#story why are you so long but also somehow not descriptive enough

[tenelkadjowrites]

The Heart's Filthy Lesson - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

🪓Summary: Your best friend has always been dedicated to you. But isn't everyone's best friend like that?

🪓Word count: 15k

🪓Playlist for this fic can be found here.

🪓Genre & warnings: one shot smut. (twisted) best friends to lovers. unreliable narrator. elements of horror. descriptions of stalking against the reader, violence against others (not the reader), unhealthy relationship dynamics. dom hwa. dirty talk. underwear is torn off reader. oral sex, reader receiving. choking, reader receiving. unprotected sex. creampie.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               You’re fumbling with your keys, trying to get it into the lock without dropping your overstuffed bag. Why do I overpack so much? You curse inwardly. Every time, you swear that only essentials will be packed. Somehow, that ends up meaning enough underwear for a month and clothes for three different outfits a day even when you’re just visiting family.

               You manage to get the key in the lock, practically tumbling inside your small apartment on the third story. Unceremoniously dumping your bag on the floor, you let out a long sigh. Like all family visits, you’re glad for them but also socially drained.

               Padding into your living room, you wince a little. Way too much light in here, you think, I thought for sure I closed the blinds when I left. You turn around, fighting off the urge to take a nap. The trip is catching up to you, leaving you tired.

               But you stand in the middle of the room, feeling a strange sense of unease. The living room looks entirely the same yet you cannot shake the sensation that something is different. It’s just cuz I thought I had closed the blinds. But the words ring hollow in your head.

               In the quiet atmosphere of the apartment, you can distantly hear the traffic outside and the neighbor upstairs moving something heavy around. Your eyes slowly look across your kitchen counters before landing on a small pile of mail.

               Curiously, you walk towards it, picking up the stack. There is a small sticky note stuck to the top with just a quickly drawn smiley face on it, the ink smeared into the paper on one side. Frowning, you peel it off and go through the mail. All of it is from when you were gone –

               A knock on the door makes you jump, pressing your hand against your chest for a second. The pile of mail drops back to the counter, scattering across it as you go to the door. You don’t check who it is. You already know.

               Opening the door, you find yourself face to face with your overly enthusiastic best friend.

               “Hey, I remembered you were supposed to be back around this time so I figured I’d come over to say hi.”

               “Hi, Seonghwa,” You say, already moving to the side to let him in.

               He glances over his shoulder at you while heading into the living room. “How was the trip? How was your family? Did you tell them that I said hi?” Every word is said quickly, as if they are all fighting for importance and can’t decide what order to pop out in.

               You push the door closed, trailing after him. You’ve known Seonghwa longer than anyone else in your life – he used to live next door where you befriended one another at just six years old. You went to the same high school, even the same college and when you decided to move to the city, so did he. You lived on different sides of the city at first until a year ago, when the apartment building finally had an opening and now he lived just one floor under yours. The two of you were a team – you knew everything about him and he never forgot a detail about you. Things were comfortable…although maybe a little too comfortable.

               You cross your arms, leaning against the wall. “You brought my mail in.”

               He turns to look at you, smiling brightly. Seonghwa always had the same countenance – pleasant and happy. “Yeah, of course.”

               “I don’t remember giving you a key.”

               “Oh, your plant needs watering.” He leans over and touches the wilting leaves gently, already moving past the fact he let himself into your place without asking. “Want me to do it?” He looks up at you.

               You sigh, walking towards him. “Seonghwa,” You touch his hand gently, trying to get his attention.

               His expression falters just for a moment before guilt pops in behind his eyes. Seonghwa looks tired, although that isn’t new, because he’s always on his computer at all times of the day and night. He glances downward at where your fingers had grazed his skin for a split second. His profile is so familiar to you – the sharp curve of his jaw, the long nose, his perfectly plump lips hiding perfect teeth. This is the same man you’ve grown up with your entire life. You know objectively he is beautiful but you’ve known him for so long that it no longer catches your notice. From the time he got in trouble for pushing a kid bullying you at the playground when you were both eight years old to sneaking out while in high school to go drink to this very moment, he’s always been there. That’s why you dislike whenever you come off as though you’re lecturing him.

               “It was from two weeks ago. Remember? I had to let the plumbers in for you,” Seonghwa protests.

               “You’re supposed to give the key back,” You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers.

               He ducks his head, some of his hair falling in front of his eyes as he looks down at the sagging plant. “It’s in my place. I don’t keep it on me.”

               “Fine,” You sigh, “Next time, okay?”

               Seonghwa bites down on his bottom lip for a second before his eyes lock on yours. “It happened six months ago. I mean, don’t you think – I think I’ve done a good job at not crossing a boundary since then.”

               You hadn’t been expecting to have this conversation today. But maybe that is your own fault for constantly putting it off. It isn’t even that you’re mad at him anymore. But coming home late one night to find him passed out drunk in your bed after using your key to get in just felt like shattering a boundary. You took your key back after that, giving your best friend a dressing down even though he was apologizing profusely. 

               “I mean, you technically weren’t supposed to use the key to drop off my mail,” You point out.

               His cheeks flush. “I was trying to be helpful,” He mumbles, eyes darting away from your face.

               You sigh, knowing you’re going to give in. That is how it usually worked with Seonghwa. He was always the overzealous best friend, eager to help you even to the extent that it resulted in too much on his own plate.

               “I know,” You reply, “And I appreciate it.”

               His face lights up, all earlier guilt and tension erased immediately. Seonghwa immediately begins to pepper you with questions about the trip back home, leaving the earlier conversation about boundaries long passed. You aren’t sure if anything you said even sunk into his head. Likely not, you think.

               After all, you know Seonghwa so well. You know what sticks to him.

*

               “Hey!” The familiar chipper voice snaps you out of your mindless phone scrolling.

               It’s two days later, after work, and you’re meeting Seonghwa for a coffee. The key issue is long forgotten, overtaken by the daily events of life that naturally take more importance than your best friend helpfully bringing in your mail.

               He’s pushing through the crowd of people that have formed looking for a late afternoon caffeine boost. It had begun snowing earlier and there are a few snowflakes melting in his hair. His brown jacket hangs off his thin frame, the same jacket he’s had for easily a decade because he doesn’t care enough to buy a new one. It’s well worn, fraying at the seams near the elbows, and you’ve seen it against the backdrop of a multitude of different coffee shops.

               “Am I late?” He stands by the table, looking down at you, not paying attention to the man trying to get past him while carefully balancing two cups of coffee in his hands.

               “No. Even if you were, it’s okay. I was waiting for you before I got anything.”

               You move to get up but Seonghwa shakes his head quickly. “No, no,” He nudges you back in the seat gently, “I’ll go order for us. It’s too crowded.” He is looking in your eyes. “I know what you like.”

               He’s gone then, back in the crowd, moving towards the counter. You watch him go, turning your attention back to your phone. Ten minutes later, Seonghwa returns, handing you the coffee and sliding into the seat across from yours. The table is crammed in the corner, a clear attempt to try to fit more seats inside since the snow is coming down.

               “I’m getting sensory overload in here,” You remark when someone smacks your arm with their laptop bag on accident.

               “Do you want to go?” Seonghwa leans forward, “We can go if it’s too much.”

               “No, it’s fine,” You shake your head, “I should have given more consideration to the time, I guess. How are you?”

               He drums his fingers against the table while answering. “Fine. The usual. How was work?”

               “The usual too. That project I’ve been stuck working on finishes next week – ow,” You wince as someone else hits your arm while squeezing through the tight space between your table and the next.

               Seonghwa reacts like lightning, too quick for you to even say anything. His hand reaches for the strap of the man’s bag and he gives a sharp tug on it. “Hey!” He snaps and the man looks over his shoulder with wide eyes, “Pay attention to where you’re going!”

               “Seonghwa, it’s fine –”

                “I’d rather walk in the snow than be in here,” He says curtly, grabbing his coffee cup and gesturing for you to follow.

               You do, and out in the cold, let out a small sigh of relief. Alright, maybe the idea of leaving the crowded coffee shop was the right choice. The soft layer of snow that is forming across everything is ruined by the many feet trampling over it hurrying to get home after work.

               But you walk slowly along the sidewalk with Seonghwa, neither of you speaking for a few minutes. You glance out of the corner of your eye to find him looking at you.

               He clears his throat quickly and asks, “What were you trying to say in there?”

               “Oh, the project. It’s winding down next week. I’m relieved.”

               Someone cuts in between the two of you and when Seonghwa moves back closer, he is no longer looking in your direction. “Is the project leader still texting you outside of work?”

               You blink, a little surprised he remembers such a small detail from a few months ago. “Yeah, sometimes. But it isn’t anything unprofessional.”

               Seonghwa’s cheeks are slightly red from the cold. He is holding the coffee cup tightly for warmth. “He might ask you out when the project is done.”

               “Maybe,” You reply with a shrug, “We’ll see.”

               Your best friend falls silent. The look in his eyes is from a thousand miles away for a couple of seconds before it snaps back into focus. “Would you say yes?”

               “I don’t know. I guess I’ll see how I feel when it happens.” You hadn’t given it a lot of thought.

               There is another silence which is unusual for Seonghwa who usually fills the conversation easily. But he seems to be mulling something over and is lost in thought – a rarity.

               “What about you?”

               His head snaps up, looking at you. “What do you mean?”

               A lone snowflake lands on the bridge of his nose. You lean forward and brush it off. The gesture comes automatically, instilled from years of friendship. You’ve brushed a thousand snowflakes off his face and shoulders over the many winters spent hanging out.

               “That woman at the coffee shop was flirting with you a few weeks back,” You then frown, “But we haven’t been back since. We could’ve gotten you a date.”

               Seonghwa turns his face away from yours, slowing his pace down a little while watching the rush hour traffic grow larger on the road.

               “No, I’m good.”

               Coming to a stop at the crosswalk, you nudge his shoe with yours. “You haven’t been on a single date in ages.”

               “So?” He turns to look at you, his eyes wide and questioning.

               “Nothing, you just work a lot from home, that’s all. I wouldn’t want you to miss out something fun because of that.”

               “Trust me, I’m not. I just am not interested in awkward dates.” He bounces on the heels of his shoes for a couple of seconds until the crosswalk turns green and he takes off like a shot.

               This is typical of Seonghwa’s walking speed and you try to keep up. “Was I overstepping?”

               “No,” He replies swiftly, his energy bubbling underneath the surface, “But I had a string of very awkward dates all last year and I need a break from them.” He runs his fingers through his hair, still walking at a brisk pace.

               “Right, I get that. I didn’t mean to come off like I was lecturing –”

               Seonghwa stops suddenly, so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet. “You never come off like you’re lecturing,” He says, reaching out to help steady you, “I understand you just want what is best for me.”

               “Right,” The word sends up a tiny puff of air from the cold, “You’re in your apartment a lot except when you’re with me. That’s all.”

               Seonghwa’s hand is still on your arm but the grip is so loose that you can’t even feel it through the thick jacket. His nails are bitten to the quick. He lowers his hand once he knows you’re not going to fall over.

               He flashes a quick grin, the same expression you’ve seen a thousand times. Your shoulders relax, knowing he isn’t upset with you.

               “Is that so bad? Maybe I just wanna hang out with my best friend right now.”

               “No, there isn’t anything wrong with it. I just need to make sure you’re doing alright though. You’d do the same for me.”

               Seonghwa’s grin softens and he gently punches you on the shoulder. “Yeah, of course I would. I’d do anything for you. You know that.” He straightens up. “Now, come on. Enough discussing how I prefer to be indoors all day. Mental check-in complete. Ask me again in six weeks.”

               “Right,” You are smiling, your concerns about Seonghwa spending too much time alone now allayed.

               “Let’s get home, alright? I’m freezing.”

               The conversation resumes, the ebb and flow always the same, some topics circled back so often over the course of time that they feel more like well read books with their spines bent than anything exciting. But you like that with Seonghwa.

               With him, what you see is what you get.

*

               “Nope, not Mario Party,” Seonghwa shakes his head, stretched out on the couch in his apartment, “You turn into someone I don’t even know when you play that. Half the time, I think you’re gonna tear my face off.”

               You scoff. “Come on. That isn’t true.”

               “Yes, it is. Think about last time.”     

               Shifting awkwardly on the couch, you avoid his eyes. “Whatever,” You mumble, remembering cursing him out for stealing your star.

               It’s a week later and you’re trying to unwind from the stresses of work. The project finished yesterday which meant some relief. It is almost a routine now to pop over to Seonghwa’s, play a video game and unwind – to the point where neither of you ask to confirm, it just happens.

               His place is organized and tidy, in a way that you could never hope to replicate. A shelf lined with books is next to the TV, with another one filled with his Legos he builds to unwind. His computer with dual monitors is in the corner, the chair pushed out from where he hastily got up once work finished for the day. The apartment is comforting.

               Seonghwa gives you a knowing look and you drop the subject, aware he is right. He runs his fingers through his hair before turning his attention to the TV, leaning forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

               “You hear from that client? The one who is clearly interested in you?” He asks suddenly, staring at the TV while booting up Netflix.

               Surprised, you glance at him and shift a bit in your spot on the couch. “He’s been texting me a bit.”

               Seonghwa makes a noncommittal noise although for one second, you swear his grip on the remote tightens. When he doesn’t say anything further, you’re unsure of where to take the conversation. He’s never shown much interest in who you’ve dated before – in fact, he’s always seemed bored hearing about them, to the point that you barely mention it. You wonder what makes this guy different but something in you holds back asking.

               “I gotta pee,” You say instead, and he just nods, swept up in whatever he’s thinking about.

               You head down the hall and into the bathroom. You’re about to sit down when you notice there is no toilet paper on the roll. Rolling your eyes, you open the cabinet under the sink and rummage around. Why does he never pay attention to this stuff? Better yet why are you surprised?

               The cabinet is as organized as the rest of his place but there is no sign of toilet paper. You try to remember if he stashes it elsewhere but nothing comes to mind. You think of your own cabinet under the bathroom sink and wince. Seonghwa has always been the more organized of you two. You’re lost in thought, pushing aside some cleaning supplies when your eyes land on a strange small black box pushed all the way to the back.

               It’s slim and almost glossy, completely out of place to be shoved underneath the bathroom stick. You chew on your bottom lip, curiosity nipping at your brain. Seonghwa isn’t the one for secrets. There’s probably Pokémon cards or something inside that he misplaced.

               But you still reach for the box, sitting down on the bathroom floor and opening it quietly. Guilt is poking at you for snooping through your best friend’s stuff. You can’t explain what is even driving you to open something personal that belongs to Seonghwa.

               But you do.

               There isn’t a lot inside.

               One pair of underwear. A house key. A small bracelet.

               Your pair of underwear. Your house key. Your small bracelet.

               You stare at the items, not comprehending what is in your lap. The pair of underwear is green lace, one of your cuter pairs, and it went missing months ago. Around the time I found him passed out drunk in my bed, a small voice in your head points out.

               The memory of the night replays. Coming home late, finding Seonghwa fast asleep in your bed, flopped on his stomach, wrapped up in the bedsheets as if it was his own room. You were frustrated at the lack of respect for your personal space. Seonghwa always had a tendency to do such things; back in college, more than once you’d wake up to him in your dorm with a cup of coffee in hand, somehow getting past security.

               But you snapped that night, under a lot of work pressure and startled at finding a shape in your bed in the middle of the night. Waking Seonghwa up, you angrily asked him what he had been doing. Seonghwa slurred his words, said he was drunk and apologized. He sounded panicked and ashamed but that didn’t stop you from demanding your key back. You hadn’t talked to him for three days while he left you a ton of texts and messages apologizing and explaining himself. It was the longest you had gone without speaking to him.

               Back in the present, you gingerly reach for the pair of underwear. Why would he take this? Your cheeks feel hot looking at it. Was he…doing something with this? Surely, that would be impossible. For a split second, your brain flashes a mental image of Seonghwa with his hand wrapped around the underwear as he – nope, no.

                You drop it back into the box, opting for the bracelet instead. It’s a thin fake gold band with a tiny cubic zirconia diamond in it. You wore it over ten years ago, one night at the summer festival. Your boyfriend at the time just broke up with you and all you wanted to do was stay inside until Seonghwa prodded you to go with him. You wore the bracelet then, with a sun dress, trying to make an effort to look presentable. Seonghwa won a stuffed animal at one of the booths and gave it to you. You don’t remember misplacing the bracelet.

               The house key winks knowingly at you.

               You shut the box, shoving it hurriedly back in its spot as your heart threatened to explode in your chest. Your head is spinning, wondering what the hell to do. Do you confront him about it? That is what you’re supposed to do. But what do you even say?

               You turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on your face while trying to gather your thoughts. Could it be that Seonghwa had some sort of crush on you? That is absurd. Keeping the bracelet would mean it has been a minimum of ten years he’s been pining for me. It could be longer. That’s enough to drive anyone mad.

                In any case, you needed to get out of his apartment and try to calm yourself down. You had a tendency not to think very rationally when emotional and it would be better to put some space away from Seonghwa until you figured out how to broach the subject.

               You open the bathroom slowly, trying to collect yourself and steady your breathing. When you enter the living room, Seonghwa is idly watching TV. He glances over at you and then frowns.

               “What’s wrong?”

               So much for looking casual.

               “My boss texted me and there’s some crisis with another client. I need to pop back home and get on a Zoom meeting.” You don’t even know where the lie came from but it leaves your mouth smoothly.

               Seonghwa sounds exasperated when he replies with, “You’re kidding.”

               “No, sorry. You know how it is. Big girl job.”

               “Yeah, fine, I get it.”

               You are trying to get to the door without asking him what the fuck but he meets you there, his hand on the door knob. You force yourself to look at him directly – this face you know so well, this face you’ve stared at a thousand times. The same face that won you a stuffed animal at the festival ten years ago. Nothing has changed.

               “I’ll message you later,” You say.

               “Alright,” He opens the door, “Later.”

               It closes behind your back, leaving you alone in the hallway. You stand there for a few moments.

               You have no proof but there’s the sensation of Seonghwa looking through the peephole at you.

*

               Not seeing your best friend for two days does nothing to help you figure out how to broach the subject of the tiny black box underneath his bathroom sink. By the time you see Seonghwa Sunday afternoon, the only idea you have is to avoid the discussion completely and opt to veer the conversation into you going on a date with someone.

               The sun is lazily cutting across the floor of your living room while you pretend to be making coffee in the kitchen. Seonghwa is talking animatedly from the couch about something that happened the day before. You’re not really paying attention. Your mind keeps flashing to the night he fell asleep in your bed, picturing him rummaging through your underwear drawer to take a pair and slipping it into his pocket. You’re remembering the way he comforted you after getting dumped, convincing you to go to the festival. You can see him against the backdrop of the small white bulbs that were hanging off the booths, running his fingers through his hair while explaining with easy confidence how he could win a stuffed animal.

               “Hey,” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the memories and you blink, looking up from your place at the kitchen counter to see him standing in front of you, “Are you even listening to me?”

               “I’m going on a date Tuesday night,” You blurt out without preamble, “With the client. The project that just finished.”

               Seonghwa looks thrown before clearing his throat and replying, “Alright.”

               But you keep going. “I think we have a real connection. It could turn into something.”

               For the briefest moment, Seonghwa’s face goes startingly blank. There is nothing behind his eyes, and no expression on his face. Then he snaps back into focus, his hands pressing flat against the counter. “That’s good.”

               You’re lying, of course, you doubt anything will come from this date. But if Seonghwa is harbouring some sort of intense crush on you, maybe showing him you’re into someone else will fix things. Knock the thoughts out of his head, redirect his focus to something else. Anything to get out of having a horrible discussion with him that could ruin the most solid friendship you’ve ever had in your entire life.

               “Yeah, I can let you know how it goes,” You say a little too quickly, “Might be good for me. Like, I haven’t had a relationship in a couple of years. I feel ready for one now.”

               Seonghwa pushes himself away from the counter, turning his back to you. “That’s great.” He plops back down on the couch. “Remind me again what I know about this guy.”

               You decide to take this opportunity to really sell this man, to truly drive it home that this could be someone that you will be smitten with. You spend the next five minutes prattling on about him. At one point, you sit on the couch, on the opposite side of where Seonghwa is, still enthusiastically talking about a man you’ve barely thought of the entire time you worked with him. 

               Seonghwa’s face is slightly tilted with his arm propped up on the side of the couch, hand resting against his cheek. He’s looking at the wall, eyes distant. You’re trying to stay the course and see your speech through while at the same time studying his face for any sign that this onslaught of information is settling in. But there isn’t anything, not even a clenching of his jaw.

               Running out of breath, you stop speaking and the room lapses into silence. Seonghwa stirs, turning his face in your direction. There it is once more – the same blank stare from earlier. Nothing behind his eyes, gone in a flash, replaced with the same Seonghwa you knew. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling a little off kilter. There is something unfamiliar in that blankness, something that is brand new ground in the relationship with your best friend.

               “Well, you sound excited,” He says casually, “You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

               Your shoulders relax slightly. Are you overthinking everything? If Seonghwa was upset, you’d notice, right? You’ve seen him angry or annoyed a thousand times before. But the box still tugs at your sleeve. There’s a reason he has that. There is a reason he kept the underwear, the bracelet, the key. But the idea of asking your best friend why he has a box with such contents makes you want to jump off a cliff.

               And Seonghwa is…comforting. Maybe it is selfish to think of him that way and to want nothing to change, especially if things are different at his end. But he’s been in your life for so long that the idea of him potentially not wanting to be around you anymore due to a crush forming makes your anxiety spike. He’s been there through everything…You can get stuff back on track. You can fix things without mentioning the box.

               You’re sure of it.

*

               Typically, the process of getting ready for a date is somewhat fun and enjoyable. You tend to overthink your outfit but other than that, you like listening to music, doing your makeup and wondering how the night will go.

               This date doesn’t feel like that, mostly because the entire time you’re getting ready, your mind keeps going to Seonghwa.

               You’ve been overanalyzing his behavior since your Oscar winning performance convincing him this date is important. It’s been a few days since your speech and he seems exactly the same. Maybe a little more reserved if you truly look at the small details. But that could be work related, you argue, maybe I need to stop being so self-absorbed and think that everything has to do with me.

               But then you think back to the box with your underwear, bracelet and key. Any rational person would just talk to their best friend about it. Instead, you’re forcing yourself to go on this date in hopes of avoiding it because you’re being selfish, putting your feelings before his and wanting everything to remain normal.

               Your phone suddenly rings, startling you out of your brooding. It’s your client – no, your date.

               “Hello?”

               “Hey, listen,” His voice comes out fast and urgent, “I am so sorry but I’m going to have to cancel.”

               “What? Why?” It comes out way more demanding than intended but you had been banking on this…

               “Some fucking psycho ruined my car! It’s all smashed up! Like, it’s completely fucking ruined!” The client’s voice pitches higher in anxiety and an undercurrent of fear.

               You grip the phone tightly while exclaiming, “What?!”

               “My tires are slashed, my windows are blown out! The doors have these deep gash marks in the side like some lunatic took a fucking axe to it! Even the insides are cut up…Christ, I gotta go, okay? I’m really sorry. We’ll reschedule, I promise.”

               “No, of course, I understand. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that happened,” You say in shock, “That’s horrible.”

               “Thanks. Again, really sorry. I’ll call you, okay?”

               The call ends as suddenly as it began. You stare at your phone for a few seconds, feeling a wave of sympathy for your client. It would be horrible to deal with your car getting messed up like that. But this meant the date was pushed back…

               Looking at yourself in the mirror, you wondered what to do now. Normally when plans fell through, you’d hang out with Seonghwa. If he found out the date got cancelled and you didn’t come over, he could think you’re avoiding him. But showing up all dolled up for a date that had nothing to do with him could be rubbing his face in things too, couldn’t it?

               “I’m so sick of overthinking,” You mumble, leaving your bathroom and trying to find a hoodie to tug over your outfit, yanking it on over your head, adjusting it a bit and then grabbing your bag, “I don’t care.”

               You’re lying – you care more than you’d like to admit, both about Seonghwa and whatever is going on with his feelings towards you and the fact deep down you’re aware that you are handling this poorly.

               A few minutes later, you’re knocking on the front door of Seonghwa’s apartment. While you do have a key to his place, you weren’t going to violate that boundary even though you knew he wouldn’t see it that way.

               No one answers.

               You knock again but this time you go, “Hey, Seonghwa?”

               Now, you can hear shuffling inside the apartment followed by a muffled, “Just a second!”

               The door opens a second later. Seonghwa has clearly just gotten out of the shower. His hair is still soaking wet, dripping onto his black t-shirt. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it out but all that does is send some water droplets flying to the floor.

               “What, were you taking a swim?” You joke.

               His eyes land on you. “Wasn’t expecting you to come by. I thought you had that date.”

               “I did but he had to cancel,” You reply as Seonghwa moves to let you inside, “He called me and told me like…his car got fucked up.”

               “His car got fucked up,” He deadpans, raising one eyebrow, “Are you sure he isn’t lying?”

               You scoff. “Seriously? Who would lie about that? He told me someone slashed his tires, broke his windows, banged up the doors and shit. So, he needed to go deal with it. We’re gonna reschedule.”

               Seonghwa runs one hand through his hair again, seemingly unbothered by how wet it is. Even his t-shirt is damp, clinging to his frame. He flexes his fingers on his right hand, an action that is unfamiliar to you. The muscles in his arms move. You’re staring and don’t know why. It’s like he was mid shower when he got out or something, you think.

               “So, I’m the backup plan?” He asks and there’s a strange edge to the sentence, stripping it of any humor.

               You blink, thrown by the tone. “No, I didn’t…”

               But Seonghwa smiles then, and his voice is back to normal. “It’s cool. I wasn’t doing anything tonight. We can hang out. You wanna watch TV?”

               You nod, trailing after him into the comfort of his living room. He goes into the kitchen, opening the fridge and leaning forward to try to find something to drink. His t-shirt lays flat across his back, his black hair curling against the nape of his neck, still dripping onto the tile. You stare at him for a few seconds before settling in on the couch. You’re suddenly acutely aware of the dress you’re wearing although most of it is covered up by the hoodie. He didn’t seem to notice your outfit or makeup anyway. Be serious. He’s seen you on dates a lot of times.

               There is the sound of a beer opening as Seonghwa returns to the couch, tossing you a bottle of water as he plops down next to you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eyes as he takes a swig from the beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing.

               “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to ruin the couch with your hair dripping everywhere?”

               He tilts his face in your direction and then rests his head directly on the back of the couch. You roll your eyes.

               “Get a towel.”

               “Nah, I’m good.”

               “You’re just trying to annoy me now.”

               “Yup.”

               The exchange is so normal and familiar that you don’t even realize you’ve sunken onto the couch next to him as he flips through the channels. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, so comfortable that you forget the box stuffed away in Seonghwa’s bathroom for the first time since discovering it.

               Apparently, he is comfortable too because at some point, you realize you’re hearing soft snoring. Surprised, you look over at him. He’s dozed off, eyes closed, chest rising and falling peacefully. His mouth is open slightly, head to the side, blissfully unaware of his wet hair. Seonghwa often kept odd hours and it wasn’t so strange for him to fall asleep as soon as he got even mildly relaxed.

               Mixed emotions are mingling inside your chest – a concoction of anxiety, peacefulness, and a sense of impending doom. In this quiet moment, it is as though you’re standing on a beach watching a tsunami approach. You’ve been trying so hard to run from the change that swept in with discovering that tiny box underneath the bathroom sink.

               You want to lean over and wake Seonghwa up, just ask him what is going on. But you still balk at the conversation and at tarnishing this moment where everything feels so normal.

               You wonder if the box is still under the sink.

               Maybe you imagined it.

               With one last glance at Seonghwa, you get up. Even though you’re walking to the bathroom, you cannot shake the guilt feeling swooping over your chest. You glance over your shoulder. He’s still perfectly asleep.

  Seonghwa’s bedroom door is next to the bathroom, slightly ajar. You glance inside out of habit. His bed is perfectly made with a couple of framed posters on the walls. There isn’t anything out of place but…

Maybe it’s the way the light from the hallway lays across the carpet or maybe you’re spending too long looking inside but before you completely pass by something shines for a split second. You slow down and then stop, hovering in the doorway to his room. Your heart is beating quickly now.

One final look in Seonghwa’s direction to ensure he’s sleeping sends you into his bedroom. Now who is breaking boundaries? A little voice in your head remarks cruelly. You cross the carpet towards what caught your eye – the glint of something similar to a knife. The bathroom towel has been quickly thrown over whatever it is.

Bending down, your fingers hover over the towel. Your entire body is screaming for you just to leave and get out of there. You’re snooping, you’re keeping secrets, you’re posturing as if Seonghwa has done something unforgiveable but meanwhile you’re not doing anything better –

You snatch the towel off the object and your heart falls into a pool of ice water.

An axe is laying on the floor. You stare at it while the hair on the back of your neck stands up. “The doors have these deep gash marks in the side like some lunatic took a fucking axe to it!” The words of your date ring in your head with deafening volume. You think about Seonghwa asking for information about the client and how you babbled endlessly in order to convince him this date was real. You knocked on the door and he hadn’t been ready for you, soaking wet, barely toweled off as if he had been busy…what, hiding the axe under the towel?

This is insane. Do you realize what your brain is jumping to? What are you trying to suggest? That Seonghwa went out to this guy’s place and ruined his car? Do you know what that implies? It implies he’s not just crushing on you. It implies there’s something…wrong. There’s something wrong with him. That’s what you’re thinking about your best friend right now.

The anxiety hits you full force in the chest then. You can hardly breathe, quickly covering up the axe and stumbling to your feet. You didn’t know what to do. You don’t even know what to say to him. The most important thing is getting out of here –

“What are you doing?”

You almost jump out of your skin, whirling around to see Seonghwa’s figure in the doorway. His face is half in shadow and one hand is on the door frame. You take a step back, almost tripping over the axe while straightening up.

“I thought you were sleeping,” You mumble and all efforts to make your voice sound normal fail.

“I woke up.” His voice is different, altered.

Seonghwa takes a step into the room and his face is clearer now. Yet there is that same look you have seen flashes of before. The complete emptiness of expression, the utter blankness behind his eyes. There is nothing familiar about him now.

“Now,” He says in a cold voice, “Who is the one breaking boundaries?”

You swallow hard while your brain fumbles for an excuse. But instead of speaking one, what leaves your mouth is, “Why do you have an axe?”

“Is it illegal to own one?”

“No but it’s a little strange to have it on your bedroom floor underneath a towel.” You try to make it come out like a lighthearted joke but your voice quivers, giving you away.

Seonghwa takes another step. In exchange, you back up, over the axe and closer to his night table. It seems ridiculous to be afraid of your best friend. But it also is ridiculous to have a secret box in the bathroom and an axe on the floor.

His right hand flexes and his jaw is clenched. You get the feeling he is trying to wrangle himself under control – but from what? He has all the qualities of the Seonghwa you know but it’s like someone smeared him with a layer of paint and distorted him.

You try again. “Why do you have the axe, Seonghwa?”

He doesn’t answer. Just moves closer. You’re cornered now. He’s near enough to touch, to grab his shirt and demand he answer you – this man you don’t know, this man you’re realizing you might not know at all.

“Why are you in my room?” Seonghwa makes a small noise, a tsk tsk, before adding, “Gonna have to ask for my key back, I think. Didn’t we just discuss boundaries?”

Up this close, you can better see the blankness in his eyes. You can smell the familiar scent of his shampoo and body wash. Your mind is telling you to run but your heart is whispering that this is your best friend, just hug him and talk it out. You don’t know what to do.

You say Seonghwa’s name so softly, just a wisp of a thing against the boiling emotions that are brimming to the surface inside him. “Why do you have some of my things under your bathroom sink?”

