting his tools, as if the urgency in sunghoon’s voice was nothing but background noise.

jungwon, annoyingly calm, ignored the outburst, his fingers tapping away at his device, double-checking every detail. the deliberate slowness was starting to grate on sunghoon’s nerves, his agitation growing with every passing second.

“jungwon,” sunghoon growled again, louder this time, his voice sharp with irritation, “quit fucking around.”

jungwon finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at sunghoon’s growing frustration. taking his time, he wiped his hands on his pants, the calm smirk never leaving his face despite the tension in his eyes.

“yeah,” he said coolly, letting the moment hang in the air for a beat longer than necessary. “you guys can start.”

the room exploded into motion. sunghoon reached you first, his grip on your ankle firm and commanding, sending a jolt through your body. with one strong tug, he pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, your body pressed flush against his. the sudden intensity made your head spin, his touch overwhelming.

before you could catch your breath, sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as his lips hovered inches from your neck. “you wanted this, didn’t you?” he growled, voice rough and thick with the hunger he had barely been holding back.

the sudden friction of sunghoon's clothed, rock-hard member rubbing against your soaked panties made your breath hitch. the heat between your bodies was unbearable, and the thin fabric only heightened the sensation. every inch of him pressed hard against you, his grip on your hips tightening as he ground into you with a low growl.

“fuck, you weren’t ready for that, huh?” sunghoon’s voice was rough, his breath hot against your neck as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, the friction sparking pleasure through you.

a moan escaped your lips, your body trembling as the sensation hit you, your hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders for support. sunghoon’s desperation was clear in the way he held you down, grinding into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

as your body rocked against sunghoon’s, the desperation in the room thickened even more. heeseung’s warm breath trailed up your neck, his tongue drawing slow, deliberate strokes along your skin, sending shivers through you.

the heat from both of their bodies radiated against you, with jake stepping in next, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your skin.

jake groaned low in his throat, his mouth closing over your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded your breast like he couldn’t get enough. his tongue swirled around your nipple, his breath ragged as he whimpered against you, each lick and tug driving you closer to the edge.

heeseung chuckled darkly against your ear, lips brushing just below your jaw. “she likes it when we’re all over her like this,” he teased, his fingers pressing into your waist, keeping you anchored between them.

jay, now half-naked, his eyes dark with lust, growled low in his throat as he kicked off his pants, his hand wrapping around his thick cock, stroking it slowly as he watched the chaos unfold. his gaze locked onto you like he was waiting for his turn, lips parted as he breathed heavily.

“don’t keep her all to yourselves,” jay muttered, his voice gravelly as he stepped closer, his hand tightening around his cock, eyes fixed on you like a predator.

he crouched down next to you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin. he gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face toward him, his voice thick with need. “open up for me, sweetheart,” he growled, the tip of his cock brushing against your lips.

with sunghoon grinding relentlessly into you and jake’s mouth on your chest, your body was on fire. your lips parted instinctively, and jay wasted no time, pressing the head of his cock onto your tongue.

“that’s it,” jay murmured, his voice low and commanding as he slid deeper into your mouth, his hand tangled in your hair to keep you in place. the weight of him filled your mouth, the stretch in your jaw immediate as you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him.

heeseung’s raspy voice came from behind you, his hands roaming down your waist, tugging at the waistband of your panties. “fuck, look at her take it,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers slipped between your thighs, brushing against your soaked entrance.

sunghoon growled in frustration, his grip tightening on your hips. “don’t just tease her, heeseung. get her ready for my cock.” he ground against you harder, making you whimper around jay’s cock, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable.

“you heard him,” jay muttered, his hand guiding your head as he thrust into your mouth. “get her dripping for us.”

heeseung didn’t waste any time, his fingers slipping under the soaked fabric of your panties, brushing over your sensitive folds. he hissed softly, biting his lip as he felt just how wet you already were.

“damn, you’re ready for us,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers slid up and down your slick heat, teasing you, spreading the wetness with each slow stroke. every touch sent jolts of electricity through your body, making you clench around nothing.

sunghoon’s grip on your hips was bruising now, his frustration evident as he tried to hold back, shimmying out of his pants and positioning himself right at your entrance.

he let out a strained whine as the tip of his cock nudged your hot, dripping pussy, the heat from your body scorching. pre-cum was already leaking from him, but he wasn’t about to give in so easily—he wanted to hear you beg for it.

you were on the verge of losing it, overwhelmed by the sensation of jay’s cock sliding in and out of your mouth, sunghoon’s hard length grinding against you, and heeseung’s fingers working their magic on your dripping core.

your moans vibrated around jay’s cock, sending shivers through his body. his head tipped back slightly, jaw tight as he thrust deeper into your mouth, the slick sound of him fucking you filling the room.

jake, still sucking and licking at your chest, pulled back just long enough to glance down at the mess between your legs. “heeseung, move over,” he ordered, his voice low, commanding in a way that surprised you with its authority. “i’m gonna taste her.”

sunghoon reluctantly backed away, giving jake room as he pumped himself, his jaw slack as he stared at you. his eyes roamed over your body, the glistening heat between your thighs, the way your mouth wrapped around jay. “fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, voice rough with need.

jake wasted no time, lowering his head between your legs, his breath hot against your soaked folds as he took his first taste. the moment his tongue met your skin, your back arched, a sharp cry escaping around jay’s cock as the intensity hit you all at once.

your body was losing all control, shaking uncontrollably as jake’s tongue worked you into a frenzy. he sucked harder, lips wet and relentless, saliva mixing with your slick juices as heeseung's fingers curled expertly inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again. the moans you tried to suppress around jay’s cock were still loud enough to drive them wild.

each jerk of your body was involuntary, the pleasure so overwhelming that it was impossible to stay still. jake’s grip tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and sucking in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge.

every stroke of his tongue was more intense than the last, and your hips bucked against his face as he pushed you higher and higher.

heeseung chuckled low in your ear. “fuck, she’s dripping all over my fingers,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

“jake’s eating you out so good, isn’t he? you fucking love it, don’t you? love it when he fucks you with his tongue?” his breath was hot against your skin as his fingers twisted deeper inside you, curling just right, making you tremble uncontrollably. “just let go, baby. come all over jake. we’ve got you.”

jay’s grip in your hair tightened as he thrust deeper into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “fuck, yeah… just like that. you’re gonna make me come, shit,” he groaned, his pace quickening, his hips slamming forward.

your spit dripped down your chin, mixing with the sweat covering your skin, the heat of the moment building to an unbearable level.

the sensations were too much—jake’s tongue on your clit, heeseung’s fingers inside you, jay’s cock filling your mouth—your mind was spinning, body on fire, the pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense you thought you might shatter.

your moans vibrated around jay’s cock, and you felt him twitch in your mouth, so close to release.

“fuck, give it to me, cum all over my mouth,” jake growled, his tongue circling your clit faster, sucking harder as his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, even as your body began to convulse, your release imminent. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave.

and then it hit you—your climax tearing through you with such force that your vision blurred, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure overtook you.

you squirted hard, soaking jake, who groaned with satisfaction, eagerly lapping at the juices spraying from you. your walls clenched tight around heeseung’s fingers, hips bucking uncontrollably against jake's mouth.

the moans that escaped your throat were muffled by jay’s cock as he let out a deep groan, thrusting one final time into your mouth before spilling a thick, overwhelming load down your throat, making you choke. you swallowed, but the struggle was clear, tears streaming down your face as you gasped for air.

that sight—your tear-streaked face, struggling to breathe—ignited something primal in sunghoon. pure possessiveness blazed in his eyes, and suddenly, he was on you. his aggression startled everyone as he shoved jake and heeseung aside, eyes locked on you, filled with a mix of rage and desire.

the impact of your back hitting the floor knocked the breath out of you, the pain only fueling the heat coursing through your body. a low moan slipped from your lips, making the corner of sunghoon's mouth twitch in satisfaction.

he towered over you, his hand gripping his cock as he slapped it against your soaked pussy, the slick sound cutting through the heavy air. “fuck,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. his eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he hovered closer.

"shit, y/n… tell me you want it," he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "beg for my cock, or you’re not getting it."

his words sent a shiver straight down your spine, the dominance in his voice making your core clench with need. sunghoon’s hands gripped your thighs hard, spreading you wide as his cock teased your entrance, never giving you what you were so desperately aching for.

the tension rolled off him in waves, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he waited—needing to hear you beg.

your breath came out shaky, your body trembling beneath him, utterly at his mercy. “please… please, sunghoon,” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to push him closer to losing control.

“louder,” he growled, his cock slapping against your soaked pussy again, the contact sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. "beg for it like you fucking mean it, y/n."

“fuck, sunghoon, please… i need your cock, i need you inside me,” you cried out, your desperation clear, your back arching toward him as your body begged for more.

"try harder," he snarled, his words making your need even more urgent. without thinking, you hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him into a messy, heated kiss, your lips crashing against his as you mumbled desperate pleas between each kiss.

you couldn’t stop the whimpers that escaped, each one sounding more needy than the last as your tongue tangled with his, his growl vibrating through your body.

“fuck, y/n,” sunghoon rasped against your lips, the taste of your desperation driving him wild. you could feel him trembling as he finally let go of whatever restraint he had left, his cock pushing into your needy hole.

his control vanished in an instant as he thrust into you without any mercy, his cock burying itself so deep that it ripped a sharp gasp from your throat. the stretch was sudden, raw, and perfect. your body trembled, overwhelmed by the intensity, as sunghoon’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin while he pounded into you with a brutal, relentless rhythm.

“fuck, your pussy’s squeezing me so tight—shit,” sunghoon whined, his voice rough with need. each thrust came harder than the last, your slick walls pulling him in, wet and hot. it felt like heaven, and sunghoon was completely lost in it, knowing that every second of this was worth it.

“so fucking eager to be fucked, huh? such a slut for cock,” he growled, his hips slamming into yours with every word, each stroke harder, more punishing than the last, making your body rock beneath him as the pleasure and pain intertwined.

“told you i was gonna fuck this pretty pussy first,” he grunted, his hips snapping into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, unable to do anything but take it.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it? wanted me to ruin you.” his voice was dark, filled with satisfaction as his eyes bore into yours, the twisted pleasure on his face only fueling the fire inside you as he watched you fall apart beneath him, your moans spilling out uncontrollably, pushing him to fuck you even harder.

he leans down, lips brushing your ear as he growls, “say it—say you're mine. this pussy is mine. gonna let me fuck you whenever i want, huh?” his hand wraps around your throat, not too tight, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

his other hand grips your hips, pulling you harder onto his cock with each brutal thrust. “you’ll just take whatever i give you, won’t you?”

your body trembles beneath him, his cock slamming deep inside you, hitting spots that made you see stars. “yes," you gasp out between moans,

"fuck, hoon... you're fucking me so good—god, you’re so good,” you cry out, barely able to form the words, overwhelmed by the sensation. your hands claw at his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he wrecks you, his pace merciless.

“shit, listen to you, moaning like a—” he growls, cutting himself off with a hard thrust, his grip tightening around your throat, just enough to make you gasp.

“this is my fucking pussy, got it?” his words send a jolt of arousal through you, your walls clenching tighter around him as he drives into you with reckless abandon.

his cock drags against every inch of your walls, the friction intense, almost too much to bear. the pressure inside you builds fast, unbearably tight.

"fuck, you're close, aren’t you? i can feel you squeezing around me," he hisses, his voice dripping with lust. "swallowing my cock so good... told you i'd fuck you first."

his filthy words push you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with blinding intensity. your body seizes beneath him, walls clenching hard around his cock as you scream his name, your mind going blank as the pleasure consumes you.

“that’s it... that’s my girl,” sunghoon groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release, your tight, pulsing walls pushing him to the brink. “gonna fill you up with my cum, fuck—gonna make sure you’re full of it. no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

heeseung kneels beside you, his dark eyes locked on sunghoon for a brief second before they settle on you, hungry, possessive. his lips curl into that signature smirk as he leans in, his face just inches from yours.

before you can catch your breath, he crashes his lips against yours—rough, demanding—cutting off your moans as sunghoon continues to pound into you. his tongue slides against yours, greedy and insistent, before pulling back slightly, just enough to make you whimper at the loss.

"don’t listen to him," heeseung murmurs, his lips barely brushing yours, voice thick and low, like a promise of more. "we’re just getting started, baby. he’s just getting carried away." his words hit you like a shockwave, your body already trembling under sunghoon's relentless thrusts, but your eyes flicker up to meet heeseung’s, drawn to him like a magnet.

your lips part, jaw slack, as your tongue slips out in a silent plea. heeseung's gaze darkens, and he hisses, gripping your chin firmly. "mmh, look at you," he breathes, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing. "such a good girl."

sunghoon's pace is unforgiving, every thrust making your body jerk, your mind spiraling from the overload of sensations, but heeseung’s grip keeps your focus locked on him. he watches you like you’re the only thing that exists, and the control he holds over you makes his smirk deepen.

he leans in, gathering saliva in his mouth before letting it drip slowly down onto your tongue. the moan that escapes you is immediate, uncontrollable, as your body arches, savoring the taste. your eyes roll back, completely lost in the moment.

"fuck, you're filthy," heeseung growls, his thumb brushing over your wet lips. his other hand moves to your neck, fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin before shoving two fingers into your mouth, making you gag instantly. the obscene sound that comes from you makes both him and sunghoon lose it.

"yeah, keep making those sounds," heeseung seethes, his fingers pushing further down your throat, the guttural, erotic noises you make driving him wild. "you're gonna drive us insane." his fingers press deeper, and you choke, gasping, your body shaking under their control.

sunghoon’s rhythm grows erratic, each thrust harder, more desperate as he watches you gag on heeseung’s fingers. his breath hitches, his body trembling as he slams into you with everything he’s got. the intensity sends your back arching off the floor, every nerve lit up.

jay wastes no time, moving behind sunghoon. his hands grip your hips as he lines himself up, sunghoon now fucking you even deeper. jay’s rough hold keeps you steady, the pressure leaving you breathless as sunghoon drives into you with brutal precision.

sunghoon’s moans turn desperate, guttural, his body on the edge, trembling as he loses himself in the sensation. "shit- what the fuck, you're so good." he groans, his hips snapping against yours, everything about him focused on drawing out every bit of pleasure before he explodes.

and just when you think you’ve hit your limit, jay’s tongue flicks against your ass, teasing, prodding. the sensation rips through you like lightning, and you gag into heeseung’s mouth, unable to stop the filthy, wrecked sounds pouring out of you. heeseung’s fingers tighten on your chin, holding your mouth open, making you choke on the pleasure as he kisses you harder, rougher, more possessive.

