#also doesn't mean what you think it means

[drdemonprince]

if sex is no big deal and just a normal thing like having dinner with someone, how do you square that with the belief that children can't consent to sex? Like idk this whole thing of "sex is a normal act like any other and we shouldn't treat it differently" makes me soo uncomfortable because i feel like it's really obviously not in a lot of situations? Otherwise what's the difference between being told by my boss to have lunch with one of our prospective clients being told by my boss to blow one of our prospective clients? :/

let's take your dinner example to its logical conclusion, because you are on to something here, but I don't think quite in the way that you think.

children are forced to eat food that they this really dislike (due to sensory issues, allergies, or just run of the mill unfamiliarity) quite regularly by their caregivers. they are also sometimes denied the right to eat because they didn't behave the way their caretakers liked, and sent to bed hungry, or barred from eating food that they can handle, and instead left to go hungry because they won't eat food they can't handle.

treatment like this causes a lot of food issues and trauma to children. It exacerbates eating disorders and erodes a child's sense of their own body autonomy. It can also cause children to have nutritional issues and a scarcity mentality around food that can be really damaging to them.

similarly, people are forced to share meals with people who they are viscerally uncomfortable around all the time too, often to extreme negative effects. employees are forced to sit down with clients who debase them or harass them. Young people in particular are forced into sharing tables with relatives who have crossed their boundaries, insulted them, abused them, bullied them, and whom they want nothing to do with. people in recovery from eating disorders are surrounded by co-workers, family members, or friends at meal times who speak about calories and weight loss and comment on their own bodies and other people's bodies in incredibly invasive and triggering ways that often make them feel way worse, and make taking care of their own bodies far more difficult.

when a powerful institution wants to exert control over other people, they also often do so using food. prisoners are given almost no control over the kind of food they eat, and are often given very low quality food that is in a disgusting condition, or that violates their own nutritional requirements or religious beliefs. patients in hospitals and in mental institutions are also subjected to such treatment, and people in poverty are expected to eat anything that they are given without complaint. It is an extension of their dehumanization to control and limit the kinds of food they're allowed to access, and how and when they are permitted to eat.

each of these experiences surrounding food can be incredibly violating and harmful. food is quite frequently a tool of control and abuse. yet it is not because there is some magical quality to food or to dinners that make them uniquely fraught with the potential for trauma. these experiences are traumatic because they involve a violation of a person's body autonomy, and a lack of social power.

sex isn't any different from dinner. we just have a series of cultural beliefs surrounding it that make the pressure involving sex something that's both a lot more acknowledged, and mostly encountered in the private realm.

Sex is treated as an almost magical thing, at once both sinister and sacrosanct, and so people are primed to see the potential for harm in it, and it is frequently used as a tool for harming people because it is so loaded, but that doesn't mean there aren't abuses involving every other mundane human activity that we simply are conditioned to ignore because doing so is so normal.

People's body autonomy surrounding food is violated traumatically all the fucking time. unfortunately because we consider dinner to be a neutral activity and sex to be this incredibly fraught and almost magical one, we ignore the massive amounts of coercion, pressure, and violation surrounding food.

your boss shouldn't be able to force you to get dinner with someone. and people are uncomfortable with discussions about body autonomy that neutralize sex, because it forces them to confront how little freedom we actually have in every facet of our lives.

[redwinelew]

can I request a smau for lewis hamilton where he's secretly dating his new teammate leclerc's sister and a mistake of instagram story tells everyone they're not just flirting on socials but are actually a couple?

thanks<3

baby, i like flirting! | lewis hamilton

social media au. twin sister leclerc!reader

summary as requested!

face claim daisy edgar-jones

song after midnight by chappell roan

warnings age gap (28 x 40), a bit suggestive on some parts

author's note figured now would be a good time to post this. also i made reader charles' twin since daisy is close to his age i hope that's alright with u anon. sorry this is shorter than what i usually write i hope u like this 33

english is not my first language. all pictures taken from pinterest, instagram and twitter. credit to owners.

masterlist | request info | requests are OPEN!

ynleclerc just made a post!

♬ Naked In Manhattan • Chappell Roan

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 6,727 others

view all 190 comments

ynleclerc random 2024 photo dump 💋

tagged charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, f1, danielricciardo, yukitsunoda0511

user who do i need to fight to date charles sister

charles_leclerc user Me obviously

user charles_leclerc my bad bruh 😭🫡

user user LMFAO

user still can't believe vcarb sponsored y/n to come to a race instead of her brother's own team 😭😭

ynleclerc user well does ferrari have danny ric?? and yuki?? no i don't think so

user ynleclerc y/n leclerc aka #1 daniel ricciardo and yuki tsunoda stan

ynleclerc user exactly exactly

user the leclerc genes are insane bro

user user face cards never decline fr

user the best siblings duo ever i don't make the rules

user CHAPPELL ROAN???? you are so real for this

ynleclerc user 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

user she is who i want to be when i grow up

user the coolest girl ever

lewishamilton That skirt looks gorgeous on you

ynleclerc lewishamilton what's underneath is ever better

user ynleclerc WOAH??????

user ynleclerc EXCUSE ME

lewishamilton ynleclerc I know

user lewishamilton AYO??

user lewishamilton SIR??????

user lewishamilton "I know" EHAT DOES THAT MEAN

user lewishamilton grandpa still got some game damn

user lewishamilton something's in the air in maranello fr ain't no way lewis is flirting with charles sister PUBLICLY

messages (y/n's pov)

ynleclerc just added to their stories!

lewishamilton just added to their stories!

twitter!

messages (y/n's pov)

ynleclerc just made a post!

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, doechii and 16,044 others

ynleclerc well since the secret is out...... here's some pics from the archives

ps lewis is still alive dw charles is not gonna kill ferrari's only hope at wcc this year

tagged lewishamilton

view all 712 comments

user I KNEW ITTTT

user i guess now we know why y/n kept hanging out at merc garage last year 😭😭

user user she was also in vcarb's garage??

user user i mean yeah but that was sponsored. during other gps she's always seen hanging out in merc garage but ppl thought it's only bcs she's friends with carmen

user the last pic...... i would do the same tbh

ynleclerc user alex took the pic 😚😚 i just couldn't resist

user and the crowd is in shock????

alexandrasaintmleux it's been so hard keeping this a secret haha so happy for you two ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc alexandrasaintmleux I still can't believe that you knew first before I do

ynleclerc charles_leclerc she's my favorite so i love her more

charles_leclerc ynleclerc WE SHARED A WOMB!!!!!

ynleclerc charles_leclerc and i'm pretty sure you almost ate me so consider this a payback

lewishamilton just made a post!

liked by zhouguanyu24, calliewilson_ and 4,728,948 others.

lewishamilton Mi amor ❤️

tagged ynleclerc

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ynleclerc baby that's spanish 😭😭 mon amour is french

charles_leclerc ynleclerc He doesn't even know the difference? This is the man you claimed to love?

ynleclerc charles_leclerc he's trying ok give him a break 😭😭

charles_leclerc If you break her heart I will sabotage your car. Mark my words, Lewis

ynleclerc charles_leclerc ARE YOU INSANE 😭😭

user charles_leclerc we love a protective brother

user user i can't take the threat seriously i'm afraid lmfao 😭😭

lewishamilton charles_leclerc I deserve it

scuderiaferrari charles_leclerc Please don't

francolapinto congratulations!

user can't believe all of this started bcs of some instagram stories

user user how long do u figure they would keep this a secret if that accident didn't happen 😭😭

user user they're gonna have to be public eventually. can't hide from charles forever

user i wonder how family dinners will be from now on

user user chaotic most definitely

user user thinking about charles giving lewis the talk has me dying

user oh to be charles leclerc's sister and date lewis hamilton

user user living the dream fr

user when i said i want 1644 dramas in 2025 this is NOT what i meant 😭😭

[starcurtain]

Potential Phaidei Crumbs

Some more possible Phaidei crumbs that I've been thinking about and haven't seen people discussing yet:

First, in the very first scene with Mydei, there's this one odd line. It's a tiny thing, but nothing in a character's first appearance is accidental, so...

Mydei starts griping, telling Phainon that the people of Castrum Kremnos as a whole will not accept him. Presumably he actually means this in a general sense, aka "The Kremnoans won't accept any other hero; Kremnos won't become allies with anyone."

However, something I haven't seen many people note is that Mydei's very next line is:

"As the successor of Kremnos, I am not able to act independently on such matters."

This is a weird statement, right?

Saying "I am not able to act independently" basically implies that there is a desire to choose differently than his people. It's not "I would never act differently than my people demand." It's not even "I don't want to act independently"--it's "I am not able to." Wording the statement this way actively suggests that Mydei has a different stance than Kremnos itself--that if he had the power to act independently, he might make a different determination than his people expect.

Or, in more direct words: He would accept Phainon if he had the choice.

The dev team is very careful about the first impression that characters make in their debut appearances in the game. Choosing to deliberately reveal to us that Mydei has a different opinion of Phainon than the rest of the Kremnoans might is a strong signal for Mydei's characterization--deep down, he is very different from other Kremnoans--but, even more importantly, it tells us instantly that Mydei thinks more highly of Phainon than other people from Kremnos do. (Even if he also thinks Phainon is a mannerless heathen who lacks hospitality lol.)

Okay, okay, but that's just one little line. There's another thing I wanted to point out too, and that's actually Miss Castorice...

I've seen a lot of people suggesting Mydei/Castorice, Phainon/Castorice, and even Mydei/Castorice/Phainon, but for all the fandom's shipping (and everyone should feel free to ship what they love; your ship is valid, fam!), I actually kind of think that...

Castorice is a bit of a Mydei/Phainon shipper herself.

Although Castorice is of course just a good person who is doing what she can to help Okhema, she also is quick to assist Phainon specifically to save Mydei, quick to try to keep Phainon calm because that's what will help him get to Mydei quicker, and she just brings Mydei up out of the blue to Phainon several times throughout the story.

It's Castorice who halts Phainon's ascension ceremony to ask where Mydei is, because she expected him to be there for Phainon.

It seems to be a given for Castorice that if Phainon needs him, in Phainon's most important hour, Mydei should obviously be with him. She knew Mydei would come.

Even before that, when Phainon was feeling down, Castorice admits she doesn't know how to comfort Phainon herself, and instead... brings up Mydei to comfort Phainon???

Girl thought Quick, how can I raise Phainon's self-esteem? and Mydei's nickname for Phainon was the first thing that seems to have come to mind. 😂

She really said "You're not lame, Phainon; Mydei thinks you're a hero!"

Okay, being more serious--even putting shipping aside entirely, it's just overall clear that Castorice perceives the close comradeship between Phainon and Mydei (probably moreso than Phainon himself) and understands how important having that close friendship is to Phainon, who seems to have nothing else left outside of the Chrysos Heirs at all.

She seems to be able to tell how much Phainon needs people in his life who believe in and can stand beside him, and seems to have clocked that Mydei is definitely one such person. The game tells us players clearly that Castorice is an incredibly perceptive person who is sensitive to the feelings of others, and part of that includes her continuing to verbally recognize, throughout 3.0, the support Phainon gains from his close connection to Mydei.

I think this is just another cool touch--but also maybe another subtle nod from the devs. Castorice won't even let Phainon have a single scene where Mydei isn't mentioned lol.

And finally, one last crumb based on a pet theory...

"As I've Written"

We don't yet know who is responsible for actually writing the character profiles in the "As I've Written" book--although the rewards section is called "Author's Recompense" and the player get rewards for "composing sagas," alongside the interact button being "Write Story," there's actually an entire achievement teasing the fact that the Trailblazer doesn't know who actually wrote the book:

It's not remotely written in a style the Trailblazer would write in, and it also contains information the Trailblazer (at least currently) has no way of knowing at all, like the details of Castorice's backstory.

At this point, the real author could be anyone. But I feel like there's a few things pointing in favor of the idea that the real author might be Phainon. It could also be Anaxa or Cyrene or even Mem too, but hear me out...

First, the book's design is reminiscent of Phainon: the book features prominent sun/moon symbols, has the same blue-white-gold color palette, and even the design at the bottom of the book resembles the design along the front of Phainon's coat:

The book also seems to be strongly foreshadowing that someone is going to lose their way, step onto a dark path, or end up making a terrible mistake.

In Tribbie's chapter:

In Aglaea's:

And of course in Phainon's chapter, where the foreshadowing is strongest:

If this "one who has lost their direction" and "lost themself," the "flawed hero," are all references to Phainon, then the book over and over again seems to be--for the player--foreshadowing Phainon's downfall. Or, from the other perspective: This is a record written by someone who has witnessed (or experienced) the downfall and knows what is coming.

There's also the fact that while Phainon's chapter is written in third person, the narrator occasionally slips in some hints that they know what's going on in Phainon's mind:

And there's also this moment from Mydei's chapter:

We already know that this is not how Mydei behaves around people he doesn't know. When Mydei isn't familiar with a person, he doesn't banter with them--he doesn't even bother with them. He barely speaks directly to the Trailblazer the entire 3.0 plot, for example! He doesn't remotely seem like the type of person to sit down at a table and drink with someone he doesn't know.

We also know that he's already scolded Phainon several times for trying to act like an expert in Kremnoan legends:

(Thank Streetwise Rhapsody from Youtube for these screencaps because I forgot to screencap it myself lol.)

And the icing on the cake:

The exact phrase "amateur historian" again.

To me, this all but confirms that the "true" author of the "As I've Written" chronicle is probably Phainon, which finally brings me to the actual Phaidei crumb I wanted to discuss all along:

Mydei's story is listed as chapter 10 of the book. Yet for some reason --even though we get the book only after completing nearly the entire 3.0 questline, when the player has definitely met Aglaea, Castorice, and Tribbie already--Mydei's story comes first.

While Castorice, Tribbie, Phainon, and Aglaea all share the same memory crystal, Mydei has his own separate memory crystal, not shared with any other character, and it is given to the player first, before anyone else:

Phainon really said "My man is more important than the rest of us combined."

Tribbie is chapter 1. Phainon is chapter 7. Aglaea is chapter 9. But for some reason, we jumped all three of those characters to present chapter 10 first. Theoretically you could say that it's because we went to Castrum Kremnos and fought Nikador? But, story-wise, was Mydei the most important? The Trailblazer met Phainon and Tribbie first, got to actually play Aglaea for a sequence of this story, and traveled alone with Castorice. Mydei is the character the Trailblazer actually had the least connection to in the whole 3.0 storyline, so it doesn't seem that the story is truly what determined the order characters' chapters were given to us.

At the end of the day, in a book that seems it could be written by Phainon (from the future? the past?), Mydei was given special treatment and came before anyone else.

I'm just sayin'... the devs don't do things on accident.

[puck-luck]

Hi, girly. I hope I find you fine.

I'd like to make a request with Quinn. Could you write something where reader is feeling down, like after a day of dealing with friends/family drama and she is just drained, plus they are at the lake house and yk all the boys are there but she doesn't feel like having dinner or hanging out with them, she just wants to cuddle and recharge and Q just excuses himself to be with her and hopefully makes her feel better.

Thank you so much 💓

warnings: cockwarming. that's IT. other than that, it's just domestic bliss.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1,229

note: thank you @skylershines for requesting this! sorry it took me a while to finish :,) this ask wasn't inherently sexual, but since i am a smut writer, i had to throw in a sexual element or two. i am not THE fluff girl on tumblr dot com LOL but love you girly

The boys are downstairs making a ruckus about something. You’re starting to wonder if they ever tire themselves out, or if they’re always full of energy like this. The day has been long and chock-full of activities and you’re… rather exhausted.

Maybe it’s because of all the sun you soaked up on the boat that’s making you sleepy. Maybe it’s the swimming you did or the wine with the big, filling, home-cooked meal that Quinn made. Maybe it’s from the flight from Vancouver to Michigan two days ago that’s making you so tired. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re working from home– Quinn’s home– tomorrow and you can’t dedicate all your time to the fun happenings in the vacation home.

All in all, you don’t know what the root of your exhaustion is, but you know that there’s no way you want to leave this bed again today. You’re due for a good rot. You’ve got a book in hand and you’re all tucked in beneath the covers and the fact that it’s only 7:30pm doesn’t matter to you one bit. The sun hasn’t even started to set, but here you are, ready for bed.

Between the lines in your book, you can piece together what the boys are talking about downstairs. Trevor wants a bonfire. Jack and Luke want to go wakesurfing. Alex doesn’t care, but he wants someone to make a decision. Cole wants to stay in and play ping pong. You’re secretly hoping that the fact that you can’t really hear your boyfriend arguing with his brothers and friends means that he’ll be coming upstairs to join you soon.

It isn’t long before you hear feetsteps padding up the stairs and making their way towards the bedroom you share with Quinn. You continue reading, paying no mind to the man entering the room, but there’s a hint of a smile on your face. 

“Hey,” Quinn greets in a low, relaxed tone. He kisses the top of your head, hovering by your side of the bed. “The boys want to do something. Are you up for it?”

Not really. “What do they want to do?” you ask, not sure if they’d come to an agreement by the time Quinn joined you upstairs. You don’t really want to join the boys, but you don’t want to seem like a spoilsport during your first trip to the lakehouse. Being a recluse won’t get you any favors, no matter how much Quinn likes you. You might be able to go downstairs and sit by a bonfire or watch from the couch while the boys play ping pong. Sitting on the boat wouldn’t be that bad, but you’d have to change out of your pajamas (a cute little slip that you packed just for Quinn). You also know that “one hour on the boat” never actually means one hour on the boat. It always stretches into two or three. So, really, you’d rather stay in.

