#a rare moment of compassion

[riddle-me-fear]

How old are you two?

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

A! Preposterous! Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady about her age?!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Waih... How old am I?

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Seriously? You're 49, turning 50 this year.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Damn, really? Shiiit. Well, at least I can jus' say I'm 50 from then on.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Oh Jesus Chri-- Why is it that every time I think you can't get any more intolerable, you do?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Wha' can I say, I'm a natural.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Hn. Well, anon, I stand by my answer, you won't get my age from me.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

37.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

...

...

Ok, excuse me, but-- WHAT?? HOW can you POSSIBLY know MY age, when you can't even remember your own?!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

I dunno, I jus' do.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Nonononono, you don't "jus' do" anything for no reason; how did you know how old I was? Hmm?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

...

I don't think tha--

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Ah!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

But Ed I--

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Ts-s-s-suh! You tell me. Right now. No "but's".

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Ughh, fine. I keep track of yer age, so I don't fuck it up on yer birthday card. I know how much ya despise yer birthday an' ya get real existential every time it rolls around again, so I make sure I remember everythin' an' just make it a lil tiny bit more tolerable. Cuz nobody ever remembered yer birthday or yer age, an' if they did, it was ta bully ya for it. I know ya be thinkin' ya wish ya wus never born every year on that one day... But I'm glad ye'r here, Eddie. I'm grateful that ya were born.

...

Ed?

You hear Edward sniffle, as you see him take off his glasses and hide his eyes behind his hands. He then speaks with a very shaky voice, which he tries to suppress but clearly fails to do so.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

I'm not crying, you're crying...

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Oh Eddie, baby... C'mere...

Jonathan's demeanor completely changes; he has a softness to him that he never displayed before. He takes Edward into his arms, who immediately leans into him and buries his face in Jon's chest. Sniffling even more, Ed desperately tries to keep his emotions down.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Damn it, Jon, why'd you... in front of...

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Hey, ye were tha one who pressed me on it. Wanna take a break an' let it out?

You see Edward just nod into Jon's shirt, who in response gives him a gentle kiss onto the top of his head. His behavior shifts back to normal, when he turns to speak with you.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Aight, uuh, thanks fo' yer question, uhm... Yeah, I'm 49, I guess, Ed's 37, so we're 12 years apart. An' yeah, we'll be takin' a lil break, an' be right back ta answer mo' questions. See ya.

[ask-mirage-mews]

[alevolpe]

So I just read your HCs, and I love how you characterized Ami as having autism. She was always my favorite character-- we even share a birthday-- and I'm glad that I'm not the only one who sees her as being on the autism spectrum.

I'm also not ashamed to admit that I teared up a little reading what happened to Luna. I love the relationship Ami and Luna have, both in the actual show and in your headcanon.

Thank you so much!!

I love that more people are open to the autistic Ami hc now. It was always a bit of a no brainer to me, but I understand why some people pushed the idea away.

That said I love her. I've mentioned before that even back a year ago Ami was prob my 4th or 5th fav, but getting to draw her and write her more and more (and a bit of Makoami magic lol) she has srly grown on me. She's still not my fav, Mako my beloved, but she has a serious soft spot in my heart, I go back to her a lot for comfort.

So I'm always so super happy when people tell me they like my characterization of Ami.💙

Her and Luna's relationship is something I srly wanna explore more.

I see Ami as an outcast, but not really cause her peers actively dislike her, but cause Ami has chosen to distance herself from them, deciding to focus on her studies and academics instead.

This lack of interaction with people her own age has made it difficult for her to relate with them, being actually much easier to interact with people older than her (since that level of informality is never broken and that's where Ami is at her most comfortable).

I see Luna as a middle-aged woman at least and for her, connecting with Ami was easy since the beginning, even if it took her a bit for Ami to warm up to the idea of this 'new reality'. Ami does not want to do this. She said it to Luna since the beginning, initially refusing to aid her and turning her back on Luna's offer to become a senshi.

Though Luna stuck around, not only cause this is her mission, but also because she saw a loneliness within Ami (despite Luna's mission being JUST to reawaken the senshi, she couldn't overcome her maternal instincts). Ami is initially perplexed by this, but slowly starts to warm up to Luna, enjoying her company, her talks, her advice, her compliments, affirmations..

I can see a conflict within Luna at this point, coming to care about this girl, but feeling extremely guilty about her behavior, being very easy to be read as, well, grooming, for a lack of a better term. Tho Luna genuinely cares.

I think multiple factors influenced Ami to finally try being a senshi a go. Seeing someone being attacked by monster (which had Ami initially just simply ran away from it, Ami's but a simple human, powers or not, she's scared), an odd sense of responsibility put on her (Ami being an extreme people pleaser, if an authority entaskes her with something, she feels a sense of duty and drive to make the person proud), but ultimately I think the major factor was Luna.

Luna is the primary reason Ami became a senshi (refresher to the join order of the girls in my AU: Ami awakens first with Luna, then Rei joins, then Usagi). It's not easy, in fact it puts a severe strain on her, both physically and mentally, but Ami pushes through, for Luna. Eventually made easier (and harder in some ways) by the avdent of Rei joining the team.

Loosing Luna is something that will keep resonating withAmi throughout the series. It's like loosing a second mother, especially since Saeko has been fairly absent through her life (though Saeko will be more present, suspecting something is up with her daughter and she will genuinely try to "mother", Saeko is a disaster, in many ways more than Ami herself).

She will start asking herself why she is even doing this anymore, since Luna's not here, who is she even fighting for anymore? It's a very selfish question, she's aware, but I think it's a form of coping from her part.

Despite asking such a question constantly, she never makes to leave, she would never, she knows she can't, cause she cares too much about her friends. She knows she's now fighting for them too, but this would be the first time such thought would be a conscious reflection in her mind, having had Luna be such a central staple on her mind for so long.

Unknowingly, Luna had eased her among loving peers. It was never all easy, they had fights and they will have more, but Ami finally belongs. It's a bitter sweet feeling for her.

Ami loves her team.

At this point, she cares so much about Usagi, being the first to show her how to "friend". Starting as just an odd aloof girl that joined her team, to seeing her as a girl who always strives to make others happy. Bringing cheerfulness into team since the very first day, something that Ami became so accustomed to, she would never realize how much she would miss it til having to go back to an empty apartment, color seeming to drain along the walls in the lack of her presence. A simple genuine smile, something that seems so simple, yet so rare, Ami cherishes it so dearly.

And Rei.. Rei's complicated, she likes to make herself as such. Ever since the beginning, Rei seemed cold, refusing Luna's offer like Ami had done prior. Though this time, Luna just seemed to run in a wall every time she went to the temple. Talks, explanations, pleads, bargains, nothing seemed to work.

"I can talk to her if you'd like"

She really didn't want to, but for Luna, she will. The talk went as well as you expected it, an incredibly frustrated Rei trying to deal with recent accusations of her temple attracting mysterious attacks on students. Despite that, Rei didn't try to physically ward off Ami like she did with Luna many times (Luna is still pretty scared of that broom).

"Did that dumb cat send you? Listen, I have a job to do here, so you either get to the point or you get out of my way."

...

"So?"

"My name is Ami, Ami Mizuno" offering her hand to Rei to shake.

...

*Sigh*, Rei unashamedly pinching her nose in frustration. "If I shake your hand will you tell that dumb cat to-"

"Luna"

"What?"

"Her name is Luna"

"Yes! I know her name! She's been harrassing me in my own house for the last 2 weeks! Alright, listen. I don't know what kind of program you guys are a part of and I have no interest to know, but let me put this into clear terms so that maybe an actual 'person' might understand this better than a stupid cat. NO! Now scram, I'm busy!"

.. "..." "ok" bowing and turning to leave.

That night, something akin to guilt seemed to boil within a restless Rei Hino. She knew it wasn't due to how she confronted the girl, she had all rights to be angry! Tho a seemingly related vision of the girl with blue hair, lying perfectly still in a pool of what seemed to be her own blood stuck with her.

Rei will tell herself that she joined the team to get Luna to stop harrassing her and that the team NEEDS her. Like, come on, how is such a team meant to go on without the grandiose Rei Hino leading them to victory?! Earth would have no shot. HA!

Rei would never admit part of the reason she did join, was Ami, seeing the girl get hurt, or possibly killed, haunted her. She blamed Luna for this. Ami should've never been a part of this. Ami's weaker, almost fragile combat figure seemed like a cruel joke to Rei. Seeing the girl even shivering from her powers (Ami's not immune to her own powers), the small girl curled up into a ball in a desperate attempt to keep herself warm in a relatively cool night. With a loud sigh and exaggerated movements, Mars made to cup Mercury's hands.

Ami, being obviously perplexed and put off by this, but almost too weak to pull back, finding comfort in her companion's warmth after having to endure numerous and stressful post-fight recory sessions with nothing but the comfort of helpless Luna offering her kind words of encouragement.

It would take a while for both Ami and Rei to fully come to terms to the idea that they were 'friends'. When the newly recruited Usagi asked, Ami had no answer ready, which is extremely unusual of her. 'Friends? Are me and Rei friends? We're companions, teammates, we never really hang out outside of missions or just studying silently at the temple', though Ami enjoyed her presence. Except when Rei was needlessly rude to Luna, Ami enjoyed being around her. It didn't feel quite as lonely, even if they never openly spoke about their lives, hobbies, families... 'I guess we're not friends'.

Ami hated being so logical at times, but she couldn't help it.

Throughout the season and into season 2, this relationship between the two grew stronger, especially due to the 'Usagi' phenomenon LOL. Making it so effortless to bridge the two into more intimate moments outside of uniform. A mission to check on an amusement park became a fond memory for Ami. A picture taken of the 3, looking so much like the pictures she'd see of her school piers sharing among each other of their 'hangouts'. Funny how that worked.

Rei and Ami's friendship would def have its highs and lows, mostly stemming from Luna and how differently each girl would see her. Ami being very capable of holding a grudge toward Rei's treatment of her. All of it reaching a terrible boiling point at the moment of Luna's death and discovering about Rei vision. Again, Ami was absolutely blinded by rage and grief. She loved Rei. Rei's no murderer, but she let her primal emotions take over and with the events of season 2 after that, the two never got a moment to grief or a moment to reconcile. Rei still holding a massive grudge toward Ami, refusing to even speak to her outside of sailor business, while Ami is eaten by grief and guilt.

Mako being her main source of comfort at this point (Usagi tries, but she also has her own demons to fight still). The previously mostly unknown, if nice, tall girl that joined her team late, seeming to take steps to take care of a broken Ami, offering support, food, and and a shoulder to cry on.

Luna's influence will be felt by the team and not forgotten. Ami especially will carry her momery forever.

Idek why I wrote ell this LOL. I feel inspired at times , srry 😅.

Thank you for the ask <3.

