#i care about these people. i WANT to do the cleaning and grocery shopping and errands etc etc for them. genuinely.

[burningembers91]

Fatherly Disdain - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Outside Looking In In the Bleak Midwinter Without You Looking Up

Synopsis: Desperate to reconnect with his family, Nam-Gyu agrees to attend dinner with his estranged father, who drops a bombshell on you, threatening everything you've worked so hard for

It was the strong, bold smell of the coffee that awoke you. The rich, dark aroma floated sensually from the cup to your nose, entwining itself around your senses and pulling you from your deep sleep. Nam-Gyu had placed the large cup on your bedside table, complete with his usual sticky note he left each morning, reminding you how much he loved you.

He left so early for work these days, up before the sun rose to go for a run through the neighbourhood, before heading to the office. He was a completely different man these days, so far removed from the one you’d met outside of your old club. These days, Nam-Gyu valued exercise and early mornings, he cooked for you, cleaned the apartment, and did all the grocery shopping. With him around, you never had to lift a finger. You felt guilty sometimes, feeling that you weren’t doing enough around the house, but Nam-Gyu assured you that he liked taking care of you.

He’d always wanted someone like you, someone that he was excited to wake up next to, someone he could spend every day with. He no longer desired the fickle popularity that came with club promoting, finding peace in the cozy existence he shared with you. He relished slow, lazy mornings on your days off, trips to the supermarket and local coffee shop. He would take a night with you on the sofa, with a movie and takeout over a night out drinking with people who couldn’t even be bothered to learn his name. Nam-Gyu would cringe when he thought about the person he used to be, so desperate for the validation of strangers. Now all he needed was you, his friends, and his family.

His job as a Junior Finance Assistant was going well, the people in his small office feeling more like family than colleagues. For the first time, he had a real group of friends, ones that he ate lunch with, went out for drinks and dinner with; he knew these people had his back. His relationships with his brothers had improved, and you were regular visitors to their homes for dinner a few times a month. Nam-Gyu had even reconnected with his mother, filling her in on the past few months and telling her all about the woman who had changed her son so drastically. Everyone was so proud of Nam-Gyu, everyone except his father.

No matter how many times his family sang his praises, Nam-Gyu’s dad wasn’t interested in seeing for himself how much his son had changed. As far he was concerned, Nam-Gyu had been given enough chances to change, and he hadn’t bothered to do so until it was too late.

“He’ll come around,” you told him one day, but you didn’t know his father. Growing up, his home had been a dictatorship, and if you didn’t follow the rules, you were cast out. As much as it hurt Nam-Gyu that he no longer had a relationship with his dad, he chose to focus on the relationships he did have.

He met his mum for coffee once a week during his lunch break, catching her up on his life. “I’d like for you to come for dinner,” she said to him to one day, “It’s been so long since you’ve been home.” “Mum,” Nam-Gyu sighed, tired of having the same conversation again and again. “You know dad doesn’t want me there. He said so himself.” “But I want you there,” she smiled, “you’re my son, and I never should have let you leave.” Nam-Gyu understood his mother’s regret over making him leave, but if he hadn’t left, he probably wouldn’t be with you. He would probably still be standing out in the cold, loving you from afar. “Please,” his mum begged, “this Thursday, come for dinner. You don’t have to stay long, but I miss you.”

You could tell he was nervous about seeing his father again, could see how jittery he was the night before. He’d left extra early this morning, choosing a longer running route to try and dispel some of the anxiety that coursed through his veins. After you finished your coffee, you made sure to tidy the apartment, giving Nam-Gyu one less thing to worry about when he got home.

“It’s going to be ok,” you soothed as you watched him retie his tie for the third time. “It’s just dinner.” You took the silky fabric from his shaking hands, assembling a basic knot for him. You’d never seen Nam-Gyu so dressed up before, not even for work. “Does this shirt look ok with these pants?” He asked, angrily stripping them off. Everything needed to be perfect, and he looked anything but. “Nam-Gyu,” you soothed, “they look really good. Put the pants back on, take a breath and let’s get going, or we’ll miss our bus.”

You waited patiently for him to redress, before pulling him in for one last kiss. You could feel him shaking against you, could see the sweat beading on his brow. “If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave,” you said, your stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots as you saw how anxious he was. Nam-Gyu simply nodded, taking a deep intake of breath as he slicked back his hair. He so badly wanted tonight to go well, but he knew his father, and he knew that this dinner would not be an easy one.

You arrived at Nam-Gyu’s parents house at 7pm on the dot. His father detested lateness, something that his son had frequently been during his time living under his roof. He clutched the bouquet of flowers that you’d picked out for his mother, his palms sweaty against the cellophane wrapping. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before the front door swung open.

Nam-Gyu’s father stood before you, his face stony. “On time for once I see,” he sneered, “first time for everything I suppose.” He stepped aside to let you in, eyeing his son with disdain. His shirt was ill-fitting, his tie too much for a casual dinner and his pants were entirely unsuitable. As for you, his father had no words. “It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, bowing low, ensuring you treated the man with the utmost respect. You could see why Nam-Gyu had been so nervous about coming tonight; his dad had put the fear of God into you.

You didn’t get a response to your greeting, his father leaving the two of you standing in the entryway. You both looked at each other, Nam-Gyu shrugging sadly. As you made your way through, the most incredible smells hit you. There was enough food to feed an entire army, and Nam-Gyu’s mother had evidently been cooking for most of the day. she greeted you with love and warmth, ushering you to the table. You tried hard to make conversation, but Nam-Gyu father wasn’t interested. He answered every question with silence, instead choosing to stare directly at the wall behind you. You couldn’t believe this was how Nam-Gyu spent his childhood, living in the shadow of such a cruel man.

What his father lacked in social graces, his mum more than made up for. She was so excited to hear about your life and your jobs, what you did for fun and who your friends were. You almost forgot his father was sat opposite you as you laughed and joked with Nam-Gyu and his mum. You could see how much love she had for her son, and how much love he had for her in return.

It wasn’t until his father loudly cleared his throat, that you remembered he was still there. Reaching across the table, he handed Nam-Gyu an envelope. “Je-Mun,” his mum whispered, “don’t do this.” You noticed she didn’t make eye contact when she spoke to her husband, and you saw the way the smile quickly faded from your boyfriend’s face.

“What is this?” he asked, looking back and forth between his parents. “My invoice,” his father simply said. Opening the envelope, Nam-Gyu found an itemised invoice for overdue rent, bills, money loaned and food eaten from 2012 – 2024. “What is this?” he asked again, his face pale.

“It’s what you owe me,” his father stated, “that is what your upkeep cost for the twelve years you were leeching off me. Now that you have a job, you can finally pay me back.” The table was stunned into silence, no one quite knowing what to say. The invoice was meticulously detailed, down to the brand of soap Nam-Gyu had used. Had his father really been keeping this kind of record? “This isn’t fair,” you snapped, “you can’t do that.” “I think you’ll find I can do what I like,” Je-Mun grunted back, barely acknowledging you as he spoke. “I will be happy to accept monthly instalments, but I do expect the amount to be paid back in full.” You noticed with sickening disgust that your dinner tonight had also been added to the bill.

Nam-Gyu couldn’t take this, the utter humiliation was beyond suffocating. You made your excuses and left shortly after; his father’s invoice clutched tightly in his hand. you didn’t speak on the way home, his face ghostly white as he tried to figure out how he would pay back such an extortionate sum. He was sure his father had never charged his brothers for their medical degree, so why was he so different?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about paying that back,” you cried when you finally made it back home. “That’s insanity! Who does that kind of thing?” “I’m going to have to,” he whispered, slumping down on the sofa. Just this morning, he’d been so happy and now his world was once again crumbling away. His father would not accept non-payment, but Nam-Gyu had no idea how he’d pay him back. “Can you talk to your brothers?” you asked, “can they make him see sense?” “I really don’t know,” he muttered, “I just… I need some air.”

Nam-Gyu threw on his running gear, heading out of the door and into the night. He ran for miles, his mind whirring as he weighed up his options. He’d been putting money aside each month for a bigger place for the both of you, hoping you’d one day be able to move somewhere with enough space to start a family. Now, he wasn’t even sure how he’d afford to pay the bills on your current place. He’d always known his father was a bastard, but he didn’t think he was that cruel. It was a ploy to humiliate him, to make Nam-Gyu feel worthless.

By the time he arrived back at the apartment, Nam-Gyu had made up his mind. He would no longer allow his father to intimidate him, to make him feel small. He wouldn’t allow himself to be bullied by the man who was supposed to love him. If his father was so desperate for his money, he would have to come and take it by force.  

[saturatedsinset]

I am soooooooo tired of being the only problem solver, cleaner, purchaser of groceries, and the primary cook in this householdddd

[potatoesandsunshine]

had the longest day in the world... and tomorrow is gonna be longer........

[bitchface24-7]

I love the name combos- We got Honey and Sugar PLUS Sugar and Spice! My FBI agent has to know about my growing hunky Latino men addiction. My tiktok is feeding me Jayce content with “Beso Al Aire” and it's making my latina heart do fucking backflips.

Do you think we could get a DILF!Jayce with a reader who takes care of his kid and homelife while he's working. They know he’s a busy man so they guarantee him that his kid tucked in sound asleep, the house is clean, and a warm plate of food is waiting for him.

I so desperately need to talk to someone to feed my growing Jayce obsession.

DADDY’S HOME - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: you're the babysitter to a incredibly cute little girl, Isabella. Her dad unfortunately has a very busy job and is constantly out of the house (against his will, of course) so you take care of her for him. You take care of him too. Who wouldn’t want to care for Jayce Talis?

warnings: age gap (early 40’s Jayce, mid-20s reader), oc daughter, teasing, flirting, risky sex (like hello there's a kid in the house), quiet sex

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Older dilf Jayce save me. Please older dilf Jayce 🙏🙏

Isabella Talis is the cutest little girl you've ever seen. She's damn near a carbon-copy of her dad. Big brown eyes, bouncy black hair, sun-kissed skin, and big 'ol dimples when she smiles.

You've been babysitting her for a while now, about a decade now. You got the job when you were fifteen, now you're twenty-five. You started babysitting Bella when she was three, now she's thirteen. Honestly, she makes you feel old.

Especially since so many people assume you're her parent.

Going grocery shopping with her, going out to eat, having girl's days together, going to school events and celebrations; you can see where people are coming from.

Especially since Bella listens to you without hesitation. She only calls you by your name or nickname, but that doesn't matter. You're her parent in all the ways that matter.

Isabella's mom wasn't ready. She didn't want to be a mom, you can't blame her. Jayce was in his late-twenties to early thirties when Bella was born, her mom was a few years younger than Jayce. So Jayce became her single-dad with Grandma Ximena helping care of her.

So, you’ve gotten quite used to caring for young Isabella Talis.

You’ve also gotten used to caring for her dad, Jayce Talis.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce Talis is a very well known man. A co-creator of Hextech, a councillor of Piltover, constantly working. Poor thing is exhausted.

So you ensure he’s taken care of.

You clean the house, you make hot meals for him, you even meal prep for him.

He can’t tell you how grateful he is for that.

But he shows it in his actions.

He ensures you’re also cared for, he pays you well for your work (even though you try to deny it every time. He insists), he gets you gifts that you’ll appreciate for life, he’s even physically affectionate.

Sometimes you think it’s wrong, but you don’t care.

A kiss to your cheek, your neck, his beard tickling your skin, his hands on your waist, your hips, long loving hugs. Hands playing with your hair, hands massaging your neck.

God, you feel like you’re in the foreplay section of a porn video.

“Babysitter gets ruined by Older Hot Boss. 35:12”

You’ve always found Jayce attractive, you obviously didn’t act on it since you were underage. It was wrong, taboo. Now, you’re an adult.

Having your fantasies isn’t wrong, it isn’t against the law.

But you’re quite certain Jayce feels the same way. You remember the last time you were cooking for Jayce after he came home, Isabella already sleeping in her room.

You remember Jayce pining you essentially to the stove top as you stirred the boiling pasta. Kissing the nape of your neck as he slowly ground his hips into your ass. You felt how needy he was, and you let him continue.

Poor thing is pent up, and you did promise yourself you’d do anything to help him out.

It also helped it made you feel good too.

You two didn’t talk about it when eating dinner together, but your heated gazes said more than any words could.

Turns out the fantasies you’ve had since you were a student at the academy may actually come true.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You have to be quite. No if’s, ands, or buts. Isabella is sleeping just down the hall, and you don’t want to traumatize her having her hear you two have sex.

So you cover your mouth desperately as Jayce pounds into you. Thank god the bed doesn’t squeak.

The two of you angle yourselves so your skin doesn’t slap together. You don’t want her to hear anything. You know how awkward and traumatic it is to hear your parents have sex and you don’t want Bella to go through that.

But damn does Jayce fuck like a sex god.

His salt and pepper hair falling into his face, his mouth curled into a sneer as he holds back his moans, his hips punishing.

Your eyes water at the overwhelming pleasure. You rip your hand away from your mouth and desperately kiss Jayce. His hips stutter a bit before picking up speed, the two of you whining into each other’s mouth.

A desperate grip causes Jayce’s back to get red lines. The cuts lightly bleeding as you cum around his cock. The fluttering of your hole cause Jayce’s eyes to roll the back of his head as he cums inside you.

The two of you pant as you kiss, Jayce essentially falling on top of you. You grunt due to the weight but don’t complain, he’s the perfect weighted blanket. You caress his face, his beard surprisingly soft.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that.” Jayce states quietly, your hand pauses for a moment, “Probably. But I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I. Stay the night? I don’t feel comfortable having you leave so late at night.”

You smile sweetly at Jayce, he’s always cared for you the entire time he’s known you. What a sweetheart.

“Of course.”

Jayce smiles, the crows feet near his eyes deepening as his pearly whites beam at you, the little gap between his front teeth make you want to coo, “Isabella is gonna freak out knowing you slept over and it wasn’t with her for once.”

You lightly laugh as you slap Jayce’s back, he laughs too.

“You’re such a shit disturber.”

“You have no proof.”

Yeah… your fifteen year old self would be screaming and fainting right about now. Your inner teen is immensely satisfied.

As are you as a twenty-five year old.

Dilf Jayce 😩😩 he 100% gives girl dad

[tac-the-unseen]

How would bubba, micheal and hannibal react tk a reader who is extremely shy and has social anxiety . They rarely speak louder than a whisper, are easily scared or intimidated, they struggle to stand up for themself and need to wear headphones in public so they don’t get panic attacks

( if you don’t feel comfortable with the social anxiety you can just remove it and just make them shy, i really don’t mind)

Slashers x Socially Anxious! Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Micheal wholeheartedly doesn't care what you do or what you say

•If you never want to speak again, cool

•If you never want to speak to a human again, great

•If you never want to leave the house again, even better

•And that's totally not his possessiveness talking

•He has no problem going out and stealing groceries from neighbors if you're not feeling up for the task

•Stay home as long as you need

•He really likes to just have you around

•He would love to have you stay in all day and watch old cartoons

•in conclusion: do what you want

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•It's fair to say Billy and Stu have enough voice for the three of you

•If they know you well enough, they'll fill in the blanks for you

•Do you whisper when you talk? Cool, They practically scream (eh? Eh? :D)

•You originally thought that your party animal partners wouldn't like you ditching their parties

•But that's both true and false

•Yes they would love to have you there, But if you don't feel comfortable you can just stay in Stu’s room

•Also there is less of a chance of you being hit on

•(totally not because they're possessive everything)

•If you need to wear headphones in public, Stu will ask if he can decorate them with stickers

Thomas Hewitt:

•He’s not anxious so to say, he just can't say anything and his appearance often frightens people

•It's almost perfect that you don't want to leave the house, that means you can focus on cleaning and general house maintenance with him!

•He has brothers to go outside

•Don't want to talk? He doesn't talk at all, perfect!

•He is perfectly content with you Just existing!

•He wholeheartedly believes your perfect and made for him

•Luda mae accepts you into the family immediately

•She shows you the ropes and has enough chatter in her for the both of you!

•shows you how to knit and crochet if you don't already know

Bubba Sawyer:

•When he first met you he was a little confused on why you weren't talking

•But then he finally came to the conclusion that you're just like him!

•He too is shy and has a hard time communicating

•safe to say he gets very excited to find out there's someone else like him

•despite how anxious you are he introduces you to all the family immediately

•You quickly become his new obsession

•He wants to know everything about you, do you share similar interests? Do you share the same family values? Were you raised similarly?

•everything

•His brothers are very pushy and if you struggle to stand up for yourself, He'll do it for you

•Bubba didn't come to play!

•Chop acting too aggressive? He gets runs away with his tail in between his legs When he sees Big Bubba making a beeline in his direction

Sinclair Brothers:

(Putting them all together because the response is basically the same)

•there's no one in Ambrosia except the three of them and the occasional tourist

•And they'll be damned before they let you go near randos

•Don't feel like talking? They live with Vincent, who doesn't speak at all. You'll fit right in

•want to go outside, but not really? Go to Bo’s Shop or take a ride in Lester's truck!

•All the boys are just happy you're giving them some ounce of attention

Billy Lenz:

•Omg! He gets anxious too! You guys have so much in common!!