Seonghwa recoils, eyes widening in surprise. Your brain tells you to push past him, take this chance and run. But your feet don’t listen. Even now, you want to hear him out. You’re desperate to prove this all some fucked up misunderstanding.

You keep going. “That bracelet. From the night of the festival. And my….my underwear. Why do you have those things? My date calls me, says his car got trashed and that it looks like an axe was taken to the sides and then you’re scurrying around when I knock, hide an axe under a towel. Where were you earlier? Seonghwa, where were you earlier? Why do you have those things? Tell me. If you don’t want me to walk out of here, tell me. If you don’t want to fuck up the friendship, tell me.”

He tilts his face away from you, eyes glassy, looking at nothing. He’s grinding his teeth, something else you’ve never seen him do. Seonghwa’s profile is striking but no longer comforting. When he looks back at you, your lower back nudges into the night table and your hands grip the edge, staring at him.

“I want to fuck up the friendship. I’ve always wanted to fuck up the friendship,” He declares.

You shake your head. “You don’t mean that. That’s not how things are with us –”

“That’s always been how things are with us!” He shouts suddenly, loud enough to make you flinch.

“No! No, Seonghwa, that isn’t true –”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” His eyes are alive now, twisted, no longer blank but not belonging to him either. He’s so close to you now, dangerously so. The warmth of his body is seeping into yours. The rage is swimming off him, strong enough to knock you over. You have never seen Seonghwa so angry before…and certainly never at you.

“I’m not, I’m not lying,” You plead, wanting to touch him but too afraid of making things worse, “I’m not lying. I was just – I was just trying to understand. The box under the sink and the axe…”

“You’re a smart girl, stop pretending like you don’t know,” Seonghwa growls out, “You know why I have those things under the sink.”

“The bracelet –”

Seonghwa is bristling with an intense energy as he replies, “From the festival night! See, you remember. You knew immediately where it was from. It slipped off your wrist when you were at one of the games, landed in the dirt. I took it. I took it because that was the night I thought ‘maybe’. I thought maybe you’d realize how badly I wanted you. And I think you did realize it. But you looked the other way. I love you but fucking hell, you look the other way when anything might change. But I’m patient. I can wait. I can take care of things and I can wait.”

I love you he had said, so effortlessly, so easily. The air is knocked out of your lungs by his casual admission. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice nor care he said it. He just stated it as though it was a fact, like the sun rising every morning. He runs his fingers through his hair, his brow furrowed in memories.

“The underwear, do I gotta explain that? Like I said, you’re smart. You know. I didn’t think you were coming home that night. I thought you were out, picked up by a guy or something. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I had shoved the underwear in my pocket before you got there and it just felt so damn good to be in your bed. Everything smelled like you and just…it was just a lot, you know?” His eyes land on you. “It was wrong to lie, tell you I was drunk. It was the fastest thing I could think of.”

“You lied to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says seriously and you realize he believes lying about being drunk was the worst thing he did that night, not using your key or stealing your underwear.

“You’re – you’re sorry? You violated my boundaries, you slept in my bed, you stole my…and then you lied to me,” You reply aghast, “It’s like I don’t even know you, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa is starting to look anguished now. He goes to reach for you, thinks twice and drops his hands to his sides before taking a step back, carefully skirting around the axe. Then he stops, considering it before picking it up and tossing it onto the bed, making you flinch again.

“Don’t act like that,” Seonghwa says sternly, pointing to you, “Don’t do that. It’s me, alright? It’s me. You’ve known me since we were kids. I’m still the same person.”

You swallow hard, unable to reply.

He continues to talk, pacing the room. “Listen, for how long I’ve been in love with you, I think – I think I’m doing alright. I’ve never done anything bad to you. I have always had your back. That one asshole back in college – that professor. The science one. Remember? I made sure to stop that shit before it got out of hand. He was out of bounds asking you out. That’s wrong. You’re a – you’re a student.”

The floor is unsteady underneath your feet. You’re staring at Seonghwa as he paces, wondering if you’re going to faint. “That was you? He couldn’t even come back to work after that. He needed physical therapy. His legs…”

“Okay, in my defense,” He holds out one hand to ward off your criticism, “In my defense, I didn’t realize until later I maybe shouldn’t have brought the bat down so hard.”

Your eyes fall to the axe. You’re almost afraid to ask.

But Seonghwa follows your gaze and he immediately makes a noise of protest. “I didn’t lay a hand on that guy.”

“But…but his car…”

“So what? It’s a car. Which he thought was more important than you seeing that he cancelled the date, by the way,” He is talking so quickly that it is hard to follow his words, “You gave me so much information about him and this idiot – I mean, he’s a real idiot, alright? He had so much public information about himself. I found his address in like, two minutes. I mean, this is not the sort of guy you want to be with. He’s too stupid for you.”

You’re feeling dazed now like you got hit with the axe instead of the client’s car. “How did you not get caught?”

“He doesn’t live in the city. Lives in the suburbs, some big fancy ugly house with a private garage. Slipped in, slipped out.” A thought strikes him and Seonghwa moves towards you, holding his hands out to calm you down as if you’re a scared deer. “But I didn’t hurt him. I wasn’t going to hurt him. You seemed to really like the moron. I just wanted to see how badly he wanted to go on a date with you. If his material items were more important than seeing you.”

Thunderstruck, you reply, “Seonghwa, you trashed his fucking car.”

He scurries over, extremely close to you once again. He looks so warm and inviting again, earnest as ever as he goes, “And he picked it over you. He isn’t a good fit for you. Not like me. You get it? Not like me.”

You can only stare at him, unable to reply. Too much is happening. There is too much new information occurring at once. And the way Seonghwa is standing there, looking so open and honest – the polar opposite of earlier when he came into the bedroom, is making things confusing.

Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, his voice a soft murmur while studying your face. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve protected you from is because I love you. I’ve always loved you. The entire reason I exist is to love you. I’d follow you to the end of the earth. I’d follow you into hell. Some part of you had to know that. You felt it, didn’t you?”

Your breathing is quick and shallow. You’re grateful for the barrier of the hoodie because you’re acutely aware of how close you are to your best friend. You’re thinking about him moving to the city, and then into your building. You’re thinking of all the various strange occurrences you tried to steadfastly ignore – people getting injured after upsetting you, job interviews that felt horrible only for them to offer you a position, Seonghwa up all hours of the night on his computer looking exhausted and claiming it was just work, the beleaguered quick expression on his face whenever you mentioned him going on a date…

Seonghwa makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “You’re scared. It’s okay. You never liked change and you were never good with your feelings.”

You squeeze your eyes closed while saying, “I thought you’d think I was smitten with him. That you’d…you’d drop this. And we could go back to normal. I didn’t think you’d…”

“Go back to normal?” He scoffs, “What is normal for you? Ignoring what is right in front of you?” Very slowly and carefully, he brings the back of his hand to your cheek, gently brushing it along your skin. The touch makes your heart thud violently in your chest. Seonghwa looks at you tenderly. “I would be so good to you. I’m a perfect fit for you.”

“Seonghwa…” You aren’t sure if his name is a curse, a prayer or just a whimpered plea to let things stay the same.

He is close enough to your body now that you know what is going to happen next. You should push him away, get out of here and call the police on him.

But you don’t.

Instead, you allow Seonghwa to kiss you.

Your mouth opens underneath his, tasting your best friend in a way that is entirely new. The sensation of his lips on yours is dizzying in the most twisted way possible. Seonghwa’s hand goes to the back of your neck as the kiss grows more intense. His tongue is in your mouth and he makes a tiny noise – like some small bit of him is finally finding relief. You aren’t even sure if you’re breathing, too swept up by the mind-bending things that have occurred in the last ten minutes. As the kiss deepens, you tilt your head to the side, your tongue against his now.

There is a small voice in the back of your head quietly asking you what the fuck are you doing? Not only is this Seonghwa of all people but he’s obviously mentally unstable. But there is a heat swooping through your body and there is a need cracking through something inside you that is made worse by the fact you’re thinking about how he’s always had your back since first meeting.

Your hand is gripping the bottom of his t-shirt. You aren’t sure whose ragged breathing you’re hearing but certainly it cannot be yours because you must’ve died ten minutes ago. That’s the only logical explanation for why you’re now desperately kissing Seonghwa; it just simply couldn’t be happening like this.

The heat is unspooling in your chest now, dropping to your thighs. Seonghwa makes another quiet noise while kissing you, so fragile yet tense, and it is in that noise that the desire and fear smash together and overwhelm you.

You push him away with a small gasp, wiggling free from the confined space and placing your hand against the wall to steady yourself.

“I can’t,” You gasp out – although is directed to you or your best friend?

Looking over your shoulder at Seonghwa, he’s staring at you with blown out pupils while his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“You can’t what?” He drawls coldly, “You can’t what?”

You shake your head while saying, “I should be calling the police on you. You’ve hurt people. You’ve damaged people’s property.”

“Oh, please!” His mood shifts quickly again, his tone hostile. He approaches you, so close again, enough to see that his lips are slightly wet from the kissing. “Stop pretending. Stop pretending you don’t feel it.”

But it’s too much – all of it. You shake your head, afraid of…of what? Seonghwa? No, something else. Something worse.

You’re afraid of yourself.

“I can’t – I have to go,” You say, pushing past him, “I can’t do this.”

In all your years of friendship with him, you’ve never run out of his apartment. There has never been any reason to. But you leave Seonghwa in his bedroom with the axe on the bed, quickly scampering down the hallway. You cast a glance over your shoulder to see if he is following.

But he isn’t.

And you’re not sure how you feel.

*

               There is no sleep that night, only replaying the entirety of your friendship with Seonghwa like a horrible movie in your mind. You try picturing him taking the bat to that teacher’s legs but it is an impossible thing to imagine. You wonder what else he’s done. He’s been off, slinking around in the night, breaking into your apartment, sleeping in your sheets.

               You roll onto your side, staring at the edge of your bed. What is Seonghwa doing right now? Is he thinking of you? Most likely, since it has become clear that all he thinks about is you. He isn’t a good fit for you. Not like me. You get it? Not like me. His confession bangs around in your brain, refusing to give you any peace.

               You’re back at the festival, watching him win you the stuffed animal. Seonghwa’s head is cocked to the side as he thrusts the stuffed animal towards you, grinning. You try to refuse it at first but he shakes his head, saying he has no use for it. His hair is softly glowing against the lights. His fingers brush against your wrist while accepting the gift. You feel a sense of contentment knowing you’re here with him and not crying in your room alone.

               What happened the next day? Your ex’s dorm room goes up in flames due to an unattended candle left burning. You remember laughing about karma with Seonghwa.

               But it wasn’t karma.

Unless Seonghwa is your karma.

Your brain circles to the one thing you’ve been trying the most not to think about: the kiss. It is something you’ve never ever considered. Kissing Seonghwa had always been something firmly planted in the realm of impossibility. Anyone of sound mind would have called the police on him, and what did you do? You kissed him.

And even worse, something that you can only admit in the dead of night when the world is still and quiet: you liked it. You enjoyed the small noises of relief Seonghwa made, how hot his body temperature ran, how his t-shirt was gripped in your hand. You enjoyed his desperation. You enjoyed his dedication.

What the fuck did that say about you?

*

               You’ve never gone this long without hearing from Seonghwa. It’s been four days and you keep expecting him to show up. You think he might even be waiting in your apartment every time you come home from work. You almost wish he was. But he isn’t. His silence is throwing you off.

               Maybe Seonghwa is going to skip town, you think in the silence of your bedroom one night. He might think I’m going to turn him in and he’s trying to get ahead of it. The idea of Seonghwa vanishing is eating you up inside. You just want to talk to him.

               But now you feel like the stalker, taking the elevator one floor down to his place with his apartment key in your hand. Even if Seonghwa ignores me, I’m gonna go inside, you think, if he can do it to me, I can do it to him. I just want to talk to him. Your mind is flickering to the kiss. You’re thinking about staying up late with him watching movies over the years. You’re remembering how he stopped going to the coffee shop where that woman was interested in him. You can taste him in your mouth.

               At the front door of his apartment, you knock. Softly at first. No reply. You knock again. You stand there, debating what to do. The key is heavy in your hand.

               What Seonghwa has done is wrong. It’s not just illegal, it’s fucked up.

               But no one in your life has ever looked out for you in the way he did and continues to do.

               His hair, wet, dripping onto the tile in the kitchen. His right hand flexing. The blank look in his eyes. The axe on the bed.

               Still no answer.

               The key is heavy in the lock, and the tumblers sound like gunshots as you turn it. Quietly, you push open the door and creep inside Seonghwa’s apartment. There aren’t any lights on. Silence settles across the place like a blanket. You shut the door softly, wondering why you’re doing this.

               But still, you continue, creeping down the hallway towards his bedroom. The door is open and moonlight filters in through his bedroom window, leaving a small band of white along the hallway floor. You hover outside Seonghwa’s room before pushing the door open wider to allow yourself in.

He’s sprawled out on the bed, asleep. You stand next to it, looking at the way the moonlight lays across his face. His black hair is messy, lips parted slightly as his breathing goes slow and deep. Some logical part of you knows it is bizarre to be watching your best friend sleep like this after using his key. You’re not any better than he is when you act like this, it scolds you.

But you study Seonghwa’s face. The moonlight washes his skin out. His bone structure is so familiar to you but tonight, you’re thinking that once again he looks like someone scrambled his face up with a large brush and showed you it.

You raise your hand to reach for his shoulder. You’re going to wake him up. To ask him…what? You’re not sure. You just want to talk to him.

But before you can touch him, Seonghwa’s hand reaches out in a flash and grabs your wrist, his eyes startingly empty. You gasp in surprise and almost fall back but he is holding onto you too tightly.

“You’re creeping around my place again. I might start getting the wrong idea,” Seonghwa’s voice sounds taunting, almost venomous, “I might start thinking you want to fuck me.”

You’ve never heard him speak like that.

“I wanted to talk,” You reply but the words sound so absurd given you used his key and were watching him sleep.

“No, you didn’t,” He retorts.

No, you didn’t.

Seonghwa pulls you down and you kiss him again, open mouthed and desperate. You gasp from the force of his lips on yours as though he wants to devour you. He’s half sitting up, his hand on the back of your neck, and you’re getting in his lap now, straddling him as his tongue slips into your mouth. He bites down on your bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth until you make a noise and the kiss breaks.

His hands are cupping your cheeks. Seonghwa is looking at you almost deliriously. You hadn’t changed before coming over, just wearing a thin pair of sweatpants which means you can feel him stiff in his own pair, rock hard already, pressing against your thigh.

It’s you who speaks first.

“Why didn’t you talk to me the last few days?” It sounds almost plaintive.

He’s studying your face as his thumbs graze your cheeks. “I was waiting for you to either turn me in or come see me. Whatever ended up happening, I knew what it would mean.”

Breathlessly, you reply, “I wasn’t going to call the cops.”

His thumb is running over your lips. Seonghwa is looking at you mesmerized as if he has never seen something so wonderful as you in his lap. No one has ever looked at you in this way.

“Everything I did, I did because I love you,” His voice sounds like a raw wound, “Do you get that now?”

“I get it now,” You reply, knowing it’s wrong, knowing it’s fucked up, knowing you must have lost it.

His grip on your chin tightens ever so slightly as his eyes grow intense. “I was looking out for you from the moment we first met. I have always protected you. I’ve always made sure no one would harm you and if they did, I ensured they got what was coming to them. You deserve the best. You always have,” His voice is hurried, emotional, “I always have tried to give you the best because I love you.” His fingers dig into your skin. “Do you get that? Do you understand how much I love you? God, sometimes, you would look right through me and it felt like the entire world was ending. Like the ground was just shattering underneath my feet. But I never dreamt of leaving your side. I love you too much even if you didn’t feel the same. I told myself I would just protect you until I died.”

His voice is pure agony, a crackling and fizzling of the years that have gone by spilling out from in between his lips. “You looked at me with such fear the other day when you were in my room, staring at the axe. As if…as if I would ever hurt you. It’s so absurd. I would never do anything to you. Everything I do is because I love you.”

“Seonghwa,” You breathe out shakily, “Your hand…. it’s too tight…”

His eyes drop to the way he’s gripping your face and he releases his hand immediately, apologizing. Your head is swimming, torn between the logical mind telling you to leave and your irrational heart pulled by his words, his love, his promises and protection.

But he feels so good underneath you.

Your lips find his once more and whatever remains of Seonghwa’s speech dies in his mouth, lost in the groan he emits when you touch him again. He shifts slightly so that his leg is pressing against your pussy and you react by grinding down slightly on his knee, just enough to feel pressure against your clit. Your breath hitches as Seonghwa’s hands roam across your body – fondling your tits through your shirt, down across your hips before resting on your waist, pushing you down on his knee.

He’s kissing and biting your neck, hard enough to leave marks. Your hands are in his hair while you grind on his knee. At one point, he bites so hard that you gasp and you swear that he chuckles quietly. Seonghwa pulls away, looking at you with an expression of mingled lust and something more possessive.

“You’ll have to cover that up for your date.” His words are like stone but there is a flicker of toying amusement behind his eyes.

“What date?” You mumble, slightly dazed, too turned on by the way he’s touching you.

Seonghwa laughs, his teeth like daggers in the flash of moonlight before pulling you towards him. His kiss is greedy, one hand sliding under your t-shirt to cup your breast. You’re not wearing a bra, having come over here quickly without putting much thought into it. You can feel him smirk against your lips, as if the lack of one is telling him something you’re not privy to.

He pinches one of your nipples, making you jump. His other hand is on your lower back, steadying you on his knee as you continue to chase your orgasm. It’s evident Seonghwa isn’t going to try to stop you. He leans his head down, tugging your shirt up so that he can wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking on it hard. He switches to the other one, biting on it. You’re making soft noises, a cross between a plea and pleasure, dimly aware that to be doing this with Seonghwa means forever ruining the very friendship you were once so keen on saving. But maybe it never stood a chance. Maybe time just caught up with the dynamic.

When Seonghwa pulls away from your tits, he grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him while demanding, “I want to watch you cum. I want to see what you look like when you’re cumming. I’ve pictured it so many times in my head – no, don’t stop. Don’t slow down. There, good girl. Oh, do you like that? When I call you that? Is that gonna make you cum?”

You manage to nod even though his hold on you is tight. He looks different in the moonlight, different in the manner he’s openly staring at you without hiding his feelings. There’s an energy rolling off him that you’ve never felt before, something bubbling to the surface and spilling out – who he really is. Who he hid for so long. You feel like a small bug crawling into a Venus fly trap but you don’t want to turn away.

Your orgasm starts then, after Seonghwa calls you good girl in that voice of his that is dripping honey while hiding a dagger. You can’t believe that you just got off from grinding on your best friend’s knee but you barely have time to come down from the climax before he is slipping your shirt off over your head and tossing it to the side.

He’s groping your tits, rolling his thumbs across your nipples, in seemingly no hurry to fuck you. You thought the orgasm would bring clarity, give your mind release from the problematic thoughts you’ve been having about your messed up best friend and allow yourself to exit the situation.

But you feel no such thing. Instead, you find yourself removing his shirt as well before kissing him hungrily while your hands press against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist and in one swift motion, he has you against the pillows underneath him.

Seonghwa is hot to the touch, his skin almost feverish as your fingers trail down his shoulders and along his arms. He’s moving downwards, his tongue across your nipples, down your stomach, obscenely leaving a trail of his salvia until he reaches your sweatpants.

Hooking his thumbs into the band, he yanks them down, leaving you in just your underwear. He nudges your thighs apart, pressing one finger along your pussy.

“You’re soaking wet,” Seonghwa drawls, sounding both pleased and tormented, “Underwear is fucking glued to your pussy.”

There is something fucked up and thrilling hearing your best friend talk like this. Seonghwa has always been so nice, so thoughtful over the years. Even when he would discuss his dates, he never dove into any details that would come off disrespectful. But now, mask off, it’s evident he’s perverted and unhinged on top of being psychotic. So why do I like it so much?

Seonghwa abruptly grabs the sides of your underwear and rips it with his hands. There is a loud tearing of fabric, his eyes alight while doing so, and then you’re exposed to him. Instinctively, you squirm, trying to close your legs. But Seonghwa is faster and his hands are on your thighs, keeping you open in front of him. His eyes look upwards to meet yours.

“No, I want to see how wet your pussy is from me. No hiding now. I’ve daydreamed about tasting your sweet cunt for far too long.” He turns his gaze back downward, one finger against your wet slit. “God, look at how fucking good you look,” The desperation in his voice is obvious, “What a perfect pussy.”

Seonghwa leans forward and his tongue is in your hole with a pornographic slurping noise as he tastes you for the first time. His nose bumps against your clit as he buries his face in between your thighs, trying to get his tongue as far as possible inside you.

“Fuck,” His words are muffled, “You taste so fucking good. You taste exactly how I knew you would. Can’t believe it took this long to taste your sweet cunt,” His hold on your thighs tightens, “Drives me fucking crazy knowing others had it before me. They didn’t deserve it.”

His tongue drags along your folds until he places a kiss on your clit, just enough to make you shiver. You know that you shouldn’t look down. It will make the entire situation feel entirely too real. But you don’t listen and instead prop yourself on your elbows slightly, just enough to look down at Seonghwa in between your legs.

His eyes catch yours and he lewdly flicks his tongue across your clit just to drive the point home that this is happening and you’re enjoying it. You sharply inhale, your hand grabbing onto the bedsheet. He closes his eyes, focusing on rolling his tongue over your clit slowly, just enough to drive you crazy. You cannot tear your gaze away from Seonghwa of all people doing this to you, making you feel this good. In the moonlight, his shoulders almost glow, and some of his hair has fallen in front of his eyes.

While Seonghwa is working your clit, he slips one finger inside your hole, meeting no resistance from how wet it is. You squirm, head rolling back a little from the new sensation. Still, he doesn’t miss a beat, continuing his soft licks on your clit while pumping his finger. Your eyes flutter closed. It had been a long time since someone ate your pussy this good. It is just fucked up that it’s your best friend.

Seonghwa pulls his finger out of you, eliciting a whine that would be embarrassing in any other case but he quietly shushes you. “Needy girl, you want my tongue back on your clit? Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

You look down at him, your cheeks warm. His eyes are devious, a smirk on his face, making his cheeks stand out more than usual as he shakes his head to get his hair out of his face.

You nod and he looks gravely serious. “No, tell me. I want to hear you tell me.” His voice is ice cold, allowing no argument. You’ve seen him this way a few times, always when he is angry and never at you. No, always at someone who did something mean to you though, the little voice whispers.

“I want your tongue back on my clit,” You say meekly because begging Seonghwa for such a thing is a foreign concept.

He stares at you for a second or two longer before suddenly spitting on your clit and smearing it in with his thumb. Your hips buck automatically from the sudden pleasure.

“You’re so sensitive,” He murmurs, “Gonna be so easy to make you cum again.” Seonghwa sounds lost in his daydreams and you cannot fathom how many times he’s thought about this.

His finger is back in your cunt and his tongue is flicking across your clit faster now. He adds a second digit, pumping them hard and fast, stopping occasionally to wiggle them deep inside you. His face is pressed against your pussy, sucking on your clit and sometimes stopping just to spit on it again. Seonghwa is groaning when he’s eating you out, as if he is driven to intoxication from the taste of you.

You can no longer prop yourself up on your elbows, instead sinking back down among the pillows. One of your hands reaches down for Seonghwa, his hair wrapping around your fingers as you desperately hold onto him so he doesn’t stop. He makes a noise of approval, fucking you harder with his fingers.

And it feels just too good and it feels even worse because it’s Seonghwa, the person you know the most and the person you don’t know at all. When your climax starts, his name leaves your lips broken and shattered, forever changed by what happened tonight.

When Seonghwa pulls away, his eyes are ablaze. You’re disoriented from cumming so hard two times already but he pulls you towards him. His lips crush yours in a sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue. When the kiss breaks, there’s a long strand of spit connecting the two of you. He’s holding the back of your neck again, looking at you as though you’re trapped in his web.

“Oh, my name sounds so good like that.” He rubs his thumb across your lips, and the spit makes a mess, “You’re such a pretty thing.”

You like the way Seonghwa talks to you as if you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. But you suppose to him, you are. You’re feeling an aching desire to have him inside you, to know what it would be like to be fucked by him. Tentatively, you reach for his groin, pressing your hand against the tent. He inhales sharply but gives a firm shake of his head.

“Not yet,” He brushes your hand away, “You’re going to cum again.”

Surprised, you open your mouth to say something but before you can, he places two fingers on your tongue. Without questioning it, you wrap your lips around them and then immediately wonder why you didn’t even hesitate. You swirl your tongue around his fingers while he watches, entranced at the sight.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. I can’t get enough of you. Now, sit on my face.”

Seonghwa pulls his fingers out of your mouth, snapping his fingers at you after he issued his command. You’re not even thinking anymore, lost completely to whatever pull you feel towards him and the promises of more pleasure. He’s on his back, motioning for you to hurry up. You try to carefully straddle his face but he makes a noise of impatience, reaching upwards to grab your hips and yanking you down so that your pussy is against his face.

His tongue dives into your hole and you make a noise of surprise, gripping the headboard of his bed. He’s eating your pussy like a man starved, not stopping to let you adjust at all. His hands are holding onto your hips, keeping you in place as he brings his tongue swooping up to your clit, swirling around it. This time is a lot more urgent as though it is more for him than you.

The sounds of Seonghwa eating your pussy sounds graphic but it is the way he is moaning while doing it that is turning you on. You like how he sounds, so desperate and his voice muffled, and when you move your hips gently against his face, he makes a noise to let you know to keep going.

So you do, grinding against his face. He moves his tongue back to your hole and you can feel his nose against your clit while rocking your hips. Your clit is growing sensitive from all the overstimulation and sometimes your hips bounce a little when it becomes too much. Seonghwa notices this and instead of giving you a break swoops his tongue back over your clit, flicking it hard and fast.

Your grip tightens on the headboard but you’re close to cumming again. Your thighs are shaking, panting with your tongue poking from in between your lips as you ride his face. With one last flick of his tongue, you moan out his name loudly, unable to stop from how much you’re working your pussy against his face. This orgasm is somehow even better than the earlier ones although it leaves your body shaking. You slide off him, falling onto the bed, trying to catch your breath.

Seonghwa sits up, kicking off his sweatpants. With relief, you realize he’s going to fuck you. You’re unsure that you could handle another orgasm again so soon after the others. Your head is dazed and thighs sore and you’re pretty sure that your pussy is a mess of your juices and Seonghwa’s spit.

He’s stroking his length, drinking in the sight of your naked body on his bed with the same fascination of someone viewing a beautiful painting. He shakes his hair out of his face again while getting to his knees, his hand still wrapped around his cock.

“You’re gonna cum around my cock next.”

You give a small shake of your head, out of breath. “I don’t think I can cum anymore.”

“Of course you can,” Seonghwa replies simply while positioning himself over your body.

His skin against yours is heavenly and hellish, weighted by the knowledge you’re tumbling into bed with your best friend who isn’t as stable as previously believed. But what does it say about you that it won’t leave your mind? He’s propped up over you, studying your face with such intensity that you break eye contact, feeling exposed. His cock is pressing at your entrance as your hands go to his sides, gingerly touching his hot skin.

Seonghwa lowers his face down to kiss you while sliding inside your wet entrance. You arch your back, fingers digging into his waist as he enters you easily. His lips are back on your neck, emitting a sigh that is a mingle of relief and tension all at once.

His words are muffled as he goes, “You feel so good. Your pussy is made for me. I was meant to be in this pussy every night.”

Seonghwa is curled around you, taking his time. He’s moving slowly, lost in the sensation of your walls tightening around his cock. Your hands glide upwards to his hair once again, bunching it in between your fingers as you wrap your legs around his waist.

When Seonghwa speaks again, he sounds lost, as if he isn’t even present in the moment. “I love you so much,” He grunts, going still for a second to collect himself before thrusting a little harder, “I love you so fucking much. I’d do anything for you, I’d do anything to be in your cunt like this. You just had to ask. But you never did.”

Your body is warm all over, each nerve in your body responding to his passion in a way that you didn’t think was possible. The voice in your head that has been pointing out how wrong it’s been all night is eerily silent. Instead, you tilt your head so that Seonghwa looks at you. Your foreheads are touching and when you speak, your lips graze his.

“Tell me what you’d do for me,” You plead softly.

His breath catches, his cock buried inside you to the hilt while he replies, “Anything. You know that. You already know some of what I’ve done. And I don’t regret any of it. I’d do it again,” He starts moving his hips faster now, plunging his length in and out of your soaking wet hole while his breathing grows laboured, “I’d do anything for you.”

The words make your head light. You’re moving your hips in time to his thrusts, tugging on his hair to let him know to keep going. Hearing your best friend make noises of pleasure, noises you’re not supposed to hear from him, is making you only desire more.

Seonghwa shifts positions, just enough so that your legs are bent back so he can hit your sweet spot with every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to the bedsheets once more, digging into them as he fucks you.

“You look so fucking beautiful taking my cock,” He grunts and runs his hand through his hair quickly with one hand to get it out of his eyes.

The gesture, so familiar, one you’ve seen him do often, strikes you in the chest. His desperation is evident in his eyes, in his voice, in every action he’s taken since he grabbed your wrist earlier. This is still your best friend, the realization dawning, this is still Seonghwa.

You’re just seeing all aspects of him now.

You aren’t sure what compels you to reach for his hand but you do, sliding it up to your neck. His eyes light up at what you’re requesting, that shark’s grin returning so quickly that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hand tightens around your neck while he fucks you. The muscles on his arm tightens; he pushes you back against the pillows while fucking you hard and fast.

“I’d do anything for you,” He repeats, voice breaking, “I’d have done anything you ever wanted if you just asked.” The pleasure is overtaking him and his mind is wandering, jumping from topic to topic, telling you all the things he’s ever thought about. “Fuck, my hand around your neck…” He grips you harder and you make a small noise which only drives his cock harder in your hole. “You look like a ragdoll taking my dick with your lips parted like that. I watched you through your window last week. You looked so tired. I thought – fuck, I thought about my hands around your neck, choking you while I fucked you into oblivion so you could sleep.”

I watched you through your window last week.

The angle and his hand on your neck is bringing you to another climax which you didn’t think could be possible. You can barely breathe, can barely move your hips to meet his thrusts. You’re so close to finishing, watching how Seonghwa’s eyes never leave your face, how intensely he is staring at you, no expression on his face as he fucks you.

With the little air you have left, you ask the question again. “Tell me what you’d do for me.” The words are so soft that you aren’t sure anyone else but Seonghwa could have heard them – he’s just too in tune with you.

“I’d fucking kill for you.”

And you’re cumming on his cock then. Seonghwa releases his grip on your neck so he can hear your hoarse moans. He hasn’t stopped fucking you, moving his hips the entire time you’re orgasming. You keep saying his name, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, making more noise than you ever have before.

Seonghwa pulls out, wiping the sweat from his brow before leaning forward, grabbing your face and going, “Open your mouth.” You do immediately and he spits in your mouth lewdly before kissing you hungrily. When it ends, he says roughly, “I’m gonna cum in your cunt now. Get on your knees.”

Your body protests a little while doing so, tired and sore from cumming so much and being fucked so hard. But once your ass is in the air, Seonghwa’s hands are on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock. He doesn’t waste any time and you know he must be dying to finish. You’re not used to someone putting their pleasure last like this.

The change in angle feels so good and you moan, prompting Seonghwa to go, “You’re cock starved, I love it. I love hearing you want more of me.” His hands slide to your lower back. “I love hearing you want me and none of those idiots you’ve wasted time on. All those fucking idiots. Made me sick.” He’s slamming his hips against your ass, his balls smacking against your pussy with each hurried thrust. “Makes me fucking sick to think of them touching you instead of me. They never deserved you. They never understood you, not like I did.”

