#ten fanfiction

[mae-gi-writes]

when the words fail . ten lee

Storyline: When your dance teacher decides to pair you up with your best friend Ten as a fun project for the school’s end-of-year performance, you couldn’t be happier. Ten’s your rock, the only person with whom you could trust your body, yourself, your feelings. But this dance brings out the best and worst parts of you, and suddenly, it feels like Ten means so much more to you than what he seems to be.

Genre: college!au, bestfriends to lovers, fluff, comedy, angst and mentions of insecurity and depression

Word count: friggin’ long because I can’t seem to write 1k fics now it’s ALL OR NOTHING.

Song: I Got You - Leona Lewis

————

A place to crash, I got you. No need to ask, I got you. Just get on the phone, I got you.

Gonna pick you up, if I have to.

————

“Love.”

Your nose scrunches up in distaste, “too basic.”

"It's a human emotion," Ten argues.

"It's overdone."

"It's necessary."

"Ugh," you can't help but roll your eyes, "can we do everything but love? We'll use it as a last resort."

He throws you a look as if asking whether you're actually serious, though you're used to it by now; that quirked eyebrow and the narrowing of his eyes. You always think of a cat when he does that, and right now is no exception. A pissed off cat.

"You spend too much time with your cats," is what you answer instead, ducking with a chuckle when he swats at your arm.

What you thought should have been a fun performance to plan is starting to grow into a headache. You're not even sure why your dance teacher came up with such a suggestion. Ten is one, if not the best, dancer of your class. Your entire cohort, even. So why -- out of all people -- has she chosen you as his partner?

"What about Life as the theme?" Ten proposes after a long bout of silence with only the click, click, click of his pen breaking it in small staccatos.

"Life," you lean your head back, stretching your neck slightly, "sounds alright, I guess. But shouldn't we be more specific?"

"So...youth? Like, the beauty of being young?"

"Sure. That works."

Once your theme is cleared, you move on to the logistics; the genre of dance, the music, what costumes to wear. It's all very blurry and unconfirmed, and even when curfew rolls around and you're trudging out of the studio, you still can't register the fact that you're the one who has been given the chance to work with Ten. Alone.

"You're thinking too much into it," is what Ten says when you voice out yout concerns, "Professor Lee probably thinks our styles are compatible."

Sure. Hiphop and jazz, it could work. But still, the skill gap is so obvious that it keeps you up at night.

The only comfort this brings you is that you get to work with your best friend, and what better way to spend the last few months of your degree than with the one person that understands all of you completely?

You try to comfort yourself over that fact, finally allowing the heaviness of your lids to drift you off to sleep.

"Since we're just the two of us, we can make a story out of it," Ten says the next morning during Dance Theory class. You're nestled at the very back and succeed in ducking behind your classmates in favour of exchanging ideas on paper.

Your heads are close, and if you look up you might bump your nose into his temple.

Instead, you keep your gaze focused on the page scribbled in black ink as Ten continues in a breathless murmur, "what are we? Friends? Lovers? Just two strangers who happen to meet by chance?"

"How about just us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. Us. Our friendship."

Something indescribable flashes through Ten’s eyes when his eyes look up to yours, and you wonder whether yours are giving too much away. What are you giving away exactly? You ask yourself in annoyance. There’s nothing to give away.

Ten speaks before you have the chance to add on to your statement, “I like it,” he scribbles it down on the page in big block letters so that no one would miss it even if they tried, “our friendship.”

It seems that everyone else is more excited about the Performance than you are, asking you how you managed to get on Professor Lee’s good side and whether Ten had anything to do with this particular arrangement. As much as you hate to admit the thought out loud, the more you think about it, the more logical it becomes. Though…why would Ten even want to dance with you if that is his final piece, his thesis, the one stage that will determine where his future his headed?

“You should be happy about it,” Mark Lee says in response to your complaints as you gobble your way through your lunch. The cafeteria is hoarded with hungry students at this time of day and you’re glad you reminded yourself to bring a sandwich from home, “one; you get to work with your best friend. And two, you’ll get good grades for it.”

"Something doesn't feel right," you mumble through bites of your sandwich, "it's like...a sixth sense thing."

"Well tell you sixth sense to back off. You really can't complain when everyone's thirsting to get paired with Ten Lee."

"Maybe Ten doesn't want this."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Oh, I don't know Mark. Maybe because he doesn't want an extra weight on his shoulder?"

"Don't be stupid Y/N. He wouldn't want to work with anybody else but you," Mark takes another bite of his rice and curry, scooping up a little bit of kimchi he'd managed to wheedle out from the canteen lady earlier, "give him some credit."

You try. You really do.

As if to cure yourself of the guilt eating away at your insides, you stay up late mosy nights after dance practice, cooped up in your room in search of the right music to accompany your piece. You scrape the internet for pictures of costumes, wonder whether you could utilize some Chinese elements to your piece, and look over any lights that might amplify the feeling you're trying to convey.

All this information is scribbled into your notebook until the next morning when you have dance class with Ten. Nervousness takes a hold of you as soon as you step in though, and you try not to fidget under your best friend's quick glances when the teacher finally gives you free time to work out logistics.

"I was thinking," you start out shyly, keeping your notebook as close to your chest as you possibly can, "uhm, about the music, maybe we could use I Got You by Leona Lewis or one of Radwimps' songs. Or maybe even Youth by Troye Sivan since we`re working on that theme anyway--"

You realize you're babbling and quickly rush to add, "--I'm sorry, those are just ideas. We can definitely look at more options--"

"Don't go shy on me now," Ten chuckles, making a grab for your notebook and before you know it, he's flipping through the ink-filled pages with such interest it makes you cringe, "oh my god, Y/N. That's amazing. You did all this yourself?"

"I couldn't sleep last night," it's technically just half a lie, "so I thought might as well waste my time productively."

"Goody-Two Shoes."

"Oh shut up--Give that back," you snatch it back with a scowl, hating the way heat spreads to your cheeks, "I'm trying to do my part of the job."

"You're doing more than just your part," his chin rests into his hand, elbow on the table as he grins at you throgh his bangs, "so tell me. Anything else you wanna discuss?"

See, this is what you love the most about Ten. No matter how talented he is, he'll never be one to turn away your ideas in favour of his own. As you spend the next half hour planning out your costumes (Ten thought an autumn color palette would be best) and the story you’d want to tell (you chipped in a part about making it emotional to garner people’s attention), you realize the importance of Ten’s presence in all of this. It’s not that he’s the best at complying nor is he the most creative, but what Ten does is that he brings your ideas together, fuses the abstract into concrete, and gives you so much support you start thinking whether he’s just doing it to be nice.

But here’s the thing. He isn’t just nice. He’s nice, while also knowing what he wants.

You’re so immersed in the subject that you barely take note of the figure hanging over your shoulder until an unfamiliar soprano speaks up from behind you.

"Hey Ten!"

You turn and blink. The woman standing before you is dazzling. All long legs and golden dyed hair drifing down her back in glossy curls.

"Jueun," next to you, Ten straightens in his chair, "what are you doing here?"

Who’s this? Is your first thought. Of course, Ten has a lot of friends. So much more than you do. But none of them have ever stepped foot into his classes. Let alone his godly dance classes. You half-expect Ten to shoo her away with a half-baked promise to get back to her later, but you’re more than astounded when the girl — this girl — merely lets out a soft laugh.

“You’re the one who asked me whether I was free,” she grins at him. And then, like an afterthought, her gaze flits to you, “oh, hi. Sorry. How rude of me, I’m Jueun.”

Jueun — according to the limited, slightly awkward introduction mediated by Ten — is a third-year biology major who’s only focus had been to get into the field of medicine. She’d met Ten at the last Thai committee social and they had been seeing each other casually ever since.

“You’re from Thailand too?” You ask her with a slight frown. Jueun doesn’t remotely sound Thai.

Oh, why do you care?

“My parents are, though my father is half-korean. That would explain my name,” she smiles and it’s so pretty it almost blinds you for a full minute. No wonder Ten appreciates her presence. Any man would be lucky enough to entertain her presence. She turns to Ten then, another playful smile on her face, “I’m gonna head to the cafeteria. We could meet there once you’re done.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

In any other circumstances, you’re pretty certain Ten would’ve made a comment on Jueun’s presence after she’s gone. It’s not like he’s never dated before, you’re used to seeing him with other girls who disappear after a while. And you don’t see how Jueun is any different.

Except, Ten doesn’t even mention her. At all. Instead, he focuses back on the topic at hand; stage lighting, and leaves you in a tightly wound knot of confusion as you keep on gazing at him in hopes that he’d clarify this weird situation.

“So…” you muster up the courage to ask him as you’re busy packing up your bag. Ten is shoving his things inside none-too-gently, suggesting that he is probably going to meet him with this Jueun as promised, “you like her?”

“Huh?” Ten’s head snaps up to look at you.

“Jueun,” you motion towards the space she’d once occupied by your table, “do you like her?”

He offers a half-hearted shrug as you make your way out of the classroom, holding the door open for you, “it’s early days.”

“You’re seeing her?”

“I guess you could say that, yes.”

“Is she nice?”

He cocks his head in thought. In the corner of your eye, you catch a small smile fitting across his lips, “she’s…yeah. She’s nice. I get along well with her. She’s easy to be around.”

Ah.

A rock seems to form in your chest, and suddenly it’s a little hard to breathe. You look away from him, hands unconsciously tightening on your backpack straps as you wonder why it had taken Jueun’s appearance for him to say anything in the first place.

It’s none of your business. You know it isn’t. And you’re not one to pry into Ten’s personal affairs.

So you let it go, bid him goodbye at the cafeteria doors, and try not to think about why your heart aches a little at the thought as you make your way out of the school campus.

————

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry, i’ll be alright

————

“One, two, three, four and five—“

“On five?”

“Yeah,” Ten swings his arms around in a sweeping gesture, the movement as graceful as a swan on water. He rotates his body, adds a spin while counting, “five, and six and seven, eight.”

“Five and six, and seven—“ you try your best to imitate him, though you feel more like an ugly, awkward duckling than a swan. You stumble slightly, lips pursing into a pout, “this isn’t going to work.”

“You just gotta practice,” Ten repeats the movement again, slowly, and you do your best to follow, “yeah, that’s it. You just gotta make sure you hit it on the five, and six, you put your foot down—“ he does, you follow like a newborn fawn, the balance throwing you off, “—and seven, eight.”

The final performance — and evaluation — is in a month and is approaching too quickly for your taste. Late hours had been spent in the comforts of the music lab where you and Ten had sat together, notes spilling out from all corners and coffee cups at the ready for the long night, as you both worked on the melody, choosing each lyrics precisely to the story you were telling, and adding a few beats here and there to allow some depth into it.

Despite your tiredness, those days had been magical, almost pleasurable, when Ten was at your side. He’d bring you snacks from the convenience store whenever he could, managed to stuff a throw blanket in his backpack for the times you’d collapsed onto the couch to doze off. He’d sacrifice his own sleep for yours and instead would click away at the mouse when you gave in to the tiredness and didn’t complain once about coming early to dance practice the next day.

There was a lot of work to be done, a lot of details to be figured out. But with Ten at your side, nothing seemed too terrible or impossible. You’d sometimes find yourself into fits of laughter whenever you got distracted enough by the campus gossip he’d relay to your ears. When you got tired, he’d play loud, exciting music for you to dance to, and when you were both collapsed on the couch after too much staring at the computer screen, you’d exchange soft conversation about your future, about the things you’d like to do once you graduated, about all the places and the people you’d like to see.

“I like it here though,” you’d say to him, shoulders shifting so that it brushed against his. Ten was warm. Wrapped up in the blanket thrown over the pair of you as you leaned against his body, he was the perfect pillow to fall asleep on, “I like being close to my family. I like the simplicity of waking up every morning and knowing where everything is.”

Ten’s head dips so that he can look at you. The warm studio light hits his side profile, causing you to admire his features, “I want to travel,” he murmurs, “I want to work abroad for a few years. Yeah, that would be ideal.”

“Have you started applying for jobs yet?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know what I want to do, specifically. I thought about going into costume design, maybe…” his voice trails off with uncertainty.

“That actually sounds like you. If you weren’t such a good dancer.”

“You can’t make a career only out of dancing, though.”

“Isn’t that why we’re in this program?”

“We’re in this program because we love dancing,” something catches in Ten’s voice then, something you can’t quite decipher, “but just our love for dance isn’t going to get us anywhere. We need to branch out, diversify.”

His words are shocking, for you’ve always known Ten to be a follower of his dreams. You straighten up, look at him as if he’s grown another pair of eyes. He avoids your gaze though, keeps it glued to the blanket he’s started fidgeting with.

“You got into an argument, didn’t you?” Your words are soft, yet hauntingly loud in the silence of the room, “with your mother?”

A pause. Ten’s figure stills.

Then, his head dips into a nod. He lets out a shaky exhale before dragging a hand over his face, “I don’t know what to do,” his voice comes out muffled underneath his palm, “Ma told me I wouldn’t be able to keep dancing forever.”

“You were made to dance,” your hand shoots out to grasp his forearm, “out of all of us, you’re the one who was made to dance, Ten. You can’t just throw that away just because your mother doesn’t agree with your definition of success. And imagine all the grants, the scholarships. You’ll get them all, Ten. What with our final performance—“

And then it hits you.

He might not get the scholarship. Not if it’s with someone like you.

That’s it. That’s the issue.

“It’s me,” you murmur out, “isn’t it?”

Ten’s head whips up, eyes catching yours in surprise, “what?”

“It’s me,” you repeat the words that sound hollow on your tongue, coated with a sourness that makes you want to gag, “I’m the reason why you won’t be able to get your scholarship…isn’t it? That’s what everyone’s been telling you, right?”

His response is silence. But that’s more than enough.

“You’re right,” you swallow thickly. Take a breath, try to continue though your voice starts shaking, “you won’t get the scholarship because of me. But we can do something about that. We’ll focus the choreography on you so that you have more chance. We can do that—“

“No,” Ten’s jaw clenches then, “No. We—No. That’s not right. It’s your performance—“

“And yours,” you counter-argue, “which is why I think it’s fair enough you’re the center of it.”

He’d rejected your idea despite the argument that arose that night, refused to even acknowledge it as a possibility. But you were just as stubborn and willing to give up anything for Ten to get that scholarship that would put him under the radar of the best International Dancers in the world. Heck, he would get master classes out of this, and if he put his name out there, he’d definitely have a wider chance of creating the career he’s always dreamt of.

“We could change the choreography here,” you say while trying out the moves again. Fix, six and seven, eight, “I think you should be the one doing it. I could maybe stay in the background.”

“It won’t look as good,” Ten shoots you a sharp look, “let’s do it together, come on.”

Most attempts up until now had been futile to try and wheedle Ten into taking the centre stage. It’s frustrating, so much so that you end up at Professor Lee’s office one late afternopn in hopes of getting her to influence his decision.

"You know I cannot say anything about that," she looks up at you from behind her wooden desk, lRge and overflowing with papers that seem endless.

"But you agree that him getting more focus would provide better opportunities?"

Professor Lee hums, chin settling atop her hand as she looks at you over the top of her glasses, "Give him a little more credit than that, Y/N. He did ask me to put you with him, after all.”

You blink. “He—He did?”

Professor Lee cocks her head at you, probably confused by your behavior, “yes. He asked me himself. Said that you guys wanted to make your last dance piece a memorable one. Who was I to stop him?”

“But—“ your tongue suddenly feels a lot heavier, your chest suddenly constricting as realization washes through you. So Ten had asked Professor Lee himself, making as though it had been both of your idea, “—but you knew this would affect his grade. You know it. I’m—We’re not even close to the same grade boundary—“

“I’m well aware,” Professor Lee interrupts, “but he wouldn’t hear another word about it. You know how stubborn he is.”

That changes a lot of things. That makes you seething mad.

Who is he to know what’s best for him? What’s best for you? You understand why he’s doing it — he wants you to succeed just as he does. But the anger that pulses through you diminishes your amount of sympathetic reasoning and no sooner you’ve walked out of Professor Lee’s office that you fish out your phone and ram your fingers over your keyboard.

Y/N: Where are u?

The text comes back a few agonizing seconds later.

Ten: Uni cafe. Y?

You don’t hesitate, going straight to the said destination as you try and qualm the sudden overwhelming wave of feelings that are threatening to take over. You hate this, hate the fact that Ten has the audacity to do such a thing behind your back. It’s not just about trying to make it better for you but it’s almost pitiful, the way he’d done it. He might as well be laughing in your face because right now you feel like a complete, blithering idiot.

You’re almost through the cafe doors when you halt in mid-step.

Ten is here, but he’s not alone. Jueun is with him.

Something in your heart cracks.

For a minute, the world seems to freeze on its axis. With only you, and your beating heart. Too loud. Too much.

What are you doing?

You take a step back. Then a second. And then, you’re bolting away and through the campus as a new kind of rage takes over. Stupid, stupid, your brain screams at you like a broken tape record on repeat and your chest seems to constrict and you can’t seem to breathe through the ragged, pulsating blood roaring through your ears. Nothing makes sense as you dash blindly, your feet carrying you and before you know it you find yourself back in the dance studio, breathless and in a sort of daze that makes you slide to the floor.

Wow. You were desperate for Ten's help. But not desperate enough. And yet, he's done the very thing you didn't want him to -- have pity on you.

Pathetic.

A sob crawls up your throat. You lean over your knees, forehead pressed against your kneecaps as you try really hard to gain control of your staggering breaths.

But it's too late. And too much. You start cehing before you know it and you wonder, you wonder whether everything has ever been for nothing.

-----

And when you need a place to run to

For better or worse, I got you

-----

You don't know how much time you spend in the studio, crying your eyes out until your eyes sting and your nose clogs up.

The only thing that takes you momentarily out of your misery is the slow buzz of your phone. You fish it out od your backpack, hesitating upon noticing the caller ID.

Ten Lee.

You roll your eyes, look up to the ceiling to take a shaky inhale, then answer the phone.

"What?" You say as soon as the line connects.

"I've been calling you for ages," Ten's voice is like a knife slicing through the air, "where are you?"

"Studio."

"Wha--Y/N, I was worried sick--"

"I'm not your responsibility, Ten. You don't have to worry about me."

If he hears your bitterness, he doesn't say anything, "stay where you are. I'm coming."

The sound of the door clicking open announces his arrival a few minutes later, but you don't look up from scrolling your instagram feed. You really don't have the energy to face him right now.

You hear his footsteps approaching, "hey," he stops before you, squatting down to your level in hopes of catching your eye.

"Hey," he taps your knee and you look up reluctantly. Worry floods his eyes the moment he spots your blotched face, “woah — you look like shit.”

“Thanks Ten,” you wipe your face using your jacket sleeve. You turn your face away from him, a mixture of shame and embarrassment causing heat to crawl up the back of your neck.

“Tell me,” he nudges your knee once more. Then, his hand grasps it before he sits down cross-legged in front of you, eyes questioning and filled with a softness that echoes his concern.

It makes your chest hurt. And yet, you can’t find yourself to be mad at him.

“Did you—“ the words clog up in the back of your throat as your eyes slide to stare at his scuffed sneakers, “did you ask Professor Lee to put us together? For the final performance?”

His body tenses. He doesn’t answer though.

You laugh. An empty echo of a sound, “I can’t believe it,” you half-mutter to yourself, “why Ten? Why’d you do--"

"I wanted to."

You shake your head, "you...you wanted to dance with me?"

"Yeah. Yeah I did."

"Don't bullshit me," your eyes snap up to his, finally meeting those dark swirls of coffee brown that causes a small knot to tighten at your throat, "why would you? We're not even on the same level, and we--"

"I wanted to and you needed the help."

"I don't need your help!" You yell out so suddenly, the anger finally rising to the surface.

You exhale, inhale, exhale once more and squeeze your eyes shut through the film of fresh tears slowly blurring your vision.

"I don't--" you try to choke out, "I'm not extra weight, Ten. And I don't want to hold you back--"

He reaches for you, "don't say that--"

"I don't need your pity," your gaze snaps back to his despite the tears now rolling down your cheeks, "I don't need you to feel sorry for me. Nor do I need you to sacrifice your future just to--"

"Y/N you're not listening to me," Ten rubs a hand over his face, "I wanted to," he jabs a finger at his chest as he continues, "I wanted to. Okay?"

"But why?" You bite out.

"Because just for this once I didn't want to do something because I was good at it," his eyes suddenly flash and you catch the slow silent torment in them, a black storm raging, "I didn't want to do something just because there was going to be a lot of technique or wow factors or whatever. I wanted to do something of my own, that I wanted to and--and I wanted it to be with you."

His confession is startling, a little shocking even.

You can't do anything but stare at him. He stares right back, dark eyes locked on yours with no intention of looking away. And in it you see the conflict happening; the guilt, the remorse, the need to be understood.

"We could've talked about it," are the words tumbling out of your mouth after a long bout of silence. In the distance, you hear a door slam. Probably a few other dancers closing up for the night.

"You wouldn't have let me do anything," Ten says, "I know how you are."

Well, he isn't wrong.

"We've never danced together, not once since we got here," Ten continues in a soft murmur. He slides up to the wall next to you, shoulder to shoulder, his body so warm you unconsciously inch closer, "so I thought...this would be our last chance."

"But your scholarship--"

"I don't care about a damn scholarship, Y/N."

You allow your head to fall onto his shoulder and a soft sigh escapes your lips. You stay there for a while, the quiet slowly calming you down and weighing down on your lids. Ten’s breathing is a constant rhythm, as is the beating of his heart, and you find that it actually feels comforting to hear him so close like this. It’s nice.

“Tell me about Jueun,” you mumble out after a while.

Ten must’ve dozed off too, for when he speaks next his words are slurred, “what about her?”

“Do you like her?”

You feel his head pressing atop yours, “I like spending time with her. Do I want to go out with her? Yeah sure. But I wouldn’t say I like her that way…yet.”

“Do you think you could?”

“Maybe,” he pauses, “she thought we were dating. I had to explain that we’re just very close.”

You swallow. “Oh.”

There’s something inside you that lights up with that knowledge and the image launches at you so vividly you can’t shove it away quickly enough; you and Ten, walking side by side with your hands interlocked. Him smiling down at you in that crooked grin of his as you tell him about your day, before he pulls your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

You quickly shake yourself out of your thoughts, shivering. Weird, you think to yourself, it would be weird.

————-

Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

————-

Nothing more was said on the matter of Ten having bargained your place next to him with Professor Lee. Instead, you decided to throw yourself entire into the project. Every spare moment you had would find you in the dance studio, going over moves and polishing those that you still found to be a big struggle. Ten would be there most of the time to offer comforting guidance and dancing along to the music with you. His presence, despite not having asked anything of him, was a comforting one, and the more you danced, the more comfortable you felt with those uncomfortable turns and twists of your body.

It happens on a Wednesday evening. You and Ten had Dance Theory in the morning and had grabbed a quick lunch before heading back to the studio, offering sheepish shrugs to the person in-charge as she raised her brows at the two of you as if asking, “you two again?”

“One, two, three and four and five—“ Ten is chanting out as you follow the dance steps, moving in a slow turn using your knee. You turn too fast though, your outstretched hand knocking into Ten’s with as much grace as an awkward duckling.

“You need to take your time with that one,” Ten goes down on one knee to demonstrate, swinging it back and forth as he looks up at you, “see? You use the momentum, not your back foot. Then you’ll have more control over your movements.”

You try it out, kneeling down and spinning around none-too-gently. This time, you turn too quick. Your body crashes into Ten’s chest and you both topple to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs.

“Shit, sorry!” You lift your face from Ten’s chest, before bursting out laughing at his annoyed expression, “sorry Ten, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He groans, hand going to his chin to rub the sore spot, “I think I broke my chin.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. Here,” and you knock his hand away to take over his massage, “better?”

You grin at him, not realizing your compromising position until you feel one of his hands skimming along your waist. Your smile drifts away as he pulls you up with him in a sitting position and it would’ve been all so innocent if not for the fact that you’re currently sitting on his lap.

“Sorry,” you manage to mumble out and trying your best not to stare at the fact that his lips are in touching distance with yours.

Ten gently nudges your hand away then, providing you some space as he leans away from your, tilts his head to the side even, “s’alright. Though I doubt my medical insurance will cover this.”

“I’ll pay you in bubble tea,” you slide out of his lap and dust yourself off, “let me try it again. Don’t stand in my way.”

He doesn’t. And both of you decidedly ignore the slight bout of tension that had sparked a few moments earlier.

It’s normal, you try repeating to yourself as you toss and turn in your sleep that night, dance partners need to have some kind of chemistry for it to work.

Another time, you’re trying out one of Ten’s movement combinations, lying down on your back as Ten circles his leg in a circular arc before he’s crouching above you, “I can lift you up with my hand,” he’s explaining, though you’re suddenly focused on the way his mouth is moving, forming words. You feel his hand caressing the side of your face, slipping to the back of your neck. And then you’re being lifted from the ground and right into Ten’s arms.

“Use your core, Y/N,” Ten chuckles when you flop against him like a dead fish instead of that smooth lift you were supposed to do, “it’ll be smoother that way and you can come up with me as I draw back from you.”

So you agree and decide to try with the music.

You try not to let the music affect you too much, focusing on the power each movement creates. The melody picks up through the speakers and you join Ten in the middle, the pair of you moving side by side like mirror images until you drop your body to the floor and Ten replicates the exact same movement he did earlier.

He kicks his leg back,circles around before dropping to the ground with such fluidity and so much emotion that your breath catches the moment his gaze locks on yours.

His hand caresses your cheekbone, slips to the back of your head.

You force yourself to concentrate, try not to get distracted by the way he’s looking at you.

He tugs you up. You follow in a slow motion until your noses brush. Your hand cups his cheekbone, an impulsive move. But one that works.

You don’t realize you’re breathing hard until the music fades.

You and Ten. Breathing in sync. With barely any distance between you.

Close. So close.

“That feels good,” Ten’s murmur brushes against your face.

“Y-Yeah.”

Your eyes drop to the ground. It’s too much. The tension crackles in the air. Electricity, a warning sign. And you wonder if Ten feels it too.

The phone rings. You both jump, started. Heads turn to the device at the other end of the room.

“That’s probably Jueun,” Ten says before slowly extracting himself from your hold and walking over to his phone. You sit there, allowing the space to let you breathe, to allow your heart to calm down from the sudden ricocheting excitement that’s taken over your body. Heat floods your limbs, the bottom of your stomach, so much so that your palms curl into fists by your side.

Ten’s voice floats through the room but the words don’t register in your brain. That is, until he calls out your name and causes you to jump, “w-what?”

“Put your sweater on,” his lips curl into a smile, “we’re going to a party.”

That is how you find yourself dragged to one of Jueun’s classmates’ dormitories, introduced as Taeyong and who coincidentally is also friends with Mark. It’s eleven in the evening and the smell of booze and smoke fill every single pore of the house as you struggle through a throng of people to reach the kitchen. Goddamn, you only want a glass of water and almost cry out in relief upon seeing the drinks stacked on the table. You’ve lost Ten along the way, not that you mind, for the moment he spotted Jueun, he’d been a gone man. Plus, after what had just happened in the dance studio, you probably need some time alone with your thoughts.

You’re midway through pouring some water for yourself when someone taps you on the shoulder.

You turn to see Taeyong, a cheeky smile curled along his lips and hands tucked into the back-pocket of his leather jeans. Who even wears leather jeans?

“Y/N, right? I’ve heard a lot about you from Jueun. It’s nice to finally put a name to a face,” he holds out his hand for you to shake, which you do after some slight hesitation.

“You know about me,” you say it as if it’s a statement, eyebrow quirking up in curiosity, “how do I not know about you?”

“Well,” he grins wickedly, a mischievous little boy ready to take on a challenge, “you can know all about me tonight, if you want.”

As much as Taeyong isn’t really your style, you welcome the distraction he provides. Soon enough, you find yourself at the pool table playing beer pong along with his friends, cheering and whooping and high-fiving random people you’ve only just met seconds ago. But for once, you don’t care. You want this, you want to escape the sudden need to seek out Ten’s presence, you want to push him out of your mind for as much as possible and if alcohol will help, then so be it.

You’re in the middle of downing another shot of absinthe with Mark — he’d sought you out a few minutes earlier, complaining about how you’d ditched him in favour of Taeyong’s cool friends — when a hand lands on your arm, pulling you back into a solid chest.

A whiff of a familiar scent invades your nostrils. You blink as Ten’s blurry face comes into focus.

“Oh,” you squint up at him, “what are you doing here?”

“That’s enough.”

“Wh—“ you scoff, shake your head as a soft giggle erupts from your lips, “what are you doing, Ten?”

“You’ve had enough to drink,” he takes the absinthe out of your grip and you cry out in protest, “wh—give that back!”

“No,” and without waiting for your consent, he turns away and downs the entire thing, shuddering as he does so.

Mark whines out behind him, “what the fuck, dude? Not cool. We didn’t get to drink together for ages. Why you gotta gatecrash like that?”

“She has her final performance in two weeks,” Ten then makes a grab for your arm, though you struggle and push him away. To no avail, his grip his firm. He tightens it for good measure, “she can’t be drinking this much.”

“Aw come on man—“ Mark’s words are cut off by Jueun’s voice calling out Ten’s name from behind him.

You take this chance to wriggle out of Ten’s grip, for once glad that Jueun is here to provide him some kind of distraction. Glaring up at your best friend as a newfound rage bubbles up through your chest, you shove him away forcefully, “Yeah Ten, you have bigger fish to fry. Why are you babysitting me?”

He winces, “I’m not—“

“You’re the one who wanted to bring me here,” you jut your chin out at him, “so let me be, and mind your own business.”

“I—“

But you’re storming away before he has the chance to say anything else. You don’t want to hear anything more, the tide of emotions wrapping you up in wave after wave of despair and feelings that you yourself can’t decipher. A small sob echoes up your throat as you stumble out into the open air. Your hands reach out blindly, finding purchase on the outside wall as you allow yourself to breathe in, breathe out.

The music is nothing but an echo from the outside, blending in with the distant noise of cars zooming by and other people’s chatter. You clutch at your chest and wonder why your heart feels like it just got punched.

It hurts. Right between your chest. Something that is tearing up, eating away at you from the inside. Memories flash through your mind; Ten’s face, crinkled up in that adorable smile of his, with Jueun in a corner of the room. A picture of what you saw earlier like a permanent scar etched into your memory.

Ten’s eyes, swimming with some kind of softness you can only define as adoration as he looks down at her. You squeeze your eyes shut. The dance studio, him hovering over you. His lips milimeters away.

You can’t stay here. Struggling to your feet, you stagger forward. One step. Two steps. Away from that house.

It hurts. It hurts so much you wish to tear your entire heart out of your chest.

It hurts. Tears are streaming down your face. Fat pebbles of water dripping down your sweater.

It hurts, though you don’t want to think about why it does.

Because deep down, you know exactly the reason why.

You like Ten.

You love Ten.

And he doesn’t love you back.

—————

And if it don’t feel right, you’re not losing me by letting me know

—————

It’s Thursday and you’re currently waiting for the practice room to free itself. Your head is heavy and every noise seems too loud. But still, your nerves are jittery, all over the place.

You haven’t spoken to Ten since last night. And you’re not sure what will be the outcome of this conversation.

You rarely fight with him and that’s because you’re both so non-confrontational by nature that 1) you let things slide easily and 2) you talk it out to clear the air.

But last night hadn’t been the usual bite and snap. Last night, there had been something a little more coiling in your stomach, in the way Ten’s eyes had blazed with hurt.

The door opens. You look up, just in time to see Taeyong striding out. He halts in mid-step, recognition dawning on his face, “hey, Y/N!”

“Hey,” you smile back weakly and wonder how he’s not hungover. Or if he is, he does a good job of hiding it.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” He asks, shifting to lean on one leg as his arms cross over his chest, “Jueun told me you left early.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t…feeling too good.”

“Too much to drink?”

Or not enough. You grimace, “something like that.”

“Also, nice shots,” it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the beer pong game that you won against him and one of his other mates Jaemin, “when can I have a re-match?”

“That depends whether you’ll be hosting another party or not.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow quirks up suggestively, “does that mean you’ll come if I host another one?”

“Depends,” you grin, “what’s the prize?”

A cough. You both turn to see Ten with his hands in pockets, dressed as though he’d just rolled out of bed. It’s even more contrasting when he walks over to stand beside Taeyong who is finely decked in another pair of black jeans and black muscle shirt to match.

“Hey Taeyong,” Ten nods in greeting, “how’s it going man?”

“S’alright, what about you?! Was just talking to Y/N about last night. Did you know she’s an amazing beer pong player?”

“The very best,” you add.

“No,” Ten’s eyes flicker between you and Taeyong, “no I didn’t. Would be nice to see that in action.”

“Maybe next week,” Taeyong glances down at his smart watch, “oop, I gotta go. I have chem lab next.”

You wave at the young man as he jogs down the corridor and waits until he’s out of view before walking inside the studio, Ten hot on your heels, “What was that about?” He asks as you drop your bag on the wooden bench in the corner of the room and proceed to plug in your phone.

You scroll through the list of songs as you ask, “What was what about?”

“Since when were you so chummy with the campus playboy?”

“Since when did you care?”

Ten lets out a loud, exasperated sigh before he walks over to you, grabbing onto your shoulders and swiveling you around so that you have no choice but to face him. He grabs your phone, tucks it in the back pocket of his sweatpants before finding your gaze, “you’re mad.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“You stole my shot last night.”

“That’s it?” He scoffs, disbelief crossing his face, “that’s why you’re mad?”

“And you butted your nose into my business.”

“Y/N, I always butt my nose into your business—“

“You don’t need to,” your mind flies you back to that said night; Jueun had leaned towards him, stealing a small kiss from his cheek. Your chest constricts and you look away, “that’s why people think we’re dating. You do these things that friends don’t do. So just—just stop. It’s annoying. And awkward.”

Your eyes glue themselves on one corner of the studio to avoid the evident hurt that paints his face. Ten’s hold on your shoulders loosen slightly as a distinct pause hangs in the air.

Then, he slowly moves away, “alright,” he mumbles while adjusting his cap, “if that’s what you want.”

It’s not.

But it’s better for it to be this way. Because no way in hell are you spilling your unrequited feelings to him and no way are you going to jeopardize his newly-formed relationship. No matter how many times Ten rejects the idea of him dating, it’s as clear as day in his eyes, in the way he tilts his head more attentively towards her, in the way he smiles so brightly it hurts.

The rest of practice happens in silence, only broken by you asking questions when you struggle with the movements. Ten is patient, explaining everything in detail and holding on to you when you need the support. But it’s clear that there’s some sense of dislodgment, of awkward silence that builds in the space wedged between the two of you. And as much as you miss the familiarity of him altogether, you know it’s for the best to pull away now when the pain is still fresh.

Obviously, Ten does not know a thing about your unrequited feelings. So it surprises you after dance practice as you’re making your way out of the door that he reaches over to grasp the back of your elbow. Light enough that you can pull away, yet firm on your skin.

“Yes?” You cast him a glance. And then, surprise takes over.

Because as Ten meets your eyes, you notice the tears threatening to fall.

“H-Hey,” all semblance of ignorance goes right out of the window as your wall breaks and you rush over to him just in time for Ten to bury his face into your shoulder. His tears are silent crystal jewels sliding down his cheeks and drenching your shirt, but the way his arms find your neck to hug you tight against him is enough to cause guilt to creep in and settle at the base of your stomach.

You hug him back hesitantly, hand smoothing down his back in long, slow strokes, “it’s okay,” you hush into his ear as sobs finally start emerging from the back of his throat, “hey, don’t cry.”

It takes a while for him to calm down, you tugging him to the bench and continuing to stroke his back until his sobs subside into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” you finally blurt out. And as if his tears are contagious, you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder to cry silently into him as you murmur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just…angry.”

