#i don't even know what's exactly going on

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[disgustingtwitches]

@rememberwren's Sperm donor!Johnny and Husband!Ghost has been stuck in my head for far too long. So here's a quick unedited little thing I wrote for it!

You forgot exactly what you were nervous about. Then again, you usually forget everything when your husband is between your legs.

“Gotta warm you up properly.”

He said earlier to Johnny and you, his large hand rubbing your thigh just a touch too high and making your face hot. 

You're not sure how much “warming up” you needed; he's been at it for God knows how long, and you're dizzy and pretty sure you can't feel your toes anymore. He can be so mean sometimes when he's like this, biting your thighs when you try to push his head away, smiling at how you whimper.

“You know, I'm starting to think you like it when I do that.”

As overstimulated as you are, you whine when he pulls away. You swear you can see the hearts in his eyes when he looks down at you. Gets you right in the heart. 

When he rolls out of bed and walks to the door you suddenly remember why your stomach was in knots earlier; you're about to sleep with his subordinate. No, that's not the right word. Brother in arms? Best friend? Their relationship always seemed more complex than words could describe. There's a soft knock on the door and you look up to see your husband walk in with Johnny in tow. 

Johnny's knees nearly give in at the sight of your body tangled up in the sheets, breathing hard, and skin glistening.

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen.” 

He smiles while unbuckling his pants. Simon hums in agreement and sits next to you, running his fingers up your arm and neck to caress your face. The look in his eyes could melt you right then and there, grounding and reassuring. Everything is going to be alright; it always has been and always will be.

Your eyes shoot back to Johnny, who's crawling over you slowly. You bite back a groan when Simon coos a good girl as you open your legs more, inviting Johnny to settle between them. The difference between your husband's face and the man hovering over you is night and day; Simon all soft and enamored, Johnny all fervid and lustful. 

“Ye ready?” 

Johnny's voice is almost as shaky as his hands, not nervous but almost deliriously aroused. You never had wandering eyes; it seems like it's wrong to even look at him now, but you don't want this to feel unnatural; you want to enjoy this. So you scan his body, toned chest falling and rising fast, strong arms caging you in, blue eyes so intense you have to look away.

“Uh-huh.”

You reply quietly, bucking your hips against his, your most sensitive parts rubbing against his. The gasp you share makes you both chuckle, easing the tension. You run your hands up his arms and wrap them around his neck. When you pull him closer, he follows eagerly, burying his face against the crook of your neck, stubble tickling you. 

“Dinnae have to do this if you don't want to, hen.” 

“No, I want to.” 

Your voice, smaller than you want it to be, makes Johnny's eyes soften. You look over to Simon, he cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow slightly, checking in. You just nod and he nods back. You keep your eyes on Simon while addressing Johnny,

“Ready.”

There's a pause, a shift, and then. You groan and roll your eyes back when he slides in, still facing Simon who blinks fast. Johnny breathes like the air was knocked out of him,

“Jesus…fuck…”

He curses to himself, face still buried at your neck, slowly moving his hips forward until his pelvis meets yours. You whine as he nips your neck and yelp when he punches his hips forward from the sounds you make. Your husband leans over and palms the back of his neck, talking in a low, serious tone that makes you tighten up, 

“Johnny.”

“Yeah, LT?”

“Ease up.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Johnny places a soft kiss where he bit you. It's all so…overwhelmingly intimate. Another man on top of you, grinding at just the right angle, hitting the right spots, all while your husband watches, instructing him. Simon pulls his hand away from Johnny's neck and shifts on the bed, sitting right next to you. Your eyes go wide when you turn to see him palming his erection. Oh. This is okay. This situation is more than okay. Simon fucking loves this. Johnny too. Guess you should throw away any reservations or doubts you had and just embrace this moment. Enjoy it to the fullest. 

Johnny pulls back, face slightly flushed, panting softly,

“She's so wet, Simon. Just so soft and perfect. Prettiest thing I ever saw...” 

You soak in the compliments but tune him out eventually, your attention drifting down to where Johnny slides in and out of you. It's a dreamy sight, really; you look so good together, it kind of reminds you how wonderful you and Simon look together. 

“Looks real nice, doesn't it? Taking me so well, hen.”

Johnny presses his forehead against yours, looking down while you hum in agreement. It's quiet for a moment, save for the occasional pant and moan or slick sounds from between your legs. A rough hand holds your left and another, larger hand grabs your right. It's all so sweaty, so sticky and sweet. So dazed, you barely register the first kiss Johnny plants on your lips. The second one makes your eyes shoot open, staring right at his annoyingly long, brown lashes until he pulls back and opens his eyes, blindingly blue. Your face gets hot, and you pull your hand to your face, your husband's fingers still intertwined with them. He extends his pointer finger to caress your cheek and you turn your face to look up at him. He's so gentle right now like he knows that's what you need from him. 