You’re sinking into the bed, the weight of his hands on your lower back giving you no choice, your ass high in the air now as Seonghwa fucks you mercilessly. His voice is slurring at the edges, his words hazy like small things being tugged towards the light for the first time.

“I knew they couldn’t fuck you like I could or take care of you like I could. Just idiots, circling around you and I tried so hard to be nice. I wanted to be nice to those idiots because of you. Everything I do is because of you because I love you so much. F-fuck,” He does a particularly hard thrust and groans, “I wasn’t perfect. I knew I was doing bad things. Getting them fired from jobs. Snooping through their emails. Slashing their tires. I knew –” His breath caught, and his hands move to your ass, gripping it hard enough to leave marks. “I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself. I was in love with you for so long and sometimes it’s enough to drive a man crazy.”

Seonghwa is fucking you so hard that you can’t even move. You lay against the bed, taking his cock, your eyes almost rolling into the back of your head from how it good it is. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. The way he’s fucking you combined with his speech is making your head utterly blank – it just feels so good. All of it feels so good. You think your tongue might be poking out from between your lips. All you know is he’s going to make you finish again.

“I’m gonna fuck you like this every night, I’m gonna – fuck. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m going to fuck you and no one is ever going to bother you again because you’re mine now. Tell me you’re mine, I want to hear you tell me.”

Using the last of your energy, you moan out, “I’m yours, I belong to you, I’m yours.”

Seonghwa grunts, giving one last thrust while going, “Now take my load in that sweet cunt of yours.”

His cum is warm in your cunt as he empties his balls, filling you up until it’s leaking out of your hole. You’re finishing again as well, perfectly in sync with your best friend. You’ve fallen on the bed, making an unholy amount of noise from the intense orgasm, completely overstimulated. Seonghwa has pulled out of your cunt, leaving a long strand of cum along your lower back as he finishes.

Your eyes are closed, feeling completely fucked out. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth; you couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. Seonghwa shifts behind you, sliding off the bed, leaving the room. A few moments later, he returns and you can feel a towel along your back, cleaning you up before he shifts, sliding closer to your body.

Seonghwa’s arms carefully wrap around you, pulling your body towards him. You curl up against his chest, eyes closing. He’s kissing the top of your head, his fingers trailing along your back in gentle touches. All his earlier energy is gone, depleted, and now he is soft and inviting.

You tilt your face to look at Seonghwa, reaching upwards to graze his jawline with your fingertips. He kisses them too. Would it be so wrong to have everything with him? To be so adored and loved with someone who has known you forever? His eyes are cutting through your defenses, nuzzling into the soft spot of your brain that should know better.

Your lips find his.

A cloud covers the moon.

*

               You’re wearing just one of Seonghwa’s shirts, sitting on the edge of his bed in the morning light. He left twenty minutes ago to get coffee from your favourite spot, leaving you alone in his apartment.

               You’re thinking about him.

               You’re thinking about the soft kisses he gave you upon waking, his smile that you know so well, the way he looked shirtless in the morning light.

               He had cupped your cheek, said he was going to get coffee and you felt a pang at him leaving, even for just a little while. Even just for twenty minutes.

               Relief swoops through you when the front door opens, and Seonghwa calls your name. He comes down the hallway and stops in the doorway. His jacket is already removed, just wearing a hastily thrown on Star Wars t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He places one coffee cup on his dresser, running his fingers through his hair with his hand. He’s smiling, sitting down next to you.

               “I missed you,” He admits bashfully, holding onto your coffee, his eyes dropping to your lap, “Should I keep it?”

               Your hands are curled around the handle of the axe. You look at the blade; your reflection is distorted. He rests his chin on your shoulder, peering at you, waiting for your choice. Everything with Seonghwa is your choice because he loves you so much. He doesn’t question that you’ve been sitting in his bed, holding his axe, lost in thought.

               You’ve been thinking about what is right, what’s wrong and what you want.

               You kiss his forehead, and he makes a noise of contentment.

               “You should keep it,” You declare, shifting the axe into his lap carefully. “Just in case.”

               Seonghwa grins cheerfully.

               “Yeah, just in case.”

the end.

[waldau]

wanna be yours — chwe hansol | 2,208 words | fluff

i'm asexual as fuck (the irony) but friends with benefits to lovers is a delicious trope i would love to see more of. title from i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys.

gender neutral reader. college!au. warnings: mentions of sex but no actual descriptions of anything. also reader is mentioned not to like coffee, because i dislike coffee. soz <3

the last person you expected to see tonight was chwe vernon, dressed in his usual bomber jacket and slacks. yet here he is, crashing into the empty place on the sofa next to you. he doesn't say a word, simply squeezes his eyes shut and throws a hand over his eyes. dino keeps talking like there's been no interruption, but you're hyperaware of the way your legs are almost touching.

you and vernon didn't really run in the same circles before you got together, so it is odd to see him here amidst all of your friends.

"hey," you say, ducking down so you don't disturb the others.

"hurts," he says back, pressing his face into your shoulder. you look around, but no one really seems to be paying attention to you, some of them engrossed in beer pong and the others making idle conversation.

"what does?"

"my...head."

you wince in sympathy. "drank a lot?"

he shakes his head. "not that much. but i can't find seungkwan, and he has the keys to our dorm."

"so you decided to find...me?"

"better you than anyone else."

you don't respond to that, and you can tell by the way his head grows heavier on your shoulder within the next few minutes means he's asleep.

the first few months of your relationship with vernon were based solely on sex. it's the usual story — you met at another of minghao's parties (really, a catalyst for trouble), and hit it off surprisingly well with vernon. there was something you saw between you both and following it ended up with you in his bedroom.

when it was time for you to leave, it somehow didn't feel awkward. so you decided to test the arrangement another time. and another. and it's led you to whatever you have now, which is arguably more complicated than a normal relationship.

for starters, the past few weeks vernon's been visiting your dorm haven't been about sex. no, you've had actual arguments about which lord of the rings movie is the best and why shrek deserves yet another sequel. you've even baked with him, for heaven's sake (which ended not so well).

it's been less about sex and more about you fighting the urge to cuddle vernon when he throws an arm over your shoulder, or when he shares his blanket with you when you're feeling cold (which happens to be your blanket in the first place).

long story short, you like him, and he makes you feel some type of way you can't possibly let him know.

vernon twitches a bit when you pick up your cup from the table, toying with it but not actually drinking from it. you rest your hand on his thigh, hoping he doesn't wake up, while you contribute to the conversation every now and then. you pointedly ignore the looks dino's giving you.

this means nothing. vernon only found you because he knows you the most out of everyone here. he'd be in his own place by now if he'd found seungkwan.

still, there's something about the fact that he trusts you enough to fall asleep on you in front of people he's not entirely familiar with. that has to count for something, right?

people keep entering and leaving the room as the party goes on into the night. when the person next to you gets up to leave, you shift a bit down the sofa and pull vernon's head into your lap so his neck doesn't hurt when he wakes up. dino asks if he should wait for you before he leaves, but you make him go. it's not often you get to be like this with vernon, and you'd much rather he got back in one piece.

it's only when your back twinges and the music begins dying down and you remember you have an essay due next week you haven't begun working on that you decide to wake him up. you look down at the boy in your lap. he looks so much at ease, face devoid of the frown he sports every now and then. you feel almost guilty waking him up.

"vernon," you say, pushing his shoulder. "get up, both of us need to sleep."

vernon blinks his eyes open slowly. "wha'?"

"you. me. sleep. now."

"you want to sleep together? now?"

you trip on your words. "that's not what— i just need my sleep, sol." you bite your tongue at the name that slips out of your mouth. he doesn't mind his close friends calling him that, but you don't think you're there. or you'll ever get there.

"oh," he says, pushing himself up to sit.

"feeling better?"

"much," he says, running a hand through his hair. "but i had to tell you something, actually." he looks shifty. that gets your attention — vernon is many things, but he's never hesitant.

"i, um. i think we should stop seeing each other."

that shocks you the way falling into an icy cold pool would, the water taking no time to permeate your clothes and sting your skin with the cold and rendering you somewhat unable to breathe when it finally hits. "i'm sorry?"

"i said, i think we should stop seeing each other. not that the sex was bad," he says hastily, and you wince. that's a weird thing to say. "no, really. it's been great. it's just...i like someone, like, actually like them, and i feel being in this relationship would be weird."

you can't resist. "do i know them?"

vernon meets your eyes briefly before they dart away to the blank television screen in front of you. "i guess you could say that."

you rack your brains for who it could be. some names pop up in your mind: a girl from his friend group you've spoken to a few times, another from the library, the guy in english lit — but none of them shine as the number one contender for his affections.

you're one of the few close friends vernon has, but it doesn't matter. of course he wouldn't like you like that.

"fine," you say, feeling anything but. "okay."

vernon's looking at you like you're an injured puppy.

"i hope you get with whoever it is," you say, aware you sound a bit snappish, but you don't care. it's not your fault for liking someone as brilliant as vernon, only to be reminded that he doesn't really like you back. you're certain he likes your body more than he likes you, anyway.

"that's it?"

"what?"

"you're fine with it? just like that?"

you frown. "i'm not going to stop you if you want to go. we're not together. you should be with someone you really like."

"sweetheart..."

you shudder at the nickname that falls from his lips. you always like hearing it, more so the fact that vernon says it unconsciously. but now it sounds like a nail scraping against a chalkboard. you're not the sweetheart he wants. "i have a couple of classes in the morning."

"wait. it's a saturday."

"so?"

"we don't have classes on saturdays."

"yeah, well, that's you," you say, pulling out your phone to check the time. it's much later than you expected it to be. "dino's in the lab on weekends and i promised to help him out this time."

"listen—"

"i'll be glad if you let me go, vernon. i shouldn't have stayed this late in the first place."

"why are you acting so weirdly?"

you look up to see him frowning at you. why are you acting so weird, huh?

"i'm not. i just— i don't have to justify anything to you." you know you're being ruder than the situation calls for, but vernon is one of a kind. he'd taken to you despite the fact that you weren't one of the "popular" ones when you started out, and you'd managed to find a lot of common ground with him.

but the fact that you thought he'd like you back was stupidity on your part. you curse dino for hinting vernon might like you back.

"i'm sorry," you say, resting a hand on vernon's arm for a moment. he moves back at the touch and your stomach sinks even further. "i'm sorry this didn't work out. i hope you get with whoever you like. i'm just...tired. a bit. i hope this doesn't mean we'll...stop being friends?" it's a stupid thing to ask, but it's your last resort.

"i would," vernon says, crossing his arms, "if they weren't so dense."

"what?"

"i'd love to get with them if they realized i don't call anyone else sweetheart."

you freeze. you become aware of the people still present in the room, someone laughing, bottles clinking, bass still thumping, but— sweetheart?

"what are you trying to say, vernon?" you ask, making your voice as steady as possible.

"i'm trying to say that the person i want to get with doesn't really understand what flirting is."

you almost drop your phone. "no. vernon, you're not doing this. you don't mean it."

"i do."

"vern—"

"i'm not drunk anymore, see? and i do mean it. i don't just want us to be friends with benefits. i want us to be more. i want to take you out to dinner and stay up hearing you talk about why freud is the worst person you've ever had to read about. i want to watch whatever the heck it is you like. i want to date you. if you want me to, that is."

you're more surprised at how lucidly he's speaking, without a pause, more than what he's saying. but the meaning of his words slams into you like a tidal wave hardly a minute later. "if i want to, he says," you laugh helplessly.

vernon raises a perfect eyebrow. "well?"

you sigh and fiddle with your phone cover. "i don't— i've never been in a real relationship. not a long term one."

vernon moves closer to you, your knees now pressed against each other despite the fact that there's no one else on the sofa you're sharing. you can't even bring yourself to care about all the other people in the room. "really?"

you nod, feeling a strange sense of embarrassment creep up your neck. vernon simply lays a hand on your thigh. "hey. you know that's not a bad thing, right?"

you shrug.

"it's not," he repeats, rubbing his thumb across your knee. "and it doesn't bother me. is that what's troubling you?"

you shake your head. "you're just...the first person to want to be with me, even if it's just for sex."

"hey, it hasn't been all for sex. what about all those movie marathons we had? and that one time i helped you bake a cake for jun?"

"you mean you tried?"

vernon flicks your forehead, but moves in immediately to kiss it. the slight touch has you burning up, and you pray he doesn't feel it. "yeah. tried. but that's the thing, isn't it? it wasn't always about the sex for me. was it...the same for you?"

you can't get yourself to lie now. "it was," you say, putting your phone down and taking his free hand, fiddling with his fingers. "it is. i didn't mean to clam up like that. it's just...i want this with you, too, vernon. i've spent so long thinking about it. i'm sorry."

vernon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "don't apologize, sweetheart. and it's a relief. i've never felt this way with anyone before. also, i've only had a couple of flings before you, but i really want this to go somewhere. and i want to try it with you."

you try to speak, but nothing comes out. you bury your face in your hands. "aren't you supposed to be drunk?" you ask.

"you always sober me up, sweetheart."

you shake your head and let it fall against the back of the sofa, vernon's hand cushioning the fall. there's silence for a while before he speaks.

"you know, no one's like that."

"like what?" you ask, slightly affronted. "is that supposed to be an insult or a pick-up line?"

vernon laughs a breathy laugh. "no friend with benefits offers to look after their partner when they're bored or drunk or whatever. and they certainly don't show up to basement music shows. you're...really the only person who gets me, you know? but now that i know you, like, really like me..."

"like you back."

you love his grin. "can i take you out on a date?"

"i...don't drink coffee," you say breathlessly.

vernon raises an eyebrow.

"milkshakes. or i could drink coffee, maybe. you like it, so i can try."

"there. again. you're too nice for your own good."

"it's just...me. i can't help— mmph," you get cut off when vernon leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. and another. you push him away before someone notices and teases you.

"i'm going to get some sleep, and we'll meet tomorrow. at a good place. not in my bed."

"you mean today."

"do you want me to cancel on you?"

"no," vernon laughs against your hair. "tomorrow. anything you want."

[bakugous-tits]

Special Delivery

Hello Hello! So if anyone has seen, I've been talking about working on a new Kirishima fic set in the Fractured Flame universe- This is not that. This is another repost of one of my old favourites, but I promise I AM WORKING ON KIRISHIMA! Anyway, I wrote this for a BNHarem discord collab ages ago, and love it too much to let it die <3

Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 4,636

Warnings: Fluffy and Smutty, There is an explosion and a description of the aftermath, Office Sex, Squirting and, you know me, there's a Creampie <3

Enjoy!

Working at the Ground Zero hero agency had perks. There was a fantastic coffee shop across the road, with surprisingly reasonable prices, it’s near to the bus stop, and the wide and tall windows allowed you a beautiful view of the city. The number of ridiculously attractive heroes that worked there was also a very welcome perk. 

With the likes of Red Riot, Chargebolt, Pinky and Cellophane in their ranks, you had no shortage of eye candy every day. But somehow, they were consistently overshadowed by the most domineering presence in the office. The boss, Dynamight, always took over the room simply by being there. 

You were just a secretary, doing nothing more than assisting with filing of paperwork, fielding calls, and similar clerical duties. You were friendly enough with the heroes, but you always wondered why they ever even made time to come and say hi to such a lowly employee like yourself. Pinky would occasionally come over and chat about your plans for the weekend, giggling with you about going to this club or that, telling you wild stories about her own time in various parties. Red Riot would bring you coffee sometimes, claiming that you needed the help to keep you going in a busy office like theirs. Chargebolt and Cellophane, predictably, would come over and flirt with you at every opportunity they could, leaning against your desk with charming grins. But the boss… He would simply eye you from across the room, his calculating gaze following you as you went to the copy machine, or had to deliver papers to another secretary. It was a little unnerving, to have him watch you so closely, but a small part of you always felt a small thrill run through you at his attention. You never saw him do it to any other employee. Just you.

At first, you thought you’d upset him somehow, going over every action in your head to find what you’d done wrong, coming up empty. Sure, you’d made a few mistakes when you first started working for the agency, but that had been so long ago! And you’d been new, everyone makes mistakes at first! You made it a point to become an exemplary employee from then on, double and triple checking your work before handing it in, and making sure it got in early if possible. The other heroes had commented on your increase in ability, making you smile at your success. Dynamight simply huffed at you, his eyes scanning over you from head to toe, making your back straighten. He hadn’t said a word until his friends began to leave, walking past you and ducking down at the last minute to rumble out a quiet ‘good job.’ as he left, acting as if nothing had happened.

That was the first time you’d had the thought cross your mind.

Did he like you?

You’d dismissed the thought almost immediately. A secretary at his agency, with a weak quirk that was barely usable? No way he even saw you as more than a gnat buzzing around him on a daily basis, able to be ignored but always there. 

And yet, as time went on, you noticed more and more. His friends would be huddled around him, glancing in your direction with shit-eating grins and murmuring to him, and he would frown at their words, stomping off with pink dusting his high cheekbones. The eyes that watched you so closely as you walked past wouldn’t be trained on you in general, but your face directly. Sometimes you even caught him staring at your ass as you went past, going back to his conversation with a clearing of his throat. 

He never approached you, and you never brought it up.

How could you? Not only was he miles out of your league, but he was your boss. There was no way you could pursue him, and he obviously wasn’t into you enough to speak to you about it. You let it go, resigning yourself to pine over him in secret, never revealing to anyone about your secret.

“You like Bakugou, don’t you?” Pinky sure had a weird way of starting conversations, jolting you out of some document you’d been working on on your laptop. You looked up at her with wide eyes, your brows furrowing. “I mean, you look at him a lot. I know most people do, but- like- you really take the cake, sweetie.” She was leaning her hip against your desk, one hand placed on the surface as she gave you a wicked grin. The glint in her eyes was positively evil, flicking over to where Dynamight and Red Riot were talking in his office, the door open. Both of their brows were furrowed, their hushed conversation seeming a lot more serious than their usual banter. You looked through the door for a moment before shaking yourself out of your distracted state, looking up at Pinky with flushed cheeks.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only look at Dynamight as my boss, that’s all.” Her grin only widened, a giggle escaping her lips as she shakes her head. She threw a thumb over in the direction of the men, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Don’t panic, silly! He’s totally into you too. You should see the way his ears perk up whenever anyone mentions you.” She leans down further, seemingly about to whisper something to you, but she’s interrupted by a new voice.

“What are we talkin’ about?” Chargebolt sauntered over, holding a mug of coffee as he looked between the two of you. You go to open your mouth, but a further different voice cuts you off before you can speak.

“We talkin’ about Blasty and his crush? Oh, I am so here for that.” Cellophane joined up, leaning an elbow on Chargebolt’s shoulder, his wide grin focused down on you. With all 3 heroes focusing on you, your face flushed further, making you shuffle the papers on your desk and look for something, anything to change the conversation. You cleared your throat, wondering if bringing up the weather was too obvious a deflection, when a booming voice called out to the 3 heroes crowding you.

“Oi! Get the hell in here, we got plans to go over.” Dynamight addressed his colleagues, but his eyes were solely focused on you, flitting over you as if to check you were okay. As the three groaned and dragged themselves away, you couldn’t help but give him a small smile and a thankful nod.

He didn’t give you anything in return, but the way his shoulders seemed to relax made something in your chest flutter.

-------------------------------------------------

Their plans to infiltrate a villain hideout had been perfect, Dynamight’s tactical thinking making everything go off without a hitch. All 5 heroes had been celebrated for their bravery, quick thinking and overall skill, as this had been a big job catching a sought-after villain. You were happy for them, even if it meant a mountain of paperwork for you. It should have been boxed off, over and done with. So why was the office on fire, debris and smoke everywhere?

You coughed, dragging yourself out from under your desk where it had ended up overturned on top of you, raising a hand to your head to feel the sticky wetness of blood coating it. Squinting through the smoke, your hand flew to your mouth, seeing your desk neighbor lying on the floor, his neck twisted at an odd angle and his eyes wide open. You wanted to scream, to get help, but the rest of the office was in chaos. Ears ringing, you looked around once more, your eyes landing on one of your heroes carrying another worker away and toward the exit, calling out orders to other people. Red Riot seemed to have his hands full there, but you opened your mouth to try and shout for him anyway, desperate to get help for your coworker and friend. 

Nothing came out of your mouth, just a croak that was lost among the screams and sounds of the agency falling apart. Tears pooled in your eyes as panic welled within you, until you managed to make out a garbled and quiet version of your name in the ringing of your ears. You turned your head, seeing Dynamight running toward you, falling to his knees as his hands cupped your face gently, tilting it and frowning when he saw your head injury. He spoke to you, but the words didn't make sense, you couldn’t hear him properly. You shook your head at him, pointing to your coworker. “He- he needs help… You have to- to help him!” You grasped onto his gauntlets, your eyes pleading with his. Dynamight turned to look at your coworker, his expression tightening as he looked back at you and shook his head, reaching to hook his arm under your knees to pick you up. You fought his grasp, screaming that your friend needed help more than you. Didn’t they understand? His neck- surely his injury was worse, you could wait, he needed someone to help him! The further you got from the wreckage of the office, the less your ears rang, finally allowing you to hear Dynamight’s words. “He’s gone… It’s too late, we can’t help him, we gotta get you out of here…” Gone… too late…Your eyes fluttered shut as the world was enveloped in black, your mind too exhausted to keep up.

-------------------------------------------------

It smelled clean. Too clean, and there was an incessant beeping that wouldn’t shut the fuck up somewhere off to your left. You frowned, trying to open your eyes and immediately closing them in pain when the stark white ceiling and fluorescent lights blinded you. Trying again, slowly this time, you squinted your eyes open, moving to raise your arm to rub your eyes and stopping when you felt a tug at your elbow joint. Looking down, you saw an IV attached to you, and your frown deepened.

What the fuck happened? Finally registering a hushed but angry sounding voice in the room with you, you glanced around. Near the doorway, wearing casual clothes and holding his phone up to his ear, Dynamight was hissing at someone on the other end of the line. “... don’t care about the costs, I’ll help cover ‘em. We gotta get the office rebuilt… Listen, Shitty Hair, I won’t let some minor thugs think we can be taken down by something like this. We get rebuilt, and show ‘em they can come at us with whatever they got- we ain’t stoppin’.” He turned in place, his eyes roving over the floor, up the bed, and finally resting on your open eyes. His own eyes widen at the sight of you awake, his feet already bringing him closer. “...gotta go.”

Dynamight hung up the phone, pocketing it as he stopped by the side of your bed, leaning both hands on the covers. You eyed him for a moment, unsure what to say, before you tentatively reached out, covering his hand with yours as tears filled your eyes. “Thank you. For saving me.” His hand froze under yours, his eyes shooting to stare at the limbs with what looked like panic before he relaxed, flipping his hand over to grip yours. With a sigh, his free hand came up to scrub down his face, his eyes moving to yours and staying locked on the bandage you could feel above your eye. “Scared the shit outta me, princess. Thought- with how close you were to the door- didn’t think you’d made it.” His words are tight, almost choked, and you frown at him.

“What happened? I don’t really… remember…” “S’fine, doctors said it’d probably be blurry. We thought we got ‘em all. But we missed one, a guy who was pretendin’ to be quirkless. We didn’t think he was even really one of the villains, more like a civilian caught up in it… just a good actor, I guess. He- he built a bomb. Packaged it up like a delivery and dressed the part, got in and left it on my desk. He had the detonator and I got him before he was outta the building but he- turns out he had a quirk. Technopath, or some shit, let him detonate it even though we were downstairs… I’m- I’m so sorry, I thought I got ‘em all…” His free hand clenched into a fist, you’d never seen him look so distraught. You squeezed the hand still in your grip, giving him a small smile. “You had no way of knowing, Dynamight. You did everything you were supposed to.” “Bakugou. Don’t bother with my hero name here.” Your eyes widened, but you nodded. Without letting go of your hand, Bakugou pulled a chair up to the side of your bed, staring at your intertwined fingers. You’d never been this close to him, not like this, but right now you needed the comfort. Not questioning it, you let him play with your hand, enjoying the companionable silence until he opened his mouth again.

“I really thought… When I got up there, and saw everything all- destroyed… I really thought I’d lost you.” You frowned, about to speak, but he cut you off. “Don’t- Just lemme talk, okay? I’m a coward. I spent all this time tellin’ myself I didn’t have to tell you, because you were always right there for when I was ready. Let myself think nothin’ would ever happen, but- then it did. And when I got up there and couldn’t find you… I just thought- I thought ‘I should have told her.’ Because I didn’t think I had a chance. And then I saw you, and it was like I had a second chance. So here I am- takin’ that chance. You know what I’m talkin’ about, right?” Bakugou turned his head towards you, his eyes pleading, a nervous twitch to his brow. Your eyes had widened a long time ago, your heart pounding in your chest as you processed his words. 

Slowly, a smile crept across your lips, your head nodding. “Yeah, I know. I’d like that, a lot.”

-------------------------------------------------

It’s amazing the difference a few weeks can make.

A few weeks ago, you never would have dreamed that you could call Katsuki Bakugou yours, and yet here you were. Turns out that dating your boss is okay if your boss is literally at the top of the food chain at work, and no one is going to call him out on his shit. Mina, Sero, Kaminari and Kirishima were overjoyed at this development, teasing Bakugou at every opportunity they could, not having to hide it in front of you anymore. This in turn delighted you, loving the blush and harsh glare that would appear on his face, the soft pops  and crackles of his palms becoming one of your favourite sounds. He took you on modest, low key dates, to keep you away from the prying eyes of the public, and you loved how silently affectionate he became. A hand in yours as you walked home after a date, a gentle kiss at your doorstep, a lingering touch at your lower back as you turned away that had your thighs tingling. 

The little glint of hunger in his eyes as he watches you leave.

It was like you were back in high school, closing your front door and squealing into your hands after each date, wanting more than anything to drag him into your home and fuck him senseless right there in the entryway. The only thing stopping you was that every time you tried to, he stopped and said he had something special planned for your first time together. You trusted that he knew what he was doing.

As he walked you toward the office one evening, you thought he’d lost his mind.

You had been having nightmares about the building ever since the event, waking up gasping for air as if you were still stuck in the smoke filled room. Your heart was pounding just looking at the building, your steps slowing until you came to a complete stop, looking at him warily. He gave you a rare smile, tugging on your hand gently to bring you into his side. “Just trust me, yeah?”

And you did. Because he’d never done a single thing to make you lose faith in him, even before you were together, there was probably no one else on the planet that you trusted more. 

Bakugou walked you into the building, keeping you tucked into his side the whole time. It was odd being here after hours, the building looking so dark compared to the usual bright sunlight that filtered through the large glass walls. When you arrived at your floor, the lift gave a soft ding! to alert you, and you held your breath.

Suddenly, you understood. 

The whole floor had been refurbished, reinforced walls around those with cubicles, the offices with their large, see through windows being replaced with thicker, frosted glass and thicker doors, everything redesigned with a more durable design in mind. It looked entirely different, a clean slate.

Your desk was right outside of Bakugou’s door.

“I wanted to keep you close, in case anything happens again…” Bakugou’s free hand reached up to swipe at his nose, a bashful blush trickling across his cheeks. Your eyes watered slightly as you realised that he’d done this for you. The other staff would benefit too, of course, but he’d made some of the changes with you and your fears in mind, bringing you back here to show you that it wasn’t the same anymore, that you wouldn’t ever be back in that position again.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. A soft kiss to the top of your head had you pulling back, looking up at him for just a moment before you pushed up to press your lips to his. One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek, keeping you from moving away as he kissed the breath from your lungs, pushing you back against the lift doors, the cool metal biting at your back through your clothes. 

Bakugou reached down, grasping your thighs and lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you through the office space and into his office, kicking the thick door closed behind him and seating you on the edge of his desk. He finally pulled back, letting you breathe as he moved his lips to your neck, inching toward your collarbone. When he found that little spot on your collarbone that had you gasping, he smirked into your skin, biting down on the flesh softly before latching his lips there, leaving behind a deep mark. Finally leaning back, he reached up to grasp the back of your head, tugging it so he could straighten up and look down at your panting form.

“Gonna help me christen the office, princess?” The pet name had your core throbbing, your mouth parting around a soft moan as you nodded your head, his lips spreading into a dark grin. You’d been waiting weeks for this, for him, and now that he was between your thighs, his hard length pressed up against your pussy through your clothes, you couldn’t wait to get him inside you. Bakugou reached for the hem of your shirt, ripping it up and off you. Pulling one of the cups of your bra down, he moved to wrap his lips around your nipple, making you unwrap your hands from his neck, leaning back on the desk to give him better access. The office was so quiet, just the lewd noise of Bakugou sucking on your breast and your soft panting filled the air, one of your hands moving to unclip your bra behind your back. As the garment fell down your arms, one of his hands came up to tweak at your other nipple skillfully, a sharp pinch making you cry out for him. 

The way he handled you, harshly but as if you would break if he went too hard, was making your brain fog over with lust. You couldn’t focus on anything but him, his tongue flicking at your nipple, his fingers on your breast, his hips rolling into yours slowly. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, you just needed more. Bringing one hand up to his shirt, you tugged at it until he understood you wanted it off, leaning away and pulling it over his head to reveal what could only be described as an adonis-like body. Pale scars littered his skin, evidence of his past battles, and you reached out to trace a few of them softly, flicking your eyes up to his before leaning forward to kiss him once again. Bakugou placed his hands firmly on your hips, pulling them closer to grind into you more intently. Forgoing his scars, you let your hand trace down his abs, feeling them twitch under your fingers until you reached his waistband, undoing his jeans deftly and reaching into his pants to cup his erection through his boxers. He hissed into the kiss, his lips separating from you as he rested his forehead against yours, looking down at where your hand disappeared into his open jeans.

Smirking at his reaction, you pushed at his clothing until both his pants and boxers were around his thighs, freeing his cock for you to wrap your hand around. Your mouth filled with saliva just looking at his cock, long and thick and just asking for you to wrap your lips around it instead, but Bakugou wouldn’t let you move him away to get to your knees. “Sorry, babe, but if you put that pretty mouth on me I won’t last. Next time.” Pouting, you nodded your head at him, moving to get your own jeans off. Bakugou helped pull them off you, leaning back to get a good look at you when you were bare before him. He bit his lip, eyes tracing over every curve, every piece of skin hungrily, and your face heated at his attention. “So fuckin’ beautiful…” You didn’t have time to react to his uttered words, because in the next moment he had you on your back on his desk, his hands pushing at the backs of your thighs to push them against your chest. His mouth descended on your aching core, tongue pushing into you to taste the sweet wetness gathered there, before he moved it up to your clit, suckling harshly at your sensitive bud. You cried out sharply at his treatment, a hand shooting down to tangle in his hair, fingers tightening in his soft strands as your walls pulsed around nothing, begging for something to fill you. Bakugou stood, separating from your clit with a pop! as he grinned down at you. “Sorry, needed to have a taste of that sweet pussy, princess. Tastes just like I thought- perfect.” Eyes hooded, chest heaving, you were about to scream at him to just fuck you already, but he seemed to get the idea from your look. Bakugou pressed the blunt head of his cock to your entrance, one hand keeping one of your thighs pressed open for him while the other squeezed at the base of his length. He looked up to lock eyes with you once more, a brow raised in question, giving you one last chance to back out. You nodded as you braced yourself, knowing that this would hurt a little as he wasn’t exactly small. 

Bakugou pushed his hips forward, the head of his cock popping past your entrance, the both of you exhaling slowly as he pushed further and further into your core, parting your walls until his hips were flush with yours. You dragged in a ragged breath, the burning stretch edging on pain before melting into complete pleasure. Head falling back onto the table, your eyes rolled back as you squeezed around him experimentally, relishing in his groan at your actions. He swatted at your thigh as he began to pump his hips, moving both hands to your hips in order to pull you into his thrusts. Your mind was reeling with pleasure, unable to think of anything other than the drag of his thick cock against your walls. Moans tumbled freely from your lips, mostly incoherent versions of his name, interspersed with oh god’s and right there!’s. Bakugou himself wasn’t faring much better, groans leaving him on every other thrust, his brows furrowed in pleasure as he watched his cock disappear into your pliant body. 