"shit, you gonna let jay fuck your ass, baby?" heeseung hisses against your lips, his eyes blazing with lust as he watches you completely unravel beneath them. "gargling on my spit while they fuck every inch of you... you're perfect, aren't you?"

you were a trembling mess, body taken over like a doll for them to use, while jake stood nearby, stroking his cock, eyes glued to the scene in front of him. his hand pumped faster, the slick sound of his own arousal filling the room as he watched sunghoon, jay, and heeseung ruin you.

"y/n, you make me so hard," jake muttered, his voice strained, hand moving quicker. "can't wait to fuck that used-up pussy…"

the moment you gargled around heeseung’s fingers, jay slipped his fingers into your ass, spreading your cheeks wide to give himself better access.

the weed had already relaxed your body anyway, and his fingers moved with ease, stretching you out for what was coming. his groan was low, almost animalistic, feeling how tight you were.

he slapped your ass hard, his voice gruff. "been wanting to stretch this ass wide open. fuck, you can take both of us, right? yeah, you fucking will."

without warning, jay yanked his fingers out and lined himself up, thrusting inside you in one swift motion. your body jolted at the sudden fullness, gasping as your ass clenched around his thick cock. the stretch was intense, so overwhelming tears welled up in your eyes. you tried to shake your head, but heeseung’s grip held you in place, forcing you to take it.

heeseung's fingers slid out of your mouth just as you gasped, your throat raw from the obscene sounds you couldn’t stop making. "oh fuck… jay… shit!" you cried out, voice trembling, body barely able to handle the intensity.

jay moaned loud, hips rolling deeper into you, feeling you clench around him. "shit, it's like you wanna rip my dick off," he growled, hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "fuck, you guys gotta try her ass."

the room was filled with moans, the wet slap of skin on skin, heavy breathing surrounding you. sunghoon never stopped, still pounding into your pussy while jay was deep in your ass. you were stretched so full, every nerve lit up, your body struggling to keep up with the pleasure.

jay and sunghoon moaned together, their voices blending as they fucked you, their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin wall inside you. it was driving you crazy, overwhelming you, pressure building so fast it felt like you were going to burst. you gasped, breath shaky, tears spilling over as you choked out the words, "oh god, hee… please… fuck my mouth."

heeseung sneered, gripping your jaw roughly, forcing your mouth open wider. your tongue hung out, drooling, and the sight of you—wrecked, desperate—made them all groan.

"greedy little slut," heeseung hissed, slapping his cock against your tongue, smearing your spit all over. "you’d let us stuff every fucking hole, wouldn’t you?"

you couldn’t respond, only whimpering, mind fogged with pleasure as tears of frustration ran down your face. jay’s hips snapped harder into your ass, his cock stretching you so much your eyes rolled back. "fuck her mouth, give it to her," jay groaned, his grip bruising as he fucked you like he owned you.

sunghoon wasn’t gentle either, his thrusts deep, punishing. "you love this, don’t you?" he growled, voice thick with lust as he drove into you. "being stuffed like the filthy whore you are? fuck, you’re made for this."

you whined around heeseung’s cock, mouth stretched wide as he shoved himself down your throat without a shred of mercy. he laughed darkly, watching you struggle, gagging on him. "slut," he spat, "just a toy for us to fuck. that’s all you are."

sunghoon’s thrusts became erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he groaned through clenched teeth. with a final, brutal slam, he moaned loudly, pumping his load deep inside you. the hot cum spilled from your pussy, dripping down to slick jay’s cock as he continued fucking your ass.

sunghoon collapsed to the side, his body spent, but jay never stopped, thrusting relentlessly into your dripping cunt. he yanked you by your weak arms and pulled you to his chest, his cock still driving into you without pause, your tits bouncing in his face as he groaned in your ear, the mess between your legs only adding to the filthy sensation. your body was a mess of pleasure, full and dripping, as jay made sure to keep you stuffed, switching between holes with no hesitation.

jay pulled you into a sloppy, messy kiss, lips crashing against yours, tongue forcing its way in as both of you moaned into each other. the room was filled with the obscene, wet sounds of bodies moving together, relentless, as jay continued fucking you without pause.

"fuck, you're so full of his cum," jay groaned, his hands digging into your hips, pushing you down harder on his cock, the stretch making you cry out.

he spread your ass wider, lips brushing your ear as he hissed, “come on, hee... fuck her ass. she's already stretched, she can take it.”

heeseung wasted no time, moving behind you as sunghoon laid on the floor, spent and panting. his hands gripped your hips hard, cock teasing your ass, still slick from jay. without hesitation, he pushed the tip inside, groaning at the tightness as he worked deeper. “mmh, you're still tight after jay stretched you out,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “you're gonna take every inch of me, aren't you?”

heeseung started fucking your ass with hard, deliberate thrusts, and jake stepped in front of you, his fingers roughly tangling in your hair. he yanked your head back, breaking your kiss with jay, forcing you to look at him, annoyance clear in his eyes. “don't ignore me,” jake snapped, tone low and teasing. “use that mouth, or do i need to fuck your throat to get your attention?”

he tugged harder, guiding your mouth to his cock. “suck,” he ordered, his other hand stroking himself slowly, teasing the tip against your lips. “you're gonna suck me off while they fuck you full.”

your body trembled, struggling to keep up. heeseung pounded your ass, jay still buried deep in your pussy, leaving you breathless. you parted your lips, taking jake’s cock into your mouth as he gripped your hair tighter, pushing deeper. “that’s it,” jake groaned, his hips starting to move. “fuck, my cock tastes good, doesn’t it? been dreaming of fucking your mouth—shit.”

they didn’t let you catch a breath. every gasp, every muffled cry was swallowed by the pace they set, fucking you from every angle. jake’s cock stretched your throat, obscene sounds escaping as heeseung brutalized your ass, and jay fucked your pussy with every snap of his hips, their hands gripping you like they owned you.

jake’s head fell back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. “fuck, your throat’s just as good as your pussy,” he groaned, voice rough.

jake chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrust deeper into your mouth. “look at you,” he rasped, watching the tears stream down your face as you gagged. “you look like you’re gonna pass out baby, but no chance. i'm not done with you.” he snapped his hips, making you choke, not caring as your throat tightened around him.

heeseung was relentless, fucking your ass with a brutal pace, hands digging into your hips, bruising them. “we're gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled, breath ragged. “no one else is ever gonna fuck you like this.”

your body convulsed, another orgasm tearing through you, muscles trembling as you shrieked around jake’s cock. tears streamed down your face, eyes rolling back as the euphoria hit. it felt like your body might break, the pleasure so intense that for a brief moment, you didn’t care if it did.

jay’s hands tightened on your breasts, squeezing hard as his thrusts grew erratic, desperate. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screamed, slamming into you one last time, spilling himself deep inside.

his hot release filled you, and his grip on your chest never eased as the aftershocks hit. “fucking take it,” jay growled, slapping your tit hard enough to make you gasp.

as he finally pulled out, panting heavily, thick cum dripped from your pussy, pooling beneath you. your body, completely used, trembled from the lingering sensations, and your mind flickered to jungwon’s concoction, hoping it could handle how filled you were. but you knew there’d be no rest—no, they wouldn’t allow it yet.

as jay shuffled away, completely spent, jake pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, your jaw sore, but it wasn’t over. not even close. heeseung pulled you up against his chest, his cock still deep in your ass, your back arching as he adjusted his grip.

his arms wrapped around your trembling, sweat-slick body, holding you tightly against him, your back pressed to his chest. the shift made your tits bounce, your entire body shaking with every breath as heeseung’s lips found your neck, sucking hard, intent on leaving his mark. deep, dark hickeys bloomed on your skin—reminders of his claim.

each time heeseung thrust into you, it felt like he went even deeper, hitting that spot inside that had your vision blurring, moans spilling from your lips uncontrollably. you knew you wouldn’t have a voice left after this. his teeth scraped along your neck, leaving sharp stings followed by the heat of his mouth as he groaned against you.

"baby, you’re wrecking my cock," he growled, voice rough with lust, hips driving into you with brutal precision. "like that? bouncing like a fucking toy, taking all of it."

your body jerked with every thrust, tits bouncing, sweat and cum covering your skin as his grip tightened around you, locking you in place, making sure you felt every inch of him inside, the way he destroyed your ass with every stroke.

heeseung groaned, the sound heavy with need, slamming into you harder. "i’m not stopping until you’re completely fucking ruined."

your knees ached from the hard surface beneath you, your body struggling to stay upright with the relentless pounding. you were overstimulated, mind hazy with exhaustion and pleasure, but jake wasn’t done.

dropping to his knees in front of you, his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking hard enough to make your nipples throb. you cried out, hands gripping his hair, your body shaking, but jake didn’t stop. his mouth trailed down your cum-soaked skin, licking every drop until he reached your pussy.

“fuck, jake, you’re insane,” you moaned, voice breaking as his tongue pressed against your swollen folds. he devoured the mix of cum left behind by sunghoon and jay, his mouth slurping loudly as he cleaned you out. the filth of it sent another wave of pleasure ripping through you, making you shudder.

he was gone—completely lost in eating you out, his moans vibrating against your clit as he licked and sucked with reckless abandon. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his own cock throbbing against the floor, neglected but hard. he hadn’t even fucked you yet, but he was already a mess, moaning and trembling as he tasted you.

"your pussy tastes so good, look at all that..." jake groaned, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping back inside, trying to get every last drop. his desperation was clear, his moans louder, pre-cum was dripping from his cock, smearing against the floor as he rutted slightly, completely lost in you.

he didn’t even register what he was doing when he slid his tongue lower, chasing every inch of you, savoring how soaked you were. your scent, the taste of your cum, the slick warmth—he was drunk on it.

and when his tongue accidentally brushed against heeseung’s balls as he pounded into your ass, jake didn’t hesitate. he licked them, making heeseung hiss and shudder.

"fuck, jake," heeseung’s voice was low, half a growl, surprised but not stopping, his thrusts not slowing for a second. normally, shit like this would piss him off, make him snap, but not now. it actually felt fucking amazing.

"sorry, shit," jake mumbled, barely pulling away from your pussy, his breath hot against your skin. but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, too caught up in everything—your taste, heeseung’s reaction, the way you were trembling beneath him. everything.

"don’t… fuckin’ stop," heeseung groaned, voice rough, almost a growl, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, his grip tightening around your waist as jake's mouth teased both of you again.

he wasn’t just fucking you now—he was commanding the moment, taking control. his fingers dug into your skin, keeping you pressed against his chest, as he forced jake closer.

and so he did—jake didn’t need to be told twice, but this time, he wasn’t holding back. his tongue worked faster, more deliberate, not just for you but for both of you.

as heeseung kept pounding into you, his movements relentless, he shifted his grip—one arm locking you tight to him, the other burying itself in jake’s hair, gripping it hard.

heeseung tugged with a roughness that made jake moan, the sound desperate, his body shaking as he continued, his sobs of pleasure muffled against your soaked pussy.

heeseung yanked jake's head roughly, pushing him deeper, controlling his pace, and the sharp tug sent jolts of pleasure through jake’s body as he obediently worked his tongue faster, a shudder running through him with every sound you made.

this obviously took jay and sunghoon aback, lounging with jungwon as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. even though they were completely spent, bodies still glistening with sweat, neither of them could tear their eyes away.

they didn’t even find it disgusting—no, it was the opposite. it was captivating in a way they couldn’t explain, something raw and primal that kept them glued to the sight of jake sobbing in pleasure as heeseung fucked you relentlessly.

sunghoon leaned back, his chest rising and falling steadily as he watched, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "fuckin’ hell, didn’t expect that from him," he muttered, voice still hoarse from earlier. jay, on the other hand, stayed quiet, his eyes locked on the way jake's body shook, almost in awe of how intense everything had gotten.

"need to fuck you now please, can i?" jake growled, pulling away from your pussy only to crash his lips against yours, the taste of cum still lingering on his tongue.

you were completely sandwiched between them now—heeseung fucking you from behind, his cock buried deep in your ass, and jake pushing his way into your pussy. the overwhelming sensation had your walls clenching around jake, both of you letting out a moan that filled the room.

you couldn’t think, your mind clouded with nothing but pleasure. jake kissed you again, forcing the taste of cum into your mouth as he rocked his hips into you. "tastes good, baby?" he mumbled, voice rough against your lips.

"that came from your pussy… fuck, you’re such a cum dumpster. gonna take my cum now? let me fill you up too?" his words slurred, babbling as he thrust into you, his hips moving desperately. "shit… you feel.. so fucking good."

jake's forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and heavy as your moans mixed, mouths barely breaking apart. your eyes fluttered open, desperate to see his face, to see the wrecked look you knew would be there. but as you glanced to the side, your breath hitched in your throat at what you saw.

jungwon stood across the room, casually leaning against his workstation, his hard-on straining painfully against his pants. his face was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, simmering just below the surface.

his eyes were locked on you, watching every movement, every moan, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. you could already imagine the possessive thoughts racing through his head, the silent promise that when it was his turn, there’d be no sharing.

but it wasn’t just his stare that had you frozen—it was the objects in his hands. a vial of green liquid in one, and a soft pink silk restraint in the other. the realization hit you hard, your stomach tightening as your gaze flicked to the vial. jungwon noticed the recognition in your eyes, and his lips curled into a faint, eerie smile, almost psychotic, before disappearing just as quickly. it sent a shiver down your spine.

the vial glinted ominously in his hand, that twisted smile still playing on his lips as he stood there, patient and watching.

before you could fully process the threat that hung in the air, jake grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your eyes back to him. "i’m the one fucking you right now," he growled, his voice sharp, possessive.