A smile plays on his face when you open your mouth and slide his finger into your mouth, sucking softly, rolling your eyes back, and moaning softly. You love giving him a show. Love making him melt in your mouth. He nods over to Johnny, whose jaw is slack, breathing hard. When you look at him, it's quite the sight: blue eyes wide and wild, mouth hanging open, and you can see his pulse right underneath his jawline beating wildly. Just fucking delectable. You pull your face away from Simon's hand and smile up at Johnny who groans and chuckles,

“Christ, LT.”

“Focus, Johnny. Ain't done yet.”

There's something feral that flashes in Johnny's eyes, hungry. Eager to please. You or Simon, you're not too sure. But he hooks an arm under your knees and hikes your leg up as far as it'll go, digging into you until you're a whimpering mess under him. His whole body pressed up against you, pinning you down. His mouth pressed right up against your ear, replacing every thought you had with his voice. 

“Right there? Huh? God, tight cunt right here…C'mon... Tell me how good it is…Tell me.”

He repeats the last phrase until you're mindlessly praising him, telling him what he wants to hear. What he needs to hear. You can feel him smile against the skin right under your ear before pressing tender kisses there. 

You're pressed chest to sweaty, hairy chest when you wrap your arms around him tighter, embracing him. All traces of guilt scraped away with Simon's breathy praise. You move one hand around until it rests on your husband's big thigh, and he tenses up under your touch. 

“C'mon love, give Johnny something real nice. He's been such a trooper, yeah?” 

You nod into Johnny's shoulder, breathless. 

“Uh-huh,”

It hits you hard and fast. Almost unexpectedly. Hearing a small moan escape Simon always sent you over the edge, though, always a rare moment when he lets himself relax and be vulnerable. 

Spasming and moaning under Johnny had his hips moving frantically, desperate for his own release. Biting his shoulder had him crashing right into it, digging deep into you until his hips still. He crushed you under his weight, licking the sweat off your neck. Simon pushed his head away though. 

“Don't forget, she's my wife Johnny.

His voice isn't harsh, it's almost soft. His large frame leans down and presses a tender kiss against your lips. Then another. And another. All while singing velvety praises between each one. For a moment, you forget about the other man in the room lying right on top of you. Until he pulls away, sliding out of you. Almost makes you whine til he starts pressing his lips against your sternum and stomach. Head in the clouds, you feel like you're floating. Suspended in this moment of pure bliss. 

“You got one more in you?”

Simon asks. Before you can answer, Johnny responds eagerly. 

“Always.”

[entirelysein-e]

『 Faking it 』

☼ synopsis: you fake an orgasm and they notice so they punish you

☼ characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

☼ wc: 1.0k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, creampie, thigh riding, hair pulling, mentions of fingering and masturbation/toys, degradation (reader being called "bitch", "pet"), pet names, mean!Toji

☼ notes: once again I am daring you to comment and / or reblog to let me know your thoughts 🫶

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Geto:

✧ You were just exhausted from the day and somehow your head was everywhere but in the moment, despite wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to rail you like he was doing

✧ Geto had you on all fours before taking a fist full of hair to pull you up against his chest and you could feel his hips stutter

✧ Not wanting him to hold back you just faked it - giving it your best act

✧ He scoffed and pushed you into the mattress, your hips still high as your head got buried in the surface beneath you, but he pulled out right before he came, letting his seed shoot over the globes of your ass and lower back

✧ You pout at that “you promised to cum inside tonight,” you whined and heard him chuckle while shaking his head

✧ “Only good girls get filled with my cum - and you certainly aren't one,” he hissed before releasing your hair from his tight grip and you knew that he knew

✧ Before you were able to explain yourself to him he patted his thigh, his back resting against the headboard “If you still want to cum you gotta work for it,”

✧ You were pouting but yes, yes you wanted to release so badly, unsure why you even faked it but this was your punishment now

✧ You straddled one of his thighs, his hands having a death grip on your hips to rut you against his leg at his desired speed - slow and with barely any pressure, making sure to let you suffer

✧ “Go ahead, love, thank me for helping you,” He hummed, a playful smirk on his lips

✧ Without thinking much, you started thanking him for being so generous, for helping you to find pleasure. It made you feel so ashamed of faking it but that's exactly what he wanted