When he speaks next, his voice is hoarse, caught up with emotion, “I’m sorry for overstepping. I didn’t—I didn’t realize that I was being overbearing—“

“No no,” you tighten your hold on his arm, “I was being a sensitive bitch. It’s not your fault. You were only looking out for me.”

“Still,” he blows his nose with a tissue, “you’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Silence envelopes the room, both of you too wrapped up in your own thoughts to see the time passing. You wonder briefly how your friendship has come to this. You’ve never had any bumps where Ten was concerned and these few weeks had been rough. Is it because of your dance project? Were you spending too much time together?

No, that’s not it. The thing is, everything is changing. Too much, too fast.

You’re a bystander watching him fall in love and live his life, and he’s moving on. Without you.

Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you let out another soft sigh before extending your hand out towards him. A tentative attempt at peace, “friends?”

Ten looks at your hand, before extending his own to clasp yours.

“friends.”

And you know that no matter how much you try to tell yourself to stay away, you’ll always be looking for Ten in the crowd.

——————

What’s weird about it, I’ve figured it out in my head.

I have to say, I got you.

——————

“Are you ready?”

You almost snort out your bubble tea, “no.”

It’s a few days before your final performance and you’re in the cafeteria , mourning over your sugared drink and thinking about how your life is about to end with Professor Lee telling you how inadequate you are at dancing.

This is where Mark had found you a few minutes earlier, looking like you’re about to throw up the contents of your stomach.

“Don’t think about it,” he says now in-between bites of pasta, “it’s all muscle memory by now. You’ll be fine.”

The last few weeks after your sudden outburst with Ten had been peaceful, if you don't count the million of ways in which your heart is breaking every time you spot Ten and Jueun together. Sometimes he valls her during your break. Sometimes, you spot them flirting by the corridor. And sometimes, she joins you for a late night snack in the middle of your dance practice.

"You seem very keen on her," you'd remarked to your best friend one evening after she'd gone out to throw the trash.

Ten's ears blush bright pink, though he doesn't say anything.

That's good enough of an answer for you to put two and two together. Their relationship is moving along just fine and every second of it feels like a punch in the gut.

Still, you hold your head high and a fake smile on your face, hating the fact that she's pretty and feminine and smart, and just everything you're not.

And though you still feel the residual effect of that weird tension building between you and Ten during dance practice, you tempt to brush it off so as not to get your hopes up high. Because apart from the intensity in hid dark orbs when he dances with you, it's like an on and off switch that seems to be merely for the sake of the performance.

That hurts you even more.

"So when are you going to tell him?"

You glance up at Mark, sipping on your tea before you ask, "tell who? And what?"

"Tell Ten that you like him--"

No sooner has Mark spoken that your hand shoots out to clamp over his mouth, eyes widening with panic as you quickly glance around the room with fear.

"What the fuck, Mark?" Your eyes narrow dangerously, "don't day those kinds of things out loud."

"I whash vwandering--" you glare at him, before pulling your hand away to let him talk, "I was wondering when were you going to admit it but since you weren't and the performance is coming up, I feel like you should. For your own good." Is what he says before shoving another forkful of pasta in his mouth.

"What are you talking about? Of course I can't tell him," you snap, "it'll ruin everything!"

"Or make everything better."

"You are out of your mind."

"And you are just running away," Mark leans onto his elbow, throws you a pointed look, "c'mon Y/N, do you really want to leave all these things unsaid? I see the way you look at him."

"No. No way. I'm--you know what, I don't even have to answer you right now."

"Ten would want--"

"He would not," you cut him off harshly, "want me to fuck things up for him and Jueun."

And with that, you collect your bubble tea and backpack, before striding away to the dance studio with rattled footsteps and a pounding heart.

No. No no no. Telling Ten is dangrrous. Telling Ten will. Fuck. Things. Up.

God knows you don't need that right now.

The thought of it haunts you though, in the form of Mark’s words. Even when you spot Professor Lee waiting by your dance classroom. Even when you try to focus on the beats of the music flowing through the speakers as you take this time to stretch and warm up your muscles. Ten comes late, closely followed by Jueun’s figure and that almost feels like a knife stabbing straight through your chest. Someone might’ve as well held up a “Here to Hurt Y/N” sign. You quickly swivel away, face the wall, biting your lip as the familiar sting of tears crawl up your throat.

No. Stop it, your mind chants. That’s not what you’re here for.

That’s right. You have a performance to deliver. An artwork to complete.

“Ready?” Professor Lee’s voice pierces through your inner monologue and you look at her, before your eyes find Ten’s who is already walking over to you.

“Hey,” his hand reaches up to tap your nose, “ready?’

You nod. You don’t really trust your voice at this point.

“We’ve practiced this millions of times,” he murmurs into your ear while you both get into curled up ball positions. Professor Lee stands on the sidelines, flicking through the connected phone for the desired song, “don’t worry. Just dance.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble back. Why does Jueun have to be here?

You have half a mind to tell Ten that Jueun needs to get out — you can’t concentrate like this — but it’s too late. The melody begins, a slow thrum that causes your limbs to slowly extend with poetic grace. Just like you and Ten had practiced.

Okay, you think. Focus. You concentrate on the melody, on allowing your body to fold to the words flowing through your song as you kneel and face Ten. His eyes are dark, focused, pinned to yours like you’re everything he’s ever seen. You do the same.

You’re not quite sure how you manage to finish the performance, only realize that it’s over once your forehead presses against Ten’s, breaths intermingling and fingers interlocked and the music drifting away only to leave a silence laden with emotions put on the table. For a minute, no one says a thing.

And then, as if breaking the soft spell that is Ten’s eyes, a soft clap echoes throughout the room.

“Nice,” Professor Lee says, before she beckons you two over. You do just that while trying to catch your breaths and in the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jueun, “still a few things you need to work on. First off, your synchronization at the turns and twirls. You need to be careful of that. And Y/N, don’t forget when you lift your leg towards Ten, you need power. Much more power and resistance, like he’s pulling you and you’re fighting against him.”

You nod. She’s right. As she always is.

“In terms of the technique, I think you just need more practice. It looks good overall though,” she pauses for a minute, then continues, “but Ten, for god’s sake, you need to look at her when you’re dancing. Don’t look as if you’re dancing with a corpse. She’s your best friend, you’re supposed to love her. She’s one of the most important people in your life. Is she not?”

Ten mumbles out something that sounds like “yes”, though he shuffles his feet like a guilty kid.

“So show me that she means that much to you!” Professor Lee exclaims, “you look like you want to be anywhere but here. That’s no good. I wasn’t expecting that from you. Y/N,” she gives you a once-over, then nods, “the emotion are there. Loving the facial expressions so keep that up. Show this man how to do it.”

It isn’t until Professor Lee is out of the room that you manage to let out a sigh of relief, “jesus,” you look up at the ceiling and feel like you’ve just aged ten years, “she scares the fuck out of me.”

Ten doesn’t respond. You glance at him, only to notice his glazed over look as if he’s still contemplating what your teacher just said.

“Ten,” you nudge his arm, “you okay? She’s always a little harsh. Don’t take it the wrong way—“

“Yeah I know,” he cuts you off, “we should keep practicing the techniques.”

Something has shifted in his expression, though you can’t really pinpoint what it is.

The rest of practice goes smoothly enough and Jueun leaves at some point, probably bored with constantly hearing the same music. At some point, tiredness takes over, causing you to flop onto the floor and look up at the ceiling. Your muscles are aching, you know tomorrow’s going to be a battle to get up from bed.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore,” Ten crouches next to you before he flops, head landing on your stomach and causing you to grunt at his weight.

“You’re heavy,” you try to shove him off, hating how quickly your cheeks flush with heat at the close proximity. Ten grabs a hold of your sweater with a pout, “nooo.”

“We’ve got a lot to work on,” you murmur, though it sounds loud in the silence of the room.

“I’ve got a lot to work on,” Ten tilts his head up at you, “apparently I don’t seem to look at you the right way.”

“That’s because you take me for granted.”

“Shut up.”

“Just imagine there’s Jueun in front of you and you’ll be fine.”

A pause. Before he asks, “do you imagine someone else when we’re dancing together?”

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. You lift yourself up with your elbows, enough to catch sight of Ten’s face. It’s hard to say what you find there, since it’s not a face you’re acquired to seeing, “no. I—no.”

“Do you think of Taeyong?”

“I don’t like Taeyong,” you state flatly, “and I think everyone knows that.”

“So who do you think about then?”

“Just—well, you. I guess.”

And then, you realize the weight of the words that had just blurted out of your mouth. You clamp them shut, teeth finding purchase onto your lower lip as you rest your head back against the floor with a mental scream. Oh shit. Have you said a little too much?

You brace yourself for the worst. Ten will either make fun of you, or he’ll just ask you to clarify your words. Eyes squeeze shut on their own accord, as if just waiting for this dreadful silence to end.

But Ten does neither of those things.

Instead he says, “I’m hungry. Wanna get food?”

“Uh—“ your brain backtracks, “sure.”

Looking back at Ten’s questions, it was clear that he was trying to figure out the intensity of emotions flowing through you whenever you danced with him, whether that came out intentionally or not. It’s not like you want him to know you long, yearn for him to be yours. But there are some things — you learn — that cannot be hidden no matter how much you try.

The next few practices feel weird, leave you buzzing for no reason at all. It’s like a switch has suddenly been switched on inside your best friend. Gone are his shy touches and tentative steps to close the gap between you. Ten reaches for you with a confidence now, with some kind of fluid grace that makes you wonder whether he knows what you’re trying to hide in the grooves of your heart.

But it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at you that changes. Every single time your gazes lock, something intangible flickers in those dark orbs, something that causes your heart to do a cartwheel because goddamnit, Ten is hot when he wants to be.

And you hate yourself even more for thinking this way.

When you’re not practicing, you’re at Mark’s house and bribing him into keeping this whole ordeal a secret. He manages to come to some kind of agreement begrudgingly after you swear you’ll treat him to a month full of dimsum, but swears that once the performance is over you’ll have to say something because, as he reasoned, it wouldn’t be fair for Ten not to know.

You have no clue how he’s come to such a conclusion. But that’s good enough, for now.

Meanwhile, you start cherishing every single moment you spend with your best friend. You hug him more often — when you’re taking a break from practice, when you’re all sweaty and use that as an excuse to rub your face on his sweater, when he’s lying in the middle of the floor playing with his phone — and tease him mercilessly about Jueun while trying to ignore every crack in your heart at each word that escapes your mouth. If she makes him happy, who are you to step in their way?

Bubble tea trips in the middle of practice becomes a more frequent occurrence when you start spending even more time in the studio to polish up your moves. Whenever that happens, you find yourselves sitting down at a park bench and gazing up at the stars. One of those rare moments you get to breathe and just exist.

Ten would often entertain you with stories of his childhood before moving here, and in return you’d tell him about yours. You spoke about the food you’d want to eat after the exam, the things you’d like to do once you’re free as birds. He tells you about his wish to travel to Europe and you tell him about your desire to go roadtripping towards the coast of the country so that you can camp out and heal from those four hard years of university.

“We should go,” Ten says, dark orbs glimmering with excitement in the dim light of the park, “we could go with all the boys.”

“With the boys? Someone will be found dead if we do that,” you snicker, taking a few sips of your drink, “Yangyang will probably set something on fire, Winwin will find a way to hurt himself or hurt something, and Mark—“

“Mark will get himself piss drunk,” Ten finishes with a cackle, “oh Mark. What a dork.”

Times like these with Ten are magical. Simple, yet filled with so much of yourself that it fills your heart up, makes you all giddy. You wish you can stay like this with him forever, in that small slither of time where the moment belongs to you, and you only.

Alas, the time flies when you’re not looking and all too soon it’s the day of the final performance. As you lay in bed that morning, feeling all of your muscles protest in unison as you stretch your legs, realization creeps up on you; this is the last time you’ll get to perform on stage as a student. This is your official last dance, with no more to come in the future.

Possibly the first and last dance you'll ever get with your best friend.

Your heart aches at the thought.

Participants are to be prepared at five in the evening, two hours before the show starts. Ten doesn't hesitate to give you a small peptalk as you both peek through the dark curtains separating you from the rest of the world. Other dancers are busy milling about and the sheer amount of them just adds on to the growing stress building inside your tummy, not helping in the slightest.

"You'll be fine," Ten keeps on repeating, unconsciously brushing away strands of your hair. You're both already in your costumes -- basic beige pants and white shirts -- and are waiting behind the curtains, box of chinese takeaways forgotten in the corridor at your feet as you try to stop the flurry of panic from crashing into you.

"I need to practice that twirl," you tell him with panicked eyes, "and that weird pause at the end, we still haven't figured that out--"

"Y/N, Y/N," Ten's hands are quick to grab your wrists, before he gently lowers them to your sides, "you'll be fine. We will be fine. I promise. We practiced this dance every day for the past month. There's no way you can make a mistake."

"Oh don't say that, that doesn't help."

His eyes flash with determination. His hand slips to yours before he gives it a gentle squeeze, "I'm here aren't I?" He says softly, "if you fall, I fall. We're soing this together, hm?"

Yeah sure. Except Ten dances like he's made to and you're just a potato in comparison.

Still, you allow yourself to nod. You really do hope that he's right this time. The last thing you want from this performance is the memory of you falling over onstage. And definitely not with Ten in tow.

"Where's Jueun?" You realize you haven't seen her since rehearsal this morning, glancing behind Ten as if she'd appear by magic.

Ten shifts his weight on his other foot, "she was busy this morning, but she said she'll be there for the performance."

"How is it going with her anyway?"

Something darkens on his face. He looks away, "it's complicated."

Huh. Complicated. That's not a word he uses often. Out of curiosity, you can't help but push, "why's that?"

But as if on cue, the intercom buzzes to warn all dancers to be on standby and all your words suddenly fall short when another wave of anziety surges up through your chest.

You clutch at Ten's hands, "oh god. I'm going to be sick."

"You can be sick after our performance," Ten proceeds to lead you to your standby spot, bowing to some of your classmates on the way, "swallow it if you have to."

"Ew," you grimace, "that's disgusting."

You admit that it does help take your mind off things.

"Don't worry about the steps," Ten keeps murmuring into your ear as you join the line for the stage. You can spot the dim lights of the stage, the silhouettes waiting for your appearance, and the MC for the night already giving thanks to whoever sponsor has helped this night come to life.

Oh god. Oh no. It's happening. It's finally happening. Your knees start shaking and you try to wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. The MC asks for encouragement and cheers follow, filling the auditorium with so much excitement it makes your throat run dry with stress.

“We’re number three,” you hear Ten’s voice near your ear, as if hearing him through a film of glass, “we have some time.”

You nod, lick the cracks along your lips.

You really don’t want to mess this up. If not for you, then for Ten.

“Hey.”

Ten’s hands cup your cheeks, tilts your face up so that you have no choice but to look at him.

“We’re doing this together,” his eyes, a dark storm, makes you shiver, “alright?”

Your head dips into a single nod.

“No regrets,” he says.

“No regrets,” you repeat softly.

“Have fun.”

“Have fun.”

His forehead touches yours, “exactly.”

You’ve never had him so close and what normally would’ve flustered you to death actually comforts you in this very moment. So you lean into him, closing your eyes to breathe in his boyish scent, the scent of familiarity, the scent of what home means to you.

And maybe it’s the fact that it is going to be your last dance, maybe it’s the fact that you’ll have to carry those feelings to your grave that causes tears to sting the corner of your eyes, but you quickly reach out to hug him close, blinking them away fiercely while hiding into the crook of his neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, snug in your best friend’s arms until you hear the MC’s voice booming across the stage:

“Next up we have ‘I Got You’ performed by Ten and Y/N! Give it up for them please!”

You pull away reluctantly, blink at his one last look of encouragement followed by a small pat on the back, before you direct yourself towards the stage, Ten close on your heels.

“Ready?” He whispers, hand suddenly catching yours. He gives it a squeeze.

You squeeze back, “break a leg.”

————

Dark.

Everything is so dark.

Silence.

Only your breath, and Ten’s, a few meters away.

You feel him standing in position, and you do the same. Your heart beats so loud you wonder if the audience can hear it too.

And then, the melody slowly fills the room and as if on autopilot, your body starts swaying.

A place to crash, I got you

Your leg swings in a circle and you crouch, face slowly lifting to catch Ten’s eye. A golden glow bounces off his face.

No need to ask, I got you

Just get on the phone, I got you

Slowly, as slow as a trickle of water moulding its way through the cracks, everything comes back to you.

Come and pick you up if I have to

The movement, the emotion thrumming through your veins makes adrenaline push your body forward as you slowly give in to the sensation of dancing.

Just figured it out in my head

I’m proud to say

I got you

There’s only you. And Ten. And no one else. His orbs flash to yours, and you dare a small smile.

He smiles back.

And the beat drops.

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright

It feels like flying, twirling through the air before rolling to the floor. Ten follows, hand reaching up to cradle your face. You throw your head back before he’s tugging you and as electricity sizzles between your bodies, you close your eyes to bathe in the moment.

And when you need a place to run to

For better or worse, I got you

Everything comes rushing back. A tidal wave of memories that pull you under; you and Ten dancing in front of the mirror, sharing a laugh. You and Ten talking about life under faint streetlights. You and Ten locking eyes, and the storm, that dark stormy night you find there.

The bridge comes on and you start walking to the edge of the stage, every beat vibrating through your core.

Cause this is love and life

And nothing we can both control

You close your eyes; Ten’s face flashes through your mind.

Those beautiful eyes. The curve of his mouth. The pain of letting him go.

And if it don’t feel right, you’re not losing me by letting me know

Hands grip your shoulders, spin you around.

Eyes burning with tears, you let his arms crush you to his chest.

And just as the crescendo hits, your arms lock around his neck.

His mouth crushes yours.

For a milisecond, you’re startled at his action.

Your heart drops to your stomach, brain freezing up like you’ve just dunked your head in ice.

It’s a good kiss. A beautiful kiss.

A kiss that makes you lose all breath.

The crowd practically goes wild with cheers and shouts that fill the entire room.

And then it’s over.

You’re dancing again.

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright

Your mind is frazzled even when your body follows theough with the rest of the dance. What the fuck was this? Did Ten do it in the heat of the moment?

Your brain is flooding with questions that don’t make sense.

And when you need a place to run to

For better or worse, I got you

You stand, foreheads pressed together and chests heaving, as your eyes flutter up to find his.

That’s it. That’s the end of it.

An eerie silence. Only broken when the applause suddenly floods the room followed by a few calls and wolf whistles. A series of ‘encore! Encore!’ Make your eyes pound as loud as your heart and as you turn to breathlessly bow to the public, you can’t dent the heat rushing through you at the way Ten’s hand is locked on yours.

You wait though, until you’re past the corridors and until you’ve reached the sanctuary of your audition room before slamming the door shut and whirling around on him with flares nostrils and barely restrained anger.

“What the fuck was that?”

Ten’s chest is still heaving, still recuperating from your performance. He’s looking at you with some kind of emotion you can’t make out and you wonder, for a second, what this means for you. What it means to him.

“Ten,” your breaths come out ragged. You keep your eyes on him, demanding answers, “I asked you what the fuck that was.”

It takes a while before he answers. When he does he sounds weary, “I—don’t know. It was an ‘in the moment’ thing.” A pause that fills the gap for a little too long before he continues, “I’m sorry.”

An in the moment thing. You want to scoff, to hurl something at his face. What does that even mean?

Fury boils through your stomach. What about Jueun? What about everyone who will now think there’s something going on between the two of you? What about your feelings for the said man standing right in front of you and telling you that this didn’t mean anything to him?

What about you?

“I hate you,” your eyes start prickling with tears. Everything you’ve kept inside until now starts pouring over until you see red, “I really hate you, Ten.”

And you whirl around and walk away without waiting for him to call you back.

He doesn’t.

————

“What. A. Kiss.”

“Shut up Mark,” you turn your head to the other side so that you don’t have to look at him, to picture the satisfaction on his face, “I don’t want to hear this right now.”

It’s a shame that you had left right after the performance soon after it ended in hopes of avoiding the crowd. Not that it would help considering that rumours are already flying about like bees buzzing through the air as soon as you left.

Mark confirms that Ten had departed a few minutes after you did and that Jueun was not impressed with the whole ordeal.

You scoff at that, “duh, was she supposed to be happy about that?”

“Have you spoken to Ten since?” Mark decides to ignore your question. He takes a seat at the other end of your couch, jostling your leg in the process.

You try to shove him off with your foot, “obviously not. Why would I do such a thing? It’s awkward enough as it is.”

“So this wasn’t planned?” Mark whistles, leaning back to rest against the couch, “wow. Wow. You guys are amazing—“

“No no,” you scowl at him, “you mean a disaster.”

“Look on the bright side, you got to kiss him—“

“Mark,” your scowl deepens, “do not make me throw my slipper at your face.”

There is no way in hell you could’ve anticipated that kiss and even despite all your rebuttals at Mark’s attempts at teasing, the colour rushing to your cheeks and the way your chest fills up with butterflies proves you otherwise.

You can still feel Ten’s lips on yours, a blissful echo of what could have been, a soft tingling that sends blood rushing all the way to your toes. There are so many things you want to ask him, so many possibilities flourishing in your mind with that one simple kiss and yet, you’re so wary of having your world crashing down on your shoulders because why else would Ten do it if not for your performance?

“Have you?” You ask Mark after some time, albeit reluctantly, “spoken to Ten?”

He shakes his head, “haven’t seen him actually. He literally disappeared off the face of the earth after the show.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, “wouldn’t think so.”

There’s part hope and part fear splitting you down in the middle but you don’t dare dream of what could be. You can’t allow yourself to, because every time you do causes an image of the hurt on Jueun’s face to flash through your mind.

You’re not that girl. You are definitely not that girl.

But what you do need are answers. And something tells you that you won’t get any unless you ask him for yourself.

So it’s a week later that you find your way to his flat, feet shuffling as you try and concoct up the conversation, map it out in your head so that it doesn’t sound as bad. After your last conversation with him, you’re not quite sure where he stands himself.

An in the moment thing.

His words bounce off your skull, terrorizing you with the weight they hold.

You take a deep breathe. Exhale softly. Then reach up to ring the doorbell.

Only for the door to swing open, almost slamming into your face.

“Oh, hi!” Jueun’s voice causes you to blink. Jueun, standing at the door with nothing but a t-shirt that’s definitely too big for her — Ten’s— and a towel wrapped around her petite waist. She blinks back at you in confusion before offering a small smile, “what are you doing here?”

“Wh—“ you don’t even get the chance to ask her yourself when Ten’s voice rings out behind her, “who is it?”

Jueun hollers into the apartment, “it’s Y/N!” Before turning back to you, a grin now bestowed upon her face, “sorry I—I was just about done with my shower. Ten’s in there now. You were looking for Ten right?“ She opens the door a little wider, “do you want to come in?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Someone is up there in the skies laughing at you right now. You feel like a complete, utter idiot.

“N-No that’s alright,” you somehow manage a smile, though it probably looks as fake as it can get but Jueun doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t know you after all, “I—Just tell Ten I’ll swing by later—“

“He’ll be out soon though, I have drinks if you want some.”

“No really,” you’re already taking a step back. And another, and another, “it’s alright. I think—I’ll call him later.”

“But—“

You don’t wait. You dash down the corridor, fly down the stairs like your life depends on it, and don’t stop running until you find yourself in the safety of the bus station. Leaning against the lamplight while catching your breath, you struggle to put all images into one coherent thought as dread slowly pools in around you, wraps you up in its horrifying embrace, stuffing out any hope you might’ve had that Ten felt the same way you did.

You’re not sure whether to cry or to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Your heart hurts. In all kinds of ways. Tugging and pulling and being torn apart as though someone had been tossing it over in their hands before chucking it out of the window. Then, the pain starts to settle like a rock lodging itself in your chest where your heart should be.

It hurts.

You bite down hard on your lower lip. Hard, until the salty taste of blood hits your tongue.

You don’t feel it though. Not when your heart is the one breaking all over again.

—————

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

You can’t help but grin up at the worry dotting Mark’s expression looking like a kicked puppy that just had its bone taken away.

“I’ll be fine,” you swat him playfully on the arm, “and atop looking at me like that. You’re going to see me in a week.”

In a week is your graduation and the day of results. You haven’t spoken to Ten over the past two weeks that have flown by and had merely asked about him through his circle of friends in hopes of scraping by with some crumbs you can try picking up with both hands.

You wonder if Ten is thinking of you as much as you are thinking of him. Everything you’ve built up until this very moment had been raw and true and felt real at least to you. The question lies in whether it had been the same thing for him or if it had all just been a fogged up lie, whether he still thinks there are things that he should’ve kept to himself despite the fact that you’ve known him for so long.

In an attempt to rid yourself of all these stupid feelings you’ve tried burying in the grooves of your heart this past month, you’ve agreed to fly out to visit your mother on the other side of the country. A little peace and time away from the university is never a bad thing after all. You’ll be back in time for the results, although you’re not quite sure how that will turn out when you and your best friend aren’t on the best of speaking terms.

“Have fun at your mom’s,” Mark’s arms wrap around you in a soft warm hug, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, “and don’t worry too much about Ten. I wouldn’t. You know how—“

“Yes Mark,” you pull back to offer him a small smile,”I know.”

All too well, you want to add. But you don’t dare say it out loud.

Bidding Mark one more goodbye, you give him one last hug before making your way inside the airport to check-in. It’s bustling at this time of day, filled with students going back home for the holidays or families flying in on vacation, but you find yourself humming under your breath as you go stand in line for your luggage, the good vibes finally catching up to you. For the first time in a while, you allow your shoulders to fall back and relax as you take in the bustle and the noise shuffling around you. It’s been so long since you’ve actually spent time admiring, observing your surroundings that you sometimes forget the beauty of simplicity, of living life just as it is when it isn’t confined to all your inner problems.

And then, as if karma really wants you to suffer,your phone chimes. You glance down and almost gasp at the name flashing across your screen:

Ten: where are you?

Anger flares. Boils through you. How dare he, after all this time, now come around to ask you how you’re doing?

The hypocrite.

You type back your reply with barely restrained anger: I’m leaving today.

His answer comes almost instantly.

Ten: I know. Mark told me about it.

You swear you’re going to strangle that guy the next time you see him.

Y/N: That’s none of your business. And it’s too late anyway.

With that, you lock your phone and drop it back into your backpack even when you feel another buzz vibrate through your jeans. You’re not about to give him that satisfaction of knowing that he still has you hooked around his finger even if deep down you’re all too aware that you’re whipped for him. So whipped you’re so tempted to drop everything to run back to him, to make things good again, the way they always had been.

No. You shake your head in hopes that will clear every toxic thought invading your head.

Thankfully, you’re next in line to check-in and that’s enough to take your mind off the pulsating device throbbing through the material of your backpack and seeping into your jeans. Your fingers, itching to make a grab for the said device, curl onto the folds of your passport as the worker quickly ushers your luggage through the weighing machine roll.

“Thank you. Your gate is E7 and you will just have to check through security at the very back if you turn on your left,” she motions towards the said area and you nod, thanking her with a small smile before slipping out of the queue with another loud breath escaping your lips. God. You need this vacation to start already, or you’ll have to start finding other things to take your mind off—

Strong hands grip your shoulders. Whirl you around so fast you barely have time to blink.

Only to come face to face with none other than Ten Lee in the flesh.

“Wha—“ the words are knots that tangle up your tongue. Your mouth feels like it’s suddenly been filled with sandpaper, “what—what are you doing here?”

“Stopping you from leaving,” Ten is breathless, sweat dotting his hairline and chest heaving as if he’s just sprinted over. His bangs are disheveled and you want nothing more than to run your hands through his messy locks. Your hand curls into a fist in response as he continues, “where are you going? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” You scowl back, “I thought we weren’t on speaking terms, considering you were ignoring me and all.”

“I wasn’t ignoring—“

“Oh please Ten,” you roll your eyes, “as if you didn’t know I came to your house that day when Jueun opened the door.”

“Wai—What? What are you talking about?” His confused expression seems all too genuine for it to be an act and gathering up the last bit of patience you have left, you allow yourself to exhale shakily, try and coax your emotions to simmer down, “I came to your house. Two weeks ago. Jueun answered the door and the rest of was self-explanatory—“

“Jueun? When was that? That’s— I don’t remember her being here—“ realization suddenly dawns and you feel like scoffing in satisfaction. That is, until he says, “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there when Jueun was, Y/N.”

“Bullshit. She told me you were in the shower—“

“Yeah, in the dance studio. Not home,” his eyes had turned dark, stormy. Something inside you starts trembling as you watch his jaw clench, “she dropped by to fetch her things. That was the last time I saw her.”

There’s a distinct pause where you try to assimilate everything that had just come out of Ten’s mouth.

There’s surprise. Shock. And then, all the missing pieces start coming together.

“Is this why you haven’t called me at all, all this time?” Ten’s question bursts your bubble of thought. You blink, realizing that he’s standing before you in the flesh with something soft and tender in his gaze that makes your entire body light up with heat.

He takes a step closer. You take a step back. Amusement flickers across his face, until it is wiped out by your statement: “well you haven’t bothered calling me either.”

“Yeah, because the last thing you told me after the performance was that you hated me.”

“You said our kiss was just an ‘in the moment’ thing. How do you think I’d react?”

“I don’t know Y/N,” the frustration in Ten’s voice is clear. It’s probably the first time you see him so out of sorts. It surprises you, “what was I supposed to say? That I’ve been trying not to kiss you from the moment we’ve had our evaluation with Professor Lee? That my interest in Jueun just flopped the moment I realized I didn’t like her as much as I loved you? What—What did you expect me to say, Y/N?”

Silence. Only broken when you mumble, “well. This is clearly enough.”

It’s probably his words that render him red-faced and embarrassed, for he looks away and starts mumbling intelligible words under his breath without real meaning and in that particular moment, seeing Ten looking so lost and bearing his heart out to you with such genuine emotion makes your own heart quake in your chest.

Ten likes you. Just as you like him. He loves you. He’s been thinking about you, and that in itself causes a troop of butterflies to suddenly erupt through your insides.

You don’t even think about it as your hands come up to grab his t-shirt before pulling him in.

Your lips press against his. They’re trembling, but the warmth from Ten’s mouth is enough to boost your confidence.

His breaths, small stutters of air between your parted lips, make you press even closer if that’s possible. You kiss his next breath away and relish in the soft gasp that echoes out of his throat.

Warm hands slowly cup your face, trailing down your neck to drop at your waist while yours find their resting place by his jaw. You feel him kiss back, the softest movement of lip against lip, and you swear you almost lose it.

‘Y/N,” he breathes, voice drugged and hoarse, against you, before he proceeds to take over the kiss and kiss you a little deeper. You’ve kissed before onstage, but this is completely different. It feels completely different. You can’t help but sigh as Ten pulls you inevitably closer, tilting his head to the side as your mouths start moving together in a slow, hesitant dance that makes you tremble.

This. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Ten, in your arms. You and him, with nothing but your feelings out in the open, bared over the table for both of you to see. There’s some kind of soft glow of warmth that seems to seep through your veins the more you keep on kissing and kissing as if your entire life depends on it, and out of impulse you tighten your grip on the back of his neck, fingers sliding up to cascade through his dark locks. You hear him groan out softly in response, and that causes you to smile into the kiss.

You pull away after a short while upon realizing that you’re still in a public area, foreheads resting against each other and sharing the same breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats with more emphasis. And maybe it’s the mood, the fact that you’re in his arms and that allows him to let out a small laugh. You join in too and wonder briefly how stupidly in love you both look, like those main actors in sappy romance movies. Not that you can care.

The airport speaker suddenly breaks the spell when your flight is called for boarding. You almost jump out of the skin as realization pours through you.

“Oh shit,” you let out another laugh,”I have a flight to catch.”

That only makes Ten tighten his hold, “when will you be back?”

The desperation in his voice causes a grin to break across your face. You lean in, cupping his cheek with your hand, “I’ll be back next Sunday.”

“Okay,” he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, “I can wait that long.”

He accompanies you all the way to the security line and just before you walk through the sliding doors, tugs you back by your pinky finger with that sort of guilty look that little boys would give their mothers when they were found out with their hands in the cookie jar.

You look up at him with a grin. Although, you’re not sure your grinning has stopped ever since that kiss, “I will be back. Don’t worry—“

“I know I know,” Ten lifts your hand to his lips, presses another kiss on the back of your knuckles, “I’m just beating myself up for being such an idiot.”

There are still so many things left unsaid between you, so many things to unpack about your relationship and where you want to take it from there. But standing in front of Ten right now makes nothing but happiness glow through your skin, through the grooves of your heart. It finally feels right, everything falling in place like it was meant to be, and the grief that you’d been carrying around all his time has suddenly vanished as if there had been a clear blue sky all along.

“I’ll come back to you,” you smile up at him when he’s tugged you once more into his arms, “I promise.”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, “I’ll hold on to that promise so you better not break it.”

“See you soon then?”

Ten pulls back then, searches your gaze for a long minute in silence. And then, as tenderly as a soft caress, he leans down to drop another kiss on your mouth.

“Come back to me.”

————

A/N: Hello and if you’ve reached the end of this story, thank you so much for reading this till the end!! It’s a long and a tough read and honestly I practically had a writer’s block for 1 month over this thing. This was supposed to come out end of June but ehhh, life happens I guess!! Anyway, I hope you liked this and I am forever grateful, as always, for your support. Thank you so much for reading my work and for following my blog. I might not know all of you, but every single one of you has made my day a little brighter every time I come onto here. It feels like home.

Stay safe and see you in the next fic!! Xx

#ten x reader #ten fluff #tenlee #ten lee #ten nct imagines #ten nct #ten drabbles #ten fanfiction #tenlee fanfiction #tenlee x you #ten x you #ten angst #nct fanfiction #nct x you #wayv imagines #wayv x reader #nct wayv #wayv fanfic #wayv ten #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct mark #nct x y/n #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #wayv imagine

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

As it turns out, Danny makes a pretty good leader. His little gang of homeless children has grown immensely, both from picking up strays and from assimilating other gangs into his group.

Danny might only be 10 and still figuring out his powers but dang, intangibility and flight are over powered even before you add invisibility and laser blasts. At first he regretted sneaking into the lab alone to check out the portal his parents made in this basement. Waking up in a cold alley in a city you've never heard of is a terrifying experience even without the corrupt cops trying to sell you into human trafficking, but finding out he had powers and could do whatever he wanted? That was great. It no longer mattered that adults didn't listen to him or chased him around. He could do anything now. Be anything. Take anything.

He and the people under his protection often robbed places, never banks or anything but high class restaurants and stores that usually wouldn't even let them in through the front doors. Yeah, Danny can admit most of thier robberies were because of grudges the other kids had because of how they were treated but Danny being ten thought this was fine.

The real issue was Gothams Paw Patrol (who absolutely hate being called that :3 ) they were always on thier case, Dannys especially. They kept insisting that the system could help them -Danny called bull. No one helped him or Jazz back in Amity and it was waaaay nicer that Gotham- and kept getting him and his fellow kids arrested. That didn't really matter. Anti-meta stuff never worked on him so getting himself the other kids out was no big deal.

After overhearing a conversation between Nightwing and one of the other bats a kid came into thier current secret base announcing that Nightwing was poor and the other bats weren't. This caught everyone attention. Appearently Nightwing was trying to establish himself outside of the colony cause he didn't get along great with whoever the bats super daddy was, which was fair. A lot of them were runaways for one reason or another and knew a bunch of reasons why you wouldn't want to except "free" money.

This led to them fetching Nightwings "wingdings" and batarangs instead of keeping them/selling them like they do with the others, sharing some of thier spoils with him like the groceries, jewelry, fancy clothes, ect that they stole.

