#but I think they just have a pattern of responding to people who question their posts

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

10: UNDER THE SURFACE

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Summary: You’re nervously preparing to meet Bucky’s friends for his birthday and give him a personal gift. As you head to the restaurant with Bucky, you’re introduced to Sam and Torres, who tease Bucky while making you feel welcome. Things get tense when your ex shows up at the bar, making unwelcome advances and insults. Bucky steps in, showing his protective side.

Warnings: Strong language and insults, violence/threats, brief reference to past trauma/loss, unwanted touch and inappropriate comments from Leonard

Word Count: 5504

Something inside you held your hand back. It was poised and ready to rap against Bucky’s front door, but you paused. Anxiety. Would Bucky like your gift? Were you ready to meet his friends? You took a deep breath and let your body move on autopilot, cutting off the messages from your brain which would be liable to leave you paralyzed forever.

You gripped the small velvet box tightly in your hand. It felt heavier than it should. It didn’t take long for Bucky to answer the door, revealing a half dressed super soldier. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and had one sock in his hand. You glanced down to see that its partner was on his foot. 

“You’re early,” he frowned.

“Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to talk before we left. Is that okay?” you asked.

“What’s that?” he responded with his own question, completely ignoring your own.

“A gift,” you said shyly, stepping inside when he moved to let you pass. “For your birthday.”

Bucky looked surprised and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” You handed him the box, feeling even more anxious now. “It’s personal… so if you wanted to open it now rather than at the party…”

He looked down at the box, then back at you, sitting down beside you on his couch. Bucky opened the box. Inside was a black and gold bracelet, its design subtly mimicking the intricate pattern of his vibranium arm. His name— James Buchanan Barnes— was engraved on the inner surface.

Bucky stared at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“I… I remember you said…” you muttered, trying to fill the growing silence, “that you don’t have your dog tags anymore. I thought maybe... this could be a reminder of who you are. All of you. Not just the soldier, or the Winter Soldier, but James, too.”

He blinked and looked up at her, his blue eyes startlingly bright. “Princess...”

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” you added quickly, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. “I just thought—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice was soft but firm. “It’s perfect.”

He slipped the bracelet onto his right wrist, where it settled snugly against his skin. He twisted his arm, studying the way it looked against the black and gold of his vibranium. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he looked back at you, and his lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, your own smile blooming as the tension in your chest eased. “Looks good on you.”

Bucky tugged on his sock, still glancing down at the bracelet on his wrist as though he needed to remind himself it was real. His fingers brushed over the engraved lettering, his name carved into the metal as though reclaiming something he’d thought lost.

“You really see people,” he murmured again, almost to himself, and it made your chest swell with an odd mix of pride and affection.

You smiled and looked back at him. The bracelet, snug against his wrist, looked like it had always belonged there.

After a moment of silence, Bucky cleared his throat. “You know...” He hesitated, his fingers still grazing the metal. “This... what you made... I bet other people might like it, too.” His voice was cautious, like he was testing the idea aloud for the first time and wasn’t sure how you’d take it.

You tilted your head with surprise. “You think so?”

He nodded slowly, not meeting your eyes. “Yeah. Not the same, obviously.” He gestured vaguely with his vibranium hand. “But... something personal. Something that feels like... them.”

Your mouth dropped open, totally caught off guard by the suggestion, even more so because it was coming from Bucky. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before, but it had always been a gift idea for someone you cared about. Not once had you considered that it would be something you could do for others. “That’s... actually a really good idea.”

Bucky glanced at you hesitantly. “I mean, only if you want to. But maybe just don’t... mention me?”

“Of course not. But... would you mind if I took a picture of you wearing it?” you asked tentatively, biting your lip softly. “Just your arm, nothing else. I’d love to get feedback from my followers, see what the interest is like for custom pieces.”

Bucky looked down thoughtfully, his expression somewhat guarded and you rushed to clarify.

“It’s totally fine if you’re not comfortable. I can just describe it or post the sketch instead.”

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over the bracelet again. “Just my arm?”

“Just your arm,” you promised, pulling out your phone. “Deal?”

He placed his right arm in his lap in implied consent, and you quickly framed the shot, focusing on the bracelet, as the black and gold gleamed in the light, the engraving hidden but the design standing out against his skin.

“Perfect,” you smiled, lowering your phone. “Thank you, Buck. This means a lot.”

“Yeah, well...” He looked away, scratching his beard. “I think it’s a good thing. People deserve to feel like they’ve got something that’s... theirs.”

Your heart swelled at his words. His approval seemed genuine, not just a clause of your contract. You glanced down at the photo again, admiring how the piece on his wrist really popped against the dark background of his jeans. You uploaded the image to your feed with the caption: “Every piece has a story, and I’d love to help tell yours. Would you be interested in custom jewelry options?”

“Shall we go?” Bucky asked, standing up. He grabbed the leather jacket which was draped over the back of the couch.

“Yeah, sure.” You followed his lead, not missing the way he carefully pulled his sleeve over the bracelet so that he wouldn’t disturb the way it sat on his wrist.

The restaurant was warm and surprisingly lively, a welcome relief to the bitterly cold weather outside. Bucky was at your side, his hand hovering on your lower back in a show of support. Both of you had decided on the ride over that your act would have to start before you entered because anyone could be watching. 

You’d been right, Sam and Torres were waiting near the entrance, their smiles bright and welcoming.

“Buck! Look who decided to show up! Happy Birthday, man!” Sam said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder before turning to you with an appraising grin. “And this must be the better half.” He offered his arms out in a hug which you returned shyly.

“I’m not quite sure about better,” you laughed. “Maybe the half with less attitude.”

Torres laughed, extending his hand. “I like her already.”

Bucky muttered something unintelligible under his breath but didn’t protest when Sam and Torres ushered you both toward a table near the back. He grabbed your hand and dragged you along, keeping you close to his side like his own personal shield against the merriment.

As the evening unfolded, you got to know Sam and Torres a little better. They treated you like they had known you for years, taking it in turns to tease Bucky and make you feel welcome.

“Anyone who can put up with him must be an angel.”

“Oh very far from it, Joaquin!”

“So,” Sam cut in, leaning towards you with an easy smile, “tell us about yourself, Y/N. What’s your story?”

“Sam,” Bucky said darkly in warning.

“What? Gotta get to know the potential sister-in-law!”

Bucky already looked like he was going to explode but you leaned against him, giving him a small nudge. “Not much to tell,” you said, wrapping Bucky’s vibranium arm around your waist. “Grew up with my grandma. Studied art and design, and now I live opposite this grump and pay the rent by designing jewelry. But you know the last part, seeing as you’ve already stalked my Instagram.”

Sam laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Caught red-handed. I had to make sure Bucky wasn’t just making you up to get us off his back.”

You laughed, a mild hint of panic in your tone. “Well, as you can see, I’m very much real.”

Torres joined in on your laughter. “You’ve got some serious talent though,” he said earnestly. “That bracelet with the stars was my favorite. Amazing work.”

“Thanks,” you blushed. “That was inspired by my grandma, actually. She used to love the stars. Every night she would tell me a story about the different constellations. She said that the stars reminded her of how, even in the darkest night, there was light to guide you. So, when she died a few years ago, I designed that one in her honor.”

The three men fell silent for a moment, moved by your tribute.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam said quietly, while Torres nodded beside him, echoing the sentiment. 

You felt a pang of sadness for a moment, the pain quickly softened by the way Bucky’s hand wrapped around yours, his fingers weaving between yours. You looked up at him, his face inches away from yours. He wore a concerned expression, his eyes searching yours. It wasn’t a subject you had broached during your prep for the charade. You gave his fingers a quick squeeze, offering him a small smile of reassurance, telling him you were okay. Despite this, his arm tightened around you protectively like a guard dog.

Sam cleared his throat, breaking the solemn moment and lightening the mood with a grin. “Well, your grandma sounds like she was an incredible lady. Explains where you get all your charm.”

“Yeah,” Torres added, smirking. “And it also explains how you put up with this one.” He jerked his thumb toward Bucky, who gave him an unimpressed glare in return.

“Trust me, dealing with him is a pleasure… every time.”

Bucky choked on his beer as you responded and you patted his back while Sam laughed at a blushing Torres. You looked up at Bucky, your eyes sparkling with mischief. His ears were red and his expression painted a picture of incredulity and something else— something more intense. His lips twitched, as though he was searching for something to say, but no words came from his mouth.

“You okay there, birthday boy?” you teased.

The look Bucky was giving you was disarming; there was an icy fire behind those blue eyes which you’d never seen before. A smirk graced his lips as he leaned down to your ear, his voice low enough so only you could hear. “Careful, doll. Keep this up, and I might forget which parts of this are for show.”

The deep timbre of his voice sent a jolt of heat straight through you, his words dancing across the line between playful and dangerously serious. Bucky pulled back to meet your gaze, as if daring you to respond. But before you could, Sam clapped his hands together, interrupting the moment.

“All right, lovebirds, save it for later! I wanna know more about your girl.”

“More?” you asked jokingly. “Wow, nobody expects the Spanish inquisition!”

Sam laughed but leaned onto the table. “Oh baby, we’re just getting started. Gotta make sure you’re good enough for our guy, here.”

You leaned in, undeterred by the insinuation. “Good enough for him?” you answered, your hand over your chest and voice filled with mock offense. “This guy was at my door practically every day begging me for a shot at this,” you waved your hands over your body with a flourish.

“Begged, huh?” Bucky smirked.

Turning to Bucky, you smiled back. “Absolutely! You might as well have been out there on your hands and knees. Just couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You make it sound like I had no choice.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back with a widening grin, “you didn’t.”

“You two need to keep it in your pants; this place’s meant to be family friendly!”

Sam shook his head while you and Torres laughed. Bucky didn’t say anything, but his grip on your hip tightened slightly.

“Okay, real talk—” Torres sobered up and leaned towards you. “Do you have any single friends? You know, someone who might appreciate a guy like me?”

You tilted your head, with a look of intense concentration as you pretended to consider his request. “Hmmm, a guy like you? That’s a pretty tall order.”

“Hey, come on, I’m totally a catch!” Torres insisted, feigning a look of outrage. “Good looks, charming, muscles, and excellent taste in friends!” He pointed at Sam and Bucky, earning a scoff from the latter.

“Well,” you teased, “I do have a couple of friends, but you're not their type.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” Torres replied, winking.

“I’m not sure Hanna and Aditi are your type, plus they are both taken… by each other.”

“Ah, the paint champs, right?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Torres knew he had slipped up.

You frowned, you hadn’t mentioned paintballing to Bucky. “That’s some heavy duty stalking you guys have been doing there, huh?” 

Sam raised his hands and laughed. “Hey, it’s harmless curiosity. Gotta know who’s dating our guy.”

Bucky groaned. “I thought I told you to be subtle.”

“Harmless, huh? Good thing I only have to turn on the TV to dig up dirt on you guys. So, I’d say it’s a fair trade.”

“So these girls are your partners in crime?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, they’re… my family,” you said with a fond smile. “Been through everything together— puberty, high school, camp, college, questionable relationships, terrible fashion choices. You name it, we survived it.”

Sam grinned. “Sounds like the kind of friends who’d know where the skeletons are buried.”

“They wouldn’t just know,” you teased. “They’d be the ones helping me bury the bodies.”

Torres chuckled. “Now that’s loyalty. What’re they like?”

“Hanna’s the free spirit,” you explained. “She kind of goes where the wind takes her, which is hilarious because Aditi is the opposite— she’s wound a little tight. Super organized, loves a good plan. Honestly, I think Hanna’s ‘whatever happens, happens’ attitude drives Aditi up the wall sometimes.”

“Yeah, opposites attract.”

You laughed, leaning slightly into Bucky. “Yeah, kind of like me and this one.” You reached up and lightly tickled Bucky’s chin, drawing a rare smile as he rolled his eyes with mock exasperation.

Sam’s grin widened. “Sounds like you’ve got a solid crew. What’re their families like? Must’ve been interesting growing up around all those dynamics.”

Bucky frowned at Sam, narrowing his eyes questioningly, but Sam pressed on casually without acknowledging his friend’s pointed stares.

“Oh they’re a colorful mix,” you said, glancing between them. “Hanna’s family is just her and her mom. They’re really close since her dad left when she was ten. And Aditi’s family? Traditional Indian parents. They were strict about her education and, of course, boys.” You chuckled softly. “They were pretty shocked when she came out, but they adjusted. Her dad, especially, was super open and supportive.”

“Sounds like they’ve got good people backing them up,” Sam said, his voice warm but still probing.

“They do. And they’ve been just as generous to me and Hanna,” you said with a smile. “Aditi’s parents always included us in their holiday parties, made us feel like family too.”

Bucky’s hand lightly brushed yours under the table, a small, supportive gesture, but his gaze flicked between you and Sam, his instincts clearly still on edge. Sam, however, just nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

“Must be pretty well off to invite everyone to the party.”

“Yeah, Aditi’s dad is an accountant. Never really understood what it is that he does, but he works at some big company,” you said with a shrug. “Honestly, I’ve never really asked. Numbers and I don’t exactly get along.”

You paused for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But he’s always been really generous with his time. He’s the one who helped me set up my business and gave me advice on managing my taxes. Even now, if I have a question, he’s just a phone call away.”

“That’s solid,” Sam said, nodding approvingly. “Sounds like he’s got your back.”

“Yeah, he’s kinda been like a father figure for all of us,” you admitted, your voice softening. “‘Cause Hanna and I haven’t really had anyone like that.”

You didn’t catch the flicker of sadness that crossed Sam’s face, but Bucky’s eagle eyes didn’t miss the muscle twitch. He knew Sam far too well not to know that there was more to this interrogation than simple curiosity.

“Hey, doll?” Bucky leaned in, brushing his lips near your ear to make it look affectionate, but he kept his voice casual. “Think you could grab us another round?”

You raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle hint that Bucky wanted to speak with Sam and Torres alone. “Wow, delegating this early in our relationship. You’re walking a fine line, Birthday Boy.”

Bucky pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you blush. “I’ll owe you for this,” he whispered.

Bucky watched you saunter over to the bar, looking away as soon as he realized that he was enjoying the way your hips swayed from side to side. He turned back to Sam with an accusatory stare.

“What gives?” he demanded.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Sam asked with feigned innocence.

“You know exactly what I mean? What are you two up to?”

“Not here, Buck. Now’s not the time,” Sam dropped his voice. “I don’t want you worrying until we know there is something to worry about.”

“Is she in danger?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s not good enough, Sam,” Bucky growled.

“We’ll let you know if there’s something to tell.”

As you leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish up your order, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. A familiar voice slurred behind you, dripping with false charm and too much alcohol. You felt as if someone had poured a glass of ice cold water over your soul.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite heartbreaker,” Leonard drawled, his grin smug and unsteady as he swayed slightly. “Fancy running into you here. You’re looking as stunning as ever, babe.”

You looked over your shoulder, hoping against hope that you were mistaken. Leonard’s tie was loose, and his usually immaculate hair was tousled in a way that you had only seen after certain intimate activities. He was leaning far too close to you, his breath heavy with the scent of whiskey.

“Leonard,” you said, your nose crinkled with disgust. You took a step back to put more space between you. “This is a… surprise.”

Leonard’s grin widened at your reaction, completely oblivious to the fact that his presence was repulsive to you. His eyes gleamed with a combination of arrogance and alcohol-fueled confidence.

“Where’s the surprise, babe? I’d call it fate. Bringing us together,” he replied, his voice dropping with entitled flirtation. “Been thinking about you.”

“Oh really?” Your tone couldn’t have any less enthusiasm if you tried.

“It always comes back to us, you and me. I mean, I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye the last time I saw you. So this seems like kismet.”

You scoffed derisively but Leonard didn’t seem to notice. “I’m pretty sure you were the one who walked out on me.”

His eyes narrowed at the memory, a flicker of anger passing through him before his smirk returned, even though it looked a little forced. “And who’s fault was that? But I’m willing to be the bigger man here, I mean, you know you miss me.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you.” You cringed and tried to move further away, but out of nowhere Leonard’s hand slid to your waist. His touch was hot, and not in a good way. “I don’t miss anything about you, Leonard. And get your hand off me.”

He chuckled darkly, ignoring your protests. “Come on, don’t be like that. We had something good, you and me. Bet no one’s measured up in that department since. Go on, admit it, babe— no one knows you like I do.”

Before you could answer with a retort, Leonard’s hand slid down to your hip and around to your ass.

“Let go,” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger and disgust as you tried to push him away. But Leonard just tightened his grip, pulling you closer.

“Hey!” 

The word was not said as a shout; in fact, it was relatively quiet, but the force behind it cut the air like a knife. Bucky was standing behind you, his face remained impassive, but the fire behind his blue eyes burned with a barely bottled rage. “You heard her. Let go.”

Leonard sneered, slowly and reluctantly dropping his hand. But he didn’t step back. “Oh, look who it is,” he said, his voice mocking. “The neighbor. Gotta say, you move fast, babe. First me, now this guy? What’s the tally at, now? How many notches on that belt of yours, huh? Quite the little slut, aren’t you?”

His words hit you like a slap on the face, they made your breath catch and your eyes burn. You felt dirty, exposed. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. But before you could react, Bucky stepped in front of you, positioning himself between you and Leonard.

“Watch your mouth.” His voice was low… lethal.

For a second, Leonard faltered, but his drunken bravado flared and he puffed out his chest. His lip curled into a contemptuous smirk. “And what’re you gonna do about it, Sergeant? Huh? You think you’re tough? Come on, try it.” Leonard held out his hands as an invitation for Bucky to make a move.

Bucky gently pushed you further backwards out of harm's way. “Careful, doll. This guy’s trying to be brave.”

Bucky turned back in time to see Leonard pull his arm back. He swung, a wild, clumsy punch aimed at Bucky’s jaw. Bucky didn’t even flinch. He stepped to the side with ease and grace, allowing Leonard’s momentum to carry him straight to the floor.

“Idiot,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. He turned back to you, his face softening as he saw your shaken expression. “Come on, doll. You don't need to see this.”

But before you had taken one step, Leonard shouted after you, his voice slurred, and his hair completely disheveled. “You think you’re better than me? Huh? Think you’re better off with this murderer? You’ll come crawling back, you always do!”

Bucky let out a slow, controlled breath and let go of your arms before turning back to Leonard. He crossed the short distance between them in two strides and grabbed Leonard by the shirt and hauled him to his feet with shocking ease. He brushed off Leonard’s wrinkled suit jacket, straightened his tie with exaggerated care and then leaned in close to speak to Leonard. His voice was low enough that you couldn’t make out Bucky’s words.

Whatever it was that Bucky said made the color drain from Leonard’s face. His bravado vanished, his mouth opening and closing silently. Without uttering another word, Leonard stumbled away, disappearing from the restaurant.

Bucky turned back to you, his expression softening instantly. His hands came to your shoulders, steady and reassuring. “You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded but the lump in your throat was too firmly lodged to let you speak. The tears you’d been holding back felt like they were ready to break the dam. Sensing your distress, Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing against your ear. “I’ve got you.”

Even after you’d had a chance to compose yourself, Bucky’s hands lingered on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours with furrowed brows of concern. “Why don’t we just get out of here?” he suggested. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to deal with this anymore tonight.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by the offer. “Bucky, I can’t just leave. Sam and Torres put so much effort into this. It’d be rude to just take off.”

“Doll,” he interrupted gently, his voice dropping lower, “I don’t care about them right now. I care about you.” His thumb brushed along your arm in a comforting gesture, anchoring you. “Let’s get outta here.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, but you shook your head and forced a reassuring smile. “I appreciate it, Bucky, I really do. But I’ll feel worse if I bail on them. Besides…” You glanced toward the table where Sam and Torres, both men had their eyes on you. “I can handle this.”

He studied you for a long moment, as if weighing the merits of arguing further. Finally, he exhaled, though his protective concern didn’t waver. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’ll be okay.”

His hand moved to the small of your back as he guided you back toward the table. “Just say the word, and we’re gone,” he murmured close to your ear, his presence grounding.

As you approached, you noticed the change in Sam and Torres’ demeanors, their earlier merriment gone. Sam's sharp eyes darted to Bucky, then to you, and Torres looked more serious than you’d ever seen him.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked you, his tone casual but his gaze searching.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Just ran into an old… acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance?” Torres repeated, his brow furrowing. “That guy was all over you, and not in a good way.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the younger man’s bluntness.

Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, a kind smile on his face as he spoke to you. “Looked like Bucky handled it, though. What’d you say to him, Buck?” he asked, turning to Bucky with a smirk.

Bucky shrugged, slipping his arm back over your shoulder and pulling you close to his side. “Just told him to leave her alone.”

Torres let out a low whistle. “Man looked like he’d seen a ghost when he walked out. Sure that’s all you said?”

Bucky didn’t answer, his attention still focused on you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded quickly, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of their attention. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “Just embarrassed. I didn’t mean to make a scene or ruin the night.”

You just wanted the ground to swallow you up. Not only had Bucky’s friends witnessed your humiliation, but you were worried that it would put your fake relationship in jeopardy.

“Hey,” Sam interjected. “You didn’t ruin anything. That guy was out of line. You handled yourself fine. And Bucky—” Sam smirked slightly, leaning back in his chair. “You might’ve earned yourself a permanent invite to every future birthday bash.”

Torres snorted. “Seriously, that guy hit the floor faster than I could blink. You’ve got moves, man.”

Bucky, still watching you, offered a faint smirk. “He was drunk. Didn’t take much.”

“Still,” Sam said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “If you need to head out, we’ll understand. No shame in calling it a night after dealing with that.”

You hesitated, glancing between the three of them. Bucky’s hand settled lightly on your knee under the table. “You guys put so much effort into tonight. I don’t want to ruin it for you.” You said the last bit to Bucky, knowing that he wasn’t the type of person who would willingly plan a social event, especially not for himself.

“You’re not ruining anything,” Torres said quickly.

Sam nodded in agreement. “Exactly. But if you wanna stay, we’re here. And if you wanna leave…” He glanced at Bucky, whose hand was still on your knee. “I’m pretty sure you’re in good hands.”

Bucky knew you wouldn’t give in, you were tough, tougher than he had expected when he had first met you. He liked that about you. So he decided to take the matter in his own hands. “I think we’re done for today, guys. Thank you for this.”

“Bucky—” you started to protest, but he cut you off gently.

“No arguments,” he said gently, squeezing your knee and then letting go of you completely. Bucky stood up and grabbed your coat. “Let’s go.”

You opened your mouth to counter, to insist that everything was fine, but his gaze silenced you. It wasn’t demanding, no— it was suspiciously protective, possibly even concerned.

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. But you better let us know when you get home safe.”

“Will do,” Bucky said, already helping you to your feet.

Torres offered you a reassuring smile. “And hey, next time? We’ll make sure it’s just us. No exes crashing the party.”

You managed a small smile, grateful for their understanding.

Bucky walked close to you, ever vigilant as you found your way back to his car. The evening had been a whirlwind of emotions and even though you had escaped the storm, the damaging effects of Leonard’s cruel words lingered.

You glanced at Bucky as he drove, his profile clearly lit by the streetlamps. He had remained silent but it wasn’t uncomfortable like you’d expected. There was no judgement radiating off him as you’d feared. As he parked the car outside your apartment complex, he didn’t make a fuss. Jumping out of the driver’s seat, he flew around to your side to open your door, brushing off your words of thanks.

His gentleness surprised you, he was so different from the standoffish man you’d known when he moved in. This Bucky was a gentleman, every bit the boyfriend you had hoped Leonard could have been. You felt ashamed of the relationship you’d had with the businessman. You were getting off the elevator on your floor, almost at your front door but you stopped in your tracks, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Bucky?”

He stopped and turned to face you. “Yeah?” he answered, his brow furrowing at your tone.

You looked down at the worn out carpet, tracing the old fashioned pattern with the tip of your heeled shoe. “Do you… d’you think I’m a slut?” The words tasted foul on your tongue.

“What?” His response was sharp, his face sporting a startled expression. He took a step back towards you, eyes searching your face. “Why the hell would you ask me that?”

You shrugged, feeling more and more foolish by the minute, but now that you’d opened up, the words kept tumbling out. “I just… Leonard said…” You trailed off, taking a moment to figure out what you were trying to say. “Maybe he’s right, like, look at me—”

“Stop.” Bucky’s voice was firm but gentle, and he tilted his head down to catch your gaze. “Don’t even finish that thought.”

“But—”

“No,” he cut you off, stepping even closer to you. “What that man said was bullshit. He was drunk, he’s bitter that he lost someone as incredible as you. All he wanted was to hurt you because you know you’re better off without him.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, letting out a shaky sigh. “It was just so… personal. He’s always been able to see through me and… what if everyone else sees me that way? Even my friends think I can’t maintain a relationship.”

Bucky gritted his teeth for a second before he blew out a long breath. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face with incredible tenderness. “Now you listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You’re not a slut. Not even close. You’re smart, you’re kind, you’re surprisingly tough, but you know how to be vulnerable with people. It’s… refreshing. Leonard doesn’t know you— not really. And anyone who says something like that doesn’t deserve to be in your life, let alone have their words live in your head.”

You bit your lip to stop it from trembling, blinking to hold back tears, but one escaped anyway. Bucky caught it with his thumb, brushing it away carefully.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice unwavering. “You’re amazing, doll. Don’t let some asshole make you doubt that.”

You nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Anytime.” He gave you a small smile, walking with you to your front door, watching as you unlocked and opened it.

“See you later?”

“See you later, Princess.” He winked before turning to open his own front door.

“Oh and Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday!”

He smiled, closing the door slowly. You stepped inside your own apartment and for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe again. Leonard’s venomous words still stung, but Bucky’s kindness had dulled their edge. As you leaned against your door, you realized that maybe Bucky cared more about you than you’d expected. And as confusing as that thought was, it also felt… comforting.

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter (pending)

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Posting schedule will be Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays around 2.30pm EST / 11.30am PST / 7.30pm BST

[turqrambles]

As someone in a few fandoms where critical consumption is required, it's not uncommon to see people blowing up about shit that isn't even an actual issue with the media just because they want to appear like the better media consumer or something. Being this way about funny portal game is even goofier than what I'm used to though, the most you can say is that a few characters for sure make use of offensive stereotypes but it's nothing to clutch your pearls about (especially with how common those tropes were in kids media at the time, not saying they were okay though obviously). This person is literally making up problems to look smarter. I've seen it so many times in fandoms that actually require critical consumption and it's insane seeing it in a place where it's really not needed at all

Yeah, the thing with those sorts of grab bag "This series is problematic and here's why" posts is that you gotta ask yourself this question; was this post actually made to educate/debate on a problem, or was it posturing to make yourself look so much smarter than everyone else, oh look at me, I consume my media critically unlike the unwashed masses who are dumb and did not see the flaws in their blorbos.

Judging by the way it was written (where there are some good points but also some incredibly wild swings like how the main heroes are colonizers when they're....fighting back against people who have armies and tanks???) and their actions and how they've responded (they never tried to talk to Blue or anyone else who didn't like the post, everyone was just lumped in with "people who are mean to me"), it's the latter.

As I said in tags, I've encountered this user before. I told them that they made a bad point by saying that Glumshanks was antisemitic in one of their older grab bag "this series is bad and here's why" posts by saying that I'm Jewish and no, goblins are NOT inherently antisemitic, they're just often CODED to be antisemitic, and their response was to...withdraw, vaguepost about me, and then top it off with "well it was a game made by a big corporate entity, why are you critiquing me more than the big corporate entity".