✧ “Keep up this slow pace, be a good girl and i might even slip a finger into your cunt,” He breathed against your ear, knowing how much you love to ride his fingers

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Gojo:

✧ Gojo knew something felt off when your moans weren't the same, sounding rather fake so it came as no surprise when you faked it

✧ You don't even know why you did it, things just didn't feel as intense or like you're gonna release any time soon and hoped he wouldn't notice - bot oh he did notice

✧ He just continued as if he didn't know and finished a short while later but rolled off right away, a playful smile on his lips and that's when you knew that you're fucked

✧ “Have fun finishing yourself off then,” He hummed unbothered, that teasing smirk only getting bigger when he saw your mortified face

✧ “Didn't think i would notice, hm bunny?” He asked amused before turning to face you, his head propped up on one arm

✧ You felt like a deer in headlights under his mocking gaze along with his teasing and somehow you really hoped he would help you release

✧ But Gojo wouldn't be Gojo if he wouldn't be a menace, slender fingers dancing over your skin, always close but never touching the areas where you needed him so desperately

✧ “Is my cock not good enough anymore? Do you need your own little fingers now? Maybe even your adorable toy? yeah, i know of your little secrets,” He teases relentlessly, making you flustered but so turned on

✧ “Go ahead and touch yourself for me… let me see,” he giggled, wanting to guide your movements with his voice now

✧ He wouldn't touch you in order to help you, that was your little punishment

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji:

✧ RIP to your little kitty

✧ Why you thought faking it is a good idea? Maybe because you know exactly how mad he gets after

✧ It hurts his ego more than anything that he can't satisfy you to the point where you see it necessary to fake it but you love how he reacts - so you do it anyways

✧ Tojis hips slow down in pace when your walls don't grip him like a vice as they usually do and with one swift movement he manhandled you into a mating press

✧ “Think I'm too dumb to notice, angel? Let me teach you a lesson,” he growls while he pushes your legs tightly against your chest, his cock now deeper than before which made you whimper

✧ “That's what I thought. Crying for me like a bitch in heat,” he continues to degrade you but this is a punishment, you're not getting it the way you want it

✧ His pace is now oh so slow, far too slow for your liking but you feel the tip of his length drag against your walls and brushing against all the right spots which made you lose your mind

✧ You were now stuck, folded in half between your lover and the mattress while he tortured you with slow thrusts, a mischievous grin painted on his face that screamed victory as his degrading words fell from his lips

✧ You were a mess by the time he was done with you, far too overstimulated and every drag of his cock along your walls borderline painful

✧ "Who knew my baby can only cum when degraded into nothing but a hole for me to fuck," he chuckled before pulling out so you won't get the satisfaction of being filled by him

✧ Toji came over your face just to degrade you some more “go clean yourself up. You're such a mess,” he ordered but waited for your return

✧ When you were back in his arms he hummed softly “did you learn your lesson now, angel?”

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[classyrbf]

jjk men vs nipple piercings🤭

LOOK, BUT DON'T TOUCH! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men act when you decide to get your nipples pierced

INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, suggestive content, talks of sex, talks of touching breasts, talks of sucking on breasts, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you for the request @kyymanii

GOJO

he’s completely shocked the moment you pull up your shirt and reveal them. I’m talking, jaw dropped, eyes bulging out his head. It’s nothing his six eyes have seen before. “Holy…can I touch em?” He pouts, reaching his hands out before you slap them away. “Ow!”

“They’re freshly pierced and I’m not risking you ruining them.” You shake your head. “Look all you want, Toru, but no touching!”

“Baby! Please!” He clasps his hands together. “I’ll get down on my knees! Just touch around them? Please, please, please—”

“I said no.” You pull your shirt back down and he lets out the most dramatic cry you’ve ever heard in your life.

“How long do I have to go without touching your beautiful melons, baby?” He sniffles, wiping a fake tear.

“Ew, don’t call them that. And a few months at least,” you explain.

“No!” He cries out, dramatically flopping on the bed.

NANAMI

As soon as you walk in the door, Nanami can already see the mischievous smile on your face. He knows you’re up to no good. “Kentoooo!” You call out his name, walking over to him.

“Yes, honey.” He pulls his reading glasses off and looks up from his book. And without warning, you lifted your shirt and his eyes go wide. “Oh…I—wow…”

“You like ‘em?” You giggle. He nods silently, he can’t even take his eyes off of you. “Can’t touch ‘em though.”

“What? What do you mean?” He sounds genuinely confused, blinking up at you. “Honey, you can’t just show me that and not expect to want to touch them.”