Dick even catches one of the kids in his apartment in Bludhaven filling up his fridge which has him panicking about his secret id being compromised. Luckly the kids had only followed him there and didn't think to check who was on the lease or anything cause they assumed it would be a fake name or something.

Just Dick getting forcibly adopted by a child gang.

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #hes getting so many heart attacks huh #danny is a farel ten year old in this #robin at some point gets sucked into the child gang and the kids demand they teach them stuff #they promise to lead him to some place stray cats like to go to give birth if he does #bribery at its finest #jason is not on the bats side with this #red hood is an ally to the children

[singswan-springswan]

ficlet under the cut

The crate tipped with a sudden lurch and broke open on the ground. Zuko spilled unceremoniously with the motion. Inelegant. Graceless. Normally his movements held much more regality, but he'd been kidnapped and stuffed in a scratchy box and out of the water for some indeterminable length of days, so cutting himself some slack here felt appropriate.

It wasn't much brighter outside the stupid box. His scales were dry, his head was killing him, and the floor held a pleasant cool against his mounting fever. He really needed water soon. Every part of his body felt... scratchy. Discomfort would escalate into pain, and then asphyxiation. He would suffocate if he dried out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take. The humans seemed to know. They hadn't acted worried yet.

"Our latest bounty." The voice looming over Zuko was muffled in weird places. "I thought it might spark an interest. You collect fire fish, isn't that right?"

Zuko bit down a hazy groan and fumbled to prop himself up. The loss of the tile's cool against his cheek was one he mourned, but there would be time for relaxing when he found a way out of this mess. He could barely think straight. The humans—the pirates who'd ransomed him from the girl in blue—were standing guard around him now. He could see their boots. They were facing all the same direction, same way the voice was talking towards, and Zuko turned to observe.

The surrounding space was large, a room, and very dimly lit. This wouldn't normally be an issue, being that he was a mer, but his headache made his eyes lazy and bad at adjusting to the dark. If he squinted, he could see the ripple of light along the walls. Blue. Weird. In the direction of the pirates' attention, something like the outline of a table was visible—as large and imposing as the room itself. A single shadowy figure occupied a seat on the far side. He looked weird with the backlight. Zuko's vision was getting spotty.

He didn't get much chance to scan the rest of the surrounding space, because the pirate captain decided to be a jerk and grab his hair. It'd long since escaped its neat topknot, now bunching and sliding strangely in dry heat. The pain and the change in angle made Zuko rapidly lose sight of the shadow man.

"This one's quite a specimen." The pirate tilted Zuko's head back, baring his throat—maybe as a joke; it was always hard to tell if humans knew the significance of such a display—and lifted him enough to catch the light. So their potential buyer could get a better view.

Zuko would like to rip the pirate's skin off and feed it to him, but he was weak with dehydration, and his previous struggles against the man's crew had left him exhausted. All he managed was a low hiss. If humans could understand mer speech, he’d be cursing them as soundly as possible. Someone was standing on his tail. Not that it made much difference. He doubted he could have swung it if it wasn't pinned.

"I've seen a lot of the fire mer in my day, but this one's real pretty. Don't feel bad turning the offer down. We'll keep 'im if you won't." His crew laughed. Bastards. Zuko could hear the leer in the pirate's voice. It made him dizzy with anger.

Then a low grind echoed softly, and the humans cut their chatter short. Zuko distantly registered the shadow at the table moving. What made that noise? Was it his chair? He stood, rounded the massive table, and drew closer. All Zuko could see was a dark, unfocused blob. Vaguely humanoid.

"Yeah, don't be shy! Come get a closer look!"

The fist in his hair tightened. His scalp burned. The fins all down his back shuttered, and a stinging ache began to form in his gills. He needed water. He needed to get out of here. He shouldn't have wandered so close to the shore, even if that pretty girl in blue seemed so friendly at first glance. She did sell him out to these pirate scum. He should have known way better.

Even standing an arm's length away, the lighting continued to cast shadow on the pirate's potential client. It could be reasoned, then, that Zuko and the humans around him were washed in the room's best luminance. Certainly his scar could be seen clear as day. Maybe his tail was pretty, but there were parts of him imperfect. Maybe the stranger wouldn't want to buy him for that. Maybe Zuko would be stuck with these idiot pirates forever.

A smooth voice came from the stranger. "Release him."

"Sure, sure."

The pressure on Zuko's scalp vanished. He collapsed to the cool tile with no more grace than before, even further disoriented, and with a worse headache. He grit his teeth in frustration. That bastard was still on his tail.

Cool fingers tilted his chin up before he could lift his head on his own again; he hadn't seen the shadow man crouch down. Startled, Zuko yanked back and hissed a second time. He made sure to reveal far more fang and fan far wider with his fins; he just wanted these stupid humans to stop poking and grabbing him however often they pleased. Was that too much to ask? He wasn't an ornament. And he sure as heck had no intention of being a pet.

The stranger's face was close, and shadowy, and out of focus. Zuko's head was killing him. The room spun.

"The shape of the fins—” The stranger’s voice began.

“Really something, isn’t it? Never seen a mer so fancy before.”

There was a beat of silence, then the cool fingers returned to Zuko’s jaw and held him firmly in place. He growled. It didn’t make a difference. He was exhausted and hot and vulnerable, and everyone could tell. There was no way to stop them from doing as they pleased. 

“There’s a scar.”

“Wasn’t us, mate. Looks like the beast’s had it for a while. I think it adds to the aesthetic, don’t you agree?”

Zuko glared. It was the sort of one-sided remark he’d only accept from Uncle Iroh, though Azula had made attempts to express similar sentiments in that weird way of hers. He’d always hated the scar. At least the monster who put it there was dead now.

The stranger gave no comment. He reached another hand out and pushed Zuko’s hair aside, away from his eyes. Zuko did his best to meet the unfamiliar gaze as steadily as possible, despite the awkward backlight. He was being stared at. He refused to show how unnerved it made him. His trembling and fever didn’t help much in that regard.

Finally, after a dreadful length of scrutiny, the shadow man spoke. “How much do you want for him?”

Zuko could hear teeth in the pirate’s smile. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Ten-thousand.”

Zuko didn’t know how humans calculated their currency. He’d assumed mer in general to be expensive, but they called him a stupid something fire fish, and it sounded like exotic. Even so, the pirate captain seemed shocked. He let out a high chuckle.

“Well! Show me the gold and you’ve got yourself a deal!”

The stranger waved an uninterested hand over his shoulder, and another grinding sound reverberated through the floor. Zuko couldn’t see the source of the sound with multiple different shadows clouding his vision. Judging by the pirates’ hushed tithering, their payment had been offered.

“Excellent! Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Zaheera will see you out.”

The group broke formation around Zuko and floated away, whispering excitedly. Though they’d been awful to him, he couldn’t help a flicker of fear at their absence. At least with the pirates, he knew they’d avoid causing permanent damage. He knew they’d want to sell him for the highest price possible. Now, he had no idea what to expect. This stranger could have any number of sinister plans in mind; Zuko had certainly heard the horror stories. All young mer were warned about the brutality of humans, and now he was at the mercy of someone who really wanted him. This was bad.

The stranger let him go, and the world tilted as Zuko crumpled. He was very dizzy. And angry. And he really wanted to sink his fangs into human flesh.

But when he turned (against his better judgment) to snap at his new captor, a firm hand was already pushing down the back of his neck. The same way one might handle an unruly pup. Zuko was too tired to be insulted by the gesture. He wasn’t a pup anymore, but a move like that with the human’s advantage was enough to subdue even a full-grown mer.

“Watch out with that one!” The pirate’s faint voice called back. “Quite a monster at full strength. He killed two of my men when we—”

“Get out.”

The heavy thud of the door confirmed their absence, though the human didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He ducked another snap of Zuko’s teeth, and ignored his crackly snarl, and slid his arms beneath scratchy scales. The world tilted again. Zuko would consider puking if he wasn’t so close to blacking out. The human was carrying him. Impressive. Zuko was heavy outside the water. His fins trailed the floor as they moved, but he was very much in the air, solidly in the man’s grip. Almost cradled, even if he was too big for the pup-hold to have effect a second time. The use of such familiar techniques should have rung a bell in his mind. Zuko’s headache and exhaustion wouldn’t let him dwell on it.

After a dizzying stretch, something wonderful happened. Zuko heard water. The noise was still muffled, and it faltered clarity with every stray tilt of his head, but Zuko knew what water sounded like. He’d been fantasizing about it for the past few days.

There was a splash, and with distant elation, he felt his fins trail. He wasn’t lucid enough to hold back the happy trill.

“I know.” The man huffed, and it rumbled through his chest. “I know—those bastards.”

The water rushed up around him, deliciously cool, salty, clean. It took Zuko up to his gills to realize he’d been lowered into a pool of some kind. It was shallow, but not cramped. He drew a deep breath. That felt very nice. The hands were gone. 

He didn’t bother confirming he was alone before passing out soundly.

<~><><~>

Zuko was alone when he came to, and his headache had finally retreated to the realm of faint discomfort. Incredible what a good long sleep in water could do for one’s health. The pirates hadn’t put him in a tank. They were mad about what a fuss he caused the first time they brought him aboard, and they’d rightly concluded he’d be easier to handle if he was dehydrated and exhausted and dizzy. They’d doused him with lukewarm buckets every few hours, just to keep him from dying. Zuko was relieved to be back in water now. Even if trepidation about the uncertainty of his new circumstances wouldn’t let him relax.

The pool he’d been placed in was shallow; he couldn’t move without some part of his tail skimming the surface. It was still comfortable in spite of that. The edges spanned a decent length, so he could turn with ease, and the basin interior was cut from smooth, white stone. His fins shone stark against it. The pool itself seemed to be laid into the ground, flush.

Zuko scanned his surroundings while he waited for something to happen. He still seemed to be indoors. The walls here weren’t as high as the one from before—from the sale pitch—and most of them were made of a clear material. It shone with sunlight from outside. The rest of the space was occupied by greenery. The taller ones reaching the ceiling had been planted in beds in the ground, surrounded at the base with bushy, leafy shrubs, and brilliant flowers, and crawling vines. The faint sound of water also trickled through the maze, but Zuko couldn’t see the source of it from where he was. It was peaceful. Uncle would love this place.

But Zuko hadn’t forgotten how he ended up here, and he had no illusions about being treated fairly, even if he’d been left undisturbed in such a pleasant area. He had to keep his guard up. He was being held against his will. He was trapped on land with no way to escape or get home. He didn’t have much experience with humans, but so far they’d only beaten him, used him, or treated him like a pretty ornamental object, and he had no reason to believe this behavior would change soon. He had to be prepared for the worst.

In truth, he really wanted to murder someone. The urge had become so intense during his captivity with the pirates, and he hadn’t had a real outlet, being close to dying of dehydration. Now that he was rested, his jaw nearly ached to bite through bone.

He spent the time waiting for an opportunity by pacing around the pool. The space didn’t allow for much more than tight circles. Still, it was better than sitting around stewing in all his problems. 

Mother was probably worried by now. Him being an adult with a life of his own didn’t stop her from worrying that he wasn’t home every day. Azula didn’t feel the same. Azula would kill for him though; she’d done it before.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of thinking to himself and going crazy for it, the faintest vibrations thrummed through the water, and Zuko froze. Footsteps. Someone was approaching. 

He lifted his head above the surface. The sound drew closer, brushing through the plants with a practiced gait. Zuko coiled his body. There was deliberation in the person’s movement. They knew he was here. They were coming to see him. The likelihood that he’d be attacking an innocent servant or something alike was low, and that brought him a hint of reassurance.

When the human came into view, bathed in green filtered sunlight, stepping out to the pool’s edge, Zuko took an entire second to appraise the figure. Tall. Male. Dark hair, luxurious silk robes in green and pale yellow. When he spoke, it was the same smooth voice from the shadowy stranger that paid for him.

“Hello.”

Zuko didn’t wait any longer. He launched himself at the human with a vicious snarl. His vision was red. His heart was pounding. How dare they treat him with such contempt? He wasn’t some prized bounty. He wasn’t an ornament for some rich knave’s garden. He wouldn’t take this insult and abuse lying down, and if these humans continued to assume so, they were in for a shock.

To some degree of satisfaction, the man did seem shocked to be bowled over. The air left his lungs in a massive wheeze, and his eyes went very wide. He was also—however—quick. He reflexively shoved Zuko’s head away when Zuko tried to bite, and he managed to lurch free enough to dodge an elbow to the face. 

“Wait!” The man yelped.

But Zuko had a size advantage, and the man was on his back, and Zuko really wanted him dead. He slammed his shoulders into the grass, pinned his legs with his tail, made another attempt to remove the throat with his teeth. This time, the man brought his arm up in a hasty block. Zuko was too busy biting down to be upset he’d missed his target. Blood and the creak of bone filled his mouth.

There was a shout of pain. “Wait wait—Zuko, stop!”

The words pierced his hazy red anger like ice through fresh snow. Zuko froze. Even being slightly feral at the taste of blood and festered indignation, he rapidly came to his senses and dropped the arm. His mind spun. 

How did this man know his name? The pirates didn’t know. The pretty girl in blue didn’t know. And he wouldn’t be able to tell them if he wanted to (which he very much had not). It wasn’t a lucky guess. No one shared his name that he’d ever met. So why—how could a random human—

“Get off!” The human fumbled to shove Zuko’s face away. His sleeve was ruined, and rapidly turning red.

Zuko slowly obliged. The man didn’t seem angry. He only seemed annoyed, even as he bled profusely from an arm that might be broken. There was something unnervingly familiar about the twist of his scowl. He shuffled sideways and sat up.

“Spirits, kid, you’ve got a strong jaw.”

“I’m not—” Zuko cut himself off before he could complete the retort. The human wouldn’t understand him. The human knew he wasn’t a kid. Zuko was very obviously a full grown mer. 

“You could have let me explain myself before trying to kill me.” Why did his scowl look so familiar? The man untied a sash of his fancy outfit and wrapped his arm with clinical efficiency. Then he looked up to meet Zuko’s eye, and his scowl faltered. “Are you okay?”

What.

Zuko stared. Was he seriously… asking if Zuko was okay? There was blood in the grass and in his robes and he might have a concussion and his ribs might be bruised and Zuko would at worst have a sore jaw. He shifted back warily. In his experience, crazy men often did cruel things. 

When he made no move to respond, the man sighed roughly and looked away. “Guess I should have waited on that tea. Zaheera will be by with some shortly.”

“What?”

What on earth was he talking about? Tea? Of all things? How did he know Zuko’s name and why was he so relaxed about the bite on his arm and why did the slope of his nose look so familiar and why was he talking about tea in the blood and the grass?

“You were always more civil with it around.”

Okay, now Zuko was thoroughly weirded out. He wished he had an exit. An escape route. He was stuck on land in an unfamiliar house and the closest thing he had to sanctuary was a fake pool of water barely deep enough to sleep in. This was freaking him out just the slightest.

“You’re nuts.” He said. Just to say it. The man wouldn’t understand the words or the insult in them, but Zuko was sick of just sitting around not saying anything, waiting for stupid humans to come to the right conclusions.

For his effort, he was rewarded with the faintest thaw of the man’s grumpy expression. It looked amused somehow. “And why is that?” He asked.

What.

A trace of alarm made Zuko flinch. “...Because you’re… talking to me.” He probed. Just to see. Humans weren’t supposed to understand.

“Why would that make me crazy? You’re real, aren’t you?” He glanced at his sleeve, now mostly red. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

Zuko blanched. He considered backing away, back into the pool. The safety it offered was purely psychological, but it would be something at least. It’d be better than lying vulnerable on the ground next to a crazy person. His fins twitched.

“What—but—you understand me?”

“Of course.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to understand.” From what he’d heard, humans interpreted mer speech as primitive and animalistic: nothing more than a series of harsh vocalizations strung together. Zuko had demanded an explanation for the phenomenon when he was younger. After all, mer understood human speech just fine. No one was able to give him a satisfactory answer.

“Well, I’m not human.” The human said. “Technically.”

“Then what are you?” Possibly a witch? Zuko had heard of their strange abilities. Or maybe he was a spirit. In which case Zuko was screwed. He probably couldn’t get away with attempted murder on a spirit; he’d totally be cursed or something. It could also be a shapeshifter of sorts, from the myths.

But the man quickly dispelled any outlandish theories. For the first time that Zuko had seen, a flicker of hurt crossed his features. It made him look older than he likely was. Haunted.

“Wow Zuzu, you don’t remember your favorite cousin?”

No.

No, he definitely didn’t mean that. Zuko didn’t have any cousins. Not for eleven years. And there’d only been—one. Just one. Now there weren’t any.

But looking closer, Zuko could see why the scowl looked so familiar. He saw the same face in the mirror. And this man wasn’t human, clearly, even if he had legs in place of a red streaming tail. In place of the gold ribbon fins their family shared—that he must have recognized when he first saw Zuko. 

He knew Zuko’s name. Zuzu. Azula tried to call him that—maybe out of nostalgia—but it belonged to them both, and Zuko hated to hear her say it because there was only one person who tried to bring them together like that, and hearing her say it reminded him of… of… a dead man.

Except he couldn’t be dead. He was right here. His blood tasted very real.

“Lu Ten?”

He looked so much like his father when he smiled. “Yeah.”

Zuko gaped. That felt like the only appropriate thing to do. Maybe the dehydration actually got to him, and this whole series of events was an elaborate hallucination. Maybe Azula spiked his tea with a psychedelic for her weird sense of humor, and he was hallucinating. It was too strange. This didn’t make any sense. Zuko’s cousin was dead, and if he wasn’t, wouldn’t Uncle know? Would Uncle have cried so hard so many private times if this was real? It felt so real.

“How did you get that scar?”

“How are you not dead?” Zuko’s head was spinning, though thankfully not from dehydration. He wasn’t sure if this was worse, actually. “Uncle thinks you’re dead.”

The comment earned him a flinch. “There’s actually a good explanation for that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m cursed.” Lu Ten squinted into the middle distance, looking uncomfortably close to being emotional. “To live as a human. And I can’t… go near the sea. I tried. It almost turned me into sea foam.”

Zuko dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

#zutara #katara x zuko #avatar: the last airbender #atla au #zutara mermaid au #atla mermaid au #katara #prince zuko #princess azula #sokka #aang #the gaang #lu ten #lu ten lives au #rip him tho he's not having a great time #I want to be normal so bad but being weird and doing stuff like this is so much fun #zutara art #atla fanfiction #atla art #momo atla #singswan-springswan art

[felsicveins]

Art for this lovely fic 💚 💙

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls oc #trolls oc otto #trolls clay #clay trolls #when i tell you the joy and vigor i get from reading this fic couldve powered me for ten years #trolls fanfic #trolls fanfiction #clotto

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Control (M)

Summary:

Seungcheol is the one mistake you should never make. The one you always do. The relationship that you equally have the most and least control over.

Genre: 8k words, College age but school is not mentioned, big dick!Cheol, simp!cheol, fuck buddies, pining, emotional repressed!y/n, y/n describes her relationship with Seungcheol as a mistake a lot, Cheol's possessive

Smut warnings: light degradation, dubcon, creampie, unprotected sex, public sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjobs, praise(?)

-

“So, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind-”

You laughed, smiling at the boy in front of you. He was tall, and handsome. Dark, slicked back hair.

“Stop with the flattery,” you insisted. He laughed.

“I can’t help it,” he cooed. “You deserve all the praise in the world.”

He was such a flatterer, but you didn’t even care. You craved the attention that came from such an attractive man. A man that you could brag to your friends for fucking. A man who you wouldn’t see again after tonight.

You let your hand reach forward, your fingers brushing over his biceps. You gave them a small squeeze. He reveled under your touch. He pulled you close to him by your hips, his fingers brushing over the hem of your skirt.

“You’re dancing with the devil, baby,” he commented, and the little nickname felt completely wrong coming from his mouth. But you didn’t care. You needed to be with this guy. Needed to sleep with him to remind yourself who you were.

You needed to sleep with someone. Needed a stranger’s cock to fuck you open.

You needed a change.

“Come on,” you said, your voice soft. “Let’s go somewhere a little quieter. Yongsun.”

His smile only grew, and you knew that he thought he had hit the jackpot. A thrill of pride ran through your body at the fact that he liked you so much. You had been able to so quickly get him to succumb to your touch.

You guided him up the stairs, dragging him into the first empty bedroom you could find. You closed the door behind the two of you and he made his way over to the bed. When you turned around, he was sitting there at the edge. Comfortable even though it was a room that he had never been in before.

“Come here baby,” Yongsun murmured, and the phrase rolled right over your head. You wanted to hit yourself. Come on, get yourself together. He was gorgeous, you were going to get laid. This was exactly what you should want. This was the dream.

Yongsun pulled you closer so that you were in between his legs. He smiled at you, his eyes flickering down your body. His hands slid around you, rubbing over the curve of your ass.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled. You wrapped your arms loosely around Yongsun’s neck, letting him drag you forward, his lips pressing warm kisses to your neck. You tilted your head up, and his hands slid down to your thighs and up under your skirt. His thumbs trailed over the edge of your panties.

“Let’s see how excited you are to be with me,” he mumbled against your neck. His fingers dipped into your panties and then he pulled away.

“Are you…?”

You groaned, pulling away from Yongsun.

“Sorry. Sorry,” you mumbled. “It’s not you I’m just tired...”

Disappointment flickered across Yongsun’s face, but he nodded.

“Yeah, I get it.”

You bid your farewells to Yongsun and as you did you felt eyes on you from across the room. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Just his gaze made your body heat up. You closed your eyes briefly, exasperated. Fuck, why did he make you feel this way? No one should ever have this much power of you.

You avoided looking at him, instead making your way through the party and out into the cool summer air. You hesitated at the front steps, knowing full well you shouldn’t wait there but needing to anyways.

The door to the house opened less than a minute after you had closed it. You felt arms wrap around your waist and you instantly let your head loll to the side. This times when lips touched your neck you felt it run straight to your core.

“Seungcheol, please-” You mumbled. “I don’t want to tonight.”

Seungcheol ignored you, continuing to press kisses to your neck.

“Really? Is that why you came back downstairs after only five minutes?” He asked you. His fingers dipped under your shirt and you arched your back into his touch. “Come on, you know that you want this just as badly as I do.”

You couldn’t help the desperate noise that left your lips.

“Seungcheol, someone is going to see us,” you whispered, your voice low. You felt him smile against your neck.

“Good,” he mumbled. “Maybe then you’ll admit how much you like me.”

One of his hands dipped beneath the band of your skirt, his fingers dipping into your underwear. His fingers brushed your clit and then dipped further between your folds. He let out a low groan.

“Is all this just for me?” He asked you. You felt his now wet fingers drag back up to your clit, beginning to rub clumsy, slow circles around it. Your head lolled back against Seungcheol, his lips trailing up your body.

His lips finally came up to yours, pressing softly to the corner of your lips. You turned your face to the side, trying to get his lips more firmly on yours but unfortunately for you he turned away with a smile.

“Why’d you leave that other boy, hm?” Seungcheol asked you as he continued to rub your clit in circles. “I could practically see his cock bulging in his pants. He wanted you so badly.”

His hand that was still on your stomach dragged lightly up your body, pressing your bra to the side and wrapping his hand around your boob. His thumb flicked across your hard nipple. You whined.

“I’m not- I-I wasn’t in the mood,” you mumbled, but Seungcheol knew you well enough that he could tell you were lying through your teeth. He chided you softly.

“Well, you’re clearly in the mood now,” he said. He let your lips brush again, but again when you tried to initiate a kiss, he pulled away from you. You bite down on your lip as he pressed his fingers harder on your clit, but his pace was still slow. He was taking his time, cocky about the fact that you wanted him. He knew that you weren’t going to stop him.

You felt pleasure coiling through your body as Seungcheol’s fingers pinched your tits, and you couldn’t help the way your face turned, desperate for his lips. If not just to kiss him, but also to keep the frankly embarrassing moans from leaving your lips.

It was obvious to anyone around how badly you wanted Seungcheol, no matter how hard you pretended not to.

You thanked God no one was around.

You could feel yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge.

“You going to cum for me?” Seungcheol asked softly. “I can hear how desperate you are. It’s okay to need me, baby. You know I need you too.”

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering closed.

“F-fuck, Cheol, I-”

You heard the door to the house open and you had never unraveled yourself from Seungcheol faster. Your hands patted down your clothes quickly. The person stumbling out of the party glanced at you and you hoped to God they couldn’t tell by your heavy breathing that they had just ripped an orgasm away from you.

The person who had stumbled out of the door glanced at you, their eyes glazed over from the alcohol. They smiled.

“Such a rad party,” the guy said. He stumbled a little, and another person came through the door. A girl. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the arm of the stumbling guy.

“Sorry about idiot here,” she commented. Her eyes flickered to you.

“Y/n…” She mumbled. Her eyes narrowed a bit when she looked behind you. “Seungcheol.”

You both nodded at her, but she didn’t comment on you two any further. To be fair, at this point you two were practically social distanced from one another.

“I’ll see you two around.”

You nodded and you and Seungcheol echoed awkward expressions of agreement. You waited until the two walked away, and once you had seen the two get into a car you felt your head fall into your hands. Disgust filled your body. God, what were you doing?

“Y/n…” You ignored Seungcheol, and he didn’t move. “Y/n, come here.”

You stayed put, and you heard him sigh.

“It’s okay to need my cock baby, come here so I can make you feel good, huh?”

You groaned but you couldn’t help it, you felt yourself moving back over to him just like he wanted. That smile flickered across his lips again, pride to himself at having been able to get you to do what he wanted all over again.

“So good for me,” Seungcheol breathed, wrapping his arms around your body. He pressed his forehead to yours. “You gonna let me have you today?”

You tilted your head up, arms draped over Seungcheol’s shoulders in a similar way as to how it had been with Yongsun not long ago. Seungcheol kept his lips frustratingly away from yours, as if reminding him of how badly you wanted him. Reminding you that despite the fact you pretended in front of others that you didn’t want him, you would do anything for him when it came down to it.

“Please,” you whispered. Seungcheol’s fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Seungcheol replied, his voice steady but low. “Are you going to let me have you today?”

You bit down on your lip, you didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes,” you agreed, nodding your head. You leaned forward, trying so hard to get his lips, but he still pulled back. “Seungcheol, please.”

Your frustration was starting to grow.

“Stop teasing me, Cheol,” you mumbled. You lowered one of your hands to Seungcheol’s pants. You dipped your hand into them, wrapping your fingers around Seungcheol’s already hard cock. You tugged at it, pulling a groan from Seungcheol.

“I thought you were worried about getting caught,” he mumbled. You shook your head against him.

“I don’t care anymore, I need you,” you mumbled. You gave Seungcheol’s dick another tug, your thumb flicking over the tip. “Besides, everyone here is too drunk off their asses to notice anyways.”

Seungcheol hummed and let you drag him around the side of the house, to a place where you two were hidden in the shadows of the night. You grabbed his pants, dropping them down to his ankles and crouched down. Your tongue darted to like your lips as you took in the sight of his length.

“You don’t even want me to get you home?” Seungcheol asked, his tone was low and teasing. He knew that you were past that. He knew that now that you needed him, you wouldn’t be able to put it off. So you ignored him in favor of sucking his cock into your mouth.

Besides, it was better this way. If you guys fucked here, if you fucked now, then you wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking out of his apartment… Or getting him to sneak out of yours.

He was so proud that he was fucking you. It was hell keeping him from telling others. Every time that you ended up here with the tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat he grew cockier. More insistent that you liked him.

Maybe he was right. After all, anyone who didn’t like him wouldn’t be on their knees in a backyard sucking his cock.

Seungcheol groaned, his fingers lightly burying in your hair. His mouth was letting the most perfect little moans and whines leave his lips. The whines proof of his struggle for self-control. You knew how badly he wanted to grab you by your roots and force his cock deep into your throat. He held back on days like this when your attention seemed fickle. He wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave.

You wouldn’t mind it if he fucked your face like his life depended on it, but that wasn’t something you were ready to tell him.

No… That was something you wanted him to figure out for himself.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol grunted. “I thought you said I could have you today?” His voice was so rough. “Get off your fucking knees and pull your skirt up.”

You popped off of Seungcheol’s cock, giving his shaft a few pumps, eyes looking up at him innocently.

“Someone’s needy,” you mumbled. His fingers tightened in your hair.

“If we were having it my way we wouldn’t be outside right now.”

Your lips pressed together, but your core burned regardless. You got to your feet, pulling your skirt up to bunch around your hips and placing your hands on the house. You looked back over at Seungcheol. You wanted to say something cocky, assert your own control over the situation, but instead you just looked at him with wide pleading eyes.

His lips flickered back into a smile, and his hand came down sharply on your ass. A moan was ripped from your body as Seungcheol rubbed the spot he had just hit. His fingers pushed aside your panties, and he pressed two of his fingers into you.

“F-fuck.”

“You’re such a little slut, y/n,” Seungcheol mumbled. You whined, the words, however derogatory feeling like a compliment from his lips. He pushed his fingers into you slowly. Taking his time even though you wanted his cock right now and fast. “But I’m the one who makes you like this aren’t I?”

A whined tore itself from out of your lips.

“Cheol, please,” you whined.

“Left Yongsun just for me,” Seungcheol said, the praise going straight to your core. “Left that bedroom to get fucked by me in the yard. You’re too pretty to let me fuck you out here.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled. A laugh vibrated Seungcheol’s body.

“Yes ma’am.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and brushed the tip of his cock between your folds. You mewled, your fingers curling into balls. You let your forehead fall forward.

“You’re so perfect, y/n,” Seungcheol murmured. His lips pressed to your lips as he slid his cock into you. You couldn’t help it. The pleasurable burn that ran through your body as his cock filled your body. He was huge, always so fucking huge. You didn’t think you would ever get used to it. “So perfect for me, take my cock so perfectly.”

“You’re such a tease,” you bit out, but your words met thin air. Seungcheol didn’t care that he was teasing you. He didn’t care that him taking his time was driving you crazy. He never did. You rarely came around to begin with.

“Tell me how much you need me, y/n,” Seungcheol breathed. You shook your head, which made Seungcheol’s teeth nip at your neck. Your body shivered; your gaze shot up.

“Cheol,” you blurted. “You know you can’t leave marks.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he mumbled. “I can’t help it. You know I can’t help it. I want everyone to know your mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you bit back. The comment made his cock slip from your pussy. You cried out in desperation, pushing your ass back towards Seungcheol. “Cheol, fuck I-”

You could hear his free hand wrap around his cock, and he started to pump it. You could hear how wet from your pussy he was.

“Cheol, cheol, cheol,” you panted. “I-I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I want to hear,” Seungcheol replied. His pumps were getting faster.

“B-But-”

“You’re not mine yeah? So why should I fuck you?”

Your heart was pounding. You wanted his cock so badly.

“I was lying, okay?” You blurted. “I’m yours, okay? All yours. Please Cheol, please-”

Seungcheol pushed his cock back into you, setting a faster pace. His hand wrapped around your waist again, his fingers pushing down on your clit.

“That’s right baby, you’re all mine,” he agreed. “We both know how badly you need me. Why don’t you show me? Why don’t you show me how badly you need me.”

Your body began to shake as your walls began to clamp around Seungcheol’s dick, your orgasm being ripped from your body like you really were all Seungcheol’s. He fucked you through your orgasm, his lips pressing those kisses to your neck.

“Where do you want my cum?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Inside.”

Your name fell off of his lips like a promise, his cum being pumped deep inside of you. Your body burned under his attention, your breath coming in heavy pants as his thrusts slowed. He stopped buried deep inside of you. His lips brushed up against your ear. You turned your head, hoping to finally get his lips but he pulled away from you just like he always did.

That was his biggest grab for control in your relationship. He never let you kiss him. No matter how badly you wanted to. No matter how badly he wanted to.

You two were silent for a minute, dragged out of your sex-haze by the front door to the house being opened and closed. You nudged Seungcheol with your elbow.

“We’ve got to go.”

You could feel how badly he didn’t want to go but regardless he pulled himself out of you. You were too nonchalant when it came to him, maybe. You stood up, fixing your panties and brushing down your skirt. Seungcheol pulled his pants back up, hooking his thumbs into his jeans pockets. He stared at you, as you tried to make yourself look like you hadn’t been fucked. You could feel his cum leaking down your legs.

“Can I take you home?” Seungcheol asked. You didn’t respond to him, you just glanced at him. He knew the answer. He sighed, his eyes flitting away from you.

You walked over to him, against your better judgement. You got up to the tips of your toes and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. You tapped his cheek right after.

“We can’t do this again.”

His lips flickered up into a smile.

“You know we will.”

-

“There she is.”

Mocking applause filled your apartment living room as you emerged from your bedroom after having gotten home at nearly four in the morning. Your two roommates, Seokmin and Dayoung looked at you with matching wide smiles on their lips. You groaned, burying your face in your hands as you walked.

“Another day, another party that you disappear from,” Dayoung said with a whistle. You gave her a mocking life and walked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door. “The question that remains… Did you get laid?”

Memories of Seungcheol flickered through your mind. You pressed your lips together, forcing a smile.

“You know I did,” you replied, trying to hide your shame. Your fingers twitched. The worst part being that you wanted Seungcheol to be inside of you right now. You shook the thoughts from your head.

“You do nothing but score,” Seokmin said with a surprised laugh. You shrugged off the statement.

“Can’t help it,” you replied. “I’m too pretty.”

Honestly, it was true. You were always getting the attention of other people. If you really wanted, you could have anyone you wanted.

“Aren’t you tired of it?” Seokmin asked you. You frowned.

“Tired of…?”

“Tired of sleeping with different people all the time?” Seokmin asked. “Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

You pretended to entertain what Seokmin had said.

“I’m not interested in just being with one person,” you replied pointedly. “There’s something exciting about fucking someone else every week.” You let a teasing smile cross your lips. “I don’t think just one dick could ever satisfy me.”

-

You slammed Seungcheol against the wall of his bedroom, desperately pushing his shirt up over his head.

“Come on Cheol,” you insisted. Seungcheol hummed, allowing you to pull his shirt off, watching you as you got down on your knees and began to undo his belt buckle. “Wearing too much. Work with me.”

You threw Seungcheol’s belt to the side and unbuttoned his pants. You pushed his pants down his legs, tearing his underwear down. He wasn’t helping you at all, just watching you in amusement. You didn’t even care, you whined when you saw his cock was out.

“Fuck, I love your cock so much,” you mumbled. You wrapped your fingers around him and gave him a tug.

“Aren’t you worried?” Seungcheol asked, his voice light and airy. “Wonwoo and Mingyu are just through the door.”

“They don’t know it’s me,” you replied pointedly.

Seungcheol chuckled.

“Right, I forgot. You climbed in through the window,” he teased. “All for what? For me?”

“You’re not special,” you mumbled, hoping to knock him down a peg. It probably didn’t help that as soon as you said it you sucked the tip of Seungcheol’s cock into your mouth. He let out an airy moan, and his fingers threaded into your hair.

“I’m feeling pretty special right now,” he breathed. “After all, I’m the one that you’re on your knees for.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled around Seungcheol’s dick. You sucked him deep into your mouth but before you could start setting your own pace Seungcheol’s hands began to guide you over his length. He moved your head slowly up and down, little moans tumbling from his lips as he did.

You placed your hands on his thighs, fingers tightening against him.

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol whispered, his voice so quiet you almost felt like you weren’t meant to hear it. “So, fucking beautiful.”

He tugged your head up a little, so that your eyes were on his.

“I wish you could see yourself. Mouth stretched out over my cock, eyes wide and perfect for me,” he mumbled. Your gaze flickered down, embarrassed. You tapped his thigh, and his fingers released your hair.

You pulled off of his cock.

“Shut up,” you emphasized again. “Fuck me, Cheol.”