[autisticidolfan]

Fuck it, posting #Compass fanart

Tried to make the drawing look like a chalkboard drawing, turned out pretty good but I think the background is a little iffy

[goose-change-in-my-pocket]

Superman: Secret Origin

[mxtxfanatic]

@illuminatedferret YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!!!!!

Probably the stupidest, most reckless but undeniably bravest thing Mu Qing did in the entire novel was coming forward to Xie Lian with the truth about the missing golden foil.

[dollishmehrayan]

TRAITS THAT MAKE BATBOYS FALL INLOVE W YOU INSTANTLY ── .✦

a/n: genuinely I feel like as a enfp, idk what traits happen tbh oml, but literally i love romance but um 🧍🏻‍♀️ nobody asking me out fr fr (i barely go fucking outside) but anyways sorry if I haven’t got to your requests yet, I have like 7 to get to but I’m preparing for my birthday.

(Tags: batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Playful and Fun-Loving: He adores someone who’s not afraid to be silly. If you randomly burst into song or dance around the kitchen, he’s HEAD OVER HEELSS.

Emotionally Supportive: He falls harder for someone who understands his emotional side and offers support without judgment. Bonus points if you can coax him into sharing his feelings.

Affectionate: Physical touch is everything to him—whether it’s holding hands, surprise hugs, or running your fingers through his hair. He thrives on it.

Independent but Loyal: He admires someone who has their own goals but always makes it clear they’re in his corner. Seeing you succeed makes him proud.

Quick-Witted: If you can match his playful banter, it’s game over. He loves someone who can keep up with his teasing and give it right back.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Stubborn but Soft for Him: He’s drawn to someone who’s tough and stands their ground but melts when it comes to him. That contrast makes him fall harder.

Protective: If you subtly look out for him, like reminding him to eat or wrapping him in a blanket when he’s tired, it shows him how much you care, and he’s done for.

Dark Humor: Jason adores someone who gets his sarcasm and can laugh at his dark jokes without getting uncomfortable.

Courageous: He’s impressed by bravery, even if it’s in small ways—like standing up for yourself or others. He loves seeing your inner fire.

Comforting Presence: If you know how to calm him after nightmares or offer quiet reassurance during rough times, he’ll fall deeper every time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Curiosity and Intelligence: Tim falls harder for someone who’s curious about the world. If you ask deep questions or challenge his thoughts, he’s fascinated.

Nerdy Interests: Share his love for books, tech, or even video games, and he’ll fall head over heels. He loves geeking out with someone.

Kindness: Simple acts of kindness—whether to him or others—hit him hard. Seeing you help someone in need makes his heart swell.

Organized Chaos: If you’re the type who looks like a mess but somehow has everything under control, he’ll be utterly charmed by your efficiency.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Strong Moral Compass: He’s deeply drawn to someone who stands up for what’s right, even when it’s difficult. He admires unwavering integrity.

Loves Animals: Show kindness to animals (especially his pets) and he’ll be secretly touched beyond words. Bonus if you win Alfred the Cat’s approval.

Quiet Strength: He admires someone who doesn’t need to be loud to command respect. A calm, steady demeanor paired with strength is irresistible to him.

Artistic Talent: He’s captivated by creativity. Whether it’s painting, writing, or music, he falls harder if you’re passionate about your art.

Challenges Him: He loves someone who won’t be easily intimidated by him. If you call him out or challenge his views respectfully, he’ll be impressed—and smitten.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Compassionate Heart: Bruce is drawn to someone who cares deeply for others. Seeing you be kind, even when it’s inconvenient, melts his guarded heart.

Grounded and Calm: He falls harder for someone who brings peace into his chaotic life. If you’re calm and collected, especially in stressful moments, it soothes him.

Loyal and Trustworthy: Loyalty means everything to Bruce. If you’re fiercely loyal and trustworthy, he’ll feel safe in ways he rarely does.

Subtle Strength: He admires quiet, inner strength—someone who doesn’t need to boast but stands firm when it matters.

Sense of Humor: A soft, gentle humor that can get him to crack a rare smile or laugh when he’s brooding pulls him in deeper every time.

[frogblogger18]

It's striking how often emotional vulnerability, particularly when expressed by women, is weaponized against them. You see it in conversations, in arguments—whenever a woman dares to reveal her pain, it's instantly flipped back on her as a character flaw. She s "too sensitive" or "just hurt." It s rarely framed as a natural human reaction. Men's dismissal of women's safety concerns reflects a broader societal issue of control and dominance. When women take steps to protect themselves, men may mock or undermine their efforts, revealing a desire to keep women feeling unsafe. This behavior is rooted in a need to maintain power over women, making it difficult for them to assert their autonomy and independence. Sex work debates within feminism often revolve around the tension between protecting workers and dismantling the industry. While liberal feminists focus on decriminalization, radical feminists argue for broader systemic changes that address the root causes of exploitation. They advocate for providing women with the resources and opportunities needed to escape the sex industry, rather than simply regulating it. Conversations about women s emotional pain often reveal a strange dynamic. Rather than responding with compassion, many men will throw out comments like "you re just hurt" or "who hurt you?" as if pain is something to be ashamed of, something that should be hidden. This isn t just a lack of empathy—it s an active attempt to belittle. But what lies beneath this impulse to degrade emotional expression? What is being protected or avoided in these moments? Marriage as a tool of patriarchal control often leaves women financially and emotionally dependent on men. Feminists critique the institution for trapping women in systems of inequality, particularly in divorce, where property and custody battles tend to favor men. Theres no such thing as too funny when it comes to peanut butter spreader. Theres no such thing as too funny when it comes to peanut butter spreader.

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Perhaps the only one, but the sentiment remained.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that haunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love

pairing | young aemond x vampire!reader

word count | 4.1k words

summary | aemond becomes obsessed with his mother's newest lady-in-waiting. he seeks her comfort after aegon takes him to the brothel.

tags | AFAB reader, older woman/younger man (more like older girl/younger boy), delusional aemond, angst/comfort, aemond pov.

note | my first time posting, also I really wanted to see what it would be like with a vampire in hotd, PART 2 coming soon.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

He was ten and two when Aemond Targaryen first laid eyes upon your bewitching figure. At first, he was convinced it was a mere trick of his own mind, a mere mirage conjured forth by imagination and longing.

Clad in a resplendent gown of deep wine red, you appeared nothing short of ethereal, your skin seeming to glow beneath the vibrant hue of her attire. Your hair, intricately braided into an elaborate updo, lent an air of regal sophistication to your youthful appearance. It was no wonder that you had swiftly ascended to the ranks of his mother's most esteemed ladies in waiting.

Despite his tender age, Aemond was keenly aware of the profound allure that you exuded. You could not have been more than eight and ten, and yet you possessed a rare and ineffable grace that captured his young heart with an instantaneous and profound intensity.

In that fleeting moment of their initial encounter, he became resolutely certain that, when he came of age, you would be the one he would take as his wife.

He despised them. The sheer sight of Aegon and his nephews filled Aemond with deep-seated resentment. It was a reminder of the injustice he felt deep in his bones. Aegon and those bastards, useless and undeserving, had been gifted with dragons, while Aemond, a true warrior, was left without one. As if to add insult to injury, they had gifted him a lowly pig, a cruel mockery of his situation.

Consumed by anger and grief, Aemond could not contain his rage any longer. He stormed into the Dragon Pit, the heat and fury of the dragons surrounding him. In the chaos, he narrowly escaped being burnt alive, only to find himself scolded by his mother.

And then he was seeking solace in her arms. Rare as it was for her to offer comfort, Aemond clung to her, desperate for any shred of comfort in the face of his overwhelming emotions.

Before their moment could fully settle, a soft, melodic voice filled the room. "Your Grace - Oh, I apologize for interrupting," your voice wafted into the chamber, causing Aemond to hastily pull away from his mother, his back turned as he hastily wiped away the traces of dirt and tears from his face.

Aemond straightened his posture and steadied his breath, turning to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes filled with genuine concern and compassion. He felt a pang of embarrassment as he realized he had been caught in such a vulnerable moment.

"It's alright, My Lady," his mother, Alicent, reassured you as you approached them. Aemond couldn't help but notice the weariness in his mother's expression. Did comforting her son take such a toll on her?

Alicent gave Aemond a brief, tightening look before turning to her lady-in-waiting. "Perhaps you could see my son back to his chambers," she suggested, her tone laced with a hint of exasperation.

It was clear that his mother was eager to pass him off to her lady in waiting, but Aemond couldn't bring himself to feel too upset. Since his lady love happened to be the one assigned to escort him, he had no complaints. Despite their six-year age difference, Aemond was confident that once he reached his maturity, their age gap would no longer matter.

"Of course, Your Grace," you said with a respectful bow of your head. Your gaze slowly shifted to the prince, and he nodded as he made his way out the door, with you following close behind.

"You're wondering about my appearance," Aemond murmured softly, his focus fixed straight ahead as the two of you strolled through the corridors of the Red Keep.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and Aemond savored the sound, filled with pride knowing he had elicited it. "Tis not my place to ask questions, My Prince," your warm voice filled his ears, "But judging by the ash and dirt on your fair skin, I would venture that you were likely at the dragon pit."

"It's unfair," Aemond grumbled indignantly, feeling an unjust injustice in the situation. Immediately, he wished he could take back his words, realizing that he had unintentionally come across as childish when he was supposed to be displaying to you his maturity and wisdom.

"The world can be cruel and unjust, My Prince," you replied with a saccharine sweetness in your voice, "But that is why it is imperative for you to assert your authority and take command of your destiny."

Aemond angled his head to catch a glimpse of your elegant profile, admiring not just your physical beauty but also the astuteness of your words. "And how can I accomplish that?" he inquired.

You turned to meet his gaze, your eyes locking and causing his heart to skip a beat. You bestowed him with a subtle yet meaningful smile before you said, "By refusing to accept a life you do not deserve."

"And what of you," Aemond inquired, "What do you believe you deserve, My Lady?" If you were to marry him, you would lack nothing; he was prepared to grant you any request you might make.

"It’s difficult to say," you murmured, tilting your head thoughtfully. Even that Aemond found endearing, "Some individuals believe they are worthy of the entire world, whereas I value simplicity."

Aemond raised an inquisitive silver brow, "Simplicity?"

"Stability and security. A serene life," you explained. Then you glanced down and offered him a warm smile, "Perhaps we can continue our discussion another time, your grace."

Aemond was scarred. Left disfigured and crippled, condemned to a life of one-eyed hardship due to the foolish actions of his bastard nephew. He had once thought it a fair exchange, an eye for a dragon, but now, lying in his chamber chambers, sedated by the potent poppy milk, he questioned his own judgement.

Aemond frowned as he noticed they had reached the doors to his chambers. Before he could utter another word, you nodded courteously and departed. He was determined to offer you a serene life. As his wife, he would spare no effort in providing for you. And in turn you would be his serenity.

