#and then someone i care about says something in a way/in a tone that i percieve as them being mad at me

[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!

[kiragecko]

I recognize that I'm probably not the target of this post. Or, at least, the reblog. But, this IS on topic, even if it has a different energy!

-

It can be challenging to renavigate a relationship with a subject when your previous relationship was HEAVILY effected by a cultural context that is no longer there.

I used to dip my toes into the Harry Potter fandom despite not being able to read the books. (I read for writing style, and hers didn't work for me.) This was back in the mid-2000s, and a huge number of my peers had grown up transformed by this series. They were now adults who considered it an important childhood touchstone. Saying that I hadn't liked the writing style, but thought the ideas were cool, could offend people who thought it was EXTREMELY well written.

So I learned to enjoy the fandom from the sidelines, accepting that I was a bit of a curmudgeonly fun-killer. Keeping the grumpy bits quiet.

And then public opinion shifted, and shifted HARD.

And suddenly the carefully mapped ground was unknown again. People wanted to rant about how the writing sucked. How terrible the ideas were. Positivity got attacked. Quiet enjoyment of fan creations was seen as public support of Rowling's beliefs. Mild comments about the writing being only okay gained "agreement" that it sucked and had never been worth enjoying. There wasn't ROOM to process my opinions about her beliefs for quite a while, because I was too busy trying to figure out how to reconcile with a completely new environment, which was equally dissonant with my opinions of the book, but in very different directions and with a LOT more aggression!

The urge to talk about not liking the books was STRONG. Because I HADN'T been able too before! People got mad if I tried! But I was used to a context of people assuming the book was great, and needing to contrast what I was saying with that assumption. In this new context, where the books were stupid and full of hate and poorly written, my statements sounded REALLY different. They echoed with all sorts of other voices that I wasn't expecting to be there.

-

I rarely make absolute statements, so I didn't come off as delighting in people's suffering if it gave me a chance to be right. There are some benefits to anxiously stuffing every sentence with context and exceptions! But I have a lot of empathy for some of the people saying tone-deaf things now. Because not everyone is able to master new tones at the same speed.

Sometimes people are still processing the fact that they might not get argued with if they state that the Anansi Boys wasn't that good, and they've been wanting to complain about Anansi Boys for YEARS without having to acknowledge that they HAD enjoyed Neverwhere and Sandman. And that gets in the way of the fact that something terrible has come to light.

Or they they try to talk about how Mr. Gaiman selling Good Omens 2 always felt disingenuous. Him telling people that Terry Pratchett would have wanted him to make it. They've never said it before, because fandom should be FUN, and it was just a little thing. But they care about Mr. Pratchett's memory a lot, and it had BOTHERED them. But bringing it up now gets them accused of 'boasting', and 'pretending that they knew all along'.

And sometimes, they're trying to work through a hard topic by finding its limits. They need to be able to explore 'everything he ever did sucked' before they can accept the nuance that 'he made beautiful works and also hurt people badly'.

-

There are a lot of people who jump to easy absolutes, rather than grapple with complexity. That's who this post seems to be about, and they aren't who I'm talking about.

But, conversely, It's easy to say the 'right' things when you were never invested in a topic. And you have the social skills to pick up what the 'right' thing is.

If you already HAD complex feelings about a topic, it can be harder to throw them aside and only focus on the 'right' thing. If you WEREN'T 100% buying into someone's public image, there's a period of working through your shit that kind of needs to happen.

-

Anyways, I've always been a bit uncomfortable about Neil Gaiman. I didn't think Anansi Boys was that good, and gave up after a few chapters. I wasn't surprised when people started coming forward, because there's been a little 'be careful here' tag attached to him ever since I read about the Good Omens photo shoot where he wore black and Terry Pratchett wore white and they joked about it. Something about how Mr. Gaiman told the story.

All of that is a bit tone-deaf to bring in now, even though they're things I've had to process over the last few months. They're part of my relationship with Gaiman's works that I had pushed to the side, and now need to recontextualize, but they aren't directly about the people who have been hurt.

I didn't predict that Gaiman was a sexual predator. I've recommended Gaiman's books in the past, and think his writing is some of the most gorgeous, poetic stuff I've ever read. Neverwhere is amazing. Sandman is also amazing, even if it, too, added some warning tags to Mr. Gaiman's file in my head. I don't think I'm vindicated in any way by what happened, or that talking about my previous reservations is a sign that I was oh so enlightened.

But I'm also 40-ish? I have enough experience to recognize that the world has endless 'clues', and they should be noted down, but not trusted. Maybe the first time something like this happened, I WOULD have excitedly talked about all the puzzle pieces I had gathered, which now fit into place. (But I was offline back then, so we'll never know.)

Gaiman seems to have hurt a lot of people, and lied a lot, and broken people's trust. All of which is more important than my feelings about a disappointing book that everyone kept bafflingly hyping. But in this sudden space for processing what he's done, the pressurized stuff inside of me needs to be processed before I can focus on that new content.

So the disappointing book gets priority.

[robertsfloyd]

Military Issued

Bradley was warned he'd be given an Omega if he didn't get his act together. He knows what happens to Omegas with military Alphas - he doesn't want to be the reason an Omega goes through that. But he just can't get his act together.

Alpha!Rooster X Omega!Reader

"I don't want one," Bradley growled out for what felt like the millionth time since he'd stepped foot in Cyclones office.

Nothing about this was right. Being called into the office, Mav standing behind like he had something to do with all of this. Knowing him, he probably did.

"Look, Rooster." Cyclone linked his fingers together and leaned forward in a way that suggested Bradley had no choice in the matter. "You keep flying like you want to kill yourself and you won't give us much of a choice,"

"No."

Every word out of his mouth had been a growl since they'd made the suggestion. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. He didn't need an Omega.

Maverick sighed and stepped forward. "This is for your own good, Bradley," he said and Bradley glared like a petulant child. Not a man in his thirties. "I can't lose you, too."

An Omega. A military issued one at that. Most Alphas in the navy could only dream of such a thing. Most met an Omega, couldn't bare to part with them and quit their jobs. A military issued Omega stayed with their Alphas on base, only parting for missions and such. It was cruel on the Omegas, but the military didn't care.

His father had been an Alpha. But Nick had met Carole, the prettiest Omega he ever laid eyes on (as he used to say to Mav) and he wanted out. It was Maverick who convinced him to stay, who convinced him to go to Top Gun.

Bradley remembered when his dad died. He didn't remember details, didn't remember receiving the news. But he remembered his mother's screams.

Before they found out what had happened, she was screaming. She was holding her chest and crying out in pain as it felt like her soul was ripped in two. Her alpha ripped away from her.

It was a miracle it didn't kill her.

He didn't remember his fathers funeral, he didn't remember Maverick grabbing his mother to stop her from throwing herself into his fathers grave.

But he did remember the hospital visits. He remembered his mother laying in a hospital bed, in that sterile room, the scent of chemicals burning his nose.

He remembered sitting there alone, the doctor telling him that his mother should be dead, that she was alive for him.

How many omegas went through this? Bradley began to wonder as he got over. How many Alphas were so loyal to their country that it ended up killing their Omega?

He didn't want to be responsible for that.

For a single day, Bradley got himself under control. He stopped flying like he had no reason to come home, started flying semi-sensibly (but you don't become a navy pilot to fly sensibly).

But it only lasted a day. The next day, he was back to his old shit. Back to trying like he wanted to die, back to flying like he wouldn't have cared if he crashed. Back to flying like nobody would miss him.

***

An unmated Omega, you were given two choices. Remain unmated and unsafe, or do what your friends had done and sign up for that programme.

Looking back, you should have done more research into the programme. You didn't know what you were signing up for, who you were giving your information to. You certainly didn't realise it was the military.

An unknown number contacted you. As any smart Omega would, you tried to look up the number before you answered the phone. But you couldn't trace this one. Looking at your friends, you raised your eyebrows.

"Just answer it," your friend said. "If its someone weird, just hang up."

You nodded along and swiped your finger across the screen. "Hello?" You asked, pressing the phone to your ear.

The woman on the phone gave your name in a questioning tone.

"This is she," you answered, scratching at your knee.

"I'm from the US Navy. We saw your profile and we would like to give you the opportunity to be a Military Omega."

Military Omega. Your frowned deepened as you tried to decipher the meaning of those words. Military Omega. You didn't think Omegas were allowed in the Military.

"What is a Military Omega?"

Your friends gasped at you, eyes going wide. You tried to look at them, to see whether you should hear this woman out or hang up now.

"Its a sweet gig," the woman said, dropping that air of professionalism she had around her already. "Military Omegas are given an Alpha to take care of them, somewhere near the Military base where your Alpha is stationed to live and a weekly allowance. Really, what else could an Omega need?"

A Military Alpha. An Alpha that would leave you alone when he was sent away. You would have somewhere to live provided for you, money sent to you just for being a Military Omega. It did sound like a sweet gig, you thought.

"Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You have until the end of the week." She left a number, one you quickly wrote down, and hung up.

You looked at your friends. They stared back at you, waited for you to say something. "Girls," you started, folding your hands in your lap. "What do we know about Military Omegas."

***

Sitting in an office, a fan above your head, you stared at the man across from you. Definitely an Alpha; you could tell that by his size alone.

He was fucking huge.

If you had less of a leash on your thoughts, your mouth would have been watering. Big Alpha man with big Alpha muscles. To top it all off, he had a pretty face, a moustache that should have been ugly but looked so damn good on him.

He looked like he wanted to kill you.

You stared back at him, waiting for something from him. You had introduced yourself, waited for him to do the same. But he was silent, staring.

You opened your mouth, but he finally said soemthing.

"I'm not scenting you."

You swallowed. A big, sexy, Military Alpha, and he didn't want you. Ouch. "Okay," you said, but, really, you didn't know what else to say. You had made the trip all the way to California to become a Military Omega, and your Military Alpha didn't even want you.

This couldn't get any worse.

You looked up as the door opened and another man walked in. Not an Alpha, you noted by his scent, but definitely Military. "Jesus, Rooster," he said and let out a whistle. "If you don't want her, can I have her?"

"Shut up, Hangman," Bradley said through a growl.

'Hangman' laughed to himself as he strode over to you. Just three steps and he'd walked the length of the table between you. It was nothing at all, but enough that you couldn't reach out and touch the Alpha before you. "He's an old grump, isn't he, sugar?" He asked as he held out his hand.

You cracked a smile, not entirely sure if you should be laughing with him. Taking his hand, you shook it. "I'm Jake. I'm no Alpha, but it won't matter when you're with me," he said and winked.

Suddenly, he was pulled back. Bradley hooked his finger around Jakes colour and pulled him away from you. "Out," he said through a growl. "Get out."

Holding up his hands, Jake walked out of the room. He let the door shut behind him and you released a breath. Maybe the scent of angry Alpha would finally dissipate now that Jake was gone.

But then you heard the lock click.

"Wait!" You cried and climbed out of your seat. Rushing over to the door, you tried to pull it open. Nothing. Locked.

"Bagman!" Bradley roared as he stepped up behind you. You removed your hands from the door handle when he grabbed it and began to pull. But it was a military base. Of course it was Alpha proof.

"Shit," he grunted.

You were conscious of just how close he was to you. He hadn't gotten this close to you... ever. It let you see just how pretty his eyes were, how delicate his brown curls were. Jesus, he was so pretty.

He stared at you, his chest heaving. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of you. "Fuck," he grunted. "Shit, you smell..."

Good. You smelled so damn good. His eyes seemed to glow brighter as he looked at you. His hands reached out and grabbed you, pulling you close.

You whimpered as you hit his chest. He pressed his nose against your neck, moustache tickling you slightly. But you didn't laugh. Not while he was scenting you.

Stumbling back, Bradley pulled you with him. He sat back in his chair and pulled you on top of him. You whimpered as he continued to scent you.

Tipping your head forward, you scented him back. Holy fuck, he was intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as your eyes fell shut. You could have gotten drunk off of his scent, you realised.

When you tried to pull away, Bradley released a growl. So, you continued to scent him. You returned your head to rest against his shoulder and scent him. Pure Alpha, that's what he was. Pure Alpha and you couldn't get enough of him.

His arms wrapped around you, not letting you go. Not that you wanted him to let you go. In that moment, you couldn't imagine anything worse than him letting you. You rubbed your head against his scent gland, trying to cover yourself in his scent. The scent of your Alpha.

The door opened.

Bradley let out a growl and you released one to match. Although yours was the higher pitched growl of an Omega. "Scenting is going well," somebody said. You didn't care who it was, you just wanted them to leave yourself and your Alpha alone.

Swallowing, they backed up and left the room. "Mine," Bradley growled as he nosed at your scent gland. "Mine."

a/n: i can't believe this is the first time i'm writing for my favourite man! i know i'm an f1 girlie but big men just make me ugh! like, i'm not even into COD but my friend and i have been talking about the cod men bc they're so hot 😭

[sc0tters]

Lessons in Bed | Nico Hischier & Luke Hughes

summary: when luke tells you his ex left him for his skills in bed, it's only right that you and your boyfriend give him a lesson he'd never forget

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving!)

word count: 6.19k

authors note: this is the first time I have written a sub pairing, not entirely sure how i feel about it but it is definetly something that needs improvement so sorry about that... nevertheless this is a threesome that had no help on it and the last time we did that was like our first threesome. dom nico in this was something i could get used to 🤭

Parties at your place always seemed to go off a hit. 

Everyone loved the atmosphere of the apartment as they spoke or drank. The playlist you created was also always just what the environment needed to be perfect. Which is why you were so surprised to see him missing from the group. 

Luke Hughes had been someone you knew from the moment he had moved to New Jersey. Being Nico’s girlfriend meant that you knew all of the guys and oftentimes you were helping them settle in. Which was why you were so surprised when Luke was missing, this had always been more of his scene especially after college. 

Nico could see that your mind looked as if it was anywhere else “you okay schatz?” He called out over the music, letting his mouth hover close to your ear. 

You nodded as you sent him a smile “just looking for Luke.” You responded in the same tone as he took the chance to look “think he is in the kitchen?” Nico remembered seeing him in there when he got you a new drink. 

Nico’s hand went up to hold yours “you want me to come with?” His question made you smile “you don’t have to Neeks.” You shook your head before you planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Of course that meant he was coming with you, interlacing your hand with his before he made his way to the kitchen, always careful to not lose you in the crowd. Just like the captain had predicted, Luke stood in the kitchen staring at his drink. 

It made your lips form a pout “Lukey what are you doing in here?” His head shot up as he placed his phone in his pocket “just thinking.” The words were a blatant lie, clearly highlighted by the way his eyes avoided both you and Nico. 

You dropped Nico’s hand “y’know you can talk to either of us about anything.” Your voice was sweet while you made your way over to the youngest Hughes boy “it’s embarrassing.” Luke shook his head watching you both come further into the kitchen. 

Nico had to admit that he always thought Luke had some kind of crush on you, big or small, he knew it was there “you know we won’t judge you.” He added, crossing his arms “my girlfriend broke up with me.” His words made a soft laugh escape from your lips. 

You placed your hand on his shoulder “baby that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you shook your head letting your lips form a frown “she did it because I wasn’t good in.” Luke let his head dip back to where your bedrooms were. 

It took Nico much longer to figure out what the boy was saying than you “that’s completely normal!” You scoffed knowing that you had a good reason for not liking her “it is?” Luke had this sad look on his face that made you curse his now ex for hurting him like this. 

Nico watched you run your fingers through the Americans hair “yeah like when we first started dating Nico wasn’t the best.” Nico knew all about the ways he needed to improve in the bedroom as you were his first serious relationship, so the lessons from hook ups were going to do him no good “he wasn’t?” Luke couldn’t believe that about his captain, the man who was usually so calm and collected who wore your scratches and hickies like a badge of honour was once bad in bed? 

Nico nodded, pushing his hair out of his face “but my girl turned out to be a damn good teacher and now I know all her spots.” Nico smirked as he leaned against the kitchen counter “you thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked Nico wanting to get his permission to offer it to the younger boy first.

The two of you had agreed that a threesome was something neither one of you was totally against, and in fact it was pretty high on both of your wish lists “Hughesy you promise you can keep this a secret f’me?” Your voice was sickly sweet in his ear as he nodded “promise.” Nico had to smirk at the way the boy was so desperate for your immediate praise. 

It made you smile that he was so responsive “how would you like us to show you how it’s done?” Your offer made him squirm “want to know what it feels like to fuck a girl properly?” Luke couldn’t help it when a moan escaped from his lips. 