•Don't want to leave the house?

•Fabulous, stay up in the attic forever

•You can steal food from the shared pantry and never have to talk to anyone ever again

•While he does offer to have sex multiple times, he is content with you just being there (just remember how clingy he is)

•teaches you how to sneak through walls and hallways to go unnoticed by the sorority sisters

Brahms Heelshire:

•Perfect

•His absolute dream

•Please don't ever leave

•Really, who's out there that you need to be talking to?

•Everything you need is right here

•Let the grocery boy leave the bags at the door, he'll get them once the guy leaves

•Therapy? If you need someone to talk to he's always available! Why on earth would you need to go and talk to somebody else, A stranger even!?

•No no no! You're all his!

•You're his best friend, you can't go! He won't let you!

Hannibal Lecter:

•Two ways this could go

1) He tries to help you overcome your anxiety

2) He wants to make it so bad you never leave your room

•If he decides to help you that would include him taking you to all his parties, Operas, running errands, and walks around the town

•If He decides to make it worse He'll telling lies about people's reactions, lie about people not liking you, tell you that you should just stay home so he (The only one that loves you) can take care of you

•Hannibal is not below manipulating conversation to make it sound like you're unlovable

•He'll make an elaborate birthday party for you just to invite no one and say that they all didn't show up because they don't like you

•Hope you're ready to spend every day being reminded that you're so unlovable and unwanted!

•God, aren't you so lucky to have found the one person in the world willing to be around you!?

Will Graham:

•He's antisocial, He wants to stay home too

•He has no problem playing ‘provider’ While you handle the dogs

•He'll bring over the leftovers from Hannibal's dinner parties

•He does suggest you see Hannibal to work out some of your problems, But leaves that up to you

•He will occasionally try to pull you outside and take a nice walk or go fishing

•Don't feel like talking? Don't, problem solved

•He doesn't want to talk either

•Need headphones in public? Cool, whatever

The Lost Boys:

•with everyone in Santa Carla having big and bold personalities, finding someone that will really just wants to be left unnoticed makes them even more noticeable

•The four of them spotted you immediately

•Once they get to know you They offer you a ‘tour’ of the cave

•by tour they mean, “It's really so cozy and comforting! Do you want to stay for the day? Perfect”

•They immediately rope you into living with them, And because of how anxious you are there's no one else for you to talk to

•David loves to think of himself as a provider

•If you do end up wondering outside, You have scary dog privileges x4 (Paul and Marko have both barked as a joke)

•You always have at least one big scary vamp at your hip

•want to just sit with the bikes while they run around? Okay, No one touches their bikes anyway.

Thanks for reading <3

[eternally-racing]

kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader 

genre: fluff, smut  (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k 

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better. 

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - - 

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better. 

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit. 

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?” 

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “ 

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye. 

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on. 

“Oh?” 

“Oh.” 

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly. 

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?” 

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.  

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations. 

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.” 

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch. 

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length. 

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock. 

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control. 

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone. 

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums. 

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time. 

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs. 

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further. 

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties. 

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

[asunflowerana]

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭

summary: usual grocery day with your husband

with: bokuto koutaro, oikawa tooru, sakusa kyoomi and osamu miya.

n/a: brought this one from my old blog, one of my favorites. I'm thinking about making a part 2 with more hq boys, I personally enjoy imagining them dealing with grocery with me 😂. hope you guys enjoy!

⊛ bokuto koutaro

a child inside a full-grow 190cm male body, that's what he is. The fact that he still pouts whenever you remind him that "no, you can't get inside the cart baby, you won't fit" proves the point. But besides his childish mood, he can turn your time shopping a lot funnier.

he does cart races, searches for lower prices like hunting a treasure, throw his hands in the air when he finds his favorite snacks and cackles at every single brand with a silly name. He's a total dork, but his excitement is so endearing that you cannot help but absorb it. It's actually sweet, the way he lightly takes a domestic duty. He's also helpful, willingly carrying the bags to the car, and storing the groceries later at home.

he yearns to stay close to you, so even if his both hands are grabbing the cart handle, at least some arm-brushing will happen. He'll feel pretty lost if you both need to part ways through the market, but it's cute how he beams when you guys find each other later.

favorite section: breakfast food section (he's addicted to cereal), and meat section.

what you usually hear from him: "babe, can we buy this?"

⊛ oikawa tooru

if there's something Tooru doesn't look forward to, is grocery day. He even tried to wipe it off the fridge calendar a few times before, but you're too good to be fooled. "the Santos already ordered by delivery, why can't we do the same?" and he always uses the neighbor's card to try to convince you, whining like his teenager version would.

but one way or another, you always get him to go. If he's in a bad mood, he'll probably sulk in the beginning, lazily riding the cart while sighing every two minutes 'cause this is a total "waste of time". But as the shopping proceeds, he gets used to it, even forgetting what he was so grumpy about when a product catches his attention. With some subtle kisses and a small treat, you can even get a smile out of him. 

He likes to wrap his arm around your back or keep you close by the waist. Not having you there with him it's the worst thing it could happen, so he needs to make sure you stay by his side (also because he simply likes holding you).

favorite section: checkouts (not a surprise), and cosmetics section (he can spend a good amount of time selecting body products).

what you usually hear from him: "are we done?"; "baby, I need your help. This one, or this one?".

⊛ sakusa kiyoomi

He's the one looking forward to this day. He gets uneasy when things run out in the house, so going shopping is almost necessary for his peace of mind. What he doesn't look forward to, though, is dealing with people at the supermarket. Most precisely, the lines, but let's not talk about it to not ruin the mood.

he's very selective, taking whatever time he has to inspect and be sure of the products, in case it isn't a common choice of yours. He appreciates being aware of what you are consuming, not only for being an athlete but because he cares about your health. He likes to share what he's been learning from the team's nutritionist, but he is not a dictator: if you want to treat yourself to some tasty sweets or snacks, he won't get in the way. He'll even join the party.

He'll offer his arm for you to wrap your own, or hold hands. He's grateful to have your company, so he'll cherish it as much as he can. He's also very protective if the place or the lines are too crowned, keeping you by his side and holding you close with his arm.

favorite section: cleaning products (you have no idea how relieved he gets when he goes there).

what you usually hear from him: "I know you want it. Go ahead, put in the cart"; "tsc, they always put the gloves way back there"; "these stupid lines. Again."

⊛ osamu miya

The king of groceries. He's used to doing this two, or three times a week, and it never gets boring. The experience has made him smarter about where and when it is best to buy, plus he has a good eye when it comes to product quality and price. So yeah, you have almost nothing to worry about when Osamu Miya is your grocery partner. Almost.

He's very chill and helpful while shopping, but you better keep a good eye on the cart: it'll get filled to the brim in one minute. When Osamu likes something, he makes a point of buying as much as he can. Once, he filled almost three entire carts, and half of one was just from rice bags. Someone might think you have a whole volleyball team as a family with the amount of food he wants to take home.

Hands on your back, shoulder, waist, any free space he has to keep you close to him – and he'll keep it there the whole time. Touch is one of his love languages, so there's no way he won't keep in contact with you.

favorite section: fruit and vegetables section, and bakery section (he loves the smell of fresh ingredients).

what you usually hear from him: "sweetheart, just one more. It'll be the last, I promise"; "hope Tsum doesn't visit us today"

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[ktkat99]

Update to this prompt I posted a little while ago. Scroll to the bottom for a link to the story.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

[alexisomnias]

—  "THEY WERE ROOMMATES" . . .

⤷ you’re their roommate!

featuring the DORMLEADERS

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Your Roommate who nags you like a housewife, always telling you to clean up your room, to always keep on top with etiquette. Even ruling “no elbows on the table!”

Your Roommate who knows all your favourite foods and makes you breakfast in excuse that “you need to stay healthy.”

Your Roommate who always makes unknowingly makes two servings of meals, ensuring you don’t starve.

Your Roommate who unconsciously stays up later then usual to ensure you return home

Your Roommate who gets all jealous whenever you bring someone home, you should’ve asked him first! (and just not… have them come over..!)

Your Roommate who wants to be as close to you that your lives intertwine and his friends are yours and vice versa…

Your Roommate who all his friends think you two are something more then just roomies. but noooo thats not true… right?

Your Roommate who buys a bunch of plants to take care of, and which results into you both being plant parents

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Your Roommate who leaves everything on the floor, for you to pick up. You can barely even walk through the living room without tripping!

Your Roommate who will indeed beat a bitch up and risk imprisonment (he can buy his way out) if someone insults you

Your Roommate who mixes your laundry often so at this point its shared clothing

Your Roommate who throws away money for you at a moments notice, and will pay your side of the rent if you’ve been struggling.

Your Roommate who’s apparently a star athlete and who invites you to all of his games as a front row seat. (he looks for your face in the crowds of thousands)

Your Roommate who teases you about your meal plans, but never complains about the food. In fact he himself has asked you to cook him food.

Your Roommate who sleeps in your bed with you because “your mattress is way better.”

Your Roommate who gets grumpy when you show up home late, he might just get impatient and show up to your work too.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Your Roommate who you moved in with purely just because of cheaper housing

Your Roommate who runs a restaurant and never fails to bring home your favourite after work

Your Roommate who has a collection of shiny things he sometimes shares and gifts to you

Your Roommate who you have to cuddle with because he’s always cold and you guys are late on paying bills

Your Roommate who pays your half of the rent just so you can take him on a dat— dinner out to repay him

Your Roommate who you share an umbrella with when it rains because you guys only have one collectively bought?

Your Roommate who you go grocery shopping with because your food is his food and you share the fridge

Your Roommate who gets jealous whenever you go out on dates with people.. (your not dating though)

KALIM AL ASIM

Your Roommate who has unending energy and literally wants to do everything with you

Your Roommate who never fails to invite you out when hes going to a party, or hanging out with his friends. Regardless if your an introvert or extrovert.

Your Roommate who is so fucking rich you even wonder why tf he’s sharing an apartment with a broke kid like you???

Your Roommate who pays your half of the rent because he wants you to be happy

Your Roommate who gets you so many gifts you don’t have enough room! and the gifts are kind of romantic too???

Your Roommate who’ll buy you anything if you even stare at something a bit too long

Your Roommate who never fails to wish you a good morning and good night.

Your Roommate who says I love you even if you don’t say it back (does he mean it in a platonic or romantic way???)

VIL SCHOENHEIT

Your Roommate who is LITERALLY FAMOUS???

Your Roommate who does your makeup and hair in the morning! Girls Night vibes.

Your Roommate who when out shopping will buy clothing for you that he thinks you’d look good in (he knows your sizes too!!)

Your Roommate who always holds the door open for you, regardless of where you are. Its only polite

Your Roommate who nags you about your skincare and buys expensive products and teaches you how to apply them

Your Roommate who you share towels with sometimes, and stealing blankets from each others rooms

Your Roommate who has an entire photo album made for you both, with a picture wall in his room.

Your Roommate who gives you a backstage seating to all of his movies, and meet and greets (although you technically don’t have to ‘meet’ him, he just wants more time with you… in a friendly way!)

IDIA SHROUD

Your Roommate who almost never leaves his room except for food 😭

Your Roommate who you play games with into the dusk of night, and you two end up sleeping on each other

Your Roommate who probably picks up stray cats (if your allergic thats fine, he hides them.. since they’re not allowed in the building)

Your Roommate who is a streamer, and you accidentally enter his streamer life by entering his room and asking what he wants for dinner. (his audience ships you both HARD)

Your Roommate who payed for your Wondercord nitro

Your Roommate who you caught writing roommate fanfiction of you both with the ‘roommates’ tag.

Your Roommate who you’ll see at 3am because you coincidentally decided you want both a meal at the same time (you end up eating together)

Your Roommate who will binge your favorite animes, movies, etc) just to have talk about them with you because he knows you love them.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

Your Roommate who’s adoptive father figure put you and Malleus under the “and they were roommates” audio on twsttok

Your Roommate who you spend holidays with, because they’re always more fun by each others side

Your Roommate who makes up silly excuses just to be with you, he wants to do things and learn things about ‘commoner’ (ouch) life with you

Your Roommate who stares at you when you do ANYTHING around the house with so much love its hard to consider it platonic

Your Roommate who calls you over simple problems just because he wants to talk to you (he’ll literally call because his “phone won’t turn on.” “malleus it is on.”)

Your Roommate who pretty much has his own space in your room because he’s in there so much.

Your Roommate who’ll accidentally stretch your clothes because he wants to wear them because they smell nice.

Your Roommate who’ll laugh at any joke you tell even if its the dumbest one ever. you said it so its endearing.

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (02/10)

Paradise Beach

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: after a bad day at work, you head to the beach of your dreams, where an unexpected encounter occurs with a person who is too well known in the city and very rich.

words: 7.7k

previous part • next chapter • series masterlist

omg i can't believe how much you guys liked the first part! i really thought the story wouldn't get so much support (especially since i haven't finished CYPTBIL👀) but you guys again surprised me🤗 i'm very inspired with this story so i'm very happy for all the support, so enjoy this new chapter and look forward to the others!🙌🏻

thank you for reading!

warnings: none in this chapter.

You hate to see the beach dirty.

You've always had a problem with people who leave all their trash on the beach without any remorse and in full view of everyone. Many people will be embarrassed to confront them and create a fuss, but you... you defend the beach.

The first community program you see that brings people together to clean up the beach to better help the ecosystem, you're the first to sign up.

And that's the bad thing about living in Black Waves.

The beaches are not the best kept. There is dirt everywhere, the smell is horrible and really very few people make an effort to keep the beaches on this side clean.

The complete opposite on the beaches of Crown's.

This is mainly why you want to make a difference, to have clean and beautiful beaches despite the 'status' that the rich label you in the worst way.

You've seen their beaches and they are very well kept, that's true. It was clear to you when you went to that party last night and saw the white sand.

Obviously the rich people pay people for maintenance, whether they are poor people or whatever, but your people can't afford that, so they either clean it themselves or they just don't do it.

Pretty much the same goes for restaurants and venues of any kind.

Certainly the restaurant you work for is on a beachfront terrace in a luxurious and exclusive part of Crown's, the same goes for most of the restaurants in this area.

But in Black Waves the restaurants are less sophisticated, the food is fast, some are wood-framed, and there are no more than four people working there.

The places to buy clothes or basic necessities are the same, even a grocery store is inside the same house of the owners, while the rich have a huge shopping mall with brand name clothing stores, accessories, libraries, coffee shops and more refined restaurants.

They also have on their side of town large supermarkets where every fruit, vegetable or meat is triple the price of what they sell it on your side of town.

The prices are also different, clearly.

In Black Waves the dishes sold in the restaurants are affordable, while here a seafood dish costs fifty dollars.

And today especially your boss is in a bad mood, like every day, but today more so.

"Hey."

Alysanne whispers to you from the other side of the bar as you finish cleaning one of the tables and watch her almost instantly, where she takes care that your boss doesn't see you both talking.

"Daniel has texted me, he says Cregan is taking us to another one of his parties tonight," she lets you know with the clear excitement all over her contained face, "They say it's going to be great and maybe Cregan can take us up on his parents' yacht."

You let out a sigh and like her, you check to make sure Mr. Frey doesn't catch you talking in mid-shift.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she says without removing her excitement.

"We're working double shifts today, Anne," you tell her without encouragement.

"Oh come on. We can't miss the opportunity to spend the party on a fucking yacht," she whispers excitedly to you.

"My feet are already hurting and it's not even four in the afternoon," you point out to her.

She gives you a bad look.

"Y/N," she tells you reproachfully.

"Depends on how the day goes."

"Are you serious? We must—

"You two!"

Mr. Frey's voice immediately catches your attention and Alysanne's, where you notice him already watching you both with a scowl on his face and clearly furious.

"Did I pay you to chat or to work!?"

The two of you exchange a glance and immediately turn away from each other, each returning to their respective tasks. But of course, it not only draws the attention of the two of you, but also that of some customers, and the two of you endure the humiliation of being scolded in public.

"You'd better move and I'd better not see you two chatting again or I'll pay you exactly what you deserve or send you back to your side of town."

You almost want to laugh in his face, but like any educated woman and again out of necessity, you keep quiet, as does Alysanne, but the looks you both exchange say it all.

You would like to tell him that because of the mistreatment and this kind of humiliation in public, the two of you and the other workers should be paid more, especially because you have to deal with a boss like him, but neither you nor anyone else says anything and continue working.

And precisely because you were talking to Alysanne for only a brief moment, Mr. Frey takes advantage and overloads you both with too much work for the remainder of the shift.

And that's why you definitely decide not to go to any party.

Your feet hurt, you are urged to take a bath, eat and lie in your bed, however, you are surprised to see how Alysanne has way too much energy for the hell you both had to go through and as she talk to the guys by text, the more excited she gets about going to Cregan's party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alysanne asks you as she finishes getting ready, looking at you through the full-length mirror.

"Honestly I'd rather go to the beach to relax instead of being surrounded with music, the smell of beer, weed and teenagers getting drunk."

She gives you an amused look.

"And why don't you do that?"

"I don't have a ride and it's too late to walk."

"Cregan is coming to pick me up in his car along with the others, I'm sure he can give you a ride if you ask him."