As he lay there, disabled and near death, he longed for your presence. Perhaps that was why he willingly surrendered to the effects of the poppy milk, for it allowed him to see you in his dreams. He took solace in slumber, for it was there that he could find you, if only in his mind.

But despite his yearning to see you in waking life, a part of him hesitated. He did not want you to witness the repulsive scar that marred his once-perfect face, especially the swollen and oozing scar where his left eye once was.

The pain from his injuries radiated through his body, a burning fire within him that consumed all other emotions. Aemond's thoughts turned to vengeance, as he vowed to take back what was stolen from him. His mind was set on becoming the best warrior in the Seven Kingdoms, one to surpass even his uncle, Daemon Targaryen, and he would not rest until he had retribution.

He would not accept a life he did not deserve, as his lady love had told him. With the biggest dragon in the world by his side, Aemond was determined to become even better than his past self. And then, you would be his. His lady love would be his wife, and together, you and him would rule with fire and blood.

He longed to shed his skin. The scorching heat in the chamber had become unbearable. The wine she had offered him churned in his gut, causing him to fight the urge to expel it.

Following the feast of Aemond's thirteenth nameday, Aegon had hinted at a surprise for him. Little did Aemond know that his elder brother would lead him into the depths of a pleasure house. Without a chance to protest, Aegon vanished into a sea of bodies and silks.

Next, Aemond found himself ensconced in a chamber bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles. Obscene tapestries adorned the walls, depicting the most intimate of acts between man and woman. And then, a woman entered. She was of an age exceeding even that of his own mother.

She cooed at him, showering him with soft words and adulation. Soon, she was touching him, disrobing him. Aemond wanted to protest, to scream for her to stop, but his vocal cords betrayed him. His body quivered as she caressed him, whispering into his ear.

Once it was over, Aemond was left in a daze. His body no longer felt like his own. Swiftly, he scrambled to dress himself, fleeing the brothel in a disheveled state, He didn't care where Aegon was, all he could think about was reaching you.

His heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the secret passageways of Maegor's Holdfast, his lungs burning with each desperate breath and tears falling down his pale cheeks. He bypassed his own chambers and his mother's, instead making a beeline for the guest wing where he had roamed many times in an attempt to get a glimpse of you.

Finally, he reached her door and pounded on it frantically, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to compose himself. He had to see you. He needed you.

As the door creaked open, his eye widened with the realization that you and him had not spoken since he had lost his eye, and he had carelessly left his eye patch behind in the brothel. He feared that you would see his disfigurement. Before he could flee, however, the door swung open.

You stood before him, ethereal and captivating. Your locks cascaded down, some strands delicately tucked behind your ears. Cloaked in a deep crimson silk robe, which accentuated your graceful form.

Though your initial expression seemed perturbed by the intrusion, it quickly softened as your gaze fell upon Aemond. Your eyes wandered over his disheveled appearance and his one glassy eye, and a wave of concern washed over your features.

And without a second thought, he threw himself into your soft body, wrapping his arms around your waist as he laid his head against your stomach. Almost instantly his tears returned and after a moment, your arms came around him hesitantly, offering him your comfort.

Gently, you extracted yourself from his arms and offered your hand to him and without hesitation, he took it. Your skin was soft, yet cold, providing relief to his overheated body. You led him into your chambers which was simple and minimalistic, but all Aemond could focus on was the coolness of your touch.

Guiding him to the chaise in your chamber, you gently urged him to take a seat. As you walked away, Aemond mourned the loss of your touch, but you soon returned with a goblet in hand, offering it to him.

With a hint of wariness, Aemond took a tentative sip, finding the water refreshing. He greedily drank, while your worried eyes remained fixed on him.

As he finished the water, you placed a hand on his wrist, your concern evident in your touch. "You must tell me what happened, my prince," you urged, your voice soft but determined.

Aemond’s gaze turned away, a tempest brewing in his heart. “Shall I summon your mother, then?” you suggested, your tone a mere whisper laced with concern.

At the mention of his mother, Aemond’s eye snapped back to yours, desperation flickering in his gaze. “No. No, please don’t do that,” he pleaded, his voice a hushed urgency.

Swallowing hard, Aemond felt the weight of his brother's casual cruelty descend upon him. “Aegon,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, “he said it was a surprise. A rite of passage, he called it. He told me it was time to… get it wet.” He faltered, the memory crashing over him like waves against a rocky shore. Closing his eye, he inhaled sharply as his pulse quickened, “I can still feel it. Her hands were everywhere, warm and suffocating. I didn’t know how to make it stop... so I just waited until it was done.” Pain and confusion tangled in his chest, threatening to spill over.

He felt your gentle touch then, your hand gliding from his wrist to envelop his own in a tender squeeze. “Oh,” you murmured softly, your voice a balm against the chaos within him

But as you slowly withdrew your hand, a wave of panic surged through Aemond, tightening his grip on yours. “No…” he breathed, desperation creeping into his tone. You hushed him gently, your grip reassuring as you leaned closer. “Calm yourself, my prince. I intend to run you a warm bath, to cleanse you of the filth from that place.”

He nodded, though a nervous knot twisted in his stomach, and watched as you glided away into the adjoining bathing chamber. As Aemond took in the chamber surrounding him, he noted its unadorned simplicity. No treasures adorned the walls, no personal tokens to lend a semblance of warmth or familiarity. Yet, a heavy goblet rested on the table before him, catching his eye. The reddish liquid within gleamed like blood in the dim light, causing a shiver to race down his spine. He forced his gaze away, willing himself to ignore the unsettling thought as he waited for your return.

Moments later, you reemerged, the soft fabric of your robe trailing behind you. “Your bath is ready, my prince,” you said gently, cradling in your arms a neatly folded bundle of his clean clothing.

“How did you retrieve my clothes so swiftly?” Aemond asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You averted your eyes, but he caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Your chambers lie but a breath away from mine."

But his chambers were on the other side of the castle?

Aemond's heart raced, not out of insecurity concerning his form — for he considered himself a Targaryen, and his lineage was his strength. Yet, the hole of his left eye gnawed at his pride. You met his gaze with an equal measure of courage, undeterred by the scar that marred what once was a handsome countenance. It was still the body of a boy, and though he was thirteen, he could not shake the flicker of embarrassment that flared in his chest.

Stealing a furtive glance towards you, Aemond found comfort in the fact that your eyes were cast downward, filled with allocation rather than scrutiny. With a swift motion, he shed the last vestiges of his clothing, and with that, slipped into the warmth of the steaming bath. As the water enveloped him, a sense of relief washed over him, mingled with surprise. The oils that swirled within the bath carried your fragrance, soothing and familiar, reminiscent of sunlit fields and the gentle sway of blossoms in the breeze.

"Shall I fetch a maid, my prince?" You asked, your voice soft and gentle. Your eyes finally settled upon him, he could detect an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"No," he replied curtly, his tone sharper than intended, the remnants of his pride still gnawing at him.

Aemond could hear you hum softly as you came to kneel by the edge of the bath, your fingers trailing in the water as you offered him a placating smile, radiating warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill of the world outside. Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on you as you began to scrub away the remnants of what had happened just before.

“Does it still hurt?” you asked softly, your eyes momentarily flitting from his face to the scar that bisected it before you continued your ministrations, your cloth gently gliding over his skin as if to erase the memories of that night.

“Stings sometimes,” Aemond replied, a shadow of shame dancing across his features.

You nodded, your hands deftly working to cleanse his face, but your gaze lingered on his empty eye socket—an echo of loss and pain that pierced deeper than any physical wound.

He cast his gaze downward, feeling the familiar pang of discomfort rise. “It’s… ugly,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

With an unexpected tenderness, you cupped his face in her hands, guiding him back to meet your gaze. “No, my prince,” you countered softly. “Not ugly. Merely different, a testament to your strength. You might even adorn it, you know.”

Adorn it? Aemond raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite the prickling pride that flared. “With what?” he asked, fixing his single violet eye upon you, momentarily captivated.

A gentle smile danced on your lips, a flash of mischief flickering in your expression, illuminating your features in the dim light. “Why not place a jewel in it, perhaps? What’s your favorite jewel?”

He shrugged, a habitual defense against showing too much of himself. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice low.

The question hung in the air as you added, “Mine are sapphires."

Aemond’s thoughts drifted momentarily, recalling the dresses you had worn, swirling fabrics in hues that bespoke your grace. A pang struck him; “I’ve never seen you in blue.”

You shook your head dismissively, your eyes averted, as you responded, “It does not suit me, my prince."

“Impossible,” he mumbled, the word escaping in a barely audible whisper. He found it hard to believe you could not wear something so exquisite and innocent as blue, just as he found it hard to believe himself worthy of your affection. You were a jewel in your own right, far surpassing the treasures of the crown and the markets.

Once Aemond was freshly scrubbed clean and clad in his simple garments, the flickering torchlight cast shadows upon the stone walls of the Red Keep. You regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Are you ready to retire to your chambers now, my prince?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's heart sank at the thought of leaving your presence. The heavy weight of what had occurred a few hours ago felt more burdensome than ever. He cleared his throat, struggling to imbue his tone with the command expected of a Targaryen, "I wish to stay here."

Your brow furrowed slightly, and he could see the hesitation in your eyes, but you nodded nonetheless, leading him back toward your bed where you made to arrange the bedding around him. His lone eye followed your every movement, drawn to the curves of your form and the gentle way you tended to him. As you turned to leave, Aemond’s instincts took hold. With a swift motion, he grasped your wrist, his grip tighter than he intended. "Stay with me."

Your expression shifted to a sternness reminiscent of his mother, a reminder of the propriety and decorum that governed your lives. "That would be most inappropriate." Your tone was firm.

"Please," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near pleading softness.

With a heavy sigh that betrayed your weariness, you succumbed to his request, moving to the far side of your bed and, to his joy, sliding beneath the sheets. Aemond felt a rush of daring coursing through him like wildfire; he subtly shifted closer, resting his head on your chest. For a brief moment, he feared rejection, his thoughts racing to the taunts of his nephews and the ache of the void left by his lost eye. But then, as if sensing his need for solace, your arms enveloped him, warmth flooding through the cold shadows of the brothel.

In that cocoon of stolen intimacy, Aemond found refuge. The bitter weight of Aegon’s taunts, the pain of his injury, and the disquiet of the brothel faded away like whispers in the wind. He was no longer Aemond, the one-eyed prince; he was simply a man seeking comfort from the woman he loved.

Weeks after, Aemond strode into his chambers with the weight of the day's demands heavy upon him, only to halt in his tracks at the sight of a delicate gift-wrapped parcel resting atop his oaken table. Unease prickled at the edges of his mind as he approached, an unfamiliar crested insignia embossed on the fine paper hinting at its sender. With practiced grace, he unwrapped the offering, and there within gleamed a sapphire so vivid it whispered of the sea’s depths, glinting alluringly in the candlelight.

