#PREV. I WISH SHE WAS REAL TOO

[nouvellevqgue]

✦ LIKE AN UNKNOWN SIGN, C. LECLERC

sometimes, hidden love without sign is just unknown

req: Maybe a smau for Charles Leclerc x Reader but he’s with Alexandra and everyone wants them to like get tgt and she like posts stuff that’s like telling him to break up with her and at the end he breaks up with Alex and they end up tgt

fc: olivia rodrigo

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yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, lailahasanovic, and 520,143 others

yourusername 🥦🌱⛳🍵☘️

👤: nbcsnl

view comments...

username damn green looks good on you

astonmartinf1 😌☘️

username oh no aston martin commented, does this mean...

⤷ username nah don't

username your performance was good omg wish i was there😭😭

tatemcrae wish you were here

tatemcrae miss you real bad

⤷ yourusername miss you too baby<3☹️☹️

username okay laila i can tell, but charles i don't know

⤷ username laila and mick are her friends, she definitely know charles and vice versa 🤷🏼‍♀️

⤷ username but still bcs it's quite sus

lailahasanovic that fur coat is top tier i want it

⤷ yourusername same honestly😭

username poor alex she deserves better☹️

username he should've be with her fr i mean HIS INTERVIEW???

⤷ username he's a fan alright, and so do we

⤷ username DON'T U UNDERSTAND HIS FEELINGS FOR HER IS NOT JUST A FAN THEIR WITH IDOL SORT OF RELATIONSHIP

⤷ username y/n belong to charles. period

username i'm hoping that she's aware with these comments and ended up making a crazy songs about alex and building a tons of gossips around the paddock. it's gonna be so much fun oml

louispartridge grinch

⤷ yourusername elf

scuderiaferrari 🥴❤️

⤷ username ok fuck now ferrari commented i know it's complicated

yourusername added to their story!

caption: he ain't wrong, this kinda looks like a grinch. thanks louispartridge for the reminder.

replying to: yourusername 's story

still with louis?

replying to: charles_leclerc

you know there's nothing between us

and how about you and alex? are you still with her or something?

seen

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yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and 781,290 others

yourusername i only speak truth 🗣️

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bradmondo slaying natural look as usual

⤷ username i thought it was brad pitt for a sec💀💀

username new album when?

username new song when

username she's so stunning

username mother slayed as always

florencepugh i miss our kitchen fight😔

⤷ yourusername sameeee😭😭

louispartridge you forgot your sunny

⤷ yourusername i already edit it on photoshop

⤷ username omg louisy/n interaction is real😍

⤷ username IT'S JUST A SINGLE (1) INTERACTION AND YOU SAID THEY'RE TOGETHER????

⤷ username say that to yourself shipping y/n and charles

⤷ username you see how charles is here now huh

⤷ username what she just a random selebgram

⤷ username WDYM RANDOM SELEBGRAM??????????

lancestroll hey come get your man he won't answer my call after last night

⤷ username what last night

⤷ carlossainz55 lancestroll you know she has a private account right?

⤷ landonorris nothing happened last night, everyone goodbye

⤷ username that's not a proper goodbye and you know it lando

⤷ username something happened and twitter are still cold...

⤷ yourusername 😐

⤷ landonorris how about we set up a barbeque party?

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yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and 470,511 others

yourusername babysitter for hire

view comments...

username i know but we need a break up song rn

username tell me she's in love and hiding it (she's bad at hiding her feelings)

liked by charles_leclerc

username but tbh i don't believe if her album is about love. and if it is, some songs are definitely about her prev break up

username can y'all just enjoy her content?

username petition for taylorswift to invite her to be in eras tour

isahernaez mi linda hermanita😍����

sabrinacarpenter can't believe you bought the american girl

⤷ yourusername should've bought the british girl then

⤷ sabrinacarpenter monaco girl

comment has been deleted

⤷ username what the fuck i'm heading to twitter rn

username what is this sabrina and y/n???????? having a conv without starting a war??

username SABRINA AND Y/N NATION WHAT ARE WE FEELING NOW?

irisapatow the bff cupcake is true but there's no me, so i claim it as a false

⤷ yourusername no u no probs 😎

⤷ irisapatow 🖕🏻

username after she release sour, i think it's time to do sweet yourusername?

⤷ yourusername i'll do bitter instead.

username charles with alex, there ain't no way

⤷ rachelzegler please take the truth

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yourusername and vogue

vogue aspiring singer y/n l/n is sharing her thoughts about her newest single, ‘all-american bitch’ and about her rumoured love triangle between the formula one driver, charles leclerc, and enola holmes actor, louis partridge.

view comments...

iamrebeccad pretty baby 🤩

⤷ username now rebecca's here, is this not enough for yall to think that charles is with her rn

⤷ username c'mon that is innocent, she just supporting her💀

username YESSSSS VOGUE NOTICED‼️‼️🗣️🔥

username mother is back photoshooting y'all

username charles break up with alex challenge

username pls just be with charles

username wdym she's great with louis

username MY LIFE HAS BEEN RESTORED

username Y/N AND CHARLES Y/N AND CHARLES Y/N AND CHARLES Y/N AND CHARLES Y/N AND CHARLES

username she's literally so stunning omg

charlottesiine 👑

⤷ yourusername no u 👸🏻

⤷ username mothers interacting

⤷ username green light from cha everybody

⤷ username she literally said like, "just get him girl"

sabrinacarpenter added to their story!

caption: what a (real) american bitch should look like:

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charles_leclerc and meta

liked by charles_leclerc, zuck, and 148,790 others

meta charles_leclerc and our camera glasses is going out karting in los angeles🥳🏁

view comments...

username literally 🤓

username akshually ☝️🤓

username he is not maxplaining so relax

carlossainz55 you see the early comments? AJAJAJAJAJAJA

⤷ charles_leclerc i tried my best and you just be like this? what is this kind of teammate

yourusername hello you standard office worker

meta pretty nerdy✨

username NOT YN SAYING HE LOOK NERDY TOO😭😭

username but he looks so good in it tho

username y/n 🤝 carlos = saying he looks nerdy without saying he looks like it

username girl wym is that🫵🏻😭

username who's p1?

⤷ landonorris a W meta worker

⤷ charles_leclerc lie

⤷ landonorris no no don't try, because i'm there too

⤷ yourusername beaten by a morker

⤷ charles_leclerc it's not him, and what is a morker

⤷ yourusername meta worker🤓

f1wagsupdate

f1wagsupdate charles rumoured (second) girlfriend, y/n, is seen leaving a local cafe in los angeles yesterday with a mysterious man with a tan hoodie and a sunglasses. sources said that she is keeping her relationship strict with privacy.

view comments...

username she's off with louis and now she's with another man?? why is she so childish?

username how old is she why is she looks so damn short?

username bet it's louis they're reconciling

⤷ username keep dreaming girly i'll wake u up

username nonono it's charles i know

username GOD WHY IS IT ALWAYS THEM BOTH PLS GUESS FOR ANOTHER

username for the love of god she hasn't breaking up with louis yet pls stop

username god forbid her to have a male friend

username they WERE friend PLEASEEEE😭😭

username literally manifesting that it'll be charles

username but if it's charles, what abt louis? will he get his own sad album?

⤷ username i think it's charles who will get the song/album

username get over it guys she's literally a child

username she's mature enough to stay with one especially when it's THE louis partridge

username idc with the rumours but she looks good with her fits

⤷ yncloset slayed as always

username no but shush do you realize charles' partnership with meta is also in la

⤷ username SHUT UP DON'T MAKE ME THINK ABT IT🫵🏼😭😭😭

⤷ username wait yeah but idc i don't want to trace the line

joris__trouche added to their story!

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yourusername is added to their story!

caption: what the fucks happening

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

Geoffrey and Bob Karaoke selection- Creep - Radiohead

AN: A little more insight on Nancy and her major: Nancy is majoring in architecture. The Landgraabs are famously known for owning land and property- both residential and commercial- and Nancy will eventually operate the part of family business that will allow her to design houses, buildings and other structures in addition to leasing. (Geoffrey comes from a family of doctors but he decided to get a business degree- as he knows this would likely please Nancy's parents)

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: Think about it, Nancy! Making your mark on this university—on the world—begins with Theta!

Becca: Nice one, you two.

Nancy: They only want me to join their organization because it’ll benefit them. All they care about is money -Ouch!

Geoffrey: [winces] Sorry. Your knees are completely raw.

Geoffrey: They’ve only got as far as knowing your name. If you give them a chance to get to know the real you-

Nancy: There’s nothing to know! Why do you think I had my parents make arrangements so I’d have my own room? I don’t want roommates. I don’t want friends! I just want to do my time so I can-

Geoffrey: Get away, I know...but what if you just take the next four years to have fun? It’s ok to just enjoy it for what it is. Isn’t that what college is all about?

Nancy: [scoffs] Sure, for you. You don’t have the same expectations as me.

Nancy: You can be anything you want. You can join any sports team; you can switch your major a million times if you want to. I have to excel at everything I do, whether I want to or not, and I cannot come out of this a failure. I have to be ready to start working along with my parents the moment I graduate.

Geoffrey: I just want you to be happy. I want you to take care of yourself. Be kinder to yourself. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. You’re a good person. You’re an amazing person, Nancy. Anyone would be lucky to be apart of your life.

Geoffrey: Does this hurt?

Nancy: Yes. It hurts.

Nancy: You’re too good for me.

Geoffrey: Don’t say that.

Geoffrey: It’s Karaoke night at Tab’s. Bobby and I wanted to check it out. Did you want to go?

Nancy: I think I’ll pass. I should get started on this project for Munch. I want to get ahead.

Geoffrey: If you change your mind, come down and unwind a bit. Have fun. Eat. Ok?

Nancy: Ok.

Geoffrey: I love you, Nance.

[door shuts]

Nancy Narrates: [I’m holding him back. A selfish part of me knows it, but I can’t fathom the thought of losing someone else]

[distant laughter]

Nancy: Heavenly Father, help me to find peace in Your love and wisdom-

Geoffrey and Bob Karaoke Pick: Creep by Radiohead I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

[crowd whistles and cheers]

I don't care if it hurts I wanna have control

I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul

Morgan: [hums] Upright High Priestess. That’s twice now. Once again, my intuition is being called forth.

I want you to notice When I'm not around

Morgan: My appetite is off. I can’t focus. If I weren’t on the pill, I’d think I was knocked up. So. What does that leave me with? I can almost bet this is all connected to-

Morgan: You! You have something to do with this.

Nancy: [frowns] Do with...what, exactly?

You're so fuckin' special I wish I was special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo

Morgan: Rich Christian girl with walls as high as Berlin stumbles on campus and taps my shoulder. I had a dream the night before that I placed an injured dove back into its nest. I think this is fate. Sit. I’ll do your reading. Free of charge, of course.

Nancy Narrates: [I didn’t know it then, how right she was. About fate. About everything]

What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

[hmusunoo]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐓 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 ( prev. )

desc. │ ꜱᴍᴀᴜ + ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. ᴊᴀᴋᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʙᴏʏ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴇᴏᴜʟ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʜɪꜱ ᴘɪᴄᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜɪꜱ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ʜɪꜱ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴏʟ, ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ꜰᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏʏ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ.

warnings. │ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇʟʏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇꜱᴘᴇᴀʀᴇ’ꜱ ʀᴏᴍᴇᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜʟɪᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ‘ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ʏᴇꜱ, ᴊᴜʟɪᴇᴛ’ ʙʏ ᴡᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀᴋᴇ’ꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋɪɴɢ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘꜱ ʟᴏʟ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴇꜱ, ᴍɪꜱᴏɢʏɴʏ (ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ꜰʀᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ) ᴋᴀɪ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀʜɪʏʏɪʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴡɪɴꜱ, ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪᴅᴏʟꜱ.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴡɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛꜱ ʟᴏʟ. ʙᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ

She ran from the room, the sound of laughter drowned out by the breaking of her heart. Her sobs shook her entire body, there was an ache she had never felt before. A pain so crippling it tore at her insides clawing its way out with her heart in its grasp. No matter how much her body wanted to give way and collapse she took the long strides be-lining for the parking lot to reach her car.

She was a heap of herself, hollow. She hadn’t felt such pain since [ redacted spoilers ] she had been so so stupid, too stupid. She opened herself up escaped the shell that she had put herself in and look where it got her. Humiliated, heartbroken.

Footsteps approached at rapid speed behind her. She had barely heard them over her sobs.

“Y/n! Stop please” His voice made her skin crawl and her knees buckle. She was sick.

A hand grasped her arm but she yanked it away as if the touch had burned her, it felt like it had. The heat of her anger had boiled inside of her and she was about to unleash it all if she didn’t get herself out of here and away from him.

“Don’t touch me!” She cried, turning to face Jake. Her face was red and wet and she could just imagine how crazy she had truly looked. “Don’t ever touch me again.” She said again, a venom so harsh laced in her words. Her gaze was sharp the hatred and hurt evident on her features. It tore Jake in two.

“Please.” Jake said catching his breath for only a moment. “Let me explain-“

“There’s nothing to explain Jake.” Y/n’s tears had stopped flowing for only a second. It felt as if her heart was giving her a rest for only a mere second. “I seen all i needed to see, and now i never want to see or speak to you again. i hate you.” She spit the words out at him. Jake flinched as if it had pained him to hear her say it.

“It was all real y/n. all of it was real, i love-“

Y/n cut him off, all fire gone from her words “Don’t” She spoke softly. “Please don’t. don’t humor me, don’t lie to me out of pity-“

“I’m not lying-“ Jake tried to interject

“Let me finish. Don’t lie to me out of pity ok?” She took a deep breath. “I gave myself to you. Small pieces at first, then all of me that day at [ redacted spoilers ] i told you things i’ve never told anyone. Not even the people most close to me, that’s how much i believed i loved you Jake. but you’ve made a fool out of me. you broke me. i’ll never forgive you, and i’ll never forget. leave me alone ok? please.” A tear fell from her eye “Please leave me alone” She turned away quickly, the anger dissipating leaving her alone with her sorrow. Y/n felt small, smaller than she’d ever felt before. Ever step to her car had hurt, turning the key and driving away hurt.

Jake watched her go, his head pounding and the words he wished to say to her stuck in his throat. He was a coward, a coward who has determined to not let go of the one thing that was ever truly good in his life.

He needed a plan, fast.

[yeosbbm]

Studio Sessions

Smut | MDNI

starring: producer! Hongjoong x producer! Fem reader

genre: lovers reunited, yearning between two, coworkers to lovers/friends to lovers

summary: You helped Hongjoong produce music for Ateez for so long but soon left due to feeling as though they didn’t need you. But you get a call from KQ asking for you to help out with their new comeback to keep Hongjoong from wearing himself out. After reconnecting with him, your dynamic and relationship with him takes a turn.

warnings/prevs: hongjoong is whipped for the reader, reader lowkey denying their own feelings 😭, sweet/dirty talk, pet names, thigh riding, a half cup of cunnilingus, fingering, overstim implied, one moment of impact play, unprotected piv (wrap it up), light dom-sub dynamic.

A/n: in this work I honestly didn’t/barely use “y/n” and changed up the perspectives to experiment and I actually prefer this tbh. I had so much writing this you guys you don’t understand 😭 btw I might remove my mingi fic after reading over it and push it pt.2 will be released tomorrow 🫶🏾

Session #1

“Wait so, she’s coming back.:.to help with producing the comeback.”

Hongjoong is shocked you cared to come back. Starting at the Thanxx era, you produced for KQ alongside Hongjoong, but after a while you questioned your talents or if Ateez even needed you. So you departed from the company after the Deja Vu comeback. It shattered Hongjoong because the best of Ateez was from you two’s hard work.

What also shattered him was his feelings for you. He was in love with you, he knew that it was inappropriate to feel that way about a friend and colleague, but he couldn’t help it. His love and right hand support was gone.

“We realized that this album has put a strain on you and we don’t need anyone to strain themselves mentally or physically before the comeback.” Hongjoong is listening but isn’t as attentive as he usually was during one on one meetings. He was still trying to wrap his head around how you and him are going to be in the same room again after all this time.

“So, we reached out to her and luckily she hasn’t transferred to a new label. She agreed to rejoin KQ.”

Hongjoongs head is finally out the clouds. “This is great thank you sir, I need to prepare and clean my studio and file what we have.” He wanted you to see him in his best condition.

“There’s no need she’s already in the studio.” Fuck.

After speedwalking through the building he finally reaches his studio. Through a cracked door he could see you stood there, running your hand on the sound board. He swallows and decides to come in. “Hey it’s me, I-I didn’t think you’d get here so soon.” He tried to sound as natural as possible.

“It seems like Joongie still can’t manage to keep his studio tidy.” You laugh while running your hand through all the software you haven’t used in forever.

Hongjoong is stuck..why ? because he’s realized from you calling him ‘joongie’ alone, all the memories and feelings for you have flooded back.

You walk towards him and embrace him. You’ve missed him too, and feeling him in real time makes your heart ache in nostalgia and a sea of suppressed feelings. “I’m proud of you guys, Bouncy was a hit I’m shocked you guys even need me back.”

Hongjoongs eyes are set on your face, you’re as pretty as the last time he’s seen you. “I wish you had never left.” Now you were both stuck wordlessly staring at each other.

You snap out of it and back away to clap your hands. “Then let’s get to work shall we!”

Hongjoong’s head is once again, finally out the clouds. “YEA! Let’s make this happen.”

Session #5

You and Hongjoong have now had 5 sessions recording, editing and sorting the music and vocals, and Joong has enjoyed every bit of it. He always puts every ounce of passion, effort and creativity into his music, whether you’re there or not, but something about you being here adds a spark.

You hadn’t came in yet due to errands. Hongjoong had to record Mingi on his own. Mingi finally leaves the booth so him and Hongjoong can listen through.

“So, what do you think about her coming back.” Mingi says twiddling his thumbs.

“All I can say is that I’m glad.” He was more than glad, he was ecstatic to have you by his side again. But, he knew gushing about you to Min might cause a ripple effect.

“So what have you thought about her these days..has she changed…has your view on her changed orr?.”

Hongjoong didn’t know where to start.

On a colleague level, he thinks you’re an amazing part of the team and admires your work ethic. On a romantic level, wants to see you outside the studio, have a home date that ends with him kissing the top of your head and cuddling on your couch. And for the more lustful thoughts, he already thinks you’re pretty, but thinks you’d be prettier while you cry from overstim, he wants to make you feel fireworks while you cum from his mouth, hands, di-

“Earth to Joong damn it.” Mingi is sat laughing and apalled on how caught in his thoughts Joong was. “Sorry sorry I’ve been missing sleep.”

“You’ve been missing her.” Mingi could tell and had a grin of knowing.

“No I haven’t.” He did. He wished you dropped the errands and was sitting by him right now.

“Wowww I didn’t know it was like that Hj.” You walked in only hearing the final two bits of their convo. Fuck.

After Mingi left, you and Joong sat in the studio mixing audios and perfecting songs that had already been finished. For hours you two laugh, bonded and caught up on old times.

Joong had moments where he was so fixated by you. Whether it was your face of focus on your laptop, the way you smiled at him when the mix sounds good, how your body moves when you truly feel the beat.

Soon Hongjoong had left momentarily in order to practice choreo with the members. He told you he’d be back since you wanted to stay behind. When he returned by 1am he expected you to still be awake working hard like old times. But you haven’t worked this hard on a song in so long you fell asleep.

As you slept on the couch, using a blanket he keeps in his studio. Hongjoong could only stare, seeing you so still and peaceful…your most beautiful form.

He dims the lights, fixes the blanket, and takes off your shoes. Normally the change of lighting alone would wake you but the studio was so tranquil you can sleep so deeply. Before Hongjoong starts working on his own,,he kisses your forehead.

Session #10

You can sense that your feelings for Joong are returning during this session. It started with him buying your favorite drink order with a sticky note attached.

“Had to go to a quick photoshoot, wait for me <3 [: ”

Then it’s how when he got there, he put his hands on your shoulders while watching you work. The weight of his hands alone has your stomach filled with rapid butterflies. What really killed you is when he leaned down to whisper a suggestion in your ear for the sample placement.

You shivered and thanked him for telling you, then hid your face by staring directly in the screen, avoiding him possibly seeing you flustered.

The icing is how you began to have eye strain and head was humming from the loud sounds around you. Your senses were becoming dull and all you could do was squint and wince in your chair.

“You good ?” He turns his chair to you concerned. “Yea it’s just my head no worries.” You rub your eyes a bit and stretch your arms before going back to your work.

Then you hear Hongjoong get up from his chair, you assume he needs to grab something but hear him directly behind you, then he rakes his hands through your hair up your scalp and begin massaging and rubbing pattens with his fingers.

The cherry on top was when he leaned forward into your ear again but this time he whispered. “That feel good ?” You nod and have to keep yourself from thinking out of pocket scenarios that involve you and him in bed. You know he’s simply talking about your headache but…Fuck.

Final Session.

“Uuuuh lower the synths here so it doesn’t drown out Yeosangs vocals.”

“Joong if we get rid of the synths here…” You hint at how this could compromise the beat.

“I know the beat will sound empty but I need something to highlight but not drown out Yeosang’s voice since it’s deeper.” He is clearly stressed, you can tell by how he’s holding his head stumped and how tired he looks. Then you have a lightbulb moment.

“Wait….” you turn your laptop so he can see what you mean, “Take the drums but turn on sound opacity.” You can tell Hongjoong isn’t sure on what you’re hinting but you have his upmost confidence.

“And then bring in spare vocals from Jongho’s scrapped harmony.” You intently watch him follow your directions. When he’s finished he plays back the beat. There it was, the best version of the title track.

You two take a break since Joong ordered you both chinese takeout. You’re both on his studio’s couch he’s sitting down while you’re laying on the rest of the space, your legs resting on Hongjoongs.

While taking the plastic off your straw and poking it into your drink, “5 songs done, a title track and 3 more to go.” You’re giggling. “With the rate we’re going making them together. Ateez might have an early comeback.”

“Yea I don’t know what I could’ve done or could do without you, I need you around all the time.” You pause while pushing your food around but get back into tossing it around to your liking.

You notice you and Joong haven’t taken a single bite of each others food. Are you both nervous, nervous about what though…is he going to…He doesn’t mean it like that he sees you as a friend. The thought racks your brain. “Ahh thank you Joong it’s sweet to know you think of me so well.”

She’s dodged me again. Joong thinks to himself holding back letting out a harsh sigh of frustration.

“I- I need your vocals for this sound bite …can we record it now before we wrap up.” Your eyes widened suprised he’d ask you and not maddox or anyone else. “Sure, meet me in the booth.” You walk in first while Joong puts both of your food in a microwave.

You both head in and place on the headphones and adjust the mic to y’all’s height. He handed you lyrics, the melody starts and you sing. Hongjoong is once again enamored hearing you sing and watching you feel the music all through your body. His lips are parted and eyes are on you alone. Once you’re finish your part you look up to see Joong sing his portion but he’s silent and his eyes are stuck on yours.

“I love you.”…..that wasn’t in the script, maybe it’s an adlib you think but Joong was staring as serious as ever. “I’ve loved you for a while and I want you to be mine, I mean this- this isn’t a song Y/n.” Denial is sitting in your chest. “Joong you’re just tired let’s go home.”

Hongjoong is over it. What more could you need to understand his feelings for you, what else could he possibly need to do to spell it out.

Joong pulls you in and kisses you, the kiss starts with soft light pecks but the more you lean into the kiss the more confident he became, soon the kiss became more hungry and daring,, he even introduced his tongue.

Moments later when the kiss finally breaks, Hongjoong is nipping and kissing at your neck, he goes back up to your ear, “If you want to stop just tell me now.”

“Keep going….I want this.” You both kiss again, charged with lust and want. “Go to the couch.” you and him rush to it. He sits first and looks up at you.

“Take your shorts off.” You pull your shoes off and begin sliding your shorts down. “Should I take my shirt off too.” Hongjoong licks his lips and nods, he removes his own shirt so you won’t get shy with the exposure. He pulls you onto his lap.

You both begin kissing again but now his hands are grabbing and pawing your ass, after teasing you to when he sees fit, he grabs your hips and begins to slowly but surely grind your body back and forth across his thigh. He leaned forward so his mouth was against your jawline, his warm breath tickling you, “Do you wanna get off on my thigh pretty?” He asked, and his teeth grazed the last column of your neck.