"look at me." his lips crashed against yours, biting down hard on your bottom lip, as if punishing you for daring to focus on anyone else. his hips snapped harder into you, the brutal force of it making your body jolt, your pussy clenching around him involuntarily.

"focus on me," jake muttered against your lips, his words slurring as he drove into your overly sensitive pussy. "i’m tired of you looking at everyone else... you wanted me first, didn’t you? this tight little cunt is mine right now. you feel that? feel how fucking deep i am?" his hand slid down to your waist, pulling you harder onto his cock, making you gasp. "don’t even think about him, you hear me?"

his voice was rough, a snarl on the edge of breaking as he babbled, his need for control overwhelming. every thrust was possessive, reminding you that in this moment, jake owned you, and he wanted every inch of you to know it.

"do you want it? want my fucking cum?" he groaned, his pace growing desperate, each snap of his hips more erratic than the last.

"holy shit, she's squeezing me," heeseung panted behind you, his voice tight with strain as your ass clenched around him. he was close, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

there was an unspoken agreement between them all—no one would leave your pussy empty when they came. with a growl of determination, heeseung suddenly pulled out, leaving you trembling, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

what he did next knocked the breath out of you.

"oh no—fuck, heeseung, you’re not serious," you gasped, your voice hoarse from overstimulation and exhaustion. tears welled in your eyes as he lined himself up next to jake’s cock.

and before you could brace yourself, he pushed inside alongside jake, both of them filling you at once. your walls stretched impossibly tight around their cocks, the heat of their bodies overwhelming, their movements rough and synchronized.

"she feels even better like this," jake groaned, his head falling back as the two of them moved together, their cocks rubbing against each other inside you. the stretch was unbearable, the sensation of being split open making your body writhe in overwhelming pleasure and pain, your voice cracking as you gasped for air.

"fuck, you're ripping me," you cried, your body convulsing, caught between pleasure and agony as they took you to your limit. each thrust was deeper, rougher, their hands gripping your body like they owned you completely.

"you can take it," heeseung growled, his fingers digging into your hips, pushing himself deeper. "fuck, yeah." his voice dripped with satisfaction, his eyes rolling back as your pussy clenched around both of them, your body greedily taking every inch. beside him, jake’s thrusts became more frantic, hips jerking as he fucked you with reckless abandon, lost in the overwhelming heat and tightness.

the room was filled with the wet slap of skin, their heavy breathing, and your broken cries as they used you, driving your body to the edge over and over again. they weren’t going to stop until you were completely, utterly ruined.

"mmh, fuck-" jake shudders as he gasped, "i can't—fuck, i think i'm gonna—" jake's words faltered, his body trembling violently as he teetered on the edge, completely overwhelmed. his movements became sloppy, his mind clouded by nothing but lust, barely able to keep pace.

heeseung noticed immediately. his hand shot out, wrapping tightly around jake's throat, choking him hard. "don't fucking stop now, keep fucking her," heeseung commanded, his voice dripping with authority as jake gasped, eyes wide as the pressure cut off his air. instead of pulling away, jake’s body reacted, cock twitching inside you, the choke sending him deeper into a haze of raw, lust-fueled pleasure.

you moaned, voice ragged, as you watched jake gasp for air, heeseung’s grip firm around his throat. the sight alone fueled the fire inside you, every part of you spiraling into filthy ecstasy.

"shit, jake, you like that? heeseung choking you? you slut." you teased, barely able to get the words out between your own desperate moans.

before you could say more, jake’s hand flew up, slapping you sharply across the face—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a stinging heat across your skin. your head snapped to the side, the sharp pain blending with the overwhelming pleasure, your walls clenching around them as you cried out, feeling the wetness dripping down your thighs.

his fingers gripped your chin roughly, pulling your face back to his, eyes blazing with an almost feral intensity. "open," jake growled, voice dark and commanding. without hesitation, you opened your mouth, tongue out, trembling as your body rocked between their brutal thrusts, completely at their mercy.

he leaned in closer, breath hot against your lips as his gaze bored into yours. "who’s the slut?"

"wanna say that again?" jake sneered, his grip on your chin tightening, his face inches from yours, daring you to challenge him. the heat of his breath mixed with the raw intensity in his eyes, made your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath.

but you couldn’t resist. a smirk tugged at your lips, defiant even as you quivered between them. "yeah, you're still a slut," you spat out, voice breathless but full of challenge.

jake’s eyes darkened, the tension thick as he held your gaze for a moment, a dangerous smirk spreading across his face. without a word, he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to him.

"you’re gonna fucking regret that," he hissed, his free hand sliding down your body, nails digging into your skin as heeseung’s relentless thrusts had you seeing stars.

jake’s grip on your hair was ruthless, pulling your head back to the point where your neck ached, but the pain only heightened the intensity coursing through you.

his words dripped with menace, sending a shiver of excitement straight through your core. you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, the sharp pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure as your body responded to both of them in ways you couldn’t control.

"regret it?" you managed to rasp out, voice shaky, taunting. "i fucking doubt it."

heeseung chuckled darkly behind you, his chest pressed against your back as his thrusts grew harder, slamming into you with a brutal force that made it impossible to stay quiet.

"she’s got a mouth on her," heeseung growled, his voice low and rough in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape from the relentless pleasure he was giving you.

jake’s hand slipped from your chin to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch. his other hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

the combination of his choking grip and the overwhelming sensation between your legs made your mind go blank for a moment, all coherent thought replaced by the raw heat of ecstasy.

"we’ll see how long that attitude lasts," jake growled, fingers pressing harder on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure that had you twitching, your body betraying you.

you tried to hold back the moans, to keep some semblance of control, but it was useless. between the two of them, you were at their mercy, every nerve ending on fire, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heeseung’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, voice dark and teasing. "let’s see who’s the slut now."

jake's hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your air just enough to make your pulse race even harder. his eyes were wild, almost crazed as he watched you struggle to hold back the moans that threatened to spill from your lips.

"go ahead," he taunted, his fingers still working your clit mercilessly. "i want to hear you beg for it."

your breath came out in shaky, broken gasps as you fought for control, but the pleasure was too much.

heeseung’s brutal thrusts from behind were relentless, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust, driving you closer and closer to the edge. you could feel the heat building in your stomach, spreading through your entire body like wildfire, your legs trembling beneath their assault.

"fuck, she’s close," heeseung grunted, his voice rough, his grip on your hips so tight it was sure to leave bruises. "you feel that, jake? she’s struggling." god, the way they were talking to each other made you moan, it's like

"yeah, se's close," jake growled, loosening his grip on your throat just enough to let you gasp for air before squeezing again, making your head spin. "but i want to hear her say it."

jake’s grip tightened just enough to make your breath falter, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to disobey. "say it," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "say you’re a fucking slut."

your body trembled, so close to the edge that every part of you ached, desperate for release. but you bit down on your lip, holding back the words, refusing to give him what he wanted, like the brat you are.

heeseung’s chuckle against your ear was dark, mocking. "stubborn, huh?" his thrusts grew sharper, harder, sending jolts of pleasure through you that made your legs weak. "you’re gonna break sooner or later, baby. might as well just say it."

jake’s fingers worked relentlessly on your clit, teasing you, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure and pain. "we’re not letting you come until you say it," he taunted, his voice thick with lust. "tell us what you are."

tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming sensation of their touch and the relentless pace of heeseung’s thrusts making it harder, you could feel yourself about to explode, every nerve on fire, the knot in your stomach was almost painful.

"come on," jake pressed, his grip on your throat loosening enough to let you catch your breath before squeezing again. "say you’re our slut. say it."

the tears finally spilled over, your body trembling violently between them, unable to hold back anymore. your voice came out broken, shaky, and desperate. "i’m… i’m your slut," you choked out, barely able to get the words past the sobs wracking your body.

"louder," heeseung demanded, his thrusts slamming into you with brutal force, making you cry out. "fucking mean it."

"i’m your slut!" you cried, voice hoarse, tears streaming down your face as you gave in completely, the shame and desire mixing into one overwhelming sensation. "please, i’m your fucking slut—just let me come, please!"

with one harsh grip to your chin, jake forced your jaw open, eyes dark with lust as he spat into your mouth, just like heeseung had done earlier. the warm sensation hit your tongue, and instead of recoiling, a wicked grin tugged at the corners of your lips.

you swallowed it down without hesitation, staring up at him, that filthy smile only growing wider, more dangerous. it drove jake wild, his lip caught between his teeth as he fought back a groan.

it drove jake fucking insane. his lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle a groan, but it escaped anyway, raw and guttural. "fuck, hee, did you see that?" he growled, his eyes burning with something darker as he looked over at heeseung. "she fucking loves it. look at that smile—one dick ain’t enough for her."

jake’s fingers tightened around your chin, his dark gaze never leaving yours. "she’s fucking gone," he hissed, voice desperate as his cock plunged in and out of you, the wet sounds of their bodies pounding into you echoing around the room. "she can’t even think anymore."

"gonna fuck your brain into mush," heeseung groaned, without hesitation, his teeth sank into your skin, biting hard, sending sharp waves of pleasure-pain through you. the mixture of sensations—his bite, jake’s relentless thrusting, the overwhelming pressure—had you completely at their mercy, body trembling uncontrollably.

jake was no gentler, his hands rough as they grabbed your tits, squeezing before biting down harshly on one, sucking with a feral need. "shit, shit—you’re sucking me dry," he moaned, words slurred as his movements grew more erratic, nearing his breaking point.

their cocks drove into you in a perfect, punishing rhythm, every thrust slamming deep, pushing you beyond your limits you could feel your walls breaking.

your body shook with overstimulation, every nerve ending on fire as they chased their own release, using you for their pleasure. heeseung’s grip on your hair tightened, his breath hot against your neck, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic.

"spoiled brat," jake growled, his voice thick with lust as he slammed into you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "you gonna cum again, huh? you wanna fucking cum? do you even deserve it?"

"jake- yes! please—i’m gonna—oh god, fuck!" you cried out, voice a broken, desperate moan, your body trembled violently, overwhelmed, your mind drowning in the pleasure completely. your climax building impossibly high, threatening to tear you apart.

"oh fuck, baby, you're gonna make me—" heeseung groaned, his voice shaky as he lost control, hips slamming into you with brutal intensity.

jake came first, his body jerking violently against you as his thrusts grew erratic, his release flooding your already overstimulated pussy. his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back, groaning loud as pleasure overtook him.

"fuck—i’m cumming, shit, y/n," he panted, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you, the heat of his cum filling you completely.

as jake lost himself, heeseung was right behind. a harsh, guttural sound tore from his throat, raw and animalistic, sending shockwaves through you. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, your body jerked violently between them.

heeseung’s hand clamped over your mouth just as the loudest, most desperate scream escaped your lips, making your body thrash beneath them. but he held you down, his other hand gripping tightly as both he and jake filled you, their cum mixing and spilling out, hot and thick. the sensation of being so completely used, so utterly claimed, sent your mind spiraling into a haze.

even when they stopped thrusting, both of them still buried deep inside you, your body kept trembling. your eyes remained shut, your chest heaving as small, broken whimpers slipped from your swollen lips. you were wrecked, every nerve buzzing with overstimulation, your mind lost in the pleasure and exhaustion of being used.

jake and heeseung stayed still, panting heavily, their bodies pressed against yours as they soaked in the aftermath. you lay limp between them, your pussy pulsing around their softening cocks, completely spent.

"shit, heeseung, look at her," jake muttered, his voice hoarse, hand trailing down your trembling body. "so pretty." the room was heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, your body quivering as you slowly came down from the high, too exhausted to even open your eyes.

they both carefully pulled out of you, slow and deliberate, but the second they did, thick streaks of cum spilled from your overstretched pussy, dripping down your thighs in a messy display of just how ruined you were. your body collapsed back into heeseung’s lap, legs trembling, trying to catch your breath.

barely conscious, your eyelids fluttered, blinking through the fog of exhaustion. jake, equally drained, toppled over you, pressing his weight down, letting out a satisfied groan. heeseung chuckled, the sound raspy and low, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you both close.

“you two are gonna kill me,” heeseung murmured with amusement, burying his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and cum. jake snuggled against you, his face nuzzling into your chest, his breathing slowing, completely spent and content.

"fuck, that was insane," jake muttered sleepily, his voice barely a whisper, still pressed against you. heeseung hummed in agreement, his grip tightening around you both.

the three of you lay there, bodies tangled, sticky and sweaty, but none of it mattered.

or maybe it did matter—for jungwon, who had been watching from the sidelines, his brain already plotting, imagining how he would reduce you to a moaning mess next. they already gave quite the show, and his eyes had been glued to you the entire time, impressed at how you’d managed to take almost all of them. but jungwon had more in store for you, much more.

jay, sensing the moment was winding down, had slipped away during the chaos, only to return with pillows and a blanket. his usually cocky demeanor was softened by the care he took in handling them.

"got you these," jay murmured as he carefully slid the pillows under your head, draping the blanket over your exhausted, sweaty body, covering both you and the guys who clearly had no intention of pulling away yet.

his movements were unexpectedly gentle, the usual edge in his demeanor replaced with something softer, more tender. you managed a quiet, breathless "thank you," eyes fluttering shut as a content sigh escaped your lips. he ruffled your hair lightly, the gesture almost foreign coming from him. you looked up at him, half-surprised, and for a moment, you could swear there was a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he grew sheepish under your gaze.

before you could process it further, sunghoon, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, knelt beside you. his movements were slow and careful as he wiped you down with a warm cloth, the sensation soothing on your overworked skin. his touch was so light, deliberate, as if he was afraid to overwhelm you after everything you’d been through. "you did amazing," he whispered, his voice calm and reassuring, his fingers brushing delicately over your skin.

but he couldn’t help the subtle roll of his eyes when he glanced over at jake, who had practically buried himself deeper into your chest, looking completely content. "always the clingy one," sunghoon muttered, though there was a soft smirk tugging at his lips as he continued to clean you up, the contrast between jake’s possessive hold and his own quiet attentiveness making the moment feel almost too surreal.

jake, still nestled against you, let out a soft laugh, his arm draped lazily over your waist. "how’re you feeling?" he asked, voice playful, but his eyes betrayed genuine concern as he looked up at you, his face soft and a bit unsure.