A smile unbidden flickered across his features, for he knew—knew it was from you. A token of your affection, bright as the glory of House Targaryen itself. It swelled his heart, igniting a warmth that had grown chill. He could envision your soft gaze as you selected the gem, the way your laughter danced through the air like the sweetest song.

Determined to express his gratitude, he spent the day scouring the halls of the Red Keep, threading his way through the throngs of courtiers and servants, all the while searching for your familiar figure. But fate, it seemed, had conspired against him. The hours slipped by like sand through his fingers, and as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows throughout the stone halls, bitterness sank into his bones.

After the evening meal, his resolve led him to seek his mother. With a furrowed brow, he pushed the door ajar and entered, expecting to find answers from her. But the sight that greeted him was far from comforting. Alicent sat hunched over a letter, the wax seal shattered beside her, her expression dark and heavy with unspoken words that lingered in the air like the scent of damp earth before a storm.

“Aemond?” she murmured, as if startled from a reverie, her voice a mere whisper, laden with melancholy.

He watched her for a moment, his previous thrill of joy eclipsed by her obvious distress. “What troubles you, Mother?” he ventured, stepping closer.

Alicent lifted her head, her expression a fragile mask that crumbled the moment she met his gaze. A semblance of a smile teased her lips, but the sorrow beneath was palpable. “All is well, my son,” she lied.

He knew the bond his mother shared with you, the girl who had nestled herself in the depths of his mother’s affection, unlike the numerous ladies-in-waiting who flitted about like storm-dodging sparrows. To Alicent, you were not merely a servant but a girl she cherished as if you were her own blood.

But Aemond’s sharp eye caught the glimmer of distress that lingered in her tone. He advanced further into the room, his gaze honing in on the parchment that lay forgotten in her delicate grasp. “What is it?” he pressed, his heart beginning to thrum in his chest, sensing the foreboding weight of something unsaid.

Alicent's voice was tinged with sorrow, a shade that unsettled Aemond's heart as she whispered the name of his beloved, “It is from her.” The chill of her words struck him like winter's breath. “She has decided to leave the Keep."

In that moment, it felt as though the very foundations of King's Landing trembled, the walls echoing his anguish. Aemond's heart tightened painfully, a dragon's fang sinking into his chest, yet Alicent remained blissfully unaware of her son’s turmoil as she set the letter down upon the polished mahogany table before turning away, her silhouette retreating into the shadows of her room.

Stinging tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eye. You could not have forsaken him; you would never abandon the bond the two of you shared, so why had you departed? Aemond seized the letter, his hand shaking with urgency, his eye darting across the elegant script. You had spoken of a deep homesickness, a yearning to reconnect with your family. You graciously thanked his mother for her kindness during your stay.

Yet, amidst your carefully penned words lay an abyss of uncertainty. No mention of where you had gone, nor any promise of when—or if—you would return. Only your name, signed with elegant flourish and the seal of your house—a sigil that felt as foreign to Aemond as a stranger’s face.

— Mikaelson

[desireangel]

Bad Things | Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond is plagued with doubts and seeks refuge in the one place where he is at peace with himself; between his beloved wife's legs.

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only!! this is so in Aemond's thoughts, self doubt, lack of remorse, smut, oral (f receiving), talk of sex, slight breeding kink, Aemond is lost in his head and obsessed with eating his wife out, Aemond may be prince regent of Westeros but he is king of eating pussy, unedited, hmm kinda just porn really - let me know to add anything if need be!

Author's Note: Came home drunk (typos??? potentially. unnecessary droning on??? potentially.) after a couple cocktails and had the urge to erm write. About oral sex specifically, of course. Anywayssss, enjoy (I hope!) - xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist!

Sometimes Aemond let his mind wander to all that could have been and all that could come to be had he only made his decisions differently. He seldom felt regret - never felt as if he would change the things that have led him towards the path of greatness he was on. But what ifs and the memory of failures are as stubborn as a newborn plague and Aemond was just as vulnerable to illness as those whom he revered and those whom he detested. 

It was warm under the light of the setting sun, a kiss on his skin as Aemond rested against the balcony at the window and watched over what he longed to have for himself. If things had been different, at any time and any place, where would he be now?

The thought of living his life without his injury had come to sicken him but it lingered at the back of his mind. Had certain moments taken a different turn, would he still feel the need to drive people to respect him through fear and prove himself worthy at every chance he could find? Aemond swallowed at the thought. And he stood there, looking to the skies as if the clouds could free him from the suffocation of the feelings that had haunted him since the night he lost his eye. 

Feelings of failure, feelings of defeat, feelings of fear and feelings of humiliation. 

Even after meeting you, and understanding that loving you meant different things - things he wasn’t familiar with, things he wasn’t sure he was capable of becoming familiar with - the lingering thought of what if was all consuming.

Aemond could hear you coming seconds before you were beside him. He was thankful you stood by his side, silently and wordlessly as your eyes dragged across his face, analysing what you could of his thoughts from his perfected emotionless expression. Quiet moments like this, where Aemond got lost in his mind grew fewer at each move he made within this war.

But here you both were, silently in each other’s company. Aemond was a passionate lover. But he was also at times a cold and imperfect partner. And some of those times where he retreated into himself, although he had rarely lost control of himself in front of you, left him vexed at your presence.  

Because to Aemond, you were perfect. Frustrating at times but that was often the fault of his own lack of patience and tolerance. You were, at the end of the day, too perfect. He saw your compassion, your empathy, your kindness. And he saw your strength, your wit, your fearsome loyalty.

And here Aemond was, unable to even regret many of the times he acted without any of those perfect things. After the fate that Lucerys had met, Aemond found he could not find it in himself to feel remorse for much else. 

You let your fingers graze along the leather sleeve on his arm, your light touch burning into his skin through the fabric. He closed his eye and kept it closed for minutes of silence that felt like hours before he spoke lowly.

“I have done bad things.”

You sucked in a breath. “Would you be here today if you had not done those things?”

“No, you do not understand me. I cannot bring myself to care for some of the vile things that I have done. That I have caused. I should care, should I not?” 

Releasing a long sigh, you shifted on your feet. Aemond knew that you were different to him. You didn’t agree with many of his actions and decisions but you knew there was nothing you could do except to be there when he needed you. It had taken time to realise you couldn’t change the way he thought, the way he felt, the way he reacted to things - you weren’t sure if you truly, deeply wanted to take on that burden. 

As Aemond grew more honest with you, you had come to realise that when it came down to it he was not a completely good man. But he was good to you and while Aemond saw your strength, you knew you were weak when it came to him. Loyalty and love for your husband burned painfully in your chest no matter his imperfections and you never bothered to try to justify it. 

“Perhaps if I had acted differently, somewhere,” Aemond’s words were rushed, a switch from his normally slow drawl. He would curse himself tomorrow for his moment of weakness but he couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach. “Then I would not be the way that I am now.”

You stared at him for a moment. His expression was of ice and had you not known him the way that you do, then you would never have noticed the confliction in his eyes. “There is no use-”

“I know there is no use in thinking about what may have been, I know,” Aemond spat. 

“Alright,” you paused. “But you will never know what could have changed. You made your decisions, you were the author of your own fate, Aemond. ‘Tis the way things go - we must face it. What difference would it make if things could have been different? You cannot undo what you have already done.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked and he moved so that his arm hung at your waist. You briefly glanced back inside at the servant who prepared your nightly cup of tea at your bedside. Aemond seldom made a show of your relationship when you weren’t entirely alone. Nevertheless, you didn’t let your mind linger on that fact. 

He gazed down at you, his ocean-strong eye never failing to make your breath hitch and goosebumps to rise on your skin. You were relieved that he seemed to agree with your words. Aemond’s shoulders had lost much of the tension they held and the start of the sweet smile that was shared only with you played on his lips. 

He had to try hard to believe what you had told him. Because here you were, no matter what he did and no matter his lack of conviction, at his side and wrapped around his finger. You were the calming breeze that cooled his heat, you were the shade that gave him relief from the scorching sun and you were the water that flushed the burn from his skin. Aemond was not one to be an emotional man but he knew that he had love for you and your endless, boundless support. And he dreamed of how he would share with you the world that will one day be at his feet. 

“I shall share your bed tonight, my love.” Aemond’s words were as they always have been; smooth with honey but laced with venomous promises. You bit back a smile as he pulled you inside, addicted to whatever venom dripped from his words, from his eye, from him.  “And that shall serve as all the reminder that I need to be sure I have not been so misguided that I have lost my way to no return.” 

When he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, dragging it along your soft skin, he inhaled deeply. Aemond thought for a moment of how perfect it would be if he could bottle your scent and keep it with him forever. A reminder of the woman for whom he wished he could become a good, honest man. 

Your body felt so familiar to him that it made his mind turn quiet and Aemond could only think of having you closer, closer, closer. And it was never close enough, no matter how hard he squeezed at the flesh of your hips to pull you in, no matter how your breath tickled his skin and  how your eyelashes fluttered against his hair as he dragged his lips over your shoulder and along the side of your neck. 

If there were no roof atop your heads, you would have thought that it rained flames onto the both of you and to relieve the burn of it, you melted into Aemond, pressing yourself further into him and squirming for more as he grabbed at your nightclothes to toss them to the floor. 

You tugged hopelessly at the buckles on his tunic, whining. “Get it off, Aemond.”

Aemond didn’t need to be told a second time because hardly a moment later he was as naked as you were, pushing you until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed and you fell onto it gently. A strained groan fell from his lips as he let you pull him down with you, holding his face in your hands as he held himself above you with an arm beside your head. You gently removed the leather that covered his glimmering sapphire, sighing contently. 

Admiring Aemond as he was, bare and honest and beautiful had become your favourite way to see him. Without the need to hide any part of himself from you. 

Smirking, he let his lips graze yours softly. It was a stark contrast to the way Aemond’s other hand was roughly grabbing at whatever flesh he could hold, squeezing you and sending shockwaves straight through to your core. 

You could barely get the words out of you. “Kiss me–Gods, kiss me.”

And he did kiss you, his lips desperately clashing against yours with a new kind of vigour. Aemond rarely kissed you with such force, such rage and such raw, unfettered need. But as his teeth knocked against yours, catching your lip in between and drawing blood, he entertained the thought that maybe he did regret something. All of the kisses he never had the chance to give you. 

The air between you was charged with something sharp and electric, a primal energy that clouded your head and had you gasping Aemond’s name at the way he brushed his knuckle against your core. Normally, he would have taken his time with you. But despite the fact that you had the entire night ahead of you, Aemond was rushed and impatient. 

“Always so ready for me,” he murmured, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers rubbed through your slick folds, pulling a soft whine from you. Aemond’s cock twitched at the perfect sound and he ground his hips against the plush of your thigh. He dragged the pads of his fingers teasingly up from the slit of your hole to the hood of your clit, drawing teasing circles so softly you could have been convinced his touch was a figment of your fantasies. 

“Aemond, please-”

He shushed you softly. “Patience, my sweet.”