The shyness is eating you up so all you can do is nod and begin rocking your hips at a moderate pace. Hongjoong grips your hips tighter and begins pressing your farther on his thigh and helping you roll your hips faster. Soon he slides you down on the lower part of his leg

He starts quickly bouncing his leg, the friction of your heat and his thigh becomes overwhelming. “Go ahead love,,let go for me..” You grip his shoulders tighter and rock your hips 2..3….4 more times before you finish on his thigh.

Joong was insatiable though…he needed more he wanted to see more of your expressions. He begins slowly bouncing again. You whimper from the sudden continuation of pressure and quickly cover your own mouth because of the noises you were making.

Joong couldn’t have this though, he takes the hand over your mouth and puts it into his “I need to hear you baby let me listen to how I make you feel”. He purposely bounces his leg and presses you farther again, you moan and pant aloud which leads to a face of satisfaction appearing on him. Moments later you’re undone again creating another mess on his thigh.

Hongjoong gently laid your body on the couch and removed your panties. He sat in awe with the amount of slick coming with them. He groans at the view, looks down and his eyes burn into your heat. He takes his thumb and presses it and makes slow experimental circles. “Joong please move faster.” He makes quicker tight circles and prods your slit with the knuckles of his other fingers. “Is it ok to put one in.” He slowly runs them up and down your slit while you can feel your heartbeat in your clit. “Shit- yes please.”

He leans forward to give you a french kiss and then slowly brings his middle and index finger into your heat. He is caught in a trance moving them in and out, hearing them squelch when inside and watching your hips squirm and breath quicken. He begins reaching them deeper and farther to find the gspot that resides in you, when he pushed and watched your eyes roll back into your head and legs almost shut on his hand he knows.

That’s when he starts pressing and curling his fingers and now you’re at the point of no return. “Cmon baby cum on my fingers.” He presses his thumb against your clit causing a stream of pleasure to shoot through you and begins to finger fuck you at a pace that makes you start propping yourself up on the couch. He removes his thumb and buries his face in your cunt and brings your clit to his mouth, he sucks and nips at it harshly making your voice let out and bounce on the studio walls. A higher pitch “Fuckkk” escapes your mouth while you cum the third time.

Joong tries to get as much of your arousal from your cunt as he can. He feels you get tense and brings an arm to your thigh and squeezes, he paused to say “Just cleaning you up baby.” Soon he takes quick but long licks back to back to get whatever he missed. He lightly kissed your inner thighs and rises back up. He pulls down his shorts and reveals his cock, painfully hard and leaking pre.

You already make your way to his lap attempting to bring it into yourself so you can ride while facing him. Joong stops you however…”Let me take care of you.” He kisses and takes quick lovebites on your neck. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted..let me take care of this pussy, yea ?” You shiver by the confidence that’s filled him. You nod and he raises you up and gently slides his cock up into you.

He starts with shallow pumps, hoping not to hurt you. There’s a small sting but it’s drowned out by how good being stretched by him feels. “h-harder.” You mutter, but Joong needs to fully hear it from you. “Use your words love.” You hide your face in his neck while he carefully rolls his cock into you. “Fuck me harder Joongie.” The nickname has him spiraling. He starts straight bucking his hips up and bringing your hips down onto his cock.

You’re both still facing each other and he stares into your eyes and watches you moan and cry on his dick. He can watch you forever, he speeds up craving to see your eyes flutter and roll back more…to watch you bite your lip and stare into his eyes pleading for release. “Watch how pretty you are down here baby.” He whispers. His forehead is leaning onto yours and you both watch his dick fucks into you. You’re clenching harder than ever making Joong hiss and fuck you faster.

“I- I love you too Joong.” He smiles and hits you with a feverish kiss.

He slaps your ass before he grabs your hips harsher. You’re on the brink, you can’t take it any longer. “Cum for joongie one last time.” He whispers into your ear and then you become undone for the final time. Joong pulls out and jerks his cock until he nuts on your lower stomach.

He lays you down on the couch before he walks to his studio closet. He wipes your face and abdomen down with some semi warm wipes and gives you a pair of his black sweats and hands you some slippers you left here when you first departed. “Here love.” You’re handed an ice cold bottle of juice he left in the studio mini fridge at the beginning of the day.

While putting his shirt back on and raising his shorts, “Wanna grab our food and come to my place for a movie ? ”

“What about the final 3 songs ?” It comes out quiet because the final orgasm knocked your voice out of you.

“We’ve got tomorrow, and the next day and the next day..” he kisses your lips and lands a quick one on the top of your head.

“We’ve got forever if you stay by me.”

[lacedinweb22]

About Last Night °✧*:･ (Miguel's POV)

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱✮♱ Vampire Next Door (ch. 8) prev part

*+:｡.｡　｡.｡:+*

I wake up splayed on my living room couch. My ears ring, skin tingling, buzzing at me, trying to tell me something. I feel her eyes on me. 

She’s sat at the kitchen counter, looking at a pile of blueprints. 

I don’t get hungover; my genotype won’t allow it, but I suppose it's had worse shit mess with it. I stand up slowly then walk towards the counter, to her. 

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Mig.” 

“How did you sleep? How was the bed? Are you hung over?”

“I’m good, I’m fine,” she smiles up at me, softly. It gives me that feeling in my chest.

She looks down, her brows knit together.

“Last night was something, huh? Quite an eventful night,” she nods, looking down at the prints, avoiding my stare.

“It was…”

“I’m sorry, I– I shouldn’t have come onto you, I mean you were drunk and I–”

“You’re saying it like it was a mistake…”

“No– I mean yeah well, I pulled you into me,”

“I cornered you in the closet– it’s on me too, Y/N… did you not… mean it?”

“You were drunk, Mig, you didn’t mean it.” 

“What didn’t I mean? How would you know?”

She pauses, tilts her head. 

“After the party, you walked me back, that stuff you said, it was the alcohol. You were drunk.”

“I uhh put a happy face on your final paper,” I exhale as we drag our feet back to our corner of the apartment building.

“Do you … remember that?” I ask.

She looks up at me, nodding, softly smiling. She looks back down.

“Yeah, hm, that fed my delusions for quite a bit.” 

“You weren’t delusional. I saw you,”

“How? I sat in the way back, Mig.”

“I liked the way you wrote. I liked to read you, liked the way your mind worked. Still do.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I am … but I still mean what I say.” 

Her eyebrows furrow, then soften up with a smile. Wish she believed me.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it,”

“We just met, Mig, and I just, I wanted it to be real.”

“Everything I said was true. Did we not go to the same university? I knew who you were, I read you, and it felt like–  I knew you… Where is this coming from? What did it mean to you, huh? I wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage–”

I wince at my words. 

She slowly gets off of the stool. 

“Yeah, it was a mistake,” she mutters, reaching for the door. 

“Y/N, no. I just—”

Her cheeks are flushed, and I take a deep breath, realizing the overwhelming weight in my chest, watching her leave, watching her realize I was her mistake.

I watch her retreat. She shuts the door, shuts me out. 

****

I come back from work, climbing through the window, when I feel the buzzing again. 

It comes from the other side of the hall. Unfamiliar voices.

I open my door.

It’s maintenance. 

I stand in the hallway, watching men converse, walking in with their tool boxes.

“Y/N? Is Y/N there?” 

“Yes, sir. She’s in the bathroom, showing the guys.” 

“Y/N,” I call out. I hear her footsteps approaching, recognizing the weight, the creak that comes with her steps. 

She looks surprised to see me, which ends abruptly, her face growing unamused. 

“What do you want?”

“Why didn’t you come get me? I could’ve done it for you!” 

“Done what.”

“Fixed whatever needed to be fixed.”

“That seems like… like something a married person would do for the person they’ve married,”

“You brat. Dios. They’re going to be here all night! There’s three men in your apartment right now. It would’ve been a one man job for me.”

“There’s also a woman working inside, sexist,” she shrugs.

I cross my arms.

“Mig, it’s fine. I’ll lock my bedroom door.” 

“Do you hear the ruckus they’re making? Think you’ll be able to sleep through that?” 

She pauses, thinking.

“It’s late. Stay at mine again. Please— for both of our peace of mind.” 

“Mig,”

“Stay at mine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

****

I open to her knocks. She storms in, right past me, heading to the couch, pillow in hand. 

“Y/N, I said you could sleep on my bed.”

“No. We’re not married, remember? It’s your bed,” she raises her palms at me, “Couldn’t touch it. That would be a sin.”

“God, can you drop that?” 

“You started it.”

“Funny.” 

“And I’m only staying here because it’s either them keeping me up or you keeping me up with all your loud sex activities,” she mutters, pulling the blanket off from the top of the couch and over her, laying down. 

“Sex– I don’t have sex activities. I’m just boxing, or… or reorganizing my bathroom cabinets. Ay, cállate y duérmete. I’ve had enough of you.” Ugh, shut up and go to sleep.

“You sleep,” she mutters, muffled under the blanket. Her eyes are closed.

****

I sit at the kitchen counter, scribbling on a blueprint, as she sleeps on the couch. 

I look up every once in a while, wincing at the clinging of metal across the hall, checking if it was audible to her. Our ears work differently.

The living room isn’t as warm as my bedroom. She’s all bundled up. 

I get my blanket from my bedroom and bring it over to her.

Her eyes are closed, the bottom half of her face is covered by the blanket. I cover her up with another layer.

I turn to walk away, when I feel warmth tug at my wrist. 

“Did you mean it? Did I really mean anything to you back then?” she whispers.

I stop in my tracks, looking down at the carpet under me. It’s hard to be sober and… open. 

“Yes… Y/N,” I whisper down at her. She opens her eyes. 

“I liked you then,” she whispers through the blanket.

I nod, then look back down at her, “I get that now.”

She lets go of my wrist. 

“Are you comfortable? Do you want my bed?” 

“Are you going to stay up working? I don’t want to steal your bed again.” 

“I’ll probably be up for a while working on something. Take my bed. Vamos,” let’s go. 

She slowly gets up, as I take the blankets off of her and sling them over my shoulder. 

I lead her down the hall, then open the door into darkness.

“I’ll never get over how huge your bed is.”

“I’m tall.” She looks up at me then scoffs. 

She approaches the lamp on my bedside table, touches the pull chain then looks back up at me. I nod. 

The room becomes dimly lit up by orange light. She looks up at me before slowly getting into my bed. It makes my heart race.

She stays on one side of the bed. I walk over to where she lays, and gently layer the two blankets over her. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I nod, adjusting the blanket over her shoulder. 

“Good luck with the blueprints.”

****

Two hours pass. I check in on her, slowly opening the door. She lays on her side, eyes opened, staring at the wall. 

“What’s wrong?” I whisper from the doorway.

“Just thinking,” she whispers back, turning to look at me, “Creep.”

“Just checking on you… what’s wrong?”

“Lay with me.”

“I– okay.”

I sink onto the other side of the bed.

I lay on my back, arms crossed. 

She turns to face me, lying on her side.

“I’ve been stuck in the past, Mig. I’ve been confused about everything lately, everything but… you, ” she exhales.

My heart skips a beat, and I don’t know what to say, though I know I feel the same.

Say something, idiot.

She closes her eyes, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you want me?”

I gulp, then nod. Thought it was clear.

“Then say something.”

“You know how I feel–”

“I don’t,”

A sigh escapes me.

“Can’t you feel it? I don’t know how to put it into words. I’m trying.”

“I know, I know.”

She grabs the hand I have rested on my side and squeezes it. 

And she looks up at me, like she can see me, the me I can’t even see in myself, the one I thought died a year ago.

I grab her hand and put it to my face. I let her feel the warmth in my cheeks, the flush she put there.

I sigh, gather my thoughts.

“So what will it take for you to fall asleep?”

She hums in thought. 

“Just stay with me for a bit.” 

She turns, grabbing my hand and placing it on her side. 

“Earlier, you said we just met, now you want me to touch you?” 

“Then don’t. Refuse,” she mutters, pulling the sheets higher over her shoulder, half of her face now covered.

“You know I can’t do that.”

I turn on my side, then rest my face in my hand. She looks up at me, and I feel things I haven’t felt… maybe ever. 

“I like you, Miguel O’Hara,” she sighs. 

“I like you, Y/N.” 

I find myself brushing my fingers through her hair. I find myself wanting to lull her to sleep. I find myself wanting to be soft for her. And it pains me. 

She closes her eyes, but I can tell she’s smiling under the sheets. 

⁺˚*･

next part here

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — downward spiral

prev: too silly | masterlist | next: guilt

note: there's more written content after the messages :)

he doesn’t see her for a while.

the seat to his right remains empty, devoid of the presence he had grown so accustomed to. it feels wrong. it is wrong. and yet, he isn’t sure if it’s right to do anything about it; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to interfere.

he thinks of the exam and the oddity in her last messages to him. he shouldn’t pry, he thinks, because he fears making things worse. he thinks of the next time he’ll see her. he thinks of the girl holding the two-headed lamb.

it’s funny, how easily she had altered the balance of his life. maybe if he hadn’t made the impulsive decision to ask her for her help in the café, his head wouldn’t be spinning so rapidly at her absence. maybe if he hadn’t picked the seat beside her (without any real reason) at the start of the year, he wouldn’t be so disturbed. he wouldn’t be so lost.

two days remain until the exam. it's one that kageyama would usually dread, but he admits that with her assistance, whatever doubt he would usually have is dispelled. however, now that she’s gone, a sliver of that doubt creeps it way back into his system.

his mind crawls back to the night in the art studio, and he wonders if he'd find her there again should he go and look. it wouldn't be improbable, he reasons. so, before he can rationalize his decision, his feet follow the path to the studio as soon as class ends.

the door is closed, this time, and it only serves to increase his anxiety and concern. there's too much chatter around him to listen for remnants of her presence. his hand hovers over the handle, and for a moment, he considers the consequences. he ponders whether or not she would display disdain at his unprompted arrival, and whether or not she'd stop working under his watch, just as she did several nights ago. he tries to conjure up an idea of how she'd react. nothing comes to mind.

a can of soda — one he grabbed on his way — weighs heavy in his other hand, the condensation mixing with his sweat. something tells him he shouldn't go in. maybe it's the pounding in his chest, or the thumping in his head, or the salty droplets collecting all over his skin. something is amiss. his body recognizes it before his mind does, and when it all connects, he turns away from the door.

even still, something nags at him.

kageyama feels cramped, despite there only being two other people in the car. yachi sits in the passenger seat while yamaguchi sits at the wheel, leaving him alone in the back row. he still isn't sure why they asked him to come along, but his worry overpowers his confusion.

"kageyama," yachi calls from the front, her voice soft and gentle. her head turns around to face him. "what do you really think of yn?"

he's silent for a moment, her question catching him off-guard. it feels like a test. his words are picked out carefully in his head.

"i think she's really nice. i like being around her, but..." he pauses, his eyes drifting away to the campus, which inches closer and closer. "i wish she would take care of herself more."

there's a resounding hum from the pair, and they don't ask anything else. he’s slightly relieved.

the group arrives at the studio, and the perspiration and anxiety and doubt return to kageyama all at once, in a blistering, crashing wave. the coffee in his hands nearly collapses at his full-body reaction, but he does his best to maintain his outward stoicism. yamaguchi is the one to swing open the door.

she's standing in the center of the room, her easel fitted to her height and the canvas entirely different than the one kageyama had familiarized himself with. the same old lamp serves as the only source of light in the room, and it shines upon the painting of the girl and her two-headed lamb, which has been ungraciously cast aside against the wall. when he finally gets to see what she's painting, something in his heart hurts. he can't describe the scene, but something about it is saddening. his worry only increases tenfold.

the call of her name from her friends doesn't do much to pull her out of her trance. he's too scared to make an effort himself. slowly, the two approach their beloved roommate, and kageyama follows behind, although apprehensively.

"i told you not to come," she mutters under her breath. it's barely audible. "why did you bring him?"

he pretends the question doesn't make his chest ache ever so slightly. yachi is quick to counter with words of care and concern. she's desperate, almost, to end whatever frenzy is occurring before her. somewhere in between it all, there's a plea for her to come home, to give it a break. she's met with resilience.

"you don't understand, yachi, i need to get this done. you're not helping." her grip around the edge of the canvas tightens and loosens, back and forth. as if she's fighting with her own rationality. "please just leave."

from youth, she had yearned to be one of the greats. to have her name recognized in nearly every facet of art and science. she dreamed of awards, of press conferences, of her face plastered on screens. she was always so silent in her desire. and yet, now, it's on full display in the most brutal way she can handle.

there's another argument from yachi, and in response, her volume escalates. her passiveness morphs into anger, raw and scorching hot, and kageyama can only stand and watch. he can only listen to her yelling and the tears that sneak their way between every handful of syllables. the coffee in his hands is now watered down. he doesn't know what to do.

despite all her irritation, yachi maintains her gentle nature. her brows are furrowed as she listens to her friend spill out in front of her, but regardless, all she wants is for her to be at peace. the canvas is long forgotten, and the paints have dried up. it's a sorrowful sight.

eventually, the yelling dissolves into choked sobs and white-hot tears. yamaguchi is the first to envelop her in a hug, and yachi quickly follows after. kageyama plays the role of the bystander, once more. at some point, the door opens, and they're all back inside the car. the ride home is horribly silent.

kageyama thinks back to his answer to yachi's question earlier, about how he wanted her to take care of herself more. he looks to his left and sees her slumped against the window, clearly lost in slumber.

he doesn't know how he feels about her. all he knows is that his head feels light and airy and his chest feels heavy when he's around her. but after tonight, he can solidify one thing for certain — that he wants to see her genuinely happy.

𝜗𝜚 yachi and yams said they were coming to her, but in truth they had no idea where she was LMFAO

𝜗𝜚 yn's self-destructive tendencies are verrryyyy evident here. i am definitely projecting.

𝜗𝜚 kageyama sort of just stood there during yachi and yn's argument. yamaguchi kept trying to interrupt and tone it down but yachi just kept going. she's very much a mom friend

𝜗𝜚 i may or may not make a moodboard for the type of art i envision yn to make ^^

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 5.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: again, a little bit of a slow chapter. shera deserved some happiness and i'm giving it to her, dammit. also i lied, i dropped the chapter on monday oopsies.

wordcount: 4.5k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

Shera’s handwriting, in all accounts, was terrible. It was crude and wispy, all blending together like a child’s scrawl. As she sat at her desk, the ink dripping onto the paper from the length of her pauses, she wondered how to sign it. 

Yours,

Shera

No, that was much too personal— she… she wasn’t his. 

Best,

Shera Stark

That felt formal and detached. It simply wouldn’t do.

She went through a myriad of different closing statements, wroughting her brain over like wringing out a rag. She even considered not doing it at all. 

No, no— she… she wanted to. She needed to try, atleast. Sulking and crying would only do so much for her. She needed to be proactive and offer an olive branch of sorts. She settled on a simple drawing of Moongeist— or mayhaps any wolf, but the point was there. He’d know. 

With the note pinned to her cut dress fabric, she snuck from her chambers, flagging down a pageboy. 

“Hello,” she murmured to the young lad, who couldn’t be any older than nine or ten. “May I ask a favor of you, ser?” 

“Yes ma’am… my lady,” he corrected softly, eyes wondering to Moongeist, who was sitting patiently at Shera’s feet. 

“May you take this fabric and note to Prince Aemond’s chambers and leave it upon his desk?” 

“The prince doesn’t like people going through his things while he’s not there, miss,” he responded, blue eyes wide. “I do not wish to be flogged.” 

Shera blinked slowly. Surely Aemond didn’t have servants flogged for an indiscretion. “Has… Prince Aemond had pageboys flogged before?” 

“No, miss— but I delivered him a letter while he was eating his lunch once… he had his eyepatch off on the table and I did not knock,” the young boy looked at his hands. “He said if I didn’t knock next time, he would make me clean up Vhagar’s dung with a wheelbarrow.” 

What the fuck, Aemond? Shera stifled a little laugh, trying not to embarrass the boy. “How about this,” she hummed. “Would you like to pet my wolf? He’s a real direwolf, all the way from the North.” 

The lad eyed Moongeist with a curious gaze. “My mumma had a shaggy dog with a curly tail when I was young. He licked my face n’ smelled horrible but he was my bestest friend,” he said, bashful. “He died a while ago— no one’s got any more pups for me to pet.” 

“He’d love a pet from you, ser,” Shera continued. “Will you deliver this to Prince Aemond’s chambers? If he gets cross with you, tell me and I’ll resolve it and sic my wolf upon him. No harm will befall you.” 

Shyly, the boy smiled, offering his hand to the wolf. Moongeist sniffed his hand and licked his palm, causing the boy to giggle. 

Shera showed him where Moongeist liked to be scratched the most, and the pageboy was quite pleased with himself when he had the giant wolf thumping his foot on the ground like a puppy at the most perfect of scratches. 

He took her note and favor and tottered off. 

— 

Shera knocked on Helaena’s door. “Hela?” she called softly. 

A handmaid opened the door and let her in, wide eyes upon Moongeist. 

The solar was lovely, decorated in blue and purple silks upon the ceiling. There were framed pinnings of various bugs upon the walls, some of them being very rare if she remembered correctly. 

Upon the floor were strewn children’s toys, like wooden dragons that Helaena had when she was little, along with soldier dolls and princess dolls. Some children’s books were left open, some neatly stacked near the settee. 

Shera’s eye landed on Helaena, who was bobbing a toddler on her knee on the couch. A white haired child approached her, his violet eyes wide. He was the spitting image of Aegon as a child. 

“Who’s you?” he asked, not afraid to stare— like all children do. 

“Shera!” Helaena exclaimed, humming as she hoisted the smaller child onto her hip. “Jaehaerys, this is your auntie Shera.” 

“Auntie… Shera…” the little boy echoed. “Is she married to uncle Aemond?” 

Helaena’s face blanched slightly. “No, dearest,” she hummed. “She is very close to me, like a sister. Like Jaehaera is your sister.” 

“Oh,” he murmured. “She doesn’t have white hair. And she has a dog.” 

“He’s a wolf, Jaehaerys,” Shera chimed in. “Has your mumma read to you about direwolves and Winter Kings yet?” 

“A woof,” the smallest child chimed in, bouncing happily upon Helaena’s hip. “A woof, a woof!” 

“Well, I should introduce the children. You have already met Jaehaerys,” Helaena ruffed up his white curls as he continued to stare at Shera unabashedly. “He has a twin sister, Jaehaera. Who is…” Helaena swirled around. “She is hiding behind the settee,” she whispered, leading Shera to look at the pair of violet eyes peeking over the furniture at her. “And this is my youngest, Maelor. He is two years old. The twins are five.” 

“They’re gorgeous Hela,” Shera mused. “Jaehaerys looks just like Aegon, I thought I had stepped into the past when I saw him. Maelor, however,” she added, smiling at the little cherubic face of the youngest prince, who was blushing and giggling, “looks just like his mumma.” 

“Come sit, lovey,” Helaena said as she put Maelor down on the floor near the toys. “Lunch should be here soon. You look darling in that shade. You look like a jeweled beetle,” she hummed, offering her hand to Shera, which she took. Hela’s palm was warm, like a toasty fire, but not sweltering. It felt akin to being swaddled with a blanket. “Can I show you some of my bugs?” 

“Of course,” Shera agreed, feeling genuinely at ease. The solar was lively and lived in, surely because of the children— it felt… homely and not sterile and lifeless like some others’ chambers. 

Off to the far wall, Helaena led her to a bookshelf, carved in draconic designs and various Old Valyrian sigils that she couldn’t quite parse. It was stocked from top to bottom with various books, mostly pertaining to the taxonomy and biology of insects and arachnids— but there were some familiar titles snuck in as well. 

‘The Winter Kings of Yore: An Account of the North’. 

“Hela— you still have this?” Shera asked, her hand thumbing over the positively ancient book, prising it from the shelf. She remembered this was one of her favorite books as a child and would request Helaena to read it when they bathed. 

“Of course! I still have this one, too. ‘Tis Maelor’s favorite.” she pointed to another book, nestled next to the other tome. It was much shorter, but its hard cover was more colorful with streams of blue and purple thread embroidered into a moon and an image of a wolf. 

‘Moonpuppy’. It was a children’s book, the only one Shera had brought with her to King’s Landing when she arrived at age five. 

“Oh Gods,” Shera breathed, her fingertips skimming over the embroidery. It wasn’t the original binding of the book— the book was well loved into bits, to where the inner pages only remained at one point. Shera and Helaena had worked tirelessly for a whole moon trying to prise it back together. The princess embroidered the cover, trying to make it as close to the original as possible. 