“No touching, mister. Look all you want, drool all you want, but no touching.” You pull your shirt back down carefully.

“You are such a tease.” He huffs, putting his glasses back on. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

GETO

“Sugu, baby, guess what?” You place your bag down on the bed, carefully slipping your jacket off. He walks out the bathroom shirtless, stretching his arms.

“What is it, babe?” He leans against the wall as you turn towards him and lift your shirt up. “Oh? Oh!” His brows furrow.

“You like it? Now we match.” You nod towards his pierced chest.

“Baby, you can’t get your nipples pierced.” He walks over to you, placing his hands on your waist.

“Why not? You don’t think they look nice?” You frown.

“Oh, no, they do. That’s the problem. Now I have to wait months before I can suck on your pretty tits again. You torture me, love,” he sighs heavily.

“Oh shit. I didn’t think about that.” You’re quick to realize the consequences of your actions knowing it’s all too late to do anything about it.

TOJI

You hid your piercings as best as you could from Toji in the few days that you got them. Opting on wearing a shirt everytime you had sex and he found it odd, thinking you were growing insecure. Then, one day he realized he could see piercings through one of your tight shirts. “You sneaky little shit.”

“Huh—hey!” You protest as he lifts up your shirt, exposing your chest. “Toji!”

“No wonder you’ve been wearing shirts during sex.” He stares at your tits, reaching a hand out.

“Do not touch them!” You grab his wrist. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You can’t keep your hands to yourself for shit!”

“Awe, come on,” he chuckles. “How do you expect me to when your tits look like that. And now that you got them pierced? I’m hard just thinking about it.” He bites down on his bottom lip.

“Look at them however you want, but hands off!” You pull your shirt down.

“As long as you keep wearing shirts like that, oh I will.” He smirks.

CHOSO

Choso sat there with his eyes closed, smiling as he waited for the surprise you supposedly had for him. “Can I open?”

“Not yet!” You smile, lifting your shirt to your chest. “Okay, open!”

He opens his eyes expecting a gift bag or a box, but nope. All he sees in front of his are your tits. Your pierced tits. He feels his cheeks heat up and looks away. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to look!”

“No, Choso! That was the surprise!” You laugh. “I got them pierced. He slowly looks back at your chest, blinking.

“They…look really, really nice.” He gulps.

“Yeah? I think so too. Can’t touch them though or they can get infected.” You pout, feeling how sore your breasts were.

“What? You mean I can’t touch them? Like at all?” He asks.

“Well, not too close to the piercing. It’s very sore,” you explain. “Boobies are off limits for a good while, baby.”

“But your boobs are my favorite.” His face scrunches up in dissatisfaction.

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 6

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

DEFINETLY NSFW! Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

For somebody that filled her romance novels with plenty of smut… Sky wasn’t exactly as experienced as one may expected. 

Actually…she was woefully inexperienced.

There had been Admon…and Admon it had been.

The rest of the stuff in her books…well, that was just her fantasy wildly spinning stories about how sex should feel. Informed by plenty of books she had read, other authors, and of course…there were the two people that got to read every book she wrote before it was published: Orla, her publisher, and her friend Ressina, who was nice enough to take the pen to every thing she wrote that was woefully inaccurate. 

Because nothing ever felt to her like she portrayed it in the books.

Maybe that was normal. Maybe it was because of course her books portrayed something…better than reality, an escape from it. But still…sometimes Sky had just wondered…

As Azriel carried her towards the bedroom, Sky couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, she did, more than anything. But the truth was, she was…nervous.

She had written about this moment countless times, had described it in vivid detail in her novels. But now that it was actually happening, she felt…insecure. What if it wasn’t as good in real life as she made it out to be on paper? What if she did disappoint him?

(Sky knew that she had disappointed Admon numerous times…that she seemingly had never been enough for him…had been so bad at it in fact that he had instead slept with her sister…which was a whole other kettle of fish that she really didn’t want ot think to close about right now.)

Sky tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the here and now. 

Azriel was here with her, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way he looked at her. And yet, that nagging feeling of doubt still lingered.

And then there was the fact while he had admitted to sending his shadows to search for her… Sky was still keeping a rather big secret.

“Az…Azriel…” she said hesitantly.  “There…there is one thing you should know about me.”

Azriel paused, setting Sky down on the bed gently before turning to look at her. 

"Go on," he prompted her gently, taking her hand in his as he sat down next to her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything, Sky." She believed him. he wouldn’t judge her. She was sure of that as well. 

“You…You k…know how…how I…I write… ro…romance no..novels?” Sky asked him, biting her lip.

