#because part of being in a small group of the only people who know the full story about something is that it creates a bond

[johns-walker]

change (pt. 2)

john walker/f!reader

one small mission for val changes the course of your life, and your relationship with john

cw THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, injuries, mentions of trauma, shame rooms, death/murder, and mental health but also FLUFF!! I PROMISE!! | wc 4.7k

so as i promised i have returned! i meant to post this at a reasonable time and not 3:30am but here we are. if you know me on ao3 you know this is supposed to be four parts and the next part is lowkey just smut ngl. but anyway! please enjoy. i love you and i love wyatt russell defenders :)

The aching new bruise on your shoulder and the constant sound of desert bugs in your ears were the only concrete pieces of evidence that you had to substantiate that what you were experiencing was real, and not some messed up dream that you had after getting knocked out cold during a job. 

It was one thing to be assigned to do a job by yourself - in fact, it was something that you did often. It was true that Val would assign you to work with one other person, and that said person was always the same. But a lot of the time, you were working on something relatively simple, by yourself. But to be assigned a job, and run into the person who you often collaborated with, only to find out that you had both been there separately under the expectation that you would take part in a group slaughtering event was something that you weren’t sure you could wrap your head around even now, about two hours after it had happened. 

As far as you were concerned, there was an individual who had phasing abilities who you were sent after. You were informed that another agent was also looking for this individual, but that it was imperative that you were sent separately. You had arrived shortly after Taskmaster had, only to find that John was also there - and that he was sent to kill the other agent who was sent to kill Ghost, who you were sent to kill. Ghost killed Taskmaster, some guy named Bob showed up, got shot, and flew into the sky, and made your stolen Humvee crash off of the side of a cliff, and now here you were. 

There was a bit more to it, of course. But you didn’t want to think about some of the more painful aspects of the entire thing. The prospect of being burned alive by the person who employed you certainly wasn’t a pleasant thing to think about, and then there were the personal things that bothered you about everything. John, who you thought had been making at least some sort of decent progress toward moving past the people and situations that haunted him, had begun and was now perpetuating the lie that he was going to go home from this to a loving wife and child. But you knew that wasn’t the truth, and you had hoped that he had at least made some sort of progress toward moving on from that. 

Granted, you knew as well that he was still having trouble processing it simply because he knew it was his fault - or, you figured that he knew it was his fault at this point. He seemed to blame himself, and you knew that he needed to because it was something that he caused. But, he couldn’t seem to blame himself for long enough to move past it. It felt wrong judging his coping mechanisms, but lying and hoping that you would just go along with it was something that irritated you to your core.

There was more selfish reasons behind you not liking it, too. You hated hearing about it, about the fake life that he was making everyone think that he lived. It made your closeness look strange, it made you look like a worse person than you knew that you already are. You knew he wasn’t married, so when you checked in on him and let him put his hands on your face to look at your bruised cheek and cut up lip, you knew that you weren’t doing anything wrong - hell, you weren’t even doing anything inherently romantic since you hadn’t put a label on anything you two got up to. But, to the others, it looked like you were strangely close with a married man, and it was obvious that you looked at him in a way that would be inappropriate if he was married. 

But John didn’t know about your feelings toward him, as far as you were aware. So how could you possibly blame him for not being considerate about something that you hadn’t even bothered to tell him about? You figured that you couldn’t, so you tried your best to keep yourself from taking it out on him. Especially since you really needed to conserve that energy, considering the fact that stopping was something that you had no ability to do at this point. You all needed to get out of this desert. Val was destined to find you at some point, and you couldn’t stop moving even for a second if you wanted to prevent that. 

“You still good?” 

Your eyes moved from the ground to the man beside you, taking note of the small distance between the two of you and the two women that you were traveling with. 

“I’m fine.” You responded, though you were missing your bed and wished that you were anywhere but here, you were fine. Physically, you were going to make it through this, even if you weren’t going to have the best time trying to do so. “Are you good?” 

There were a few questions in what you were asking him. You were curious about his physical form, obviously, but he was a super soldier and could take a punch – and massive fall – a lot better than most people could. But you knew that he was going through something. Whatever happened to him after he touched Bob’s hand had clearly rattled him, you’d seen the way that his feet were inching towards the edge, and you knew that if he fell, something would kill him. If it wasn’t the fall, it would be the fact that there was no reliable way for anyone to get him out of there. It looked like he wanted to die, and that was enough to deeply concern you. 

“I’ll be fine.” Was his response, and though you weren’t sure if you exactly believed him, you highly doubted that he had any interest in elaborating on his feelings in front of two other people. 

With a sigh, you let your hand reach out toward him. His fingers within your own sent a bit of relief through you, though you hated that a little bit. You hated that it relieved you to touch him, that it made everything seem just a little bit more okay when you had him close. But you also liked that he was someone who you could turn to when you needed it – even though he was also the only person who you could turn to when you needed it. 

That was the thing about the deathtrap, though. Every single one of you were, in some capacity, sort of bad people. You killed people, you did bad things from time to time, and you were all quite miserable and rather lonely. Each and every person you had spoken to for more than a second seemed to have the same rather empty look behind their eyes. Each of you wanted some sort of clean slate, as promised by Valentina when the clean slate was really just killing you all. But none of you got what you were promised, because you were never supposed to even survive. 

You had John, but you had nobody else. When you went home from a job, you went home to a few dead plants and ended up hanging out with him an hour later anyway. You practically lived together at this point, though neither of you were willing to admit to each other that you had gotten that close. You weren’t sure when the physical affection stopped being something that you only showed to each other in the confines of an after-mission ritual, and started being something that you showed to each other on a day-to-day basis. Holding hands wasn’t knew, hugging, holding each other – they were all things that you were used to, at this point. 

Even so, you still had this emptiness in you. You wanted something more, and you weren’t sure that you could ever have it. You would never tell John how you felt about him, not until you had any sort of confirmation or idea that he was ready to move past his divorce. You had yet to receive that confirmation, so telling him was something that remained off the table. Even so, he was the only person you really had who you trusted, the only person who you ever confided in. He was the only person who was really in your life, and you found yourself simply grateful that you had someone to turn to when things got rough. 

“How did you two meet?” Yelena asked, finally allowing you to take note that the two of you had caught up to the others at some point. “You seem close.” 

“Work.” You responded, simply. It was the truth, you met him through work. You wanted to say more, you wanted to elaborate on the fact that you don’t hold hands with married men all the time, but you didn’t want to embarrass him. As far as she and Ava were concerned, he was a married man, and you didn’t want to be the one to end his facade, even if it deeply, deeply annoyed your mind to think about it. “We usually work together.” 

“You assigned jobs with other people?” Yelena asked, her eyebrows furrowing. You wondered how long she had been working for Val, how many jobs she had to do by herself. You often disliked doing jobs alone because it felt isolating, because one of the few people who you trusted and seemed to trust you was John.

“Only him.” 

John nodded in agreement, signifying that he also hadn’t been assigned another work partner. But that was really where the conversation ended, despite your remaining closeness with the man beside you. Your fingers remained intertwined with his, even when you got tired – more so, especially when you got tired. It made you more comfortable to remember that he was there with you, that your close friend was going through the exact same thing that you were.

Though, as you continued your expedition throughout the desert, you couldn’t help but wonder why Val had even thought it would be a good job to put the two of you on the same mission. Did she have no other way to kill you without leaving a trace? She knew that the two of you worked well together, which led you to wonder if she simply had such little faith in him that she believed he would’ve been dead before you even showed up. Or, maybe she had little faith in the rest of the people she assigned to do this, believing that you two working together wouldn’t mean that either of you escaped being burned alive. Just the thought of the fate that you escaped had you shaking your head, but you pushed those thoughts away. It would be a long night if any of you lingered on the events of it in your minds, and it was bad enough that it would be a horrid night regardless. 

At the very least, you were reminded that it got quite cold in the desert late at night halfway through it. It felt like a reprieve from the scorching heat that had been lingering from early on in the night. But as the sun started to rise after hours of walking, you knew that you were going to have to start going faster. Val had eyes everywhere, and while you could disappear into a populated area without detection, the four of you were sticking out like four insanely-sized thumbs in the empty desert with no other people in it for miles. 

At least, you thought there were no other people in it. 

The sound of a car that seemed to be coming right to you had you all ducking for cover, but it became increasingly clear (from the man who emerged from the car and what he was yelling about) that this man was someone who knew Yelena; that he wasn’t a threat even though she seemed horribly embarrassed by his antics. 

By the time that you were actually in the car, everything else begun to feel like a blur. One moment you were listening to what sounded like a both deeply personal and deeply unserious conversation that was happening in the front seat, and the next moment you were being shot at, seemingly being saved by Bucky, and then ultimately also being shot at by Bucky. 

It wasn’t until you were cuffed and sitting beside John that you actually had a moment to process what was happening. A currently sitting Congressman was threatening you to testify, a Congressman who you – if you weren’t mistaken – had met before. It wasn’t until he spoke up about John’s little lie that you finally made eye contact with him. You had met him before, briefly. They weren’t friends, but him and John had kept in contact. Bucky checked in very briefly after he found out that Olivia left, and you… well, you were honestly relieved that the others knew.

A part of that relief was selfish. You were glad that people didn’t think that you were somewhat flirting with your friend who you, theoretically, would know was in a relationship if he still was. But you were also relieved for reasons that benefited John. For a good long while, you’ve been the only real friend that he’s had, just like he’s been the only real friend that you’ve had. Pushing people away was what made his relationship end in the first place, and lying to the people he’s just met because he’s ashamed of his past isn’t ever going to help him recover from it. 

As much as you wanted to unpack that with him, to make sure that he was doing okay even though everyone now knew the truth about him and his former marriage, there was no real time for that. Bob was still out there, and apparently he was being manipulated and used by Val. The Sentry Project, whatever Val wanted out of it, it was clearly the reason for Bob being able to survive being shot at well-over a hundred times and then quite literally fly away, even if he came crashing back down just moments later. 

He was a good person, but he was a deeply wounded person who was now being manipulated by the same person who had manipulated everyone in this room in one way or another. Everyone except for Bucky, who had seemingly been privy to her misdeeds for far longer than the rest of you had. You all knew that you needed to do something, Bob needed help, and for once in your lives, you all needed to do something that mattered for someone else. 

It was unfamiliar. Unfamiliar to all of you. But you knew it was the right thing, for Bob and for whoever Val might use him and her manipulation of him to hurt. 

The journey to Manhattan in the back of the truck felt lighter than the prior journey, because you all knew what your purpose was here. There was no apprehension about doing the right thing and helping Bob, there was no underlying motivation to get as far away from all of the new people you had just met as quickly as possible because that was what you were simply used to doing. And there was no need for you to shy away from how close you sat to John, even though that last part raised a lot of questions in your mind that you didn’t feel like you had enough time to answer. 

Of course, you knew that you had feelings for him, and you knew that these feelings for him had started long before this one particular day when everything seemed to be shaking up in your life. But you also didn’t know how to deal with that before other than just not acting on it. John hadn’t chosen to be forthright about his divorce, but he didn’t shy away from it or talk back when Bucky said something. There was an acceptance on his face, a defeated expression. He seemed not welcoming to the fact that he was divorced, but no longer surprised by it, either. 

Through and through, your promise to yourself had been for him to be the first one to make a move because he was the one that was struggling emotionally and he was the one that needed to decide when the time was right. But you also knew that you acted like a couple a lot of the time. You shared beds, and held hands, and spent almost all of your time with each other even when you weren’t working. But when you were working, it shifted that bond. Because when you were doing dangerous jobs, you needed to remind yourselves that you trusted each other with your lives. 

That reminder, that trust, was something that you didn’t realize you were going to need until you did. 

Rescuing Bob was one thing, knowing that Val could be a master manipulator was another. But you weren’t fully prepared for what you saw. In what little time she had to mold him, to make him into a puppet and feed into the issues that he struggled with in his mind, but fighting him was something entirely different. It felt like they’d all failed when they walked away, utterly defeated. Val had somehow won, and she had been able to take the person they were all there to save with her. She felt wrong about it as she followed the rest of the team down the elevator, because she knew firsthand – like they all did – that Val would disregard him and try to get him killed the moment she decided that she didn’t need him anymore, or the moment she decided that he was some kind of a liability to her political career and the power that she had been able to obtain from it. 

Everything happened so quickly, one moment Yelena was insulting everyone and running off – only to be followed by Alexei. Meanwhile, the rest of you lingered. Nobody really said anything, nobody knew what to say. You hated what she had said to John, but you also knew that she didn’t mean it, because she was hurt. Because for once, you had all tried to do something meaningful and important and she failed, you failed, every single one of you had failed. Because you weren’t superheroes, and only one of you had any real superpower, and what could you even do? 

Hope and pray that one of Bucky’s super-powered friends would come and save the day? It didn’t feel like there was any real option here, and you were almost ready to start walking home in defeat, counting your lucky stars that you had at least evaded being burned alive, a mile deep into the ground just so one woman can cover her tracks. But things were never that simple, and before you could even think of proposing the idea of leaving to anyone, a helicopter came crashing down from the sky. Bob. It was his silhouette, but he was entirely consumed by darkness. His eyes seemed to be glowing, but the rest of him was a black shadow. 

The thoughts looming in the forefront of your mind took the backburner as you ran off to help someone who was about to be hit by the weight of debris, grabbing the young woman who was barely aware of the piece of an engine coming straight for her until she was out of it’s path. Everything seemed utterly chaotic, people running and not knowing where they could go or what they could do. You felt like you were acting on instinct as you joined the others, helping to keep the piece of concrete from falling until it toppled over to the other side. And just as quickly as you all came to realize that you’d stopped a crisis, another one began. 

From up above, Bob – or, rather, The Sentry in this form – was turning the people on the ground into shadow’s by the moment, and the only thing that any of you could do was get people out of his path. At least, it was the only thing that most of you thought to do, most of you except for Yelena. Yelena walked face-first into it. 

As much as you wanted to imagine that she was insane, that she was doing something utterly insane and choosing to die for reasons that you couldn’t quite grasp, you knew that wasn’t the case. You had known from the very beginning that John had seen something when he touched Bob’s hand, but you weren’t quite sure what it was. It seemed to be your only hope that, in some twist of fate, if you walked into the darkness you would be able to do something to stop this, something to bring him out of this form that he was in. 

Stepping out from the small roof that kept you safe, you turned to face John. Your closest friend, the one person who you seemed to care about more than anyone else – the only person who you figured really cared about you, at this point. His hand stretched out to yours, and you took it. Your fingers wrapped around his as you made the decision to do the only thing that you had any hope could fix this. From what he said, this wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience, but if it was the only way, you would just have to endure it. 

The moment you stepped into the shadows, you found your hand empty. No John beside you, nothing except for a familiar sound, a memory. 

Turning your head, your felt your breath hitch in your throat at the sight of the person in front of you. Your best friend. The person who you had met in middle school, and went to college with. The person who was there for you when you went through anything good and anything bad. Until this day. You wanted to reach out, to stop the younger version of you from pulling the gun from her bag, but you couldn’t stop what was happening. 

It was the first time you’d ever killed anyone, the worst day of your life. An assignment. Of course, your close friend had to be someone who was working against the agency you were working for – the agency you would later come to know was headed by Val – and she just happened to be your first real assignment, the first real test to see if you were capable of doing this job. 

Room after room seemingly just became more and more traumatic, but in the end, you found yourself being smacked in the face by a flying blanket. It wasn’t your blanket, though. You were in an attic, but it wasn’t your attic, and you were no longer going through rooms of your past traumas by yourself, reliving every single moment that you had wished you were able to forget. 

There was no real time to focus on that, though. You were all quickly entering another room, and just as quickly being pinned against a wall to stop you from fighting back against the dark version of Bob that seemed to be taking his physical form hostage – his Void. The darkness in his mind that threatened to consume him whole. 

Fighting it almost seemed like the correct, natural, response for a moment. But it became clear to you, as Bob himself became consumed more and more each passing moment by the darkness, that he couldn’t do it this way. Fighting himself, allowing himself to hate his own mind and feed into the darkness, it was what it wanted. One by one, you were able to break free and help him. To remind him that he didn’t have to do this alone, that you were all here to free him from what he was being subjected to. And when it worked, when you found yourselves back in the streets of New York, the darkness that had begun consuming the city was beginning to fade away. 