“I’ll always do what you want,” Seungcheol promised. He reached down, his hands grabbing your cheeks. He pulled you up by them, the brief thought flickering through your mind that maybe he was going to kiss you. Of course, once you were up his hands lowered to your chest. His fingers hooked between the buttons of your shirt and then suddenly he pulled. Button’s scattered across Seungcheol’s floor, but before you could complain, he had one hand on your shoulder, the other one pushing your breasts up and out of your bra.

Then, with a solid push you were pushed back onto his bed. You let out a soft whimper before his hands were on your hips. He pulled your pants down your ankles, and then your panties, before falling to his knees in front of you. He hiked your hips closer to him, his tongue darting across his lips.

“I think I’m the luckiest guy alive,” Seungcheol mumbled. “I thought surely… I heard you were on some date with a guy tonight.”

Memories flickered through your mind of your date that night. Dinner at Applebee’s wasn’t exactly your idea of a date. You didn’t know why you always told Seokmin you would go on these dates.

“I was,” you agreed softly. “Not that it’s your business.”

Seungcheol dipped his head forward, his tongue darting between your folds. He licked up to your clit and then sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it. You cried out, arching your back.

“But you’re here with me now,” he mumbled against you. You rolled your eyes.

“You aren’t special, Cheol,” you replied, a breathy moan leaving your lips.

“Right. Cheol.” There was that mocking tone. “Not special at all.” He smiled against you, focusing on eating you out for a few moments. As he sucked on your clit, he slipped his middle finger into you. “But I’m more special than that boy you were with.”

He looked up at you, and your eyes flickered away from him.

“Look at me baby,” he said. You looked back down at him. “What was his name?”

His teeth nipped at your clit as he pushed a second finger into you. You whined.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He pressed his fingers hard into you, making you cry out.

“No, it matters,” he insisted. “Want to know who I am better than.”

“Seungcheol-”

“Shh,” Seungcheol said. He slid up your body, grabbing your hands and dragging you closer to him by his hips again. “I don’t want to hear anything from you until you tell me his name.”

Seungcheol’s dick brushed against your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Cheol you idi-” Seungcheol pushed his tip into you and then pulled it right back out. “Kevin, okay? His name was Kevin.”

Seungcheol pushed himself deep into you, making your entire body arch into his touch. Seungcheol’s lips trailed down to your collarbone, and he smiled against your skin.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget Kevin’s name,” he promised.

Every time you went back to Seungcheol it was stupider. Every time it made him just that much more cocky. You remembered when you were talking to a guy, and your phone vibrated.

Don’t text him: Upstairs. Now.

You had looked at him from across the room, a frustrated expression crossing over your lips.

No, you mouthed.

Seungcheol raised his eyebrows dragging his lips into a downwards smile. He shrugged and made his way up the stairs.

You were up there within five minutes.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whispered against his neck. He hummed.

“What was his name?”

“Sunwoo,” you breathed. Seungcheol clicked his tongue, pulling your head back by your ponytail.

“Let’s see how long you remember that.”

-

“Hey bitch,” Sujun exclaimed excitedly. She wrapped her arms around you in a hug, and then pulled away after placing a kiss to your cheek. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” you said with a laugh. “I hate bars but for you? Always worth it.”

She let out part of a whoop, evidence of having pregamed even though it was only five.

“You don’t even know how fun tonight is going to be.”

“Oh, I think she has some idea.”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You turned over your shoulder, shooting Seungcheol a glare that his sister wouldn’t be able to see.

“Seungcheol!” Sujun said excitedly. “You are the perfect person to help me with this! You know what my favorite game to play with y/n is?”

You groaned, burying your face into your hands.

“Sujun-”

“Let’s get y/n laid!”

“Oh.”

Amusement twinkled through Seungcheol’s eyes.

“Well, that sounds hard. I wouldn’t know what y/n’s type is.”

You glared daggers at him while Sujun wasn’t looking.

“Long hair, bright eyes, long face… Not too many muscles…” You trailed off. “The exact opposite of you really.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows danced.

“Hm, sure,” he agreed.

He played that game with Sujun, and she didn’t even realize the underlying jealous tones in Seungcheol’s voice as he spoke about what guys you should go home with. She didn’t notice the look in his eyes when you started talking to the guy they had all decided on.

She didn’t hear you sneaking him into your apartment.

“What was his name?”

“I didn’t even fucking ask.”

Kicking Seungcheol out was the hardest. You almost never invited him over because of it. It was hard enough to leave his place every morning. He always looked at you with big puppy eyes begging you to come back. Promising you that you would be so much happier if you spent the day with him.

When he stayed over you were always quite literally pushing him out.

“You have exactly five minutes before Dayoung gets out of the shower, Seungcheol come on.”

“I’ll be in your bed tonight anyways, why don’t I just stay and wait?” There was a smile on his face even though there was a heavy look in his eyes. “I can stay around like a stay-at-home boyfriend.”

If you were being honest, you had known right away that he had fallen for you and you were just trying to pretend like he hadn’t. It was in his touch, the way he spoke to you. You knew that from the start he had seen you as his and you were holding him at a distance. You were quite literally using him, but he was letting you because you were leading him on and that made you think it was okay.

“I think I’m a bad person,” you admitted. There was too much alcohol in your system for you to be talking about this. You turned your head to look over at Seokmin, as your eyes flitted away from your phone with the singular message of: You’re not out tonight, right? Come over.

“You’re not a bad person,” Seokmin negated with a roll of his eyes. Your lips flickered into a smile.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m doing.”

Your phone vibrated.

Or are you pretending to be someone else’s tonight?

You groaned and threw your phone at Seokmin.

“Jesus christ, Seokmin I’m such a bad person,” you blurted. He glanced at your phone screen.

“Who is Don’t Text Him?” He asked. You raised your beer to your lips, finishing it off and tossing the can across the room.

“I can’t tell you,” you replied. “But he’s a good guy. And I’m leading him on like a fucking dog.”

“Well, if he’s letting you lead him on-”

You groaned loudly, turning your gaze back over to Seokmin.

“What do I do?” You blurted. “What do I do? He practically thinks we’re together.”

“Just cut it off,” Seokmin replied pointedly. “You can’t lead him on if you aren’t fucking him.”

Easier said than done.

-

“I fucking can’t stand you,” you whispered as you shut the closet door behind you. “You played it too risky, you can’t be that close to me.”

“You didn’t really seem like you disliked it that much,” Seungcheol teased. His lips were turned up as you pulled his cock from out of his pants. You didn’t even bother to drag them down. You slid your hand up and down his hard cock.

“You aren’t some sex god Seungcheol-”

He grabbed you by your hips and turned you around suddenly. He pushed up your skirt, and aside your panties- Something you were much too accustomed to. His hand came down on your ass, before his fingers slid into your wet heat.

“Come on baby, you need to be honest,” he said softly. “Do you think that your pussy gets this wet for just any man? You’re so perfect for me that you’re already ready for my cock.”

He placed his hands to either side of your body and pressed his cock into you. You felt your head dip a little, pressing your ass back against him. Just proving him right. Just pushing him deeper.

“Fuck baby,” Seungcheol said, his voice close to that of a whine. “You really are so perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“It’s not all for you,” you protested, but even as you spoke you were pushing back against him, silently begging him to go faster.

“No?” He asked softly. “Then who’s it for? Kevin…? Sunwoo…?”

You bite down hard on your bottom lip.

“Seungcheol-”

“No, that’s not what you call me is it?” He asked. His pace was slow. Stupid, Seungcheol and his stupid slow thrusts. He was always taking his time.

“I don’t have time for this,” you grunted. “Faster.”

“Ask me nicer,” Seungcheol replied.

“No-”

“Then I can stop,” Seungcheol agreed. His cock slipped out of you, but it was so brief it practically never happened. You pressed back against him quickly, forcing his cock back into you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted. “Please, Cheol, I need you so fucking badly. Faster. Please.”

He laughed.

“Of course, I will,” he agreed. “Since you sound so sweet for me.”

He picked up his pace, to the one that you wanted. Nothing being able to be heard from within the closet other than your own moans and the sound of skin on skin. You felt Seungcheol’s lips on your skin and you wished that he would bite down on you. No matter how much you said you didn’t, you wanted people to know.

You were just so scared.

Seungcheol brought you to your orgasm fast, just the way that you were used to from him and his lips brushed your ear as he whispered: “Where?”

And you fought it in yourself not to scream in desperation with your response.

“Inside.” A beat, and honestly more didn’t need to be said but you said it anyways. “Always, inside.”

You let your head bump against the wall in front of you and your fingers curled into balls as Seungcheol’s warm cum started to fill you. You felt an orgasm rip through your body as he fucked his cum into you, and he fucked you through it until you were both panting and coming down from your highs.

After a few minutes he slipped his cock out of you and you felt his cum drip down your thighs a little. You were so annoyed at yourself for letting him fuck you here because now you were going to have to deal with this situation the best you could in a public bathroom, but it was your own fault really.

Aggravation flooded your body at the situation as you pulled your clothes on, and Seungcheol just stood there watching you as you got dressed with that cocky expression on his face. You wanted to hit him.

“This can’t keep happening,” you hissed. As you spoke you heard footsteps from outside of the door. You threw your hands over Seungcheol’s mouth, suddenly finding yourself unable to breathe. Seungcheol’s tongue darted out to your hand, and you pulled away from him. He gave you an amused expression.

“That’s what you say every time,” he said. “You don’t mean it. You’ll be back.”

“I’m serious this time,” you insisted. Seungcheol just smiled, leaning forward. He teased you, his lips hovering just above yours. You fell for his trap of course, tilting your head up to catch his lips. He pulled away.

“Yeah, I can see how serious you are,” he agreed. Frustration bubbled in your stomach, and you pushed open the closet door. You stumbled out and looked around the hallway. Luckily, no one was around.

“What if someone caught us?” You asked him. “What if your sister found out?”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Who cares?” He asked. You shot him a glare.

“I care. She’ll have my head.”

“She’ll get over it,” he replied. The topic of his sister was bothering him, but you didn’t think it was for the reasons most people would be annoyed. “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with keeping this secret from her.”

“It’s not just keeping this secret from her,” you shot back at him. You started to walk away from him, but he was following you. You were betting on him following you, honestly. “This isn’t something that should be happening. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“We have,” Seungcheol agreed.

“Which is exactly the point. This is a mistake Seungcheol. Every time we have done this, it’s been a mistake.”

Seungcheol grabbed you by your wrist.

“A mistake, huh?” He asked. “Was it a mistake every time you said you were mine? Whenever you begged me for my cum? Every time you sabotaged whatever connection with whatever guy you were with that night just to end up fucking me?”

“God, you’re so cocky,” you blurted. You ripped your wrist out of Seungcheol’s grasp and pushed hard at his chest. “It meant nothing. It means nothing. You just have a good cock, Seungcheol. That’s it.”

Hurt shot through Seungcheol’s eyes but you didn’t back down. You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. You glared at him as he waited for you to take back your words.

You two stared at each other and then you heard someone from beside you say something. Your eyes widened and you put some space between you and Seungcheol. Real fear of being recognized, and having your dispute being acknowledged as just that: a dispute running through your body.

Once the person had passed your eyes flickered back to Seungcheol. He scoffed at you.

“Got it,” he bit out. “This really is the last time.”

Seungcheol walked away before you could say another word.

Honestly? There was something in the back of your throat as you watched Seungcheol walk away. You tried to remind yourself that Seungcheol didn’t matter. Tried to remind yourself about what you had just been saying. That Seungcheol was a mistake. Something that should have never happened.

But still, you felt something achy in your stomach as you looked at him.

In the weeks that followed Seungcheol didn’t reach out to you, and you didn’t reach out to him. You went to parties just as usual, but his eyes weren’t on you anymore.

And when you went upstairs with someone, and they turned up dry… You just ended up going home and having to take a cold shower.

“Your nights have been short recently,” Seokmin commented one morning. You glared at him as you chugged a cup of orange juice, frankly desperate to get your raging headache to calm down.

“There’s not a lot of fish in the sea.”

Seokmin chuckled.

“You should go on a date.”

You didn’t want to go on a date. You were feeling empty inside for a reason that you could not understand. Every single person that you tried to fuck was a disappointment, someone that you just couldn’t imagine being inside you.

Still, you ended up agreeing to go. Maybe it would snap you out of this… Whatever this was.

You wanted to scream when you saw Seungcheol sitting at a table with some girl. You didn’t know who it was and you were literally on a date with someone else but you didn’t care.

“Can we sit…” You pointed to the table across from where Seungcheol was on his date. The waitress had a look of confusion flicker across her brows, but she nodded.

“Yes, that’s perfectly fine,” she replied. Han shot you a confused look, but you shot him back a distracting smile.

“It’s a nice table, yeah?”

You spent the whole night ignoring Han. Spent it staring at Seungcheol like your life depended on it. Your eyes flickered from between Han and Seungcheol. Each smile from Seungcheol to that girl set your chest a flame.

Fuck, this date couldn’t go well. It couldn’t because if it did it was really over between the two of you and you weren’t ready for that. It hadn’t been over yet. Not really, but this. This made it feel real.

“So, then he-”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you blurted. Han gave you another confused look but you didn’t care. You briskly got up from the table, bumping into Seungcheol as you passed him. Your eyes caught his and an apologetic smile spread over your lips, an attempt at hiding your desperation.

“Sorry,” you blurted. “I was just on my way to the bathroom.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth you were walking back to the bathroom. You had barely made it through the door before Seungcheol was pushing through it too.

“Y/n, fuck,” Seungcheol blurted. “What are you-”

“Mine,” you mumbled. You wrapped your arms around Seungcheol’s body. “You’re mine. Not hers, mine.”

Your fingers fumbled at Seungcheol’s belt, unbuckling it and pulling out Seungcheol’s dick. You could feel it hardening under your touch. You hopped up onto the bathroom counter, hiking up your dress.

“Come on,” you insisted. You didn’t care that you hadn’t eased yourself open yet, you needed to remind Seungcheol that he was obsessed with you. You tugged Seungcheol closer, wrapping your legs around his hips and rubbing his tip through your folds. “Cheol, please. I need you.”

“You’re on a date too,” Seungcheol said, his voice strained. His hands came to your hips, tightening on the fabric bunched there. He pulled it up a bit.

“So, you did see me,” you mumbled. He had just been pretending all night not to see you. You wondered, selfishly, if all those laughs had been real. The flirty smile on his lips had been undeniable.

“Of course, I saw you,” Seungcheol replied. “You’re mine. When I heard you were going on this stupid date, I nearly lost my mind.”

Seungcheol pushed his cock deep inside of you, making you cry out. You wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck. You pressed a few kisses to his neck, trying to hide moans there.

“Your pussy was made for my cock,” Seungcheol mumbled. “Your body was made to be mine.”

You nodded against Seungcheol’s skin.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “You’re right. I don’t know why I pretended for so long.”

Your teeth nipped down on Seungcheol’s neck, making him hiss, his hips stuttering against you.

“You’re breaking your own rules baby,” he mumbled. You mewled, tilting your own head up.

“Fuck my rules.”

Seungcheol had been looking for permission to mark you since this had started. His teeth immediately bit down on your neck, and he smoothed over the mark as soon as he left it. Normally when Seungcheol fucked you he was slow and agonizing but not tonight.

“What finally triggered it?” Seungcheol asked you, his lips still against your neck.

“Can’t stand you smiling at that girl,” you admitted breathlessly. “Can’t stand you on a date with anyone else.”

“We’re not dating, y/n,” Seungcheol reminded you. “We’re not dating because you don’t want to.”

His words were rough, but his lips curved into a smile.

“Seungcheol I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know why I pretended I didn’t want you.”

Seungcheol grunted his agreement to your words.

“I should leave you here. Soak you with my cum and not let you cum. Make you sit in here thinking about the fact that I’m on a date with someone else. Someone who makes me laugh. Someone who appreciates me.”

You wrapped your arms even tighter around Seungcheol’s body terrified that he was going to honor his words.

“But she’s not yours Seungcheol,” you insisted. “I’m yours.”

Seungcheol nodded.

“That you are baby,” he agreed softly. “All mine. My jealous little girl.”

“I’m not-” Why were you trying to lie right now? You were the one who had dragged Seungcheol here. Made him come into this bathroom. Practically begged him to fuck you.

“It’s okay that you’re a little jealous,” Seungcheol cooed. “I’m jealous too. Hate it when I see other men draped all over you. Hate it when they look at you and think that they have a fucking chance.”

“They don’t,” you breathed. “Not really Cheol. No one has really had a chance with me since I started fucking you.”

Seungcheol hummed and it sounded unconvinced, but his grip tightened on you. He was getting closer.

“Seungcheol, I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Seungcheol shook his head.

“Y/n-”

“I mean it, I really do,” you insisted, knowing he was going to negate your words. “It’s not just because you’re fucking me. I love you.”

Seungcheol raised his lips to yours. His thrusts slowed for a moment and one of his hands raised to your cheek. His lips flickered back into a smile, and his lips brushed yours teasingly.

“Say it again,” he said softly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you began to roll your hips down to meet Seungcheol’s thrusts.

“I love you Seungcheol,” you repeated, sounding wrecked.

“Good girl,” he breathed. His lips pressed to yours. Chastely, at first, and then more heated as time went by. It was like he was starving, desperate for your lips and honestly? That’s how you felt. All these months you had wanted to kiss him. All this time you had needed to feel his lips on yours.

To finally feel his lips? You were so fucking relieved.

All this time you had been afraid to admit how much you needed him. All this time you had been scared of your own feelings. Because it was Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol. You weren’t supposed to be in love with him. You weren’t allowed to be in love with him.

If he had kissed you before, you thought that this would have been so much easier.

“I love you too, y/n,” he admitted softly. His fingers came down between you two, rubbing slow circles on your clit. “You going to cum for me?”

You whined against his lips, nodding, desperate, needing him to kiss you more. You chased the connection, but he kept his lips just slightly away from you.

“That’s my good girl,” he mumbled. “Be good and cum for me baby.”

“K-Kiss me, Cheol,” you whined back. He nodded.

“Anything for you,” he said. “Anything for my perfect little girl.”

His lips pressed back to yours and as soon as he did you began to come around his cock. You dragged him right over the edge with you. He didn’t even ask if it was okay to cum inside of you but that only filled you with comfort. He knew you were his. He knew that your pussy was all for him to cum inside.

Seungcheol’s thrusts progressively came to a stop, and his body collapsed against yours. Completely spent, but he didn’t stop kissing you regardless. You found yourself gasping against his lips, so fucking desperate and needy and you didn’t even care.

Seungcheol pulled back, always the one pulling back, always stronger than you were when it came down to it.

“You have to go back to your date baby,” Seungcheol said. He slipped himself out of you, and you let your head fall back against the mirror. You shook your head in exhaustion. “I don’t want-”

“Shh,” Seungcheol whispered back. “I’ll see you again soon now, won’t I?”

You nodded your agreement. Seungcheol grabbed you by your hips, dragging you off the counter. He pulled your panties back into place and pulled your dress down. You stared at him, chest heaving as he tried to make you look presentable. His lips flickered into a smile.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours briefly.

“Okay.”

He pulled away from you and just as he did you grabbed his wrist.

“Come over tonight,” you whispered. His lips flickered up.

“Yeah?” He was silent for just a second, but his excitement was obvious. “Can I stay over?”

You nodded once, and his smile grew larger.

“And we can get breakfast together?”

Another nod, and it looked like his smile was going to break his face in half.

“You promise?” He asked.

“You’re the one who said that we have to get back to our dates,” you insisted. You pushed at his back, trying to get him out of the bathroom. “I promise, okay?”

Seungcheol turned around again quickly and pressed his lips to yours in another fast kiss. He smiled at you and then took a deep breath.

“Okay. But don’t go back on it.”

Before you could assure Seungcheol that you wouldn’t go back on the promise he was finally leaving the bathroom.

Han knew you were lying when you came back to him and told him that you weren’t feeling well but despite knowing it was a lie he didn’t know exactly why you were lying. He gave you a smile, saying he understood and also insisting that you get some rest.

You were honest when you told him that you were sorry about the date going bad and that you didn’t think you two should go on a second one. Honest when you told him you thought you liked someone else.

And the embarrassment of having to end the date in that way completely vanished when you kept your promise to let Seungcheol stay the night. And that wasn’t the last time that you kept that promise to him.

Taglist: ... @vintageot5, @woo8hao, @toruro, @wonudazed

#Sorry this was longer than ten minutes #I DIDN'T ACTUALLY THINK Y'ALL WOULD ASK FOR IT #idk y #i had to fix the ending #don't make fun of me for the ending okay #or the taglist i don't know how to do a taglist i've just been faking it all this time okay #seventeen #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt fanfiction #seventeen smut #kpop smut #scoups #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt smut #choi seungcheol #if you saw this before it had real tags it was an accident I am nOT cocky that this would do well without tags #it’s been up for like twenty minutes and i want to delete it 😶 #fay i get it now

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Little Paradox Never Hurt Nobody (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Tenth Doctor x Eleventh Doctor x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: It's been six months since Eleven joined you both, and it's safe to say things have escalated a little.

CW: smut, threesome, filthy stuff im so proud of this

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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See, the thing about Time Lords is that they are notoriously competitive. Particularly Time Lords of different regenerations in the same place at the same time. Particularly Time Lords of different regenerations in the same place at the same time who both had (or was it has?) the same companion. Said companion was you. Said Time Lords were the Tenth and the Eleventh regenerations of the Doctor. 

When the eleventh Doctor had spouted his way out of a portal and into the tenth’s console room, there had been rather a lot of shouting, a lot of confusion, and a lot of use of the word ‘paradox.’ Quite frankly, if you never heard that word ever again it would be far too soon. 

After that, there was a lot of discussion around Eleven not being able to be there because he already knew how all this was going to go. All the things Ten had yet to live, Eleven had already been through and while it was general knowledge that one should not attempt to change one’s own past- one was not always able to control oneself if that particular opportunity should arise. 

They’d tried pretty hard at first to figure out how to get him back. There was some ‘timey wimey’ reason as to why they couldn’t just use the TARDIS, and that had been about the extent of time and space travel knowledge you had, so you didn’t put any other suggestions in after that. 

And so, Eleven was still with you six months later. 

You didn’t know, of course, that Eleven still had you with him after Ten was due to regenerate in the future, not that you knew when that was, but what you also didn’t know until about a month into Eleven’s presence was that your relationship with Ten continued on with Eleven after a brief adjustment period. Fair enough. 

And then Ten found out, and as they were both technically (but also not really) the same person, you ended up sleeping with them both. It had been their idea, though you were pretty sure that it had just sort of happened and they decided to take the credit. 

Anyway, all this to say- Ten and Eleven knew how to play your body like a violin, and when they worked together it was as if they moved in tandem. It’s own kind of chaotic different to when they were feuding. They did that a lot too, to be fair. 

Today it seemed as though they wanted to work as one. Riling you up every way they knew how. Lingering touches in bed, a hard squeeze on the way past you, whispered words of desire in corridors and spare rooms. Ten had rutted himself up against your thighs at some point and had unfortunately had to leave before he or yourself could finish- some urgent TARDIS thing. 

Eleven had you pressed into the wall of his bedroom and had you grind yourself silly on his thigh. You’d not been able to get off, and Eleven had tutted when you’d whined that you needed more. You’d practically begged him, but he’d said no- “later, Petal.” 

Things had continued on like that, teasing and close calls where whomever it was teasing you had to run for whatever reason. 

Of course- they’d been planning it that way. The two of them, working together to get you as desperate as they possibly could so that when they finally had at you, you’d succumb to the pleasure with no thoughts left in your pretty little head. 

“Oh, look at that,” Ten said from behind you, pinning your legs open with his own. You made some sort of sound- you weren’t even sure it sounded human. “Haven’t even been fucking into you for that long yet- already fucked dumb, love.” 

Ten’s hands were wrapped around your waist, squeezing comfortingly as Eleven laid one hand on your knee and the other on your breast, flicking at the nipple while he fucked his hard cock into you over and over without mercy. 

“Mm- she does, rather, doesn’t she?” Eleven commented, taking the hand on your breast to grab you by the chin and turn your face side to side. With your muscles so lax, you didn’t fight the motion, and Eleven wasn’t being rough with you anyway (yet) so it wasn’t a big deal. You whimpered, eyes screwing shut and head lolling against Ten’s shoulder. “Desperate little thing, aren’t you, love?” 

You could barely form a response, tears welling as Eleven found a particularly good spot and rammed his cock into it repeatedly. Your muscles were non-existent by this point, having been eaten out twice and fingered to completion once on top of that as well. Ten had to keep your legs spread with his own, and he did so without complaint. Getting to see Eleven fuck you silly over the top of your shoulder was more than enough of an incentive for him. 

On top of barely being able to form a response to anything your boys were saying, you could barely keep your eyes open. You were so cockdrunk that nothing was registering for you except the deep thrusting of Eleven’s cock into your g-spot over and over like a mantra you never wanted to end. 

And because you were unable to keep your eyes open for more than two seconds at a time, you didn’t notice Ten’s fingers trailing over your hips to rub at your clit. You felt it though, and Ten had to tighten his muscles to keep you from snapping your legs shut around Eleven’s hips. 

“Oh, my darling,” Ten cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “I know, darling. I know, love. It’s so much. It’s too much. You can do it, oh yes, I know you can. You’re such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” It was all you could do to not start crying with the overstimulation. 

And it wasn’t to say you didn’t feel good. You felt fucking amazing, so so good, but it was so much. So much pleasure firing through your nerve endings. You could feel how puffy and swollen your lips were stretched around Eleven and it only served to make you cry out louder. 

“Hush now, dear,” Eleven said, pressing his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You didn’t argue, whole body limp against their whims. Whatever they wanted, you would give it to them. Anything at all. 

Eleven grinned breathily, and fucked up into you harshly, not seeming to care how fucked out you were in the slightest. You wriggled against the fingers on your clit, and clung to Ten as though he were your lifeline. 

“There there,” Ten said softly, fingers rubbing tight little circles. “Oh, darling, oh yes, I know. He’s so mean to you, isn’t he? Mhm. Oh yes.” 

Eleven grumbled though it evened out into a moan when your cunt fluttered around him. His head dropped forward, already mussed hair falling into a curtain in front of his eyes. He gave his hips a few especially hard rolls, and your eyes fazed out onto the ceiling above you. 

“Oh, look at that, Doctor,” Ten said, cooing and shushing you comfortingly. “We thought she was fucked out before. Look at her now. Maybe we should give her a break, eh?” 

Eleven grunted, hips rocking softly now for a moment, giving himself time to think on it. 

“Nah, don’t think so,” Eleven replied, getting back into his rhythm. 

Ten’s fingers revived their assault, rubbing against you with such ferocity that you were afraid you might actually combust. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as your body forced you to climax again, the pleasure bordering on pain with how intense it was. Your clit almost felt like it was burning- and yet you didn’t want it to stop. Ten shushed you gently, rubbing his nose along the shell of your ear and pressing kisses to your sweaty hair as your body spasmed between them. 

Your cunt contracting harshly around Eleven forced him to cum, ropes of his seed painting inside you. The heat of them- warmer than a humans- filled you up so nicely that you were genuinely concerned under the foggy waves of pleasure that you might start crying. 

Eleven rode his high out with your body, no care given for your poor overstimulated cunt, and finally when the last rolls of pleasure were done with him, he pulled himself out. He did so slowly, and you grimaced slightly at the tug of your puffy walls around him. 

Eleven cooed and pressed a kiss to your cheek to placate you. 

Ten let his legs slide down the bed, and yours followed accordingly, unable to hold themselves up for even another minute more. God, you were well and truly fucked. Literally, not figuratively (at the moment, anyway). You lolled back against him, nuzzling your cheek into his neck. 

You hadn’t even noticed Eleven leave, but you definitely noticed him returning, towel in hand and water dripping off his face. Ah, he’d gone to clean up. 

“Now, Ten, dearest, are you planning to fuck her before we all retire for the evening?” Eleven asked without much charm. He was just like that. You didn’t take offence. In fact, his crass command of language was one of the things that made you love him more. “Only asking in relation to clean up, of course.” 

You could feel Ten hard against your backside, and you gave a half-hearted attempt to grind up against him. You were quite sore, but you wouldn’t say no if he wanted to use you.

“Can fuck ‘er tits if you like,” Eleven added, noting the way your legs subconsciously closed themselves. The ache was intense, but you considered it an added bonus to the pleasure you’d just been subjected to. 

“Oh, big load of charming you are,” Ten scolded. “Blimey, you’re lucky I was there to lay the foundations for you both or you’d have had no chance.” 

“Now, now, boys,” you said- the first words in a fair while to come out of your mouth and it was to stop them bickering. Even your voice sounded as though it had been thoroughly ravaged. 

“Can I?” The Doctor asked, turning his attention back to you. One of his hands squeezed at your tit, and you swore you could feel the lust rolling off him in waves from that one action alone. You nodded tiredly. Of course, he could. 

Ten leaned you forward so he could escape from behind you. Eleven took his spot without issue, pulling you up to sit against him rather than lay against him as you did with Ten. 

Eleven brushed the hair behind your ear as Ten positioned himself in front of you. You looked up at his eager face, running a hand over his chest and down over his tummy to wrap around his upper thigh. 

Just as you were about to let go and hold your breasts together for him, Eleven’s big, warm hands took their place, pressing against your skin, one forefinger flicking at a nipple quickly just to tease. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Ten breathed, dribbling some lube onto your tits. “So brilliant, love. Just like that- oh, yes- f-fuck.” 

“Look at him,” Eleven whispered hotly into your ear. “Not even started yet and already stuttering.” 

You let out a giggle of a whimper, and Ten’s hips started to rock against you. Your tired arms wrapped around the backs of his thighs, giving his ass a little squeeze. 

Ten groaned, fucking your tits desperately. He wasn’t going to last long after having been teasing you and therefore himself as well all day, and it was barely another two minutes before his cock was starting to twitch and he started to moan with that lilt that he always did when he was close to spilling. 

“Please,” you whined, head dropping back against Eleven’s shoulder. “Ten, please- Doctor-” 

“Well, you heard the lady,” Eleven tutted, pushing your tits together that little bit harder to create a touch more friction for him. “You’d better cum then, shouldn’t you?” 

Ten groaned, throwing his head back and exposing his gorgeous neck to you both. Eleven nipped at the tip of your ear, causing you to gasp. 

“Cum on me, please- I need it,” you whined, brows drawing inwards in desperation. Ten seemed to finally hear you, and he let out a desperate little ‘o-hoh, yes, fuck-’ and he was cumming, spilling over your tits, rolling his hips back and forth to make sure he got the most out of his orgasm. 

You groaned pleasurably as Eleven let go of your breasts. A drip of cum dribbled off the curve of your tit and onto Eleven’s hand, who deftly and without hesitation licked it up. 

You were so fucked out and so busy thinking about how covered in spend you were that you barely noticed as Ten decided to collapse softly on top of you both. He snuggled close, not caring about the fact that he was now also covered in his own cum as well, and you huffed out a grunt. 

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” Eleven said sarcastically, now being crushed under two grown people. “Now I’m trapped. I suppose you’re both happy, aren’t you?” 

You giggled out a nod, and you could see Ten trying to contain his laughter as well. 

“Alright,” you say, yawning tiredly. Wow, that came out of nowhere. Suddenly you were oh-so-tired. “Ten minutes of cuddles and then it’s group shower time, yes?” 

“Maybe fifteen,” Ten replied tiredly. 

“Yes, dears,” Eleven added, and you could hear the affectionate roll of his eyes. 

Was it wrong, perhaps, to wish that Eleven would stay forever? Possibly. Was it going to stop you from wishing it quietly to yourself anyway? 

Absolutely not.

#tenth doctor x eleventh doctor x reader #ten x eleven x reader #david tennant #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who #doctorwho #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #david tennant x reader #10th doctor #10th doctor x y/n #10th doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x y/n #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x you #ten x reader #ten x y/n #ten x you #the doctor #the doctor x y/n #the doctor x you #the doctor x reader #david tennant doctor #dt doctor #allons-y #eleventh doctor x reader

[gracesimp]

I know

14th doctor x reader

Request/Summary: With the Not-Things, there's a lot of potential for angst and hurt/comfort, etc. Totally fine if you don't want to write this, but I keep imagining a reader companion who has been secretly pining for the doctor and the Not-Thing reveals their love for the Doctor while trying to prove itself and yeah

Wild Blue Yonder Spoilers.

"You don't fool me," The Doctor says bluntly, looking at Y/n with his arms crossed and a grimace on his face. "You're not them, and I'd strongly suggest you stop pretending to be so before this ends badly." He threatens, voice dropped low into an hair-raising whisper.

"But I am! I'm me." They try quickly, tenuous pout on their lips and eyes full of tears. They place a hand to their heart, expression morphed into one of desperation. "Please, I swear! You have to believe me. After everything we've been through, you've got to know that it's me."

Scoffing and standing tall, eyes darkening dangerously, The Doctor shakes his head immediately. "Don't." He spits, taking a step forwards, so brutally it causes Y/n to step back in fear. "Don't you dare."

With eyes ingenuous and lips parted to allow shallow breaths to escape, Y/n responded quietly. "If I'm not me, then how would I know everything I do? How would I remember standing on the edge of civilisations, watching planets burn and being able to do nothing to help. Evil monsters - the ones that gave me this scar, remember?" They struggled, running a trembling finger down the little scar on their neck.

His face remains unimpressed. Blank. Angry.

"And how would I know how in love with you I am?" They whisper, swallowing thickly. "That thing may be able to fake being me, but they would never be able to fake a feeling as strong as that. Never."

It's silent for a moment, but then The Doctor's already dark manner growed into an appearance edging on detrimental. Without fear, he marched towards them, grabbing them harshly and restricting their movement.

A shriek left their lips, panting as they fought to escape his tightening arms. But then, their body fell limp, and they turned their head to look up at the doctor, smirk rising on the corner of their lips. "Got me." They taunt viciously then hissed as they kicked a way out of his grip.

/

Travelling with the Doctor, Y/n had grown accustomed to fear. The way blood would pump faster, the heart would bang harshly against the chest. It felt like it was going to burst out.

A few feet in front, the Doctor and Donna found sanctuary in the tardis. Unfortunately, Y/n was a tad slower. The two of them, Y/n and not!Y/n, exchanged a look before rushing into a full blown sprint.

"it's me!" Not!Y/n yelled as they ran. Arm reaching out, harsh breaths leaving their lips. "I'm me!"

"No, they're not! I'm me!" They corrected before suddenly halting in their sprint, hitting the other's back as they face the Doctor in the tardis.

But the Doctor's eyes never once glanced at the clone. Always, they remained on Y/n.

"I-I don't know how to prove it.." Y/n trailed off quietly before groaning, running a hand down their face. "Oh, gosh! Why can't I think of how to prove I'm me?"

"You don't have to." He answered simply, grabbing their hand and tugging them into the tardis, the doors immediately snapping shut with a bang.

"No!" Not!Y/n screeched as the door closed. They hissed and growled viciously, snarling at the fading spaceship. In a futile attempt to get the ship to stay in place, their nails clawed pathetically at the wooden box, blue chipping off and dirtying under their fingernails. "No!"

/

"That was scary." Y/n began, walking into the console room, freshly showered and in pyjamas, hair damp and eyes tired from the day's events. This captured the Doctor's attention and he immediately looks up from fiddling with buttons and such, a tiny smile instantly forming on his red tinted lips. His cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink at the sight of Y/n in one of his old tops. "I mean, I was starting to doubt that I was even the real me. How can you be so sure that you know I am?"

"I know," He assures quickly, not missing a beat. "and I will always know."

Blinking swiftly and nibbling their lip, Y/n looks down to avoid his eyes as their own cheeks colour, heart beating promptly. "Oh."

"You know," He begins, deserting the button he had been messing around with. "the other you said something interesting."