You looked down to see that a bulge had formed in his jeans “I’m sorry.” He went to apologise but you and Nico were having none of that “Lukey it is natural.” You shook your head not worrying about it. 

That seemed to calm him down “can you teach me?” He didn’t know who he was really asking as you both nodded “when the party is over why don’t you stay and we can start?” Nico couldn’t help but laugh seeing how the Hughes boy’s face dropped at your words. 

Having to wait for at least an hour seemed like torture to him “Luke trust me.” Nico placed his hand on the boys shoulder “with the way my girl moans you’re gonna want us three to be the only ones here.” The captain explained, not missing how your cheeks turned red hearing his words. 

Luke swore he his heart pounded in his ears as he waited for the party to finish “you know where Luke is?” Jack asked looking down at his phone seeing that the boy had not responded to any of his messages “I am pretty sure he left with some girl.” Nico lied wrapping his arm around your waist. 

He looked to you to back him up “yeah Jack, I am so sorry he told me to tell you but I forgot.” The way you made it so convincing should have made Nico feel bad but it did anything but that “no worries.” Jack sighed pushing his phone back into his pocket. 

The Center sent you both a smile “have a good night.” You and Nico waved him off, feeling like you couldn’t get rid of him quickly enough “you sure you want to do this neeks?” You asked letting the door shut behind you. 

Your question made your boyfriend freeze “I do but only if it is something you’re comfortable with.” He looked to you for reassurance, not wanting to push you into something you didn’t want “I do Nico.” You nodded, pushing onto your tippy toes to kiss him. 

It made Nico smile “and besides watching you teach someone all I’ve taught you is gonna be like really hot.” Your words made him laugh “is that what you’re thinking about tonight?” He asked as your cheeks turned a shade of pink, meaning he was right. 

The captain pulled you into another kiss, wanting a moment just between the two of you before Luke got involved again “behave mister.” You warned feeling Nico’s hand squeeze your ass. 

It made him laugh as he raised his hands in surrender “apologises madam.” Nico teased watching you look for Luke “Luke baby!” You called out watching him walk out of the bathroom. 

His hands were in his hoodie pocket “hi.” His voice was quiet “you ready for this?” You asked him walking up to the boy. 

He didn’t want to admit it but god did you smell amazing “because if you want to leave at any time just say the words and we will end it.” You wanted Luke to know that even if you and Nico were teaching him, he had just as much power as the two of you did. 

Luke nodded “don’t want to go.” His words made you smile “now you said she didn’t like how you were in the bedroom?” You wanted to know where he needed your help, and if it was everywhere then you and Nico were happy to do that. 

The boy looked nervous “this is a safe space.” Nico reiterated the fact that you guys could all trust each other and that the events of the night would not be shared “she didn’t like anything.” Those words made your heart break for him. 

And it was clear that he could see that “can we like not talk about it.” He scratched the back of his neck not wanting sympathy from you as he was just going to feel embarrassed “kiss me.” Luke felt his eyes go wide at your words “c’mon Luke we have to start somewhere.” He nodded dropping his head down as he hit your nose with his. 

It caused a hiss to leave your lips as your eyes screwed shut, if you weren’t meant to be helping him Nico would have laughed “Luke bud you’re going about it all wrong.” Nico clicked his tongue hooking his finger into your jeans belt loop to pull you back to him “first you got to have some direction.” The captain spoke in a duh tone, placing his hands on your cheeks. 

His eyes were always such a warm place to you “and then you can look where you’re going before you get there.” He dropped his head to the point where his lips hovered over yours “some girls love it when you look between their eyes and their lips for a second.” Nico smirked seeing your smile as he was talking about you. 

You nodded “and then you can show her you’re in charge but don’t take her teeth out.” Your words were quiet as Nico kissed you. His tongue dragged across your lower lip, pulling you into a trance that made you whimper when he pulled away. 

It stroked his ego as he turned back to Luke “and don’t forget that you can move your hands around her body as you’re making out.” With that suggestion Nico stepped away, motioning to Luke to step into his place “just relax okay.” You were too good to Nico, Luke swore to himself. 

His hands rested right where Nico’s were before “hi.” He whispered looking at how beautiful you looked this close up. Luke’s lips were rougher than Nico’s as his tongue found its way into your mouth. 

It was a clear improvement as the boy also breathed from his nostrils while he let one hand travel to your ass and the other to your tits. He gave them a squeeze that made you moan, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

Nico almost had to admit that he felt a little jealous seeing you all like that with someone else, he knew your body was responsive so he should have known it would end like this. As you pulled away from Luke his teeth softly tugged at your lower lip “think Lukey boy is a fast learner.” Nico teased the boy, seeing how your eyes were wide staring at the boy. 

Luke saw your frazzled state “should we move you to the bedroom?” Nico asked placing his hand in the back of your neck before he kissed you again. The American had to admit that watching how your boyfriend knew how to elicit the right reaction out of you, was hot. 

You smiled seeing Luke again “yeah.” You nodded taking his hand in yours while Nico lead the way. The room was one Luke had never seen before, always feeling like your bedroom was far too private for him to impose on “you like the place?” You asked running your finger along his jawline. 

Luke nodded “y-yeah.” His breath caught in his throat seeing the mischievous look on your face “so how do you finger a girl?” Nico’s question made you laugh. 

He rolled his eyes “I’m serious schatz we don’t even know if he knows where your clit or where your erogenous zones are.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed proving that Nico had some ground to be right “like with her here her most sensitive zones are behind her ears.” Nico pressed a kiss against the back of your ear before he softly sucked on your earlobe making you moan. 

The captain smirked before he pulled away, making sure that Luke was still watching “her scalp.” His fingers ran through your hair making you squirm in the process “god wait until you get to play with these.” Nico couldn’t help but grunt when he gave your boobs a squeeze. 

Luke watched on in awe “and when I’m eating her out I’ll kiss the back of her knees and all down her thighs making sure she’s ready.” Luke nodded watching you look at Nico “Neeks think we should show him now.” Your words came with you pulling your top off. 

Your red bra complimented your skin “even though you are focusing on my cunt doesn’t mean that you can’t acknowledge my top half too.” You explained as you begin to kiss Luke again, but this time your lips didn’t stay on his for long, wanting to find his own sensitive zones. 

Nico unbuttoned your jeans as you sucked at Luke’s neck, drawing a moan from his lips “think we found it.” You licked your lips, stepping out of your jeans to reveal a matching set of underwear to the bra “fuck.” Luke whimpered letting his eyes screw shut. 

It made you let out a whine “Lukey baby I want you to feel me okay?” You asked taking his hand when he nodded “you feeling how wet I am through these?” You placed his hand against the wet patch on your panties. 

His knees almost buckled at the feeling when his eyes shot open “schatz stop teasing him and let him have a taste.” Nico’s words made you pout. But still you listened to your boyfriend and lay on the bed for both boys to see “why don’t you take her bra off?” Nico motioned to Luke to join you on the bed. 

It made the boy look to you like he was asking for your permission “I don’t bite.” You giggled seeing Nico raise his eyebrows, oh you definitely do. Luke brought his hand up behind you and unsnapped the bra with ease catching both you and Nico by surprise “did I do something wrong?” Luke grew nervous as he looked between the two of you. 

You shook your head, letting the bra fall to the bed “not many guys can do that with such ease.” You confessed going to kiss him again “schatz if you keep on kissing him he isn’t going to learn anything.” Nico teased you as he sat on the bench of your vanity watching the scenario unfold in front of him. 

Luke kissed at your shoulder “thought I was just being used to teach him.” You shot back sending him an amused grin as your fingers tugged at Luke’s curls “don’t start something you aren’t ready to keep up.” Nico warned getting up as he wasn’t going to let you be a brat. 

You smirked watching him look at Luke “c’mere Hughes she wants her pussy fucked.” The words made you press your legs together as Nico forced them open again “get her panties off.” Nico ordered making Luke nod. 

He followed the orders, slotting in between your legs “can you lift?” Luke asked making you push your thighs into the air so that he could take your panties off “shit.” The boy let out a low whistle finally pulling them off of your feet. 

Nico smirked at the sight that he loved so much “you want to show us what you normally do?” The captain sat on your side of the bed. Luke got himself comfortable between your legs while he went to spit on his fingers “why don’t you get her to do that?”Nico motioned to you as it always made you horny. 

Luke looked to you as you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his fingers “fuck.” The Hughes boy let out a grunt feeling your tongue swirl around his digits “now start out easy with two.” Luke watched how your eyes screwed shut feeling his fingers thrust into your cunt. 

Your cunt stretched against his fingers “you want to get her ready so do this.” Nico did this scissoring motion with his fingers when he sat behind you. Your back rested against his chest “shit.” You moaned showing Luke that he was doing the right thing. 

You let your hips meet his thrusts “play with her clit.” Nico brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed at your neck. 

His eyes watched the Hughes boy totally miss your clit “you see this?” Nico asked taking his thumb as he rubbed against your sensitive bud, your head pressed against his shoulder as your boyfriend hit the right spot “if you’re just fingering her you want to do it like this.” Nico kissed your ear heading your breathing grow heavy. 

Your skin grew warm seeing two boys play with your cunt “but if you’re fucking her.” You watched Nico move his focus to the pads of his fingers on your clit which more pace “wanna try?” Your chest heaved using all of your energy to look at Luke. 

He nodded using his thumb like the older boy had “ain’t he a good listener?” Nico cooed watching how your hands tried to reach for your breasts, desperate to play with your sensitive peaks “Lukey think it’s time you use something different to make her feel good.” Nico’s suggestion came as he held your hands, stopping you from playing with your breasts. 

Luke watched the captain as he knew the suggestion came with some logic as you started to appear as if you were close. So Luke listened he retracted his fingers from your cunt watching in awe as he saw how your cunt glistened. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact “schatz don’t be a brat or else you won’t cum tonight.” The younger boy was surprised that someone could have the power over someone else, to have the ability to withhold a human reaction. 

Nico pulled away from behind you, setting you back flat on the bed “I love you.” He pressed his lips against your shoulder before he turned his attention to Luke “you gotta go gentle first.” His voice soothed you. 

You ran your fingers up your skin “please Lukey.” You begged, wishing that the boy would hurry up “baby be patience for him.” Nico clicked his tongue reminding you that tonight was meant to be for you to teach Luke, tomorrow Nico could have you screaming until your throat felt raw if you wanted it. 

Luke took this deep breath as if it was going to sooth his nerves. His head hovered over your cunt “uh uh Luke.” Nico shook his head, stopping the boy in the process “having sex isn’t just about fucking her pussy remember?” The captain ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs making you squirm. 

The Hughes boy nodded remembering about what you told him in the living room “there we go.” Nico smiled watching Luke kiss at the inside of your thighs. 

For someone who didn’t know what he was doing, he was methodical. Luke seemed to kiss you in the way that he divided his attention equally between your thighs, always hovering just close enough to your cunt that you swore he was finally going to start, but he never did. His eyes studied yours as he finally stopped “please Luke.” You begged feeling him place an open mouthed kiss on your cunt. 

It made you grip at the sheet beneath you “occasionally focus on fucking her with your tongue too.” The suggestion was ignored by the boy as he brought his fingers that he had used to now focus on your weeping hole “fuck baby.” You moaned looking at Nico who couldn’t help but smile. 

Luke found himself settling into a perfect rhythm, occasionally looking back up at you “please Lukey.” You begged wanting more as he inserted another finger into your cunt “this greedy slut likes it when you do this.” Nico showed the boy how to turn his fingers into this come hither motion to get deeper into your cunt. 

The Hughes boy sent him what was only a glance before he listened, turning his attention to you in order to ensure it was working. His fingers grazed your g-spot, causing your body to jolt “there we go Lukey boy.” Nico praised the boy making Luke moan. 

Luke almost slotted into the motions, bringing his free hand up to cup your breast. His fingers rolled your nipple between them, tugging at the peak “don’t stop.” You shook your head feeling your thighs begin to shake “she’s gonna finish and you want that right?” Nico pushed Luke with the encouragement that it worked like a wildfire. 

His lips sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud “fuck yeah.” Luke spoke against your cunt sending shivers through your body “c’mon schatz let him see what it’s like to have a pretty girl cum on your tongue.” Nico cooed drawing circles on your shoulder with his thumb. 

Luke didn’t relent, letting your moans bounce off of the walls making him feel like a moth to a flame “shit Lukey please don’t stop.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as your body shook “right there a-a-ahhh.” Your eyes screwed shut when your cunt clenched around his fingers while your body spasmed. 

White specks cast over the black that your eyelids brought upon you “oh god oh god!” You chanted as Luke helped you ride through your orgasm. But then it turned into him just being hungry, as he continued to lap at your release “no Lukey.” You tugged at his hair, wanting to pull him off of you. 

He let you kiss him, tasting your sweet release on his tongue made you feel lightheaded bringing him back onto you as you lay on the bed felling his boner that his shorts did little to hide, graze against your cunt “shit.” You gasped feeling your eyes widen. 

Luke laughed against your shoulder, echoing your same emotions “doll why don’t you thank him for treating ya?” Nico’s words made you nod. You rolled out from under the boy as you patted the bed for him “sit.” You ordered him. 

The boy obliged seeing the hunger in your eyes “you gonna let me taste ya?” You asked running your hand over the material of his shorts “please.” Luke whimpered, feeling his cock push to your hand. 

Nico remembered what it was like to be in that position because you had this power to turn him into putty, and that’s what caused him to raise a smack to your ass “ah!” You whimpered almost jumping out of your skin at the sensation “don’t be mean and tease him schatz.” The captain clicked his tongue sending you an unimpressed look. 

It made you frown turning to him with a pout “fine.” You huffed reaching for the waistband of Luke’s shorts “gonna lift up for me pretty boy?” You asked causing him to push his hips up into the air, allowing you to tug at his shorts bringing them down with his boxers. 

His cock ached for some attention, for you “god.” He moaned watching you run your thumb over the swollen head. The precum oozed out of it working as some kind of shitty variation of lube. You let your eyes lock onto his as you pooled your saliva in your mouth before you let it drop into his cock. 

Luke swore he was dreaming as he watched you do these little kitten licks against his cock. Nico stood behind you dropping his pants as he pumped his cock once and then a second time “you gonna let him fuck your mouth while I fuck your cunt maus?” You moaned at the thought when you nodded. 

Nico dragged the head of his cock along your slit wanting to not let his teammate get all of the fun that you could give “shit schatz.” Nico moaned feeling your cunt hug his cock, your walls stretching to accommodate him. 

As a moan went to escape from your lips you let your lips wrap around Luke’s cock. The warmth your mouth provided made Luke almost fall forward “yeah dude she sucks dick like a slut.” Nico laughed watching your hand massage Luke’s balls. 

Your cunt squelched as your previous orgasm was more than enough in terms of lube for Nico’s cock to throb with some thrusts “but that is what you love, huh?” Nico taunted you, as the feeling of your cunt clenching around him was not something that he failed to miss. Your words of agreement were muffled, but when your head bobbed with Lukes’s cock hitting your throat, it was clear what you were thinking “cap if she was mine I wouldn’t share.” Luke almost didn’t realise the line he walked on, he was dangerously close to pissing Nico off if he continued saying shit like this then Nico was more than likely going to take it out on your cunt. 

And you could already feel him doing it; his fingers pinched at your thighs “part of having a girl.” Nico grumbled, watching Luke grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail “is knowing when to listen.” Nico would never have dreamed of offering this to Luke, but you did, and Nico couldn’t say no to you.

You moaned wanting to let out a giggle if it had been a more appropriate time “glad you did.” Luke confessed, watching you look up at him through your now ruined mascara “good teachers.” He felt your throat gag around his cock making him grunt. The moment of silence made Nico smirk, finally having the boy shut up was the real stroke to his ego.

Luke squirmed beneath your touch, feeling your cheeks hollow out with your tongue swirling around the underside of his cock.

Nico thrust into you with such pace that the sound of your skin slapping against his echoed throughout the apartment, you were sure of it “fuck Neeks.” You let your lips pop from Lukes cock, quickly replacing your mouth with your hand “you wanna cum sweet girl?” He didn’t even need to wait for you to answer before he moved his hand to rub against your clit “please.” You begged feeling your legs begin to shake as Nico had to also keep you from collapsing.

You continued to focus on fucking the younger boys cock in your hand “thrust your hips baby.” You cooed sending Luke a nod “I-i can’t.” Luke shook his head, not sure if he had the energy to complete the task. 

Nico hissed feeling you clench around his cock, almost making him forget how to breathe “when you get told to do something Luke, you do it no?” Nico used his captains tone that made you rest your head on Luke’s thigh “schatz look at him when he finally behaves.” He made you pull your head off of Luke’s thigh as his fingers tugged at your hair.