But there was Val, shameless as ever and seemingly pulling you all into another one of her traps as she walked past the curtain. You were inundated with lights, cameras, and reporters as you crossed the threshold of the white curtain that you had walked through. Your eyebrows knitted together as you listened to her, as you pieced together what was happening. You knew that this mean that Bucky wouldn’t get to testify against her, that in the end she got what she wanted and was now entirely unimpeachable. But, it also meant that you had power. You had power over her, and you didn’t have to worry about her subjecting any of you to missions that you weren’t comfortable with. 

Once you were able to leave the impromptu press conference, you found yourself ushered into a black SUV with John, your eyes darting away from the floor as you felt his hand on your cheek. “You got a pretty bad bruise, you know.” 

You brought your hand up to where he was touching, right below your eye. You honestly weren’t sure when, in the heat of the moment, you had gotten bruised. 

“You’re pretty cut up yourself.” You responded, though your voice was softer than you intended it to be. You really didn’t know what this meant for you. You knew that you liked the feeling of his hand on your cheek, though. And you also knew that you really didn’t want to have any sort of discussion about what it meant to be a New Avenger until after you got to sleep a little bit. 

John was seemingly debating something in his mind for a good couple of minutes before he cleared his throat, a small smile covering his lips. “Would it be too forward of me to kiss you?” 

For a moment, you were certain that you must’ve gotten hit too hard in the head at some point, but this was very much real, and he was very much asking for permission to kiss you. And every apprehension that you ever had be damned – if he was asking, then you were ready for it. “Not too forward at all.” 

With the permission he needed, he leaned forward and captured your lips within his. It was soft, delicate, careful not to hurt the small cut that you had sustained on your bottom lip at some point. But you let your hand press on his face as well, keeping him there and running your thumb over his skin. Regardless of what all of these new developments and new changes meant, you were happy. Happy to feel in control of your own life, happy to be able to kiss the one person who you seemingly could never stop thinking about kissing. 

There were a lot of things that you would need to discuss later, but for now, you were happy to sit comfortably in the backseat of this car, gently almost-making out with your best friend. Though, you would be remiss if you didn’t get one little honest opinion in there.

“John?” 

“Hmm?” He seemed almost dazed as he unwillingly pulled slightly away from you, a smile covering your lips as he tried to chase the kiss. 

“Since you were asking about it earlier, I kinda hate your hat.” 

He seemed stunned for a moment, almost offended even though there was a smile fighting it’s way onto his face. “No…”

“It’s not flattering, people deserve to see your pretty face.” You nodded, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You can still have a hat, just like… a better one.” 

He didn’t stop himself from smiling now, even as he shook his head in faux-disbelief that you would dare say something bad about the helmet that he had been wearing. But you didn’t let him respond as you kissed him again, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck as he held you close. For the first time in a while, you felt genuinely happy – and strangely beyond glad for all of the change and near-death-experiences that you had been forced to live through if this was to be the end result of it all.

[anastasiaaz]

BOUND BY DECEPTION — SCARA'S CIRCLE

SCARAMOUCHE x f!reader

' ZEPHYR CADENCE '

˖ ZEPHYR CADENCE SMALL INFO ˖

SCARAMOUCHE : LEAD GUITARIST

Scaramouche never intended to become a well known celebrity. It was all thanks to that dimwit ginger head who signed him up without his consent. Now, he can't even resign! It would only make him look stupid. Well, that's what he thinks.

It wasn't that bad. Scara thought. As soon as he got his hand on a guitar, he couldn't stop himself from playing it. He finds solace in playing guitar, it somehow keeps his stress and problems away. (It makes him look cool also) He learnt it fast in just a few weeks before the audition!

He did not even spare a single glance at the people that also passed the audition. Why would he? There is no need to gawk at people who are literal pests. Plus, he doesn't need any friends to begin with.

...

No matter how much they kept pestering him, they would only earn a scowl from the indigo haired boy. He was tired, they somehow got the address to his place! They've been visiting him in hopes of being friends with scara. They made themselves feel at home like it was their own place instead of his! his peaceful life was now long gone.

Days then passed and scara's gotten used to it. Well, what can he do? They're obsessive and don't listen to a word he says! He gave up anyways. Now, they pamper him up till he agrees to be friends w them!

AETHER : KEYBOARDIST

Honestly, He can take any role he wants as he knows how to handle almost every instrument. Audition because he wants to provide more for him and his sister! Such a good brother, am i right?

Fan girls found him appealing because of his kindness towards people! (Always getting caught in public helping people)

VENTI : BASSIST

Venti who just instantly shove the awkwardness aside when faced with his band mates the first time. Aether convinced him to join a band with him! (They've been best friends since high school)

this guy is the one who can instantly liven up the place and the people during their performance.

XIAO : SUB GUITARIST " RHYTHM GUITARISTS

Is like scara but more like an upgrade. this guy barely talks in conversation and will end it abruptly and quickly.

He's like a mature version of scara.

zhongli signed xiao up as xiao wants to make money with his own hands.

xiao & scara don't get along very well and it's because scara looks down on xiao's guitar skills while xiao does not like scara's pride and that sharp tongue of his. But, but, but! Don't get me wrong, they are literal besties when one of them is feeling down!

HEIZOU : DRUMMER

This guy has many real and loyal fan girls. Not only does he look majestic and breathtaking, but he's also incredibly good at playing the drums!

This guy would always tease scara off stage when bored or when kazuha is nowhere to be found.

He joined the band because his friend suggested being in one! (his dead friend..)

A literal genius!??? Proven in an interview w the rest of the band mates :>

KAZUHA : VOCALIST

The finest man that could ever exist!? This guy befriended everyone without any problems!

Scara? Yes him too! In fact, scara finds Kazuha's presence tolerable than any other band mates! scara may find kazuha's poetic words annoying, but it sometimes soothes him!!

Yes, DESPITE HIS SOFT AND ANGELIC VOICE, he can rock, rock music :3 !!

the therapist of the group!

CHILDE : VLOGGER

Alright. I know he isn't a part of the band but still! he's friends w all of scara's band mates. So, if it weren't for childe, scara wouldn't be a part of the band!

He likes to vlog w them sometimes!!

| YNS CIRCLE | MASTERLIST | EPILOGUE |

◟◝ IN WHICH ⌇ kunikuzushi, was your middle school crush that you seemed to not get over with. Thinking you won't be seeing him again when you both graduated from middle school and to high school, Things took a turn when you reached the first year of college, meeting him again on the same classes you took. It seems like fate has given you the chance to rewrite what should've been, leading you to not waste the opportunity and reach your love for him. Except, being the lonely guy in the past turned to him being flocked around by people. Turns out, he became an idol! Leading to you having a hard time approaching him. But when you did, he throws unpleasant words, glared at you the way he did with his fans, and then waved you off. The butterflies surrounding your heart fluttered away by then. To make it worse, you both became academic rivals.

◟◝ GENRE + WARNINGS ⌇ smau, f!reader, college au, fluff, angst, cyber bullying, kys/kms jokes, ignore the time stamps, pictures used for the reader is not meant to represent their looks but the pose, reader is considered to be aloof in the past, scara is a real dick (more to be added)

Authors note : taglist now available!! :3 | OKAY,, SO SORRY 4 THE DELAY I HAD TOO MUCH FUN THESE FEW DAYS... this was rushed so i hope you all don't mind the grammar!! ;P

[vxmp111re]

Here's to never growing up || Jegulus

James Potter x Regulus Black - In which the Marauders are a group of crime fighting vigilantes.

Basically Marauders in the DCU!

Blog masterlist | Fic masterlist

1.4k words!

A/N - James has a little brother because I said so :3

BRIEF MENTION OF SKIPPING MEALS (none of the characters are, just a joke made)

Two days later, the Justice League was back. 

Kind of. 

They were all reduced to just their civilian forms.

Wonder Woman was now half of what she was before. Less wonder and more woman. More the half part of half god.

Aquaman was just a guy now. At least he smelt a bit less like the ocean now. Just a bit.

You get the picture. The Justice League? Basically a group of middle aged parents at book club.

Although, that’s basically how James saw them anyway.

The worst bit? None of them could remember during the time they were taken. Fleamont Potter had said there was just a big gap in his memory, one minute he had his powers, next he was reduced to a normal man.

James was happy, of course. His father was back. Superman was back… well, more like Fleamont Potter was back. But his dad was back nonetheless.

The same couldn’t be said for Sirius and Regulus, however. Because while You-Know-Who no longer had the League, he still had Orion. Batman was gone. Reason being he’s the only one in the League without powers. That was easy enough to figure out.

Wonder Woman is half-god. Aquaman is Atlantean. The Flash is, well, fast. Green Lantern has his ring. Superman is quite literally an alien, super man.

But Batman?

Orion Black operated with pure intelligence, strength and technology. 

You can’t weaken a man with nothing to weaken.

Which is how both boys ended up staying on the Potter’s farm with James and his family.

“This French toast is…  amazing,” Sirius said, his voice muffled from his mouth being full of food as he proceeded to shovel more into his mouth. Regulus grimaced at the sight. He was used to Sirius’… special table manners but he could at least try to tone it down in the presence of James’ parents who were kind enough to let the brothers stay with them. But he was right, the toast was delicious. Probably even better than Kreacher’s.

“Seriously, Effie, what do you put in here?” Sirius groaned with pleasure. Effie just laughed, her face lighting up as she looked at the boys.

“Just some extra love,” she smiled.

“She means brown sugar and vanilla extract,” James’ father, Fleamont, or Monty, as he insisted, chimed in, earning him a whack on the back of his head from Effie.

It was strange. Regulus was never one to trust people easily but as soon as he stepped foot into the Potter’s home and was engulfed in hugs, his mind was at ease. There was something about Effie’s smile lines and Fleamont’s wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, like permanent etches of the happiness and love in the small family. Of course, Regulus had met Monty dozens of times before, him being his own father’s closest confidant in the Justice League, but he’d always assumed the happiness was a stunt, but now, being in his home, Regulus saw the Potter’s were made with love. 

There was something that bothered Regulus, however; James was the spitting image of his father. Now the same could be said for Regulus, Sirius and Orion, but James and Fleamont were so similar it bordered on uncanny. It was as like seeing a peek into James’ future when looking at Fleamont. In all honesty, it freaked Regulus out a bit.

Okay, a lot. It freaked him out a lot.

“James, where is your brother?” Effie frowned, plating a stack of toast, presumably for her other son.

“Dunno,” James mumbled, shovelling food into his mouth as well. Gods, no wonder he and Sirius got along so well; they’re both idiots.

“Well, will you go look for him?” Effie sighed in exasperation, but Regulus caught the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Even when frustrated with her son, Euphemia Potter could not hide her adoration for him. It made Regulus somewhat jealous.

“But, I’m so hungry, mama,” James groaned around his fork. 

“Then go be hungry while looking for your brother,” Monty flicked James’ forehead, making the boy grunt in annoyance.

“Fine,” James relented, rubbing his forehead, dramatically. He shoved one more big bite of toast into his mouth, as if in defiance of his parents’ words before shuffling out the room.

Silence fell upon the table, the only sound was the utensil’s scraping on everyone’s plates.

“So, Sirius,” Monty began. “James said you’re making a plan for the Marauders to help us get our powers back. And get your father back.”

Sirius tightened his grip on his fork and Regulus said up slightly straighter, peering at the interaction over the rim of the glass he was sipping from. 

“Don’t stress him, Monty,” Effie said gently, softly rubbing the back of Sirius’ neck as she sat next to him.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Sirius cleared his throat, smiling at Effie. “Yeah, I am. I don’t really know what to do, but I’ll figure it out. I think. I just want my…,” Sirius trailed off and looked at Regulus, “…our dad back.”

Monty just gave a nod. “And you, Regulus?” the older man looked at him intensely, like he expected Regulus to be helping.

The gaze made Regulus’ face run warm. “I, yeah, I’m helping, I s’pose.”

“I let him join the team. Temporarily,” Sirius explained.

“Yes, temporarily,” Regulus said through gritted teeth. Why did it have to be temporary? It’s like Sirius wanted him out before he could even prove himself.

“Temporarily?” Monty repeated. “I think Regulus is ready to join the team, Sirius.”

Regulus couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, his face going even warmer than before. He just hoped that his face wasn’t too red.

Why am I so embarrassed? Regulus thought to himself.

He had only ever met Monty a handful of times and he knew Sirius respected him, so Monty saying he was ready had to mean something, right? Regulus just hoped it would let Sirius see that he was ready for a real mission. And not like now, just because he had to.

“But what do I know, huh?” Monty smiled. The way he said it, Regulus could hear it as a jab at Sirius. Almost like he was waiting for the older boy to argue.

Regulus watched his brother with an intense gaze as he began to speak before he was cut off by Effie.

“Are you alright, Regulus, dear, your face is awfully red!” Effie said, walking over to feel his face.

Shit!

“Um, yes, I-,” Regulus began before he was also promptly cut off by James this time.

Thank gods for that. How do I explain that I find her husband attractive?!

“I found him!” he called from the hallway. “He was hiding in his cubby outside,” James snorted, coming into view with a small boy sitting on his shoulders.

Unlike James, this boy was the perfect blend of Effie and Monty. Monty’s curls, Effie’s smile lines, Monty’s mischievous glint in his eyes, Effie’s bump on his nose. James could be Monty’s twin whereas this boy was so clearly their child.

“Incoming!”  James exclaimed as he gently lowered his brother onto a chair next to Monty, making a landing noise as he settled him down. The small boy smiled, revealing a missing front tooth, adding to his already adorable charm.

“This is Jon,” Monty said, proudly as James ruffled his brother’s hair. “Jon, this is Regulus, he’s Uncle Monty’s other son, Sirius’ brother.”

Right, of course Sirius had met the boy before.

Jon waved shyly before his big eyes travelled to the large stack of food in front him, which he promptly began to scarf down.

Ah, a family trait, Regulus thought, biting back a smile. Though it’s significantly less annoying when Jon does it.

“Gosh, these boys eat like they’re skipping meals,” Effie laughed. It reminded Regulus of music, the way she laughed.

The same way James laughed.

“Kryptonian stomach’s are never full, love, you know this,” Monty smiled, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

“Oh, I know,” Effie grinned cheekily at her own innuendo.

James and Sirius groaned as Regulus looked down at his lap in embarrassment. Jon simply continued eating, unaware of his mother’s implication.

“And I’m done with that,” James grimaced, pushing his plate away.

“Ditto,” Sirius mirrored his friend, earning laughs from the Potters.

“Your parents are in love, Jamie, be grateful,” Effie chided, playfully, kissing Monty’s cheek.

The sight made Regulus feel jealous of James.

James Potter and his perfect family.

rawr

NEXT PART [COMING SOON]

[arcticmist0324]

One thing that is difficult about writing historical fiction is when you’ve set your story up in the same time frame as major historical events, which you KNOW would be on your characters’ radar yet they don’t impact the plot. What is too much? What is too little?

[c0s-lettuce]

your orbit

steve harrington x reader

synopsis: amidst a night of board games, junk food and extraordinary company, the only thing steve can think about is you.

→ or the deterioration of steve harrington's mind over the course of an evening.

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, set around s4 but no upside down, eddie and robin aren't subtle, steve just really loves you, childhood best friends to strangers to friends, one bed but not really ;)

a/n: i love ex bestie steve! i've been wanting to write for him for a while, so hope i did him justice. joe keery favourite white boy frrr. pls forgive any inaccuracies and thanks for reading <3

part two coming soon!

5 PM

Steve decided to take advantage of having the house to himself. His parents are gone for the week, as they so often are. So, he sent out a few invitations to some of his closest friends. A small get-together, he told them, nothing fancy.

Robin accepted, of course. And Nancy and Jonathan, too. Steve only told Dustin about the party, but he already knew that word would spread to all the other kids.