“Thinking about going out on the boat,” Quinn replies, because you’re really not that lucky when it comes down to it.

Again, you’re faced with a dilemma: you can go with them and feel tired and cranky or you can stay here and feel like you’re not being a good girlfriend by joining the group. There’s not really a good option. At least in this bed, you’ll be warm.

“I kind of just want to stay in bed, if that’s okay,” you tell Quinn with a small shrug. “But I don’t want them to think that I’m boring or anything. I’m just tired.”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “They don’t think you’re boring. Are you okay, though? I know your ‘just tired’ can mean something else sometimes.”

He’s so sweet. You’ve been with Quinn less than a year, but he’s still managed to note your idiosyncrasies and moods perfectly. “I’m okay, sweet boy.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

A wave of affection passes through you. “Do what you want, Q. You choose. I won’t say no to cuddling you all night, but don’t stay on my account.”

“Just let me tell the guys to go without me,” Quinn replies. He leans down and meets your lips. “Then I’ll be back.”

He departs, but his return is quick. He brings his own book and gets into his pajamas– nothing but his boxer shorts– before joining you under the covers. Quinn throws an arm over your shoulders and opens his book, settling in.

You read together in silence for a little while. You start to get bored and allow yourself two more chapters– after checking to see just how long those chapters were, six and eight pages respectively– before you close your book and set it on the nightstand. You slide down the bed a bit, wrapping your arm around Quinn’s waist and squishing your cheek against his chest. 

Quinn rubs your arm. “Sleepy, babe?” he asks.

You hum, turning your face into his bare skin and planting a kiss there. “You’re warm.”

Quinn breathes out a laugh. He pulls you closer; you’re practically on his lap now. You might as well finish the job and get comfortable, so you straddle Quinn and bury your face in his neck, kissing the skin there. Quinn brings his hand to your back and runs his fingers up and down the expanse of it in soothing motions. 

It tickles at first, making you squirm. After a minute or so, you relax into the touch– and a few minutes after that, you find yourself grinding down against Quinn’s rapidly-filling cock.

“Quinn,” you murmur in his ear. You pull back and meet his eyes, trying to convey what you want with just a look. 

You don’t want much. You’re still tired and drained from the day, completely washed out from the swimming and boating and sunbathing you’d been thinking of earlier. All you want is to have Quinn close.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. He sets his book aside and encourages you to kneel up just enough that he can slide the waistband of his boxers down and free his cock. 

Greedily, you try to grind against his shaft as soon as it’s free, but Quinn halts you with a soft touch from his free hand. 

He fists the base of his cock and pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, using the pads of his deft fingers to spread your folds. His eyes are hooded and loving as his tip breaches your hole, and he starts to smile when you sink down and settle against him. 

“Oh,” you breathe out once you take him fully, clenching down and loosening your grip on his cock a few times before melting into Quinn. 

“Sweet girl,” Quinn praises in the tone that’s just for you. He plants his hands on your hips and kisses your lips.

Neither of you make an effort to move. In fact, you find yourself growing very drowsy in Quinn’s comforting arms. His distinct, tender touch has your head lulling forward, falling against his shoulder. Quinn breathes deeply and you follow, matching him. The smell of his bodywash fills your nose and you close your eyes, taking another breath.

It’s not inherently sexual, having Quinn’s cock inside you and his lips on your skin. It is, however, exactly what you needed after such an exhausting day.

[on-the-clear-blue]

So yall know that the League of Assassin's are like, an eco terrorist thing right? Well I just had this idea.

Sam, coming into Danny's room and just face planting on his bed: Ugh...

Danny, who was sleeping, awoken as his friend who had gone missing 6 moths ago flopped onto of him: OH SWEET-NOCTURN IF THIS ISNT REAL I AM GONING TO SOUP YOY SO HARD...

Sam, reaching up and slapping her hand on his mouth:Shhh, less screaming, more sleeping, escaping murder cults takes more energy than I thought.

Sam produces to pass out and sleep for three days straight.

---

Tucker, lookingnup from his PDA: so...you joined what you thought was a peaceful protest and some how ended up in a eco terrorist death cult of assassins? I mean...shit now I have to do something interesting...

Danny, choking on his drink: Nuh uh, your the normal one Tuck, I died and now have a magical girl transformation and Sam got kidnapped by ninjas and somehow even more bad ass, you...you can still get out of this and just be a normal person.

Sam, nodding sadly: Yeah...don't conform to our standards Tucker, be your true, weak little boney self.

Tucker, sniffing:I am so going to not do that.

---

Just the idea that Sam not only got League training but also got out is hilarious to me, like yeah, that is the kinda bs that would happen.

Alsoni can just see her dropping random lore shit.

Sam, bored as the boys study: Did you know thst the Demon Head dunks himself in corrupted ecto? Yeah it's gnarly man, didn't taste good.

Danny, going to speak before pausing and thinking, before sighing:Yeah I would have licked it too.

Tucker, frowning as he finishes his "Evil invention-enator": You both have so many issues.

---

Sam, trying to teach Danny the basic league hand to hand:Come on dude! It's not that hard!

Danny, falling flat on his ass after not even touching Sam: Ow ow ow...fuck yeah it kinda is!

Sam, rolling her eyes: If not only the Demon Heads six year old grandson can learn but also Ellie? You can too.

Danny, mutterinf under his breath before pausing completely:ELLIE? What was she doing with a murder cult? I thought she learnt her lesson after the last one!

Sam, shrugging before putting kicking at Danny on the floor: I don't know she was following a guy around who was catatonic, said something about being angry at him for not answering her pen pal messages or whatever, I was more busy training to really care...like you should be doing!

---

Years later Sam is joining Danny and Tucker in Gotham, Tucker because he was scouted by both WE and Lexcorp, he wanted to choose the evil company because poorer work place regulations and the likely hood of him getting a powerbost was much higher, but was bullied by his friends/partners into choosing WE.

Sam, coming to the R&D labs late one night bringing Tucker dinner so he doesn't starve working a late shift, blinking as she sees a short boy sneaking out of the lab: Biraeam? (Sprout in Arabic) what are you doing here.

Damian, blinking right back, experimental tech Bruce has yet to clear for the field clutched under one arm and the blueprints for a new type of explosive batarang in the other: Manson...I-I could ask you the same.

Sam, raising an eyebrow and staring down Damian: bringing dinner to my husband...who works here...and I can only think that you do not. So I ask that you put those things you have down and tell your bastard of a grandfather not to step back in this place.

Damian, eyes squinting, he hadn't been around his grandfather for ages at this point but still felt offended at her tone: I don't think I will.

---

An epic fight produces where they both try not and spill/destroy the things that they are carrying until either Tucker or Tim find them and explain everything.

The everlasting Trio gets invited over for dinner (mostly because Bruce is a paranoid bastard and dislikes thst one of his employees is dateing/ is partners with an ex-LoA member) and it's a bit of just pointing at each other and shit

Sam, slamming her hands down on the table as she stands: Kindly Mr Wanye, Shut the fuck up, I know your batman, we all fucking know it so if you are going to try and interrogate us at least do it properly!

Danny, sipping his wine: I mean...I-I didn't know but I um...haven't been paying much attention to the bat dude...Rag man is cooler.

Sam, glaring:And you! Fucking Ragman? You can do so much better.

Danny, offended for his hero: Oi! He does good work!

Bruce, frowning as this night has gotten away from him: He kills people.

Sam, waving over at Bruce: Exactly!

Danny, rolling his eyes: Exactly she says, while having a kill count that's still growing, Exactly she says when she was the one that pushed that oil tycoon off the 50th floor.

Sam wincing,: Maybe not in front of batman babe?

Danny, looking over to Bruce that is looking ready to fight: Shit...imma call Tuck and tell him to start packing...

[mamawasatesttube]

i keep thinking to myself, god we have got to put tim drake in a time loop. but also time loops just feel so perfectly like speedster bullshit, yknow? therefore lemme just smash these thoughts together like particles at cern aaannddd--

let's put tim in a time loop that bart accidentally caused. a tim loop, if you will :) specifically, tim loop where kon dies at the end and bart just kind of subconsciously went nope! and "if anyone can fix it it's tim right?" bc bart has. a normal amount of faith in his friends but also a normal amount of feelings about himself being useless to save kon bc he couldn't in infinite crisis.

and bam suddenly tim is having the worst tuesday of his life like 20 times in a row. yippee! it's bart-powered but he doesn't even know. he did it on accident. bart in the loop doesn't know what's going on. it just resets every time the ending is something bart can't accept (kon dies again). tim tries to sacrifice himself to save kon once but somehow that doesn't break the loop either (bart refuses to accept that). how long can tim go through a time loop before he goes completely bonkers bananas insane? only tim(e) will tell.

and, worse: how many times can tim watch kon die? how many times can he beg kon to value his own life, to get it through his head that being a hero doesn't mean he needs to die for the world, that there must be another way? how many times can he watch kon sacrifice himself to save others and know that if he stops kon, those people might die?

how fucked up would he be if he ever actually found out just how suicidal kon has been his entire life?

extra fun: cassie takes one look at him every time and instantly clocks that he's feeling like shit, but every time she forgets why, because the loop resets. tim is being perceived but it never lasts. this will drive him crazy so fast. he's gonna start acting out and snapping at her for being concerned because what's the POINT of talking about his feelings if everything resets ANYWAY. this will definitely not come back to bite him in the end or anything, right?

(kon-el dead wife giggling in the sunshine and playing under the sheets montage plays over and over for both tim and bart. this probably means nothing.)

[apricotbuncakes]

OP is so fucking awesome for including the sexual intrusive thoughts because yeah. People do have them. And they are distressing. But they're one of the types of intrusive thoughts that are hardest to open up about and seek help for, because they're so terrifying to admit you have. Like, even in therapy, I can't admit that I have them because I don't want my therapist to think that I actually want to act on them. I don't!! I really really don't. And having those thoughts are fucking awful.

I have to actively avoid the people I like if the thoughts get too intense, to try and redirect my line of thinking to something else before I can see them again. Because if I don't, the thoughts persist and persist, taking over my regular thoughts until I can't think of anything else but those horrible actions (and this applies to my intrusive thoughts about murder too, not just sexual ones).

People have started saying 'intrusive thoughts' when they mean 'impulsive thoughts' so when someone with genuine intrusive thoughts is honest about what that's like and what their thoughts say, people who have conflated the two assume "oh this person actually wants to act on their intrusive thought". Which yeah, if that were true would be awful in a lot of cases (not all intrusive thoughts are violent acts, such as the mind readers example, but that doesn't mean they aren't distressing or intrusive). But the definition of intrusive is 'unwanted, invasive'. Intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive thoughts that people do not want and do not want to act on.

Actually, one of the best videos I've ever seen about this is Thomas Sanders' Sanders Side episode about intrusive thoughts, and how to handle them. It genuinely helped me so much in addressing mine and I always recommend it, because through the acting, Thomas shows what it's like internally to have unwanted and invasive thoughts, and it doesn't shame the people who have intrusive thoughts in the process.

In the episode it's revealed that Thomas' intrusive thoughts are an extension of his creativity, but specifically the creativity he has shunned for being 'wrong'. (This isn't a one to one with my experience, I don't see my intrusive thoughts as part of my creativity, but the rest of this does apply to me). Thomas learns that trying to ignore the thoughts will only make them worse, and that to handle them he has to acknowledge that they exist, but also acknowledge that they don't make him a bad person for having them. Clearly he doesn't want to do the things the thoughts tell him to.

For myself, I've realized the best way to help with my intrusive thoughts is using them for creativity. I use fanfiction and put my intrusive thoughts in them, using my Blorbos to get the thoughts out and associate them with something creative rather than just the actions itself. It's why I have so many fanfics with noncon in them. I absolutely do not condone those actions. I'm just using the fanfics to get the thoughts I don't like out of my head (and I ALWAYS tag them appropriately so people coming across my fics know that there's dark content involved so they can avoid it). I also use them to examine parts of myself with related trauma, assigning aspects of my perspective of the situation to different characters.

It's also why I'm a huge advocate for no censorship in creative works. Because I know that just because someone writes something or someone doing a bad thing, that doesn't mean they condone it. I sure as hell do not condone the actions in my fics spawned from intrusive thoughts, but I still write them because it's a creative outlet, a way to get rid of the nasty buggers. And when I'm done I balance it out with something more positive to take my mind off things.

TLDR; Sexual intrusive thoughts are fucking awful things to have and are very distressing. People who have intrusive thoughts do not want to act on them because by definition the intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive.

[neptuneiris]

Back To You | (One-shot)

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (friend with benefits)

summary: you're always there, hoping for more. to be more. to mean more and something real. but that's not what he wants, always drawing the line. until… you just can't take it anymore.

words: 19k

sorry for the delay and also sorry this is too long. i won't promise anything next time 😅 and please comment, i want to hear your opinions, a reblog is also appreciated guys.

my masterlist

warnings: angst, sex content, heartbreak.

The first time you met Aemond, it was in the same way everyone else did and in his main way of making himself known to people: quiet, calm and reserved.

If you didn't have friends in common, you know you would never have been able to get close to him. But it was your small group of friends in college that brought you together with him; Alysanne, Sara, Cregan and Jason.

From the beginning, Aemond seemed to exist in his own orbit.

While the others fill the spaces with laughter and conversation, he preferred silence. He is like a constant shadow in the group, always present but not fully integrated.

He usually didn't speak much in topics of conversation, but when he did, his voice is quiet, soft and even soothing that it was almost hypnotic.

And maybe that was what first caught your attention. Something about the way he was, that unwavering distance and tranquility that wasn't arrogant, but almost… carefree.

You understand that he befriended Cregan in one of the classes they shared together. And it was Cregan who gradually included him in the group, at the same time that Sara was also including you.

You soon noticed that, although he was present at meetings and outings, there was a pattern in his behavior.

He talked more with Cregan and Jason, not with the same ease with which they talked to each other, but with a ease that he didn't have with Alysanne, Sara or you.

It's not that he was rude, when you addressed him a few times, he responded politely, but his tone was always restrained, measured.

And not only that, you also notice that as soon as someone tries to get too close, invisible walls rise around him, high and impenetrable. And his selectivity with the people he surrounds himself with, or talks to, becomes all too noticeable.

Even in the group chat Alysanne had created, he doesn't say much. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all.

He never initiated conversations or left casual comments compared to the others. And when he did write, it was only when someone asked him a question. Sometimes days or weeks would go by without his name coming up in conversation.

And, at least, at first… you didn't think much of him.

Aemond was just another presence in the group, someone with whom you shared moments but not necessarily a connection, let alone a friendship, at all. You just kept in mind that his reserved and carefree attitude made him different.

Although over time, you began to notice certain things about him that began to catch your attention.

The way he kept his distance even when surrounded by people. The ease with which he glided through life without worrying about fitting in or pleasing anyone. And the way he showed no interest in being heard or belonging.

He didn't show his emotions and it was hard to read. As well as it was hard to tell what he was thinking about, if he was thinking about anything at all.

That made him even more intriguing and that was the way he inevitably began to draw your interest.

Not because you hoped to change him or because you wanted to discover some secret hidden behind his distant attitude, but because, without even trying, he stood out from everyone else.

While the others sought validation in shared laughter and endless conversation, Aemond didn't care about any of that. And worst of all, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, every time you saw him, every time you suddenly heard his voice, you felt something twisting inside you.

At first, you justified it as simple curiosity. But curiosity doesn't explain the way your attention kept coming back to him.

How you found yourself looking for him at every meeting, how you waited for him to speak, even if it was just to answer a simple question, and how, despite his indifference, you began to realize that you wanted him closer.

It also didn't help with how incredibly attractive he is.

Despite the scar down the middle of his face and the eye he doesn't have, actually being a prosthetic, he is beautiful.

An accident, Cregan told you, when you asked him, to get a little more information about him. But that was all he told you and with a tone that made it clear to you that he didn't even know that much. So you didn't press the subject.

Not because you weren't curious, but because you knew that Aemond is the kind of person who doesn't talk about certain things with just anyone. And over time, that distance between the two of you began to bother you.

You wanted to get to know him beyond the few words he shared with the group, beyond the occasional comments he made. So, one day, you decided to try to get closer to him.

Try to break down his walls with you.

A difficult thing to do, considering everyone knows what he's like. But not impossible. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

You have an advantage, considering you both belong to the same group of friends. But you know that won't make it any less difficult, still, it's something in your favor. The problem was that you needed an excuse.

You couldn't just show up and talk to him for no reason. You needed something that would get his attention so he would talk back to you to keep him. But there was nothing. There was no specific topic, no common theme or shared class, nothing.

But you would find it. You had to.

Until one day, you saw a change in him. So slight and so small it could barely be noticed. Anyone else wouldn't have even noticed, but you did.

A change in his cold and disinterested attitude, which was suddenly colder and more disinterested. He was more serious than usual. He didn't speak at all unless the guys asked him something.

And his look… serious and even annoyed, with slumped shoulders and as if he was more lost in thought than usual. From the morning, when he arrives on campus with his usual air of indifference, you notice that change in him.

And on a Friday, as the day goes by normally, you can't take your eyes off him.

At lunch, the group gathers in the gardens for lunch, as usual, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Jason and Cregan talk about their usual anecdotes, Alysanne and Sara laugh and tease them and he… completely silent.