Luke watched your eyes open as he saw how Nico held you up with his hands in your hand. He felt overcome by pleasure, just needed that little bit more as he begun to push his hips into your hand. 

Nico nodded with a grunt as his tongue ran across his teeth “ain’t he a good boy schatz.” You let out this harsh whimper “such a good boy.” Your coos sent Luke over the edge causing sticky ropes of his release to shoot into your hand. 

Tears formed in his waterline “please.” Luke shook his head, not sure that he could take much more, thinking that he was already feeling hard again “you want her to cum?” Nico quizzed the boy who nodded. 

Luke could see the desperation on your face “tell her that.” The captain ordered his teammate “fuck doll.” Luke coughed feeling your hand finally slow on his cock. 

The Hughes boy had to think about his words “wanna see you make a mess okay?” Your tits throbbed as your cunt clenched hearing those words “you think that you can do that f’me?” Luke used his fingers to roll your nipples between them, causing your moans to sound like music in your ears.

Nico didn’t know how much longer he could take “c’mon liebling, show him how pretty you look when you cum on a cock.” Those words sent you over the edge 

Your eyes screwed shut as your head dropped when Nico let your hair go “fucking hell.” As you came around his cock it caused his own orgasm to come on “just like that.” Nico bit down on his lower lip as his head fell back, slowing his thrusts down before he pulled his cock out. 

The captain rubbed his thumb in these soft circles against the hip, watching how his release oozed out of your cunt. Trickling down your slit to your clit “you got one more in ya?” It was the first coherent sentences that you could form in a while “me?” Luke asked blinking heavily. 

Nico let out a snort as he turned your head so he could kiss you “I sure as shit know she wasn’t talking to me.” Nico pointed out, knowing that he could last for at least three rounds “schatz show him how good this cunt feels.” The captain stared at Luke as he cupped your pussy. 

Luke felt his mouth water at the sight of you letting out another moan “I don’t think I can fuck you.” The boy shook his head feeling like his legs were jelly “who said I couldn’t ride ya?” You tapped his legs motioning to him to set his legs straight. 

His eyes shut as the image became too strong in his mind “you can say no Lukey.” You reminded him of his rights as you sat on your heels in front of him “no I want to.” He was quick to shake his head, sending you a smile. 

You nodded, watching him pull you onto his lap. His legs pushed you up “you sure?” Nico had to smile from the corner of your bed where he sat, hearing how you were still making sure that he was comfortable “yeah I am.” Luke took the chance to kiss you. 

His tongue past your lips making you mewl at the contact. Your hand found its way between the two of you “off.” You tugged at his hoodie now wanting him naked too. 

Luke listened, letting your hands do the work as you brought it up to his chest before you pulled away, “just taking it off.” You smirked hearing him whimper at the loss of contact. 

His cheeks turned red, feeling grateful that his hoodie being pulled off of his head did a lot to hide the initial warmth that spread to his cheeks “such a pretty boy.” You cooed letting a grin form on your lips as you drank in the sight of his now messy curls. 

Your hand went back down between the two of you so you could grab his cock, your hands were delicate, softly palming him “please.” Luke rested his head against your headboard, feeling you lazily drive the head of his cock across your slit. Nico began to palm at himself, enjoying the view from behind “fuck him schatzi.” Nico clicked his tongue, growing irritated at the teasing.

You sank onto his cock letting your nails tense around his shoulders, he wasn’t as thick as Nico but Luke’s cock made your cunt hug his walls differently “move please.” Luke softened his grip around your hips “such a polite boy.” You nodded, slowly moving your hips seeing his eyes look back at you. 

He studied your face, noticing every little beauty spot and imperfection that made you, well, you. It made him smile when he realised that your eyes had been locked on his “you feel yourself?” You asked bringing his hand onto your lower stomach and making him press his into your skin. 

Luke was more impressed that he could get that deep than anything else “shit you’re perfect.” The compliment made Nico nod, agreeing that the boy was indeed not stupid “I am gonna fuck you now okay?” You asked the boy, bringing your legs to either side of him so that you could properly work yourself on his cock, knowing that you were not going to last for long. 

And judging by how he watched you like a cat who found a warm spot on a winter day, Luke was excited for you to continue. Your one hand rested on his thigh behind you as the other gripped at his shoulder while you brought your cunt up and down his cock. Careful to never fully pull off of him before you slammed back down feeling his crotch graze against your clit. 

The movement was steady making Nico feel a little jealous that it wasn’t him beneath you “fuck you feel so good.” You moaned not sure of how much longer you could last. 

His cock throbbed against your cunts gummy walls, hearing the sound of your skin hitting his causing his forehead to turn slick with sweat. His eyes watched your breasts bounce with every thrust you had on his cock. 

Luke was desperate to feel more of you “kissy?” He whined making you smile. You brought your hand up the side of his neck to his curls “so sweet when you talk so nice.” You praised him as you tugged at his hair. 

The feeling made the boy moan, pursing his lips to kiss you “such a good boy.” You cooed as you finally gave him what he wanted. 

Your lips were soft against his, making him grunt while he sucked at your lower lip “shit schatzi keep on doing you.” Nico felt his eyes screw shut as his cock oozed his sticky release in his hand “you see how much Neeks likes this?” You pulled away from the boy allowing him to see your swollen lips. 

Luke nodded feeling close to tears as his brain was on fire “like it too.” Luke looked down to see how your pussy looked fucking his cock. 

Your release that had mixed with Nico’s creamed around his cock “play with those tits.” Nico ordered making you nod as it was what you were desperate to feel.

His tongue swirled around you nipple while he fondled the other tit “fuck baby you wanna cum inside?” You were on the pill and at that moment not thinking about STDs “god yes.” Luke moaned against your boob causing the vibrations against your skin to go straight to your core. 

Your fingers strummed against your clit like you were playing the guitar, not sure if you were still helping him or if you were now using him for your orgasm “fuck doll right there.” Luke let out a grunt feeling your thrusts grow irregular making your body thrash around on him. 

His warm release painted the walls of your cunt, bringing your own orgasm on. You chanted his name from your lips, making it sound angelic as your cunt clenched around him, gushing on his cock. Your head fell forward when he let your boob go, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder. A whimper escaped your lips when you accidentally moved, feeling him still inside of you “you okay?” Lukes voice was soft, watching you use what energy you had to pick yourself off of his cock before you collapsed next to him. 

This was always Nico’s favourite part of the night, seeing you almost too fucked to speak, “I’ll get your bath ready.” Nico chuckled as he got up, squeezing your ankle “her bath?” Luke looked between you both as he was back to being confused. 

Nico rolled his eyes, starting to realise why the boy was having girl issues “now it’s time for your next lesson.” Nico motioned to Luke to follow him as Nico picked you up to bring you to go pee “aftercare and the importance of it.” Nico’s voice soothed you, it made your eyelids feel heavy when you rested your head against your boyfriend’s chest while Luke shut the door behind the three of you. 

Clearly, their night wasn’t over, but it wasn’t where the story ended either.

Luke felt his head hit the wall behind him “s-s-shit!” He moaned feeling his eyes screwed shut as he squeezed his hand around his cock continuing to thrust into his palm at a strong pace edging his orgasm. 

Jack walked into the apartment, still surprised that Luke didn’t come with him to the morning skate as he wasn’t the usual Hughes brother to skip it “fuck oh don’t stop y/n!” The moan came from Luke’s lips as he reached his high making Jack freeze where he stood by the door.

Did his younger brother have a crush on his captain’s soon-to-be fiancée?

[vunblr]

City Lights and Mountain Hearts

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Slight Angst. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Stuck in the city for Valentine’s week, Bucky grapples with old wounds, self-doubt, and the urge to escape. Luckily, even if he doesn’t know how to express it, he is not alone.

Word Count: 10.5k.

note: Part of the Roots and Branches AU

The soft pling of an incoming email pulled her attention away from the cheesy vampire novel she had been working on, pausing her fingers on the keyboard. She furrowed her brows at the notification in the corner of her screen, precisely at the subject line.

URGENT: In-Person Attendance Required – Feb 12–16

Her company rarely required in-person meetings, much less for an entire week. But as her eyes scanned the neatly written email, her heart sank. They were hosting a conference within the city, an important one, and all key personnel were expected to attend and be involved. No exceptions.

“Great,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. Of all the weeks.

She didn’t mind her job -she actually liked it most days- but this? This was just bad timing. Her first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, and instead of spending it in their little town, she’d be stuck in a place she hadn’t missed, surrounded by endless traffic, overpriced coffee, and the constant hum of people who never stopped moving.

She exhaled sharply, leaning back in her chair. Bucky. He wouldn’t say it outright, but she knew how he felt about the city. He barely ever talked about his time there, and when he did, it was with the same tight-lipped, wary expression he wore when someone brought up his past.

He was not going to be thrilled about this.

She had to tell him. The sooner, the better. Then they could figure out what to do, whether they’d spend the week apart or… maybe he could come. By the time the sun had dipped behind the trees, she had made up her mind. She couldn’t change the situation, but she could soften the news.

So, she set the table with two mugs of hot chocolate and cut a generous slice of apple pie for him. Lately, she had been making dinner later and later, caught up in work, but tonight, she wanted to be ready when he walked through the door.

The familiar sound of the lock clicking open made her stomach flip, slightly tightening her fingers around her mug. Bucky stepped inside, shaking off the chill as he pushed the door shut behind him. He slipped his jacket off, draping it over the back of a chair, and then he made his way toward the kitchen, drawn in by the scent of cinnamon and warm apples. He stopped in the doorway, tired blue eyes flicking between the waiting mugs and the careful way she was watching him. He knew that look.

Something was up.

But before he could ask, she gave him a small, hopeful smile and gestured toward the table. “I made pie.”

----

He sat there, munching the pie with his gaze glued to the plate. She knew he was turning it over in his head, weighing every part of the situation the way he always did.

He swallowed, took a sip of hot chocolate, then let out a slow sigh.

"Guess I'll have to go too."

Her brows lifted slightly. "Bucky, you’re not obligated. It’s totally okay if you-"

"I'll drive us there." His tone left no room for argument. "You’re not spendin’ Valentine’s Day alone. I know you’ve been preparin’ somethin’ for that day, even when I told you I didn’t really mind those kinda celebrations."

She watched as he swirled the chocolate with his spoon, his eyes still cast downward like admitting that cost him something.

"Well, um… yeah," she murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. "That was when I thought we'd be here, and-"

"Sweetheart." His voice was softer now, and when he finally looked at her, there was something in his gaze, something that made her heart ache a little. "It’s okay. We’ll go together."

-----

The next morning when she woke up, Bucky was gone.

That was unusual. Saturdays and Sundays were slow mornings, mornings where he lingered in bed longer than he needed to, where she could coax him into staying even when he grumbled about getting up. But today, the space beside her was cold, like he hadn’t been there in hours.

She found the note on the dinner table.

Had some business to take care of. Be back later.

No explanation. No details. Typical.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, but let it go. If Bucky needed space, she’d give it to him. Instead, she made herself breakfast, turned on her laptop, and got to work. The sooner she got ahead of things, the more time they’d have in the city. And she wanted them to have time, time to make it feel like something other than just another obligation.

-----

Bucky was in his spot in the woods, where the air was sharp and clean, where the only sounds were the wind through the trees and his own breathing. Where he didn’t have to think.

February wasn’t the best time for chopping wood, but he didn’t care. He just needed to move, to burn through the thing curling tight in his chest.

It had been over fifteen years since he set foot in the city. He had left with a full cast on his arm and never looked back. He should have gone back, just once, just long enough to get the damn thing removed properly. Instead, he’d let the local doctor handle it and told himself it wasn’t worth the trip. Told himself it didn’t mean anything.

Maybe it had. Maybe it had meant more than he let himself admit.

The axe came down with brutal precision, and the wood split instantly. He barely registered it, his mind still circling the same damn thoughts.

The city. He didn’t belong there.

Too many people, too much noise, too many eyes. He already could feel the way the stares would burn into him, the way his skin would crawl under all that attention. He could handle a few looks here in town, the occasional glance from curious folks, the gossip… but the city? That was different. In the city, people watched.

And the worst part? He knew what they’d see.

Some guy who didn’t fit. A man too rough around the edges, too quiet, too scarred.

The axe came down again, unrelenting.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, exhaling hard. What the fuck was he even supposed to wear there? He barely had anything that would blend in. Just one pair of decent jeans and a couple of henleys that might keep him from looking like an uneducated stud.

Might.

-----

He returned just before lunch, the sharp bite of cold still clinging to his skin, the muscles of his arm aching like a bitch but in a way that felt more comforting than exhausting. Chopping wood had helped -somewhat- but not enough to shake the weight pressing down on him.

Then, he stepped into the house, and the scent hit his nose.

Tenderloin. Creamed potatoes.

His favorite.

His stomach grumbled in approval, and when he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found her setting the last plate on the table. She glanced up at him with a smile, like she hadn’t just completely read his mind.

“You’re back just in time,” she said, brushing her hands off on a dish towel. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

Bucky huffed, shrugging off his jacket. She knows. Of course, she knew. She always knew.

By the time he sat down, the first bite was enough to make his shoulders loosen. He didn’t say anything, just focused on his plate, on the warmth of the food, on how damn good it tasted.

By the time he finished his third helping, he finally leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “Darlin’, you’re gonna have to roll me out of here if you keep makin’ stuff like this.”

She huffed a laugh, stacking a couple of plates. “You say that like it’s my fault.”

“It is your fault,” he muttered, lazily twirling his fork. “Cookin’ like this.” He shook his head, tone half-admiring, half-accusatory. “Unfair.”

She chuckled, wiping down the counter before glancing over at him. He looked content, a rare sight when something was eating him. That alone made her move closer, stepping into his personal space.

Bucky barely had time to react before her arms wrapped around him, pressing a warm hug against his side. His chest tensed -not because he didn’t want it, never because he didn’t want it- but because it caught him off guard.

She pulled back slightly, flickering her eyes down, and before he could ask, she reached up and wiped the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

“There was-” she paused, tilting her head. “Potato.”

Bucky stiffened.

His hand came up to his mouth a second too late, rubbing over the spot as a slow warmth crept up his neck.

She just grinned. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

He scowled, with the kind of embarrassment that made him shift in his chair and grumble under his breath.

“Not flustered.”

“Uh-huh.”

She kissed his cheek quickly, then stepped away before he could protest further.

Bucky exhaled, rubbing his jaw before dropping his hand with a quiet hmph. He didn’t argue, because what was the point? She was already moving on, making casual conversation as she tidied up.

Then-

“We should probably grab a few things for the trip,” she said lightly, not looking at him as she rinsed a plate. “I was thinking we could head into town tomorrow, and pick out a couple of things.”

Bucky hummed in response, but the food in his stomach suddenly felt heavier.

------

They sat at the kitchen table with a notepad between them, as they jotted down things they’d need for the trip. The list was simple: snacks, water, some groceries.

“I’ll make something for the road,” she said, tapping the pen against the paper. “Something easy to eat while driving. I’ll grab the ingredients tomorrow.”

He nodded, with arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ll check the truck. Make sure the tires, oil, and water are good.”

She hummed, writing that down, but then-

“Toilet paper.”

She paused, blinking at him. “What?”

“For the glove compartment,” Bucky said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her lips twitched. “Why?”

His ears went pink. “What d’you mean why? When you gotta go, you gotta go. Even if it’s the middle of the road.”

She pressed her lips together, trying really hard not to laugh. “I mean, fair point.”

Bucky grumbled something under his breath as she added it to the list, the color still lingering on his cheeks. But then she glanced up, chewing on the end of the pen.

“You’ll need to grab some clothes from your cabin.”

That was when the shift happened.

His body didn’t move, but something in his expression tightened, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features.

She noticed immediately.

“Hey,” she said gently. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.

She reached across the table, touching his arm, waiting until he finally looked at her. “One step at a time, alright?”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Yeah,” he muttered, finally. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

She squeezed his arm before letting go, keeping her voice light. “Actually, while we’re on the subject… do you have enough clothes to bring along?”

He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean… I got stuff. But…” He hesitated. “I probably need some new things.”

She nodded slowly, reading between the lines.

He dreaded shopping. Trying things on, getting questioned by clerks, feeling pressured to buy things he didn’t even like.

“I can go,” she offered. “Pick some things up for you.”

Bucky glanced at her, skeptical. “And if I don’t like ‘em?”

“We return them first thing Monday morning.”

He exhaled, considering. “I don’t want anything fancy.”