Aemonds lips, wet on your jaw, travelled down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbones. He nibbled at you, amused at the way you arched and squirmed, replacing his fingers with his cock and sliding it against your clit. When his lips met your nipple he sucked harshly with a flick of his tongue, giving your right breast hardly enough attention before turning to the other. 

It sent shivers down your spine and you were sure Aemond felt you shudder against him when his lips travelled lower, leaving a wet trail down your skin until he was finally just below your naval. Aemond turned his head, his teeth pinching the flesh of your thigh harshly, just above where your thigh curved into your pelvis. You squealed. 

“Hm,” He chuckled darkly, smiling up at you and shaking his head with a deep tsk when your legs instinctively moved to shut. His hands groped at your thighs and pushed them up so that you were folded yet entirely spread in front of him. “I will fuck you with my tongue first. And my fingers. Then I will fuck you with my cock and fill you with my seed, only after I have made you quiver and shake from the pleasure of my mouth on your perfect cunt.”

Aemond’s eye dropped to your sopping cunt and his words coiled in his throat, coming out as a muffled moan. You gasped as he lewdly spat, his head falling downwards in an instant, wave after wave of pleasure stealing the oxygen from your lungs as he sucked on your pussy, tongue weaving across your clit and back down. 

All of the loud doubts that plagued his mind turned into whispers of incoherence the moment his mouth met the velvety skin of your womanhood, Aemond’s favourite place to lose himself when his thoughts became unbearable. The tangy, sweet taste of your arousal pulled a deep growl from his chest and when your hips jerked against his face, he wrapped a strong arm over your hips to hold you in place. 

As Aemond’s tongue dipped into you, his lips latched on the expanse of your cunt, you let out a cry, your hand falling to his hair and pulling hard. Your body was hot with desire, thighs squeezing your husband’s head as he greedily feasted on the most intimate parts of you. He pulled away for one quick second to catch his breath before burying himself in you once again, the obscene smacking sounds of how he relentlessly sucked and lapped at your slit. 

For such vulgar noises, they had become increasingly beautiful. 

“I dream of staying here forever,” Aemond’s words were muffled, difficult to hear over your own whimpers and the movement of his lips on your folds had you bucking to follow his mouth. He hid his grin in your wetness. “I can do no wrong with the taste of you on my tongue.”

The pleasure that Aemond always submerged you was almost becoming overwhelming and you lost the ability to form sentences, muttering and mumbling in response. He could decipher his name, falling for your flushed lips so many times, and his eye flickered up to watch how your body climbed to the highest point of satisfaction where such a sinful act became heavenly. 

You were always beautiful, Aemond thought. But you were at your most beautiful when you came undone for him, lost in the throes of bliss and grasping at him as if you could not live for another second without his touch. He carried you through your orgasm, unrelenting as he greedily devoured every part of your pussy, looking up at you with his darkened eye and shining sapphire, strands of his hair that had come loose sticking to the wetness on his jaw. Aemond relished in the strangled, melodic sounds that you made for him. 

When you jerked away from him with a squeal, so sensitive when the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit that your hips bucked suddenly, Aemond pulled away while chuckling and placing featherlight kisses along your shaking thighs. He watched how your cunt continued to clench around nothing as you came down from your orgasm, the messy mixture of his spit and your arousal glistening under the light from the lamps. 

You let yourself relax into the bedsheets and moved to close your legs, tugging Aemond to meet you for a kiss and giggling when he stopped to quickly wipe your slick from his face. But before your knees could come together, he caught them, settling himself in between and you could feel the steady heat from his hardened cock grazing across the outside of your slit. 

“I think my pretty wife believes she is going to have a restful night,” Aemond teased against your lips, sliding a hand down between your bodies and spreading your folds once again to make way for his fingers. You shuddered against him with a mewl. “You are mistaken, my love, if you believe I will not have you full of my seed by the time I am done making love to you. I am a man of my word, am I not?”

[girlkisser13]

being married to remy lebeau would include

• the two of you are CONSTANTLY flirting with each other, even well into your marriage. he still flirts with you like he’s meeting you for the first time.

• remy is the king of romance, always finding new ways to surprise you with gestures of love— whether it’s leaving a single red rose on your pillow or whisking you away for a spontaneous weekend getaway to a secluded part of new orleans.

• while he trusts your abilities, he can't help but be protective. he’ll often remind you to be careful when you're apart, and if there's even a hint of danger, he's the first one by your side.

• this man loves pda, especially light touches, like a kiss on the cheek or gently squeezing your hand when you’re nervous or worried. he’s always touching you in some way.

• your life together is never boring. from stealing priceless artifacts to taking down dangerous enemies, you two are an unstoppable team. you both enjoy the thrill of a good heist, and remy loves showing off his skills.

• remy insists on cooking for you, especially his favorite cajun dishes. he loves the look on your face when you take your first bite, and he’ll often cook together with you, enjoying the process as much as the food.

• he’s always there to listen and support you, no matter what. he knows how to lift your spirits when you're feeling down and provides comfort in the most challenging times.

• whether it’s on a rooftop under the stars or in your living room, remy LOVES to dance with you. he’s an incredible dancer, and he’ll often sweep you off your feet, leading you in a slow, intimate waltz.

• remy is known for keeping secrets, but with you, he’s open and honest. you both share your pasts, knowing that your love for each other is stronger than any mistake you've made.

• despite his very flirtatious nature, remy is deeply loyal to you. he never gives you a reason to doubt his love, always making it clear that you’re the most important person in his life.

• remy is a night owl, and he loves spending the late hours talking with you. these moments are filled with deep conversations, laughter, and secrets shared under the cover of darkness.

• he is quite the gentleman. he’ll opens doors for you, pulls out chairs, and always insists on carrying heavy things. his manners are impeccable, even if his moral compass isn't always perfectly aligned.

• if the two of have children, he is extremely protective of them. he always makes sure to prioritize them and spend time with them.

• this mostly comes from his experience of being neglected and he doesn’t want his loved ones ever feeling that because of him.

• the two of you rarely ever argue, but when you do, it’s intense— remy’s fiery nature combined with his strong opinions can make things heated. but he’s also quick to apologize, realizing that your relationship is too important to let anything come between you. <33

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[wolfgang1097]

That depends. They're both intended to be equally ruthless, sadistic, and psychotic towards each other. Neither one is more good nor evil than the other. Other than that, they both probably do have standards to some degree. I mean, according to the wiki and as seen in the paperbacks, if I had to guess, Black has been shown to be empathetic towards civilians on some occasions (despite the fact that he did get a woman involved in a non-lethal prank aimed at White at least one time, I believe), which is something White usually exploits at any given opportunity. Another instance was one time when White pulled a prank on Black after the former read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; in the last panel, White actually did seem as if he felt guilty about how his trick went when he saw Black being taken to the nut house. So yeah, despite their hostility and psychotic demeanors towards each other, the male spies do have standards.

EDIT 12/08/2024: I have realized a few weeks ago that in Operation: Altered Ego, when Black was being taken to the nut house, White didn't feel guilty at all. He actually smiled about it. It may be hardly noticeable, but it's true. Still, he did have a rare moment of compassion towards Black, as seen in Defection, but that's obviously a long story.

White Spy has more empathy to Black Spy than vice versa. Huh?

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part11

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: time jumps, slut shaming(kind of?), daddy issues, pregnancy and everything about that, breakdown.

previous - next

5 Months and 1 Week Pregnant

It was one of those rare times when everything felt like it was going well. There was no need to lie; you were happier than usual. In the past, you’d wake up late and force yourself to cook, but now, it was like you had an internal alarm clock. You were up on time every day, and you even found some joy in cooking.

You preferred waking up to some noise in the house rather than silence. Having someone else there, hearing the sounds of cooking—it felt like loneliness had disappeared completely. And even though you knew it wouldn’t last forever, you were starting to get used to it. Instead of dreading the day it would end, you chose to focus on the moment.

Living with JJ wasn’t hard. If anything, it made life easier.

You hadn’t thought of him as so helpful before. The way he’d try to do anything you asked, the way he made you laugh effortlessly—it all deepened your bond with him.

He never asked for anything in return. Not a single thing. Yet, he was always there for you, without expecting a thing. That made you feel awful. You wanted to do something for him, to not leave his kindness unanswered. But deep down, you knew JJ didn’t expect anything from you; he’d help you regardless.

Despite growing up with a lousy father in terrible circumstances, JJ had developed a sense of compassion that made you question so much about yourself.

Not just yourself but the world around you. It was absurd how people raised in luxury and privilege often saw helping others as a sign of weakness.

If someone lacked the capacity for kindness, what kind of success could they truly achieve in life?

To you, the answer was nothing. They could own yachts, mansions, and cars—but without a pure and kind heart, what was the point?

These thoughts stayed with you, especially during Sarah and John B’s wedding.

It wasn’t anything overly extravagant, not that you expected it to be. Just a few close friends were there, and most of the faces were familiar. Seeing Cleo and Kiara as Sarah’s bridesmaids in their blue dresses was adorable. On John B’s side, JJ and Pope stood as groomsmen, both in suits with matching blue ties.

You never thought you’d see JJ in a suit in your lifetime. It just—wasn’t his style, and imagining it had always seemed impossible.

You followed every update on Instagram, curious. Everything looked sweet, perfect even. But what really surprised you was seeing the entire Cameron family at the wedding—even Rafe.

You had no idea they’d reconciled. You couldn’t have known; you hadn’t been close to Rafe for months. Still, you always had a sense that he regretted the distance he’d put between himself and his sisters when he was younger.

Even so, you never thought Sarah would be brave enough to reach out. Especially when you saw him sitting almost front and center.

But—it wasn’t your problem. You were glad they’d worked things out, and that was it. You didn’t want Rafe occupying even a corner of your mind, despite the fact that you carried a piece of him inside you.

The two days without JJ felt long. You couldn’t believe how quickly you’d gotten used to his presence, but apparently, you had. When he returned, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. You’d gained a housemate—it was just how things had turned out. The guest room you’d prepared for visitors had become JJ’s room.

When you saw him standing there with a suitcase in hand, you realized this was really happening—he’d moved in.

As the days passed, you got even more used to each other. It was...endearing. Until the day you woke up to the smell of something burnt.

You had no idea what was going on downstairs, but the house reeked. When you went to the kitchen, you found JJ trying to make breakfast.

He must’ve heard your footsteps because he turned to you with a half-smile, looking unsure of himself. Holding out a plate of slightly burnt pancakes with an open hand, he grinned proudly. “Ta-da!”

Your eyes darted to the table, where fresh orange juice and a few other things were set out, but you quickly looked back at JJ. “Don’t get the wrong idea—it’s not for you. It’s for the baby.” He set down the spatula and gestured to your belly before turning back to the stove.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Walking over to check the pancakes, you saw they were, in fact, burnt. “You know… I have a master’s degree in culinary arts. My specialty is actually being a chef, but... if you want to keep going, I’d never say no. My pancakes are perfect, of course, so you won’t top them, but—”

Your eyes fell on the charred pancakes again. You grabbed the spatula from his hand. “Step aside.”