Sitting at the end of the table, he has only a bottle of water in front of him, which he sips from time to time. He does not join in the conversation and gazes off into the horizon, lost in thought.

But his tense posture, hard stare and clenched jaw, you notice all that. You want to talk to him. Ask him if he's okay. But you don't want to bother him. However, Jason notices it too and thankfully asks him.

“What's wrong, dude? Aren't you going to eat?”

You immediately watch them intently.

“I'm not hungry,” he replies simply and without emotion.

“And why is that? Everything okay with you?”

Aemond nods without saying anything else. He doesn't explain, and Jason doesn't insist. Neither do the others. They simply continue the conversation as if nothing had happened.

To them, Aemond has always been like that; reserved, quiet and indifferent. But you know there's more to it.

The minutes pass and you don't know what to do. You think about what would be the most ideal way to approach him. But nothing comes to mind.

Then he suddenly stands up and tells Cregan quietly that he will be leaving for his next class. He doesn't say goodbye to the others, just hangs his backpack over his shoulder and leaves.

And it's in that instant that you make a decision.

You don't know if it's a good idea. You don't know if it will work. And you hesitate, as you watch him walk off into the distance.

You could approach him, ask him if he's okay. But you know he'll most likely pull your back out before you can even try. So instead, you pull out your phone, unlock the screen, open the messaging app and start typing.

'Hey, are you okay?'

Simple. Subtle. Polite. You don't look at it the wrong way. In fact, it might work. Still, nerves wash over you, actually not so sure. But you finally take a deep breath and press send.

Honestly, you don't know why you thought he'd respond right away. Or that at the very least, his response would come in maybe ten or fifteen minutes.

By the time night falls and you're lying in your bed, rolling through your social media and no new messages, you begin to accept that he won't reply. And that he probably just ignored the message because he's not the least bit interested.

You sigh and put your phone aside, trying to push the topic out of your mind. But just as sleep begins to grip you, the vibration of your phone startles you.

You pick up the device quickly, a spark of hope lighting up your chest, only to have it shut off abruptly when you read his reply.

'Who are you?'

Embarrassment hits you so hard you feel heat rise to your face.

Disillusion and disappointment that he doesn't even have you in his contacts. You mean… you both belong to the same group of friends and you're both in the same group chat. And he doesn't have your number?

You bite the inside of your cheek, seriously considering not saying anything else to him and pretending this never happened.

But after staring at the message for a few long minutes, you let go of the humiliation and reply in the hope that he'll get back to you in a few minutes and not until tomorrow.

'I'm Y/N.'

A few minutes pass, at most three, but you feel them eternal. All is silence, until your next message comes through.

'Why do you ask that?'

You press your lips together, rereading the screen. It could be genuine curiosity… or it could be his way of making you feel even more out of place. But you don't take it back. Not this time and not anymore.

So you sigh, settle better in bed and decide to be honest.

'Well, I saw you really off today and I just wanted to make sure you're okay.'

The 'read' indicator almost to the second, makes your heart skip a beat. And you watch, expecting to see the 'typing' later.

But seconds pass and nothing. And you watch your screen more intently, as if that will magically make him decide to write you when you want him to. And when you see that he has left you on read, again the embarrassment invades you.

When suddenly, finally, the ´typing´ appears and your heart skips a beat. And finally, his reply.

'I'm fine.'

Two words. Nothing more.

You bite your lip, reading the message over and over, not entirely what you expected and increasingly convinced that this is going to be harder than you thought.

It's not a closed response, but it's not an invitation to continue the conversation either. You could leave it at that. Decide that you did your part and that, if he doesn't want to talk, you can't force him.

But something in you is resisting. You don't want to leave it at that even though you know you're going to be disappointed and that this, his attitude, won't change overnight.

But at least you can be honest. So you write and send the message before you regret it.

'If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.'

And again, you wait.

Surprisingly, he reads your message within a second. However, disappointment again overcomes you when you read his immediate, curt reply.

'Thanks.'

All hope, anticipation and excitement evaporates from your body. You stand there for a moment doing nothing, thinking about what else to write him, wanting to be more sincere and show him that he's counting on you.

'I mean it. I'm here for you, Aemond.'

That's something you'd like to hear if you're not feeling at your best. Knowing that there's someone who cares about you and your well-being, too, would help a lot.

However, the minutes tick by and this time Aemond's reply never comes. Nor does it come all weekend.

You're hoping that at college maybe he'll reach out after the brief text exchange, even… thank you personally for caring about him, text him or something, you don't even know but you're hoping for something, anything.

But you had to know that he would remain just as distant and cold as always.

Disillusioned, you keep noticing that slight pain he seems to be stuck in but is trying to ignore every time you all get together, without anyone else noticing.

You watch him from a distance, attentive and hopeful, but disappointed that you are unsuccessful in every approach to him to initiate a conversation.

Even after the two of you spoke by message, he has no interest in talking to you in person. And he barely notices your presence, as if you weren't even there.

That hurt you, but you understood that it was about what's going on in his mind and whatever it is that has him so depressed, not because you were really the problem.

So during a meeting on campus waiting for the next class to start, everyone discusses their weekend plans.

“There's a party tonight at the Martell frat house,” Cregan announces excitedly, “It's going to be great, they always know how to make a good scandal.”

Everyone begins to agree to attend, sharing laughs and jokes about the last time they went to a Martell party, even Alysanne and Sara, already planning their outfits for the night, except for you and Aemond.

Parties aren't your favorite place, though you've been to several before and always manage to have a good time with help from the girls. And Aemond being quiet catches Jason's attention.

“You'll come, won't you?” he asks him as he gives him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

He shrugs, starting to take a cigarette from his pocket along with the lighter, not caring at all about the subject of the party.

“I don't know.”

Jason frowns, watching him blankly.

“You don't know?”

“Who doesn't know?” inquires Cregan instantly, listening intently and confused.

Jason points it out but Aemond nonchalantly lights his cigarette, while you watch the interaction of the three of them, but always focus entirely on him.

“But you always come over,” Cregan tells him just as confused as Jason.

“It'll be fun,” Jason continues, ”Besides, it's Friday night. What else could you be doing?”

“I don't really feel like going to a party,” he says, just as nonchalant as before.

“Oh, come on,” Jason urges, “We deserve it, you especially after the hell of projects we've had to submit. We need to de-stress.”

“And besides you'll be with us, what can go wrong?” says Cregan to him with his tone full of optimism, trying to convince him.

“Everything,” he tells him in his equally soft and low tone of voice as always, causing a chuckle between both boys.

“But it'll be fun, come on.”

He focuses his gaze on an unimportant point and you, listening to the conversation intently, feel that little spark in your chest lingering, watching him hopefully for him to say yes.

Then you decide to add your voice to convince him.

“You should come,” you say, catching the attention of the three of them, with your shy but firm look and voice, ”It might be a good distraction and it will help you clear your mind.”

Not exactly the best words but you try and feel your heart start to beat fast in your chest from nerves as you watch his eye meet yours.

But it doesn't last too long as Cregan speaks again.

“Yeah, dude. Let's all go together. I don't think you'll get bored but if you do, we can always leave early or switch parties, whichever is better.”

The three of them watch him expectantly for his response, to which he is a little overwhelmed by the attention. But he finally lets out a resigned sigh, feeling the weight of his friends' expectations, and nods slowly, lowering his gaze and refocusing on his cigarette.

“Fine,” he says in a low but determined voice. “But don't expect me to stay all night.”

The answer sparks a small celebration between Cregan and Jason, who pat him on the back and you avoid smiling big, pursing your lips.

“Great! That's all we asked for, mate.”

“It'll be fun, you'll see.”

Everyone else speaks again, except for him and you, as you stare at him for a brief moment, feeling the spark of hope grow bigger inside you.

Tonight may be the opportunity you need to reach out and create connection with him. Besides, it's a party, everyone will be relaxed and surely he will be too, so you can't miss the opportunity.

The night arrives and with it, the anticipation of the party at the Martell fraternity house.

As you approach the imposing house you notice the pulsating lights and vibrant music that can be heard from yards away, promising a fun and energetic night. With Alysanne and Sara, you see the groups of people talking and laughing at every corner, drinking and smoking.

And as you enter the house, the party is in full bloom, with everyone dancing and having a good time, with the smell of beer, cigarettes and even weed lingering in the air, causing Alysanne and Sara to quickly immerse themselves in the atmosphere, pulling you along with them very excitedly to where everyone is dancing.

The energy around you is contagious and as the minutes pass, you catch yourself laughing and dancing, where your worries momentarily fade away amidst the bright lights and pulsating rhythms, enjoying the moment.

Yet there is still that anticipation in you, that excitement as you look out the front door and in all directions, waiting to see him.

And in the middle of dancing with your friends, singing the songs of the moment at the top of your lungs and enjoying the energy of the whole party, just as your gaze briefly focuses on your surroundings, you finally spot a figure with silver hair moving through the crowd.

With a jolt in your heart, you focus your gaze and recognize Aemond.

He moves with a quiet grace, but his expression is a mixture of discomfort and determination. He weaves his way through the people, his gaze scanning the entire place, as if seeking a refuge or maybe a familiar face.

His posture and energy is oblivious to the frenetic energy of the party with his deliberate movements and nonchalant attitude.

And you continue to watch him, with the hustle and bustle of the party fading around you and focusing entirely on him.

You feel a mixture of relief and happiness at seeing him, relief that he has come and happiness that tonight you will finally be able to get close to him.

Aemond continues to approach the epicenter of the party, when on his way he finally meets Cregan and Jason, who greet him enthusiastically and hand him a drink almost instantly, integrating him into the atmosphere and enveloping him in their conversation.

Over drinks and cigarettes, as well as after some banter and laughter, Aemond finally begins to relax, though his movements are more restrained than the others. He would prefer less noise, but it is a party after all.

And you watch from a distance, seeing how the guys entertain him and integrate him into the party, noticing how his posture relaxes more and his expression softens, holding a bottle of beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other.

You know that now is not the time to get close, you want to let him find his own pace without pressure, so you stay in your place, enjoying the company of your friends and also the whole party.

Afterwards you join your friends for more drinks, they insist on taking pictures and videos together, you dance some more, go to get some fresh air because of how suffocated it is and when you look back towards the guys, Aemond is not there.

Cregan and Jason are there with some girls, but he especially is nowhere to be seen. You begin to feel a twinge of unease and start to move slyly through the crowd, looking for his familiar figure.

Until you decide to approach and ask for him or else you'll never be able to find him among all the people already at the party and the people still still entering the house.

“Hey,” you approach towards them, with a relaxed attitude, trying to look casual, ”Where's Aemond? I saw him arrive earlier.”

Cregan turns to you, smiling, while Jason blinks several times as if trying to remember.

“Oh, yeah, he went out a few minutes ago.”

“I think that way,” Cregan points to the backyard with a nod, ”Maybe he needed air or something, he said he'd be back soon.”

You decide to look for him discreetly, making your way through all the students, but the house is full, even more so than it was a few moments ago, with the heat and bustle starting to make you feel overwhelmed.

You think to yourself that he probably went to the bathroom, but minutes pass and being with the girls, you keep looking for him but he's nowhere to be seen.

And that's when you think about the possibility that he has decided to leave.

This leaves you with an empty feeling in your chest and you look around, letting out a long breath and inevitably already starting to feel disappointed.

You continue to scan the place in hope, but minutes pass and there is no sign of him at all.

“Hey,” Alysanne calls out to you, “What's up?” she watches you intently and with a soft smile on her lips.

“Oh… n-nothing,” you act casual, “I just need to go to the bathroom,” you point out, “I'll be right back, okay?”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, no, don't worry, it's fine,” you assure her instantly.

Again you make your way through the students and head towards the stairs, hoping to find an empty room or a space with fewer people, since you don't really need to go to the bathroom.

At this point you already feel too overwhelmed with the music and all the people that keep arriving, making it impossible to walk. So you just want to breathe and have some peace and quiet.

Fortunately the corridors on the second floor are not so crowded, there are people, yes, but nothing like down there and you try to open the doors, cautious of course, afraid of interrupting some compromising scene.

Until finally the last door opens and it's an empty room, clearly decorated with the personal touch of one of the frat boys.

You sigh and close the door behind you, stepping inside, barely hearing the sound of music up to here and all the chaos. You plop down on the edge of the bed, trying to calm your mind and feeling the tension in your feet give way after all that dancing.

The minutes pass and although you try to distract yourself with anything on your phone, again the disappointment invades you and so does the thought, without being able to help it.

You have failed to keep in touch with Aemond and at this rate, it seems you will never succeed.

He is quite an enigma, very reserved, indifferent to the attentions that many girls in college would long to receive from him and that is what confuses you.

You think of his brother Aegon, whose behavior is the complete opposite.

Aegon adores the attention of girls, his adventures are scattered all over campus and yet, Aemond is a mystery, so secretive that even a simple friendship with him seems out of reach.

And these differences between the two brothers only add another layer of confusion to your feelings for Aemond. You can't help but wonder why someone like him, so aloof and closed off, appeals to you so much.

He won't even give you the time of day, he barely acknowledges your existence when you're in a group with the guys, his gaze barely rests on you, and whenever you try to talk to him, he barely responds and then brushes you aside with an indifference that leaves you feeling completely invisible.

Then why? Why do you keep trying?

You don't even know.

You get up and start walking slowly around the room, trying to calm your thoughts, not really knowing what to do.

You think maybe you should go back to your dorm, since you really don't want to go back down there with all the people and the commotion. But you know that Alysanne and Sara are still enjoying themselves and you leave alone.

You sit back down on the bed and run a hand across your forehead, letting out a sigh, when suddenly, the bedroom door opens and you look up almost instantly.

And then your heart leaps with anticipation and surprise.

Aemond appears under the threshold, his eye meeting yours and you both stand for a moment motionless, saying nothing.

He scans your face and the room as well, while you continue to stare at him in surprise, definitely not expecting him to appear here at all. And there's something particularly in his gaze that tells you he's also looking for shelter from the party. When again his gaze focuses on you.

"I'm sorry," he says to you, in a low, unconcerned voice, "I didn't know anyone was here."

You say nothing for a few seconds, but force yourself to react.

"It's okay," you say quickly, trying to sound calm, "Don't worry."

Again the anticipation grows inside you, this time stronger, mingling with unexpected joy.

He is not gone.

He is here.

And that rekindles the spark of hope in you, which makes you strive to keep your expression relaxed and less surprised, trying to look completely casual and act normal.

A silence settles between you, one that is both awkward and full of potential, to which you try to speak but Aemond speaks first, taking a step back and with his hand still on the knob.

"Am I bothering you?" he asks, his gaze studying you.

"No, not at all," you reply immediately, your words coming out a little more hastily than you intended.

This instantly embarrasses you and you lower your gaze for a moment, clearing your throat.

"I mean, no," you say more relaxed and in a soft tone, "It's okay if you stay. You're not bothering me," you offer him a small, tight-lipped smile, "I guess you want to hide for a while."

He looks out into the hallway, seeming to consider your words for a moment, then lets out a sigh, again watching you and finally enters the room with soft steps, closing the door behind him.

"From Cregan and Jason specifically."

You let out a small chuckle under your breath, wanting to create that light and easy atmosphere between the two of you by being open and relaxed with him so as to get him to loosen up a bit more with you.

You remain seated on the bed, as he walks over to the window and begins to pull his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket along with his lighter.

With a deft movement, he lights the cigarette, where the small flame briefly illuminates his features before a ball of smoke dissipates into the room.

He opens the window and all the commotion outside is heard more clearly, but not enough for both of you to feel annoyed with it, feeling the night air come in to envelop you.

And you continue to sit, trying not to watch him too much, though it's impossible, he is Aemond Targaryen after all.

Still you search for something to say as he stands in a casual pose by the window, smoking and watching the night sky.

"Are you all right?" you ask finally, breaking the silence, your tone soft and gentle, not wanting to seem intrusive.

He nods, not watching you, with the smoke from the cigarette wafting around his face.

"Yeah," he replies in a distant tone, but you notice how thoughts keep running through his mind, "I'm fine."

You omit to let out a long sigh as you gently bite the inside of your cheek and watch him silently for a moment, thinking of something else to say.

Even he doesn't feel your gaze on him, where you silently admire his straight profile, his set jaw, the high cheekbones, the line of his nose, his lips... all his completely beautiful features and so ethereal.

And yet, all those beautiful features have a weight of sadness and tension, where you can see how a tide of thoughts cross his mind that seemingly only you can notice.

You see his barely-there frown and the tension in his jaw, lost in thought, with the cigarette slowly burning away between his long fingers.

You are torn between remaining silent or trying to break the ice surrounding it. You know that your words must be carefully chosen, not pushing but showing your genuine concern.

So you think your words through very carefully and finally decide to take a chance, hoping that your sincerity might do something, anything.

"I've noticed you've been... distant lately," you say, in a soft voice, "More than usual."

He doesn't respond right away, but you notice a slight tension in his shoulders. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly, his gaze still fixed on some point beyond the window, as if he's searching for answers in the dark.

Finally, he shakes his head and again responds without looking at you.

"It's nothing, just..." he is quiet for a moment, "Nothing that really matters to anyone."

Your eyebrows furrow slightly and you feel compelled to speak without thinking too much.

"It matters to me," you say in a soft tone, your gaze fixed on him, trying to let him see the sincerity in your eyes.