But Steve has a mini panic attack when he finds out you're coming. He isn't too sure where he stands with you these days. Your friendship has all but rekindled, but Steve is still wary around you, terrified of messing up again. You accepted the invitation, though. That's a good thing. Right?

As Steve waits for people to arrive, he takes out his only activities, a deck of cards and a single board game he received as a gift but never opened. He's relying on his friends with siblings and/or a healthier relationship with their parents to bring more things to do.

He sets out the snacks he bought. Chips and candy are laid out over the island counter in the kitchen, and soda is stacked in the fridge. Steve even sets aside a little stash of what he hopes are still your favourites. He also managed to get his hands on some beer, and there's money set aside for pizza later.

Soon enough, people start showing up. Robin arrives first, followed by Dustin, Lucas and Max. Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive with Mike, Will and El. Then you. And finally, Eddie.

The gaggle of children quickly bee-line for the snacks and games. Steve watches with disdain, knowing there'll be a mess to clean up after. But at least his other guests appear happy to see their gracious host, with you among them.

Steve pretty much shortcircuits when you arrive. You're dressed nicely, and your hair is all pretty. You lean in to give him a quick hug, greeting him fondly. He may as well have cancelled the night then because he's sure his heart stopped for a second.

He only snaps out of it when Eddie arrives, slapping him so hard on the back that it could've been an alternative to the Heimlich maneuver. Suddenly, the population of the house has gone from one to a dozen, and noise and energy immediately replace the prior peace.

Steve quickly realises that he's in for a long night.

6 PM

"So, what's the story between the two of you?" Eddie asks.

Steve blinks, caught off guard by the question. He turns to the other boy, who awaits his answer with a half-curious, half-smug expression.

"Nothing, man," Steve mutters, taking a sip of his beer.

"Nothing, huh?" Eddie smirks. "Is that why you're staring at her like she's the love of your life?"

Steve glares at Eddie, wondering who even invited him. Eddie is the newest addition to the larger friend group. Dustin is very fond of him. And from what Steve has heard, so are you. He's in a few of the same classes as you, and there's a rumour among the kids that you used to be in Hellfire for a semester in your sophomore year.

The thought of you being close to Eddie bothers Steve. He chases the feeling away with another sip.

"Come on, big boy," Eddie nudges him. "We're friends now. You can tell me."

He looks back at you. You're sat around the coffee table with the kids in the middle of a round of Uno. And you look so lovely. You always do. Even the way you're holding the cards is pretty. You're the perfect culmination of everything sweet. No wonder the kids are hogging you.

He looks back at Eddie, who's still regarding Steve with inquisitive and mischievous eyes. Steve considers acquiescing, especially since Eddie is willing to listen. At the very least, it'll give Robin a break from dealing with his usual sulking.

"We were really close in middle school," Steve begins. "Best friends, even. But then I started high school, and... well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Ah," Eddie nods, understanding immediately. "I see."

Steve continues. "We only spent a year apart. And she was so excited to join me. But then-"

"Then King Steve emerged, and you left her in the dirt," Eddie remarks.

Steve cringes at the wording but doesn't refute it. It's an accurate recount of what happened. He knew he was horrible, not just to you but to everyone. He regrets nothing more than abandoning you and letting his so-called friends pick on you. Meanwhile, he stood by, telling himself worthless excuses to justify how things turned out.

You and Steve remained strangers after he left his throne behind. And it probably would've stayed that way if he didn't become coworkers with one Robin Buckley, who had become your new best friend in his absence.

He remembers the days you would visit Scoops Ahoy, mostly to distract Robin and make his job harder. You would often give him quick glances and polite smiles, never going out of your way to talk to him. However, he would occasionally catch your eyes lingering on him.

Robin would tell him you were checking him out, insisting she knew how her best friend thinks. But he was convinced you were judging him for his dumb hat and sailor outfit. Nothing ever made him wish he could crawl into a hole and die more than that.

But suddenly, he was back in your orbit again. And he's never left since.

Turning his attention back to you, Steve watches you play your last card, earning a groan from a few of the other players. You stand up victorious, stepping away from the table to grab another drink from the kitchen.

Steve recognises this as the perfect time to approach you and say something other than the "hey" he offered when you arrived. But just as he's about to muster up the courage, the doorbell rings, indicating the arrival of pizza.

With a sigh and another slap on the back from Eddie, he turns away to retrieve the food.

7 PM

You fit in well with the others. Not that it's a bad thing. It's great, actually. It just reminds Steve how much time has passed and how things have changed. It makes him think of what could've been.

You being best friends with Robin makes more sense than hot chocolate on a rainy day. You're like two peas in a pod. You match each other's energy, and both have a sort of charming madness about you.

The kids obviously like you. Not that their criteria are that high. But it helps that you used to work at the arcade and would give them your spare quarters. Plus, the rumour that you used to be in Hellfire makes you seem like a legend in their eyes.

Even Max likes you. He could tell because you were the one she approached earlier, asking if she could have a beer. You laughed and told her no. She just pouted and accepted it. Steve knew if he told her no, he would've been left with an insult.

You aren't particularly close to Nancy or Jonathan. Still, Steve knew they respected you, which means a lot, especially from someone like Nancy. And, of course, Eddie is... Eddie.

Steve comes to the realisation that he's jealous of everyone at the party. They all have a place in your life, in your heart. He wonders if there's even room left for him. There was a time when he occupied all that space. And it's his own fault that changed. Still, he can't help but hope.

The pizza disperses and disappears quickly. As the others chase their dinner with more snacks and set up another game, Steve remains leaning against the wall. He's so deep in thought that he doesn't notice someone approaching him.

"Steve?"

He flinches at the voice. It's you.

"H-hey," he stutters.

"Hey," you reply. "You okay? You seem a bit... distraught."

Steve takes a second to respond but nods. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good, just thinking."

You tilt your head, sensing more to the story but not wanting to pry. "Alright. Just don't hurt yourself."

Steve chuckles nervously, both relieved and terrified that you're making jokes with him.

You point back towards the coffee table. "The others are about to start a game of Monopoly. Did you want to join?"

He looks towards the group, at Dustin micromanaging how Will sets up the board. At Max and El scheming their game plan, having already picked the token they want to use. And at Mike dragging over his reluctant-looking sister, an amused-looking boyfriend following behind.

Steve knew he ought to join in, having just been standing around all night. But the idea of playing a game about capitalism with a group of kids who took board games way too seriously doesn't appeal to him right now.

So, he shakes his head. "No thanks. You go ahead."

You glance at the others before turning back. "Nah, I'm good. I need a break from getting lectured by Dustin."

Steve snorts. "Yeah, that kid's got a mouth on him. You wouldn't believe how often he tries to give me dating advice."

"He gives you dating advice?" you ask, amused.

"Yeah," Steve answers. "Now that he has a girlfriend, he thinks he's unstoppable. A girlfriend he wouldn't even have if it weren't for me, by the way. I taught him everything he knows."

You laugh and shrug. "Well, maybe you could learn something, Steve. You know, the whole 'student becomes the master' thing?"

Steve lets out a huff. "No, no way. Besides, I don't need a girlfriend when I've got-"

You, he almost says. But he clears his throat and corrects himself.

"Uh, all of you," he states, vaguely gesturing to the party. "My friends, you know?"

His words make you grin. "Aww, Steve-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbles. "Just don't tell anyone I said that."

He averts his gaze. His cheeks flush a bit, but he's holding back a smile. He's glad to have gotten that reaction from you.

You're about to tease him some more when Robin's voice interrupts, calling for your help from upstairs.

You sigh, looking back at Steve. "Duty calls. I'll leave you to your thinking."

You give him a cheeky smile before you leave, a smile that makes it seem like you somehow read his mind and found his thoughts amusing. He can only watch as you walk away again.

8 PM

Steve isn't sure how he got here, sitting next to you on the carpet. The Monopoly game was cut short after Lucas and Mike got into a heated argument. And now they've switched to The Game of Life, which hopefully won't cause any fights.

Not only did Steve get roped into playing, he got teamed up with you. You had been calling most of the shots during the game, but when you reached the marriage space, stuck a little pink peg next to the blue one and murmured, "That's us," to Steve... well, it all got a bit confronting for the poor boy.

He felt like a fool, sitting there overthinking two words that likely were said as a joke. Steve had realised a while ago that he loved you. A part of him thinks he always has, ever since the early days of middle school.

But being friends with you again after everything is more than he felt he deserved, so he doesn't expect you to return those feelings just yet. But then you go ahead and say something like that. So casually, too. "That's us." Married. Yeah, right. Either you're cruel, or there's hope for him yet.

Steve manages to calm his emotions a few moments later. But as the game progresses, he continues comparing his life to the little blue peg that was supposedly him.

Steve, in the game, has a college degree, a decently-paying job, a pretty pink peg for a wife (which you've claimed to be you), three peg children and his own house, all while avoiding any mid-life crises.

Steve, in real life, at the ripe age of nineteen, has no idea what he's doing. He's been through at least two quarter-life crises. College is definitely not happening. And he's working a retail job Robin got for him through bribery. At least it came with a better uniform. One which would probably help with picking up girls if the girl he actually wanted wasn't the one currently sitting next to him.

At least now, when you visit Robin at work, you also come to see him. You make eye contact, give him bright smiles, and actually talk to him. And he has to do everything in his god-given power to not lose his mind each time.

But it's not all for nothing. After all, you're a loyal customer of Family Video, and Steve always looks after his patrons (as long as it's you). If he knows you'll be visiting, he'll put on one of your favourite movies on the TV in the store.

He'll also research movies he thinks you'll like, lie and say they're unavailable if someone tries to rent them before he can get them to you. It earns judgment from Robin, but he doesn't care. As long as it makes you happy.

Soon, Steve vows, he'll take you out to see a movie on the big screen. It'll be just the two of you at the back of the theatre with a big bucket of popcorn. He'll pull some cheesy move on you. You'll laugh at him or roll your eyes. Or maybe you'll fall for it. Either way, it'll be perfect.

Steve only checks back into the present when The Game of Life ends. He glances around the table, relieved no one has noticed him daydreaming. Everyone's cars are in the retired space, and Steve catches a glimpse of you and him and your three kids again. But he looks back at the real you as you turn to face him.

Steve is no help as you sort out how much money you ended up with, too busy admiring you instead. You're focused, doing maths in your head and using his lap as a surface to lay out the notes and cards. And somehow, he falls even more in love with you in this moment.

9 PM

The party has diminished, with Nancy and Jonathan having gone home with the kids. Now, just Steve, Robin, Eddie, and you remain. Outside, dark clouds have gathered, showering Hawkins in light rain.

The four of you are finishing the night off with one last card game. You had won, of course. And now Eddie has recruited your help. He has his arm around you, his head pressed against yours, his deck hiding your faces as you conspired his next move.

If Steve didn't know any better, he'd assume you two were a thing. But he does know better. Eddie must be doing this on purpose, trying to make him jealous or something. And it was working. Steve supposed that's what he deserves for trusting Eddie with his deepest, darkest regret.

The card game turns into a one-sided glaring contest, with Robin having to nudge Steve whenever it's his turn. With your help, Eddie finishes second. Robin comes third, and Steve loses the game. But at this point, he isn't even upset about it because it means his suffering is over.

Eddie finally lets go of you, letting out a contented sigh as he stretches his arms above his head.

"Alright," he announces. "I'm calling it a night. You ready to go, Buckley?"

Robin nods. "Yeah, let's head."

The two stand and begin gathering their things.

Eddie looks at you as he puts on his jacket. "You sure you don't want a ride home?"

You shake your head. "I'm good, Eds. You take Robin. My dad should be here soon."

Eddie accepts your answer with a nod, and you catch the slightest hint of a smirk. But you ignore it as you and Steve walk him and Robin to the door. You give them each a hug before they leave.

Robin has an expression you don't fully comprehend as she hugs you back, somewhere between smug and amused. "See you later, nerd. Make good choices, okay?"

You furrow your brow, but she heads out the door before you can ask what she means by that.

As Eddie steps out after her, he looks back at Steve. "Hey, Harrington. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He sends Steve a wink, who frowns at the implication of his words. You notice Robin is still giving you that look. You send her a raised eyebrow in return. But no more words are exchanged as the two go their merry way.

"God, they're weird," Steve mutters as he closes the door.

His comment elicits a chuckle from you, which elicits a flutter in his chest. He turns to face you, unable to help the smile that graces his features just by looking at you. But a mildly awkward silence follows as Steve racks his brain on how to proceed now that it's just the two of you.

"You, uh- you want another drink?" he asks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, sure."

His own smile widens. "Alright. You sit back down, and I'll get us some."

Steve heads into the now almost empty kitchen, grabbing two bottles before finding you again in the living room. You're sitting on the couch, packing up the deck of cards. Steve is momentarily distracted by the way your hands move.

But as he approaches and hands you your drink, he decides to be bold and sits close to you, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. He doesn't even have a millisecond to regret it because he feels you lean into his touch.

Steve revels in the satisfaction.

10 PM

Eddie and Robin seem to have left just in time because the storm picks up only a few minutes after they leave. You and Steve sit and chat for a while as you finish your drinks, and you help Steve clear up the empty cans and scattered wrappers despite him ordering you not to.

But even after everything is cleaned, your father still hasn't arrived. Steve watches as you wait, looking at the time again.

"You're welcome to stay over if that's easier for you," he tells you.

You look over at him, considering his offer. "You don't mind?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, of course not."

He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all. In fact, he would prefer it. He's used to being alone for days at a time. But it's a bit harrowing going from twelve people to just one, especially in a big empty house during a storm. Yes, he definitely wants you to stay.

"Okay," you say, "I'll just call my parents and ask what's happening."

Steve nods as you walk over to the phone and call home. It rings for a bit before someone picks up.

"Hello?" your mother's voice greets you.

"Hey, mom," you reply. "It's me."

The pitch of her voice changes immediately upon hearing your voice. "Hi, darling! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to check if dad was still coming to pick me up?" you ask.

There's a pause before your mom groans. "Oh, I'm so sorry. We completely forgot. We had a lot of wine for dinner. I can go get him now."

"It's no big deal, mom," you interject. "The storm's getting pretty bad anyway. Steve said I could stay over."

Again, your mother's cadence changes, but you don't need to question why. You know she's always been a fan of Steve.

"Okay, darling," she responds. "That sounds like a good idea. You two take care, alright?"

You resist rolling your eyes, even though she's not around to see it. "Yeah, you too, mom. Bye."

Your mom bids you farewell, and you hang up the phone.

Steve, who waits patiently nearby, takes this as his cue to speak up. "You staying?"

You look over at him and nod. "I'm staying."

"Okay, great," Steve smiles. "You can take my room. I'll go in the guest bedroom."

"What? Steve, no," you say. "You don't have to do that. I'll take the guest bedroom."

"No, really," he insists. "It's cold and uncomfortable in there. Trust me."

"I'm the guest, Steve. I'll go in the guest bedroom," you respond.

"No, not happening," he states.

You frown. "I'm not letting you give up your room."

Steve crosses his arms. "Well, I'm not letting you stay in the guest bedroom."

There's a pause in the conversation as the two of you stare each other down, hoping the other will fold.

When neither of you do, you make another suggestion. "Alright. How about we just share your bed?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Uh, you- really? Are you sure?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I mean... we used to do it all the time as kids, right?"

It's true. You did. There were countless nights when you would pass out in bed together, having stayed up watching movies or spent the entire day in the pool.

"Okay," Steve agrees. "Let's do that then."

"Great," you say.

"Great," he replies.

Yeah... great.

11 PM

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.

That's all Steve could repeat in his head. He's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling while you're beside him. He forgot to factor in how the both of you have grown considerably since middle school, meaning there's less space between you now.

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't fr-

"You know," you break the silence. "I forgot how weird your plaid wallpaper was."

Steve furrows his brow, his distress momentarily forgotten as he turns to look at you.

"It's not weird," he says defensively.

"It's pretty weird," you reply before looking at him. "But it's cool."

As your gaze meets his, he feels his nervousness rushing back. You look so soft and cozy in his bed, wearing his shirt. And you're smiling at him as if you knew the funniest joke in the world and you were about to tell it to him.

He lets a beat of silence pass before clearing his throat. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah, I did," you answer genuinely. "You?"