"fucked—literally," you mumbled with a small, tired smile. "but in a good way."

heeseung chuckled behind you, his chest pressing against your back as he held you close, his breath steady. “yeah, we didn’t go easy on you, did we?” he teased, placing a soft kiss on the back of your neck. "but you took it like a pro."

sunghoon, still gently wiping you down, smirked at your response. “we’ll go easier next time,” he promised, though the gleam in his eyes made you highly doubt that.

jake, his cheek pressed against your chest, suddenly tensed, his smile faltering. "hey… uh, about what i said earlier," he began, his voice softening, the playful edge gone as he looked up at you.

"i didn’t mean it like… like you’re actually a slut. i just—" he stammered, the flush in his cheeks deepening as he scrambled to explain himself. "you know what i mean, right? like, you’re not literally—"

you couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he was getting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a rare moment of awkwardness. "i know, jake," you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair, trying to ease the tension.

"yeah, but you are… i mean, you were… in that moment," jake continued, still stumbling over his words, his face reddening more as he tried to justify himself.

your brow quirked up, amusement dancing in your eyes. "really, jake? now you’re shy? when you’ve been trying to fuck me this whole time?" you teased, running a hand lazily through his hair. "where’s all that cocky energy gone?"

jake groaned, burying his face deeper into your chest, clearly embarrassed. "shut the fuck up," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin, his fingers gripping your waist a little tighter.

"it just feels different, alright?" his words came out in a rush, like he was annoyed with himself for even having this conversation.

he shifted again, still holding you close, and you could feel the tension melt away as he relaxed into your embrace. "fuck," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter now.

"i dunno why, but it just�� i just really fucking like this." he sounded so out of character, the way he was practically clinging to you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

you smirked, amused by his sudden vulnerability. "so, you’re saying you’re soft now?" you teased, brushing your fingers against his jaw, making him groan again, clearly frustrated.

"shut up," jake repeated, this time more flustered, his face buried against you. "it’s not like that. i just—shit, i don’t know." he sighed, his voice dropping lower, almost vulnerable. "just… don’t fucking move, okay?"

heeseung, hearing all of this, chuckled softly against your ear, his grip still firm around you. "guess the tough guy act’s wearing off," he teased, making jake groan louder, his face buried against your chest, clearly embarrassed but unwilling to let go. you could feel jake’s heart pounding against you, his arms tightening as if he needed the comfort of your warmth.

jungwon, still standing by the counter, had been watching the entire interaction with quiet intensity. there was something heartwarming in his gaze, but it was masked by a slight irritation that he couldn’t shake—he’d been pent up, just like the others, but every single one of them had managed to get their turn with you while he was left waiting. he let out a low hum, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second before he pushed off the counter and approached with slow, deliberate steps.

“don’t worry,” jungwon said, his tone calm but laced with a sharp edge. "i’m not evil enough to fuck you after all that." despite the reassuring words, there was an unmistakable intent in his voice, something that made your pulse quicken even in your exhausted state.

"but first..." his gaze flickered down to the vial he’d been holding this whole time, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "there’s something we need to take care of."

"open," he instructed, his voice commanding, impossible to ignore. despite your body’s exhaustion, your lips parted as he stepped closer, the small green vial gleaming in his hand. before you could protest or question what it was, he tipped the vial to your lips, forcing the bitter liquid into your mouth.

the moment it hit your throat, you gagged, instinctively trying to reject the sharp, acrid taste. but jungwon’s hand was firm, cupping the back of your head as he tilted the vial further, making sure you swallowed every drop.

"you’re not wasting a single bit, unless you wanna have problems guessing who the father is," jungwon murmured, his voice smooth but unyielding as you coughed, struggling to swallow the rest. the bitterness clung to your tongue, your eyes watering from the taste, but jungwon didn’t release you until he was sure you’d swallowed every last drop.

as you gasped for air, wiping at your mouth, jungwon’s gaze stayed locked on yours. "good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip to catch a stray drop of the liquid. "you’ll thank me later."

the frustration on his face made you feel guilty, and you frowned, seeing how tense he still was.

"shit, won... sorry i couldn’t—" you started, your voice weak and shaky, but jungwon shushed you softly, his expression softening.

his fingers gently swept your messy hair away from your face, brushing it back with unexpected care. "it’s okay," he murmured, voice calm as his fingers tucked a strand behind your ear. "take a break. you’ve done enough."

then, just as you began to relax, jungwon leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. his tongue slid sensually along your earlobe, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his voice, low and dangerous, whispered only for you to hear, "because you’re gonna fucking need it."

the shudder that ran through your body was involuntary, your mind racing at the implications. "i’ll take care of the rest," jungwon added, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a rare show of gentleness. the commanding edge in his voice had faded, replaced by a calm so unnerving it almost felt like a warning.

he wasn’t done with you yet, not even close.

“y’all still smoking?” you asked, your voice hoarse, eyes drifting toward jay and sunghoon. only now did you notice just how high they were, both of them lounging in their own hazy world. it made sense why they’d been so gentle while taking care of you—they were absolutely fried.

their movements were slow and lazy, the drugs in their systems clearly still working through them. but as your gaze shifted to jungwon, it became clear he was just as high, though he tried harder to hide it.

his posture was tense, grip still tight around the pink silk restraint in his hand—he hadn’t let it go once. the sharpness in his eyes was slightly dulled by the haze, like he was trying to stay in control despite the obvious hit he’d taken.

heeseung sighed, gently trying to move jake off you, but the weight of both you and jake had him pinned. he could feel a low jealousy bubbling up, watching jake nestled so peacefully against your chest, completely oblivious to everything else. heeseung muttered, “come on, man,” his legs starting to go numb.

“sorry,” you mumbled, shifting slightly, and immediately, the soreness between your legs made you wince. your pussy throbbed from the earlier overstimulation, and the sticky remnants of their cum clung to your skin, making the discomfort impossible to ignore.

jay, noticing your wince, shot you a lazy grin. “didn’t want to clean you up just yet, considering jungwon still has plans…” his voice was casual, but the implication hung in the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungwon stood nearby, taking a long drag from the vaporizer. despite how new he was to it earlier, he seemed way too comfortable now. his brows furrowed slightly, deep in thought, though his eyes flickered toward you with a sharp, unreadable look.

“it’s fine,” jungwon finally said, voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “i can wait… as long as she can handle what’s coming next.” his lips curled into a tight smile, a contrast to the calmness in his voice, and the anticipation in his words made your heart race.

sunghoon, moving slowly like he was floating, took the vaporizer from jungwon and inhaled deeply. without a word, he walked over to you, his hands gentle as he helped you sit up despite the soreness.

before you could react, he leaned in close, pressing his lips to yours, shotgunning the vapor into your mouth. the warm, calming sensation filled your lungs, and your body immediately began to relax, melting into the moment.

“there we go,” sunghoon murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. your head tilted back as the tension drained from your muscles. “thought it would help.”

you managed to raise an eyebrow, despite the glossy haze in your eyes and the lazy smile spreading across your lips. "what’s gotten into you guys?" you asked, voice soft and teasing, "i swear, i’m not used to this."

"you just gave us the best fucks of our lives," sunghoon replied, his voice low and teasing as he leaned back slightly, watching the lazy smile play on your lips. his eyes held that same mischievous glint, but now, they were filled with something more, something raw and satisfied.

he trailed his fingers gently over your thigh, his touch soft but deliberate. "you didn’t think we’d just let you crash after that without making sure you’re taken care of, did you?"

the vapor worked quickly, easing the aches and discomfort from your body. you felt your mind fog over slightly, the haze blending with the lingering exhaustion.

“water?” heeseung’s voice broke through the haze as he knelt beside you, holding a bottle out. his gaze softened as he unscrewed the cap. “slow sips,” he urged, bringing the bottle to your lips.

you nodded weakly, the cool water sliding down your throat, refreshing and soothing.

“better?” heeseung asked gently, his hand resting on your back, his touch careful.

“i’m really loving this attention, not gonna lie,” you teased, a tired smile pulling at your lips despite the exhaustion weighing on your body.

heeseung chuckled softly, handing you the bottle. “you earned it.”

jay, lounging nearby, gave you a playful wink, while jake, who was sprawled out next to him, laid face down on the one and only sofa in the station, his hands dangling over the edge, completely zonked out.

sunghoon, still close by, smiled at you, leaning in slightly. “you love being spoiled, huh?”

you laughed softly, feeling the tension in your muscles start to ease. “who wouldn’t?” you replied, the warmth of their attention slowly pulling you back from the brink of exhaustion.

then jungwon’s voice cut through the light atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention. “i…” he began, like he wanted to say something but held back, taking another slow drag before exhaling.

“nevermind, rest for now,” he continued, eyes locking onto yours. “the concoction i gave you will work, so don’t worry about getting pregnant. you were smart for thinking ahead about that.”

he paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, lips curling into a small smile that hinted at something more. “but you’ve got an appointment with me tomorrow.”

the casual tone of his words did little to mask the seriousness behind them. the others exchanged glances, the atmosphere shifting as curiosity and anticipation filled the room.

“i’ll make sure everything’s taken care of,” jungwon added, taking another drag, eyes never leaving yours. “so just rest… for now.”

“you’re smoking a lot,” you murmured, eyeing the vaporizer in his hand as he took another slow drag. despite his calm demeanor, the bulge straining in his pants told a different story.

jungwon leaned back, exhaling slowly, his eyes flickering over you with a casual intensity. “i have to,” he replied simply, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his calm exterior. his arousal was impossible to ignore, his hard-on evident.

you could feel the tension building again, though it was clear jungwon was holding back—for now.

if only you knew what he had in store for you next.

the peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden crackle of the intercom, piercing through the haze and making everyone jolt in place. the lazy, satisfied calm that had blanketed the room instantly vanished, replaced by the cold slap of reality.

"attention crew, this is HQ,” a stern voice announced, cutting through the tension. “we’ve detected irregularities in the ship’s systems. a team inspection is required immediately.”

you blinked, still dazed, trying to process the situation, your sore body sinking deeper into the blankets. sunghoon, high as fuck, let out an exasperated groan, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat up, his previously calm, gentle demeanor turning sour.

“fuck, can’t believe i have to steer while i’m this baked. they’re gonna get us all killed.” his eyes were still half-lidded, the effects of the vaporizer clearly not having worn off.

jay, equally stoned, gave a lazy grin, though it faltered as the weight of the announcement settled in. “of course this shit happens right now,” he muttered, leaning back and stretching, trying to look more alert than he actually was.

heeseung sighed, shifting carefully to disentangle himself from you and jake, his legs long gone numb from holding both of you. “yeah, well, it was good while it lasted,” he grumbled under his breath, rolling his shoulders as he got up.

"fuck reality," jake muttered, still half-asleep, his face nestled in your chest, clearly unwilling to move. “i was finally getting comfortable.”

“right?” sunghoon groaned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet with exaggerated slowness. “i swear, if i have to fly this ship while feeling like this, we’re definitely crashing into the moon. and then what? i die high as shit.”

jay snorted, rubbing his eyes. “well, at least you'd go out happy. i have to figure out diagnostics, and i’m still seeing stars.” he dragged a hand through his hair, clearly unenthused about the sudden shift from relaxation to responsibility.

jungwon, still leaning against the wall with the vaporizer in hand, took a slow, deliberate drag, his grip tightening slightly on the pink silk restraint he hadn’t let go of. despite the haze still lingering in his gaze, his sharp intensity remained. “can’t we just pretend we didn’t hear them? five more minutes?” he suggested dryly, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

heeseung rolled his eyes, already slipping back into commander mode despite the lingering effects of the smoke. “nope. get your shit together. sunghoon, you’re at the helm. jay, diagnostics. jake—wake up and run an external scan. jungwon—" he paused, catching jungwon’s focused gaze and the subtle smirk on his face. “you know what to do.”

jungwon exhaled slowly, blowing smoke from his lips as he pushed off the wall. “yeah, yeah. i’ll check the power core,” he said smoothly, though the hint of frustration was clear. his eyes flicked to you, the heat still simmering beneath his calm exterior. he pocketed the restraint, a silent promise that this wasn’t over. “you’ll rest, i’ll make sure everything’s handled.”

jay let out another exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “of course. i was this close to being fully horizontal again.” he gestured dramatically, the high still evident in his sluggish movements. “and now i gotta go pretend i know how to fix shit.”

sunghoon nodded toward him, snickering. “at least you’re a scientist. i just push buttons and hope for the best.” he stretched out his arms lazily.

you laughed softly, wincing at the soreness but feeling comforted by the banter. “well, if you guys need me... you can call,” you offered, your voice still raspy but sincere. even though your body felt like it had been through the wringer, you didn’t want to leave them to deal with everything alone. “i mean, not that i’ll be much help right now, but...”

heeseung, now fully in command mode, shot you a soft smile as he bent down to brush a few stray strands of hair from your face. “we’ve got it covered,” he reassured you, his voice calm but firm. “you rest, okay? we’ll handle it.”

jungwon, still lingering near the door, shot you a knowing look. “besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about,” he said with a sly grin, his fingers tapping the pocket where the pink restraint was tucked away.

the teasing glint in his eyes made your heart race, but you couldn’t help the tired smile that crept onto your face.

"i’ll worry about that later," you muttered, your body finally starting to relax as the exhaustion took over. jungwon’s smirk lingered in the back of your mind, but the soft sheets and the warmth of the blanket wrapped around you pulled you deeper into comfort.

as the sounds of the others prepping for the inspection faded, you let your eyes close. despite everything, you felt a sense of calm knowing they had it covered. and as the weight of sleep slowly settled over you, you realized that whatever jungwon had planned... it could wait.

your breathing slowed, your body finally giving in to the much-needed rest, that sly grin of his the last thing etched in your mind before sleep finally took you.