He slowly turns to you, finally watching you, his expression suddenly alert. There is a mixture of curiosity and anticipation on his face.

"And why would that be?" he asks you, his tone serious and slightly defensive, his frown showing his confusion, clearly not believing your words, "You don't even know me, nor I you."

The words that have come out of you so spontaneously now leave you vulnerable, but you can't back down. You feel a slight blush creep up your cheeks, but you try to stand firm even in your words.

"We're part of the same group of friends," you reply softly, your gaze fixed on him, trying to keep your composure, "We don't talk much, it's true, but I still care about you. Just like I care about everyone else."

He doesn't say anything to you right away. From a distance, he just stands there, watching you. The dim light in the room outlines the lines of his face in soft shadows.

You try not to look away from him, despite how overly intimidated and nervous you feel. And then, as if he is evaluating your words, he looks away and you see a small but visible smile curving his lips, to again raise the cigarette towards them.

"Is that so?" he murmurs and then takes a drag.

You find the scene hypnotic. The way he smokes. A simple action making him look so sexy.

And realizing you're making progress here, when you hadn't even seen him smile the way he just did, you decide to continue to be honest.

"I'm here for you Aemond, I mean it," you murmur, without hesitation, feeling the warmth of your own words. "Either way."

You watch him stare out the window for a few moments, taking another drag on his cigarette and then, he turns fully towards you.

His eye watches you with intensity and you see how there is an indecipherable glint. He tilts his head slightly, watching as he slowly sweeps his gaze over you, igniting all your alerts in you.

Still, you hold his gaze, despite the way he seems to evaluate you and make you feel exposed. He searches for the truth in your every word, as if he's waiting for you to take it back, to hesitate and consider what you're telling him.

But you don't.

Then, with the cigarette slowly burning between his fingers, with a nonchalant movement, he stubs it out against a piece of furniture in the room. And then, he moves slowly and precisely, towards you.

One step. Another step. And another. Each one filling the space between you until the distance is minimal. Until you feel his proximity and your skin bristles, before he even touches you.

Enraptured, you slowly raise your gaze to him as he steps in front of you. His knees brush lightly against yours and his fragrance envelops you, a faint mixture of cigarettes and his cologne that smells too good and intoxicating.

Your heart begins to beat quite hard and fast in your chest, not understanding what is going on. But you don't want it to end.

And being like this, in this way, makes everything even more interesting. You continue to sit on the edge of the bed, while he stands in front of you, looking at your face more closely.

The silence stretches and you see the curve of his lips lift slightly as he sees no hesitation in you. And when he speaks, his voice is low, deep and soft, infused with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Either way?"

His words aren't just a question. They are a challenge. A provocation.

And you don't look away, as you watch him with your big eyes, not backing down. And then, you nod.

The blue of his eye seems to darken with your response, as if you've ignited something inside him. Then, he lifts a hand and with exasperating slowness, directs it to your face and his long fingers brush your cheek.

Holding your breath, you watch him curiously and attentively, as he tests the ground, your reaction. And then his caress becomes firmer. His fingers run along the line of your jaw, slowly ascending to tangle at the base of your hair.

His thumb slides to the corner of your lips, tracing the contour with a softness that contrasts with the intensity of his gaze, while you have to remind yourself how to breathe.

"Then say it," he murmurs, leaning in just barely.

Your throat feels dry. Your lips part, watching him completely mesmerized and unable to believe this is really happening. Your words get stuck, because in this moment, with Aemond so close, with his touch igniting every part of your body, you realize there's no turning back.

"Either way," you assure him in a soft, slightly trembling voice.

"And how far does either way go?"

He holds your gaze, that blue eye burning and as if he can see right through you, something dangerous and exciting.

His hand on your face is firm, but his thumb keeps tracing slow circles at the corner of your lips, almost in a distracted, shuddering caress. He is waiting, testing you.

"As far as you need," you murmur, without hesitation.

He tilts his head and suddenly, his free hand takes your arm, making you rise from the bed as his hand on your cheek is firmer, keeping you right where he wants you.

"So any way I need?" he murmurs, a barely raspy, enveloping whisper that seems to filter through your skin.

He leans in, until you feel his nose brush against yours. And you close your eyes for a moment, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions he's nothing short of unleashing in you.

"Yes," you say in a whisper, trying to stand on your own two feet.

Suddenly his hand on your waist grips you firmly and tightly, holding you in his orbit with an ease that takes your breath away. There is no pressure, no urgency, just a silent possession that feels more dangerous than any words.

He leans closer to you, his face descending in a movement so slow it almost seems deliberate, as if he wants to lengthen the moment, as if he's enjoying the way your breath hitches, in how your lips barely part, in the way your pupils dilate as the space between you disappears.

His breath, warm with the faint trace of cigarette and mint, mingles with yours. Until his lips brush yours in a touch so ephemeral that it seems like an illusion.

A silent provocation. It's not an immediate kiss. No. He takes his time, brushing his mouth over yours torturously slow, as if giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him.

But you don't. Because you don't want to. Because you want him, so badly.

And when your body leans slightly into him, a sigh escapes your mouth before you can avoid it, needing him. And that seems to be all he needs, because then, you feel it.

His lips slide over yours with devastating precision, trapping you in a kiss that leaves no room to breathe. His hand on your cheek holds you by the back of your neck, while the hand on your waist pulls you closer to him.

He closes in a little more, tilting your face towards him as his other hand slowly slides down your waist, drawing you closer, eliminating any chink of space between your bodies.

The kiss intensifies as his tongue brushes against yours, soft, teasing, exploring with a patience and assurance that makes you shiver. Aemond does not rush. There is no desperation in his touch, just something darker, deeper, as if he wants to memorize your every reaction, every tremor of your body beneath his.

Then it's deeper and more demanding.

You have to cling to his shirt, to the folds of fabric between your fingers, because suddenly you're not sure you can stand without him.

And when he finally pulls away, just a little, just enough to look at you with that fiery blue eye, lips parted and breath hitching, you know nothing will ever be the same again.

"Tell me again," he murmurs against your lips, his forehead touching yours.

With your heart racing, you manage to hold his gaze and find the words to speak, when all you want to do is keep kissing him.

"I'm here for you, Aemond," you say, your tone soft, but confident, "Either way," you complete, without a hint of hesitation.

His gaze darkens. And then, he kisses you again.

And from that moment, that's when it all began. But only when you were alone.

There were no words about it, no questions, no explanations. The next day, Aemond behaved the same as always: serious, distant, impenetrable when you were surrounded by people.

There were no glances, no brushes, no hint that anything had happened the night before. But at some point in the night, he showed up. A short message.

A silent signal that gave way to the change in your relationship with him.

The first time you went to his apartment, there was no doubt or hesitation. He opened the door without a word and you walked in, feeling the warmth of his gaze following you closely. There were no words other than cordial ones and then there was no more preamble.

His way of touching you was firm, decisive, as if he had known you forever, as if he knew exactly what to do to make everything else disappear.

And in those moments, with his breath brushing against your skin and his hands roaming your body, you understood what this was.

It was just sex. But, surprisingly, there was something more.

Something that wasn't said out loud, but it was there, in the way his fingers lingered on your skin after it was all over. He wasn't asking you to stay, but he wasn't asking you to leave either. And somehow, that was enough.

That's how the dynamic between you began.

There were no explicit rules, but the boundaries were clear. The relationship was not based solely on desire, though.

When the two of you were alone, Aemond wasn't his usual self. He wasn't the cold, serious man everyone knew. With you, when the door closed and the world was outside, his expression changed. His barriers would crumble, if only for a moment.

There were nights when, after all, he would simply lie beside you, tangling his fingers in your hair in silence. He would tell you things he never told anyone, fragments of his mind that he rarely shared. And so did you with him.

It wasn't that he was affectionate, for Aemond is not that kind of person. But in the quiet of the night, when you were alone, he allowed himself to be something more than the impenetrable man everyone thought they knew.

In public, however, nothing changed.

He didn't ignore you, but he didn't treat you differently either. If you shared a room with others, he was the same old Aemond: observant, reserved, with an expression no one could read.

There were no signs of what went on when you were alone. It wasn't that he was ashamed of what you had, but he wasn't interested in letting the world know either.

And there were times when you wondered if this was enough for you. If you could go through with this, whatever it was, that existed only in the shadows. The doubt kept you up most of the night and distracted in your classes.

But then, there came the moments that made you forget those doubts.

When he had you against the wall or under his body, his mouth claiming yours with deep, electrifying movements, demanding and possessive.

There was tenderness in the small gestures, in the way he ran his fingers down your back after all, in the way he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear before kissing you again.

But all that only existed when it was just the two of you.

A delicate balance between what was allowed and what was not. A secret kept within four walls, where Aemond allowed himself to be more than just the man everyone knew. Where you are one of the few people he allows to see him as he really is.

And that, for now, is enough for you.

“Gods, Aemond.”

The sensation of his wet tongue exploring your pussy takes over every part of your mind and body. Your fingers grip his hair as your hips begin to roll into his face, unable to contain yourself and unable to stop the moans that escape your lips.

You let your head fall back against his pillow, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in pleasure as you feel his lips suck and lick your clit.

Your thighs rest against his shoulders, as his arms spread you even wider for him, letting him see all of you. He feasts, tasting his saliva and your juices, unable to get enough of you.

Your whole body writhes, having no escape from his grip, as your moans and the sound of his tongue working on you fill his room. When a suck on your clit especially makes you shudder, feeling the reach of your orgasm sooner than you expected.

“Oh my—fuck, I'm gonna come,” you gasp, warning quickly.

“Yeah?” he asks you, pulling slightly away from your pussy, “Are you close, baby?”

You can't speak, just nod.

Then you throw your head back hard, moaning as his tongue finds its way through all your wetness again and one of his fingers enters you, further stimulating the arrival of your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, Aem—

He watches you from where he is, still eating you, delighting in your expression and the way you squirm.

You bring both of your hands up to hold your breasts tightly, biting your lips and moaning loudly, feeling the heated pleasure hit you with intensity. He keeps sucking you, prolonging your orgasm, while you moan and see stars behind your eyes.

The perfect scene to make his cock harder.

He gives you one last kiss on your clit as you calm down and he moves up your body, bringing one of his hands to one of your breasts, cupping it and kneading it firmly.

His face leans toward you and he kisses you, letting you taste your flavor as he has so many times before. You feel dizzy, exhausted and overheated. But you know none of this ends here.

So you open your arms, embracing him as he makes room between your legs, never stopping kissing you.

“So pretty. So good for me,” he whispers against your lips with desire.

Hot and heavy, Aemond presses his cock against you, pressing it deliciously against your clit. You furrow your brows and gasp, still feeling the weight of your earlier, intense orgasm.

But you want more, more of him.

“Please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, ”I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? You want that?”

Everything about him is intoxicating, enthralling, dazzling and hypnotic. You don't think clearly. Much less in sex. So you just nod, needing more of him. Your pussy clenches around nothing and it frustrates you, so you grind your hips harder against his cock.

“Don't worry. I'm going to fuck you just right,” he tells you then leaves a soft kiss on your cheek.

Agitated, you watch as he removes his boxers and his hard cock slams against his lower abdomen. Big, pale and hot.

He reaches over to his nightstand drawer, grabbing a condom. He puts it on quickly and brings the tip to your folds, wetting it with your juices and slowly opening you for him.

The contact makes you shudder and you cling to his shoulders as he slowly begins to open you up. The sensation invades you almost instantly, intoxicating you, as he fills you to the hilt.

You watch him with your mouth open, as his eye bores into yours and he drops down for a moment to watch perfectly as the two of you join, hissing, staying still afterwards to give you time to adjust.

You've felt it many times before, it's not new, you can take it in completely. Yet it feels like the first time, every time.

And then, he begins his gentle back and forth, moving in and out of you slowly, at the same time burying his face in your neck, sighing as he feels your perfect pussy squeeze him.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps in your ear, sending shivers through your body, “Squeezing me so fucking tight. Feels so good. So deep in your pretty pussy.”

“Feels good. So good, Aemond.”

Then, he begins to penetrate you with steadier movements, deep and hard.

The air leaves your lungs, as you cling to his shoulders and hug him against you as you feel his warm breath against your neck each time he thrusts inside you again.

You whimper, feeling him keep up the steady rhythm, making you bite your lip at the delicious sensation that soothes the need you feel deep inside you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, ”Oh yes.”

His onslaught is faster and more energetic, penetrating you harder.

“That's it, baby. Wrap your legs around my torso,” he commands you in a soft, but firm, deep voice, full of lust.

And you do, desperate to feel him deeper inside you. The sound of skin against skin along with moans and gasps are all you hear in the room.

“Yeah, just like that,” he croons in your ear, ”Good girl. Just for me.”

All he gets from you is that you squeeze his cock harder. And he speeds up his movements, as he steals your breath with each thrust.

Aemond grunts and leans in a little, raising one hand to grab the edge of the bed's backrest for support to hit your exact spot with more precision and you whimper, arching your back at the delicious sensation.

He watches your every expression pleased, digging his fingers even deeper into the wood and with his other hand your skin, enjoying your pretty sounds that you make only for him.

“Aemond,” you moan.

Resting your head on the pillow and moaning without caring about anything else, you collapse. You tremble beneath him, your eyes roll back in your head, and you explode with an intensity stronger than your previous orgasm.

Feeling the way you squeeze him, he speeds up his movements, his thrusts faster and harder, reaching his own orgasm. He grunts and buries his face in your neck, grabbing one of your breasts hard as he cums inside you.

He curses, as he drops his body on top of you, breathing hard and his pulse too fast.

Then, complete silence.

Neither of you say or do anything. You both try to regulate your breathing and calm down from the high. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on your cheek, with his hand holding your face to then begin a brief trail of kisses to your lips. He kisses you deeply and finally leaves a last kiss on your forehead.

It feels like heaven and everything about him completely consumes you. It drugs you and floods you in the way you don't want it to stop. And you deeply wish time would stop so you can enjoy the moment forever.

But then, he gets off of you and lies down next to you letting out a sigh. And suddenly, coldness. There is no more affection or the warmth he used to give you.

You cover yourself with the sheets and watch him almost out of the corner of your eye. You want to get close to him, to hug him and have him make you feel safe and well cared for after the act of intimacy, like before.

But before you even try anything, he reaches over and takes from his nightstand a cigarette, lighting it. He makes himself comfortable in his own way and takes drags while staring at the ceiling or a spot in the room.

You bite your lips and look away from him, having no idea what to say.

The smoke reaches your nostrils and you both stay like that, existing, saying and doing nothing for a few long minutes. Then you see the time and it's late.

It's dangerous for you to go home by yourself, even in an Uber. And by his behavior, you doubt that he will tell you that you can stay or that he will drive you home.

You don't want to be later so you let out a long breath and without looking at him, you sit up with the sheets on your chest and start looking for your clothes.

"Where are you going?"

His question surprises you and catches you off guard instantly, so you turn to look at him a little uncertainly as you tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"It's late. I should be going."

He checks the time too and watches you with a frown.

"Don't you want to stay?"

"Hum... I don't know," you shrug, "You want me to?"

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, "You've stayed many times before."

"Yeah, I know, but... I don't know. I thought you didn't want me to stay this time."

He holds his frown as you watch him exhale smoke from between his parted lips, making a confused gesture with his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just thought about it," you shake your head, averting your gaze from him.

You feel his gaze on you as you bend over and pull on your shirt so you don't sleep completely naked. And he doesn't even tell you to wear his, like he used to a time ago.

He used to tell you that he loved seeing how his shirts looked on you and now... nothing.

"I'll drive you home in the morning. Don't worry," he tells you in that again nonchalant and... distant tone.

"Yeah," you murmur, turning to lie down next to him.

He lasts a few more minutes smoking his cigarette staring at the ceiling and nothing else, while you silently watch the features of his handsome face and the movements he makes with his hand and cigarette.

Finally he stubs out and throws what little is left of it in the trash, then turns off the lamp and begins to settle in next to you. He leans towards you, puts an arm behind your head and pulls your body towards him to sleep together, as before.

You place your head between his chest and neck as he wraps both arms around you and rests his head on yours, releasing a long breath to finally fall asleep.

For a moment, the action and the way you both are comforts you. His closeness and the way he holds you, makes you feel safe, comfortable, warm and makes those butterflies flutter in your stomach.

But you notice the little differences.

His touch is different, his nonchalant and distant attitude is transmitted through his movements and this... it felt like a mechanical movement, a movement caused by habit and almost forced.

It's like he has to, not because he really wants to. There are no little kisses or little caresses before bedtime while he holds you. Nothing. He doesn't make you feel the way he used to.

But at least he holds you.

And you settle for that, still with sadness in your heart and with the feeling that something has changed and you don't know what it is but, it gives you a bad feeling.

At least he's still doing these little things that used to make you happy. But... again, it's not like before.

You prepare breakfast for Aemond and yourself.

You woke up earlier than usual just so you could prepare a decent breakfast for him so he wouldn't go to class on an empty stomach.

You know that his classes start earlier in the day compared to yours and you have been listening to him take a shower for a while and now he is probably finishing getting ready to leave.

A few minutes ago you received messages from Sara asking you where you will celebrate your birthday tomorrow. You just had to tell her a place and she and the guys will take care of the rest.

You feel visibly excited about it. Although Aemond hasn't talked to you about any of that but... you are hopeful.

At that moment he appears down the hallway, ready to go to class, heading quickly towards the living room where his backpack is, shooting you a brief glance.