They do make some good points! Yes, there are elements of antiblackness in the way Nightfall is designed. Yes, there are some offensive stereotypes in Skylanders like with Double Trouble and Voodood. (Which, as you said, are still distressingly common in kid's media) Yes, the USAmerican hegemony can infect its way into this franchise the way it does with every other franchise made to appeal to a wide audience in the English-speaking world.

They just need to...focus on the things that they actually know what they're talking about, rather than fluffing up each post with these really bad points. Because if you follow up "High Volt is a border patrol agent and that's eww" with "the group of teenaged dragons are colonizers because they "invade" the castle of "bad guys" to "fight them"", people are going to ask what the hell was up with that second point.

[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!

[fairyminnie444]

Why Does Physical Change Literally Happen?

{+1 explanation for the logical part of the brain}

“Will I just be pretending to myself?” “What is the logic in changing my current unwanted body for what I want to be and how others see me and this change?”

Some questions that go through our heads when we talk about manifesting the desired appearance, and this is normal. Let's demystify this and be absolutely sure to manifest more easily and quickly.

First no, you are not “faking it to yourself.” What you are doing is a process of mental self-reprogramming that uses the power of the mind to create a new internal reality, which will inevitably be reflected on the outside.

1. The Mind Doesn’t Distinguish Between Reality and Imagination

When you intensely imagine your desired body, your brain acts as if it were already true. It begins sending signals to your body to align your physiology with this new vision. This isn’t “faking it,” it’s literally reprogramming your system.

2. How Does Physical Change Literally Happen?

Your body is run by your brain. Everything it does—from regenerating cells to changing its structure—responds to instructions that you, consciously or not, send it. When you see yourself as the version of yourself you want to be, you are literally reprogramming your brain to create that physical change.

Examples in Science and Biology:

• Epigenetics: Your thoughts influence which genes are “turned on” or “turned off.” If you internally assume the identity of a person with the desired body, your body begins to align with that identity.

• Neuroplasticity: The brain reorganizes itself based on the beliefs you hold. It can change hormonal patterns, metabolic patterns, and even cellular regeneration to adapt to what you believe to be true.

3. Why Does Physical-Touchable Reality Change?

• Assumed Identity: When you believe that you already have the desired appearance, the body begins to respond with real physiological changes. For example, a mental model of “I am thin” can change hunger patterns and metabolism, while “I am young” can stimulate collagen production.

• Instructions to the Subconscious: The subconscious controls automatic functions of the body, such as cell regeneration and fat distribution. It accepts everything you imagine with emotion as absolute truth.

4. How Others See You

People see you through the energy and confidence you exude. If you are aligned with the feeling that you are already who you want to be, others will automatically begin to treat and see you that way.

• They may not know “how” or “when” you changed, but they will notice that something is different. This is because your self-confidence and inner congruence have a direct impact on social interactions.

5. You’re Not Pretending, You’re Choosing

When you decide that you are already the desired version of yourself, you’re not pretending, you’re taking on a new identity. This is a conscious exercise in creating the reality you want, and 3D has no choice but to reflect that decision.

6. Real-World Example to Make It More Concrete

1. People who underwent hypnosis believing they had real burns on their skin developed physical blisters—because their bodies responded to their minds.

2. Patients in placebo studies who “believed” they were taking a rejuvenation drug experienced real physical changes, such as improved skin and organs.

These are extreme examples, but they show that the mind instructs the physical body, and the body obeys. It’s not symbolic or “just in the imagination”—it’s a transformation that manifests itself in the tangible.

7. How to Make This Transformation Solid and Firm

To truly believe that your physical transformation is happening:

• Decide and Feel: “I already have this.” See your body as what you want, not what you “think it is.”

• Visualize Clearly: Imagine what it would be like to touch, see, and live with this body. Not just mentally, but as if it were already a reality.

• Believe in Inner Logic: Whatever your mind accepts as truth, your body will do. If you have assumed this new identity, your body has no choice but to follow.

It’s not pretending, nor is it wishful thinking. It’s using the power of your mind to literally transform your body into something physical and real.

[cherrysweets-world]

Invidia

masterlist - part two

Pairing - unrequited Geta x caracalla’s wife!Reader, Caracalla x fem!Reader

Summary- Geta wants what he can't have - his brother's wife.

Warnings - minors dni, intense pining, sexual contact, concubines, brief sex, unedited, can be read as a standalone

Word Count - 1.2k

Geta loved his brother. He knew this. Sometimes Caracalla even knew it too. However, as of late, it had been hard to remember.

The room was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Some noble was in front of Geta, discussing some plan or other. Normally Geta at least tried to stay engaged, but tonight it was particularly difficult.

Caracalla was having no trouble staying preoccupied. No-one dared even approach his brother, lest they break his good mood. A mood brought on by his delightful new wife, who was currently sat square in Caracalla's lap.

It was unusual for noble women to engage in such openly intimate behaviour. Caracalla's happiness was so rare, though, that they didn't even look twice. If you could keep the young Emperor distracted and engaged in less blood thirsty pursuits then who were they to judge? It had been a peaceful month because of you and Geta could tell everyone, from the servants to counsel men to himself, was grateful for it.

Grateful and bitter, he thought to himself. It was not so long ago that he thought he was the fortunate one. Caracalla had always been resentful that he had been betrothed to a woman when Geta was free to choose for himself. Geta had privately agreed and had thought that he might never marry. It was perhaps the one duty that his brother had taken on so he would not have to.

His sister-in-law laughed loudly, leaning into Caracalla to whisper some secret thing to him. Geta's ears burned and he found himself leaning further toward them, as though he might hear what you had to say.

Caracalla responded with a raspy giggle, hands busying themselves on your thighs. There was nothing sexual about it, really. Just close intimacy, unlike anything either of them had shared with anyone before. Geta squeezed his hands tight, imagining what it would feel like to trace those very same patterns as Caracalla.

He could take it no more. "Senator, please, you must enjoy yourself," he tried to grin, "Rome has earned herself a break, has she not? Please, taste the wine, the food. Perhaps the women?"

The senator gave a full laugh. "Perhaps, Emperor Geta, perhaps."

Geta got to his feet immediately. The senator had hardly had the chance to turn around before Geta was across the room and standing before his brother and you.

"Geta," you said, surprised, "we were just thinking of rescuing you."

Caracalla gave him a look that said he was very much not planning to do that. "My wife is very thoughtful, is she not?"

"She is," Geta responded, hoping for nonchalance. "She is also the Empress of Rome. Do you think it is wise to be groping her like that so publicly? She is not one of your whores."

"Oh, I do not mind," you dismissed his concern, "they all know who I am. And it soothes my Emperor to have me so close."

"It does," Caracalla confirmed. "I cannot say you bring me the same joy, brother. I'm sure there are many others who would love to entertain you."

Geta's jaw worked as he considered this. There was no playfulness in his brother's eyes, he was serious. It was off putting to see him so lucid. How was this fair? Geta was the one who worked hardest to rule over Rome and her subjects. He was the Emperor people came to with their questions and simpering proposals. So why had his brother been blessed with a woman such as you?

He knew he should be more grateful. Caracalla had not had a serious episode since the night he met you. When he did have one it was quickly ended by you. In general he had become much more reasonable and everyone was all the happier for it.

Caracalla seemed especially aware of the blessing the Gods had granted him. He did not find Geta's interest in his wife amusing.

Caracalla did not even know the half of it. Geta had been yearning for you since the night you met. You had caught them both at a vulnerable moment and had comforted them when no one else had or could. How could he not want to be around you? He saw the contentedness you brought his brother and could not help but want that for himself.

Sometimes, at night, when he knew the pair of you were enjoying yourselves together, his thoughts turned a dark path. Caracalla had only been married to you for a month - it was not too late to annul the marriage and take you for himself. Darker still, he thought about sending Caracalla far, far away and telling you that he had died. You would turn to Geta for comfort and -

"Geta," you interrupted his thoughts, "are you well? You seem distracted."

"You are most kind, my sister-in-law," he smiled wearily, "I am. . .tired. I will retire early."

You opened your mouth as if to say something more but Caracalla leaned close, nuzzling your neck and tickling a giggle from you. It was shameful how hard the sound made Geta's cock and he almost grabbed it, right there in front of everyone.

Caracalla stared at him from your neck, blue eyes watchful and knowing. Although he was angry at Geta's wanting, part of him was also satisfied to have something that was finally his and his alone. Even better than it was you.

"We shall retire too," Caracalla said, hands coming up to cup your waist and graze the bottom of your breasts. He was making it no secret exactly what the pair of you would be getting up to and white hot jealousy almost skewered Geta to the spot. He wanted to tear you from his brother's arms but he was well aware had no right.

It was a terrible though, but sometimes Geta wished his brother was sicker again. Maybe then you would have come to him more often, or he would have been able to steal you away without his brother's unusually watchful eye. Something about you made him better, though, more alert. Geta did not want to think of what Caracalla might do if you were taken from him.

Geta stared longingly at the side of your face. You did not look back. Of course you did not. You had no interest in a man who was not your husband, who was not Caracalla. You were a good woman and would never think twice about another man. Geta admired this quality whilst equally resenting it.

He bid you both tonight and turned on his heel, dodging various people on the way out. He selected a concubine, a girl who, if he squinted, almost looked like you and retreated to his chambers.

He fucked her with her face turned into his bedding, imagining it was his brother's wife wrapped around his cock instead. Geta imagined what it would be like if he had been the one to marry you. If he was the one to occupy all your thoughts and attention.

It could be different with you, he thought. Maybe he would be gentle for once. You likely would be. Then again he had seen you flirting with Caracalla and you were not shy. Geta would have to take his time, savour the skin on skin contact with you, savour your noises and looks. It would be unlike how it was with his concubines because it would be you and he had never wanted anything quite so badly. It was to these thoughts that he came.

Still, these fantasies were not enough. He had to know.

Author’s Note - he’s too horny. I think this needs a part two, what do you think?

dividers by @enchanthing

[redeemingvillains]

the new girl (pt.2) - mattheo riddle

summary: you come to find that keeping your situationship with mattheo a secret is harder than you anticipated.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: suggestive content, 18+, please read responsibly my dears.

a/n: dedicated to the brilliant person who thought mattheo should be italian. i am kissing you.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ part one here

Mattheo’s lips glided over your neck, alternating in a pattern of kissing and sucking that had your eyes fluttering closed as his hands wandered over your body.

“How long are we going to keep this a secret, bella?” he murmured against you without ceasing.

“Mmm, why? Aren’t you having fun?” you responded coyly, your own hands moving to untuck his shirt, to run your fingers over the firmness of his abs.

His body was electric for you and his mind wiped completely at the sensation of your touch as he pulled back to take in the vision of you, pinned against the wall, the way your heavily lidded eyes met his, unwavering, and the way you subtly pouted at the loss of contact, if only for a second before he kissed you hungrily.

“F’course I’m having fun” he mumbled against you. “But I wouldn’t mind taking you to my room every once and awhile, as nice as these accommodations are” he said, referring to the broom closet you were squeezed into.

“I got here three weeks ago and I’ve spent nearly every day since like… this” you said breathlessly as his hands wound into your hair, kissing you deeper.

“So?” he said, in the briefest pause.

“So I don’t want people to draw conclusions… I don’t want to get a reputation.”

“And what reputation would that be cara mia, hmm?” he asked as his hands wound down your body.

“That you have good taste?” he prompted, his fingers dancing over the waistline of your skirt.

“That you like a bad boy?” he continued, his voice huskier as his hand slipped beneath your skirt and you could feel the cool metal of his ringed fingers against the inside of your thigh.

Your body shuddered in response. I don’t want people to think I’m…easy you thought, even though you knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone else, but there was something about Mattheo was simply irresistible, eclipsing your every waking thought and you had a sneaking suspicion he felt the same way.

“Maybe we wait—” you started as his fingers brushed against you, exactly where you wanted them and your breath hitched “—a little while longer” you whispered.”

“Whatever you say, principessa” he said before losing himself in you.

Mattheo was so fucking smitten with you he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He loved the thrill of your current… arrangement… how exhilarating it was trying to rile you up and keep you quiet at the same time as you snuck into broom closets, abandoned bathrooms and the deepest corner of the restricted section of the library to be together. You swore to him over and over again that this was totally out of character for you, that you never did anything like this before, and that drove him even crazier, knowing that he brought out a side of you that simply couldn’t get enough of him, especially because he felt the same way.

But despite the heady cloud of lust and adoration that seemed to carry him throughout his day, he couldn’t forget the words his friends had said about you that occasionally echoed in his subconscious.

 “She’s all anyone can talk about”

“I would take a bludger straight to the head for just a taste of that”

His palms curled into fists at the memory until he flexed and released them. His friends knew better than to run their mouths like that now, but he was quickly finding that only left him with the rest of the school to deal with.

In potions he could hear Cedric Diggory and Michael Corner talking about you, how hot you were, debating again if it was true that you had dated professional quidditch players, a question that kept resurfacing in a way that was beginning to bother him. He turned around to glare at them but when they caught his eye, he realized he had nothing to say and no reason to stop them, so instead he had to sit through the rest of the class nearly shaking with fury at their comments.

Then it was his teammates in the locker room before quidditch practice, placing bets on who would be the lucky guy to get with you first. He slammed his locker closed and stormed onto the field.

But it all came to a head when he passed you in the corridor, you breezed by each other, each surrounded by your group of friends and enough students that the burning gaze you exchanged with one another went completely unnoticed, even though he picked up the way you subtly bit your bottom lip at him, a tell he’d come to know as you being incredibly turned on. It took every ounce of his willpower not to throw you over his shoulder right there as you passed by but then a voice reverberated in the hall.