He smiled as he moved without protest, leaning against the table to watch. There was no way you were letting either of you eat those burnt pancakes. Still, it was a sweet gesture. He didn’t have to do anything at all.

“By the way.” You glanced over from the stove to see him holding out a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Smiling, you took it. “Since you hate tea now, I thought maybe you’d like some orange juice. I squeezed it myself.”

You turned down the heat on the stove and smiled as you took the glass from him. “Thank you. That’s so thoughtful.”

JJ shrugged, his eyes wandering around the kitchen as you took a sip. You loved oranges—honestly, you couldn’t imagine life without fruit.

“Of course.” He leaned against the counter, watching as you flipped the pancakes.

“You seem a little off.” You glanced at him. He wasn’t his usual energetic self. It felt like something was weighing on him.

“I talked to John B.” His eyes were still fixed on the pancakes. You always forgot how good he was at hiding his emotions—except now. He looked too upset to mask it. “He kept saying he hadn’t seen me on the island. So, I told him I’d moved here.”

You waited, hoping for some kind of positive reaction, but his face gave away nothing. He didn’t look at you; his eyes stayed fixed on the frying pan. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head, what kind of conversation he had just had. 

And more than that, this was the first you were hearing about it. You’d been with JJ for days now, yet not once had John B—or any of his other friends—called him, as far as you knew. Or maybe they had, and you just hadn’t noticed. “What did he say?”

You set the perfectly cooked pancake on top of JJ’s charred pile, then turned to face him. One hand ran through his hair, ruffling it in that way he always did when he was feeling off. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

When his gaze finally lifted to meet yours, you felt like you could finally read the expression on his face. He looked hurt—genuinely hurt. You wished you could read his mind; it would make things so much easier.

“Did you tell him why you’re here?” you asked, your voice softened intentionally. You didn’t want to sound harsh, not even by accident. JJ straightened up quickly, shaking his head with conviction.

“This is about you. I’d never do that.” His eyes stayed locked on yours, like he was silently making a vow.

The last thing you wanted was for JJ to deal with this because of you. When you’d asked him to stay, you hadn’t thought too far ahead, hadn’t considered what it might mean. But you didn’t want things to turn out like this. These were people JJ trusted, and you trusted JJ. You didn’t want them to fight because of you.

Eventually, everyone was going to know. One way or another, the truth would come out. There was no reason to keep it a secret, not at least for JJ’s sake. And honestly, seeing how upset he looked put a dull ache in your chest.

“You can tell them,” you said softly. “If you trust them, then I trust them too.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up, his surprise plain as day. He clearly hadn’t expected you to say that. But if they could be understanding, and if it would help JJ feel better, then it was worth it. After all, this wasn’t the end of the world. It was just five more people knowing.

6 Months Pregnant

Everything had escalated so quickly. Even you hadn’t seen it coming. The day you told JJ that he could share it with his friends, he refused. But, of course, you pressed him until he gave in. 

He couldn’t hold out and ended up telling them. No one could deny the initial shock; it was written all over their faces. Still, you were relieved when you noticed how it seemed to smooth things over between JJ and his friends afterward. 

“You got her pregnant?!” John B’s voice boomed through JJ’s phone, loud enough to reach you in the kitchen where you were washing dishes. 

“Have you never heard of a condom in your life?!” Pope chimed in, equally loud. You couldn’t help but overhear their chaotic exchange. JJ was trying to explain himself, but each time he opened his mouth, someone else interrupted. You pressed your lips tightly together, suppressing a laugh as you loaded the dishwasher. 

“Can you guys just stop for a second? Of course not! She’s just a friend—I’m helping her out!” JJ finally managed to get a word in, and the corners of your lips twitched into a smile. Peeking through the window, you saw him sprawled on the porch sofa, legs stretched out, his backward cap completing the look of pure exasperation. 

“Helping her out as the baby daddy?!” Cleo shouted in disbelief. 

“Oh my God, Cleo! I literally just said no!” 

From that day on, JJ’s interactions with his friends seemed to pick up again. Sometimes, yours did too. JJ often FaceTimed Sarah and John B, and while Sarah’s cheerful greetings to you felt a bit awkward, you appreciated the effort. After all, she was technically your daughter’s aunt. 

The real awkwardness came when JJ mentioned his friends wanted to visit—now that they knew he wasn’t on the island anymore and wouldn’t be for a while. At the house. 

When JJ first brought it up, you hesitated—not because you didn’t want them over, but because they’d see you. Pregnant. And at six months along, there was no hiding it. 

But saying no wasn’t really an option, especially since you’d been the one to suggest JJ stay with you in the first place. You were living together now. How could you tell him his friends couldn’t come to see him? 

Neither of you was particularly skilled in the kitchen, so you settled on ordering pizza and turning it into a casual pizza night. Simple, easy, and quick cleanup. 

“Hey there!” JJ greeted them at the door while you hung back a little, watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. John B pulled JJ into a bear hug, followed quickly by Pope, who practically launched himself at him. It was sweet. 

After everyone had taken their turns hugging JJ, they turned toward you. Cleo was the first to approach, arms wide open like she’d known you forever. 

“Oh my God, hi! You look amazing!” she gushed, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

When she stepped back, you couldn’t help but beam. Compliments like that hit differently when you were pregnant—and when you secretly felt the same way about yourself. 

“So do you! I hope the drive wasn’t too hard to find us,” you replied. Cleo nodded with a grin, stepping aside as Kiara came into view. She wasn’t as exuberant as Cleo, but you didn’t hold it against her. 

“Hi,” Kiara greeted you, offering a brief but friendly hug. 

“Hey,” you responded with a small smile, chuckling as Pope called out from behind, “Now this is what I call a house…” 

As Kiara moved aside, Sarah came up, her bright smile almost startling you. The tension you’d been holding onto crept back in. Of course, there wasn’t a person here who didn’t know who the father of your baby was. After all, after years of dating, there was no way it wasn’t Rafe. And you were certain Sarah knew that too. 

“That pregnancy glow thing? It’s really working for you!” Sarah said with enthusiasm, extending the greeting dramatically before pulling you into an unexpected hug. “Look at you! Hi!” 

You hadn’t expected it to go this smoothly, let alone for everyone to be this sweet. It was either because they genuinely were nice or… JJ. Just like you were being nice to them because of JJ. 

Fair enough. 

If you were still living on the island and weren’t pregnant, this would’ve been a completely different vibe. But here you all were, playing nice for someone else’s sake. And honestly? You didn’t hate it. 

In fact, you kind of loved it. 

The house filled with laughter as everyone settled around the table. You watched them reconnect over slices of pizza, their camaraderie so genuine it almost warmed your heart. 

You loved how their laughter filled the space, how JJ kept drawing you into conversations even when you felt like a bit of an outsider. 

You’d always hated curious stares, but their looks didn’t feel like that. They felt like they were listening—like they actually cared about what you had to say. It did wonders for your confidence. 

“I’ll clear the pizza boxes; you guys can move to the couch if you want,” you offered with a smile, gripping the edge of the table for support as you got up. 

“No way!” Cleo was already on her feet, grabbing the box in front of her. Kiara and the others followed suit, practically springing into action. 

“You’re pregnant! No way we’re letting you do anything,” Kiara added firmly, cutting off your protest before it could start. 

A warm hand rested on your back, and you turned to see JJ smiling down at you. 

“I’ve got it,” he said. 

For a moment, you considered pushing back but gave in with a small nod. Something about the way he looked at you made it impossible to argue. Reassuring. 

As they cleaned up, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You were the host, and having guests do the work felt… wrong. 

The feeling lingered even as you made your way to the bathroom. Pregnancy had turned every trip to pee into a race against time, and you’d grown to hate how often you felt like you might not make it. 

After finishing up, you washed your hands and glanced in the mirror, checking your makeup. When you opened the door, you nearly bumped into Sarah, standing just a little down the hall. 

“Sarah…” you said, eyebrows lifting in surprise. She smiled nervously, brushing her blonde hair back with one hand while the other fiddled with her nose. 

“Hey,” she started hesitantly, eyes flickering between you and the floor. “I just wanted to check… Are you okay?” 

Her concern was sweet, and you shrugged lightly, feeling oddly touched. “I’m fine.” 

“Not like that. I mean… after everything. JJ didn’t give us much detail—neither did Rafe. So,” she looked a bit uneasy. You could tell the concern in her voice was genuine. She wasn’t trying to pry or make you feel bad. 

“I still don’t trust Rafe, and I don’t know what went down between you two, but I was worried about you. And after finding out about you and the baby, I swear I didn’t tell him a thing.” She placed her hand on Sarah’s arm in reassurance, and the tension in Sarah’s face softened.

For reasons you couldn’t fully grasp, Sarah looked panicked. It was like… she was acting as if Rafe didn’t know. Because she didn’t know he knew. Maybe she thought she’d kept this from him, even ran away from him.

“He knows, Sarah.” Her brows relaxed, but the shock on her face was undeniable. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no sound came for a moment. 

Sarah was grappling with how Rafe could know and still let you leave. Everyone knew you two were in love—so much so it was nauseating at times. You’d been the girl who stuck around the longest in his life, especially on the island. So how did he let it go? How did he accept it? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

She couldn’t hide the growing frustration toward her brother. It was almost incomprehensible.

“But—” Her lips moved again, but nothing came out. She was lost for words, ready to storm back to the island and give Rafe a piece of her mind—or more than that. She could practically picture herself shouting at him.

How could he leave a pregnant woman—especially the mother of his child—on her own? And not just anyone. It was you. Not just the mother of his baby, but the girl he claimed to love.

“He found out right after I did. He… didn’t want to do this together. We agreed to separate—kind of. I thought moving to the mainland was the best thing to do.” Sarah pushed the loose strands of hair from her face. She looked genuinely upset, enough to make you want to comfort her. But it was in the past, and there was no use in dwelling on it. You were looking ahead now, and you were happy with that.

“How? That bastard—ugh, I hate him.” Her words were filled with anger, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your lips. Seeing you smile seemed to brighten her mood too. She felt better knowing you weren’t as upset about it anymore.

Still, Sarah felt an odd shame, almost like she was the one who’d wronged you. The fact that it was Rafe, her own blood, who had left you to fend for yourself—and with a baby—made her cringe.

“Please don’t.” You looked at her, your voice soft but firm. There was no need for her to hate him, especially now that you’d begun mending bridges. “He wasn’t ready, and I was. That’s all there is to it.” 

Her brows shot up in disbelief. You couldn’t believe how quickly her emotions shifted—she looked ready to murder Rafe on the spot.

She was furious, even livid. She couldn’t fathom how he could shirk such a responsibility. She’d be angry with anyone who did that, but knowing it was her brother made her blood boil. “So, let me get this straight—he was ready enough to finish inside you but not to deal with the consequences? Is that it?”