Azriel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I do," he said, leaning in closer to her. "You told me.”

“I…I am Sellyn Drake,” she blurted out.

She had never outright admitted it to another person. 

Ressina had been the one who had send off her first manuscript to be published…and Orla had met with her…these were the two people in existence that knew that Skylar Alden was also Sellyn Drake. And Skylar had always been comfortable with keeping it that way. 

There was no need to tell anybody else. 

Which was why it worked so well, that Ressina was an artist and could paint the bookcovers for her. No need whatsoever to let anybody else see the hesitant first drafts until she was sure this was where she wanted to go. Just Ressina. Just one of her very few friends. If not her only. 

Azriel stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?" he asked, completely taken aback. "You're...Sellyn Drake?" There was no…outright disbelief in his voice, just shock. 

*We know! We made Master read your books!* the shadows cooed. *Lady Death, The Priestess and The Shopkeeper love them too!*

She had no idea who any of these people were but…

Azriel's eyes widened even further as the shadows spoke up. "You...you knew about this?" he asked them, turning towards the shadows in disbelief. "You knew. That’s why you gave me her books to read!”

This was just getting better and better.

Sky, who had been watching Azriel and the shadows’ exchange with a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Do…Do they always…” she couldn’t even put it into words. 

Azriel sighed. “They like to meddle,” he said darkly. “And this time they were particularly persistent.” He shot a reproachful look at the shadows, who cowered a little under his gaze. "I won't lie, they did manipulate me into reading your books. And when my shadows do something they are rather...convincing."

She swallowed. 

“Did…did you…li…like them at…at least?” Sky asked hesitantly. 

Azriel hesitated for a moment before answering. 

"I...I did," he admitted earnestly. "Your writing...it's brilliant, Sky.” Her heart soared at his words. She treasured them, hoarding them away like a dragon. But he wasn’t done. “The characters, the emotions, the way you make the reader feel everything...it's incredible. I couldn't put them down."

Sky grinned at his words, feeling a swell of pride in her chest. "I…I'm glad you..you li…liked them," she said softly.

*Master especially liked the…*

“Shut. Up.” Azriel snapped, his ears reddening and Sky started laughing. She could just about imagine what the shadows wanted to tell her at that moment. 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill them," he muttered under his breath.

"They…they are ju…just try…trying to help you, aren't they?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand in hers. Only now she noticed the violent scars that marred them, the texture of raised and bumpy skin…but she didn’t care. Not one bit.  

*Of course, we are,* the shadows said, like any other idea was simply blasphemous. *We gave Master the best information we could. So that Master would know what you like.*

Sky probably shouldn't find it as adorable as she did. But the lengths they had gone to...the way they had made Azriel read her books so that he would know what she liked...nobody in her life had ever gone to these lengths just to find out what she liked.

"I swear I am not a total creep," Azriel told her with a grimace.

Sky laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No…no, no, you're not," she assured him, squeezing his, hands gently. "I…I ac…actually think it's… quite… sweet. In a weird, sli…slightly invasive kind of way. But sweet nonetheless."

"I think you are the only female that could possible think that," Azriel muttered, glaring at the shadows that didn't seem apologetic in the slightest.

Sky grinned, leaning in closer to him. "It’s… endearing,” she finally settled on. “Maybe even a lit…little bit charming," she promised him earnestly.

Azriel looked at her incredulously, his expression softening a little. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he asked her.

Sky shook her head. "No. No, I'm not," she said, her voice unwavering. "I…I mean it, Azriel. It iss actually really sweet that you would go to… such lengths just to try to un…understand me better. And you ad…admitted to it. And not just after the mating bond was accepted but within hours of meeting me." 

Azriel didn't keep it a secret, even when he could have, and she would have been none the wiser. 

"I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I'm not going to question it," he whispered. 

She swallowed. That's what she was thinking. The exact same words. 

Sky pulled him down, letting his forehead rest against hers.

"I know that...that I am supposed to cook you something...but how disappointed would you be if I gave you one of those caramel bonbons in my purse to accept the bond instead?" she asked him softly, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes widened and he stared at her in pure, undiluted wonder. 

"I could not possible be dissappointed by whatever you offered me," Azriel whispered. "But...are you...are you sure?"

"I am being utterly selfish," she whispered. "Yes. I want you." She didn't care that people would have thoughts about it...that she was rushing into this. 

They were probably right. 

But Sky really didn't care. Sky only wanted him. Sky was ready to throw caution overboard and rush into this headfirst without a thought about the consequences, if that meant that she would get her mate.