“YN! YN!” it shouted and he turned to see Seamus Finnegan yell at you as you passed him by.

“Want to see my wand, beautiful? It’s solid oak and 12 inches long!” His comment was met with a host of laughs and jeers from other Gryffindors and you rolled your eyes in a way that made it seem like this sort of thing happened to you all the time. Mattheo’s blood was boiling and he realized he was creating a commotion all his own by the way he was standing still and staring at you in the crowded thruway, his face grimaced and the tic on his jaw evident. Your cheeks flushed at the look of fury on his face until one of your girlfriends pulled you away.

That night in the library, you traced your fingers over the ridges of his bruised and battered knuckles before your eyes flickered to his, doe-like and innocent as you batted your eyelashes at him.

“What happened?” you whispered.

“S’nothing” he said, gently pulling his hand from your grasp and moving to cup your face, desperate to touch you, to kiss you.

“Doesn’t look like nothing” you pressed.  

He shook his head, blowing the comment off and moving closer to you until you said, “And what might Mr. Finnegan look like at the moment?”

“Like he’s taking a good, long, fucking nap in the infirmary with a pair of black eyes” Mattheo said, his voice low and rough.

And before you could comment, he added, “And I don’t want to spend another minute with you hearing another bloke’s name on those lips” as he kissed you firmly, seductively and grasped your face in his hands.

And then you were awash with him again, adrift in the sensation you’d come to crave from him, dripping with an air of possessiveness that had you coming apart faster than you had any time before.

You rode the high of Mattheo knocking someone out in your honor for days. The perfect combination of the way he lavished you and equally had such a capacity for violence excited you, thrilled you.

Your mind was drifting in and out of thoughts of him as you re-applied your lipgloss in the bathroom when you heard Pansy Parkinson and Astoria Greengrass chatting a few sinks over.

“Are Nicole and Mattheo still hooking up?” Astoria asked, catching your attention.

“She said he’s been ghosting her” Pansy replied. “Why, you want in on that?” she joked.

“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it, haven’t you? You heard what she said about him.”

“Gods yes” Pansy agreed. “Maybe send him a little pic, you know he can’t resist that.”

They brushed by you and you realized your hands were shaking as you gripped the sink in front of you so tightly your knuckles were white.

That night Mattheo noticed something decidedly different about you, the way you twirled your tongue with his, the way you ran your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and sent shivers up his spine, like you were trying to tell him something without words, until finally your hands were on his belt and you pulled back from his lips for just a moment.

“Maybe this doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?” you said quietly.

His heart leapt in his chest, whether at the precarious position of your fingers at the present moment or the words you’d said, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m not complaining, but why the sudden change of heart?” he asked.

You pouted and fidgeted and he realized there was no facial expression you could make that didn’t make him want to do absolutely sinful things to you as he kissed your pouted lips, turning them into a smile.

“Hang on. This doesn’t have anything to do with Nicole and Astoria getting expelled today, does it?" he said, a smirk blossoming on his lips in revelation. "I heard they had a bag of weed and a load of enchanted quills in their rooms.”   

Your eyes glinted as they flickered to his and you tugged him closer to you by his belt, softly biting your bottom lip as you shrugged halfheartedly, daring him to say more.

I fucking love this girl he thought clearly.

“If me spending every night on my knees for you wasn’t clear, cara mia, I am absolutely mental over you. And I’d love nothing more than for every girl in this school to know it, to know that I’m yours. Va bene?”

“Molto bene” you said, drawing the words out against his lips as you enveloped them, the sound of his native language coming from you demolishing him as he pulled you tightly against his chest.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @elsie-bells @hisparentsgallerryy @the-sylver-dragon @r-a-c-h-e-l @noodleboyluke @slutfordpr

[authorhjk1]

1813

(Jisoo X Male Reader) word count: 3279

September 15th, 1813 – Weißenfels

We danced through the night, swept away by the music and the rhythm of our movements. The waltz was followed by a lively quadrille, and though I had never paid much attention to such occasions before, tonight was different. Jisoo moved with grace, her laughter light and warm as she let herself be carried by the music. The first dance passed too quickly, and before I could ask for another, she had already turned towards me with a playful glint in her eye.

“Another?”

She asked, breathless but eager.

The music swelled again as another waltz began, its melody weaving through the grand hall like threads of silk. I offered my hand once more, unable to deny her, or myself, the pleasure of continuing. The room was alive with movement. Couples twirling in perfect harmony, their laughter mingling with the strains of violins and cellos. I held Jisoo close, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder while mine rested at her waist. Together, we moved across the floor, our steps synchronized as though we had danced together countless times before. We spun and stepped through one dance after another, the world beyond the ballroom melting into insignificance. Between each dance, we exchanged words, teasing, and knowing glances.

Her dark eyes sparkled under the candlelight, reflecting both amusement and curiosity as the music picked up the pace and we followed its rhythm.

"You were not exaggerating when you said you ride well."

She remarked softly, her voice carrying just enough volume to be heard over the music.

"Your dancing is just as impressive, Leutnant"

“I believe I said as much.”

I countered with a smirk, though I felt my breath grow shorter.

She took note of it, tilting her head with amusement.

“Is the mighty cavalry officer losing his stamina?”

I scoffed in mock offense.

“I have fought in battles far more exhausting than this.”

“Yet, you are struggling to keep up with one woman?”

She bit her lip to suppress a giggle.

“I am merely pacing myself.”

I replied, feigning nonchalance.

“I believe you wholeheartedly, Leutnant.”

Her laughter made me laugh as well. It seemed to give me new energy to keep up with hers.

For several moments, we continued to glide across the floor without speaking, lost in each other's company. The rhythm of the music seemed to pulse between us, guiding our movements with effortless grace. Around us, the world dissolved into a blur of colors and sounds, leaving only the two of us beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers.

"You seem so certain of everything."

She suddenly said after a while, her tone playful yet tinged with genuine interest. She looked cute with her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Almost as if she thought about this for a long time and now had to ask me something, overwhelmed by her own curiosity.

"Is there nothing that makes you doubt yourself?"

I hesitated, caught off guard by the question. It wasn't one I expected from someone who, until recently, had been little more than a fleeting acquaintance. Yet, her sincerity made it impossible to dismiss or evade.

"There are many things."

I admitted finally.

"War teaches you uncertainty above all else. But here... with you..."

My voice trailed off, unsure how much to reveal.

"With me?"

She prompted gently, her gaze steady and encouraging.

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully.

"With you, I find myself wanting to believe in possibilities I might otherwise ignore. In peace, perhaps even happiness."

Her smile softened, becoming something deeper and more meaningful.

"And do you think those things exist for people like us?"

Before I could respond, the music shifted subtly, signaling the transition into a faster tempo. Our steps quickened accordingly, our bodies moving closer as we navigated the intricate patterns of the dance. For a time, no further words passed between us, only the shared understanding conveyed through glances and gestures.

As the minutes stretched on, the energy in the room grew palpable. Couples spun faster, their laughter rising above the music. Even Jisoo's movements became bolder, her confidence growing with every step. Watching her face light up with joy filled me with a sense of pride and awe. She carried herself with a natural elegance that belied her modest origins, drawing admiring glances from everyone around us.

"Do you enjoy this?"

I asked, unable to suppress a grin as she executed a particularly daring turn.

"I love it."

She replied, her voice breathless but full of enthusiasm.

"It feels… freeing, somehow. Like nothing else matters except this moment."

Her honesty struck a chord within me, resonating deeply with my own feelings. How often had I sought refuge in the saddle of a horse, finding solace in the rhythmic gallop beneath open skies? Here, in Jisoo's arms, I discovered a similar escape, one that promised not merely freedom but connection.

The music slowed once more, allowing us to catch our breath. As we resumed our slower pace, I felt the weight of her hand against my shoulder, the warmth of her presence grounding me.

"Tell me more about Joseon."

I urged, eager to learn more about the land she called home. As our connection kept growing, I couldn’t suppress the need to find out more about her.

"What is it like there?"

Her eyes lit up at the mention of her homeland, her smile widening as she spoke.

"It is beautiful."

She began, her voice rich with nostalgia.

"The mountains rise high, covered in pine trees that whisper secrets to the wind. And the rivers… they flow so calmly, reflecting the sky above like mirrors. People there live simple lives, centered around family and tradition. My father owns a small restaurant in Seoul, where he serves dishes passed down through generations. He believes food brings people together, and I think he's right."

Listening to her description, I found myself imagining the scenes she painted. A bustling city surrounded by verdant hills, its streets filled with vibrant colors and scents.

"It sounds wonderful."

I murmured sincerely.

"One day, I would love to visit."

"Then you must."

She said firmly, her gaze meeting mine.

"When the war ends, come to Joseon. Let me show you everything."

Her invitation warmed my heart, filling me with hope despite the uncertainties ahead. Before I could reply, however, the music ended abruptly, bringing our dance to a halt. Applause erupted throughout the hall, punctuated by cheers and laughter. Reluctantly, we parted, bowing to each other as custom dictated.

But as we straightened, I noticed a young man approaching us, his posture stiff and formal. His uniform marked him as a fellow officer, though I didn't recognize his rank or regiment. He bowed deeply before Jisoo, addressing her with exaggerated politeness.

"Fräulein."

He began, his voice smooth but lacking warmth.

"Would you honor me with the next dance?"

Jisoo glanced at me briefly, her expression apologetic.

"I fear I cannot."

She replied graciously.

"I am feeling a bit tired after such a long evening. Perhaps another time."

The man frowned slightly, clearly disappointed, but nodded nonetheless.

"Of course, Fräulein. My apologies for troubling you."

Once he had departed, I couldn't resist teasing her.

"Tired already? Are you sure you're not simply avoiding admirers?"

She shot me a playful glare, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

"If I recall correctly, it was you who boasted about your stamina earlier tonight. Perhaps I'm simply testing whether you can keep up."

"Oh, is that what this is?"

I countered, feigning indignation.

"Well, allow me to prove you wrong. Shall we continue?"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Not yet. Let us take a moment to rest first. Besides, I suspect Herr Lindemann might worry if we spend too much time away from him."

Relenting, I offered her my arm, leading her toward the refreshment tables where her relatives were standing nearby. We paused there, Jisoo sipping on a glass of wine and me drinking cognac, while watching the other couples twirl about the room. When Frau Lindemann showed interest in Jisoo’s evening so far, I tried not to listen. I caught my breath while looking around the hall. Now that I wasn’t gliding over the dance floor with her, everything suddenly seemed less vibrant. Less beautiful. The uniforms of the other soldiers, earlier shining and clean, now appeared stiff and confining, their polished buttons glaring under the chandeliers like badges of obligation rather than honor. The laughter of the guests no longer sounded joyful but forced, a brittle veneer masking the uncertainty of our times. Even the music, once enchanting, had taken on an edge, a reminder of how fleeting such moments could be.

I sipped my cognac slowly, letting its warmth settle in my chest as I scanned the room. It was all too easy to forget, here amidst the gilded splendor of Weißenfels, that just beyond these walls lay a world at war. A world where men fought and died for causes they barely understood, their lives reduced to mere statistics in reports sent back to distant capitals. And yet, the reality pressed upon me with relentless clarity: this fragile peace we shared tonight could shatter in an instant. One wrong move, one stray bullet, and it would all come crashing down.

My gaze drifted toward the windows, their panes reflecting the flickering candlelight. Outside, the night stretched vast and unknowable, a stark contrast to the carefully curated elegance inside. Somewhere out there, French patrols roamed the countryside, their presence a constant threat. Every step forward felt like walking on thin ice, knowing full well that one misstep could send you plunging into icy waters from which there might be no return.

Frau Lindemann’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me reluctantly back to the present. She was asking Jisoo about her family in Joseon, her tone polite but tinged with curiosity. Jisoo responded graciously, painting vivid pictures of her homeland with words alone. Her descriptions were rich and evocative, speaking of rolling hills blanketed in cherry blossoms, bustling markets alive with color and sound, and quiet evenings spent beneath starlit skies. Listening to her, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for a life simpler, freer, unburdened by the weight of duty and conflict.

But even as she spoke, I found myself wondering how long such dreams could endure. War had a way of consuming everything in its path, leaving little untouched. Could love survive when faced with the harsh realities of battle? Could two people, bound together by nothing more than stolen moments and whispered promises, truly weather the storm that loomed ahead?

The thought unsettled me, stirring unease deep within my chest. I glanced down at my glass, watching the amber liquid swirl lazily against the crystal. How ironic, I mused bitterly, that I should find myself questioning the permanence of anything while standing in the midst of such opulence. These grand halls, these elaborate costumes—they were all temporary, transient things, meant to distract us from the truth of our existence. Yet here I stood, clinging to them as though they offered some measure of safety, some guarantee of continuity.

Jisoo noticed my distraction and shot me a concerned look.

"Is everything alright?"

She murmured softly, leaning closer so only I could hear.

"I’m fine."

I replied quickly, forcing a smile. But the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Fine? No, I wasn’t fine. Not when every heartbeat reminded me of how precarious our situation truly was. Not when the knowledge that tomorrow might never come hung heavy over my shoulders.

She didn’t press further, instead turning her attention back to Frau Lindemann. But her hand brushed mine briefly, a subtle gesture meant to reassure. And for a moment, it worked. That single touch anchored me, grounding me in the present. If nothing else, I told myself, I could hold onto this fleeting connection, this shared understanding that transcended language and culture.

As the conversation wound down, I excused myself momentarily, stepping away from the group to clear my head. The air near the refreshment tables felt stifling, thick with the mingling scents of perfume and wine. Moving toward one of the large windows, I pushed open the heavy velvet drapes and stepped onto the balcony overlooking the garden. Cool night air greeted me, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. For the first time since arriving at the ball, I felt something resembling calm.