“You? Fancy?” She smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He rolled his eyes, and his shoulders eased the tension, just a little.

“…Something blue or black for the top,” he muttered after a pause.

She grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

She could sense the weight still pressing down on him, so she steered the conversation into safer waters. “For the food, I was thinking… have you ever tried empanadas?”

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly. “Yeah, actually. Back in the army. One of the guys- his ma would bring ‘em when she visited. He’d share sometimes.”

Her eyes lit up. “Did you like them?”

He nodded, and a hint of a smile softened his features. “Yeah. They were good.”

“Well,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “I was thinking of making a meaty filling. Figured you’d like that.”

His lips twitched, an approving glint in his eyes. “Sounds great.”

She glanced at the clock, noting the time. “Alright, let’s head into town before the shops close. Almost no one opens on Sundays around here.”

Bucky let out a mock groan, pressing a hand to his stomach. “You sure you can get me outta this chair? Ate too much. You’re gonna make me gain weight at this rate.”

She laughed, standing up and stretching. “You’ll look very sexy. And I’ll have more of you to grab.”

That got him. His cheeks flushed a faint red as he ducked his head, suddenly finding the notepad very interesting.

“C’mon, big guy. Let’s go before the town shuts down on us.”

-----

Monday morning, they departed early.

He had insisted on driving, and she let him. Her meeting wasn’t until the afternoon, which meant they had time to get to the Airbnb, settle in, and for her to change before she had to leave. She had suggested a hotel -something nice, something easy- but he had shut down that idea pretty fast.

“Not stayin’ in a damn hotel,” he had muttered.

She knew why. It wasn’t just about avoiding people, it was about having a place that felt less like the city, a place that wasn’t sterile and unfamiliar, a place where he wouldn’t feel watched. An Airbnb was as close to a home as they were going to get in a place that felt otherwise hostile to him.

The trip itself was fine, though Bucky was quieter than ever. She didn’t push, didn’t try to fill the silence, just read her book, occasionally serving him coffee. She figured he needed to settle into his own thoughts and get used to the idea that they were going back to a place he had spent over more than a decade avoiding.

Eventually, she heard it, the low, unmistakable growl of his stomach.

She grinned, closing her book. “Alright, honey. Pull over.”

Bucky grunted. “M’fine.”

“Uh-huh.” She arched a brow. “Pull over. I’ll drive while you eat.”

He gave her a look but didn’t argue, pulling off in the curve. They switched places, and as soon as he grabbed the first empanada, she heard it, the almost joyful sound he made as he took the first bite.

She had eaten earlier, thank God, because somehow, Bucky managed to put away eight in one sitting. And an apple.

As he chewed, thoroughly pleased, she eyed him. “Bucky, are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

He paused mid-bite, squinting at her. “What?”

She grinned. “I mean, the way you’re inhaling those? You’re either growing a small human or preparing for winter hibernation.”

He swallowed, scowling. “They’re good.”

She chuckled, focusing back on the road. “Glad you like ‘em.”

She drove in silence, letting him be.

Bucky had eaten enough to put himself into a food coma, but that wasn’t the only reason he’d drifted off. She knew last night had been restless for him if he had even slept at all. He hadn’t said anything, but she’d felt it in the way he held her a little too long before bed, the way his breathing never fully evened out, the way he had been up before her.

So, when she glanced over and saw him slumped against the window, arms crossed, head tilted slightly, she wasn’t surprised. His chest rose and fell evenly, a few stray crumbs still clinging to his shirt.

She smiled a little and let him sleep.

For a couple of hours, she focused on the road, as the monotone hum of the tires and the quiet murmur of the radio filled the space. But as they got closer to the city, everything changed. The road widened, traffic thickened, and the sky was swallowed by looming buildings.

A sudden blaring horn cut through the quiet.

Bucky jolted awake immediately, sucking in a sharp breath as his hand twitched toward something. His seatbelt, the door, his hip. She wasn’t sure if he was reaching for a weapon or just bracing himself, but for a split second, his eyes were wild, darting around before finally landing on her.

She winced. “Sorry. City drivers.”

He exhaled hard, rubbing a hand down his face. “Should’ve woken me up. I could’ve driven.”

“And be cranky and starving while stuck in traffic?” She shot him a look before glancing back at the GPS. “Yeah, no thanks.”

He muttered something under his breath, but the fight had already left him. Instead, he turned his head toward the window, taking in the skyline, the crowded sidewalks, and the flashing signs. His fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh.

A few more turns, and she finally pulled up in front of their Airbnb. A modest little apartment, nothing flashy, but in a quieter area just ten minutes from where she needed to be.

She shifted into the parking lot and sighed, stretching her fingers. “Alright. Home sweet home.”

Bucky didn’t move at first, just stared up at the building like it might lunge at him.

Then, with a slow exhale, he unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for their bags.

-----

They didn’t need a key.

Instead, there was a digital lock with a number combination, which she entered easily after checking the confirmation email. The mechanism beeped, the door clicked open, and Bucky’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t like it.

A code? No actual lock? Who else had access to this thing? The owner, obviously. Maybe the cleaning crew. What if the code hadn’t been changed recently? How hard could it be to override it, to force the door open if someone really wanted to? What if-

Then he felt it.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, her body pressing into his back. A second later, a soft kiss against the space between his shoulder blades.

Bucky exhaled. Slowly.

“I’ll go change and then I’ll leave,” she murmured against his shirt. “Why don’t you take a shower and get comfortable? Or go for a walk if you want.”

He didn’t answer right away, just rested his hand over hers where it rested on his stomach, giving it a small squeeze. Not much, but enough to let her know he’d heard her.

She squeezed back before stepping away, leaving him standing in the doorway as she disappeared inside.

He took another slow breath, glancing at the lock one last time before finally stepping inside after her.

-----

The apartment was… fine.

Smaller than her place back home, but clean, modern. The furniture was sleek, everything in shades of beige and gray, the kind of aesthetic that looked nice in photos but didn’t feel like anyone lived there. Too polished. Too impersonal.

But it was quiet.

That was something, at least.

Bucky paced through the space, scanning everything the way he always did when he entered somewhere new. Windows locked. No weird creaks on the floor. The bathroom door was solid, good enough for some peace. The bedroom was decent -bigger than he expected- but the bedspread was stiff, too neat, too unfamiliar. The walls were bare, and the city noise outside was muffled but ever-present, like a dull hum beneath his skin.

He sighed, rubbing his face. It wasn’t home. But for the next few days, it had to be. He wandered back into the kitchen, running a hand over the smooth counters. It was nice, but something about it felt… unused. Like no one had ever actually cooked in here before.

Well. That was about to change.

Without really thinking about it, he decided he’d make dinner.

They had packed some groceries in a box in the truck’s back, just to be safe, in case they couldn’t find a store right away. He sorted through it, pulling out what he needed.

Dinosaur pasta.

She had laughed at him when he tossed it into the cart back home, but he didn’t care. It was easy and reliable. And this time, he’d give it a twist. She had taught him how to make pink sauce a while ago, and he’d actually paid attention. Figured he’d surprise her with it.

Or so he thought.

The hour of her return came and went.

Bucky stirred the sauce one last time, glancing at the clock. Then the door. No messages.

He exhaled, shaking his head. She’s busy. It’s fine.

But another half hour passed. Then another. The food sat untouched, already cold. His chest tightened. Not with anger, not really, but with something else. Something he didn’t want to name.

Eventually, he gave up. He microwaved himself a portion, eating in silence before rinsing his plate and heading for the bedroom.

He didn’t bother turning on the big lights, just flipped on the TV, letting it play something -anything- to fill the space. He lay back against the pillows, one arm behind his head, eyes on the screen but not really watching.

Then, finally, the sound of the front door opening.

Soft footsteps. A rustling of bags.

A pause.

“…Bucky?”

He didn’t answer right away, just listened. A quiet exhale. Then-

“My phone died,” she said, her voice carried down the hall. “I couldn’t message you. I- I’m so sorry.”

Bucky blinked up at the ceiling, with his lips pressed into a thin line.

For a second, he debated saying it’s fine. But it wasn’t, not really. He wasn’t mad, not exactly, but something swirled in his chest, something that made him feel stupid for waiting, for hoping for something as simple as dinner together.

So instead, he just said, “There’s food in the kitchen.”

A beat of silence. Then soft footsteps, getting closer.

She peeked into the room, eyes full of guilt. “You made dinner?”

Bucky shrugged. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

“You’re so thoughtful, darling,” she murmured, stepping closer. “I’m really sorry. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

He hummed, noncommittal, eyes flicking back to the TV. He wasn’t trying to be cold, but something in him was still knotted up, and he didn’t know how to untangle it just yet.

She didn’t push.

Instead, she peeled off the blazer she had been wearing all day, then unbuttoned her blouse, sighing in relief as she swapped it out for something infinitely more comfortable: one of his old henleys.

She had stolen it from his cabin months ago, claiming it as hers without argument, and at this point, he had just accepted it.

Bucky caught the familiar fabric from the corner of his eye, and for some reason, that tiny thing made his chest ache a little less.

She gave him one last look, a small, tired smile before disappearing into the kitchen to heat up the food.

-----

The hum of the microwave filled the kitchen, casting a soft glow over the countertops as she leaned against them, rubbing her tired eyes. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now, as the scent of the warmed-up pasta made her stomach grumble.

She pulled the plate out, grabbed a fork, and settled at the small dining table. The first bite was perfect, creamy, and rich, with just the right balance of tomato and cream. Even after sitting for hours, it was still good. She smiled to herself. Of course, it was.

She heard a faint noise behind her, and she glanced up to see Bucky lingering in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her eat. He wasn’t brooding, not exactly, but there was something unreadable in his expression, something cautious like he was still holding onto whatever had crawled into his chest earlier.

She chewed slowly, then set her fork down. “You gonna stand there all night, or you wanna come sit?”

Bucky huffed through his nose but pushed off the doorframe, walking toward her with slow, measured steps. He didn’t sit, though. Just leaned against the counter, hands braced on either side of him.

She took another bite, then met his gaze. “It’s really good.”

He hummed like he wasn’t sure whether to believe her.

She frowned, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then, without thinking too hard about it, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Bucky stilled.

She squeezed gently, running slow circles over the back of his hand with her thumb. “I hate that you waited for me and I wasn’t here.”

He let out a slow exhale, shifting his shoulders. “S’not your fault.”

“I know,” she murmured. “But I still hate it.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes flicked away like he wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling pressing against his ribs.

Then, finally, he squeezed her hand back. She smiled, tugging lightly until he sighed and gave in, pulling out the chair beside her and sitting down.

She took another bite, then set her fork down again. “You know I love this, right?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

She gestured to the plate. “You. Making dinner. Thinking about me. I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but it is to me.”

Bucky swallowed, flexing his fingers around hers. “Yeah?”

She smiled, bringing his hand to her lips and pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. “Yeah.”

He let out a slow breath for the first time that night, as something in his chest finally let go.

------

The next morning, they went out to walk around and make the most of their time before she had to head to her second meeting. The city was already alive with movement, people rushing to work, street vendors setting up, the noise of conversations and car horns blending into the background noise.

They grabbed something to eat at a small café, sitting by the window, watching the world go by. Bucky was quieter than usual, but she didn’t push. He had agreed to come with her and had stepped into a place he hated for her, and that was already more than enough.

After breakfast, they strolled down a quieter street, hand in hand. She had been enjoying herself -taking in the sights, pointing out things she thought were interesting- when she finally noticed it.

Bucky was stiff.

His jaw was tight, and his free hand curled into a loose fist by his side. But what really gave him away was the way his eyes moved, scanning their surroundings, tracking every person that passed by.

She squeezed his hand gently. “What’s wrong?”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Nothin’.”

She arched a brow. “Bucky.”

His shoulders shifted, and after a pause, he sighed. “…I feel observed.”

Her heart clenched a little. She knew what this was, his self-consciousness creeping in, his social anxiety pressing against his ribs, telling him he didn’t belong here, seeing threats where there were none.

She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “I don’t perceive it.”

He made a quiet, disbelieving sound, but before he could argue, she smirked. “Although, I do think there’s a bunch of women looking at you.”

That startled him. He blinked down at her. “What?”

“You’re too handsome,” she simply said, like it was a fact.

Bucky groaned, shaking his head. “‘Guess only you see that, darlin’.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Bucky, I’m gonna say this once, because I really don’t want you all cocky later, but… you are a gorgeous man.”

His brows pulled together, like the very idea confused him. Before he could brush it off, she pressed on.

“I know you don’t see yourself like that. Not anymore. But you are,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand. “So believe me when I tell you that probably six out of ten women we’ve passed would say yes if you asked them out.”

Bucky’s ears tinged pink, and his lips parted slightly before he clamped his mouth shut, looking away. He shifted his weight, clearing his throat like that would somehow push the embarrassment down.

“…That’s not a real statistic,” he muttered.

------

He sat on a park bench, stretching his legs out as she wandered over to a street vendor. She was buying caramelized peanuts, chatting with the old man behind the cart, moving her hands as she gestured about something.

He let his gaze stray through the park.

A pair of guys in army uniforms caught his attention as they strolled past, laughing easily, and moving with confident steps. One of them playfully nodded toward a group of girls sitting on a nearby bench, earning a few shy smiles in return.

Bucky’s chest stiffened.

Once upon a time, he had been one of those guys.

A menace on his days off, all easy charm and reckless energy making the most of whatever time he had before duty called again. He had forgotten, sometimes, what that version of himself looked like.

But then-

The unending campaigns. The things he had to do. The things he couldn’t take back.

His mind yanked him somewhere else, somewhere darker.

The storage house. The explosion. The searing heat of fire before everything went black, then worse, the crushing weight, the sickening snap of bone, the panic clawing up his throat as he realized he was trapped.

Dying buried alive.

Rainwater trickled through the cracks, dampening the dust, and turning it into mud.

His breathing fastened and his gaze dropped to the pavement, curling his fingers into his palms. The world around him dimmed, his body here but his mind there, stuck between then and now.

Then-

A touch. Soft. Soothing.

His head jerked up, with an unfocused gaze.

She crouched beside him, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder, with a concerned expression.

And when his eyes met hers, she sucked in a small, worried breath, because she had never seen that look in his eyes before.

Vacant. Haunted.

Lost.

-----

She didn’t let go of his hand the entire walk back.

Bucky didn’t protest, but he didn’t say much either. His grip was solid, but his steps were stiff, and his jaw was locked so tight she could see the muscle twitching. He kept his eyes forward, scanning the sidewalk, shoulders squared like he was bracing for something, though she wasn’t sure what.

She kept her voice soft. “Almost there.”

He hummed, barely acknowledging it.

She didn’t push.

The city noise surrounded them. The honking of cars, the chatter of people passing by, the echo of hurried footsteps against the pavement, but she barely noticed. Her focus was on him, on the way he was still somewhere else, even as they turned the last corner and the building came into view.

When they reached the door, she entered the code with one hand, still holding onto him with the other. The lock clicked. She pushed the door open, stepping inside first before turning to look at him.

Bucky exhaled slowly like he was only now allowing himself to breathe.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on.”

He didn’t move at first, flicking his eyes past her like he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross the threshold. But then, slowly, he stepped inside.

She shut the door behind him.

“Wanna lie down?” she asked softly.

Bucky didn’t answer right away, but then he nodded, just once.

She guided him toward the bedroom, with her hand still loosely curled around his. The moment they reached the bed, she lay down first, settling against the pillows. He hesitated for only a second before following, shifting until he found the place he always found soothing, his head resting in the valley of her breasts, arms wrapped firmly around her waist.

She exhaled, letting her fingers trace slow, lazy circles across his back.

He said nothing, but she felt it, the way his body, little by little, started to relax against her. The tension in his shoulders softened, his breathing evened out, and his grip on her went from holding on to simply holding.

The minutes passed on, and the only sound in the room was the soft tick of the clock.

“You’re gonna be late,” he grumbled, muffled against her body.

She hummed, drifting her fingers up into his hair, massaging his scalp in slow, soothing strokes. “Don’t care.”

Bucky huffed.

“They haven’t even deposited my travel allowance yet,” she added. “They can wait a few more minutes.”

He sighed against her, and she felt it, the subtle way he melted just a little more, sinking into the warmth of her touch, the safety of her body against his.

“Tell you what,” she murmured, still tracing slow circles over his scalp. “Since you’re so tense, I’ll give you a nice massage when I get back. What do you think?”

Bucky nuzzled against her chest, exhaling a breath that was just shy of a sigh. “I’d be real fucked up if I said no to that.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Perfect.”