"Then let's be selfish together," Azriel whispered.

With shaky hands she reached into her purse, finding one of the caramel bonbon she kept in there...unwrapped it out of the paper and then...then she offered it to him, lifting it to his lips.

Azriel looked at the bonbon, then at her, and for a moment she thought he would say something. But then his mouth opened and he took it from her hand... He chewed it, swallowing carefully, his gaze never wavering from hers. For a moment, they stayed suspended in that moment of tension, the only sound their breathing. And then, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in his entire world.

A Mating Frenzy had always been protrayed as animalistic in every book she read. So of course, Sky had written the exact same thing.

But it wasn't...not really.

Not for them. 

And being with Azriel was also a far cry from being with Admon...mostly because then it had often been...embarrassing and painful. 

Admon had always found something to criticise on her body...foreplay had been nonexistent, even when she had tried...and while he had been more than willing to use her mouth to find his own pleasure he had never returned that favour.

With Azriel it was different. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her feel things she had never felt before. It was like her body was coming alive for the first time.

All her senses were heightened, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure, and Sky couldn't get enough of him. She wanted more. No, she needed more. As Azriel trailed kisses down her throat, she arched her back, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him that she could reach.

"Can I...Can I touch your wings?" she asked breathlessly, not wanting to...cross some unsaid line.

"Please," Azriel breathed out. "Yes, Sky, please." He lifted his wings, extending them out behind him, giving her free rein to touch and explore to her heart's content. As Sky's fingers brushed against the contours of his wings, Azriel let out a low, guttural moan, his wings twitching and shuddering at the sensation. They were massive and pitch black.

"They are beautiful," she whispered, running her hands over the silky black skin, feeling the warmth radiating from them.

He shuddered at her touch, his wings arching and trembling beneath her gentle caress. he leaned his forehead against hers as he gently tipped her back against the bed and she went willingly, wrapping her hands over the gleaming talons at the tip of his wings as she kissed him.

Azriel growled softly in response, his hands sliding up beneath her dress, opening the lacing in one fluid motion. As the dress fell open, revealing her body beneath, Azriel pulled back for a moment, looking down at her with dark, hungry eyes. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, his gaze roaming over her body.

She didn't even have the time to feel self-conscious, not when she was drowning in the waves of desire that shot across their bond from him. Not when her whole body seemingly trembled against his and she kissed him again, opening her mouth to his tongue.

He slipped open the dress and she opened her mouth, halfway ready to tell him how he could get the corset she wore off, but he already opened the lacing. "Why?" he asked her softly, as he saw the red indents left on her body, and she grimaced.

"Claire," she whispered.

She wore corsets usually for support, because her breast could get heavy and painful without the proper support...but she never laced them as tightly as she did when she saw her family. Or her sister. Then she pulled them tight, trying to squash her body to be something…something her family could stomach, something they maybe wouldn't comment on...she always failed.

Azriel hissed softly, his fingers lightly tracing the red marks on her skin. She knew that they looked horrible, and yet he looked...angered? Almost furious. His expression softened as he looked back into her eyes, his fingers gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why would you do something like that to yourself, Sky?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "You are beautiful. You don't need to change anything about your body." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to a particularly hard imprint the corset had left.

Sky swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat as emotion welled up in her chest. No one had ever said something like that to her, had ever made her feel like she was good enough just the way she was. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded, feeling a single tear slip down her cheek. Azriel wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand coming up to cup her face tenderly.

"You are perfect," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Just the way you are. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even your family." Sky leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and just focusing on the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished and protected.

With every word he spoke, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, her fears and insecurities melting away. She realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly saw her, the real her. Who accepted her exactly as she was, flaws and all.

It was so easy to sink into that. So easy to trust him. So easy to just kiss him, as she pushed the shirt he wore over his shoulders...to feel acres of gold skin, dotted with scars and dark markings...to bare him for her view and see how utterly gorgeous her mate was.

He growled softy as she ran her hand down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin. His body was a tapestry of pain and survival, yet she wasn't deterred. She only found him more beautiful for it.

"Mine," she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, to one particularly nasty scar. "All mine." She could feel his heart pounding beneath her lips, the steady beat matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, until she reached the waistband of his trousers.

It was so easy.

So easy, to shed clothing until they were bare...so easy to press against him and feel warm, perfect skin...so easy to relax underneath him as he stretched over her...so easy to simply cup his face as she kissed him...as her legs wrapped around his hips and he groaned and she whimpered as she felt him...hot and hard and huge, pressing against her...She was dripping wet without him even laying as single finger on her beneath the waist.