"Yeah," Steve replies. "It's nice having people around."

You nod in response, remembering how his parents would send him over to live with your family whenever they would go away. As much as he loved being able to spend time with you, you knew he hated being left behind.

"How long are your parents gone for this time?" you ask.

"Just until the end of the week," he tells you.

You nod again. "You've been faring up by yourself?"

He shrugs. "I don't mind it. They've been on my back a lot recently. Honestly, I needed the break."

"Right," you reply. "So not much has changed."

Steve lets out a humourless laugh. "Nope. It's been hell since I graduated last year."

You frown at his words. "I guess that's not surprising."

"Yeah, I don't know," he pauses for a second before continuing, his voice quieter. "Sometimes, I think they have a point."

You pause as well, trying to gauge what he's thinking. "You shouldn't let them get to you, Steve."

He sighs. "I know. But what if they're right, you know, about me?"

"They're not. I promise you," you reassure him.

Steve turns to look at you again, almost like he's searching for your sincerity.

You give him a smile. "You'll be alright, Steve. I know it."

Steve can't help but smile back. You sound so earnest that he's inclined to believe you. Besides, you're here with him right now. So, he must be doing something right.

You fall into a comfortable silence. There's barely any noise this late at night to disrupt it. After a few moments, you let out a yawn.

"Ugh, man. I'm so sleepy," you mumble.

"You should get some rest," he responds. "I still remember how grumpy you get in the morning."

You give him a deadpan look. "Gee, thanks."

Steve chuckles. "Just telling the truth."

Your feigned expression breaks as you laugh along, too. Steve cherishes every second of the moment before it fades away.

You yawn again. "Alright then. Goodnight, Steve."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he replies.

The room falls silent again. Steve lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes. Despite the uncertainty, a smile still lingers on his lips. A million things could change tomorrow. But for now, at least, you're still by his side.

[thebubblesareevil]

The Return of the First Hero

Danny was the first superhero. He started when he was 14 and there were no other heroes around.

He did what he could during natural disasters and global threats but he was only one kid.

Sure things got a bit easier when he leaned how to make clones but he never felt like he was doing enough.

Because of his status as a ghost he never got worldwide recognition but he didn’t care, that wasn’t why he did it.

Danny was getting ready to go to college when clockwork approached him with devastating news.

With Pariah being defeated and him taking the throne, unrest had spread throughout the different dimensions.

Danny would have to help stop the destruction of reality and protect and maintain the stability of the realms.

So Danny left. He left knowing he was doing what he had to do to protect everyone, but knew he was leaving his world without protection and knew there would be consequences.

—

When Danny left, life moved on. Disasters happened and people died. There were no heroes to save the day.

Until there was.

Slowly but surely they came out of the woodwork. The Batman in Gotham. A man of steel in metropolis. The scarlet speedster in central city.

But they never truly left their cities. They never took responsibility of the earth.

And then they had to. Aliens invaded and a team formed bringing even more heroes into the light.

There was controversy the world over whether or not they should trust these heroes.

All except from a small town in Illinois.

Not much happened in amity park. There was hardly any crime. There hadn’t been any recorded natural disasters in years. There was not a single supervillain to be seen nor any hero. There were no corrupt cops and the wealthy not only paid their taxes but were actively involved in the community and charity.

No one understood the adamant support of these heroes. You could always find a few at any anti hero protest yelling their screams of support.

Eventually the cries of invaders and aliens died down and the voices of support outweighed the cries of hate.

One day a large green portal appeared above amity park and the heroes of the world took immediate notice. The Justice league immediately deployed to come to the aid of the little town that had stood beside them for so long.

The energy levels were off the charts. No one knew what was going on but they did their best to do what they could. Try as they might though, none of them could persuade the civilians to leave the area.

No one was panicked as the crowd grew larger, though it parted like the Red Sea when a large van pulled up.

Five adults exited the vehicle (if it could be called that) 2 appeared to be in their late 60s while the young woman with them looked to be in her mid forties with the two others not much younger than her.

They didn’t say anything. They just approached the portal, ignoring any hero that tried to protest.

Suddenly the portal grew brighter as a figure emerged from the green abyss.

A boy, no, a young man exited the portal. He couldn’t be more than 18-19 by the leagues guess.

Not a moment later did he charge at the group immediately being wrapped into a group hug as the portal vanished behind him leaving behind only a single bag.

When they finally let the man go they turned to face the crowd with a smile and he simply said.

I’m home.

The crowd went wild shouting cheers of joy and welcome homes.

The heroes were well and truly confused.

It was flash that approached a man at the edge of the crowd.

“What’s going on? Who is that?”

The man smiled.

“That’s Danny Fenton. The greatest hero this world will ever know and after 30 years he’s finally come home.

Flash immediately rushed over to relay what he was told to the rest of the team and they started to discuss the implications. It wasn’t long though before they were interrupted by the man of the hour.

“Is it true?” He asked, his expression torn and his eyes wet with unshed tears “are you the ones that have been protecting earth?”

The league was silent until superman stepped forward “we are members of the Justice league and we have done everything we can to protect this planet for the last 10 years”

The man grinned as the tears fell down his face.

“All this time, after everything I’ve done, I was terrified there would be nothing left when I came home.”

“Thank you”

[finelinevogue]

pretty boy

summary - the team is out for drinks and people can’t stop hitting on your boyfriend

pairing - spencer reid x bau!gf

word count - +1k

“He’s so hot.”

“Ugh that hair!”

“He is so kissable.”

You had only been at the bar for an hour and you’d already hit your limit for the amount of women that have hit on your boyfriend.

The worst thing about it, is that Spencer is so oblivious to it that you feel silly for being even a little bit jealous.

You were currently at the bar ordering some drinks and were listening to a group of girls lust after your boyfriend, who was currently sitting with the rest of the team in a booth.

“I mean seriously… he looks like he’d know how to please a woman.” One of them said.

You gave the girls a brief look to make sure you weren’t making things up in your head and to your dismay they were all looking Spencer’s way. Curse him for sitting at the end of the booth.

You then looked back to Spencer who was listening intensely to something Rossi was saying.

He did look good. Like, really good.

He’d recently had a haircut that made him look that little bit older, whilst also keeping that youth. Hotch had told him he looked like he was part of a boy-band, which in a way he did. The hot one, if he was.

You loved his new hair. It was so fluffy and soft. Perfect to run your hands through.

It just irked you that other people were thinking the same thing. And so openly.

He was even extra handsome tonight with his work clothes on. It was hot so he had taken off his waistcoat, so it was just his shirt - which he had rolled the sleeves up on - his loose tie and his fitted trousers.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” One of them said, making you tense up.

You wished the bartender would hurry up so you could go back and sit next to Spencer already. You trust Spencer more than anything - but it was these girls you didn’t trust.

“Oh my God. Never mind. He’s coming over here. How’s my hair?”

You thanked the bartender as he placed the drinks on a circular tray in front of you.

The girls were all nervously excited next to you.

Until they weren’t.

Because you felt Spencer slide up behind you, resting one of his hands at the bottom of your spine and the other placed on the bar edge.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you swayed your body into his.

Spencer was standing perpendicular to you so it gave you the opportunity to rest the side of your head on his chest. It allowed you to just breathe him in as if it were just you and him in the room.

You nodded slowly, not really knowing how else to answer.

“Need help with these?” He asked, tapping the tray.

“Please.”

“M’kay. I’ll get these. You grab some straws.”

You were sad when his hand left your back to reach for the tray of drinks. You also really wanted to take Spencer away from these girls though.

Before you could both go back, one of the girls touched Spencer on his forearm and questioned him.

“Excuse me, are you two together?” She asked, only looking at Spencer for the answer. It was almost as if you were invisible.

“Uh, yeah. We are.” Spencer gave a polite smile.

“Oh.” She said, surprised.

Spencer didn’t respond and neither did you. He just smiled before nudging you to keep walking.

Once you were out of their earshot he asked, “That was weird right?”

“Yeah.” It was your turn to give him a small smile this time, keeping your head down as you returned to the booth.

<.><.><.>

The atmosphere had changed.

You had felt good at the start of the night - an hour ago - but now everything felt a little different.

It no doubt had everything to do with the girls that had been surprised that Spencer was dating you. Also it didn’t help that Spencer still looked great and was gaining more and more hungry eyes.

You sipped your drink even though you weren’t interested in having a good time any more. You wanted to be alert in case you needed to be for Spencer’s sake.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Spencer said.

He was still sat on the end of the booth, but he had one arm tucker over the back of the booth and down around your shoulder to keep you pressed close to him. For someone who was okay with not fully understanding social interactions, he had always done a perfect job of being with you.

The rest of the team were talking and laughing over drinks.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head.

“It’s not if it’s bothering you.” Spencer argued.

“It’s silly.”

You looked from the team to the rest of the bar where people were still looking Spencer’s way.

Damn, why did he have to be so attractive?

You weren’t sure how to approach the subject with Spencer though. He was too sweet to take his gaze off you for even a second to notice how many gazes were on him. It wasn’t even a him problem. Good for him for looking so pretty, but it was just difficult trying to be okay with the extra attention that him being pretty came with.

It sounded so stupid and it didn’t even make sense to you, so it was impossible trying to think of how to bring it up to Spencer.

“Is it the case?” Spencer asked.

You sighed, “No.”

“Did I do something? I feel like that’s quite likely.”

You shook your head, feeling yourself getting worked up about this.

Spencer’s arm pulled you further into his body and his other arm detached from his drink so he could rest his palm on your thigh.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“You’re not ruining my night. I just don’t like seeing you upset.”

“I know.”

“Well, you tell me when you want to leave and we’ll go okay?”

“Okay.”

<.><.><.>

Spencer was brushing his teeth when you blurted out those three words.

“Sorry if I was weird tonight.” You apologised, finishing off your nighttime routine in Spencer’s apartment.

He mumbled something along the lines of ‘it doesn’t matter’, but it was hard to tell when he had a mouth full of toothpaste.

Your chest heaved heavy breaths as you watched him with adoration.

He looked so soft and homely standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth in his pyjamas with you. He was just so damn perfect and it was because of that that you had to tell him.

“It was your hair!” You blurted out before you could control yourself.

“Huh?” He questioned with a mouthful of toothpaste still. He took a brief glance to the mirror to check his hair before turning back to you.

“Your hair! I think it’s made you really hot. N-not that you weren’t hot before Spence but- oh my god, what am I saying?” You let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I was jealous okay? Really jealous because everyone at that bar was staring at you like they wanted you and I-I know you and me are— and you would never— and I — but I just…

Spencer spat out his toothpaste.

“Y/N…”

“I couldn’t stop thinking that like you’re mine and what right did they have to chat you up, let alone look at you that way? I mean—.”

“Babe…”

“I love you, okay?!” You proclaimed. You stood there in shock for a moment, not knowing where to take this now that you’d announced that.

“Y/N…”

“I do.” You nodded rapidly, “I do, I really do love you a-and I think it really hit me tonight when I saw you being loved on by all those other women.”

Spencer dropped his toothbrush and took a step towards you.

“All of that tonight was because you love me?” He questioned, trying to wrap his head around this.

“I think so, yeah.”

You pulled the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands as something to fidget with. You were growing nervous now for Spencer to say something.

“Well that makes sense.” He nodded, “I.. I think that means I love you too.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide as you watched him figure things out for himself.

“Yeah. I mean… I was frustrated as you sounded at all those men looking at you all night. It was driving me crazy.”

“People looking at me?” You frowned.

“You were the prettiest person in the room.”

“Spence…” You pouted, feeling your eyes tear with happy emotions.

You can’t believe that he had been feeling the exact same as you all this time. All it would have taken was a conversation earlier to talk things through and you both wouldn’t have been feeling so vulnerable.

“I love you, Y/N, even though I’m telling you in the most un-romantic setting.”

“You’re wrong. This is like the most romantic it could be for me.” You smiled and looped your arms around his neck. You felt his come around your waist.

“This?”

“Yeah. You, me and a little bit of toothpaste. That’s all I need to know that I love you.”

“And my hair.”

“Huh?”

“I distinctly remember you talking about how hot my hair was before…” He chuckled and you thumped your forehead down on his chest to escape the embarrassment.

“Stop.”

“No, never. Just like I’m never getting another haircut.”

You lifted your head at that, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him with heart eyes.

“I could live with that.” You smiled.

Spencer stayed looking at you for a few moments.

You could tell he was taking a minute to process everything as well as continue to study every little feature on your face. You prompted him to say something when he stared a little too long though.

“Just like seeing you smile. That’s all.” He said.

It was as simple as that.

You both loved each other. You both loved seeing each other smile. To keep that a forever kind of thing you would have to promise communication and accept there’ll be moments of jealousy. Those moments will be made better though when you remind each other that it’s each other you’re going home to.

[ttjisung]

POISON p. jisung

idol!park jisung x fan!reader

in which you were convinced ndas were simply a made up concept for fangirls to get off to, that was until you you were asked to go backstage at jisung's request.

cw: mdni! smut, fem!reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), spit, p in v, protected sex :3, slight angst, jisung is down bad, overstimulation, everything is consented to!!! ^_^ i think that's all... for now. wc: (3.4k)

You were in a lucid dream. You were sure that was it – a very realistic dream in which the concert staff approached you with a request to wait until after the encore, and then follow them backstage.

Being honest, you weren’t even aware that NDA’s truly existed, labeling them as a made-up fangirl fantasy; yet here you were, in your light green and quite revealing outfit, waiting for further instruction from the two security guards that found you when you took a small bathroom break between the group’s wardrobe changes. 

Had it not been for the way your hands slightly trembled, you might’ve been able to appear confident. You wanted to look brave, because a small part of your brain told you that if you showed any anxiety, you’d be denied. The thought faded as your heartbeat quickened, recognizing Poison playing in the background. Strangely enough, NCT Dream decided to end their concert with that song, although they had already performed it once before already. Any other time, you’d be grateful considering Poison was your favorite, yet observing the members dance sensually in the black and red outfits only worsened your state, as the reality kicked in that one of them requested for you to join them backstage to do only God knows what. 

Several questions ran through your mind, the main one being who? Who of the seven had spotted you jumping along in your floor seat and decided they wanted to see you after they finished up. Truthfully – and maybe embarrassingly – you wouldn’t mind any of them. Had it been any other band, you’re sure you would’ve only desired your favorite member, yet that was what made Dream so unique: all of them were perfect. That being said, your mind immediately jumped to members like Jaemin and Haechan, who were known for being flirts. It would only make sense that the more extroverted ones would be the type to do such a thing. 

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized the concert had ended until the venue’s lights turned on and the loud buzz of the fans slowly faded out. You flinched as someone tapped your shoulder, looking around and coming face to face with one of the security guards you had met earlier, who nodded his head in the direction of the stage. “They’re back there. Let’s go.” Although your eyes were wide with shock and your skin had goosebumps, you simply followed closely behind. It wasn’t until you were led to a changing room door that the reality kicked in – you were about to meet one of your idols, and by the sound of the guards’ words, meeting wouldn’t be all you’d be doing. 

“Alright, I’ll leave now. Just knock when you’re ready, he’s already in there.” Your curiosity mixed with your anxiety at the mention of a certain ‘him’, and once the guard was gone and your nerves calmed down, you lifted your hand to knock. 

Not even three seconds later, the door opened, revealing the member who you had never expected. “Um… Hi… Come on in.” Jisung’s voice stumbled, awkwardly stepping aside to make space for you. This was weird – he truly never even crossed your mind. It’s not like you thought any of the members were innocent, they were all attractive, famous grown men. You weren’t delusional enough to believe they were inexperienced, but for some reason this seemed completely out of character for the tall male who nervously observed you as you stepped inside the room. 

“I’m not sure if they told you why I asked for you.” You shook your head, too dazed by the shock of meeting one of your favorite celebrities, alongside the reveal that Park Jisung of all people was sending NDAs to lucky fans – the realization that you were one of said fans hadn’t even kicked in yet. 