"Oh? Really? And what was that?" Y/n mumbles softly, rubbing their sleepy eyes and letting out a yawn. Upon seeing this, the Doctor's eyes soften and he grins, walking over to them and cupping their cheeks in his hands.

"Doesn't matter." He responds in a gentle voice, leaning down to press his lips delicately to their forehead. "Go get some sleep, angel. We can talk tomorrow."

As always, not proofread cos I'm lazy 🙈

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #nuwho #david tennant #doctor who x reader #10th doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor x reader #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x you #10th doctor x you #ten x reader #fourteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor x reader #14th doctor #14th doctor x reader #14th doctor x you #whovian

[daydreamingyuta]

Dates with NCT

summary: fluff, nct ot20, cute little dates that the members of nct would take you on.

Taeyong: Strawberry Picking Date

Taeyong would take you strawberry picking at a local strawberry field! He came up with the idea during the winter time, so you both had to wait until May for it to be strawberry picking season. The wait almost made it more fun though, because you both were ten times more excited.  “These are the biggest strawberries I’ve ever seen!” Taeyong says, his boba eyes wide in amazement.�� You nod your head in agreement, admiring the most juiciest and perfect looking strawberries. “We need to make a strawberry shortcake when we get home.” “And strawberry milk!!” He says, as he picks some more and puts them into his wicker basket.  As much as you loved the strawberries, you found yourself watching Taeyong during the majority of the date. He’s just such a cutie whenever he tries new things. You always adored how he seemed to experience things like a child would, in pure amazement and wonder. You catch him off guard a little, when you crouch down next to him and plant a kiss on his cheek. He makes a cute face at you in response and you both go back to picking out the best strawberries.

Taeil: Cooking at Home Date

Taeil would want to mix things up from your usual dates, and cook for you! Taeil is a really good cook, so you were very excited for what he was going to make you. He chooses to make you pizza from scratch which he has never done before.  “Just sit back and relax honey, I'll make everything.” Taeil says after you ask him if he needs any help. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, he’s already made the dough, so you're watching him try and toss it up in the air. The first few times was a total fail, but it puts on a good show for you, at least.  Once he’s done, the kitchen is such a mess. You never knew cooking could be this messy. When you actually do try the pizza though, it’s genuinely one of the best pizzas you’ve ever had. Taeil sits back, with a proud look on his face, once he sees that you love it. “You didn’t even follow the directions, I don’t know how this turned out so good.” You tell him in amazement.  “I’m glad you like it, baby.” He says, as he stands up and gives you a sweet kiss. 

Johnny: Concert Date

Johnny knows that you’ve been wanting to see your favorite artist for the longest time, but their shows always end up getting completely sold out. So, when he saw that they were going to be on tour, he made sure to get you tickets. He didn’t tell you about his plans, just in case he couldn’t end up getting them, but luckily he got them and planned to surprise you. “Johnnyy, I’m so sad I couldn’t get tickets. They went on sale when I was in a meeting.” You say, hiding your face into Johnny’s chest.  He pats your back to console you, but when you look up at him, you see a smile on his face. “Why are you smiling? It’s not funny.” You pout.  He crouches down so that you’re face to face. “It’s funny because I’m the most amazing boyfriend in the world, and I got my sweet baby tickets to go see her favorite artist.” To say that you freaked out would be an understatement. You’ve been waiting to go see them for so long and that the fact that you finally were, didn’t seem like real life.  ⸻ If you had to describe the concert, you would say it was a dream come true. Not only did Johnny get you amazing seats, but he surprised you again by learning some of their songs so that he could sing along with you.  Although Johnny did enjoy the concert, his attention was mainly on you the whole date. He watched you, like a proud boyfriend. Seeing you so happy filled his heart with so much joy. During the slower songs, he made sure to put his arm around you and give you sweet kisses on your temple, as you both swayed to the music. 

Yuta: Nail Salon Date

Yuta would take you out to go get both of your nails done! Ever since he went with Johnny to go get his nails painted, he’s loved to get them done. So what better way to spend time with you, than going to get them done together! He would get his usual black gel nails, and he would help you choose which ones you want to get.  “Ohh, this one would look really pretty on you!” Yuta says, pointing at a set you had saved on your pinterest board. “I’ve always liked those a lot, but is it doing too much?” “No! Absolutely not, if you don’t get them, I will.” Yuta assures you, earning a big smile from you.  You both enjoy every second that you're at the nail salon together. Getting your nails done always made you feel more ‘put together’ which you loved. Plus every time you got a new set, Yuta always held your hand to analyze every detail of them, which you always thought was so cute. 

Kun: Movie Theater Date

When Kun told you that he was going to take you out today to go see a movie, he didn’t tell you what movie you two were going to go see. You even tried to guess what movie he was taking you to see, but all of your guesses were wrong, which left you confused but excited. You two walked into the movie theater and you turned to Kun to see what seats he had bought.  “Sit anywhere you like.” Kun says, with the cutest smile on his face. “We can’t, we have to sit where you bought the ticket.”  “I didn’t buy a ticket. I rented out the whole room.”  You turn to take a look around and he was right, the theater was completely empty which would have been impossible for the weekend. You pick out your seat, which takes a few tries, but you eventually get your perfect seat. You try to question Kun some more about what movie is about to play, but you don’t get an answer until it starts.  When you finally do figure it out, you couldn’t be more surprised. He had gotten the theater to play your favorite movie from childhood.  “Kun!! I can’t believe we’re watching this right now.” You say, grabbing his hand. “You always talk about how you wish you could see it in the theater like you did when you were a kid, so of course, I had to.”

Doyoung: Cooking Together Date

Doyoung had cooked for you numerous times, both before and after you started dating. You loved when he cooked for you so much, so when he suggested a date where you both cooked something together, you couldn’t have been more excited. When you walked into his apartment, you saw that he had lit some candles and was playing soft music in the background. The ambiance made you even more ecstatic. “What are we making today?” You say, as Doyoung takes your coat off and hangs it up. “White wine butter bucatini.” Your mouth waters as he says this. He’s made this dish for you once before and it was amazing.  Doyoung starts by boiling the pasta, while you mince the garlic. Every once in a while Doyoung made sure to come over to you and give his girl a sweet kiss. As you start to combine all the ingredients, his whole apartment is filled with the aroma. The slight pop of Doyoung opening the wine makes you jump, because of the serene environment.  Once the pasta is done, you two enjoy what you created together, getting lost in conversation. Before you know it, all the pasta is gone.  “We need to make this again!”  “Yes, and there’s a million other recipes I want to teach you how to make.”  “I would love that, Doyoung.” 

Ten: Painting Date

A few weeks ago while you two were getting ice cream, Ten saw a couple painting together at the park. He thought that it was such a cute idea, so he went out and got all the supplies the next day.  At first you were unsure about painting, because you were worried about it not turning out good, but Ten assured you that it was going to look amazing to him because you were the one making it.  He took you to the park that had the prettiest view of a pond. He brought a picnic blanket, some snacks, and all the painting supplies. You two set everything up, and you had to take a picture afterwards because it looked so cute. “I have an idea.” Ten says. “I was thinking we could both paint something for each other!” You loved that idea so you both got started painting right away. You both decided not to let each other see the painting until you were done, so that you could see each others reactions at the finished product.  “I can’t believe I forgot how much fun this is! It kind of makes me feel like a kid again.” You say, as you do the finishing touches. You end up finishing first and you see that the sun is starting to set. You look over at Ten and he’s glowing under the pink sky. He’s too lost in his own painting to notice you taking pictures of him, and the sky.  “Done!” Ten announces to you. “We should reveal our paintings to each other at the same time.” You both hold your paintings as Ten counts down from five. You turn you paintings around at the same time, and to say that you loved Ten’s painting would be an understatement. He had painted the teddy bear that he won for you from the claw machines on your first date together. “Ten! This is the cutest painting ever, I love it so much.” You say, as he hands it to you. You had also chosen something a bit sentimental to paint for your boyfriend. You had painted a close up shot of his hands playing the piano. When you two first started dating, he had been kinda shy about his piano playing, so when he finally did play something for you, it signified a new level of trust in your relationship. You knew he loved it by the way he kept smiling at it.  “I’m definitely hanging this up. I love it so much, baby.” 

Jaehyun: Yacht Date

When Jaehyun told you he was going to take you out on a yacht tonight you thought that he was joking, but of course, he wasn’t. “Wait, what do I even wear on a yacht?” You ask, searching for an outfit in your closet.  “ Wear that little black dress, you know how much I love it.”  You knew it was going to be a good date if he told you to wear his favorite dress of yours. You felt your excitement grow as you got ready. You know that he’s a sucker for a red lip too, so you made sure to put some on.  You had been on boats before, but nothing like this one. It had multiple decks with a kitchen, bedroom, reading room, and a giant hot tub.  “This is the boat?” You asked Jaehyun, surprised.  “Yacht.” He replied, as he held your hand to help you onto the yacht.  The captain came to greet you both to tell you how long the ride will be and to enjoy your evening together. There were other people on the boat, which you assumed to be other passengers, but were actually the rest of the staff.  “Did you rent the whole thing just for the two of us?” “Of course I did, baby.” He says, as he gives you a wink.  You had very few weaknesses in life, but Jaehyun treating you like a princess was one of them. You melted at his sweet gesture, and took a moment to process that your boyfriend would do all this for you.  The first thing you did was have dinner on the lower deck. There was a piano and violin player that set the tone for a romantic evening. The whole night Jaehyun was looking at you like you’re the most gorgeous person on earth, which of course, to him that’s exactly what you are.  After dessert, Jaehyun took you to the upper deck where you heard music playing. “Jae! It’s our song.”  “Is it?” He says, with a knowing smile because he planned this whole thing out.  Outside on the upper deck had the best view of the water, that looked so pretty under the setting sun. As you’re looking out at the waves, you feel Jaehyun's arms wrap around you from behind. He places sweet kisses on your cheek and down to your neck. “Will you dance with me, baby?” He whispers in your ear. You nod your head in agreement, as you take his hand. You two sway to the song, the same song that you danced to together hundreds of times throughout your relationship.  “I hope we’re still dancing to this song when we grow old together.” Jaehyun says, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Winwin: Fancy Dinner Date

You loved being treated by your boyfriend every once in a while, so every time Winwin took you out on a fancy dinner date, you were always so excited. This time, it’s a new restaurant that neither of you have been to, but looks amazing.  You both get dressed up in your best outfits. Whenever Winwin gets dressed up, you can never stop yourself from looking at how handsome he is. This always makes him a bit shy, but you knew he loved it when you couldn’t take your eye off him.  Once you got to the restaurant, there was a small line in the lobby, but Winwin made a reservation,so you two were seated right away. As you two look over the menu, Winwin grabs your hand to hold. He always does this at every restaurant, and your heart melts at the gesture every time. He rubs his thumb up and down on the back of your hand, while he concentrates on the menu. He looks up at you with an innocent smile once he decides on what to eat, like he doesn’t know the effect even the smallest touch from him has on you.  The food comes soon after you both order it and you are not disappointed. Everything tastes just as amazing as it looks. You are in the middle of eating when you notice Winwin is looking at you.  “What?” You ask him. “I love you y/n. I always feel like the luckiest guy in the world whenever I’m with you.”

Jungwoo: Flower Picking Date

Wanting to go to a flower field one day was something you mentioned in passing to Jungwoo. Ever since then, he had made it his mission to find the prettiest flower field so that he can take you. The flower fields nearest to you were pretty, but the one a little farther away was gorgeous. So, Jungwoo thought to make a day out of going and have it be a date! Jungwoo decided that it would be a nice surprise date, so he didn’t tell you where you were going. You really had no clue as to what he was up to, because he had never indicated that he wanted to take you to a flower field.  When you finally got there, it took your brain a minute to register that Jungwoo had really taken you here. “Jungwoo, this is even prettier than the pictures I’ve seen!” You say, giving him a hug before he’s even gotten the chance to park the car yet.  The flower field was filled with all different types of wildflowers. It went on farther than you could see and you just had to take a moment to really soak in the beauty of it all.  Jungwoo walks you down a little bit where there's a pathway that goes down the middle of the field. At first, you walk hand in hand together down the path. Then, you start to pick out the flowers you really like to make a little bouquet for. It’s hard to pick because they’re all so beautiful, but you end up picking out some yellow, pink, and purple wildflowers.  Jungwoo seems to be busy picking out some flowers too, but when you look closer, he’s only picking out one flower. When he seems to find the perfect one, he plucks it out of the ground but then hides it behind his back so you don’t see.  He walks up to you with that pretty smile of his. “I got something for you.” He says, as he shows you a cute little orange wildflower. He twirls it in between his fingers before he pushes back your hair and lets it sit behind your ear. “So pretty.” He makes a gesture like he also wants a flower behind his ear, so you pick out your prettiest one and do the same for him. 

Mark: Watching the Sunset Date

You couldn’t count the amount of times you and Mark had dates where you watched the sunset together. It was one of his favorite times of day and he loved spending that time with his girl.  Mark had access to the roof from his apartment, which was the perfect place to watch the sun go down. Even before the sun sets, the clouds in the blue sky are always so pretty to look at. “I just love how every sunset is different, but each and every one is so unbelievably beautiful.” Mark says, as you both are laying down on a blanket, shoulder to shoulder.  You look over at him with a smile on your face. You loved his love for the sky so much. You loved that he could find such beauty in the everyday things that most people take for granted.  The sun sets gradually over time, turning the whole sky pink. You start to take some pictures of it, a habit that you had gotten from Mark. You feel Mark press a sweet kiss on your cheek and when you look over at him, he gives you another kiss.  “I love you, y/n.” He whispers to you. “I love you too, Mark.” You whisper back to him.

Xiaojun: Ice Cream Date 

Late night ice cream runs with Xioajun were your favorite. It’s always very spontaneous, you and Xiaojun usually have a night together at his apartment, when one of you gets a craving for the sweet dessert. There’s a Ben and Jerry’s not too far away, so you always end up going there.  Xiaojun always orders for the both of you, after you’ve told him what you want. You stand behind him, as you watch the worker scoop out the ice cream and into a cup. You always go back to his car to eat because you love the cozy atmosphere of the night sky and the soft music playing from the car radio.  You two switch back and forth between each other's ice creams, ‘arguing’ about which one is better. Usually yours ends up being the better one which leads to Xiaojun saying that he’ll let you pick his flavor next time, even though he never does.  “Next time I really will let you pick mine, yours is always better.” You roll your eyes at him because you know it’s not the truth. “Don’t roll your eyes, I’m serious!” He tries to convince you.  “I’ll believe when I see it, baby.”  “Fine, we are going on another ice cream date tomorrow.”  (He did not get the flavor you suggested the next day.)

Hendery: Home Movie Night Date 

When Hendery told you that he had planned for a movie date at his apartment with you, you thought it was going to be like every other movie date you’ve had together. Which is why you were shocked when you got to his place and he had completely decorated his living room! He put out blankets, snacks, and lit some candles making everything look so cozy and perfect for a movie night.  “Do you like it?” He asks, with a proud smile on his face.  “Of course I do baby, this is so sweet!” You say as you wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him. “You’re so cute, Hendery.”  He gives you a kiss before he walks over to five pieces of folded up paper that you hadn’t noticed was sitting on the coffee table.  “What’s that for?” You ask him.  “I wrote down five movies that we’ve both been wanting to watch and then you’re going to choose one at random and we’ll watch it!” He says, clearly very excited by his plan. “Just pick the one that’s calling to you.” You take a moment to consider your options before you settle on the third piece of paper as the ‘right’ one. You unfold the paper and immediately you’re so much more excited. “Kiki’s Delivery Service! I love that movie, I can’t believe you even put it in here.” Hendry gives you a big smile. “You always talk about it so I wanted to watch it with you.” He walks over to the blankets and picks one up. “Where do you want to sit?” You decide to sit down on the floor with your back against the sofa. Hendery sits next to you and covers you both with the blanket. He starts the movie as you both snack on all the food he bought.  About halfway through the movie, you stop eating and get more comfortable on the couch together. Hendery lays on his back while you lay on top of him with your head resting on his chest. You both know it’s a dangerous position to be in because it’s so cozy and it always ends up with you both falling asleep.  Surprisingly though, neither of you did fall asleep until the end of the movie. Hendery seemed to be really enjoying Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot which made your heart swell because of your love for the movie. 

Renjun: Grocery Store Date 

With Renjun, everything was a date, as long as you two were hanging out together. One of his favorite dates to go on with you was to the grocery store. Most of the time neither of you really needed anything, but just wanted to go roam the aisles, picking up whatever looks good so that you could try it when you got back to his place.  He always took you to the same grocery store. A local one, that hasn’t changed since you both were children, causing you to get hit with a wave of nostalgia every time you come.  As much as you enjoyed doing this with Renjun, you have always wondered why he gets so excited for your grocery store dates. You two are walking down aisle four, when you decide to ask him about it. You slightly bump your shoulder against his to make him look at you. “Why do you like taking me here so much?”  He takes a moment to consider your question. “It just makes me happy. Doing the everyday things with you. Knowing that, even when we’re old, we’ll still be making trips like this to the grocery store together.” He explains, as he links his fingers into yours.  “Renjun, that’s so sweet. And you’d be such a cute grandpa.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze. He nods in agreement, causing you to laugh. He lets go of your hand when he sees a brand new flavor of chips he hasn’t tried yet. “We have to get these.” He says, giving you puppy dog eyes as if you would dare tell him no. 

Jeno: Picnic Date

Jeno got the idea to plan out a picnic date a week ago. You were laying in between his legs on the couch, when he caught a glimpse of your phone out of the corner of his eye. You were scrolling through Pinterest when you stopped on a picture of a couple having a picnic.  Jeno thought that a picnic sounded like such a cute idea, so he started to plan everything out right then and there. He even made himself a pinterest account so that he could get more ideas.  He decided that the park would be the perfect place. He bought a blanket, a cute little basket to put all the food in, and some flowers for you. He wanted it to be a little bit of a surprise, so he told you about it the day of when you two went to go get food for the picnic.  Once you got to the park, Jeno already had the perfect spot in mind. It was only a short walk until you got to said spot. It was right under a big tree so it had the perfect amount of shade. You two set up the blanket and got out all of the food.   “The weather is literally perfect for a picnic.” You say as you pop a green grape into your mouth.  You feel Jeno plant a kiss on your cheek. “You’re perfect.” You scrunch your nose at him for being cheesy which causes him to give you more kisses.  While you two were distracting one another, you almost didn’t notice a little kid sneaking up to your picnic. She was stealing a strawberry when you noticed her. You made eye contact with her and she ran off with the fruit.  You and Jeno burst out laughing. You would have let her have more if she didn’t run away. “No more distracting me angel, I’ve got to protect our food.”  “You were the one all over me!” You say, giving him a soft punch on his arm. 

Haechan: Selfcare Night Date

All week long, Haechan has been asking you about your self-care routine. So far, you’ve told him about your favorite sheet masks, tea, and the recipe for your favorite cookies. You had just assumed that he was going to have his own self-care day, and willfully answered all his questions.  You were surprised when he told you that you two were going to have a selfcare night date. As soon as you came over you, noticed the sheet masks on display, all the ingredients out to make cookies, and some candles that were lit. The amount of thought and effort he put into this date, melted your heart. As instructed, you came wearing your pajamas. Haechan, of course, did the same.  “What do you want to do first?” Haechan asks you. “I usually start off my selfcare nights with skincare.”  “Perfect, I’ve bought all the types of sheet masks you told me you liked so which one should we do?”  “Hmm, this one.” You say pointing to your favorite.  You two go into his bathroom and Haechan helps you put your hair up into a bun. He has to re-do it at least three times, but he’s so gentle with your hair and it feels so nice. Once he also puts his hair up, you both put on the mask. “I think we should make some tea now.” Haechan was already one step ahead of you, he had already put the kettle to boil right before you got to his place. So once you were both in the kitchen, it wasn’t long until it was ready to be poured over your tea bags.  “What should we do now?” Haechan asks you as you finish pouring his drink. “We relax.” You respond. You and Haechan both head over to his room where you decide that the most comfiest spot would be in his bed. You two stay there for a while, on your phones and drinking your tea, until you decided that it was probably time to take off the masks.  “Do you feel refreshed?” Haechan asks you, giving you a little kiss.  “Absolutely and now, we need to make those cookies.” You say, kissing him back.

Jaemin: Game Night Date

Game night dates with Jaemin were a regular thing between you two. You loved these nights with him even though he always messed with you. Jaemin would either cheat to win every single game, or he would let you win. You didn’t know which was worse, but your reactions were the only reason why he continued to play like this. He just can’t get enough of you when you’re semi-frustrated.  “Jaemin, there is physically no way you're not cheating right now. How have you won four games in a row?” You say, throwing down the uno cards. Jaemin looks at you with his hand on his heart, appalled that you would even suggest something like that during game night. “Is this really what you think of me, angel?” “Don’t call me sweet names to make me forget what you’re doing.” “Sweetheart.” He says, as he fake pouts.  “I’m not playing with you anymore.” You say, knowing that this is exactly what he wants you to do. He smiles at you as he comes to sit next to you. He stares at you, until you're both smiling goofily at each other. “You’re so annoying.” “You love when I’m annoying.” He says, as he apologizes by giving you a million little kisses.

Yangyang: Cooking Class Date

When Yangyang first mentioned that he wanted to go to a couples cooking class with you, you were hesitant at first. He kept on insisting though, so that’s exactly what you found yourself doing today.  The class was teaching you how to make pasta from scratch, which you were honestly really excited to learn how to do. The instructor was the cutest old lady, who seemed to have the strongest passion for cooking.  “...and then mix the flour into the eggs gently.” She says, as she walks along the room watching everyone's progress. She immediately stopped Yangyang because he wasn’t doing it softly enough, and showed him how to do it. “This is so much fun.” He whispers to you, and you can see it in his face that he means it.  You two don't make any mistakes until you get to the sauce making portion. Yangyang forgot to add oil to the pan, so the sauce started to burn.  “What do we do?” He says, in a bit of a panic.  “I don’t know, it’s burning.”  The instructor comes over and sees the predicament. She took the pan away and gave you guys a new one, along with some more ingredients to restart on your sauce. This time, you both make sure to do everything correctly. When the pasta was all done, all the couples in the class fed each other a bite. You and Yangyang both laughed as you did this, but it was actually really cute. You weren’t sure where he heard about this couple's cooking class but you were glad he did. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek, which he wasn't expecting and you saw a faint hint of blush appear.

Chenle: Bookstore Date

Chenle knew your love for reading, so he thought that it would be fun to take you out on a bookstore date. You couldn’t hold in your excitement when he told you this. Going to the bookstore just held such a special place in your heart, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy every time you get the chance to go. You both bring your favorite tote bags so that you can carry all the books you buy. Like always, you immediately get overwhelmed by all the books so you decide to take it section by section. You and Chenle walk down the book aisles hand in hand, taking your time and just enjoying being with each other.  When you settled on all the books you wanted to get, and even helped Chenle pick out some books, you both went to go sit at the cafe inside the bookstore. You both orders some coffee and pastries, which were amazing.  You were reading the first chapter of one of your new books when you noticed Chenle staring at you. “What?” you say, smiling at him.  “You’re so pretty.” He says, and then takes another sip of his coffee.  You bring your book up to your face to hide your smile. Chenle always knew how to make you feel special, and you loved that so much about him.

Jisung: Aquarium Date

You had mentioned to Jisung that you hadn’t been to the aquarium since you were a kid, which prompted him to immediately take you out on a date to the aquarium. You didn’t think that you were going to be as impressed with the aquarium as you were when you were a kid, but you were so wrong. The whole place was amazing and so breathtaking. You caught a glimpse of Jisung and his proud smile because it was a rare sight to see you in awe. Everything was just so pretty.  You and Jisung walked hand and hand through the aquarium, making sure to take pictures of everything so you had the memory of this date forever.  “Aw! Look Jisung, that fish looks just like you.”  He just stares at it and then at you. “That one looks just like me?” You nod your head yes while trying to get him next to the fish to take a picture of the both of them. “I look nothing like it, it’s ugly.” “It’s cutee I don’t know why you’re calling it ugly. That’s very rude.” He rolls his eyes at you and starts to walk ahead of you but stops and holds his hand out for you to take. You gladly take it and give him a quick kiss to apologize for calling him an ugly fish, even though you thought it was adorable. 

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #x reader #fanfiction #x y/n #haechan #mark lee #fluff #nct scenarios #imagine #taeyong #johnny suh #yuta #ten #jaehyun #jaemin #jeno #jisung #winwin #jungwoo #xiaojun #hendery #renjun #yangyang #chenle #taeil #kun #doyoung

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

DAY TEN: Pegging w/ Spencer Reid

a/n: DON'T LOOK AT ME. Do not. Look at. Me. LISTEN, someone had to do it even if it had to be me. I must admit I had fun writing this but ohmygod the shame I feel rn LMAOOO. I hope you all enjoy this cause I'm hiding myself under a rock forever.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl

"There you go, Spence. Just relax for me." You cooed, your hands gripping at the lithe man's hips. Your thumbs dug into the dimples of his lowerback as you entered him, splitting him open slowly on your strap.

"Mhm!" His whimper was muffles by the bedsheets below, his burning red face hidden in bashfulness. "Who would have thought the big genius could fucked dumb?" You hummed condecendingly. "That's okay though, because you're my good boy, aren't you Spencie baby?" You asked. 

Your slowly moving hips froze when he didn't answer. You bent over his arched form, a hand decending from his hip to weave through the strands of his hair. You tugged on it. Hard. Hard enough to elicit a surprise yelp and lift his head off the bed.

His flushed face was now visible to you, his dark red cheeks being kissed by the cooling air from your ac.

"I asked you a question." Your breath hit the shell of his ear, your strap burying even deeper inside of him. He shivered at the mixture of pleasure and pain prickling deliciously at his nerves. "Don't make me take it back." You said sternly.

"Your good boy! I'm your good boy!" He rushed out, fingers clawing at the duvet under him. "I promise." He said breathlessly. You hummed, pressing more of your full, naked torso onto his back, your breasts resting on his back. The straps of the toy dug into your plush thighs, the rough material burning at your skin satisfyingly.

The close proximity had Spencer reeling, his subconscious falling deeper into a submissive headspace with every act of dominance.

"There you go," You said with a smirk. "I knew you could do it." You placed a hard kiss onto the underside of his jaw where his pulse point was before straightening your body.

Biting your lip in excitement, you pulled your hips back, allowing the toy to catch the man's rim before slamming into him, his ass jiggling a bit at the impact. The rough motion sent Spencer up the bed with a loud, embarrassing moan. 

"That feel good, babyboy? Hm?" You teased, thrusting again. This time, you barely exited him before fucking into him once more, the smack from where your hips met his resounding lewdly throughout the room. 

You knew you'd hit his prostate when a feral mewl rushed from between his lips. His body convulsed, but he still tried to answer you, forever trying to please you.

"S— so… so good." He managed to heave out. "That's it my good boy. C'mon I know you can take it." You praised, coaxing him back down onto your strap.

You kept a steady, fast pace that would occasionally fall out of rhythm with the desperate wiggle of Spencer trying to meet your thrusts on his own. 

An idea struck you, and you stopped moving, which elicited a mewl from the older. 

Settling back on your knees, the toy almost completely slipped out of him. "Sit up, sweetheart." And he did — albeit shakily — fully seating himself down on your lap.

"There," You breathed. "Am I deeper now honey?" Your hands stroked up his chest from behind, your fingers stopping to play with his sensitive nipple, squeezing and tugging them torturously.

"So deep, angel." He moaned, hips jutting out on their own accord. His cock stood tall, amassed to it's full hardness, red, and leaking precum. Your right hand remained on his chest while the other dipped below his waist to stroke his cock.

"Ah!" He cried, his own hand reaching for wrist as he held it on him.

"God, I'm gonna fuck you stupid, pretty boy." You whispered sensually in his near. You nibbled on his earlobe before gyrating your hips into him. Leaving his nipple and his dick, you grabbed both his hands and held them behind you, leaving him unable to squirm out of your grip.

He whined in displeasure at the the loss of friction.

"I wanna see you cum untouched baby, you think you can do that for me?" He nodded his head fastly. "I can." 

Rolling your hips, your cock kissed his prostate and sent him trembling and whining. You didn't relent with your strokes, milking him for all he's worth as you pushed him toward overstimulation.

"Fuck, _____." He moaned. You wished you had a camera to capture the genius of his FBI unit being dwindled down to a begging, brainless mess. Anyone listening in would have thought that you were watching porn.

It was getting harder to enter him, and you knew that meant he was about to cum.

"Cum, my sweet boy." 

You peppered sweet kisses onto the skin of his neck as he exploded, cum shooting out of him, getting some on the bed and painting the flat planes of his stomach.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day ten #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #spencer fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid kinktober #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid smut #smut #fanfiction #nsfmeau

[lauraneedstochill]

Cry me a river

summary: Aemond finds her wounded and left to die in the middle of nowhere. her desire for vengeance helps her survive — and her unbreakable spirit inevitably draws the prince to her. author’s note: her betrothed does what Daemon did to Rhea... this time, the woman survives 🔪 also, couples who kill together, stay together, I don’t make the rules warnings: archery (described in unprofessional language), slow burn (... and then not so slow), mentions of blood and murder (duh), it gets a bit heated words: ~ 11K song inspo: Tommee Profitt ft. Nicole Serrano — Cry me a river (cinematic cover) 🔥

>>> Aemond is caught in heavy rain midair, in the depths of a starless night. The storm rips through the clouds, and the lightning flickers across the sky that’s bowed over the Vale. He tries to resist the voice of reason that urges him to land, he’s no little boy to be afraid of the whims of nature. But the downpour only grows more ferocious, and the rattling of thunder soon drowns out Vhagar’s displeased roars.

Begrudgingly, Aemond sets his pride aside and peers into the darkness that stretches as far as the eye can see. He can barely make out a vague outline of the mountains but the rocky terrain is a poor resting place, that much he knows. Exasperation slowly claws at him as the wind howls, his clothes drenched and heavy, and the ribbon of moonlight slips away into the gloom.

When his gaze suddenly catches a flicker of light, a faintly lit cave in the distance — Aemond thinks it’s the Gods' mercy as it is. He is yet to find out that the Gods are leading him that way for a reason.

>>> The landing is rough but Aemond holds back complains and runs for cover, breathing a sigh of relief once he gets to the cave. Vhagar curls up in a heap, and her enormous silhouette can easily pass for just another mountain in the valley.

The prince tiredly wipes the raindrops off his face — and only then notices a spot of crimson right under his feet. He recognizes the color of blood in an instant, and the realization fills him with dread. Slowly, he turns around, his eye following the gory trail, his hand reaching for the dagger. But the sight he’s met with leaves him frozen in place.

Aemond is sure he’s never been so stunned and horrified all at once.

At the far end of the cave, a woman is lying next to a waning fire, with her eyes closed and face drained of color. She is dressed in bright red, and the blood on her hands blends into the laced fabric of her long sleeves, and Aemond is struggling to locate the injury that left her unconscious. She looks so helpless, a breath away from irrecoverable, he throws caution to the wind and rushes to her side without much thought.

Aemond kneels, examining her bare and bloodied feet, the torn hem of her dress, the smudges of dirt on it. With timidly blossoming fascination, he takes in the softness of her features stained with tears, green leaves tangled in her hair. Aemond reaches his hand to smooth a strand of it when he sees a splash of red framing the side of her face. His fingers barely graze her temple — and once he sees them stained with red too, his breathing hitches.

He’s no stranger to cuts and bruises but he doesn’t know how to treat a head wound. And his fighting skills won’t be of use against the Stranger.

A feeble voice brings him back to reality:

“I am not dying.”

Startled, Aemond lets his gaze fall on her lips, parted and faintly tinted with pink. Her eyelids flutter before she opens her eyes — they meet his in an instant. The feeling he gets bears no explanation: it’s sudden and overwhelming, raging like a hurricane that hits right at his chest. She doesn’t look away while her hand finds his — his fingers are still in her hair, and he shudders at the touch; her skin is cold but the grip is surprisingly firm.

“I’m not dying tonight,” she repeats, her tone a bit steadier. “I will not give him the satisfaction.”

His brows furrow from the lack of understanding. His body tenses at the very clear hint that he gets.

“Who did this to you?” Aemond asks with concern.

But she already drifts out of consciousness, back to where she can’t hear him. The thunder rolls and the lightning tears the cover of darkness, illuminating uninhabited mountains and valleys. The terrible weather seems like the least of Aemond’s problems.

>>> It rains all night, and the dawn comes shrouded in white mist. He cannot sleep a wink. The woman tosses and mumbles incoherently as her mind lapses back into the grasp of the unknown suffering. Aemond finds the sight so unnerving, it’s almost painful to watch, but he doesn’t take his eye off her.

He keeps the fire burning to help warm her up, ignoring his own discomfort. Not his shivering but hers eventually compels him to peel off his wet outer garment to dry it off faster. He hastens to put the clothes back on but leaves out his coat to cover her with it, black material over red, a night draping over sunset. Hesitantly, he rubs her arms and back, his usually deft fingers now tentative, until he sees the life returning to her cheeks. It puts Aemond’s nerves at ease, and he belatedly realizes how stiff his body has become from hours of sitting in agonizing suspense. And yet, he never leaves her side.

The mountain tops stay hidden by the clouds, the sky coated in gloom the sun can’t peek through, but around midday, she wakes up again. Her eyes dart to Aemond who moved to feed the fire with branches. He doesn’t rush into conversation, giving her a chance to come to her senses. She is looking at him with distrust but without a hint of fear.

“You stayed,” she concludes in a hoarse voice, slightly shifting in place.

“Leaving you all alone didn’t seem fair,” Aemond responds, which only earns a huff from her.

“I am perfectly capable of managing on my own,” she rebuts, trying to prop herself up on elbows — and instantly groans at the ache in her temple.

Aemond comes closer in a blink of an eye, and it’s hard to miss the empathetic look he gives her. He politely stays at arm’s length which she is thankful for.

“Your bleeding stopped but such a serious wound must be examined by a maester,” Aemond tells her peacefully. “How far away is your home? I shall accompany you there once the weather calms down.”

He sees emotion flashing through her face, and for a moment it gets so quiet, he can only hear the rain still drizzling outside the cave.

“I do not have a home,” she forces out, and Aemond is surprised to notice that she doesn’t sound sad. If anything, there is ire in her words. “You shouldn’t bother.”

“I am sure your family is worried by your absence and —”

“My family valued me so little, they got rid of me at the very first chance,” she cuts him off, her voice stern. “So I am not going back to them, I’d rather you leave me here.”

He looks her over — her ruined dress and anguished face, dried-up blood in her disheveled hair. No doubt, she is hurting, and it would be unbecoming of a prince to leave a lady in such dire straits.

“I can do no such thing,” Aemond insists. “You survived a severe injury but whatever discomfort you are now feeling can be eased.”

“Complaining would only make me look pitiful. I need none of that,” she is sitting with her fingers pressed to the aching part of her skull, her brows knitted.

“Only seems reasonable to pity anyone with a ble—”

“Did anyone pity you?” she interjects, looking straight at his eyepatch.

The question is meant to cut him yet it doesn’t — too much time has passed, and his once painful memories are now dust-covered images at the back of his mind. But he finds her intent amusing. Wounded and weak, she is supposed to be at his mercy, but her spirit stays unbendable, and her gaze is so blazing, it’s nothing less of a fire. She keeps her eyes on him, waiting for his reply, confident that she will get it.

“Hardly anyone,” Aemond admits. “But I wasn’t left in a cave to die, so the comparison doesn’t work in your favor.”

He expects her to snap again, he almost wants to have another taste of her insolence — a trait so uncommon among any women he’s met, Aemond deems it not offensive but thrilling. She only hums in response, throwing him a glance, and he sees curiosity shining through her cold stare, like a ray of sun in the storm clouds. Their exchange of pleasantries is cut short by another one of her groans. He is usually patient but the sound of her suffering is a test that he fails.