"What are you doing?"

"I made breakfast," you tell him, making him coffee the way he likes it.

"I don't have time," he tells you hurriedly, not even looking at you.

That makes you stop and look at him confused.

You shouldn't either, in fact, they are little things that anyone would tell you are unimportant but... you notice them and it sets off another alarm in you.

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" you ask him confused.

"No."

"But you always eat breakfast even if you're late."

"I can't now, Y/N. My first class is important," he tells you again with that coldness and almost... annoyance.

You watch him for a few seconds without saying anything. And then you watch all the breakfast ready in front of you as you bite the inside of your cheek, again feeling that bad feeling and discomfort running inside your body.

"Go get changed so I can drop you off at the dorm in passing," he tells you, "I don't have much time. We have to go now."

Surprisingly you don't want to.

Normally you would have accepted without even hesitating but now...you feel like you're annoying him and you don't want to do that with this too. Besides, he looks very rushed.

"Don't worry. I'll take the bus," you say without emotion, leaving everything on the table and heading towards his room to change.

"As you wish," he says behind you, unconcerned.

A sharp pain settles in your chest and you try to control yourself, not wanting to overthink things, even though you are already doing so.

With the sadness inside you, taking your time, you change and improve your appearance just a little. Normally you would have taken a shower here too but now you don't want to do any of that. You just want to go home.

You're barely finishing putting on your pants when you see him appear under the door frame with his backpack on his shoulder.

"Hey," he says to you in a surprisingly soft tone compared to a few seconds ago, "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"Huh?" you look at him confused and attentive.

"Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?"

You think about it for a moment, not expecting his question.

"Hum... no, not yet. In the night it's just the hanging out with the guys."

"Yeah, I know. But I thought we could do something the two of us before we go meet them."

And then, again that little hope appears and every ugly feeling from before is replaced.

My birthday.

You think instantly, feeling hopeful and excited. Surely he has a surprise for you and everything you were thinking before about his attitude and behavior, surely it's just because he has a lot to do regarding his classes and it really has nothing to do with you.

"Like what?"

He puts on a small half smile.

"Just be ready at six. I'll call you and pick you up."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure," you nod, smiling softly.

"Okay," he murmurs, "I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah. Drive safe."

He leaves and eventually so do you, it being a common routine where you know how to secure the door to his apartment when you're the last to leave.

Despite attending to your classes and work, you couldn't help but think of a thousand ways and things to do where Aemond will probably surprise you.

You didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. You texted him once you got to your residence and your day was almost over but he didn't respond.

Then you took a shower, finished some chores and watched a new episode of the show you are currently watching. Every once in a while you couldn't help but check your phone to see if you got a message from him or if he called you, but nothing.

Until eventually you fell asleep.

And the next morning, when you wake up, it's your birthday.

You get lots of messages and congratulations from your friends. Sara tags you on many Instagram stories wishing you a happy birthday. Other of your classmates also congratulate you and you spend part of the morning smiling and replying messages.

You FaceTime with your parents and family members you haven't seen in months. Even though the vacations are fast approaching, you've already made plans with Aemond to stay with him.

You receive more congratulations from cousins, aunts and uncles, you also talk to your grandparents and answer more messages from your friends.

Until you look for a specific person, there is nothing. Aemond hasn't texted or called you. The message you sent him yesterday he hasn't even seen it and that seems weird to you.

But the day is just starting so there is still plenty of time.

You also remember that he has something prepared for you this afternoon, so you look forward to whatever it will be. You know he will text or call you later.

You get ready and choose an outfit that makes it clear that this is your special day. You do waves in your hair and make your makeup a little more bold. Finally you apply lip gloss and head to campus.

You meet your classmates, they give you their best wishes, your professors also congratulate you on your birthday and your day is potentially going great.

Still, the hours pass and Aemond still hasn't contacted you.

That seems weird to you. But it's still early. So you follow the corresponding schedule of your classes and keep your mind busy for a couple more hours.

You finally get an hour's break and take a seat at one of the tables outside in one of the many gardens on campus. You pick up your phone and frown when you see that Aemond still hasn't texted you.

Confused, and just to put your mind at ease, you decide to text him yourself, asking if he's okay. But the messages don't reach him, confusing you and drawing your attention even more.

Either he has no signal wherever he is or his phone is turned off, which is very weird.

You tell yourself that surely he must be busy and will call you soon. You mean... he has to, right? It's your birthday and he has a plan for the two of you in a few more hours.

At that moment, you run into Jason, Cregan and Sara, who lock you in a tight group hug, congratulating you on your birthday and making a bit of a fuss.

"How's the birthday girl doing?" Jason asks you, smiling.

"Great," you assure him.

"Did you get any presents?" asks Sara.

"Mmm… yes, from some classmates," you reply with a small soft smile, "My mom also send a video with my little brothers. We promised to celebrate when I see them on vacation," you pause for a moment, hesitating if you should ask what's really on your mind.

But finally, you decide to do it in the most casual way possible.

"Oh and... have either of you seen Aemond?"

"I haven't," says Sara.

"I called him but sent me straight to mailbox," says Cregan.

"I think I saw him heading toward that building," Jason points out, "About two hours ago."

So he did come to class.

That's what your mind immediately thinks. But you don't understand what's going on with his phone.

"Yet he said he's going to the pub later," Cregan says.

"Yeah, that's where the whole group will finally be together," agrees Sara cheerfully.

Well, at least you know he's okay. And if he doesn't text or call you, you're sure he'll pick you up at your dorm like he said he would.

You linger for a few more moments chatting with the guys until eventually everyone heads off to their next class, hours pass and you finally finish your classes.

You quickly head to your residence to touch up your makeup and put on another outfit. You have exactly half an hour until six o'clock and Aemond arrives.

You put on your playlist of the moment and undecidedly start looking at all the outfits that are for the whole occasion. You don't know where Aemond will take you so you want to be prepared in case of anything.

You also make sure of your lingerie.

You recently bought a couple of new outfits and now seems like the time to break in a new one.

With Aemond it's almost a law that you'll both find the time wherever it is to obviously do... that. He's insatiable and goes crazy over every new outfit you put on and you really want to surprise him.

You finally finish getting ready and look at the time on your phone, it's exactly six o'clock. And excited, you wait for him.

Usually Aemond is very punctual. The time he says he will arrive, he arrives exactly at that time. But ten long, eternal minutes go by and he doesn't show up. And that really seems very weird to you.

Then fifteen, twenty minutes and he still doesn't show up.

If something got in his way, he would usually let you know. But you don't get a text or a call from him. So you decide to call him yourself.

Finally the call comes in and you wait for him to answer, relieved that his phone has a signal or is on, whatever happened. But he doesn't answer.

You call again, nothing. And again, nothing. Bewildered, you text him, telling him you're waiting for him. But nothing, he doesn't answer, doesn't tell you anything, doesn't even read them.

You start anxiously moving your foot up and down and call him a couple more times, but he doesn't answer. And that's what happens for over an hour, waiting for him to call you or say something, anything, but nothing.

Feelings of disappointment, sadness and anger wash over you. You plop down on your bed and continue to stare at your phone waiting for something, anything, with a bitter look on your face. But, again and as lately, nothing.

He hasn't even said happy birthday. He hasn't said anything at all. And the plan for both of you, completely forgotten.

When then, a terrible realization begins to dawn on you.

He maybe...?

No.

You immediately say to yourself, in denial.

He hasn't forgotten your birthday. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to you. He couldn't.

Frustrated, you let out a long breath as the thought begins to creep deeper and deeper into your mind. Not leaving you alone and wanting to convince you that's exactly what happened. Or else he would have responded to your message from this morning and you both would be together right now.

But you tell yourself that maybe something happened. Something he didn't plan for. Maybe something important and he can't communicate it now, but eventually he will.

You're sure he wouldn't do something like this to you, so it must be something unexpected and important.

You chase away all the negative things you're thinking and think about Cregan saying he's going to the pub anyway. You know that right there he'll give you an explanation and make it up to you, you're pretty sure.

So you wait for the time you agreed to show up at the pub with Sara, all the time still hoping to hear something from Aemond, anything. But nothing.

Finally he arrives.

His arrival completely steals your attention. You watch as he enters the pub with a completely disinterested and... resigned look on his face. As if he doesn't really want to be here.

This gets your attention even more but in front of the others, you hide it and don't immediately approach him, as if you haven't been waiting for him all this time.

Jason and Cregan literally rush towards him, while you sit there talking to Sara and your other classmates continue to talk and drink.

Sara is talking but you're not really listening to her, as out of the corner of your eye you watch him, talking to the guys with a tense posture and a somewhat irritated look on his face.

And after a few minutes, the guys practically drag him over to the table where you are, cheering him on.

The three of them take a seat, he specifically in front of you and all he does is give you and Sara a slight nod of his head in greeting and... that's it.

And that's the point where you finally don't understand anything.

He hasn't even said happy birthday to you. Nor does he give you the signal to both speak privately. He doesn't even seem to have your numerous missed calls and messages you left him in mind.

What's wrong with him?

He's looking all around, until the moment comes when, of course, he takes his lighter and his cigarette and doesn't even glance at you. He doesn't join in the conversation either. He doesn't really do anything.

And you start looking for the perfect opportunity to approach him and ask him to explain himself.

And you think it finally comes when he gets up and says he's going to get a drink, heading with dispassionate movements towards the bar.

But the bar is in plain sight and your drink is still full. So you start taking quick sips to finish it without drawing attention to yourself. Still, you watch him and are more confused when you see him with his back to you typing on his phone, waiting for his drink.

There's no way he hasn't noticed the numerous messages you've left him.

You don't understand why he hasn't spoken to you all day and why he seems to be ignoring you. You just don't understand anything.

And just as you're about to get up to go with him, he returns with drink in hand and a seriousness in his eyes that you haven't seen for a long time. So you last a long time at the table, talking to the guys, waiting for the opportunity that keeps not coming as time goes by.

You also talk to your classmates at the other table and from time to time you watch him, if not all the time, wanting him to look back at you but nothing.

He seems distracted, serious and irritated. Everything about him you can see and notice.

When suddenly he stands up without a word and you watch intently as he heads for the restroom.

The perfect opportunity!

From the tables where everyone is sitting, they can't see the small hallway leading to the restrooms. So you let a few small seconds pass, act all normal and casual, and finally get up and tell Sara that you will go to the restroom and will be back in a moment.

You do everything normal, although you don't really do anything inside the restroom, except stand at the entrance and listen attentively for the moment when the men's restrooms door opens so you can go out and bump into him.

And that's what you do the moment you hear the door open, hoping it's him and not someone else.

And to your good fortune, it's him. And he watches you the instant your figure appears in front of him, both of you stopping your steps.

"Hey," you say a little uncertainly, looking at him slightly confused and with nervousness creeping over you.

And he speaks to you with the most disinterested and cold tone he has ever addressed you with. His gaze cold and distant.

"Hey."

This confuses you even more and you decide to get to the point directly, needing to know what's wrong with him.

"Are you okay?"

He frowns, as if your question is absurd.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well... I haven't heard from you all day. I called you many times and left you several messages, but you didn't get back to me."

Aemond raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn't understand what you're saying and starts pulling his phone out of his pocket, seemingly unconcerned.

"You did?"

"Yes," you say, feeling more lost than ever, "I wait for you."

"For what?"

You stare at him incredulously and with all the bewilderment in your gaze, parting your lips.

"For what?" you repeat, not understanding, "Yesterday you said you'd pick me up at six. You didn't tell me where we were going and so I kept calling and texting you but you never answered. You didn't even let me know you weren't coming," you say looking at him confused, "Something happened or... you forgot?"

The change in his gaze is subtle, but you can see it. Something inside him softens, watching you silently, with realization. And upon seeing your gaze, he averts his gaze full of resignation as he takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face.

"Fuck," he mutters.

And you watch him the whole time, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"Sorry," he finally says, watching you and his voice deepens, "I forgot. I was busy."

You blink, watching him sadly and uncomprehendingly, frowning at him.

"You forgot?" you repeat in a mumble, shaking your head and shrugging.

"It wasn't intentional," he tells you in a more serious tone, "I was busy and I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you later, okay?"

But something in his words doesn't convince you, and you continue to stare at him with that look that begs for deeper answers.

"But why would you forget? Where were you?"

"I already told you I was busy."

"Yes but you were the one who told me that—

"I know," he cuts you off sharply, "And I forgot because, for the fourth time, I was busy. Now stop making a big deal out of it and stop whining like a little girl."

Pain flashes across your face as you take a step back, bewildered and surprised.

He has never spoken to you this way before. Nor has he ever behaved with you the way he is behaving now. You just don't understand. But then... again that thought comes to your mind as you watch him with your parted lips.

The realization comes and hits you to make you see the reality. And you watch it sadder and more confused than before.

"You don't even know what today is? Did you forget too?" you ask him with your voice cracking in disappointment and disbelief, "I-I... I just... I just wanted to know if you were okay and where you were. And I don't think it's fair that—

"Look," he says, interrupting you with a coldness and a look full of annoyance, "Just because we slept together doesn't mean you're my girlfriend Y/N, because you're not. Let's make it fucking clear to you once and for all and stop thinking you have the right to demand explanations from me that I don't have to give you. You're just a convenient fuck and that's all, do you understand?"

His words fall like a weight on your chest and everything around you seems to stop. Your breath catches and your throat closes as you stand there, not knowing what to do and unable to believe what you just heard.

You can't believe he, he, said that.

Not the Aemond who looked at you with that intensity that seemed to promise more, who always found a way to make you feel special, even if it was in the privacy of bed or in the shadows of your moments together.

But here he is, looking at you coldly and honestly, also with some annoyance, as if you were just another problem he doesn't need to solve, but to get rid of. And really meaning every word he says.

You don't say anything. You just can't. The lump in your throat makes it impossible for you to speak and tears burn in your eyes, threatening to fall.

You try to stand firm, but every second that passes is a struggle not to break down in front of him. When then, you hear Sara's voice.

"There you are!"

She exclaims, approaching with a huge smile.

"What are you doing? We're waiting for you. It's time to sing happy birthday."

You don't see it but the confusion in Aemond's eye appears when Sara mentions the word birthday.

And you nod, biting the inside of your cheek, instantly pretending that everything is perfectly fine and you weren't heartbroken just a few seconds ago.

You swallow hard, controlling yourself.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

She takes your arm and leads you along with her towards the table with the candle-decorated cake that all your friends together have bought for you.

Sara also makes sure to place your gifts around for pictures while you take a seat in the middle in full view of everyone and continue to hold your ground.

Aemond eventually approaches the table as well, you feel his closeness without even looking him, at the same time as everyone starts singing for you.

The room is filled with laughter and voices, with the hubbub of your friends singing a rousing and somewhat off-key version of 'happy birthday'. Sara is at your side, smiling radiantly, as the others raise their glasses, animated and happy.

And you... you smile too.

A wide, almost perfect smile that seems to fit the scene. But inside, you feel how every second that passes is like a knife pressing against your heart. An uncomfortable knot forms in your chest as you struggle to keep your composure.

Don't cry. Don't cry now.

You repeat yourself over and over, forcing yourself to keep up the facade. You know your friends are here for you, that they really want to see you happy, but all you can think about are Aemond's words and how he reduced you to something insignificant.

Your hands are tense, clenching the edges of the table as if that will keep you on your feet.

Your jaw aches from pretending so much, from holding back the tears that burn in your eyes. But, fortunately, you're doing a good job and no one notices.

However, you don't know it either but Aemond does.

He has come close enough to see your face. And although at first glance you look radiant, he knows you too well and something in your smile, in your eyes, tells him the truth and that smile is not real.

You don't see it, but you feel his gaze on you, so intense. As he purses his lips and continues to watch the scene, remorse hitting him with a force he didn't expect.

The last chords of the song echo as everyone applauds, cheering and encouraging you to blow out the candles. You take a breath, blinking rapidly to clear any sign of your emotions.

"Go on, make a wish, birthday girl," Sara tells you excitedly.

You lean into the cake, closing your eyes.

Your mind, treacherously, can't help but return to Aemond's words, again feeling the urge to cry. And yet, you make an effort to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, at least for now.

And finally, you blow out the candles.

Applause fills the space again, and you smile as everyone begins to surround you, offering hugs and warm words. When your gaze inevitably meets his.

He's still there, standing a little apart, watching you with a mixture of guilt and something else you can't quite decipher. He doesn't even try to come closer and you're grateful for that, because it's the smartest thing he can do now.

You look away from him and continue to thank them, doing the best thing you know how to do: pretend.

You laugh lightly at a comment from Sara, accept another hug, and even allow someone to smear a bit of frosting from the cake on your nose.

It all seems so normal, so perfect, but you know it's not.

Aemond is still there, motionless, watching you. And even though you try to ignore him, you can feel his gaze burning into you. He knows he has crossed a boundary tonight. He knows he's hurt you and you're like this because of him.

"Happy birthday, Y/N."

One of your classmates says to you as he hugs you. Then someone else hugs you and says the same thing, then another person and another.

But the voice you most longed to hear saying those words to you is absent and the emptiness it leaves weighs heavier than you'd like to admit.

But one thing is guaranteed and that is that you're fucking done.

After your birthday celebration, you went home earlier than you normally would have stayed to celebrate. But you just couldn't pretend anymore.

Aemond is the one who always takes people who live near him with him in his car. But this time it was Sara who did you the favor after telling her that you appreciated everyone's great gesture for celebrating your day but you weren't feeling well.