“I-I assume it’s because of… you know.” Hearing your voice grounded Jisung, who was relieved that you were nervous as well, and it wasn’t just him. Although not public knowledge, his fellow members were notorious for sleeping with fans, making him the only one who hadn’t yet. He didn’t think it was his style, too awkward to bravely invite someone like that, yet his mind changed when he saw you. 

You looked so pretty, singing along to his parts, dancing like no one else was there but you and him. You were alone, not accompanied by any friend or relative, making it even easier to avoid suspicion when the guards would approach you. There were doubts in his mind up until mid-concert, yet they faded quickly when he saw you recording him and him only during the first performance of Poison. That had to mean something, right? Surely you wouldn’t mind meeting him after, if you were so focused on him during one of the most inappropriate songs on the setlist. 

Jisung snapped out of it as you shifted tensely, looking away from him with a red face as you waited for him to answer. He found it endearing – you were so shy, even shier than him. He was glad, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of you had you been bold and initiated contact immediately. 

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want- I just… You’re really, ummm…” He cursed himself mentally for stumbling, shaking his head and breathing heavily before looking you straight in your eyes with a renowned confidence. If you weren’t, then he’d have to take control of the situation. Picking himself back up, he took a step closer to you, “You’re so pretty, and I couldn’t let you leave.”

You were shocked to hear his change of tone, looking up at him as you processed the words he let out. He thought you were pretty. Your manual breathing now matched the slight tremble of your hands, and you still felt like you were dreaming. Naturally, him inviting you back here was more than enough of an implication to his attraction, yet to hear it up front and coming out of Jisung’s mouth felt different – it felt good. 

“Thank you… I’m a really big fan.” Jisung smiled at your words; obviously you were or you wouldn’t be here, but he chose not to tease you, just nodding and looking at your eyes. “What’s your name?” “It’s Y/n.” He hummed in acknowledgement, moving slightly closer once more, furthering the height difference between you two as he looked down at you in admiration.

You’re not sure if you missed when he was being shy or not. On one hand, he probably wouldn’t make many moves if he stayed reserved, yet with his new self-assured act, you felt immensely overwhelmed by every action of his. 

It wasn’t until Jisung’s hand lightly grazed against yours that you let out a small gasp, shocked by the physical contact, his skin on yours making it all too real. “I…” His words stumbled like before, yet he shook his head, regathering his thoughts and restating what he had said before. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to do anything– I like meeting fans regardless… But I really want you.” The whispered confession at the end that slipped from his mouth was enough motivation for you to finally make your first move, shocking both him and yourself as you moved closer, leaning in and placing your lips on his. 

Not leaving any time for doubt or hesitance, Jisung quickly reciprocated, placing a large hand of his on the back of your neck to push you even closer if possible. The kiss grew heavy as his other hand slipped behind your back and slightly up your mesh shirt, holding your bare waist. If there was a word to describe the scene, it’d be desperate, as his breathing became winded.

You moved your arms that laid limp on your side awkwardly to rest on his shoulders. One of your hands threaded through his hair, pulling it experimentally, and the light groan he let out at the feeling had your arousal growing, encouraging you to pull harder. The kiss became sloppy as he moved his tongue against yours, a small mix of spit falling down your lower lip, towards your chin. 

You pulled away first to catch your breath, yet Jisung chased after you, not wanting to stop. Choosing not to land his lips on yours this time, he opened his mouth, tongue coming out to lick the saliva from your face instead. The gasp that came out of you was interrupted as he moved North, once again engulfing your lips with his. The arm that was placed behind you gripped your waist, moving you alongside him as he moved both your bodies closer to a stray couch that laid in a corner of the small room. 

Jisung pulled his arms away from you for a second, sitting down first before pulling you on top of him. The new position had a heat pooling inside of you as you felt how hard he was, only growing harder as he shifted you so you’d be directly on top of his clothed dick. 

His knuckles were a harsh red color, raw from the strength he placed on your hips once he held you again. This time, instead of simply laying there, he put his hands to use, moving you against him. The friction made both of you release a soft moan, the sounds increasing from you as Jisung grew eager once more, this time leaning into your neck and sucking harshly. 

Out of instinct, your hands moved towards his hair, once again pulling it. Jisung faltered, letting out a sound that vibrated against your neck. His hands stilled for a second before continuing his actions. “Need you so bad, baby. ‘Been looking at you since the show started.” His desperate words clung to your mind, rambling as he grinded you against him, one particular tug against his covered erection causing you to shut your eyes closed in pleasure and anticipation. 

He felt and looked big, the fact that his dick was contained meaning it could only get bigger. Matching his desire, the image of it made you restless, needing to feel it in you. Your whines shifted slightly, sounding more needy, and Jisung took it upon himself to lift you off of him. He held your body with ease before placing you on the couch next to him. 

He was standing in front of your sitting figure now, appearing taller than ever, and the image slightly intimidated you, yet excited you as you saw him take his jacket off, throwing it on the floor. Your green skirt was next, tossed somewhere irrelevant as he kneeled in front of you, each hand on one of your thighs. He looked up at your face, admiring how pretty you looked – lips swollen, your hair a bit messy, and your cheeks flushed red. Returning his attention to your thighs, he looked back down, spreading them and moving closer. 

Jisung’s face matched your red one as he breathed over your clothed core, feeling as though he was in heaven. Feeling restless with desire, he finally moved his mouth over your panties. It was sloppier than the kiss, the arousal that soaked through the fabric meeting his spit, surely leaving a wet spot. Although his actions were eager, they were calculated, soon enough having you whimper as he attached himself to your clothed clit, moving his hands softly up and down your inner thighs – a contrast to his hips that were harshly bucking against the bottom of the couch, desperate for release. You tasted so good, the thought of how you’d taste with no barrier overwhelming Jisung’s mind until he finally pulled your panties down, being met with the view of your pussy. 

Almost in awe, he leaned in until both his nose and mouth were against you. The feeling of his direct touch caused you to move, instinctively shifting away from him, yet you weren’t able to get far before Jisung’s grip on your thighs grew, pulling you even closer back into him than you were originally. 

He was right – you did taste better. Feeling you twitch in his hold encouraged him, and he dove in, finding your clit almost immediately once again. One of his hands let go, yet moved back to hold you as you tried to wriggle away, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

Jisung looked up at you, staring with an anguished expression until you maintained his eye contact. “Please… Don’t move, please.” You honestly weren’t trying to, you just weren’t used to the attention you were receiving; nonetheless, you nodded. Taking that as a signal to continue, he moved his head down, grazing his tongue against your folds as he attempted to move his hand away again, this time met with your compliance. 

The stray hand moved towards your core, using two of his long fingers to spread you open, gaining more access before moving against your hole. The wince that you released didn’t go unheard by Jisung, as he put more pressure on your clit to distract you from the slightly painful stretch of one of his fingers moving inside you, reaching knuckle-deep as he began to thrust in and out.

Blinded by all of the stimulation, you didn’t notice him adding a second finger until he began to stretch you out even further, mirroring a scissoring-motion. Jisung felt like he could cum simply from the feeling of your walls clenching around him. 

The feeling was overwhelming, and you could tell you were close. “W-Wait… Jisung… I’m gonna…” Your words were ragged, slightly panicked as you tried to move away once more. He moved his arm from your thigh to your stomach, pressing you down into the couch as he continued. “Ji… I’m gonna-” “It’s okay, baby. You can give me more than one, right?” His words sparked something in you, and before you knew it, you released. He kept thrusting his fingers inside of you, helping you ride out your high before you finally came down. Your breathing was uneven, and you looked at him through half-lidded eyes, basking in the feeling until he interrupted, standing up and taking his shirt off. His pants were unbuckled, pushed off of his legs with haste as he moved to hold you again.

Apparently self-conscious about the fact that you had come and Jisung hadn’t, you looked at his discarded pants before speaking up. “I can do the same… If you want.” He quickly shook his head, placing you on his lap again. “I just want to feel you, please.” You nodded, moving your hand down towards the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head – the tank top you had worn instead of a bra getting stuck with the mesh fabric and coming off as well. 

A whimper escaped Jisung as you revealed yourself to him, your tits right in front of his face, so full and inviting once you straddled him again. Not even bothering to hesitate, he quickly attached his mouth to your nipple, both hands stroking your lower back in soothing movements. You were growing needier and needier as he continued, desperately needing to feel him. You bucked against him, and his mouth released you to let out a whimper at the sensation. 

One hand let go of your back, pulling off his boxers until he was finally bare against you. You could feel him against your stomach, standing tall. A part of you was too nervous to look down and perceive it, yet the other, stronger part took over. His dick was prettier than any other you had seen, the tip slightly red from the blood rushing. 

The hand that remained on your back squeezed you in place as Jisung leaned over to grab a stray condom, probably one that fell out of the pocket of his pants. He moved the package up to your mouth, eyes intently looking at your lips, and you took the signal to bite the plastic, ripping it open for him. His fingers lingered on your lips for a bit, dazed and turned on by the sight, yet he quickly snapped out of it, moving the condom down and rolling it on himself. 

Once his hand became free of the rubber, Jisung’s arms lifted you up until you were hovering on top of him. Although you were on top, he felt a need to be in control, so he took it upon himself to move you, sinking you onto his dick which pulsed inside of you. The stretch was too much, and your mouth opened as a choked gasp came out, feeling every vein that ran up his shaft. You fell forward onto him, face landing on the crevice of his neck. It was clear you were a bit unprepared, shaking at the feeling of him, and Jisung grew concerned. He didn’t want this to end already, so he racked through his brain for another solution before finding one. “Go ahead, baby. Bite me.” One of his arms moved up to wrap around your neck like he did earlier, pushing you even further into his. 

You were scared you’d hurt him, clearly showing your hesitance, yet he continued to push you into him, so you caved. Your teeth grazed his neck until you were fully biting into him. Expecting Jisung to groan in pain or move away, you were shocked to hear the unholy moan that came from his mouth. He thrusted up into you unconsciously, unable to hold himself back any longer as you clenched around him, biting down on his neck harder every time his dick hit deeper. Reluctantly, you moved your mouth away from his neck, now blinded by the shifting pleasure as your stomach flipped. Both your moans echoed through the room as he bounced you on top of him.

His hand moved down from your neck to your clit, rolling circles to push you further over – succeeding as you came for the second time, collapsing onto him. Your head fell on his chest, and he held you there gently as he continued chasing his high, cumming with one last dragged out whine. 

You’re not sure if it was post-nut clarity, but after a minute of catching both of your breaths while he cradled your body you began to overthink. Jisung was a celebrity – no matter how good the sex might’ve been (and by the looks of him, it was good) he was on tour, leaving your city the day after.

Shaking your head, you ignored all the thoughts running through your head, choosing to enjoy the little time you had left with him instead of worrying. After another minute of weirdly romantic ‘cuddling’, Jisung lifted you up, placing you on the couch. He left for a bit, returning semi-clothed with a shirt of his in his hand. You recognized it as the shirt he was wearing at the encore when they said their goodbyes to the crowd. His other hand held a towel which he used to clean you up, movements exceptionally soft as you winced when he dipped the cloth lower. Once he finished, Jisung put the shirt on you. It was baggy, covering you until mid thigh.

“That was… It was really nice.” His timid voice came back as he stared at you, sitting on the floor next to the couch. You nodded, sitting up on the couch and facing him as well. “I’m sorry I can’t walk you out. The guards said I’m not allowed, but you can borrow my jacket if it’s cold.” 

You fought the disappointment rattling in your head as you nodded again, taking it from him as well as your own bundled up clothes, and thanking him. Your skirt was quickly slipped on, the protective shorts that came attached hopefully being enough to cover you. Jisung led you to the door, walking with you until you reached the exit of the building. He looked sad, and somehow the expression calmed you down – it wasn’t just you who appeared upset with the anti-climatic situation.

He waved goodbye, and you waved back quickly before stepping out. He was right, it was cold so you slipped his jacket on, fitting you big as well. It wasn’t until you walked towards your car in the venue’s parking lot that you realized an article of yours was missing - your panties to be specific. You scoffed, imagining Jisung sneaking them away before giving his clothes to you. 

Once you got home, you warmed up quickly with your AC, deciding to take his jacket off. As you shook the fabric off, a small note fell out of the pocket, and you swore once again that you were in a dream as you read the words written on it.

‘I think I’m going to miss you so here’s my number. Please message me when you see this. - Ji.'

a/n: i'm seeing jisung live again at smtown soon so my brain is running... thinking thoughts... he was so fine irl i can't wait to see my man again i'm going to run on stage and you will NOT be able to drag me off of him. anyway here are some of the thoughts i'm thinking ^_^ i hope you guys like

[enderlovez]

No Germs Found

Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: You and the team are back in Arizona on another case, and when an amazing unfortunate mishap takes place at the front desk, everyone is forced to share rooms with each other.

Content Warning: non-sexual nudity, strong language in reference to the temperature, blushy Spence, mentions of heat stroke, pain from the heat, mentions of murder, slightly NSFW at the end, Spencer likes boobs- I MEAN WHO SAID THAT?

A/N This is kind of a continuation of another one of my works called Germs, but they don't necessarily need to be read side by side. There's only one mention of something that happened in the first part, and it's not really that important to the story, so...

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

None of you really anticipated being on another case so soon, at least not in the same place you'd just gotten home from a few days before, and the place you all seemed to... strongly dislike.

Maybe 'dislike' isn't the right word, but one thing is for sure — the moment you step foot off the jet, you feel like you're covered from head to toe in sweat, and your throat dried up like a fish in a desert.

Not to mention how you' were all stuck in a stuffy room all day, with crappy air conditioning that did absolutely nothing for anyone. So far you had practically nothing on the unsub, they were slippery as soap, and that stress — the stress of not knowing who they are, who they are going to kill next — has you in a very grumpy mood.

And despite the inconveniences, the day still somehow finds a way to get worse.

That much is clear as Hotch strolls up to our group of people with an annoyed look on his face — granted he almost always looks like that when we're having a hard time finding anything on the unsub.

"There was a malfunction in their system, and they overbooked their rooms," he says simply, only earning a choir of groans from us, "so we're going to have to double up tonight."

You throw your head back, a heavy sigh escaping your mouth. It's been a long day, and all you want is to lay around without your clothes on and go to sleep — but you can't exactly do that with someone else in there with you.

"You're free to pick your roommate yourself, but please, for the love of God, keep it professional," he finishes as he drops a small pile of numbered keys onto the little table in the reception.

Everyone immediately splits off into pairs, while you make no move to do anything, laying back on the armchair with your neck bent over the top, eyes closed against the white fluorescent lights.

"You know, frequent hyperextension of the neck can have negative effects on its structure and function," a familiar voice says from above you. "Around fifteen to twenty-five percent of North Americans experience lasting effects, such as chronic pain and nerve issues."

You peel your eyes open to find none other than the brilliant Spencer Reid standing over your head, dangling a key over your face, and just like that, all your apprehension melts away.

"Stop flirting with me, Spencer, it's incredibly unprofessional," you joke lightheartedly, a vibrant smile overtaking your face as you pluck the key from his fingers.

He doesn't seem to realize you're joking, though, because he immediately goes to defend himself, stuttering adorably and blushing firetruck red. "No, um, I wasn't — I would never flirt with you!" he tries to defend himself, only realizing a second later how it might've come off. "I-I mean I would, but that's not what I was trying to do."

You shake your head and laugh, standing from the armchair and threading your arm through his so you can lead him down the hallway towards the room you both would be staying in.

The room that was, technically, booked for only one person.

The room that only has one bed.

It's not like you don't want to share a bed with him, you're more worried that he might not want it, with his whole 'germ' thing. Not that he really seemed to care about that the other day, when he drank straight from your water bottle without a care in the world, then proceeded to ask you out on a date.

"I can sleep on the floor, if you'd like," he offers quietly as he shuts the door behind him.

You immediately dismiss that idea, shaking your head before the words are even fully out of his mouth. "You're not sleeping on the floor, Spencer, that's not fair," you say quickly, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "That is, as long as you're alright with me sleeping in my underwear, because I will be doing that."

Of course you're half-joking — if there's any indication that he's uncomfortable with that idea you'll just sleep in a t-shirt and shorts, it's just that you'd much rather not in this heat.