You give her a curious and unsure look.

"Do you think he'll accept?"

"We're going to the same side of town, he'll be passing through," she nods with a nonchalant gesture.

At least you don't have to get too dressed up and you won't get tired, so you trust Alysanne and start getting ready too. Not too much like her but to look presentable.

As time goes by Cregan finally arrives with the boys making a huge fuss, excited about the party tonight. Alysanne tells them to shut up and they are lucky that your uncle and aunt haven't complained about them yet.

You give Cregan directions after asking him to please give you a ride and pretty soon everyone is inside of Crown's.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Sam asks you confused.

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired for a party."

Chase gives you a knowing look.

"I can't believe in all this time you haven't been caught."

"It's not like I'm doing anything wrong either," you shrug.

"But the rich hate us and I bet you they'll make a huge fuss if they catch you."

"Yeah, who knows, maybe a trespass sue," Daniel agrees.

"Even knowing you don't have the money to pay for it," Chase tells you.

"Trespassing?" you repeat between amused and incredulous, "Going to sit on the edge of the beach is trespassing? Do you even know what trespassing is?"

"In any case, the rich won't like it if you get caught," Sam says making a nonchalant gesture.

You decide not to take it any further and finally arrive at your destination point, where you get out and walk over to the side of the pilot's window to see Cregan.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he smiles at you, "But the guys are right. If the owners find out about you, you can get in big trouble."

"I've been doing this for almost a year," you let him know, "I'm very sneaky."

He shakes his head with an amused smile.

"Just be careful. We'll come get you when you tell us."

"Okay," you nod, "Thanks, Cregan."

"Take care," Alysanne says to you from the passenger seat.

"Sure."

"And if the rich see you, get in the ocean and swim to the party, we'll help you there," Daniel tells you too.

You give him a look and and a not entirely convinced smile.

"Yeah, sure, very helpful."

You finally start to walk away from them as they continue to yell at you to take care of yourself, to call them in case of anything and so on, until Cregan starts up and his car begins to disappear into the distance.

And then you take action.

You look around, quickly assessing the area, making sure there are no people nearby to see you, but surprisingly this whole luxurious area of Crown's is quiet.

The only movement you notice is several cars passing by, but other than that, there are no monkeys on the shore.

There is a wall in front of you that marks the line between this private neighborhood and the houses in the same neighborhood that are even more private, since they have a huge front yard and a huge part of the beach exclusively for them.

The wall is not high, fortunately, you think it should be, but this is compensated by security guards who patrol this area and the beach from time to time.

So stealthily and in a calculated manner, once you make sure that there are no people nearby, you hide among the bushes and trees that are planted in the corner of the sidewalk to put your foot on a specific crack that you know of the wall and push yourself upward taking the edge of the wall with both hands to be able to observe the other side.

You quickly scan the entire area, making sure there are no guards patrolling nearby nor any of the people who live in the houses before jumping.

The meters of distance are considerable between the huge houses or rather mansions. There is pavement between the divisions and those divisions are exactly the way to the beach.

You put on the cap of the sweatshirt you are wearing to cover your hair and your face, since you know that all the houses must have security cameras outside, so this way you protect yourself in case of anything.

And once you make sure that there is no one outside or nearby, you gain impulse again with more strength and as fast as your feet allow you but still being careful, you place your hands on the rough edge of the wall and start to climb.

You adjust your grip more firmly on the edge and in one agile motion, you propel yourself upwards, where you feel the effort as you pull your own weight and more as you try to be fast.

Luckily you've done this many times before and when you reach the top, wasting no time and making sure no one is watching you, you quickly slide down the other side and you fall on your feet with a dry sound.

You don't take the time to rest and looking around, with adrenaline running through your veins and your heart beating too fast, you quickly advance towards the beach.

And once you are far enough away from where you managed to cross and indeed you confirm that no one saw you and everything is fine, again, you can relax.

You remove the cap from your head and let your hair free again, slowly feeling how the breeze and the wind with the salty air envelop you completely as you approach the seashore.

Easily anyone who lives here if they see you could tell that you live here too, besides the night also helps you because without so much light they can't recognize you right away.

And it is as if you are also a rich person, daughter of rich parents, being inside a private section of the beach in Crown's most exclusive area.

And as you go along, this is precisely why you take the risk of coming to this place when it is forbidden to you; the place and the view.

The sand here is perfect, clean as if no one had ever walked on it, the air is salty with no smell of anything unpleasant in specific, there are no people that could be dangerous around you and the surroundings are absolutely beautiful and clean.

Also this section has a cliff a bit secluded from all the houses, where its huge rocky wall looks absolutely beautiful and ethereal when illuminated by the night light.

You have come here many, many times and you always head to the same place, that specific pier.

The pier stretches out in front of you like a polished wooden path, leading into the deep waters of the night ocean.

Discreetly placed lights along the pier illuminate it with a soft golden glow, creating a contrast to the darkness surrounding the horizon.

The reflection of the small lamps trembles on the surface of the water, giving the place a magical and mysterious air.

The structure is impeccable, made of dark, sturdy wood, maintained with a care that only the rich can afford. There is not a single splinter out of place, not even an ill-fitting clove.

Every detail is taken care of, right down to the polished wooden benches at the end of the pier, ideal for sitting and admiring the sea in silence.

As you approach, the wooden planks creak softly under your feet, but the sound mixes with the gentle murmur of the waves, making it almost imperceptible.

And when you reach the end, you can see a large yacht moored at the side of the dock, with it's deluxe cover and it's name painted in gold and silver lettering.

You have no idea which rich family it might belong to, but you know this is just one of many they must have. It wasn't here the last time you came here and fortunately it doesn't obstruct the view.

You take a seat on the wooden bench and letting out a big breath, you watch as the full moon reflects off the ocean, it's silvery sparkles dancing on the water in hypnotic movements.

This is why you love coming here, even in this way, because the fresh, salty night air fills your lungs with every inhalation.

And just for an instant, you feel freer than ever in this space that is not supposed to belong to you.

Besides you not only enjoy seeing the moon, but also the stars, shining brightly and adorning the entire night sky. And you can rest easy, because there is no danger on this side of town.

You've been enduring a lot at work lately, taking a lot of strain on your shoulders from double shifts and stressing over the slightest thing, but coming here and being here gives you that much needed quiet time.

And only this place can offer you that; peace and tranquility.

You don't know exactly how much time passes but you find yourself in the same position, not getting bored and enjoying the view, wishing time would freeze so you could continue to enjoy this without worries.

You think that Alysanne and the guys must be having fun too, but for tonight this is all the fun you need.

Suddenly your phone vibrates next to you and the screen lights up as a new notification comes in. You casually pick it up and see a new message, and it's from Alysanne.

It's a selfie of her with the guys, all happy, laughing, smiling, beer bottles in hand and with the sea and yachts in the background completing the scene.

You let out a small laugh as you see Sam's euphoric face, Daniel and Chase's funny faces, and Cregan and Alysanne's smiling faces.

"Excuse me?"

Your whole body reacts and jumps instantly from shock and you look quickly and sharply behind you with all the panic on your face, definitely not expecting what you see.

Aemond Targaryen.

Shit.

It's the first thing that comes to your mind as you quickly jump to your feet, your heart beating too fast and your hands starting to shake.

That's when you know that the moment has finally come where you're caught and you're in big trouble.

Aemond watches you with a serious and attentive face, analyzing you completely. And you feel completely small when his eyes look at you with confusion and distrust, but challenging.

He clearly has no idea what are you doing here and maintains a defensive posture.

And you definitely feel like a thief who's just been caught in the act.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh God.

You think in terror.

How come you didn't hear him coming? The boards creak with the weight when someone walks and you couldn't hear anything?

You think that you should have been more attentive, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, because it's not possible that you really were so distracted and in your own world that you didn't hear him coming. 

But with him already here, watching you in a bad way, looking cold and suspicious, that you don't have time to scold yourself or think about it.

"I-I..." you stammer, in a shaky voice, not having the slightest idea what to say, very nervous and scared.

All you can feel is a lump in your throat, an irregular throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming weight of his gaze on you.

He doesn't look away and his serious face doesn't change, clearly waiting for an answer.

As you watch him examine you, you watch as he runs his gaze up and down you, trying to decipher who you are. And it doesn't take him long to come to an obvious conclusion, because he instantly knows that you are not like him.  

By your clothes and your old sandals, everything about you gives away that you don't belong here. Besides, he doesn't recognize you from among the other Crown's families to be able to say that you belong to one of them.

He knows you're not from around here.

"I asked you a question," he demands you in a bad way and with a harsher tone, walking towards you, "What are you doing here?"

You feel a shiver run down your back as you swallow hard, but the words just won't come out.

You're paralyzed, terrified, stuck, because you have no idea what to say and you're still processing that this is really happening. 

You know you don't have any good excuses and he's impatient, waiting for an answer that really won't be convincing to be the truth.

"I will call security for invasion of private property," he warns you firmly, clearly beginning to lose patience.

The danger in his words makes the fear hit you even harder and you finally react in panic.       

"No, no, please," you finally manage to say, worried and raising one of your hands to him in supplication, "I-I… I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear," you raise both hands in surrender, trembling.

He inspects you more closely with a piercing gaze, trying to find something, anything, to tell him what you are really doing here or what you are trying to do, watching between you and his family's yacht anchored to the dock.

His posture remains tense, ready to act if he finds anything out of place. 

He thinks that maybe you are doing something with the yacht, but he sees it in perfect condition, with nothing strange and nothing out of the ordinary, as the rope that ties it to the dock is without problems.

But he still continues to watch you seriously, defensively and suspiciously.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, lowering your gaze, embarrassed and terrified, "This has never happened before," you say, reproaching yourself for the mess you've gotten yourself into.

But he hears you perfectly, and his frown deepens.

"Before?" he queries you.      

You close your eyes tightly, cursing yourself internally for having said that, to again look at him pleadingly and in desperation wanting to prove to him that you really aren't doing anything wrong.

"I swear I—

"Hello!?"

The unexpected voice makes you jump again from surprise and you watch with your eyes wide open behind Aemond as one of the security guards enters the dock, his flashlight illuminating the way.

Your heart beats with such force that it seems to thunder in your ears, as panic engulfs you completely. 

And without thinking too much, you move quickly, hiding behind a huge wooden box, taking advantage of the pole supporting the roof at the end of the pier and some scattered chairs. 

You crouch down, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but desperation gives you away with every move.

This definitely ends up completely confusing Aemond, not expecting that reaction and movement from you at all.      

And you watch him from your hiding place with all the pleading and forgiveness in your eyes, silently begging him not to say anything, not to give you away.

But he turns his gaze to the guard who ends up coming closer.

"Are you all right son?"

Your heart stops momentarily and you watch him in terrified silence, simply waiting for the worst. 

But even to have his whole look serious and not showing much reaction, you watch as hesitation appears for a moment and he falters in his words, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say, until he does.

"Yes," he finally says, "I'm all right."

The guard, seemingly satisfied with the answer, nods, but doesn't leave.     

"The Baratheon's reported a break-in in their backyard a few days ago," he says and you listen carefully, still waiting for the moment with fear and concern, "Nothing serious, apparently just clothes and some decorations. I'm just patrolling to make sure everything is in order."

Your breathing quickens as you listen to every word and Aemond continues to watch the guard, when suddenly he shoots you a quick glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of seriousness and indecision. 

"Yes, so I hear," he says.

"Are you alone, son? I thought I saw someone else here."

Fuck.

Your stomach sinks and you close your eyes tightly, then watch in terror for the moment when Aemond will finally speak and give you away.

But you see the hesitation in his gaze again, you also watch intently as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to say anything.    

When suddenly you see him let out a long breath and slyly give you a look with his serious face, then lick his lips and press them together in resignation.

"Yes, I'm alone."

As soon as Aemond utters those words, a wave of relief sweeps through your body. But almost instantly you stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe it. 

He really just covered you in front of the guard. He didn't really give you away even when he had every reason to do so.

Your hands are still shaking, but you slowly feel the adrenaline and anguish start to subside. 

"Well, we'll be around if you need anything. Good night, son." 

Aemond nods in his direction.

"Yes, thank you. Good night."  

You stand still for a few more moments, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance until finally there is no more noise. Just the sound of the water against the dock and the night wind on the waves.

You take a deep breath and slowly, you sit up, emerging from your hiding place with your hands still shaking. 

Your eyes meet those of Aemond, who is still standing, watching you with that penetrating gaze that seems to be able to read all your deepest thoughts. 

You don't know exactly what to say to him, you're still surprised and don't understand why he saved you, but the words come out on their own, grateful and fearful.

"Thank you," you murmur apologetically but with all the sincerity in your gaze, "Thank you for not saying anything."

He doesn't say anything to you, which confuses you even more, he just keeps standing there watching you, with his usual hard-to-read expression.     

“I-I..." you stammer, biting your lips and lowering your gaze for a moment, still feeling nervous, "I really wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't stealing or harming or anything like that, truly," you tell him honestly.

Again, he says nothing. He doesn't move either. He just stands there, with both hands tucked inside his front pockets of his shorts and still watching you with utmost attention that makes you feel incredibly nervous, even more so due to the circumstances.

You are also surprised that he is not kicking you out and threatening not to come back here. 

You honestly don't understand his behavior and the fact that he saved you from the guard, but for whatever reason, you thank him or you would have been in big trouble.

So cautiously, you take a step towards the entrance and exit of the pier.        

"And I'm sorry. You won't see me around here again. I really don't want to cause trouble," you add, watching him warily and wanting to make clear the promise in your words, "I'll leave now," you say quietly.

And having nothing more to say, you turn around, ready to run away if necessary, but you barely take two steps when surprisingly his voice stops you.

"What were you doing here?" he asks for the fifth time all night, his tone just as accusing but now with a curious tone. 

You stand still, not knowing exactly how to respond. 

But you know you have two choices: lie or tell the truth. And for some reason, you feel you can't lie to him; Aemond Targaryen.

Aside from belonging to the wealthiest, most prestigious and powerful family in Sunset's and the entire country, with his father being Viserys Targaryen himself and being one of the heirs to his entire fortune, he seems to be someone who seems to have the innate ability to detect falsehood.

That's why you don't understand why he saved you, a poor girl who doesn't belong to his world and probably never will, but still, you decide to be honest.       

Anyway, you're already stuck here and as crazy as it sounds, you owe Aemond Targaryen one.

"I was just... looking for some peace and quiet," you confess, turning your body to once again look at him, "I had a bad day and coming here..." you look around with a wistful look, "It helps me."

Aemond tilts his head, frowning slightly and biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting you. 

"And you can't do that on the beach on your side of town?" he asks you with a tone of disbelief.

You sigh, feeling a twinge of frustration as you think about the answer. It's a reasonable question, but the answer is not so simple. 

"Not really," you reply, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting your lips in nervousness, "Surely you know it's not the same at Black Waves."

He shakes his head slightly.

"I've never been there."

You almost look at him with an obvious look, almost, but you end up nodding, since of course he's never been to your side of town when he lives here.   

"The smell of the beach there is not so nice. They are not as clean as these, there is dirt and being there alone in the middle of the night is dangerous," you explain.

And everything you say is true, which is why you decide to come here.

And he looks at you, clearly digesting your words, saying nothing for a few moments, as is becoming usual between the two of you.

You think that maybe for him, someone who has lived surrounded by luxury all his life, it is somewhat difficult to imagine such a different reality. But it is also no secret how the people of Black Waves live.

So you don't understand his silence or even his behavior, but what you do see in him, surprisingly... is that he doesn't judge you.

You would have expected the face of disgust instantly like any spoiled child of rich parents and also that he would tell you to leave now with that posture and superficial look.

But nothing.       

Aemond Targaryen doesn't really reflect anything with his eyes. Unless he's judging you and giving you those looks of disgust in his mind.

But, strangely, he doesn't make you feel any less.

"And coming here... it's like my paradise, for the peace and quiet," you conclude in a low murmur.

Again... he doesn't say anything.

And that begins to frustrate you.

He just watches you, as if he's evaluating every word, every gesture and every detail in you. 

And you silently think to yourself that he probably doesn't say anything because he really wants you to leave, to leave him alone and never come back here.

So you try to leave again, because you've caused enough trouble and you can't risk staying.   

However, just as you prepare to say goodbye and apologize, again, he interrupts you.

"Since when do you come here?" he asks with a tone that reveals a mild interest you weren't expecting.

Inevitably your nerves run through you again and you swallow hard, having no idea whether this interrogation is good or bad, but you still decide to be honest to avoid as much trouble as you can.

"Last year," you confess apologetically.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"And no one had caught you until now?"

"It's just that I don't come here much, I promise," you say instantly, sincere, "Like I told you I only come when I really need to... when I want peace and quiet. And I don't do anything but sit around and watch the ocean, that's all."

He nods slowly, again processing your words. 

And you don't know it but to Aemond... there seems to be something about you, something about the way you talk or maybe that you're a Black Waves girl, that keeps him interested.

His blue eyes, cold but curious, fix on yours, as if he wants to see beyond the words, as if he's looking for some kind of hidden truth.    

The silence that follows feels interminable and finally, he with his relaxed but dominant posture, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns around, resting his arms on one of the railings of the pier. 