── .✦⸝⸝ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@sol3chu @heesminee3 @riribelle @leov3rse @missoxy

@mitmit01 @immelissaaa @phebeedee @simbabyj @ivorybabysworld

@firesunflames @gnvi-eve @chubbypeach2111 @tsukisbabydino @he115re

@enhasrii @kienhawon @dvalitaes @in-somnias-world @jwnghyuns

@inishij @jiryunie @lhspeachie @strxwbloody @nshmrarki

@leesura @slvtella @jiminie-08 @wonnienyang @dollyyun

@seonghwasbbgirl @doublebunv @yuniesluv @gong-fourz @mavlogist

@ckwnsgh @love4hee @nyxtwixx @woniefull @deobitifull

@isa942572 @eunmoin @giyuutopfan @vi-ri @skiatrosis

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⭑𓂃⸝⸝ want to be added?

comment 🖤 below or slide into my ask box if you wanna be added to the permanent taglist. it’s open and waiting for you.

ㅤ♡⸝⸝ be sure to check out my navigation page for all my stories, updates, permanent taglist, and a sneak peek at upcoming content! everything you need is right there.

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morbidology · 2 days

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Juliane Koepcke was born in Lima, Peru, on October 10, 1954, to German parents who were both biologists. Raised in the lush environment of the Amazon rainforest, Juliane was familiar with the challenges and dangers posed by the wild, an experience that would later prove crucial to her survival.

On December 24, 1971, 17-year-old Juliane and her mother, Maria Koepcke, boarded LANSA Flight 508 in Lima, heading for Pucallpa, a city in the Peruvian Amazon. They were traveling to join Juliane's father for Christmas at the family’s research station. The flight, however, was doomed.

Midway through the journey, the plane encountered a severe thunderstorm. Lightning struck the aircraft, causing it to break apart in mid-air. Juliane, still strapped into her seat, plummeted approximately 10,000 feet into the dense Amazon jungle.

Amazingly, Juliane survived the fall, likely aided by the thick foliage that cushioned her descent. She awoke the next morning, disoriented and injured, but alive. Her right collarbone was broken, she had a deep cut on her leg, and her right eye was swollen shut. Alone in the vast and unforgiving Amazon, Juliane had to rely on her wits and the survival skills she had learned from her parents to stay alive.

Despite her injuries and the traumatic experience, Juliane remained calm and determined to survive. She had no food and only a small bag of candy that had fallen with her. Drawing on her knowledge of the rainforest, she sought out water, knowing that following a stream would eventually lead her to civilization. For the next 11 days, she trudged through the jungle, battling extreme heat, exhaustion, hunger, and the constant threat of predators.

Juliane’s knowledge of the rainforest played a crucial role in her survival. She knew not to drink stagnant water and avoided poisonous plants. Her injuries became infected, and maggots began to infest the wound on her arm, but she pressed on. Along the way, she encountered evidence of the crash, including other passengers who had not been as fortunate as her.

On the 11th day of her ordeal, Juliane stumbled upon a small boat moored near a makeshift shelter used by loggers. She used gasoline from the boat's fuel tank to clean her wounds, a painful but necessary measure to rid herself of the maggots. Exhausted and on the brink of collapse, she waited by the boat, hoping that its owners would return.

The next day, loggers arrived and found Juliane, amazed that she had survived such an ordeal. They took her to a nearby village and then to a local hospital, where she was treated for her injuries and dehydration. After her recovery, Juliane was reunited with her father, who had feared the worst after hearing about the crash.

Out of the 92 passengers and crew aboard LANSA Flight 508, Juliane was the sole survivor. The discovery of her survival was a miracle, and her story quickly became international news.

Her life after the crash was marked by a combination of fame and trauma. The media attention surrounding her survival was intense, but Juliane preferred to maintain a low profile, focusing on her studies and rebuilding her life. She went on to study biology, following in her parents' footsteps, and eventually earned a Ph.D. She dedicated her career to the study of mammals, particularly bats, and continued to work in the field of conservation in Peru.

In 1989, Juliane married and took the surname Diller. Despite the passage of time, she remained haunted by the memories of the crash and her mother’s death. It wasn't until many years later that she felt ready to speak publicly about her experience. In 2011, she published her memoir, When I Fell From the Sky in which she detailed her ordeal and reflected on the profound impact it had on her life.

#Juliane Koepcke #Survival #World #History

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ahmedgaza-27-pro · 1 day

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⚠️This is my second account after my first account was deleted💔😔

Ahmed and Aya's wedding will not take place due to the war 💔💍

I am Ahmed, 27 years old, an architect from Gaza, and this is my story:

I finished my university studies in 2018, and then moved between several engineering offices, working on a "job for experience" system, meaning without a salary. Unemployment was sweeping the Gaza Strip at that moment, and I lost hope of working in my field, so I went to work as a salesman in a grocery store. I continued working like this for several years, and I was saving money so that I could get married and build a family full of love and happiness.

In 6th August 2023, after I had chosen my life partner Aya, we got engaged. We pledged on the Qur'an of the heart to nurture the flower of love between us, so we drew suns and moons for our days, and we promised to stay together until death.

This picture is from the day of my engagement to Aya 💍😔

I gathered shekels upon shekels, I stuck stones next to stones, and raised the thresholds, keys of music that exuded melody, I extended water to it from the springs of the heart, and I extended the connections of electricity and light, I furnished it until the house that would contain us with its roses and immerse us in its warmth began to come together, the house that would be the safety of our family in the future grows from the depths of the impossible and emerges from the carvings of suffering and the rock of misery.

And here is the ship of life settling and docking on what we loved and hoped for. I love, study, and work. We choose the paint colors and sofa fabrics. We set our wedding day as February 4, 2024, which is my birthday. We choose our wedding hall, and our days pass in peace and tranquility.

We did not know that fate was hiding its resurrection behind our doors and under our pillows, and that between the blink of an eye and the closing of it, the disaster would occur, the world would be turned upside down, and destruction would cover the face of the universe. We had left our home on the first day of the war and departed without knowing that it was the last time we would see our home before it turned to dust.

On the morning of 12th October 2023 , the crows of the sky, the occupation aircraft of the F-16 type, flew to throw the fires of their hatred with more than one war missile at our five-story house on both sides, after which the house turned into crumbs of rubble, wiping out all the memories of childhood and the details of life and the years we spent. They bombed a house that carries within it all kinds of joy and stories of success and challenges of building stone upon stone.

Now, I displaced in Deir al-Balah. I live in a tent inside an UNRWA school located on the beach of Deir al-Balah.

I created this campaign in February 2024 to collect some money so that I can provide detergents, water and food for my family, and I can mebuild my life, marry Aya, build a new home with a happy couple, and hold a wedding party other than the one we cancelled.

In the name of humanity and universal brotherhood, I hope you will help me get out of the depths of despair and save my future, which is almost lost if it were not for my hope in you to extend a helping hand to everyone who calls for your help, so that their hopes may be revived that goodness in the world will not be cut off, no matter how thick the clouds of evil are.

Please donate if you can!Support, participate strongly

NOTICE 📢:This is my second account after my first account was closed by Tumblr and my first account has been verified by @90-ghost here.

@mazzikah @90-ghost @bixlasagna @anetteslife @mangocheesecakes @sayruq @timetravellingkitty

@deathlonging @briarhips @mahoushojoe @sar-soor

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees @socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @himejoshikaeya @rooh-afza

#free palestine #gaza #artists on tumblr #nail art #art #free gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #save palestine #palestinian genocide #all eyes on palestine #i stand with palestine

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eliza-forget · 14 hours

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PLEASE tell us more about your Leshy and the two cats!!!!! The cats are so pretty and also so is your art. I love your art so so so so so much 💖

Well, I'll start by saying that the Leshy himself in my AU is quite dark, violent, and traumatized. He survived the sudden betrayal of Narinder (as the one he trusted and looked up to most as a child), he survived all the turmoil associated with the fact that faith in the bishops was shaken, I call this period as "shaky", and the whole four were on the verge of losing their authority. And already during the game's storyline, Lamb's campaigns, Heket died. In my Au, which is mostly based on my insane playthrough of the game, Leshy was the last Bishop to be killed by Lamb. I mean, there was this sequence: Heket> Shamura> Kallamar. I have that point actually explained in the storyline, but that's not what the main question is about xd.

In the works, where you see him in the clothes of a follower (yes-yes that red one), has its own meaning. It's like a sign of his acceptance of a new way of life and to some extent, a rejection of the past. In this story, he's processing his traumas, learning the ways and lives of mortals, and then he makes two close friends: those two cats.

In general, I can characterize my Leshy as a personality. He changes slowly, but throughout the narrative in my Au. Leshy is still the Bishop of Chaos, in terms of character, but has softened a bit because of his environment in which he resides.

Tirena

Let me briefly tell you about Tirena's storyline. Her parents were nomads who came from other lands to the lands of the Old Faith. They mostly moved between locations, but eventually stopped at Darkwood.In fact, Tirena's family was loyal to what was happening in the lands and tried to please all the local cruel rules. The turning point of the plot for Tirena came at the time of her coming of age, for which her parents sacrificed themselves to the bishop, and she was given a necklace (but not the one she wears now) in memory of her parents. As a result of which she ran away from the place. Stumbled upon Lamb by accident, from behind a campfire in the night. So in the story, she showed up in his settlement and became a devoted disciple in the future, but still with an unconcealed grudge against the bishops.

In comic, she got into an altercation with Narinder on the same topic.

Yolk (yellow cat)

Yolk's former name was Najulmer, and he changed his name at the settlement. His parents were the same cultists who, long after Leshy's death, continued the resistance. Yolk did not share the same point of view with them; he was more interested in studying the world around him, and specifically its strange inhabitants. So he set out on his wanderings in search of that "paradise" by which he meant the Lamb's settlement. Along the way meeting various companions, studying monsters and even cooking with them. He has already been rescued by Lamb when he was trapped by the treachery of his recent companion. In the settlement he quickly finds contact with Tirena, or rather she has to tolerate his intrusive company. Then Lamb returns from a camping trip and summons Leshy from purgatory and he becomes both a nightmare for Yolk, but and an intriguing object of study. He btw yes, never once saw the bishops and didn't even know that Leshy was one.

Somehow that's what the plot of these three sounds like. I hope it was interesting and informative to learn about them!

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb art #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl fanart #cotl leshy #cotl yellow cat #cotl yolk #bishopau #I haven't slept

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merwgue · 2 days

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Tamlin is one of the most misunderstood and controversial characters in the ACOTAR series, and while some of his actions—like locking Feyre up—were inherently wrong and abusive, they stem from deep-rooted trauma and manipulation, making his story much more complex than people give him credit for.

1. Trauma from Amarantha – 50 Years of Hell Tamlin spent 50 years under Amarantha’s rule, being groomed and manipulated. He was powerless to save his court and the other courts from suffering, and that burden fell squarely on his shoulders. For half a century, Tamlin lived under the constant pressure of being the one to break the curse, with everyone’s freedom hanging on him. He was traumatized, broken, and desperate, having endured endless torment. This trauma shaped his every decision when it came to Feyre, and while his actions—like locking her up—were wrong, they were driven by deep-seated fear and an overwhelming need to protect her, which he saw as his only chance at redemption.

Tamlin’s fear wasn’t just about control; it was about trying to keep Feyre safe after having lost control over everything else for decades. But, of course, that doesn’t excuse his abusive behavior. It was wrong, but it’s important to understand where that behavior came from—trauma, manipulation, and the belief that if he failed to protect her, he would fail once again.

2. Reactive Abuse in ACOWAR – Feyre Deliberately Provoking Tamlin In A Court of Wings and Ruin, Feyre plays a dangerous game of provoking Tamlin to make him react in ways that paint him as the villain. This is reactive abuse. She comes back to the Spring Court with the intention of tearing it down from the inside, manipulating Tamlin’s emotions and pushing him to his breaking point. She does things deliberately to make him angry and hurt him, knowing he will react out of frustration and heartbreak.

While Tamlin’s actions in earlier books were abusive, Feyre’s calculated manipulations in ACOWAR cannot be ignored. She deliberately enrages him, knowing exactly what buttons to push, and when he reacts, he’s painted as the bad guy. But let’s not forget: Tamlin was already mentally broken and reeling from losing Feyre, and she intentionally took advantage of that vulnerability.

3. Feyre Destroying His Court – Overkill Feyre’s decision to destroy Tamlin’s entire court is a massive overreaction. Yes, they broke up, and yes, Tamlin made mistakes, but wiping out his entire kingdom because of a failed relationship? It’s spiteful and malicious. Feyre didn’t just want to hurt him emotionally—she wanted to ruin his entire life, his legacy, and everything he had worked to protect. And for what? A breakup? The level of destruction she brings to the Spring Court is wildly disproportionate to Tamlin’s mistakes. She knowingly and willfully destroyed the home and people he loved, leaving him with nothing but ruin.

4. Tamlin Saving Rhysand’s Life in ACOWAR – And Still Getting Trashed Tamlin’s good deeds get completely overlooked in favor of villainizing him. In ACOWAR, he literally saved Rhysand’s life during the battle. Rhys was on the brink of death, and despite everything, Tamlin stepped in to rescue him. Tamlin put aside his grievances and his heartbreak to do the right thing, proving that despite his flaws, he still cared enough to save someone who had wronged him.

But instead of gratitude or any kind of recognition, Rhysand continues to trash Tamlin in ACOFAS and ACOSF. He makes snide comments, mocks him, and even invades Tamlin’s court just to taunt him. It’s infuriating when you consider that Rhys wouldn’t even be alive without Tamlin’s help. How can someone who owes his life to Tamlin continue to treat him like dirt? It’s an example of how skewed the narrative is in Rhysand’s favor.

5. Rhysand’s Hypocrisy – His Own Crimes Ignored Let’s not forget that Rhysand literally murdered Tamlin’s family. Yes, Rhysand’s family suffered a great loss, but they initiated the blood feud by attacking first. Tamlin’s family was killed in retaliation for Rhysand’s father and brothers attacking them, and yet, all the sympathy is directed at Rhysand’s loss. Tamlin’s pain and trauma from losing his entire family is brushed aside, while Rhysand’s grief is front and center, as if only his loss matters.