You received a couple of texts from him during the ride. Messages you decided not to read or you would end up crying with Sara in her car. So you stood your ground and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't cry for him once you got to your dorm.

Obviously, you failed.

As soon as you finished taking off your clothes to put on your pajamas and started removing your makeup, inevitably the first tears started to fall. And then, you were a complete mess.

You weren't helped by the fact that his texts kept coming. And you had an idea what they were saying, so the very pain and bitterness deep inside you made you strong enough to not read anything, turn off your phone and go to bed to sleep.

But clearly nothing ended there.

You expected that he would later try to talk to you, no matter what.

So you did what you had never done before when it was about him and what he sometimes did when it was about you; you sent him straight to voicemail and didn't respond to any of his texts for days.

Y/N, please.

I didn't fucking mean it.

I'm sorry.

Can I talk to you?

Call me as soon as you can.

I know you're mad at me but I needed to talk to you, please.

That and more similar texts is what you've been getting these past few days. Days in which you have fortunately managed to avoid him on campus. And not just him, your other friends too or else he'll intercept you with them and you won't have a subtle escape.

And you don't want that.

You don't want to be weak enough in front of him to listen to his justifications and forgive him so easily. What he did to you, what he said to you… is not worthy of forgiveness.

You never realized before how insignificant you are to him and how he truly sees you. You are not even a little bit special than you considered him to you.

But that what happened, it broke your heart but it has also opened your eyes. You know you won't be able to hide forever. You also know that eventually meeting Aemond either alone or with people would be inevitable.

Besides, your friends were already starting to notice it weird that they didn't see you around, so you meet up with them in the usual campus gardens and act completely normal.

When Aemond also joins shortly after.

Everyone greets him as normal when he arrives and he greets them back with his usual nonchalant and serious attitude. However, you don't greet him. You don't even look at him.

You take the opportunity to do one of your homework right there, participating in the conversation from time to time but without being involved, just accompanying them and nothing more.

He takes a seat in front of you, where you instantly feel his piercing, burning gaze. You feel him silently begging you to look at him, to give him a chance to talk, to not ignore him anymore. But that's what you do, you ignore him.

“And how are your vacation plans going?” asks Cregan.

Inevitably, you tense up at the question. And the memories come back.

“Come with me.”

“Where to?”

“To Dragonstone.”

You press your lips together and more purposefully pretend to be completely immersed in your homework, when the truth is you hear the entire conversation.

“Where are you going?” he asks Jason.

“Sunspear, with my whole family.”

“And you?”

“I'm going home, Winterfell,” Sara replies.

“Winterfell?” repeats Cregan confused, “ You didn't say you were going to the beach?”

“Nope. I'll relax in the cabins with hot tubs,” she says with a smug grin, “How about you?”

“I'll go to the beach, definitely. I'm thinking Runestone.”

They go on to talk about their plans, places and so on. When they ask Aemond and you particularly pay more attention to that.

“You haven't changed your plans? You're going to Dragonstone?”

And his quiet, soft, nonchalant voice is not long in coming.

“Yes.”

And you continue to pretend. Pretending that you're not listening, that it's not a big deal, and that you secretly didn't have the same plan to go with him. And you're so immersed in it, you didn't think about the fact that eventually you'd also be asked the same question.

“What about you, Y/N? You said you had plans too.”

Shit.

You try to look like the question hasn't caught you off guard. And you quickly compose yourself. You raise your gaze to them, all but him, and speak with a nonchalant attitude and tone.

“Actually… no,” you place a soft smile, ”I'm going to stay here.”

“Oh really?”

“And why is that?”

Everyone looks at you in surprise and bewilderment. But, specifically, a burning, piercing eye watches you with more intensity than before and with a annoyance you can feel through your skin. Betrayal and pain, even. And honestly, it bothers you, too.

What was he expecting after what happened?

You try not to let it affect you, pretend he's not even here. And you deliberately ignore him.

“Maybe I'll visit my mom for a week or two,” you explain calmly, “But I'll stay most of the time here. And that's okay. It's no big deal.”

The guys give you their opinion and invite you to spend the vacations with them, somehow not wanting to leave you behind. But you turn them down politely, thanking them for their concern and saying that what you want is some time to yourself. And they understand.

And then, Aegon appears.

His entrance is, as always, loud and carefree. He wears a wide grin and a mocking twinkle in his eye as he greets everyone.

“Ah, look at this boring group alone,” he says, plopping his body down next to you on the grass.

Everyone waves at him, even you.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“The vacations.”

“Oh yeah, I can't wait. I need a break from all this,” he says as he lets out an exaggerated sigh and everyone in the group watches him with raised eyebrows.

“You? A break?” Sara asks him.

“Sure,” he shrugs, ”I'm a student too.”

“You've been drinking and going to parties every day,” Jason tells him amused, “What break are you talking about exactly?”

Everyone in the group laughs, even you, except him.

Aegon tries to justify himself, but even he knows he's a mess. When suddenly, his gaze fixes on you, raising an eyebrow and placing a smirk as if something has suddenly crossed his mind.

“Hey, Y/N,” he nudges you lightly with his shoulder, ”it was your birthday, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod with a small smile, trying to keep your composure.

“Why didn't you invite me?” he asks, feigning indignation.

Cregan scoffs.

“I invited you, you idiot.”

“Oh, right, right,” Aegon replies with a carefree laugh, ”I'm sorry I didn't go. I had another little party. Aemond was there too, wasn't he, little brother?”

Aemond's silence is immediate and deafening. He says nothing, and that makes the atmosphere suddenly heavy, for you.

And something inside you twists. And you look down at your notebook, trying to control your emotions and everything you're thinking. But you can't.

A party. He was at a party, on your birthday.

“And how was that party?” asks Cregan.

“Oh, fun, as always,” Aegon replies with a light tone. “They were our childhood friends, the Baratheons, the Tyrells, the Martells, and the Lannisters.”

Your heart stops for an instant.

Lannister.

That last name weighs on your mind like a rock.

“Yeah, it was really fun,” Aegon continues with a smile, “Even Aemond had a good time.”

The sound of his scandalous laughter fills the air, but is suddenly interrupted by Aemond's cold, cutting voice.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The elder only shrugs with a smirk and raises both hands in surrender.

“Oh, fucking spare me. You know how it is with him,” he says while at the same time starting to get up, ”First he's fine and then suddenly he turns into fucking Maleficent, like at that party.”

He waves a lazy goodbye as the guys wave goodbye to him. And you get caught up in his words.

Even Aemond had a good time.

Now you understand. He forgot your birthday because he was with them, with Cerelle.

A pang of pain runs through your chest at the thought of what that implies, of what probably happened between the two of them.

And whatever it was, it didn't end well, because afterwards he went to the pub and he was so distant, so quiet, so cold and so upset that that's why he said those ugly words to you and treated you the way he treated you.

Otherwise, he would have stayed with her and you wouldn't have seen him on your birthday.

Still, the betrayal in your chest is palpable and growing bigger. He still showed up, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't forgotten you on your fucking birthday.

You press your lips together, trying to hold back the tears. You won't give him the pleasure of seeing you break. Not now, not here. Least of all when you feel his gaze on you, his gaze intent, fixed and more insistently on you now that you know.

With a new bitterness settling in your chest, you refuse to give him what he seeks. You keep your eyes anywhere but on him, resisting the storm of emotions that threatens to overflow inside you.

A few long minutes pass with the guys making any topic of conversation and that stare starts to bother you more and more, so you decide you've had enough and start putting away all your books and notebooks.

“I have to go now. I can't be late for my next class,” you let them know as you get up with all your stuff, ”I'll see you guys later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“See ya.”

You settle your backpack on your shoulder and with your phone in hand, you start walking away from them towards your corresponding building.

And as you walk away, a notification comes to your phone, followed by another. You stare at the screen and your breath catches for a moment, reading the texts, from him.

Are you fucking serious?

How long are you going to keep this shit up?

You scoff, shaking your head slightly. You don't even open the chat to let him know you've read it. And in fact, with a bitter look on your face and a new hurt feeling, you block him.

The first week of vacation, you went to visit your Mom in Highgarden.

It wasn't a difficult decision because you knew a few days away from Kings Landing would do you good. And being with your Mom and younger brothers you knew it would be just enough to keep you busy and spend time with all of them.

Sara sent you pictures and videos of her time in the mountains of Winterfell, enjoying big cozy cabins and fancy hot tubs.

For a moment you regretted turning down her invitation, but as you laughed and played with your brothers, you were happy to be with them after so many months without seeing them.

You also sent him pictures of your home, the lake in the garden, flowers and the big woods, as well as selfies of you and your brothers. Through the group chat, Cregan and Jason also sent pictures of their vacations, both of them at the beach and tanning.

One thing you noticed, inevitably, was the absence of Aemond.

He usually doesn't send messages or pictures of what he's doing. But you assumed he would when he was in Dragonstone, maybe even a picture or two. But nothing. Complete silence. Just like you.

You blocked him from social media too. He has no way of knowing what you're doing and where, just as you have no way of knowing about him. And it was a kind of relief you hadn't experienced about him before. It was good to breathe and not be on the lookout to recognize red hair near him.

And the more it made you realize how much better off you are without getting involved with him.

In fact, you stayed home for more than two weeks. You couldn't help it after your brothers asked you to stay with them longer. Until you finally let Sara know you were going back to Kings Landing the next day.

It wasn't a hard goodbye, but your Mom and brothers were sad. You promised to come back, like you do every year on the next vacation. And finally you get on that plane.

It's not a long trip, thankfully. And when you land, surprisingly it's raining. The weather is cloudy, cold and perfect for welcoming you in to watch movies curled up in your bed.

So you order an Uber and soon you're on your way to your residence, letting Sara know of your movements at all times, just as she keeps bragging to you about her days in those comfy cabins.

As you arrive, the rain is still pouring down and you run towards the doors with your suitcase in one hand and the other protecting your head, even though you are already partially wet.

You enter the building, shaking off the water, and climb to the second floor. With your keys already in hand, you start thinking about what you're going to have for dinner and what movie will be the first of your marathon.

But then, you notice something.

Or rather, someone.

In front of your door, sitting on the floor with his head slightly tilted down, there is someone. Surprise forces you to slow your steps and your breathing quickens slightly as you recognize him, even before he looks up.

Aemond.

He turns his head towards you and his one visible eye meets yours. His expression is a strange mix between seriousness and something else… something softer, more vulnerable.

His lips are pressed together and the raindrops that surely reached him glisten on the ends of his hair. For a moment, you stand frozen in the hallway, not knowing what to say or do, with the sound of the rain out there filling the silence between the two of you.

You don't know exactly how long it takes, that you swallow hard and finally speak, taking a couple of cautious steps towards him.

“Aemond?”

He doesn't say anything. He makes what appears to be a defeated gesture and rises from the ground, letting you see his profile straight ahead. He has the same look as before, with his hoddie's cap pulled up over his hair and he leans against the hallway wall behind him, looking at you and nothing else.

You shake your head, not understanding.

“What are you doing here?”

You ask him in surprise and confusion. And inevitably, seeing his state, you shouldn't but begin to worry about him. Has something bad happened to him?

“You didn't go to Dragonstone?” you ask him later as you remember, feeling more confused than before.

What is he doing here instead of enjoying his vacation at his family's huge, luxurious beachside mansion?

And he finally speaks in his low, soft tone.

“No.”

You frown, only with his answer creating more questions in your mind.

“And what are you doing here? How did you know I was coming back today?”

“I asked Sara.”

You part your lips, confused.

“Why would she tell you that?”

“You blocked me from everywhere, Y/N,” he tells you in a low, obvious tone, as if he had no choice.

Confusion and anger slowly begins to creep up on you. But you know you can't be upset with Sara, not with her. None of the boys know what you had with Aemond, they didn't even suspect it then and they certainly won't now.

Surely she saw it as a casual question, something insignificant, as if he had asked her about anyone else. So you can't be bothered. However, you begin to feel the awkwardness, as well as the slight sense of betrayal in your chest. And the bitterness.

“You haven't told me what you're doing here.”

“I need to talk to you,” he says, taking a step toward you.

“About what?” you ask him instantly, confused and with a defensive tone, clearly annoyed.

Everything you have done regarding him, blocking him, not speaking to him anymore and walking away, is more than enough to make him understand that you no longer want to have anything to do with him.

And you know he understands that, so why is his need to keep doing this? Asking for you and looking for you?

You are sick of this situation.

And Aemond, noticing this, your look, which you've never given him before, before your birthday, is not something he's used to. Neither is your tone of voice and the distance you keep from him, when before you always wanted to be near him, almost all the time.

He feels more guilty and like an idiot than ever.

He lowers his gaze, trying to find a way not to keep fucking this up, to be able to talk to you, to let him into your life again. Then, just like he used to be with you when it was just the two of you, he drops his strong walls and for the first time, he comes across in the most honest and sincere way to you.

“I miss you.”

Your body immediately tenses as you hear those two words come out of his mouth. His voice, lower and laden with a sincerity you didn't expect, cuts your breath for a moment.

Your first impulse is to want to laugh, not out of amusement, but as a bitter, incredulous reaction.

And without saying anything, you watch him seriously, waiting for him to say something else, something that would make sense of his presence here, in the rain, in front of your door. But he doesn't.

He just watches you, his shoulders slightly down, and that vulnerability that he rarely lets show in him.

And seeing that you don't react, that you're still watching him even in that way, in that way he's not used to, when before it was a tender and loving look, now there's none of that… he hates it.

So he hurries to speak again, to explain himself, to make you understand.

“I know I fucked up. I didn't mean to tell you all that on your birthday. You didn't deserve it and I'm sorry. I was an idiot,” he says, ”But I miss you and that's why I'm here.”

You shake your head slightly, watching him earnestly and attentively, while at the same time folding your arms, in an attempt to protect yourself from the wave of emotions that threatens to attack you.

He looks at you pleadingly and you look at him serious, disinterested, with the distance marked and the bitterness still inside you.

“That's it?”

His face contracts slightly in frustration.

“Y/N—

“If that's all, you can go,” you interrupt him, quickly pushing past him with your suitcase in hand and trying to get into your dorm room as fast as you can to leave him behind.

But you knew you wouldn't make it.

His hand immediately takes you gently but firmly by your arm, stopping you and turning you back to him so he can see your face and speak to you.

“No, that's not all,” he tells you instantly, “I-I… I want things to go back to the way they used to be.”

“And how were things between the two of you before exactly?” you inquire, taking a decisive step toward him, “You want to go back to the whole ‘no strings attached’ thing? To seeing each other in secret and me still just being your convenient fuck and nothing else? That's what you want?”

Your tone is a poison dart, and you see him recoil, as if your every word burns him. His jaw tenses, but he doesn't say anything right away.

“Say it, “you challenge him, taking a step closer, your eyes boring into his, ”Tell me it wasn't just that. Tell me it wasn't just… that I wasn't just—

Your voice cracks, and you hate that it does. Because even though you're upset, even though you want to stay strong, it's too much. He still affects you even more intensely than he did before.

He looks at you, his lips parted, as the rain continues to fall outside.

“That's what I thought,” you whisper at last, releasing yourself from his grip.

You hold the keys more firmly in your hand, avoiding shaking, to insert it into the lock of your door. But he, not wanting it to end like this, stops you.

“You never said anything. You seemed fine with all of it. Now why the sudden change?”

You close your eyes tightly, no longer able to hold back the tears in your eyes. The bitterness, the sadness, the pain, the betrayal, everything stirs inside you. It hurts you and there seems to be no end to it, because again you turn to face him.

And seeing the tears threatening to run down your cheeks, something in his gaze softens, not expecting to see you like this.

“Are you fucking serious?” you say to him almost in a whisper in a shaky, bitter voice, “After what you did, what you said, how do you expect me to be okay to keep being with you?”

He lets out a long breath.

“Y/N… you weren't just that. You never were. And I… I was upset that day. And I shouldn't have taken it out on you, I know that. But I promise you weren't just that to me.”

You shake your head, not believing his words for a second. Not anymore.

“The thing here is, your words don't mean anything to me anymore.”

He takes a step toward you.

“I didn't mean to… I didn't think that—

“That's the problem, Aemond, you never think of anyone but yourself,” you interrupt him in a harsh, annoyed voice, ”Everything is always about what you want, what's convenient for you.”

He shakes his head.

“That's not true—

“Of course it is,” you take a shaky breath and your words coming out softer, but no less sharp, “ And even now, after all, you don't understand how much you meant to me. Because I didn't matter to you, ever.”

No matter how many times he tells you that it was not so, you will not believe him, because he did not necessarily prove to you before something that can prove his words. There are no facts, there is nothing.

And that same bitterness, makes you finally be brave, speak up, get it off your chest. So you don't let him talk so you can get it over with once and for all.

“You know what happened?” you ask, ”I got feelings. That's what happened.”

And there it is. You've said it.

Those words you never said long ago so as not to scare him away from you, how you knew it would happen, without putting you and what you felt first. But still, without having said it before, you ended up with a broken heart.

The weight of your words falls between the two of you like an invisible wall, so palpable you can almost touch it. Aemond seems to freeze, his eyes anchored on yours.

“That's why things can't go back to the way they were, because, of course, that's not what you want. What you want is an idiot who is at your beck and call whenever and however you want her to be.”

Your words hit him unexpectedly.

And the change in his expression is immediate. All the vulnerability he had shown disappears from his face.