"N-no, no," he says, his voice pitched just a little too high. He's blushing from head to toe, you know that without even looking at him. "You can s-sleep in whatever you want to, I don't mind."

It's entirely unprofessional, you know that, but you really can't help it as you instantly begin tearing your sweat-drenched clothes from your body, tossing them around haphazardly until you're left in only your bra and underwear. You don't waste another second, flopping onto the bed, briefly stretching your limbs out, then rolling to one side.

It's a relief to be out of those clothes...

Only now do you realize that Spencer has not moved an inch from were he was standing when you initially asked the question, face bright red, breathing uneven as he tries desperately to keep his eyes from dipping from your face.

"Come on, I don't bite," you say quietly, patting the empty space on the other side of the bed, meanly deciding it would be funny to tease him, "not unless you ask very nicely."

Nervously, he drops his stuff beside the door and makes his way towards the bed, siting on the edge of his side. You're sure you can see him sneaking glances down at your chest every now and then, when he thinks you're not paying attention.

Who is he kidding? You're always paying attention to him, clinging onto every word he says like you'll die if you forget a single one.

"Come on, Spencer," you urge, "you've literally shared spit with me, don't get all shy now."

You're phrasing it that way as a joke, and you're sure he knows that.

But the next words that come out of his mouth leave you stunned, mouth dropped open and butterflies stampeding through your stomach, heart beating a million miles an hour.

You're not expecting something like this to come out of his mouth, really, but after his strange confidence the other day in drinking all your water and asking you out, you're not sure what to expect now.

"Can you please bite me, then?"

[beloveds-embrace]

dukedom!AU but they realize she’s quickly become a type of ‘peoples princess’ outside the duchy

The timeline for this one is before reader tells john her request! I got this ask before part two dropped and already had some of it written. Hope you enjoy, anon! <3

Dukedome au masterlist

I can imagine them realizing it not from seeing it, but from hearing it, maybe during a gala hosted by John and uou. The evening is alive with music and laughter, the grand ballroom brimming with nobles and dignitaries. Yet the chatter revolve around one figure: you.

“She’s truly remarkable, isn’t she?” one elderly countess says, her voice carrying across the marble floors and gleaming ceilings. “Always so graceful, so kind. I am quite glad she is Duchess Price, now.”

John stands near the refreshments table with Simon, and overhears the conversation. His hand tightens slightly around his glass, though his face betrays nothing. Nothing new to be talked about, it was natural. And yet-

“Graceful?” a younger lady chimes in, voice calm and polite. “She’s more than that. Did you hear she personally visited the orphanage last week? Brought food and clothing, spoke to every child. And not for show- she refused to let any journalists near. That’s a true duchess.”

Simon’s brows furrows slightly, his jaw tightening. He exchanges a glance with John, the unspoken thought between them clear: she hadn’t told either of them about that visit. It wasn’t because John didn’t trust you, or that you need his permission; he just wanted to be aware of where you go and which guards you’ll take. For your own safety.

“She’s so approachable too,” a lord adds, gesturing with his wine glass. John knows this lord, he always ends up drinking too much and being too handsy. Why would you need to speak to him? “I spoke to her briefly earlier- she didn’t just listen, she cared. You can see it in her eyes. It’s no wonder the people adore her.”

Adore is putting it way too lightly.

From the other side of the room, Kyle watches as a small group of maids gossip near the staircase. He wasn’t one for eavesdropping, but their excitement is hard to ignore.

“I heard she gave her own jewelry to the head maid’s daughter to help her pay for her dowry.” One of them whispers, clutching her tray.

“That’s not all,” another group are speaking, talking about her as well. “The market vendors say she always pays more than is needed, even when they insist she doesn’t do. Such a lovely woman.”

“Wish the other nobles were like her,” the first maid says with a wistful sigh. “She’s the only one who treats us like people.”

Kyle’s lips press into a thin line as he adjusts his gloves. He prides himself on protecting you, but hearing how far your kindness extends fills him with a quiet sense of urgency. What if someone takes advantage of you and your tender heart?

It’s not just in the main hall that these words are said; down in the kitchens, Johnny is busy ensuring there’s enough food with the rest of the chefs. But still, he can hear two others talking while they work, trying not to sound too snappy or angry while he listens in on them.

As the night continues, the men find themselves more and more aware of how often your name arises in conversation. They hear nobles discussing your fashion choices (Simon secretly preens), others whispering about your visits to the poorer parts of town and the funds that have been allocated into revitalizing the areas, and even rival duchesses grudgingly admitting that you’ve set quite the high standard.

“I heard she stopped Lord Clinton from evicting his tenants,” one man says near the dance floor, though not quite close enough to be drawn into the dancing bodies. He is within John and Simon’s earshots.

“Not only that,” someone else “whispers”. “She made sure they had food and shelter through the winter. commoners love her, and she truly embodies what it means to be a noble. A true people’s princess, I say.”

John’s gaze flickers toward you, standing across the room and laughing softly with a group of nobles. You’re glowing tonight, the light catching in your hair and your smile as warm as ever, adorned in a beautiful dress.

“They don’t deserve her,” Kyle mutters, sidling up to him while holding a plate of finger foods.

John doesn’t respond, but his grip on his glass tightens again. It’s a wonder the glass hasn’t broken et.

Simon’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “The people see her as theirs.” He pauses, his gaze hardening. “But she’s ours first.”

“I cannot blame them.” John sighs. “She is the perfect duchess. But she is also my duchess, and they seem to have forgotten that.”

John means his words, and he knows his men agree with him. The world may love you, but they know the truth: no one else can have you- not the people, not the nobles, no one but them.

The ballroom continues to buzz with conversation, and John focuses back on the two men near the edge of the dance floor.

“She’s wasted on a duchy,” one of them says, swirling his wine with a smirk, more than just a little drunk. “With her charm, she could outshine the Queen herself.”

“Not just charm,” the other adds in, just as drunk. “But Influence.”

Simon stiffens, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Influence” isn’t something he takes lightly when it comes to you. It’s a dangerous thing in the wrong hands- or with the wrong admirers.

“Careful,” John mutters to him. “They’re complimenting her, not threatening her.”

Simon’s glare softens ever so slightly. “Yet.”

Johnny slowly makes his way towards a hidden corner of the ballroom, gnawing on his lips as he listens to the whispers of you.

Did you see the way she stopped to speak with the gardeners?” one of them asks. “She even complimented the hedges I trimmed last week!”

Johnny’s grin fades, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He enjoys seeing people appreciate you, but this feels different. They speak of you with reverence, as if you’re some untouchable figure. But Johnny knows better. You’re no untouchable goddess- you’re his. Theirs. That’s what matters most.

It’s when you step onto the dance floor that the tension truly rises. A duke- one who’s been eyeing you all evening- approaches you with a bow, extending his hand for a dance. You hesitate, glancing toward John out of instinct. He doesn’t move, but his eyes darken, his jaw clenched as he watches you take the duke’s hand.

The music swells and you move across the floor, laughter bubbles from your lips at something your dance partner says. The men see it for what it is: polite, nothing more. But it doesn’t stop the knot of irritation tightening even further.

“She’s a vision,” someone murmurs nearby, unaware they’re being overheard.

“Who wouldn’t fall for her?” another replies.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Kyle’s gaze sharpens. Johnny’s grin vanishes completely. Simon’s fists clench at his sides. And John, ever composed, finishes his wine in one long swallow, his eyes never leaving you.

He can’t allow this to go on for any longer.

The dance ends, and as you return to the edge of the ballroom, you’re immediately surrounded by more admirers- ladies complimenting your gown, lords vying for your attention. Or would have been, if John hadn’t started making his way towards you, presence larger than life.

“Your Grace,” he says smoothly, and extends his hand to you, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me.”

The request- or rather, the command- is met with stunned silence. The nobles exchange glances, but a single glance from John keeps them all silent.

You blink up at him, momentarily caught off guard, before placing your hand in his. “Of course.” you murmur softly.

John’s grip is firm but gentle as he leads you to the dance floor, his other hand resting lightly at your waist. The orchestra begins a soft waltz, and he pulls you into the first step, his movements confident and assured.

Around you, the crowd watches, whispers starting anew, though you barely notice. All you can focus on is the intensity in John’s eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’ve been busy tonight.” he says after a moment, his voice low enough that only you can hear. It sends a shiver up your spine- his voice always so nice to hear.

“It’s my role,” you reply, offering him a small smile. “Everyone has been so kind.”

He hums, his eyes flicking briefly to the onlookers before returning to you. “Too kind, perhaps.”

You raise an eyebrow at his tone but say nothing, letting him guide you across the floor. His hand tightens slightly at your waist, and he pulls you even more closer.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now. “Better than I expected, if I’m honest. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. You always seem to surprise me, my dear.”

Your cheeks warm at the unexpected praise, and you smile up at him. “Thank you, John. That means a great deal.”

He leans in just slightly, his breath ghosting over your ear. “The way they look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower. “They can’t take their eyes off you. And I don’t blame them.”

You glance up at him, startled, but his expression is unreadable once again. He continues to lead you effortlessly through the dance, his movements precise.

“But,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours, “they’ll have to remember who you belong to.”

Your heart skips at his words, and for a moment, you forget where you are, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His eyes soften, his grip steady as he twirls you into the final steps of the dance.

As the music fades, he leans in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re exquisite tonight, wife. Don’t let them forget it.”

With that, he leads you off the dance floor, his hand never leaving yours. The crowd parts for the both of you, their gazes following you both as John guides you back to the edge of the room, where the others wait.

You’re still breathless, his words replaying in your mind as he steps aside, positioning himself at your shoulder. Whatever protests the nobles might’ve had about your absence dissolve under his watchful glare.

And though John doesn’t say another word for the rest of the evening, his presence alone is enough to ensure no one dares to crowd you again, and no one comes between you and them. Simon and Kyle keep you busy, chatting happily with them, and Johnny joins later when the guests begin to trickle out and no one would question why a chef is there.

People’s princess you maybe, you are still theirs. John simply had to show and remind everyone of that fact.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my–oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent.  The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over. 

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you. 

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering. 

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes. 

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish. 

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you. 

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met. 

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it. 

[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 • next part

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 his 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, 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 us 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!

[frost-queen]

🅾🅽🅴 🅼🅾🆁🅴 🅶🅰🅼🅴 // part 1 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis

Summary: The games are not what you thought they would be. Forced to stay after the first game due to the votes. While groups are being formed, you find yourself welcomed by an interesting player that took your side. [series]

If you closed your eyes, you could still hear the bangs.

Never you thought you’d hear a gunshot so clear in your ears, certainly not so repeatedly. It was a wake-up call that you had made the wrong choice about joining. If you knew what you knew now, you would’ve told yourself to turn back. To burn the card and never call that number. If you could, you would’ve taken the high road.

If only your decision didn’t depend on so many others. The x marked clear on your chest patch. You wanted to leave, but because you were outnumbered you were forced to stay. Sitting silently on one of the beds. Sitting all alone. Most people started to form groups. The O’s gathering around as some X’s strayed around like helpless dogs.

Your mind was silent. Trying hard to not freak out and keep your cool under these circumstances. Most of the blood you had wiped away in the bathroom after Red light, Green light. Some unfortunate people getting shot around you. If it wasn’t for that player 456, you wouldn’t know if you’d still be here.

Hands trembling as you could barely hold the sandwich still. Package open on the top with just a bit popping out. The smallest of bite’s taken from it. You kept staring in front of you. Looking over at the other side where the O’s were forming groups and greeting each other. Celebrating their victory of getting to play one more game.

You thought it was ridiculous, for who even knew if they would survive the next game.  Your gaze went to the higher beds, all empty. Till you noticed a small detail. Something black on the wall where on other tiles it wasn’t. Curious about it. Your eyes looking around for more of those.

Even turning your head to look at your side. Seeing the black markings as well. Getting the sudden idea, you got up. Rushed down the platform to reach the ground. Walking backwards to see how you’d get a better look at them.

Tilting your head a bit in the process with a thoughtful expression. Seemingly finding something, you crawled underneath the bed constructions. Crawling closer to the edge. Coming to lay under a row of beds by the wall. Trying to see what was on the walls by looking up.

Squinting one eye shut, you could faintly see something, but not enough to make out what it was. Humming with curiosity. Crawling back underneath from it, you re-appeared in the front once more. Moving more to the centre, turning around to where you’d get a better view.

Your gaze falling on a small group where you recognized player 456 between. Letting your gaze go more up, they seemed to have a better view of getting to see what was on the walls if you could lay down. Lay down and look up to the wall paintings. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Yet it meant walking over to them. Disturbing them and going through their little gathering to crawl to the lowest parts of the bed constructions. Turning once more around, you wanted to make sure there wasn’t a better way. It was then that you heard the short whistle. Making you turn your head to the side.

Seeing player 230 break free from a group and approach you. He walked casually, trying not to attract attention to him yet it did. – “Seniorita, s’cuse me. – he said, one hand in his pocket. His gaze falling on your number. Then on the X sticking to your chest. – “You want to leave seniorita?” – he said sounding so smooth, he thought for sure he could charm you. You simply looked him up and down, puffing once with a roll of your eyes.

He started moving his hands in front of him, rapping some rubbish in front of you. – “I can protect you seniorita.” – he finished with a rapper pose. He came sliding an arm over your shoulder, leaning in. You wanted him off, shrugging your shoulder so he understood the hint.

Player 230 moved his hands up with bouncing shoulders. Almost dancing as if he was having the time of his life. He then pointed at you. – “I like…” – he started finishing with forming a heart with his fingers. – “you.” – adding a wink to it to complete his charm. Another player came joining his side. Player 124 with a clear smile on his lips.

Thanos slapped his hand against his chest, turning his head to him. – “This one’s mine.” – he told Nam-Gyu. Nam-Gyu smiled sheepishly looking back at you. – “Seniorita.” – Thanos said coming to circle around you. – “If you like you can fit right here.” – he stopped opening his arm, pointing at it that you could perfectly fit in his arms.

You felt uneasy, unable to escape them. Like vultures they kept you around. Circling you and not letting you leave. Thanos blew you an air kiss. Pointing at the X on your chest. – “We’ll need to change that.” – he said touching your chest shamelessly.

You hoped someone would step in, but clearly everyone here was selfish enough to not. Till you heard a loud voice come through. – “Ya!” – it made you turn your head with a gasp. Seeing player 390 and 388 step aside. Player 001 making his way through. His expression stern and unreadable. Making you swallow nervously as he was approaching. Silencing the room with just his presence.

It even made some people move back to be sure to be out of his way. Thanos clicked his tongue unamused that he would come and interfere with his flirting. Thanos walked closer to him, coming to stand before you. Arms folded. With one hand he waved player 001 away. Player 001 leaned sideways to look past Thanos to you.

“Are you alright?” – he asked you. Thanos moved his head to block out his vision to you. – “What you think your doing?” – Thanos called out unbothered. Player 001 turned his gaze to Thanos with disgust. Thanos wanted to push him back. Before his hand even touched player 001, it got grabbed. Calling it out in pain as his palm got twisted.

Nam Gyu came joining to back his mate up. – “Ya! You jerk!” – he called out shoving you out the way by your shoulder. Player 001 kicked with his foot at the top of his foot. Just where his foot ended and his leg began. A soft spot. Nam Gyu shouted loud in pain, hopping on one foot. Thanos tried to fight back but player 001 already had him. Twisting his arm more that his whole body squirmed in pain.

Player 001 using little effort to subdue them to pain. Nam Gyu came at him again with more anger. Player 001 simply kicking him back so that he fell to the ground. He then grabbed Thanos by his shoulder, having enough of his foolishness. Giving him a kick in the stomach that he doubled over. Thanos needed but a little push to fall over. Groaning in pain on the floor. Player 001’s stern gaze went up to you, making you gasp slightly frightened.

He held his hand out to you. Your eyes lingering on the O on his chest. He had also chosen to stay in the game. Because of him you weren’t able to leave. He kept holding his hand out, waiting for you to take it. Looking down at Thanos and Nam Gyu squirming in pain, you decided to subdue to your protector.