He stares off into the horizon with that serious look that tells you nothing and you just stand there, wondering if you should still leave or what you should do, since you don't understand anything.

"You can stay," he says suddenly, his voice low but firm.

You frown and stare at him completely confused, having no idea if you heard right or not.

"What?"

"You can stay," he repeats, not watching you.

You blink, watching him in shock, now being the one processing his words, not really understanding anything but feeling completely surprised by his offer.      

You didn't expect this. Not at all.

And at that moment comes the distrust in you, as it can't be too good to be real.

"Are you sure? I mean..." you watch him uncertainly, "Maybe you want to be alone," you shrug.

You watch as he sits up and starts pulling something out of his pockets, which ends up being a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

And without looking at you, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he tells you carelessly, taking a cigarette and starting to light it.

You watch him curiously, not understanding why he's being this way with you... so strangely kind. And that without knowing where it comes from, you begin to like him.

"And you're really not going to give me away? This isn't... I don't know," you shrug, "Like some kind of trap?"    

You watch as he takes a drag and blows out the smoke, putting the lighter and the pack back in his pocket.

"No," he says serious and almost annoyed, so you decide not to question him anymore, as strange as this is, "If you want to stay that's fine, if not you can leave too. Just do what you want, if I wanted to give you away, I would have done it already."

You remain silent, processing his words. You frown and watch him as he takes another drag and then the smoke rising to dissipate in the cool night air.

There is something about his posture, the casual way he holds his cigarette, that disconcerts you and catches your attention.

He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let someone like you just hang around, much less in a place that is clearly his, or at least his family's.

So you feel unsure how to interpret all of this.

So you continue to stand, still waiting for some sign that you should leave, but he gives you none. Instead, he just looks off into the horizon, where the water meets the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars.

And the truth is, you don't know what to do.

The prospect of staying there, with him, someone you barely really know and who could give you away at any moment, still makes you nervous.

However, you are also intrigued by this strange friendliness he is showing.

So you decide to stay, so you again take a seat on the edge of the wood with carefree movements, your feet dipping into the shimmering water beyond.

You give him a brief glance, unsure if he'll sit down too or if he'll just leave. But to your surprise, he stands beside you, silently smoking and not watching you.

It's not warm or comforting company, but somehow, the stillness you both share is more soothing than uncomfortable.

And so the minutes pass and the sound of the water, soft and rhythmic, begins to soothe you again. The cool night air makes the anxiety in your chest slowly dissipate, as does the tension in your shoulders.

And with each passing of time, you realize that nothing bad will really happen by being here with him. And you also realize that Aemond Targaryen is maybe not arrogant and shallow like the others.

He hasn't even been mean to you and hasn't judged you, so that's why you decide to start a conversation.

"Why are you here?" you decide to ask, without looking him and simply moving the waters gently with your feet, focusing on that.

The question floats in the air between you, and for a moment, you think he won't answer you, since maybe he told you that you can stay but it doesn't mean you should talk to him.

But then you hear him move, his weight making a slight creak in the wood.

"Same as you," he finally replies, though his tone is less curt this time, "Looking for peace and quiet."

You're instantly taken aback by his honesty and also by his response, definitely not expecting that, so you frown and look at him confused.

"Really?"

He watches you and his gaze instantly paralyzes you, watching as he watches you just as confused but this time defensively at your reaction.

"Why is that so incredible to believe?"

You bite your lips and avert your gaze, thinking very hard about your next words, as you shrug and watch him again.

"Well... I'm just thinking why a person who has everything and certainly lacks nothing would come here... looking for peace and quiet," you explain with genuine curiosity.

He lets out a snort, with a bitter look on his face as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"Neither you nor anyone else knows everything about me and my family," he says with an unexpected harshness in his tone.

You remain silent, surprised by the frankness of his response and avert your gaze to the horizon.

You feel a slight discomfort that you didn't expect and it's not because of what he said, but how he said it, so serious and distant.

But maybe he's right.

All families at Crown's are characterized by more than just money, power and status, and that's appearance.

The rich probably think they know everything among themselves, but your people see a little more reality and you know that behind that perfect facade there are secrets, tensions and burdens.

And the Targaryen's are no exception. Even Cregan has hinted at it many times, with his wry, half-joking comments about the lives of wealthy families.

The moment between the two and the conversation seems on the verge of becoming awkward again.

And just when you think the talk is over, Aemond takes another drag and, surprising you, looks sideways at you with a cool but questioning expression.

"And what happened to you?" he asks you suddenly, changing the subject.

"Hm?" you observe him attentively and confused.

"Why did you have a bad day?" he repeats just as calmly, but this time, with a casual, carefree tone.

"Oh," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the horizon.

You didn't expect him to be interested in something so personal. But since he asked, you decide to be honest.

"Well, apparently my boss hates me and made me work double shifts today," you explain, letting out a sigh. "It's stressful enough to put up with his bad treatment and workload, but I also had to deal with a lot of rude customers."

His gaze remains fixed on you, as if processing what you just said. Then he goes back to staring at the horizon with a disinterested look and takes another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like shit," he finally says, his tone dry but without a hint of empathy.

"Yeah, it is," you reply, letting out a bitter little laugh, "But it is what it is."

He nods slightly and suddenly, the distance you felt between the two of you seems to diminish a bit.

Aemond isn't as unapproachable as you thought, and though you still don't quite understand why he's acting this way, you begin to see that maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye.

You stare out at the water in silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the pier pilings filling the air.

And you are surprised by how normal this situation is.

You mean, who would have thought? You, a poor girl from Black Waves and him, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the region, sharing a night on the dock as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You don't understand anything but... you like him.

"I've never seen you before," he murmurs after a while, his eyes focused on the horizon, "Nor do I know your name."

You stare at him incredulously and let out a small chuckle under your breath.

"I think we both know why," you say knowingly, "It's not like our paths cross very often. And my name is Y/N, Y/N Blackwood," you introduce yourself in a soft tone.

He falls silent, seemingly memorizing your name and within a few seconds, however, he doesn't seem convinced of the other.

"I don't know. I know everyone in town, even if not directly."

You frown slightly.

"That sounds... exhausting."

"It's part of the family, knowing everyone. Knowing who's around you, even if you don't deal with them," he explains, "But I had never seen you."

"Well... I've lived at Sunset's for a year now with my aunt, uncle and my cousin," you explain, relaxing a little more as you see the conversation flowing smoothly, "And before the summer started, I started working at Mr. Frey's restaurant to save up for college in a few more months."

He turns his whole body toward you, still standing and leaning against the pole holding up the roof at the end of the pier, glancing at you from time to time but keeping more of his focus on the horizon.

"Your aunt and uncle?" he asks, "Why don't you live with your parents?"

That question takes you by surprise, and for a moment you don't know what to say. It's obviously a personal question and you weren't expecting it at all.

Then you look at him, where his eyes are serious and inquisitive towards you, although you don't perceive any bad intentions, just a curiosity.

"I guess I don't know if I should tell you that," you say with a small smile and amused tone, trying to downplay it and not make the moment awkward, "You know... trusting one of your kind."

He lets out a slight chuckle, making you smile a little wider.

"My kind?"

You shrug.

"Yeah, you know... a rich one."

"And what makes you think you can't trust me? I didn't give you away a while ago, did I?"

"And why did you?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity seizing on the comment, "Why didn't you give me away?"

He lets out a long breath and takes another drag before answering, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know, maybe because you were honest."

"But you're not like that, no one in your class is empathetic and forgiving."

"Do you really think you know everything about me and my family?" he questions you again.

You look at him obviously and incredulously.

"Please, everyone in this place knows everything about you and your family. Even the poor people. You're like the royalty of the city, after all."

You see the slight annoyance on his face, making it clear that he's in total disagreement with you, and you make up your mind to prove your point.

"I mean..." you sigh, "You are known as your father's son who has a perfect life just like your siblings, heirs to a wealthy and powerful family. The Targaryen's are known for that, work, money, power and status... or am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond right away, just watches you with an intensity that makes you feel a little vulnerable.

And just when you think he'll finally let his true self out and he's exactly like the other rich kids, he surprisingly lets out a sigh and looks down at the water, with an almost resigned look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's not all as simple and wonderful as it seems. It's not the whole truth either."

Those words leave you thinking. And they also leave you watching... him.

At the previous party, you couldn't see much of him from afar, let alone being on the second floor of a huge yacht. But he is... captivating.

You trace the shape of his nose and the structures of his cheeks with your gaze, watching as if it were a slow-motion movie as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and raises his gaze to the sky to expel the smoke, marking the bone in his neck.

His silver hair shimmers slightly in the moonlight and makes him look like some sort of ancient Greek God, where you silently admire the handsome features of his face.

You can't see his eyes in detail because of the light, but you know they are blue, characteristic of the Targaryen along with the platinum hair.

And then you wonder, what else is behind that facade his family has so meticulously constructed for him?

Who is Aemond Targaryen truly?

The night continues as the two of you stand there, sharing the space, the air, the silence. There is no need for more words for now, it's just enjoying the little shelter in this corner with him.

And after a while, you decide that maybe it's time to leave.

"Well... I guess I should be going," you mutter, starting to get up, then looking around the perimeter one last time, etching the image in your memory, "I'm going to miss this place."

He turns with slow, nonchalant movements toward you, dropping what little is left of the cigarette to crush it with the sole of his tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?" he asks, with that calmness that always seems to surround him.

You look at him in confusion, then shrug, letting out a small, resigned laugh.

"Obviously I can't come back here now that you've caught me," you tell him with a sad little smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear from the wind, turning around, "Oh and..." you look back at him, "Thanks for not give me away, truly."

You give him a look and a small grateful smile, as he keeps his expression hard to read, as usual, but totally focused on you.

Neither of you say anything else and assuming this is the final goodbye, you start walking towards the dock exit. But then you hear his voice behind you.

"Wait."

And that's what you do.

Confused, you turn to watch him again, watching as he takes a step forward.

"You can come back if you want," he says to you suddenly, in a tone of voice that is soft, but also mixes indifference and something else that you don't quite manage to identify, "Just... make sure no one else catches you."

That definitely takes you by surprise, since you weren't expecting it. And you watch him silently for a moment, trying to read his expression, but he remains as enigmatic as ever.

However, there is an unexpected sincerity in his words that makes you smile, this time with more warmth.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief and excitement in your voice.

He nods, folding his arms, saying nothing.

"Thank you," you reply, and this time you say it more firmly and with happiness in your eyes.

You lower your gaze and resist the urge to smile big, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach, to again watch him.

"Bye, Aemond."

You take a step back and turn around, when again he stops you as he speaks.

"You're going home alone?" he asks, this time with a little more interest in his voice.

You laugh softly, surprised that he cares, not really understanding anything but liking it.

"You know? We poor people have a good thing after all... survival style."

He doesn't say anything to you, just watches you with his piercing colored eyes as he licks his lips and then simply gives you a small nod.

You don't say anything else either and finally turn to leave, beginning to leave the tranquility of the dock and him behind, under the dim lights of the night.

And as you walk away, you feel the sea breeze on your face and wonder how a night that began with tension and fear ended with something as unexpected as a truce with Aemond Targaryen.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

[divine-addict]

𓇼.* Poly!ShiuToji/Gn!Reader 𓇼.* ^^

▸ Is it really me that just wants a fluffy and domestic poly relationship with Shiu and Toji?

▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where you're an assassin with Shiu being your handler as well. Sure, you're not as strong as Toji, nor do you possess the physical prowess he has thanks to his Heavenly Restriction, but you still do your job well, being Shiu's go-to person after Toji 'settled down' with Megumi's mother. You and Shiu have grown considerably closer during that time, almost as close as he and Toji were.

▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where it really was a matter of simplicity and convenience. Shiu was your handler. Neither of you really saw other people outside of work, spending time outside of work together. Shiu admired your reliability and consistency when it came to getting jobs done and at some point asked you out. The two of you became something of a casual thing, not bothering with labels or what was socially seen as a 'romantic relationship', the relationship being more about having a consistent presence of comfort in each other's lives and looking after each other. ▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where at first Toji saw you as something of a threat, able to take his only stable way of getting money away, being even less tolerable towards you after learning that you were born into a sorcerer family, not knowing that you had also dealt with the harsh mistreatment of jujutsu society towards those who weren't seen as 'strong enough', with Shiu comparing trying to get you two to get along being like shoving two hissing cats at each other.

▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where Toji started warming up to you as both of you wanted to spend time with Shiu putting the two of you into each other's proximity. Maybe you weren't as bad as he first thought, particularly after you wanted Shiu to rather take a look at Toji than yourself after a particularly rough assassination. ▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where Shiu often found himself sandwiched in-between you and Toji, the two of you snoring away on the couch, not letting him get up (the Korean silently cursing himself for having 'not one, but two freeloaders'). He didn't even have the heart to shove off himself so he could get up from the couch, Shiu caring for the both of you. ▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where it started becoming natural to include Toji when Shiu took you out or when doing mundane things like going grocery shopping, cleaning (more like you and Toji were standing around while Shiu was trying to understand what you two didn't get about sanitizing the flat, having instead drawn a pentagram on the bedroom floor) and lounging together on the bed.

▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where both you and Toji find yourself feeling safe enough to be vulnerable about Shiu, silently seeking out comfort from him whenever you needed reassurance that you were away and gone from your respective former households. Shiu never pries, letting either of you just ground yourself using his presence. ▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where Shiu gets double the complaining about him smelling like cigarettes constantly, Toji grabbing his pack and keeping out of his reach, while you just watch in amusement, leaning against the doorframe, supposed to watch over dinner cooking in the kitchen.

▸ Poly!ShiuToji, where the inventory curse is just something of a pet?? No one knows if it digests the food you feed it, but Toji doesn't find himself pulling out whatever Shiu has cooked and fed the curse with, during a fight when he's pulling out one of his weapons.

Hidden Inventory never ended the way it did, trust, Toji is still alive and everyone's happy- My actual first written work I post on here oh lord- Man, such a shame that Shiu is so underrated in the fandom, Shell out.

▸ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[lamnwar]

Hey me again, lmao

Could you do Kiyoshi + Gom as husbands, If so thank youuu xxxx

Hi there, love! 💕 love love love this request!! I spend all my time daydreaming abt being married to these boys LMAO it's embarassing 😭 alsooo ik I took long before getting to your request but I wanted to finish all the big os requests first before working on hcs bc it's more heafty so sorry for my shitty habit of taking too long for simple stuff :((

HAPPILY EVER AFTER // KNB Headcanons

Context: what I imagine married life to be with these characters. 🥰

Pairing: GOM + Kiyoshi x gn! Reader (gender not specified)

Warnings: mainly fluff and crack, can get a bit suggestive in Aomine's (of course it's always him 😭) so mdni!

AKASHI

Rich, handsome and a gentleman!!! Literally the Holy Grail of husbands

The kind to spoil his pretty spouse out of love

Takes you out on a date at some fancy restaurant at least once a week

He's also very independent!! Now, I think he's the kind to hire people to help around the house but that doesn't stop him from doing chores

He'll always help you doing stuff for the house if you need

He has amazing taste!! Take him furniture shopping and you'll end up with on of those houses you see in AD

Brings up the subject of you dropping your work so you can stay home while he's the breadwinner

He's a bit traditional in that sense because he really doesn't want you to work if it's unecessary, you know?

I mean he's crazy rich so does that even make sense to make you work?? (Unless you absolutely want to)

Wakes you up every morning with a kiss!

He always had the proudest smile when he introduces you to people as his spouse <3

MIDORIMA

TREATS YOU LIKE A ROYAL OMG

This man takes marriage very seriously, listen

He most likely did a deep analysis of your birthchart before deciding that you are the right one for him

Naturally, as your husband, he gotta get you your lucky item of the day everyday

You don't even believe in that stuff but it's his love language, I guess

Not much one to go on dates unless you want to, then he'll be up for it

He's more one to enjoy time with you at home

Something like having a nice diner and cuddling while you read

The kind to love going grocery shopping with you

Every once in a while, he'll buy a fancy bottle of wine just to share it with you

A very supportive husband!! Every project you have in mind, he's already done the research to find the most efficient way for you to accomplish your plans

Not a PDA guy but he'll happily hold your hand when you're at gatherings together

May not be very vocal about his love for you but you better believe that he talks proudly of his spouse to every one he knows

KISE

He is OBSESSED with you

Man never left the honeymoon phase, he's so crazy about you

Takes you to his fancy modelling events and shows you off to every one he meets

He also buys you lots of clothes and acessories

Dare you say something is cute, he's already inside the shop buying it for you

Tries his best as chores but it's not really his thing

Will help as much as he can, though!

Breakfast in bed kind of guy hihi

And it happens a lot because let's be real, that man isn't the kind to let you sleep at night

Like I said earlier, he's never left the honeymoon phase so... yeah

Wants to be the kind of husband that gives you his credit card and tell you to do what you want with it but you have to decline

It's ok though, he'll fine plenty of other ways to spoil you

You have that cute habit every week of taking baths together

The kind to miss a day of work to take care of you when you're sick!

AOMINE

Daiki never thought he'd ever get married, but then he met you

Not the best at being a husband but he really tries!