Her hands never stopped moving, going down to rub at the knots in his shoulders, then ghosting along the base of his neck.

After a moment, she shifted slightly beneath him. “Will you be okay alone in here?”

He nodded against her.

It wasn’t a complete lie.

He would be fine. The walls weren’t closing in, the noise from outside was manageable, and he had a place to retreat to, away from the chaos of the city. Technically, he’d be fine.

But deep down, he knew what was coming.

She would leave. The apartment would get too quiet. His thoughts -the ones he had been trying to push down since the park- would creep back in, crawling up his throat, and pressing against his ribs.

And that dark, familiar pull would be there, whispering its old, ugly promises.

It was one of his last dirty secrets.

One he was ashamed to reveal to her.

He had gotten better -so much better- but the temptation never really went away. Sometimes it was just a flicker, something he could ignore. Other times…

Like now.

His fingers twitched against her waist, resisting the urge to reach for his phone, to make the order before she even left. Just one bottle. Just to take the edge off.

“I won’t be gone long,” she reassured him.

Bucky swallowed. Nodded again.

“I know,” he murmured, hoping she couldn’t hear the lie beneath his words.

-----

The second the door shut behind her, the apartment felt different.

Empty.

He stayed in bed for a moment, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. The warmth her body had left behind was fading, replaced by the cool feeling of being alone.

He took a slow breath. Let it out.

Then he sat up, rubbed a hand down his face, and reached for his phone.

It wasn’t even a debate, not really. The thought had been there since the park, lurking in the back of his mind, and now, without her here to distract him, it clawed its way forward.

Just a bottle. Just a drink. Just to settle things.

His fingers moved before he could talk himself out of it. A few taps, an automatic confirmation. Done.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but the knock on the door came quicker than expected. He stood slowly, crossing the room, hesitating just for a second before pulling the door open.

The delivery guy barely looked at him, just handed over the bag, muttering a quick have a good one before turning away.

Bucky shut the door and stared down at the weight in his hands.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, he walked into the kitchen and set the bottle down on the counter. He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders before turning away. His muscles ached from how tense he’d been all morning

He’d take a shower first.

But the water didn’t wash away his thoughts.

His mind was on a battlefield, mud, blood, fire, and screams. The weight of debris pinning him down. The searing pain in his left arm, so sharp it had felt like his body was being torn in half.

And then… the hospital.

The look on the officer’s face when he was told, flatly, clinically, that he was expendable. That his sacrifice had been expected. Calculated. That they would move forward without him.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against the shower tiles. He had fought for his country. Given everything. And when he needed them most, they had tossed him aside like a broken weapon.

Then she walked away.

He tousled his hair, exhaling sharply as the memory crawled forward, uninvited.

She had grown distant. At first, it was subtle: longer pauses between messages, a clipped voice when she finally answered his calls. Then came the excuses. How busy she was. How complicated things werefor her. How she needed time.

Eventually, she stopped answering at all.

Her friend had been the one to deliver the final blow. “It was difficult for her,” she had said, carefully avoiding his eyes. “She’s not in a place to handle… your situation. She’s struggling too, you know.”

His situation.

His problems.

His disability.

He turned off the water, with a rough movement. He grabbed a towel, rubbing it over his face before wrapping it around his waist.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, his mind was still in shambles, raw and restless, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Then his eyes landed on the counter.

The bottle was still there, untouched. Waiting.

Bucky cursed under his breath.

His fingers twitched, and before he could think too hard about it, he grabbed the bottle and poured himself a glass. He stared at his distorted reflection on the smooth, amber-colored surface for a while.

But he didn’t drink.

Instead, he turned away, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He needed boxers. Maybe if he did something -even something as simple as getting dressed- it would take the edge off.

He shuffled through his suitcase, pushing aside neatly folded shirts, a couple of henleys, and his new corduroy pants. No boxers. He frowned.

Then he remembered, she had packed them in hers.

With a sigh, he crouched next to her bag, unzipping it and rummaging inside. His fingers brushed against some fabric, then something firmer, a box.

Cardboard. Smooth.

Curious, he lifted it out.

It was a large, homemade chocolate box from Winnifred’s, the local baker back home. He recognized it instantly.

He swallowed hard, looking down at the box in his hands, tightening his grip around it while he walked to the living room.

She had planned this, before the trip. She had thought of him, of making this first Valentine’s together special, even when she knew he wasn’t the kind of guy who cared for fancy celebrations.

And he knew -of course he knew- she had probably planned something else, something back home. Maybe dinner at his cabin, decorated secretly while he worked, something small but theirs alone. But the trip had messed everything up, throwing them into this place that didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like home.

Still, she had brought a little piece of it with her, for him.

Bucky exhaled shakily, blinking hard. His gaze flicked toward the counter, to the glass of whiskey waiting for him, and the bottle looming beside it.

For a moment, he just stared.

Then he walked over, grabbed the glass, and dumped it in the sink. The sharp splash of liquid against metal filled the silence, followed by the pour as he emptied the rest of the bottle down the drain.

He didn’t watch it disappear. Just threw the empty bottle in the trash, turned, and sat heavily on the couch. Then, he opened the chocolate box with careful fingers, staring at the neat rows inside, hovering his index over them for a moment before he grabbed one.

This would do.

He took a bite, letting the rich sweetness melt on his tongue.

Yeah.

This would do.

-----

The first thing she saw when she stepped through the door that afternoon, was Bucky sprawled on the couch, snoring softly.

Her surprise chocolate box rested almost empty over his stomach, and his fingers -coated with a brownish glint- dangled near the floor. His towel had loosened slightly, barely hanging onto his waist, exposing just enough skin to make her stare longer than necessary.

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.

She almost took a picture.

Almost.

But then, she remembered.

The way he had been before she left, lost in his own mind, dealing with something he didn’t want to express. It wouldn’t be strange if he had some kind of oral anxiety attack, needing something -anything- to keep himself calm.

So instead, she tiptoed, lifting the nearly empty chocolate box from his stomach and setting it aside. Then, she grabbed a blanket, draped it carefully over him, and turned down the lights.

With a small sigh, she slipped into the bedroom and pulled out his old henley. Clearly, they weren’t going out for the day.

She then moved into the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves as she started pulling out ingredients for dinner. She wasn’t in a rush, just moving through things, deciding what to make while Bucky got his rest.

It didn’t take long before she felt it.

The familiar warmth of strong arms wrapping around her waist. A heavy, solid weight pressed against her back. The slow, hot breath against her ear.

“Isn’t it the massage lady,” Bucky murmured, sleepily.

Before she could respond, he pressed a lazy kiss to the side of her neck. Then another. Slow, unhurried, tasting her, feeling her warmth beneath his lips.

She shivered, tilting her head just slightly, giving him more access. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

He hummed against her skin, tightening his grip on her waist. “Woke up.” Another kiss, just below her jaw. “Found somethin’ better to do.”

She exhaled a soft laugh, resting a hand over his. “That so?”

“Mm.” His lips dragged lower, pressing against the curve of her shoulder. “Still gotta cash in that massage.”

Her smile widened. “Oh, do you?”

“Mhmm.” He nuzzled against her skin, voice dropping to a rasp. “Feelin’ all sorts of tension, sweetheart.”

She smirked, reaching back to run her fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “Well, we did say we’d make the most of our time here…”

Bucky hummed his approval, as his hands started to wander, and his breath blew warm and slow against her pulse.

Dinner could wait.

She turned in his arms, her body still glued to his. Her hands slid up slowly, threading her fingers behind his neck, playing lazily with the hairs at his nape.

“Well, mister,” she murmured, tilting her head. “You’re already in your birthday suit… where exactly are you aching?” she asked, playfully pressing herself flush against him, against the unmistakable evidence of his interest, thick and hard against her stomach.

Bucky let out a low, rumbling sound, tightening his hands around her waist. “You really gotta ask?”

She grinned, dragging her nails lightly over the back of his neck. “Mmm… just making sure. Wouldn’t wanna miss a spot.”

His grip flexed, pulling her even closer, grinding his erection against her. “Sweetheart,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep and heat, “if you keep talkin’ like that, I’m afraid we’ll skip the massage.”

“Oh?” she hummed, trailing her fingers up the back of his neck, scratching lightly over his scalp. “And here I was, all ready to… work on you.”

She let her one hand slide between them, dipping lower, palming his cock through the towel.

Bucky inhaled sharply, and his whole body tensed as her grip tightened just slightly, teasing, testing. His head tipped forward, resting his forehead against hers.

“Darlin’,” he warned, with a strained voice

She smiled, leaning in just enough for her lips to brush his. “What?” she murmured, giving another slow, deliberate squeeze.

Bucky groaned, a deep, needy sound. “You’re real close to losin’ that henley.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “That a threat or a promise?”

“Both,” he growled, then kissed her like he meant it.

His lips crashed against hers, slow at first, but that control didn’t last long. Not with the way her fingers kept working him through the towel, sending heat curling low in his stomach, making his knees damn near weak.

He groaned again into her mouth, slipping one hand down to grab a handful of her thigh, pulling her flush against him. The pressure of her palm massaging his cock, the way her body molded to his, it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her lips, with ragged breaths.

She smirked, dragging her nails lightly down his back. “You’re so tense, baby,” she teased, voice dripping with false innocence.

He huffed a laugh, slipping his hands slipping beneath the henley, warm, coarsed palms gliding over the bare skin of her thighs, up to her ass. He gave a firm squeeze, pulling her against his aching cock. “Yeah? Pretty sure you’re the one causin’ the tension.”

She gasped softly, and he took advantage of the sound, catching her lips again, and swallowing every little noise she made as he pressed her back against the counter.

Her fingers hooked into the knot of his towel, tugging, loosening it, but before she could pull it away completely, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“Oh, no,” he rasped, dragging his lips down her neck. “You first, sweetheart.”

Without another word, he slipped his fingers under the hem of her nightie and started sliding it up, as his mouth trailed lower, his breath hot against her skin.

“B-but the idea was to make you feel good,” she pouted, though there wasn’t much conviction behind it.

He chuckled, deep and lazy, vibrating against her skin. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his lips up to her ear. “This is gonna make me feel real good.”

His fingers skimmed over her bare thighs, slipping higher, slowly and deliberately. Then he tugged the nightie over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside without a second thought. He leaned back just enough to take her in, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Look at you,” he murmured, tracing a hand down her side, rough fingers ghosting over soft skin. “So damn beautiful.”

Her lips parted, her body already melting into his touch, but he wasn’t done yet.

Bucky bent slightly, gripping the backs of her thighs and effortlessly lifting her onto the counter. His hands slid up, spreading her knees apart as he stepped between them. He barely gave her a chance to breathe before his lips were on hers again, his hands gripping her thighs, keeping her close, keeping her his.

She shifted against him, pressing closer, brushing her bare skin against his, and fuck, he could lose himself in this.

In her.

After the kind of morning he had, after the things clawing at the edges of his mind, he knew he had been short with her. He hadn’t meant to be, she was one of the few good things he had since everything went to hell, and the last thing he wanted was to push her away.

And yet, she had still come to him. Still had covered him with a blanket, made sure he was comfortable and had started making dinner instead of being upset that he had shut down on her.

He didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve her.

Bucky exhaled against her lips, dragging his hands up her sides before dipping lower, catching the band of her panties between his fingers. “These,” he murmured, snapping the waistband lightly, “are in my way.”

She let out a breathless little laugh, lifting her hips just enough to help him. He wasted no time, sliding them down her legs, letting the fabric hit the floor before running his hands back up her thighs, spreading her open for him.

His mouth traced along her jaw, nipping at the skin just below her ear before whispering, “You really are too damn good to me, sweetheart.”

She sighed, tilting her head to let him continue his path down her neck. “Maybe,” she teased. “Or maybe you just deserve it.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he dropped to his knees.

His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place. He could lose himself here.

He would.

He didn’t wait for permission.

He pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, feeling the way she shivered beneath his touch. He wanted to take his time, to savor, to make up for earlier, not just for himself. She deserved that.

One of his hands slid up, fingers spreading over her tummy, pressing gently as if to hold her steady. The other trailed lower, teasing along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, watching with satisfaction as her breath hitched.

Then, finally, finally, he leaned in.

He flicked his tongue against her, just barely, a featherlight touch that made her jolt. He smirked, gripping her hips to keep her still, then did it again, a little firmer this time. “Fuck,” he muttered against her, voice rough with want. “You always taste so good.”

She whimpered, as her fingers found their way into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. That sent a shiver straight to his cock, and made him need to hear more of those sweet little sounds from her lips.

He licked a slow, teasing stripe up her slit, circling her clit with the tip of his tongue before pulling away just enough to blow cool air against her. The way she whined, the way her hips bucked up into his mouth, fuck, she was perfect.

He groaned, gripping her thighs as he dived back in, pressing his tongue against her pussy, stroking her just right, slipping lower to taste all of her before dragging back up to flick again her swollen, aching clit.

Her thighs clenched around his head, and he loved it. He wanted it.

He slipped a finger inside her, groaning at how warm and wet she was, at how she clenched around him, so tight and perfect. He curled it just right, adding a second, pumping them slowly, in time with the strokes of his tongue.

“Bucky-” she gasped, tightening her grip on his hair, legs trembling slightly.

That only spurred him on.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured against her, voice thick with hunger. “Let me have it.” He pleaded, suckling at her clit with intent. He didn’t stop, not until she was moaning his name, arching against him, coming undone beneath his mouth, just the way he wanted.

Her thighs instinctively closed again around his head, rolling her hips, searching, chasing his mouth as she neared that blissful edge.

Her grip on his hair was tight, almost desperate, and fuck, he loved it. Loved the way she came undone for him, loved how she let go with him.

“Bucky! oh God-”

His name tumbled from her lips, breathless, wrecked, and that was all it took. Her thighs trembled, her back arched as the pleasure crashed over her, her walls clenching his fingers tightly as she came apart.

He didn’t stop. Not yet. He worked her through it, lapping up every little aftershock, basking in the way her body pulsed, how she shuddered against him.

Only when she whimpered, overstimulated, did he finally ease up, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss against her inner thigh.

He looked up at her, pupils blown wide. “Think that did more for me than it did for you,” he rasped, smirking as he ran his hands over her still-trembling thighs.

She blinked down at him, dazed, as she tried to catch her breath.

Then, with a lazy, satisfied smile, she tugged at his hair. “Get up here,” she murmured. “You’re not done yet.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, with dark intent.

Before she could even catch her breath, his lips crashed against hers, hungry, desperate, gripping her waist almost brutishly as he pulled her off the counter. She barely had time to register the shift before he spun her around, bending her against the cool surface.

A gasp left her lips as she splayed her hands against the counter for balance.

He groaned at the sight in front of him, before running his hands down her back, over the curve of her ass, squeezing once before nudging her legs apart with his knee.

“Look at you,” he rasped, pressing his chest to her back, letting her feel every inch of him, hard and aching against her. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He kissed the back of her neck, trailing his lips down to her shoulder as one hand slid between her legs, fingers slipping through the mess he had made.

Still soaked for him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, as he stroked her, feeling her jolt beneath his touch.

She whimpered, shifting back against him, pressing into his fingers, wordlessly pleading for more.

Bucky smirked against her skin. “You want me inside, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” she gasped, pushing back against him again.

That was all he needed.

He gripped her hip with one hand, guiding himself with the other, teasing her, just barely pressing in. Then, with a low growl, he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside her in one deep, slow thrust.

A broken moan escaped her lips, fingers gripping the counter as he stretched her, filled her, claimed her.

Bucky clenched his jaw, trying real hard to keep it together, to give her a second to adjust, but fuck, she was so warm, so tight, squeezing him just right-

Then she pushed her hips back against him, wordlessly demanding more.

And who the hell was he to deny her?

Bucky growled, and set a brutal pace, determined to make her feel every inch of his cock.

He didn’t speak.

He just took.

His hands were bruising on her hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks, using the leverage to pull her onto his cock with deep, brutal thrusts. There was no teasing, no slow buildup, just raw, desperate need, pouring out of him with every snap of his hips.

Each stroke drove her forward, and her fingers slipped against the counter as she struggled to hold herself up. The force of his movements knocked the breath from her lungs, and made her whimper and moan, leaving her body pliant beneath his.

He was relentless.

He stretched her wide, filled her with every rough thrust, dragging against that sensitive spot inside her that made her keen. Her walls clenched down around him, and he responded with a ragged, guttural groan, tightening his fingers, as his pace grew even more frenzied.

He wasn’t holding back.

The obscene slap of skin against skin filled the kitchen, mixing with her gasps, and her breathless cries. He drove into her, each movement fueled by something dark and desperate, something he couldn’t put into words.