Opening the book, she remembered they even made a title page, inked in their silly children’s handwriting. 

‘Moonpuppy, edition II. By Helaena Targaryen and Shera Stark.’

Shera wanted to cry. She sniffed, carefully going through the pages. “Helaena, how have you managed to make me cry twice now?” 

“Tears of happiness, my little wolf spider,” Hela whispered. “You should read it to Maelor. You were always better at the voices than I.”

“Oh, Hela— I… I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, heat coming to her ears. “It… hurts to speak for long and I cannot project… what if he cannot hear me?” 

“Even at two, he is a very good listener. He is nothing like his father in that regard.” 

Shera wiped away her tears and went to sit down. “Maelor, is this your favorite book?” 

“Mwoonpubby!” the toddler exclaimed, jumping to attention right away. 

“Do you know all the words? It’s been quite a while since I’ve read— I may need help remembering.” 

“Mumma reads it every night— can I be the pubby and you be the mwoon?” 

The strength of Shera’s smile almost hurt her face. “Of course.” 

She began her reading, her fingertips buzzing with elation and a strange sense of anxiety.

Once, long ago, there was a puppy. 

He lived in the bitter cold and was very small, but that was okay. He had a large family to keep him warm. 

His mumma and papa talked to the moon each night, encouraging him to do the same. 

‘I don’t know what to say.’ said the little pup. 

‘Whatever is in your heart, dearest. The moon will listen. She will always listen.’ His mumma soothed him, fiddling over his fur with her big tongue. 

One day, it was very dark. Usually, at night, they had the light of the moon. But it was gone this night, smothered in fog and clouds. 

The little pup whined, trudging in the snow. He was lost! He was lost and he couldn’t find his way back to his mumma. 

‘Mumma! Mumma!’ he howled to the sky, to the hidden stars, to the darkened moon. ‘Moon? Moon?’ 

Shera cleared her throat, feeling the pinch of her nerves creeping up on her. She wanted to finish it— she had to.

There was no answer. He was alone. 

He cried and cried for hours, so alone and so cold without his family to warm him. He missed his mumma so badly, he missed the moon. 

‘I don’t talk to you much,’ the pup said, muzzle to the sky. ‘I don’t have much to say usually. I am sorry.’ 

He shuffled his paws as he huddled under a low hanging ledge, out of the snow. It was still wet and he was cold, but it was better than nothing. 

He felt cold still, cold in his bones— 

A light shined down upon him, finally. The moon had broken through the fog. 

Her voice was so hoarse now, that nary a sound came out. Moongeist nuzzled his snout under her hand in a gesture to tell her to take it easy. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t, her voice catching within the brambles of her inflamed vocal cords. 

“S’okay, auntie Shewa,” Maelor said, toddling up onto the couch and snuggling up to Shera without any reservation. “I can finish it, I know all the pawrts. Mumma gets tired too sometimes… so I finish the stowy.” 

He could see, he could see. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ he howled and barked and yipped. 

‘You should talk to me more, little pup,’ the moon cooed, bathing him in her silver light. ‘My sweet little moonpuppy.’ 

His pack found him quickly, all piling near him to keep him warm. He snuggled into their furs, looking up at the sky. 

The moon was full that night, full and bright. 

“Auntie Shewa?” 

“Hm?” 

“Can I pet your woof?” 

Shera looked to Helaena and gave a nod.

“You have to be gentle, like with the bugs.” Helaena stepped in, saving Shera from further talking— to which she was grateful for. 

“Uh huh…” Maelor mumbled, dragging his chubby little hand over Moongeist’s fur in a gentle manner so unlike a toddler. “Soft.” 

Moongeist licked the boy’s head, cowlicking his white curls into one. He giggled with delight.

–

They all lunched together, Helaena insisting that they sit on the floor and eat with the children. They sat in a circle, the kids having their porridge. They each had different toppings, which felt so much like them.

Jaehaerys had cut up ham atop his, accompanied by a smattering of frizzled onions. 

Jaehaera, on the other hand, had pieces of stewed pumpkin atop hers, glazed with cinnamon and maple syrup. It had some roasted pumpkin seeds atop for crunch. She had more of a sweet tooth than her brother, it seemed.

Maelor had a smaller bowl with plain porridge and melted butter– he glanced at Shera’s plate, to which her and Helaena were both eating parboiled quail eggs, dipping their toasted bread in the yolk. 

“Mumma– want egg,” Maelor muttered, swirling his spoon in his porridge. 

“What kind of egg, darling?” Helaena asked.

“I want what Auntie Shewa has,” he continued. “Dippy egg.”

“Maera,” Helaena called to her handmaiden. “Can you please have the cooks whip up some dippy eggs for Maelor– and mayhaps a bone for Moongeist, too?” 

The thumping of a tail was heard as the wolf heard ‘bone’ and ‘Moongeist’ in the same sentence. He stayed near Shera, but also in close proximity to Maelor, who had become quite attached to the wolf very quickly. The toddler offered porridge from his spoon to him, who happily slurped up the food with a wagging tail. 

Soon enough, Maelor was devouring his dippy eggs with toast. Helaena leaned forward now, tracing little circles on the plush rug they sat upon. “It was supposed to be different, you know.” 

Shera blinked. “What was?”

“I was supposed to be betrothed to Jacaerys– before… Aegon,” she started, eyes glazed over and looking towards somewhere far away, somewhere not completely there. “It might have been nice. I don’t know.”

“... really? You and Jacaerys?” she raised a brow. She couldn’t imagine Alicent ever agreeing to such a thing.

“Mother wasn’t pleased. Father pushed and pushed but mother was stronger and pushed back. It was a flash in the pan, so to speak. I wish I knew where we would be now if she had agreed.” 

“You would be upon Dragonstone, Hela– with… Jace’s children, presumably,” Shera cringed inwardly at the thought– that would be her some day.

Helaena wrinkled her nose at the thought, seemingly agreeing with Shera’s sentiment. “For all his faults–” she got up then, tugging Shera to her feet and leading her to the open window. “Aegon is… good with the children. When he is here. I don’t… he isn’t my husband in feeling– but he is my brother. What are we, any of us– but beholden to the mistakes of our families. All of us.”

Shera stayed silent as they sat on the windowsill together, letting Helaena talk. It seemed like something she didn’t talk about much– if ever. 

“He got the worst of mother’s rage. It broke something in him. But I think there is something broken in all of us, even mother,” Helaena reached to the trellis, plucking a beetle that was hiding between two folded leaves. “All of her children are cursed in some way,” she lifted her periwinkle gaze to Shera then. “You are one of her children, too.” 

“... cursed,” she echoed. Yes, that seems about right.

“Will you survive?” the princess turned the conversation then. “Upon Dragonstone?”

“I don’t know.” she answered truthfully, talking in honesty about the betrothal to someone for the first time. She tried before with Cregan, but he didn’t listen. 

“You’ll have to take the reins, you know,” Helaena prattled on, staring at the beetle with her full, rapt attention. It was blue in color, gleaming like a sapphire jewel in the sunlight. “Take them and steer them. You’ll be the only one able to change it– the trees bleed, Shera– cut lip, punctured wood...”

Shera’s brow furrowed further. Helaena was known to descend into her ramblings– but something within her tingled at the words. She didn’t know what they meant, but it made her stomach churn. She felt the whoosh of air from outside the window, a cream colored blur in the edge of her vision. She didn’t hear it, only felt it and saw it, fleeting. It landed upon a spiked point of the keep, across the way from the window– but she couldn’t parse what it was. Shera blinked profusely, bringing her hands to her eyes and rubbing them. When she looked again, it was gone, mayhaps never even there. 

“Hold the beetle, Shera,” Hela hummed, offering the jewel colored insect to her. “You remember how to hold them?”

“Gentle,” she responded, voice so quiet that it was hardly even a whisper. The beetle crawled eagerly onto her palm, roving around slowly. 

“I need to clean up the children for naptime. Maera,” the princess called, hopping off of the window sill. She walked to the handmaiden, who was a head taller than Helaena. Her dark brown hair was braided in one long wisp, a few errant strands sticking to her forehead. She had tanned skin and dark eyes, with a curved nose. The handmaiden smiled to Helaena and they whispered to one another, clearly very familiar, before they disappeared toward the nursery.

Her surroundings blurred as she kept her attention on the beetle. It seemed so simple, so… calm, despite being in the palm of a would-be predator. The light reflected off of its blue colored carapice, the elytra buzzing ever so slightly. It wanted to stretch, the slight unfold of its wings captivating Shera. She wondered what it was like to fly– she had always refused Jacaerys when he asked her to join him atop Vermax. But if… if she were the one flying, she may not be so scared. Her shoulders rolled in tandem with the beetle, feeling a crack of her bones and the ghostly sensation of her own wings clawing out from them. 

The beetle’s antenna wriggled, its little claws digging into her palm, pulling itself along. It wanted to go, it wanted to fly. Leaning towards the window, she saw the great expanse of the sky, littered now with clouds. There was a little breeze now, ruffling the gentle film of the wings as they extended– they looked and felt broken when coming from their sutures, but straightened out quickly. Crawling closer, closer to the breeze, flitting upon it. Hovering now, legs dangling ever expertly. Regarding the indoors one last time– pushing forward into the open air, flight, flight, wisping upon the breeze… was this freedom? 

“Shera! Open your eyes!” 

The breeze died upon her face as she turned to see Helaena at her side, a few maids behind her looking terrified– Moongeist was whining at her feet. 

“Shera?” Helaena whispered now, her periwinkle eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“... yes– um,” she glanced around nervously at the maids, who were now chittering amongst themselves. 

“Thank you, ladies– you may go now. I will call the maester myself if Shera falls ill again.” 

Ill? She was awake that entire time, she knew it– she was… focusing on the beetle… the beetle…

“Hela– where is the beetle?” 

“The beetle…” she breathed, looking over to the table. 

Shera looked to see an open lightbox, the beetle was in it. It was seized up, not moving. 

“It fell. Its thorax got torn on the windowsill– I will fix it before I pin it,” the princess sighed. “The breeze was too strong.”

“Is it dead?” 

“Yes.” 

Shera felt cold, a chill creeping at her back. “I should… I should get some rest, I think. M-much excitement for me today, I think.”

Helaena nodded.

–

Shera laid in bed, taking her dinner in her chambers. She felt… utterly exhausted. The day had been tumultuous, even without her… disassociating spell in Helaena’s chambers.

Her fingers roved over a book– it was something that was just left in her room for decoration and no real substance. Her eye strained as she tried to focus on the words. It was already hard enough to read with only one working eye, but with the content of this book being so boring, she couldn’t parse any of it at all. 

Knock, knock, knock. Three knocks rapt upon her door.

“I don’t need any tea,” she croaked out, unable to project her voice. She slipped out of her bed, adorned in her nightgown– it was fairly see-through, so she grabbed a blanket and slipped it over her head and body, snugging it close. She hated being caught without her veil on. “Please, come back in the morning.” she muttered as she opened the door, peeking her face out slightly.

“I’m afraid I cannot take no for an answer, Lady Stark,” Aemond hummed, standing before her in all his glory. He wasn’t dressed for bed– she wondered if he wore his riding and sparring leathers to bed, too. ��I was tasked with delivering some… reading material to you.” 

Shera perked a brow inquisitively. “Reading material?” She hadn’t requested anything specific from the library.

“Can I come in?” 

Shera bit her lip. “Yes… I suppose…” she opened the door wider for him to come in as she scrambled to find a veil to wear. 

“No need for that. I won’t look if it makes you uncomfortable.” he said, his tone a bit softer than usual. He had two books in his hands as he looked around the room. 

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” Shera grunted, a bit indignantly. His words from the dinner still echoed in her head. Mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there. She remembered him laughing at her earlier in the day when her veil had slipped slightly. Her cheeks burned as she pulled the blanket taut around her, facing away from him. 

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” he said flatly, putting the books down on the side table next to the chaise. “But, out of respect, I won’t look.” 

She was sure he meant it as a way to soothe her worry, but she couldn’t help but feel tears start to form. Hastily, she wiped them away. “What was so important that this… delivery couldn’t wait until morn?” she glanced at him, her eyes stinging. “And why you?” she added, her punctuation of you a bit more harsh than she intended. 

Aemond’s brow knit as he regarded her. He said he wouldn’t look, the liar. 

She whipped in the opposite direction quickly. 

“Helaena asked me to deliver you this… and I had one to give you as well. Think of it as a betrothal gift.” he muttered, beginning to walk the room as if he wasn’t an intruder. Well, she had invited him in. 

Moongeist was snoozing on the bed, belly up. His legs twitched in the air as he whimpered softly from dreaming. Aemond stared at him. “This is your valiant protector? He is sleeping on the job.” 

“He deserves rest— you aren’t a threat to me, Aemond. He senses that,” she replied. Not a threat physically, at least. You’re a predator to my mind. 

“Hm,” he hummed, walking to the table where she still had two honey walnut cakes sitting out. “You enjoyed them, I take it?” 

“What?”

“The cakes. I had a maid bring them to you this morn.” 

“Oh– it was you,” she murmured, the tips of her ears flushing under the implication. “... thank you. It… helped.” 

“You were… distressed– these always used to cheer you up.”

Shera let out a tentative breath. He had thought of her– and remembered her favorite sweet? And… cared enough to have them brought to her. Maybe… maybe he didn’t loathe her so. “They were… very good,” she continued, letting a smile come to her face. It felt strange to smile around Aemond after so long.

“Yes, the cook who made them still works in the kitchens,” he picked up one, taking a bite. He had liked them as well, but his favorite had always been blueberry scones. “She surprisingly hasn’t kicked the bucket yet– still working away down there, at seventy-five. Mother offered her retirement and a nice hole in the wall shack near the wharf. She refused, adamant to work until she died.” he made a noise of surprise at the taste. “Still good.” 

“I’m surprised you remembered, Aemond,” she walked closer then, making sure to snatch the last one off of the plate before he decided to take it, too. She took a bite, the honey sticking to her fingers.

“I remember a lot, Shera,” he pulled out a chair and took a seat. Why was he staying?

 Her heart stopped momentarily as he said her name. She buried herself further into the pastry to hide her red cheeks. “Memories are a plague,” she grumbled, pulling up her legs to her chest after she settled into the chair next to him. 

“That they are, most of them are. A festering, decrepit reminder of… things best left forgotten. However,” he leaned forward then, his thumb cleaning off a drip of errant honey from the corner of her mouth. “I do remember, you were always a messy eater. Some things don’t change, do they?”

She shivered as he touched her with such… gentleness he hadn’t displayed at all since she’s been back. It was a glimpse into the boy he used to be– he was still there, deep down. She almost choked on the rest of her cake, putting it down on the plate as she quietly licked her fingers, trying to distract herself. “... no, some things don’t change.” 

“The book weren’t the only reason I came– Helaena asked me to ask you if you would like to come on a picnic to the Kingswood tomorrow. With Aegon, the children, Helaena and I. She told me that… Maelor required you bring Moongeist.” 

Shera stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide and owlish. The blanket slipped from her head slightly as she leaned forward, snatching the remainder of Aemond’s honey walnut cake from his fingers. “I suppose– as long as there are more cakes,” she hummed, feeling a slightly giddy sensation tingle down her spine as she devoured the rest. “How on earth did you manage to get Aegon to agree?” 

“I promised that there would be wine,” he watched, his violet eye roving her face unabashedly as she finished the pilfered sweet. 

“And?” 

“And… mayhaps I threatened to pay all the brothels off to not service him any longer if he did not attend.” 

–

Aemond left soon after, bidding her goodnight in a very stiff and still… somewhat cold in manner. But he was trying– she could see that. 

Before tucking back into bed, she looked to see the books he had left for her.

One was the copy of ‘Moonpuppy’ that she had read earlier that day.

The other, the supposed ‘gift’ from Aemond, was a well-worn, well-loved copy of the old folk hero ‘Symeon Star-Eyes’. Upon opening the cover and flitting through the pages, she saw many notes and footnotes on each page– it was Aemond’s handwriting. He had left his thoughts on each page– as she descended through the book, his handwriting changed and evolved. It started off very shaky and tenuous, but as she scanned through the end of the tome, it was confident and sophisticated. He had annotated this copy for years, his handwriting and views on the text changing with each year. Flipping back to the front, she looked at the date.

It was dated five moons after the Driftmark incident. Then, opening the back– it was dated a fortnight ago. He had written, noted, and journaled in this book for ten years.

Why did he give this to her?

[tojisun]

our shallow graves — 02

recom miles quaritch x recom fem reader

!! smut (between fwb outside of main pair) - minors dni; heat (as theme); mean quaritch; power imbalance; reference to (made up) past; worldbuilding; fast slow-burn; switching povs; weapons; reader adopts a nickname (callsign) which gets used // 5.1k words

: luvv writing from a chara’s pov n not just the reader’s <33; my bff wanted a love triangle but noo there would never be, i swear; replaying lady gaga and thenbhd as i write this; i hope u guys would luv this!!

↦ hydra - recom machine gun (not the door gun in the samsons); y70 - bullpup rifle/skel bullpup

prev // m.list // next - tbp

camaraderie with the colonel seemed to deteriorate overnight. your only saving grace is that it seemed like no one understands why his slight recognition for your talents evaporated quickly, the team having been reduced to shooting you with concerned glances whenever quaritch continues to ice you out.

you wanted to believe that it didn’t bother you much, but the taste of failure sits heavy on the tip of your tongue. quaritch is your superior, someone you were willing to interact with at an arm’s length, but now, even that seems impossible. 

“give him time,” walker says as you two enter the gun range, modified with an open ceiling to allow your na’vi bodies to breathe without the need for the respirator. “he’s probably still pissed because recon was delayed but c’mon now, we need extra time to take on the hellhole pandora’s about to be.”

you hum, your mind far away, as you begin to line up in one of the shooting stalls. you feel bare without your hydra but walker insisted on practicing with the Y70. 

“for good time’s sake!” she said, laughing when you rolled your eyes at her, calling her out on the fact that she only preferred the rifle because it was what she was exceptional at. 

your tail swishes behind you slowly before stilling, suspended in the air – a perfect imitation of your focus. you purge your mind of all thoughts, steadying your breath as you gaze at the moving targets. thrill runs down your spine at the first fire, the bullet going through the head of the target in a clean, single shot right at its temple. it is almost too natural how you were able to fire off the other bullets, muscle memory kicking in as your years of experience rush back to you, engulfing you with a single focus.

clean shot upon clean shot; head, heart, lungs – every vital organ and artery that you were aiming at were hit. it is like nothing existed in that moment, not your new life or your repeating nightmares of your death or even quaritch. it is just you and that rifle, against the world.

it was the first real taste of freedom you ever had from the moment you woke up in pandora, fifteen years after the war. 

walker stalks towards you with a grin, her rifle slung on her shoulder, looking smug as she shows you her perfect tally. you grin at her, feeling your tail finally untense, swishing around in languid satisfaction. 

“look at you with the perfect shots,” she says, dramatically whistling as though she wasn’t a better marksman than you are. 

“i have a good teacher,” you reply, winking at her. she chuckles, shaking her head, and you wish she had her braids down just so you can see them bump against each other. 

“and you are welcome.” walker places a hand on her chest before bowing theatrically, making you erupt in hearty giggles. 

comfortable silence settles as you two walk back to your quarters, ears flicking at each sound that rumbles from the belly of the compound. 

the sensitivity of your heightened senses brings you back to the night the colonel caught you sneaking out of mansk’s room, pure anger shimmering within his beautiful golden eyes and poison coating his hissed-out words. you do not know what set him off – you do not want to believe that it simply had been because you and mansk fooled around, not when quaritch has done worse.

(in your brief encounter with the human colonel quaritch, you have seen them together only once. the babe was swaddled in thick blankets, leaving only tufts of sandy hair visible to curious eyes. 

you tried not to linger when you saw how the colonel walked around with the child in his arms, cradled gently, carefully, his usually-stern face melting into something kind. into something human.

the harbinger of destruction. a father.

you couldn’t wrap your head around the man. not even as you watched in silence, obscured from his line of sight, as he nuzzled his nose on the boy’s forehead, breathing him in.

pandora’s real first human, a boy blessed by eywa, and there he was, held in the hands of the man who would threaten her balance.)

“maria,” you call, slowing down your steps and turning to look at your friend.

walker hums, tilting her head to meet your gaze. “what’s up?”

“do you, uh, know what happened to the kid?” you didn’t need to specify who it is that you meant. 

she stops walking, her brows furrowing in hesitant confusion. you lick your lips, wondering if you might’ve overstepped, after all, walker may be your friend, but her loyalties will always be with the colonel. even back in hell’s gate, she always separated her friendship with you from her duty – it felt like she constantly lived two different lives. 

“it’s just that i can unwind with you,” she used to say, huffing when the clips she used to pin her bun got lost within the gelled strands of her hair. you would pull her to your bed, chuckling quietly, before taking over, gentle hands familiar with her hair like it was yours that you were grooming. 

“why do you ask?” walker responds, twisting so she can fully face you.

you shrug. “i don’t know,” you say, a half-truth. “the memories are coming back to me slowly and one of them is him.”

walker remains quiet, studying you with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, before a sigh creeps out of her lips. you feel your heart lighten up, your body uncoiling from the tension, and you shoot her a small smile, grateful for her trust. 

“i dunno, to be honest,” she says as you two begin walking again, your steps this time are more languid. you two don’t entertain the gawking humans who scurry out of the way as you and walker make your way back to your rooms, busy murmuring to each other.

“they probably sent him back to somewhere in terra where relatives could take care o’him.”

you grunt, nodding, choosing not to prod any more. 

just before the two of you can part ways to enter your respective rooms, lopez comes running down the hallway, hollering your names.

“les’ go! colonel’s back from the meeting, and word is that we get our mission today!”

“thank fuck for that!” walker whoops. she meets your eyes. “rico, come on!”

you try to ignore the sudden swoop of paranoia that settles in your stomach, choosing instead to follow as walker and lopez run to meet with the others. you had hoped that you would’ve been able to fix whatever it was that happened between you and the colonel before the mission, but it seems like you don’t have that privilege anymore.

it seems like with quaritch, you don’t get mercy. 

-------

just like what lopez said, the colonel returned with orders from the brass that you all would be sent out soon – the omatikaya stronghold changed upon the return of the humans, and now you are all tasked to draw jake sully out. you are all given a week to prepare for pandora’s beasts – you are aware that they meant the na’vi more than the actual animals roaming the lush jungle.

recon was cancelled, the new schedule no longer permitted such opportunity; the general had, instead, ordered your squad to move in and navigate the hard way. you tried not to shrink at the withering look that quaritch shot you as he mentioned that. mansk shifted close, as though to show that he stood with you even against the colonel’s seething glare, but it seemed like it was the wrong thing to do as quaritch only seemed to grow angrier. 

you tried your best not to react, but your tail dropped, coiling around your thigh in the face of the colonel’s disapproval. you are too ashamed to look at the others, not wanting to see their own disappointment or even their pity so you kept your eyes on quaritch, using his authority to hide from the attention that your squad was giving you.

the meeting reaches its end, the colonel ordering wainfleet and zdinarsik to take over. mansk hovers, falling into step with you as you both move to leave the room together when the colonel’s voice stops you.

“rico, you stay. mansk, y’r dismissed.”

mansk shoots you a quick glance before nodding at the colonel and leaving with the rest. wainfleet had taken the lead as they all marched out with zdinarsik covering their back, the taller recom nodding at you upon meeting your gaze before closing the door behind her.

there is silence in the war room as you stand still, waiting for quaritch to make the first move. you rack your mind for another fuck up that he can berate you with, but nothing comes up, leaving you grasping at nothing but the bubbling anxiousness gnawing at you. 

“i suggested to general ardmore that we bench you, rico.” he raises his hand at your visceral reaction – your jaw falling open as you flinch, protests about to slip from your lips, as a now-aborted step almost draws you close to him. “listen to me first, corporal.”

you blink at the realization that his voice doesn’t denote any malice, the rich baritone is painfully neutral, and you think, then, how hearing his indifference just stings a whole lot more. 

you remain silent, watching with bated breath as quaritch pulls a chair out and motions for you to sit down. your legs feel like lead as you fall into it with no grace, your body going taut with tension when the colonel takes the one just in front of you. 

the space between the two of you is decent – it is the normal distance – but you can’t help but feel the warmth emitting from his bigger figure, almost like your body is singing for him. you try to breathe through your mouth, afraid that you will get a whiff of his scent, reducing you into a puddle of uncertainty and need. 

you blink your glassy eyes up at him, trying to focus, to listen, but it is like all those times that quaritch pushed you away had made you hypersensitive about him. he is all you can focus on; past the need to prove to him of your worth, he is all that fills you up. the way he smells, the way his eyes study you, the way his voice rips through the static – you want all of it. 

heat builds up in the pit of your stomach.

fuck. 