Rhysand is glorified, and his family’s death is framed as this great tragedy, but Tamlin’s loss? Barely a footnote. It’s a double standard, especially when you consider that Rhysand’s family brought the conflict on themselves. Tamlin’s trauma from losing his family is completely ignored in favor of building up Rhysand as the hero.

6. Rhysand Telling Tamlin to Kill Himself – Beyond Cruel Rhysand’s treatment of Tamlin post-ACOWAR is downright despicable. Tamlin is left broken, suffering from depression, having lost his court, Feyre, and his family. Instead of showing any empathy, Rhysand invades his court and tells him to kill himself. This is someone who is already at his lowest, and instead of being left in peace, Rhysand shows up just to make his suffering worse. It’s not just toxic—it’s cruel beyond measure. For someone who has supposedly suffered so much himself, Rhysand shows an astonishing lack of empathy for someone else in pain.

7. Tamlin as a Victim of Trauma – Deserving of Understanding In the end, Tamlin is a victim of years of trauma, manipulation, and immense pressure. His actions were wrong, but they were driven by fear and desperation, not malice. Tamlin suffered from Amarantha’s grooming, lost his entire family because of Rhysand’s blood feud, and had his court destroyed by Feyre’s revenge. He is not a one-dimensional villain; he’s a deeply flawed character who was broken by his circumstances.

While Tamlin’s mistakes should be acknowledged, it’s unfair to completely vilify him while Rhysand gets away with far worse. Tamlin’s trauma, pain, and losses are real, and they deserve to be treated with the same understanding and empathy that Rhysand’s story receives. At the very least, Tamlin deserves recognition for the good he has done—saving Rhysand, fighting for his court, and suffering through immense trauma without any support. Tamlin deserved better from both the narrative and the characters around him.

(This took me an hour to write I better see NO ONE discrediting me🤣)

#tamlin #pro tamlin #pro acotar #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti ic #anti mor #anti literally everyone except tamlin and lulu #pro nesta #acotar #feylin #miss that era fr #id love a country boy😢#divorce #divorce babe divorce #rhysand #feyre

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hoe4hotchner · 21 hours

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With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

"Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew this ring.

Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

Hotch.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

You weren't wrong about this.

You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

"Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

"I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

But deep down, you knew.

This was reality.

When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

"I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn’t. Not now.

As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

"You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

And now, you were alone with him.

Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

“You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

“Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

“Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

“Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

Who else knew?

You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

"You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

"Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

"I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

"Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

"I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

"I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

“Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

"What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

You were trapped.

The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

“You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

“You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

The perfect place for someone to disappear.

“We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

“You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

“You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

“Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

“Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

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myownwholewildworld · 1 day

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acta, non verba - ii. there is no treachery in the art of war

chapter 1 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 3 (coming soon) pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you need to start moving the game along, but you cannot be too obvious. or... can you? a/n: hello there! c: here's the second chapter! there is quite a bit of character & world building in this one, as i felt it served the storyline, so i hope you guys like it! i wanted to thank you all for your nice, encouring words on the first chapter, it really motivated me to keep on writing! you guys are amazing 💖 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. references to marital abuse (physical and sexual) and child marriage (massive age gap, not in a cutesy way), in line with the time this story is set on. mentions of death/murder. mention of infertility. sexual tension galore (👀). a smidge of angst. w/c: ~8.6k. dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Callie”, Torcall sombrely warned you, his eyes locking on yours over the wooden spoon he tightly gripped close to his mouth.

“And what would you have me do then?”, you sneeringly replied back.

Your brother-in-law had been pestering you the whole morning about what your plan was to win your lands back. You knew the long game was your best bet — you didn’t have the numbers to face Rome on your own. Your athair had tried and failed in his attempt. Another defeat like the one your people suffered in Raedykes would destroy your clan. It would wipe you out off the map — everything your ancestors had worked for, gone under the crushing yoke of the Romans.

“I would not have you whoring yourself out to a fucking Roman, that’s for sure. Your athair would be so disappointed in you.” He snapped back at you, anger flowing in his words.

His reply stung badly, so much you unconsciously crossed your arms at chest level — an unvoluntary gesture to protect yourself from his accusation.

“That’s beyond the point”, you barked, the green of your irises burning like hellish fire. “And my father would be just fine with my decision. Need I remind you who he married me off to?”

Torcall’s knuckles went white as his fingers pressed around the spoon harshly. You cocked a brow, unwavering.

Ten years ago, your athair had reached an agreement with Iain of Am Baile Ùr(Insh), the lord of Badenoch whose state was a few miles south of your birthplace. For as long as Caledonia had formed, there had always been internal disputes about who was the rightful heir to the Overlord title.

The clan who held the stronghold at Inbhir Nis had historically always been considered the legitimate title’s holder. Your family had been the keepers of the land for as long as anyone could remember. But it didn’t stop those who were thirsty for power, so your father had to prove himself over and over again.

After several bloody skirmishes, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had crowned himself, yet again, lord and master of Caledonia. Iain had been a strong contestant against your father and was only appeased when your athair offered you as a consolation prize to him, as if you were a lamb up for sale at the local market. A cheap one at that.

At the tender age of six and ten, you had been shipped off to an unknown land to be wife to a man you had never seen before. The next ten years of your life would be living hell — what you had to endure, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy.

The memories that would crawl back at night would still wake you up, a cold sweat trickling down your spine every time. Abuse in your arranged marriage was your bread and butter. Every time you returned home under the prying, controlling eyes of Iain or your family came to visit, you would lie to them about the new bruise on your cheek, the limp you had for a couple of weeks or the teeth marks on your neck. Murdoch was the last to realise, unable to come to terms with the destiny he had forced upon you. And by the time he did, there was not much he could do without infuriating Iain, without risking another war.

The peace of the Caledonians outweighed your suffering, after all. You were not worth such a bloodshed.

So you pushed through it all and survived — for family, for clan, for honour. Never resented your father either; he had a duty to protect his tribe, and so did you. For a decade you dragged yourself across ember and ash, until you finally caught a break six months ago.

Iain was found dead in the marital bed, his eyes wide open and his expression struck with horror, as if a wraith had taken his life. At the mature age of six and sixty, you had been his third wife, so when his only son and heir from his first marriage ascended, you were no longer needed. With no family of your own tying you to that ghostly place, you packed your things and swiftly left, the Will' O' the Wisps guiding you home.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, his answer burst out in a pitiful whisper. One of your eyebrows raised even further into your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, unfolding your arms and looking at the cold broth in front of you. Grabbing the spoon again, you swirled it in the bowl aimlessly. You didn’t need your most trusted ally questioning your decisions, not when the whole clan depended on your actions. At least he was doing so in the intimacy of a crannog and not in front of your folk.

“I’m just trying my best, Torcall. I know I can win our freedom back, so I need you to have some faith in me. How I get to the endgame is up to me. The means justify the end.” Your words were imbued with unfaltering determination.

“I do trust you, Callie. With my life and the lives of my children”, he mumbled solemnly with a curtsy as his eyes drifted to the other end of the room.

Your niece and nephew, whom you loved dearly, were obliviously playing with some wooden swords their father had handcrafted a while back. They were six years of age, both born during the cold winter months. The twins had filled the blackhole in your heart, one that your marriage had not been able to lade.

“Ah, ye brute!” Your nephew, Daimh, let the sword slip from his fingers to hold his hand close to his chest. “You’ve hurt me, Iona!”

His little feet dabbed towards you, raising his injured hand in the air.

“Auntaidh (auntie), Iona has broken my fingers, look!”, he wept while you cradled his hand.

“Oh, come on here, mo laochain (my little hero). Let me see”, you said while rubbing his hand between yours and kissing it where it hurt.

“What a wimpy!”, Iona complained, running to her father. “I won, daddy!” Her proud, high-pitched voice squealed in excitement, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m going to tell màthair (mother)!”, Daimh blew raspberries at his sister, and she reciprocated from the other side of the table.

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the mention of Maisie, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Both you and Torcall had explained to them that their mother had been reunited with Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, but they were too little to fully understand what that entailed, what it truly meant.

“When is mama coming back from Tech Duinn (House of Dhuosnos), daddy? I miss her dearly”, Iona’s innocent words ripped at your heart.

Torcall and you exchanged mournful glances.

“Aye, me too”, exclaimed Daimh as he snuggled in your arms.

“So do we, sweet pea, so do we”, you mumbled as you kissed the crown of his blonde head.

Daimh stirred in your arms, his green eyes piercing yours. He looked so much like his mother that it was painful. Maisie and you had the same emerald irises, although she had been blonde. Daimh and Iona were living images of her.

“When can we go home? This place smells funny”, your nephew questioned while he sat on your lap.

You wished you could tell him. Your whole family had been living in the castle that now Marcus Acacius occupied. Torcall and his children could not risk staying there, not when the threat of death was hanging above them. If the Romans knew your sister had offspring, they would hunt them down.

Despite the adversity, you had been lucky in a sense. The highlanders had always been wary of strangers — outsiders brought tragedy with them, in the way of disease or war. The Caledonians had learnt to keep their distance, to be extremely cautious. So, when the General and his army arrived, no one spoke of your family, not even when questioned.

Your people, despite the differences that had them at each other’s throats some years back, were loyal to you. And it was their fealty what enabled your plan, what allowed you to pretend, to just be another servant girl.

So Torcall, his children and you had sought refuge in the skirts of town. Your uncail Aengus’ wife had welcomed you into her home.

The crannog was a circular hut with a straw roof, the walls made of mud, rocks, wood. There was only one big, round room, with an open hearth which kept the inside warm. The open shelving gathered some necessary clutter, but there were many things scattered around the place. There were only three beds lined up against the wall, which meant that you shared a bed with Iona and Torcall with his son. Your cousins had moved out to the small barn just a few feet away to make room for you.

It was cramped and very modest in comparison to the thick walls of your castle, but it was a roof over your heads. You were extremely grateful to her. Your heart still wept at the memory of telling her the demise of her husband.

“Soon we will, but in the meantime, we are keeping Bonnie and her sons company. And this place smells just fine. Are you sure it’s not you, you stinky little deamhan (demon)?”, you jested, pinching his nose and then tickling his ribs.

His laughter was a soothing balm on your aching, longing heart.

“Was everything as expected, Dominus?” His Roman servant asked, his head bowed to him.

Marcus patted the corners of his mouth with the rag on his lap and then nodded to Atticus. The food was somewhat decent, a venison stew with some root vegetables he could not identify. The bread, unsurprisingly, was a bit stale, so he had left it untouched.

The great hall was lugubrious, silence filling up the atmosphere. There were two other maids in the room, cowering in a corner with averted eyes. They only spoke a barbarian language he had no wish to learn. Communication with the natives was extremely difficult, as they seemed to be uneducated.

But there was one lass who knew how to speak Latin — you, Callie.

He wondered where you had gone. Marcus had not seen you since your encounter in his new-found bedchamber. It had been three days since then and with each passing one, he found himself searching the room for you. There was something about you that had reeled him in but was unsure of what it was. Maybe it was the eerie, magical aura that surrounded your fiery hair — or maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you had briefly but decisively held his gaze. The way you quickly retreated — unwillingly.

Marcus imperceptibly shook his head and waved his hand at Atticus, motioning for him to pour another cup of the bitter wine.

“Yes”, he simply replied, bringing the wooden chalice to his lips.

Atticus signalled the young women to come forward and they quickly cleared the table of dishes and cutlery. When he was alone with his servant, away from enemies’ ears, he signalled at Atticus, who quickly stepped forward.

“Fetch my commanders and bring them here. There are matters I need to discuss with them”, Marcus demanded of him.

His attendant curtsied and vanished from the great hall, leaving him alone.

Marcus was taking in every detail of the room, of the tapestries and their stories, when a scattering sound distracted him. He thought to hear a commotion, then a blasphemy. Curious, he stood up, stepped off the dais and sauntered towards the double doors. The door was slightly ajar, so he only had to push it for it to swing open.

There was nothing in the corridor except for a distinct scent. Rosemary and thyme with a hint of something unrecognisable, he identified. A smell that had loitered in his bedchamber once you left. Wrinkling his aquiline nose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned to see how a shadow dissipated at the end of the corridor.

Furrowing his brows and in long strides, Marcus covered the distance, tracking the distinct aroma — like a lost man after the beckoning of a nymph, he followed. As he was about to turn the corner, he almost collided with Maximus, Valerius and Cassius.

“My lord,” Cassius was the first to talk, “we were on our way to you. You wished to see us?”

Marcus tried to conceal his confusion at the sight of the three men. With his head slightly tilted, he asked, “Did you encounter anyone on your way to me, Commander?”

Cassius slowly shook his head no, baffled by the question. “No, Dominus, no one. Were you expecting someone else?”

The General hmphed, taciturn. He needed to be cautious — if the tapestries were right, ungodly, mythical creatures lingered between the walls of the castle. Evil ones at that.

“Worry not”, Marcus rapidly dismissed. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

The four men sat at the rectangular table on the dais, Marcus’ fingers drumming on the wood as Maximus flattened a piece of parchment before him.

“These are some names that have been thrown around in the last few days, people who may act on their rebellious comments. Our spies have been trying their best to mix in with the townies, but they are tough nuts to crack. They are wary even of the people who speak their own language”, Maximus’ index finger slid down the list as he talked.

Marcus’ hand darted forward and pinched one corner of the parchment, pulling it towards him. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar names.

The barbarians did not use surnames, which spoke to their lack of sophistication. Instead, they used patronyms and the land where they were born, so the list made it difficult to identify individuals who might belong to the same family. Knowing what families were a menace would be a great advantage, one they did not have.

“There seems to be a recurrent name here”, Marcus paused, his fingertip pointing to the words scribbled in lead ink. “Seumas and Anndra of Dail an Eich (Dalneigh), sons of Aengus. Who is this Aengus?”, he questioned, looking up to the frowning faces.

“We are not sure, Dominus. As I said, the villagers are not talking much”, Cassius replied, his fingers intertwined, resting atop of the wooden table.

“Well, find out then. I don’t care how you get the information. Just get it”, Marcus’ back reclined against the chair he was sat on. He felt like they were wasting his time with trivial details. He needed more than that.