Azriel didn't look unaffected, his breath coming in ragged pants, his eyes fixed on hers as they were blown wide and dark with want. He didn't move, didn't kiss her, didn't pull her closer. He only waited. Waited for her. 

"I need you," she whimpered. "Please. Please, Az." He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, his hips rocking gently against her, teasing them both with the heat and friction between them.

Nothing hurt. Nothing ever even threatened to hurt...Even as she could feel him notch against her there...even when she could feel herself lewdly stretched open on his cock...

It was so soft and gentle and sweet and…

It was everything Sky had ever wanted. 

Not the rough kind of fucking...not the animalistic coupling she wrote half the time...but she had wanted this. She had wanted sweetness and adoration and...love...and to be wrapped up in her mate's arms like she was a precious, precious thing. She had wanted whispered praised against her skin and to be touched like she mattered...

"Sky," he whispered, his hands running up her side, his touch was soft and soothing, worshipping her body. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, and there was something...almost overwhelming about it.

About the way he made her feel. The way he made her feel loved and adored. The way he made her feel cherished. Her hands wandered up to his back, tracing the muscles shifting beneath scarred, scarred skin.

She could feel him trembling, feel the tension in his body as he held himself back, but still, he moved in slow and gentle thrusts, taking his time. He worshipped her - every little gasp and moan, every curve of her body. He traced her shape with his fingertips and lips, exploring her as though he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

She didn't know how long they stayed that way, their bodies as one, but Sky didn't care. She was surrounded by him - the heat of his skin, the sound of his breath, the way he whispered her name like a prayer. Sky could feel the love and devotion pouring through the bond, washing over her in waves, and she knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be. With him, in his arms, completely and utterly whole.

It nearly came as a shock as she came.

A breathless moan fell from her lips as her orgasm rushed over her, her body arching as she called out his name. He kissed her through it, murmuring praise against her lips as he held her close, his own release following soon after.

They stayed there for a moment, tangled together, both of them breathless and sated. Azriel's wings slowly wrapped around them, cocooning them in a warm, protective embrace that made Sky feel safe and cherished in a way she had never experienced before.

***

There was not one inch of his mate's body that wasn't utterly beautiful. From the tips of her arched ears, to her beautiful eyes...to the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist and the soft flesh of her belly and the flare of her hips...she smelled so good too...especially now that their scents had started to mix, and he could breath in caramel and hazelnuts and cedars and the sweet, beautiful scent of happiness as she laid underneath him. His head was bedded on her stomach, as she drew short fingernails through his messy dark hair. He nearly wanted to start to purr as she scratched at his scalp.

Azriel felt...content.

More content than he ever remembered feeling. He was wrapped up in her, his mate, with her gentle hands in his hair, and he felt utterly and completely at peace. He didn't care if they never moved from that bed again. He didn't care if the world outside their little cocoon burned. So long as she was by his side, he was content. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this...happy. This...whole.

"I need to go feed Hector," Sky told him softly, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"Can I just have the shadows kidnap him and bring him here?" he asked, not wanting to move.

"You can't go kidnapping my cat, Az," she chided him gently, but even as she said the words, she didn't stop drawing her fingers through his hair, and Azriel didn't move. He was far too comfortable.

"Why not?" he complained.

"You'll terrify him," she said with a laugh. "Besides, do you have cat food here?"

"I'll have the shadows find some Tuna," he mumbled.

"Do…Do they just ac…acquire whatever you tell them to?" she asked him with some amusement. 

And lots of things he didn't tell them to, as well. They thought he didn’t know. 

Azriel raised himself on his forearms, looking down at Sky with a glint in his eye. "You have no idea how many things I've acquired that way," he told her with a grin.

She lifted her hands, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down towards her, resting her forehead against his. "You're a menace," she murmured against his lips.

"Your menace," he replied, kissing her softly.

Sky smiled, a warm, slow curve of her lips that made his chest feel tight. "Mine," she agreed, her voice soft. "But no kidnap…kidnapping my cat. He's at home."

"We could make this our home," he protested softly. "Move in with me."

Azriel had no fucking clue what was even coming over him. They should have slowed down, stopped to think...but neither of them seemed to want to.

They just…they seemed utterly content to crash through what other people considered a normal timeline and just be together right now. 

He just wanted to be near her. He wanted to share a life with her, a home. He wanted to curl up with her in front of the fire on a cold winter's night, and spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with her. He wanted to take her flying, and watch as she wrote and listened to her read the words she wrote. 