Because right now, he wasn’t thinking about anything except how good she felt around him, how perfectly she took him, how much he needed this, needed her.

Her legs trembled, and her body arched against him, as every hard thrust sent the pleasure curling up her spine. She was close, her breaths turning into sharp, broken moans, her body tightening around him. The delicious pressure and wet heat threatened to undo him, but he gritted his teeth, determined to make this last.

He didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

His rhythm turned rougher, harder, as he chased the only thing that made sense, the feeling of her falling apart beneath him. One hand snaked between her sweat-slicked thighs to rub tight, hard circles over her throbbing clit.

When she came, she practically sobbed in pleasure, throwing her head back in a silent scream. Her walls clenched around him like a silken fist, massaging his throbbing cock and pushing him dangerously close to the edge. But he wasn’t done.

Not yet.

With a growl, he kept going, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her up as he kept fucking into her, hard and deep, determined to wring every last bit of pleasure from her wrecked body, until all she could do was take it.

The countertop creaked beneath the force of his thrusts, and her body jerked with every sharp snap of his hips like a ragdoll. She was overstimulated, so sensitive, but she took it, let him use her, let him chase his own pleasure the way he needed to.

His fingers dug into her skin again, and his pace turned erratic, desperate, sweat slicking his chest as he buried himself inside her again and again. His breath was ragged, and his jaw clenched so tight it ached, while his head swam in her intoxicating warmth, the one thing that calmed him, that kept him from spiraling.

His grip bruised as he slammed into her one last time, burying his cock deep as his body seized. His breath caught, a strangled groan escaped his throat as he spilled inside her, grinding his hips against her rear, making sure every last drop was pumped deep inside her waiting body. For a long moment, neither of them moved, and only the sound in the space was their ragged breathing.

Then, finally, Bucky exhaled, loosening his grip just enough to press his forehead to the back of her neck.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t know what to say.

So instead, he just held her -his anchor, his salvation- until his heart stopped racing and the weight pressing down on his chest finally, finally lifted.

She stood there, trying to catch her breath, with her body still trembling as Bucky held her close, his chest rising and falling against her back. He was still nestled between her legs, slick walls cradling his spent, twitching cock.

She rested her forehead against her folded arms, as a shaky laugh escaped her lips. “Well, Buck… that was… something else,” she breathed out, trying to catch her breath.

Bucky huffed a quiet, almost satisfied sound. He hadn't meant to be so rough, so desperate, but something about what happened, about the way she let him have her, the way she took everything he gave, made it impossible to hold back.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” he finally murmured.

She smiled against her arm. “No. Far from it,” she whispered, turning her head just enough to catch his eyes, with a teasing glint. “I suspected it, but didn’t know you had that in you.”

His lips brushed the back of her neck, a quiet apology hidden in his touch. He wanted to say something, to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he needed her, but the words tangled heavily in his throat.

As Bucky carefully pulled out of her, a sharp gasp left her lips. His hands stayed on her hips, but his gaze dropped immediately to where they were still connected, to the way his cum slowly trickled down her inner thigh, glistening against her skin.

Something primal and possessive bloomed in his chest.

Before he could think twice about it, he reached down, swiping his thumb through the mess, gathering every drop before pushing it back inside her with slow, deliberate pressure.

She gasped, jolting, gripping hard at the counter. “Bucky-”

“Shhh,” he shushed, sliding his free hand up her spine, as his lips brushed the nape of her neck. “Can’t let it go to waste, sweetheart.”

Her breath came out in a shudder, and her legs shook as he pushed his thumb deeper, as if claiming her all over again.

Satisfied, he finally withdrew, fingers glistening as he traced lazy circles over her overstimulated pussy, smirking when she whimpered at the touch.

He was about to tease her -about how sensitive she was, how good she looked wrecked for him, slapping her softly- when her breathless voice cut through the haze.

“I take it as you liked the chocolates,” she teased, turning around in his arms and pressing a slow kiss to his sternum. “this was a very pleasant way of saying thanks”

His hands slid back down to her hips, gripping firmly, fingers pressing into the flesh he had spent the last half an hour worshipping. He hummed, satisfied, tilting his head as he looked down at her. “You wanted me to like ‘em, didn’t you?”

She sighed, pressing her face briefly against his chest, before pulling back just enough to cradle his face with one hand. “I’m glad you did,” she whispered.

He exhaled, leaning into her touch.

“And I’m sorry that we’re stuck here until Friday.”

His throat worked as he swallowed, flicking his gaze away for half a second before settling back on her.

“S’not your fault,” he muttered.

She pressed another kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Still.” As she spoke, her fingers trailed up his arm, slow and deliberate, mapping the rough ridges and scarred skin that told stories of pain and survival.

Bucky tensed beneath her touch.

It was instinctive, something ingrained so deep in him he didn’t even think about it. His scars weren’t something he liked being noticed, much less touched. But she had never treated them like something to be ashamed of, never recoiled or hesitated.

And now, instead of pulling away, she leaned in, brushing her lips over the marred skin of his shoulder before playfully nipping at it.

His breath halted.

She grinned against his skin. “You know… I still owe you that massage,” she murmured, pressing her fingers into the firm muscle of his bicep, kneading it gently.

He exhaled sharply, not in discomfort, but in something else. Something warmer. She had a way of disarming him, stripping away the self-consciousness he didn’t even realize he was holding onto.

His lips twitched, as his hands found their place on her hips again. “You’re not gonna let that go, huh?”

She hummed, dragging her lips along his shoulder, hands working their way up to his neck. “Nope.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. His tension was gone, replaced by something softer. “Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing her hip. “Guess I’m all yours.”

She took his hand, guiding him toward the bedroom.

As they walked, Bucky’s free hand reached for the nearly empty chocolate box on the table, smiling to himself.

She raised a brow. “Still hungry?”

His little smile deepened, something dark, wicked flickering behind his eyes as he squeezed her fingers in his.

“Somethin’ like that,” he murmured, winking an eye.

She swallowed, as heat prickled at the base of her spine, suddenly very aware that whatever he had planned… she’d be the one melting like chocolate before the night was over.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[captain-huggy-bear]

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…"

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Clayton is feeling self conscious about his eye since his injury, you are not having any of it.

Notes: I've been noticing that Clay's still got some bloodshot and damage to his eye and just wondered if he feels a little self conscious about it (even though he shouldn't because he's so handsome.)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Clayton is staring at himself in the hallway mirror when you get home from running some errands. Turning this way and that, long fingers pulling at the skin around his left eye where it’s still somewhat bruised and swollen. The eye that is still bloodshot and damaged from the puck he took to the face a few weeks ago. It’s been a slow to heal problem, one he seemed to not be bothered by, until now.

When he lets out a rough, heavy sigh and glances over at you with a frown, you know somethings wrong before he even starts to speak. It’s all in the set of his shoulders, in the downturn of his mouth, the way he’s not smiling at seeing you back home.

"I look fucking awful right now." 

The comment has you dropping your shopping bags to the floor, not caring too much about your shopping, hands falling to rest on your hips as you glare at your boyfriend. Your handsome, wonderful boyfriend who had just dared to call himself anything but. 

"Take that back right now." Clay rolls his eyes at you, at the harsh tone of your voice and the way you’re standing like a disapproving parent. He knows he looks awful and doesn’t want your pity, his eye looks like someone’s burst it and the skin around is all weird mottled colours, sickly yellows and greens. It’s ugly. Disgusting. He’s surprised you’ve been able to stand looking at him the past few weeks and he doesn’t want your pity, your false reassurances. 

"But, I do, my eye is so fucking messed up still...fucking ugly." The words are spat out, like they taste bad and they certainly leave a bad taste in your mouth as you close the short distance between the two of you, hands falling to his wrist, landing over his bracelets as you tug until he looks at you. Your thumb brushing against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

Some of your anger, your bite is gone the moment he looks at you because he’s so…so sad, you can tell that Clayton genuinely feels like his eye is ugly, like the bruising, the bloodshot nature of it all, makes him any less wonderful. You’re not used to him being self conscious or sad, he’s always so level headed. It’s usually you in his spot and him in yours.

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…" Your voice doesn’t have any of the bite that it might have done a few minutes ago, in fact your voice is quiet and soft as you look up at him. Your hand slips from his wrist, fingers twining with his to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N..." He groans low in his throat, deep and scratchy, head tilting and falling to his shoulder. He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, he thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better and that’s just not on. 

A strand of his hair falls forward from where it had been slicked back, you reach up with your free hand to push it back and out of the way, taking the opportunity to cup his face after, fingers rubbing at the skin around his eye gently. 

"I mean it. You're not ugly, it's not possible. The only thing I think when I see your eye is that I hope you're not in pain..." That’s all you’d been concerned about for the past 3 weeks, that Clay was comfortable, that every time you kissed him you weren’t causing him more pain. The idea that he wasn’t as handsome had never even crossed your mind. You’re not actually sure it’s possible for Clay to be anything but handsome.

“You don’t have to say stuff to make me feel better, baby…it’s okay, it’s ugly and it’s fine.” 

“Clayton John Keller.” You snap out, hand cupping his cheek more firmly and turning his eyes to look at you, really look at you as you step further into his personal space, “Stop assuming i’m lying. I have never lied to you, not once.” It’s something you’ve never felt the need to do around Clay, even when you first started dating…it didn’t matter how bad the situation, you knew that Clay wouldn’t judge you or yell at you, so you’d never felt that panic, that need to hide anything from him and you certainly weren’t going to lie about this. “You could lose an eye, you could have bruises across your entire face, a broken nose, split lip, and I would still think you’re the most handsome man on this planet, Clayton Keller and I am not lying about that.”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t seriously tell me that this,” Clay gestures to his eye, to the big red blood spot across his sclera, “is attractive?” 

“Why not? I…” He raises an eyebrow at you when you stop yourself short and you work up the bravery inside you to admit something you’ve kept quiet, “I actually think…this makes me a terrible person by the way and I'm sorry, but I actually think you look hotter injured.” You close your eyes tight, scrunching up your features, before opening one eye to check his reaction.

“What?” He’s stumped, looking at you like you just told him the president was an alien or that chocolate was actually made from insects. Clay’s mouth is open, jaw dropped just slightly, brows furrowed, blue eyes confused and it’s adorable, even if you feel embarrassed about your confession. 

“Look, I know it makes me a terrible person but there’s something about you covered in blood and bruises…” 

A smirk starts to grow on Clay’s face once your words sink in, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him since walking through the front door. His blue eyes gleam with a sort of twisted delight, a mischief that makes your stomach buzz with butterflies, as his dimples start to show on one side of his mouth. 

“...Is that why you practically jumped me after the Winnipeg game, sweet girl?” You don’t even realise he’s corralling you, moving you until your back hits the hallway wall and he’s leaning over you, forearm pressed against the wall beside your head. 

“Shut up…” You murmur it, unable to do much more as your body fills with giddy, nervous energy (the good kind), as your face warms and your toes curl because of how he’s looking at you, all half-lidded eyes and a toothy smirk that makes you want to scream like a teenage girl. How he ever thought he was ugly you can’t comprehend when he makes you feel like you’re combusting right now.

“...You still think I'm handsome?” It’s teasing, mischievious as he leans ever closer, until your only response is a high pitched giggle that gives you away because fuck, he’s so hot…you’re not sure how you nabbed him, what made him pick you of all people, but you’re thankful for whatever convinced him you were the one.

“Baby? Do you think i’m handsome?” He asks again because apparently your giggles aren’t enough of an answer or more accurately because he hates you and wants to torture you even as he smiles down at you all dimples and teeth.

“I always think you're handsome…especially when you smile like that.” 

“C’mere,��� It’s silly how he always says that, but he’s the one that moves towards you. Clay’s quick to close the distance between you, slanting his mouth over yours into a sweet but firm kiss, it lasts longer than you expect, long enough for your hands to make their way into his shoulder length strands, long enough for him to practically press you into the wall,  “Thanks for keeping me in check, baby,” He’s practically murmuring it against your lips, not pulling away any further than necessary and you consider this an achievement. That you’ve taken his mood from self conscious and dower, back to teasing and sweet, back to standard Clay. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Just know I'm never going to forget that you’re a little freak who thinks I'm hotter when I'm bloody.”

“Clay, I swear to God!”

[lilacxquartz]

Trouble in Paradis: Jealousy

levi ackerman x f!reader

plot: various one shots of yandere house husband levi ackerman x oblivious reader continued — scenario: thinking that you have a secret admirer, levi is not pleased — a/n: reminder, this is a no titans au • w.c: 800ish • masterlist • on ao3

Levi stared at the bouquet of flowers that sat over the breakfast, his fingers drumming against the wooden surface. The arrangement was delicately selected and put together with such care, that it made him seethe.

They were your favourite flowers too and even the binding paper was a colour you enjoyed. Meaning someone took the time to get to know your preferences, which didn’t sit right with him at all.

After all, why would someone else need to know that sort of thing? Didn’t he make it clear enough to everyone that you were his? Perhaps there was someone who simply just didn’t know about him and his role as your loving husband just yet.

If that was the case, then, well… that much had to change, because nobody had any business giving you flowers, especially not ones like these.

As he plotted his search, Levi leaned forward, extending his hand to grab at the flowers, rubbing the petals between his fingers to inspect them further. These were pricy. Likely from Petra’s floristry. Her assortments didn’t run cheap either, so someone splurged with you in mind.

How… unacceptable.

Just as he was done meticulously plucking the flower for all that it was worth, and right before he reached for another one, the front door flung open, revealing your return. Levi stopped in his tracks, dusting away the petals, turning his attention back to you.

“Finally got everything…” you opened up with, settling some produce on the counter. “Can you believe these were all free?”

Levi absentmindedly nodded, smiling for your victory but the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes. No, he was too focused. He shouldn’t be though. At least not around you. With that, he sat up straighter, smoothing his expression into something warmer, allowing his eyes to wonder around all of the ingredients you managed to score.

“How wonderful,” he forced, “we’re going to eat so well this week.”

However, Levi also couldn’t resist.

“Where did you get those from?” he asked, pointing at the bouquet.

For a moment, you were dazed, but then blinked towards his guided direction. “Oh!” you happily chirped, unaware of his building internalised anger. “I got these from a customer just this morning. Isn’t that so sweet?”

Levi stilled and didn’t answer for a hot beat. He stared at you for a long time, studying both the way you reacted to receiving such a gift and how you spoke about it. You were oblivious. Of course you were. He was used to that much.

“Ah, of course,” he finally said, biting back what he truly wanted to say, “I'll be right back,” he added, slipping out of the front door before you could protest.

As Levi walked, he found himself walking into Petra’s floristry, ready to interrogate if needed, even when he knew he shouldn’t. He stormed inside, the bell above the door swinging with a violent ring that made the shopkeeper pause.

“W-welcome to…” Petra stammered, before realising it was just Levi, “oh, it’s just… can I help you?”

Levi didn’t waste a single second of time before he described word for word, petal for petal, the bouquet that ended up in your hands. “Who bought it?”

Petra blinked, her mind blanking as she tried to recall. “Right… well, um, I think… a military officer swung by for that one and his w—“

“—give me names, Petra,” Levi strained, catching her right before she could finish speaking. A military officer? How quaint. Perhaps it was someone who thought they had a chance. Not if he could help it.

Petra reluctantly gave him a wary glance before reciting the two names that sought the flowers. “It was a thank you gesture.”

Levi paused as a woman’s name popped up, but more importantly, the nature of the gift. He calmed his tone, reigning himself in, “A thank you gesture…?”

Petra nodded, looking a little less nervous now that he was calmer. “Yes, apparently she helped his wife out with something a while ago when she was sick, so they wanted to pick out a bouquet together as a gesture from them both.”

Levi stared at her, feeling the tension gradually leave his body. His shoulders sagged from his once taut posture and he let out a deep, strained breath.

“Ah,” he simply said, returning back to his regular, albeit still stoic self, leaving Petra just as uncertain as before, “in that case then,” he pondered before continuing, “I’ll take another bouquet exactly like that.”

“P-pardon?” Petra replied, although still idly moving to go and sort the arrangement, threading out flowers from pots and lining a sheet of paper on the counter.

“Add in some of those though,” Levi pointed at a few other varieties, knowing you liked those too.

So be it. You’ll have two bouquets on the table.

That much was fair wasn’t it?

His lovely wife who was so helpful, who deserved just a bit of extra praise. Seeing how happy those flowers made you too, thinking back to the glimmer in your eyes as your gaze glossed over them on the table…

Well, it was only fair that he brought you some every week now, wasn’t it?