Letting your hand slide in his. Player 001 closed his hand over yours. Gently tugging at you to follow him. Getting in motion, you stepped over Nam Gyu to let him guide you. He turned around, leading you back to the back of the bed constructions. – “Are you alright?” – player 388 asked with concern. You nodded with a soft hum.

“Wha! Those punks have some nerve.” – player 390 added. You came sitting down beside player 222. She smiled shyly back at you, keeping a protective hand over her stomach. Player 001 walking a platform higher to go sit down there. – “Tha… thank you.” – you said not wanting him to think you were ungrateful.

Feeling his tense gaze stare so firmly through you. It made you feel insecure. Unsure what his intensions would be. Shifting your gaze away from him till your gaze fell on the walls. Almost haven forgotten what you were doing. Player 001 narrowed his eyes on you. Wondering what fascinated you this much behind him.

Your attention got pulled away by player 388 shouting loud that you also had an X on your chest. – “She’s an X’er. She’s one of us!” – he called out cheerfully. Player 456 pulled at your tracksuit to see the X for himself. His eyes then fell on your number 400.

You pulled his hand off you, straightening your tracksuit. You looked around seeing both X’s and O’s sticking to their tracksuits. Exhaling loud, you let your face fall into your palms. – “Player 400.” – a deep voice said, making you look from where the voice was coming from. Your gaze meeting with his.

He moved his hand, letting it draw down his jawline to his neck. Widening your eyes, you understood the hint. Taking your sleeve to rub it against your neck. Looking down at it, you saw the stain of blood on it. It made you immediately roll it up so you didn’t have to look at it.

“Lights out in 30 minutes.” – the emotionless woman’s voice spoke over the intercom. It made you swallow nervously that you had to spend another night here. Your eyes meeting with player 222, seeing the same fear in her eyes. Player 456 took the lead to speak. – “Just one more game and we can vote again for our leave.” – he addressed. – “Gi Hun, I’ll sure vote X now.” – player 390 replied with some shame.

“Me too.” – player 001 answered looking over at Gi Hun. His gaze then lowering on you. Remaining there with such comfort. – “You won’t know that for sure.” – you responded keeping your gaze at player 001. You then hinted at the other O’s across. – “They won’t stop at one more game.” – you knew it was a lying hope to think tomorrow would be the last game.

You knew the O’s would never stop. Too blinded by the money and adrenaline of surviving. You got up with a deep exhale. All was hopeless. – “Player 400.” – player 456 called out, making you stop midtrack. You turned round to him. – “I promise you we can turn the tide.” – he said. How cute it was that he still had hope in this deathtrap. – “I’d like that.”- you responded with a faint smile. You were about to head the last few steps down, till you stopped once more.

Wanting them to know your name. Numbers were so unpersonal and you hated being a number. – “Y/n.” – you told them. Looking over your shoulder you saw Thanos throw you a kiss from afar. Player 001 got up. – “Stay.” – he said luring you in with his eyes. Eyes locking with yours, you couldn’t look away.

Debating for a moment if you should find a bed here with this group from a dead player or return to your own. You felt like being torn between two battles. Stay here or venture out there with Thanos and Nam Gyu to find you more easily. Knowing they wouldn’t stop till they had their clutches on you. 

Seemingly finding you an easy prey to manipulate into joining their side. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your beating heart. Ready to fall out of your chest that you would endure another night here. Player 222 took your hand, tugging on it. Hurling you back to reality. – “If you have room for me.” – you answered taking your decision. Player 222 gestured at a bed beside hers.

You lowered yourself to crawl to the next bed. Player 001 still watching you till everyone left for their beds. Waiting there. Lying there, staring at the bed above. You rolled over to your side, curling up. Shuddering out a breath. Hoping your dreams wouldn’t be haunted by the deaths. Then. Lights out.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | friendly interactions... or not

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : meeting your friends who they seemingly get along with...kinda...not...really?

୨ৎ : genre : comedy (angst if u squint) / slight beef ୨ৎ : word count : 3008

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun and unhinged i loved being able to create different personalities for the friends and everything LMFAO // oscar's was my favorite one to write i love it...

ʚ・max verstappen

you’d warned them ahead of time.

“he’s not rude, he’s just… quiet. and blunt. but like, in a sweet way. sometimes.”

that did not stop your friends from collectively side-eyeing you like you’d announced your boyfriend was a literal dragon.

“max verstappen? that max?”

“i just feel like he’d roast me for my driving.”

“do you think he even knows how to have small talk?”

you rolled your eyes. “he’s literally so normal. you’ll see.”

they didn’t believe you until thirty minutes into girls’ night, when max wandered in after his workout, sweat-tousled and comfy in joggers, and waved like he didn’t just walk into a room full of skeptical women.

“hi.” he looked between all of them. “you’re the ones who always send her those weird memes, right?”

cami gasped. “wait… you read our group chat?!”

you groaned. “max!”

“i didn’t scroll,” he said, completely unbothered. “i just saw the one where someone said ‘he probably dreams in dutch and drs.’ that was funny.”

syd choked on her drink. “…that was me.”

max turned to her, expression dead serious. “you’re not wrong.”

you covered your face. “this is going horribly.”

“no it’s not,” he said, crossing the room to kiss your forehead like it was nothing. “your friends are funny. i like them.”

that was the turning point.

thirty minutes later, max was sat between cami and val on the couch, holding one of their iced coffees like it was a fine wine, eyebrows furrowed.

“so you’re telling me,” he said, gesturing at syd’s phone, “this guy left you on read for four days, but still viewed your story?”

syd nodded. “yup.”

max shook his head. “he’s done. block him.”

“oh my god, you do get it!” she laughed.

“i’m not heartless,” he mumbled, cheeks slightly pink. “people just need to stop wasting her time.”

you leaned in from the kitchen. “should i be worried you’re starting a girl gang without me?”

he grinned. “we’re gonna get jackets made.”

later, as you walked him out so he could head back to the hotel, max laced his fingers through yours and said, “your friends are cool. i thought they’d hate me.”

you smiled up at him. “they thought you’d hate them.”

“that’s stupid.”

“they also thought you’d be scary.”

he stopped, leaned in close. “do i scare you?”

you laughed. “only when you’re behind me on track in karting.”

he smirked, kissed the tip of your nose, and said, “tell them i’m free next friday. i’ll bring snacks.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“i’m warning you now,” you said as you opened the front door. “don’t act weird.”

“you’re dating lewis hamilton,” mariah whispered like you’d just casually admitted to dating royalty.

jess widened her eyes. “do we call him sir lewis? like—is that a thing?”

you didn’t have time to respond, because lewis walked in holding a box of vegan pastries and a bottle of wine, dressed in cozy neutrals and smelling expensive.

“hi, beautiful,” he said, kissing your cheek like nothing else in the room mattered. then he turned to your friends with a megawatt smile. “you must be the infamous trio. i’ve heard so many stories.”

nina blinked. “from her?”

he nodded, handing her the wine. “and i remembered all your names. don’t quiz me though. it’s been a long day.”

mariah snorted. “okay, i like him already.”

fifteen minutes in and they were obsessed. not just because he was lewis hamilton, but because he was soft-spoken, asked thoughtful questions, and had the kind of eye contact that made people feel seen.

jess: “so… do you ever get nervous before a race?”

lewis: “not as much now. i get more nervous when she’s watching.”

mariah: “why?”

lewis: smiles “because i care what she thinks.”

meanwhile, his hand never left yours. fingers brushing yours under the table. knuckles against your thigh. every now and then he’d look over at you with this quiet little smile, like you were some kind of calming center.

when you got up to grab more ice, you heard nina whisper:

“dude. he hasn’t stopped looking at her all night.”

jess added, “he gave her the softest little smile when she laughed at that dumb joke. i almost cried.”

mariah leaned in. “okay, no, but that man is in love. like, core memory level in love.”

you froze in the kitchen doorway. “he’s right there.”

“we know.” jess whisper-yelled. “and he doesn’t care. he’s a certified loverboy.”

when he finally left, he gave them all warm hugs and said, “thank you for loving her. it means the world.”

and before heading out, he turned to you, cupped your face gently, and murmured, “text me when you’re home, okay? sleep’s always better when i hear from you.”

when the door clicked shut, mariah flopped on the couch like she’d run a marathon. “girl. i can’t even be fake salty. he’s so in love with you it’s romantic comedy level ridiculous.”

ʚ・george russell

you knew george was a bit territorial.

not in a scary way — more like the gentleman version of a cat that rubs his head on you to claim ownership. he’d do things like put his hand on your back when someone complimented you. or slide closer when you talked to strangers in the paddock. but this? this was new.

“wait… who’s micah?” george asked as you grabbed your bag.

you blinked. “micah? my best friend?”

his brow furrowed. “you said you were going out with friends tonight, not… guys.”

you laughed. “babe, literally every friend i’m seeing tonight is a guy.”

his jaw did a subtle tighten. “right.”

when you got to the rooftop bar, george was civil. polite. british, even.

but the grip on your waist tightened just a bit when luca hugged you. and he didn’t laugh when micah said, “god, you’re so hot when you parallel park.”

george just said, “she’s hot doing anything,” with the fakest smile you’d ever seen.

you tried not to laugh.

halfway through the night, you leaned over and whispered, “you good?”

he smiled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?”

you gave him a look.

he exhaled. “you didn’t tell me all your friends were dudes. i’m just trying to… assess.”

“assess what?”

“if i need to fight anyone.”

you snorted into your drink.

the turning point came when micah and luca started arguing over whether george clooney or paul mescal was the superior white boy crush.

micah went, “listen, i’d let paul ruin my life but george is my tax bracket soulmate.”

and luca added, “you’re forgetting dev patel exists, which is crazy because i would risk it all.”

george blinked.

then turned to you, slowly. “i’m sorry. are they all—”

“gay?” you said, trying not to wheeze. “yes. every single one of them.”

“oh.” he sat back in his chair. “oh.”

you leaned in, grinning. “were you feeling threatened?”

he cleared his throat. “i was… aware.”

“they all follow you on instagram, george. they send your shirtless pics in the group chat with heart emojis.”

micah shouted across the table, “he’s on my lockscreen!”

george turned red. “i—really?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” luca deadpanned. “it was a joke. you were standing next to lewis.”

later, on the uber ride home, george had his arm slung around you, looking appropriately sheepish.

“i really thought luca was into you.”

you laughed. “he literally helped me pick your birthday gift and called you ‘delicious.’”

“i wasn’t listening. i was too busy panicking.”

you kissed his cheek. “you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “i’m also lucky your friends are hot and unavailable.”

“micah’s still flirting with you.”

george shrugged, smug now. “he has taste.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

when you told your friends you were bringing carlos to the group dinner, the reaction was immediate.

“wait—like carlos sainz?”

“the spanish one?”

“the one with the hair?”

“bro. he’s hot but does he talk?”

you laughed. “he’s so normal, guys. you’ll see.”

carlos showed up exactly two minutes early with a bottle of wine and a handmade bouquet he’d “accidentally” picked up on the way because he “thought it looked like something you'd like.”

immediate chaos.

“oh, he’s dangerous,” said tiff, already hiding behind her wine glass.

your bestie eli raised an eyebrow. “he’s not allowed to make eye contact with me. i’m weak.”

but then he spoke.

“so,” carlos started, standing there with his hands awkwardly folded in front of him, “who is in charge of… uh… the vibes?”

there was a beat of silence. then eruptive laughter.

“you mean like the playlist?”

“no, i think he meant the vibes.”

“oh my god he’s an actual golden retriever.”

“no, he’s like a very polite tourist.”

you couldn’t stop laughing. “carlos, baby, just sit down.”

to be fair, he tried.

he listened to the conversations, nodded thoughtfully, smiled politely.

but then he pointed to amara’s glass and said, “you drink that very fast. is that normal?”

she blinked. “…it’s a margarita, carlos.”

“oh. i like tequila. but not margaritas. they’re… too horizontal.”

everyone paused.

“too… horizontal?” eli echoed.

carlos nodded. “too flat. i like drinks that have… structure.”

you whispered, “i have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“he’s handsome. let him be strange,” tiff murmured.

but then he helped clean up the dishes without being asked. offered his jacket to eli when they stepped outside. complimented. tiff’s nail color in a way that wasn’t creepy, just genuinely curious. when amara made a joke, he laughed even though he clearly didn’t get it — just because everyone else was laughing.

by the end of the night, your friends were perched on the couch, dissecting him like an art exhibit.

“he’s awkward. but like… warm awkward.”

“like golden retriever professor awkward.”

“like if a sexy man had the brain of someone who collects model trains.”

you threw a pillow at them. “he’s just spanish!”

carlos poked his head in from the kitchen. “who is spanish?”

eli grinned. “you are.”

carlos blinked. “…yes. i know this.”

in the car on the way home, he leaned into you, a little sheepish.

“they laughed a lot.”

“with you,” you said quickly. “not at you.”

“…i was strange, wasn’t i?”

you kissed his cheek. “you were perfect.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

“okay. i need you all to be normal.”

you stood at the kitchen island while your three closest friends — maya, bri, and jade — collectively ignored you in favor of speculating about your boyfriend.

“i just feel like he’s intense,” bri said, sipping her wine.

“he’s monegasque,” jade replied like it explained everything.

maya added, “i bet he’s one of those guys who listens too closely and then says something super personal and makes you cry. in a good way.”

you groaned. “you guys are insane. he’s literally just charles.”

and then he walked in, hair a little windswept, cheeks pink from the cold, carrying pastries and wine with the proudest smile.

“hello,” he said. “i brought snacks. and the red wine that she said tastes like… uh… the floor?”

you winced. “i said it tasted earthy.”

he kissed your cheek. “same thing.”

to your surprise — and theirs — he fit in immediately.

and not just like, polite boyfriend sitting quietly kind of fit in.

like, full-on engaging, bantering, storytelling with hand gestures and wild facial expressions kind of fit in.

“and then,” charles said, wide-eyed, “i realized the bike i had taken was not my bike. it was—how do you say—locked to someone else's bike. so i am dragging two bikes across monaco like a thief.”

jade was crying. “did no one stop you?!”

“they stared! i waved and said, ‘it’s okay, i am very sorry!’ which is not helpful if you look like a criminal.”

bri gasped between laughs. “you’re unhinged.”

charles shrugged. “it is not my fault all bikes look the same.”

but what really got them wasn’t just the stories — it was how he looked at you.

when you got up to get more drinks, his eyes followed you automatically. when you sat back down, he rested a hand on your knee like it grounded him. when you laughed, he smiled like it was the only sound that mattered.

at one point, when you reached for the wine, he gently pulled it back. “drink water first,” he said softly, like it was second nature. “you get headaches.”

later that night, when he went to take a call from his brother, your friends immediately rounded on you.

“okay. i get it now,” maya whispered.

“he’s funny,” jade added, stunned. “like. actually funny. and kind of chaotic?”

“and so in love with you,” bri finished. “like, if you asked him to move to the moon with you tonight, he’d be like, ‘yes, let me pack my helmet.’”

you tried not to blush. “he is a little awkward sometimes.”

“he is, but in a hot way,” maya said. “like… emotionally available french cartoon character energy.”

you nearly choked.

ʚ・lando norris

“are you sure he’s ready for this?” you asked as you poured drinks.

your best friend zara smirked. “is he ready, or are you scared we’ll like him more than you?”

“both,” added amina, already plotting.

and then, of course, lando showed up five minutes early with takeout, a mischievous smile, and a hat too big for his own head.

he looked around the room. “so. you’re the ones she keeps texting during our dates.”

“depends,” zara said. “are you gonna give us something to talk about?”

lando blinked. “that sounds threatening.”

“good. you’re learning.”

they clicked immediately.

amina asked about his sim setup. zara grilled him about his spotify playlists. jules challenged him to mario kart and then screamed when he barely won.

and the whole time, lando kept up effortlessly — tossing jokes, throwing fake shade, and flashing you the smuggest grin every time he got a laugh.

“oh, so you think you’re funny now?” you teased.

“i know i’m funny. ask your friends,” he said, sliding closer.

zara leaned in. “he is. unfortunately.”

at one point, the conversation somehow devolved into an argument about cereal rankings.

“frosted flakes are top tier,” jules said.

lando gasped. “that’s so vanilla of you.”