“you doin’ ok there?” the colonel asks, his indifference melting as worry bleeds into his tone. 

“i, uhm,” you begin, your voice faltering. you try to reel in your mind, grinding your teeth to snap you from your trance. 

“yeah.” you clear your throat, breathing in shakily. “i mean, yes sir.”

quaritch grunts, his eyes still pinned on you. “this is exactly why i wanted to leave you behind.”

that brings you out of the haze, your attention snapping back into a singularity. “permission to ask why, sir?”

quaritch sighs. “the science pukes mentioned how y’r still lagging behind. kid, i’m gonna be honest with you – i can’t afford a weak link.”

his words feel like knives carving into you. you’ve always thrived in your capabilities – you wouldn’t have gone far if you weren’t good, if not one of the best, and yet, in his eyes, your single fumble has cost so much. 

“pandora is gonna eat you up and spit you out – well, it already did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. and yet, general ardmore still insisted that we take you.” 

you watch as the colonel leans over, eating up the miniscule distance between yourselves to peer at you. “tell me, rico. just why are you so important to her?”

you wish you have the answer; you wish you have anything to give to him, to make sense of your own purpose, but nothing comes up. it is like you’re constantly floating around, untethered, and yet severely burdened at the same time. they tell you how the general favours you, and yet she has yet to tell you that herself, leaving you alone in navigating your position amongst the other recoms. 

the loneliness doesn’t stop eating at you.

“colonel, i really don’t know,” you finally utter, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. 

quaritch clicks his tongue. “no, there’s gotta be somethin’ i’m missin’. i read your files, you know that?” he grins meanly when your eyes snapped back to him. “oh yeah, i did. and imagine my goddamn disappointment when it showed me nothin’ noteworthy.”

he stands up, his voice gaining strength, and you realize that you can now see his fury in its entirety.

“yeah, you’ve got a way with flying, but that skill’s practically useless unless we can get our own banshees. and even then, they ain’t machines – your skill’s obsolete. y’ve got a way with guns, sure, but so do the rest of my squad; it ain’t just lyle who’s got a great shot, after all. and yeah y’r hand-to-hand combat is good, but it ain’t the best.”

you feel tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as quaritch continues his admonishment. you feel like everything that you are is suspended in the air, carelessly peeled off and overturned until you are nothing but your skin and bones.

“y’know what i saw?” the colonel asks in a barely-contained snarl. 

you do not reply, but it doesn’t matter to him anyway. 

“i saw how y’r just a goddamn nobody because if you were any better, i would’ve taken you in before. so tell me rico, just what the hell are you doin’ here?”

you do not know what urged you to do it, but next thing you know you are standing mere inches before the colonel, breaching his personal space to poke at his chest. “i don’t need to prove myself to you,” you hiss. 

(it was a lie. after all, it was all you wanted to do. for him to acknowledge you. for him to – what do the na’vis call it? – see you.)

quaritch scoffs, pausing, before he lunges forward to grip your jaw, forcing your head to tilt up and making you look at him. you feel your breath leave your lungs, the blood rushing to your ears and deafening you. anything else seemed to stop, leaving you alone with your petering rage as you gaze up at him.

his breath tickles your lips and you gasp, soundless, feeling the desire exploding in your chest. you do not know what it is that he originally wanted to do because in the next heartbeat, just a slight stutter, all you feel is his lips meeting yours. 

quaritch devours your hiccuped squeak, his searing lips moving against your own, pulling out more of the little desperate sounds from your throat only for them to be swallowed hungrily by him. the kiss is hot, messy, but you can’t help but be obsessed with it.

his scent fills you up, settling deep in your chest and making you throb with want. you grip his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to touch more of him. but at the feeling of your hands, quaritch rips his lips from yours and scurries to back away from you.

you stand there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, feeling your lips tingle from his kiss. you watch as his face crumples at the realization of what he’s done before it reverts back into faux stoicism, as though he isn’t affected by the kiss. as though he doesn’t feel the same burning desire that engulfed you whole.

“colonel-”

“no fraternizing with a squad member,” quaritch utters before he lifts his hand up to rub at his lips with the back of his palm.

“oh, so now we’re following the golden rule?” you mutter, the words bubbling out before you can stop them. 

you know that you crossed a line at the mention of what he’s done with socorro but you are too filled with a blazing storm of conflicting feelings, rendering you uninhibited as they clash in your chest and drain you of all your energy. you feel yourself shake at the intensity of your emotions – of your yearning – but the colonel continues to stand far away. far from your grasp.  

he’s made his decision. 

“get going, corporal. y’r dismissed.”

you run out of the room, not caring of the way the tears slip from the corners of your eyes to drench your cheeks, and pretending that you cannot smell the faint scent of the colonel sticking to you.

pretending that you do not feel something in you break. 

-------

looking for mansk was the easy part. not using him to drown out the weight of your conflicting feelings, that was the hard part. 

mansk has taken you in his arms, cradling you close as you wept on the crook of his neck. he was silent, like he already knew what it is that aches you, and you wonder how could he. you barely knew why you feel betrayal sit in the pit of your stomach; why you feel so drawn to quaritch – attuned to the sound of his voice and the staccato of his footsteps.

why do you ache for his touch?

if it is heat, if it is all biology, mansk does a good enough job in extinguishing the flames of painful need curling within your blood. and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from seeking out bigger and rougher hands and a gruffer voice, the southern accent looping around the vowels, making your stomach clench with desire.

quaritch is all that you’ve ever wanted ever since he first called your name, unknown familiarity sinking in your chest like a rock chucked to the ocean – the paradox is a metaphor of your feelings. funny, isn’t it?

“i don’t understand,” you murmur, sniffling as you pull your head from mansk’s shoulder. you wipe at your eyes, groaning at the futility of it when fresh tears fall and drench your cheeks anyway. 

mansk remains silent, his hands have fallen from your back to grasp at your wrists, the warmth from his palms not doing anything to soothe your nerves.

“it’s like he needed that little blip in my performance to finally rationalize the hate he feels for me, and then it just didn’t stop,” you continue, breathing in shakily. “and i wish i could just ignore him but, fuck, i can’t.”

you shake yourself from mansk’s touch, standing up from his bed to pace around his room. the pads of your feet are quiet on the metal floors and you ignore the shot of coolness that comes with every step. your braids, chopped just below your jaw, frame your face with stray strands sticking on your damp cheeks despite your frantic moving. 

“he’s there and he’s nowhere at the same time, devin. like, i try my best to avoid him but he’s always a consistent presence in my life. it doesn’t fucking matter if he’s ignoring me, not when he’s always in the same room, within the same space.” your voice raises, scratching your throat as anger and hurt bubble up, ever-so expanding until you are grasping at the remnants of your rationality. 

“and i want him. i feel like dying when i’m not with him and he-” you pause, a choked sob getting punched out from your lungs. mansk startles, clambering from his bed to hover by your side, not really closing in but standing just near enough that you can see the downturn of his ears, his worry etched on his face. 

“he doesn’t feel the same way, dev.” 

you crumble, feeling lightheaded from the explosion of anguish burning at your seams, and mansk finally embraces you. 

the first kiss was hesitant, chapped lips meeting bruised ones, and he doesn’t move until you are pawing at his shirt and tugging him close. mansk falls into his role easily, nipping your bottom lip as a distraction which you take eagerly.

quaritch’s snarl from many nights ago creep into your mind, his southern accent tearing through the sudden buzz of mansk’s touch, taunting you – “you reek.” 

you think just how upsetting it is to feel your desire expand into fanned flames at the memory of quaritch. at the memory of his anger – the only thing of him that he’s given to you freely. 

mansk rips his lips from yours, panting, his eyes dilated with desire. “rico, y’smell so good.”

your shirt is torn from your body, your cargos thrown over broad shoulders – not broad enough, not tall enough, not angry enough. 

you try to forget, to stop thinking, as mansk fucks you; thin fingers sliding along your slit and sinking into your heat, curling to prepare you for his length. not even the way three of his fingers overwhelm you with the feeling of being stuffed can silence the thoughts – ‘not thick enough, not long enough, not rough enough’ – and you bury your face on his pillow, trying to smother the tears. 

the slide of his cock should’ve rendered your mind into white static, but it seems like your veins are thrumming with a visceral need, one that you know only quaritch can quell. 

“choke me,” you mumble, blinking wetly up at mansk, your chest heaving at the muted desire filling you up. 

“what?” mansk asks, breathless, his body shaking from the crashing heat. 

“choke me,” you repeat, this time clearer. 

mansk hesitates, his wide eyes growing bigger, his scent curling into something darker. the wrap of his hand around your throat is sure, gentle despite your plea, before he squeezes. the pressure grounds you, feeding into your desperation. into your delusions. 

(you think of quaritch. it seems like you never stop thinking about him. 

he will take you the same way lava takes everything – devouring beyond flesh, nipping right into the core until all it leaves is the flames of a thousand suns. his desires will crush you, filling up the spaces between your blood vessels and your synapses with nothing but him. 

and you will love it. you will let yourself be scorched because ever since you have met him, all you knew was fire and how they lick up into your chest, swallowing your heart, almost like they are branding his name directly in you. 

like you have belonged to him even before.)

mansk wipes you with a towel, murmuring soft apologies when your body jolts in oversensitivity at the rough drag of the cloth. he passes you his shirt and then pulls you underneath the sheets, tucking you in for the night. 

“thank you,” you say, weakly smiling at him.

mansk returns the smile, brushing your braids away from your face. “just like old times.”

your eyebrows furrow, confusion triumphing over exhaustion. “old times?”

“yeah,” he grunts, falling beside you. “you’ve always liked the colonel and granted we didn’t fuck then, but you always vented to me so, y’know?”

mansk’s words wash over you like a crashing tide, pulling you from the shore and submerging you into the depths of the unknown. you grasp at your memories, flitting from one to the other, trying to find pieces of your affection for the colonel only to fall short. surely, you would’ve remembered. surely, the feelings, with how intense they are, did not just go away; that you did not just lose a piece of yourself.

you think of the haunting, how the colonel and socorro appear in your memories in fragments, and feel a twinge in your heart. was it not indifference? that all this time when you remembered her, when you used her to learn more about quaritch, it was because you liked him too? 

were you always a fool like this? searching for bits of quaritch in the hands of another, trying to claim the stray parts like they could be yours to begin with. 

“rico?” mansk’s voice breaks through your reverie. 

“i… i don’t remember.”

he turns to you in surprise. “what do you mean you don’t remember?”

“just that,” you say, your voice faint. “i don’t- i can’t remember.”

-------

the moment miles saw his reflection – blue and distinctly not human – he knew there was little of himself left in the hellhole that pandora had become. autonomy and freedom no longer meant much, not when he’s become a weapon. 

he’s died once, they said. had he still been the commanding officer in the compound, he’d have the shrink do drills at the stupidity of pointing out his untimely and obvious demise. 

no fucking shit he died. miles would’ve remembered turning into a goddamn na’vi if he didn’t. 

but, at the end of the day, his anger didn’t matter. like a freak show, he’s back – not really as the same man, but similar enough that the old colonel’s ghost thrums with hymns of vengeance, carrying over to miles’ own person. because miles may not remember his death, but he remembers jake sully’s betrayal.

the boy had chosen his people and miles had chosen his, it is that simple. 

the mission was straight-forward, but miles isn’t deluded enough to assume that it would be just as easy. he’s failed once already, after all. perhaps being a na’vi could switch the tides; perhaps being one wouldn’t matter – whatever it may be, miles is ready to carry the burden of killing jake sully.

with a single focus, miles lets the unfamiliarity of his new body roll off his skin like dew before forcing himself to learn and to adapt. painstakingly, he even tried to salvage the pieces of augustine’s research, hoping to find any scraps of information regarding the na’vi in her ramblings, but the compound has scrubbed themselves off the traitor’s books. don’t mind the fact that augustine’s the best goddamn na’vi expert, apparently, they rather bitch around under the pretence of unnecessary patriotism, instead of taking advantage of her research. 

when he asked who he should talk to regarding their physio, he was told that augustine was replaced by cooper. unsurprisingly, cooper was unable to fill in the shoes that augustine left, but miles preferred him anyway. the man has lesser empathy, lesser curiosity about the wonders of pandora. 

‘that’s good,” miles thought upon meeting cooper. ‘checkups will be clinical. none of that bitchin’ about morals.’

which was why it should’ve been easy transitioning into his recombinant body. it should’ve been.

then, you came along.

sweet, little, pretty thing that you are. you don’t even know what you do to him, walking around looking like you’re pulled straight  from miles’ spank bank material. you look darling with your short braids, pulled back with little clips like those that he remembers walker using, as your smooth voice ripples against the heavy tension building in miles’ chest.

there’s always this sweet scent that follows you, and it reminds miles of something that he couldn’t really pin down. it’s faint, teasing his senses with the little bursts until he began to be addicted to it. to be addicted to you.

he had been content with only getting a whiff from every time the two of you crossed paths, your chin ducking down in respect, saluting so beautifully that it had miles pretending that he didn’t have the itch to pat your head in approval. 

(you looked like the type to adore praises; the type to want to hear how you’re being such a good girl. all for him.)

he didn’t want to pursue more, remembering what happened when he last made that mistake, but it just felt so impossible to dismiss his interest in you as something that is only fleeting; something that is only physical, bound by the biological nature of his new body. 

maybe if he just pushed back harder against the general, then maybe he could be rid of you. maybe there would be nothing thrumming underneath his skin – he refuses to call it desire, afraid that by doing so, he would chain himself to the ache that he feels – and maybe you would no longer be his growing problem.

then: a spike in the air churned the insides of miles’ head, bolting his legs onto the floor. there was a sort of static, a rumbling charge that pierced past metal walls and choked miles into madness. 

he didn’t even realize what it was until he picked up the sound of your voice, pleasure curling against your words as you cried out a name. miles felt lightheaded, warmth crept up from his fingertips to the base of his neck.

(a shackle, one that spelt out your name. 

again, do you know what you do to him? what you reduce him to?)

the scent of your euphoria sent him into a feverish state, molten lava replacing blood as he burned. his breaths came out in ragged rasps, and miles gulped down the air as though he could taste you from it. as though that would’ve been enough.

miles knew what danger looked like, he knew what it smelt like, but he never expected that it would take your shape, testing him past his capabilities. so he lied, spitting in anger and lashing out as he held your hand, ignoring the way his skin tingled when it met yours, and he watched as your eyes glimmered with hurt.

fine. that’s fine. miles repeated this mantra until he clambered into his room, almost tripping over his boots, and made his way to his bed. 

there was a heavy pressure in miles’ ears as he tore off his belt, his teeth snapped together as he pulled his length out and fucked into his fist, breathing into the other one to chase the fading scent that you left. 

he lost himself in his thoughts, imagining that it had been him who reduced you into a moaning mess. that it had been him who you came to for your heat; that it had been him who made you cry, your whimpers slipping past shut doors until everyone could hear your sweet cries.

miles has always been possessive, he doesn’t need the soul drive to know that.

his orgasm ripped through him in muted pleasure, not enough to stoke the heat rumbling deep in his belly.

“fuck!” he growled, frustration bubbling up into his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to forget the way you look; the way you walk, the way you shoot your hydra or the way you maneuver a bird as though you and the machine are one. 

but it was futile. he’s ruined. 

you’ve ruined him.

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tagging (pls lmk if you wanna be added or removed!) - @hinataashoyos @babyduk213 @ilovebluedilfss

[diazheartsbuckley]

Soooo many to choose from, they all look so good! Ok get ready for a heap of asks 💞

🖤🖤🖤

Omg Hippo, I’m so sorry that I’m taking forever to answer 🥲

Hope you enjoy tho!

Prev snippet here (I don’t write in order, whoops)

🖤 aka lots of religious trauma

“I uhm-… I might have to reenlist if I don’t find a job soon” Eddie says, dragging his hands across his face, feeling a few beads of sweat forming near his temples. He doesn’t want to reenlist, he doesn’t want to leave Christopher behind again, he can’t do that to him. Not when he moved to another state just to be able to keep seeing him. Shannon had gotten a job offer that she couldn’t refuse and Eddie had willingly accepted that if they were to co-parent, he had to come with them.

And the last thing he’d expected was to meet someone as amazing as Buck, so loving and caring and kind and so proud of who he is. Eddie wishes that he could be like him, be happy with who and what he is. Surely, he’d come out to Shannon and Christopher but not to the world. He wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he’d never be ready and that scared him too because Buck…Buck makes him feel whole.

And even though he wasn’t ready to share his feelings with the world, he knew that he didn’t want to leave Buck behind either.

The concern spreads instantly across Buck’s face, forming deep creases on his forehead and even small lines around his eyes. “I won’t let you do that, Eds. You can’t do that to yourself. Or to Christopher” or to me, the last part remains unspoken because he knows that he might just be pushing Eddie away instead of holding him close. “There has to be another way”

Eddie exhales deeply, the fear almost palpable as he stares at a blank space right behind Buck’s head. He knows that if he looks at him for too long, those soft, blue puppy eyes will win him over. Without a doubt, he knows that he’s in love with Buck but he doesn’t know how to show it. Yet.

Instead, he reacts in a manner that he can only recognize as coming from his father. He halfway flies out of his seat and drags his fingers almost desperately through his hair. “Don’t you think that I’ve thought about that? Do you think I want to leave my kid behind again?”

Do you think I want to leave you behind?

“That’s not what I’m saying, Eddie. I’m saying that I want to help you” Buck replies, not reacting to Eddie’s outburst but instead stretches his hand out carefully, touching Eddie’s side with his fingertips.

Oh.

The silence lingers for a moment before Eddie speaks again, this time realizing that maybe he has to react differently. “I’m just-…”

“Scared. I know. But we can work it out. Together. Okay?”

“Okay” Eddie agrees despite the fact that he’s fighting every fiber of his being. A real man doesn’t need help from others, his father’s words echoes in his head.

Make me write ✍️

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[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 6

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pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni! ageless blogs dni! none this chapter but the series will have eventual smut, canon-level violence and just general warnings.

a/n: last update until sept 8th, hope y'all enjoy <33 would appreciate your comments and reblogs, because that’s what really motivates me to keep writing . thanks for reading!

Anakin’s back to ignoring you. You’ve been doing the basic training on your own— pushups and the like to maintain your strength, but the silence from him as the week passes on is both uncomfortable and cutting. It’s unlike the first time you had gone silent on one another— that was shy and awkward, while this is borne of a fury that Anakin holds for you. He holds you responsible for the massacre that’s yet to come,  and believes that you aren’t doing all that you can do. 

Oh, well. It doesn’t matter to you— at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself each night as he sits there, seething next to you in the darkness of your room. It doesn’t matter if he’s angry. It’s for the good of the galaxy. The lives of a few to save the many.

The plans and formations are all mapped out in your head, using the skill that you’ve acquired over the years to swiftly internalize all information at a moment’s notice. You can’t write it down, save the paper trail be held against you in the future either by Separatists or the governing body of Naboo. It feels like you’re walking on a razor’s edge, and your appetite has waned thanks to your growing nausea. You’ve been a spy for years now, so long that espionage feels more comfortable than breathing, but this? This is different. This has real consequences, ones that will be all your fault. You wish there was a way out of this.

Dawn of the massacre, you wake up to the first rays of light and sit up, woken from a terrible dream in which your hands had been dripping blood. You sit and stare at your palms, trying to convince yourself that it’s not your fault, that it won’t be on your hands. You have to stifle your tears, nausea and anxiety making you restless. You’re so distraught that you don’t see Anakin isn’t laying next to you, oblivious to the fact until the soft click of the door makes you look up sharply. He’s holding a tray of food in his hand, the sharpness of his face from the days prior faded to a soft look of resignation. 

“C’mon, milady,” He murmurs, sliding the tray of food in front of you. It’s something basic, making you suspect that he’d gone to the kitchens and found nobody there, and had thus arranged the food himself. “You haven’t been eating right, and just now, it seemed like you were having a nightmare.” You thank him but don’t move to eat it, still trying to regulate your breathing. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” Anakin tries to persuade you.

“It is, Anakin,” You gasp, clutching at the sheets as sweat rolls down your body. The anxiety that you’ve suppressed for the past week rears its ugly head, sitting heavy on your chest and forcing you to take shallow breaths. “It is too late. If I interfere, it won’t be just the people that die— because I promise you, they’ll die regardless of what I do— it’ll be me and you up next for execution. I can’t get out of this. There will be blood on my hands,” You whimper, still looking at your hands. For a moment, you wish you could undo it all. Go back all those years and say no to Padme when she asked you to spy within the court. Say no to spying, to putting yourself in this position where you couldn’t do the right thing. Why did it need to be you who makes the tough choices? Why do your hands have to be the ones stained with innocent blood?

Anakin watches you as a shudder tears through your spine and you choke, still fixated on your hands until he grabs your chin and turns your focus to him. 

“Hey, eyes on me,” He says. Distantly, you realize that you don’t think you’ve ever felt this kind of gentleness from him before. “I know. I know what you’re feeling, what you’re going through. I don’t agree with how you handled it but,” he swallows roughly, scanning your stiff form, and sits down on the bed, soothingly stroking your arm to ground you. “It’s not your fault. It’s not. If this is what needs to happen, then I trust you. There is no blood on your hands; like you said, the Separatists will kill them with or without your support.” You don’t know how much of his words he actually means but it calms you down, just enough for your body to relax and for your breathing to return to normal. He watches you carefully, and you know he’s thinking, analyzing the situation, before he sighs and stands up.