Only the best for you, after all.

[dehlizalah]

Phantom Touch

namgyu x f!reader

𖦹 tags: slow burn, angst, toxic relationship, fwb, alcohol, mentions of drugs, situationship, slight smut

𖦹 word count: 1790

𖦹 recommended song! : Love me Not

𖦹 This is part 2 of the headcannons ! Part one | I decided to make it a full story :p namgyu is a little insuffurable in this one + i will post part 3 as soon as im done with it ! tysm for all the support recently

You yawned sluggishly, adjusting your eyes to the surroundings. You were there again. Surrounded by the four walls of salaciousness, you had once promised yourself that you’d never visit ever again. Like a fool, you were once again met with the same pair of impenetrable eyes, staring at you from his disordered desk. You knew he was going to pull the same shit as he always does, making you shout degrading, disgusting remarks in bed as he touches you all over, wetly kissing you from top to bottom the night before, then acts as if he had never even slept in the same bed with you the morning after.

“You’re up,” Namgyu murmurs under his breath, scrolling through his phone as he combs his hair with his long fingers.

“Yep,” a dry response comes out from you as you slowly get up to stand.

Namgyu notices the dull response you gave him. Usually, when you wake up, you try to be as loving and nice as humanly possible to someone who uses you as nothing less than a toy, another collection in his box. He knew that you loved him, he knew the sense of yearn that you get from him when he’s away, and he strangely enjoys it.

As quietly as possible, you scurry to find your clothes from the night before. Once found, you throw Namgyu’s t-shirt off, which still had the smell of cheap musky men’s fragrance mixed with the smell of cigarettes. You hated how he had such a distinctive smell; it wasn’t even that good, but something about it kept you coming back. This time you promised yourself you would not fall victim to that scent again. Never again.

As you get changed, you don’t dare to look his way. Acting as indifferent as he always does. No hopeful glances, no lingering touches. Just quiet sounds of clothes ruffling.

Namgyu sets his eyes on you, pulling them away from his phone.

“You’re quiet today,” he says, his tone not quite caring, but the irritation was obvious. You ignoring him got under his skin.

No response. He was not going to get a response from you. Why bother with the small talk when this was going to be the last time you two talked anyway?

Namgyu’s fingers become agitated, wrapping them around his phone; he doesn’t say anything anymore. He probably expected you to come to him with pleading eyes once again; maybe he wanted to play this game again. But you were done. You were done with being stuck on the same level, never progressing.

“You’re really going to leave, just like that?” He abruptly calls out.

Your brain pauses, causing a whole body to stop; your fingers lingered over the doorknob. You took the last piece of courage left in you, turned the doorknob, and stepped outside, letting the door click shut. Is this what solidarity feels like?

For the first time, you leave without the lingering thought of returning

The breeze outside feels like it’s cutting against your soft, once-touched skin; the breeze doesn’t care whether you get hurt or not, similar to him. You shiver, but not just from the cold, from the dying thought of what once was a stupid romance. Was what you had with him even romance? You felt stupid for falling in love with someone who would never be able to reciprocate that love. You gave everything to him, knowing he wouldn’t give it back. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you pressured him so much to the point he couldn’t stand you, to the point of no return.

It’s almost pathetic, how these roads leading to your house have become so familiar, you could memorize the cracks in the brick. The one streetlight that flickers no matter the time of day, the same quiet ache that controls your body every time you leave. This time it was different; Namgyu had gotten the signal, loud and clear. You were not going to come back.

Sometimes you would find yourself fantasizing about what you and Namgyu could have. Cute little dates on the beach as you both ran holding hands, with the cool breeze hitting your faces. Cooking together in his tiny kitchen, dying of laughter as he playfully smeared flour on your nose. It was stupid, but you found comfort in imagining such things. It was so indifferent from what you were used to. Lustful touching, as he tells you he loves your body, but never you. You wonder if he ever thought of you as anything but another distraction, nothing but another warm body on his bed.

You got back from your apartment and deliberately plopped yourself onto your bed, sighing. It hadn’t even been an hour since you last saw him and you already had the feeling of loss in the back of your brain. You try and avoid the thought of him, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. It felt like you couldn’t escape him. In your photos, dumb pictures from nights out you took together, high on god knows what. On your instagram, his messages were at the top. No matter how much you tried to ignore the existence of him, he was always there, wondering in the back of your mind. You carelessly chucked your phone to the end of the bed, coving yourself with your sheets.

It had been a week since you decided to cut ties with Namgyu. A whole week of insufferable silence. You practically self-isolated yourself from the rest of the world for a whole week, crying into your pillow and being unable to even get up to eat. Why did you feel so much emotion for a jerk? Was it the scent you craved, you wanted it to control your whole body? Or was it the look on his face when he sees you at the club, while he’s working? Maybe it was the way he treated you the morning after, like a scab that you couldn’t stop picking because for a moment, it gave you a sense of relief.

You had gotten a text from one of your close friends, telling you that she’s forcing you to come out with her tonight, no ifs, nor buts. You knew she wasn’t going to let you rot away in your bed, so you got up and took a long awaited shower, before putting in your makeup. A dark smokey eye look which made your eyes pop and juicy lips which looked practically edible. You looked good. A dark skirt with a black short corset - like top, and a black leather jacket with knee high boots. You tried to put some effort into this outfit, you needed a distraction, some relief.

Grabbing your bag, you put your phone, lipgloss and a pack of cigarettes, you mind wonders over to someone who you once knew, who always stank of cigarettes. You shake it off pushing yourself out the door.

Vibrations of bass drowns the city, so many clubs and bars to visit. You let your friend take the reign and choose where to go. Club Pengagon. Did she do this on purpose? She knows that he works here. You try to wrestle out of your friend’s interlocked arm, but she drags you in, now being surrounded by bodies moving in sync with the stereotypical club music. “Why the fuck did you choose here?” You blurt out.

“Girl… to get over it you have to face it head on.”

What a fucking bitch. She knows what he did to you, but here you are, stuck in the same club he works at, sandwiched in between drunken nobodies. You can only pray that he doesn’t have a shift today. You sit in the opposite corner from the vip rooms, hoping that if he was here, he’d be too busy at the other side of the club.

You watch your friend dance around without a care in the word, you could only dream of being that careless. You needed to be distracted. She comes over to you, saying something about joining her. You sigh as you down the rest of your drink, the liquor slowly burning your throat. “i’ll be there soon.” That was a lie. Dancing in clubs is not your style, but she would definitely forget about it.

'You look like you could use another drink.' A random figure peers over your shoulder. You look over your shoulder to see a man, about 6’3”, nice looking. Great. A good distraction, perfect actually. You give them a friendly smile, signaling them to sit down. He passes you another shot, no clue what it is, nor do you really care. You just need him out of your mind. You eagerly down the shot, clenching your hand in between your thighs, a sigh of relief comes out of your mouth.

You decide to entertain the conversation, if you blankly ignored the man that would be rude right? The man leans in closer to you; and confidently whispers “So.. what’s your name?”

You giggle, “Does it matter?” You notice his hands move over your knees, rubbing them as he stealthily moves his hands up. You bite your lip in slight embarrassment, but it was nice to have someone touch you again. You lean your head into his neck and smile, maybe this was the alcohol signalizing something, but it didn’t really matter, the guy was into it and you had reached the point of no return.

You can feel a pair of eyes on you.

You feel that addicting rush of adrenaline again. You feel that disgusting gawk that made you feel icky but also compulsive gaze. Even through the haze of alcohol and the dim, flashing lights, you felt it- heavy, unwavering, burning into your skin like a phantom touch. It wasn't just a glance; it was possession, quiet but undeniable.

The strangers warm hands traced you legs, moving up to your chest. His warm, alcohol breath surrounded your ears. So much warmth, yet you still felt cold, vulnerable.

Your breath hitched, although it wasn’t because of the random man you met 20 minutes ago, it was the man that felt like a drug, - dangerous, never risk free, addictive and impossible to quit.

Namgyu.

His presence clung to you like smoke, suffocating every muscle in your body. The loud music was drowned away, this feeling was too strong, too intimate.

You shouldn’t care that he is here, it is inevitable right? Plus, you are not dealing with whatever namgyu was anymore. This is a new world for you.

You were supposed to be free, You were supposed to be done with that part of your life.

So why did it feel like your feet only knew how to guide themself in his direction?

I hope this is okay :shy: More interactions w/ namgyu will be next, i wanted this chap to be a build up

[stnkiconverse]

HI ITS YOUR GIRL SWANONNN

im interested in sum....enemies to lovers.... with toby....

-🦢

Enemies to Lovers - Ticci Toby x Proxy!Reader

- You and Toby are oil and water from the start. His sharp tongue and impulsiveness immediately put you on edge, while your no-nonsense attitude only fuels his irritation.

- He has a knack for throwing off your focus, his muttered sarcasm or outright refusal to collaborate during missions always sends your blood boiling.

- "For someone who talks so b-big, you're pretty bad at k-keeping up," he'd mock after outrunning you in the field.

- "And for someone who's so 'skilled’ you sure love making my job harder," you'd shoot back.

- The tension comes to a head during a high-stakes mission.
His recklessness forces you to cover for him, leaving you both bruised and pissed.

- You corner him afterward, chest heaving as you shout, "Do you even care that you almost got us both killed?!"

- Toby's jaw tightens, his usual smirk absent. "I didn't a-ask you to save me." His words sting, but his tone is more defensive than combative, like you've hit a nerve.

- After that mission, something shifts. You start noticing things about him you hadn't before, how his hands shake when he's still for too long or the way he fiddles with a small, battered notebook when he thinks no one's watching.

- One night, you find him sitting alone on the porch, hood pulled low as he stares at the stars.

- Instead of walking past, you sit down beside him. He doesn't look at you, but he doesn't move away either.

- "W-why do you care so m-much?" he asks quietly after a long silence.

- The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard.

- Slowly, the hostility between you softens. Toby starts listening to you during missions (mostly 🥲), and you stop snapping at him over every little thing.

- He begins showing up in your space more often, dropping little jokes or leaning against the wall as if daring you to tell him to leave.

- You catch him sketching once, his natepad open to a rough but surprisingly detailed drawing of a bird. He notices you staring and slams it shut, cheeks flushing slightly. "W-what? Never seen someone d-draw before?"

- During another dangerous encounter, you get hurt protecting him. For once, Toby doesn't crack a joke or brush it off. Instead, he's frantic, hands clumsy as he tries to stop the bleeding.

- "Why the hell w-would you do t-that?" he demands, voice shaking. You can't tell if he's angry or scared.

- "Because l'm not going to let you get yourself killed," you reply, and for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable in his expression.

- After that, Toby becomes noticeably more protective. He doesn't say anything outright, but he's always nearby, watching your back during missions and lingering a little longer in your shared spaces.

- The teasing doesn't stop, but it changes, less biting, more playful. He starts calling you nicknames that are just annoying enough to make you roll your eyes but secretly make your chest tighten.

- One rainy evening, he invites you to sit with him on the porch.

- "Y-you're quieter than I thought you'd b-be," he says after a while, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small smile.

- It's not a grand, all-out moment, Toby isn't that kind of guy.

- Instead, it happens during a quiet night in the aftermath of another mission.

- "You kn-know," he says, not meeting your eyes as he fidgets with a loose thread on his sleeve, "y-you're not as bad as I th-thought."

- You laugh. "High praise coming from you."

- He finally looks at you, his expression unusually serious. "I mean it. You... you make all this c-crap a little easier to d-deal with."

- The kiss that follows is skeptical at first, as if neither of you can believe it's actually happening.

- But when he pulls back, there's a fondness in his eyes that makes your heart ache.

- Toby doesn't change totally, he's still brash, sarcastic, and occasionally infuriating.

- But he's also fiercely loyal, sticking close to you and showing his care in subtle ways, like leaving snacks outside your door or quietly patching you up after missions.

- "G-guess you're stuck with m-me now," he says one day, his smirk as annoying as ever.

- But the way he squeezes your hand tells you he means it in a way he doesn't know how to put into words.

SWANON IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING U WAIT THIS LONG😔😔

[moonmaiden1996]

The interview

Could you imagine Rupert giving an interview and the interviewer gets stuck on the subject of how Rupert romanced and married his own personal Goddess. I sort of feel like this could be a little series. What do you think?

The laughter died down as the interviewer leaned forward, adjusting his notecards with deliberate care. The transition was subtle, but the shift in tone was palpable. The studio lights above cast a soft, golden glow, bathing the set in a comforting warmth, while the audience, now quieter, leaned forward in anticipation. The mood had gone from the easy, playful banter of the earlier portion of the interview to something a little more serious, a little more probing. It was a subtle change, but one that both Rupert and the audience could feel.

"Now, let’s get into something a little more serious," the interviewer said, his tone shifting as he folded the notecards carefully in his hands. "You’re widely regarded as the best Minister of Sport this country has ever seen, so why did you never go for Prime Minister? You must have been tempted, right? I mean, it seems like it would be the logical next step for someone with your… profile."

Rupert Campbell-Black gave a slow, almost lazy smile. He leaned back into his chair, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that had made him a household name—not just in politics, but in sports, in business, and in the social circles that buzzed around them all. His dark eyes gleamed with an almost mischievous amusement as he considered the question, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest of the chair. His posture was perfect, his presence commanding yet relaxed.

"No," he said, drawing the word out slowly. "Not really. You see, sport was always my dream. It was the job I was born to do. I was damn good at it, and I loved every minute of it. Running the Ministry of Sport, overseeing the nation’s athletic legacy—it was everything I ever wanted." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "And, now that it’s coming to an end, I’m content. I get to focus more on running Venturer, my business, and more importantly... my family."

There was a softness in his voice as he spoke of his family, a hint of something deeper that caught the interviewer off guard. The audience, too, seemed to react to it—a quiet murmur running through the crowd.

The interviewer arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "See, that surprises me. You’ve built quite a legacy in sport, Rupert. But I thought that politics—especially the role of Prime Minister—would have been an inevitable next step for someone like you. But it seems that... family has become your focus now? I mean, you know what they say. There have been quite a few rumors about your marriage. Some say it wasn’t entirely... conventional."

Rupert chuckled, the sound deep and rich. It was the same laugh he used when he found something particularly amusing, the kind that made you feel like you were in on the joke. The laughter seemed to hang in the air for a moment longer than usual before he responded, tapping his fingers on the chair’s armrest with a casual precision.

"Ah yes," he said, with mock sincerity. "The endless speculation. It’s always good for a laugh, isn't it? People seem to think they know everything about my life, but of course, they don’t. They never do."

The interviewer leaned in slightly, sensing an opening. "Many of your critics saw your marriage as a strategic move—a way to clean up your image. Your past… well, it’s been colorful, to say the least. Before you married your current wife, there were plenty of rumors, plenty of… indiscretions. Some would say your reputation was, how shall I put this, somewhat tarnished."

Rupert gave another laugh, this time with a hint of self-deprecation. "Tarnished? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think? I’ve never been one to shy away from my mistakes. I was a cad, a true villain of the tabloids. But who I was... isn’t who I am now. People can judge me all they want, but I know who I am, and I’m at peace with that."

The interviewer sat back slightly, taken aback by Rupert’s frankness. But he wasn’t done.

"Then what changed, Rupert? How did the nation's most notorious playboy end up married to the woman who seems to have... tamed you?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Rupert’s smile softened, just for a moment. It wasn’t the cocky, world-weary grin that the audience had come to associate with him. This one was different—genuine, almost tender, as his dark eyes flickered with something more personal.

"I fell in love," he said quietly, his voice taking on a reverent tone. "And when I say love, I mean real, honest-to-God love. It hit me like a freight train. I didn’t expect it. Hell, I didn’t even see it coming. I was blind-sided." He paused, his gaze drifting momentarily, as though caught in the memory of a moment long past. The audience was silent now, completely riveted.

The interviewer, too, seemed caught by the sincerity in Rupert’s voice. "As simple as that? You fell in love just like that? The man who was feared and adored, suddenly, completely devoted to one woman?"

Rupert smiled again, but this time it was more wistful, as though he were holding something precious just beneath the surface of his usual bravado. "It’s never that simple, is it? But yes, in a way, it was. It was just one of those things, you know? When it happens, you realize it. She was everything. She still is."

The audience reacted almost audibly, some of them exchanging quiet whispers among themselves. The interviewer was clearly fascinated, his next question practically spilling out. "How did it happen, Rupert? How did the great Rupert Campbell-Black, the man who is Thatcher notorious dog, find himself so... hopelessly devoted to one woman?"