Bakugou lifted your legs to rest both of your ankles on one broad shoulder, arms wrapping around your thighs as he pounded into you harder, yanking you into each pump of his hips, his eyes focused on your face. Watching you fall apart around him like this, was all he’d wanted for so long, now that he had it… he knew he wouldn’t ever be able to get enough. He was getting drunk off the feeling of your pussy pulling him deeper. Burying himself deeper until his tip was hitting against your cervix, the feeling causing your eyes to shoot wide open, a pressure building in your lower belly. Bakugou’s length hitting so deep and dragging against that special spot inside you, it was so much more than you’d ever felt before, that pressure building and building, a worried look appearing on your face that he catches immediately. He slows down a little, looking at you in confusion. “I- Something feels- weird- pressure…” Your words come out disjointed with his hips still slapping against you, and it takes him a second to process. Once he does, all he does is smirk and lean over you further, resuming his original pace and power, ignoring your worried words. You try to push against his abdomen, concerned at the pleasure building within you, but he’s so strong that he barely budges. Your walls start to flutter around him as you approach your climax, clamping down on him rhythmically, until-

“C’mon, princess. Make a mess on me, lemme have it.” 

It seems that his words are all you needed, flying over the edge of your orgasm as that pressure released, your cunt gushing around him as you came harder than you ever had before, your vision whiting out and your mouth caught wide open in a silent scream. Bakugou watched you come undone, your pussy clenching so hard and drawing him deeper, his own release taking over as he pumped into you, hard, and shot ropes of come deep into your body. He slowed gradually, panting hard over you as he let your legs fall to the side. The two of you caught your breath, Bakugou pressing soft kisses to your chest as he rested his forehead on your collarbone. You ran your fingers through his hair, basking in the glow of your orgasm, until he shattered the moment with a snort. With a raised brow, you looked down at him as he propped his chin on your chest.

“You fuckin’ squirted on me. So dirty, princess.” Huffing in indignation, you pushed on his forehead, ignoring his chuckles as he pulled out of you, both of you getting dressed slowly. He caught your elbow, pulling you close and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Hey- I didn’t say I didn’t like it. In fact…” He leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear as he murmurs;

“...I wanna find out how many times I can get you to squirt for me back home, baby.”

You shuddered, dressing quickly and practically dragging him back to your apartment.

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 23

Word Count: 4.4K Warnings: medical procedures, death

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: goodness me, I know it's been forever since I've updated anything. I've been in a bit of a mental rut and nothing was coming to me, but I'm finishing up a couple of updates so I'll definitely be publishing a few things this week. Also, please don't hate me for updating the less loved Twilight fic. Speak is coming soon 🫣🫣 also also, new character 👀👀

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(Y/N) knew it had been too quiet for too long.

Well, not entirely quiet.

After the encounter with Laurent in the woods, his friend Victoria had shown up. The vampire had gone through hitchhikers in Forks like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. It had the sheriff station in Forks and La Push on high alert. There were too many bodies and not enough explanations—at least none that could be known by the public.

The pack had already doubled their efforts during their patrols, doing all in their power to run the redhead out of their land while protecting the Swan duo in theirs. They had lost sleep and had been overworked for weeks. The vampire had bested them in every move, taunting the pack with her swift and calculated moves.

But the important thing was that Bella was safe, and she seemed to be getting better. At least for the past couple of weeks, she had been better. That’s what (Y/N) thought until she got a call one early March morning.

“What do you mean Bella knows about you?” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. “And it happened a week ago? Why am I just finding out? I literally talked to her before spring break started.”

“It seems Jacob hinted to the stories she used to hear when she was a kid,” Sam sighed. “Gotta give it to the kid. He really found a workaround the rules. I was gonna tell you as soon as it happened, but you had your exams and everything, so no one wanted to worry you with it.”

“How did she take it? Is everyone okay?”

“Well, Jake and Paul had a little row because Bella blamed us for Jacob keeping his distance from her,” her brother chuckled. “And, well, Paul got a bit mouthy, and Bella ended up slapping him—at least, attempting to—which cause him to get angry and phase. Subsequently Jacob phased to protect her. They’re both fine now and Bella knows everything.”

“And no rules were broken I suppose,” (Y/N) sighed. “But Bella now knows about wolves and vampires and somehow is back in the center of all supernatural danger. Isn’t this all just great?” 

“This is gonna sound harsh, but I prefer her being hunted than you, (Y/N),” Sam admitted. “I know we can protect you in our land, but this one is ruthless and relentless. I would hate for her to have your scent.”

“Well, she doesn’t, thankfully,” she said. “Don’t think she even had my description since you killed her friend. But I thought we were gonna be more proactive when sharing information now.”

“I know, but I wanted you to at least pass that test first,” he confessed. “Look at you now, on your first week as a student doctor.”

“I still can’t believe it’s happening,” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I don’t know what spirits are looking out for me, but it’s almost unbelievable that I’ve been able to do any of this. It takes months for Step 1 to be revised and for college credits to go through. But I’m knocking on wood that these miracles keep happening like this. Might just become the youngest doctor in Washington.”

“If there’s anyone who could do it, it had to be my genius sister.”

“Thanks for the flattery, it does me well in the mornings,” she chuckled. “But I do have to get into work soon. So, thank you for this new information. I will call Bella and see how she’s doing after my shift.”

“Alright, sounds good, Dr. Uley.”

“I like how that sounds,” she beamed. “I’ll see you after work. Bye, Sam.”

“Bye, Dr. Uley.”

When (Y/N) entered the hospital that morning, she believed it would be another routine day. A couple of flu cases, possibly some broken bones in the ER, maybe even a more pressing case. But she had not expected to see Harry Clearwater coming through the doors of the emergency room, Sue trailing close behind.

“(Y/N), I’m gonna need you on this one,” Dr. Mollins, the ER attending, called. “Let’s move the patient to Trauma 1. Talk to me.”

“We’ve got a man in his mid to late 50s showing signs of a severe myocardial infarction,” the paramedic said as he pushed the gurney into the building. “He went into cardiac arrest during transport, but we were able to regain sinus rhythm. He was administered two milligrams of epi.”

(Y/N) felt stuck in her spot, her limbs frozen as the familiar faces moved past her. She had seen her fair share of emergencies during her time at the hospital and her past internships. But seeing someone that she knew completely defenseless and unconscious shot ice through her veins.

“Dr. Uley!” Mollins called her again. “I need you here, now!” 

“Yes, o-of course,” the young woman stammered as she felt her brain finally jumpstart. She sent Sue an apologetic smile as she walked through the curtain that separated Harry’s room from the rest of the beds. “I’m here.”

As soon as she slid the curtain behind her, (Y/N), Eden Mollins, and a nurse started to examine Harry. His blood was extracted, his pulse and his blood pressure were taken, his lungs were listened to, and his temperature was taken. All the while, the man remained unconscious, and (Y/N) prayed to whatever was out there that he at least opened his eyes.

Every second that passed, the girl’s breath hitched in her throat. All she could do was think back at the summers she would spend in the Clearwaters home, running around with Seth and Leah while Harry watched over them, how he and Billy would gather all the kids around the bonfire to tell them stories about the ancestors, how he watched over her and Sam when her father had decided to disappear from their lives.

“I wanna run an EKG and an Echo on the patient,” Eden instructed. “And call in a CT and a chest MRI. The patient is still unconscious, so…”

“Harry,” (Y/N) choked out. “His name is Harry.”

“Excuse me?”

“The patient’s name is Harry,” she restated. “Harry Clearwater.”

“Do you know the pa… Mr. Clearwater, Uley?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You have to tell me right now if that will impair your treatment of the patient today, Uley,” the doctor said. “I cannot have you freeze like you did.”

“Good,” he nodded. “He seems stable for now, so go out there and get some background from the wife. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then.”

The doctor slid the curtains open to reveal a teary-eyed Sue. Once he was gone, (Y/N) allowed herself to throw her arms around the woman, wrapping her in a tight, warm hug as she whispered how sorry she was. “What happened, Sue?” she whispered. “What caused this? He seemed fine last week.”

“Oh gods, (Y/N), it was just too much for him,” the woman sniffled. “It was Leah. She phased.”

“W-what? Leah shifted into a wolf? How is that possible?”

“That’s not all. The second Harry was down, Seth phased too,” she added. “He said only boys turned into wolves, (Y/N). How could it be that Leah is one too?”

“I could not tell you, Sue,” (Y/N) breathed. “This is just as new to me as it is to you. But what could have triggered the change in Leah? I don’t get it. Thought there were normally signs.”

“Well, she had been acting out a lot recently, and her body started changing dramatically. I thought she was just being a normal moody teenager and that maybe she was going through a second puberty,” Sue sighed. “But this morning, we were arguing about how horrible her mood swings had been, and she just exploded. One second, my daughter was standing before us. And the next, there was a grey wolf breaking through our couch. The shock sent Harry down. His heart just couldn’t take it—you know he’s always had trouble with it. Then, Seth—poor thing—seeing his father go down got so anxious that he shifted too. I tried calling Sam after I called 911, but Emily told me he was out with his wolves chasing that leech out of the forest. “It was all so sudden, (Y/N),” the woman cried, taking (Y/N)’s offered hand. “She ran out the door with Seth behind and I couldn’t stop them. I had to get Harry to the hospital.”

“Oh, Sue, that’s just horrible,” the girl said. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“Tell me, (Y/N). Is it bad? Is Harry gonna be okay?”

(Y/N) took in a steadying breath as she braced herself to tell one of the people who had essentially raised her that her husband was not showing good signs. How could she speak those words when she didn’t want to believe them herself? “Look, Sue, I can’t lie to you. Things are not looking good,” she explained. “With his age, his pre-existing condition, and the severity of this episode, it’s still too early to tell. We need him to wake up in order to assess the situation fully. If not…”

“I know,” Sue interjected. “I just don’t know what I would do without him.”

“Okay, let’s not go there just yet, Sue,” (Y/N) stammered. “Why don’t you call someone to be with you while we run labs? I wouldn’t want you to be alone right now.”

“Don’t worry about me, (Y/N),” she softly smiled. “I already called Charlie and Billy. They’re on their way here already.”

“Good. I’m gonna go check on his labs. If you need anything or need me here, just let one of the nurses know and they’ll page me right back.”

“That’s alright, (Y/N). I know you’re busy.”

When she left the room, (Y/N) finally felt like she could breathe. But there was a nagging in the deepest corners of her head that was telling her that something bad was going to go down. Yet, she wanted to listen to the rational side of her brain. Harry was in the best place to receive treatment if another episode were to happen. She had to trust that they would be able to help him. She simply had to.

The girl busied herself with other patients’ labs and filing anything that kept her as far away from Harry’s results as possible. She couldn’t face another loss so quickly. Not yet. She wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.

During her short life, (Y/N) had faced too many grievances that had forced her to grow up too quickly. Her father had walked out of her life when she was too young, and she needed him the most, forcing her mother to spend too much time at work and too little time at home. Most of the time, it was only Sam and her at home dealing with their schoolwork and food. Then, right as they were learning how to be the dynamic duo, she was accepted at St. Agustine Prep, and she had to learn how to be by herself for the better part of four years. After, she met the man she thought would be her future, and he ripped her heart apart like it hadn’t been fragile to begin with. Sadness was simply a part of (Y/N)’s existence, but she didn’t think there was more she could take.

(Y/N) prayed quietly. She prayed harder than she ever had before in her life. She didn’t know to what exactly, but she prayed.

And yet, the universe rarely played things out in the way she wanted.

The young woman was on her way to greet Billy Black and Charlie Swan when a loud ringing alarm called her attention. It was the soundtrack of despair, the theme song of disappointment, and the last thing (Y/N) wanted to hear. Her legs started moving before she could think twice, setting off for Harry’s room. There, the flatlining sound filled her ears, mixed with Sue’s pleas for help as nurses pulled her aside to allow the doctors to work.

“The patient’s coding, Uley,” Eden called out. “Start compressions. This is your call.”

(Y/N) was already on Harry before Mollins had finished his sentence. Her full attention was on her counts, pressing on his chest like she had been taught to do. One, two, three, four, all the way to thirty before the nurse administered air pumps. Then again, and again.

“Push one milligram of epi,” (Y/N) called out, not stopping her compressions for another three minutes. “Check rhythm.” 

As she removed her hands, the screen showed a red line once more, and that pesky sound filled the room again. “Still asystole,” Eden said. “Push another milligram and clear for defib.” 

(Y/N) continued her work as sweat formed on her forehead. She pushed into the man’s chest at a steady pace, even when she felt her limbs wanted to give out. Her legs trembled under her, and her heart hammered loudly against her chest, but she couldn’t stop. Even after two defibrillations that yielded no results, the girl kept administering compressions.

“Uley, it’s time to call it,” Mollins whispered softly at the young doctor. “It’s been over thirty minutes.” 

“No!” (Y/N) exclaimed. Beads of sweat were falling down her face and mixing with her tears, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Not for Harry. “I’ve gotta keep going!” 

“(Y/N),” Eden called her, taking hold of her wrists and forcing her gaze to break from the man. “It’s time to call it.”

“I can’t,” she trembled as she fell onto the doctor. “He can’t…” 

But the consistent sound of a flatline killed her words. That was it. Her first patient was gone, and it was someone she had looked up to like a father. Despite all of her efforts, he was gone, and there was nothing else she could do about it.

“Time of death: 1542,” the doctor called to the nurse before turning back to the crumbling girl. “You did everything you could, (Y/N). You did everything right.”

“But he’s gone,” she cried. “He’s gone, and I could’ve done more.”

“No. There was nothing at all that you could have done,” Eden said. "Unfortunately, this is part of the job. We can’t save them all, (Y/N), but you absolutely did everything you could have.” 

“I know I can’t save them all, but I needed to save him.” 

“Tell you what, I’m gonna break the news to the family right now,” the young man said. “You’re gonna take a second to compose yourself before you go out there, and I want you to take the rest of the day off to rest.” 

“I shouldn’t…” 

“I know that it’s unconventional, and most doctors would have said that you needed to get used to it,” he added. “But you need this, (Y/N). This case is too personal, and I know it’s gonna take a toll on you.” 

“Okay,” she whimpered. “Thank you, Dr. Mollins.” 

“I already told you, (Y/N). When we’re off a case, it’s Eden.” 

The moment Eden left the room, the silence that filled it was worse than the beeping and the alarms. It was eerie and loaded, and it made (Y/N) feel like it would swallow her at any moment.

Yet, the only other presence there was Harry. His face was covered with a white sheet, shielding his body from everyone. And for that, she was thankful. (Y/N) couldn’t look at his face. She knew her mind would trick her into thinking that he was merely sleeping and that at any moment, he would wake up and say the most unfunny joke she had heard of, but she would have laughed anyway because it would have meant that he was alive.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered to him. “I tried so hard. I hope you know that.”

“He does, honey.” Sue’s voice startled her. Tears stained the woman’s face, but her desperation was gone. She wrapped her arms around the younger girl, smoothing down her hair in a comforting manner. “He knows how hard you fought for him, (Y/N). It was just his time.”

“He was fine just last week,” she sobbed. “I can’t believe he’s just gone now.”

“As long as he is in our memories, he will never truly be gone,” the woman smiled sadly. “But he is with our spirits now, reunited with his ancestors.”

“Harry will never be forgotten that I can promise you, Sue.”

“He really loved you, (Y/N),” Sue mentioned. “He was always so amazed by everything that you were doing. He loved to boast about how far he knew you’d go to literally anyone who would listen. Deep down, he wanted Leah and Sam to work out so we’d be officially family.”

“I’m really gonna miss him, Sue. I wish I had spent more time with him these last few years. And now…”

“Oh, honey, no. Don’t do that,” the woman comforted. “Harry knew how busy you are, how busy you’ve always been. He was just so happy to know you were doing something you loved.”

“May his soul rest easy now,” the girl whimpered before placing a hand on Harry’s. “Until we meet again, Harry.”

(Y/N) excused herself from the room, allowing Sue to have one last moment with Harry. Outside, she acknowledged Charlie and Billy, giving them a sad smile before she disappeared into the doctor’s locker rooms. She couldn’t face another person who was close to Harry, not when she could still feel the beat of his heart under her hands.

Inside the locker room, she allowed herself to break down. She crumpled to the floor, clutching at her chest as every emotion came barreling down on her. There was pain and turmoil, anger and disappointment. But most of all, it was the harrowing sadness that she had been carrying since she was a little girl that draped itself over her, swallowing her completely and dragging her into the darkness.

Until a voice pulled her out. “Hey, hey, Uley,” Eden called as he kneeled in front of her. “Come on, you need to breathe. Take a deep breath.”

“I-I-I c-can’t,” she stammered. Her breath got trapped in her chest, tightening her lungs and making them burn for oxygen.

“Yes, you can. Come on,” he encouraged. “Match my breaths, okay? Come on, in and out.”

Eden took deep breaths, exhaling after holding them for five seconds. His hands found hers, forcing her gaze to snap to his. He continued the breathing exercises until she was finally able to match his pace. Her body stopped shaking, and feeling started returning to her limbs as her sobs quieted down. As weakness took over her, (Y/N) crashed onto Eden’s chest, allowing him to wrap her in a warm and comforting hug.

It was an unexpected embrace that she was more than thankful for. Eden had come to the hospital three months after Carlisle had left to fill the hole left in the emergency department. When (Y/N) had entered and started her clinical rotations, he had been tasked with being her teacher in emergency medicine.  

He had not taken to her quickly. From her work as a medical assistant, he had said she was far too young and too inexperienced to be in the hospital. Though he had eaten his words in a short amount of time, he still seemed to hold some sort of disdain for her. At least, that’s what she had thought until that very moment.

“Hey, there you go,” he cooed. “Just keep breathing, okay?”

“Gods,” (Y/N) croaked out. “I’m sorry. I know I should be okay with death, but this…”

“You don’t have to apologize, (Y/N). Never apologize for the emotions you’re feeling,” Eden reassured. “Especially not after losing someone close to you. That is something no one could ever fault you for.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” the girl blurted. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not a secret that you don’t really like me.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked, his tone hinting at being slightly offended. “I don’t think I’ve given any indication of that.”

“Come on, Eden. You’re always giving me dirty looks and have gotten mad at me at any turn this whole week. It’s not hard to decipher that you don’t really enjoy my presence at the hospital.”

“Oh god, no. That has nothing to do with you—at least not directly,” he quickly assured. "I think you’re a brilliant doctor, and I’m honestly so impressed that you’re here at your age. My attitude has more to do with the fact that my parents saw you working here a week after I finally got here, and they were on me because I could have been like you.”

“What, a terrified nineteen-year-old playing at being a doctor?”

“Christ, I didn’t think you’d heard that,” he grimaced. “That came from a really childish place. It’s just that my parents have always pushed me to be the best, much to my detriment. I had the ability to jump a few grades or do dual enrollment like you did, but I wanted the whole high school experience. So, even if I graduated at sixteen and finished my bachelor's in three years, I could have always done better. So, here I am at twenty-five and already an attending, but in comes a nineteen-year-old med student who somehow was able to skip two whole years of med school and had an almost perfect Step 1 score, and suddenly my achievements aren’t good enough anymore. I’m sorry I ever said that. I mean, I’m a grown-ass man caring what my parents think.”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled softly. “It just made me want to prove myself even more. I’m kind of used to people underestimating me.”

“Yeah, I quickly learned I shouldn’t have,” he chuckled. “You’re a great doctor, (Y/N), and a great person.”

“Well, thank you,” she beamed. "It honestly means a lot coming from you, especially now.”

“I can promise that was the first and last time I ever underestimate you,” Eden smiled brightly.  “Now, you should go home. Your brother just came back.”

“Came back?”

“He arrived when you were down at the CT scan, but he left for an emergency,” the man responded. “He just came back a minute after you left the room.”

At the word emergency, (Y/N) jumped to her feet and ran toward the emergency room, new tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It was a word that held too much weight even before the entire picture was shown. After that morning, the girl could only expect the worst.

Her limbs carried her automatically, her brain not registering where she was going until she crashed into someone. “Is someone else hurt?” she managed to croak out. “Tell me what happened, Sam.”

“Hey, breathe, (Y/N),” her brother instructed as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “No one’s hurt. Okay? It was just an accident.”

“That still doesn’t make things clearer. What accident?”

“Bella sort of jumped or slipped off a high cliff while we were running Victoria all the way up to the Canadian border,” he said. “I had been here for no more than ten minutes when Jared called me and said that Jake had gotten there just in time. She’s fine now. A bit shaken up and cold, but she’s at Billy’s house resting. You don’t have to worry, (Y/N). It’s been handled.”

“So, she almost drowned, and all she’s doing is sleeping it off?” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Why didn’t you bring her here? She needs to be checked out!”

“(Y/N), I need you to calm down, okay? She chose not to come, and you shouldn’t be worrying about this. You should be going home and resting, too.”

“But she’s…”

“You’re in no headspace to worry about other people, Bean,” Sam cooed as he smoothed down his sister’s hair. “Go home, kid. Rest up. We’ve got things from here.”

“But…”

“Go home, (Y/N),” Sue interjected, a kind smile softly stretching her face. “All that’s left here is legal mumbo jumbo. You’ve done everything you possibly can.”

“I just feel like I need to help in some way. Either here or with Bella. I just…”

“You can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself, Bean,” her brother interrupted. “I promise we’ve got everything handled here, kid.”

After much insistence and a lot of back-and-forth, (Y/N) finally agreed to take her afternoon off and head back home. But loneliness was quick to follow as soon as she was by herself. It sank its claws into her throat and started a never-ending stream of tears that stained her cheeks. Helplessness gripped her chest, nagging at her mind and reminding her of all the things she couldn’t do.

Before she knew it, the afternoon had slowly shifted into night, and (Y/N)’s eyes had fluttered shut in the hospital parking lot. Now, with less weight in her heart and a tight knot in her neck, she sputtered her truck to life and started her trip back home, where she would most likely repeat the same process all over again.

When she got there, the house was eerily quiet, and the cold seeped into her bones as though winter was still scratching its way to the surface. But she knew why it felt that way, and she knew it would be like that for a long time.

Other than Sue, (Y/N) couldn’t get Seth and Leah out of her head. Not only had they been sprung into the supernatural world in such a dramatic way, but they had also lost their father and had not been able to say goodbye. She wondered if they were scared or angry, if a part of them felt guilty. She knew she did, and she couldn’t imagine how heavy it had to weigh on their own hearts and minds.

She was typing their house number when her house phone suddenly rang in her hand, startling her. “Hello?” she said through the phone.

“(Y/N), hi, it’s uh, Bella,” the Swan girl stammered in her usual fashion. “I heard about… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, Bella,” she smiled sadly, swallowing down the knot that threatened to close her throat. “Are you okay? Sam told me what happened this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It was just a horrible accident,” Bella answered quickly. “But I’m fine now. I was actually calling about something else.”

“Oh. Uh, what is it?” 

“Do you think you could come over right after the funeral?”

“To your house?” (Y/N) questioned. “Why?”

“I think there’s someone you should see.” 

Next ->

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[ebaylee422]

Chapter 1: The Pig

The Emerald Prince and his Sapphire Princess

Aemond Targaryen X  OC Lyssa Targaryen

Author’s Note: Sorry I said I would update this what feels like months ago (which it has been). I’ve finally reached a point where I’m actually story planning and not just winging it. LMK if this chapter is too long or short in the comments, I have a hard time with deciding chapter lengths. Thank you for reading! Taglist is also open and I can remove you if you don’t want my random updates.

Summary: Rhaenyra gives birth, afterwards the children gather within the dragon pit. Where Aemond and Lyssa are put in great danger from a prank.

Characters: Mentions of the historic reigns of both Maegor and Jaehaerys

Warnings/Tags: 18+ !!!! Minors DNI. Talks of potential suicide attempt, murder and shock of nearly being killed, description of injuries to people and animals, description of birth and pregnancy. (If I missed any large ones for this chapter)

Word Count: 5k +

Prologue - 1 - 2 

“Queen Elinor found Maegor upon his throne, slashed from wrist to elbow and a stray blade of the throne threw his neck between his chin and collar. Posed as if he’d fallen backwards, his face was pale and struck with agony much like his reign.” Viserys answered the plainness of the text he’d implored me to study the past fortnight, waiting for another Velaryon and Targaryen cousin from Rheanyra. She’d started aching the past few days, explaining I would understand someday as she wished her mother had been able to explain to her. I’d waited within the corridors when Jacaerys was born, with a nose large enough to fill the lungs of his thick body. With Lucerys I held him first after his own mother he cried loud enough to shatter windows, we were surrounded deftly after by Ser Laenor and Ser Harwin to look upon the child they’d swore to protect.

“Do you think he did it? Granted himself a coward's death?” I asked, watching one of the stone workers Eddard beside my uncle carving, aiding in an articulate depiction of a vision of Old Valyria. Eddard was lean and unspoken at least for a few chuckles and smiles as I studied under Viserys. He had a kind slim face with honey eyes and delicate pale skin that showed off the rugged muscles of his hands as he worked. While the Maester took gently to tending to the King’s back with hands woven in pungent smelling white linen. My own hands soft as they tumbled over the crinkled pages of my journal, caressing to somehow untap the potential behind my writings.

“Only the walls of the Red Keep know what occurred those few hours after Towers and Rosby left the King to his thoughts. Could have been the King Guard, sworn as his shield and first line of defense. Or the Black Brides, the family believed it was Queen Elinor torn in grief and rage of her late husband and malformed stillbirth from her less than tumultuous unhappy marriage.” 

“So he was cursed then, A Mad King. After an age of conquest, came the age of insanity.”

“As the texts I gave you lead you to believe, yes? However, above all he started as a mere man, raised in scorn of his mother’s boot to become the Kinslayer he will be known for until the next conquest. ‘Maegor The Cruel’-. Ouch, careful!”

“Apologies, My King. The Wounds are spreading-” Maester (name) held up his hands in surrender as if he’d burned the King.

“That is enough for today dear Maester, please stitch me so I may continue my nieces studies. Without your distraction.”

“Yes, My King. We will allow you respite until the evening. You will soon welcome a new grandchild into the world.”

“Rhaenyra’s still in her labors? Hasn’t it been nearly a day?”

“Labors Princess, vary for many unknown reasons. Typically the size of the child is the most affecting of them.”

“Then the Princess is giving birth to a boulder, is she?” The men of the room laughed in harmony of what would be my potential horror after my marriage bed. 

“Someday you will know the great burden child, now. Suppose, why do you think they say Targaryen’s are closer to gods than men?”

“The Gods granted us Dragons.” I answer quickly as if it weren’t the most obvious part of my own life. 

“Yes, and?”

“I don’t understand. Targaryen’s gained power and control of the Kingdoms by our dragons, no common man can claim a Dragon. We can touch the whipped clouds of the sky while a man falls from a tree to stay on muddied ground. The rooftops the highest they will be until the afterlife.”

“Hmm.” He shakes his head unceremoniously and furrows his brow in concentration, 

“Uncle, now that Maegor is dead. I will learn of my namesakes?”

“Yes, Queen Alysanne our Granddam, and Princess Alyssa, my mother. Within the reign of Jaehaerys I, who ruled for a peaceful 55 years. Even if you hadn’t shared my brother's face and strong pleasure to disagree with me. Your eyes showed you were a dragon, long before you knew of us.”

“Do you think that’s why Silverwing came to me that day on the mount?”

“I don’t have to think, she knew. I’m sure if Cousin Rhaenys hadn’t laid a strong claim and bond to Meleys, she would have come to you as well. The Queens know strength when the realm needs it the most.”

“Then Queen Elinor did it, she impaled Maegor upon the throne?”

“My King, Princess. The Princess Rhaenyra has given birth to a son-”

“My, what glorious news! Lyssa my robes, we must give him a Prince's worth welcome.”

“The Queen has requested them with her chamber.”

“Ah yes. My wife is quite superstitious within her new found faith. Come Lyssa, walk with me.”

“If Maegor hadn’t eaten or drank in days, pondering the likelihood he would die at the hand of his child nephew and sister-wife’s Dragon’s. Neither had any to lose or gain, except the promise of revenge. Of the lives she watched him take, the life he squeezed from her loins. It all ended in tragedy, regardless what he accomplished diplomacy was nothing only in architecture and word of mouth from his reputation.”

“That’s why Jaehaerys was so profound, his partnership.”

“The realm declared him King of the Small folk before he even began to usurp the throne to avenge his father.” 

“Yes, they were very loved by the Kingdoms. Not only did they define a great rule until Jaehaerys death, it lasted-”

“55 years, The Conciliator.”

“Yes, before I was found heir after my Father Baelor died. Passing over his granddaughter Princess Rhaenys, despite Alysanne’s wishes. What does a Conciliator do?”

“I-, I don’t know Uncle.”

“It’s a Peacemaker, they bring opposing forces together. Jaehaerys brought the realm together starting at just a boy of four and ten.”

“What will they call you?” I ask abruptly enough for Viserys to stop his steps in front of Alicents chamber door.

“They will call me what they call all men of families in strife, Viserys The Peacekeeper.” I smiled broadly at his double meaning, as I helped the serving boy open the door. He thanked me excessively and Viserys entered the chamber, his voice only half a jovial as his face. “What happy news this morning.”

“Indeed, your grace.” Laenor helps Rhaenyra sit upon a chair within the Queen's chamber. One I was fond of when visiting her before bed as she read to us children. That was when I first arrived at Kings Landing and none of Rhaenyra’s children ever invited. I pondered if it still occurred even as we were growing older. 

“Where is he? Where is my grandson?” Viserys asked as Laenor bowed, passing the babe from Rhaenyra, still damp in perspiration to Viserys holding him in his right and newly singular healthy arm. “There.” Joffery coos, as Viserys dotes on him turning and beckons me over with a nod. “There he is. Oh, a fine Prince. Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight.“ At first sight the child is smaller than his brothers previous, but still lovely. With a full head of brown hair a strong grip on the Targaryen quilt.

“Yes, you will, dear little cousin.” I cooed as Viserys rocked him gently,

“Does the babe have a name yet?” Alicent asked as Viserys was in his own little bliss, meeting his third grandchild. A grateful thing when each passing day was harder than the next with his failing body, his mind was one thing he wished the gods to help him remain strong. 

“We haven’t spoken-”

“Joffrey.” Laenor interrupts Rhaenyra, “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

“That’s an unusual name for a Velaryon.” Alicent remarks to no one in particular, but when Rhaenyra's face flushes with either pain or anger. I knew someone has yet to comfort her on her achievement, another boy, a healthy boy and birth she’d lived through. 

“I believe he might grow into yet your grace, don’t you think?” I tell Viserys, brushing Joffrey’s wisps of dark hair on his soft crown drying with life’s blood.

“I do, I do believe he has his father’s nose. Don’t you?” Viserys turns to all of them talking to his grandchild to be within the crowd by Rhaenyra again, I brushed by Laenor’s curt nod to stand beside Rhaenyra’s chair.

“Yes, your grace. The blood of the Dragon and Sea runs deep.” Lyssa said squeezing Rhaenyrea's shoulder, her cheek came to rest upon it. Immediately relaxing with her cousin's calm presence.

“If you don’t mind, your graces, your daughter has exhorted herself heroically and should rest.” As Rhaenyra tries to stand without help, I offer my hand to which she grateful holds as Alicent swoops the babe away from Viserys. 

“Of course. There.” Viserys hands him to Alicent willingly and takes Rhaenyra’s free hand in his. 

"Well done, Princess. He is beautiful and so calm." I brush my thumb over the softness of her wrist as I trail my hand to grip her elbow. 