You didn’t reply. There was no point. These were the thoughts you’d worked so hard to bury. Of course, you’d had them too, but if you were going to move forward, you couldn’t dwell on them.

Holding onto the past wouldn’t let you live your future. What was done was done. There was no undoing it.

Sarah noticed your change in mood and quickly reached out, placing a hand on your arm. She looked worried, as though she’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re right. But I just want to move on—I don’t want to waste any more time feeling sad about it.” You gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. No matter what, you were determined to hold onto your happiness. You wouldn’t let any fight or rejection overshadow the joy waiting for you.

“Of course. Whatever you do, I’ve got your back. You know you can always call me. I mean, I’m going to be an aunt, after all.” Sarah’s giggle was contagious, and you found yourself laughing along with her. It was comforting, even grounding, to know she was there for you.

“Of course you are. Just… can we keep this from your family for now?” You still couldn’t help yourself—you were protecting him. If Ward found out, he’d strip Rafe of everything, and even knowing that, you were shielding him. Stupid.

“If it were up to me, I’d tell my dad just to watch him beat Rafe into the ground—but I won’t. For you and the baby.” Sarah wrapped her arm around your waist, and you slung yours over her shoulder. As you both walked toward the living room, a quiet “thank you” escaped your lips.

“There you are!” A voice rang out as you entered the room. Your eyes followed it to see JJ standing up from the couch and walking toward you. “We were starting to worry.”

You watched as Sarah slipped away and joined John B. A moment later, you turned back to find JJ standing close, his hand resting on your waist as he leaned in. His presence was a little unnerving, though this wasn’t unusual for him. This was just how things had always been.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice was quieter now, meant for you alone. His eyes searched yours as if he were ready to whisk you off to the hospital at the slightest sign of trouble.

Your hand found its way to his arm, squeezing gently as if to reassure him. When you nodded, your other hand instinctively rested on your belly. “I’m fine.”

JJ smiled, glancing over at the others. His hand lingered at your waist. “So, who’s up for a game?”

7 Months and 1 Week Pregnant

Sleeping had become a challenge. You missed the quality rest you used to get, the kind that actually left you feeling refreshed. You longed for the days when you could sleep on your stomach, or even just roll over in bed without feeling like a beached whale. 

Now, falling asleep required effort—serious effort, like you were training for some sleep Olympics. 

Waking up drenched in sweat had become your new least favorite thing. The nights felt as hot as mid-summer, and every single one included at least one trip to the bathroom or the kitchen for water. 

Even getting out of bed was an ordeal, just as tough as getting back in. Your back was always aching, and it felt like life itself had become one giant workout session. Exhausting in every possible way. 

It was one of those nights again. You woke up, groaning internally at how much you hated this pattern. You wanted nothing more than a good night’s sleep, but of course, that was out of the question. Everything felt like it was conspiring against you. 

Pushing your hair out of your face, you sat up, gasping for breath like you’d just finished running a marathon. The sheer size of your belly still caught you off guard sometimes. 

When you noticed your bedside glass of water was empty, you groaned. Of course. The universe wasn’t cutting you any slack. With a resigned sigh, you got up and shuffled toward the door, making your way downstairs. 

In the kitchen, as you poured yourself a glass of water, a faint buzzing sound caught your attention. You paused, straining to listen. Was the TV still on? You had gone to bed early, and now you were wondering if JJ had forgotten to turn it off. 

With the glass in hand, you wandered into the living room. The only light came from the flickering TV screen. The scene before you wasn’t one you expected: JJ was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands cradling his head. 

Your eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—3 a.m. 

As you walked closer, it seemed like he either hadn’t heard you or was pretending not to. He stayed frozen in place. “JJ?” you called softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up, finally noticing you, and turned his body to face you fully. For a moment, your eyes locked. Normally, JJ was impossible to read. He was a master at keeping his emotions hidden. But now? His face betrayed a heaviness that made your chest tighten. 

“Hey,” he said softly, straightening up. His eyes dropped to your belly, and he rested a hand on it gently. You perched on the edge of the couch, facing him. “Are you okay?” 

His voice was low, almost hollow. Concerned, you ran a hand through his messy hair, and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch. He leaned back slightly, allowing you to continue. 

“We’re fine. Are you okay?” 

He didn’t respond immediately. He stayed still, eyes closed, seemingly trying to ground himself. You wanted to beg him to tell you what was wrong, the tension gnawed at you. 

When he didn’t answer, you leaned forward awkwardly to set your glass on the coffee table. Noticing your struggle, JJ opened his eyes and silently took the glass from you, placing it down himself. 

You settled beside him, watching as he intertwined his fingers and stared at his hands. “What’s going on?” you pressed gently. 

JJ hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like he was testing words that didn’t feel right. His hands fidgeted, a clear sign of his unease. 

Just as you were about to ask again, he finally spoke. “They called me from police station.” 

Your eyes widened, alarm flashing through you. Why? What could he have possibly done? He’d been staying with you for the past two months, barely leaving your side. If someone had falsely accused him of something, you’d have your family’s lawyers on it in seconds. 

“They arrested my dad,” he said, his voice flat. “And he decided to call me.” 

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, and it made your heart ache for him. He looked awful—his eyes red and tired, his hair a mess, and his clothes disheveled. This wasn’t JJ, not the one who always found a way to laugh, even in the worst situations. 

“Now he remembers I exist,” he muttered, the laugh leaving his voice entirely. It was eerie, almost unsettling. Anger and hurt swirled in his expression, clear as day. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but his hand shot up. He dragged it through his hair harshly, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Hey, JJ—don’t.” 

He stilled, letting his hand fall into yours. You could feel him trying to steady his breathing, his shoulders rising and falling deeply. 

“It’s been almost four months. Four whole months, and he didn’t notice I was gone. And now he calls? I don’t even care about him anymore, I swear. He hasn’t mattered to me for years. But if I hadn’t seen my kid in months? I’d feel like I was dead inside.” His voice cracked, and you squeezed his hand tighter. “I’d cross an ocean to find them.” 

When he looked at you, his eyes were bloodshot, the veins painfully visible. “JJ…” you whispered, his name barely audible. He dropped his gaze back to his lap. 

“I hate that I still care. I hate that he’s the only family I have,” he admitted, shaking his head as he closed his eyes again. 

Unable to stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close, clinging to you like a lifeline. 

Right now, JJ didn’t need words. He just needed you—your comfort, your warmth. 

You felt his body tense in your embrace, so you ran a soothing hand up and down his back. “Do you want me to get him out?” you whispered softly. 

Even though you despised the man for how much he’d hurt JJ, you’d do it if it meant bringing him a fraction of peace. 

“No,” JJ’s voice was firm. He shook his head sharply and buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“What do you want me to do? Just say the word, and I’ll do it.” In that moment, it felt like every wall between you had crumbled. There was no pretense, no filters—just raw, unguarded honesty. 

“Just stay like this,” he murmured against your neck. 

So you did. You leaned back into the couch, holding him close, your hands rubbing slow circles on his back. The faint hum of the TV filled the silence as the two of you stayed there, tangled together in the stillness of the night. 

8 Months Pregnant

"JJ, put it down." You tried to sound firm, but your voice cracked slightly. JJ looked at you, confused, holding the offending object in his hand. You couldn’t bear to look at it for more than a second without feeling nauseous. Standing there in the middle of the grocery store, you were dangerously close to losing your lunch.

"What? This?" He held up the banana, inspecting it like it might hold the secrets of the universe. You quickly averted your eyes. Once upon a time, you had been all about bananas—team banana all the way. Now? Now they made you gag. The smell, the texture, even the thought of eating one was enough to make your stomach churn.

Pregnancy had turned your entire palate upside down. Foods you used to love? Hard no. Foods you couldn’t stand? Suddenly your favorites. It was fascinating in a completely horrifying way. You hadn’t even known this was a thing until it started happening to you.

"Okay, okay, relax." JJ put the banana back like it was a ticking time bomb and stepped closer to you. You deliberately avoided looking in its direction, shifting your focus to the other aisles as you tried to erase its image from your mind.

"Please don’t puke here," JJ teased, his tone light and playful. You shot him a glare, but it only seemed to amuse him further. His lips twitched, and before you could come up with a witty retort, he turned away, a muffled laugh escaping him.

You knew he was trying not to laugh outright, but you decided to let it go. He’d been in this mood all day—overly playful, overly JJ.

Your face scrunched up as a sharp movement in your belly caught your attention. Your baby was unusually active today. A small groan escaped your lips as you felt another jab, and almost immediately, JJ’s hand found its way to your back.

"What’s going on? Is it happening? Are you giving birth?" His voice was so over-the-top, you couldn’t even muster the energy to respond. You turned to him instead, searching his face to see if he was actually serious.

It was one of those days. Your baby girl was unusually hyper, and JJ seemed determined to match her energy with his relentless joking. 

"No," you finally managed. "We still have a month to go. You know that."

JJ smirked, clearly unfazed. "You’re super tense today," he remarked.

"It’s just... she’s moving so much." You rubbed your belly in small circles, hoping it would calm her down. She felt like she was trying to punch her way out. JJ’s joking demeanor melted as concern crossed his face.

"Should we go home?" he asked, his voice softer now.

You shook your head. "No, it’s fine. She’s settling down." And thankfully, she was. The movements were starting to ease.

Convincing JJ that you were fine was always a bit of an uphill battle. When it came to you and the baby, he was constantly on high alert, acting like every little thing could be the moment. But your doctor had reassured you just last week—your due date was still a month away.

March 29th.

That was the big day, circled in bright red on your calendar. Time had been speeding by for the past eight months, but now that you were in the final stretch, the days felt like years. Every tick of the clock seemed slower than the last.

You’d started counting down the days since your doctor gave you the date. It didn’t help that waiting made you restless. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Shopping trips with JJ had evolved too. It wasn’t just groceries anymore. You were now stocking up on diapers, baby wipes, and tiny clothes that made your heart melt. It felt early, but preparing in advance made you feel calmer—and, if you were honest, even more excited.

You were counting down to the moment she’d finally arrive. Your little girl. A happiness unlike anything you’d ever known was just around the corner. You could feel it. 

"An important question: Which one do we pick?" JJ held up a tangerine in one hand and an orange in the other, his face comically serious. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Both,” you replied, shaking your head. A victorious grin spread across JJ’s face as he nodded like he’d just solved the world's most difficult puzzle. 

“Team Vitamin C,” he announced proudly, tossing both bags into the cart. 

You were about to respond when a familiar face caught your eye. Instinctively, you turned your back and stepped closer to JJ, hoping to blend into his shadow. But your hopes were dashed as soon as you heard your name, loud and cheerful, coming from behind. 

“Sweetheart! What a surprise! Look at you—you’ve grown so much! You’re glowing!” 

Viola. 