And once again you are in front of the Aemond everyone knows; the cold, distant, serious and inexpressive Aemond. His gaze, once pleading and remorseful, becomes hard and distant.

His jaw visibly tenses and you notice how his shoulders square, adopting that defensive posture you know so well.

“Don't say that,” his voice comes out low, strained. “It wasn't like that.”

“It wasn't?” you inquire, pursing your lips, ”You said I was just a convenient fuck. I'm sure you can find someone else, then.”

Every word comes like poison from your lips, and though it pains you to say them, you know they're true. You see it in the way his face contorts slightly, as if your words have hit him where it hurts the most.

But he maintains that typical attitude of his, that mask of indifference he has perfected over the years.

You wait for him to contradict you, to deny it, to try to justify it. But nothing. He says nothing. He just stands there, staring at you seriously, jaw clenched and looking like he's having an internal fight, struggling against his thoughts, not knowing what to do or what to say.

And you again press your lips together, having enough of this.

”Get out.”

And he finally reacts, lowering his gaze and letting out a deep sigh, pursing his lips and looking at you again with a serious look.

“I can't give you what you want, Y/N.”

“But you do want me to give you what you want,” you say firmly and curtly, “Because Cerelle didn't, right?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think about what you're going to say. But there it is, you've said it too.

His lips part, his whole body tenses, watching you in surprise and mild confusion, definitely not expecting that from you. And there, you leave him speechless, trying to understand how it is that you know about her.

And although for a second you look unsure about what you've said and regretful, you also decide that you're not going to keep quiet about it any longer. And you continue, with bitterness in your eyes and in your tone of voice.

“You forgot my birthday, because of her,” you say, each word like a dagger, ”You were late because you were with her.”

“How do you know about her?” he asks you instantly, his voice like ice.

You swallow hard softly, holding his gaze despite the pain it causes you.

Of course he would ask you that.

“I noticed something between you, when she went to the same parties as us,” you reply, “The way you looked at her, how your mood changed when she appeared and when you both disappeared,” you say with those moments replaying in your mind, still so present, “And then Aegon, drunk as usual, told me a few things.”

“What did he tell you?” he again asks you instantly, serious and thoughtful.

The rigidity in his body, the tension, is more evident now, as is the vulnerability and sadness in you as you talk about her. And you avert your gaze, with every word coming out of your mouth aching, but needing to say it all.

“That the two of you had a thing. That you're in love with her, but she's not in love with you.”

The muscle in his jaw tenses so tight you fear he'll break his teeth, his breathing grows heavier, and for a moment, you see a flash of raw pain in his eyes before the mask of coldness falls back into place.

“The worst part is that I've known that for a while now,” you continue, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts, ”I kept hoping I meant more to you than just your way of filling that void.”

For a moment, your mask of coldness cracks. But only for a moment. And you see a glimmer, of something deeper in her gaze. Guilt? Remorse?

But just as it appears, it vanishes. You notice how his hands open and close at his sides, a nervous gesture he rarely displays. His gaze again seems to search for something on the floor, before meeting your gaze again.

And when he finally speaks, his voice comes out lower, more controlled, as if each word is carefully measured.

“That was never my intention.”

It's almost as if the words hurt as they come out, as if a part of him wants to say more but doesn't know how. And you scoff, incredulous.

“Sure, you didn't mean to treat me as your second option and break my heart with every cold, disinterested attitude every time she came back to break yours?”

The silence that follows is heavy, laden with all the unsaid things between you.

“I can't give you what you want,” he repeats resignedly, watching you seriously.

“Then leave.”

“Y/N—

“No,” you interrupt him instantly, stepping back instinctively, ”I'm done here. I'm done with you. So leave. Don't come looking for me, ever again, do you understand? I don't want anything to do with you anymore.”

You are clear in your words. You're not playing games. You're not hesitating for a second. And you're being terribly honest.

Something snaps inside you, but there's also something starting to break free. There's no turning back now and you both know it, because this time, finally, you chose to put yourself first.

So you walk into your dorm room, while he stands in the middle of the hallway, not saying or doing anything else. And then you close the door.

AEMOND POV

There is something off… in the way you are no longer around.

It shows in the small details, the way you slowly disappeared from his life. In the way a message with your name no longer appears on his phone, nor a call.

In the way he was unconsciously so used to visiting you in your dorm or your going to his apartment. The way you used to fall asleep next to him in his big bed. The way you would make breakfast for the two of you before you went to class.

The way you both exchanged subtle glances when you were in a group with the guys or at parties. The way in secret encounters, stolen kisses in the shadows and passionate moments in his bedroom.

But there was also the way you always waited for him.

That's a thought that hits him with the force of a delayed revelation, something his own selfishness kept him from seeing before.

When he would ignore your texts or calls, when he wouldn't meet you, when he would cancel plans at the last minute, when he would disappear for days and barely be around, for her… for Cerelle.

Even on his bad days, after every fight with her, he would come back and there you were, without protest or asking for explanations. And then it was back to the usual routine; all secret. And casual.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. He looks at the clock on his nightstand; midnight. He can't sleep. His mind keeps him awake, because all he can think about, is you.

Since the day of your birthday, specifically, you've tormented his mind. Ever since he knew he fucked up, ever since you stopped answering his texts, calls, to ignoring him even when he was in front of you and leaving him behind, you haven't stopped rolling around in his mind.

He was supposed to be right now in Dragonstone, enjoying his vacation, like everyone else before the new semester crushes him with new difficulties, responsibilities and pressures.

But he decided not to go, because he couldn't. Because you were supposed to go with him.

He doesn't even want to admit how much that idea excited him. The two of you had made the plan, you were supposed to go with him. But when you canceled, without even telling him directly, it disappointed him in a way he didn't expect.

But he doesn't blame you. He can't. Not after what he did.

He's too proud though, too stubborn to accept it ending like this. He refuses to let you go, even when you've made it perfectly clear that you want nothing more to do with him. He can't help but seek you out, pursue you, unaware of the damage he continues to cause.

That's why he went looking for you. But he had already lost you, for a while now.

And he misses you. By the Gods, how he misses you.

He took you for granted, thinking you would always be there for him, even with his bad moods and his habit of taking it out on others, like he did on your birthday.

A growl of frustration escapes his throat as he brings a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes tightly.

The memory of that day haunts him like a curse. Not only did he ruin everything between you two, but he did it on your birthday. Your damn birthday that he forgot.

Guilt and regret flood him inside as he lies in his bed. And every memory, every mental image is a reminder of what he has lost because of his own stupidity.

How could he have been so blind? So selfish?

The silence of the night is deafening, interrupted only by the soft ticking of the clock and his own breathing. His eyes burn with exhaustion, but sleep refuses to take him.

Not when your voice echoes in his mind, repeating those words, “I kept waiting to mean more to you than just your way of filling that void.”

Suddenly, the silence is broken by the ringing of his phone. His heart violently flips in his chest, and for a moment, he thinks it might be you. His hands move with almost desperate speed to reach for his phone.

But hope dies quickly when he sees the name on the screen; Cerelle.

He stands completely still, watching the screen light up again and again with her call. And for the first time, something changes inside him. Instead of the usual anxious fluttering in his stomach when he sees her name, instead of that compulsive need to answer immediately, he feels… nothing.

Or maybe not nothing. He feels tiredness. A deep, overwhelming tiredness.

He knows exactly why she's calling. He can picture it perfectly, another fight with Aegon, tears in her voice, needing someone to listen to her, to comfort her. Needing him, not because she really wants him, but because it's convenient.

Because she knows he is always there, waiting like an idiot, ready to pick up the pieces his brother leaves behind.

“It wasn't your intention to treat me like your second choice? To break my heart with every cold, disinterested attitude every time she came back to break yours?”

The irony is not lost on him, he did to you exactly what Cerelle does to him. He used you to fill a void, to not feel so alone, so unloved.

The phone stops ringing, only to start again almost immediately. This time, however, he feels no hesitation. With a decisive move, he turns it off completely, cutting off the call and any chance of further messages.

He drops back onto the bed, his mind inevitably drifting back to you. It's as if he can't help himself, as if all his thoughts have a direct path to your memory.

He sees your face with a clarity that hurts him, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, how your nose crinkled slightly when something bothered you, the softness of your cheeks when you blushed, the way your hair fell over your face when you concentrated on something.

Your lips… the way they curved into a smile, how they felt against his, the taste of your kisses. Every detail of you is burned into his memory.

The silence of the night seems to taunt him, reminding him of all the times he could have done things differently, all the opportunities he had to value you as you deserved and wasted thinking of someone else.

He lost you because of his own stupidity, because of his inability to see what was in front of him until it was no longer there. For chasing an illusion with Cerelle while he had something real with you.

And now, it's too late.

thank you for reading!

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

The thing that gets me right now about Buddie is that. There was a post I saw over a year ago that said something like, "Buck knows he's queer but not that he's in love with his best friend and Eddie knows he's in love with his best friend but not that he's queer," and how. just. that's what's tearing them both up inside.

Buck wants to be in love with Taylor, with Natalia, with Tommy. He's so happy to be out and aware that he's bi. But he's in love with Eddie. And that's horrible because that's his best friend. He can't ruin their friendship - the best thing in his life - by telling Eddie he's in love with him. He wants so badly to be in love with someone else so that he can have Eddie the way he thinks Eddie wants him - best friendship - and he can also have the romance and partner he craves.

And Eddie can't be in love with Buck. Because being in love with Buck means facing a part of him that will, in his mind, make his life messier and more complicated and oh JFC don't even get him started on his parents. You know that he wishes like anything that his best friend was a woman so that he could fall in love with Buck while also not having to look at that part of himself.

But the thing is - the fact that Eddie is Buck's best friend, and the fact that Buck is a man - is why they're in love.

Eddie thinks he has to be perfect and have it all under control to the point where he consistently makes life choices without consulting the people affected (Shannon, Chris, Buck, etc) because he thinks that's his job as Man of the House, as Father, as Husband, and he can't show the messy parts of himself. The crux of his issues with Ana and Marisol is that he never, ever, ever let them get in close. He'll fuck them, he'll play house with them, but he will never actually let them in. If Buck was a woman, Eddie would never have let Buck get in close. He never would have let Buck step in with Chris, with his breakdown, with all of it. But because it was wrapped up in the nebulous 'best friendship' umbrella and Buck wasn't someone Eddie thought he could (or should) want sexually/romantically, he did. He doesn't need to provide, take care of, or play a heternormative role for Buck, and that's how Buck snuck in there.

Of course you fell in love with your best friend who's a man, Eddie. It was never going to be any other way.

And Buck thinks that falling in love with his best friend means he's constantly on the edge of ruining his life and Eddie's life and he wishes so badly to fall in love with someone else and doesn't realize that it's Eddie being his best friend that has him so deeply in love. Buck never performed for Eddie. Because he didn't see Eddie as a romantic option he didn't do any of the over the top things he tends to do for his romances, and he didn't hide the parts of himself out of fear that partner won't like them. Buck just stepped inside with Eddie and supported him. He had no expectations, no plans, so he just let the relationship - the love - grow naturally. Buck is so fucking desperate to be loved and to have a partner, to have the relationships he sees the rest of his family having, and it means he'll chop off pieces of himself, he'll put himself last, he'll do anything to be what he thinks the other person wants and needs, and he'll rush WAY too fast into intimacy and generally just. make a mess. But Eddie's just Eddie. He's the best friend. So Buck pushes Eddie when Eddie needs it. He's patient. He lets Eddie see all of himself, and he calls Eddie out when Eddie's done something that hurts Buck, and apologizes in turn. He had no expectations. He didn't hide.

Of course you fell in love with your best friend, Buck. It was never going to be any other way.

And they are both so fucking convinced they are in a tragedy. Wanting the one person they can't have. Can't be with a man, this will fuck up my entire life, and why would he want me anyway. Can't be with my best friend, this will fuck up my entire life, and he couldn't want me anyway. They have no idea what genre they're really in.

They think they're in a tragedy, but they're in a romance, and they do say your partner should be your best friend.

[aangelinakii]

BIRTHDAY WISHES.

— happy birthday, you better enjoy your present.

summary : it's your birthday and a crushing damian decides to gift you something. let's just hope he's not ratting himself out here.

requested !

breathe, damian, it's just a day; they're just a person.

he'd been saying it in the bathroom mirror this morning whilst splashing some water on his face and attempting to style his hair a little better today.

at one point, tim had attempted to come inside as he was staring at himself, knuckles white as he gripped the basin, and damian was quick to slam the door on his forehead, and attempt to ignore the shrieks of pain coming from the hallway.

damian had been crushing deep for you, which he'd realised one ap physics lesson as he sketched the profile of your face in his notebook. you were just friends, and of course he knew that, but there was something about you that made his heart pound, and, evidently, draw you on his pages.

he didn't want to risk spending any money on you, since he didn't carry cash and people would raise some eyebrows if he went around the manor asking for money; if he used his card, his father would see and ask what he's doing buying from that flowershop downtown.

and there was no chance he'd just skip over it and not get you anything — it wasn't that he was trying to impress you, a little bit but not really, it was more so just expressing himself. express, not impress.

the reason he was so nervous about giving to you what he'd made was definitely your reaction.

"what the hell is this? you're a weirdo, you're crazy, you're this, you're that."

despite knowing you weren't that type of person, damian was anxious to be shamed; but at least he'd be showing you his art, instead of hiding it away in his drawers for not another soul to see.

at lunch, the two of you sat at your usual bench in the courtyard, soaking up what sun gotham was offering today — not too mild, not too cold.

whilst you spoke about how your day had gone so far, damian found himself zoning out, your voice becoming a drone in the back of his mind. it wasn't personal — well, maybe it was, considering it was you he was so nervous about.

since realising that his feelings for you were more than platonic, each moment spent with you was like spent back with his mother; he was holding something back, but also doing everything he could. the only difference between here at gotham academy and the league of assassins was that he wasn't learning to kill anyone, just trying to muster up courage to reply to your question.

"what, sorry?" damian asked, finally looking away from his hands to you, where you seemed to be looking at him expectantly.

a light chuckle passed your lips, and a round of chills run up his forearms. "i asked how your day has been, though? since mine clearly can't get any worse."

"any worse? how? it's your birthday."

but damian had definitely had his fair share of horrid birthdays, even going to far to forbid his own one from being celebrated at the manor; the most he lets anyone do is give him a present if they have one and walk off immediately, he doesn't want any singing or stupid sayings.

you hesitated, and damian realised quickly that you had already done all the talking about your day, and stammered on his words to respond to your first question. "uh— yes, no, my day's been alright. i have criminology after lunch, which is quite good." he was trailing off task. "anyway! it's your birthday, right? i mean, of course it is, i just said that... i got you something."

he immediately dove into his backpack, intent in avoiding the stare he could feel boring into the side of his head.

when he found it, it was exactly where he'd carefully slotted it in that morning, tucked in his hardback criminology textbook so it wouldn't crease.

the moment he pulled it from his bag, he could sense your polite confusion from here. "aww, how cute, dames, you got me a crim textbook," he could imagine you thinking, but then when he found the page, your entire demeanor changed.

carefully, damian plucked the piece of paper from where it sat and passed it gingerly to you, closing back up the textbook.

"damian, it's..." the words brushed past your lips in a whisper, sending another wave of chills prickling along his skin. thank god for the navy blazer gotham academy forced them all to wear, or else the jig would be up.

silent, he waited in aching anticipation for your response, his knuckles aching now from cracking them so much in the gap of silence. it was something he did to soothe himself — this time it seemed not to be working as well.

fragile in your fingers, you stared down at your graphite features, wondering where he'd got this angle from; there wasn't any pictures of yourself that you knew of, facing you so head-on, so close and raw, yet so filled with love. in fact, you didn't even know your face could be shown so happy. and then the moment flashed like a billboard in your mind.

after school the other day, you and damian had made a stop-off at the library on the way home, where you'd been hoping to grab a book to aid you in one of your classes, but, inevitably, you'd been distracted by the children's section. how come their area got to be all colourful and filled with fun activities? how come the rest of the library was so drab and dull? well, it did its job, anyhow.

but, laughing away with one another, you'd tucked yourselves into the kiddie-sized reading nook, knees pulled up to chests, shoes mushed against one another, no doubt scuffing them, grins ever-green in the presence of the other.

well... if that was the case, you must've looked really good that day.

before he could have time to brace for impact, you leapt up and engulfed damian in a hug so tender he could feel his heart begin to hammer from behind the cage of his ribs.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!" you grinned into his ear, giving him one final squeeze, pulling away by the time damian could even think around raising an arm to reciprocate.

hot, hot fire ran up the back of his neck, and he brought warm fingertips to brush along it — hopefully it wasn't as red as it felt like it would be.

"this is... better than anything i could ever ask for." your voice went from excited to quiet, more real, and damian felt something swell in his chest.

it only caused damian to smile something soft, and wedge his hands beneath his bottom to hide their tremor from your eyes. "so you like it?"

"like it?" you repeated with a laugh. "damian, i love it."

[thebreakfastgenie]

#piano man is secretly about a gay bar#seriously listen to it with that in mind#you can’t convince me otherwise @bionicbabe0101

You are wrong! Billy Joel thinks that joke is funny, but the real story of Piano Man has been well-documented for decades. A news crew went to the actual bar, before it closed down. A journalist interviewed the owners. Someone bought the piano from it at an auction and owns it.