“You will not get better on your own and you know it,” Aemond tries to reason. “I can take you to the greatest maester there is,” — and his persistence is akin to a plea. He anticipates her fears and allays them before she can utter a word: “You will be free to leave at any moment, you have my word.”

“What’s in it for you?” she narrows her eyes at him, her whole demeanor a clear evidence of her refusal to give in just yet.

Aemond thinks for a moment. The real answer to her question lies on the surface and is as vivid as her dress and as her blood: he knows nothing about her and he wants to know everything. He has trouble not only voicing but coming to terms with his desires.

“I am afraid that guilty conscience will disturb my sleep,” Aemond says, and it’s not entirely untrue. He can already tell he’ll think of her many nights to come.

She looks at him appreciatively, slowly, as if her gaze can cut through the cotton of his shirt, flesh, and bones his body is made of. Whatever is her verdict, he can’t tell because in the next moment, she is stricken with pain again, and talking isn’t of much help.

“We shall leave at dawn,” Aemond recapitulates, helping her lay down to have some rest while he can’t find any.

“Do you happen to have any water?” she mumbles more humbly. He senses that showing weakness doesn’t come easy for her; he’s not the one to gloat at something he can perfectly understand.

“I will fetch you some,” he reassures and pulls his coat over her again — and hurries outside.

The mountain valleys welcome him with stillness, and Vhagar’s eyes are two beacons in the mist. The dragon seems comforted by the rain and pays Aemond no mind as he climbs up to get a flask with water he luckily brought, and some lemon cakes Helaena insisted that he take (“should something happen on the road”, she said; he makes a mental note to thank her later).

They eat in silence — she has no appetite, and Aemond feels food stuck in his throat. She tells him nothing but her name; he savors the sound of it, a weave of letters he can now put to her face. Aemond studies her discreetly and although he can’t read her yet, he puts everything in memory, down to the smallest detail. The slight tilt of her head, the pensiveness of her gaze, a blizzard of feelings trapped in her irises, the stubbornness in her lineaments paired with beauty. The curve of her neck and a thin golden chain around it, her collarbones flowing down in that hollow spot his thumb would fit in... He stops himself from looking further down; his face flushes nonetheless, and something sparks inside him, dangerously unnamed.

The evening approaches stealthily but comes chilly and dank. They go to sleep early, both laid next to the fire, and Aemond courteously keeps his distance. She notices the goosebumps that snake under his shirt; her suspicions are soon confirmed when she catches the sound — and can’t tell if it’s the hammering of rain or his chattering teeth.

She considers him: his sharp profile, tense angles of his jaw, lines of his cheekbones seemingly chiseled by the Gods themselves. With his silver hair and eye the color of wisteria, she expected a different attitude; everyone knows the Targaryens to be self-righteous at best and prideful as a given. But the man next to her is instead stoically enduring the hardship he can easily avoid — if he only rolls closer and allows their bodies to trap the elusive heat; he doesn’t dare to. She realizes he could’ve taken advantage of her if he wanted, but it seems like the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind. She finds it way more endearing than her vigilance would usually let her — the pain must’ve dulled her sanity, she thinks, reminding herself that it’s the sole intent of surviving that should motivate her.

No words will work against his wit so she wastes no time snuggling up to him, with her forehead against his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest as she shares his own coat with him. A quiet gasp escapes Aemond’s mouth, but he stays still.

“I can hear you shivering,” she can feel it now too — his skin trembling under her fingers. “You are risking to catch a cold.”

Aemond is frozen for a minute, his heart thrumming at that unexpected boldness, at the feeling of her — malleable curves and no rigid edges, their ribcages in contact, their thighs brushing. Calming his breathing is an arduous task; he’s used to fighting off opponents but now he’s battling with himself, with the need that’s treacherously strong, almost primal. He barely quells it, and only by some miracle his inhales are soon steady again.

He moves his arm — the one she’s lying on — a little to the side, giving her more space to settle into, tips of his fingers stopping at her lower back. He does feel undoubtedly warmer. Aemond glances down at her, his voice a whisper tinted with mirth:

“Isn’t this called pity?”

He hears a faint cackle. “Call it rationality,” she refutes. “Since we are to leave soon, and only one of us can fly a dragon.”

The words roll off her tongue like it is the most mundane thing, not a century’s worth of power encased under the thick-scaled skin of a creature the size of a castle.

“You do not find the beast scary?” Aemond can’t stop himself from asking.

“Why would I? It is only a dragon,” her voice grows smaller, eyelids become heavier. “Unlike some men, the dragons are at least not known for their ill intentions.”

At that moment, a wish is abruptly made — to find out who harmed her, make sure it happens no more. The fury in Aemond is a mounting force meant to cause destruction, tamed yet never really dormant. But he listens to her breaths and pushes his anger aside, and the full moon is the only witness of his surrender. As he falls asleep, he tries not to think how nice it is to have her body pressed to his.

>>> What he should be thinking of is how to explain all this — him, unwed, bringing a woman to the castle; a scandal, no less. And yet, it is the last thing on his mind. It’s only occupied with this moment he wishes would never end — with gusts of wind tucked under the dragon’s belly, clouds spread out around; and, most importantly, his arms snaked around her waist, her back touching his chest.

It is bittersweet, truth be told because her pain isn’t gone overnight, and he can’t heal her with just his hands and his words. The splotches of dark maroon are even more visible in her hair in daylight, and she winces at loud sounds, at the harsh flow of air that bites her skin while Vhagar soars up, and she has to grab onto Aemond a little tighter.

But soon they reach the clear canvas of the sky, the serene emptiness, and she looks around, taking it all in — and then the corners of her mouth curl up. There are sparkles of delight in her eyes, and still no sign of fear. And he thinks that her smile is the closest thing to the sun.

They cover many miles, crossing the lands as Vhagar bursts through the clouds, and the time allotted to their inadvertent closeness runs out, mercilessly as ever. Once they land and he helps her climb down, his anxiety comes back, like a wave approaching shore. But then a sound of her whimper reaches him, almost inaudible; he only has time to turn around, to see her pained expression. She passes out — he catches her; it’s his heart that falls, and no other thoughts and explanations matter.

When Aemond is seen at the castle, he’s carrying her in his arms, his lips pressed into a thin line, and not a word slips out after he calls for the maester. The prince pays no attention to the guards and the maids exchanging glances, to his mother stopping dead in her tracks upon seeing him, her hand over her heart. There is a question hanging in the air, parting Alicent’s lips, but she doesn’t voice it and only watches her son walk away, hurried and fearful in a way she forgot he was capable of. She struggles to remember when was the last time she saw Aemond in the company of a lady. And if he ever looked at a woman the way he looks at this one.

>>> Aemond is pacing the corridor, his eye on the floor, on the pattern of the stone surface. His mind is treading at the doors that were closed in his face after she was carried into the room. She was breathing still, and that’s what helps him keep it together, his hands clasped so tightly his fingers go numb.

He wonders if maester Mellos has always been so annoyingly slow. That’s the only wondering he can allow — otherwise the noxious thoughts will flood his head: how much blood did she lose before he found her? What if he was the one being too slow? What if —

“Her life is not in danger as she regained her senses” the maester moves with the pace of a cat, his face wearing the same unbothered expression. “The long flight might’ve been tiring for her impressionable female nature.”

That assumption is disregardful and uncalled for — Aemond hates it; still, he’s glad to hear the rest. He lets out a breath that frees his chest from the chains of agitation.

“I will fetch her some herbal ointment to help the cuts and bruises heal faster,” the old man then adds.

Aemond’s expression hardens; clearly, he knows the meaning behind the words but he cannot fathom them. Violet marks of violence blooming on her skin, how could he miss it? How did she get them? He accidentally thinks of it out loud.

“It is a rare luck to get only bruises after taking a fall from a horse,” the maester looks at him askance. He gives his final verdict before leaving, followed by a sigh: “The young lady surely must rest.”

The displeasure is a tiny tongue of flame at Aemond’s ribs. He is vexed by not knowing (nothing new in that, not with his eagerness to learn all and everything ever since he was a kid). Unexpectedly, he is equally vexed by not seeing her — so much so, that he almost reaches for the handle of the door that separates them.

Aemond stops himself, his reticence a fetter but also a necessity: she needs her rest, and he shall leave her be. He will not go beyond the bounds of decency.

She can’t be niched into any bounds, he soon will learn.

>>> Aemond is good at many things but not at waiting, as it turns out. In the morning, after he wakes up, anticipation already laps up in him, his day a blur — breakfast, sword practice, the lines in a book he picks at the library all merge and bore him. He only glimpsed the maids leaving her chambers once; it took all of his willpower to go the other way.

In just three days, his impatience smolders — then flares up, then erupts into a wildfire, his head in a haze that makes him lose focus. The more Aemond tries not to think of her, the harder it gets.

He pushes yet another thought aside as he sees Ser Criston approaching, armed with a longsword and perseverance. Aemond’s training is never a dull routine — the knight makes sure of that and doesn’t make concessions. Their swords lock and clank, and time is a whirl; in the midst of it, Aemond finds himself reminiscing about her shining gaze. He almost misses the hit aimed at him and ducks at the very last second — spins, glares, strikes, his blade stopping an inch away from Criston’s face. 

The knight chuckles in good spirits, and the pride he feels is almost paternal. “Such a shame you aren’t the one for tourneys,” he pants, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Aemond rolls his eye, a brief respite not helping with his frustration. The subtleties of his emotions are unknown, unreadable like an ancient language: he’s daydreaming of her hands, her face, her —

“What a shame, indeed.”

Aemond turns to the sound of her voice. The whirl is silenced in an instant.

It’s different from his memories and his dreams — better than both: she is alive and well, she’s right next to him. She isn’t wearing a dress but a tunic and a pair of breeches, cool-toned material against her sun-kissed skin. Her wound is cleaned and healing, the mark left is a lightning peeking from her hair, the waves of it loosely braided. The simple attire doesn’t take away from her beauty (nothing can, he thinks), and it takes him a second to blink the enchantment away.

Aemond’s voice comes back, a tad low. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” He’s looking too joyful for it to sound like reproach.

There’s laughter in her eyes. “No one forbade me from stretching my legs. Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Ser Criston chimes in, cautiously curious. “If only you don’t find the sight too unsettling,” he twirls his sword, the steel soundless in his hands.

“On the contrary, I find it entertaining. Although that wouldn’t be my weapon of choice,” her gaze follows the blade up.

Aemond throws her a surprised look but Ser Criston is the one to raise the question. “You have your preferences? Do tell,” he turns his head to the weaponry on a nearby table. “We’ve got shortswords, flails, axes...”

“All of which lack speed,” she remarks pertly, leaving the knight mystified.

Aemond sees no mystery; he knows that in the highlands catching prey is way trickier than killing. Knives, swords, blades of any kind won’t cover a long distance. Something else will.

“Archery, then?” the prince guesses.

“Doesn’t seem like the type of weapon you Targaryens prefer,” she shrugs but her disinterest is feigned.

Ser Criston catches onto that. “Can’t have preferences if there is nothing to choose from,” he grins, then calls for one of the guards, giving short instructions.

The man runs back in a minute, with a bow and arrows, and her eyes light up. They glide over the tight string, the polished wooden bend, concave at each end; it’s crafted beautifully.

“I must ask you to spare the guards,” Ser Criston jests while she takes the weapon, laying hold on its grip. “But do not be shy about taking your pick,” he points randomly at a stack of barrels, about thirty yards away. “These might be nice for a start.”

“That is too easy of a target,” she barely glances that way, then takes a good look around. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

The knight’s cheeks heat up. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to —”

“Oh, I do not find it offensive,” she grants him a meek smile without looking, already eyeing something much further away. “To tell you bluntly, it only spurs me on,” she mounts the feathered end of the arrow against the bowstring — and then pulls it.

Both men follow the direction the arrow is pointed at. Right outside the castle gates, there’s an apple tree, tall and branched, bent slightly over the stone wall. The fruits are bulked and ruddy, mouth-watering; but from where they are standing, the apples can barely be seen, obscured by foliage the wind breezes through.

Ser Criston raises an eyebrow, not incredulous but intrigued; Aemond only gets time to take a half-breath. The first arrow is fired with no warning — it cuts through the air, a flash of color above everyone’s heads, — and pierces an apple, pinning it to the trunk. A moment later she takes another shot; after the second one, Aemond isn’t looking at the apples, his eye instead drawn to her.

He suddenly can see nobody else.

Her every move is concise and simple, but her gaze is dead-set on the tree. She repeats each shot with a honed precision, controlled yet gracious; one of her arms set in a straight line, the other one follows a well-learned pattern — an arrow out, an apple down. That’s where, he thinks, her intrepidity comes from: the deadly weapon in her hands sings like a musical tool. The chance to watch her is bliss, and she’s a vision.

Only when she’s down to the last arrow, her hand unexpectedly flinches. She doesn’t miss, still, but the iron tip veers off and knocks the apple to the ground; a shadow of discontent glides across her face. Ser Criston is too impressed to notice yet Aemond knows that feeling all too well. He’s always strived to be the best too, and he knows how poisonous the pursuit of excellence can be.

“With that level of skill you might be unrivaled,” the knight praises, his words backed up by some of the guards and passersby clapping.

She seeks no praise, her quest is more troublesome. “I can do better,” she says, with her disappointment forced down. Her voice wanes a little when she adds: “I will do better by the next full moon,” and that hidden meaning holds unfathomable weight.

Aemond is too eager to bring her comfort to read between the lines. “The bow and arrows will be waiting for you, shall you decide to train more. But do have mercy on the tree,” a smile ripples her lips, a warmth ripples his heart. “I will ask for some target rings to be made.”

That gives her a dollop of contentment, and their fingers brush when he takes the weapon back. As Aemond gazes after her, he wonders if she feels it too — blood stirring, sweet dizziness, limbs lightweight.

Ser Criston watches the prince with a knowing look, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “It is so rare to find a lady with such a competitive spirit and a talent to match,” the knight muses. “Her husband must be a lucky man.”

Aemond’s joy shrinks, that mere word disturbing. “She doesn’t have one,” he responds. The uncertainty of his answer leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Doesn’t she really?

“That might not be for long,” Ser Criston carelessly comments. The prince’s cold stare makes no impression on him. “Shall we resume our training?”

Aemond goes to pick a shorter sword, his blood now boiling for another reason. There’s a gaze that’s akin to a caress, to a gentle tap on Criston’s shoulder — he turns readily to meet it, dark brown eyes that are a mirror of his own. Alicent casts a glance at her son, questioning and worrying, then holds the knight’s gaze once more. The looks they share are hand-written letters — both of them write the same thing.

>>> Alicent goes looking for answers first — she walks into the woman’s chambers the very same day, with the elegance of a Queen, with the benevolence of a mother. She doesn’t push but guides the conversation; she faces no resistance from the woman she’s facing.

When they are both seated, she tells her a story as old as time, a tragedy lived out by many. Her mother died when the girl was ten years of age, too weak to carry on her blank existence, and her father couldn’t even bear to look at her, no matter how much she tried to please him. Growing up in the Vale felt freeing but lonely, so she preferred archery over embroidery to leap at every chance to get away from home, into the beauty of the wilderness she had no one to share with. But she held out to hope that her life would change. She couldn’t predict that said change would start as an accident — her horse slipping on wet grass.

Alicent can’t help but bring her into a compassionate embrace at the mention of it. Her embrace turns into an offer — of a place to stay, of a shelter, and a friendly ear (maybe those were all the things her younger version wished for but was robbed of). The lie Alicent heard was so skillfully woven into the truth, she didn’t get suspicious. 

Once Aemond learns the story from his mother, he discerns the misleading part in a second. All the other pieces fit together like a puzzle — her being self-reliant and guarded, her brazenness a shield, just like the one he’s grown accustomed to. But that last bit was made up, he can tell. And yet, he just doesn’t know how to approach the subject and not scare her off.

Aemond takes a task on earnestly.

>>> He looks for an opportunity to talk — he ends up tirelessly watching her, and he can’t say that there is no pleasure in it. She does resume her training, and every morning she’s the first one at the training yard when the sun is barely up, and no prying eyes can witness her dedication. Him having an eye on her doesn’t seem to be a problem.

His relentlessness has always been something Aemond prided himself on but it’s hers that he grows to enjoy. He carefully notes her refined movements, her sharp focus, her gaze cutting through any target before an arrow does. It’s easy to be fascinated by her; it takes him a couple of days to look past her outward calmness to catch a flicker of a feeling he can effortlessly recognize — an undercurrent of fury. And then he grasps that each time she aims at the wooden boards, she means to hurt someone. And maybe that is the exact reason she struggles with her every last shot, and her hand keeps flinching, unsure, or maybe too overwhelmed with certitude instead.

On one of those mornings, Aemond gets an idea, an outburst of bravery (or madness, but he’s too excited to care). She’s grimly collecting the arrows, inspecting them for damage when she sees him out of the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t help but notice that something’s been troubling you,” Aemond comes closer, hands behind his back. She gives him a look that holds no denial but no explanations, either.

Aemond goes to the wooden boards, round and lined up on a hastily built frame, — and stands in the middle, right in front of them. He then puts out a hand with an apple in it, ripe and deliciously red. “Maybe I can help.”

Nothing short of shock flashes through her face, her eyes darting from him to the fruit and back. “What— ” her jaw drops as the words escape her; she strings them into a sentence. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you focus better,” Aemond offers in the calmest tone he can master.

It’s not uncertainty that leaves her speechless, her proficiency hard to deny. It’s the genuine, borderline naive trust that he shows her — with his open gaze on her, his body not moving from the spot, his faith in her as unwavering as his posture.

The moment is fleeting, soft like a morsel of a gossamer cloud, with so many words not shared; in another blink of his eye, it ends. The change in her isn’t drastic but chilling, like a touch of steel blade to the skin — her hand doesn’t waver when she reaches for the arrow, her gaze firmly locking on him.

As her last attempt at leniency, she notes: “There is no stopping an arrow once it’s shot.”

Aemond doesn’t think twice before replying: “You trusted me with your life once. I trust you not to kill me.”

She lifts the bow without hesitation, and he keeps eye contact with bated breath. The never-ending movement of life abates and the pale sunlight fades, and Aemond is deaf to everything but his booming heart. She drops the bow out of the way just a little and pulls the string up to the tip of her nose. She waits at full draw, the passing seconds endless and fulminant at once, before her hand flows back, her fingers relaxing — and the arrow slices through the air.

The first one hits somewhere above the apple; Aemond doesn’t dare to even take a glance, standing motionless, rooted to the ground. The second one follows soon. It’s a blood-curling contrast — how quiet is each shot until it reaches the target, and then the arrow rips right through the board, a deafening crash, a waft of death he’s spared from. Until she draws the bowstring again.

Aemond hears the third and the fourth hit, his hand unmoving, every muscle in his body tense. He is rarely scared, and it’s easy to mistake the fluttering of his heart for fear. But with how his eye is riveted on her, his gaze rapt and throat soar, — he thinks, it might be some other feeling. He gets no time to guess as the fifth arrow — finally — plunges into the apple and pins it to the board.

It’s a momentary reprieve, a quivering wave going through his body; and yet, she doesn’t lower the bow, eyes still fixed on him. Aemond can see her inhaling, the metal tip of the arrow pointing in his direction — and then released smoothly. In a split second, it lodges into the gap between his ribs and his arm, the feathery end stopping right next to his heart. When Aemond looks at her, he catches fiery glints of mischief in her gaze — and then something else, bright but short-lived like a glare on the water.

She puts the bow down, and they both know — her hand didn’t flinch once.

Only when Aemond steps away, he sees that the six arrows form the letter “A”, with the red apple right in the middle.

>>> He’s afraid the change is transient but it lasts — she is now watching him, too. Aemond finds it befuddling at first, not considering himself worth the attention, not used to being seen as something other than a wreckage of man, intimidating, and lonely, and harsh. She doesn’t look daunted. On the contrary, every time she sees him, the ice of her concentration thaws, and her gaze softens and lingers on him, mending every part of him that’s been broken by his insecurities.

She doesn’t recoil from the parts that are irreparable, either. She shows the same understanding when he can’t find the right words and shrinks into his shell — in the middle of conversations, in between rows of bookshelves, at bustling dinners; her company is a haven he can retreat to without a word. She welcomes his every impulse to talk and to share — thoughts, meals, books he thinks she will like (she bites down a smile thinking how much time he spent looking for any mention of archery).

She stays by his side when he doesn’t want to talk and when he overshares, when he’s bleakly taciturn, and when his temper gets as rigid as his sword; she’s enthralled by his anger, never burnt by it. One week turns into two, then into three. Day by day, Aemond wakes up earlier to watch her hit every target without fail, and she then watches him win one bout after another with evident amusement. They explore the castle, get lost in the library, take rides to the woods — she laughs as her horse breaks into a gallop, she basks in the sun, wind ruffling her hair, and his heartbeat raises to a clamor upon seeing her like that.

Her seat is next to his at the dining table, their chambers not too far away, and he persistently walks her to her doors, and every evening he dithers before saying goodnight and parting ways. Her presence soon becomes a warming light nurturing his days — and simultaneously the reason for him losing sleep. But as he lays at night, watching the moon wax, he thinks of another constant, bothering him like a page missing from a book, a closed door he’s got no key for — it’s her secret that he is yet to uncover.

He gets his chance when he least expects it.

>>> The month is nearing its end when Aemond is nearing the dining hall, brimming with emotion he cannot capture — excitement, unrest, sprinkling of anguish. He last saw her hours ago, when his mother came to her in the training yard, and the two of them hastened to leave, seemingly in some agreement he knew nothing about. He caught bits and pieces of words — mentions of fabrics and seamstresses, but it didn’t help with his confusion which soon turned into worry he had trouble coping with. And it wasn’t the worst part.

What’s worse is the comprehension, icy and unforeseeable like a blast of northern wind: it’s only been a few hours, and he’s already missing her. He looks back at the days she wasn’t with him, but they all seem too far away and forgotten, his life before her a blank canvas that she’s now painting with colors. He keeps thinking of her, getting more pensive with each step, until he reaches the doors, and walks in, and — 

the ground is cut from under his feet.

All is the same in the hall: long table in a cloud of mindless chatter, silverware clanking, a rich palette of scents. What stands out is the color, bright like rubies formed within the earth’s crust. It’s the red of her dress — the same old and brand new — and he can only catch a glimpse but it’s enough to leave him dazed. It lasts a second before she senses him, her conversation with Helaena interrupted; she springs to her feet, the dazzling hue stirs up his ardor — he’s almost blinded when he gets an eyeful.

He is staring at her, everyone’s staring at him.

Helaena stands up with a laugh in her attempt to smooth things over: “It isn’t very nice of you to keep a friend waiting,” they both sit down then.

Aemond goes to join them with cotton feet.

He must’ve been too busy last time, her injury too big of a disturbance, so he paid the dress no mind. But once he’s seated, he can’t help but notice: the layers of fabric, flowing lines of her body, the cut in the front, the golden chain now ten times brighter. She casts him a wondering glance, he drinks half the cup in one swallow. The minutes that follow are like a fog, and although the conversations carry on, Aemond can’t bring himself to take part in any.

That is until he hears vaguely his sister’s delighted voice. “The stitching is barely noticeable! What an excellent work,” she marvels at the red dress, then looks at him with the spontaneity of a child. “Wouldn’t you agree, dear brother?”

He’s certainly grateful he’s not drinking otherwise he’d choke. Aemond manages to cast one furtive glance. “A fine work indeed.”

His mother gently picks up the discussion. “It was only fair to help repair the thing your friend holds so dear,” Alicent’s gaze is directed at her. “You can now wear it on more than just one occasion.”

Why would she hold so dear the dress that only carries the memories of her pain, he wonders. The dress that was covered with blood, with fingerprints of someone who wanted her dead. He takes a peek at her, and her face expression gives away no answers but for a second too short to comprehend he sees the undercurrent again; only it never takes shape. She puts on a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and he’s the only one to notice.

“I greatly appreciate you taking your time to help me,” she says, and Alicent’s smile — a genuine one — only grows wider. Maybe even a bit too wide for it only to be about some stitching.

“I suspect we tired you out with all the measuring and dressing up,” his mother points at her plate. “You hardly ate, my dear.”

“It’s been a long day,” her fingers close around a cup but she doesn’t drink from it, “And the dress brought back some memories,” her grab tightens, the only sign of everything she’s keeping covered. “But I am glad to get a chance to wear it one more time.”

“And I am happy to help,” Alicent assures, “But please, go have some rest, you have seen enough of our boring dinners.”

“I was never bored,” there’s a glimmer of gratitude, a tone of sincerity as she gets up from the table and looks at the faces sitting at it. For a moment, it seems that she wants to say more — grand, meaningful, closer to the truth. And yet, she just opts for a short, “Thank you for having me.”

She barely has time to take a step before Aemond all but jumps to his feet. “I will walk with you,” the words leave his mouth as he stands up with unflinching determination. And it’s not that he wants to leave as much as he wants to follow her.

His eagerness doesn’t come off as a surprise. No one says it but it seems that everyone knows — Alicent and Criston sharing the same looks, Helaena beaming, Aegon smirking into his cup. Aemond only waits for her reaction, his eye focused on her face. She isn’t against it — just like she’s never been before, every time he found a reason to come to her and be with her, and even when there was no reason to do so. She gives him a nod, a tad guiltily but more so accepting (and maybe just as eager as he is).

While they are on their way out, Aegon turns on his chair to say something but Helaena covers his mouth with her hand.

>>> Aemond breathes a little deeper and walks a little slower, gathering his words, — and before he knows it, they are talking again, his infatuation receded, although never truly gone. He asks about her day, and in the corridors and hallways curtained with silence, her voice flows lightly. He can tell that she’s abashed by all the fussing over her.

“Our seamstresses are quite fierce,” he chuckles. “I fear no sword of mine will stand a chance against their needles.”

“They said this dress was made for feasts,” she quotes, fiddling with the material as if she can’t see what’s there to admire.

“Well, Aegon’s name day is approaching. That will surely be a feast we are all invited to endure,” Aemond jests.

“I don’t think that I will —” she doesn’t finish the sentence, biting down her lip. He’s too distracted by that movement to pay attention to what’s left unvoiced. “You do not find those celebrations to your liking?” she changes the topic swiftly.

“I find them boring,” Aemond huffs. “The same old lords boasting about their wealth, making up achievements that are each so hollow.”

“Sounds like ladies aren’t a part of those conversations?”

“Theirs are hardly better so you should keep your expectations low,” he ruefully remarks. “Сourt gossip is one thing you can’t avoid. And then they’ll either lament about their husbands or try to find one for you,” he doesn’t think much over his words until he sees her smile dropping. And then, before he can find a reason not to, he adds: “...Assuming you are not already married.”

As soon as she hears it, she stops — Aemond does too, and he can tell that she isn’t looking for lies and excuses. She only timidly looks around, as if she’s afraid the walls have ears, and the truth she’s about to tell him is only meant for his. They managed to reach his chambers first, so without a single word Aemond goes to open the doors, and she accepts the nonvocal invitation.

They walk in — both are hasty and agitated, but he gives her space and scarcely hides the trembling of his hands. She finds it hard to utter a particular word. “I was... betrothed but not anymore. The man in question now believes I am dead.”

Her face is turned away from him, her gaze gliding over every object in his room, searching for something to fall on. She hesitantly walks to his table, glancing over a stack of books on it.

Aemond gives her a minute, then inquires: “Was he the one to hurt you?”

Her pain is still fresh, her face briefly splashed with it but she pushes through. Her response is not affirmative and yet, it’s enough of a confirmation. “I should’ve known better than to trust him.”

His anger rears up its head, a beast on a chain readying to get loose. “There is no excuse for what he did,” Aemond punctuates. “There cannot be —”

“There isn’t,” she cuts him off, not harshly but with a weary acceptance, her finger grazing thick book covers. “And I’m the last person to ever make excuses for him. But I should’ve known.”

Aemond is hurt by the thought he gets, but her torment is even more hurtful so he says the words, each letter scorching his heart. “You can’t take the blame for having feelings. Love often makes people let their guard down.” (And for years, he never did. Not until her).

With how fast she retorts, his ache is cured: “It wasn’t love.” Whatever it was, she regrets it so deeply, it’s written all over her face. “Now that I think about it, it never was.”

Her fingers travel down to the table surface, her thoughts straying back to the time that’s too distant but too haunting to forget.

“Lord Dykk Hersy is a son of my father’s friend, we’ve known each other ever since we were kids. He was always too noisy, then turned too self-centered, not much to like about that. And I never thought he fancied me, either. But my father made a decision about us some years back, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So Dykk started coming more often, following me around, being very nice. And I wasn’t...,” she stops fumbling with strewn parchments and lets out a sigh. “Not a lot of people were nice to me back then. I was naive to mistake his kindness for something else, and he was smart enough to say all the right words to make me believe him.”

Her fingertips reach his dagger, unscabbarded and left in plain sight. His eye is drawn to her every movement.

“We were betrothed when I was ten-and-six. I grew to like his company, and I think he did try his best, at first. For a couple of years, he was courteous, generous enough to give in to my every whim. Not that I had too many,” she’s glassy-eyed, and Aemond’s glare would be enough to kill. “But the illusion didn’t last for long. I soon began to notice pitiful stares, taunting whispers behind my back, maids dropping their gazes in shame. Three years in, I found out one of them was carrying his child.”

“Am I right to assume he denied it?”

“He did,” she chuckles bitterly. “He seemed taken aback by my anger, tried to persuade me he was falsely accused. But I could never blame the girl, it’s not her fault he was so good with words... I fell for them too,” her sadness is washed off with virulence; her fury awakened again, flames of it rising from the bowels of her restraint.

Aemond finds himself only a few feet away from her, pulled in by empathy at first, enamored somewhere in between the first and second steps.

“From that day, the complaints began, the excuses — he was too busy to stay for long, then got too busy to visit.”

“Was it so hard to saddle a horse?” Aemond bristles.

She casts him a glance followed by a half smile. “He lives in The Reach.”

“So chivalry is dead,” he snorts, and her laughter gives him a spark of joy. “It isn’t far away from here,” Aemond notes.

“Takes way longer to reach the Vale,” she explains, then pauses. Her memories eat up the merest hint of cheer. “Only he wasn’t road weary. He was burdened by me.”

Aemond almost reaches out for her, but clasps his hands together, his knuckles whitening. Her finger traces the very edge of the blade.

“And then, on his latest name day, my father made a poor joke,” her smile is crooked, hating. “He said me and Dykk were meant to stay together unless death do us part. That’s when, I think, he got the idea.”

“It is unworthy of a man to ever nurture such a thought,” his voice is embittered, his chest ablaze with wrath.

“I should’ve known,” she sounds dull like an echo. “He’s always called himself a man of traditions — the start of the month was meant for hunting, and he preferred the grounds of Grassy Vale, the shore of the Blueburn river. But then, all of a sudden, he wanted to explore the mountains of the Vale,” she wraps her hand around the hilt. “Said he wished to reconcile, that the trip would bring us closer, made me wear a dress,” she stumbles over the words, “And I didn’t even want to come or to see him, and all the signs were there, but I put on the stupid dress, and I was the one being so unbelievably stupid and —”

His palm covers hers in a rush of tenderness, his gaze more telling than a poem, confessions embedded in it — so many of them, it would take all night to unravel. They stand still, their eyes locked, his affection sweeping in between his fingers and her skin.

“None of that was your fault,” Aemond asserts. “And no one is to blame but him. Your fortitude is only worthy of admiration.”

It’s alluring how unrelenting he is in his desire to please her; the shift of her body toward his is barely noticeable, and she looks a second away from giving in. Something stops her, a sign of regret on her face, her gaze averted.

“And yet, he continues with his life thinking he got the last laugh,” she bemoans. “And I fear I... will never forget the feeling of his stranglehold as long as we are both alive.”

“You survived the unthinkable,” he tugs at her hand, caring in a way no other man ever was with her. “Why can’t it be enough?”

She ponders, hesitates, her outrage tempered by his solicitude. “I guess some lessons can only be learned the hard way,” she draws conclusion.

There it is again — the puzzling implication, a mystery wrapped in an enigma; it leaves Aemond with a sense of unease. “You deem that lesson to be worth it?” he questions.

The truth slips away from his grasp, but her hand stays, and it is too disarming of a sensation for him to think clearly. “I am afraid it’s too soon to tell,” she deflects, her thumb pressed against the flat of the blade. She can’t resist glancing briefly at it.

“You seem to like this little thing,” Aemond observes. “If so, you can have it.”

Her face is so bright with glee again, all the light in his room grows dim in comparison. “I’ve never seen such an intricate pattern,” she clarifies shyly, then adds with appreciation: “It’s truly beautiful.”

“It is,” he’s only looking at her.

“Teach me how to use it,” she unexpectedly asks. She looks at him again, her gaze exulting, and his heart skips a bit. “Properly.”

“And why would I do that?” he asks, undeniably willing.

“Why wouldn’t you?” she teases, her hand moving from his, clamping the dagger tightly.

Aemond misses the feeling — her skin against his, tighling with warmth, — and he catches her fingers in the same second. The distance between them is shortened down to a few inches; they don’t seem to care.

His touches are light and feathery. “You need to make sure your grip is strong,” he gently presses his forearm to hers, her hand positioned in his palm. “Not too tight so there’s some room for maneuvering. But with all your fingers in place,” he gives instructions, and she eagerly follows.

The red of her dress is a striking distraction; as is the softness of its lace, of her touch, of her lips parted in wonder, her diligence bewitching. She waits, his blood rushes; Aemond gulps.

He continues. “It is a common mistake to take a swing with a pommel up,” two of his roughened fingers latch onto her palm. “But the backhand grip works better,” Aemond rotates her hand in the right position, a steady motion with unsteady breath; her shoulder comes in contact with his chest.

He halts all movement, she makes no attempt to step away. He wonders if she can feel... He lacks the words to describe it. But he can discern her bosom heaving with every breath, and his heartbeat is caught in his throat.

He keeps the dagger pointed down, then calmly guides it up and away, their fingers intertwined. “This way, the point of the blade always comes first,” her eyes are on the steel, on the veins scattered on the inside of his wrist. “Which means that the threat also comes faster,” his eye is on the curve of her neck, on the necklace gleaming, beckoning him to glance lower.

Both of them feel the pull, too spellbound to resist — she takes a half step back, he meets her halfway. Her back is now fully propped against him, every bit of his body overflushed with yearning. Their hands stay adjoined as his words vine through her hair: “You try it.”

And so she does. The first time she repeats the movement, it’s almost reluctant, and his long tenacious fingers lead the way. He inadvertently leans in, his forearm molding into hers, a touch that edges towards embrace; her bashfulness then disappears without a trace. The metal shines coolly as she dexterously twists the blade, and Aemond should be concerned with how easy it comes to her; he is instead utterly transfixed.

She looks at him over her shoulder, his breath fanning out over her cheek, the space between them almost nonexistent. She makes a turn, torturously slow, their hands an inseparable duet, bodies longing to share heat.

“Seems like you did have some practice beforehand,” Aemond notes, voice barely above a whisper.

“Or you are a good teacher,” her eyes slip over his lips.

“And you are a fast learner,” he says under his breath.

This once, his gaze wanders, like a wayward traveler in search of means to satisfy his hunger; she is the one he craves. His fingers are itching for every curve of her body — she’s burning in all the places she wishes he could touch her. The tension rises, floods their bloodstream like fever, and —

“Hardly fair to leave me deal with our grandsire on my own!” Aegon bursts through the doors without knocking, a cup in his hand. “Did I ask for a lecture on table manners? I did not!”