“It’s soon, isn’t it?” He asks gravely. You nod, picking at the food on the plate as your thoughts swarm you. “Eat,” He says as gently as he can. “You’ll need strength for today.”

~~~

It’s far enough from you that the palace goes on relatively unaffected by the battle. While it’s not a commonplace occurrence, this kind of violence from Separatists isn’t exactly new. But the level of violence, the speed and weaponry that they used today, that is new. 

A messenger arrives at the palace on a beat-up speeder, panting and holding a blood-soaked piece of cloth to his abdomen as he stands before the Council in the chambers. “There’s too many,” he gasps. “We need reinforcements.” You nod carefully, knowing all the while that there’s nothing you can do. 

“Get this man medical attention,” you call to the palace guards, who quickly usher him away. You catch Reyna’s eyes briefly, her stony face spiking alarm in you as you try to reflect compliance to the Sith mission. You clear your throat as you make eye contact with the startled ministers. 

“Send in our fleet from the west side, in from the valley of the Gallo Mountains. We’ll catch them with the element of surprise,” you order.

“But milady, the valley seems to me a rather unstrategic position,” one minister protests. You nod again, aware that this is something they would have noticed. 

“Nowhere else would give any sort of strategic advantage. They’ve formed a full circle atop the hills, with only a small gap between Deej’a peak and the nearby Darkwalker’s cave. If we attack from anywhere else, not only do we lose strategic advantage and the element of surprise, their forces will quickly surround us, trapping a bubble with no way out.” You speak quickly but forcefully, and the authority in your voice snaps your subordinates into action. But still, you can’t let this all fall on your head when the battle is done. 

“I simply don’t see another way of proceeding,” you sigh, quickly forming a rebuttal in your head as you wait for the ministers to bring up any other points. 

“You’re right, milady. There’s no other way to proceed,” the same minister responds, nodding. 

“I’ll call for the Republic to send reinforcements. They’ll save us,” you sigh, rubbing your temple as a headache brews. You know damn well it won’t save them. They’re trying to rub it in, show just how weak the Republic is and bring Naboo to its knees. You don’t totally understand the motive, but then again, with the Separatists there isn’t always a clear motive. It seems to you that they almost do it just for the sake of sowing chaos.

You just have to get through today, you assure yourself. 

The palace is quickly swept up in action, people waiting with bated breath for the transmission from the troops as they send update after update. You almost can’t listen, heart in your throat as they enter the valley. It’s a death trap, because the Separatists know where they are under the tree cover. 

Anakin once told you about the soldier’s minute. How, when in battle, a minute that would seem miniscule in the grand scheme of things becomes the most important determinant of life and death. The soldier’s minute confronts you now, whispers in your ear to do something and save those poor souls. You’re enclosed by your ugly decisions, and the cage that they’ve formed seems to be tightening around you. You could intervene, jump in and give them that extra minute, and the thought almost spreads to your limbs to take root before you make eye contact with Reyna. The mere sight of her threatening face is enough to give you pause.

And then the soldier’s minute is over. Comms channels are flooded with the holos of panicked soldiers, each reporting news of a series of blasts that had wiped out the leaders of the charge. Agonized screams and the sound of pure panic fills the room, and the leaders sit in solemnity and horror as you watch it unfold in real time. 

Anakin. I need Anakin, he can fix this. But he’s not here, is he? You bite your knuckle as you try to suppress your tears. 

“They could see them,” you eke out, remembering your position in this massacre. You force a shocked expression but the guilt comes naturally. You knew some of those soldiers. Some of them were young. And you killed them. 

You meet Reyna’s eyes again, and while distrust still lingers in her eyes, she nods in mild approval. 

You’ve stained your conscience forever, all for the mild approval of the Separatists. The reality of the situation makes you want to laugh, despite there being no humor in the situation. 

“Call the Gungans. Call the Republic again,” you command, nails digging into your palms as you blink away tears. Maintain your facade of control. 

“Milady, the Gungans will not get involved in this battle, as they fear risking too many of their own army. We’ve called the Republic, but it… they’re not coming, Milady. No one is coming,” the kingdom’s commander in chief says, resigned. 

The room is bathed in a stiff, uncomfortable silence. It’s as though the ghosts of your dead soldiers are in the room, packing it in, suffocating you as you watch the massacre unfold until the last commlink has been lost. The ministers leave, one by one, until it’s just you and Reyna in the room. You’re filled with dread at the thought of talking to her, borne of the awkwardness and her threat from earlier to both you and Anakin. 

“I still do not trust you,” Reyna hisses from the corner of the room. You can’t hold back your reaction— the emotional toll that your actions today took on you have wiped clean your composure and ability to rise above her instigating. 

“I couldn’t give less of a damn if you trust me or not, Reyna. But frankly, I do wonder why it matters to you so much? Each Separatist is here because we believe in a cause. You, however, have an obsession that seems like it drives you to total madness. Distrusting me, the person who was put in the position to complete this mission, seems like a rather miserable way of living, my lady Reyna,” You snap. You hold her in your gaze as she blinks, affronted, her body snapping away from you in shock. 

“I care because unlike you, my queen, Naboo has stolen from me. I have reason to care, reason to give my life to this cause. Naboo took my family away from me. After the Raxus address, many years ago, my uncle and father voiced their support of Count Dooku. Publicly. And for that, they were punished.” Reyna’s voice wavers, her bottom lip wobbles, but it’s all so practiced that you know she’s bluffing. 

“You lie.” A glint forms in her eye when you call out the falsehood, smiling broadly as she moves to exit the room. 

“Maybe I do, milady, or maybe I don’t— again, I don’t trust you, so what does it matter?” Reyna winks at you almost playfully before she disappears into the hallway, leaving you alone with your guilt and sorrow. 

It’s almost worse.  

~~~

The conversation between you and Anakin is stifled that night. He doesn’t even bother putting up the Noise-Dampening Bubble like he does every night, talking to you coolly as if the massacre hadn’t happened just hours before. His nonchalance shocks you, the way it sounds as though he truly doesn’t care about what happened. It doesn’t fit the Anakin you know, and you’re thoroughly confused but ready to put it all behind you as you lay down. 

Dreams pull you under— shadowy, cool darkness and the vague feeling of guilt follows you as you journey into your subconscious. You find yourself in the blurred dreamscape staring at the faces of the soldiers you knew and sent to their deaths, a blaster in your arms as they stare at you, seemingly trapped behind a pane of glass. Your arm raises of its own accord and fires into the glass, raining shards in the space between you and the soldiers. Once, twice, thrice you fire at them and they each fold like the train of your skirts, bones snapping and flesh mangling in order to crudely resemble the softness of your luxurious regal dresses. Horror fills you as you stare at the bodies and you wake up with a start, gasping and clutching the sheets as you instinctively seek for Anakin in your fear. He’s already awake, moving about in the shadows of the room before he lifts his hands up, presumably setting up a bubble so you can converse freely. He turns to you, tossing a cloak at the bed before donning his own cloak. 

“Get dressed, quickly,” He hisses at you, pacing over to the window and unlatching it as you fumble to get it over your arms and slide out of the bed clumsily. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, your voice raspy from the rapidly-fading daze of sleep. 

“Don’t ask questions, and just come here. Quickly, we don’t have much time,” he responds, climbing onto the railing of the balcony and holding his hand out to you.

“Anakin, we’ll fall!” You whisper back. 

“Forget all that. Do you trust me?” He asks, gentler this time as you take his hand and nod. Then he pulls you over to him and hurtles the both of you towards the ground. You gasp sharply as the wind rushes around you— you knew he was mad at you, but killing you seems excessive! The howl of the air around you slowly quiets as he catches your descent, hovering the both of you above the ground gently before he lowers you completely, taking your hand and running to the armory before you even have the chance to recover. 

The lights are off when you enter, with no personnel as you’d given them all the rest of the night off to recover from the ordeal that the Separatists had put you through. After all, you knew that they weren’t exactly planning anything else. Anakin guides you to a Skyflipper— you recognize its design to be the same craft that he’d taken you on your date so many moons ago, and the nostalgia twists your lips into a wistful smile. That day, the two of you had flown and it had been a happy occasion, very different from the situation that you’d found yourself in now. 

Despite the silence between you as Anakin sets up the Skyflipper without explanation, you’re glad you’re with him. You’ve been a little bit lost without him. He doesn’t look back at you as he sets off, making sure the sound of the craft was as silent as possible before sending the two of you sailing over the green terrain of Naboo. 

You don’t say anything, just allowing yourself to be by him as night closes around you. The terrors of yesterday feel distant and faint when he’s next to you, which is an altogether different terror that you don’t want to unpack quite yet. No, you just want to enjoy being next to him for now. Makes your mind go quiet. 

“We’re here,” Anakin says grimly as he lands the Skyflipper. The trees that spread over the glass paneling make you acutely aware that you are in the valley, right where you had ordered the soldiers to enter. 

“Anakin…” You murmur, your throat dry. He doesn’t listen, barrelling past you to open the ramp and step into the wilderness. You have no choice but to follow him, unease rolling in your stomach as he walks ahead. 

“You have to understand, milady,” He urges, standing in front of the fallen as he turns to you. “I have a duty as a soldier to stop this.” 

“I don’t see how I can,” You whisper, your gaze falling upon the bodies of your people. 

“You don’t have to know how,” He responds quietly, moving towards you and for a second it seems like he was going to comfort you somehow before he stops, squeezing his hands awkwardly. “You just have to try.” 

“But what’s the point?” You ask. “If I try to stop them, they’ll find out and they’ll kill the both of us.” 

“We just have to make sure they don’t find out. Milady, look at me,” he commands you softly, taking your hand in his. “That could have been me.” You exhale harshly at his words but you know he’s right— you have to shed your fear of being caught and prevent as much harm as you can, but you’re also going to have to stay without suspicion. You need to do both. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you affirm, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your finger. “Never again will this happen, Anakin.” 

“We’re in this together, milady,” Anakin says. “So what do we do now?” 

“Call General Kenobi,” you order. “We’re gonna need some reinforcements.”

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 23 Chapter 23 | honeyed intent⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You craned your neck once again, squinting at the large scoreboard hovering above the stadium to see your position. 19th place.

The sting of your position was overturned by the measly point value—just 115. It didn't seem fair. Why such a large disparity?

Midnight's voice boomed across the stadium with instructions, snapping you from your thoughts. "Now, you've got five minutes to build your teams. I recommend you get started."

You glanced around, taking in the chaotic scene as students broke off into groups. Your eyes landed on Midoriya once more. His face still bore the shock of being worth ten million points.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. Yes, maybe the point system showcased a larger system at play—the truth, if you will. In the grand scheme of professional heroes, only the number-one spot mattered. 42nd or 2nd place made no difference. Both paled in comparison to the singular brilliance of first place.

A position that demanded constant vigilance—for the number one hero was a target not just for villains, but even for other heroes drunk on ambition.

You stood off to the side, watching as everyone began breaking off into groups. The frantic energy in the air was palpable—a chaotic dance of alliances and strategies forming in real-time. Your eyes scanned the crowd, assessing the potential of each team.

You made eye contact with Bakugo, his intense gaze locking onto yours. He immediately began making his way over to you, his determined stride cutting through the crowd. However, a few feet away from you, he was intercepted by a head of purple hair.

Shinso stepped in front of you, blocking Bakugo's path. "Oh?" You raised a brow at his bravery, curious about his intentions.

Bakugo, however, wasn't one for detours. He snarled, his crimson eyes flashing, and barged past Shinso with a rough shoulder shove. "Move it, Sleepy Bitch," he growled, "She's already in a team."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a step forward and positioning yourself between the two boys. You turned to face Bakugo, raising a hand to tap the bottom of your lip as you tilted your head. "Oh, Bakugo," you drawled, your voice dripping with honeyed sweetness, "How kind of you to consider me for your team. But..." you paused, letting the silence stretch, "I don't remember you coming over to ask me...do you?"

Bakugo's features contorted in frustration. He looked away for a fleeting moment, a small scoff escaping his lips before he met your gaze again. "I know, but—"

"But nothing." You cut him off, taking a small step towards him. Your voice, normally smooth and alluring, sharpened to a steely edge. "It seems that I've been too relaxed with your behavior lately."

Bakugo's jaw tightened, his fiery determination clashing with your cool composure. "I just thought—"

You raised a finger to his lips, silencing him. "You thought wrong." You narrowed your eyes at him, making sure your words sunk in. "Don't forget that I'm merely here to spectate your performance. Try not to get sidetracked."

Midnight's voice boomed once again, echoing through the stadium. "Alright everyone! Time is ticking! You've got two minutes left to form your teams!"

The announcement served as a convenient interruption. You didn't miss a beat. "I suggest you run along and form an effective team if you wish to succeed in the next phase of the festival," you told Bakugo, your expression unreadable. With that, you turned away to face Shinso, wordlessly dismissing the blonde.

Bakugo stared at your form for a few seconds, fuming. Your words hung in the air, a challenge he couldn't ignore. His scowl deepened, eyes blazing with a renewed determination. He might not have gotten his way this time, but Bakugo Katsuki wasn't one to back down. With clenched fists, he stomped off, mind already racing with strategies to form the best possible team to clear this next phase.

You watched him go out of the corner of your eye, noting the tension in his shoulders and the fire in his gaze. It was clear that Bakugo was more determined than ever to come out on top.

You then turn your attention to Shinso, who observed the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. "You have quite the way with him, Akuma-san," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You simply hummed in response, your attention shifting back to the task at hand. "I suppose I do," you replied coolly, your eyes scanning the crowd for potential allies or threats. The remaining students around you were frantically forming teams, the countdown adding to the urgency in the air.

You then raised a questioning brow at Shinso. "What do I owe the pleasure, Shinso-kun? What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I interrupted Bakugo with the sole intention of pissing him off, but after witnessing your little...exchange," he trailed off, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "I thought you'd be a more interesting teammate for the Cavalry Battle."

You considered his offer for a moment before nodding. "Alright, I accept."

Shinso's eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "You...you do?" he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Why the look?" you chuckled, tilting your head playfully. "Didn't you come here to recruit me?"

Shinso fidgeted under your gaze. "Well, yes," he admitted, "but I didn't expect you to agree that fast."

A sharp laugh escaped your lips. "Oh, Shinso-kun," you teased, "If I didn't accept, what were you going to do? Use your quirk on me anyway?"

Shinso flushed a deeper shade of red, his gaze darting away from yours. "H-honestly," he mumbled, "that was the plan."

Another laugh bubbled up from your chest. "How diabolical of you~" you purred, your amusement evident. You started walking towards the center of the field, Shinso trailing close behind. "Now, I do believe we have less than a minute to find other teammates, yes?"

Shinso hummed thoughtfully. "To be honest," he started, a hint of confidence in his voice that you hadn't heard before, "seeing that I've gotten you, I don't think we need anyone else."

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, a playful glint in your gaze. "How sweet," you murmured.

Just then, Midnight's voice boomed once more, cutting through the pre-battle tension. "Alright everyone! Time's up! Let the Cavalry Battle begin!"

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the Cavalry Battle. You wasted no time, launching yourself onto Shinso's broad shoulders. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the battlefield, the chaos unfolding like a twisted ballet. With his Quirk, Shinso quickly took control of a smaller group, using them as diversions and blockers.

Meanwhile, you weaved your own brand of magic. With a flick of your wrist or a subtle shift in weight, you'd send unsuspecting participants tumbling to the ground, momentarily disoriented and vulnerable. This allowed Shinso to snatch their headbands with practiced ease, his movements almost surgical in their precision.

The frantic commentary of Present Mic filled the air as the battle raged. You recognized snippets of the chaos unfolding—Midoriya's team desperately evading capture, Bakugo's explosive dominance, and the unexpected strategy employed by Class B.

"[Wow! Barely two minutes have passed since we started, and it's already a total free-for-all! Yeah! Watch those headbands!]"

The battle was a whirlwind of movement and noise, a constant test of reflexes and cunning. You and Shinso worked in perfect cohesion, a silent understanding passing between you. You were both here to win, and the methods employed were secondary concerns.

The battlefield shifted as teams formed and dissolved, allegiances forged and broken in mere seconds. The ten-million-point headband on Midoriya's head became a beacon, drawing hungry competitors like moths to a flame.

Just as you were about to snag another unsuspecting headband, the large video screen above the stadium flickered to life. The current standings flashed across the screen, revealing a surprising twist: Team Todoroki successfully managed to swipe the headband from Team Midoriya, rocketing them up the rankings.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Present Mic's voice boomed, "[Only one minute left! And this entire game was just turned completely on its head! Todoroki's team has the ten million points, and Midoriya's team is suddenly left with nothing at all!]"

Shinso let out a low whistle beside you. "Looks like things just got interesting," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You watched, perched on Shinso's shoulders, as Midoriya's team desperately tried to stay ahead of Todoroki's icy grasp. Iida's surprise attack, fueled by his secret move, managed to temporarily halt Midoriya's advance, but at the cost of his own mobility. The momentum shifted once again, with Todoroki's team securing the ten-million point headband, leaving Midoriya's team with nothing.

The clock ticked down, marking the halfway point of the competition. The air crackled with nervous anticipation as everyone realized—the true test was yet to come. The team holding the ten-million-point headband at the final whistle would be crowned victor.

"[With time almost up, Team Todoroki is in first place with four headbands. Despite their best efforts, Team Midoriya has fallen to the bottom! Will these be the top four teams that move on to the next round?"]"

You, however, weren't finished yet. You spotted an opportunity as the chaos intensified. Bakugo, fueled by his competitive spirit, launched himself at Todoroki's team, determined to steal back the headbands. You saw your chance—a distraction.

As Bakugo zeroed in on his target, you subtly shifted your focus, manipulating the air around him. He stumbled slightly, momentarily thrown off balance. It was just the opening you needed. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you snatched two headbands from the pile, a smirk playing on your lips.

The buzzer blared, signaling the end of the grueling battle.

"[Time's up!]" Present Mic shouted, "[And with that, the second round is officially over!]"

You hopped down from Shinso's shoulders, both of you catching your breath.

"[Now, let's take a look at who our top four teams are! In first place, Team Todoroki! In second place, Team Bakugo! In third place is Tetsutetsu—Wait, what? It's Team Shinso? When did they come back from the dead? And in fourth place is Team Midoriya! These four valiant teams will advance on to the final round!]"

You watch as Midoriya falls to his knees in relief.

Despite the unexpected twist, you'd managed to secure a decent amount of points, landing your team in fourth place—just enough to qualify for the next round.

"[Now, let's take an hour lunch break before we start the afternoon festivities! See ya soon!]"

☆

☆

The hour-long lunch break provided a brief respite from the intense competition. You navigated the crowded pseudo-cafeteria, grabbing a small meal and finding a quiet corner to eat. Just as you were finishing your lunch, your phone buzzed. It was your mother.

Stepping out into the hallway, you found a small private area and answered the call. "Hello, Mother," you greeted, keeping your voice neutral.

"Y/N, sweetie!" your mother voice was chocked as she sobbed into the phone, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so proud of you! You've done so well! My baby girl, I knew you could do it!"

You sighed inwardly as the tears and praise continued for five minutes straight. Mei's emotional outbursts were nothing new, but they were always exhausting. "Thank you, Mother," you said gently, trying to calm her. "I appreciate it. I need to go now, though. The next event will start soon."

After ending the call, you began making your way back to the waiting area. The hallways were quieter now, students either resting or mentally preparing for the next round. As you turned a corner, you were suddenly stopped by Shinso.

"Hey, Akuma-san," he greeted, his eyes scanning your face with a hint of concern. "Are you okay?"

A bit confused, you tilted your head. "Yes, why wouldn't I be—?"

Your mind suddenly went blank, a fog settling over your thoughts. In this state, you see Shinso step closer, letting out a harsh breath and tugging on his hair in frustration.

"1-B's obsession with you... it's maddening," he began, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "They always sing your praises. Every single day, it's 'Akuma-san this, Akuma-san that.' You're all they talk about—all they think about. It's like you've cast some sort of spell over them. 

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "And don't get me started on Bakugo..." he let out a scoff, "he's like your personal guard dog. Always hovering, snarling at anyone who even looks at you for too long, ensuring no one gets too close or has a place in your mind. It's like he—"

He cut himself off abruptly, clenching his jaw. You found yourself strangely captivated by his outburst, the fog in your mind momentarily thinning.

"It's like you're some kind of trophy he needs to keep everyone else away from. It's infuriating."

He paused, his gaze flickering across the hallway, before returning to you. "Before we met, when it was just rumors and whispers, I thought you were someone I'd have to put in their place. Someone overrated, someone I could outshine." Shinso stepped even closer, invading your personal space, eyes dark and intense. "But then I saw you in action, and I realized it wasn't just hype. You're... more. And it's driving me crazy," he finished with a bitter edge, his frustration turning into something akin to... obsession?

"What is it about you?" he murmured, his voice rough with something akin to hunger. "What is it that draws everyone to you; that makes them obsess over you? Everyone seems to... gravitate towards you. Like you have some kind of invisible pull, a force that makes everyone else around you seem... dull. Less. Like their very presence is dimmed when you're around. I see it with 1-B, with Bakugo, even with the way 1-A looks at you. It's like you're some sort of... magnetic force that they can't resist."

His hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, a silent question lingering in his touch. "And here I am, going crazy, trying to figure it out. Trying to understand what it is about you that makes everyone—including me—so captivated. What is it that makes everyone lose themselves a little bit around you? Makes their entire world shrink to fit you in the center?"

You blinked slowly, eyes locking onto his with an intensity that startled him. "Funny. I seem to ask myself that very question every day," you replied, your voice calm and measured.

Shinso recoiled as if struck, his hand dropping away from your face. You tilted your head slightly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "What's wrong, Shinso-kun?" you purred, the playful use of his full name sending a jolt through him. "Shocked? If anything, that should be my reaction. You did, after all, use your Quirk on me against my will, no?"

Shinso stammered, his carefully constructed facade momentarily crumbling. "H-how did you—" he began, but then stopped, shaking his head as if to clear it. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to appear composed. "That's... that's not how how my quirk works," he explained, his voice tight. "Brainwashing. When it's in use, the person lacks awareness of what's being done while under its influence. When they... they wake up from it, they're confused. Y-you're not supposed to be this coherent."

You let out a soft chuckle, the sound like wind chimes in the tense air. You covered your mouth with one hand, the amusement evident in your eyes. "How cute," you murmured, the words dripping with a subtle mockery that sent shivers down Shinso's spine.

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a text from Mina.

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘-𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 Hey, Akuma-san. I don't really mean to be a bother but, can you please, please, please come ASAP? I need your help with something!

You pocketed the device, turning your attention back to Shinso. "It's a pity our conversation will be cut short," you said, your voice light and almost teasing.

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, waving weakly over your shoulder. "Until next time, Shinsoi-kun."

Shinso watched you walk away, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and fascination. The encounter left him more intrigued—and confused—than ever. He couldn't resist. Unable to stop himself, he found himself calling your name. "Akuma-san!"

You paused mid-step, turning your head slightly to acknowledge him. "Yes, Shinso-kun?"

He cleared his throat, looking off to the side. His voice came out low and hesitant. "Can I... Can I ask you a question?"

You turned to face him fully, your expression one of mild curiosity. "Of course, ask away."

Shinso cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. He looked away briefly, then back, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "How do you deal with..." he hesitated, searching for the right words, "having a...'villainous' quirk?"

You blinked, a look of feigned confusion plastered across your face. "Villainous?" you echoed, tilting your head cutely. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'villainous quirk'."

Shinso rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. He let out a frustrated sigh. "You know what I mean," he said, his voice clipped. "Controlling people. Like me." He quickly added, "Your quirk is obviously something more than those dumb strings, and before you even try denying it, I remember the incident with the bullies in the halls."

Your eyes narrowed at his words. A prickle of unease ran down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The realization hit you—someone had been watching. Observing you. Even then, a small, begrudging pinch of interest wormed its way through the unease. "Hm, you've been observing me closely, haven't you?" you remarked, your voice carrying a hint of danger.

Shinso, catching the shift in the atmosphere, stammered, "Look, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. It's just...well, a mind control quirk isn't exactly hero material, is it?"

"I see," you said slowly, considering your response. "It's not about how I deal with it, Shinso-kun. It's about understanding it and using it to my advantage. Just like how you use your quirk."

He looked at you, a mix of skepticism and curiosity in his eyes. "But doesn't it bother you? Knowing what you can do to people?"

You smiled, a hint of something dark lurking behind your eyes. "Bother me? No. It empowers me. Knowing what I can do, what I can control, it gives me an edge. It's not about right or wrong, Shinso-kun. It's about control and how you choose to wield it."

Shinso took a step back, processing your words. The depth of your understanding and acceptance of your quirk left him both unsettled and intrigued. He realized then that there was much more to you than met the eye.

"But...But don't you worry about what others think? How they'll judge you?"

You shrugged, a sly smile tugging at your lips. "People will always judge. It's human nature. What matters is how you perceive yourself and how you use your abilities. As long as you have control, no one can dictate who you are or what you become." you said, then quickly added, "And to answer your earlier question: no, I'm unsure about what you mean by dealing with a 'villainous' quirk. Aren't all quirks, in a way, villainous?"

"Think about it," you continued, ticking points off on your fingers. "Even the most seemingly harmless quirk can be used for bad. Water? Great for fighting off fires and droughts, sure, but also perfect for drowning people. Telekinesis? Useful for moving items, but terrifying if used to turn everyday, harmless items into dangerous projectiles. Super strength? Anyone's dream, but also a potential tool for bone-crushing innocents with a single touch."

You finished with a pointed look, "Just because I can seemingly control the actions of others doesn't make it any worse than someone who can snap you out of existence. At least when I'm finished, the person has a better chance of being left alive, no?"

Shinso's jaw clenched slightly, processing your words. You weren't denying your quirk's potential for manipulation, but you were reframing it, highlighting the duality of all quirks and the importance of intent.

You cast a final glance to the male. "Think about it, Shinso-kun," you said, a hint of a challenge in your voice. Without waiting for a response, you turned and began walking away, leaving him standing there speechless.

☆

☆

The sterile white of the locker room contrasted sharply with the vibrant orange and green of the cheerleading outfit Mina dangled in front of you. You'd arrived just in time to witness the remaining 1-A girls slipping into the uniform, their excited chatter filling the air.

But as Mina thrust the two pieces of fabric towards you, a resolute "No," escaped your lips. The playful smile vanished from her face, replaced by a pleading expression.

"Please, Akuma-san! I'm beginning you!" she whined, her voice tinged with desperation. She immedaitely doove into a long-winded explanation, explaining how Mineta and Kaminari approached them minutes ago with supposed instructions from Aizawa for them to do this to lift everyone's spirits up at the festival, and how there's an uneven number of girls to do it and how she didn't know who else she could call on.

You raised an eyebrow once she finished, your gaze flickering from Mina's hopeful eyes to the costume. A beat of silence hung in the air before Mina mumbled, scratching the side of her face, "It does sound kinda whoosy now that I'm saying it out loud, huh?"

A hint of amusement flickered across your features as you watched realization dawn on her. Your eyes drifted back to the discarded outfit lying on the floor, the bright orange and green a stark contrast to the monochrome of your usual attire.