“You didn’t get Murdoch’s wife to talk, even when she was hanged half dead in a cage off the main tower, after being brutally tortured and whatever else you inflicted upon her, and you expect us to get names just like that?”, Valerius’ insolence spoke for him.

Marcus’ eyes lazily locked on his commander’s. He should have his ill-mannered tongue cut out for such disdainful arrogance. Valerius’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he forcefully swallowed, his eyes slightly widened, realising his impertinence.

Whispers flew around the town; his name being cursed from mouth to mouth. Marcus was not too worried about whatever rumours they could spread about him. They probably would be true — he was no saint.

But Marcus had not been the one who had ordered such distasteful death upon Mòrag, wife of Murdoch. Agricola did, with no respect for his name when he dropped it mid-sentence. Marcus did not even lay an eye on her, even less a hand.

Let them all think what they might. Marcus was used to being the scapegoat of the governor — when something went wrong, Agricola would blame him. And when something went right, he would just take credit for himself, the evil, power-thirsty rat.

He looked at Valerius dead in his eyes, one cocked brow showing his mild incredulity.

“Do you have something to say, Valerius? I hear a certain condemning tone in your words?”, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the reality was there was a raging fire within him he could not make manifest.

“Absolutely not, my lord”, the man bowed his head to him, his knuckles white.

“Then be gone. All of you. Find those two men or I will have you hanged too.”

The resolution in his tone scared the seasoned warriors, who quickly said their goodbyes and hurriedly left the premises.

Marcus’ elbows sunk in the wooden table, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but amongst all, he was tired — tired of masking, of cleaning up after Agricola’s hideous actions, of power plays, of trickery, betrayal and deception. He was surrounded by it all.

At eight and forty, he was tired of war and conquest. He had seen it all, lived it all. If retirement would be an option, he would gladly take it. But he knew — he would wield a sword till the day he died in a godforsaken battlefield, till Pluto welcomed him with open arms. Rome would not have him any other way.

Marcus Acacius was truly exhausted.

So it was him who had your beautiful màthair tortured and hanged in a cage until she greeted death. Your blood boiled as your breath quickened. The rage flickered inside you like wild flames burning down an entire civilisation.

When the rangers announced your arrival to a few selected loyal men who had stayed behind, they got out at night to cut the ropes holding the cage your mother had been thrown in. They did not want you to see such act of savagery.

Your kinsmen had really tried to conceal how badly damaged your mother’s body was. Despite the heartache, you had been grateful that they had gone to the effort of making her somewhat presentable. But one look at her mangled body had been enough to understand what type of wickedness you were up against.

In the dead of night, you had buried Mòrag, the woman who so selflessly gave you life, in the outskirts of town. Just like her other children and husband, she would not rest under the family’s chambered cairns. Your family had been wiped out of history as if they were mere droplets in a vast ocean of human tragedy.

With one ear flat against the wooden door to the great hall, you unknowingly squinted your eyes, trying to listen to the rest of the conversation. If someone caught you eavesdropping, you would have a lot of explaining to do. But so far your spying was being productive — you would need to warn your cousins when you got home that night.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made your heart jolt in your chest.

“Cac (shite)!”, you swore, frantically looking for a place to stow yourself away.

Picking up your skirt so you would not trip, you hid in a nearby garderobe. The cupboard smelt sweet and musty — barrels of wine decorated the whole height of the stone walls. The scent was so intense, you felt it soaking through your skin, appeasing the craze that had a tight grip on your mind. The darkness that surrounded you only accentuated your sense of smell. Could you get inebriated just with the sugary aroma of grape juice?

When the booted treads slowly faded away, you quietly pushed the door open, emerging back into the cold corridor — the contrasting temperature between the garderobe and the hallway gave you goosebumps. Palm flat against the wood and the other hand tightly gripping the iron pull handle, you gently shoved the door back into its frame, hoping to make no noise.

“What are you doing?”, a deep, masculine voice startled you, making you jump on the spot.

A set of warm, firm arms wrapped around you as you stumbled with your feet. They enveloped you so steadfastly, your body involuntarily relaxed against the person behind you. Leaning back, your back met the cold touch of metal.

Swallowing a profanity that would bring a repenting clergyman down to his knees, you turned around, in the arms that held you tight, to face the embodiment of hate. Your hate.

Marcus Acacius was standing, all righteous and proud, intimately close to you. He was wearing an impeccable white armour with golden details. Two flaxen griffins adorned the center of the plackart, their claws wrapping around a floral design. Linen straps, snug around his hips, fell from his waist, covering the fauld and the tasset underneath.

Marcus’ body was a fountain of warmth, even with all the layers enfolding his frame. His arms, although tense around you, did not feel suffocating — in fact, they were almost coddling you into a state of ataraxia as your brain quietened. His hug exuded a sense of security you had not felt in years — as if nothing nor no one could ever harm you as long as you stayed in Marcus’ embrace.

You traced the topography of his plackart with your fingers, your palms resting against the alloy, as your eyes peeked up —he was considerably taller than you— and were met with the fervour of two brown irises. Their gravity pulled you in for an eternal second. With your face near his, you picked up on the tired bearing on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, the hard press of his lips. A kempt but patchy beard coated his jawline, and salt and peppered hair curled at the nape of his thick, muscular neck — a stray silver lock caressing his forehead, asking to be tucked away.

Your fingertips suddenly itched with longing, your eyes slightly widened, and your mouth partially parted. And then you came back to reality with the full force of your conscience yapping at you. What the hell? You had to control the contortion of your face so your disappointment would not be evident. It’s because I want to slap him so bad, was your afterthought.

Something changed in his expression — Marcus suddenly let you go, leaving you cold again. As if it was a rehearsed move, you both took a step back, breaking the electric contact that snapped between your bodies.

You now realised his clean image was a shocking contrast to how you first met him. Covered in mud, blood and sweat, his untamed expression as he dispatched your father still haunted you at night. And that was how you had to remember him. Sinking his gladius in your father’s belly. And nothing else.

“Well?”, the General insisted after clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitting together as he folded his arms.

You rapidly lowered your gaze when you realised you had been looking at him too intently, too directly. A maid would have fainted at the audacity you had just shown him. But you were no maid — albeit he was not privy of such detail for obvious reasons.

You hoped he didn’t notice, although you could feel his eyes studying you eagerly.

“I— I was looking for wine, Dominus.” You faked the stammering in an attempt to convey innocence. “Cormag, the cook, wants a very specific wine to accompany your supper, Dux Meus (My General/Leader). I was making sure we had it.”

“And what wine is that, if I dare ask?”, he pressed with a steely voice.

Thalla gu taigh na galla (go to hell), you thought, browsing your brain for a quick reply.

“It’s a fine wine imported from Carmo, my lord.” Your father had been a wine enthusiast, so you knew some places he had his wine shipped from. Not that it really meant anything to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arms falling to his sides, his threatening posture softening.

“Carmo? In the Baetic region of Hispania?”, Marcus’ incredulous voice made you glance up at him through your long eyelashes.

You nodded, your fingers laced at your front as you bowed your head again, showing a deference you didn’t really feel towards him. And you prayed there was at least a few drops left of said wine in one of the barrels, or you would be in trouble come dinner.

“That’s one of my favourites”, he let slip and you instantly knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Feigning bravery, you fanned your eyelashes back at him, a half-smile softening your lips. The General almost looked mortified at the fact of letting a stranger know about his likes. You could see it in his eyes — the brief moment of asking himself, “What have I just said?” Although he seemed all stoic and unattainable, he was just a man. Just like any other.

“Is that so?” You did not wait for a reply you knew would never come. “I’ll try and remember that, Dominus, to make sure we never run out.”

He was a hard man to read, you would give him that. His expression didn’t flinch, as if your words had gone over his head. The only sign he had actually listened was a subtle tic on his jaw.

You just needed to drop some hints here and there, let him brew. If you were too obvious with your intentions, Marcus would become suspicious. You knew nothing about the man except he was a cold-blooded murderer, but perceived he was observant. Probably too observant.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I wish to retire now so I can attend to my tasks.” Asking for permission was not something that came naturally to you, but it was a trained response you had learnt from your late husband.

“Take your leave then”, he granted, his hands hiding on his back.

You curtsied. “Thank you, Dux Meus.”

Marcus turned on his heels in a swift whoosh, the sword swaying in front of him, his fingers gripping the handle tight. He intuited his opponent’s next move before it happened, so he bent his knees and ducked his head right under the swing of Maximus’ gladius. With a wild, toothy smile, Marcus pulled back, weighing the blade on his left hand.

“So predictable”, he teased the commander, who was an old friend of his.

If one could have friends in the midst of war, that was. Their friendship easily transformed depending on the circumstances — in war matters, Maximus knew to respect Marcus above everything else. Outside of that, they just were two friends with a long history behind them.

“I’m being gentle, lord General. We have spectators, I don’t want to embarrass you. I know your ego is as fragile as a rose’s petal”, Maximus chaffed, a grin taking over his mouth as they circled each other like two lions on the gladiator’s pit.

Marcus’ tunnel vision had him so tuned in on his friend’s advances, he had not realised that a small group of people had gathered around the makeshift arena. Feeling a sudden heaviness weighing him down, Marcus combed the gathered faces in one sweep.

Until his eyes locked in on yours. He saw a glimpse of wonder metamorphosing into surprise in your emerald greens — then you quickly withdrew your eyes from his at the realisation of getting caught staring.

There was something about you that drew him in — something mysterious, uncanny, but also strangely enticing. Exciting. Your eyes spoke of mischief, of adventure, of the unknown. Of something eerie, almost witchy. The flickering, iridescent fire within them had him under a spell for a brief moment.

Marcus vividly remembered holding you against his chest, your soft curves perfectly moulding to his hard edges. Even through the armour, he had felt the heat your body irradiated, the way it seeped through to envelop him, soothe him. For a moment, having you between his arms felt just right. And that thought had unsettled him gravely, letting go of you as such wild, unnerving concept sank in — his mind point-blank rejecting the notion.

Despite his inner refusal, how you looked back at him would plague him. For days and nights on end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus watched as Maximus inched forward, the sword aiming at his open flank. Just in the nick of time, the General’s steel deflected the attack.

“Getting distracted? That’s unusual of you, Marcus”, the commander jeered at him, closing in.

Marcus scoffed at his words, bluffing. But the reality was that Maximus had hit the nail in the head. Not that he was going to acknowledge it in public anyway. If he was to successfully bring Maximus down, he needed to focus on the task at hand and not think about a green-eyed nymph.

Studying his adversary’s body language, his feet dragged on the sand. Maximus was on edge, tense, too focused on his sword, so Marcus wagered a distraction would tip the scales in his favour. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly knelt, the fingers of his non-occupied right hand extended, palm down. Maximus’ brows wrinkled when he saw Marcus getting a fistful of sand and the General knew he had the diversion he was looking for.

With Maximus focused on his right hand, too worried with a cloud of sand that would get in his eyes, Marcus took the chance, quickly stood up and swung his heavy sword against his rival’s left loin. Maximus did not have time to prepare for the impact and so dropped to the ground.

Marcus smiled with sufficiency, straightening out his aching back, and offered a hand to his old friend.

With a grunt, Maximus accepted his gesture and got up, palming Marcus’ back soundly.

“You treacherous man, making me believe you were going to blind me”, he quipped as they both started to walk out of the circle people had formed around them.

“There is no treachery in the art of war”, Marcus replied, patting his friend’s back in playful jest.

A loud snort made Marcus look around him. He had no time to fully study your face, but he could swear you had made that disapproving noise before turning on your heels and trotting off.

Confusion and a smidge of curiosity settled in him — what had he done to gain your dissent when a minute ago awe darkened your eyes? The sudden change in your attitude left a lingering question in the back of his head as he and Maximus ushered towards the barracks in the northwest corner of the bailey.

“But you shouldn’t be serving, mo bhean-uasal (my lady)”, whispered the young lass, her hands twisting in her lap with nervousness.

“Shush, Brighid, lower your tone.” Anxiously you checked out your surroundings, ensuring you were alone. You were relieved to know you were. “You cannae refer to me like that. I’m just Callie now, remember?”

Upon your arrival to Inbhir Nis, Torcall and your father’s retinue —now yours, you guessed— had made everyone aware that the Romans thought you dead and hence, concealing your identity was of utmost importance. A slip of a tongue and you would be hanging in a cage too. Every passing day you feared someone might forget and show you deference publicly — but you had to trust that no one would run off at the mouth and rat you out.

“Duilich (sorry), mo bh— Callie. I—I promise I didn’t mean to”, she profusely apologised, her big wide eyes begging for your pardon. The wee lass could not stop fidgeting.

“I know, I know”, you tried to calm her down, placing your hand on her forearm. “But please, I need to take your place tonight.”

“Cormag will fire me for not turning up. I cannae afford that, my family depends on me.” Her pleading plucked some fast beats out of your heart.

“Don’t fret about it, lass. I’ll speak to that old crank of a man, he owes me. You’ll get paid, awright? He’ll be fine with it, I promise.” You gently squeezed her forearm, so your words would sink in.

Her eyes broadened in understanding. Before the girl could think about her actions, she jolted forward, her arms wrapping around your shoulders. You could only smile at her relief and let out a soft cackle when Brighid lumbered back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry, do Ghras (Your Grace).” Her excitement was so palpable the poor girl didn’t notice the second blunder.

“BRIGHID!”, a raspy threat left your tongue as you jerked her closer to you by the elbow. “For the love of Morrìgan, do watch your mouth!”

The young servant covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes speaking of self-reproach as it dawned on her. “I’ll have it sewn”, she muttered with great remorse.

The guilt splayed across her heart-shaped face brought a smirk to your lips. “Off you go now, before your runny tongue gets me into trouble.”

Brighid scurried away towards the barbican, and you hurried along to the kitchens. You followed the tangled web of corridors and passages thoughtlessly — you had played hide and seek countless times with your siblings between the stone walls, there was no nook nor cranny you were not familiar with.