Like he makes an effort of not being too lazy and messy

Leaves the chores to you mainly, but will give a hand

Like if you're cleaning around and need to put stuff on the top shelf, he'll do it for you

Not the best cook so he lets you make food while he does the dishes

I'm trying to delay the obvious but that man never stops being horny for you

Literally sits and daydream of fucking you on every surface of your home

Gets so riled up at the sight of that ring on your finger, he can't believe your all his

The kind to follow you everywhere you go, even if it's for some stupid errand

Takes you out to the beach or for a picnic as soon as the sun is shining outside

Buys you clothes he thinks you'd look good in and surprisingly, he's got amazing taste

Loves when you refer to him as "husband" in conversation!!

MURASAKIBARA

So casual about being married, most likely because to him that doesn't change a thing about the way he feels about you

Likes that now he gets to have you with him all the time

Cooks for you! Buys you snacks! Takes you out on restaurant dates!

Sharing is caring so he only ever shares his snack with you

I can see him being into matching outfits (if you can find any that fits both him and you)

A bit lazy so he doesn't help around that much unless you tell him to

And even that, he'd do some chores before getting distracted

But listen, it's ok though because he makes up for it in over ways

He's very caring, only because you're his spouse

Cuddles in bed, at all time! He just feels clingy sometimes

He smiles softly when he plays with your hand and sees the ring on your finger

He likes to sit you on his lap often

Basically being a husband doesn't differ much from how he was as a boyfriend

Very casual about calling you his spouse all the time, even in front of others

KIYOSHI

Kiyoshi Teppei was born to be a husband!!

Because he grew up with his grandparents, he's got the habit of taking care of a household and the people living in it

So he naturally took in most of the chores and he's good at it!

Doesn't want you to get tired either so he'll do most things

Pays attention to all the little things so you're always comfortable

He also likes going for a run/the gym with you and he's so encouraging!

Has the stupidiest smile on his face everytime he looks at you

He holds his grandparents as a reference so he really hopes you'll both grow old together, still madly in love

Don't get that man started on building a family, he just gets too excited at the idea of being a parent!

He'd be a great one too, but the final decision is up to you. Either way, he's just happy being with you.

I don't know what else to say because he's just made to be a husband, yk?

Yeah, probably the best person to marry <3 (I'm very biased)

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ kuroo as a best friend

⟡ cw: fluff, friends to lovers, glass injury, short party mention, idk what else

⟡ a/n: this was short and rushed whoops. also my last one for like a week maybe idk college sucks dude. also i feel like he'd be a scaredy cat with movies idk.

⟡ best friend series: lev, yaku, kenma || masterlist

best friend kuroo who you met in class when you started high school.

best friend kuroo who you got closer to when he helped you clean up the glass from the beaker you had dropped during chemistry class.

best friend kuroo who insisted on taking you to the nurse after you stepped on glass that went through your shoe.

best friend kuroo who skipped practice that day so he could walk you home safely.

best friend kuroo who offered to take you home every day until you recovered so long as you were fine with waiting for him to finish practice.

best friend kuroo who you continued going to practice with because you were actually intrigued by volleyball.

best friend kuroo who helped you talk to coach nekomata because you brought up wanting to be manager but were to scared to ask. it took a lot of persuading but coach agreed. you now see kuroo everyday.

best friend kuroowho introduced you to kenma during your second year. kenma wasn't good with new people by any means but he saw that you were important to kuroo so he dealt with it. he eventually listened to you more than he would listen to kenma.

best friend kuroo who had so many nicknames for you that anytime he said something weird you would just assume he was talking to you.

best friend kuroo who attended a different college than you but still made arrangements to come see you whenever he had the chance to.

best friend kuroo who always made sure you ate healthily and would go grocery shopping with you every so often so he could teach you about balanced diets. also because you hated vegetables.

best friend kuroo who nearly asked you to dye his hair after he got a B on his final exam. he said he needed a new identity. you didnt dye it.

best friend kuroo who took you to a party at his school one time and lost you then had to yell at the top of his lungs so everyone would shut up.

best friend kuroo who threw you over his shoulder when he finally found you.

best friend kuroo who took you back to his dorm after because he figured parties just weren't for you.

best friend kuroo who you stayed with during your spring break because you knew you were going to be bored at home.

best friend kuroo who you made stay up all night watching horror movies.

best friend kuroo who was terrified and wanted to go get ready for bed so he could forget all of that happened.

best friend kuroo who realized his feelings for you when you did your skincare routine on him because he was judging you for taking so long to do it on yourself.

best friend kuroo who decided you looked cute with your green face mask on so he leaned in to kiss you.

best friend kuroo who was worried he fucked up when you pushed him away before he could kiss you but you only did that because you didn't want the face masks to get smudged since you applied it so perfectly.

best friend kuroo who waited a whole 15 minutes to kiss you in silence but as soon as you both took them off you lunged at him to kiss him saying "it took you long enough"

best friend kuroo who is now boyfriend kuroo who transferred to the same college as you with the excuse being that he is now addicted to skin care but needs your help.

[tastelikezweig]

SFW ALPHABET

⚠️ warnings: not edited, i do NOT feel like reading this over lol so please just point and laugh i don’t care. suggestive language :D (i do use the f word a few times, oopsy.) if anything else needs to be added, pls let me know.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he’s a huge fan of kissing. he’s gentle. when he sleeps over in your dorm, he’ll wake you up with pecks all over your face and neck. after your matches, he’s waiting right outside the locker room ready to high five you because you’re super sweaty. not that he sees an issue with that. he would love to pick you up and spin you around, chest to chest. he’d drink a bottle of your perspiration if he could. but you don’t allow it because you feel gross when you’re all sweaty and stinky from the match you just played. he loooves to be all over you. physical touch is his love language. it’s one of the things you love most about him. you love how sweet he is to everyone. when he walks you to your afternoon lecture, he holds the door open for every single last one of your classmates. he doesn’t let you lift a finger. he thinks that you deserve to just exist and be pretty and smart and save up your energy for the sweetest make out session he has planned with you after your class is over. he loves PDA, just holding your hand as you walk through the quad, kissing your cheeks and eyelids while you both sit the dining hall. he wishes he could consume you and live in your skin. it’s so cute and teeth rotting that people hate hanging out with either of you if the other is around.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you had begged tashi duncan to train you for upcoming finals. when your practice came to an end, her boyfriend, patrick and his friend art came to see her. you cracked jokes about being the third and fourth wheel. he told you he felt like this all the time. you joked saying how you should start your own club and leave them out. whenever tashi and patrick would exclude you and art from their plans, you met up with him and just enjoyed each other's company. he’d make sandwiches and bring mini gatorade (your favorite flavor because he remembers the small details) for you both to sit in the quad and just eat and talk all evening until it got dark out. or until tashi or patrick called either of you to hang out after their “date” (which is obviously just them fucking in her dorm).

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

again, his love language is physical touch. he loves to hold you in bed while you read a book or just to fall asleep. you’ll be laying flat on your stomach playing with his new nintendo ds he just bought - he’d just finish showering or something and he’d crawl right on top of you. towel still hanging on his waist and hair dripping water. he’d ask “can we cuddle?” and you don’t think twice about it before rolling over and embracing him. give him a few kisses on the jaw before resting on his chest and breathing him in. your scents like melatonin for each other.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

when you and art hit a year of dating, he wouldn’t shut up about marriage. you’d remind him you’re still so young and he would go, i know, but when we get older! he loves being around you, you go grocery shopping together so you can have snacks; you’d feel like husband and wife. you would both joke about baby names but the ones you actually did like (that he’d suggested) you wrote down on a little sticky note and inserted it into your diary under the page titled: little pieces of art ᥫ᭡

art keeps his dorm clean majority of the time since he’s met you. the most you’ve seen it messy is when patrick is there for the weekend or his week is super busy but he always attempts to at least tidy the room before inviting you over. art cannot cook for shit but neither can you, so your future kids are fucked. but art can make delicious sandwiches if that counts!!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

art is the most genuine person you know and he hates seeing your eyes tear up even just watching a movie. his heart clenches at the sight. he wouldn’t want to break up with you but things are just getting so crowded in your personal lives between trying to maintain school, work, tennis, and your relationship. you picked up a job at the nearest bookstore to help pay for your school books. you weren’t necessarily as loaded as art was. he offered to help but you just couldn’t accept any handouts. it made you feel weird. you’d be so tired after your shifts or have to go straight from class or practice to work and you never had time for him anymore. a few texts throughout the week but for someone as needy as art, it wasn’t enough. you’d accidentally stand up your dates with him because you’d fall asleep directly after class. he’d be ringing your phone and you’re out like a light. you apologized a million times and he agreed to just reschedule. on your rescheduled date it was a bit of awkward silence and lots of staring into each other's eyes. i feel like we rarely see each other anymore he’d say, tracing circles on the thighs of his jeans. you tried to explain to him how hard you were trying but he just shook his head staring into the distance. attempting to stop his tears from spilling over. the breakup was mutual, with a kiss goodbye. it actually wasn’t a forever goodbye, just for a little while until things made sense again. (You had to be the reason bc he’d NEVER leave you).

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

he wants to get married as soon you both graduate from college. he’s adorable isn’t he? it’s gonna be a no. “okay fine, not yet. but don’t fall in love with anybody else. please.”

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he wouldn’t be rough with you unless you wanted him to be. 9 times out of 10 he’s very soft with you. his hands melting like butter on your shoulders when you ask him to massage them after matches. he’d run his hands up and down your back which makes you fall asleep almost instantly. he’s very kind with his words. when you’re upset about school or anything really he’s always there with a listening ear, very understanding. brushing the hair out of your face when he can tell your homework is frustrating you. suggests taking breaks which almost always just means a mini make out sesh until you remember you’re in the library and people are judging. you care about what outsiders think but he only has eyes for you, prioritizing your happiness above all else. he loves to kiss.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

his hugs are firm. you never want him to let you go. you love being in his grip. you could be standing in the dining hall line and he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders while you wait for the line to move. when your matches are over and you’re fully showered, he’d hug you, lifting you off of the ground. when you meet up for dates or just to hang out, he’ll grab at your lower waist and sway you side to side.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

3 months in. you were laying in the grass on the quad next to tashi and patrick, enjoying the nice cool breeze and people watching. it was stanford’s 120th anniversary, so they held a firework show. as the finale was going off, art turned to you, staring into your eyes. i love you. surprisingly, you said it first. but he followed immediately after. he fell in love with you weeks ago but he didn’t wanna freak you out. so he was glad you gave him the green light.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous, not very easily because he trusts you. it’s very rare he’ll act out but you’ll know something’s wrong when he goes completely mute. you’ll ask him if he’s okay, and he’ll respond ‘yup’ popping the p. he’s so sassy. earlier, he saw the guy you were talking to put his hand on your shoulder to whisper something in your ear. what’s the secret? did he have to put his hands on you? again, he trusted you, he just doesn’t trust them. you reassured him that the next time someone does something similar, you’ll kick them in the balls and he cracks a smile. and just like that, you’re back on his good side. he’s never upset for long.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses are sweet, tender, and so yummy. especially since he quit smoking. he uses a grapefruit flavored chapstick that he found in your desk a while ago and has just been using ever since. did i say you could have that? he just hums in response, sucking your lips in for another kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he wants two little ones. either a boy and a girl, or two girls. he plans on spoiling them rotten.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

when he spends the night in your room or you sleep in his, he’ll make your bed for you while you shower (or make up his own). it’s actually nice, because he helps pack your bag the night before with your essentials and fills up both of your water bottles. but anyway, he’ll heat up something in the microwave for you both to share until you can make it to the dining hall for breakfast. after about an hour after eating, you both go on a 30 minute run before parting ways for your classes of the day. he misses you all day until he can see your face again :((((

art donaldson: miss u so much already

you: i left 3 mins ago lolll.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

as mentioned before, he’ll help you prepare for the next day. if he sleeps over, he’ll organize your desk while you’re in the shower, you’ll brush your teeth together and do face masks on the weekends. it’s really cute. if he’s not over in your dorm, he’ll send you a cute little text telling you to have a goodnight, or call you while you wind down just to hear your voice before he closes his eyes.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he’s a pretty shy boy. when you’d first met, he kept the dialogue short to avoid coming off as an annoying yapper (which he totally is) so you did most of the talking. when he gets comfortable, during one of your first few hangouts alone - you asked if he could help with your math assignment and he agreed. you got bored instantly and started asking him a fuck ton of questions about himself. he answers everything without thinking twice. he even accidentally let it slip that he once had a crush on his best friends girlfriend (which he scolded himself for almost immediately after). you just smiled and nodded the whole time trying to watch him save his own ass.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

he’ll be waiting for you after your class and it might run over time a little bit, he’ll grab a seat on the floor in the hall or on the bench outside and just wait for you. draw little doodles of you or your favorite flowers in his sketchbook. if you text him in enough time, he’ll bring you your favorite smoothie. he can’t wait til your class is over so he can kiss your pretty face that he’s missed all day.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

art is very attentive. he knows every step in your skincare routine. he has the order memorized. when you’re done with the first step, he’s already handing you step two. he knows the gum flavor you prefer, your class schedule, your practice schedule, etc. what he doesn’t seem to remember is to put the toilet seat down after he’s done. he’d mumble sorry and then proceed to do it again 30 mins later.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

he took you to the state fair and you both stayed at the ring toss for like an hour. you were so determined you were going to win - you spent $50 for 10 tries. you didn’t even win but while you were in the bathroom, he bribed the man $100 to let him have the huge stuffed penguin that you wanted to win so bad. when you came out you screamed “did you win me this?!” he just went along with it because he adored the smile on your face and the joy in your voice, he loved the thought of him making you the happiest girl ever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

he treats you like you’re accident prone or something like when you squat down to pick up something that fell underneath the table, he covers the sharp edges to make sure you don’t hit your head. he double checks to make sure your laces are tied on the court and you slide your foot back and remind him, you’re not a child and you can tie your own shoes!!! he just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. walks you to your dorm if it’s dark. calls you during your early morning runs without him. if you get into it with one of the girls on the team, he doesn’t intervene because you always tell him to stay out of women’s business, but if it involves a guy, he’s on that immediately. he doesn’t even want you engaging in their weird behavior. he argues for you but you’re definitely in the background ad-libbing.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he tries super hard but tries not to seem suffocating. he fits everything in his life around your schedule. he has a gift for you for any anniversary, 1 month, 1 year, birthdays, etc. he takes you out to celebrate your wins even if that just means getting you a chocolate croissant from your favorite cafe down the street. whatever you want, whenever you want it. anything to keep you happy. he wants to set the bar so high that you’re not looking any other guy's way.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

leaving the toilet seat up, going silent when he’s jealous, stepping out of his clothes in the bathroom and leaving them there in a pile, as much as you love it, he’ll drop everything for you on the spot. you’ll see him with his friends outside and go to greet them. he’ll tell you they’re going to hang out at his friends place and you mention you’re also hanging out, going to the theater with your friend and he’ll say never mind, can I go with you? and you shut it down quickly “no go hang out with your own friends!” and they’d all clown him afterwards.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s chill. he doesn’t really have a style, he wears whatever is clean. his closet is full of stanford merch and you tell him he needs to go shopping but he’ll say “what i’m wearing is just fine, thank you.” see. sassy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

he literally can’t breathe without you it seems like. you’re his heartbeat. he’s feeling whatever emotion you’re feeling.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

he communicates his affection through small gestures, like holding hands during quiet walks or wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders when you’re watching a movie together. words aren't always necessary to convey his feelings.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

hates loud chewing of food, but you argue that he does it too - with his gum. defending people when he’s arguing with them ‘why do you do that?’ you just keep it real. tashi called his ball out and he was arguing that she isn’t valid, but she’s right :( it was definitely out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

sleeps with his mouth open, so he often gets a sore throat lol, his arm draped across your chest or back. legs tangled with yours. has to be touching you in some way to fall asleep when you’re together.

sorry if this sucks, bye!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

MY THREE DEAD, LITTLE DOVES (IV)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER V

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death, weapons, suggestive thoughts/comments, mentions of sex & intimacy, toxic modeling standards, use of a derogatory word for women, food issues, dead animals, blood, gore, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Nikto is first to wake up, and you find him assembling the blacked form of a gun on your island counter while your wide eyes try to push back the curtain of sleep. It’s not even five A.M yet. 

“Your pantry is empty.” He speaks and you blink quickly, staring at his back as the blanket over your shoulders staves off the chill of the penthouse. “No food.” 

“Well…” Your voice is raspy from the whimpering you’d done, nightmares waking you up half an hour before you had to be ready to go to work. “I don’t eat a lot. Did you try the fridge? I have yogurt.”

You clear your throat and wonder about the tea you’d left him, finding the cup back where you’d grabbed it the night before; cleaned and dried. Even in your sluggishness, a sheen of smug satisfaction looms above your head, though you had no proof that he’d drunk the tea or just was prompted by his cleanliness to dump it out. 

Nikto’s covered face shifts to look over his shoulder, those piercing eyes digging through you. They slash you up and down as his fingers continue to move, moving parts and clicking metal together with ingrained perfection. You watch with hidden impressiveness.