Still, the image of the battlefield lingered stubbornly in my mind. The smoke-filled air, the deafening roar of cannon fire, the cries of wounded men echoing across the fields. Each memory served as a grim reminder of the stakes involved. What right did I have to indulge in moments of happiness when others suffered unimaginable horrors? Wasn’t it selfish, even reckless, to allow myself to care so deeply for someone who might soon become another casualty of war?

And yet, despite these doubts, I couldn’t bring myself to regret meeting Jisoo. If anything, her presence gave meaning to what might otherwise have been a meaningless existence. In her, I saw hope, not blind optimism, but a quiet belief in the possibility of better days. She reminded me that even amidst chaos, beauty could still exist. That love, though fragile, could also be resilient.

Footsteps behind me announced her arrival before she spoke.

"You disappeared rather suddenly."

She said lightly, joining me on the balcony. Her breath misted in the cool air as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

"I needed a moment."

I admitted, offering her my coat. She accepted it gratefully, pulling it tightly around her slender frame.

"It’s strange."

I continued after a pause.

"Being here with you makes me realize how much of my life feels… forced. Like I’m playing a part written for someone else."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything."

I gestured vaguely toward the hall behind us. "The uniform, the titles, the expectations. It’s all so rigid, so calculated. There’s no room for spontaneity, no space to simply be. But with you…"

My voice trailed off, unsure how to articulate the sentiment fully.

"With me, you feel free."

She finished softly, her dark eyes searching mine.

I nodded, struck by the accuracy of her words.

"Yes. With you, I feel free."

She smiled then, a small, wistful smile that spoke volumes.

"Perhaps that’s because freedom isn’t something we find outside ourselves. It’s something we create, however briefly, with those we choose to share it with."

Her wisdom humbled me, reminding me once again why she mattered so much. Despite not knowing her well, I felt this connection between us. Something which you don’t need words for.

Reaching out, I took her hand in mine, marveling at how perfectly it fit. This dark cloud of worry which suddenly overcame me was now slowly fading away again. I don’t know if one could call it love after meeting only a handful of times. But Jisoo does feel like the sun in my otherwise rain clouded life.

I felt Jisoo’s gaze linger on me for a moment before she turned away, seemingly shy yet unable to suppress a small smile.

"Do you think you can keep up if we return to the dance floor?”

She teased, slowly slipping my coat off her shoulders again. I could see in her eyes that she hated to see me in this state. The warm smile she gave me lifted my mood almost instantly.

"I believe I can manage."

I said with mock seriousness.

"But perhaps you should worry about your own stamina instead."

Her laugh was bright and infectious and it seemed to warm the cold night air. In that moment I didn’t care what might happen tomorrow. All that mattered was the woman standing beside me.

After a brief respite, we stepped back onto the floor for another dance. This time, the music was slower, more intimate. Our movements became less formal, our steps synchronized as though we had practiced them countless times before. With every turn, every glance, I felt the walls between us crumbling further, leaving only honesty and vulnerability.

As the final notes of the dance faded into silence, applause rippled through the hall. We parted, bowing to each other, but not intending to leave each other’s side. As we straightened, I saw the unspoken invitation in her eyes. An openness that called to me like a beacon.

Without another word, I offered her my arm.

"Would you care for some fresh air?"

She accepted with a gentle nod, and together we slipped out of the crowded hall, stepping into the cool night air. The moon hung low in the sky, its silver light bathing the cobblestone streets in a tranquil glow. A faint breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves, mingling with the distant aroma of pine from the nearby forest.

We walked silently for a while, our steps synchronized as though even here, away from the music, we were still dancing. The weight of the evening settled comfortably between us, neither too heavy nor too light. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but steady.

“I enjoy this.”

She admitted softly, looking up at the stars.

“Being here. With you.”

I took a slow breath, steadying the unfamiliar warmth in my chest.

“And I with you.”

She turned to face me then, her expression softer than before.

“What do you think your father’s land is like in the spring?”

I smiled at the sudden question.

“Green. Open fields stretching for miles, horses running free in the pastures. I think you would like it.”

She reached out, hesitating before placing her hand lightly over mine.

“Then one day, take me there.”

I took a step closer, close enough to hear her breath hitch.

“Jisoo.”

I murmured, her name unfamiliar yet effortless on my tongue.

She did not pull away. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

And then, without thinking, I closed the space between us.

Our lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss, filled with all the words we had not spoken. It only lasted seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

When we finally parted, she lingered close, her eyes searching mine.

“Leutnant.”

She whispered, a small smile on her lips.

I smiled back.

“Karl.”

I corrected gently.

She laughed softly.

“Karl.”

Her eyes focused on my lips for a moment, before she looked back up at me.

"Kiss me again."

This time, there was no hesitation, no doubt. Our lips met once more, softer than before, yet infused with the promise of something greater. A bond forged not just in fleeting moments, but in the shared struggles and triumphs of life itself.

As we stood there beneath the starlit sky, surrounded by the quiet beauty of Weißenfels, I knew one thing for certain: whatever the future held, I would face it with her by my side.

When we finally broke apart, Jisoo rested her head lightly on my shoulder.

For a long moment, we simply stayed there, lost in the magic of the night. The world seemed impossibly vast yet infinitely small, as though everything outside this moment faded into insignificance. And as the first hints of dawn began to paint the horizon, I realized with absolute clarity that Jisoo was not just a passing presence in my life. She was the reason I wanted to keep fighting, the light that guided me through the darkness. Even if tomorrow brought uncertainty, tonight belonged to us. And that, I decided, was enough.

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Wildest fantasies - Azriel x Lucien x Reader (smut)

Warnings: threesome (18+!), breeding kink, oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, penetration

Summary: You end up alone with the two males you so desperately want. They try to get your dirty little secret out of you…

You didn’t know how you ended up here. Left with only Azriel and Lucien of all people, laying casually on the couch at the town house.

You lazily sipped from your wine. All the others already gone to bed, tired of the truth or dare game you’ve been playing all night.

“I have an interesting question for you, Az” you smiled. “What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?”

Az smirked, “you really don’t wanna know.”

“I do! Now I’m curious.” your eyes lit up. Azriel contemplated answering for a moment. “My dungeon” he eventually said. You didn’t see that one coming. Even Lucien’s eyes widened for a moment but he hid the expression gracefully, like he always did.

“Now, if you wanna play it like that, Y/N. Tell me your ultimate fantasy” he countered. You couldn’t hide the blush on your cheeks, making Az grin even more. “Well, that’s an interesting question,” Lucien added.

You didn’t know what to answer, you couldn’t tell it, when it included the two exact males sitting in front of you. What where the chances? The two males you think of when you’re in bed, late at night, pleasering yourself to the thought of being in between them.

“You know my shadows can sense how nervous you’re getting, right?” Az smirked.

“I guess it’s something she doesn’t want us to know” Lucien teased.

“I.. I just don’t have a specific fantasy” you lied. Azriel clicked his tongue in disapproval, “are you trying to lie to a spymaster?”

“That’s not very good y/n” Lucien added, their gazes turned predatory, enjoying the sight of you getting nervous.

Lucien, who was sitting on the other end of the couch had moved, smirking as he leaned in closer to you. His breath but a whisper as he said, “come on now y/n, if you’re gonna lie, at least try to be move convincing.”

Heat started to rise in your face. You wanted to respond but before you could, Lucien spoke again. “Why don’t we do a little confession for a confession? That seems fair, Az went already so that leaves you and me. I’ll go first.”

Lucien pulled away and looked up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. Your eyes wondered from his neck down to his slightly exposed chest. Mesmerised by the rise and fall of his chest you didn’t realise that he was now looking at you. His daring gaze meeting yours.

“I’m still in the room, you know” Azriel murmured

Your head shot to Az immediately trying to cover up what you had just done, trying to find an excuse.

“Maybe that’s what she wants” Lucien added and Azriel let out a chuckle as he made his way closer to you as well.

“No!” Was all you could say in protest.

“Come on, we won’t judge,” Az added as he settled in on your side, you were in the middle of the two men you’d wanted most.

“Tell us what you want y/n” Lucien said as he lifted your chin to look at him. His lips now inches away from yours. “I’m sure we can give you what you need.” You tensed as you felt Azriel’s breath against the nape of your neck as his hands moved up your arms.

“Y-you.. I want… I want you both,” you breathed heavily, a familiar heat filling your lower belly. “That’s what I thought,” Lucien whispered, his breath tickling your neck, placing a soft kiss on the skin.

You felt Azriel’s hand move up on your thigh, slowly traveling closer to the place you wanted him. “You’ve thought about it didn’t you? You naughty little girl” Azriel whispered, making Lucien chuckle softly against your neck.

You still denied it, but your quickening breath didn’t go unnoticed. “We’ll make her admit it” Lucien sighed, his hands trailing a pattern under your shirt, his hands moving closer to your breasts.

“Please” you could only whine as Lucien grabbed your breasts in his warm hands, tracing your nipple teasingly. You tried to hide a moan when you felt Az’s scarred fingers slowly tracing the hem of your panties, a finger slipping in between the fabric. “We should take these clothes off don’t you think?”

You could only nodd in answer. Before you knew it you were naked in front of the males. Lucien’s lips wrapped around your nipple, licking and sucking softly. Az already on his knees before you, kissing your inner thigh.

“So pretty” Az mumbled in between your thighs. “Yes, you’re so wet for us, aren’t you sweetheart? Do you want Az to eat you out?” Lucien’s voice sounded whiny, leaded by the arousal coursing through his body. “Yes, I want it” you pleaded.

Az kissed your pussy softly, teasing you more. The pleading whine you let out, makes him grab your thighs harshly. His fingers digging into the flesh.

You moaned out loudly when his lips attached to your clit. He moaned against your pussy, savouring your taste, the sound sending out a delicious vibration.

The spypaster started sucking like a man starved, adding his tongue, plunging in and out of your pussy while his nose harshly rubbed against your clit.

Lucien groaned behind you when you started writhing and whining, making your ass grind against his hardening length pressed against your back. Gods, he felt so big. “Does that feel good, baby? Does Az make you feel good?” Lucien moaned into your ear.

“Yes yes, feels so good, more, want more” you whined. Az’s mouth didn’t stop moving against you. You felt like you’ve never experienced something like this before. The feeling of his tongue and lips against you, while Lucien whispered dirty things in your ears, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m gonna cum” you moaned.

“Let go for us, baby, come around my tongue like a good girl” Azriel said in between the licking and sucking.

The combination of Az’s words and Lucien’s finger tracing your nipple, sent you over the edge. Your legs squeezed around his neck when you trembled against both males.

You breathed loudly when you came down for your high, but you weren’t even close to satisfied. That’s when you noticed they were both still fully clothed.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Az asked. “You’re still clothed, I want it off” you pouted. “Well, all you had to do was ask,” you heard Lucien’s smooth voice behind you.

A moment later they were standing in front of you, their considerable lenghts as hard as a rock already, resting against their bellies.

Your mouth wattered, they looked beautiful like this. The beautiful brightness of Lucien, and the gorgeous darkness of Azriel.

You smiled up at them innocently when you kneeled before them.

Azriel groaned loudly when you grabbed his cock in your hand. “You’re both so big,” you sighed, licking a stripe on the shaft. You grabbed Lucien’s cock in your other hand while you started sucking on Azriel’s tip. He grabbed your hair in his hand, guiding your head gently.

“Gods… That mouth…” he groaned. Lucien moaned too, carefully watching the way your mouth moves on Azriel. Their affected state made you smile proudly, you changed positions and started sucking on Lucien’s cock.

But it wasn’t enough, you wanted more. You wanted them going feral for you.

The males groaned in surprise when you tried to put both their cocks in your mouth. Occasionally licking their tips simultaneously, moving your tongue in between them.

“Gods y/n, you’re so good to us,” Lucien groaned.

“Can feel Lucien’s cock rubbing against me in that pretty mouth of yours” Azriel moaned, his eyes closing and head falling back.

You tried to rub your legs together, attempting to relieve some tension. The way their heavy cocks felt on your tongue, the moans and whines coming out of their mouths... You wanted them inside you.

Lucien’s brows furrowed when he saw you rubbing your own pussy. “You’re getting needy again arent you?”

“You want us to fuck you, darling?” Az added with a smirk. “Yes please” you desperately cried out.

“Hmm… Let’s see… You first have tell us the truth about that fantasy of yours”

“It was you, I wanted you two. I’ve wanted you both for so long now. I want you both to fuck me and fill me up.”

“Yeah? You think about us when you’re desperate and alone at night, wishing those fingers were our cocks?” Az teased. You nodded in answer.

Shadows swarmed around you and suddenly you were in Azriel’s room, the males staring hungrily at you.

Lucien sat down on the bed, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to him. “Gods y/n, you’re so pretty, wanna know a secret? From the moment I met you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I can’t stop thinking about you and what it would be like if I was yours.” Lucien confessed. His dilated pupils full of passion and love.

You’re heart couldn’t beat any faster, the confession making your head spin. But before you could answer him, a pair of hands behind you, grabbed your hips too. Your backside was now pushed against Azriel’s front. He groaned possessively into your ear. “You don’t wanna make me jealous, Lucien.” He seemed annoyed by the other male’s confession. “I didn’t say I would mind sharing her, Azriel, don’t worry.”

You felt Azriel nod in approval against your neck. He nudged your body closer to Lucien again, making you straddle his legs. “Shall I go first?” he smirked. You nodded and tugged gently on his, already rock hard, cock.

You lifted your hips and Lucien placed his tip at your entrance, gently helping you sit down on his length. Gods, he felt amazing. When you were fully sat, you could feel every vein and curve inside you, tocuhing the most delicious places. “Feels so good” you moaned. “S-so good” Lucien moaned too.

When you started bouncing up and down, your head fell back against Azriel’s chest behind you, who had his hands on your hips too, lifting you up and down to move faster on Lucien’s cock.