The air got denser as you approached, the thick smoke of the open hearth filling your lungs. Repressing a cough, you entered the galley as good ol’ Cormag was shouting orders at the helping lads. The head cook had an aging face, creases around his grey eyes and bulbous nose, and a thick bush of white hair — hair strands shooting in every direction, almost comically. He was short and round around the belly, living proof of his good, delicious cooking.

“Keep fanning the fire, ye lazy ass! Don’t you see it’s going to die out? Faster, stronger! Aren’t you supposed to be young and full of life?!”, Cormag had wrapped his thick fingers around the brittle wrists of the lad, forcing his feeble arms up and down, fingers tight around a thin plank of wood. “Tiugainn (come on), with more enthusiasm, ye numpty!”

“Do you really think that’s how you motivate the young lads to do a good job, Cormag?” You questioned his teaching approach, with folded arms and a cocked brow.

An oath escaped his mouth as the cook turned around, his face downcast at your reprimand. “Callie!”

Thank the gods someone remembered how to approach you now. It came easier to Cormag though, considering that he was almost like family to you. The old man had seen you grow, having served your father since before you were even born. He was there, on the background, to wave you goodbye every time you had to return to Am Baile Ùr. And each time you came back, he had a full plate of haggis with a side of neeps and tatties waiting for you.

“No wonder your apprentices quit so fast if you treat them like that, Cormag. Have you no manners?” You kidded — the man had the filthiest mouth of the shire.

“I was raised by an ogre, young lady, of course I don’t”, he jokingly replied, cleaning his dirty hands on the apron tied around his round belly.

“Aye, and Nessie was your pet. I’ve heard that story before awright. I am still to see proof of such claims though.” Unfolding your arms you approached him, immediately going in for a bear hug.

Cormag palmed your back enthusiastically and you circled his stout frame, sinking in the comfort of his presence. In the blink of an eye, you were a five-year-old crybaby being consoled by a younger Cormag because there were no more mutton pies left that you could shove down your tiny mouth.

“I heard you were back, fear beag (little one). Wondered when you’d come visit this old git.” With a last squeeze, he took a step back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “Know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times now, but I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

His whisper was loaded with a heavy affection that shot your heart down to your stomach. Pressing your lips to stop your face from contorting at the memory of being alone in this world, you nodded, almost frantically, and sniffed. His eyes were a reflection of yours — the friendship between your athair and Cormag had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember.

“But let’s not get all teary now!”, his demeanour changed as he rubbed your shoulders before taking a step back. “Got something for you.”

He turned around to rummage through a rattan basket on one of the counters. Cormag exclaimed an enthusiastic “Ha!” when he got his hands on what he was looking for. Then he presented his discovery to you with a flourish that made you crow.

When you saw the peachy plum on the palm of his hand, you almost squealed. “Plums!” You quickly snatched it, afraid he would take it away.

“I arranged for these to be brought from Fachabair (Fochabers). The cook who serves the clan chief there is an old friend of mine.”

“But Cormag, plums are not in season yet!” You marvelled at the sight, munching on the delicious fruit eagerly. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“I know.” He winked at you mysteriously, but you didn’t press the matter if it meant you could get your hands on some more plums.

“I did come to you with a favour to ask”, you batted your eyelashes at him, anticipating his disapproval.

He looked at you, inquisitorial — it was his turn to fold arms at the chest. Cormag snapped his tongue as if to say, “do go on”.

“I already convinced Brighid so you cannae be mad at her. In fact, I promised her you wouldn’t.” You grinned at him, his face already puckering with exasperation. “I’m taking her place tonight as a serving maid.”

“Have you lost your damn mind, lass? Nay, I’m not having it”, he quickly dismissed you, grunting.

“I’m not asking for permission. I need to be there, I—” Just in time, you remembered that the two lads were still running around the fireplace, trying to keep the flames alive. “I’ll fill you in later, but I have to be there, there’s no discussion about it.”

“What? Serving that Roman scoundrel? There’s more royal blood in you than there is in him.” He was more offended than you were.

You laughed, patting his forearm. The old man already hated the Romans more than you did, and that was difficult to accomplish.

“Aye, and that’s not the worst bit, Cormag”, you teased him, because you knew he would lose his mind with rage.

“Enlighten me”, he said between gritted teeth.

“We are serving the Corma wine tonight with supper”, you pursed your lips, watching his reaction.

His round face turned all shades of red, and his nostrils flared. If it was physically possible, his ears would be steaming too, like a ceramic pot with boiling water over the open fire.

“NAY, OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!”, he exploded, shaking his arms over his head in disbelief, and you burst into laughter. Cormag was too expressive. “Ah, no, NO. We are not wasting such finery on that murderous cunt!”

You blinked rapidly at him to appease his fury, but his rage just gleamed brighter.

“Well… I kinda told him we would. You winnae make me look like a liar, right, Cormag?”, you muttered, as if you were a child who had committed the grave felony of stealing a sweet off the counter.

“You did WHAT?!”, he snorted angrily.

“Tìoraidh (bye)!”, you effusively waved him goodbye as you bit into the plum, sprinting off and ducking when you heard the wooden spoon flying by your ear.

“Trobhad (come here)!”, but you had already turned the corner into the hallway.

Why he was so taut, he did not fully understand. Marcus’ body was in high alert, and he had his suspicions about the cause.

You were just a woman like any other. Sure, your green eyes flickered like hellfire, your red hair was so bright it looked like you were up in flames, your upturned nose covered in freckles twitched adorably, and the skin on your hands was unusually soft — but that was it, really.

So you were nothing out of the ordinary, he kept telling himself. But it was hard to keep to that line of thought when your breast would brush against his shoulder every time you approached to clear the table from empty plates, when your velvety fingers would briefly caress the back of his hand while reaching for his cutlery, or when you would talk too close to his ear, a tingling sensation on the back of his neck almost making him shiver uncomfortably.

Marcus did not know if you were doing it on purpose or not — your face had an innocent look to it that was hard to read for him. The most prudent thing would be to ignore it all — ignore you. Surely you were only being suggestive in his imagination. And he still had the feeling something had upset you that afternoon when you stormed off after his training session.

“How’s the wine, Dux Meus?”, your sweet voice trickled from your plush lips like honey.

The way you kept referring to him as Dux Meus unsettled him. The first time you had said it during your encounter in the corridor, it caused certain havoc in his mind — and body.

Although it was appropriate for his title, no one really referred to him like that. My leader, my general, my god. It was the last connotation what made him feel… uneasy, for lack of a better word. It just sounded too intimate, the way it would pour from your oval-shaped mouth.

Marcus blamed it on Latin not being your first language. If you knew how seductively it rolled from your lips, he was sure you would stop addressing him like that straight away. Which meant he should correct you, tell you to just stick to Dominus.

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he did not.

“It’s as tasty and earthy as I remember it.” He replied, his fingers wrapping around the chalice with more strength than what was necessary.

You smiled at him, one of your hands gently placed on his right shoulder giving him a subtle squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord”, you mumbled, Marcus’ eyes following the movement of your hand when you broke contact.

You inched forward over his shoulder to grab the glass jug and refill his cup, gifting him with the sight of your generous cleavage — your breasts almost spilling over the neckline of the dark blue, linen dress that so tightly wrapped around your hourglass figure.

Marcus had to swallow hard, tension suddenly building up on his groin. Was he getting hard just by the mere touch of a woman? He sucked in his breath while forcing himself to look forward, not down.

He just nodded in reply, unable to find his voice. If he had talked, he would have just groaned in frustration. Marcus had to readjust his posture as he saw you walking away, your waist evocatively swaying sideways with every step you took.

“I’m sure the wine is not the only tasty thing around here.”

Maximus’ whispered jest forced Marcus to look in his direction, turning to his left. They, along with the other commanders and a few other people of importance, were sat on the table on the dais, facing the crowd. Other tables were scattered around the great hall, where some legionnaires were enjoying a meal and a drink, sharing a joke and bursting in laughter.

“I don’t follow”, he grunted, feigning ignorance, before taking a sip.

“Oh, you do follow. At least your eyes do.” Maximus mocked him while Marcus just sneered at him, eyes squinting. “No one would blame you though. We are far away in an unknown land, and we all have needs to satisfy. I myself am considering getting laid tonight.”

“I did not doubt you would.” Men like Maximus had no consideration for their wives.

Neither does Livia, the intrusive thought wiggled its way through his mind. Despite the lack of passion in bed with his spouse, Marcus had been a faithful husband. While others looked for warmth in the folds of a pleasure woman after a battle, the General would tend to his wounds and rest, focusing on what next skirmish lied ahead.

And while he had been loyal although there was never love between them, Livia had been fucking the “love of her life”, as she had referred to the man stuffing her cunt full during his long absences. Marcus was yet to know his name. What he would do with that information, he did not know.

Thinking of his perfidious wife had an extinguishing effect on him. The strain against his subligaculum (underwear) had softened.

“You’re too tense, Marcus. You need to relax, have some fun. I bet you two denarii that she will fuck the stress out of you expertly, I can tell.” Maximus pressed maliciously, conscious of how uncomfortable the conversation would make Marcus feel.

“Just shut up, will you?”, Marcus snapped back, tired of his friend’s quips, and downing the drink in his cup.

Maximus laughed it off and turned to talk to Cassius when you sauntered towards the table again, stopping right behind him.

“More wine, Dux Meus?”, you asked, infusing your honeyed voice with a sweet touch of flirtation.

You bent over his shoulder again, hand lazily looking for the wine jug in front of him. His hazel eyes fell on your bosom again and your nipples involuntarily hardened at the desire you saw in him — you were sure he noticed them peeking through the thin fabric.

In your attempts to arouse him, your body was betraying you, getting warm in all the wrong places. As much as you wanted to be immune to your own provocative games, you were not. But it wasn’t him who made you wet with lust, you told yourself. It was your own actions, nothing else. The long game.

But Marcus quickly tamed his expression, grinding his jaw and looking away.

“No, I’m okay”, he rejected your offer, hovering his hand over the chalice so you would not pour more.

You forced your lips into a flat line. You needed the man to let go of his defences. Having him drunk would help with that. But not tonight, apparently.

You nodded.

“Of course, Dominus.” You placed the jug back down on the table, your left breast brushing his right shoulder again.

You bit down your bottom lip, your free fingers curling on the back of his chair. It’s just the game, you thought to yourself again, your core slick and hot.

Slowly you retreated to the kitchens, fully aware of Marcus’ eyes feasting on your body. You smiled to yourself — he might be a taut General, but he was just a man.

A deceitful man at that, who thought there was no treachery in the art of war. Was that how he defeated your father? With deception? You had been too far to see and hear how the fight between your father and Marcus had unfolded, but having been witness to how the General distracted his opponent that afternoon, you wondered if he had followed similar tactics with Murdoch. If your father’s demise was just a byproduct of Marcus’ boldness.

The memory of Marcus being your father’s executioner put out the liquid fire in your crotch. And rightly so.

It wasn’t long before the Romans started to vanish from the great hall, retreating to the barracks or to town, maybe looking for the comfort only a woman could offer.

When you walked back out to clear the last plates, you saw the General leaving the room. Alone. Where he intended to go you did not know, but you had to make sure he was not considering joining the men in town — if he was to choose a woman to enliven his bed, he should pick you.

“Isla, I’ll be back in a minute.” The lass gave you a puzzled look as the bits you had gathered previously clattered against the wooden table when you let go of them.

You hurried forward to meet him as he swung the double doors open, the cold breeze of the corridor filtering into the great hall.

“Dux Meus, wait please”, you interjected in the hopes he would stop walking.

Indeed, he did. His whole body stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. You were not sure what to make of that reaction — exasperation or frustration. You hoped for the second, especially the good kind of frustration.

As soon as you reached him, you placed a daring hand on his forearm — an unusual surge of energy sparked at the contact between your skins, giving you goosebumps. You quickly retrieved your hand with certain surprise, the tingling sensation evaporating right after.

“I trust everything was good?”, you queried, tilting your head to one side.

“Yes. Now I’ll retire to my bedchambers. Bonum noctis (good night)”, his words dragged for a second, “Callie.”

There it was again, your name falling from his lips as if it belonged to him. It angered and pleased you equally. If he pronounced it like that on purpose you did not know, but it surely felt like it.

Before you could come up with an answer, he trudged to his right and you took a step forward.

“That is not the way to the main bedchamber, my lord. You should follow this other corridor instead”, you pointed to the left.

He paused and turned around to face you. A lingering question danced in his pupils, but whatever it was, he did not say out loud. Instead, he nodded.

“I am aware. However, I have taken a different bedroom.” He did not give you an explanation, but you could have a good guess. Your father always complained his bed was like a blanket of spikey rocks. “I am now lodged in the second tower, the room in the top floor.”

You tamed your face into nothingness, but internally you flinched at his reply. He was sleeping in your room, in your bed. The thought of him naked with your bedlinen draped around his waist and thick legs made you gush. Fuck.

This was unknown territory to you — although you had been married for ten years, you had not known pleasure in the bedchamber. Iain just chased his own release, using you in disgusting ways, proving you that you were the problem, not him — that your womb was barren. You had been told by your friends that fucking was enjoyable for both parties, but you were yet to discover that. Maybe the dampness your legs harboured was a start?

“I see”, you curtsied, fingers laced on your back, looking up at him through your long eyelashes.

“How come you speak Latin?” His question blurted out, catching you completely off guard.

Marcus had a nick for inconvenience, forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. Luckily you were astute and creative.

“My late father was a scrivener to Murdoch. He taught me how to speak Latin, as it was his favourite language.”

“He passed?” You simply nodded. “I trust you still have family around though?”

You shook your head no. You killed them all, ye cunt. But you could not express your hatred out loud. Although when the time came, you would. Aye, you definitely would.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a second you believed him, his tone almost sorrowful.

“It was a long time ago.” You lied through your teeth, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your rest now. Oidhche mhath (good night), Marcus.”

You heard a loud sigh being drawn into his lungs, possibly because of your cheekiness — calling him by his first name was a very bold move on your part. Maybe too bold.

Before he could reprimand you for your audacity, you scuttled back into the great hall, a sufficient grin tugging at your lips.

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