“More.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Alright, then. Are you going to be doing the grocery shopping?” The soldier turns back around and huffs.

“Да.” Your unimpressed look is missed, but you let a smile twitch your lips as it normally would. A tease eases out as you shuffle to the fridge on careful feet.

“Wonderful, Nikto, thank you.” You can feel the glare on the back of your neck as you open the barrier, the chill seeping out as the darkness from outside was pushed back by the single overhead light that the Russian had turned on. 

A small lapse in conversation falls as you rub at your eyes, groaning under your breath at the itch before you miss grabbing for your yogurt once. You knock your knuckles to the wrack in the fridge and flinch, but quickly re-situate and drag the dairy product out. 

“If you want me to order you a bigger bed,” placing the item on the counter, you rip off the top before you go on a quest to find a clean spoon. “You just have to tell me—I can have one ordered. Mattress too.”

Nikto pauses his work, staring at his own gloved fingers as they still. Even in his seat, he was a large sentinel of mass and brutality; you have to wonder if he ever thinks what other people make of him. Your eyes move up and down his visible form as you grab your utensil with a small breath, your pajamas loose and swaying as you saunter back over to the seat directed across from him. 

You wait for him to answer as your fingers tap around the plastic cup, licking your lips before your spoon descends down. 

“That is not necessary,” he says, lower than he has before as if confused by your willingness to make him comfortable. You blink up at him, but he glares at his gun.

“I don’t mind,” your voice eases, and you take a bite of your breakfast. “I have the money.”

“Why is it that you have no reservations? No backbone?” Nikto’s words are firm, digging into your mind. His eyes burn like gray fire, a finger twitching over a blackened part that you haven’t the faintest clue as to where it might go. 

The gun is placed down next to a cleaning rag that smells of oil as you raise an innocent brow. 

“I don’t feel the need to be a constant bitch, if that’s what you’re trying to get at here.” He jerks his head away, shaking it harshly as he grumbles.

You force down a chuckle. 

“Hey, Big Guy, I’m just saying that there are more important things than buying you stuff you need—food, a bed,” you shrug, scooping more yogurt. “I don’t know, clothes?” Eyes move up and down again, narrowing carefully. “I’m not trying to judge your style, but you do look like you’re in the middle of an active warzone.”

Half-closed lids stare at you, unimpressed. 

“Do you ever stop talking, Whelp?”

“Not really,” you comment, licking your spoon as the pale shade darts down to watch. You point the metal at him as you finish, smiling. “You’re fun to talk to.”

You can imagine him raising a dark brow at that, and perhaps he does, based on the skin that moves from under his mask. But you’d quickly gotten used to his silence, as he only grunted and snatched his rag, rubbing it over the barrel of his gun with firm pressure. 

After a minute of you watching while cleaning out your cup, he levels out a response of cold steel. 

“I do not need your money…When are we leaving?” Nikto moves the form of his Beretta M9 back and picks up the magazine from the counter, having thoroughly disassembled and cleaned every part for the better half of an hour before you had awoken. He needed to think, and the best place to do that was somewhere silent. 

Your constant muttering in your sleep had kept him up, spilling in from the open door.

In many ways, you reminded him of a lost puppy—caught up on your own feet and looking at the world through a lens of false confidence, a sheen of dopey pleasure stuck in your expression. But you weren’t dumb. Not as dumb as he thought you would be when he was informed he was being placed with you.

In fact, your smiling face paired with your fast tongue had been somewhat of a shock. Nikto didn’t like being shocked.

You look at him, your head tilted and your face tight from lack of sleep, eyes beady in the low light. Outside the city was only beginning to wake up, the curtains still closed fast though the steaks of light were cast through like strands of ribbon. 

“I usually leave at six.” 

“Acceptable.” You hum, cleaning out the rest of your breakfast and licking your lips. Pushing the item to the side, you link your fingers together and lean forward, watching the man push the shadowed length of the magazine into the bottom, a tiny click emanating as it locks in. The bulk of Nikto’s fingers caress the grip 

You open your mouth but pause, closing it once more. The words of your mom from years past remind you to keep your elegance, and never stoop to ask pointless questions, but one from yesterday was beginning to flare up once more. 

Did Nikto see color? Did he find his soulmate already?

You can’t imagine the man having a significant other, truthfully, but you weren’t heartless like that—it was entirely possible.

Those pale eyes miss nothing, and as the M9 disappears into the holster on his meaty thigh from under the table, he clips out through his accent, “What is it, Girl?”

Your eyes snap up in surprise. 

“O-oh,” you huff, “nothing.” He stares blankly, spine rail-straight as you come up with a quick way to change the subject. “Have you eaten yet?” 

He watches a moment longer before he grasps his rag and folds it neatly into a square, flattening down the edges—you hadn’t yet noticed, but the journals and random objects on your island were all separated and placed neatly atop one another. 

Nikto stands and places the fabric into one of his many pockets, moving his grasp over the various straps along his body that tighten the loose material; checking, assessing for flaws. “I have said—you have no ingredients.”

That makes your head perk up.

“Ingredients?” You pick up your garbage and move to toss it away. “You cook?”

There’s a meaningful pause as if he doesn’t want to tell you about himself. Eventually, there’s a low sigh. Perhaps the warmth of your attitude and the easy way you spoke made him forget his stern muteness; it certainly seemed like it.

“Да. Yes.” 

You mutter under your breath, raising a brow. “Wasn’t expecting that.” A low grumble behind you makes your face hide a smirk. 

Your hand places your spoon in the sink as Nikto takes out a small journal from his back pocket, flipping through it before he finds a blank page. There’s a flash of a pen before a roughly scribbled-on paper is torn out and slid to you. Picking it up, you send a curious glance to the soldier as he begins speaking formally. 

“You need говядина,  баранины, рыба, картофель, свекла, лук…” He kept speaking, listing off ingredients as if a checklist for an infiltration team—you run your eyes down the perfect Russian script on the paper, amused. You couldn’t read any of it, unfortunately, or understand exactly what he was saying, but you expected it was the basics.

Your soft laugh interrupts him, and his eyes dart over as he tenses. 

Raising the paper, you ease out, “I can’t read this,” you slide it back over, “I’ll leave it in your hands, okay? You said you were going to be doing the shopping anyway.” Your eyes shimmer, before you back up and begin walking away to go get ready. As you pass him, you lean in and flirt. “I think I should buy an apron, too, Nikto. One with a strap that tightens around your waist. Make you my big bad live-in cook.” 

Chuckling at his annoyed growl, you pull your blanket closer and begin back upstairs, hand sliding along the back of your belongings until the banister can take your weight. 

“I am not your cook,” Nikto barks from the island, boots taking him to stand at the bottom as you gently place your feet down, his clenched hands pulsing in insult.

A distraction, indeed. 

You send a laughing glance over your shoulder, not responding as you make it to the top. Without another word, you look him up and down before you disappear into your room, stepping over your yards of fabric. 

Nikto glares, his jaw under his mask clenched in deep annoyance. No, you weren’t dumb—but this would have been easier if you were. 

Your hand closes your door and locks it, doing the same to the one that connected the soldier’s room to your own. Instantly, your smile drops. 

Eyes blinking slowly, tension pulls itself back into your shoulders—infecting your muscles gradually until you press your palms into your eyes and take a deep breath. Leaning against your bed frame, your body rumbled with hunger, and the shaking of your hands got worse the longer you stood. 

You were afraid.

Afraid to go outside, afraid of the looks you would get. Afraid of another gift, or even something worse this time around. Bodies hang in the back of your mind, charred. Jewels like starlight, tinted with black blood. 

Sighing aggressively, you shake your head and clench your eyes shut. 

“It’s going to work itself out,” you tell yourself, going to unlock your phone and find the text from Aly that had gone through last night. 

Room 32A w me today! Same photographers as always. 

You take a shuddering breath, fighting back the panic. “It’s all going to be over soon.” 

Nikto stands downstairs with his arms crossed and his feet apart, gazing at the colors around him with unblinking eyes. He wasn’t the type of man to make comments about this, the mash and clash of shades and hues. But the entire time he’d been here his hands had been itching to re-organize; at least make it seem like this place had some form of structure. He’d tried his best with his own room, but there was only so much he could do. 

His piercing blues side-eye the taxidermy deer head on the wall, narrowed to a point of distaste. The man wouldn't be surprised if you’d even named the thing as well. 

Nikto grumbles to himself in Russian, muttering about everything from food to the job itself—itching at the sliver of pale skin from between his gloves and the sleeve of his compression shirt under his bracers. 

“We will get this done quick,” he growls under his breath in English for practicing sake. “Keep the girl safe and put a bullet in the man at first sight, yes?” Even he has his doubts, and in his gut, he feels this mission will take far longer than anyone thought it would. Just his luck, he was here—missing all the fun. Nikto clenches his biceps tighter, rolling his shoulders with a grunt. “Be back at Base soon.”

If only. 

Far more prolonged than he would have taken, you come back down with a small smile on your lips just as he was about to stomp upstairs and demand to know what you were up to. You wear a simple button-down, and the man sees the hue of cream in it as your black dress pants swish around your ankles. He watches closely as you descend, making sure your legs don’t attack themselves and make you meet your end before he has the chance to spill blood.

“Have you been standing there the whole time?” Your eyes blink at him, and Nikto finds himself studying your face, seeing how the shirt sinches at your waist as you have it tucked into your pants. The swell of your hips that are shown off nicely in pleated cotton. A cross-body purse with the words ‘Coach’ hits off your left thigh with every pass of your uneven steps. 

Pale eyes slink down your body slowly, and Nikto hums in the back of your throat.

“Nikto?” His gaze turns hard and he snaps his studying vision back to you with a heat in his veins. 

Your face scrunches with interest as you wonder what shoes you should wear out. “You with me?” 

He scoffs, arms lowering slowly as you slink past, the perfume you’d put on drifting into his nostrils like a vapor of lust. The man cracks his neck and looks back at you as you bend over near your end table, fishing out small black stiletto boots with a tiny heel to them. 

Everything you do is layered with extensive thought, down nearing the layer of perfection besides how you drop one of the shoes to the ground with a soft curse before snatching it up. 

“Heel?” Nikto ignores your question for one of his own. “You are going to kill yourself.”

“I will not,” you level him with a dry stare. “I’ll be hanging off your arm, Mr. Bear, there’s not a chance in the world I would fall.” He sighs and you chuckle, slipping on the boots with one hand on the wall. “Besides, I work at AMA of all places—showing up without looking my best and potentially getting photographed on the way there would send me on a one-way trip to unemployment.” 

Your mind wonders if anything like this was sticking with Nikto; the stack of rules and regulations that was sitting on your head like a rock. While his were probably more life and death, yours were no less strict or strenuous. Everything was routine. 

You were nothing but a gear in the machine, but now you were responsible for an entire section if these next few photoshoots went well.

Nikto doesn’t comment, but he slides out a low, “Your hand is shaking.” 

“Dystonic tremors,” you respond easily. “Result of brain trauma. They don’t go away, only lesson for a bit.” Standing to your full height, you grab your black double-breasted coat and slip it on. Your soft face tilts to him, a twitch to your lips catching Nikto slightly off-guard at your apparent uncaring attitude to the entire thing. “Let me tell you, my signature is nothing short of crazy-looking lines and slices.”

The small, airy, huff that emanates from under his mask is all the reaction you’ll get to that, and you chuckle before you grab your keys from your purse. All of your make-up took time, especially when you felt about one minute away from losing your cool, but you were both still on schedule.

“Oh,” you say as you slip your key into the slot by the door, calling the elevator. “Be ready for the pictures.”

Nikto blinks, fingers twitching. “Pictures?”

“Just…” you sigh, looking at him, “just try to look less…” Your hand vaguely gestures as he stands there, large shoulders and bulging muscle leaking from behind his kevlar. A vibration in your throat leads to a general sound of, “Eh.”

Pale eyes glower as the sunlight streams in through the closed curtains behind the two of you. 

“That means nothing to me.” 

“No, I don’t want to be mean,” you wave a hand as the ding signifies the elevator has arrived. You unlock the dividing door and step through as Nikto follows, apparently not needing anything more than what was currently on him. Judging by the combat knife at his thigh and the bulk of his phone and wallet in his pocket, you imagined that really was all he needed. And no one could forget the Beretta, either. There were extra magazines strapped to his vest.

“I do not care about your opinions of me,” the Russian spits. “I am here to do my job and leave.” 

Your eyes slide to him as you once more punch your key in and press the button for the lobby. 

“I never said you weren’t. You’re just, well,” you pause, “I think you might…scare people.” 

You’re leveled with a blank and expressionless look. A frown grows on your face. “Don’t stare at me like that, I’m being honest.”

“I am aware.” His feet shift, hands going behind his back to cross in the perfect image of a killer waiting for an excuse to pounce. Nikto looms beside you, accent harsh. “I am not meant to look anything but.” 

You stifle a long sigh. 

“If you just lost the get-up, or maybe changed into a suit and lost the mask I could—”

“Нет!” The bark is louder than any before it, and you find yourself flinching immediately, head snapping in his direction as one hand goes to clutch your purse. You suck in a harsh breath of air, blinking quickly. 

Burning eyes seer through your flesh and bone, enraged by the prospect as you begin to shrink subtly away, your body leaning more to one side. 

A tense silence strangles your throat.

“O-okay,” you whisper, eyes wide as you stare in shock. 

The man says nothing and snaps his head like a wolf to look away from you, poking holes through the metal of the box you’re both stuck in together as his biceps jerk in an involuntary reaction. After the outburst, you clear your throat and stand up straight—arms moving to cross themselves over your chest. 

But Alyona always said you were too kind for your own good. Or just too trained. 

“I’m sorry,” you explain, not looking over as you stutter. “I didn’t know it was a sore subject if I had I…I wouldn’t have brought it up. I apologize, Nikto.” 

He says nothing and the entire ride has fallen into a thick atmosphere of uncomfortable thorns; the vines dragging across your skin as it tingles with unease. 

I’m getting too comfortable, your eyebrows pull in on your face, lips tight. No more Yefim. 

But why was it so easy to speak to Nikto? To poke and prod; to flirt and find the bulge of his body attractive to you. He bled raw murder—sociopathy in the lines next to his eyes making a perfect backdrop to a mask that would look natural speckled in blood. You could imagine him clearly behind the sights of a gun, and even as you envision yourself in the crossfire, the thought doesn’t make you panic. 

Why?

Your mind flashes to the memory of him sitting in your kitchen, his large hands caressing the side of his weapon, finger digging into the metal as the material of his gloves bunches. With a frantic blink of your eyes, your face suddenly gains a deep heat to it—throat going dry. 

What was happening to you?

You should be terrified down to the bone of this man. So why were your clothes suddenly too tight on your body? Why could you smell the scent of his body; rotting wood and gun oil mixed with sweat from under the kevlar? It was sinking into your nostrils until you had to move a hand up and rub at your nose, chest holding weight. 

The Russian side-eyes you.

Nikto stays as still as a statue as the elevator comes to a slow stop, a ding of the door as it pulls back making you snap out of whatever strange trance you were in. You leave quickly, feet walking as fast as they’re able past a suddenly stiff Isaak. 

The doorman squeaks when he sees the soldier—those pale eyes darting to the front desk instantly as Nikto follows after you with his canid-loping. Isaak’s body shivers before you exit the building, placing your keys back into your purse with a slow breath to calm yourself. 

Yet, it’s not soon after that the looks start up from passing people, and then after, the quick pulling of phones and the lighting of recognition in eyes. 

The car is unlocked with a beep from Nikto’s key fob, and you wonder how or when the vehicle got here in the first place. 

You puff the collar of your coat and move along the ashen streets until a heavy hand claps on your shoulder. As you snap your head up to look at Nikto, he’s already pushing you away from the concrete ground and instead to a parked car sitting stationary a few feet away.

Camera flashes make your eyes go buggy for a moment, hand slashing the air to connect to the soldier’s wrist to help steady yourself. He grunts next to your ear, sending a fast and sharp command in Russian into the cold air that makes even your back go straight for a second. People halt, their faces shocked and loose before they slightly back up. 

“Inside,” the man grumbles, and he releases you as his grip extends to the back door, opening it as his head turns to scan the crowd. You blink up at him slowly, steadying yourself on the frame. 

“What did you say to them?” There’s a flash of something across his visible flesh. Amusement? 

“It does not matter. Quickly.” You huff and slink inside, carefully slipping into the leather seats before the door is closed behind you with a puff of air. In the relatively still silence, you move a hand and brush against the tiny wound from the explosion, looking out the window and across the multitude of jeering faces. 

Like an audience, you yourself the attraction at the zoo, you can’t stop the dark thoughts in your head about who could be out there; locking onto male faces with sneers and others with wide wonder. A man with a beard is taking a video of you, another leaning over to someone at his side and whispering something—they both smirk at each other and snicker. One more just watches, silent, a large jacket over his shoulders and his hands in his pockets. 

You stay stuck in your hammering heart’s throws, hands going to rest in your lap and clench over one another. 

He’s not out there, your inner monologue reasons, moving your head forward swiftly to try and calm yourself down. He isn’t. He would never come here—and now with Nikto, there’s not going to be any more attacks. 