She practically bounced over, her smile so wide it could’ve been painted on. Behind her, a shopping cart waited, along with the little girl you’d seen with her at the park a few months ago. The child was quietly playing with a toy, blissfully unaware of the impending awkwardness. 

“Hi, Viola,” you greeted her, your voice betraying none of your inner cringe. You could feel JJ’s presence close behind you, his chest lightly pressed against your back. Oh, he was doing this on purpose. 

Viola’s gaze flickered briefly to JJ, but her focus quickly returned to you. “How are you, darling? I haven’t seen you at the park lately.” 

It was almost funny how sweet she sounded, especially considering how your last interaction had gone. The thought of voluntarily seeking her out again had never even crossed your mind, especially knowing she was always there with her daughter. 

“Haven’t been going out much,” you lied effortlessly, giving her a polite smile. Viola’s grin widened, but it was so fake you almost felt secondhand embarrassment. 

The silence that followed was unbearably awkward. Viola’s eyes kept darting back to JJ, sizing him up like he was some new exhibit at the zoo. You couldn’t quite place the urge to drag him away, but it was growing stronger by the second. 

Viola, who looked like she was pushing forty, seemed to be giving your “friend” the once-over, and it made your skin crawl. “I thought you said the baby’s father didn’t want to be involved? Did I remember that wrong?” 

You briefly considered staying silent in the hopes that she’d get bored and leave, but her expectant gaze made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“He’s a friend, helping me out,” you finally said, glancing over your shoulder at JJ. His expression was unreadable, but the slight furrow of his brow hinted at annoyance. 

Viola’s smirk widened, and she nodded like she was completely on your side. “Of course. You’re only twenty, after all. It makes sense you’d need support. Though, I’ll admit, you’d feel much more secure with a ring on your finger and the father around, don’t you think?” 

Her tone was all sugar, but her eyes darted back and forth between you and JJ, waiting for a reaction. 

“If she wants a ring, she’ll have one. If she doesn’t, she won’t,” JJ cut in, his tone calm but firm. “And honestly, it’s better for a child to grow up with one stable parent than two miserable ones.” 

You nearly bit your lip trying to hide your grin as JJ stepped closer. His hand brushed your arm, a subtle yet protective gesture. 

Viola’s smile faltered as she took in his words. Her face twisted briefly in irritation before she smoothed it over with forced politeness. Giving you both one last look, she muttered something under her breath and turned to leave, her daughter trailing obediently behind. 

“Who is that woman?” JJ asked, his tone dripping with disdain as he stared after her. 

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

8 Months and 4 Week Pregnant

The thoughts wouldn’t leave your mind. You had assumed you’d feel calmer as your due date approached, but instead, all you felt was a growing knot of anxiety. 

You wanted to be a mom more than anything. You couldn’t wait to hold your daughter in your arms, to breathe in her scent, to feel the weight of her tiny body against you. But as much as you wanted it, you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt: Would I be a good mom?

When you confided in your own mother, she’d assured you that this was part of being a mom. She’d said that motherhood was about being consumed with worry while loving them with everything you have. It was about constantly questioning if you were doing things right. 

And that was exactly what you were doing. 

On top of that, your mind couldn’t stop racing about the future. JJ was going to leave. You knew it. Whether he’d head back to the island or stay nearby, you weren’t sure, but the five months you’d spent living together were almost over. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” JJ asked as he joined you on the porch, draping a blanket over your shoulders. His usual energy was intact, his carefree vibe so familiar it made your chest ache. 

You didn’t know how you were going to say goodbye. For months now, he’d been there, in your space, filling the silence. You could barely remember what it was like to live in this house alone. It felt like he’d always been there, like he’d been a part of your life since the beginning. 

“What’s going to happen after the baby’s born?” 

You were tired of tiptoeing around the subject. No more guessing games or dancing around what you really wanted to say. You weren’t going to hide behind vague questions anymore. This was normal. It was okay to ask.

You needed to know—not just for yourself, but for your daughter’s future. 

When JJ gave you a soft smile, your eyebrows shot up. He sipped his coffee, his gaze wandering off to the backyard like he was gathering his thoughts. 

“I was actually going to talk to you about that,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable conversation about him leaving. 

“I’ve put in a few job applications,” he continued. “I’ll stay here as long as you need me, but after that, I think it’d be better if I found my own place nearby. You know, give you your space.” 

His voice was serious—no teasing, no jokes. 

When his eyes met yours, you knew he wasn’t kidding. It was written all over his face: he meant every word. 

You stared at him, stunned. Was this the same JJ you’d met months ago? The wild, reckless boy who didn’t seem to take anything seriously? 

Back then, you didn’t even need to know him well to guess the kind of guy he was: someone who loved parties, getting drunk, maybe even picking a fight or two. After all, his reputation had preceded him. But since he’d come into your life, he hadn’t been drunk, he hadn’t fought anyone. It was like someone had waved a magic wand and transformed him. 

“Really?” you asked, still skeptical. 

JJ grinned, his signature playful smirk lighting up his face. “Really,” he said, nodding. 

You couldn’t believe it. Without thinking, you pushed off the blanket and made a clumsy attempt to get up, forgetting about the massive baby bump that had been your constant companion for months. 

As you threw your arms around him, you heard him laugh softly. “Whoa, easy there,” he said, but he hugged you back tightly. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. And you meant it. More than he could ever know. 

April 3rd 

“JJ!” His name escaped your lips as you stared at the floor. Finally—it was happening. You couldn’t believe it. It was a bit past the due date, but it didn’t matter. The day you had been counting down to, with so much anticipation, was here. 

“What? What’s going on?” JJ’s voice echoed through the house, and within seconds, the rapid thuds of his footsteps on the stairs filled the air. 

This was it. The moment had finally arrived. 

“My water just broke.” 

When you looked up at JJ standing frozen in the doorway, a huge smile spread across your face. His eyes darted from the floor to you, growing comically wide as the realization hit him. 

“Fuck.”

[st4rtar0t]

How will your future spouse describe you to their family and friends?

Masterlist ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡ paid services

These pictures belong to me and so does the content of this post. Any kind of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

If you would like to order the necklaces from the picture you can DM me.

📍 Delivery all over India

DIWALI SALE

Picture 1

(you might be attracted to pile 2)

Your future spouse will speak of you with a deep sense of admiration and respect. They will describe you as someone who is dedicated, hardworking, and constantly striving to grow and improve. To them, you are a person who puts their heart into everything they do, whether it’s your work, your passions, or your relationships. They will be proud of your determination, and they’ll often speak of how much they admire your focus and drive. They will also say that you have a sharp mind, someone who is quick, intelligent, and unafraid to speak up. You are not one to hold back when it comes to what you believe in, and you have a curious spirit that is always eager to learn and understand more about the world. Your future spouse will see you as someone who inspires others with your energy and clear sense of purpose. Yet, they will also acknowledge the times when you have faced struggles and hardships. They see the strength it has taken for you to rise above your challenges, and they admire your resilience. To them, you are not defined by your wounds, but by the way you have learned from them and grown stronger. Your journey, with all its ups and downs, is something they deeply respect, and they’ll often talk about how proud they are of your ability to endure and keep moving forward. At the same time, there is a softness about you that they will cherish. They will describe you as someone with a warm, nurturing heart, full of compassion and empathy. You have the ability to make others feel safe and understood, and this gentle side of you will be something they speak of with great fondness. To them, your kindness and emotional depth are rare gifts, and they will often share how much they treasure the love and care you show, not just to them, but to everyone around you. Most importantly, they will see you as a light in their life. You bring joy, warmth, and positivity, even on the darkest days. They will describe you as a person who has a way of making everything brighter, who reminds them of the beauty and goodness in the world. To their friends and family, they will say that you are their source of happiness, a beacon of hope, and a reason to smile. In their eyes, you are both strong and gentle, wise and playful, someone who makes the world a better place just by being in it.

Picture 2

(You might also want to read pile 1)

Both pile 1 and 2 have similar energy

Your future spouse would describe you as someone who carries a sense of completeness and grace, as if you bring everything full circle. To them, you are a guiding light, shining brightly even in the darkest moments, offering hope and a vision of what’s possible. They see you as someone who has a rare kind of strength, a quiet resilience that inspires not just them but everyone around you. In their eyes, you are honest, clear, and sharp-minded. They would tell others that you have a way of seeing through confusion, cutting through doubt, and speaking truthfully, even when the truth is hard to face. There is a wisdom about you that they deeply admire, a sense of purpose and understanding that sets you apart. You aren’t afraid to stand by your beliefs, and that consistency brings a sense of calm and stability to their life. They see the depth of your heart, knowing that you carry your own struggles and pain, yet you still manage to move forward with grace. They would share how you’ve faced difficult moments, yet instead of letting them break you, you’ve allowed them to shape you into someone even stronger. To them, this makes you both beautiful and deeply human, someone who knows the weight of sorrow but still chooses to hope and love. Your future spouse would speak of you as a person who brings balance and meaning to their life. You make them see things in a clearer light, helping them understand themselves and the world around them in a way they never did before. You have a kind of gentle wisdom, mixed with an unyielding strength, that they feel honored to have by their side. In their words, you are not just a partner but a presence that brings hope, truth, and a sense of purpose. They would share that knowing you has been a journey, one that has taught them more about love, resilience, and the quiet power of enduring through life’s storms. To them, you are a reflection of both strength and tenderness, someone who stands tall in their truth and yet, remains deeply compassionate.

Picture 3

Your future spouse will describe you as someone truly unique, a soul that carries a blend of lightness and depth. They'll tell their friends and family that you have a creative spirit, someone who sees beauty and possibility in the world around you. Your imagination knows no bounds, and it’s this quality that draws people to you, making them see the world through a new lens. They’ll speak of your transformative nature, how you have the power to change not only yourself but also the lives of those around you. When things seem stagnant or heavy, you bring a sense of renewal, a fresh perspective that breathes life into any situation. It’s as if you have the gift of turning difficult times into opportunities for growth, always finding a way forward. To them, you are not just a partner but a guiding light. They'll often mention how helpful you are, always ready to lend a hand or a kind word when someone needs it. They’ll describe you as someone who naturally nurtures and takes care of others, even when you sometimes forget to care for yourself. Your willingness to support and uplift those around you stands out to them, and they admire this selflessness deeply. At times, they might say that you have a tendency to neglect your own needs, getting so caught up in helping others that you forget to give yourself the same care. But it’s this very quality, this deep sense of empathy, that makes you so special to them. They will likely describe you as carefree, someone who doesn’t let life weigh them down too much, yet possesses a wisdom that runs deeper than what meets the eye. To them, you are more than just a lover; you are a soulmate, a friend, someone who understands them in ways others cannot. They will speak of how effortless it feels to be around you, how your presence brings them peace and comfort, as if you’ve known each other for lifetimes. And they will always smile when they mention how you bring a sense of joy and adventure to their life, a feeling of friendship that goes beyond the ordinary.