“Doing so good for us, baby, riding Lucien’s cock like the good girl you are,” he groaned. Az’s shadowed swarmed over you body, touching the places that weren’t already stimulated. You cried out because of the feeling.

Your legs almost gave out already, you relied on the two males lifting you up and down now. Lucien let out high pitched moan with you, signaling the approach of both your highs. You could’ve sworn you heard Az let out a breathy wimper too because of the view.

“I’m gonna cum” you moaned. “Me too.”

Suddenly Lucien grabbed your ass and turned you on your back. You wrapped your legs around him, making you feel him even deeper. He started pounding into you faster, fucking you like the flames that coursed through his blood. “Where do you want me,” he moaned. “In me, please in me, Lu.”

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up? All nice and full?” You nodded desperately in answer. “Yes, gods, y/n, yes” Lucien groaned when he came inside you, the feeling of his warm release inside you pushing you over the edge too. Loud moans and whines of his names filled the room.

Lucien slowly slid out of you, both breathing heavily. “Look at you” he said lovingly, watching his cum slip out of your pussy, his fingers playing with the release.

You almost forgot Azriel was still standing there when you suddenly heard a silent groan. Lucien and you turned around on the bed, seeing Azriel standing there, fisting his cock to the sight of you two.

“You like what you saw Azriel?” Lucien teased with a hint of pride. “I think y/n can take some more cum. It’s Az’s turn now, right? Then we can put you full of our cum”

Lucien sat against the headbord, spreading his legs and patting the place in between them, motioning you to sit there. You smiled and crawled to him, sitting in between his muscled thighs, your back and head resting against his chest.

He gently grabbed your thighs, spreading them open for Azriel. “All for you, my friend.”

Azriel happily complied and crawled into the bed too, his cock resting proudly against his torso. “You can handle another one, right y/n?” Azriel asked, his gaze predatory. “I-I think so,” you nodded, already getting wet again because of the look in the shadowsinger’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here behind you y/n, holding you when he takes you.” Lucien whispered in your ears.

“I’ve wanted this for years now. Dreamed about this pretty pussy. Tell me, baby…” Azriel said, gently placing the tip of his cock at your entrance. “You want it… gentle…”, he slipped his cock inside you and slided back out, you both groaned at the feeling. “Or… hard” He asked, slamming harshly inside of you.

“Hard, I want it hard, please Azzie”

The male complied, not hesitating to start pounding into you mercilessly. “Oh, yes, yes” you moaned out. Azriel’s name falling from your lips like a prayer.

You felt Lucien grab your tits while Azriel kissed you passionately, the tip of his cock ramming into that sensitive spot inside you repeatedly. “So beautiful, so godsdamned hot, y/n. You feel so good” Azriel moaned, already losing his control.

He grabbed your cheeks in his hands, turning your face to the side. “Give our little fox a kiss too, y/n” he demanded. You complied, Lucien’s tongue slipped into your mouth, kissing you passionately, his soft and sweet lips moving against you.

You felt the familiar pressure again in your core. Azriel grabbed your cheeks again and yanked your face back to him. “Attention back here now, sweetheart. Look at me, look at how deep I am.”

The shadowshinger placed one leg above his shoulder, making you scream out for him. It was all too much. To sight of Azriel pounding into you, his cheeks flushed and his muscles flexing. The feeling of Lucien sucking your neck behind you. The way both males look at you like they never wanted anything more in their lives.

“G-gonna.. g-gonna”, you tried but you were too fucked out by it all. “I know, baby, I know, me too” Azriel understood.

With a final slam of his hips against you, you both came. “Y/n, y/n, y/n” he moaned out. Your whole body felt like it was on fire when you came. You screemed out, crawling at his back. Your mind couldn’t form any thoughts except: Azriel, Lucien, Azriel, Lucien.

When you came down from your high, you barely noticed Lucien slipping away from behind you, getting a wet cloth in the bathroom. Azriel gently pulled you against him, laying beside you on the bed. He stroked your hair lovingly.

“You did so great for us” he whispered.

“Carefull” you heard Lucien’s soft voice warning you from behind you, before he cleaned you up with the cold and wet cloth.

A moment later the coldness of the water was replaced by Lucien’s warm body, he layed next to you on the other side, his tanned arms wrapping around you together with Azriel’s. You let out a content sigh.

Lucien kissed your neck gently, you lifted your arm behind you and played with the soft strands of his hair. “You want us to stay here with you tonight?” he asked. You loved this. Your head resting in Azriel’s neck, their arms wrapped around you, tangled in between the two most beautiful males of Prythian. “Yes please” you answered, placing your hands in theirs.

—

[whateveriwant]

Hello, i hope you dont mind if i request agian! Could I get TF141 with an S/O who are just super prone to panic attack?

These are not meant to be taken as mental health advice. I'm just playing around here <3

Soap

The first time it happened, he didn't know what was going on. The sudden heavy breathing, the tremors, the loss of speech; he thought you were dying, honestly

It nearly sent him into a panic as he tried to figure out what he could do to help. Should you stay put or should you be taken to hospital? He just didn't know

However, once it had passed and you were able to better explain the situation, Soap was pulling you into a hug, the biggest breath of relief escaping him knowing you were going to be alright

He wasn't “happy” per se to learn this is something you struggle with regularly, but knowing there's at least something he could do to help in the future put his mind at ease

Nowadays he's got the drill down pat, so when he sees the signs an attack is incoming, he's whisking you to a safe environment where you can attempt to de-stress

Oftentimes it leads to him sitting beside you out on a curb somewhere, his warm hand rubbing soft circles into your back as he comforts you through it

Gaz

From the second he notices you start to pull away from him, Gaz is immediately on top of it, deploying a technique he's quite familiar with

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says, unbothered by having to repeat himself when you don't respond because he did not seriously just ask you that right now

But after enough prompting by him, you shakily list out five items, wet eyes darting around the room as you try to take stock of your surroundings

Once you do as bid, he'll continue, “Now four things you can hear.” And now you're starting to think you see where he's going with this

He'll work his way through all five senses, counting down to one, and once he reaches the final, you find that your pulse has slowed tremendously and your tremor has stopped entirely

Afterwards, you give him a shy thanks, asking how he knew that would work. “Simple,” he tells you. “Used to do it with my sister when we were young. It helped her then, so I thought it might help you now.”

Price

He takes the most heavy handed approach when trying to bring you down from such a rocky high. And while some people might find it smothering, you just see it as grounding

“Hey. Look at me,” his order is firm though his voice remains purposefully gentle. “Don't look anywhere else, just look at me. That's it. Just focus on me.”

If he has to, he'll even push a finger against your chin until you're meeting his eye and holding it, trying to focus on his soothing words instead of the anxious thoughts racing through your head

Slowly and deliberately, he'll breathe in through his nose then out through his mouth, guiding you to follow along with his measured pattern

If that's still not enough, he'll then take your hand beneath his and hold it over his heart, letting its strong, steady rhythm lull you back to a calmer state

“You alright?” he questions once you've settled down again. When you nod and assure him you are, he'll kiss your temple, promising, “I've got you, dear. Always.”

Ghost

When he realized what was happening with you, he quickly jumped into action, but in a way that was completely unexpected

“Remember when you first took me out for sushi and I didn't know wasabi was hot?” he asks you seemingly out of the blue. “Ate a whole spoonful before I realized. Burned like hell going down. But that was nothin’ compared to when it came out again later.”

The memory of that night stirs to life in your mind, and through your rapid breaths and trembling lips, you're able to crack the barest of smiles

He continues, “Or remember when I got sprayed by that skunk in the garden? You made me sleep on the couch for three days. Said I smelled like a garbage bin’s arsehole.”

That memory has you huffing out a short, low chuckle, and though you don't notice it, your pulse begins to hammer a little slower

And so he keeps going, distracting you with funny memories and personal anecdotes until all you're doing is smiling and laughing brightly, totally forgetting what had made you panic in the first place

[gottaluvharry]

family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

[vitiligo-is-not-a-trend]

FAQ (PLEASE READ BEFORE SENDING ANY ASKS!):

I have vitiligo does that mean I can't do X, Y, or Z?:

If you have vitiligo: Welcome to the club :D! In general this advice is mainly aimed towards people who don't have vitiligo, BUT if you do, do what you want! The only thing I would ask of you is to be aware that A) People might not be aware that you have vitiligo which is why you're taking liberates with it, B) People might try to emulate your depiction so if someone without the disorder doing something you might find uncomfortable, keep that in mind! and C) Be mindful of whether or not you're contributing to potentially harmful stereotypes! I'm not going to tell you, someone with the disability, that things are off limits, and I am aware that not everyone feels the same about this disorder, but keeping those things in mind won't hurt anybody!

Is it okay for vitiligo to be animal or shape based in pattern?:

NO. It's de-humanizing and harmful as many ablest insults aimed towards people with this disorder are animal-based. Also it purposefully goes out of it's way to make a person less human purely because they're disabled, which is obviously ablest in itself. Vitiligo is a disorder, NOT an aesthetic.

The same applied for characters inspired or based on animals, especially ones that are patterned.

YES this also includes giving them patterns like paint splotches, hearts, stars, and other stuff like that.

How does vitiligo develop?:

Vitiligo is an auto-immune disorder, which means its genetics based, BUT(!) it is not something you are born with, and needs to be developed through a person's life time. There are theories as to how it develops but as far as I'm aware there's no one solid answer.

Are POC the only people who can develop vitiligo?:

Nope! Vitiligo can occur in anyone of any race/ethnicity. The reason why you only see people with darker skin tones portrayed with it is because there's more visual contrast, thus making it seem more unique/distinct/obvious.

What does this blog offer?:

I do all sorts of things! I show examples of vitiligo represented in media, answer any questions people might have about it in general, questions specific to character/plots, character design tips, and sensitivity reading just to name a few!

Why am I not answering an ask?

I've got a few mental and physical conditions which make me extremely tired all the time and sometimes I just don't have the mental energy to do it </3

Also some asks are tricky! I might just horde the ask until I can think of a proper way to respond or if vitiligo finally gets enough media rep that I can do a proper analysis or make an actual wish-list lol.

Who runs this blog?:

@trinrose3! I developed vitiligo when I was 7 years and and for the majority of the time that I've had this disorder I felt disgusted and ashamed of it. Over the last few years I've learned to appreciate my vitiligo, as well as develop a slight hyperfixation on it in general, so I made this blog in order to spread awareness and positivity!

I'm the only one running this joint so if I'm being a little slow to answer an ask please be patient <3

Also here's a link to my ko-fi I'm struggling to pay bills and the health issues, job market, and other life circumstances are making it really hard right now so every penny is appreciated! I also take art commissions!

https://ko-fi.com/trinrose3

[sad-gojo-enthusiast]

Who Knew the Impact of Four Words?

Paring: Gojo x Long Term Girlfriend! Reader

Summary: After a few long years, he finally decides to ask the question

Warnings: Maybe the smallest bit suggestive?,

Author's Note: Hey guys so this is my first fanfic that I'll be writing upon my return. I'm really excited about this one I think it's very cute and fluffy, maybe a little comedic. I hope you guys enjoy it if people even read fanfiction anymore lol. Feel free to leave any feedback!

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

"You busy tonight? ;)"

The words lit up on my phone from a familiar contact: satoru <3.

"Depends who's asking:

Sorcerer 'I have a mission for you' Gojo, or my boyfriend Gojo?"

I respond as I laugh to myself. We both worked at Jujutsu High together as teachers. It doesn't take long for my phone to light up with a response.

"Ur bf ;)))"

"Then yes"

"Be there at 8 wear something nice pretty girl"

I smile to myself. I was planning on a quiet night tonight, one where I just fill out some paperwork and grade some tests while I watch some movie I've seen a thousand times. I wasn't expecting to see him tonight as he was on some important mission that only he can do. He must've finished early I think to myself. Of course he did he's Satoru Gojo. I sigh and get up from the couch which I was sitting on and look at the clock.

7:01

Less than an hour to get ready. I walk over to my room closet and search for something nice to wear. Whatever that means. I search through my closet in search of something high enough for his expectations and after much debate I settle on a long flowy skirt decorated with small flowers and a dark colored blouse. I move to the mirror taking in my appearance.

"Good enough"

I think as I move to the mirror and sit down as I start working on my hair and makeup. I decide on touching up my makeup that I wore to work today and adding a few minor details. I'm just finishing putting my long curly hair up into a half-up half-down look when I hear a familiar knock pattern at the door. I open it, already knowing who it is. He looks me up and down and kisses me softly on the cheek, moving his lips to my ear and whispering softly.

"You look so beautiful, princess"

I smile and he drags me away. I ask him where we're going but he only responds with vague, open-ended answers as he smiles foolishly as he always does. I shake my head and smile softly as he leads me to wherever it is he intends on taking me.

"Satoru tell me where you're taking me, you know how much I hate surprises"

"And you know how much I love surprising you"

He laughs to himself as he responds. He seems overly joyful for someone who just got back from a mission. We keep walking and eventually I give up asking him and just resort to following him wherever it is we're going. He leads me to a building in the middle of the city and takes me up the elevator.

"Cover your eyes" he whispers to me playfully. I can tell he's really excited although I'm not sure why. I decide to give in to him and cover my eyes sarcastically.

"Not like that" he whines and adjusts my hands so they're better shielding my eyes. I laugh.

"But Satoru I can't see at all"

"Don't worry I'll guide you"

The elevator doors open and he pulls my arm forward. I follow him slowly and hesitantly, not wanting to trip and embarrass myself. He leads me forward and then stands behind me, pressing against my back. His arms rest on my hips and trail up my sides until he reaches my shoulders. He presses his hands on my shoulders and pushes my arms away from my eyes. I open my eyes looking around.

"Surpriseeeee" Gojo whispers in my ear softly. I can hear the smile in his voice.