The longer you looked at the horrendous attire, the less it was funny and the more you were dead sure you wouldn't be putting it anywhere near you. There was literally nothing in this world that could get you to agree to such shameless, objectifying...

"Um, what if we get Sato to bake you a strawberry cake? Ribbit?"

Your mind went momentarily blank before your eyes immediately zoomed in on Tsuyu. You couldn't help but ask the amphibian-like girl, "Why the offer? And specifically why that?"

Tsuyu stammered slightly, her cheeks puffing out in a blush. "W-well," she began, "Midoriya was rambling about his time in junior high one time, and he mentioned a memory... something about you and a strawberry cake?"

A sigh, almost a growl, escaped your lips. You knew exactly what she was talking about.

Grade 8—your 2nd year of middle school.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

It was the day after your birthday. Not that anyone knew it was your birthday, of course. You'd much rather have it be a regular school day—no unwanted attention, and you were content to keep it that way. But as usual, birthdays at home were a different story: elaborate decorations, tons of food and presents, a delicious cake—and the company of your mother (and a begrudging appearance from your father). Shisuki, Hiro, and Yumi were invited too, considered honorary family friends, but even they couldn't avoid the family's expert dodging of the actual birthday.

The next day, you were sitting in class during break when the classroom door burst open. In swaggered Bakugo, lackies trailing behind him as usual. This time, though, he detoured to your desk, dropping off a small, brown box. Bakugo had dropped it off without a word, his usual scowl in place, and swaggered away as quickly as he had come in. It wasn't the usual snacks he'd sometimes toss your way. 

This one smelled overtly sweet.

You'd looked at it curiously before cautiously peeking inside.

When you opened it, there was a small birthday cupcake—strawberry flavored. The cupcake was beautifully decorated with pink icing swirled into a perfect peak, topped with a dollop of whipped cream. A fresh, ripe strawberry sat proudly on top, its vibrant red color contrasting against the soft pink icing. The delicate fragrance of strawberries and vanilla wafted up from the cupcake, filling your senses with a sweet, inviting aroma.

As always, you just arched a brow, staring up at Bakugo in question. Instead of scoffing and walking off as usual, the blond just stared you straight in the eye, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Instead, he met your gaze directly, hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets. "Happy belated birthday, Y/N," he gruffed, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear. He turned on his heel and swaggered off, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

It took seconds for his words to click with the remaining students. Gasps filled the space.

"It was Akuma-san's birthday?" "Oh my god, why didn't anyone say anything?" "You think she'll invite me if she has a party?"

You ignored it all, eyes stuck on the pink cupcake sitting before you. Reaching down, you plucked the fresh strawberry decorating the top, plopping it into your mouth.

Later that day, when you arrived home, the half-eaten cupcake still in the box in your hand, your mother immediately broke down in tears. "Oh, Y/N!" she cried, rushing to you with outstretched arms. She wrapped you in a tight hug, her tears soaking your shoulder. "The person I cried to the other day must've been an angel!"

Knowing any attempt at personal space would be futile in this situation, while she was in one of these moods, you allowed Mei to wrap her arms around you.

"What are you talking about, Mother?" you sighed, wondering what random event had triggered this emotional outburst.

She was indeed quick to give you the run down of her issue.

Apparently, Mei was so distraught about no one showing up for your birthday party that she bawled while grocery shopping later that night and ended up emotionally dumping and confiding in a kind man she encountered.

She described him to you: short brown hair, mussed and unkempt; a short mustache adorned his upper lip; and rectangular glasses perched on his nose, their lenses reflecting the dying sunlight. He had given her the name Masaru.

It didn't take long for you to connect the dots, having seen the very man come to the school to drop Bakugo's lunch off whenever the blond forgot it, or gave you his when you forgot your own.

Your mother revealed what she was crying about and how she made your favorite cake, strawberry, and still, no one showed up to enjoy it with you; how she felt like a terrible mother, convinced she had failed you.

Masaru had patiently listened and then helped your mother feel better by telling her, "At the end of the day, I'm sure your daughter is more happy that she had those who actually care and adore her around to celebrate such a special day instead of catering to individuals who probably don't even know her favorite color." Something that managed to somewhat comfort her.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you stared down at the outfit one more time. You didn't even like strawberry cake—heck, sweets in general that much—but the way your fingers were fighting relayed a different message.

Letting out a deep sigh, you finally gave in. "Fine... hand it over," you muttered.

Mina's eyes lit up, and she quickly handed the outfit to you. "Thank you, Akuma-san! You have no idea how much this means to us!"

As you took the outfit, you couldn't help but think about the strange series of events that had led you to this moment. The cheerleading outfit was bright and garish, a far cry from your usual attire. But as you began to change, you steeled yourself for the upcoming performance, knowing that you could handle whatever came your way.

.☆.                  .✩.                                   .☆.

"[Good news for everyone who didn't make the finals! Since this is a sports festival, we've prepared some super-fun side games everyone can participate in! We even brought in cheerleaders from America to get your blood pumping!]" As Present Mic's voice boomed across the stadium, all eyes turned to the group of cheerleaders now gathering on the field.

Among them was you, dressed in the eye-catching cheerleading outfit Mina had begged you to wear.

The fit hugged your curves in a way that left little to the imagination: basically a crop top at this point, the top showcased your waist and the softness of your figure. Meanwhile the skirt was short, ending at your upper mid-thigh, showing off your toned legs.

It was honestly more revealing than anything you'd normally wear, making you feel both exposed and powerful.

Aizawa-sensei's irritated voice cut through the excitement. "[Ah—Hold up. What are they doing?]"

"[Oh-ho! Looks like Class-A is goin' full-on fanservice!]" 

Bakugo's face turned beet red as he spotted you among the cheerleaders. "What the—AKUMA?!" he shouted, his voice laced with a mixture of shock and something else he couldn't quite place. His eyes betrayed him, drinking in the sight of you before he could stop himself. The way the cheerleading outfit clung to your body, highlighting every curve and contour, made it impossible for him to look away.

"[And look! Even a student from Class 1-B has joined in on the fun! Talk about school spirit!]" Present Mic continued, drawing even more attention to you.

Kirishima, standing next to Bakugo, let out a startled squeak. Before anyone could react, he slammed a hand over his eyes, his entire face turning the same shade of crimson as his hair as he looked away. "A-Akuma-san is, uh, looks great cheering us on, s-so manly," he stammered, fighting to not take another glimpse through his fingers.

Meanwhile, Mineta and Kaminari were an entire different story. Their eyes practically bulged out of their heads, their jaws slack as they ogled over you all.

"Ochaco-chan looks so cute in that outfit!" Mineta exclaimed, a perverted grin plastered on his face.

"Yeah, but have you seen Akuma-san?" Kaminari interrupted, his voice laced with awe. "She's so...so...ethereal!" Drool dripped down his chin as his eyes practically transformed into hearts.

Monoma, watching the scene unfold from the stands, let out a series of high-pitched shrieks. "Nooo! 1-A...! They got ahold of our Precious President! Destroy anyone that looks lewdly at her!" he bellowed to the other Class 1-B students, who hurridly agreed.

"Yeah! Akuma-san isn't just a piece of meat!"

"They don't deserve to breathe the same air as her, let alone see her!"

"Rip their eyes from the sockets!"

Even then, no one was more shocked than Bakugo. In his eyes, you were a vision that both infuriated and captivated him. The green and orange contrasted beautifully with your brown skin, and your red, curly hair framed your face perfectly. The crop top accentuated your bust, making it clear just how busty you were. His eyes traveled down to your waist, noting the way the fabric hugged you there, and then to your legs, which were on full display.

By the time Bakugo finished taking in the sight and looked back up at you, you were already staring at him. Your head tilted slightly, and a slow, cat-like smile spread across your lips. The predatory glint in your eyes made his heart race, and he could feel the heat rising to his face once more.

Cursing under his breath before looking away, the blonde swore that you would be the death of him.

"[Have fun competing in these little side games, everyone! After they're over, the students from the top four teams will be duking it out one-on-one in a tournament-style fighting competition! I promise you're not gonna wanna miss these epic match ups!]"

A/N: ok, first i wanna start off by apologizing for updating a little late. literally just got finished with 2-in a row double-shift these past days, and i'm tiiiirreeed. still i just had to update cuz i like writing it a lot, it helps reduce stress. also, i've been getting bombarded with many comments/messages asking for updates as well as critiquing whats been written so far. 1) lololol i kinda feel like a top-selling author because critiques??? it's giving famous. 2) i only TRY to update every 5-6 days, not that it's set in stone. i dont wanna rush things and also, i dont wanna delivery you guys half-assed chapters. so if you see the days increasing, just expect a 4k worded+ chapter as a sorry. but fr, if you don't like or this don't meet your expectations, please just click off, no need to be harsh with the 'constructive criticism' cuz depending on what day i see it, i might cuss you out or be mean asf back. i'm trynna change from being childish, y'all... ❤️❤️ see you guys soon.

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~ Masaru arrived home to the sound of his wife's voice coming from upstairs. "If I don't have those designs on my desk first thing in the morning, I swear to the gods above, you'll be cleaning the entire offices' bathroom with a toothbrush for a month!"

Bakugo was seated in the living room, television running on mute as he finished up his homework. The young blonde looked up at the sound of the door opening, prompting Masaru to send his son a bright smile. "Hi, Katsuki, how was school?" 

Bakugo's response was just noncommittal grunt before going back to what he was doing. Masaru sighed, the sound barely audible over the thundering voice of Mitsuki upstairs. He shuffled into the kitchen, unloading the groceries. He set aside a few ingredients for dinner before immediately diving into his work.

The aroma of a delicious meal soon filled the air, a welcome change from the usual take-out fare. The family of three sat down for dinner, the conversation flowing easily between Masaru and Mitsuki. Bakugo, on the other hand, remained silent, his brow furrowed as he scowled at his plate of food.

"So, anything interesting happen at work today, honey?" Mitsuki asked, taking a bite of her food.

Masaru blinked thoughtfully. "Well, now that you mention it, something did happen while I was grocery shopping..." His voice trailed off as he recalled the encounter.

"Wow, that sounded tough," Mitsuki empathized, understanding the feeling parental-failure can cause.

"Yeah, it really is," Masaru sighed, recalling the woman's defeated expression. "And what's even sadder is that her daughter apparently attends the same school as Katsuki. It's a shame. Eventually, I tried comforting her, saying how her that what matters most is that the people who truly care were there to celebrate."

Mitsuki nodded approvingly. "Aww, Masaru, don't make me cry. Are you sure she attends Aldera? They're supposed to have a real tight-knit schooling community."

Bakugo's attention, previously focused on his food, shifted subtly to his father, his scowl momentarily replaced with curiosity at the sound of his school's name.

"I'm sure. She's in Grade 8 as well. Her name is Akuma Y/N. A really bright young girl, her mother says."

The mention of your name made Bakugo pause. His mind replayed his father's story, fueled by a strange mix of irritation and...something else. Today was...your birthday? Your birthday had been completely off his radar, but truthfully, it's not his fault; heck, you never even mentioned the day! 

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'm going to my room," he muttered, leaving his half-eaten plate and heading upstairs without another word.

That night, after his parents had retreated to bed and the house was filled with the quiet hum of the refrigerator, Bakugo stormed into the kitchen, his usual fiery demeanor replaced by a determined glint in his eyes.

He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out flour, sugar, and eggs. He glanced at the recipe book his father always used, a hesitant frown creasing his face. Grumbling under his breath, he flipped through the pages, searching for something specific.

Cupcakes.

Hours later, the kitchen resembled a warzone, flour dusting every surface and a burnt, misshapen cupcake cooling on the counter. Bakugo, covered head to toe in flour and frustration, stared at his creation with disgust. It tasted like a literal disaster, burnt beyond recognition and with a texture akin to chewing on a brick. There was no way he could give something like this to you.

Defeated but unwilling to give up, Bakugo spent the remaining hours before sunrise cleaning the kitchen and hiding the evidence of his culinary catastrophe. He set an alarm extra early to ensure he'd have enough time to stop by a bakery and purchase you a sweet treat that's worthy of your approval.

As Bakugo laid in bed that night, he couldn't help but think about you. The image of you smiling, genuinely happy with something he'd made, was a goal he silently vowed to achieve. Your presence had a way of pushing him to be better—to strive for more. And that, above all, was why he couldn't let anyone else get too close to you.

You were his motivation, his inspiration, and he wasn't about to let that slip away.

[shit-begone]

WISHES (Part 9)

Wishes (Masterlist) | Prev (Part 8)

STORY LINE:

*Lee Chan/Dino as your best friend that suddenly confessed his feelings for you.

*Choi Seungcheol/Cheol as the annoying mutual friend who wants to be a part of your life.

The confusion began when you realized that your best friend may have offered you the world while your annoying friend that resembles a lot like your college heartbreaker, Seok-jin, wanted to be part of yours.

It was an easy-peasy thing for you, not until you had to join Chan and Cheol in a five-day vacation with the boys.

-----

PART 9                      WISHES: They Do Come True

WORD COUNT        3,624

CATEGORY              Fluff and Angst

-----

Exactly a month later...

You ended the night fooling around each other and watching funny videos on the internet. Tonight was a nice encounter; something new for the both of you, something new and something to look forward to for the rest of your lives together.

-----

"Good morning, everyone!" Seungkwan greeted.

"Good morning Mr. Seungkwan!" The three trainees greeted.

"Hi, Seungkwan! How's the construction?" You asked.

"Ohhh, it's almost done! I'm so excited!"

"Is Dino with you?" You asked.

"He'll be here anytime soon."

The door chimed and Dino came with his new haircut. You and Seungkwan both giggled as you noticed that one of the trainee barista was blushing when he came.

"Can I have the usual please?" Dino asked with a smile on his face, "I'll just use the comfort room real quick. Please just serve my drink at my favorite spot."

"Right away, Sir!" The trainee confirmed.

You continued to arrange the pastries on the glass display as Seungkwan observed the trainees with their operations.

"Hey, Dino is quite unavailable at the moment." Seungkwan whispered to the trainees, "You better keep your cool."

"Am I missing something?" You asked Seungkwan.

"You're too busy with Seungcheol and the trainees, that's why. Just watch, I do hope Stella comes in today." He said.

The door chimed again and came Stella, the girl Dino.

"Speaking of the girl Dino." Seungkwan added.

The trainee took over the counter and asked for Stella's order which was always their hot matcha latte.

Dino and Stella's eyes met as she was about to place her things on the usual spot she takes. Dino also stopped half way from the comfort room before reaching his favorite spot and gestured that he's giving his way for her to occupy his table.

"Uhhh, sorry Sir, is this seat already taken? I'm sorry." Stella said shyly as she lifted some of her things from the chair.

"No, no, it's okay; really, there are a lot of vacant tables anyway." Dino smiled.

"Hot matcha latte for Dino and another for Stella!" The trainee exclaimed as he brought the drinks to the table, he was startled when he witnessed Dino and Stella standing between their common spot.

Due to second-hand embarrassment, Dino took the drinks from the trainee, "Thank you, I'll take it from here," he placed the two drinks on the table and gave Stella a shy smile.

"Sir, it's oka---"

"Please don't call me 'Sir'. I'm fine with just 'Dino'." He offered his hand as formal introduction.

She responded with a firm grip and smiled, "Stella."

"I'll just leave your drink here."

"No. Uhhh, you can sit with me. I don't mind." She said.

As Stella was seated, Dino looked to your direction. You just smiled as a sign of affirmation that he doesn't need to worry and everything is okay.

Seungkwan inched beside you giving you a cup of coffee, "See?"

"Was I that busy with Seungcheol?"

"Yes. They've been eyeing each other for almost two weeks now. On the first week, Dino was seated first on that spot before Stella came."

"Huh? No. It's still from the same supplier. Why? What's wrong?" Kwannie was confused.

"Oh, I was too preoccupied indeed, huh. But may I ask one thing, tho?" You paused for a while, "Did we change the brand of our matcha powder?" You asked.

"Can you please check on the open date or expiry date?" You asked a trainee.

"Miss, it's opened today and expires in two years’ time. Manufacturing date is also quite new."

"Can you open that for me? I'll give it a whiff."

Seungkwan opened the matcha canister for you.

"What the fuck?" You pinched your nose closed and pushed away the container.

"What's wrong?" Seungkwan had a whiff, too. "It smelled the same."

The scent was too strong that it made you nauseous. You rushed directly to the hand washing area by the comfort room because you can't hold it in anymore.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Seungkwan asked.

The female trainee followed you and held your hair to avoid it getting soiled with your vomit.

Dino was alarmed with the small rush happening by the washroom; especially when he saw Seungkwan run to you with a glass of water.

"Can you call Cheo---?" You blacked out before you could cry.

Seungkwan caught you as you fell to the ground, "Fuck it, Y/N! Help me please; I'll bring her to the hospital." He exclaimed to the trainee.

"I'm sorry; I think I have to go." Dino stood up immediately and asked permission from Stella that he should leave.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What's wrong?" She asked.

"I need to bring her to the hospital."

Stella grabbed his wrist, "I'll drive. I won't let you drive now that you're in the state of panic. Let me help you."

Seungkwan rushed to Stella and Dino to apologize.

"Miss and mister, I'm sorry for the commotion. We're currently having an emer---"

"No, no, we should bring her now to the closest hos---"

"I will drive!" Stella screamed.

Dino and Seungkwan were left speechless.

"I'm sorry Mr. Seungkwan, but you're also in a state of panic. Dino is your friend. Why are you addressing us as regular customers? I suggest you stay here with the trainees to help man the cafe, and Dino, I know you're worried with your best friend. I'll handle this. You carry Y/N in the backseat. I will drive." She calmly explained.

"Oh, right. Right! I'm sorry." Seungkwan looked at Dino in surprise, "It's indeed Dino. I'm sorry."

"Kwan, please take care of my things. We'll be back." Dino said as he carried you outside the cafe.

"Please call me. I'll help." Seungkwan responded.

Chan hopped in the backseat with your unconscious body and Stella started to drive to the nearest hospital.

"Are you calm now?" Stella asked.

"A little. Thank you, Stella."

"Y/N is very lucky she's got a bestfriend like you."

"How could you tell?" Dino asked as he shook your body to wake you up.

"I can tell from the look in your eyes. The way you were worried about her, and the way that you have panicked when you saw her fall on Mr. Seungkwan's arms."

"You should see how her boyfriend would care for her."

"Ohhh, she's got a boyfriend?" Stella was surprised.

"Yes, also my friend."

Ring... ring... ring...

"Well, speaking of. Hello, Seungcheol?"

"Chan, how's Y/N? To what hospital are you headed to?"

"Bayview Medical Center. She's still unconscious. Where are you?"

"I'm on duty in the game developers' expo just an hour away from you. I'll be there. Please text me everything that you need, I'll bring them right away."

"I will. Take care, Cheol."

Stella entered the emergency bay and assistance immediately responded to you and Dino.

"I'll park the car. I'll just ask assistance from the front desk."

"Sir, what happened to your patient?" The doctor asked.

"I really don't know. She just fainted in the middle of her work. She seemed fine minutes before she fainted." Dino explained.

"We'll get her stats and run some blood tests."

"Please, anything that could aid in the diagnosis."

Luckily, you already gained consciousness so the health professionals immediately took over for the procedures needed.

You have completed necessary procedures and were immediately transferred to a private room to your request as you wait for the diagnostic results.

"You should get some rest. Seungcheol will be here anytime now." Dino reassured you.

"Thank you Stella and Dino." You smiled, "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to introduce myself properly. Ste---"

"I know. I have known you since you first dined in our cafe. I was the one who took your order. You went to Dino's favorite table in the shop."

Stella and Dino looked at each other and smiled shyly.

The door opened and came Seungcheol and Mingyu.

"Ohh?" Dino was surprised.

"What's up, bud? Your girlfriend?" Mingyu asked as he greeted Dino.

"Hey, watch it." Dino sulked.

Seungcheol approached you and kissed you on the forehead.

"How are you? I'm sorry I wasn't able to come to you immediately."

"It's okay. I'm fine, see? Dino did well." You answered.

"Thanks, Chan. I don't know how I could make it up to you." Seungcheol smiled at Dino.

"Uhhmm, now that you've mentioned. How about some forbidden cheat codes for Octopath Traveller II?" He smiled.

"What the fuck?" Cheol sulked.

"Okay, I'll charge you for the---"

"Okay, okay. Geez. I'll give you other merchandise of it, too. Just don't publicize those cheat codes."

"You have my word, brother." He smiled crazily at Mingyu who was confused of what they were talking about.

"I brought lunch for everybody. Let's eat up before the food gets cold." Seungcheol said.

Just a few moments in, food service and the doctor came at the same time, just in time for the lunch party in the ward.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. May I know who the guardian of the patient is?" The doctor asked.

"Doc, I am her boyfriend. Her parents are two hours away from here. Is there something wrong? Do they need to be present here?" Seungcheol asked.

"Ohh. Maybe it's best that they know. But since two hours would be a lengthy travel time, I'd like to inform you now," The doctor breathed a little heavy, "That patient Y/N is pregnant."

Everyone was in shock; Mingyu even choked on his beef stir fry. As you felt really pumped with the news, you thought about your parents. How would they react to this news?

"It was a good move to get a private room, but regardless, you're good to go. But if you're still a little ill, you can take as much time as you want here. Anyway, we have contacted your health insurance provider and you are entitled for such services. Did I bring you some good news?"

"Yes!" You and Seungcheol exclaimed.

"Ohhh. Since you're both in favor of this, there's no need to transfer you to counseling. I guess? Congratulations. I'll leave you now."

"Thanks, doc!" Seungcheol greeted with all smiles.

After the doctor left the room, Mingyu immediately went to pick up a fight on Seungcheol, "Yah!!! Have you planned having a family? Why are you being secretive with us?" He said as he grabbed his collar playfully.

"Hey! Hey! Stop! Let me explain!" Seungcheol said in defense.

"Go on." Mingyu sat beside him ready to hear the story.

"We weren't really expecting. We haven't talked about having a family yet. We haven't figured yet what to tell mom and dad, especially her parents. But I don't know why were both excited with the news either." Seungcheol smiled as he held your hand.

Mingyu and Seuncheol's conversation became distant to you when Dino caught your attention. He pulled his chair close to you and with a smile on his face; he asked if you were ready.

"You're gonna be an uncle." You smiled.

"I will. But I think an auntie for the uncle is on her way." Lee Chan winked at you and glanced at Stella who was smiling at you.

"That's good news. Uncle's auntie is really pretty." You giggled.

"What did you wish for?" Lee Chan asked.

"In the cave?" You asked.

"Yes."

"That was months ago! But if you insist, it was nothing special." You smiled as you remembered the day you wished in the cave;

If I'm for Lee Chan, then please tame my heart, let me hear what he has to say, let me embrace the things he could offer, but if I'm not, I wish for the stronger bond in our friendship and healing for him. He is a good guy; I wish not to hurt his feelings.

If I am not destined to cross the line for Dino, I wish for a man that has pure intentions, sincere, never will be forgotten and never will disappear.

"You bet. You're still the same Dino I have met."

"I just wished for healthier relationships." You smiled.

"Well, whatever you wished for, I hope it happened already." Dino held your hand and planted a kiss on it, just like old times.

"Nothing changed, Y/N. You know that."

"Nothing has changed. Thank you."

"I love you so much, congratulations." He smiled.

"We love you, too." You said as you lightly tapped your stomach.

"Is there anything you want me to pick up for you? I think I left my phone in my car." Mingyu said to Seungcheol.

"I guess we'll let Mingyu see us out. We're going back to the cafe anyway; Stella still got appointment this afternoon. We left some of our things there with Uncle Seungkwan, too." Chan smiled.

Seungcheol stood up and hugged Chan, "Thanks, Chan. Thank you, Stella. I didn't know what I would do without you; I was an hour away from Y/N. I'm very thankful you were there when she fainted."

"Congratulations, Mr. Seungcheol and Ms. Y/N!" She smiled.

"Stella, we're okay with just our first names." You said.

"Call me if you need anything. Alright? Congratulations, Cheol. We'll leave now." Chan said.

"I will. Thank you."

"Thank you for taking care of Y/N."

"I hope I didn't disappoint you." Cheol smiled.

"You didn't and it was more than enough."

You felt happy when you saw Seungcheol and Dino exchange hugs before leaving. As they left the room, Seungcheol jumped in happiness as he screamed that he's gonna be a dad.

"But wait, how are we gonna tell your mom and dad?" He asked.