He then sees them, already a step away from each other, and there’s a hint of surprise in his eyes which quickly turns into suspicion. He’s about to voice it when she blurts out: “Aegon would make for a good target.”

The cup he’s holding doesn’t reach his mouth. “...I beg your pardon?”

“I talked your brother into teaching me how to throw a dagger,” she lies slyly. “Would you mind stepping back to the door?”

Aegon blinks, incomprehension evident on his face for a moment, until he frowns and does move back to the door — only to open it and rush out, grumbling: “Both of you are utterly insane.”

The second he leaves, she bursts into laughter, and the same sound, low and hearty, spills from Aemond’s lips. She glances at him — his face relaxed, cheeks adorned with dimples, and he catches her gaze. The moment is lost but their desire isn’t, still swelling in both, unabated fire under the navel.

But now she tarries, her delight eclipsed by a grim understanding she chooses not to put into words. She tries giving him the dagger but Aemond gently pushes it back: “I meant it, it’s yours.”

“Thank you,” she puts it into a scabbard he hands her, then murmurs, sincerely grateful: “For listening, too.”

“I am glad to be worthy of your trust,” he replies warmly.

There’s a ringing urge in the back of his head to come closer to her again. But she is unanticipatedly avoidant of any intimacy, mumbling something about the late hour, moving out of his reach — and then the urge turns into a need so desperate, he can’t keep it bottled up.

“I think he is the biggest fool in the Seven Kingdoms,” Aemond lets slip.

She turns to him when her hand is already on the door handle. “Because he couldn’t manage to kill a woman?” the smile she gives him is acerbic, but her gaze is sad.

“Because he didn’t love you the way you deserve,” he breathes out.

She looks astonished, her mouth falling open, and he wants nothing more than for her to say another word, just to give him a reason to spill his every feeling out. But she slumps her shoulders and purses her lips, and then pulls the handle and gets out so quickly, the door slams behind her, and the sound makes him wince.

He is left all alone, with an unsaid revelation at the base of his throat — the way I would’ve loved you, he wanted to say. And with another heartbeat, Aemond realizes: he already does. He is already hopelessly in love with her.

>>> That realization is a ball lightning that swirls in his chest, and he cannot close the eye all night. It’s liberating to say it to himself — love, the word that sounds and tastes so sweet; it’s also absolutely terrifying. Chaotic thoughts run through his mind, and he is racked with indecision that’s paved with his self-doubts and fears. Amidst the chaos, Aemond finds himself reminiscing of her shining gaze — and then of a touch of her hand, of her eyes on him, of her body leaning toward and her lips not shying away from his. He couldn’t have made all that up, he thinks. He also can’t let fear dictate his future.

Aemond leaves the room with the first rays of the sun, while its light only shyly skims the ground, but the prince’s never been more awake. His intent is a vital force, a fuel that makes him quicken his pace. He all but runs — down the stairs, through the doors, through the castle, and out of it; her name and his proclamation on the tip of his tongue 

— only she isn’t in the training yard.

And neither are her bow and arrows.

Anxiety scrapes his ribcage and spreads like ice, then creeps, sluggish and squeaking, into his subconscious. His gaze roves over every corner of the yard, but he can’t catch the slightest hint of where to look for her.

He does break into running on his way back; the corridors and walls all flash before his eye. Her chambers greet him with her absence, the maids all share his concern. Aemond tries to look for clues — a letter, a piece of anything that once belonged to her — but she had no belongings, he remembers then.

Despair crawls out, like a predator sensing blood; Aemond isn’t about to give up without a fight. He goes to question the guards — surely, she couldn’t just disappear into thin air, no matter what her talents are. The men in silver-plated armor are doubtless striving to help, but only one of them recalls her visiting the yard not long before the sun emerged. That knowledge is rather scant and hardly helpful, and Aemond’s determination traitorously falters.

Help comes in the form of a stable boy passing by who gleefully chirps:

“The lady must be a skilled hunter,” he says to no one in particular, dreamingly impressed. “Not many people stick to traditions these days.”

“...Come again?” Aemond throws him a glance so piercing, the boy stammers.

“I only m-meant that it’s a full moon,” he hurriedly explains. “They say, on that day deer move more at night hence why the hunters favor it so much.”

That’s when her words resurface in his mind —

“I will do better by the next full moon.”

“Lord Dykk Hersy always called himself a man of traditions.”

He thinks that for a man who’s only lost one eye, he surely couldn’t have been more blind. Because the clues he’s been so desperate to find were all before his eyes this entire time. He promptly knits together all the fragments — her tireless training, haunting memories, her asking to repair the dress. Only, the one occasion she wanted it for was not some silly dinner.

Disappointment clashes with worry in his chest as Aemond leaves the castle once more, this time with a destination in mind. He blames himself for not guessing sooner; he hopes and prays that it’s not too late.

>>> The grounds of Grassy Vale are robed in green, a canvas of valleys and flats with lone wooden shacks interspersing; Aemond reminds himself he didn’t come for sightseeing. He gazes into fields sprawled underneath, and Vhagar’s body casts a shadow that sweeps along the earth like a water stream. With how low they are flying, it won’t be hard for any of the smallfolk to spot the dragon but Aemond can’t find it in himself to care.

His gaze is searching for one person only, his longing for her immense against everything in his life that’s been measured. But soon he sees the river, and the valleys smoothly give way to forests; Aemond admits with increasing concern that he’ll have to continue on foot. Vhagar grudgingly plops into the high grass, burying her claws in the ground, the flap of her wings so strong, it brings down a couple of trees. Once their rustling is stilled, the sullen peace settles in the vale.

As if to add to his unrest, the sky gets blanketed with clouds, and he can hear the thunder humming in the distance, his heart already hammering in tact. The Gods, it seems, certainly have a penchant for drama.

The sound of the branches crackling is what catches his attention first, and he discerns heavy footsteps fast approaching. In just a second, Aemond sees a man running out of the forest, and there’s no need to take a guess — not only does the stranger look clearly aghast, he’s also got an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.

Aemond throws him a disdainful glance but Lord Hersy is too distraught to notice. “Please, help!” he begs and whines, “I am being chased by a mad woman!”

The prince holds back a snicker, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the sight. “Oh, how unfortunate,” he drawls, and every feature of the man looks hideous to him. “A woman instilling that big of a fear? It is the rarest of things.”

Lord Hersy can’t seem to share his amusement. “She’s truly evil!” he assures with wide eyes, his legs unsteady, hand pressed to the wound, red seeping through his fingers. “She led me into an insidious trap, and I am left completely disarmed!”

“It sounds like it required quite a lot of planning,” Aemond notes. “Might it be that she has a reason to be cross with you?”

“I am a righteous lord, I wouldn’t hurt a fly,” the man lies profusely, and a dark look crosses Aemond’s face. “My only fault was trusting her, that scheming wen—”

With one hand movement, Aemond grabs him, his fingers holding the man’s collar so tightly, Lord Hersy has trouble breathing. “But you are surely cross with her, it seems,” the prince remarks in a dry tone, his gaze blistering cold. Underneath the ice, there’s a flare, a spark; he is actually enjoying this. “Would you mind, my lord, telling me more about her?”

Lord Hersy seems taken aback by the request but obeys implicitly. “She’s n-not lacking beauty, that I will admit,” he weakly tries to free himself yet to no avail. “But ignorant of manners and so terribly short-tempered!”

“Is it her temper you are so afraid of?” Aemond doesn’t hide his mocking.

“She’s got a dagger!” the man complains in distress. “An angry woman armed poses a horrid threat! Gods know, I’ve done nothing to merit that mistreatment!”

He opens his mouth to accuse her some more — but then finally takes note of the frighteningly stiff look on Aemond’s face. The prince’s lips curl up into a wrathful and malignant smile, and the air gets heavy with silence.

His anger is a beast that breaks the chains with its teeth.

“Hm,” Aemond shakes his head with derision. “Worry not, ser, you are in good hands,” the prince lowers his face to his, his voice spewing poison when he hisses, “I was the one to give her the dagger.”

Lord Hersy does attempt to escape Aemond’s grip, he’ll give him that. Pathetically and weakly he twitches and wails, tries scratching his face, then reaches for the eyepatch, wobbly fingers tugging at the stripe of leather, gasping and swearing and —

all of his efforts fall short, and Aemond’s iron grip doesn’t loosen one bit.

And then, out of nowhere, another hand grabs a fistful of the lord’s hair, yanking his head back so harshly, that he gasps. They both were too distracted by the scuffle to notice her draw near, but once she reaches them — engulfed in red, her gaze equally flaming — she truly is force to reckon with. The fury looks so good on her, it makes Aemond hold his breath.

“I see your luck did finally run out,” she says to the man, words filled with resentment.

Lord Hersy grows unsure about his every accusation. “I think there’s been a grave misunderstanding,” he protests in a whiny tone. “I deeply regret causing you any offe —”

“I don’t remember you regretting dragging me down from a horse to try and crash my skull with a rock,” her voice is low, biting. The grin that follows makes her face look sinister. “I knew you couldn’t finish.”

His frown betrays his irritation — he puts it out the second he pulls out the dagger. “There are still ways for me to make amends,” Lord Hersy pleads so sickly sweet, Aemond lets out a growl. “I made a terrible mistake, I shall admit, but I did search for you! Day and night, I prayed to the Gods to find you, I cried my eyes out!”

Her face seems empty while she listens, and Lord Hersy is enough of a fool to mistake it for reluctance. But Aemond thinks she’s never looked more sure, and there’s no mercy she can grant the man whose fate has long been sealed.

She tilts her head, the corners of her mouth twitch, and the prince reads this expression with ease — she’s finally facing her most wanted target. He loosens the grip, and Lord Hersy falls to his knees, gulping air, the breath of death no longer tickling his neck; but his relief is premature.

The blade in her hand pale-glimmers in the vanishing rays of the sun — the man only catches a dreadful glint before he feels the metal pressed against his throat. Her gaze is just as sharp. “Go on then, dear lord,” she sneers without a sign of mirth, each word hastening his end, “Cry me a river.”

He barely gets a breath in when she swings — unmerciful and with the backhand grip; the dagger draws a scarlet cut across his throat. The wound is deep and fatal, and the blood runs fast and thick, cascading down his chest, his body going limp and falling lifeless to the ground. The red seeps out into the grass, splashed beads of it shining dully against all the green, and it’s almost alluring to look at.

Unceasingly and invariably Aemond only looks at her.

The trees sway in the wind, and the clouds race, the sky now veiled with the darkness of the unfolding storm. He’s never been the one to value landscapes, but it makes him think: the same lush wilderness surrounded her while she was growing up, a rose among the weeds, her thorns repellent to most but no obstacle for him. With bloodied hands, disheveled hair, dirtied clothes — she’s still the only one he wants, irresistible as life.

She stands in reverie, her gaze boring into the huddled body of the lord: “I must admit, this is poor planning on my part.”

As if on cue, Vhagar’s roar echoes in the distance, and Aemond smirks: “I know of a way to get rid of a body.”

She hums and slightly leans over the dead man, wiping the dagger off on his coat, and Aemond sees that she ripped the dress again; he finds it funny.

“Not the best choice of clothing, I might say,” the prince notes.

She follows his gaze and doesn’t even bother to adjust the damaged hem. “He thought I came back from the dead to hunt him,” she lets out a dry laugh, “I counted on that.”

“Wish I could see it,” Aemond says, a gentle admiration in his tone.

Her mask of concentration crumbles, replaced by the expression he remembers from the day before. The same astonishment mixed with timorous indecision, with a tint of shyness, washes over her face as their eyes meet.

“You came for me,” the words fall from her mouth as if she only now becomes aware.

“Why do you find it so surprising?” he wonders because leaving her was never an option for him.

“Unreasonable, mostly,” she bashfully remarks. “You’ve been so kind to me, and yet I left without saying goodbye.”

“You did,” he agrees, thinking that shyness only adds to her charm.

“And I never told you of my plans,” she admits, even more coyly, and he just nods.

Her gaze falls, mouth unsurely half-open, as if she’s trying to pluck the right words from the grass. He watches her, and there’s that pull again, the flowering desire in his chest.

“I think it’s time for us to go our separate ways,” she musters out, and it knocks the air out of his lungs. She’s curbing her own pain, deeming it to be a relief for his. “You’ve done more than enough for me... I think your conscience should be clear.”

The wind picks up, and so does his pulse. “And where will you go?” Aemond asks, his voice faltering.

“I am my father’s only heir” she shrugs, mostly burdened than pleased. “He will take me back and,” she works up the courage to find his gaze again, “I won’t be a problem of yours any longer.”

The thunder is approaching, a rushing sound disrupting the peace of nature. Aemond knows he will never find peace if he lets her leave.

“So you can go,” she offers but they both don’t want it, and he instead allows himself a step to her. “If this is what you want,” she blurts out in a shaky voice that gives away her struggle no matter how much she tries to put up a face. “If this is what your heart desires,” she adds so quietly, she isn’t sure he will hear her. But Aemond does.

Something snaps in him, and his body is an arrow shot out — he closes the distance in a heartbeat, and his lips all but crush into hers. She kisses him back with the same fervor, without a moment’s hesitation, and neither of them is timid or holding back. His hands find her waist, follow the gentle bend of it as she presses herself to him, as her mouth opens more, and his craving turns into hunger, his desire not hidden any longer, erupting right through.

Aemond grabs onto her hips, desperate to feel more, ravenous in his need, and each of his kisses is a plea for her to heed to; she does. Her fingers frantically travel up, then tangle in his hair, untieing knots of his restraint, his quivering sighs all disappearing into her mouth. There are no other sounds but their shuddering breath, their lewd touches, moans — hers or his, he can’t tell.

The massive storm is brewing when they part, both breathless, their lips still brushing.

“It’s you,” his confession is hot against her mouth, “You are the only thing I desire,” the syllables flow, pouncing like a waterfall, “He was undeserving of you, foolish, pathetic excuse of a man, and if only I—”

His words die down at the feeling — her fingers dancing right above his cheek. The one that’s scarred, unloved, detested by him; the gruesome sight that was supposed to be covered by the eyepatch. He must’ve missed the moment when he lost it, too wrapped up in his anger to notice the despicable lord succeed in his attempts. Aemond can’t find it in himself to ask for confirmation, to even move his hand to cover half his face.

She never looks away. And then, in the gloomy evening, she smiles — the sun rises again, a crack of dawn formed by every feature of her face. Her fingertips tenderly graze his scar.

“You asked me once if I thought it was worth it,” she recalls, her gaze affectionate, without a shadow of a doubt. “It was. Because I would do it all again if I knew the fate was leading me to you.”

The warmth of her touch heats him up, then ignites every part of him. She’s still caressing the side of his face when he reaches for her — his kiss so searing, her hand trembles, while his confidently moves to the hollow of her throat; this time, the sound of pleasure is undoubtedly hers. With his eye closed, his mouth on hers, Aemond sees the vision, bright as day: him going through the layers, lace and red, until she is all bare in his sheets, and he can put his lips to every inch of her skin. And feel her, drink her, worship her, their limbs intertwined, him drawing moans from her until the night sky lets in the first streaks of light.

He has to take a labored breath to blink the dream away, to hold his ardor back for just a little longer. By the look on her face, she’ll welcome his every offering.

“It seems that all those years I’ve been searching in all the wrong places for you,” Aemond whispers, holding her tight in his embrace.

“But you found me,” she follows the contour of his jaw with her finger, her smile never fading. “And you can have me,” she makes a vow, and her lips trail for his to seal the promise.

And no storm can compare to the love for her that rages deep in his heart.

✧ if you are into stories about revenge (enemies to lovers, with angst, fighting, and quite a bit of fire involved), I have a multi-chapter fic for you ✧ two more stories inspired by songs (modern!au): with Aemond & with Aegon ✧ my masterlist tagging @amiraisgoingthruit who was kind enough to ask (girlie, I’m sorry this one is so enormous…) also big thank you to arcielee for approving the gif it was driving me insane 💙

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

#aemond targaryen #it took me 3 (THREE) months to find inspiration to finish the gif and I can't say I'm 100% happy so I will take NO criticism #to the ten people who will read this — I am forever grateful (I'm sending you cups of cacao as a treat) #my stuff #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fic #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x y/n #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfics #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond #aemond the kinslayer

[l3ominor]

eyo! I'm here with a comic!

this is for a Fic written by triforce-of-mischief as a part of her Overcome Series, which I highly recommend!

here's the link to the fic this is based off of! (if you don't have an AO3 account, you won't be able to read it)

#linked universe #lu #lu legend #lu warriors #overcome #lu fanart #lu fanfiction #I spent a week on this comic #ten hours a day min #my art tablet is dead XD #seriously though #go read Overcome #it's incredible! #tw blood #tw needle

[queerpumpkinnn]

hi! if your requests are open could you do anything for patrick verona? like anything lol ill take it

So requests are actually not open right now, but given that this was sent in when they were I saved it for Kinktober. I hope you like it!

Kinktober 31st: I Knew You'd Come Around

aka hate sex with Patrick Verona

1k words

Summary: Hate sex with Patrick Verona. That's it.

Pairing: Patrick Verona x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut duh, enemies to enemies with benefits?? probably some darker themes idk, sex at a party but they're in a bedroom, little to no aftercare, vaginal fingering, light scratching, light hair pulling, patrick is a cocky little shit but what's new

~

You hated yourself for doing this, you really did. You hated the butterflies in your stomach for fluttering when he grabbed your ass, hated your hands for tugging him closer by the collar of his, hated your heart for racing at the feeling of his tongue on yours.

That was the general emotion when you were around him. Hate. Hate and frustration and annoyance and pure, fiery arousal.

The last one is the most prevalent as you're pressed up against a bedroom wall, the bass of the song playing outside reverberating on your back. Patrick's hands are all over you, groping and tracing every inch of skin he could find.

"Fucking idiot," you huff in between wet smacks of your lips, yanking at his shirt collar, trying to signal him to take it off.

"Y'know," he starts, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, "for someone who proclaims to hate me so much, you sure are hell-bent on getting me naked."

"They're not mutually exclusive concepts, dumbass." Your words seem frail, and your voice trails off at the end as his fingers tug at the belt loops of your pants.

"Ooh, big words." He purrs, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you doing that thing where you try to sound smart so that I don't notice that you're full of shit?"

"I am not- oh, god..." Any biting remark you may have had ready died on your tongue as his fingers slipped under your pants and were tracing the damp patch on your underwear.

"Aw, not so talkative now, are you?" Patrick placed open-mouthed kisses over your neck, nipping gently every so often. "If I'd known this was all it took to shut you up, I would've done this sooner."

With a gasp, your hand snakes up to Patrick's hair, fingers curling when the pads of his fingers linger over your covered clit, roaming a little before finding the rhythm that made your head fall back with a thump.

"Atta girl, keep making those pretty noises." He hummed, using his other hand to pop open the buttons of your pants and tug them down to your knees.

Well, naturally, you just had to do the opposite of whatever he told you. So you clamped your mouth shut. Of course, you were now resigned to breathing heavily through your nose instead and that was still as audible.

Patrick pulls back for a moment to look at you, eyes darting all over your stony face, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

"Shoulda seen that coming. But we'll get you talking."

And you should have known he wasn't all talk. Before you have the chance to scoff at his remark, his hand dips under the waistband of your underwear to trace along your folds.

You could feel your cheeks turn hot as you saw his eyes go wide with awe and amusement. "'S such a mess down there, pretty. Little ol' me did that?"

He knew you weren't going to admit that, so he didn't wait for a response. He got all he needed when he saw you react, saw you keen when his fingertips dragged over your clit, resuming the rhythm that set fire in your belly.

"Aw, it's okay," he purrs, tonguing over your collarbone. "Y'don't have to say it. Y'know why? 'Cause this pretty pussy says it all for me, doesn't she?"

That makes your pussy clench, and you know he can feel it. An airy chuckle tells you he definitely can. "Thought so. Can feel her asking for it, begging for me."

You can't help the moan that is ripped from your throat when he sinks a finger in, curling at just the right spot to have you raking your nails down his shoulders, hanging on for dear life. Your legs are already trembling, and stray hairs are already pasted to your forehead by sweat.

"Fucking hate you," you sigh, but when you're rolling your hips up into his hand it doesn't hold much venom.

"Can't hear you, sweet cheeks, might need to speak up."

"I hate you."

"What's that?''

"I hate you." You can feel pleasure boiling in your gut, seconds away from boiling over.

"One more time," he purrs, pressing his palm up into your clit.

"I hate you! Patrick!" You grasp onto his shoulders as pleasure comes over you in waves, spreading through every vein into your fingertips until you're left with a blissful afterglow, panting and whining.

"There we go." Patrick wipes a hair that fell over your mouth away, grinning. "Knew you'd come around."

You roll your eyes as Patrick pats your cheek and then leaves towards the ensuite bathroom. He comes back a moment later with a wet rag and hands it to you.

He stays for cleanup, but for the first time in all the time you've known each other, it stayed silent.

As you fixed your hair in the bathroom mirror, Patrick came quietly up behind you and placed a glass of water on the counter- you hadn't even noticed he'd left, you'd been so lost in thought.

"I'm assuming you don't want to be seen together, so I should leave now."

You didn't respond. You weren't sure why, and you weren't sure what the answer would have been if you had. But Patrick doesn't seem to take offense to it, instead stepping away from the bathroom. You watch through the mirror as he heads towards the bedroom door.

He stops in the doorway, hand on the doorknob. He's wearing his telltale grin and his hair whips with the movement as he looks back at you.

"Oh, by the way, if you ever feel like hating me again, give me a call."

.

Patrick Verona Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#patrick verona #ten things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you #patrick verona x reader #fanfiction #smut #x fem reader #x reader smut #x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[empiireans]

i love them a very normal amount

[bonus meme under the cut]

ignore the fact that this is my fourth attempt at posting this stupid doodle

#i’m very #VERY normal about them #it’s not like i made a personal headcanon family tree for rhythm and performance #it’s not like i have almost ten drafts of fanfiction involving the performance troupe #i’m very normal for them ok #irls if you see this please look away #/silly #performance guide #rhythm guide #hopeful steward #modest dancer #season of performance #season of dreams #season of rhythm #season of revival #sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky children of the light fanart #sky cotl fanart #fanart #character sketches

[crdteezv]

Back 2 You - Hendery

Paring: !childhood best friends/roommates to lovers to exes to lovers again! hendery x afab! reader

Genre:  college au in the beginning, non-idol au, HEAVY ANGST & smut 

Synopsis: You grew up with Hendery and have been best friends with him ever since you were little. But as you both got older, things started to become more complicated. After all that has happened, can you ever bring yourself to trust and forgive him…

Warnings: !fuckboy! hendery,  HEAVY TOXICIXY, cheating(he did it tho…), lots of arguing, heavy alcohol use (he is lowkey an alcoholic…), SLIGHT domestic violence (only happened once), the reader lowkey a perv in the beginning, dirty talk, teasing, kissing, fingering, choking (receiving), oral (giving/receiving), throat fucking, manhandling, use of sex toys, heavy degradation, rough sex, slight humiliation, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~11k words (officially the longest I ever wrote I genuinely don't know how this happened...)

A/n: I hope you enjoy this because it's one of the first fics that's very story-driven. This one is not for the faint of heart so if any of the warnings trigger you, you shouldn’t read this fic! 

Growing up, you used to be next-door neighbors with Hendery. Ever since you were little, you were really close with all his sisters. Both of your parents would have you guys hang out with each other all the time. You'd practically be at their house every weekend. He never had a brother, so he was always stuck playing alone with his action figures.

One day, you left his sisters for a little bit to go play with him, and since then, you've been closer to him, hanging out with him all the time, up until high school. People started assuming that the two of you were dating, which caused a lot of conflict in your friendship. He didn't care, and you weren't sure why it mattered so much to you. You knew that you just weren't ready to tell him you liked him. You started to develop feelings for him and didn’t want to come to terms with it. So, you distanced yourself, but Hendery, being Hendery, would constantly bother you and just wouldn’t leave you alone.

Eventually, you have gotten over everything in senior year and go back to being good friends again. The feelings you once had for him suddenly just went away.

That was until the two of you became roommates after high school.

You both used to joke about how you always wanted to live together when you were kids, but you actually made it happen. That summer after high school, you both worked hard and eventually rented an apartment together. No one in your family questioned it since they knew that your relationship was completely platonic and didn’t see each other in a romantic way at all.

Now, you were both juniors in college and were loving it, especially Hendery. Ever since you both started college, he would attract so many girls and was pretty much the life of any and all parties.

Parties weren’t really your scene, but you would go to them every once in a while. Every time you went out with him, it was like you would see a different side of him. When he is around you, he is always so calm, but when he goes out to party, he gets sloppy drunk and tries to hook up with every girl he sees. It was getting overwhelming for you having to always drag his ass back home and be the one to apologize for him after any messes he made. You practically became his caretaker always having to help him sober up after the party. So, you just stopped going to parties with him altogether. It just got worse as time went on; he would start coming home late at 4 or 5 am, and you knew that meant he was probably with some girl. Deep down, a part of you would get almost annoyed and irritated when he was out with someone this late.

Almost as if you felt jealous, maybe?

This was all put to the test when one night Hendery was getting ready to go on a date with a girl. He was asking you for advice on what to wear and how to act. You were just sitting idly by on the couch, reading a book. You heard him call out your name and walk into the living room. It seemed he had just hopped out of the shower because he had his towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still wet, and you could see the water droplets slowly drip down onto his body. You even looked down for just a second and discovered that he had a new grown happy trail.

Why was he so attractive?

But him being shirtless didn’t make things feel awkward between the two of you because you guys were so close to each other; it didn’t even matter. Plus, whenever he was home, he was shirtless the majority of the time, so this didn’t faze him.

“Okay, so which shirt should I wear for the date? This pink one or the green one?”

He presented you with two different colors of dress shirts, and you pointed at the pink one since you thought that would suit him better. He smiled at you and walked back into his room, and you heard the door shut. You covered your face with your hands, trying to compose yourself. Tonight was a big night for Hendery because this would be his first serious date, and you felt bad for feeling this way about him. 

To be fair, you never really had much dating experience. You only dated one guy in high school, and it wasn't even a serious relationship. These days, you didn’t know why, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Hendery. Even when you pleasured yourself, sometimes he would come into your mind. You felt guilty perceiving him in such a perverted light. He was your best friend, and all you could think about was him fucking you.

It’s been 15 minutes, and he finally got out of his room, and you saw Hendery all dressed up in formal attire.

“Wow, you look fancy. Where do you plan on taking her?” You said enthusiastically.

“Oh, I’m taking her to a nice high-class restaurant that’s on the outskirts of town.”

In a sarcastic tone, you replied, “Oh, that's nice.”

He could clearly tell that you were upset with him for something. He knew you acted passive-aggressive when you were mad at him.

“Okay, tell me what is it now?” You gave him a confused look and didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Come on, it’s obvious I did something wrong this time. You only act like this when your mad at me.”

You rolled your eyes and said, "For the past month, you've been coming back home drunk and loud, making it impossible for me to sleep. I'm always the one who has to help you sober up, and it's just getting exhausting for me to clean up after you all the time."

“What? I don’t come home late every night—”

"Hendery, for the past three weeks, you've been coming home smelling like alcohol at 4 am. You're probably going to do the same thing again tonight—"

“Excuse me?” You could tell that he was starting to get annoyed, and you probably shouldn’t get on his bad side now. You got up off the couch and made your way over to him.

“Oh, you heard me the first time.”

“Okay, look, I think I seriously like this girl, and I wanted things to be different with her, and—”

“Let’s just be honest here, you don’t care about her, and you're just doing all this to get into her pants. You’re just going to have a couple of drinks with her and then come back home and expect me to pick up all the pieces for you—”

You walked closer to him, and you were face to face with him. You poked his shoulder to bother him and said in a serious tone, 

“The only thing that’s on your mind all the time is sex. You could never be in a serious relationship with anyone.”

The tension in the room was thick, and it fell silent for a second. This was the first time you had said something so harsh to him. You could feel that he was about to snap. He grabbed your hand and stopped you from poking him. The look in his eyes almost made your knees buckle out of fear.

"Take back what you said," he demanded, squeezing your hand even harder, the pain becoming increasingly unbearable for you.

“Hendery, stop it, you’re starting to hurt me—” You began to protest, but he continued to advance, causing you to retreat until you were backed against the couch with nowhere else to go.

“I won’t stop until you take back what you said,” he insisted, his grip tightening even further.

He had completely lost control now.

With some effort, you managed to free your hand from his grasp and push him away from you.

“What’s your problem? Were you actually trying to hurt me?” you exclaimed.

“No, but I don’t appreciate you basically calling me a whore and claiming that I can’t be serious with someone—” he shot back, his irritation evident.

“Because you literally CAN’T,” he continued, walking back towards you and crossing his arms, giving you an annoyed look.

“How do you know that I can’t actually be with somebody?” he challenged.

“Are you kidding me? Every other night, you come home late after fucking some random girl you met at a party. You brag to me all the time about the girls you sleep with, and I’m getting sick of it.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, you’re just jealous and you wish you were one of the girls that I fuck every night,” he taunted, his tone dripping with condescension.

Your rage began to boil over at the audacity of this man. Not only was he undermining your feelings on this situation, but he was also claiming that you were jealous. 

 You were at your breaking point.

“I know you did not just say that,” you retorted, your voice laced with disgust and attitude.

He looked at you with a cocky smirk, as if this whole situation was amusing to him. He drew closer until he was face to face with you, then knelt down and whispered in your ear, 

"You're just jealous, sweetie. You wish instead of me being out all the time, I was the one with you. Don't think I don't hear you moan my name sometimes when you're all pent up. These walls aren't as thick as you think they are."

Your body froze for a moment, unable to move a muscle. So all those times you were getting off, Hendery had heard every little thing. Little did you know, he would sometimes get off to the sound of your moans, but of course, he wouldn't tell you. You began to squeeze your thighs to alleviate the stress of the situation, but he beat you to it and placed his thighs in between yours. He lifted your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, love. Just a second ago, you couldn’t stop bitching and complaining, and now you're completely silent—” His grip on your chin tightened,

 “How pathetic.”

It was as if his whole demeanor had shifted from before. Earlier, he was happy and ready to go out on his date, and now he was almost scaring you. 

You were in such a state of shock that you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. It was as if he was a completely different person now, and you were terrified of him. He started to lower his hand from your chin down onto your throat, slowly choking you. As he watched tears start to pour down your face, he almost seemed to enjoy this.

You decided enough was enough and started to speak to him. “Stop it. You’re hurting me again—”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” he said in a playful manner.

You nodded your head, and he let go of your throat, leaving you coughing and gasping for air.

“Look, I don’t know what has gotten into you tonight, but I’m going to need you to apologize.”

“And what if I don’t?”

You looked at him with such anger and said, “Then I’m going to have to kick your ass out of here. I have no room to tolerate your bullshit anymore.”

He knew you were serious, and that he should just stop acting like this. But there was a part of him that liked seeing you in this state. He would always piss you off growing up, and some things just never change.

“Fine, I’ll back off… if you admit that you want me.”

Oh, he is just crazy.

Not only does he lack empathy for how hurt you may feel right now, he has to be so entitled even in a time like this.

“NO, I don’t want you and I don’t need you. Not now or ever.”

He just leaned back against the wall and gave you that same smirk from before. 

“Oh really? Then why do I always hear you moan my name? It seems to me that you want me—”

He approaches you again, but this time you tripped and fell back onto the couch and now you’re looking up at him. Before you can get up, he pins both of your hands down.

“And it seems that you need me now more than ever, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You felt yourself wanting to give in, and it was getting harder to control yourself. He has such a way with words, you were starting to forget why you were even arguing with him in the first place. He practically manipulated you, and you played right into his hands.

A part of you didn’t care.

“Fine, I will admit I might need you just a little bit—”

You were cut off by him as he leaned down to kiss you. You began to make out and started to feel the tension between you guys start to disappear. You both passionately make out, and he lets go of your wrists, and you wrap your arms around his neck. You felt connected in this moment and didn't want to let go of each other.

“Mhm, I’m glad you’re finally admitting it. I knew it was a matter of time before—”

You don’t let him finish talking; you push him off of you and switch positions, shoving him down on the couch. Now you’re on top, straddling him, and he was a little shocked by your sudden act of boldness.

“If this is going to work, I’m going to need you to be quiet for me—”

You slowly unzip his pants and take out his cock from his boxers.

“You talk too much.”

Something about you being so stern was making him even more aroused. He nods his head, and you begin to stroke him with your hand. You pump up and down his shaft, and he is grunting and moaning for you.

You decide to take a step further and lower your mouth onto him. He throws his head back from pleasure and loves feeling the warmth and wetness of your mouth. You begin to bob your head up and down as you see him loving every second of this. You even used both of your hands to stroke him at the base simultaneously.

 The moment is ruined when Hendery gets a phone call from the girl he was supposed to go on a date with. That doesn’t stop you, however, and you just keep on going as usual.

“F-fuck can you slow down-”

You were taken aback as he shoved you all the way down to the base of his cock, holding you in place to answer the phone call as if nothing was happening.

“Hey, I know this is last minute but—”

You somehow managed to start moving again, causing him to squirm and find it hard to speak coherently.

“Oh, I-I’m fine. I’m just a little h-held up with something, and I have to canc—”

You started moving faster, getting back into the rhythm from before, causing him to bite his lip and throw his head back. He was starting to lose his mind.

“F-fuck… I MEAN, I’m sorry, I have to cancel, and I’ll call you later, alright, bye.”

He hung up instantly and grabbed your head with both of his hands, and face fuck you. You began to gag as your throat closed up around him. You felt that he is starting to get close because his dick started to pulse and twitch in your mouth.

“Mhm, I can’t h-hold it in anymore—”

He instantly came, his release pouring into your mouth. Without wasting a drop, you swallowed it all. You felt dizzy after all that had just happened. You could’ve been caught, but you wanted to make Hendery suffer so much that it didn’t matter. You found yourself drifting as you tried to fall back onto the couch, but he switched positions, leaving you underneath him again, your face down and your ass up in the air.

“Oh, princess, we’re not done just yet. There’s still another hole of yours I want to fill.”

Goosebumps coursed throughout your body, and you were too stunned to say anything as you watched him start to take off the tie he had on and use it to tie up your wrists.

“Ah, this will be a nice handle for me to use to fuck you. Just how I could use these too—”

He gave your ass a hard smack and then roughly grabbed your waist with both of his hands.

“God, you look so pretty to me. I can already see a wet spot forming in your leggings, sweetie.”

He began to remove your leggings and panties, pushing them down to your ankles, leaving you with just one of your oversized shirts on, without a bra. Since you were at home, you didn't feel the need to wear one.

You felt Hendery start to slowly feel all over your body, groping your tits. He had lifted his hand under your shirt and began to give them a light squeeze. You let out a little whimper and started to squirm for him. He didn't like that and gave your ass another smack.

“Stay still for me, baby.”

“Mhm, I-I don’t know if I can—”

He started to twist your nipples and slowly kiss on the back of your neck. He knew exactly what he was doing and knew where all your sensitive spots were. You started to moan out for him, which just made him hard for you. He couldn’t take it anymore and stopped what he was doing altogether, positioning himself into you. You felt him rub the head all over your wet entrance, and then he shoved himself deep into you, eliciting a scream of pleasure out of you.

He began to penetrate with slow and deep strokes, gripping your tied-up wrists for support and balance. He felt that he could lose himself in you and he wanted to take things slow. But now that he felt you wrapped around him, it drove him crazy.

He didn’t know how long he could keep this up and started to lose control. You did too as you frantically started to fuck yourself roughly back onto him. You were lost in your own world and didn’t care about anything but Hendery right now. He let you do all the work for a second, even lifting his hands off you. He was enjoying the view of you being so desperate for him that you were almost using him to get off for your pleasure. This is just how you would masturbate to the thought of him on those late nights, and now you were fucking him.