We're on the rooftop of a building. The view is beautiful: the lively night life of Tokyo surrounds and encompasses us. There's a small round table in the middle of the open patio with a fancy white table cloth and softly dimming lights surrounding us.

"Satoru...." I trail off in awe.

"Like it?" I smile and nod my head. I wrap my arms around his neck and say softly.

"What's the occasion?"

"Does there need to be an occasion?" he asks cheekily.

He leads me to the table and pulls out the chair for me to sit down and then takes the seat opposite of my own and we begin to talk. I haven't seen him for a couple of days due to his mission, so we have a few things to catch up on. We discuss his students and my own along with new curriculum and updates on the students' mission and training statuses. I notice him growing more nervous which is very out of character for him.

"You don't have to worry you know, Megumi is progressing more than satisfactory. He'll be fine." I grab his hand reassuringly, completely unaware of what's about to happen this evening. His eyes soften as he looks at me and he chuckles.

"It's not that Y/N"

I look at him confused wondering what it could be that has him so nervous. I stare at him trying to figure him out but he just stays silent and smiles at me softly as he stares into my eyes. Hmm. Something's off I can feel it, I just can't seem to put my finger on it. He sighs and snaps me out of my thoughts, reaching into his pocket slowly.

"Y/N...." he trails off. My mind jumps to a million conclusions, and I finish his sentence before he has the chance to.

"You want to stop seeing each other?"

His eyes widen in shock, and he stutters a little.

"W-what? No why would you- No of course not... that's not-"

"Then what is it"

He pauses and pulls a small box out of his pocket and places it in my hand. I look down and stare at the box not fully grasping the situation at hand.

"It's actually quite the opposite" He pulls off his blindfold revealing his beautiful baby blue eyes.

"What are you proposing to me or something?" I ask sarcastically obviously not thinking that he is and that this is going in a completely different direction. He pauses for a moment, his eyes boring into my soul and then gets up. I look up at him as he stands over me sitting down in my chair. He's acting very strange, and I don't quite get why.

"What?" I ask him as I look up at him confused. He sighs.

"For someone so smart, I didn't think I'd have to spell it out so hard..." he slowly lowers down to one knee. My heart skips a beat and everyone that follows resonates loudly in my head.

"Y/N... I've known you for most of my life and I know it took me a while to admit it, but I love you, and I will for the rest of my life. You're the most amazing woman I know. You're a talented sorcerer, a great teacher, kindhearted, extraordinarily beautiful, and so funny. I'm the luckiest man in the world to say that you're mine. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, Y/N. You're the only one who can keep up with my banter and give the higher-ups as much as a run for their money. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it and I want to give you everything you deserve. I want to wake up next to you every single morning and spend every passing day with you so...

Marry me?"

My breath is caught in my throat. I stare at him, not being able to say anything. I don't even know what to say, my brain still can't process what's going on... that he's proposing... that he wants to marry me.... he wants to marry me? It's so hard for me to believe so I just stare.

"Baby? Please say something"

I'm probably freaking him out right now but I still can't think of what to say to him. Yes, say yes. I try but no words come out. I nod slowly and then frantically.

"Is that a yes?" I ask her. God I'm so nervous. Why are you so nervous? You'd be nervous too if you were asking a woman like her to marry you and she's not saying anything. I hear her voice ring out every so quietly, sounding like my own personal angel.

"Yes, I'll marry you Satoru" I see a smile, that beautiful smile, across her face and I can't help but smile in return. She's so beautiful. Before I can even finish admiring her for all that she is she envelopes me in a sudden hug, almost knocking me backwards onto the floor. The ring almost falls out of my hand, and I grab it frantically before laughing. She said yes. My arms find their place on her waist and I hold her tightly nuzzling my head into the familiar crook of her neck.

"Then I'm the happiest man in the world" I tell her as I kiss her neck softly. I feel tears soaking into my suit jacket and I pull away from her looking her in the eyes.

"Don't cry. You're supposed to be happy, not crying."

"I don't know why I'm crying." I laugh dryly as I tell him. His fingers meet my cheek, and he wipes away my tears softly, always gently.

"I always thought you were beautiful, even when you cry."

"You're too sweet Satoru." I lean in towards him pressing my lips against his softly. He kisses me softly and runs his hands into my hair, deepening the kiss. He kisses me passionately, lovingly, in only a way that he knows how. I could never explain it but it's like our lips were meant to be pressed together. I pull away from this kiss, pressing my lips onto his forehead.

"I love you Satoru"

"I love you more baby."

He grabs my hand softly and slips the ring onto my finger. It's beautiful, a large diamond embedded into a beautifully adorned ring.

"How do you feel about being Mrs. Gojo now?"

"As if I'd be taking your family name instead of my own."

He raises his eyebrow at me and then chuckles and picks me up bridal style.

"Come on let me get you home. I don't want to wait any longer to spend the rest of night with my new wife."

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

Hey guys I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you thought or if you have any feedback :)

[bamboobooshark]

Hiiii I just found your page and omg I love your writing so much. I actually did get into an argument with my friend, and I deactivated one of my intas cuz of it (long and stupid story) but it was really comforting to read Logan wanting to coddle and comfort someone yk

You can ignore the request if it makes you uncomfortable, but do you think you can write something where the reader doesn't really know or understand what regression is or why they feel this way so they isolate when they feel childish or playful or start annoying people without realizing it and Logan who loves and cares for them starts to miss them and is like wtf and helps them.

Thank you for your writing I hope you have an amazing day.

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ☁️་༘ COMFORT & CONFUSION : 991 WRDS

<RATING : PG, VULENRABLE MOMENTS, CRYING>

A/N : Just a little note for Anon; I am so heavily greatful that my fic was able to bring you so much comfort. I hope you’re recovering well from what happened. Apologies for taking so long to get this out for you, I always get caught up in spilling and detailing my concepts that end up becoming full fics. I truly hope this fic is what you were hoping for <3 !!Warning for a pinch of angst and crying!!

You’ve been isolating yourself in your room since you woke up. You feel so confused with yourself, with your mind, with your feelings. You press your back against your headboard, legs crossed one on top of the other. You gently rock back and forth while struggling to understand how you’re feeling; why you’re feeling the way you do. Yeah, you’ve got a ton of energy right now. You feel like you’re letting your inner child express itself in your mind, yet you’re holding them in as best as possible. You’re terrified of annoying anyone by releasing those feelings, espically Logan. You bite and chew at your lips nervously as you rock a bit faster. Why? That’s the only question you can ask yourself right now. Over and over, your mind fills itself with nothing but confusion of why you feel like this, why you yearn to be so childish, why you’re scared of annoying Logan when he loves you unconditionally.

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as the man knocks on the door. “Everything alright in there, kid,” he asks with his face pressed to the wood. God, the way he calls you kid only makes these foreign feelings harder to suppress. You choke back your tears before responding. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little down,” you reply with a tone that’s involuntarily soft and childlike. Logan raises his brows at the way you speak to him. You’ve never kept yourself away like this, but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. You isolate yourself the moment you wake up, beg him to leave you alone, and then come out quiet and reserved. He continues to press because he misses you so damn bad. He’s willing to do absolutely anything to get you in his arms again. “Please tell me what’s wrong, bub. I promise I’m not going to be upset with you,” he pleads with the softest tone he can force out of his throat. “I mean, I’d be more upset if you didn’t trust me with whatever you’ve got going on,” he chuckles akwardly.

You wipe your tears before inviting him in. The second he realizes that you’re crying, his lips form a frown and his eyes give you a sympathetic gaze. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, I swear,” he scrambles to reassure you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into his arms. You let your cries get thicker once you lean into his. He smells so fatherly. His large, calloused hands make your entire body shiver with comfort. Everything about him is sending an unknown, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve been yearning for. You can’t even begin to imagine what to call it, but your body allows you to relax under his touch. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Tell me what’s up once you’re ready to,” he coos as his hands rub up and down your back. You nod against his chest, letting the thumping of his heartbeat soothe you.

You pull back from his embrace, but hold his hands in your own. His touch is what you’ve been needing. Scratch that, you’ve been needing Logan in general. You attempt to try and explain things, but you end up stammering and stuttering. “I’m sorry, Logan. I just — I don’t even know what to say,” you apologize while looking away from him. He squeezes your hands gently and sighs. “You don’t need to apologize, kid. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be. If I have to wait here for hours for you to get your thoughts together, I don’t mind. You know that, bub,” he tells you sincerely. You look at him and give him the best smile you can considering the circumstances.

You take a deep, shakey breath after a few minutes of silence before attempting to describe your feelings. “I’ve just been feeling like a child lately. I’ve had so much energy and excitement and joy for no reason. It’s so confusing and it’s scaring me Lo, it really is. I just want an answer,” you explain to him. His thumb rubs against your knuckles lovingly before he presses a silent kiss to your forehead. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry. You’ve got such a big heart, kid. I need you to understand that you don’t need to be afraid to let those feelings loose around me. I’ll love you no matter what,” he promises while holding your face in his hands so you’re looking at him. You nod gently, eyes glossy and wide from the way he comforts you so paternally. “I understand,” you mumble back, letting that same childlike voice slip. Logan gives you a gentle smile, failing to hold back a snicker. “Well would you look at that. You sound so little, baby. It’s adorable,” he says while attempting to hold himself back from squeezing your face. You giggle softly and shake your head no. “It’s not adorable, Lo,” you protest. Your stomach knots as you allow yourself to slip into this pure, innocent state. As soon as Logan begins to coddle you further, that knot unties itself and becomes a flutter in your heart. “If you deny anything else I say, I’ll have to find a way to get back at you for it. You’re too damn cute to not accept that you are,” he playfully threatens. “C’mere you sweet thing,” he growls as he pulls you into his lap. “No! Let me go,” you giggle sweetly, squirming in Logan’s arms despite wanting to stay right where you are forever. “I’m not letting you go, kid. You’re mine. My sweet little thing that I’ll protect with my life,” he declares before starting to pepper your face with soft kisses. You can feel him smiling like an idiot against your skin from the sound of your giggles, the way you smile, and the warmth of your face caused by him.

[adieutristana]

Hi! Can you write something cute with alt! powder? Like reverse comfort. Powder feels bad on the anniversary of Vi's death, and reader, her romantic partner, tries to make her feel better

of course! thank you for the request <3

you guys must really like my hurt/comfort LOL it's most of my inbox rn! not complaining though hehe

summary; powder’s girlfriend comforting her on the anniversary of vi’s death.

characters included; powder (act iii au)

tags/warnings; death (duh), grief, hurt/comfort, fluff, s2 spoilers, implied that reader and powder were childhood friends

men dni.

the scent of myrrh clings to the air.

today marks eight years since the death of vi. one of zaun's most promising, a young fighter with a heart of gold. determined, strong, and loyal.

but most importantly, vi, your girlfriend's big sister. her protector, one she looked to for guidance and love. comfort in trying times, such as these.

your hand is rubbing gentle circles along the skin of powder's lower back, trying to offer silent reassurance. it hurts you to see your love like this. her shoulders slumped, eyes weary, her gaze fixed solely on a photo of her sister. one where she seems so vibrant, so full of life. she didn't have a clue what the world had in store for her, the fact that her life would end so prematurely. it wasn't uncommon, people dying young in zaun. but powder never thought it would be vi.

"i still don't think it's fair."

she mutters, tone more somber than angry. you nod slowly, your hand continuing its patterns across powder's back.

"it isn't. she was taken too early."

you respond. powder doesn't speak for another beat afterward, tugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them as she continues to look over vi's altar. the doll of her sister, various lit candles, incense wafting through the air. a few small belongings of vi's that powder had managed to recover- some jewelry, little trinkets, the like.

"do you think she'd be surprised to see where i am now?"

you hum, wrapping your arm around her shoulder loosely and pressing your girlfriend into you. you take a deep breath in before nodding in response.

"i think so, yeah. her little sister, all grown up... a genius of sorts, too. always creating, always thinking."

she lets out a little 'mm,' continuing to gaze over the memorial.

"it wasn't always jobs and fighting, she was sweet. we used to pillow fight in our room when we couldn't sleep, and vi would always let me win." powder muses, a light chuckle escaping her. "she helped me learn to read and write, even though i got confused on sounding out letters and couldn't figure out how to hold a pencil at first."

you laugh at that, looking back over at powder.

"yeah? well, she was a good sister. that much is obvious to anybody who knew her."

powder hums in agreement, but she seems to slowly tense back up. she begins to pick at her cuticles and bite the inside of her cheek as she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. your girlfriend's blue eyes turn back to you.

"do you think she'd be... proud?"

you nod again, without missing a beat. powder didn't even have to ask that question, honestly. it was obvious to anybody who knew her that her late sister would be thrilled with how far she had come in life, with how zaun had changed for the better and powder was an active participant in that change. she had gone from an unsure, anxious girl to a confident, innovative woman. with the help of friends, family, the very people who supported vi.

"she is, pow."

"how can you be so sure?"

she sighs, but lays her head against your shoulder. choppy blue locks splayed across, with a slender arm wrapping around your waist.

"just look at you," you pause, returning your gaze back to your girlfriend. almost as if to emphasize your point. "you're a smart, kind, creative, genius of a woman."

powder scoffs lightly, shaking her head. you can tell she's about to make some remark in protest.

"i mean it, babe. you're a far cry from the powder she knew, but that's a good thing. she'd be proud that you made something for yourself, that you're happy. that you're living in a better zaun than she knew."

powder lets out a heavy sigh, her eyes finally meeting yours. seeing her like this always chips at your heart a little. she missed her big sister every day of every year, but this day never gets easier. it likely never will, no matter how many more years pass. vi's death left a hole in the city of zaun, in the heart of vander, in you, but nobody had suffered the loss more than the girl before you.