“I do hope the labor was easy.” Viserys whispers to his daughter, I turn for their own moment of privacy watching the careful way Alicent handles her grandchild when not of any blood of hers he came into this world. May he see at least the barest kindness from her now, as may he not come to realize how complicated Alicent truly is. I bless upon him in her arms,

“I think I called the midwife a cunt.” They both giggle, 

“Oh?” They kissed each other's cheek, lovingly "Lyssa, I believe our lessons are done for the day. As my family rests in triumph of a new member, so shall I. You may spend the remainder as you wish." I bow to Viserys in formality, turning to fully embrace Rhaenyra. 

“May I help you to your rooms?” I offered to Rhaenyra, as I held her tight.

“Yes, thank you Cousin." She sighed weakly into my hair, I graciously scooped Joffrey from Alicents arms. Ignoring her lasting comment to Laenor as I walked ahead of them both. To the Princess’s shared apartments with her immediate family. Unknown to most this was where Alysanne raised her children, Aemma wanted the same life and love shared in her children. Rheanyra kept to her same chambers since childhood, only filling the halls with her children rather than her mothers. Alicents children lived near the opposite in Maegor's holdfast, the Kingly apartments. Where I took my father’s chamber growing up, Viserys wouldn’t have it any other way. If Daemon wished to visit his brother he would stay in Viserys' childhood room, until then it remained empty. It had been some time since anyone visited the halls of my apartments, only a few servants and ratcatchers, besides myself. While the King and Queen had the highest apartments, their children close by across the garden, Rhaenyra had the second level same as the small council chambers. Mine were lower echoing of Maesters studying in the library. Viserys once said that his father Baelor chose these chambers to raise his sons so that they would have strong brains and patience. I supposed he may be rolling in the catacombs to see how differently his sons turned out to be. Another serving boy opened the door to Rhaenyras chamber as I approached, hearing the jovial clamber of the young boys within.  Met with the soft honey eyes of my other mentor in my fathers steed Ser Harwin Strong, his face softens with a nod as he sees the small babe cradled to my chest.

“Princess-” He starts to say until Laenor and Rhaenyra enter and he’s violently interrupted by Lucerys in his path.

“Mother.” Jacaerys gets up from his place on the carpeted floor,

“Mother, we chose an egg for the baby.” Luke bonds to his mother until Laenor catches him in succession to his excitement. Jace lifts the lid to the iron pot to show us all a black egg with shimmers of oranges similar to Syraxs. 

“Ahh. That looks like the perfect one.” She tells her children in a voice soft and supple as the Joffrey. Harwin offers his arm as she sits.

“I let Luke choose.”

“Thank you, Jace.”

“Well done, cousins.” I ruffled the hair on Luke’s head as I pass him. 

“Not everyday an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess. I thought it best to escort the lads.” Laenor comes to stand near my shoulder cradling the top of Joffery’s head, smoothing the furrow of his brow with the pad of his thumb as Joffery wiggles in my arms at the affection.

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander.”

“Another boy, I heard.” I smile at Ser Harwin, moving the blanket lower on Joffery’s chin so that he may see his face.

“What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?” Laenor laments,

“And scholar, we must make sure he knows the delights of the big bright world.” I whisper,

“Might I?” Harwin implores, eye finding the ground as if he is ashamed for asking,

“Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey.” Rhaenyra commands Laenor and I to release the beautiful boy.  

“Of course.” Laenor drops his hand, smiling large. I step twice to Harwin he towers over me arm under arm he takes Joffrey. Harwin has never been anything less than graceful from his bruting frame and deep voice, a towering stature to match. He makes us all feel safe just being near, seeing such a powerful body cradle a child like spider silk is clumsy and endearing. 

“There.” I mutter wrapping the blanket from under my elbow.

“Joffrey, is it?”

“Mm-hmm,” Laenor answers as Rhaenyra and Harwin share a knowing glance. He appears sad but placid as if she had already discussed her distaste for the name. 

“I believe it means Peace amongst Strangers.”

“Father, please may I hold Joffrey.” Lucerys begs, pulling on his father’s arm. Pushing his way past Jace to Harwin.

“No, no. No.” Laenor tells him as he pulls both sons by their collars.

“Ah. ah, ah, ah, Ah!” Harwin pushes Lucerys hand gently away from Joffrey,

“Hey!” I push at his shoulders the doors opening for them, 

“Nope back to the Dragonpit with you two. Come on. Before they send out a search party!” Laenor bows before continuing with his children down the hall. Leaving the three of us together, I clear my throat suddenly lost for words.

“I shall accompany the children after the Ravenry, write to Father and Lady Laena of their newest nephew. ‘Tis a blessed day for you, Princess. Good Morrow Ser Harwin.” I bowed to my glowing cousin as she looked so softly upon Ser Harwin holding Joffrey.

“Yes, Princess Lyssa. I shall see you on the training ground.” Harwin bowed his head without breaking eye contact with the sleeping babe, only cooing when Joffrey moved slightly to adjust his small hand beneath the warmth of the blanket. 

“I look forward to it.” I smiled at them before turning stride and closing the door behind me. Raking my skirts into my fists as I raced to the Ravenry on the other side of the training yards, entirely across the keep. Entering to see a Maester feeding all of the assortment of birds used for lettering. Along with two others posted each to either send or collect them. Maester Paxton sits at a writing desk, he’s of middle age and the one who organizes most of the day time operations. 

“Princess Alysanne,” he greets me, all the others pause their duties greeting me with shallow bows before returning to their duties. “A great pleasure to see you on this fine day. How may we assist you, my lady.” I smile courtly, taking a needed breath from racing to the hall.

“I wish to send a letter to Prince Daemon in Pentos. Princess Rhaenyra has just given birth to a third son.”

“What a joyous day for the royal family, please sit and I may draft it for you myself.” Paxton walked around me to a simple small chair with withering red cushioning on the seat, ripping at the sewn seams of the mounting sides. I sit gently as a shiver runs down my back as a large gust of birds fly overhead.

“Actually if I may draft it myself Maester Paxton. That is why I came instead of my maid.” His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline in disbelief of my request.

“Of course, Princess.” He bows his head turning to find parchment and ink setting it on the desk before me. “Let me know if you need any more assistance.” I sigh heavily as he backs away, headed towards the cages to another apprentice or servant. Giving me a moment with my thoughts,

‘Dear Father, Laena and sisters,

I am very grateful to be the one to inform you that Rhea has given birth to a healthy baby boy. They have decided to name him Joffrey, the family wishes you safe travels from afar. Your absence is greatly felt by all of us, I hope to soon find you back at Driftmark for my siblings' arrival. I do hope Lady Laena that your birth does not last a day and then some close to Rhea’s. She misses you both as dearly as I, Laenor also speaks of you both often. Between Father and his battles within the Stepstone to the adventures of Laena and him as children, it is hard to imagine we are not reliving the events. King Viserys had just ended my studies of Maegor The Cruel, I am to learn of Jaehaerys The Conciliator next. Knowing partly from my own intrigue of Silverwings past yet excited to learn of our nearest grandsires. While I measure my wit with King Vieserys, Ser Harwin has allowed me to wield a sparring sword and not a wooden one since my last letter. It is truly heavier than I imagined, I can’t imagine riding or running into battle with a sword longer than my arm and heavier than baby Joffrey to defend. Yet I still tried, just as Bronze Tail had begun his rider training. He is nearly taller than Aegon, at this rate he will be bigger than a horse the next time we gather. Exceeding even Sunfyre’s size as I write to you. Do give my love to my sisters Baela and Rhaena, I miss them dearly. As I see how much Jace has grown, I fear to find I will hardly recognize them both when you return home. To whichever one of you read this now I miss you ever dearly, and though never to pray like the common men. I wish for your health and safety, perhaps the next letter we exchange will include the name of the next newest Targaryen inside. Born of a different land. 

Always of love, your daughter.

Alysanne Targaryen’

  I blow on the ink allowing it to dry before folding it carefully calling upon Paxton that I wish it to be sent.

“Do you wish me not to correct any mistakes you made, Princess?” I sneer at the jab at my wits for being a highborn lady, I am one of the only Targaryen’s who doesn’t order a Servant to deliver a message in my stead. Writing letters since Father and Laena ran away to Pentos to be together after Rhaenyra and Laenor married. Leaving me to stay as Viserys ward. There was more potential for me here, Father always wrote when I wished to visit him in Pentos. His brother needed me, with my Daemon’s daughter in the Capital if something were to happen to Daemon. I am his first heir, it makes complete sense. 

“No thank you Master Paxton, I believe the King has amended my penmanship in recent years.” I smile as his face turns white, realizing he not only insulted me but the King due to his older belief system of Woman not being as well educated as Maesters. Men who give their lives to science and study. Not very different from Septon’s and Septas, yet they only answer to a different Vassal. I walk out of the Ravenry, pride seeping from my posture as I make my path to the Dragon Pit. 

Standing between Aemond and Jace as Vermax is guided by chains up the stone steps to the small training ground directly above the caves of the Dragonpit. As Jace is pushed forward I creep forward next to the Dragon Master.

“Let him come” He tells the wranglers, Aegon yawns obnoxiously from behind us. His bond with Sunfyre was immediate after her hatching from the cradle. The rest of us weren’t so lucky. Helaena claimed Dreamfyre after years of waiting, Luke and Jace struggled and fought for their dragons control which started unruly rumors of their heritage along with their brash muddy appearances in comparison to the rest of us. My egg hatched in Kings Landing after I claimed Silverwing nearly a decade after coming to my rightful home. While dear Aemond’s egg never hatched, still hidden deep within a trunk at the end of his bed. He hadn’t been able to claim another dragon, only coming to the pit to observe and obsess over something he might never have. 

“Call Vermax to heel, Prince Jacaerys.” The translator and second Dragon Keeper tells Jace, her face is dirtied by kind as she nods to the younger.

“Serve!” Jace commands the youngling, he stretches to full height before growling in our direction Jace steps back into the Dragon Master. “Halt!” This time Vermax holds eye contact and heeds his Rider. Sitting back on his haunches,

“Sȳrī “

“Well done.” I echo for Jace, while he’s distracted with pride. Vermax hears his meal bleating from the grapplers. A Sheep tied by its neck to a stone slab across the grounds.

“Vermax, Vermax!” Jace calls as his Dragon stalks the sheep, 

“Halt!” The Master commands, the entire room follows. He continues to teach Jacaerys.

“You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young Prince’s. As Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre. As Princess Alysanne’s claim of Silverwing.” The Keeper translated, 

I look over my shoulder to my kin: Luke is restless shifting his weight from each foot, Aegon glows with resented smugness as this is his escape from maternal overbear, and then to Aemond whose hands are cradled in front of himself as he picks his nails bloody. He sighs longly picking up his eye from their place on the ground as if he felt my searching for him. I give him a curt smile as the lesson continues. 

“Once they’ve fully bond to you they will refuse to take instruction from any other.” Jace nods in understanding before smiling tastelessly at the Master.

“Can I say it?” He eagerly wondered, the master hummed in agreement. As Jace turned around to the other boys I pushed his shoulder to attention.

“Don’t be crude.” I led him, holding his shoulder until he relaxed under my grasp. I heard a singular breathless chuckle from behind. Sounded almost as if it were an accident and watched tentatively as Jace calls for his Dragon’s Fire. The very same which all of us share between our veins, the tether of all of Targaryens souls. 

“Dracarys, Vermax!” Vermax is released behind wooden dowels approaching the sheep before collecting a breath in a screech and releasing the flames from his gullet. Taking the life of the sheep as it screams in agony of its death, Vermax feasts life gives life. It makes it no less horrible to watch, to my rescue the female Dragon Keeper pulls me aside.

“Skorkydoso emagon se jēdrar treated ao, dārilaros?” The boys hear as I’m whisked away. ‘How have the skies treated you, Princess?’

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you.” Aegon tells his brother leading him away

“What is it?” Aemond answers incredulously

“Something very special.” Lucerys says as he runs past me to the opening gates of the pit.

“You’re the only one of us without a dragon.” Aegon points out

“Indeed.” 

“Even the baby has an egg and Lyssa commands two. We felt badly about it, so we found one for you.” Aegon taunts with a guiding hand

“A dragon. How?”

“The gods provide.” Aegon snickers, I only hear laughter as they become too out far to hear any longer.

“Silverwing is lovely, I miss her dearly when we're apart. Do you think she would allow another to accompany me?”

“What do you mean Princess Alysanne?”

“Well she did fly all the way to the wall once, and my own grandmother carried her children on Meleys before her death. Do you think Silverwing or Bronze Tail, when he’s strong enough, will allow another rider to mount with me?”

“Is there a reason you ask me this?” I turn my head in the direct of the Princes noticing immediately the one I’m looking for is missing. I walk towards them, the two Kingsguard still against the far walls of the pit.

“I wish I could replay his face over again.” Luke comments, watching Vermax

“A grand touch with the hand crafted wings, nephews.” Aegon commends Luke with a punch to his arm.

“Aegon, where’s Aemond?”

“Upon, the Pink Dread!” Luke laughs before Jace shushes him,

“I don’t know, perhaps learning new riding techniques now that pigs can fly.” Aegon has to bite his lip to stifle a laugh.

“I beg your pardon?” 

“We got him a pig, dressed as a Dragon. He must have left-” A screech and shove of the caves under us shook the ground we all stood on.

“That sounded of the sisters, again.” The Master spoke in High Valarian, Dreamfyre and Silverwing despite being of the same clutch could greatly despise each other. A great black pit filled my belly with sickness as it happened again. I rushed for the steps of the caves, running for Silverwings nest. Yelling for him as grapplers were hot on my heels,

“Aemond?-” I screamed running around a corner seeing him on his back as Dreamfyre gave him a warning breath. The heat around us tells me this is not the first. “Aemond!” I covered him as he grasped onto my skirts for purchase. 

“Halt, Dreamfyre! Obey!” I commanded her in her fury, as she readied another blast I slumped to my knees holding Aemond in fear. Only we were not met with fire, only the sounds of heavy boots and chains on the cavern floor. As Silverwing pushed her sister from the stone opening, standing guard over us both. Aemond shivered as we were brought to our feet, he clung to my sleeve as second longer as he was fussed over by the Kingsguard. Who arrived after every other worker of the Dragon Pit, my heart pounded in my ears. Silverwing purred from her spot blocking her sister, wing unfurled and awaiting instruction.

“Are you alright Princess?” The grapplers asked,

“Take him to her grace, I shall deal with the others.” I instructed brushing off the weary looks of those around us both. Walking back the way I came, I turn on my heel to face them again. “No more Dragons today, see Dreamfyre and Silverwing are separated with large snacks. Bring me Bronze Tail, once you are finished.” 

I spend the rest of the afternoon bonding with Bronze Tail in the open area of the Dragon Pit, until a Kingsguard interrupts and informs me that the King has requested my presence. Bronze Tail is led back by chains around his neck as a Kings guard breathes down mine. As if I didn’t know where the Kings chamber may be. When I arrive the Guards part away from the door to allow me entry into Viserys chamber. He smiles so hard, I can see each one of his teeth clearly as his eyes squint.

“Lyssa my dear, come sit with me by the fire before my wife joins us.”

“Of course, your grace.” I curtsey, following his gaze to a lounge bench with decorative cushions along it. Sitting with my feet tucked under me, I grab a quilt to drape along my dress. The bottom is dirty with soot, mud while some of the hem is torn from racing to Aemond within the caves. I also became very aware of my smell, Dragon. They smell of meat, dirty creatures who sunbathe just to end up rolling in the damp grass. Scratching their back along the cavern walls wet with moisture of the ground. Then an upkeep of warmth from the heat they possess, their bodies and their fire collecting it all. It’s currently stuck to my every being.

“Leave us.” Viserys orders the guards, each of them exiting as he adjusts painfully in his chair. “I suspect by your appearance you stayed at the Dragon Pit after this afternoon's accident?” I nod shamefully, smoothing my hair off my face. Only to Viserys amusement I smear dirt along my forehead from Bronze Tails chains.

“I would have bathed before coming here so you wouldn’t be victim to my state but-”

“It’s alright Lyssa, it is just us.” Viserys says in our family ‘s ancient tongue. I breath a sigh of relief when he immediately speaks again.

“To be truthful, I miss the smell of Dragon. It was before Rhaenyra when I last rode mine. Never claiming another after Balerion, it is comforting.” We sat in peaceful silence as he rose from his chair, gathering behind his dressing screen. Water runs and he returns with a linen, I hold out my hands and instead of giving me the cloth he takes each hand in his. Wiping them each clean, raising my sleeves slight red rims where Aemond had gripped my forearm tightly. Crescent indents, and a purpling bruise shielded by the loose fabric. He brushes each mark with his thumb before tipping my chin up and wiping my forehead.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Uncle.” His smile is contagious, as he says it. 

“Thank you, Uncle.” He tosses the cloth on a nearby table before sitting across from me again. Sighing deeply as he watches the warm hearth, drying my wet hands craving the warmth of anothers again.

“Aemond was brought to Alicent earlier today, claiming he was gifted a pig dressed as a Dragon. Yes?”

“Yes, I did not see the pig until after Aemond had been retrieved from the Dragon Caves.”

“Right, and what happened my dear?”

“I was speaking away from the boys as Vermax was held by a sheep, when seeing Aemond's absence there was a rumble below. Dreamfyre and Silverwing have been known to quarrel yet there was snarling and the Kingsguard were still present. If Aemond had left one would have been with him-” I told Viserys hastily,

“Breathe, Lyssa. He is fine now.”

“Yes, I ran around to Dreamfyre’s entrance to see him cowarded on the ground. Dreamfyre was about to fire her second warning blast when Silverwing interrupted, knocking her away from us. Then the others came, I captured the pig. He’s within the royal pens.”

“Why do you have the pig?” Viserys inquired

“There was no reason to keep him tied within the lower levels.”

“Lyssa, the truth.”

“I- I wanted to feed him to Silverwing the next time we have a lesson. Defending Aemond while implementing only a slight fear within the others. Jacerys was the one who told me of the prank. Aegon dismissed his brother's absence.” Something catches in my throat as I speak, I look down to my hands. My mind spinning with many emotions: the fear, anger and denial of what had transpired. 

“I give you permission. After all, not only did you save Aemond but you cleared a few inner turmoil's for myself.” I grimace, at the terror if I had been too late. What if Silverwing hadn’t interrupted? He must have noticed, “The Queen believes our children may do no wrong, yet it is hard to punish children for being children. Instead you may show Aemond that the pig is as fragile as the joke the others showed him. Especially since my grandchildren and their youngers. I trust you, the eldest next to Aegon-”

“Uncle…” I interrupted as tears flooded my eyes, I wipe them as soon as they threaten to shield my vision completely, “Aemond could have died. We could have died. To Dragon Fire no less. I'm afraid a show of my Dragon’s power isn’t justice. I had I not noticed Aemond’s absence, had I not been there-”

“Dear Lyssa, do not be so cruel to yourself. You did well. I know the guilt you and Jaecerys carry is as large and profound as your hearts. Everyone is safe now.” The door opens to Criston Cole announcing the Queen's presence, Aemond with his hair wild and face just as dirty as mine was previously entering the room.

“Your Grace, Prince Aemond.” I rise to my feet, accidentally dropping the blanket covering my unseemly appearance. 

“Princess, why your dress. It’s ruined!” She moves around Viserys chair gripping my arms with intensity. I whimper as she makes contact with my forearm, her eyes go wide pulling up my sleeve as Viserys did with less kindness but more motherly intention. 

“It’s just a scratch.”

“We’ll ensure the Maester gives you ointment so you do not scar.” She smooths the hair off my shoulders before wiping her hand on the cloth on the table next to me, effectively releasing me. Aemond’s soft eyes heat my cheeks as he doesn’t break contact with my standing form.

“Thank you. If I may, I came directly from the pit. I wish to wash before dinner.”

“I believe we are all to dine within our own chambers tonight due to today’s events. Lest exhaustion get the better of us.” She stands behind Viserys rubbing his shoulders lightly as she speaks motioning Aemond to could further into the room. I know my invitation to dine with the ‘greens’ is only extended when Viserys demands Alicent be cordial. She has a large heart and would do the worst for her children, yet I am Daemon’s child. An offspring of the Prince who dismisses her family’s importance and acknowledges their conniving nature. 

“Well then, if I may be excused.” I curtesy to each of them after Viserys agrees, finally meeting Aemond’s eyes. He looks exhausted, my heart aches as it begs to give him more comfort. Yet affection within this confusing large family dynamic amongst other deeds is frowned upon because of its rarity. I keep my distance walking past him within the large chamber, breathing a deep sigh of relief as I approach the halls of my lonesome apartments. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @stargaryenx​ , @bellameshipper  , @supmymainhuman , @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @nitimurinvetitumsposts​ , @50svibes​ 

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[writers-blogck]

The Cold Comes In‎‎ 『RE8 Lords ( Ethan Winters ) x Reader‎』

Happy 2023!

So, I want to put a note here very quickly just to let you know that some of the previous chapters have been/will be revised (mainly added to and fixing grammar errors)

I will be putting a Revisited On: on the Table of Contents and then the date so you can know if anything was added since you last read it. I will also put what was Revised, such as putting that +2,000 words added, Grammar Check, etc. 

Also, we are going to ignore how I said the update would be soon and now it is three months later. I ended up losing my job and then getting another one so I have been busy and hectic! But here it is! The other reason that this chapter took me so long is that I prefer for these chapters to be over 5,000 words (hence the re-editing of past chapters and adding extra scenes) as I feel like it goes into more depth with the story. But, with this, I couldn't seem to naturally get it to that point without adding a scene that I didn't want to be in this chapter and instead, be the sole focus of the next. I hope you understand! 

Warning(s): N/A.

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Title: The Cold Comes In Description: Sometimes you have to understand that even things you have known all your life can be bad.  Pairing: RE8 Lords [ Ethan Winters ] x Reader Fandom: Resident Evil - Village Word Count: 3,989 Current Chapter: Eight Previous Chapter: The Sinful Seed Next Chapter: TBD Story Index    

        You awoke to the sound of the balcony door slamming shut. The wind was howling and a cool chill quickly entered the room, sending a shiver down your spine. The uncomfortable change was enough to wake you, jolting up in the plush bed. What was going on? You rubbed the back of your hand against your eyes, trying to get any remnants of sleep out of them. Desperately reaching around with your blurry vision, you grabbed an empty cup, deciding it was better than not having anything to use as a weapon. Was it one of the Sisters? No, not with that cold air...One of the terrible creatures that lurked around the castle? Oh, man...! You could never get a restful sleep, no matter where you were. You had taken the comfort of the bed for granted.

        As your vision fully returned to you, instead of seeing either of your guesses, there was a man. Wait...A man in the castle? A green windbreaker jacket and dusty blonde hair greeted you. Huh...It all looked familiar and once the fog lifted from your recently awoken eyes, you knew why. Ethan Winters? What in the world was he doing here? You hadn't heard any hint of him the entire time you had been in the Castle today. Sure, you had been pretty occupied with the Sisters but you still would have noticed if Ethan was around. You were certain of it. Right? The Sisters would surely be able to sense his presence if you somehow didn't. How long had you been asleep?

        There was a panicked look in his eyes, gun grasped tightly in his hand. He was covered in blood and dirt, looking more like how you appeared earlier in the day, but with more injuries. You doubted that the Sisters would let him take a nice bath in the Castle like you. Haha, funny joke...Wait a minute, you still had the question of why he was sneaking into a room while you were sleeping in it! That was a little creepy, you had to admit. Even for someone who was being hunted down by every living thing around him...That didn't give him the right to be creepy.

        "Ethan...?" 

        The man spun around quickly and raised the gun in your direction. Shit! He must not have noticed you in the room before coming in! Man, how distracted was he? Or had you been so bundled up in the blankets that you looked like a mountain of pillows? Raising your hands in the air with empty palms, you tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. It must have worked because, after a moment of the man taking in your appearance, he lowered the weapon while still keeping it unholstered. You let out a sigh of relief. No getting shot today, at least not at this moment. You were lucky he didn't automatically shoot in your direction instead of just pointing the gun. This made you wonder if he had come across Villagers in his travel...If everything that was around you was hostile, you would be shooting first and asking questions later. 

"        Jesus...I thought this room was empty." 

        "I can tell." Standing up from the bed, you moved closer to the father. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days. Perhaps he hadn't. He had huge bags under his eyes and his muscles were drooping as if it took every ounce of his energy to keep himself standing. Did he need to eat as well? He looked as though he had lost weight since the last time you saw him. It could be because of all the running was doing but you doubted that was the only reason. It was as if the Village was eating him alive. Poor guy. He really deserved the Father of the Year Award. Maybe even Parent of the Year. Did they make those? 

        "What are you doing in here?" You continued, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn't want it to make you look threatening but either way, he did just wake you up from a pretty deep sleep. That wasn't the most relaxing of situations. A nice sleep in a nice bed, he better have a good reason for this. You had large doubts that you would get to do this again anytime soon. Couldn't he have waited a few more hours before sneaking into the Castle? 

        Ethan was looking around the room as if a monster was going to jump out any second. He must be struggling with his time in the Village. He was extremely jumpy. It only made sense. You were curious about what he had been put through already. The Duke told you a few details here and there but never anything substantial. You had your own occurrences within the Village, but at least you didn't have to worry about the Lords killing you on sight. Just the monsters. What was the Village like to an outsider? It was strange enough for someone who had lived their entire life inside of it. It hadn't always been like this. There was a pang in your chest when you remembered what life had been like before the outbreak, as you called it. It still may not have been paradise but it would be considered a utopia compared to this.

        "I could ask you the same thing."

        "Well, I asked the question first so you owe me an answer if you want to get one from me. That's the rules."

        "I'm looking for my daughter."

        "I know that. I mean, why are you looking inside the Castle? Why are you in here, specifically? It isn't super easy to get inside so I doubt you just stumbled in. They don't just leave the door unlocked for bypassers to come in and get warm."

        "The Duke told me my daughter was in here...."

        Of course, he did. You wanted to groan, to run your hands through your hair, to do anything to show your displeasure. But, you kept that all to yourself. No need to stress this man out any more than he already was. He didn't know the truth behind the Duke and to be honest, you doubted you knew the full version yourself. He was elusive and liked to keep secrets, even from you. It was a bit hypocritical. He could keep secrets but expected you to tell him everything. Sure, you basically did tell him everything but that wasn't the point! He has the same irony that a parent had with their child.

        "I guess it would make sense if Mother Miranda doesn't have her, then Lady Dimitrescu would be the next best bet. The others have never cared for a child before, even remotely. Unless you count Lady Beneviento and her dolls but that may be a bit of a stretch." As you spoke, you walked over to a pile of clean clothes resting on a fancy chair. One of the Sisters must have placed them in here while you slept. You really needed to be more aware when you were asleep. How heavy of a sleeper were you? That might be something you needed to fix. 

        "Now it's your turn, why are you in the castle? Are you here because the Duke is as well? Have you seen my daughter, Rose?"

        "Excuse me?'

        "What do you mean, excuse me? What's confusing you? I found the Duke in one of the rooms here in the castle. He said if my daughter is anywhere on the premise, the Lady's champers will be the best bet. Are you here because he is in the Castle as well?" 

        You wanted to question him more, initially unaware that the Duke was also in the Castle until Ethan told you. He hadn't informed you of that part of his plan. Was it part of the plan? Was there even a plan?! You had no idea at this point! Nothing was going in the way that you expected! Sure, the Duke said things were going to change but you didn't expect the changes to affect you so much. You had hoped to just sit it all out on the sidelines in the Duke's Caravan. That was what he made it sound like the two of you would be doing, that is, until Ethan Winters arrived. 

        "No, I wish I was. You're not the only person dealing with some rather unique problems, Ethan Winters. I'm being tossed around from Lord to Lord like a strange new toy. Mother Miranda has ordered me to do so. I'm not yet sure of her true reasoning for it." You explained before continuing,

        "And the Lady Dimitrescu won't just let you go into her champers. She is a very private woman, even I haven't been able to sneak into her chambers that often. Even if you somehow do find your daughter, as long as Lady Dimitrescu is alive and kicking, she will not allow you to leave with your child. She needs Mother Miranda's approval like a fish needs water. Plus, the Sisters will do whatever their mother tells them to. Getting your daughter while any of them are still up and active is going to be near impossible. Hell, even just leaving the castle will be a challenge with the Dimitrescu Daughters and Mother still roaming." 

        "Then I'll get rid of the problems."

        "Have you fought them yet? The Sisters are hard enough, let alone their mother. Lady Dimitrescu has never met a suitable match, save perhaps for the other Lords. Even then, I would doubt that any of them other than Mother Miranda herself and perhaps Heisenberg, would be able to take her in a fight." You didn't like the idea of Ethan fighting the Sisters, you had known them for all your life and they were the closest thing to friends that you had. Yet, recently, they had gotten worse in their behavior. They were not the same girls you knew, not anymore. It was like the Village's evil had soaked deep in their bones, the Outbreak infecting them in a different way. 

        At least, you forced yourself to believe that they had changed. The other option was that you had always worn a pair of rose-colored glasses around them and it wasn't until they put your life in danger that you finally took them off.

        "I'm going to get my daughter back."

        "I'm not saying you won't. All I'm saying is that you need a plan heading into this fight. I never said they were undefeatable; just that it is going to be a real challenge to do so. They all have incredible healing abilities, all four of them." This was going to be a hard, perhaps nearly impossible task. After having spent today day with the Sisters, here you were, speaking to this intruder about how he might be able to injure them. It made your stomach churn. Did this make you a bad person? You were just leveling out the battlefields, giving Ethan a chance to survive. He could very easily still be killed even with your tips. You were just making it fair...You had to keep telling yourself that. 

        Though you may not want to think about it, you knew that the Sisters were bad entities on this Earth. They always had been but recently, the dark in them began to grow. The Sisters liked you. Maybe they actually cared, or maybe they viewed you like a little pet- either way, you were an exception to their sadistic side. Even thinking that you had to remember what Cassandra had done to you just hours before. She was willing to put you in danger just to get a laugh. She saw you as a toy that could be broken and tossed to the side, potentially forever. Had Cassandra intended for you to get hurt or did she simply not care one way or another?

        The other two sisters may not have been as bad to you as Cassandra but you had seen all of their dark sides, especially since the Outbreak. Daniela purposefully made Maids screw up just to watch them get punished by their mother or one of her sisters. Cassandra had a penchant for kicking anyone when she got the chance, literally. She kicked people when they were down. It was terrifying to think about what they were truly capable of - what they could do to you if they so willed it. They could break you like a twig, easily...

        Bela was not excused of the Sisters' sadistic nature. She was simply more cunning when it came to her enjoyment. She liked to watch her sisters cause problems with the servants, instead of getting her hands dirty herself. She also liked to chide the workers and cause more mental anguish than anything. She got pleasure when she saw fear in the girls' eyes. It made your stomach twist and turn. If things were just a little different, what would the Sisters do to you? Would they treat you just like the Maidens and Maids? Perhaps even worse? You really didn't know what made them treat you so differently. Was it because of your relationship with the Duke? 

        Pulling the large shirt off of your torso, Ethan quickly spun so his back was facing you. There was a time for decorum and a time to get the job done. At the moment, there was too much to think about to worry if this man saw you in your undergarments. With the Sisters, you had been in a more relaxed state of mind and felt more vulnerable. Now, all you could think of was the mission ahead. Ethan Winters was going to need help if he was going to get out of the Castle alive. There was work to be done and if the Duke taught you anything, it was the importance of doing a job properly. 

        It was nice to get these stranger's clothes off of you, finally. At least you knew that no one died in your own clothes. You assumed, anyway. The Duke was always the one to provide you with your necessities, such as your shoes and clothes. Either that or you made them yourself. You had doubts that the Duke would not give you a dead man's clothes. Maybe second-hand but even that seemed unlikely. His strange sense of grandeur wouldn't allow him to do something of the sort, if possible. He was a duke after all. What did a Duke call his children, you wondered. 