But enough was enough, and he wanted to wrap all of this up.

He grabbed your wrist again and started to pound you into the couch at a rougher pace. You screamed out for him to slow down, but he was now ignoring you, using you now for his satisfaction. He was so consumed by all the lust that he didn’t care if you were satisfied or not. Then he remembered that you’re not some random girl that he would hook up with and that you mean more to him than that.

“Okay, love, I want you to come with me, alright? I don’t think I’m going to last very long here.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You both went at each other at a fast pace, and he finished inside you while you came alongside him. It was so much that he had to spray the rest all over your ass. Before you could say anything, you felt the couch start to shake a little, leading to it breaking.

“Oh no… did we just—”

“Oh, relax, sweetie. This couch was getting old anyway. We can just get a new one.”

You both laughed it off, and he laid you on top of his chest for a minute. Eventually, he got up and gave you a washcloth to clean you up. He even went to the fridge to get your favorite ice cream. You felt comforted to know that he does all this because he cares about you.

It made you wonder if he treats all the other girls like this.

“Hey, look, I want to say sorry for being such a jerk towards you tonight, and I wasn’t going to take her out—”

“WHAT? SO YOU LIED TO ME?”

“Oh, well… if you put it that way, then yeah, I lied. But I only did this to test you. I knew if I confronted you about your feelings for me—”

“Wait, you did all this because you think I like you?”

He was a little taken aback by your question. Did he read the situation wrong this whole time?

“I-I mean, yeah. I see the way you always look at me ever since we were growing up. Especially in high school, you just couldn’t keep your pretty little eyes off of me, even when you distanced yourself from me.”

“Oh, that’s so not true—”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eye right now? You only do that when you lie or if you’re extremely nervous. It seems like you’re both of those things right now.”

God, you forget that at the end of the day, he is your best friend and he knows everything about you. He can read you like a book.

“OK FINE! I admit I always had a crush on you. It’s just I was afraid that it would just get in the way of our friendship. So in high school, I stopped hanging out with as much  to try to get over my feelings for you.”

He was still a little surprised by all the things you were saying. You were finally confessing your feelings for him, but he didn’t know that you felt this strongly for him. He couldn’t begin to understand why you felt this way about him out of all people.

“Now my feelings came back for you since we started being roommates. I thought I would be fine, but sometimes seeing you come out of the shower and even walk around in just some sweatpants really gets to me. I—”

He stopped your rambling love confession with a passionate kiss. It felt sincere and comforting all at the same time. He placed one of his hands on the side of your cheek and lightly caressed it with his thumb.

“Look, I fully understand how you feel about me, and I like you too. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was hoping that hooking up with other people would distract my feelings towards you, but it hasn’t been helping. I sometimes imagine the girl I’m with is you—”

“WHAT? You’re such a pervert, you know that?”

"Says the one who secretly watches and gets off to the thought of me," he retorted.

“You know what? Touche. I guess we’re both crazy about each other. I’m just glad to hear you like me too. I genuinely didn’t know you felt this way about me.”

“Yeah, I’ve always known. All my sisters would do is tease me about it. They always tell me just to tell you, but I was always scared you didn’t see me in that way.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled back at him. “Of course, I see you in that way. But what about the girl you were supposed to go on a date with?”

“Oh, I actually was never going to go through with that date with her anyway. I planned on flaking on her since I assumed this was going to happen—”

“Wait, how did you know this was going to happen?”

“Oh, please. It was a matter of time before you fell for my amazing charm,” he said playfully.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light punch on his arm. He acted like it hurt and said, “Ow, what was that for?”

“For being too cocky. Also, you're evil for using that girl to try and get to me—”

“Oh yeah? But that doesn’t matter because I belong to you now.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at that moment. He always knew what to say to make you feel overwhelmed.

“And now our first date can be at that restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to! We should go there next Friday!”

“Alright, it’s a date!”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You’ve been dating for almost a whole year now, and things have been going great. Both of you always go out on cute little dates, and he treats you well. At first, your relationship had a rocky start because you found it very hard to trust him. I mean, it’s only fair since he used to be a big player. But ever since he got with you, he has completely changed as a person. It was almost as if he had a soft spot when it comes you.

One day, you and him were assigned a group project with this other girl, Lia.

Now, you always thought something was off about her from the day you met her. The way she would act around Hendery really rubbed you the wrong way. She always laughed at something he said, even though it wasn’t funny. She would even find a way to touch him, whether it was playfully punching his arm or his thigh. You even brought it up with Hendery, and he just said that you were making a big deal about it.

“Look, babe, I think you’re overreacting a little bit. Me and her have always been friends ever since high school.”

“Um, I don’t know, I’m serious, Hendery, something is off with her. Whenever I would text her about the project, she would either not respond to me or respond days later.”

He was actively getting ready to go to his friend Yangyang's birthday party. Hendery doesn’t go to parties as much as he used to before, but since this was for his best friend, he had to make an appearance. He was putting his shoes on now and he was almost ready to go. You weren’t planning on going with him because you didn’t feel so good. He offered to stay with you, but you didn’t want to get in his way because he was looking forward to the party. He even planned most of it.

“Look, honey, I’m sure Lia doesn’t like me or anything. Last I heard, I think she’s talking to someone.”

That gave you some relief knowing that now. You almost felt bad for painting this evil picture of her. He could tell how anxious and worried you looked. He walked up to you and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Baby, if you're worried that much, I won’t even stay long at the party. I will go and make sure everything is ok and come back home, alright?”

You nodded, and he gave you a kiss goodbye as he walked out the door, leaving you alone in your shared apartment.

Fast forward, it was starting to get pretty late and Hendery hadn’t come home yet. But you didn’t let it bother you because a big fear of yours is that you didn’t want to seem too needy and clingy to him. You called him once, and he didn’t answer and left him a couple of text messages, but he hasn’t seen them. You just told yourself he was busy trying to make sure everything at the party was going well, and you didn’t want to be in the way of that. So you decided to go to sleep at this point because you were tired of waiting for him.

It’s 2 am now when you get a phone call, but it is from your best friend.

“OH MY GOD, you need to check what I texted you just now. It’s crazy, and I’m sorry this happened to you, but I had to be the one to tell you,” she exclaimed.

“Well, what is it-”

“Look, my phone is about to die and I can’t stay on the phone for long so just look at the photos I sent you alright?”

“Fine.” She instantly hung up and you went straight into your messages with her. 

What you saw that night completely changed you forever.

It was photos she took, and it was of Hendery and Lia being together.

He never mentioned that she was going to be at the party, and all the photos made you want to burst into tears. You could see that she was sitting in his lap, and he looked very happy to be with her. There was even one photo where he had his hands around her waist, and they were making out with each other. In the last photo she sent, it looked like Lia was leading him to a room upstairs, so you already knew what probably happened next.

Hendery just cheated on you.

Not only did he belittle your feelings on how you felt about her, but he made it seem like everything was ok when in reality he just wanted to get into her pants. It makes you begin to question whether all those late nights when he said he was at the "gym," he was actually with her instead. It makes sense why she would feel so comfortable touching him in the first place. All the pieces start to come together. No wonder she used to be so passive-aggressive with you all the time and so dismissive.

She was jealous of you and wanted Hendery for herself.

Before all of this happened, you and him started to become a little more distant. You would always ask him if it was something you did, but he would always reassure you that it wasn’t your fault. You began to blame yourself for all of this happening. If only you had encouraged him to stay home with you, none of this would have happened. Tears started to pour down your face, and you were continuously sobbing. You just couldn’t believe he would do something like this to you.

Here you thought that Hendery had changed.

So you decided to confront him about it when he came home. You went straight into the living room and sat there until he came back.

Some time passed, and now it’s almost 4 am. You had fallen asleep for a bit, but you were awakened by the front door being opened. He tried to shut it softly, almost as if he was trying to be sneaky. But you turned on the light and gave him an intense death glare.

You were furious.

Rightfully so. Your childhood best friend, now boyfriend, not only cheated but broke your trust. You could never trust him or look at him the same way ever again. He gave you a look of fear, almost as if he was afraid of you. You got up from the couch and started to walk towards him.

“So, what happened to you coming home early, huh? Do you realize what time it is right now?” You said in a serious tone.

“U-um yeah, Yangyang wanted me to stay longer, and I-”

“Are you serious? Hendery, if you’re going to lie to me, don’t use your friends as a cop-out.”

He gave you a confused look, and he couldn’t register what you were talking about.

“Hendery, I know you were with Lia tonight. I saw everything.”

The look on his face was almost priceless. You had never seen him look so worried and scared for his life.

“I don’t know what-”

"CAN YOU JUST STOP LYING? I gave you a chance to be honest with me, and now you want to lie to me not once but twice. God, you're such an asshole.”

“Oh, I’m the asshole? You wait for me to come home this late to make lies and assumptions about Lia after I told you-”

You cut right to the chase and showed him all the pictures on your phone.

He immediately wanted to fall to his knees at this moment. He has now been caught, and there are no excuses for what he has done to you.

He tried reaching out to grab your phone and said, “Hey, where did you get those-”

You swiped your phone and backed away from him. When he was approaching you, you caught a whiff of alcohol coming off of him.

He was clearly very intoxicated right now.

He hasn’t been this drunk since last year when he would come home late after parties. He was clearly unstable right now because he could barely. You almost started to feel a little worried for him.

“Was I not enough for you, Hendery? What did she have that I didn’t?”

He gave you a dazed look because he genuinely didn’t know how to respond to this. Even he couldn't understand why he did all of this in the first place. Ever since he has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't been to any parties and didn’t have that much fun. That’s why he originally planned this one for Yangyang. But he didn’t even know that Lia was going to show up. One thing led to another, he just kept on having drinks with her, and he couldn’t stop it.

 Just for one night, he didn’t even think about you.

“Look babe, I don’t know why I did it, okay? I will be honest with you, I used to have feelings for her a long time ago, and I was even going to take her out last year and-”

“Wait a minute, the night that I confessed to you, you were supposed to go on a date with her? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Well, I thought I was completely over her, so I didn’t feel the need to tell you-”

“Oh, you’re such a jerk. You lied to me and told me I was overreacting and that it was just all in my head. You made me feel stupid, and you said she was talking to someone else. Was that all a lie too?”

“Technically no because she lied to me too.”

“And you think that’s supposed to just make things better? You’re such a terrible person; I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“It’s not like you’re any better anyways.”

He hit a nerve with you. You knew that because he was drunk, he was probably saying things he didn't mean, but you couldn't stay calm anymore.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me, sweetie. You’re just as bad as me. All you ever do in this relationship is control me and don’t let me be free. You stopped me from going out to parties as much, and I barely go out as much because of it.”

“Are you actually stupid? I didn’t say you couldn’t go; I just didn’t trust you because I knew some shit like this was going to happen. You’re starting to really piss me off now.”

“Then how about you just shut up then-”

You gave him a hard slap on his face. He had finally crossed the line. He was clearly upset about what you did, and he pushed you against the wall, causing one of the photos to fall against your arm and onto the floor. It scratched your arm a bit, and it was evident it was going to leave a mark.

“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” you yelled at him in anger.

He pinned you against the wall and looked down at you with frustration. You had never seen him this mad at you before. He had never been this violent towards you, and you were starting to feel scared of him.

He just started crying out of nowhere and tried to caress your face with his hands. “Baby, I’m so sorry and didn’t mean to hurt-”

“Get out now.”

He looked shocked and almost surprised by your response.

“If your ass is not out of here by the morning, I’m calling the police. I don’t want to see you ever again. Do you understand me?”

He instantly regretted all the things he had done to you. He knew you were serious because you had never spoken to him like this before.

"Me and you are done, Hendery."

You push him off of you and go straight into your bedroom, throwing all of his clothes and stuff out into the living room. He keeps begging and pleading for you to stop, but you ignore him; you have made up your mind at this point.

“Babe, please, I’m sorry. I clearly drank too much, and I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you. I promise we can fix this, and I'll do better-”

“NO, WE CAN’T. What don’t you understand when I say get out now? We’re done, and frankly, I just want you out of here immediately.”

“B-But where am I going to sleep tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You should’ve thought of that before you went out and cheated on me. Here's all of your stuff; get out of here now.”

“I live here too, you know-”

“Well, not anymore.”

He starts to accept this outcome. He knows that nothing he could say or do could change your mind. He starts to make his way over to the front door and gives you a look of guilt. He really messed up this time; he was not only losing his girlfriend but his best friend.

“Oh, I know it’s too late to say this, but happy one-year anniversary.”

Holy shit.

You lost track of the time, and you realize that today was indeed your one-year anniversary with him. The fact that all this had to happen on the day of your anniversary makes everything even more painful. He closes the door behind him, and you never see Hendery ever again.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Seven years had passed, and you had established yourself in your career. You got a job offer that brought you back to your hometown. Three months into this new job, you had become close with your coworkers, who invited you out for drinks to celebrate. Excited for a night out, you dressed in your favorite outfit and headed to the bar, catching an Uber to meet your colleagues.

Little did you know, Hendery happened to be at the same place too. At first, he didn't notice you until Yangyang pointed you out.

"Hey, isn't that-"

"Yeah, it is her. I haven't seen her since we broke up. She looks so different now."

"Dude, I know. You were stupid for cheating on her in the first place."

“Tell me something I don’t already know. We probably would have still been together now if I wasn’t such an idiot."

As time passed, he began to miss you and being in a relationship with you. He longed for your company and missed all the time you had shared. Every day, he regretted hurting you and wished he could’ve fixed the relationship.

“Well, I don’t think it’s too late to properly apologize. Besides, that was years ago, I’m sure she is probably over it by now.”

“Oh, I know for a fact she is not. I really broke her heart, and she is not just going to move on from that.”

You were not over it. You still get triggered when you think of him. Even now, you don’t want to forgive him at all.

But another part of you still missed him.

You often imagined how life would have been if he never cheated. You envisioned feeling happy and fulfilled being with him. But he made his choice, and it was to not be with you.

“I wish I could just-”

He stopped as he noticed you laughing with one of your male coworkers. You were sitting pretty close to him and looked like you were really intoxicated. You were pretty much a lightweight and tended to get pretty “friendly” when drunk.

Hendery felt a little jealous seeing you with someone else. But he knew you guys haven’t been with each other in a very long time, so of course you would move on from him. It still hurts to see you with someone else.

“Dude, you're staring way too hard at her,” Yangyang said.

“No, I’m not,” Hendery replied as he looked away from you.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

"So much," Hendery replied with a sigh.

“Listen, I say you go talk to her and try to work things out. Even if she doesn’t forgive you, give her a better apology than before.”

He was right.

The night you and Hendery broke up, he was too intoxicated to even give you a proper apology.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to talk to her right now-”

“Woah, do you really think it’s a good idea? She looks pretty occupied now, and maybe you should talk to her after-”

“No, it has to be now. What if I don’t get an opportunity like this again? This is my sign to do it now.”

Yangyang nodded his head as he watched how Hendery made his way over to your table.

As he approached you, your whole demeanor started to change. You went from being carefree and happy to anxious and irritated.

“Unbelievable. I thought I never had to see your face again,” you said in a harsh but serious tone.

All your coworkers at the table noticed the shift in your behavior. They had never seen you so angry before.

“Look, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but can I-”

“Can you what? Make a fool out of me for the 2nd time now? Not in front of my friends. I would appreciate it if you leave now.”

Things started to get uncomfortable not only for you but also for your coworkers.

“It will just take like 5 minutes. Can we please just talk-”

“What is there to talk about? Just leave me alone. You’re pissing me off even more than before."

The guy sitting next to you noticed how your body was starting to shake a little. He didn’t know why the two of you broke up, but he saw that he was making you feel uncomfortable. So, he decided to do something about it. He sat up and placed a hand on Hendery's shoulder.

“Hey man, just back off, alright? She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you. So I suggest you—"

Before things escalated, Yangyang intervened to break up the altercation between your coworker and Hendery before things got messier.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but let's just step away for a moment," Yangyang said, attempting to defuse the situation.

"Wait," you exclaimed.

Everyone at the table turned their attention to you, curious to hear what you had to say.

"Um, that won’t be necessary, Yangyang. I'll hear Hendery out and see what he has to say," you announced.

Your coworkers were shocked by your decision, and the one who had tried to defend you earlier asked if you were sure about it. You nodded in response.

Yangyang stepped away, and you followed Hendery to a table in the back where your conversation wouldn't be overheard.

Hendery stared at you, struggling to find the right words. You were just as beautiful and intimidating as ever. 

“Uh, are you going to say anything to me or just keep on being a creep?” you asked.

He let out a soft chuckle and said, “Nah, it's just you're still so pretty, and you look so different now.”

“Yeah, it's because I've been happier since we broke up.”

“Ouch, okay, I deserve that. Look, what I did to you was so wrong, and I don’t know how I can make it up to you. I'm seriously sorry for—”

“Oh, don’t act like you care now. You know, after we broke up, a small part of me was waiting for you to come back to try and make things right, and I hated myself for feeling that way. To have given you the benefit of the doubt, but you know what you did instead?” 

He looked worried about what you were going to say next.

“You decided to go back to your old ways and sleep with every girl you see, and you didn’t even try to text or call to give me a proper apology. It’s almost as if you wanted to find a reason to break up with me so you could go back to being a whore again.”

Hendery was a little hurt and taken aback by what you said. He knew you were a little buzzed and tended to speak bluntly because of it.

He hated that you were right about everything.

“Okay, you’re right. I was being childish, and you have every right to hate my guts right now. But that's why I want to make things right between us—”

“Make things right? Are you serious? You made me feel stupid all these years, I thought that I did something wrong and I wasn't enough for you. You made it seem like I was the problem.”

“Listen, I know none of this is okay, and you don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to hear me say that I’m sorry.”

You started to get up and said, “Well, you should’ve told me that seven years ago.”

He stopped you from walking away, grabbed your wrist, and said, “Look, I shouldn’t have cheated on you, and I should’ve just communicated how I was feeling about you. Instead, I was too much of a coward to say anything. I am a different person now.”

You rolled your eyes, as if you were going to believe anything he said. He was just saying this so he could find his way back into your life.

“Yeah, right? You've changed?”

You sat back down in your chair and crossed your arms at him.

“Actually, I have. I stopped drinking so much that I only do it on occasion now. I even went to therapy, and it really helped me out a lot. Probably the best thing I could’ve done for myself.”

He said this with such conviction, and it seemed genuine. He maintained eye contact with you, and that’s how you know he was telling the truth. Whenever he lied, he could never look at you in the eye.

You were starting to believe him.

Maybe you were being too harsh on him. It had been over seven years since you last saw each other, and people can change in that amount of time.

Even someone like Hendery.

You finally started to come around and cracked a little smile.

“Fine, I guess you have changed. The old you wouldn't have tried this hard to apologize to me.”

He was shocked when you initially turned around and decided to forgive him after all this time.

"So, do you forgive me?" he asked.

You were a little hesitant at first but decided to nod your head yes. He let out a sigh of relief as if a weight was being lifted off his chest.

“I forgive you, but it will take some time for me to accept you back into my life. I mean, we were really good friends, and you messed up our friendship as well.”

“I know, and I want to apologize for that too. My sisters would come after me for being such an idiot.”

“Oh yeah, how are your sisters? I haven’t talked to them in so long since I moved away.”

“They’re good! They always hoped that we would someday be good friends again!”

You guys began to catch up more, and it was starting to get pretty late. Your coworkers approached you and asked if you were coming with them, and you said you were going to stay back and talk with Hendery some more. As time went on, Yangyang had left too because he didn't want to interrupt what was going on between you two.

It was now midnight, and you had no ride home.

“Hey, I have no problem taking you home. Unless you’re not comfortable with that—”

“No, I don't mind. I don’t live too far away, so you can drop me off.”

He nodded, and you got into his car and sat in the passenger seat. You guided him on how to get there. Suddenly, it started to rain really hard, and it was getting harder for him to maneuver his way around. Eventually, you arrived at your place. You offered him to come inside, just until the rain started to dial down. He agreed, and you both ran inside into your apartment building. You made it into your room and put all your stuff down.

You were so focused on getting inside that you didn’t realize how Hendery's clothes were drenched in the rain, and his hair was wet. His wet clothes were clinging to his figure, making you see the outline of his body. He pushed his long hair back to stop it from covering his face.

Why were you still so attracted to him?

“Hey, your clothes are very wet. I can put them in the dryer for you.”

"Aw, thanks, I appreciate it."

He starts to take off his shirt, but you stop him.

"Whoa, you don’t have to do that in front of me. Just go to the laundry room, and I'll find you a t-shirt or something."

"Oh, please, don’t act like you've never seen my body before. It's just like when we were roommates, right?"

"Yeah, but it’s different now... just go put your clothes away."

He agreed and put his clothes in the dryer. You gave him one of your baggy shirts to wear while he waited. You sat on the couch and got comfortable, keeping a normal distance from each other. You talked more about life and what you've both been up to since being apart.

"So, whatever happened to Lia? How long did that last?" You said playfully, knowing their relationship was bound to end.

"We didn’t even last a week."

You started laughing hard, and he chuckled a bit too. You both knew he never actually liked her and just jumped at the first opportunity he had.

"Of course, it didn’t. What happened with that?"

"So, apparently, I was too 'boring' for her, and she wanted to be with someone more fun."

"That’s so stupid. God, I really never liked her. Still don’t know how you tolerated her."

It was crazy how you both went right back to the way things were. It felt purely platonic between the two of you, and you could freely talk about anything. It didn’t feel weird or awkward at all. You both were mature about the situation.

"So, what about you? I'm sure you dated some guys after we broke up."

"Surprisingly, not really. I had to heal and work on myself afterward. I didn’t meet anyone until after I graduated. I tried hookups, but they didn’t really help. So, I waited to be in a relationship with someone, and I did."

Hendery was very curious about what you meant by that.

"So, what happened with him?"

“So, the relationship ended a couple of months ago, and it was pretty off and on. We just weren't going to work out since I had to move back here. We didn’t want to do long distance, so we just broke up.”

You were so deep into the conversation that you didn’t notice how close Hendery sat next to you. He was only a knee's length away. He patted your shoulder and said, “Dang, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Ah, it’s alright. It was completely mutual, and yeah, it still hurts me a little. That’s why I went out with my coworkers to drink tonight, to try and ease the pain.”

“Wait, really? Now I feel even worse. I ruined your night out by dumping myself back into your life—”

You grabbed onto his arm and said, “Oh no, you didn’t ruin anything. Actually, a part of me is glad you did that. I missed having my best friend in my life.”

He smiled and got up from the couch, walking around your place a little bit. He looked at all the pictures on your wall and noticed the cracked photo frame that he broke the night of your breakup. It was a photo of you and him when you were kids.

“Whoa, you still have this? I can’t believe I hurt you that night. I really shouldn’t have done that.”

You got up and made your way over to him, replying, “Yeah, it’s fine. Plus, I struggle to let go of things, so I've kept it ever since. Also, look, the scar is still there too.”

You lifted up your sleeves and showed your arm to him. He had a guilty look on his face, and all this just made him feel even worse. He still couldn’t believe that he put his hands on you. Even though the scar was just a little scratch, he still felt terrible. He looked over to another photo, and it seemed to be a photo of you and your ex. He picked it up and said, “I’m assuming this was him?”

“Yeah, I tell myself I will get rid of it, but I just can’t bring myself to do it, you know?”

Hendery knew exactly what you were talking about. He still had photos of the two of you when you were dating. He looked back on them every now and then to reminisce on all the good memories you had together. He knew that you were in a vulnerable state in your life right now. You broke up with your boyfriend a long time ago, and you’re still trying to cope with it.

But, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted you right now.

He feels terrible, but he can’t help it. You were wearing an off-the-shoulder baggy shirt with some shorts. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He felt like such a creep for having such lewd thoughts about you, and he didn’t know how long he could take it anymore.

"So, where's your room?"

"Nice try, but that's not going to work on me."

"What are you talking about? You're the one making it weird. I just asked a simple question."

Maybe he was right. You had been in your head a lot recently, and you tended to overanalyze things. He just wanted you to give him a little tour of your new place. You led him into your room. He saw that you kept it very simple, and instead of having lights on, you had candles lighting up your room. You both decided to chill there and play some music. Then, you started to talk more about life and didn’t even realize you were both lying side by side with each other on the bed. He then noticed a mysterious box you had next to your bedside table.

"Hey, what’s in that box next to you?"

You began to panic and forgot to put it away in your drawers. You couldn’t think of an excuse off the top of your head, and you said, “Oh, it’s nothing, you just reminded me to put it away-”

"Okay, now I know you’re lying to me because you always stumble on your words when you do that. Let me see it."

He tried to reach over you to get it, but you stopped and started to play fight with him. You were trying to push him back enough so you could secretly hide it somewhere when he wasn’t looking. You don’t know how this happened, but he is now on top of you and pinned your hands above your head with one of his hands. You were squirming under him and started to laugh at your struggle.

"Let go of me now."

"Aww, but where's the fun in that? Let’s see what you’re hiding in here."

He grabbed the box and opened it, and to his surprise, he saw what you were trying to hide so desperately.

All of your sex toys.

When you were together, you never really had any, probably just one or two. But this box was filled with so many things, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Wow, I didn’t know you liked all of this."

You started to become embarrassed by this situation, and the position you were in wasn’t making it any better.

“L-look, it’s not what y-you think. I-”

“Oh, don’t try and explain yourself now, sweetie. I knew secretly you were probably into a lot of things.”

He knelt down to your ear and whispered, “But I couldn’t ever imagine you being this much of a slut.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you felt your body go limp. It’s been forever since he talked to you like this before. It was as if his whole demeanor had changed, and he was starting to get serious.

“Well, people change, you know? I’m not the same person you used to be,” you said in a flirtatious manner.

He felt himself start to become hard for you. The way you looked so fragile and weak under him, with you pinned down with one of his hands, was really doing something to him.

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“Oh, really now? I want to see this new version of you, so let me just-”

You had some handcuffs in the box, and he decided to cuff you to the headboard of the bed.

“U-um, what are you doing? I don’t think we should-”

“Come on, baby, don’t act like you don’t miss this. I mean, look at you down there?”

He took off your shorts, and he saw a wet spot formed in your panties. You were too embarrassed to say anything.

“Mhm, don’t act all shy now. This is only just the beginning. Let’s try using this on you-”

He lowered your underwear down past your ankles, and now you’re left in nothing but your t-shirt. He grabbed one of your vibrators and started to use it on you. You let out a loud moan from the sudden sensation you were feeling on your clit.

“P-please, slow it d-down-”

He brought it a level higher than before and started to laugh at you. He enjoyed seeing you trying to keep it together.

“God, you look so pathetic right now, and it’s actually kind of cute.”

You started to tense up a bit from his words. He started to spice things up by shoving one of his fingers into your aching pussy. You let out a loud scream and quickly covered your mouth with his other hand.

“Shh, baby, you don’t want your neighbors to find out what’s going on here. I need you to be good for me and try to keep your voice down,” he said in such a calming tone that it was starting to put you at ease. But you spoke too soon, and he added a second finger into your cunt. He was thrusting into you at a rough and hard pace. Tears started to form in your eyes as you bit your lips to hold back your moans.

“F-fuck, if you k-keep this up I’m going to-”

“I know, so why don’t you cum for me, okay?”

You nodded his head as he set your vibrator to the highest setting and continued fingering you at a rougher pace. When you came, he removed the toy and his fingers, then used his mouth to clean everything up. This took you a little off guard, but you felt satisfied.

You couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

He took off your handcuffs, and you felt like you were going to pass out. But Hendery took off his shirt and lowered his sweatpants down to his knees. You could see his hard-on protruding through his boxers, clearly aroused by you.

“Oh, we are not done yet, sweetheart. I’m not fully satisfied yet, and I can’t hold back anymore.”

He took off your shirt, and your chest was exposed to him. You felt the cold air on you, and that made your nipples start to perk up.

“You look so pretty, how can I ever resist you?”

He grabbed both of your legs and placed them over his shoulders, shoving his cock into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you let out a loud moan. He wasn’t slowing down either. He was desperate for you, pounding into you with a rough and hard pace. He lowered his head to your chest and started to kiss all over your tits. He couldn’t help himself, and he had been wanting to do this to you all night. He started sucking on one of them while groping and squeezing the other with his hand. Then, he switched and repeated the same actions on the other boob. You were practically seeing stars at this point and didn’t know how long you could last.

“P-please, I-I don’t know if I can-”

“Yes, you can. You've done it before in my mouth, and now I want you to cum all over my cock.”

He was being so blunt, and he knew exactly what he wanted from you. He began thrusting aggressively into you and wrapped his hand around your neck. He felt you tighten up when he started to choke you, and he took note of that.

“Aww, you like this, don’t you, baby? You’re so needy for me, it’s adorable.”

There he goes again, making you feel all flustered for him. It was starting to become humiliating for you.

“Ah, shit, I’m going to cum soon. Do it at the same time with me, please,” Hendery exclaimed.

You nodded your head, and he went faster than before. The headboard of your bed was aggressively hitting the back of your wall. You knew for a fact that your neighbors were hearing all of this right now. But you didn’t care. You were lost in your own world with him, and nothing else mattered to you right now. You both started to be loud for each other and you eventually both finished at the same time. He was bottoming out inside of you and didn’t stop until he was satisfied.

You both fell back, side by side. Looking up at the ceiling, you started to question if this was really happening. Secretly, you both had thought about this before. Hendery turned to face you and said,

“Hey, I wanted to say I’m sorry for putting the moves on you this fast. I mean, you're still recovering from a breakup and-”

You stopped him from talking by kissing him. He was a little startled by this, but he wrapped his arm behind your waist and brought you closer to him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything. Tonight was amazing, and it was the first time in a very long time I had someone make me feel this good.”

“So what about your ex?”

“Well, he was… interesting to say the least.”

“He didn’t make you cum sometimes, huh?”

You punched his arm playfully and began to laugh. “Yeah, he wouldn’t, and sometimes it was so bad I had to imagine it was -”

Shit, why did you have to say that? You were practically delirious because not only were you still trying to process what just happened, but it was 3 am, and you said anything that came to mind since you were very tired.

“Wait, what?”

“Uh, nothing…”

He grabbed your chin and had that condescending look on his face. “Come on, honey, tell me what you were going to say.”

You felt flustered again and said, “Fine, I sometimes would think about you so I could finish afterward.”

“Oh wow, to be honest, I would sometimes think about you too.”

You playfully slapped his arm and said, “Pervert.”

“Says the one who used to secretly watch me all the time.”

“Touche.”

You both laughed it off and cuddled for the rest of the night. You wondered what happens next from here. You both still have feelings for each other and didn’t want to walk away from this.

“So, how do you want to take things from here?” You said.

“Well, I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything. If you just want this to be it, I’m completely okay with that.”

“No, I missed what we had, and I don’t want this to be the end.”

“So, what are you saying?”

You sat up from the bed, and he did the same as well. You crossed your legs and faced him in his direction. You grabbed his hands and looked at him, saying, “I want us to get back together.”

Hendery had a worried look on his face.

“Are you sure about this? I really hurt you last time, and I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

“I’m completely sure now, and I know you've changed since the last time we saw each other.”

He nodded his head and gave you a kiss on the lips. He spent the night at your place, and from that point on, you took things slow. You were both just happy that in the end, you found each other again…

#wayv #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv scenarios #kpop smut #nct fic #nct reactions #nct fanfic #ten smut #wayv fanfic #wayv fanfiction #wayv imagines #wayv hard hours #ten x reader #wayv fic #yangyang x reader #yangyang smut #hendery x reader #hendery smut #xiaojun smut #xiaojun x reader #winwin smut #winwin x reader #kun smut #kun x reader #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wong kunhang

[eternalslover]

Where are all my Shang Chi lovers like come on

LIKE LOOK AT HIM, HE IS SO POOKIE BEAR BBG, AM I THE ONLY ONE THAT LIKES HIM!?

I NEED MORE SHANG CHI LOVERS, WRITERS, REBLOGGERS

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[raz-writes-the-thing]

Tenth Doctor NSFW Alphabet

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

TENTH DOCTOR NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ten is the cuddliest being in the entire universe after sex. Cuddles, kisses, snuggles. He’s basically a barnacle. He adores giving you cuddles just as much as he receives them. I also feel like he’d absolutely adore nuzzling his nose against your jaw and/or neck. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of his own are his teeth/hands.

His favourite body part of his partner is their eyes. One of the most important things for him in a partner is their eyes. Being able to see compassion, kindness- love in someone’s eyes. There’s nothing that makes him fall in love faster. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ten can cum a lot. Something to do with Time Lord genetics. When they mate, they mate to conceive (biologically speaking) so whenever Ten ejaculates, there can be a lot if he’s not had any for a while or if he’s been edging. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

A dirty secret of Ten’s is how much he fantasises and thinks about rubbing his cock against your clit/dick. It’s one of his favourite things, and he thinks about it way more than he should. He has- on more than one occasion, rubbed his thumb over his sonic screwdriver and thought about putting it inside you too. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ten is experienced. He’s lived for 900-odd years. He hasn’t had a plethora of partners, but he’s had enough (both longer-term and one-night) but he’s experienced enough to know what he’s doing and how to get his partner exactly where he wants them. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He’s not fancy about it, but he adores being able to look into your eyes as he brings you pleasure. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the circumstance. Generally speaking, he’s more romantic than goofy, but he also believes that if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex- they’re not the one for you. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not shaved, but he’s not unruly either. He’s neat. Trimmed. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ten’s all about the intimacy. He’s all about soft loving looks, hand-holding, and adoring caresses. He’s so romantic (most of the time) that it’s almost sickening. Even when he’s rough, he’s still romantic. Check-ins, kisses, reassuring touches and smooches. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ten tries not to jack off too much since he has you, but he’s not opposed to jacking off in the shower if you’re not in the mood. He also has a bit of a thing for you watching him jack off. There’s just something about it that gets him hot and bothered. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair-pulling. The man is OBSESSED with having his hair pulled. He’s pretty sure he could cum untouched from that. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

TARDIS console room or his bedroom are his two favourite places to do it, but he’s not picky. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing touches and sultry looks will get Ten going faster than anything. A brush over his shoulders, a light pat on his bum. If he’s feeling dominant, teasing him will definitely get him going. Behaving bratty and ignorant of how your words, looks and touches impact him will definitely have him all over you as soon as possible. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Knife or gun-play. It’s not for him. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, but he enjoys receiving, too. Mostly when he’s feeling submissive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on the circumstances. If he’s feeling submissive and is receiving, he wants it loving but fast. He wants toys or cocks jackhammering into his ass. If he’s feeling dominant, he likes to make it slower and more sensual in order to tease you. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ten isn’t huge on quickies. He enjoys them, but he’d much rather be able to take his time and really enjoy the moment with you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ten is open to experimentation, but at 900 years old, there’s not much he hasn’t done that isn’t a huge no-no for him. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ten can last about five to seven rounds before he starts to tire. That Time Lord biology does not quit. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ten likes toys. He likes to use them on his partners more than receive, but having you fuck his cock with a fleshlight? Well, lets say that did something to him that he was not expecting. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he’s dominant, he’s very unfair. Or he can be. It depends on how naughty you’ve been. When he’s submissive, he’s only teasing when he wants to be punished. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ten isn’t super loud, but he’s not opposed to making some noise, either. He’s louder when he’s being edged, for sure. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ten loves to have you ride him. He adores watching you on top of him and taking charge. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s not super thick, but he is quite a bit longer than the average human. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Ten’s sex drive is moderate. He’s not jonesing for it all the time, but he likes a good fuck at least two or three times a week. More if he’s really in the mood. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ten doesn’t really fall asleep very quickly after sex unless he’s gone about eight rounds. That will tire him out like nothing else. Because he doesn’t fall asleep quickly, he likes to brush your hair and lull you to sleep on his chest for a while.

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