“sorry, mr. i-buy-fancy-cereal-in-monaco,” jules shot back.

amina whispered to you, “i get it now. he’s just one of us in a more expensive hoodie.”

you smiled. “i told you.”

but it wasn’t just jokes.

it was the way lando would pause mid-story to rub your back. or how he leaned over to top off your drink without asking. or the moment you yawned and he whispered, “want me to wrap it up?” against your shoulder.

zara caught it and mouthed he’s obsessed with you across the room.

when he left that night, jules dabbed him up like they’d been boys for years.

“you’re alright, norris. for a mclaren driver.”

“i’ll pretend that didn’t hurt,” lando said dramatically.

zara hugged you and whispered, “he can stay.”

amina added, “but only because he beat me at uno.”

later that night, you were scrolling through your phone when lando texted: your friends are chaos and i love them. also, zara’s playing it cool but she’s totally a fan. i saw the twinkle. also also. you looked stupid pretty tonight. thanks for sharing your people with me <3

ʚ・oscar piastri

you’d prepped him on the way there.

“they’re loud. you’re not. please don’t shut down.”

oscar glanced at you from the driver’s seat. “i don’t shut down. i just… conserve energy.”

you laughed. “whatever you call it, try not to look like you want to leave the whole time.”

he rolled his eyes, but you caught the faint smile.

the moment you walked in, your best friend dani narrowed her eyes.

“that’s him?” she mouthed.

you nodded, and she replied with a very slow, hmm.

you sighed.

oscar stood next to you like a polite guest at a wedding, smiling faintly, hands in his pockets.

“you alright?” you asked, low.

he nodded once. “i just feel like i’m being judged.”

you smiled. “because you are.”

to his credit, he tried.

made small talk. laughed (softly) at jokes. asked how everyone knew you. but dani wasn’t biting. she stayed suspicious, arms crossed, watching him like she was waiting for a slip-up.

meanwhile, your friend luke — loud, dramatic, and a certified flirt — came up behind you and slung an arm over your shoulder.

“hey, sunshine. you look hot.”

oscar’s eyes did a slow blink.

you didn’t catch it — but dani did.

later, while you were grabbing drinks, dani cornered oscar in the hallway.

“so. what’s your deal?”

he blinked. “my… deal?”

“you like her?”

oscar’s brows lifted slightly. “very much.”

“then why do you keep glaring at luke like you want to run him over with a scooter?”

oscar blinked again. “because i do.”

dani paused.

“…okay,” she muttered, then turned and walked off — almost smiling.

back in the kitchen, luke was showing you something on his phone when oscar came up behind you and casually slid his hand around your waist.

you leaned into him instinctively.

“having fun?” you asked.

he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “loads.”

luke looked between you two. “oh. so you do like her.”

oscar blinked. “why does everyone keep asking me that?”

later that night, when you were saying your goodbyes, dani pulled you aside.

“i still think he’s too quiet,” she said, eyes narrowed. “but. he passed.”

you grinned. “he grew on you?”

she shrugged. “he has some personality. i just think he’s got trust issues.”

you blinked. “based on what?”

she looked over at oscar — who was very subtly glaring at luke again. “…girl. he’s five seconds from growling.”

in the car, you nudged him.

“hey. be honest. you hate luke, don’t you?”

oscar didn’t look away from the road. “he’s too friendly.”

you tried not to smile. “you mean he called me hot.”

“he also winked.”

“he’s gay, oscar.”

oscar blinked. “…is he?”

you burst out laughing. “you are so bad at this.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[gatorbites-imagines]

I can vividly imagine sinister mark on his knees with a collar around his neck on a leash with a muzzle. I love this image so much and I wanna have this for all the marks. Why have one mutt when you can have way way more

I couldn't turn this into actual headcanons or anything, so just have me rambling for a bit about it, because I've had this thought for... a while. 

i will write smut about this if interested, i love this shit.

Me and my 16 evil boyfriends who do what I tell them to do... what Mark would even be the first to have joined the (harem...) group??? I dont even know what to call them all to tell them apart. Please let me know if theres like commonly accepted names, or should I just make my own names for them all. Cuz this is gonna get confusing. 

Like, if you hooked sinister mark first, I could see the others following suit, little by little. Like, theyd see him crawling on all fours, growling and drooling with his viltrum-level muzzle on. Cuz hes the type that would also need one of those bits, like you would find on a horse. Or maybe more like a gag of something. Something he can chew on and grind his teeth into, as he gets too excited and wants to start biting. 

If the other Marks make fun of his collar, sinister Mark beats the shit outta them. He doesn't kill them, only because he knows you'll praise him for holding back. They are all suckers for praise, I think that's just part of being Mark Grayson. They all act like tough shit, but theyll roll over and show their belly for praise, affection and something in their mouths.  

I think it's also part of being Mark Grayson that they're whiners and whimperers, when you get them that far. Some of them will act all tough and scary, but others will just start whining and begging almost immediately. And when the others see that this behavior gets rewards, well.  

It would be even more funny if you were just... a normal guy. Like, they just pulled up in your dimension and somehow you got sinister Mark in a collar, and one thing leads to another and suddenly your small apartment is filled with guys who could destroy earth if they wanted too. 

You have the world, and probably multiverse, in the palm of your hand. Only way to keep everyone safe, is to keep these guys collared, drooling and hard. How you get viltrum grade kink stuff, I have no idea, but you get it.  

I don't even wanna think about how you'll explain any of this to people. It's not like they can really work, since they technically don't exist in your universe, so you all live on your income. And no, you won't let them steal for you. Bad pets go in the crate and think about what they've done and why it was wrong. 

You dont want to explain to your universes GDA how you keep such dangerous guys under control. But hey, your planets gained new protectors, because your... boyfriends? Pets? Want to keep you safe and happy, and will bend over backwards for pets and kisses. Its extra awkward if your planet already has a Mark, and if that Mark is like the normal one.  

Imagine sitting in the GDA, because theyd wanna keep an eye on you and make an ally out of you at this point. One or two of your Marks are kneeling by your feet, heads in your lap, a third is draped over your back, nuzzling your neck. Your universes normal Mark has to pass through, maybe with the guardians, and you guys just... kinda look at each other. 

You swear you feel your Marks start growling and tensing at the sight of your universes normal Mark, like a pack of feral cats or dogs trying to chase off an outsider.  

Your universes Rex would have an absolute field day with this, and would pick on Mark with this fact. Seeing your Marks draped all over you also means people start underestimating them, until the GDA tries to hurt you or threaten you. Then everyone gets a reality check. 

I think most of the Marks keeps the steamy part of your relationship at home, but some of them would not give a shit that you guys are in public. If they notice you are turned on by something, they are ready to drop to their knees right then and there, or, bend over whatever there is to be bent over. 

Honestly, I'd feel bad for anyone with all 16 of them hanging off them, espcially if you are a normal person. There is no way you would be able to keep up with 16 viltrumites. But hey, maybe you can just watch as they please themselves, have them put on a show. Heck, you could probably have them help each other, if you are into that kinda thing, who am I to judge. 

I like to think they all wear some kind of collar. Some would be something as small as a necklace or choker, and others wear a straight up dog collar with spikes on it. One of those “DO NOT APPROACH” collars. Fuck it, put a shock collar on Mohawk Mark, guy needs it.  

Keep their favorite candy on you as small treats. Even funnier if you got one of those bags on your belt that you use for dog treats. Your universes normal Mark would lose his appetite for his favorite candy after seeing you use them to straight up train these guys to behave.  

Who knows, maybe you'll get a 17th Mark if your universes Mark is just a little crooked or different from normal Mark. The problem is your 16 Marks and if they would accept him, like a pack of wolves accepting an outsider. I love these guys. 

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Cregan’s wife gets taken by Silas the Grim and horrible things happens to her. Cregan’s men finds her during the battle or after and bring her back to their Lord. She is traumatized and her dress is ripped in places that makes Cregan sick and rage. Back to winterfell, she gets nightmares and cregan gives her a wolf pup so she feels safe

Please read the warnings carefully. This one might not be for you. 

Warnings: mention of non-con/sa, ptsd, kidnapping,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You didn’t know nightmares could happen while you were awake. The worst part was, unlike regular nightmares, you couldn’t wake up to get away from the horrors in your mind. You were trapped in a waking terror, unable to find refuge even in the daylight.

Yours started the day Cregan and a bunch of his men got caught in an ambush by Sylas the Grim’s men on the way to Queensgate. It wasn’t your first time traveling north of Winterfell, you knew to stay close to the group and never stray as it was easy to get lost when the snow was affecting the visibility. But you ended up getting captured by the wildlings and taken to their chieftain. 

The wildling who brought you to Sylas was very proud of himself. You were the wife of the Warden of the North, the only one who his loyalty to was stronger than his one to the Wall. Your capture opened so many opportunities for Sylas, and he planned to use you as a pawn in his game.

Chained inside a small tent, you tried to think of a way of getting out. You couldn’t just wait for Cregan to come and save you from your captor. You were the Lady of Winterfell, you needed to be resourceful and strong. 

Two men were standing outside your tent, guarding — and ignoring you. They were relaying their service at night and bringing you scraps of food, just enough to keep you alive. Because you would serve their chieftain nothing if you were dead. 

Although the food was disgusting, it wasn’t the worst part of being held captive. It was Sylas. The wildling chief would come into your tent and question you about Cregan’s strategies. Loyal to your husband and your people, you didn’t give any information away. You would never betray your people. 

One night, you were asleep in the corner of your tent, your body curled on itself to keep warm, when you heard Sylas come in and undo his breeches. He was drunk and horny. 

His sick intentions immediately clicked and you tried to get away from him. The tent was small, so he quickly got hold of you. You clawed and kicked at him as his filthy hands snuck under your dress and uncovered your intimacy. You screamed, which earned you a slap in the face and Sylas’s tighter grip on your hips. 

⁂

Two long moons went by. By that time, your body was so weak and frail that you didn't even hear the battle raging outside your tent. Your mind, clouded by malnutrition and the relentless abuse, struggled to make sense of anything beyond the constant pain and exhaustion.

Your eyes opened when you felt someone’s hands on you, shaking you awake. Assuming it was Sylas coming to empty his balls, you closed your eyes and let him take you. You didn’t have energy to fight him anymore. But the voice that filled the tent didn't sound like a wildling. 

‘’Go and tell Lord Stark we found her.’’ 

The man who had spoken stayed by your side, keeping watch until his Lord arrived. He must have been far because darkness was beginning to fall when Cregan stormed into the tent, his face and clothes had blood and dirt from the battle.

‘’Where is she?’’ his voice boomed, a mixture of anger and desperation. 

The sight of his wife trembling in the corner nearly made his heart stop. You looked fragile and thin, your skin was as white as the snow, and your dress was torn in several places. Your hair was matted and there were stains of fluids on your dress. 

Cregan felt sick. If Sylas had not been already dead, he would kill him again. 

The Northman quickly knelt by your side and wrapped his fur cloak around you, covering your body as much as possible. He whispered your name, but you only blinked. ‘’I came as fast as I could. I'm here now, you're safe.’’ He gently raised your chin to look at your face, and his jaw clenched tighter at the sight of her bruised and weakened state. 

⁂

The journey to Winterfell was a complete blur to you. You didn’t remember anything of the ten days spent sitting in the carriage, bundled in furs. Cregan personally took responsibility to escort the carriage, walking right in front of it and making sure no one would try to capture his wife again. 

Once you walked through the gates of Winterfell, a maester was summoned to tend to you. You would need a bath and new clothes too, but that could wait. While the maester was getting gathering his things, Cregan reached for the button of your coat to help you out of it, but you began screaming and thrashing in the cot as if he was trying to harm you — to rape you. 

Cregan quickly stepped back and held his hands up so you could see them. ‘’I will not touch you if it is what you wish. That’s alright.’’ His voice was calm and soft, and his eyes held your gaze. ‘’But the master needs to see your wounds and tend to them.’’

You shook your head. ‘’Don’t touch me. Please, not again.’’ 

Tears filled your eyes and Cregan nodded. ‘’Fetch the servants and have them draw a warm bath for Lady Stark. And a warm meal brought to our chambers. The best meat we have.’’ 

The maester frowned at his lord’s instructions. ‘’My Lord, it would be preferable if I could—’’ he began to protest, but Cregan shut him up. 

He will not have a man touch his traumatized wife against her will. Not after what you had endured when held captive. 

‘’Another day,’’ he said firmly. ‘’Lady Stark needs a bath and a warm meal, and rest.’’ 

⁂

The days that followed were difficult and required a lot of accommodations. Starting with a change in the personnel who were allowed in your chambers. You had made it clear that you didn't want men around you, so Cregan requested that only women came to your chambers. To bring your meals, to help you bathe or dress. 

The only man who was allowed near you was your husband. In fact, you didn't want Cregan to leave you — ever. He was always close. Especially at night, when the nightmares of the horrors you went through invaded your dreams. 

A blood chilling scream filled your chambers, startling Cregan awake. 

Every night since your return had been like this. The maester suggested you take a drought to help you sleep, but it didn’t work. Since you were in a deeper sleep, it made it more difficult to stir you from your nightmare.

‘’Shh, I’m here. We’re in Winterfell. You are safe,’’ he whispered to you, pulling your trembling body against him as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Cregan felt helpless. There was nothing he could do or say that would take the pain away. He couldn't magically make the memories and images go away. All he could be was a chest for you to cry into. 

He prayed in the Godswood and asked counsel from women who he knew had gone through difficult things, hoping to find guidance from their own experiences. Unfortunately, years later, some still had not overcome their trauma. 

Cregan sat in his study while you were taking some fresh air with Lady Lysa, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed. He knew your fear was rooted in your assault. You weren’t scared to be alone, you were scared that a man would use his size and strength against you — again. 

When Winter comes, he’ll have to go to the Wall…and leave you. What will you do when he’s not there to make you feel safe? You didn’t allow any other men near you. He had to come up with something to ease your fears and make you feel safe in his absence. 

⁂

‘’Where is my husband?’’ you asked the servant who brought you your morning meal. He was gone when you woke, and only left a vague note on the table. 

The small girl cleared her throat before replying. ‘’Lord Stark had to absent himself for the day, my Lady. He is to return before nightfall.’’

You nodded. ‘’I wish to be notified when he passes the gates.’’ 

‘’Very well, My Lady.’’ She bowed and exited your chambers. 

As the servant had said, Cregan returned before nightfall. Snow dusted the top of his head and the pelt of his cloak when you greeted him in the great hall. 

When he saw you standing by the entrance, a warm smile spread over his face. “Good evening, my love,” he said, his voice was gentle as he placed one leather gloved hand under your chin to pull you closer and press a soft kiss against your forehead. "I have something to show you. Come with me."

You were not dressed apropriately to go outside, but Cregan had already take your hand to lead you out of the great hall and towards the courtyard. The sky was getting dark and fresh snow fell steadily, leaving a blanket of white across the ground. You felt a chill thorugh the sleeved of your dress. Hopefully you won't stay out long. 

Cregan turned a corner towards the kennels, leaving you confused. He opened the door and asked you to close your eyes. 

''Cregan, what-''

''Just close your eyes.''

You did as directed, and to make sure they were properly closed, the northman placed his hand over your eyes from behind. "No peeking," he whispered into your ear.

He closed the door and led you deeper into the kennels, careful with every step, making sure not to make you trip or stumble. Once you were where he wanted you, he removed his hand but didn't tell you to open your eyes yet.  

You heard shuffling and rustling, then...a small cry. 

‘’Open your eyes.’’

With the command, you opened your eyes. Lying in the crook of Cregan's arm, was a small gray and white pup. It sniffed the fabric of his cloak, its small tongue licking at the thick wool. You reached to pet it, and immediately felt its cold, wet nose brush against your hands, causing you to giggle. Cregan smiled, watching the two of you get acquainted. 

''It's a direwolf,'' he stated, his voice echoing in the quietness of the kennels. ''Like the sigil of our house. He'll grow large and strong. He'll be able to protect you when I'm not around.'' 

The little pup looked up at you, its beady eyes staring into yours. You didn’t know what to say, deeply touched by his gift to you.

—

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