        "You need to rest. You said that you found the Duke in one of the chambers, yes? Go back to him. He will allow you to rest in his area, which neither Lady Dimitrescu nor the Sisters will invade. I'm not sure what's up with their relationship but it is the same with all of the Lords. He has a designated area where he is allowed to reside and for some unknown reason, the Lords cannot enter said spaces. If you require food or drink, the Duke will provide it for a price."

        "A price?" Ethan peeked back around to see that you had fully changed now and were pulling your huge coat on. It made you look tiny due to it being so much larger than the proper size that would fit you. One could say it swamped you. 

        "Yes, everything has a price."

        "I don't have any money on me."

        "Do you have anything that you've been picking up? Anything that may be of value?" You didn't know if that packrat mentality was just you or if it extended to others...You always were picking up things that didn't belong to you. They always just somehow found their way into your pockets. Whoops. 

        "I found a strange ruby ring and a really fancy bottle of wine...I've kept them in my pack, I really don't know why though..."

        "That will do. Trade with the Duke, he will take care of you. Tell him that I said you get a discount. This should be enough to get you some food and ammunition. Maybe even a chem bottle for your hand. Make sure you do not eat or drink anything you find in the Castle. I could not promise it would be safe to consume. If it is, I couldn't promise it came from something other than a human. But make sure you get something to eat from the Duke and rest up, you will need it. This is going to be very draining, let us hope in only the metaphorical way."

        "What about you?"

        "I'm going to get you a weapon that might allow you to actually kill Lady Dimitrescu. Your little gun isn't going to cut it. When you are well rested enough, go to the Temple of Worship. There I will give you the 'Dagger of Death's Flowers'. It is the only thing that is going to allow you to kill the Lady of the Castle. It drops any regenerative powers that she may have, just like the cold does to the sisters." You were checking the pockets of your coat as you spoke, ensuring everything was still there since you took it off to rest.

        "The cold?" 

        "Yes, due to the Sister's more unique physiology, they can not handle the cold air. Just as the dagger will break down any of Lady Dimitrescu's healing, the cold will do the same for the sisters. They also become more lethargic and slow-moving when they are in a direct shot of a breeze of cold air. You won't be able to deal with them if you aren't in a room that had outside access. You will need to use that to your advantage. If you are, run. Sometimes fleeing is your best bet until you get in a position where you have the upper hand. I will come and find you if you do not arrive at the temple in a certain amount of time." 

        "If you use any ammunition on the sisters before they get hit by cold air or on Lady Dimitrescu without getting the knife in her first, you will just be wasting bullets." You continued to explain. The Duke had been very strict on you knowing how to protect yourself from all of the Lords, lest the time come when you needed to. Whether you could actually perform the actions needed to hurt or kill them, was a different story. Yet, it was coming in handy now that you had to coach Ethan on what to do. 

        "Why are you helping me?" 

        "Man of Winter, I have been raised in this Village since I was born. I hate to see it be destroyed this way and though I may consider some of the residents my friends, I know that this collection of rulers will only hurt everything they touch. Something has changed within them and is only enhancing their dark side. If they control the entire Village, it is only a matter of time before they decide to expand their territory out into the rest of the world. I will not allow anyone else to have to go through this Hell because I was too scared to do something about it or felt too bad about making a decision. Before now, the Duke and I were alone. We couldn't do anything to change what was happening. But, here you are and for some reason, the Duke is convinced that you can fix all of this."

        "Fix this? I'm just here to get my daughter and then leave." Ethan Winter's tone sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. He had been through something before, you could tell. No one else would be reacting in this way...You wondered if you would learn more about his past or if he would perish before he could tell you. You hoped the latter wouldn't be true.

        "The Duke believes otherwise. I don't understand why but he says that things are changing in the Village, big things, and they all revolve around you. I don't mean to add any pressure on your shoulders...You should just focus on getting your daughter back. The changes will follow."

        "How can I thank you?" 

        "Kill Mother Miranda and make sure she stays dead."

        "I want that just as much as you. If I get the chance, I swear that I will." 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

        Surprisingly, you made your way to the Temple faster than you would think. You didn't know where the sisters were. You hoped that Ethan could get what he needed without running into them but you knew that was being optimistic. You tried not to think about what may happen to the Sisters or Ethan. If they ran into one another, then one of them wouldn't be leaving that room. Did Ethan even stand a chance? You had no idea...No one had ever been able to stand up to the sisters before...No one. 

        Your mind hurt at the implications of what you had done. Was it the right thing? This had been going through your head since you had departed from the man. These girls put their trust in you and here you were, destroying it like it was nothing. Yet...There were all the other factors to consider. This wasn't as simple as a case of right or wrong, black or white. The Sisters lived in shades of gray and you didn't know where your decision fell on the monochrome color spectrum. You knew what the Duke would say, you knew what Ethan would say. Yet...What about what the other Lords would say? The Sisters? 

        You were beginning to wonder if you had some type of Stockholm Syndrome from living in the Village. Sure, you didn't actually live in the Castle with the Sisters but, the situation felt similar. Deep down, you knew they were bad and would the world would be better off if they were not in it, but on the other hand, you had your good times with them. You needed to remind yourself than a victim thought the same thing about their abuser. Even if that was just to make yourself feel better about the decision that you made in the end. 

        Approaching the coffin, you noticed that the lid was already half-way off. It must have been knocked off by some of those flying creatures, the women-like bats...Or were they bat-like women? You had never seen one close enough to truly tell and you would be happy to keep it that way. Hopefully you wouldn't run into any while you were out here grabbing the dagger. You had a knife but that was the only weapon you had on you, save for certain items that if combined correctly, could create a make-shift explosive device. They had been for Ethan to find...You should have given them to the man before leaving but it had slipped your mind until you reached into your pocket for a flashlight and felt the items. It was too late now. 

        The snow was blowing around, some getting caught in your hair as you neared the stone slab. To be honest, you never came out this far in the Castle. Sure, you may have visited it once or twice but you definitely had made yourself sound more confident than you really were when you spoke to Ethan. He didn't need to know the doubt you were feeling about retrieving the dagger. Sometimes you just had to hold onto hope and in certain cases, like this, it paid off. 

        At least, you thought it had paid off until you heard a deep woman's voice stretching across the marble pillars.

        "What are you doing out here, pest?!"

        Uh-Oh. You had been so focused on the Sisters that you forgot about one rather important and large thing: 

        Their Mother.  ‎ ♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥  　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥ ‎ 1 ● 2 ● 3 ● 4 ● 5 ● 6 ● 7 ● 8 ●

[coffeetailor]

GTOber Day 7: Sweater Weather

(A/N: Yep, out of order and off date. Have some cute.)

Shang Hua, also known as Airplane Shooting Into the Sky, still couldn't believe his luck. Who would have thought that a single chance encounter with his biggest hater... would actually improve his life. starting with the improvement of his 'great' life's work. For being such a vicious little angry bean, the kid had a good heart. And enough spare change to not only pay his rent, but move him into a better apartment!

And without the risk of eviction and starvation on the table, he'd been able to stop pandering to the incel brigade that had made up so much of his paying audience, and actually take his time to write the story he'd wanted to at the start.

It was in visiting his old, long-buried notes, that he first saw the little figurine on his desk blink.

There hadn't been very much merchandise made from PIDW, and only a fraction of it actually featured his king, but he'd lived on expired noodles rescued from the bin for a month to get his hands on this one. Cast resin with a cheap paint job that he'd redone himself (why did they keep making his king's hair white? Yes, he was an ice demon, but he'd never described white hair!), he'd touched every inch of it. No part was meant to be able to move. Especially not the eyes.

But the figurine had blinked anyway. and then turned its head. And glared at him before threatening the author if he didn't release the 'spell' he had on him to seal his powers.

It took days to convince Mobei-Jun (alive! In his apartment! And as heartbreakingly gorgeous as he'd ever imagined in writing out his descriptions) that he hadn't actually done anything to him. At least not on purpose! By the end of that, the little figuring somehow got it into his head instead that Shang Hua was a god, and he couldn't be convinced otherwise. At least it meant that he could sleep without fear of the demon clawing his eyes out. It didn't prevent him from ordering him around like a servant, however.

So they'd come to a peace. The living figurine didn't get hungry, but he snitched from Shang Hua's plate every day anyway. And demanded a room stocked with ice all summer, which was made with an opened cooler left in the living room. By the time that fall rolled around, Shang Hua was almost used to his tiny roommate.

Which wasn't to say that Mobei was entirely used to Shang Hua or the world he lived in.

"What are you wearing?"

Blinking at his tiny roommate, Shang Hua looked down at his sweater, a big chunky thing that was two sizes too large, but was also one of the coziest things he owned. "This, my king? It's just a sweater. We wear them to keep warm in the colder seasons. We don't do so well as you in chilly weather."

Mobei-Jun frowned, studying his outfit with cat-like judgement before motioning him over to the table they'd set up his room on. Obediently, Shang Hua walked over and offered him a hand. The demon hadn't been particularly enthused about being carried at the start, but after figuring out that his teleportation powers were gone with the rest, he'd decided that the author was going to be his own personal carriage whenever he wanted to leave the desk.

Spoiled brat.

This time, instead of climbing up into his hand, Mobei grabbed it and pulled him closer, Shang Hua barely avoiding falling on his face by catching himself with his free hand. He was tiny and his powers didn't work, but that didn't mean that he wasn't still strong! "My king?"

Mobei-Jun poked at the cuff of his sweater, examining the fiber and the pattern like he was judging it. Which... he probably was. He'd already made his opinion of most of Shang Hua's clothes known (namely that they were strange and indecent, and this from a man who kept his chest bared to the world), so there wasn't much hope that the sweater would meet his standards either.

"What is this fiber?"

Shang Hua rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Eh... I'm not actually sure. Probably some poly blend? All I know is that it was dryer safe so I don't have to wait for it to air dry."

Mobei eyed him. "You don't use the 'dryer' on this king's clothing."

"My king, you wear fur and silk! Which is absolutely not safe to use in the dryer! And even if it was, the stitching is so fine that I'd be worried about it getting torn in there! Besides, they dry a lot faster than a sweater does," he said, trying to shake the idea that his king was pouting. "I'm happy to keep washing your things by hand. There isn't much here to get them dirty in the first place anyway."

"Then we should leave this place," the living figure said, lifting his chin to stare the author down. Which would have been easier had he been taller than him.

Shang Hua had been about to protest that he had writing to do all day, when he remembered that he'd actually sent his last chapter off to Cucumber last night. And that he wasn't posting at breakneck speed anymore. Besides, with the colder weather, maybe his king would like to get outside.

Smiling, he once again offered his hand. "Okay. You'll have to stay out of sight though. I don't think people would react well if they saw you."

Not to mention that his king was so small... he could get hurt. Something that he knew would utterly break his heart if it happened.

He was wise enough not to mention that, however.

This time, Mobei stepped up onto his hand, using his arm as a ramp up to his shoulder from there. His hands when he touched the side of Shang Hua's neck for balance were ice cold of course, but how could he complain when having him there was just more adorable than he was willing to risk saying. But that didn't keep him from shivering when the icy little figure burrowed his way inside the collar of his sweater to lean against more skin!

"Comfortable, my king?" he asked, trying not to shiver too much and bother him. Powers or not, Mobei was perfectly capable of stabbing him in the neck!

There was a small sound of agreement from just below his ear and he smiled, grabbing keys and wallet before going for the door. Maybe if he thought about this right, it could almost be like a date. The idea of it, a date with his favorite creation, put a spring in his step. What a lovely, chilly day.

[pandoradoesotherstuff]

Halloween AU (kinda)

----------------------------------------

A/N: Just a lil fic of "What would the main party members of Baldur's Gate 3 think of Halloween". Also there's no story spoilers what so ever, hooray!

Enjoy! 🎃🖤

------------------------------------------

Astarion

"Why of course I have a costume darling, is it not obvious? I'm a vampire, how much more scary can I be?"

Ends up with more candy than he started with when he was supposed to be handing it out. You suspect his sweet tooth might have something to do with it.

Tells great "scary stories" around the campfire at night, which are weirdly descriptive. You start to wonder if they're more fact than fiction.

Gale

Has more fun reading up on ancient Halloween traditions, myths, and origins than anything else.

Manipulates the weave to decorate the camp with translucent spectres that swoop overhead.

Has a suspicious amount of capes and outfits for his beloved tressym, Tara.

His campfire story going on too long until Lae'Zel threatens to silence him...permanently.

Karlach

Absolutely adores Halloween.

Would 100% give herself a stomach ache from eating too much candy.

Sad that she can't hug all the adorable kids in their fun costumes. Instead makes up for it by giving them too much candy.

Keeps giggling during the ghost stories.

Lae'Zel

Cannot wrap her mind around the concept of Halloween. "Why are children encouraged to be frightened? In my crèche I would have slain the other frightened children before they had a chance to draw their weapons. "

Pretends to hate candy but somehow all of Shadowheart's chocolate caramels mysteriously dissappear during the night.

Enthusiastically tells battle tales round the campfire because "real events are much more gratifying than made up nonsense".

Shadowheart

"I don't remember celebrating Halloween before, Lady Shar doesn't care for such frivolities."

Keeps pointing out inconsistencies in the ghost stories until Gale suggests a silencing spell.

Insists she's not interested in candy until the peanut butter cups make an appearance.

Discovers a joy in leaping out at the others to scare them, Astarion especially.

Wyll

Loves Halloween for the sheer joy it brings kids.

Surpringly not a fan of candy, so he gives his share to Karlach. Who more than happily accepts.

Watches from a distance as the other tell ghost stories. He's had enough real life horror to last a life time, thank you very much.

Isn't easily spooked, much to Shadowheart's annoyance. But it doesn't stop her from trying.

[shizucheese]

Hey y'all, new chapter of A Lovely Pair of Eyes is finally out! Sorry it took so long, I ended up being a big of a perfectionist with it and it gave me some troubles. But it's here now so read on! :D You can find the new chapter on AO3 here: Chapter 1

If you're new to the story and want to start from the beginning, you can check it out here: Prolog

Fic description: John and Martin survived the events of Mag 200 and ended up Somewhere Else, but now Martin has become an Avatar of the Eye. Now the two of them must navigate all of the complications of their still-new relationship now that they don't have a fear apocalypse distracting them, AND being in a relationship where both people involved are Eye Avatars, AND Martin's struggles as a baby Eye Avatar.

This story isn't going to have a cohesive plot so much as this is where I'm posting all of my stories set in a post-Mag200 continuity where John and Martin are Eye Avatar boyfriends together. Chapter description: Martin Wakes up. Full chapter can also be found under the cut.

Chapter 1

It took Martin a moment to realize where he was when he came to. But as his senses came back to him, he recognized the antiseptic smell and beeping sounds of a hospital room. He had spent enough time by John’s side when he was in his coma, how could he not?

At the thought of John, his memories flooded back to him. The Panopticon. The plan to kill Elias…Jonah…whatever…and release the Fears into other worlds. And John going ahead and killing him himself and becoming the new Pupil of the Eye, and then the horrifying realization that he couldn’t control it.

The knife.

The promise. The kiss. John. Oh God John.

Fear and worry spiked through him and he was distantly aware of the sound of the heart monitor in the room beeping faster. He tried to sit up, but found that he was too weak to do so, and the most he could manage was a weak moan and a flex of his fingers.

It was then he became aware of the hand that was holding one of his; long, cool, familiar fingers intertwined with his own. He rolled his head to the side and sure enough he saw a familiar head of black hair, streaked with grey. He seemed to be asleep, slumped over the bed with his head pillowed on one arm, but he was here, and he was safe.

“John…?” His voice came out weak and raspy and he coughed from the effort of it. He wiggled his fingers in a weak attempt at grasping at John’s hand.

John jolted awake, and Martin watched as one emotion after another flashed across his face as he blinked rapidly. Confusion, recognition, realization….

“Martin.” He said it as a complete sentence. This was Martin. He was Martin. Martin was here.

“John” Martin answered back.

“Oh God Martin!” John stood up and leaned over, cupping Martin’s face with both hands and examining him, as if searching for something, before stepping away. “I’m uh…I need to go tell the doctor you’re awake…” John backed away, his gaze never leaving Martin’s face, until finally he had no choice but to turn around and leave the room.

-

“Well, Mr. Blackwood, I’m happy to say that, all things considered, you’re in remarkably good shape. We’d like to keep you here for a few more days for observation but if all seems well, I see no reason why we would need to keep you longer than that,” the doctor said as he finished his examination. Somehow John had convinced the man to let him stay in the room during the whole thing and now he stood fretting in the corner.

“Now, I just need to ask you a few questions as part of the evaluation. Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Well, he most certainly couldn’t tell the truth about that, now, could he? He doubted the doctor would believe him; it was more likely he’d think he was completely crazy and would try to have him committed.

“J-John.” Martin’s voice was still raspy from months of disuse, although the longer he was awake, the stronger he felt. “I was with John. Th-there was an accident….” he trailed off, not sure what else to say. The doctor nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard.

“I don’t expect you to know the exact date, of course, but could you tell me what year it is?”

“2010.” The doctor nodded again and continued to write on his clipboard.

“And could you tell me who the current monarch of England is?” “Queen Elizabeth.” The doctor added a few more notes on his clipboard, and then stood up from where he had been sitting by the side of the bed.

“Well, that should be all for now. When you’re feeling a bit more recovered, we’ll go over your treatment and rehabilitation plan. Let a nurse know if you have any questions or if anything about your condition changes.” And with that, the doctor left the room, giving John a nod of acknowledgement as he passed him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, John was across the room and by the side of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Martin could practically physically feel John’s eyes roaming over his face again. He took a moment to take John in himself, now that they were alone and had a moment. John was pale even in the best of times, and Martin would have thought, after four months of living in a world not in the middle of a fear apocalypse, that’s how John would look, but instead he was the same haggard kind of pale that Martin had grown used to seeing over the past few years, with the same bruise-like circles under his eyes. Martin wondered how well John had been taking care of himself while he had been in his coma. “Fine? You were there while the doctor was looking me over and asking me all those questions…”

“Yes, but you and I both know there are things that we can talk about between us that we can’t talk about to or around other people.” “Fair enough.” Martin closed his eyes and took a moment before answering. “I’m still a bit thirsty.” At that, John reached over for the cup of ice water a nurse had brought him earlier and held the straw up to Martin’s lips, and he drank from it gratefully. “I’m still tired, too. You would think after four months in a coma I wouldn’t be. Is that normal? And my head hurts…” “You should get some rest then.” “Tell me what happened first.” “We can talk about that later. You need to rest.” “John, I’m not going to be able to rest properly until I know what’s going on. Just…please, tell me.” “Right then…” John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “When we released the Fears into the other worlds, it seems they took us with them, and we ended up here. The land where the Institute and the Panopticon were is a construction site in this world. That’s where we wound up…” John’s mouth quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I told the paramedics and the police officers that you and I had wanted to take advantage of the construction do some urban exploration in the old Millbank Prison tunnels. There was an accident and we both fell. You wouldn’t wake up….” The smile fell. His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s not your fault. You were…” John trailed off and stared into the middle distance, his sentence left incomplete.

“So what are we going to do about like…our identities? We’re not from here so…wait, is there, like, another us here? Like the us from this world…? We aren’t using their IDs, are we?” John laughed ruefully at that.

“No, we’re not using their IDs. Let’s just say we weren’t the only ones who made it here.” “Who…?” It took a moment before Martin caught on. “Annabelle.” “Precisely. It seems the Web doesn’t like being indebted, particularly not to agents of one of the other fears. Her helping us is supposed to ‘balance the ledger,’ or so she says.”

“Right…and what are the chances that she’s going to balance it a little too much and we’ll end up being the ones indebted to her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Getting someone to owe you can be a form of manipulation…” They were both quiet for a moment as they considered the implications of the situation they found themselves in. “What else?” Martin asked, finally breaking the silence. John looked up at him in surprise. “What else is there? What aren’t you telling me?” “I don’t…”

“John, please. I can tell when you’re hiding something from me. Please, just tell me.” The pain that had been pulsing behind his eyes since he woke up grew stronger. John closed his eyes, and his posture, which Martin had only ever seen him lose at the worst of times, slumped.

“You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” “Noticed what?”

“Martin…when the doctor asked you what year it was, you told him 2010. I never told you what year it was in this world.” “What…? Of course you did. You…” “No, Martin, I didn’t.” John’s face was full of…sorrow? Guilt? “Then I…I must have seen it on the—” Martin trailed off as he realized there was no calendar in sight. “Without your glasses? Although it appears you no longer need them...” Martin unconsciously reached a hand up to the side of his face, as if to adjust the glasses that, yes, he realized now, were not there. And yet…

“John, what’s going on?” And there was that pain again, flaring up as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening to him. “When you were in your coma, you didn’t have a heartbeat.”  John paused, and swallowed. “I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you…” His voice cracked. “The only reason you weren’t pronounced dead is because Annabelle did…something and the doctors realized you still had brain activity. You were like that for four months…”

John looked at him straight in the eye, then, and…yes, there was sorrow and guilt and grief and pity in those eyes. “I’m so sorry, Martin. You’re like me now. You’ve become an Avatar of the Eye.”

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

Random thing with no meaning or thematic simply a train of thoughts that escalated, but as someone who was bullied for the majority of their school life and was actually called "horseface" in childhood and early adolescence, I love Jeyne’s “it was me that made up that name.”

She could have easily avoided all possible responsibility because Theon claims it was Sansa who used to call her that, but she intervenes not to deny him but just to add her own culpability. She doesn’t apologise because to whom could she possibly apologise, but she recognises it and there is guilt.

I think that’s touching. It makes me wonder if she is actually aware of how Arya must have felt. Especially now that this pseudo-karmic punishment is relying on her looking similar enough to Arya or the Stark look to be passed off as her.

She says her face wasn’t horsey but we have no real physical descriptions of her beyond long brown hair and expressive brown eyes so who knows maybe there was some projection on that. Or she was maybe clinging to the one thing where she, as a woman/young girl living in a society where women are viewed as objects to be possessed, had more value than a Stark of Winterfell. It doesn't justify it anyway. It doesn't erase the way Arya was made to feel because of it and I'm not trying to pin her as a victim in that situation, because she was not one and she herself even admits to it. She was not a passive non-grata figure to Arya, she was her bully.

But that small phrase is so meaningful to me. I also like how she doesn't absolve Sansa from it, but it feels somehow correct that she takes time to rectify Theon's memories of something that probably haunts her now.

Tumblr sucks at letting you block people to never see them again and every now and then I’m exposed to users who aren’t even active anymore but whom I remember from past years and one more or less popular take that they had was that Jeyne was an extremely passive (/derogatory) character which was why they didn’t like her.

And I never really understood that a lot so this turned into vaguing people from 2014, whatever I'm tired.

Like, yeah, she is a tertiary character with little personality or narrative agency and her emotional role in the story is to act as a proxy for other people’s feelings, but she still manages to come off more assertive than she is perceived by fanon. I think Jeyne W goes through the same treatment in how she is often (at best) written as a timid shy girl and not as someone who physically fought her mom and openly condemns and cries for justice for the murder of the crown's sworn enemy Robb Stark.

And then compared to Theon it’s especially funny when I see someone saying she doesn’t do anything and just waits to be saved and lets things happen to her because the same thing could be said about Theon and I think Theon is the one who commits the more atrocities because of "letting things happen to him" (a not very valid concept in my opinion).

Seriously, what do you think she could have tried? The only reason Theon isn't getting as abused as usual is because she is Ramsay's new chew toy. She is trapped in a room with shuttered windows for almost two months and the only people she gets to engage with are Theon, Ramsay and (I assume) the servingwomen who helped Theon prior to their escape.

That she did most every night, though. Lord Ramsay wanted his wife clean. "She has no handmaids, poor thing," he had said to Theon. "That leaves you, Reek. Should I put you in a dress?" He laughed. "Perhaps if you beg it of me. Just now, it will suffice for you to be her bath maid. I won't have her smelling like you." So whenever Ramsay had an itch to bed his wife, it fell to Theon to borrow some servingwomen from Lady Walda or Lady Dustin and fetch hot water from the kitchens. Though Arya never spoke to any of them, they could not fail to see her bruises. It is her own fault. She has not pleased him. "Just be Arya," he told the girl once, as he helped her into the water. "Lord Ramsay does not want to hurt you. He only hurts us when we … when we forget. He never cut me without cause." (The Turncloak, ADWD)

The servingwomen know of her abuse and go about their doing. She doesn't talk to them and they don't talk to her.

Ramsay abuses and rapes her.

Theon tries to gaslight her and is the one actually advising her to be passive.

"Just be Arya," he told the girl once, as he helped her into the water. "Lord Ramsay does not want to hurt you. He only hurts us when we … when we forget. He never cut me without cause." "Theon …" she whispered, weeping. "Reek." He grabbed her arm and shook her. "In here I'm Reek. You have to remember, Arya." But the girl was no true Stark, only a steward's whelp. Jeyne, her name is Jeyne. She should not look to me for rescue. Theon Greyjoy might have tried to help her, once. But Theon had been ironborn, and a braver man than Reek. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with weak. (The Turncloak, ADWD)

Something I find curious about that one exchange is that nothing indicates they are alone. The women are not mentioned at all, but we know they have been helping Theon bathe her too, so I am assuming they must have been there. And if that was the case then she is either very dumb or very daring. Calling her abusive husband's slave by a name that is evocative of his past as...well not free nor mighty but at least a bit more powerful than he is now.

I don't know, to me this is a very dire situation where even asking for someone to intervene, to help, becomes an immense act of bravery.

And she keeps asking Theon for help. And he keeps refusing her. And one day he helps her.

I grew up in a family where engaging with literature in a self-indulgent way or shipping non-canon things was seen as reductive and masturbatory, which wouldn't be a problem in itself but I also grew up catholic so you can imagine the guilt I feel by simply stating that, at my core, I am a Theyne shipper. And every time I express some concern about them as a ship I feel like I’m shooting against myself, so sorry if I end up offending anyone because of this, I’m on your team I swear, but I always hated the reading of “you could be my man” as a romantic cute thing. Mostly because the entire line and the situation they are in as she says it makes it feel very dubious to me, but I think I can understand why some see it as romantic.

"Help me." She clutched at him. "Please. I used to watch you in the yard, playing with your swords. You were so handsome." She squeezed his arm. "If we ran away, I could be your wife, or your … your whore … whatever you wanted. You could be my man." (The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD)

I think the beauty of that extremely macabre situation isn’t that she is offering herself as a romantic/sexual partner for him if he helps her but more that she is offering them to become a unit. I find it very unlikeable to think a 14 year old girl is seriously and consciously deciding to offer sexual favours Theon (in his Reek era out of all his eras).

It’s a mutual thing. She is not saying she’ll become his price or possession but that he would be hers too. He would have to take care of her and she would take care of him. When I take a romantic reading of it I find it a little distasteful, I always have and I’m not judging anyone for still liking a romantic reading of it! But when I start thinking of it as a platonic “it could be us against the world” situation I can’t help but just want them to stick together.

And then fucking Abel decided to play the fucking Dornishman's Wife and you could see the fucking smile in Ramsay’s fucking ugly head as he reminisces on what was a horribly good time for him.

"The Dornishman's Wife," whilst one of his washerwomen beat time on her drum. The singer changed the words, though. Instead of tasting a Dornishman's wife, he sang of tasting a northman's daughter. (The Turncloak, ADWD)

Fuck you Abel! Fuck you and your silly songs! Who the fuck plays The Rat Cook and Brave Danny Flint during a wedding?! Poor bride had it already bad enough before you decided to add some folk horror OST!

Anyway, I guess the concept of a platonic bond between them has been sabotaged a little by making them become tools for each other's rape, but I like being hopeful and thinking that it still is something they can overcome.

[assassinnumber9]

Assassin's Spy x Family Fanfic Masterpost Ver. 1

I wanted to make a list of all of my fanfics for anyone interesting in reading them. They range from tearjerking to fluffy to hot to chaotic. I try to write a bit of everything. This post will be updated through new posts as I write more and more, because as mentioned in my Drag AU post I have a lot of ideas that I've started and/or have planned.

But anyway, here's my list! I appreciate any and all support! It really helps me keep motivated!

Eternity is One Hell of A Long Time

Rating: E for strong language, violence, adult humor, and sexual content (any such content will be sectioned off into their own chapters and marked since the descriptions of the action are not central to the story)

Description: A Demon!Twilight x DemonicAssassin!Yor fic with a mixture of fluff, romance, humor, action, a bit of horror and a whole lot of chaos! This will be my long series I will be working on for TwiYor! I have a few others planned but nothing as long and lore heavy as this one.

Ao3 Summary:

Cool air breezed through his gold locks like wind through a field of tall wheat - so cold his feet and legs began to tingle, left ring finger seemingly being gently squeezed as if a ring was wrapping snug around it. He could almost feel the initial frosty bite of gold first hitting skin, causing him to press his thumb slightly against where a ring would potentially - no, did - lay. The solid mineral shaped perfectly to adhere to the base of the digit - an impeccably suitable fit. … Wait. Twilight lifted his hand to look at it, to be sure it wasn’t true, glancing to ensure his advisor wasn’t watching beforehand. And lo and behold, there it sat. A thick, solid gold band. Is this a wedding ring?

In which, Yor needs a date to a party and somehow manages to summon the strongest demon in hell...and also bind him to her for eternity.

How does one accidentally bind themselves to a demon for eternity?

Pairings: TwiYor, Pairings to be added

Chapters: 1/?

Flowing Now As a Song

Rating: G

Description: A bittersweet fic where Loid Forger visits Kielberg to speak to his mother.

Ao3 Summary:

The train station where he got off was mostly empty, but he assumed it was likely a lot better than what it was. This station was the closest one to where the bombings dropped all those years ago, closest to Kielberg. And if he had learned anything from his years of spying and war and psychiatry, it was that people tended to stay away from tragedy as if it were the plague, whether or not they had personal ties to that tragedy mattered not. It was all the same in the end. A tragedy was a tragedy.

However, it was when people faced those tragedies were they finally able to learn. It was when people faced those tragedies were they finally able to grow.

And for him, it was finally time to face the ones he had pushed away for over two decades.

Thus, the former spy made his way to find a cab, barely managing to push down the violent pressure of emotions boiling in his chest.

He had to talk to her at least once - just one time would be enough - as Loid Forger and no one else.

Pairings: Mentioned TwiYor, Mentioned Yuri x Chloe (Changed from Yuri x Fiona originally)

Chapters: 1/1

Loid Forger is NOT A Cuddler

Rating: T for mild suggestive themes

Description: A fluffy, tooth rotting fic about how Loid Forger is not a cuddler and the reactions from his numerous victims.

Ao3 Summary:

Let the record show that Loid Forger is NOT a cuddler.

But, he's also a liar.

5 times Loid Forger got caught being a cuddler and denied it, and the 1 time he finally admits it.

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 5/6

Obsessions

Rating: E

Description/Ao3 Summary: A series of ficlets of explicit TwiYor scenarios.

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 1/?

What You Do To Me

Rating: E for smut

Description: A smutty fanfic where Loid fails to stop the situation.

Ao3 Summary:

This was bad.

This was fucking bad.

Then, why the hell did it feel so fucking good?

Twilight couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t he stop? He had done things most would call impossible, accomplished missions that had had less than a thousandth of a percent chance of succeeding. So out of all the things he could do in this damned world, why couldn’t he stop this?

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 1/1

You Truly Are My Vice

Rating: E for smut

Description: A smutty sequel to What You Do To Me where Yor is the one to fail to stop the situation.

Ao3 Summary:

What was she thinking?

What the fuck was she thinking?!

She was sleeping with the enemy, right? That’s what she was doing?

Shopkeeper was going to kill her.

If Twilight wasn't going to kill her first.