"i wish she would've got to see it." she hums, looking back to the altar. the incense sticks are nearly burnt out, the smoke getting thinner. "zaun, i mean. it's changed so much since she last saw it. people can build a life here, we aren't so neglected or war-torn or... whatever. hell, even vander and silco made up."

she scoffs in light amusement, betraying her current emotions. it's hard, knowing exactly what to say. you love powder, you want her to be happy. you've always hated seeing her so torn by grief. but grief is weird in those ways, never fully going away. hitting full-force while powder is in the middle of a crowded room, or powder feeling completely alright for a few weeks before her sister's death hits her all over again.

yet you've always been there to remind her of everything- and the fact that you don't ever get over it per se, but build a life around the grief instead. something you believe powder has done a fine job of.

"i know you wish she could've seen it. but wherever she is, i think she knows somehow."

powder sighs, her shoulders slumping in mild disbelief.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i mean, we don't know for sure about life after death, or spirits or any of that stuff. but i think that somehow, vi knows her sister is doing well, and that zaun is a better place than she knew it as."

the incense is finished burning.

"i'll get those."

you say before your girlfriend can get up. she lightly huffs, but doesn't try to stop you. you stride over to the altar, grabbing a few loose incense sticks.

"i know today is hard for you, love... it always is. but i'll be here the entire time, okay?" you pause to strike a match, bringing it to the tip of a few incense sticks. "you can do whatever you need to. talk to me. sit in silence. whatever you need."

you slowly sit down back beside powder, wrapping an arm around her shoulder from the side and squeezing in light reassurance. she lets out a shaky breath before settling her head back onto your shoulder.

"the whole time?"

"the whole time, love. i promise."

she sighs, turning her head to brush her lips against the soft skin of your shoulder. today is hell in more ways than one, but you make the torment a little bit more bearable.

"i like that... yeah."

[diamond-rozie]

excerpt from my fic (bio wayne danny)

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Dick asked teasingly, slipping in next to Bruce. 

“I was just telling Danny how having a space station as a base of operation is a tactical call.” Bruce said, pointedly. 

“As if. It wasn’t a good idea when the JL was just the main seven, but after their expansion project, it’s a liability if not a straight out disadvantage.” Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“How is it a liability?” Dick asked intrigued. 

“Whenever there’s a huge invasion or something, where do you think the evil aliens are going to attack first? The huge space satellite with at least a handful of heroes on it at all times, with state-of-the-art weapons and tech, full of information about literally everything worth having information on probably has no external defenses because no one would think to sneak into a space station, seems like a pretty good start.” Danny explained, Dick watched Bruce appraise his information. “I bet I could get in if I figured out how to get to space.” 

Bruce raised an amused brow at him, “You think you could break into the Watchtower?” 

“Easy.” Danny proclaimed, sporting a wicked grin. 

Before Dick could say anything, someone came up to their table. “Danny!” The boy, Dick recognized as Tucker, said with an exaggerated fake surprise, “What a surprise seeing you here. At the Nasty Burger. Around 6 o’clock. Today.” 

“Tucker? Why- What are you doing here?” Danny asked surprised. 

“I was just passing by,” Tucker said, shrugging dramatically. Danny gave him an accusing and disbelieving look. “My, my who are these people here with you, Danny?” Tucker asked, sliding into the seat next to Danny. 

“Tucker, you know who they are,” Danny said exasperated. 

But it seemed like they had more guests. “Danny! Wow, I wasn’t expecting you here. Small world, huh?” Sam (?) walked over preppi-ly which didn’t match her grunge aesthetic. Her hands hooked with Val’s as they walked together. 

“Small world,” Val repeated with a fake smile. The two of them sat down next to Danny and Tucker. 

Danny put his head in his hands, “I should’ve known.”

“You should’ve.” Sam nodded. 

“But you didn’t.” Val chastised jokingly. 

Next another boy comes dashing into the restaurant wearing a basketball jersey. 

“You’re late,” Val says, admonishingly. Tucker and Sam shake their heads, and Danny sighs in exasperation. 

“I literally ran here.” Wes said in between huffs of air, slumping in next to Val. 

The group of teens who had been teasing each other, in a very strange synchronous action, turn their heads to look at Bruce and Dick. Dick was really regretting watching Anabell last night. 

“I think we’ll need more food,” Bruce comments lightly. 

---

“So, dick.” Sam started, munching on a fry. “Tell us about yourself.” 

“Like what?” Dick asked

Valerie (“Do not call me Val.”) answered, “What do you do?”

“I’m a cop in Bludhaven.” Dick was met with four pairs of dubious eyes. Danny sent him a small-lipped look of disappointment, he wasn’t sure whether it was for him or at him. Maybe Dick should look into getting a new day job.

“Write that down.” Sam gestured to Tucker.

“Already on it,” Tucker reported, scribbling something with a stylus. 

“You guys are taking this very seriously,” Bruce commented, smiling. 

“It is serious.” Tucker responded. 

“What if you guys are in some child trafficking ring?” Wes commented, 

“Why would they be-” Danny started, before Wes turned to him and very seriously said, 

“That’s exactly the question, Danny. Why would they?” Wes thoughtfully turned to look at Bruce warily. 

“Y’know let’s just dive into the important questions shall we?” Sam asked her preppy attitude from before gone, replaced by a hard glare at the two of them. It reminded Dick of Titus. “What’s your opinion on the basements?”

“Basements?” Bruce repeated, confused. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first eccentric billionaire to insist Danny be their son. And we’ve noticed a few patterns.” Tucker informed them as if they were talking about something completely normal and mundane. Though, Dick couldn’t really argue. Bruce was also an eccentric billionaire with a secret basement. 

“Well, we have a basement,” Dick said hesitantly. “Does that dock us points?” He asked Tucker, half-joking, half-concerned. 

“Tentative.” 

“So what do you do in your basement?” Wes asked, sipping on a milkshake. 

“Normal basement things.” Dick lied. 

“Such as…” Valarie implored, eyes suspicious. 

Dick hesitated thinking about what to say. Bruce hadn’t said anything either. But Danny took the time to tell his friends, “Guys I really don’t think that should be a problem. I mean, would someone like Vlad really go for the ‘let’s have dinner so my family can meet your family and we can get to know each other’ approach when the ‘let me drug and kidnap you and stick you in a cloning pod’ approach was right there.” 

His friends seemed to consider this before they all nodded and agreed. 

“Vlad Masters drugged and kidnaped you to put you in a cloning pod?” Bruce asked, concerned. 

“No,” Danny said, offhandedly, not bothering to elaborate. Someone should really look into that guy. 

“O-M-G, is that Paulina?” Wes said pointedly, a menacing grin on his face as he looked at Danny, who in turn looked alarmed.

“Aw, Danny you should go say ‘Hi’.” Tucker cooed, teasingly, Danny groaned, his ears flushing in embarrassment.

“Guys, stop.” Sam said finally, “We wouldn’t want another spoon incident.” A grin cracked on her face. Danny buried his face in his hands. 

Dick looked over to see who they were talking about. There were two girls, one was a blond girl with her arms hooked around Kwan from The Mall, and the other was a darker skinned girl wearing a pink crop top. Dick wasn’t sure who Paulina was, but it didn’t really matter, as he took his chance to tease his brother. “You have a crush on Paulina?” He asked teasingly. Bruce is smiling next to him. 

“No.” Danny denied it fervently. “I mean- I did. Like forever ago. But not anymore.”

“He’s since moved on to more attainable targets.” Tucker nodded. Received a smack from Sam and a spoon to the face from Valerie. “Ow. What? It’s true.” 

“Y’know what they say. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Wes added with a snicker. 

“Wes,” Danny groaned at the same time as Sam and Valarie hissed his name. 

“I sense a story.” Bruce commented, sipping his drink. 

“It all started when we were fresh little freshmen. Danny had his little crush on Paulina. I was just trying to get by, y’know. Not all of us have Wayne genes.” Tucker started pointedly. 

“What- we didn’t know about that till this week.” Danny pointed out. 

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, dude.” Wes spoke up. Sam and Valerie stayed suspiciously quiet. Dick’s smirk only grew. 

“As I was saying, we’re just doing normal freshman things, when Sammy here,” Tucker points to Sam with his head, “starts crushing. Big time.”

“It was not that bad.” Sam points out. 

“It was, in fact, that bad.” Tucker said, looking at Bruce and Dick, “But at the same time Danny and Val have a little enemies-to-lovers thing and then they both start crushing on each other. And they dated for a while, but then they broke up cause Val had a lot on her plate at the time. Danny was all mopey and heartbroken. And then Sam swoops in like his little knight in glowing armor, then they start dating. And all the while I’m here single and alone.” Tucker shakes his head mournfully. 

“I was not all mopey and heartbroken.” Danny defends himself. 

“You so were dude.” Tucker says.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees. 

“But then Sam and Danny decide that they’re better off as friends because Danny kinda had a lot to deal with. And now we’re all best friends.”  Tucker concluded, cheerfully. 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh, Bruce.” Dick says slyly. Bruce huffs. 

“Then what about the spoon incident?” Bruce asked. 

“Oh, that was back when there were a lot of ghost attacks, and the school had my parents come in to run security. And this one time we were having lunch outside, and they just showed up out of nowhere. And I got kinda spooked and…” Danny’s voice trailed off into a mumble, and Dick couldn’t catch the last bit.

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“He said he swallowed a spoon.” Wes spoke up. 

“What?” Bruce asked, alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I got it out.” Danny waved dismissively. 

“How?” Dick asked, confused.

“Uh, I just did.” He waved again. Before Dick could ask any more questions, someone else decided to show up.

“Oh good, I thought I missed you guys.” Another red-haired boy showed up. “Hi, I’m Adam, Wes’s brother.” Dick recognized the accent the boy had. He stuck out a hand for Dick to shake.

continue reading (ao3)

regular boy: daniel wayne - chap 9

[shapelytimber]

Look, social media aus are very dumb but fun to do fklxkdk Illya would make short videos (mostly) about fashion, and Napoleon would be very unsubtle about being a Spy

I am formally apologizing to the uncle fandom for tiktoker Illya Kuryakin, I have no regrets (also @quijicroix is part responsible, being my evil advisor)

Here are the posts in details, and the profile pics :)

[COMMISSIONS]

No process this time, just me yapping for way to long about every choice and refs that went into this dumb au below vvv

Illya is younger than Napoleon (I usualy headcanon him at around 25 and Napoleon 35ish), so I think their use of social media would be quite different : hence Illya on Tiktok and Napoleon on Instagram. Also it's not the 60s so Illya can be like 10% less reppressed :)) but as a debuff Napoleon now has the technology to call him a nerd

Illya's page started as a cover for some affair, but he ended up kinda enjoying doing it in his free time. It's like a hobby for him, a way to experiment with fashion ! It's what made him want to pursue fashion design as a career after his curent spy job. And also I think he gets more and more nervous the more followers he gets, because as a spy having a chance to get recognise in the street is really bad dkdldlos Napoleon teases him endlessly that he became a tiktoker (as he should)-

Did I, at one point in the project, had to scrap the thirst trap idea to keep the fashion nerd vibes ? Yes I did, but just know he uses the "twink" tag :)

• The first post is a ref to the discotheque affair, not the best episode and a great miss for not including a disco Illya outfit, so I made him one to match the other :D

• The second is to the Hot number, but he gets to wear the thrush pattern !

• The third one is what made me do all of this ! Because, if you're not french, you might not know about one of my favorite yearly twitter threads : Met Gala outfits as INSEE graphs by Clara Dealberto ! Don't care about the met gala, but this is very funny :) and such a Illya Kuryakin thing to do kdkdkd

• fourth one isn't fashion related, it's a ref to popart and the "he has Dostoïevski eyes" line that made us laught a lot

• A little Fiddlesticks for the dog post, because it's a banger episode. Plus a nod to he dog expert from it, with whom Illya had palpable sexual tension fkfkfkl I like to think they kept contact ;) (shoutout to this fic (Intensity by AconitumNapellus) who absolutely get the vision, 10/10 guy to "cheat" on your boyfriend with)

• and the final one is a make over because of course it is

As for Napoleon, being older and less invested in this, an instagram made sense. But crutialy, I get such strong modern oss117 vibes from Napoleon (the way he shoots his gun, the goofy faces, the awkward stance everytime he enters a place, the inexplicable in universe rizz...) dkfkldls modern oss117 was a parody of both 60s james bond and older oss117 movies, but I'm now convinced they also whatched some uncle while doing these, it's just so obvious- anyway all this to say, in the second movie oss117 has to pose as a photographer and gets way too invested in his cover (it's his thing don't question it), and at the end of the movie we get to see all the photography he took during his mission..... Let me tell you how hard it was to resist him having an instagram full of blurry women on the street (canon 60s napoleon would have done it I'm sorry)- but what I kept was the pretty "badly" shot pics of random things, tho you sometimes get the odd decent pic taken by Illya. And he gets to be in a duck floatie as a treat and nod to oss <3

• Pinned post is because it became frustrating for him having to respond to people asking him if it was his real name or if he was a far right french man simping for Bonaparte

• first post is not a ref, but if my very sexy flat car was burning in the desert I would take a pic (ft Illya despairing) kdkdkd

• Duck floatie is a oss117 ref

• selfie with a beautiful woman (ft his finger), no ref I just love drawing women

• also Fiddlesticks for the cute Napoleon fox !! And to kinda link the two profiles :)

• and finaly Spy with my face ! He tried taking a picture of his date (I'll let you decide who it was), but oops front facing camera kdkdkdk

Can you tell I had a lot of fun doing this ? I love this show way to much omfg

PS : if you've never seen the recent oss117 movies, you should they funny ! But oh god some jokes are terrible- the first one is the best, minus one gay joke frankly not great. They nail the gay joke in the second one but oh god... They do not always win the 'is our character a piece of shit or is the movie problematic' gamble so be aware of that. And the 3rd one is shit don't bother

PPS : I don't use Tiktok, I tried my best to emulate the feeling of it but be aware I have no idea what I'm doing dkkdld