"I don't know. Like, right now?" You said.

"Aren't you nervous or what?" He wondered.

"Why? Would that change anything?" You smiled.

"I admire you."

"I'll call them now."

"You sure about this?" Seungcheol asked.

"Are you nervous?"

Ring... ring... ring...

"N-no, no. I'm ready." He let out a heavy sigh.

"Honey, I'm a little nervous, okay? But here goes nothing."

"Sweetie? Why did you call, it's mid-shift, eh? Is it slow today at the cafe?" Your mom asked over the phone.

"I'm at Bayview mom."

"W-what? Why? What's wrong? We'll be there immediately. Send us the details. Who's with you right now?" Your dad asked.

"Let's video call instead. We'll call you, just wait a little bit." Your mom insisted and ended the call.

You looked at Seungcheol who was a little nervous at the moment. You immediately answered the video call from your mom.

"Hi mom, hi dad!" You smiled

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN!" Seungcheol greeted them.

"Hello, Seungcheol. How is it going there? What happened to our daughter?" Your dad asked.

"Actually mom, dad, Dino brought me to the hospital. I fainted in the cafe under Seungkwan's care and Cheol was at work an hour away from me. He just left from work to come here." You said.

"Seungcheol, it's okay if you finished work. When she started earning, she secured every one of us with health insurance and emergency benefits." Your dad said.

"Dear, it's Seungcheol's feelings. You can't just tell him not to worry about his girlfriend." Your mom said.

"I'm just telling Seungcheol that at any circumstance, he could at least be confident with our angel." Your dad explained.

"Thank you for your concern about me and my absence from work. I assure you; I have left my colleagues properly and immediately responded to Y/N. All thanks to Lee Chan."

Mingyu came back with his phone and shared with the call immediately, "Who's that?" He inched into the screen beside Cheol.

"Mom, it's my friend Mingyu. He's belongs to Dino, Kwan and Cheol's circle of friends." You said.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN! It's good to see you! I'll continue eating now." He politely said.

"Okay, okay, thank you for being there Mingyu!" Your mom said, "How many are they in the group?"

"13 mom."

"Woah? That's a big group. Everyone must be very kind, huh? So what happened next?"

"Don't tell us you're pregnant, huh? We'll really rush there to help you secure everything you need." Your dad giggled.

You and Seungcheol looked at each other and giggled.

"Wait?" Your mom was getting it.

"What?" Your dad paused for a while.

"I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN. I promise I will take care of Y/N, provide her with all of her needs. With regards to where---"

"Mom, Dad, I'm pregnant. Seungcheol is the father."

Your mom started to tear and was immediately hugged by your father.

"I never thought this day would still come." Your mom said.

"Seungcheol, don't worry. It may be a little off from the expected process. But God, I swear, we thought that our daughter doesn't want a family of her own." Your dad smiled.

"So you're not mad? Or anything?"

"Why would we be mad? You're both successful on your careers. You love each other, you seemed happy anyway with the pregnancy news. Right? Why would we be mad?" Your mom said to Seungcheol.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN. It's an honor to gain your trust and approval. I promise Y/N and I will start with wedding preparations soon." Seungcheol said.

"Call us mom and dad, Seungcheol. Welcome to the family."

"Thank you, mom and dad." He smiled shyly.

"We'll be there tonight. Will you still stay at the hospital? Your dad asked.

"I think we'll discharge. I'm fine now." You smiled.

"Okay, update us. We'll get going now. We're excited to see you."

"Bye mom! Bye dad!" You and Seungcheol said.

"See you tonight!"

The call ended and Seungcheol immediately hugged you tight.

"Forget about the wedding preparations at the moment; let's just prioritize everything we need for the pregnancy."

"Our pregnancy journey is our added priority."

"Added? What else is there to prioritize?" You asked.

Seungcheol stood up and went to his bag to get something. He returned by your side, held your hand and gave it a tight grip.

"I have planned and bought this way before this news came. I really planned on giving you this on our sixth month together, but I think this is the best time. We may have been together for just a few months, but I have wanted to know you ever since the day Dino brought us to your cafe and you graced me with that beautiful smile of yours. Call me cheesy or corny, but ever since the day that I saw you, I knew that I wanted to know you. With your passion and dedication, I knew you were the one for me."

"Hun, what is this? What are you saying?"

"Will the both of you be my Mrs. Choi and Baby Choi?"

"Cheol, hun." You started to cry.

He started to get teary-eyed with your reaction, "Please say yes."

"Fuck it! Why didn't you say anything Seungcheol! I could have had recorded it on my fucking phone!" Mingyu opened his camera and started to video the moment.

"Shut it will you!" Cheol exclaimed.

"Relax. Go on, continue." Mingyu giggled.

"Please don't doubt me now. Why are you crying?" Cheol asked.

"It's a yes. We wanted to be your Mrs. Choi and Baby Choi." You smiled.

Seungcheol cried in happiness and hugged you real tight. Mingyu sent the video to the boys and even posted it on Instagram with the caption: "Congratulations, Choi Family!"

Seungcheol processed your hospital discharge and everything you needed for tonight's arrival of your parents. He called in cleaning services before you arrive in his apartment unit and ordered all the ingredients he needs for the dinner from the online pick-up mart near his house.

He also invited his parents to come to announce the pregnancy and engagement in the first meeting of both your families.

It's the first time you have seen your future husband, Choi Seungcheol this excited. You thought to yourself that you're the lucky one; the world has given you someone that is willing and dedicated to you.

The night came and everything went well as your families met for the first time. Both your families were kind and accommodating to each other. You also learned from Cheol's parents that they always wanted to let Seungcheol marry already, to the point that they have set-up two different women to date with him two years ago. It ended up that your future husband just slept and ignore the two set-ups his parents arranged for him.

They also initiated with the wedding planning and were very excited and happy with the news.

Seungcheol also insisted that you'll be staying in his unit after the end of your contract next month; said he wanted to be able to take care of you all the time especially right now that you're bearing his child.

-----

Everyone was so happy with the news and you never felt this loved and excited for a long time now.

Midnight came and your parents finally gave the two of you some time alone to rest for tomorrow's work.

Fast forward to your first ultrasound...

"Ohhhhh! There are two embryos here!" The doctor smiled.

"Is it bad, Doc?" Seungcheol asked.

"No. Not at all, it only means that you're having twins!" The doctor exclaimed.

"That's what you get for skipping science classes, hun." You teased.

"I'm just nervous, you know!" He said in defense.

The doctor laughed at the both of you, "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Choi. To confirm what type of twins you may get, I'll set you an appointment on your 12th week of pregnancy. Is August 8 okay with you?"

"Of course, Doc! That's his birthday, too." You smiled.

"Oh! What a perfect way to celebrate the father's birthday! I'll leave you two now."

"I can't believe were having twins!" Seungcheol whispered happily, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

As he kissed your forehead, you remembered your wish from the cave.

I wish for a man that has pure intentions, sincere, never will be forgotten and never will disappear.

-----

Maybe wishes do come true.

-----

END

-----

Wishes (Masterlist) | Prev (Part 8)

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 4 - You've Got A Friend

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Set a couple of months after Chapter 3, Benedict and you are becoming best friends.

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: discussions of sex, swearing, publically faked orgasm

Word Count: 3.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, we see vignettes of Benedict and reader's growing friendship. And well... this ends with a twist on the famous scene. Yep. You know the one. Enjoy <3

21 months ago (3 months later)

Benedict Bridgerton is one of your best friends. 

If you had uttered that sentence to yourself ten, even five, years ago, you would have laughed your head off. But it's funny how life turns out. In the months after you reconnect, you start to meet up regularly, at least once a week, sometimes more, and you text almost constantly. Becoming each other’s crutch as you rebuild your lives as single people. 

On the surface, you couldn’t be more opposites, but he’s matured, and you find his company the most soothing and the most fun. Be it while having dim sum in Chinatown, wandering Victoria Park or helping him set up his new warehouse flat. There's always a tiny frisson, an undercurrent of something between you that, to be honest, makes it more appealing. A pilot light of heat that could, maybe one day, become a bonfire if the timing were right. You are not sure it ever would be, but it would be stupid to deny to yourself that it's there. There is certainly no one you like to verbally spar with more.

He FaceTimes you as you lay in bed on a regular Tuesday in September; it's become a habit. Just jabbering away until one of you falls asleep. Talking about everything, anything, and something nothing, watching a show or film together in digital silence. A comforting presence. 

“What are you watching?” he hums, scratching his beard.

“Don't judge me,” is your instant response, and he chuckles.

“Tell me,” his voice drops an octave in a way you are sure he knows has an effect on you. Physically. A little shiver down your spine. Bastard.

“Titanic,” you mutter as he bursts out laughing.

“You hate that film!” he exclaims, and you wish you could throw a pillow through the screen.

“That doesn’t sound like not judging!” you bemoan but concede he is right.

“Channel?” he asks, still giggling.

“Four… wait, are you going to watch too?” 

“Of course, then we can argue about it in real-time,” something in that offer makes you feel comforted. “It's near the end!” he decries after briefly pausing to change channels.

“How would you know?” you lobby, and he fixes you with a pointed stare.

“Please. This was Gen’s favourite; I had to sit through it five bloody times.”

“How is she?”

“No idea. She didn't speak to me after the breakup. Besides, wasn't she your friend?!”

“Yeah, but we lost touch,” you sigh, “sometime about seven or eight years ago, she moved to Bristol, and then we sort of drifted.”

He hums noncommittally, watching the movie, “So you’re saying Rose should not have saved him by sharing that door,” he states as the final scenes unfold onscreen before you both.

“I never said that!” you argue.

“Yes, you did! In the car on the way from uni!” he smirks.

“No, I didn’t!” you volley back indignantly.

“Fine, okay, you didn’t.” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean, that dick was so good, they fucked one time, and she returned to the ocean to say goodbye to it 70 years later,” you point out drolly.

He tosses his head back and laughs so hard you can’t help but join in. 

“Fuck that’s the funniest take on this film I’ve ever heard,” he wheezes.

“Right?! I can’t take credit; it's a comedy routine; I’ll send you a Spotify link,” you offer.

“Look forward to it,” he giggles.

The urge to ask him if he’s ever had sex so good he’d go to the spot it happened to commemorate it is on the tip of your tongue. You’re almost surprised he doesn’t use the opportunity himself. He’s definitely grown up.

“Are you sleeping okay?” he asks, rubbing his eye wearily.

“Doing better,” you admit, “not completely there, but better than I was.”

“Do you still sleep on ‘your’ side of the bed?” he inquires with air quotes.

“No. I’ve taken to sleeping wherever now,” you answer truthfully.

“Wow, you’re doing so well,” he sighs. “I feel weird if even a leg wanders over to ‘her’ side… and this isn’t even a bed we shared.” 

“Yours was a marriage, mine merely a long-term relationship,” you try to justify why he might still be more impacted than you.

“Same difference, except you don’t have a lawyer bleeding you dry arguing about shit…. Urghh, I need a drink.”

“No, you don’t,” you argue, “stay in bed and drink your water.”

“You can be very bossy sometimes, you know?” he opines but reaches for his glass of water on his bedside table as he says it, doing exactly what you suggest.

“It’s for your own good,” you point out.

“I know, I know. I suppose I should thank you. You’d be surprised how little men give a shit about their friends' well-being, even their best friends.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you fire back. “You’re all clueless idiots with the EQ of a shrimp.”

“Wowwww, okay,” he mimes being shot in the chest, “please don’t take out your Dr Tom issues on the rest of us unsuspecting shrimps.” It’s in jest, but you can hear the underlying argument and know he’s right.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You don’t have the EQ of a shrimp. I’ll give you, hmmm, a crawfish,” you offer with a giggle.

“Oh great, thanks,” he deadpans, “Could you not at least give me lobster?”

“Okay, fine. I hear lobsters are very smart, so you flatter yourself there, but yes, okay, lobster Ben. Please go get some sleep.”

“Alright,” he yawns, “can I call you my lobster too?”

“Why?” you frown sleepily, bemused.

“Some lobster thought it could predict the World Cup winning team—always thought it was right. That’s very you,” he stares pointedly down the phone camera at you.

“Fine, I’m your lobster too,” you stick out your tongue a little.

He chuckles as you settle deeper into your pillow, flicking off the TV as the credits scroll. Even you can acknowledge having a person to talk to is so comforting right before sleep. 

“Goodnight, lobster Ben,” you yawn, your eyes drooping.

“Goodnight, my little blue lobster,” he murmurs.

“Why blue? Cos I’m sad?” you hum, eyes closed.

“No,” he chuckles gently, “I have my reasons,” he says quietly, and you pass out as the call drops off. 

——

“So I had that dream again,” you mention offhand as you wander down the Southbank from Waterloo a few weeks later. It’s a crisp October day; you’ve taken the afternoon off work to visit the Tate Modern—there’s some exhibit he wants to see.

“The sex dream?” he verifies, weaving around an old lady who shoots him a disapproving look.

“Yup,” you confirm, kicking through the colourful pile of leaves under one of the trees. “So we are going at it up on this roof terrace, and this time he flies away just before I orgasm. I mean, what the fuck is that!?”

“Let me get this straight: you’re having sex with some mythical half-man half-dragon creature?” he seems completely bamboozled by the idea. “And just before you can come, he flies off?” 

“Yeah. What do you think it means?” you ponder.

“I think it means you need to get laid,” he laughs.

“Great fucking insight Sherlock Holmes,” body-checking him with your shoulder. “What about you? What’s your latest sex dream?”

“It’s always the same one. There’s this woman. She walks in, just wordlessly strips off my jeans and climbs onboard,” his cheeks have a high dot of pink that looks adorable, almost as if he’s embarrassed to say it.

“What does she look like? Are we talking Halle Berry? Helen Mirren? Florence Pugh?”

“I dunno… she’s just sort of faceless,” he gestures vaguely.

“Hmmm. Unusual. So then what happens?”

“I always wake up,” he sighs, staring into the middle distance, over to the Millennium Bridge.

“Wait….,” you stop walking and grab his arm, “...a faceless woman strips off your jeans and sits on you, and that’s the only sex dream you’ve had… ever?!” You can scarcely believe it.

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous, I know. I’d like to state for the record that I’ve had a much more varied actual sex life. And daydreams? Top fucking notch. But my unconscious, sleeping dreams? Very not sexy or just this one recurring one.”

“Does it ever change? At all?”

“I mean, sometimes I’m wearing trousers, not jeans?” he offers, looking nonplussed as to what else to add.

You cannot think of anything to say to that, so you just shoot him an exasperated look and walk away towards the entrance. How on earth can he get to sleep at night if that’s all he’s got to look forward to?

“Dinner after this?” he offers as you stare up at the giant sculpture suspended in the main Turbine Hall. It's been a fun few hours of wandering the exhibits.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t,” you obfuscate, feeling sheepish as you bring your gaze to him.

“Hooking up?” he inquires with a comedy eyebrow wiggle.

“Maybe,” you deflect, tucking your hair behind an ear, somehow bashful to talk with him about your first date in six years. “I’ll have to see how the date goes first.”

“A date? That’s wonderful!” He seems genuinely enthused, a big smile claiming his whole face.

“Yeah, I mean… I hope so? Let’s see. It’s been a bloody long time,” and saying that, nerves flare in your belly. “Not sure what I should wear, to be honest,” you admit, glancing down, self-conscious of your jeans and simple black top. “You think this is okay?”

“Of course it is,” he dismisses casually. “You look as beautiful as you always do,” the compliment just falls from his lips as if you asked about the weather. It still gives you that slightly gooey sensation under your ribs. Bastard.

——

The next evening you’re three cocktails down at Bar Americain on a night out with some work friends when your phone buzzes. 

BB: How was the date?

Y/N: He cried about his custody arrangement at the table.

BB: Divorced dad, eh? How fast did you scarper?!

BB: Guess it will be a while until you can get that orgasm, lol.

Y/N: ... I err, didn't?

Y/N: Oh, I got one.

BB: You slept with him?!? 

You always love to push it with him when you are tipsy, be a little daring with what you say. So you have your tongue in your cheek, wishing you could see his face when he reads what you are about to reply.

Y/N: Yeah, I mean, to be clear, the crying didn't turn me on. Not one of my kinks. But he had these nice hands, and I could tell from his jeans something good was going on down there. I was right. 8 out of 10, very nice. 

Y/N: And he didn't grow wings to fly off before I had an orgasm, either…  so win!

BB: How does one hang up on a text….?

Y/N: 😜

Five minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

BB: Wait. Do all women rate the dicks of the men they sleep with?

Y/N: I don't know all the women in the world, Ben…

BB: How is that an answer?

Y/N: 🤷‍♀️

“Ant…” Benedict calls, tossing his phone aside on his kitchen island and going to consult his brother across the room. He’s pretty sure that can't be all women, can it?

——

“I don't understand this at all,” Kate frowns, resting her weapon on her shoulder like a lumberjack.

“What don’t you understand?” you reply, staring at the target at the other end of the cage. You've decided this is an excellent cathartic way to do girls' night—just flinging axes at Whistle Punks after a hard work day in early November.

“You think he's attractive?” she pauses to applaud your throw as it smacks just below the bullseye.

“Yup.”

“You get on really well and Facetime and text every day?”

“Yup.”

“He’s straight?”

“Yup.”

“But you’re NOT fucking?” Kate quizzes, shooting you a look as she steps up to the plate.

“Nope.”

“I literally don't understand,” brow creasing as she takes her aim.

“Why can't you be proud of me? Not just crawling into bed with him on the rebound. He’s become a really close friend. Plus, I get the straight man’s perspective on things. It's really helpful now that I’m back on the market again. I can talk to him about sex stuff, and he's honest,” you argue.

“Sounds wrong to me…”

“Kate, you are fucking a married man,” you point out her hypocrisy archly.

“Yeah… and that's the point! I'm actually fucking him. What sort of Bert and Ernie shit do you and this Ben have going on?!”

“Please. Bert and Ernie are lovers,” you answer scornfully.

“Well, if they were, all the more reason you guys should be?!” she practically yells, hurling her axe with such gusto the manager comes to check on you.

——

Benedict takes you for dinner in the run-up to Christmas at some place so trendy it doesn't even appear to have a name. It's also where something transpires that haunts your spicier dreams for weeks. 

As usual, it starts with you both squabbling.

“Oh please, women fake them all the time,” you dismiss, stirring your soup.

“I don't doubt it,” he agrees, “but men can do it too.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Please. Half of men can't even fake enthusiasm; there's no way a man could fake an orgasm,” you argue with finality.

His eyebrows shoot up briefly as you take a triumphant sip. He puts his fork down and wipes his face with a napkin. Then he makes a low rumbling noise. Perhaps the food doesn't agree with him. When he does it again a second later, you get concerned.

“You okay?” 

He doesn't answer; he just makes the noise again. It's a low growl that almost reverberates around in his chest cavity, and something about it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Is your food bad?” you ask, a frown flitting over your face.

Again no answer. Benedict just makes another noise, louder this time. It’s definitely closer to a moan, and he takes a deep breath rolling his head to one side as if he's stretching his neck and really enjoying the sensation. Somehow you can't look away; you just stare at him, spoon in hand. Wondering what the hell he is doing, but captivated at the same time.

“Mmmm, that's it, baby,” he groans, and your insides are suddenly aflame. You've never heard his voice go into that register, it's low and throaty, and you feel a flush creeping up your chest. 

“Don't stop,” he moans and throws his head back with a gasp, his Adam’s Apple bobbing hard, and it's then you realise what he is doing. He is faking an orgasm. Right here. In public. In a bloody restaurant.

“Okay, Ben,” you hiss, “fine, you win the argument,” attempting to get him to stop.

But it doesn't work. His head tips back down, and two dilated pupils bore into yours, a hazy ring of blue around black.

“Do you like that?” He’s staring you down as he says it, panting slightly, his jaw firm, challenging, goading.

You want to crawl into a ball and disappear. How much of that is because your fellow diners are starting to look over versus how much your body is rioting is undetermined.

“Yesssss,” he hisses, closing his eyes and biting his lip. 

“Ben,” you warn, but again it falls on deaf ears. There is nothing you can do to stop this. Mortification routes you to the spot—that and the pounding in your ears and the little frisson of static running down your spine.

“You feel so good, baby,” he groans with a tiny tilt of his body; it's enough to make your imagination run wild—places it shouldn't. Dear god, this isn't right. He is your friend, one of your best friends; you can't be thinking such things.

To distract yourself, you look around at your fellow diners apologetically, shrugging as if you don't understand what he is doing. Thankful there are no kids in sight.

“Look at me,” he commands gruffly, and without thought, you obey; your eyes tear back to his. He is doing this deliberately, goading a response from you, from your body. And something in your snaps, you won't let him win like this.

“Go ahead, do it,” you mutter through slightly clenched teeth, so quiet only he can hear it. If he is going to do this, damn him, let him. 

His hands wrap around the edges of the small table separating you, long fingers splaying out, and then his short blunt nails scratch down the wood. You don't think about those big, shapely hands doing the same thing on your body, no, definitely not. He is groaning and panting hard now, and it's utterly convincing. You can just picture him on top of….. STOP IT! You screech your mind to a halt. Don't go there.

“Come with me,” he snarls softly, just for you, and part of you wants to whisper back: yes, please, but instead, you bite the corner of your tongue to prevent a sound from escaping.

Then he turns theatrical, open hands thumping the table, grunting hard and rhythmically, and you just have to sit there and take it, so to speak. Just endure this weird mix of utter embarrassment and confusing arousal. Knowing you are flushed from head to toe. You daren't look around at the rest of the place, the buzz of conversation mostly dying out as they watch this formidable reenactment.

“Yessss, yesss, yessss,” he chants, and with a few convulsive body jerks and a long groan, his head lolls back, and he exhales a ragged breath loudly. 

There are a few seconds of silence, and then he clears his throat, straightens up in his chair, shoots you a shit-eating grin, picks up his forks and jubilantly takes a bite of his dinner. He doesn't even bother to say anything; he knows he has won that argument, fair and square. You are still too shocked and disconcerted to speak.

“Sir, Ma’am,” the maître d' is suddenly at your table, “we would like you to leave, please.” his tone is decidedly stern. After a brief exchange of glances, you both burst into spontaneous giggles.

As you are bundled out of the door unceremoniously, not even being asked to pay, you hear a man ask a waiter a question that makes you laugh even louder.

“Did he have the daily special?”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

All of sfth's improvized plays described by someone with bad/selective memory (but remembers 90% of the sentences they make up) pt. 5

21) The Neighbour's Under the Bed

Football!! And murder!! And pretend straight sex between men!! And children who were just dragged into this!! Get them a new home to live in, they don't deserve to be mistreated like they were in the play!! Janae's seismogram is real!! Don't just shrug it off!! AND DON'T HAVE SEX IN THE RECORDING STUDIO WITH ALL THE MICS ON!!

Bonus: lines that I just have burned into my brain at this point

★ "The entire east wing was destroyed T∆T"

★ "Darling" "Yeh?" "Look into my eyes" "•v•" "Does mommy love you?" "Do I have to look at both of them at once or just one? I CAN TRY DOING BOTH AT ONCE" "Stop being a f-- weirdo" "Be normal, my little munchkin." "Okay :)" "My little, little.." "Munchkin :D"

★ "Yes, and I'll sleep with Timothée Chalamet" "How is that going to help the racoons?" "It won't. It's gonna be good, though!"

★ "You don't do the nipple thi-- I do the nipple thing"

★ "mmmMY BODY IS A TEMPLE TO DESTRUCTION. AN ENGINE OF WAR! (I'm not done). A PYRAMID HOUSING THE HATRED OF THOUSANDS. A STADIUM WITH A ROAR OF RRRAGE BECOMES THE BITTER JUICE OF DESOLATION. MAKE A CUCKOLDRESS OF ME. ENGORGE HIM AND HAVE HIM ENTE-- no wait-- ENGORGE HER AND HAVE YOURSELF ENTER HER.. tonight.. i feel a bit faint"

★ "He shoots he scores!" "AUGH"

★ "Me and your father are fucking"

★ "I'M HOLDING IT IN MY HAND!"

★ "You're a strong woman. Like Patrick Stewart"

★ "Are you still awake, Johnny?" "Yes, yes 👹. cough Yes, yes 😇"

★ "AUGH, TELEPORT ME, TELEPORT ME!" "All I hear was something about "comes into the--" and I didn't like it! D:" "W-w-w-w-w-w-w-why are they doing it in the recording studio with all the mics on?!" "We have to do something! I'm 8 and you're 15, between us--"

★ "I saw it on my fire-mogram!"