But whoever was doing this wasn’t right in the head, for whatever reason besides they were obsessed with you. 

Nikto enters the driver’s seat and slams the door shut behind him. You don’t comment on how he looks far too large to be driving such a normal car, moving to click on your seatbelt as he does the same. As time draws closer and closer for when you walk through AMA’s doors, your anxiety grows like a rising tide. 

Jewelry and bits of glass. A bomb under the floorboards. 

“Nikto,” you speak as the car pulls out, one of the man’s hands on the wheel and the other resting on the grip of his M9. His eyes move from the reflection in the mirror, meeting yours before they return to the road. As always, there were few cars out. “You know about the,” you take a breath. “The gifts, right? My mom told you?”

“I have been informed, Да. Драгоценности.” You listen to the harsh words, the grating Russian, blankly. Nikto pauses, before pushing out stiffly, his hands on the wheel twitching. “Jewelry.” 

You nod, watching him. Your lungs tighten. 

“What if this time it isn’t?” This time you get a longer stare, a small grunt of air.

The Russian doesn’t do comfort—he’s not some man who pretends that isn’t what is most likely going to be the case. But he wasn’t in KorTac because he didn’t know what he was doing, either. He would let you go where you needed to go and do what you needed to do, as long as he was an ever-present black shadow beside your pale contrast. Some corrupting demon. 

Nikto could adapt and learn faster than anyone, could look at a situation and react accordingly. Call his actions cocky, because maybe deep down they were. He was arrogant in the pride of his skills. And, yes, blunt. Even to a woman that piqued his interest as you did.

The man shifts his gaze away. “It won’t be.”

—

Nikto parks the car on the street, right in front of the doors to your agency. With a nervous glint in your eyes, you let him get out and open your door, standing behind it as you shimmy out. Boots meeting the ground, you make sure you have your bearings before you take another step away. Brushing down your coat and picking off random bits of dust or dirt, Nikto prods you along after the vehicle is locked. 

Here, at least, the crowd was slightly subdued, seeing that now there were a few days between you and the explosion at the bakery. Though, it wasn’t vacant. 

Journalists wait for you, and Nikto has to use that same tone from before to clear a way for you like a guard dog, snarling fangs and all, as fast Russian is thrown into your face by glaring men and women. 

You politely smile and wave a hand as if to try and tell that you can’t understand, nor do you want to participate. “S-sorry, I don’t know what you’re asking me.” You’re met with hard looks up and down; disgusted comments that you don’t need to know the language to fully understand. Your body slightly curls into itself.

Maybe Mom was right about me leaving. Nikto shoves out a hand and all but barks at a man who had come too close for his liking, threatening him with his fingers tapping the grip of his gun. 

Who would have known that a former FSB would be so feral, you think to yourself sarcastically. But that wasn’t to say you weren’t thankful. Nikto being scary was perhaps the best thing to come out of this.

You swiftly walk through the front doors, where the journalists and all the other eager ears can't come in, and immediately feel the need to sit down and take a breath. Nikto walks backward into AMA, shouting behind him and waving a hand—eyes from all over lock onto the two of you. 

A sheepish smile peels your bloodless face back as the ladies at the front desk pierce you with unimpressed stares. 

“Ah…Здравствуйте,” your Russian is still stunted and broken, but you get the formal greeting across even if it makes your vocal cords pull on themselves. The two look at each other and shake their slate heads lightly and what little confidence you had shriveled. 

Nikto successfully pushes off the strangers from the door, his appearance and authority so uncanny to them that they send horrified glances to one another and back away. Not without a few choice words, of course. When he casually walks back to your side, you look up at him and innocently open your mouth. 

“I don’t think you’re saying anything kind, are you?” 

“No,” he glances down at you, shifting his feet as his arms cross. “Why would we?” 

You let your small smile crinkle your eyes at that, a tiny chuckle. Nikto’s gaze darts down to study it with a gradually fading tension before you walk forward.

“You don’t like paparazzi?” You’re trying to distract yourself from the event that draws closer and closer as your jerking feet take you to the front desk. Yet, Nikto stays beside you, and you use his body as a guiding point to remain on a semi-straight path.

“I do not like anyone who gets in my way, Woman.” His response is lessened in brutality, but it is nonetheless formal. 

But you have either blocked out his response or wiped it from your damaged brain because you furrow your brows at the women at the front as they do nothing. They’d always passed you the box, but now they just stare blandly as your heart rapidly pounds against your ribcage. 

Nikto spares you a glance, speaking in fast English. “What is it?”

You frown, palms sweaty. “They usually give me the package right about now.” 

The Russian huffs, immediately commenting in his native tongue to the two. They scoff at him and utter something, one giving you a final glance once over as if you were on fire before they both go back to typing at their computers.

It’s a moment before you get a translation. Nikto’s eyelids tighten. 

“They have nothing.” Your head perks up, shock filling your senses.

“They…” you trail off, studying the ladies as they ignore you, but not a second later a stomach-tightening fear holds you hostage. 

A change in pattern? Your throat clears itself as your name is called from across the lobby, over seating where Yefim and the others had waited for you not days prior—alive and well. If you weren’t too focused on not flailing over, you could have imagined their ghosts sitting there, ready to walk you home. 

“Oh,” breathing out a slow response, you take a small step back and ignore the curious look from your ice-like guard. 

“Seraph!” Alyona’s voice calls to you, and as you slowly pass Nikto, feeling a bit lightheaded, before her hands grab your arm and you’re pulled into a tight hold. “Солнышко.”

You take in the scent of clean clothes and warm fire and instinctually sag forward.

“Aly,” you sigh. The arms squeeze you tightly, slightly shaking you back and forth until a firm kiss is pressed into your temple. 

Alyona pulls back after a few seconds, grabbing you by the cheeks and tilting your head to the side to stare at the tiny mark there—barely noticeable anymore. 

“There, you see? Almost gone, Seraph, just like this entire situation will be.” She smiles as a way of reassurance, her hair straight as a line. “It is good to see you in person again. I missed my friend, and I apologize for being unable to come and see you. Nikifor was too worried about me.”

“And I’d never hold that against him,” you shook your head, feeling her hands fall from you softly. “You didn’t have to come over for me to know you were worried.”

“Ah,” she scoffs, eyes delicate along her angled features. “But it would have made me feel better, no? I’m selfish.” 

Forcing a smile, you skip past the greetings and get to the point in a quick whisper of shock and fear. 

“There isn’t a gift.” Her face goes concerned, stuttering without knowing what to say before her head swivels the open lobby. At the people who might be listening. 

“That might not be bad,” Aly hurriedly says, only sending Nikto a strange glance before putting a hand on your back and moving you down one of the hallways to your changing rooms. “You do not know that it is a horrible thing, Little Солнышко, I promise you. Maybe the monster has finally come to his senses now that the authorities are opening a case on him.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you try to hold onto the thread of your sanity as your Russian dog follows at your heels, listening but not showing it behind his blank stare. “I-I’ve been reading up on it, stalkers just don’t stop especially after something like that—he’s already gone too far.”

“Shh,” Aly firmly hushes you, gripping you closer to her as men and women pass by, some pausing to try and speak before they’re gowled away by Nikto. “No, no, why would you look up things such as that? Seraph it’s not that simple—this cannot be explained away by papers or studies. This is a bad person, and that is the end of it. We need to have patience and keep steady.” She tries to tease you back to your soft malleability. “Come now, I know you have trouble with that, but I think your good friend here is well enough on her feet to hold you. I have no trouble with it, yes?” 

You give a damp chuckle, licking your lips and looking anywhere but at her.

“I’m scared, Aly,” you admit, and you don’t see Nikto’s vision fully focused on you. “I don’t want to be in public right now I–”

Your breath hitches and you’re quickly reminded about your makeup, and how hideous you’ll look if you mess it up right now. A hand raises and covers your mouth, your shaky breath hitting the digits as you try to restrain your tears. 

“Easy,” Alyona mutters, patting the back of your back softly as she takes a quick left, pulling you into a side room and closing it before Nikto can slip inside. He knocks on the door immediately, but with a heavy order in Russian, Aly has you alone in here with a flick of the light. 

It’s a storage room, larger and holding mops and buckets. 

“Explain,” the woman whispers. “Talk to me. No tears now, my Seraph.”

You suck down a deep breath, hands shaking violently, and even a bit painfully as the nerves pinch and tighten. Aly’s hands cover yours, squeezing them as you hiss. 

“Speak,” she urges. “It will make you feel better.”

“I don’t know what to do,” your throat tightens. “I-I got a text last night and I haven't told Nikto about it.” 

“Text? From…from the—”

“Yes.” Your eyes dig into hers. “I feel like I’m being hunted. Like…like every turn I make there’s something else around the corner; people's faces scare me, I don’t know what they’re thinking.” 

“Seraph…” Aly’s face scrunches, pain etched in her expression. 

“I can’t go to sleep without seeing their bodies,” you whimper, and the woman already knows who you’re talking about. “I can’t sleep, Alyona. I’m so tired, and my mom, she…she just…” You shut yourself off, moving back a step and waving your hands. “I want to be able to tell her things, but I can never get the words out—she’s,” the large shadow of boots from the crack in the door spread along the white floor. “I wish I could speak to her as I speak to you, I want to lean on her for support through this.”

A tear leaks down from your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, stopping your rant for the final time. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, tone changing. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t put that on you.”

Aly takes you into a hard hug, arms around your waist and holding firm. 

“Lord, Солнышко. Do not apologize to me.” You both stay there, and it gets harder to hide your ragged breath. She sighs and rests her head above yours. “You are too good, Seraph. Too good for this.” 

She holds you, harder than you can remember anyone doing since you were little. Staring at the door and Nikto’s shadow, the conversation shifts to him as if a piece of paper in the wind. 

“And about the beast? I am not sure I like him yet.” A meaningful pause. “I know I said not to fuck him on the first day, but if the size of him is anything to go by…”

You laugh, taken aback by the shift in her tone. The woman smirks as if a plan had worked out. 

“I’m not going to fuck him, Aly. Christ.” 

“I am just being honest, yes?” Her eyes shift to the door. “I have Nikifor, of course, but even he isn’t as monstrous as that. If you do choose to get into bed with him,” you groan, mood lightning. “You’ll need a wheelchair after he’s done rutting into you like a—”

“Alyona!” 

From the other side of the door, Nikto taps his foot on the floor slowly, his arms crossed and his glare stuck into the far wall as heavy laughter spills out from under. He growls, annoyed, and speaks to himself in his native tongue as he’s been doing a lot lately. Nikto watches people pass by without moving his head as if a toy as his eyes slide when a shadow darts one way. 

His mind moves to the lack of a gift, and the Russian’s guarding form tries to figure out the next move while the two women hide away. No gift was a strange turn of events, but he wasn’t about to try and say he was an expert in stalkers—his only job was to keep you alive and let the authorities track the animal down. 

Nikto’s brain remembers the sheer panic that had washed your features and grunts to himself, thighs tensing. 

The only thing he could call you was strange, and already from only knowing you for less than two days, he had attributed that fact to you. Strange. Attractive, obviously, as there was no getting past that. But strange. Not like the women he’d been around in his life before—you apologized for things like asking about his mask. No one had ever done that before. 

Nikto’s hidden throat bobs in a swallow as a large group of photographers walk through the hallways, speaking to one another about an upcoming photoshoot. Your name and your friends being mentioned make his attention shift back, his neck tilting to follow the group and listen in on the fast Russian conversation. 

“...Explosion?”

“The two are popular…”

“—See how many shoots they have lined up, Fedorov says the calendar is booked!”

“He has them ready to ship out to parties as well…guess who’s going to get a raise now that the whores are even more famous? Us!”

The soldier’s eyes narrow violently, heart jerking to the pulse of disgust. 

“Fools,” he scoffs, slicing his head away as the laughter spikes up from the group. 

The door behind him opens, and his pale eyes blink as he casually steps to the side, his arms still crossed as his neck bends to you as your form walks through the entrance. 

His chest slows at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes, the color hitting his pupils instantly. Still, he keeps his tongue, only studying you for a long moment as you sigh under your breath.

“Sorry about that, Nikto,” you spread a kind look over your face like butter. Again with the apologies.

“Who is this?” A finger is motioned to Alyona as she elegantly walks out, looping an arm through yours. Nikto already knew, of course, but he wants it from you.

Your friend surprises him and speaks first with a haughty tone, inspecting him as she speaks. 

“Alyona Arkadyevna Solovyova,” an icy brow is raised. “You are?”

Nikto tenses, and the pair size the other up like bears. You elbow your friend in the side lightly, amusement hiding the still nervous lines along your forehead. 

The soldier pushes out slowly, “...Nikto.” 

Alyona huffs. “Just Nikto? Никто?” 

A stiff grunt. You watch the Russian’s visible skin go tight with blatant irritation. 

“Alright,” you mutter gradually, feeling the tension that had formed. “We all need to get going. We have to get our schedules, Aly.”

“Right,” the woman sighs. “Busy week.”

“Busy month,” you grumble, but you slide her a thankful look. Alyona hums and lets her expression soften. 

“I will need floor plan,” Nikto interrupts, and you nod without a beat as Aly walks with you down the hall, unwittingly following the same path as the photographers that the masked man had seen not minutes prior. 

“I’ll get my manager on it, you’ll have one by the end of the day.” 

“Copy.” 

Aly utters into your ear as she guides you slightly faster. “He’s…”

You puff air. “Scary?” 

Her eyes tell you all the answers you need and you let out a tiny, defeated sigh in response.

—

You wear a silk robe as you lounge in the studio's seat, your bare legs crossed over themselves as everyone waits for Alyona to change out of her previous clothes. Closing your eyes and letting them rest from the constant white light from above, the skimpy pajama set under the silk was nothing short of insulting. 

But this was what you signed up for, after all. 

You can’t even recall the brand that had paid for this, too caught up with your neck hairs constantly pointing up in caution. There were many people in the room, and you only took solace in the few that were familiar to you—certain photographers you’d seen around including your own, and the other women here with you for when the space was free. 

But none even looked at you beyond a smirk and a quick whisper to their friends. 

Well, none but Nikto. 

He turns his gaze away only to scan the room, and then those orbs always rove back like a security camera; if you weren’t so on edge, you’d find it funny—cute even. Like a little robot of obsidian death. Across the divide, you send a quirk of your lips as the front door opens. 

“Let us get this over with, yes?” Alyona’s outfit is the color opposite of yours, and you snicker at the fact she must have walked from the changing room without putting on her robe to get here. 

Pajamas had been too nice of a word, the reality of it was tight lace and restraining straps along your thighs, making the skin move away and your ribs go inward. See-through tights and horrible little bows at your navel and in between your breasts.

Lingerie. 

Your fiery friend's words from days before had been a prediction it seemed, because you had dates lined up for intimate apparel for an entire three days; today was the only joint photoshoot as well. You felt like a puppet.

Standing, you untie your robe and slip it off, folding it over your arm before placing it down on the chair. White, of course, is the color that was chosen for you, and black for Alyona. Padding over to the plain backdrop, carefully dodging the ring lights and the camera equipment, you speak easily as eyes dig into the both of you.

Envious or lustful, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted this to be over so you could go home. 

“This is the first thing that they put us into?” You have to ask, plucking at the line of elastic that pushes up your breasts uncomfortably as you grimace. “We almost get blown up and I’m getting shoved into lace?”

“Just think of the money, Little Seraph,” Aly reminds blandly and you frown. “Money, and then we can fill our days with whatever it is we choose after we get wrinkled and they finally let us go.”

Nikto no longer stares.

His head is stuck to the door, tilted away from the scene of you and the blonde, from the flashes of the camera. You wonder at his hulking shoulders before your photographer’s fingers snap for you to look at them, and you do so with a practiced face of no thoughts and curve your body to fit beside Alyona’s. 

This continues for multiple hours, different sets, and the same dead mind that it takes to successfully pull the look off. No one wants you to think, to show real emotion—they want a manufactured image, and so you give it to them. It’s the only thing you can do right, and even then it had come down to a fifty-fifty draw with genetics; a brawl of metabolism and walking on nails. 

A model tries to speak to Nikto, and you find your gaze slipping over as she does—her flapping lips moving but the man’s interest not shifting for a second. You tilt your head from where you sit on the floor, surrounded by soft fabrics like feathered blankets that tickle your open skin. A nest, nearly. 

The soldier's body pivots, and he fully turns away from the model and faces you head-on. You furrow your brows as the woman’s face goes a deeper shade of gray—angry. She spits something at him before marching away like an angry cat. 

You meet Nikto’s face and your lips part in question, one arm keeping you up as your legs are folded. Alyona is off on break, so at this point, it has come down to only the photographer, your guard, and the few other models in question. As you study each other, the man’s hard eyes never soften, never even ease away from a dead nothingness as they slide down—just like your ‘perfect’ face. 

You feel his gaze caress you like he had his gun, and with a tingle in your flesh you can suddenly imagine him doing the same to you; taking you apart bit by corrupt bit until you’re left shaking for another reason. 

Clearing your throat, you instantaneously tear your eyes off him and his seemingly widening stance before you can see him do the exact same. The camera ahead of you flashes, and the unimpressed Russian words that come your way make you hunch. 