Pairings: TwiYor

Chapters: 1/1

[sirowsky]

Day 5 and that means that we're back to Joel Miller! This story is courtesy of @bilibiche who chose the prompt: "Gimme a damned second, will you..."

Rating: Mature Warnings: Joel Miller x reader, reader has no physical description and no specified gender, kinda enemies to friends, allusions to violence, cursing, betrayal, guilt, possible spoilers from ep. 5. Word Count: 1630 Sirowsky's Masterlist

--Lost and Found--

   You shouldn’t like him.

   He’s dangerous, and not just because he doesn’t hesitate to harm or kill anyone that threatens him or the very few things that he cares about, but specifically because he doesn’t care much about anyone or anything.    He’s cold. As hardened as the rest of the world by the new rules you all live by, and he seems to have long since given up on hope.

   But amidst all of his closed doors, you see something which you know that he doesn’t mean for anyone to ever see.    A secret that he keeps locked away, terrified of letting out because of what it would do to him if he tried to set it free and failed. Because it’s the biggest thing that anyone can carry, and yet, it fits into all the smallest nooks and crannies of our beings.    Which is why, even when we think that we’ve rooted it out, one drop is all it takes for it to grow.

   Love.

   He still feels it, no matter how hard he tries not to and no matter how much it hurts him.    You don’t know who it is, this precious someone that he drags around with him, unable to let go but equally unwilling to hold on to.    It tortures him, so in a twisted ballet of self-preservation, he throws his pain at anyone that he can, trying to keep it from burying him, and the ensuing guilt then makes him angry at himself.

   So, in the end, he’s left with nothing but his rage to keep him alive. And it does.    Everyone in the QZ fears him, to a greater or lesser extent, because his anger makes him willing to go after anyone, regardless of their rank or status. He just needs a reason, and there have been plenty of them over the years.    No one messes with Joel Miller. That’s what every new arrival is told, and sooner or later, they all find out why.

   You really shouldn’t like him.

--=¤=-- 9 years later --=¤=--

   It’s a wonder that you’ve stayed alive all this time.    After being recruited by the Fireflies, you’d ended up outside of the quarantine zone about five years ago, with no way of getting back and knowing that you’d be executed on the spot if you should somehow manage it.    All alone out there, you’d been forced to teach yourself to become a better fighter if you were gonna have a chance to survive.

   And you had, against all odds.    You’d made it long enough to run into a group of people that weren’t assholes, and who had decided to take you in despite quite a rough first meeting.    Because by then you were such a good fighter and so adept at surviving in the wild, that you’d become a valuable resource to any community. And especially one trying to build a new home this far out into the wilderness.

   Which is why you’ve already been living in Jackson for a year when he rides into town.    You can’t quite believe your eyes at first, but then he calls out to Tommy and there’s no doubt that it’s him.    Tess isn’t with him, though, and there can only be one reason for that.    Instead, he’s got a kid in tow, and that’s what surprises you most of all.

   They disappear into the cafeteria, and you quickly head back to work.    You have one very compelling reason to not be particularly keen on meeting him again, but you’re also somewhat certain that he would definitely not be happy to see you.    So, you make a mental note not to move about town too much until you know whether he’ll be sticking around or not.

   But early the next morning, while walking to work, you spot him sitting on the front steps of a house just down the street from yours, and the sight of him makes you stop.    Because he looks horrible.    You’ve seen him look stressed and angry and absolutely terrifying before, but right now, he’s riddled with sadness and guilt which are things that he’s never allowed to be seen.

   And oddly enough, seeing him like that makes you realize that you still like him, in spite of everything. So, you swallow hard, then take a deep breath before turning and heading straight towards him, although you walk slowly.    He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t hear you approach, and you don’t want to startle him, so you stop some ten yards away.

   “Hi, Joel,” you say quietly, and he looks up to search for the source of the voice.

   When his eyes locate you, and his brain slowly registers who you are, he turns pale and seems to freeze where he sits.    You know why.    You know what he did, you’d figured it out a few days after it happened, and for a long time you’d wanted to hate him for it.    But you never could, because in his shoes, you might’ve done the same thing.

   “I just thought you should know that… I made it,” you tell him with a small shrug, truly wishing to ease his conscience.

   Still, he doesn’t move or speak, so you decide to leave him alone with his thoughts.    You give him a gentle smile and then turn to resume your walk.

   “Gimme a damned second, will you…” he calls just as you take the first step, and you stop and turn back again, just in time to see him run a hand over his clammy face.

   Slowly, to give him time, you walk closer to the house, until you’re just a few steps away from him.

   “It’s good to see you again,” you offer, but that only deepens the wrinkle between his brows.

   “I find that extremely unlikely,” he says, and then continues after a beat. “If you know…”

   “Yeah, I worked it out,” you confirm. “But I get it. He’s your brother, you were trying to keep him safe. I don’t blame you for that.”

   You can tell that he’s getting agitated, which is only to be expected.    You can only imagine how many times he’s thought about you as another one of his victims, hating himself for it, only to now learn that you’ve been alive the whole time.

   “I tricked you… made sure you’d be gone, one way or another,” he confesses, and there’s anger in his voice now, but you know that it isn’t aimed at you. “I sent you out there to die.”

   “Because with me gone, the operation that I was supposed to head up with Tommy as my second, could never happen,” you recall, and he scoffs.

   “It wasn’t an operation, it was suicide.”

   “Maybe,” you concede. “We’ll never know.”

   He seems to chew on that for a bit, perhaps deciding whether he’s up for debating that point further. But if so, he apparently decides not to.    Or at least, that he’s got more pressing questions.

   “How the fuck are you alive?” he finally asks, and there’s a hint of awe somewhere in the deeper notes of his voice.

   And no wonder, he’s just made the same journey that you did, and undoubtedly encountered the same problems along the way.

   “The short answer is that I kept my head.    I relied on instincts, but I never stopped working the problem, finding food, water and shelter. And everywhere I went, I trained myself.    How to endure and survive heat or cold, how to build shelters if I needed them and how to camouflage myself in different environments. But most importantly… how to fight.    With my bare hands or sticks, rocks, ropes, knives if I could find any.”

   You stop then, because the past isn’t relevant anymore and there’s no point in going further into detail.    Instead, you gesture to the community around you.

   “That’s what I do here now. I teach all the things that I learned out there, to everyone living here, to maximize their chances of survival.    So, maybe I was always meant to get lost out there. To get away from the control of both Fedra and the Fireflies, and perhaps help to create something better.”

   You end with a shrug, and then wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.

   “It’s ironic, isn’t it… That Tommy and I both ended up here and now I’m the one that protects him,” you ponder, but he just stares at you with an expression that you can’t read.

   Since you’re about to be late for work, and he’s clearly not ready to have an actual conversation with you, you give up trying to engage him and start turning to leave again.    But you have this nagging feeling that this might be your one chance to talk to him, and you so wish that you could somehow free him of any weight that your past might hold over him, you just don’t know how.

   “I meant what I said, Joel. It really is good to see you,” you offer, since it’s the only thing that you can think to say.

   He still says nothing, but his eyes are far from cold, which makes you feel hopeful that he might’ve lost some of his harsher edges over the years, and that gives you the courage to share one last thing.

   “Truthfully, I’ve always liked you,” you confess, and then you turn and walk away, hoping that this won’t be the last time you see him.

   But a while later you find out that he’d taken the kid and left shortly after you’d spoken, and somehow, given how unlikely it was that you’d end up meeting out here at all, it seems impossible that your paths will ever cross again.

<<<<<<<THE END>>>>>>>

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging so that more people might find it <3

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[moonlight-prose]

✦BOYS LIKE YOU | WHITE LIGHTNING AND WINE✦

a/n: yeah....so with the enabling of @karasong and me watching stranger things i've finally realized i am in love with this guy. of course me being an au addict i had to shove him into an au. so i hope y'all enjoy the start of this electric love story! i haven't been this nervous to post a fic in awhile, but i'm worried i didn't do him justice. this was also edited briefly between the hours of 4-5am so there's probably many mistakes.

summary: bandmates don't fall in love - there was so much evidence behind it (take stevie and lindsey), but there was something about eddie munson that made your heart throb.

word count: 6k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (nickname baby is used but no description is given.)

warnings: explicit so MINORS GO AWAY, cussing, pining, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of drugs, masturbation, pillow humping (don't look at me), voyeurism, a tiny bit of angst.

next chapter | masterlist

He could remember the first night he saw you.

Standing amidst the crowd, watching the band with an expression he would later come to see every night as you played, and for a moment he swore your pupils were the same as a cats. Either that or his own eyes were playing tricks on him. Really he only caught your stare for a fleeting second before his turn was up—his fingers practically dancing across the strings. The rest of the night was a blur of alcohol and getting high in the dressing room, but that one moment…yeah that was seared in his mind.

One day later you showed up—funnily enough—standing on his front door stoop, the Hellfire flier in her hand. The words Wanted Drummer were shoved back in his face as you handed it to him, a determined glint in your eyes that told him—you weren’t leaving until he gave you an audition. Sure…they were looking for a drummer, but he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be an unknown band. Although he learned quickly to eat his words when you just so happened to be…the best fucking drummer he’d ever heard.

He barely even handed you the sticks before you were mimicking the intro to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher. His guitar following your lead minutes later. Eddie was embarrassed to say he got hard watching you—hair flying and eyes shut—as you went on instinct alone. He’d seen drummers before, even allowed them to audition, but you…the way you became possessed by the music. He couldn’t even call it such a simple word like hot, because that sight alone was so much more. Why you wanted to be a part of his band…he had no idea.

Although with his recent luck he learned one thing. You don’t question when talent was shoved in your face, ready to follow you on the path of rock and roll.

Two and half years later and the small garage band Hellfire became well—an overnight sensation. People claimed it was Eddie’s guitar solos that could draw people to tears and send an audience roaring that did it, but even he had to give a majority of the credit to you. The only drummer who could keep up with his fast paced playing and still keep going long after he finished. Even after so long, you could still impress him with your skills. Your power was music—that now stood clear to him—but if he had to describe what other power you possessed it’d be impossible to explain. 

You were a god in the shape of a woman and he was seconds away from worshiping at your altar.

The crowd's echoes filled the air behind you as the band exited stage left. You shoved your drumsticks in your back pocket of the leather pants they almost didn’t let you wear, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A one hour show had somehow turned into three, leaving you both exhausted and exhilarated; high on the energy of the crowd. The others couldn’t say the same. Eddie looked like he was ready to pass out as he wrapped a cold towel around his hands—attempting to avoid cramps in his fingers. Although knowing him, he’d be up just as long as you. Steve collapsed on the couch, his shirt dropped on the ground and Robin…well you never know where she went off to after shows.

A part of you wondered if she secretly had a girlfriend, but you weren’t one to make assumptions.

“Great show guys!” You bit down on your tongue as Jeffery, your manager waltzed in the door. His hair was bigger than Eddies and he always wore a velvet red tux to shows claiming he needed a signature style. Really a part of him envied the four of you, never having been able to get his own band from the 70s off the ground.

Jeffery was an asshole.

It didn’t take a genius to see it.

“Thanks Jeff,” Steve mumbled into the couch cushion, his eyes shut tightly.

You wanted to bet he’d down a shot of vodka, smoke a blunt and pass out for the night. It was his nightly routine.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you guys about your next show.” Jeff pulled up the chair in the corner of the room. “Steve, Eddie, you guys are doing phenomenal. I already told Robin about what she could do better and Baby—”

“What we could do better?” you cut him off. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Jeff?”

He floundered for words, his eyes darting to Eddie who smirked to himself and Steve who was already passed out. “I just mean…well in terms of your clothing…”

“Don’t tell me…I don’t fit the heavy metal standard of the 1980s. No wait, I mean I don’t fit the feminine standard of what Jeff wants.” He’d said it before with enough conviction to have you ready to lug your platforms at him. “Jeffery, you can stick your standards and shove them up your ass.”

Eddie laughed. Clasping his hands together he leaned forward. “Jeff man, Baby’s style isn’t important. We dress how we want to dress because the music is the most important thing.”

“Yes but the sale revenue on records—”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure if Steve went on stage in a fucking leotard it wouldn’t help us anymore than it would hurt us.”

“Looks are not everything,” you said, loudly propping your platforms on the coffee table. “I’m sure Robin told you the exact same thing.”

Jefferey fumbled for words again, his eyes darting to Steve as if asking for any semblance of help. “She didn’t exactly give me a response.”

“Oh?” That made you curious. You were nearly certain that what Robin had to say was a variation of what you and Eddie were already telling him. The incessant need to constantly change who you were to fit in drove you up the wall, but hey…it was the 80s.

Although you supposed that didn’t make it any better.

“Jeff—” Steve sat up, his eyes bleary with lack of sleep. “We’re tired and we’ve got to hit the road in exactly…”

���One hour,” you finished for him.

He thanked you. “One hour. And Eddie is driving which means the ride will be horribly bumpy—”

“Hey!”

“So please, give us some time to rest.”

Biting back the smile when Jefferey finally relented, getting up from his seat, you felt a wave of ease push all the weight off your shoulders. For a week you’d be stuffed in the bus with the three people you were closest to; sleeping in motels along the way. Thankfully your next show wasn’t for another two weeks. Which gave you exactly five days to explore the city of New York once you arrived. Somehow Jefferey managed to book Hellfire to play at CBGB—a once in a lifetime opportunity.

The night was going well and you weren’t one to let Jeff of all people to deter it. So, with a huff you stood and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table. Right where you left them. Steve would fall back to sleep and Eddie would most likely get high until he could sleep. You swore he suffered from insomnia, but just never bothered with figuring it out—either way he’d fall asleep soon. Which left you to wait until the leftover adrenaline left your system and you could knock out until the sun came up fully.

“What’s on the agenda once we hit the road?” you asked, inhaling so deep you could feel the burn at the bottom of your lungs.

Eddie shifted to the couch where you returned to your seat, flopping down beside you and stealing the cigarette from between your lips—the red lipstick stain on the bottom of it now transferring to his lips. You’d thought of smearing his lips in red a different way…many times. But nothing ever happened on the nights where you got high together, where space wasn’t an issue and he smelled like you the next morning. Your perfume, mixing with his cologne—a scent you’d like to personally bottle.

The stirring in your stomach at seeing him take a long drag and blow it out of the corner of his mouth was what made you break eye contact. Heat spread up the base of your neck and into your cheeks.

Bandmates don’t fall for each other. It was a rule more than anything else.

For as long as you’d known Eddie you held the makings of a crush that you never let get too large. Admiring him as a guitarist and frontman was one thing. Wishing you could have him as more than simply a friend was an entirely different thing altogether. In a way, this friendship was better. You could quell the ache in your body that increased simply by being near him; forget for a moment that he was who you longed for. So, you took another drag of the cigarette and did what you did best.

You forgot for a brief amount of time about those vexing feelings.

“There’s a hotel an hour away from the city we’re stopping at.”

“Fancy I hope.”

He laughed, tapping the side of the cigarette—the ash falling onto the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s… Yeah I’m not gonna lie to you Baby it’s a shithole.”

Spluttering, you coughed to rid yourself of the damn burn that built up in the back of your throat. Laughing and smoking at the same time never went well for you, but when it came to Eddie you knew he’d suffer the same fate as you. One look in his direction and sure enough…he was laughing too. You hadn’t even started on the blunt you knew he kept in his right pocket, stashed between the last few cigarettes in his pack, yet you were giggling like you were high.

A part of you blamed how close he sat to you—his thigh pressing tightly against yours.

“Please tell me it has a cheesy name to go along with it.”

“I unfortunately can’t tell you that.”

The pout formed on your lips before you could control it. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s called Motel.”

“You would be correct,” he replied. “I wanted to rent out a castle, but in the middle of nowhere they’re hard to come by.”

Laughing, you shoved him as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Dangerous didn’t even begin to describe what this relationship was—a friendship on the very edge of becoming something more. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want anything out of this. For weeks tabloids had begun asking you the big question. Were you in a relationship with your bandmate? Did you love Eddie Munson as more than a friend? What was the scoop? That’s part of why you avoided the topic of your relationship with him; also because the thought of finally admitting what you felt terrified you to your very core.

Did you love Eddie? No. You didn’t.

You cared about him as a friend, bandmate, someone who you gave your sunsets and sunrises to. But love has always been a delicate word with a lethal meaning. Considering it was a journey on its own. One you were not yet willing to take.

“We better get ready to go,” Eddie said, tamping the cigarette out. “Hey Harrington.”

The mumbled response from Steve let you know he’d need some incentive to get up and actually head out to the tour bus. Eddie glanced at you, a knowing smile on his face, before reaching for the glass of water that was placed on the snacks table. It may have been awful of you to do this, but there wasn’t really another option. When Steve fell asleep, nothing could wake him up. You backed up as Eddie crouched beside him, the water glass tilted dangerously above Steve’s head and with one last tip of his hand you watched it spill onto his hair.

“What the fuck!” Steve shot up, knocking the glass out of Eddie’s hand and watching it fall to the carpeted floor. “You two really couldn’t have let me sleep?”

“We’ve got to go man.”

“I get Eddie being a dickhead, but Baby…really?”

You shrugged, grabbing your leather jacket that was draped over the back of the chair. “I want to sleep in a bed tonight Stevie. Not on a couch.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dragging himself to a standing position and yanking on the jean vest he was wearing before. He looked half dead and you were partially glad Eddie was driving.

It took thirty minutes to track down Robin, grab your belongings and load up the instruments, but eventually you were sitting in the front seat of the old run down tour bus. You were surprised the thing was still running—given how long it belonged to Eddie. The engine made odd sounds here and there and the tapes sometimes got stuck, but that simply made the experience better. You wouldn’t trade anything for sitting in the front seat, singing along to the songs that Eddie chose.

Yanking the worn down cardboard box that held the band's collection of tapes you found the one you wanted, popping it into the player as Eddie turned onto the highway. Steve snored in the back, passed out on the pull out couch as Robin was holed up in the back, curled beneath a blanket that nearly swallowed her whole. This was the life you chose for yourself. A whirlwind of traveling with people who became your family, and playing as much music as possible. David Bowie’s voice echoed softly through the bus, singing Ziggy Stardust as you left the city behind and headed towards your next destination.

Your boots were traded for sneakers, the leather pants switched out for loose jeans and an oversized t-shirt that said Hellfire on it. Eddie made them long before the band became famous; you made sure to keep it in perfect condition.

“Any stops along the way?” you asked, glancing out the slightly dirty window as the moon began to shine over the darkened highway.

“None tonight,” he said. “Although when we get into the city there’s a record store that’s like a museum. They house some of the greatest records known to man and even have some limited editions that aren’t made anymore.”

You smiled, watching him talk with his hands as he explained about which records he was looking for and which demos the band could cover. All the while Bowie continued to play, the ambiance of the night solidifying the memory in your mind along with all the others that were stored in your head. There’s a reason why it was so easy to fall in love with Eddie Munson. It wasn’t the guitar playing, or the way he looked. No, it was this—his passion that bled into everything he cared about; a magnet drawing in everyone around him.

Tape after tape was placed in the player—the conversation never dying. You could talk to him for hours on end without fail and still have more things to talk about. It’s a part of why you got on so well together. But tonight you could feel the exhaustion begin to weigh on your body—the drowsiness hitting you suddenly.

You could vaguely hear Jimi Hendrix in the background strumming on the guitar, the bus continuing to bump along the road as your eyes shut. Eddie glanced over, seeing you settle further into the seat and attempting to burrow beneath your own jacket. Steve and Robin stole the remainder of the blankets—a tradition that continued to happen each time you all hit the road. He would be up for a while and so he managed to slow the bus down in order to wriggle out of his leather jacket.

“Dammit,” he muttered, turning the wheel to avoid the random ditch on the side of the road.

He loved driving the bus that you affectionately named Clank due to its excessive noise. However, he didn’t love trying not to crash the bus which became more of a difficult feat than he originally planned. Originally it was simply used to travel between neighborhoods in order to play the smaller gigs they got. Nothing fancy. But after they got signed and started traveling further and further away from Hawkins, the bus became their home. Clank was a member of the band and everyone was adamant on not giving him up.

Draping his jacket over you with one hand, he managed to keep the vehicle stable. All the while he popped another tape in the player—another Bowie song. Slower than the last few that played. According to the map that was taped to the dash on your side, it wouldn’t take too long to arrive at the motel. He longed for a hot shower and a good night’s sleep before the routine started up again.

Glancing over at you one last time a faint smile showed up on his lips as you slept soundly; the sight, one he’d keep with him like a polaroid in his wallet.

The engine died down as he pulled the keys out—startling both Steve and Robin. Fifteen minutes ago he managed to roll down the window and smoke a cigarette, but he was already in need of another one. He decided halfway through the drive that it was Steve’s turn the rest of the way. Turning towards you, he saw you still sound asleep—the exhaustion of the show too much for you to take. He knew how you felt. Part of him didn’t want to wake you up, feeling guilty about breaking your sleep, but he knew you’d wake up in pain if he allowed you to keep sleeping in the crappy chair.

Shaking your shoulder, he whispered your name, trying to be as gentle as possible. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along the skin and that seemed to be what woke you up. You groaned, eyes fluttering open to meet his own and Eddie swore he’d never seen a prettier sight in his life. He wanted to kiss you. Whisper how much he cared for you against your parted lips, but knew that, that would be entering dangerous territory.

A place he swore to stay away from.

Shifting, you felt a slight pain hit your neck—the awkward angle you slept in causing stiffness in your limbs. You should have waited until you got here to fall asleep. Although seeing Eddie’s eyes as your first sight after the small nap pushed away the slight annoyance, replacing it with a flurry of butterflies. You didn’t expect him to be that close to you, but there he was. Smiling at you—his thumb pressing into your cheek softly enough to elicit a sigh from you.

“Hey sleepy head,” he said, pulling away much to your disappointment. “We’re here.”

“Where’s here exactly?” Steve asked from the back, his voice deeper from sleep.

“The motel.”

Robin groaned as she stood, reaching for her bag and heading out the already open door. “This place is a shithole,” she called from outside.

You grinned, knowing that if it was her saying it…then it was absolutely the truth. Grabbing your bag, pillow, and blanket slowly you followed Steve out of the bus—nearly turning right around as you saw the state of the motel. Sure it wasn’t the Ritz but it certainly had…no appeal. The outside looked as if it hadn’t seen humanity in decades and you weren’t so hopeful about the interior. You spotted Robin talking to the manager, her instrument bag strapped to her back; she never went anywhere without her bass guitar.

“This place really is a shithole,” you muttered, staring at the half broken sign that flashed the letters MO.

“At least it’s got a cheesy name.” Raising an eyebrow you watched Eddie slip on his jacket that had been on top of you. “You’re gonna tell me MO isn’t a cheesy name?”

“I rather like the name.”

“Well there you go Baby.”

You threw a last glance at Clank, hoping he’d stay safe until the morning hours—protecting your drum-set—before heading inside. Steve tossed you the room keys, Robin having gone up already to pass out for a few more hours. You however must have gotten your third wave of energy that made your nerves jump. But even you knew that most of it was due to the way Eddie kept looking at you—glancing back to make sure you were still there. The feelings you continued to shove down never stayed down for long. In fact, they grew the longer you were near him.

“You and Eddie are sharing adjoined rooms.”

Stopping, you felt your heart rate spike. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a door connecting it.” Steve yawned, the dark lines underneath his eyes now showing prominently against his skin. “I’m going back to sleep. Try not to be too loud.”

“What do you think we’re gonna do Harrington?” you called after him, lips turning up into a smirk.

“Don’t know! Don’t care!”

You laughed, spinning around to face Eddie who was shoving the small black notebook he carried around into his back pocket. For two years you’d seen him scribble all kinds of things in there. Whether it be song lyrics, words, numbers, but you’d never truly know what was inside of it. You knew not to ask. For him it would be like asking to see the inside of a diary—the inside of a soul that should never truly be viewed by another human being. That was solely for him.

“Shall we Munson?”

He nodded, a smile flashing across his face as he trailed after you up the stairs. The motel was only two stories and you and Eddie’s rooms were next door to each other. Saluting at him, you swung open your door to see a single queen size bed with one nightstand and a desk on the other side of the room. The curtains were frayed at the bottom, the window slightly cracked, but it would do for the night. You dropped your bag on the bed, pulling out the sheets you traveled with everywhere and the extra pillow you had.

You were never one to trust the bed inside of motels that could be the star of a horror film—this one in particular bearing a resemblance to a motel you’d seen before. So, you stripped the bed and threw on the queen size sheets you brought, your two pillows going on top. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

The door that was nestled in between the bathroom and the closet creaked open behind you, causing you to jump.

“For fucks sake Musnon!”

He laughed, his head poking into the room. “Don’t worry I’m not here to murder you.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” you said, tossing a shoe at him. It hit the wall with a thunk, making him laugh harder.

“Should I keep it locked or…”

Shrugging, you thought about the possibility of keeping it open all night. You’d shared a room with him before. Hell you shared a room with the entire band before, all crammed in tight together, but this felt different. As if the line you’d both been walking on was suddenly hazy. Until you could no longer tell the difference between dating and just a friendship. You glanced at him, seeing the same look in his eyes that he’d worn the first time he saw you play—the look you dreamed about at night.

“Up to you,” you said, reaching for the t-shirt you slept in.

The bathroom door shut softly and you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. You could see the tiredness in your eyes, your red lipstick now gone from when you’d put it on earlier. The show was a success, each song performer perfectly, and that alone is what made up for the exhaustion. What made you smile even though you felt like you’d still feel this way tomorrow. You began to wash your face and arms, cleaning yourself of the day’s grueling activities. You’d shower in the morning, too worked up to actually do anything except lay down tonight.

Eddie had left the door cracked a tiny bit open—a bold move on his part—but one you found you didn’t mind. His bed was probably mirrored to your own, far enough away to not see you or hear you. Good enough, you thought.

“Goodnight Eddie,” you whispered as you fell back into the bed, your eyes trained on the pale white ceiling.

An hour and a half. That’s how long you’d been staring up at this fucking ceiling, trying to go to sleep. You couldn’t figure out why your mind still raced, your body more alert than it had been this morning. All you knew was that if you didn’t sleep soon, you’d be in hell tomorrow—having to drive at least a quarter of the way to the city. You couldn’t drive the bus on no sleep. Not after the last near accident you got in after the show in Kentucky; sleep deprivation going on the third day.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you kicked the blanket off, your mind going back and forth. No matter how many times you tried to focus on just sleeping, it continued to fall back on the one thing you couldn’t stop thinking about. Eddie. For some unknown reason you couldn’t stop yourself from replaying the conversation on the couch. There was nothing special about it, nothing different from every other conversation before, but every time you thought about it…your heart raced.

You sighed again. “Fuck it,” you muttered.

Dragging the t-shirt up, you slipped off your underwear and felt how wet you were. The thoughts of him, of what you wanted to do with him, continued to play in your mind, causing your insides to tingle. You were an impatient person with a voracious need for relaxation and you didn’t hesitate to slip your fingers in between the axis of your legs. Sighing softly as your fingertips ran up your slit with a gentleness only you could give yourself.

You were practically dripping into your palm as you quickly found your clit, circling it slowly with measure strokes. It wouldn’t take you long at all to get off. Only you felt something shift in your body—the incessant need to be filled—and knew that tonight might be harder than others. Biting down on your lip to smother your moan, you pressed harder on your clit, sliding your slick up onto it with practiced ease. Heat spread from your chest down to your stomach, your muscles tightening with each swipe of your fingers, but it wasn’t enough.

Whimpering, you sunk your middle finger into your pussy and felt your walls immediately clamp down. The slick sound of you pumping into yourself echoed off the walls and you should have been embarrassed at it. Should have stopped, but you couldn’t. Not when the orgasm was building up in your veins.

Adding a second finger, you sped up the thrusts of your hand, pressing your palm down on your clit for the added friction. By now you would have been closer than before. Only it just kept building and building; the pleasure mounting until you couldn’t discern where it started and you ended. Three more thrusts into your pussy and you were ready to scream in defeat—the pleasure fading the more you tried to grasp for it.

“Fuck,” you spit, trying to keep quiet, fearful of Eddie hearing you.

You were panting by the time you got to your knees, your slick coating the top of your inner thighs. The room felt hot, but you knew it was the built up adrenaline in your veins causing it. Still you yanked off the t-shirt, discarding it to the side as you reach for the spare pillow you brought. You’d only been so desperate to do this a few times before, but tonight you couldn’t turn away the opportunity. It had been weeks since you got a room to yourself; the budget only gave you enough for two rooms maximum.

Straddling it you felt the seam press against your already soaked pussy, your pulsing clit pressing against it lightly and you wanted to sob with relief. If you had the time, you’d bring yourself to two maybe three orgasms, but tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight you simply needed what would be the equivalent of a quickie. You wondered why you didn’t find someone after the concert; a cute guy to help you scratch that itch that was building up in your body.

Except then you saw his face in your mind. His brown eyes that stirred your insides up and made you want to tell him the truth about how you felt.

“Eddie,” you sighed, rolling your hips down and biting back a moan as sparks jolted up your spine.

Your breath stuttered, catching in your throat as you continued, the seam of the pillow running against your clit better than your fingers could. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands running up your naked body to toy with your own nipples. Suddenly your mind formed an image of him. Of his hair spread out on the bed as you rolled your hips not against a pillow but against his tongue that eagerly lapped at your pussy. A moan escaped you—soft enough to remain silent—and you bit down so hard on your lip you swore you tasted copper.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when you could feel the building orgasm starting to grow again in your body. Your walls clenching down around nothing as you tugged on your nipples. Hips stuttering and heat filling your body, you welcomed the nearing release. Begged for it. Your movements became quicker—more stunted—as you chased what you desperately needed; his name, another breathy moan on your lips.

“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, falling forward onto the bed and digging your nails into the sheets.

The bed springs were squeaking slightly, the breath leaving you in pants, but you couldn’t give a shit. Not when you were right there. You imagined what it’d be like to see his face between your thighs, to hear his moans as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Fuck, you even pictured him pressed you down further until his nose was buried in your pussy—your slick coating his face. You couldn’t breathe; your chest tightening with each short thrust of your hips.

“Cum for me Baby.” His voice rang in your head and finally the taught string snapped, flooding your body with a white-hot bliss.

A choked moan of his name left your lips, but you cut it off by clamping your hand over your mouth, quieting your noises so you wouldn’t wake him up. Even as your thighs shook and your pussy pulsed, your orgasm rushing through you, you continued to remember that this wasn’t supposed to happen. You shouldn’t have let it get this intense. Not when he was asleep in the other room.

Finally you felt your walls stop clenching around nothing, the steady thrum of pleasure in your body dulling down until you were able to gather your bearings again. You sighed in contentment, feeling the exhaustion return after so long and knew it wouldn’t take you long at all to fall asleep.

Only you never truly noticed the man standing (practically leaning) against the wall as he tried to remember how to breathe. Eddie had gotten up when he heard his name, thinking you were having a nightmare. You got them frequently over the years—even though you liked to pretend you didn’t, but now he was the one who couldn’t move. He knew it was wrong to watch as you brought yourself to an orgasm; knew that he should have shut the door the second he saw you naked kneeling in your bed.

Except…then you said his name again.

His brain short-circuited as he watched you play with yourself, your hips grinding down on the pillow like you were desperate for it. Fuck, he was desperate for it—the apparent bulge in his boxers now painful from being ignored. He couldn’t tear his eyes off you; the goddess he believed you to be now proven before his very eyes. When you fell forward, your eyes fluttering shut, he nearly interrupted you to ask—almost beg—if he could taste you. Worship you on his knees and pray like a penitent soul.