★ "Final death twitches" (Tom just wanted to do something. NOPE. SHE'S DEAD)

★ "It's like the sixth sense that my child has but I've got it too 'cause it's fucking genetic!"

22) The Milkman

Innuendos and a kid who just wants to go outside like a healthy child. And AJ being the most confusingly confused mf. No, but what the fuck is this man saying help. And also, the guy behind the bar whatever the fuck his name was just. Bonded with the unnamned businessman father

23) Beetroots & Murder

18 year old just. Gets arrested for mass arson. I mean, sure, he did actually cause the fire but like. In the new timeline, no he did not. Then again, in the original timeline, he just. Crashed the entire fucking truck full o’ gas-o-line.

Or, Big Dick, the MC that doesn't get named throughout the entire fucking play, gets arrested for burning down the good half of Somerset. The Spirit of Somerset (and his friend) send him back in time to change the past (and himself). Justin bullies the guy because why the fuck not (he's just traumatized and lashing out because he lost his parents in a fire and maybe because saw BD having what he wants in life so he's jealous and belittles him to make himself feel better because why does this guy have all the things he wants? Like, living parents and… Parents who weren't cremated in a massive house fire…). André Beetroot, the host of the beetroot competition, in the new timeline ends up starting the fire and years later they make up and The Spirit of Somerset ends up becoming the Spirit of Ireland

24) Susan's Holiday

Mild toxic masculinity and flirting and cats and apologies!! And an uber that can just. Change where the wheel is??

25) The Evil Make-a-wish Kid

Evil kid with cancer fucks shit up with the help of the evil Make-a-wish foundation. Kills his mother, his father's animals at a petting zoo he works (well, worked) at, posted what a detective's mother said about gender, and then fucking died. Wow. I wish more kids were d-- no

Prev // Next

[acontrariis]

chapter 2. the sea snake

pairing. Aemond Targaryen x OC word count. 2.1k warnings. mention of death, grief.

⋆ prev. chapter

The greatest moments of your life usually happen when you least expect it, sometimes without you even knowing it. 

Getting engaged against your will and banished in the span of a week was not something many could say have experienced, especially before you could even have a much needed drink to cope, and yet, at the tender age of ten and three, Vienna Targaryen had already learned how cruel those who called themselves your family can truly be. 

Moving homes was a familiarity that did not feel lighter with each new encounter. 

Pieces of her childlike innocence were robbed to never be found again, and with each of them, the girl wondered if there was ever a real home for her. Luckily, she had learned how families come in different shapes and forms, and the people she chose to love were the most loyal companions she could’ve asked for. 

As the years went by, she learned and grew. Harnessing her powers, maturing her craft, taking in as much information as she could get her hands on. 

Settling down in Driftmark had proven to be a blessing in disguise. The Velaryons were far from the loving cousins she would wish for, but they didn’t mind her much. A debt had been paid, they explained on her arrival. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

Half of the time they acted as if she wasn’t there. Another canvass on the wall, an empty shell in which to draw. 

Her days went on as usual, with Marmee’s company and the voices to fill the silence, a sense of normality had been established. 

… And then the news arrived, Laena Velaryon was dead. 

A rider’s death.  

She had never personally met her, but she noticed how the only times Rhaenys’ eyes shone when speaking to her was when her daughter was mentioned. The anguished cries echoed in Vienna’s ears. 

Death. Funeral. Reunion. Hate. 

So much hate.

The overwhelming voices, topping on top of each other, fighting for recognition was a chaos her mind proved not to be ready for. It was a good thing no one expected her presence, as the fever wouldn’t let her get out of bed. 

The blood in her body boiled while the ringing in her ears clouded her thoughts. So she laid in bed while the preparations were made for the funeral; wet cloths and soft touches grounded her from the chaos in her mind and the voices that slipped through the cracks.

⸺

- “I wouldn’t have imagined you would take her under your wing, Princess Rhaenys.”

The woman scoffed, as if hearing a bad joke with which she decided to play along. 

- “Well, someone had too. Whatever she may be, the Targaryen name is still hers, given that the previously planned transaction failed.” 

Her sardonic smile was met with a hardened look, perfected through the years. 

The Green Queen was the perfect embodiment of the Hightowers. Never a hair out of place, never a misstep, never an inappropriate answer. Every glance and every move perfectly calculated. 

Rhaenys always pitied the younger woman, the endless possibilities of what could have been. Now her cold eyes were staring back at her as if trying to decipher her thoughts and she couldn’t help being amused, how a little child could anger the most powerful woman in the realm was beyond her understanding. 

- “Yes, well, we’ve witnessed how legitimacy is not always ensured when it comes to the next line.”

- “I sure hope you wouldn’t be making any accusations, my Queen. That would certainly be a grave matter, wouldn’t you agree?”

⸺

The pup will anger the beast. 

Among the clamor, a particular voice kept repeating the same prediction. Vienna couldn’t understand who it was referring to, and as much as she tried to ask, the response would always be the same. A day passed, the family had arrived earlier, all the preparations ready for the ceremony. Even as her fever had subdued, Marmee still wouldn’t let her get out of bed, in fears it would worsen again. 

It was late in the afternoon when Vienna sneaked out of her chambers, bored out of her mind, the walls her suffocating as a soft light from the cloudy sky creeped under the curtains.  

She didn’t understand how, maybe the fatigue clouding her mind finally made it impossible for her to hear as much as before, maybe someone somewhere took pity on her and quieted the chaos from before. Whatever it was, only a few whispers remained, as if the cries from before had been sealed, only a far away murmur was present. 

Enjoying the much needed peace, Vienna focused on silencing the remaining voices, the sound of her footsteps loud in the empty hall. A snack would do her good, she hadn’t been able to have a proper breakfast and, as much as she loved Marmee’s cooking, the sickly soup made her wanna puke, not that she would ever admit it. 

Smiling to herself, she made her way to the kitchen void of people, she assumed most of them would be resting before the preparations for dinner. Taking advantage of the solitude, she proceeded to get the food to snack on. 

As she was pouring out the milk, she noticed her company. 

A beautiful boy looked back at her, soft blue eyes and long white hair, he was the prettiest boy she’d ever seen and the embarrassed blush covering her cheeks was quick to show. The boy couldn’t have been much older than her, they were about the same height and built. The royal green clothes accentuated the paleness of his skin, making him almost seem like a ghost. 

She didn’t know what to say, it wasn’t often she would meet children her age, being surrounded by adults most of her life, this came to be a new experience for her. 

The white-haired Prince was as surprised as she was, he didn’t expect anyone to be in the kitchen, as he had made sure everyone was out before coming here seeking some peace from all the tension in the family reunion going outside. 

At first he thought she may be a maid, the daughter of some servant maybe, that would explain why no one was informed the Velaryons were housing a child. 

However, at closer look, her dress looked as expensive as his own clothes, probably even more. The finest silk covered her head to toe, her supple and blushed cheeks had never seen a day’s work.

The clear tell, however, were the purple eyes staring back at him. 

Targaryen.

As he analyzed her, he didn’t miss the fear mixed with curiosity in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting company either, and the shock that froze her quickly stopped as she felt the cold milk wetting her fingers. 

Letting out a curse word, something she’d heard from the stable boys that was certainly not allowed for a lady, she quickly put the container aside as she hurried to find something to clean herself with. 

Surprised at the sudden burst, Aemond couldn’t help but let out a laugh, though quickly covered it with a cough as he offered her a cloth tissue he tended to keep at hand. 

- “I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

- “Oh, no… Don’t worry. It was my fault, I’m usually more alert. I should get going, anyway.”

She smiled politely at him and quickly bowed as she turned to leave. 

- “Wait… wait a moment.”

He wrapped his hand around her arm, stopping her exit. He was curious about her. She was too well-dressed to be a servant, her manners and even the way she hurriedly bowed all pointed to an education most couldn’t afford. 

She was clearly not a worker, so why weren’t they informed of her presence here?

Just as he was about to inquire further into her identity, Cole bursts through the kitchen doors. His permanent frown pronounced as he scanned the room till his eyes landed on Aemond. 

- “There you are. Let’s go, your mother is looking for you.”

- “What? Why? Wait!”

By the time he noticed, the girl had already disappeared, escaping from his grasp. As Cole questioned Aemond about his older brother’s whereabouts, he dragged him out of the room. 

One final look over his shoulder showed him the flare of a wine skirt hiding behind the cupboard.

⸺

Aemond couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious girl. In the middle of the chatter and the noise, his mind kept going back to that single interaction; a million questions raising through his mind. 

The most prominent one, who was she?

He tried to question his mother, to no avail. His brother, he was certain, knew even less than him. And his sister wouldn’t give him a straight answer. 

It was fair to say he was preoccupied in his own affairs, the sorrowful occasion left as an afterthought in the back of his mind.

And then he realized: a dragon with no rider was wandering by the castle.

So close he could touch it.

Vhagar.

This was his chance. His one true, and probably last, chance to claim a dragon. And hopefully this time his favorite boots wouldn’t be turnt to ashes.

Arming himself with all the bravery the broken ego of a young man could muster, he made his way to the ancient dragon. 

Most of the attendees had already excused themselves, gone somewhere quiet to freely mourn. Others decided to entertain themselves in various ways, with the ever present alcohol clouding their senses of any indiscretion.

His solitude was guaranteed, or so he thought. 

The familiar figure he left hiding behind the kitchen cupboard was now standing at the edge of the hill, maintaining a prudent distance from the delicate beast.

Her big eyes shone with the light from her torch. They were clear and deep, it was like she was looking through him at something, or someone else. Weirdly, she seemed perfectly awake, while simultaneously in a trance. 

This time, she didn’t hurry to run away.

Instead, she stared at him, analyzing every one of his movements and expressions.

All the questions Aemond wished to ask died on his tongue before he could voice them out. While too afraid to break the silence, her words startled him and he could finally respond. 

- She’s sad… and tired.

- How do you know?

She looked at him like he had just said the stupidest thing a human being could utter. Like it was evident, and he was an idiot for not knowing.

- You’ll make her mad, a sacrifice will be paid. 

He didn’t know what to say to that. She reminded him of Helaena, and that was not something he needed at the moment. 

Brushing off his nerves and her warning, he looked back at the castle. Time was of the essence, he had to hurry up. 

Half of him expected her to try and stop him, he was preparing the words he would say so she would leave him alone. But the interruption he was waiting for never came. 

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the fiery glow disappear in the distance, while he strutted towards his destiny.

⸺

Late that night, the room was silent when Vienna made her way in Aemond’s chambers, only the soft breathing of the boy lying in bed could be heard in the darkness of the night. 

Careful as to not make any sound, she approached the bed. She didn’t have much time, Marmee would notice her absence any minute, but she just wanted to help him a little. 

Aemond tossed in bed, as if a nightmare hunted him. It had taken him over an hour and much milk of the puppy to finally be able to fall into slumber. 

Hopping carefully on the bed, Vienna held Aemond’s hand, soft whispers tried to calm him as she reassured him he was safe now. 

Once the boy had finally stopped, she pulled the medicine she had taken from Marmee’s collection. The cold ointment had healed more than her share of cuts and bruises through the years, and she hoped it would ease some of his pain. 

As she carefully applied it over his pulsing wound, she softly prayed he wouldn’t wake up yet. 

As quietly as she had made her entrance, Vienna left, not before wishing, one last time, for the boy of the beautiful eyes to be okay. 

The next morning, Aemond woke up to a familiar yet unknown scent lingering in the air. The piercing pain now simmered down as he slowly got up. The fragrant smell calmed him and soothed the anxiety that filled his mind the minute he woke up. 

An unfamiliar golden canister caught his eye, that wasn’t there last night, he didn’t think; a note indicating to apply it twice a day was the only explanation he got. 

After last night’s events, his head was clearing as memories flooded his brain. 

Questions piled up the remainder of his trip and all the way home, yet despite his constant inquiries about the strange can and the curious girl he met then, they never met again.

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[blackhairedjjun]

flowers of every color | 9. purple hyacinths

overall summary: when your father is assigned as the new head gardener to the royal family, you are also tasked with helping him maintain the castle's many gardens and extensive floral arrangements. by chance you find yourself crossing paths with the "ice-cold" crown prince, choi yeonjun... who turns out to be not as ice-cold as everyone says he is.

chapter summary: soobin checks on yeonjun, and beomgyu checks on you; you take the first step to make amends.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a bit of angst, general panicking/anxiety

author's note: second to the last main chapter! finally getting a break from the angst here i swear 🙏

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soobin doesn’t even need to knock for the older choi to sense his presence. “come in,” he says.

yeonjun is sitting at the edge of his bed when his friend and younger relative enters. he doesn’t even turn in his direction, instead gazing at the flower vase where the wilting striped carnations still are, their stems turning brown. he hasn’t even considered getting them replaced.

“i know you’re still mad at y/n,” he says, moving aside so that soobin can sit next to him, “but don’t be too hard on them, please.”

“i just wish they could’ve ended things properly with you instead of avoiding you.”

yeonjun looks down at his hands and fidgets. “but i... does it matter? maybe they were right, i shouldn’t be friends with them. i mean, shit” — his voice trembles — “i’m getting married. even if we fixed things i can’t just run off to teatime and spend time with them like we used to.”

“well, even if that’s the case” — soobin pauses and stares at him. “wait, hold on, the engagement is real now?!”

yeonjun flops on the bed, buries his face in a pillow, and lets out a long, muffled whine.

“i… i thought things would slow down and all.”

“i thought so too!” yeonjun throws the pillow aside, nearly hitting soobin with it. “but the bride’s mother is a control freak! she’s going to get this alliance even if she forces us all into it! and all our advisors agree that the agreement is just too good to pass up, so if i say that i don’t want to get married, i’ll look like the court idiot.”

“hyung, your mom has to do something about this. she’s bought you time before.”

“how much? even if she buys me time, i’ll still have to marry that princess!” he lets out another whine. “i barely know anything about her! she won’t tell me anything about herself and her mom is probably feeding her things to say so that she doesn’t ruin the engagement! what the hell do i do? i can’t marry a stranger, i just can’t… why can’t i marry y/n instead?”

soobin stares at him. yeonjun, realizing what he just said, sits up and stares back in horror. his ears start to turn red.

“please forget that i just said that.”

the younger choi simply grins. “hyung, beomgyu and i have known since the first time we saw you two together.”

“are you serious?! was it really that obvious?”

“pretty much.” soobin looks down and purses his lips, lost in thought, then glances back up at yeonjun. “that’s why i’m so upset at them at first. you two looked so happy together, and i hoped that you would stay happy. when they stopped being friends with you, it was like stopping a good dream.”

“well, it is just a dream anyway. even if i somehow fixed things with them and they felt that way about me too, it’s not like i can be with them.”

“you never know, hyung. one of the princes in the central region got to choose his wife! i was there at his wedding.”

“maybe, i just hope it’s not too late for me.”

soobin shrugs. “does y/n know how you feel?”

“i never told them. what if they figured it out and stopped being friends with me because they don’t feel the same way?”

“not with the way they look at you.”

yeonjun glares at soobin, mouth agape.

“what?” soobin elbows him lightly. “it’s true! i saw how they looked at you a while ago when you said you were busy. they looked like you stomped on their heart!”

“but they stomped on mine first! how could they feel that way?!” 

“i don’t know with them! just stop stomping on each other’s hearts!” soobin huffs. “look, both of you are hurting and it’s unlike you to be this hopeless.”

yeonjun buries his face in the pillow again, but instead of a whine he just lets out a low groan. he feels his friend pull him closer to his side and his hand rubbing circles in his back. sighing, he pries the pillow off himself.

they both sit in silence for a few moments. yeonjun glances at the vase of wilted carnations and lets himself remember all the flowers you’ve delivered to him. he dwells on the pink roses you left him after the dance, and how he always imagined dancing with you again. he loved having you in his arms and he dreams still of holding you even closer.

even as every day conspires to make that dream nothing more than a flight of fancy, a part of him has always held onto it.

“you’re right. i wish we could just work things out.”

“they will.”

“how do you know?”

“i don’t, but beomgyu’s talking to y/n right now. i think that’s a good sign.”

yeonjun looks at him with eyes full of hope. “about what?”

“dunno, but i bet he’s talking sense into them.”

—

you sit on the grass and hug your knees. the cold response from yeonjun has made your body feel unbearably heavy, so much that you need to sit to be able to bear your own weight. your head is slumped and you close your eyes as you try to grapple with the image of your friend ignoring you and walking away, when all he has ever done before is stay close to you and ask you to stay close by him too. without meaning to you find yourself in front of the wall of emotions again, and this time trying to climb or even approach it feels more daunting than ever.

you feel something shift next to you, snapping you out of your spiral, and open your eyes to see beomgyu seated next to you on the grass.

“your…” you throat feels dry. “your trousers will get dirty…”

“it’s okay, they’re dark colored anyway so no one will see. how are you feeling?”

you bite your lip. beomgyu tilts his head at you and watches you with shining eyes, as if to say go on, you can say whatever you want. you still feel the wall of emotions looming over you, so you say nothing.

“or we can sit down here as long as you like,” he says, filling the air with chatter. “it’s a pretty day, isn’t it? i like this time of year when the weather’s not too warm and the sky is clear. usually soobin hyung and yeonjun hyung and i will play a lot of games or go swimming or ride the horses, especially when we were kids. we don’t do it as much ‘cause of all the meetings, and also ‘cause we get tired faster.”

you nod. there’s something oddly comforting about the image of the three boys playing games in the meadows as kids.

“we usually do it here ‘cause yeonjun hyung’s family has the biggest open grounds, but sometimes we go to soobin hyung’s or my home. we have a tennis court at our castle grounds, you should come! i think you’d be good at it. you were really good at that badminton game.”

“oh… thanks.”

“did you play a lot of sports growing up?”

“a little bit.” you loosen your grip on your knees. “usually when the other children invite me to play, but i never start it myself.”

“oh! you weren’t the type to go running around a lot?”

you shake your head. 

“mm, what did you do when you were a kid?”

“uh, gardening.” you laugh. “and drawing, but i wasn’t very good. i just liked doing it.”

beomgyu laughs too. you start to chat with him about both of your childhood memories, and as you do, the heaviness starts to lift from your body. the initial shock from your encounter with yeonjun starts to subside, and though you still feel that wall of emotions looming in front of you, your mind has now taken a few steps back from it. besides, you no longer feel like you’re facing that wall alone; beomgyu is with you, making sure that you’re okay.

he’s in the middle of telling a story about the time he and another prince from the house of huening once snuck into the kitchen to steal some chocolates, and you listen and wait for him to finish. you’re pretty sure he’s exaggerating the story but it doesn’t matter and you laugh anyway. you feel calm now, not quite free from the heaviness but at least in a place to carry it better.

“hey, beomgyu?”

“what is it?”

“i...” you gaze up at the sky. “i’m scared.”

his expression changes from a carefree smile to a look of concern. “what are you scared of?”

“everything, i guess.” you grip the fabric of your gardener’s smock. “i’m scared that i’ll never talk to yeonjun again and that i broke his heart. what if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore even if i try to make it up to him? but even if i do try to be friends again, will everyone else even let me? he’s getting engaged and he has that princess now, would she even let me be a part of his life? and what if the staff gets suspicious of me again and i get fi—”

“whoa, whoa. slow down, y/n.” he lifts an arm to put around your shoulder, and you let him. “let’s take it one at a time, okay?”

you take a deep breath. “what i mean is, i feel like i’m going to lose either way. either i lose yeonjun because i stopped being friends with him, or i lose him because he’s a prince and i’m just a gardener.”

beomgyu nods and pats your shoulder. “it’s okay to be scared,” he says, his voice soft. “we’re all scared, actually. yeonjun hyung’s terrified. we have to learn to not look scared because we’re princes and people look up at us, but we’re just as scared as you.”

“i know he’s scared too. i’m worried about him but i just... i just wish i knew what to do. it feels like everything i do will hurt, whether it’s me or him or the both of us.”

you hear your companion humming as he tries to think. “i think you can take things slowly...? ‘cause it is scary trying to solve all those things at once, but maybe there’s something small that you can handle.”

“something small...” you smooth down your gardener’s smock. now that you’ve backed away from the wall and aired out your fears, everything feels less overwhelming. you can see the pieces of your problems now: your friendship, your feelings, yeonjun’s feelings, his betrothal. you still can’t fix everything 一 maybe if you had less self-restraint, you’d kick down the doors of the cathedral on his wedding day 一 but seeing each piece of the puzzle gives you some clarity.

you can’t fix the court politics that he’s gotten himself into, but you can make amends with yeonjun. maybe it won’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it’s better than nothing.

you turn to beomgyu with a small smile.

“hey, what are you thinking of now? are you concocting some sort of grand scheme?”

“nothing grand.” you stand up and brush the grass off yourself. “you’re right, i need to start small.”

一

you aren’t part of the official party to send off the visiting branches of the house of choi, but you find a convenient excuse to go water the marigolds at the front entrance where the sending-off will occur. you stand off to the side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, hidden from the line of sight of the farewell party: the royal family, their advisors, queen hwayoung and princess ajin and their advisors, and a dozen other members of the court. their eyes and yours are all on the parade of carriages ready to leave through the main gate and back to their respective kingdoms.

you watch beomgyu approach one carriage first with his parents, smiling and waving, thanking them for the nice room and the good food and the pleasant time. he waves freely with his left arm while his right arm cradles a pot of sweet peas 一 the one you miraculously managed to prepare just that morning. you smile at the sight just as he spots you off to the side. his smile becomes wider and he mouths good luck to you before finally climbing in his carriage. 

soobin and his parents are next, and though he appears shyer than the younger choi, he still manages to give little bows and dimpled smiles at everyone. he doesn’t wave, not when both of his hands are carrying the sweet pea pot you prepared, and you can’t help but giggle at it. he seems to have taken some invisible cue from beomgyu, because he spots you instantly, then nods and mouths take care at you before he too climbs into the carriage and prepares to leave.

once all the carriages and carts are ready, the main gate opens and you watch them exit, one by one, all while the farewell party continues to shout well-wishes for safe travels. for a while you can see soobin and beomgyu still waving at everyone and shouting greetings back. you can’t yell any yourself without getting noticed, so you send your farewells silently from your heart, hoping that your goodwill will reach them anyway and be felt long after you’re gone from their sight.

the carriages disappear and the party starts to disperse. queen hwayoung and princess ajin disappear almost instantly, and the other court officials start to head back as well. soon only the royal family is left, and the king and queen are soon whisked away by a guard for some important matter to attend to. that leaves yeonjun just behind everyone else, and you take your cue.

“your majesty.”

you hate using his title on him again, but you need to keep up the pretense.

yeonjun whips around. “who’s ther一”

you step out from the side and take out what you previously hid among the marigolds: a small pot of purple hyacinths. “it’s me, your majesty.”

for a few moments he simply stares at you, posture rigid. he doesn’t approach but raises an eyebrow. “‘your majesty’? c’mon are we really not一”

before he can say anything more, you shove the pot into his hands. “pleasenotnownotoutside,” you say. you start to tremble and try to steady yourself with a long, deep breath. “i mean, not where people can see us, please, not here…”

yeonjun’s posture shifts. he grabs you by the arm and pulls you away from the main entrance and off to small courtyard at the side. he looks around to confirm that there’s no one watching, then sets down the pot and steps toward you.

before you can back away, he places a hand on your cheek and gazes at you with tears starting to form in his eyes. his whole expression softens as he studies your face, and you feel the old warmth blooming in your chest 一 it’s been too long since you felt that sensation.

“are you okay? is anyone threatening you?”

he says it so softly that you could melt right into him. you shake your head.

“did they punish you again?”

you shake your head again. “they could if they see us…” 

yeonjun tries to say more but you only tut and tilt your head towards the pot.

he nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb and blinking away his tears, then crouches down to where the pot is. he gazes at the delicate purple flowers before he sees the paper you tucked in between the stalks, then he fishes it out and reads your message:

dear yeonjun, these purple hyacinths are for sorrow and apologies. i’m sorry. i hurt you and i shouldn’t have. please let me explain myself to you. meet me at the gazebo tonight at midnight, and i’ll tell you everything.

he pockets the message and stands up to face you again. as he stands close to you, he takes both your hands in his, tilting his head down towards yours to lock eyes with you.

“okay, i’ll be there.”

already the hours to midnight feel too long.

notes: everybody say thank you beomgyu 😌 we are wrapping things up real soon!!

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