Rupert chuckled softly, the sound almost bittersweet. "It wasn’t easy," he said, his eyes twinkling as he remembered the first time he truly saw her. "I had seen her flittering around, but I’d never really seen her. Not like that. It was in a garden, Charles Fairburn’s garden, to be specific. I didn’t think anyone saw me, but I was there, and she was there to help dear Charles, looking so perfect, so unassuming. Caring. Gentle. She was like a vision, and that was it for me. I was done."

He shook his head, a slight, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corner of his lips. "It took me a while to get it right. But once I saw her for who she really was, I knew I had to win her over. And, trust me, she didn’t make it easy."

The interviewer’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You? Rupert Campbell-Black? You, the man who never had to work for anything, actually had to—what?—earn her affections?"

Rupert smirked, the slightest hint of pride in his voice. "You’d be surprised what love makes a man do. She had high standards. And I had to prove I could live up to them. I had to work for her trust. Work for her love. It wasn’t just about charm anymore. I had to show her who I could be, not just who I was."

The interviewer leaned forward, clearly intrigued by this side of Rupert Campbell-Black that no one had really seen before. "So what did you do? How did you finally win her over?"

Rupert sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, an uncharacteristic flicker of vulnerability crossing his features for a brief second. "I begged," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, but also sincerity. "I got down on my knees, and I begged her. I asked her to forgive me for being the man I had been and to let me prove I could be the man she deserved."

The audience gasped, some audibly laughing at the thought of Rupert Campbell-Black—so self-assured, so larger-than-life—getting down on his knees. Even the interviewer seemed stunned for a moment.

"You begged?" the interviewer asked incredulously.

Rupert just shrugged, his trademark grin returning in full force. "What can I say? She had standards. And, thankfully, she was merciful."

The laughter that followed was warm, genuine, and filled the studio. The audience was utterly charmed by the idea of this notorious playboy admitting to something so rare for a man like him—humility.

"Well, clearly, it worked," the interviewer said, smiling as he glanced at Rupert. "But what made her finally say yes?"

Rupert leaned forward again, his face taking on that signature confident glint. "It wasn’t about me changing. It was about me finding something worth fighting for, something worth being better for. And trust me, there’s only one person in this world who can tame me. And I’m more than happy to let her."

The audience erupted in applause, their approval ringing loud and clear. The interviewer shook his head with a chuckle, clearly amused. "Rupert Campbell-Black, you never fail to entertain."

Rupert winked, his usual mischievous charm back in full force. "I do my best."

The interviewer smiled, leaning in for the final words. "Well, there you have it, folks. The one, the only, Rupert Campbell-Black—politician, businessman, sports mogul... and the man who met his match in love. Stay tuned for more about Rupert Campbell-Black’s mysterious goddess."

The audience cheered again, their applause echoing in the studio as the lights began to dim

Please let me know what you think!!!!

Like. Comment. Request- Especially for Rupert!

[turnfires-secret]

Hiya!! So, I’m not sure if you only do genshin fics, so if you do, there’s no need to respond to this!! But if you don’t 😈… Could you write some sub!obanai headcanons.. (yes, the guy from demon slayer)

OH ANON.... OH ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW DID YOU KNOW I LOVE OBANAI???? ofc I'll write this for you dude! :3

I actually plan on writing for BSD, JJK (certain characters) and HSR :)

SUB! OBANAI IGURO HCS

- Obanai who groans and whimpers

- Obanai who tries so unbelievably hard to say quiet 

- Obanai who usually leads him to bite his lips or onto pillows to do so

- The quickest way to get him to cum is surprisingly to the really gentle with him. Obanai values the emotions and care behind actions like sex and intimacy when it’s someone he cares about.

- Obanai who enjoys having your hands on him because his whole body is sensitive and feels good.  

- Obanai who often mentions how he loves you during sex

- Prefers positions where you can’t see his face. He thinks it’s embarrassing for him to be enjoying something like sex so much, as well as the fact he’s ashamed of his face and incredibly insecure

- Obanai whose stamina is honestly pathetic for a Hashira

- Obanai who gets very easily overstimulated and turns into a mess when he is, tears, moans and all.

- Obanai who still tries to act tough when he’s an overstimulated mess however, That’s when you can really rough him up and abandon the slow, loving pace.

 It’s cute how Obanai is shaking underneath you. Imagine, a Hashira, the highest rank in the demon slayer corps. a mess shaking and crying underneath you. Well, you didn’t have to, since that’s your situation. A trail of hickey-type bruises going from his neck vaguely down his spine. The pillow under his head was ruined from tears and drool. The sheets underneath him were clutched very tightly in the callused, worn-down hands of a warrior.  

“Are you alright?”

“M-Mhm, of course…”

 It was clear he didn’t trust his voice to say anything more than that. It was cute. Cute, but you wanted to see more, hear more. 

“If you say so…”

Your tone was mocking at best. Though his muddled brain didn’t notice that fact, he didn’t notice much other than the burning hot sensation of your hands on his body. The one on his waist to stabilise him and the other somewhere teasing down the curve of his spine. If he were in his right mind he probably would have called you an asshole or tried to shoot a glare at you. Thus began another round of a pace that was practically abuse for the poor serpent Harshira. 

“N-nghh-!! Ah…! Haa… I love you! I love you so much Y/N please mmhff~!”

For someone with such an attitude, you wondered if anyone else would ever even suspect that Obanai could get like this. 

[carefreecoffee]

⋇⊶⊰Fluffbruary Day 6: Trip w/ Tenya Iida⊱⊷⋇

Word count: 875, Gender-Neutral reader

Iida is just doing his usual class rep duties, which consists of ensuring that all of his classmates are within the designated hallways; that is until he sees you about to crash into the wall with just how fast you were running. Quickly stepping in, he grabs you to stop you from crashing your head into the wall.

"Careful! You need to pay more attention to where you're going! You could have seriously hurt yourself!"

You let out an ‘oomf’, your bag falling from your shoulder and onto the floor as you look up to him. Iida carefully holds onto your arms steadily, his eyes peering down into yours as he keeps you close with a calm and firm look on his face. "I hope this serves as a lesson for the future… you really shouldn't be reckless, you could've hurt yourself. Or worse, someone else."

You find your balance, sighing with a nod “Sorry sorry i know, i just gotta-”

"No need to apologize. I understand. Just try to be more careful in the future. Do you intend on getting to class on time? I can escort you there if you like."

“You don't have to, really” you wave him off, picking your bag off of the ground and slinging it back onto your shoulder.

"I know I don't have to…" He moves his hand from your back and lifts his chin slightly, a serious expression on. "However, I'd prefer to make sure that you arrive at your class safely and on time. The last thing we need is for you to trip over your own feet again."

Finally you give in, knowing there was no way around his efforts. “Okay okay, then we have to go now, the bell is gonna ring any moment”

Iida seems satisfied that you're agreeing to his company and he walks beside you as you make your way towards your class. "You really need to be more careful. I understand that you're in a rush, but running without paying attention to your surroundings is just plain dangerous. You could have seriously hurt yourself, or even worse, gotten someone else hurt."

Iida seems to be somewhat lecturing you, his expression still serious as he chides you for your reckless behavior. You were used to it at this point, knowing he meant the best for you. You admired it yet it could be better than hearing his long, agitating, repetitive lectures.

Iida continues walking beside you, his tall and imposing frame towering over you a bit as he glances down at you every now and then. "You need to remember that the hallways are not a place to run around carelessly. They're designed for you to walk in, and running can cause accidents. You're lucky I was there to stop you earlier." he continues, his firm tone indicating that he's not joking around.

A few flights of stairs and some stern words later, you finally reach your class down with a huff. “I know, i'll keep that in mind, Iida” You look up at him, opening the class door slightly.

Iida is satisfied with your promise to be more careful in the future and he nods in approval, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His serious expression softens as he looks into your eyes, admiring how calm and shimmery they are.

"Good. I expect you to keep that in mind moving forward." Iida glances around, noticing that there's no one else nearby before he speaks again, his tone lowering a bit. "May I say something else to you before you go to class? I don't mean to keep you waiting"

“Make it quick”

Iida nods, understanding your request for him to be swift. "I… wanted to say that I'm impressed with your determination and resilience. You're always pushing yourself to be better, whether it be in academics, or hero training. It's… admirable." Iida's words come out with a hint of admiration, as if he has a newfound respect for you.

Your hasty demeanor calms a bit, the comment throwing you off guard after all of his talk of being responsible. “Oh…well I um- haha thanks”

Iida nods back to you, a small smile still tugging at his lips as he witnesses your newfound demeanor.

"You're welcome… and no worries. I'll see you-" The bell interrupts Iida, cutting him off. He looks at the class you're heading into before he looks back at you, raising an eyebrow as he realizes that you're about to head in now.

“Shit- okay um, i’ll see you later!” You wave to him, stepping into the classroom. "Ah… I suppose that's my cue to leave you now. But yes, I'll see you later.”

You close the door, leaving him to return to his usual duties. Iida's footsteps echo in the hallway as he begins to walk away from your class, his hands at his sides as his mind ponders on what had just occurred. He notices that the once firm expression on his face has softened, replaced with a subtle smile.

His mind replays your smile before you disappeared into your classroom, and a sense of satisfaction washes over him. Without even realizing, he has somehow developed a fondness for you…

[frillydolle]

Hi hihi hi Hai =3 so this isn't an x reader request but I wanted to send in something similar to a request from I think a few days ago!! It's like the Arthur and teenage girl reader but instead she's an edgy and street smart street kid that might be a child outlaw herself already, always offering to help on dangerous missions or robberies and Always getting it done but she's always really nice and like a regular kid around Arthur so when they're both out intimidating O'driscolls or smth their father-daughter dynamic is like that one audio from south park that's like "And i will watch the crimson blood LEAK from ur neck >=[" "Dude that little kid is a hardcore goth" "Hardcore goth"

arthur morgan x teen female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ arthur is in his late thirties , reader is in her teen years , o'driscolls take an interest in u.

“soo arthur, i heard—”

“ye ain't goin'. yer stayin' here.”

“uhh! fine...”

okay first, he'd usually let u go but this one was more dangerous. although, when u did get to go with them, u would help proper or u use the “lost little girl” facade as bait before arthur or someone else steps in in case something goes wrong.

arthur especially didn't want anything to go sour when ur with them.

u knew what u were doing, of course. u have been out on the streets for as long as u could remember, and u did learn a trick—or two. when u were out with the gang, arthur would keep a keen eye— or he'd get john to, just to make sure that u didn't do anything stupid or get hurt.. badly. sometimes, u lack awareness and head straight for danger. okay, well, after practically convincing begging arthur to have u go with him and the gang... he finally agreed, and u were super duper happy!

“ye ain't leavin' my sight, 'kay?”

“yees, i know, arthur. 'm gonna be fine, won't stray far.”

only today, it wasn't that easy. u remained by his side, but all good things come to an end, right? u and arthur were returning back to valentine, took a trip to a general store, and then the gunsmith, just for a few pieces. only to be disturb by the only and only irish-american gang that roamed the states; o'driscolls. bastards, they all were. u didn't know much about them but u did know enough that they were sick and messed up folks.

“well, well, well.. if it ain't morgan 'nd... who's this pretty little lady with ya?—” one of the o'driscolls says to u with a smirk as he looks u up and down, which makes a shiver go up ur spine.

“shut up—” u blurt out with an eyeroll before arthur gave u a subtle look. a look of keep it cool. and u did ur best to listen, but there have been times when ur mouth git the better of u.

“ain't none yer business, fools.” arthur added, the gruffness in his tone showing clear as day. many folk were intimidating by arthur. who wouldn't be? he was rough 'n' tough looking, and his height only just increased the fear. the o'driscolls? they just adored taunting and hassling other people. arthur hitches up on his horse and u follow suit or tried to before u were grabbed by the wrist by one of them gross men, which caught arthurs attention quickly—

“let go of me, you bastard!” u say, struggling to get ur grip out of his. pulling, pushing, yanking and nothing worked while arthur was getting off his horse.

“she's got quite the mouth on ya, hm? it'll be kind if someone shut it up, save ya the trouble.” one says as the three other men laugh at his words. u only got a month on u from the life u lived prior to falling in with the gang. there was no way u would let anyone talk to u like that.

“wished it save me the trouble of talkin' to ya.” u reply sharply which caused arthur to shoot a look at u, a look of a smirk that he knew u had quite the mouth. which coukd get u trouble but not when arthur's with u.

“now leaves us alone or skin ya 'nd serve ya for dinner.” u added before placing ur hand by ur gun, arthur added his own threat as he grabbed ur arm, taking u away from the situation. following suit. 󠀠󠀠“careful not to shoot up a whole town, kid.” arthur replies as he caught up to u.

“sorry, they just— goddamn bastards...”

“agreed, yer fine. lets jus' get home."

[no-where-new-hero]

never posted my ep 4 thoughts, which is. environmental storytelling i guess.

all the air was out of the balloon by this point, and there is no real tension about whether maxim will get free or not. we get some fantastic jeremy brett expressions™️, and julian holloway does his best to keep some semblance of energy in the production, but it's a bit of a color-by-numbers conclusion, which is a disappointment. i think i've seen someone mention on here that it's a shame no adaptation ever does the heroine's dream in the car on the way back to manderley, and i do feel like this adaptation would have benefited from it, if only to bring some mystery back.

on the strength of the first two episodes, i have to say it was a decent adaptation; on the strength of the latter two, it was rather awful. jeremy brett and anna massey gave great and nuanced performances; joanna david did well with what she had, but on a thin script, she couldn't make it up elsewhere with either vibes or acting. and the script WAS thin; there were good lines cut out, and lines kept that didn't hugely contribute to the plot, and weird lines that must have been invented because i don't remember du maurier being so mawkish (e.g., beatrice attempting to cheer up the heroine about the party). david was a bit of a litmus for the quality of the show as a whole; she was very appealing and sympathetic in monte carlo, then steadily lost the intensity and neurosis that keeps us so wound up in the heroine's story in the book.

overall, though, it was interesting to think about from a pacing point of view because it made me consider build-up and payoff and how to work that in a narrative for optimal emotional response. massey succeeded the best in using the tension to her advantage; she builds the pressure and then explodes it on a good line to deliver the punch of a scene. of them all, i feel like she came closest to embodying what du maurier gives us on the page, which is this dialectic of passion and repression, subterfuge and brutal honesty. it's very odd watching rebecca as though mrs. danvers is the heroine, but in a weird way it works.

brett conveys maxim's complexity extraordinarily well; this man is a murderer, and deeply un-self-aware, and a repressed romantic, and probably not very emotionally mature, and capable of obsession, and rather stodgy, and a little stuck on himself, and yet somehow extremely attractive, seen through the heroine's rose-tinted glasses. i didn't know (until i finished watching) that brett was olivier's protege, and there are clear similarities in their portrayals (the imperiousness, the bitterness), but where olivier was nearly unremitting glamour (of course, that was hitchcock's doing as well), brett manages to muck up the edges a little bit: the selfishness is clear, and the traditionalism, and the remoteness.

one great example of their difference that i found very intriguing was in the china cupid scene, when frith says it got broken and maxim replies, "that's one of our treasures, isn't it?" olivier delivers it with fullsome irony: he doesn't particularly care about the splendors of manderley; yes frith and mrs. danvers will fuss, but it doesn't really affect him. the servants' squabble is just boring and tiresome. on the other hand, brett delivers it with full sincerity; he says it like a man who cares about everything in manderley down to the last stone and so it will bother him that something is disarranged and the servants are made upset by it. which gives a VERY different tone to both maxim as a character and of course his relationship to the heroine, who is clearly disturbing and disarranging everything about his life.

i lowkey feel like rebecca is just impossible to adapt faithfully, but this was a decent stab at it.

soon i shall have coherent thoughts about ep 1 of rebecca 1979 but right now my brain is just going HAND KISS! and VENICE!

[clover-46]

the writers on here making the miguel fics need to remember his fangs inject paralytic venom hes not a real vampire it was just a joke in the movie 😭

oh but i still want him to bite me don’t get me wrong idgaf if they have venom 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[rxttenfish]

while aaravi remains firmly within "yeah miranda has a difficult personality and isn't very easy to get along with + has many rough edges which are slowly being worked on but still going to be an issue" after having been very much so within the camp that miranda is a Vexing Bitch upon first contact/getting to know her, she DOES go from "miranda is unpredictable and dangerous as a merfolk and large macropredator and her emotions are inscrutable and random" to "merfolk aren't very hard to understand or predict and it's very easy to stay on the safe side if you keep basic rules in mind and don't freak out the second something unexpected happens"