Stumbling back, he locked himself in the bathroom, images of you flashing in his mind. This was wrong. All of it felt wrong. But that didn’t stop him from yanking down his boxers and wrapping a hand around his red and leaking cock. He leaned a hand against the wall, biting into his arm as he furiously pumped his length, practically tasting his release on the tip of his tongue. The way you fought against making any noise pained him. He wanted to know what you sounded like, how you felt. Eddie was trapped under your spell, but there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Fuck Baby,” he sighed, swiping his thumb along the tip of his cock, spreading his own precum downwards.

He could feel the tendrils of his orgasm begin to wrap around his body, shoving him forward with every pump of his hand. Biting down even harder, he knew the skin would bruise. It was inevitable at this time. But he felt no pain—the pleasure numbing his brain as he did whatever he could to chase the release that nearly made his body float. Your voice whispering his name filled his mind; the sight of you coming undone bringing him unspeakable amounts of pleasure. And with a final pain grunt, he felt his balls draw up, his cock pumping out cum all over his hand.

Eddie’s eyes shut tightly, his hips jolting forward as he imagined filling your pussy—imagined the sight of him leaking out of you afterwards. He stroked himself until pain replaced the pleasure and even then he continued until he couldn’t take it anymore. Groaning, he watched the last of his cum dribble out onto his hand, falling onto the toilet below—his body nearly shaking from the overstimulation.

It was only when he finished cleaning up, heading back out into the room and catching sight of you curled up in bed did the guilt start to settle in his stomach. The shame of what he just did now nagging at him. He should have walked away. Ignored the sight of you and he wasn’t sure what to do now. How could he look you in the eyes tomorrow? How could he laugh with you about trivial things when he knew what you looked like at the peak of pleasure?

He wanted to throw himself off the roof, burrow in the room and never come out. Running a hand down his face, he tried to calm his erratic heart beat. Except nothing would shake him out of this. Tomorrow he’d sit in the bus with you, he’d try to keep himself busy, because as much as he liked to ignore it…he knew for a fact that he couldn’t handle a world where you rejected him. And maybe that was the truly fucked up thing about all of this.

He loved you so much he was scared shitless to even admit it to himself.

Dropping into the bed, he stared at the clock that hung on the wall opposite him. He’d have to be up in a few hours with everyone else to start driving again. A never ending routine that he loved wholeheartedly, but even he knew tomorrow would be a different kind of hell. Tomorrow he’d have to once again pretend like the feelings he kept buried deep weren’t there at all. Only this time it was worse, because he finally knew something he didn’t before.

You liked him too.

[monorayjak]

Lost Caverns of Ixalan Thoughts

Ok, so, I just finished reading through the Lost Caverns of Ixalan Story plus the side story that's been released. I just wanted to share some thoughts. (Spoilers ahead)

All in all, an interesting story, with lasting repercussions for both the plane and those who were a part of the story. But, the set leaves a lot more questions than answers, and seems to have added some things just because they could; looking at you Leonin - they were literally in the story for like 10 minutes and then promptly forgotten about.

The story of Kellan continues as a small piece of this plot, and I enjoy that it was woven in without him becoming a key player. He was just passing through and got pulled in, he wasn't a deus ex machina or a big part of the ending, he was just there. Really enjoyed the idea of Kellan building a rag-tag multiversal adventuring party throughout his travels, seems like it would be fun, IF they don't just make it him and Amalia. Because if they leave it as just them its just going to turn into a love story, and I'm fine with a love story, but it just feels shoe-horned in if that's the only reason.

Quint's search for the "Coin Empire" seems interesting, but also seems to come out of absolutely no where, like… last we saw of him his spark ignited. When and when did he learn about this empire? What seems so special about it? How is he so sure it connects across planes? How the hell did they travel across planes in the distant past? How did they end up where they did? What caught his attention about them? It just feels out of nowhere, and it would be fine if they had made him have the revelation of "Holy shit, these things are exactly the same as another site I was working on… could it be some kind of multiversal empire??" but no, they have him already fully aware of it out of nowhere. It could have been better implemented I guess.

Also, what the hell was with the descriptions of "long necks" just being there??? Are they talking about fucking Giraffes? Why do they never mention them in more detail than "fuzzy, strange looking, long-necked creatures??" Why??? Where they trying to hide something??? What was the importance of it?? Are they trying to say BATS somehow have really long necks?? But it couldn't be that because people call the bats, well, bats! Just… what???????

Liked the political intrigue we got from every side:

Vampires having a kind of Reformation level split in the church/government

The sun empire being ruled by a literal 4-year old (ADVENTURE!!!!!!!!!!!) who is being manipulated by two relatives

Huatli working to start a coup

Huatli, Elenda, and Admiral/Governor Brass working together to form a powerful enough force to stop another war

Saheeli being sent in Huatli's place and the fact she is from another world is used in the story by having her keep notes in her home-worlds language, with her also being the voice of reason to everyone without even thinking about it

Enjoyed the fact that Huatli is becoming a tired veteran after the race for Orazca, the War of the Spark, and the phyrexian invasion, and now just wanting a peaceful life with no more needless death.

Enjoyed the moments of Saheeli and Huatli being together, even we don't get many and I'm still not a fan they were desparked.

I found some bits of writing a bit lazy, notably:

These lines are both in the same section about 3 paragraphs apart. There is no break between in the form of a viewpoint switch or anything. There was no reason to have this repetition beyond wanting to compare his use of it to something else and being too lazy to think up another one.

This joke just falls flat. I understand Malcolm has talked like this the entire story, but it just feels so forced and atonal. And it isn't like they couldn't have good jokes in tense moments, for example:

A funny and natural exchange in a very tense moment.

To top off the final bit, I do need to gripe about my BIGGEST annoyance in this set specifically. The discrepancy between both the description and depiction of the "Cosmium Eaters" and the multiple depictions we get of them. Like, this is the description of the lead-up to the transformations

We have a mental image of a large bat god giving this power to Vito and his followers. Which is followed by this image.

Which is fine. Its a great image showing the beginning of the transformation. The transformation, which is described as:

Ok, so they've turned into man-bat like creatures. Cool, good. BUT, then we see this image in the next article, one where Huatli kills Vito.

That isn't a Man-Bat like person... that's Vito with bat wings. Ok, so maybe the transformation was exaggerated a bit in the story... except

No, it wasn't. So why the hell does Vito, as the first person to transform, look like his normal self but is written as if he's become some kind of horrifying monster, one which the characters mention they really only make out its him because he's holding the same staff as before. Why does no one else look like that? What do these people look like?????

Long story short, the story is a mixed bag I think.

[sailor-aviator]

✨

Okay, so kind of a personal post, but I wanted to get my thoughts down, and I will end up deleting this later lol

For my whole life, I have loved books and stories. I have literally been writing stories since before I even knew how to read and write. Somewhere at home is a picture frame that my great-aunt put together of a drawing I made when I was like two or three, and it was a sloppy finger painting, but it's clear that it's meant to be two people and some kind of creature. And she typed up a caption for it, and I guess it was the description I had given her of what the painting was supposed to be.

"A prince saves a princess from the scary dragon, and they live happily ever after."

Not my best work, admittedly, but it's the first documented time of me making a story, and I looked at that picture frame with fondness. Who knows where it is now, probably tucked away in some box in the attack after my parents moved.

But, then I got super into writing in like the third grade when I came up with my first original story, and then my love for writing snowballed from there. I can't tell you how many stories would flit in and out of my brain over the years, but somehow I think y'all have an idea just based on the ideas I pitch on here. But, just know that the ones I put on here are only a fraction of the ones I come up with.

I don't know why I'm so in love with writing and stories exactly. Maybe it's the thrill of making my own worlds where my problems aren't so present and overwhelming, or maybe it's because I love to find the magic in different possibilities. That sounds kind of smarmy, doesn't it? But, I think it's still true.

But, something that's been part of my personal journey as of late is the idea of doing things for myself and not others. My whole life, I've been such a huge people pleaser, and now at my big age, I've decided that I don't want to live my life like that anymore, but I'm faced with the problem of: how do I stop?

I'll start off by saying that I love my parents a lot. They've made a lot of sacrifices for me and they do a lot for me, and I'm forever grateful to them. But whether they meant for it or not, there was a lot of pressure to be a certain thing growing up. I could have hobbies like writing, acting, painting, drawing, singing, etc. But I had to be realistic, and that meant that I wasn't allowed to pursue those things as my main goal. I had to find a way to stuff myself into the box of "STEM, business, or something that would make money." And I get why. Financially, life was rough for a really, REALLY long time growing up. Both of my parents came from households where their parents worked more than one job to make ends meet, and this was back in the 60s and 70s.

So, for most of my life, I allowed myself to have those hobbies, using them as an escape for the growing pressure I was feeling at needing to be "perfect" for my family. And that's just it. I was never "perfect" enough. I could have won first place at a tournament for speech and debate, and I would be given critiques on how I could have done better. They always told me they were proud of me, but the word "but" always came after their words of praise.

"You did such a good job, but..."

"That was really good, but..."

"It would have been even better if you just..."

I didn't hear the words "I'm proud of you" by themselves until I was 12 years old and it was from a family friend. I remember waiting for the "but" to come, and when it never did, I had to excuse myself to go cry in the bathroom.

So I escaped further into my little worlds, and sometimes I would share them with my friends who would always tell me that they loved my stories, but there was always the nagging feeling in the back of my head that they were lying. They had to say that because they were my friends, but also because the stories weren't...perfect.

I've always been a perfectionist, and it's something I'm learning to get over as time goes on. These past few months have been such a journey for me because I've been allowing myself to be bad at shit.

But then I started posting on here, and it made me feel so good to know that literal strangers thought my writing was good too. You guys didn't have to lie to me and tell me that it was, you genuinely thought my writing was great! And it makes me so happy! It refueled my love for writing, and I hope I can keep writing for years to come!

But I've also been telling my mom about all of this (leaving out the 18+ bits lol) and the other night she looked at me and asked me if I had considered actually getting a story published.

Now, this was a bit of a blow for me for a couple of reasons. Yes, I'm so happy that she's finally taking an interest and seeing how passionate I've always been about writing, but...

But why now? Are you asking me that because you genuinely think I'll get published, or are you asking me because you're hearing that people actually really appreciate my hobby and you think I can make money off it? Why are you suddenly so enthusiastic about something I've made clear that I always wanted to do?

Idk, I'm probably just overthinking the whole thing, and I know she's genuinely happy for me, but it still kind of heart. Yeah, the dream is to one day be a published author. It always has been, but who knows if I'll ever finish anything good enough to be published, ya know?

Anyway, if you stuck around this long you can breathe out a sigh of relief lol I'm done rambling and ranting for now. I'll get some of the updates out to you guys when I can

[rubykgrant]

(Here is my fantasy-adventure love story I have been working on! I'm just sharing the beginning right now, but I may post more later. I started writing this by accident, not expecting to at all, and somehow managed to make something that was surprisingly descriptive, and I even had fun creating it~ This involves a character getting an injury, nothing too gory, but there is a small wound and mentions of blood without being graphic. Just a heads-up! Fairly long, so be ready for that. I hope anybody who reads enjoys it~)

When I was still very little, and feeling especially unhappy, I left my home without telling my family.

I had no destination in mind, mostly because everybody knew my usual hiding places, and I didn’t want to be found. Not right away. I wanted to be alone for a while. Really alone, not just surrounded by people who were ignoring me. By myself somewhere quiet, able to think my own thoughts, enjoy my own company, and not cringe each time I heard somebody shout. All the shouting was giving me a headache that didn’t really end, it would just lessen then intensify, throughout the day.

I wanted to hide, but not stuck in some dark and cramped little corner, and that meant leaving home and going somewhere else.

I also wanted to make my family come look for me, to actually worry about me. That was selfish, I know, but I was young and upset. I was also filled up with another feeling, one I couldn’t find the words to describe at that age. I was somehow bored and hopeless, tired from all the constant fighting. Everybody in my family had their own problems, but took out their frustrations on each other, then sulked without finding a resolution. Nobody was trying to actually talk or fix anything.

Being the youngest, my problems didn’t seem as important to my parents and older siblings. I was pushed aside, sometimes literally, and had no way to properly voice what was wrong. It was like something in my heart or in my head felt broken. This was depression, I know that word now. Yes, even young children can be depressed. That feeling doesn’t care how old you are, it happens when it happens. I don’t think my family would have believed me if I tried to explain it to them back then, and even without knowing that word, I knew that I had asked for help before, asked for a little more kindness, and it was refused. I had also asked why my parents and my siblings were fighting so much, a true explanation for what seemed to be causing all this anger and anxiety, but I was not important enough to be answered.

To be clear, my family didn’t hate me. That’s the worst part, I know they loved me, and I loved them, but the love didn’t do anything to stop all the hurt. It would have been easier if they just hated me, but even then, I probably would still love them when I was little. You can’t help that, when you’re young.

Because of the painful feelings and the love that didn’t help, I reached a breaking point. When you are as young as me at that time, every decision feels like a very important life choice. Something that will change you forever. Obviously, as we grow older, we usually get some perspective. The decision I made to leave home that day was just the immature action of a child who wanted some breathing room, and later some attention. It still wound up changing me forever. I suppose that proves life is unpredictable.

While I was still oblivious to the things that were out there, waiting to happen, I thought my only options were throwing a loud tantrum or leaving.

So I left, and went farther away than I ever had before. I decided to try and go in a mostly straight line, so I could find my way back if nobody came looking before dark. I thought myself very smart for this.

I left behind all the familiar sights near my home, and at first, it was fun to feel like I was exploring a new area. I was on an adventure, which distracted me from my unhappiness. I intentionally broke several rules about wandering into places that were off-limits. I found a hill, one that rose up and turned into high cliffs. Normally, I wasn’t allowed to even think about going up that high. So naturally, I did. I should have stopped when I could no longer even recognize the shapes of rocks and mountains around me, but I was excited, and determined, and enjoying this sense of rebellious freedom.

I still could have gotten home alright, eventually. Then I got hurt.

I felt something sharp snag my arm as I moved around a cluster of rocks. For a short moment, I thought perhaps a small creature had stung or bit me, but that wasn’t it. There was something sharp and metal hidden in all the plant growth here, and it had caught my arm, above the elbow. It wasn’t very painful at first, but as I turned to see what happened, the sharp little metal thing twisted, dug in deeper, and suddenly my arm was on fire with pain.

I panicked, tried to jerk away, and that made it worse. The metal thing was, in fact, a barbed hook. Longer than the first finger of my hand, curved in a way that intentionally made it perfect for not letting go of anything it snagged. It also had a tangle of more metal connected to it, but these bits were thin and interlocked, like a chain that acted as a wire. This all snagged me as well, pinching and cutting me everywhere.

I didn’t know what this was. I had never seen a trap or a snare like this before. I just knew that it hurt, horribly. I also knew that it was making me bleed, and that turned the panic into terror. My stomach felt like a tight, cold knot. I finally figured out that I should stop struggling, or it would just get worse. I wasn’t able to rest in any position that was comfortable, no matter what I tried there would always be some part of me that pulled against the metal. After crying and then catching my breath, a new fear hit me.

A predator could smell my blood. I was so far from all my safe places, who knows what might be lurking out here. It started to get dark, and I did the only thing I could think of.

I started crying out for help. I screamed so loud it made my throat ache. Even if my family couldn’t hear me, there had to be somebody, somewhere. I hoped.

As it got darker, I panicked again, now knowing that I was too far from where anybody lived. I also realized that nobody lived here because it was unsafe, and it was unsafe because of things like the hook in my arm. Suddenly I was very aware of how small I was, and what a vast world I was in. I felt surrounded by emptiness… but it was a deceitful emptiness, because dangerous things were hiding everywhere. So much was unseen and unknown.

It’s a pretty humiliating feeling when life just seems to prove every thought you ever had wrong. I thought I could take care of myself for a few hours alone, I thought I could leave my home and easily find my way back, and I thought it would serve my family right to finally be concerned about me. Life had literally added insult to injury. The hook in my arm hurt, and even though nobody else was there, I was mildly embarrassed underneath all the fear. Insult to injury.

In my childish imagination, I pictured my family coming along, seeing me like this, and telling me it was my own fault, this was what I deserved for going off on my own, exploring unsafe places. I deserved to be hurt and trapped, shame on me.

In truth, they would be mad for making them worry, but they would have helped me, taken me home, and tended to me. Kindness didn’t come easy to my family lately, but the love was there. They weren’t coming, though. I was too far away, too high up. They must be worried about me by now, and probably looking in all the wrong places. Why would they even imagine I would ever come here?

Eventually it was completely dark, true night, and I started to think I would be extremely lucky to see tomorrow. I wouldn’t be able to sleep or relax while I was here. A big predator could eat me. Small predators could start picking me apart, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I might just keep bleeding until I died. Even if none of that happened, if I wasn’t able to get free, I would starve. My whole body hurt, I was terrified, and hungry.

The depression I couldn’t name seemed like a beautiful dream compared to this.

In the darkness, I reached out, feeling my way to the other end of the wire so I could try and detach it from the rocks and plants. Even if the hook was still stuck, I might be able to go home and bring the mean little thing along, if the wire wasn’t holding me back. It was agony to move, and my fingers were almost numb from pain and cold. When I finally found the other end, I realized the wire was connected to something large and round. Like a boulder, but perfectly smooth, it was made to be this way, and made to connect to the wire with the hook. It was also metal, and much heavier than me. Bigger than me, too. I couldn’t lift it, or get the wire loose, or free myself from the hook.

At some point, early that miserable night, a miracle occurred. I had no other way to think of it at the time. Later, I still consider it a miraculous event, even with all I’ve learned.

Somewhere up above me in the darkness, I got the sense that something was moving. Shortly after, it wasn’t entirely dark anymore. There was a strange source of light. At first it was a soft and distant glow, but different than anything I had seen before. It got brighter and bigger, before seeming to burst, shooting in all directions. The burst of light made a sound, and I heard it echo, sharp and powerful. The light was part of something, some shape I could see against the furious shine the light turned into. I heard a deep rumble from that shape, and then a crashing noise. A short distance away, something was moving downward, hitting other mountains, crushing the rocks. I couldn’t see it properly, but from that sound, I knew it was huge. The lights didn’t follow it down here. The thing groaned as it fell into the rocks, almost like a wounded animal, but it didn’t act like anything that had ever been alive. Just a big, heavy thing, like the metal ball, but it was falling apart.

I could feel the force of that thing falling slowly pass over me, aftershocks coming in waves, and with it a smell drifted over. I couldn’t recognize it, but it was unpleasant. It left a bad taste in my mouth. As the huge thing settled in the rubble it made, the glowing lights above changed. They seemed to quiver and flicker. As I looked up in wonder and shock, I saw a new shape moving. This thing was most definitely alive.

I had heard stories about strange things that live somewhere in another world, high above. They can sometimes look similar to us, but are completely different creatures. They are mysterious, and often very dangerous. They can abduct us, steal us away from our homes, never to be seen again.

The stories are mostly told to frighten little children like me into behaving, so we don’t wander far from home, or follow the towering cliffs too high up. I had done all that, just to get away from my family. Now that this was happening around me, I also remembered stories about these creatures making cruel weapons to kill us. Things like metal hooks and wires.

I was so high up on the rocks, the lights were shining down on me. Whatever was up there could easily see me if it cared to look.

After a moment, it did. The creature paused, hovering up there in place, and seemed to dip lower, rising back up, and pausing again. It was watching me. It was curious. I froze.

Another loud noise, another burst of light, another large object falling down, a little farther away. More rocks rumbling in the dark. The creature moved on, maybe deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble.

Then it returned, rushing down toward me. It moved with an intense purpose, as if it suddenly decided it had to hurry. I had no idea what to do, and even if I thought of something, it was impossible to actually do anything. I was still trapped. I was hungry and tired, no chance to escape or defend myself. I could only watch this creature get closer.

Soon, it was right in front of my face, and I was struck with an intense sense of familiarity that I never expected. The creature truly was similar to me, at least from the waist up. A head with a face, eyes, nose, and mouth. Arms with hands, and fingers. Still, very different. Clearly not meant to live in the same world as myself. The creature also seemed to be just as shocked to see me as I was to see it. Eyes wide and uncertain, but also amazed. Surely, this familiar appearance was a trick to lure in victims. Why else would something so alien almost mirror myself?

After a few moments of looking at me with disbelief, it moved away, rising upward again. I barely had time to wonder if it would move on, when it returned, even more urgent than before, and this time reached out to touch my wounded arm. I flinched, but couldn’t really do more. I felt the fingers, warm and gentle. Not directly doing anything yet. I realized, it wanted me to know it was trying to help. The eyes were pleading, no cruelty at all in the expression. In fact, it was worried more about my reaction. It didn’t want me to struggle and fight, making the wound worse. I held my arm up a bit, and braced myself.

It dug out the hook, able to maneuver the barb in a way I wouldn’t have thought of. It hurt, but then the pain eased, and I was so relieved I cried again. Then it helped unwind the wire from my body, doing some kind of trick by bringing the little links close together, moving them so they fell loosely away. This particular creature might not have set this trap, but it knew what it was and how it worked. Once I was free, the creature shot itself upward, pushing off the rock where the metal ball still sat. I thought about trying to find my way home in the dark, but with everything that had happened, the large objects that were now in my way, I wasn’t sure it would be possible. My “go in a straight line” plan wasn’t an option anymore.

I was also curious. You’d think I would have learned my lesson about exploring the unknown, but I had just experienced something that was utterly unusual and fantastic. It was impossible to resist trying to find out more. I didn’t think I would ever have another chance like this. The fact that the creature had just saved my life also intrigued me. It wasn’t an evil monster at all.

I followed it.

I caught up quickly, despite its head-start, and also despite my own injuries. I was built for swimming, after all.

Some of my fins were a little torn, but not in danger of getting shredded as I moved through the water. The wire had scrapped my skin and my scales, but thankfully none had been ripped off. The worst was the cut on my arm from the hook, but I covered it with my other hand, and could swim just fine without moving my arms. I wasn’t as big and strong as my older siblings, but I was a powerful swimmer for my age. Now that nothing had me trapped, I could work my shoulders, arch my back, and roll all that movement down through my tail, building momentum. Up, and up, and up…

We both broke through the surface of the water at the same time, and I heard the creature let out a high-pitched noise. It couldn’t breathe in the ocean, like me. That’s why it had been hesitant to dive down, and in such a rush to get me free. These beings didn’t just live in the surface world because it was their territory, it was the only place they could survive. I could breathe air, I knew that almost as an instinct, but also from experience.

When we weren’t out swimming through the ocean, we lived in caves with air pockets under the water. The ones that became out main homes were all naturally formed, but long ago our ancestors carved them out to make tunnels that helped the water flow through different caverns. Somewhere from the cracks in the ceiling, air from the surface would rush down. Somewhere below, from cracks in the floor, bubble filtered up. There was always air and water in our caves… but some tunnels didn’t wave the flows for water. Occasionally, me and my siblings would pull ourselves up to crawl across the rocks, trying to see who could go the farthest into these tunnels as a dare.

Nobody had ever gone very far, and we never knew if these tunnels lead anywhere. Partially because we would all eventually lose our nerve, but also because our parents would catch us, then scold us. If we wandered too far away from our pools and paths, and got stuck somewhere with no water, we might die. That wasn’t just an over exaggeration to frighten us into behaving. Being too dry never felt good… it was also an instinct, understanding that without access to the water, we would die.

Without air, this creature would die.

I remembered some of the old stories, about how our kind would have to pull these creatures from the world above deep in the water. Down so far that they would never be able to swim back to the surface, even if they got free. In the stories, this was called “drowning”. It was the only way to stop them from pulling us up, where we would meet all forms of terrible torture and evenual death, like being denied water until we became dried husks. At this description, I always imagined left behind shells when certain creatures molted, but shaped like one of us.

This creature had risked it’s life to swim down and save me. Now, instead of pulling me up, I had come willingly. I wondered again if this might be a devious trick somehow.

The creature turned to look at me, the sounds it made grew quieter, more even. Catching its breath. I hadn’t been sure before, because even though the creature was small, size doesn’t always matter. Now I thought for certain, this must be another child. Perhaps my age. I looked back, my face resting closer to the waves. My nose was still below the water, but the creature kept its chin up. With the urgency gone, I could tell it was was amazed to see that I had followed.

I watched as the creature moved their arms around to stay in place, and also… I wasn’t sure what to call it. The creature didn’t have a tail, like me. Instead, two limbs below the waist, and these limbs bent almost like the arms. It had another set of hands on the ends, but they were longer, and the fingers were stubby. This was how it moved through the water, using these two limbs. I wished somebody else was here, to see the creature. Somebody who would be better at understanding how it looked, how it worked.

The creature turned, looking around, and then swam toward the top of a cluster of mountains. Above the water, I could finally see what they turned into. It was a little like some areas of seafloor where I played, with small hills, and plants growing around. These plants were much different than what I was used to. It all looked more sturdy, somehow. Nothing flowed continuously up here. The air moved, though. Not quite like the water, but I was surprised to feel it moving at all. The air pockets in my home never felt like this. Those were contained. Up here, it was like the whole world was breathing.

As the creature swam toward a hill that rose out of the sea, I continued to follow, and we both wound up sitting in the sand, side by side. Waves rolled up around us, then went away, then came back. I had never seen water do this in my life. I had always been within it, feeling it around me completely. Even in our caves with the air pockets. The times I’d been able to see a clear view of the waves above me, at a distance, it had been in open water. Nothing for them to crash into or wash over.

It had a rhythm, a pattern, but occasionally it shifted and changed, the water pulling away for a longer stretch of time, and a rather big wave following, then finding the rhythm again. Bubbles turned into foam at the edges of it. Seeing the way the ocean, my whole entire world, moved up here was fascinating.

Out across the water, I saw the flickering lights. They were dying out now, whatever they were. I could see clouds rising from each one. The smell I noticed below the water was up here as well, and even worse. We had sources of heat in my world, and this smell was like when something touched that heat for too long. Burning.

I looked at the creature again, and found they had been looking at me as well. We looked at each other for a long time. Still getting used to the fact that we both existed, and also resting. We were very tired.

They were better at sitting up out of the water than I was, but that made sense. I noticed the creature had a scratch on one side of their head, above the left eye. They were hurt, too. The creature was almost entirely covered in some kind of clothing. We have clothes too, usually just worn for special events, or simply because we like them. Having clothes all the time gets heavy and slows us down when we swim. It must not be a problem for creatures up here, except right now, because those clothes were wet.

As we sat there and looked at each other, the moon began to rise in the sky. I knew the moon, even from a distance deep below the water. It was also connected to some instinct. The moon was part of the water, part of me, part of everything that lived in the sea. Tonight, the moon was round, bright, and pale. As if it wanted us to get to know each other better, the moonlight shined down on us.    

Now I could see more details and differences between me and the creature. They had a slightly slender face, while mine was a little more round, but my chin came to a tiny point, and theirs ended in a small squared jaw. The features they had were defined, but not harsh. Graceful is the word I would have used, if I’d known it. Their hair was very long, made of thick curls. My hair fell around my neck, barely touching my shoulders, just a bit wavy.

This creature might not be at home in the water, but I could tell they had strong muscles in their arms. This strength seemed somehow fragile, though. Maybe that was because I could see another child there beside me, and sensed that no matter how strong a child is, it is terribly easy for us to be broken.

Eventually, the creature reached out a hand, and I touched it again. The fingers were still gentle. Nails shorter than mine, but more little rough areas of callous on the palms. Their face had a reassuring expression. They didn’t want to frighten me, even now, and I greatly appreciated that. They looked at my arm, not bleeding as much anymore. The creature carefully pushed the torn parts of my flesh together, attempting to close the wound. I didn’t know how to explain that wouldn’t work, as soon as they let go it would open again, but then I heard a ripping noise.

With their free hand, the creature was pulling off a shred of clothing. They already seemed to be torn and tattered in a few places. Once they had a section they considered to be the right size, the creature wrapped the fabric around my arm, tying it in a way that kept the wound closed, but still loose enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. My other scratches weren’t as severe, thankfully. The creature still wanted to check me over, just in case. I have to admit, I was no longer worried about this creature trying to trick me in some way.

As they fussed over me, I was suddenly filled with a funny feeling of delight. I had been saved by a being from another world! They had gone to great trouble to help me, and were still concerned with my safety. Just as I didn’t have the words to describe depression, I didn’t have the words for how I felt right there. Many years later, I would learn the word “enchanting”. I had gone from feeling neglected, to desperate and forlorn, to incredibly lucky all within a single day.

What made me so special, to find myself in this moment? Still no answer for that, but maybe that’s alright. You never know when something special will happen. It doesn’t matter how old you are, either. Life does whatever it wants.

I was also falling in love with this creature, just a little bit. Perhaps not seriously, considering I was very young, and we had only just met, after all. Still, it was a very big feeling, and I had never felt anything quite like it before. They had rescued me, and were now caring for me with genuine kindness. How could I not fall in love?

When the creature was satisfied I was alright, they settled down again, sitting closer this time. As I watched them look out across the water, a new expression of utter despair filled their face. It occurred to me that the creature was alone, just like I was. Had they also left their home, and now couldn’t return? I thought about the objects that sunk into the sea. I’ve never been that close to anything like it before, but I’ve seen strange things made of metal and other material come down from the surface before. Some are very old, but others more recent. Stories told the creatures from this upper world make large structures for themselves that float on water. Some of them have loud, dangerous blades that slice through anything that touches them. That must have been what sunk before.

Now the creature had no way to move through the water without trying to swim, which wasn’t an easy task for them. We were also pretty far away from other cliffs and hills that reached above the ocean, so I doubted their home was nearby. The creature might have also lost their entire family when those objects sunk. Everything went down, deep into the water. They drowned. I was safe, but what about this creature? Who would find them? Who would help them?

I wished I could. I wanted to.

I tried to say that, telling them “I don’t know who you are, or what happened to you, but you saved me. Thank you for that. Do you know where your home is? Please, tell me how to help you,”

The creature’s attention was back on me, curious and confused. They made new noises, and it was clear we had different languages. We couldn’t understand each other with words, but… I thought about how they had communicated wanting to help me with their face and movements. I tried to do that.

I clasped one of their hands with my own, and brought it over to touch my injured arm, then pressed the hand to my chest, while smiling.

You helped me. Thank you.

They smiled back, and seeing the joy in that smile, I fell a little more in love. Yes, foolish and childish, but forgive me. I was foolish and a child.

I moved our hands toward the creature, until it touched their chest. My other hand, with the arm that had been bandaged, reached out to touch the same spot on their arm, above the elbow. They had no injury there, but I hoped I was clear.

I want to help you now.

The creature made a sound, almost like when they burst through the water earlier. Their head bent forward a little, and I saw their shoulders shake. They were crying. I had done the same, many times in my life. I knew how it looked, and how it felt. They leaned forward, just a bit, and the creature let me hold them in an embrace. We were different beings from different worlds, but we were also two children that were hurt, and lost, and alone. So, we understood enough to try and comfort each other. They might have just lost their whole family. Even though mine made me sad and angry, I would not want to lose any of them.

Thinking of my family made me wish I could communicate how I felt with them like this. I wished we could all comfort each other, find a way to understand each other. Two different creatures who had only known each other for an hour and didn’t speak the same language were figuring it out. Maybe there was hope with my family.

Soon, the creature took a deep breath, calming down. They briefly squeezed their arms around me, just a bit tighter, before moving away. It was a physical sign of gratitude. Now they looked like they were trying to think of what to do next.

The creature could see the area better thanks to the moon, and they motioned to me that they needed to find a safe place to rest. I watched in awe as they rose upward, using the two lower limbs to move. Now it was plain to see why the ends of those limbs were shaped differently than the hands. It was for balance, and the creature was much better at using the limbs out of the water. It moved along the sandy hill, and I followed from the shallows of the waves. Things had also washed up in the sand, objects that must have come from the same structure as… I felt bad, thinking of the one who saved me as a “creature”. We didn’t know each other well yet, but I decided to call this individual my friend. At least, to myself. We could try to find shared words to call ourselves later.