“Apologies, Fédor,” you ease, nodding. “I was distracted.”

The dark eyes of the photographer only soften slightly, but the professional knife returns. Yet, before the next burn of the flash into your retinas, there's a commotion from out in the hallway.

Your head snaps to it, the pound of footsteps and the call of fast words, but arms are already grabbing you, the camera taking a shot involuntarily as the sudden slam of the door makes Fédor flinch. 

Nikto carries you by your waist, and you yelp in shock at being so easily manhandled away. Your feet are set back down and your robe is tossed to you as you scramble to snatch it. 

An immovable stone is leveled in front of you, and you gaze widely at the soldier’s back as the bulk of Nikto’s hand is placed on his M9. 

“Keep behind me,” he grunts and you stutter out a rapid affirmative as you hurry into your robe, tying off the strap. Your head only slightly peaks out from behind him as your palm lays flat on his back. 

Nikto tenses but says nothing at the action as the door opens quickly. 

Your manager is pushing his way through the confused and annoyed employees, barking and snarling at anything before he can finally shift his body and find you. In his hands, he holds a large wrapped box. 

“You!” He booms in loud English, and you take a swift inhale as your pulse soars. 

Nikto’s body straightens as the man moves closer to you two, but the soldier doesn’t let him come any closer than three feet before he gives a cold, and firm word. 

The raging manager tries to lock eyes with you, moving his legs back and forth and divulging into his native tongue. You wished that learning Russian had come easy to you because you would certainly be less scared and nervous than you are right now. Everyone watches, and people from the hallways even peek inside to listen. 

Whatever it is the man is saying, it’s certainly interesting, because many cover their mouths with their hands and widen their eyes. 

“Nikto?” You ask quietly.

“Hush,” is all he responds with, but his hand falls from his weapon and that alone makes your clenched digits on the back of his kevlar loosen a smidge. 

You glance at all the searing eyes and look to the floor, confidence shriveling even at work. Your face burns with embarrassment as the barrage continues on, but inside of your chest, you enjoy how quick the Russian was in his actions to keep you safe—far faster than you could be with your internal injuries.

Nikto talks to your manager lowly, with no emotion in his tone as his mask tilts down. One last growled word and glare, and the finely dressed man points back at you before he shakes his head, shoving the parcel into Nikto’s hands. He turns and leaves, trailing smoke as he shoves through the crowd in the doorway. 

Everything is deathly silent, and you feel entirely left out of the loop as dread grows. 

There are so many eyes here.

Your body shivers, but you do the best you can to look collected—your hand dropping back down to your side as the whispering starts back up. Vision sneaking from one gray blob to another, your jaw clenches when the paranoia once more leaks into you, as if an old lover trying to claw its way back into your heart. 

What’s going on? Your brain hurts. 

Nikto utters to you, holding the package firmly in front of him. “Get dressed. We are leaving.”

“What’s in the box?” Your voice is tiny, face imploring him to answer even if you don’t exactly want one.

You know who it came from, and morbid curiosity would be the end of you. It should be burned, tossed away, and hidden. But how would you be able to catch him if you didn’t have evidence? 

Nikto glances over his shoulder at you. He pauses. Repeats. “Get dressed.” 

It doesn't take much convincing. 

You’re trailed by him even for the short walk to the changing room, your voice kindly asking people to move out of the way. The only reason they do is because of the black void behind you, of course, but the important part is that they move regardless. 

“Nikto,” you speak out in the hallway, the man corralling you so that his body is nearest to the foot traffic and your hand slides along the wall. “I-I can’t just leave, I still have appointments lined up until the end of my shift. There’s the dress fitting and the makeup change at two, before I have the—”

You continue on, but the soldier is back to his muteness; great walking form only holding the box in one hand while the other is resting securely on his M9—you guessed that would be a pattern like the use of ‘we’ in his sentences. 

He stops you with a grunt. “We are getting you back to your property. I need to be in contact with security team.”

“Security?” You halt outside the changing room door, holding out a quivering hand. “Nikto, I need answers. What made my manager act like that? Why aren’t you showing me what’s inside that box?” 

“You do not need to see it,” he explains blankly. “Unimportant.”

You flatten your lips, not speaking while a group passes by behind him. The both of you eye them, but you continue after they leave, dark shadows in the corner of your vision. 

“If it’s about me, then it’s not unimportant—I will not be kept out of the loop. Not after Yefi—” Your voice fizzles, but you shake your head and slow your pulse. “More people are in danger than just me if there’s going to be another public attack. I need to know what’s going on at all times. My mom won’t let me know about the active investigation, but as long as you’re working under me,” you take a breath, “then I order you to.”

Nikto’s pupils tighten, lungs in his chest stilling. It’s a battle of wills that takes place, and you’re not exactly one to win those.

Before long you’re being pushed back into the room behind you with a growl, and you blink quickly as those who had been in the hallways all look on with wide and shocked expressions as the door shuts behind Nikto’s back. You’re left standing as you steady yourself when the Russian lets go. 

“I do not take orders from you.” He spits, visible flesh swimming with irritability. “Remove that from your mind, Whelp. I am here to watch after you, nothing more.”

Again, outward confrontation was never your strong suit. 

“And I’m trying to watch after myself,” you say in a low and even tone. “Three people are dead—I’m making sure that no one else is going to get injured because of me.”

Teeth snap, a hand waved in exasperation.

“That is brainless. Others would not care about you, given the same situation.” You're looked down at, and you can envision a sneer on his lips easily. You frown and cross your arms. 

“You’re rude.” 

Nikto blinks quickly. 

“What?”

“You’re rude,” you say again, nose in the air. “Mean. Ill-mannered. Impudent, if you will.” 

The lights of the room buzz over your head, white on every surface. It’s funny, really, how this building cloaks itself in a veil of perfection and purity when the complete opposite is going on. And no one seemed to be doing anything to make it easier.

“You do not know how to keep your tongue behind your teeth, Woman,” Nikto bites, hands over the box clenched tight. “I am doing you a favor, but you are intent on biting the hand that feeds.”

You don’t respond, glaring softly with a tapping finger over your robe. 

Nikto’s eyes flash, chest rumbling. But he looks like he made up his mind with no real care at all for what this might do to you—if you were acting like this, fine, he would give you what you were asking for. 

“So be it,” he snarls, accent harsh and brutal.

The box is shoved into your arms and the man turns on his heels and stalks out. You watch him go, licking your lips and sighing slowly as the door slams. 

Your neck carefully bends downward, and you delicately run your fingers over the bare cardboard, feeling the bumps and the bends in the material. The interaction left a sour taste in your mouth, but you could worry about your people-pleasing nature later, this was far more important. 

One more shaky breath, and you’re placing the package on the pale top of a vanity, sitting it in the middle between makeup brushes and a notepad. You used this room more than the others, so you supposed you could call it yours in a strange ‘I’m always seen here, so it’s mine’ way. Like an unassigned-assigned seat in a university. 

“He wouldn’t give it to me unless it was safe, right?” Your voice echoes, but you know the answer. Nikto valued the mission above all else, anything to get there was wasted on him. 

The wide eyes of the crowd were blooming in the back of your head, your brain pulsing. Unconsciously, one of your hands goes back to rub at the base of your skull, fingers lightly dragging up and down to itch at an irreversible scar hidden in your hair. 

Shaking your head, you pull back and rub your digits into your sweaty palms. The hair on your arms stands up, and, hot in your robe, you undo the strap and let the garment hang open. 

With a steadying breath and tingling nervousness, the back of your eyelids explodes with gray fire as you pull at the top of the box, the cardboard slipping away from one another. Now or never.

You see the dead-eyes first, and the feathers after. 

A hand snapping to your mouth, you cover your sharp shock as the image of three dead doves lay mutilated in the confines of plastic bags. Across the front of the material lay three names in quivering English script. 

Petya.

Aleksandr. 

Your horrified gaze locks onto the last, its tiny wings broken and legs ripped from its body of white purity. Ripped in half. An angel of wind and clouds, stuffed into a cage with its dark blood sloshing around in a bag of murder. 

Yefim.

The others had been burned, feathers curling and ashy beaks open wide. 

Tears sting behind your eyelids, mouth perpetually open to the pure disgust you feel—the sword that pierces what little you’d built yourself back up. 

You don’t know how long you stay there, staring, but while you’re trapped in your terror, Nikto has already called the investigators he’d been told would be heading your case and informed them of more evidence in curt sentences. 

Maybe the cameras had picked up someone walking into your manager’s office, where the package had been left. 

In his mind, he called you foolish, and he truly did mean it. 

How pig-headed could you be? And yet at the same time, he knew from your interactions that you were unused to this harsh city’s climate. People here didn’t care about you, and they wouldn’t. Even the man he had just hung the phone up on seemed eager to get back to the cigarette that Nikto had heard being lit up instead of helping the Western Woman and her Consul mother. 

While the soldier had his reservations as well, he cared little for semantics. He had a job, and he would see it through. Nikto didn’t concern himself about you or your feelings; he didn’t care about your fear. You were someone he needed to watch like a pet, and he would. What else would he do? 

To keep you alive was the only priority, and alive was an easy thing to make happen. He knew alive very well, and the gray area in between it. 

Nikto was born and bred for this, and he was nothing but a cliff-face with the dig of a climber’s hook stuck in the side, his own stubbornness butting heads with the mountain goat that was you and your melting eyes. That smile. 

That body clothed in tight lace. 

Nikto growls to himself and slams a hard fist to your door twice.

“Девушка! Hurry up!” His ears twitch to the sound of muffled sobs and his hand freezes above the door before a third strike can boom over the hallway.

He blinks slowly. 

Arm lowering, he scoffs to himself before his hands cross his chest, the weight of his shoulders barring down as a janitor slinks past, pushing a cleaning bucket. Nikto picks up on the green of his eyes as they lock with his, and the two are locked in with one another until the soldier’s lids narrow dangerously. 

The man pads on and turns a corner. 

When your form graces him once more, the man has brushed his kevlar of nonexistent dust, eager to leave this place for a more secure area even for just the time being. 

He does not mention the glossiness of your eyes or the panicked, and not well handled, swiping of your mascara streaks. You’re back in your normal clothes. Nikto only takes the box you wordlessly offer him, and the contents inside that he had been made aware of prior. 

It was your decision—he’d tried to tell you.

“Good,” he utters, not glancing at your quick lungs. “Come.” 

He walks, and after a swaying moment, you jerkily step after. 

Your pulse is so loud it drowns out the comments people make as they look at you, no longer a kiss on your cheek or a pat on your shoulder—now it was distrust and caution. What if something happened to them while you were around?

I’m not infected, your brain tries to ease you, your vision a dark tunnel that stays stuck to Nikto’s wide back as he carves a path. This isn’t my fault. 

Three dead little doves to call your own sit in a cardboard box, and the realization of no letter strikes you like a punch to the gut. 

“No letter,” you mumble, arms crossing and fingers digging into your biceps. “Why wasn’t there a letter?” 

Your body stumbles out of the front doors, the ladies at the desk calling to you in confusion, and Nikto unlocks the car; opening it. Without another word, you get in. 

This isn’t my fault. 

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[astroismypassion]

What does it mean when we repetitively attract into our life a certain Moon sign? 🌙 🌗🌘

Credit goes to my blog @astroismypassion

The lovely and kind @bthechangeuwant2cintheworld asked me about if I could do a post on when we attract certain moon signs and what does it mean? Let's dive deep into the topic.

So what does it mean FOR YOU when you attract the following Moon sign in your life?

ARIES MOON

You are likely not courageous enough, need to learn how to be more bold, stand out from the crowd. You might also be a bit too selfish or self-focused. You need to work out more and steam off your feelings through work outs, physical activity and chores or cleaning, being more active and present in your home. Also, you might likely not do enough. You might be just working on one single particular thing, such as just your studies, your job, but completely neglect other fields, aspects of your life. Could have a hard time juggling many things at once or struggle with multitasking.

TAURUS MOON

You might be too passive, lazy or indulgent in your habits or even on a daily basis or in your own home. You might be a bit too love obsessed, wanting a partnership at any cost or even pressuring someone to like you back or enter a partnership with you. You might idealize the idea of a partner, being a part of the team. You might need to transform your values or understand what those are. You likely lack self-love and need more self-care too. You are either too materialistic or not enough. Also, maybe dress up more often.

GEMINI MOON

You are likely not social enough, you spend too much time on your own alone or you are too much in your head, but not grounded enough. Could have difficulties with control, like trying to control your surroundings, immediate family members, close friends, even people you talk to online/social media/instant messaging. You might be too anxious or nervous when talking. You might either need to take a social media break or talk to people online more.

CANCER MOON

Check in with how you treat your mother. Do more chores in your home, help out with laundry, doing dishes, organize your home more, clean it more often. Learn how to cook, bake more. You are likely bottling up your emotions or suppressing your innermost feelings, even needs. Learn what your needs are, especially what you require from your loved ones, family members, your partner. Vent, cry out your tears, embrace the flow of the good and the bad sides of emotion. Try to provide for your family more.

LEO MOON

You might too dramatic or not dramatic enough and too nonchalant. You might need to share more of your emotions. You might be self-centered emotionally, so selfish with your feelings. But at the same time, you might make too rash decisions or jump to conclusions in the early stages of dating. You need to become more jovial, happy and bright. You need to focus more on hanging with your close friends since you are likely neglecting them a bit or spending too much time on your own. You need to figure out more on what your hobbies are and if you can pick a new one as well. You might need to welcome more romance in your life, maybe by accepting an invitation to go out on a date, listening to romantic songs, watching romantic movies.

VIRGO MOON

You might need to take better care of your personal hygene, live more in the present moment and establish better daily routine and habits. You need to be more present and focused during conversation. You need to go out more and do your own grocery shopping, run errands and focus more on paying your phone, electricity bill etc. You need to declutter your home and organize your space. Try to find time for little self-care rituals in the day.

LIBRA MOON

If you end up attracting a Libra Moon again and again you are likely taking care of too many other people and not enough taking care of yourself. You need to learn how to share but with boundaries. You learn how to balance giving and taking. You need to learn how to accept help and how to delegate tasks off your shoulder more. You also need to socialize more, meaning that learn how to be okay with chit chat and even more superficial conversations, they still teach you how to connect and relate to those around you more.

SCORPIO MOON

Scorpio Moon is tricky, because it's one of those either or type of Moons, it can go either way. So you might have an escapistic issue, I'm not saying downright addictive behaviours, but you might overuse something. Such as you feel a bit too lonely and use food as a buffer or coffee, alcohol, sweets, sugar etc. You might not have only one cup of coffee, but 2, 3 too many per day. I'm not saying this is your case in particular, I'm trying to illustrate the case. You might also be too materialistic or not enough. Like too power hungry, money driven or not enough. You could have certain subconscious thoughts, triggers that you don't want to address. You might jump to final conclusions too quickly, without knowing the full story or context or information. You might need to let go of certain old habits, coping mechanisms that don't serve you anymore or sometimes this means even people, old friends or partners. You might not live fully authentic in your present life. You might also be scared of being truly raw, vulnerable and you could have a fear of being exposed, exposed as in having any trait that you don't like to admit you have or don't want many other people to know. Or you can also act a bit too fanatic in your behaviour, again it can go either or, you might perhaps need your jealousy, envy, possessivness in check.

SAGITTARIUS MOON

You are too uptight, need to let loose. Attend a party or two with your group of trusted friends, go to that club and dance, even if you don't completely like the idea of it initially. Also, you might be too hedonistic in one department of your life. Either you indulge in too many desserts after a meal, eat too much in one setting. Stop saying yes to everything and everyone just so you please others and that they stay happy. You need to get more organized, buy a planner, plan your days more and prioritize, you might be all over the place. Again, certain eating habits might represent a bit of a problem for you. Try expanding your mindset about food, by trying out alternative regimes, introducing more whole foods, leafy greens and such. Don't be a picky eater, give certain foreign foods/those you are not used to at least a one time try.

CAPRICORN MOON

Now, this is one of those major, life changing, big life decision ones. If you attract Capricorn Moon in your life again and again, you need to make a turning point in your life. You need to make a big life change. Likely, your job, career is not where it should be at this point. Or it's not fulfilling you and a change is to be made. Either going back to school, finding another job, career field etc. You need to revisit this part of your life: your career, long-term goals, aspirations, social status, reputation and your relationship with parents. The last one might be big as well, ask yourself if this is the best way to treat your parents? Likely, you could do a bit better. Also, you are likely spending too much time at home or isolating yourself.

AQUARIUS MOON

You are afraid to embrace your own unique self and being original, mostly out of fear of not being accepted or judged. You might also need to dream more, set your dreams big and start going after them. You might also replicate other people's ideas, try coming up with original thought and your own creative ideas more, even if they are weird, unique, eccentric or odd at a first glance or even if you feel uncomfortable expressing them. Go out more and socialize more.

PISCES MOON

You are too giving, humanitarian, charitable, selfless or not enough. You might take care or help out every close friend, acquintances or stranger, but NOT your own family members, loved ones or your partner. So try to put that in check. You might be undereating or eat foods that don't nourish your body. Again, substance overuse can be present in subtle ways, such as drinking too much coffee in the day.

Credit goes to my blog @astroismypassion