What bugs me about this joke is that Piano Man is about a specific type of bar: a piano bar. I'm sure a gay piano bar has existed somewhere at some point, but it's not typical. The traditional gay bar is a different type of bar. People also tend to go to gay bars to find hook ups; this was especially true back in the 70s. No one in the Piano Man bar is getting laid. (Well, in real life the piano man and the waitress were sleeping together, but that's not in the song.) The people in the Piano Man bar are depressed losers who are there to drown their sorrows. That's not the atmosphere at gay bars. It would also be unusual to have a waitress at a gay bar in the early 70s. They tended to be fairly separated by gender because, again, the primary purpose of them was to have gay sex. They did become community hubs beyond that, but that was a foundational part of the scene. "The waitress is practicing politics" also suggests that she's dodging advances from the male clients she's serving.

In the Navy came out in 1979, six years after Piano Man. The expression existed before that, but Davy is not a reference to that expression or the history of homosexuality at sea. Davy is a reference to there being a regular at the bar who was a guy named Davy who was in the Navy. Members of Davy's family have identified him in connection with the song.

The real bar was called The Executive Room Lounge, in the Wilshire District of Los Angeles. It was owned by a married couple named Russell and Angelique Norton. Billy Joel worked there for about six months under the name Bill Martin (his middle name) while trying to get out of a bad record deal. His girlfriend at the time, who quickly became his first wife, worked at the same bar as a waitress while taking business classes (the lyric "practicing politics" is partially a reference to this) but no one there knew they were together.

I go to gay bars. Modern gay bars carry on the tradition in many ways, but they've also evolved over time, partly because there was a conscious effort to revitalize the scene, which mean allowing more people into the same space. Also, keep in mind that Piano Man came out in 1973. Stonewall happened in 1969. You may have heard of Lawrence v Texas, the 2003 case that ruled laws outlawing sodomy were unconstitutional. That case overturned a previous ruling, Bowers v Hardwick, where the Supreme Court ruled that the constitution did not protect sodomy. That was in 1986. "Man, what are you doing here?" as a haha funny "this guy doesn't realize this is a gay bar" joke might work in the 90s, but it doesn't really fit the landscape of the 70s.

The mouse version in the corner is not gay either, as the MLM (mice loving mice) movement roughly paralleled the gay rights movement in human society.

it's not mentioned in the song but in the corner of the piano man bar there is a mouse hole and inside that hole is a smaller replica of the bar staffed and patronized by mice who perfectly mirror all of the characters and they all say squeak us a song you're the piano mouse and mouse what are you doing here while they put cheese in his tiny jar

[gallusrostromegalus]

As someone a bit too young to have seen Bleach the first time around, AEIWAM is still consuming a crucial portion of my brain cells. So imagine my surprise when I looked up Tousen, the reason you started this behemoth of an alternate universe, on TV tropes.

Among other shocking revelations...

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE JOINED AIZEN OF HIS OWN FREE WILL IN CANON???? What do you MEAN, TITE KUBO, that the reason your Tousen wants to destroy the Shinigami is that his crush died of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE???

Who is this man and what has he done with my eternally suffering Tousen?

You understand why I had to take custody of this poor bastard.

I can respect what Kubo was going for- Aizen was right in the fact that Soul Society does suck, and the extended canon is that Tousen's crush was killed by her husband, everyone knew it, and nobody would prosecute the husband because he was a Noble. Canon Tousen is, more or less, suffering from the same kind of rage-based brainrot that is unfortunately so common these days- the idea that because a system is imperfect, or ever corrupt, that it's a good idea to tear the whole thing down/restart the universe (the real Path Of Least Harm is of course, the much more complicated and frustrating work of Dis-and-re-mantling the system piece-by-piece without leaving vulnerable people to fend for themselves, but that isn't as emotionally satisfying or fun to draw as senseless destruction, but I digress).

but his arc is only barely on the page at all, mostly after his death and contains one of the blandest and most obnoxious tropes- fridging- and the whole thing falls flat. It also fails to explore the FASCINATING angle of disability and tbh, racism in soul society- two VERY fucked up things that would very much justify his rage. But it's shonen and the series was deep in production hell at that point, and tousen was far from the only victim. I still don't know what the fuck Gin's deal was.

ANYWAY,

Notable changes between Canon!Tousen and AEIWAM!Tousen and some art under the cut:

Kakiyo is Kaname's adopted sister, and despite looking nothing alike, since they re-incarnated in soul society at the same time, they regard themselves as twins.

Kakiyo does kind of a lot in the plot before her demise- she's responsible for introducing Kaname and Komamura, teaches Zaraki and Yachiru how to read, and unintentionally helps Aizen by recommending him to be promoted to third seat in the 5th division, because she and Kiganjo were thinking about starting a family soon, and Aizen would make a good stand-in for her while she was on maternity leave.

She also gets to do a bunch of stuff after she dies too!

The characters in Tousen's name approximately mean "Necessary Scholar" and make an allusion to a legendary scholar from China who came to Japan to find the elixir of immortality for the emperor. He returns with an elixir that stops the emperor from aging, and the emperor kills him so he can't make anyone else immortal (the emperor doesn't age, but he's still vulnerable to stabbing, and gets stabbed). I thought that was an extremely fun literary allusion so I'm leaning into it- before he becomes a Shinigami, AEIWAM!Tousen took over the library run by his ans Kakiyo's adopted godparents, and ran a children's literacy program. he has a special interest in information sciences and educational methodology. even among nerds, he's a mega-nerd.

Kakiyo meets and marries Gosuke Kiganjo, who goes back to West 51 to meet his beloved's brother and the weird giant monk that runs the library with him. Kaname is immensely fond of Kiganjo, and has no qualms being the best man at their wedding. He and Gosuke are good friends for the first few years of the marriage, until Aizen gets his claws into Gosuke and slowly drives him insane.

In AEIWAM, Tousen is cursed into going along with the plan by Aizen. Aizen was just going to make Kiganjo kill him, but Gin is getting impatient with Aizen's hogyoku progress, and persuades Aizen into cursing Kaname into compliance instead with a Forbidden Bakudō: Kyuunodo — Ningyō Kugi Saiyaku (人形釘誓約, Puppet Nail Covenant)

I do keep the canon!Tousen's reputation for being pedantic, unecessarily critical and generally kind of boring. The reason for AEIWAM!Tousen's reputation is different: He is kind of a pain in the ass, because he is in Horrific Pain and Deeply Traumatized and that makes people irritable to say the least, and he deliberately cultivates a reputation for being Boring to keep people far, far away from him- and hopefully, far from Aizen as well.

An underrated bit of Canon!Tousen is that Suzumushi is not his zanpakuto. Suzumushi was Kakiyo's zanpakuto, and we see him take the sword from her coffin in the manga. Which is insane because it means HE ACHIEVED BANKAI WITH A ZANPAKUTO THAT WASN'T EVEN HIS. Dude is SEVERELY underrated as a swordsman. In AEIWAM, Suzumushi is still Kakiyo's zanpakuto, and only BARELY clings to life on the last reserves of the Spiritual power Kakiyo put into her before Kaname finds her. Suzumushi persuades him to take her up, enter the academy and bring Kakiyo's killer to justice (Suzumushi has fallen to Aizen's illusion and doesn't know who the killer is). She kind of glosses over how they bond, but she more or less crawls into his soul and supresses Kaname's native Yume-kon that would have been his own Zanpakuto spirit if it had been allowed to awaken. She did make an entirely new Shikai and Bankai for him- the chime that makes people lose conciousness is entirely new, the AOE of Just A Shitload Of Swords was Suzumushi's original Shikai. The Bankai of a space where anyone not touching the sword experiences no sensory input? Suzumushi made it first and foremost as a refuge for Kaname when the pain of the curse became to unbearable.

The biggest difference, of course, is that Kaname lives through the Aizen Arc and gets a Happy Ending: Once he wakes up after the battle, he is free, and chooses to marry the wolfman he's been in love with for centuries. Here's some art of them, finally home:

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Ellie crushing on her best friend's mom ..

And she doesn't even try to hold herself from letting herself leaning right into your touch. Her eyes still lock strongly with yours, as if she was a puppy that's completely entranced and taken by the soft caresses of its owner.

"I..I need you, m-ma'am." she whispers, barely above a breath, and it was so desperately needy.

warnings: age gap (ellie in her 20s), needy and desperate sub! ellie / indifferent and teasing dom! reader, ownership kink, thigh-riding, orgasm denial, mentions of ellie's fantasies about reader, infidelity, reader has some type of avoidance or issues with her guilt happening, slight angst(?)

a/n: i don't usually like writing age gaps so i tried to make it obvious that they are both adults and i also don't imagine ellie to be a freshman or sophomore with a milf! i did find this request really unique, though. anon should write because that is a lovely prompt.

And she doesn't even try to hold herself from letting herself leaning right into your touch. Her eyes still lock strongly with yours, as if she was a puppy that's completely entranced and taken by the soft caresses of its owner.

"I..I need you, m-ma'am." she whispers, barely above a breath, and it was so desperately needy....

Your hands cup her face, strong and loving. A touch not of lust, not pure sexual desire, but rather an emotional need that begs to be quenched. That scares you a bit. Your daughter isn’t home, but Ellie sure is. 

“Do you think about me, the way I think about you?” Ellie asks, sounding particularly uncertain. 

You simply smile, an expression similar to Ellie’s gaze that doesn’t reveal much. “Why, do I think of you as my owner?” You question, and Ellie’s heart squeezes within the confines of her ribs. 

“No, not that! I mean..Do you crave me, too?” With a voice but a whisper, Ellie looks up at you between the fans of her lashes. 

Of course, you dance around it all. Perhaps you’re scared to fully close the distance, as if getting this close to your dear daughter’s best friend isn’t bad enough. The answer that follows is one that Ellie cannot be surprised by, but she can’t be disappointed at your avoidance, not when your thumb applies itself over the softness of her cheek, just barely grazing over her jaw. 

“Sure, I crave you. Are you going to give me what I want?” You lean in as you speak. Ellie’s self control is limited. 

A college-age thing is what Ellie is. Not inexperienced, but starved and needy for a touch of a hand from a mind that knows how to actually control her. Most girls within her dorms would fuck her and dip, sad truth. You talk in pretentious rhymes, touch her with just grazes and soft affections, so aggravating and yet, she finds herself visiting you when your daughter is unaware. 

With such limited self control, you can’t be neither offended nor surprised when this freckled face leans in, and your stomach internally coils with a dose of need when she hesitates in her journey to imprint the lines of her lips onto yours. It’s a need that differs from Ellie’s, one that isn’t as impatient. Yours begs your fingers to soak themselves with her nectar, and it wishes to ruin her. 

“C-Can I kiss you now?” Ellie asks pleadingly. “Please?”

The disappointing thing should be that you don’t say yes, or even throw an ounce of enthusiasm towards her. In a way, it sets her insides on fire. A sick part of Ellie likes the neglect on your behalf. Still, she finds herself leaning, leaning even closer into your space, and finally allowing herself to feel what she has hoped to experience after ages of perverse courtship. 

Your kiss isn’t comparable to her past in any way, shape, or form–you possess her mouth with an intensity that leaves her gasping for oxygen from the start. It is far from the sweet, tender peck high school crushes offered up to her, and truly opposite from drunken, sloppy make-outs on dirty dorm couches. Your lips seem to wrap around or embed themselves against each of hers, giving separate attention before the pink, wet muscle Ellie has dreamed of feeling buried between her freckled thighs delves between her plush lips to seek out her tongue, though it may be tied. 

It is all too soon when you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. Ellie feels a slight sense of satisfaction upon seeing you breathless. She is far too used to your indifference to the point where she finds herself surprised that you exhibit any vulnerability, even if it is just a shortness of breath. It doesn’t leave her any less in need of you to own her, though. 

You sit on the couch behind you, and like Pavlov’s dog, Ellie crawls into your lap. Ellie, the same Ellie in boot-cut Levi’s and some worn hoodie, finds herself in the lap of you, a woman who only slips on skirts you’d typically find in an office, and heels Ellie wishes you’d crush her with. Ellie previously never cared to sit in a woman’s lap like a needy dog, but can’t seem to help herself. 

Right there on your couch, husband working to provide and your daughter back at her dorm room, you give Ellie the sensations she has been aching for. Her Levi’s are hap-hazardly thrown on the ground, and her panties are still on her. The fabric sticks to her sloppy, wet cunt as she drags it over the plush of your thigh. 

“U-Uh, huh..fuck me..” she breaths, hips shifting on you. You don’t miss the way her eyes glaze over, the lids sliding over her eyes, twitching in explicable need. 

“Fuck you? That’s pretty vulgar, Ellie.” You playfully scold, your affectionate hold on her hips dragging the one thing she is thinking with onto over your thigh. Her clit.

“Jus’ make me so needy, can’t help it.” She whines in your ear, heating up the cartilage. 

She can’t figure out why, but you allow Ellie to rut herself against your leg like it’s her lifeline. You’ve got this slick smile plastered on your face, and she doesn’t comment on it. In truth, she is scared that one wrong word or question of “what are we doing? Will we do this again? Is this more than just teasing and cumming?” will force you to flee. She imagines you so fragile in your feelings for her, only letting your guard down and allowing yourself to actually fuck and own her will cause a quake in the Earth. 

“You’re close.” You state, and the simplicity of it makes Ellie softly moan. The sound travels from your ears, between your brain, and straight down to your own cunt. 

“Gonna make a mess on your thigh with my cum, mhmm..” Ellie bites her lip to hold back from moaning too loudly, not wanting any neighbors to wonder why the sounds are erupting from your lovely house at four in the afternoon. 

The intense feeling of something bubbling up inside of her most desperate places, like a witches’ cauldron right before it boils over, is exactly what Ellie feels. She is right on the edge of something she believes to be exactly what she needs, and the start to maybe someday feeling your touch on her bare pussy, or at least dragging the soaked thing along your thigh for a second time. Instead, she is left empty-handed, and utterly humiliated. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” You say, hands unfortunately slipping away from her janky hips. Ellie swallows her disappointment down in a wretched lump, awkwardly swinging one leg over and situating herself on the couch beside you. Her clit jumps from just seeing you, the red of your cheeks you can’t hide with verbal denial or a schooled expression. 

“I’ve got a comp essay to write. See you later, ma'am.” Ellie mumbles, not really thinking about whether or not you can hear it. She grabs her jeans, zipping up the metal teeth, and then laces up her converse. Her guess is that you pretend not to hear her, not uttering a single word. 

Outside of the door, Ellie wonders what it is that makes you the way you are. You want to have her, and you were so close to fully letting go. Perhaps it’s the guilt; you’re a married woman, afterall. Ellie is your daughter’s best friend, for Christ’s sake. She should feel guilty. Her ribs ache at the thought that she isn’t feeling what is morally right, but the haunting thoughts of your touch on her body leave her mind clouded. 

She wishes that she could be even half as casual as you are. 

taglist: @kaykeryyy i know you like getting tagged on ellie fics, so enjoy!

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[scentedluminarysoul]

SOMETIMES IT'S ON PURPOSE OKAY I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT SOMETIMES YOU REPEAT THE SAME WORD OR PHRASE ON PURPOSE IT'S A STYLISTIC CHOICE

Ahem. Also. You don't need to thesaurus every word. It's fine if you call a table a table multiple times

Honestly, writing has become so complicated and everyone's a critic and don't you DARE use the same word twice or start a sentence with "he" twice in a row!

Can we go back to actually caring about SUBSTANCE? About what it's trying to tell you?

I'm currently reading Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" from 1939. It's written so SIMPLY and yet it's so good and just effective in what it does.

Do you know how often it says "(character name) said:" and then just the dialogue? That's the vast majority of how her dialogues work. Simple, easy to understand, no confusion as to who's talking.

It's not fancy, and yet she's one of the best writers to have ever existed

I mean, look at this:

It's just a simple dialogue that keeps going like that.

One of the most repeated writing advices you read is "make your dialogue interesting", like give characters something to in between tags, etc.

But lads—this dialogue is interesting in and of itself. It's intriguing. Why would they also need to juggle chainsaws or low the lawn or whatever?

And the dialogue tag Christie uses most often is "said". Simply "said". Because it doesn't need more.

Here and there are a few hints as to how the characters are feeling ("angrily", "dryly", "after a minute or two"), but it's your job as a reader to UNDERSTAND and INTERPRET them, to THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE READING.

And I think that's the big problem nowadays: people don't want to think about it anymore. TikTok girlies brag about reading 3 books a day, but they don't UNDERSTAND them. That much is clear when you listen to them talk about books

And this is also what people mean that you should read when you want to become a writer. Because you can read all the writing tips ever online, but that will only make you go insane and insecure.

READ and you will see how they're applied. Or not. And even then the book is still good

And no book is perfect or even good from start to finish. There will be dull moments, or misses in even the best books

And you need to see those flaws in order to become a writer

I forgot about that myself.

The key to writing well isn't to use the best and most interesting words perfectly

It's to use the words you have effectively.

Sorry OP, didn't need to rant

But sometimes all these clever "writing tips to become a better writer" are really missing what's truly makes a good writer:

The heart

Of you only count how many times someone used the same word in a paragraph, instead of trying to understand what that paragraph is telling you, you don't care about the art of writing

Actually you CAN use the same word twice in the same paragraph. The same sentence even. If it's funny, if it's for emphasis, if it's harping on a theme, if you're sexy and you do whatever you want forever. Write on

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.