And he wanted - Gods, he wanted her to want that too. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

For a moment, she was silent, and Azriel wondered if he had stepped too far, asked too much too soon. 

But then, Sky smiled again, her eyes sparkling with emotions. 

"...Al…Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll…I’ll move in with you." 

Azriel couldn't help but grin as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Really? You mean it?" he asked, still unable to believe his ears.

"Really," she echoed with a laugh, before her expression turned serious. "But I…I have one co…condition." 

Azriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"

"If I move in with you..." she began, wrapping her arms around his neck. "All my books need to come to," she told him seriously.

Azriel laughed, leaning back in to kiss her softly. "All your books can come, if that's what you want," he said. "As long as you're here, I don't care what else you bring."

And then the shadows unceremoniously dumped a screeching demon on the bed with them.

Sky let out a surprised yelp as Hector landed next to them with a thud, quickly scrambling away from the cat - and from under Azriel's weight. Azriel, for his part, sprang up, his wings flaring out in alarm. For several long moments, the three of them just stared at each other. Hector, his mismatched eyes glowing, his fur puffed up to twice it’s normal size, and Sky, her expression a mixture of surprise and affection as she looked at her pet. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Well, that's one way to introduce the two of you. Az, meet Hector."

...Gods, the shadows had really not been lying when they said that the cat was the ugliest thing they had ever seen.

Azriel slowly lowered his wings, eyeing the creature that was half-cat and half-demon. "He...looks like he wants to kill me," he said slowly.

Sky laughed, reaching out to scratch Hector's head. "He's just grumpy because he got teleported here so suddenly," she told him. "And he's not used to strangers." Hector's fur slowly flattened, and he began to purr, rubbing his head against Sky's hand. "Besides, he'd never hurt anyone," she added, looking up at Azriel with a smile.

Somehow Azriel highly doubted that.

Sky picked Hector up, cradling the cat in her arms as his purring grew louder. "See? He's not so bad," she told Azriel, moving towards him, and Azriel had to resist the urge to back away. "Hold out your hand, let him sniff you. He just needs to get used to you."

Azriel hesitantly held out his hand, trying his best to ignore the way Hector's eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light. After a moment, Hector moved forward, sniffing at Azriel's hand. Azriel felt the soft brush of whiskers against the palm of his hand, and Hector nudged his head against him, purring louder.

"See, he loves you!" Sky said enthusiastically

Azriel let out a laugh, slowly scratching the top of Hector's head. "I think he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before he scratches my eyes out, you know."

She rolled her eyes, "You are the most handsome cat I know," she cooed at him. "And you won't ever scratch out Azriel's eyes. No, you won't.”

Azriel would not quite go as far as describe the cat as handsome...but then...his own scarred hands weren't particularly beautiful either.

So Hector and him had that in common.

And the fact that they both wanted to cuddle with Sky. Actually, he was pretty sure that the cat hated him just for taking away his monopoly on that.

But Azriel would have shared a house with the King of Hybern if that meant that he got to have Sky in his bed.

She smiled at him, her eyes warm and adoring. "I knew you two would hit it off," she said, holding Hector in the crook of her arm. The cat stared at Azriel for a moment, as if sizing him up, before leaping off Sky's lap and disappearing under the bed with a soft patter of paws. "He'll warm up to you eventually," Sky assured him, but Azriel wasn't so sure about that.

He pulled Sky in closer to him, slipping back underneath the sheets with her, kissing her forehead. "I'll win him over, eventually," he promised her. At least, he hoped he would - he didn't particularly enjoy the idea of having to wake up with his throat being sliced open by an angry cat.

He would buy that damn cat all the Tuna in the world if that made Sky happy.

[thatonegirlondiscord]

somewhat relavent so I justed wanted to add on a personal experience.

I was born and raised in a mid sized city in Southern China but moved to America at the end of 4th grade when I was about 9. My elementary school was decently sized. Three buildings, a large courtyard for morning assembly, gym, and sporting events, and a small small playground located at the one of the corners of the courtyard. In other words, it was average.

I remember that one day in third or perhaps second grade my homeroom teacher announced that our school finally got a library, and it was such exciting news. Up till that point in my life I've knew libraries as the shiny building downtown where it was white and clean and nice and you can go there to buy study books for exams. It was a shameful thing if you read books that you have not bought or owned in some way so when my teacher said that you can go and borrow and read books from the library everyone got excited, even those who are disciplined on the daily for bad grades.

The catch however was that you can only do so if you are a good student or had "merit." And hearing it my heart sunk. I don't exactly remember what I did but I knew I caused trouble either earlier that week or earlier that day, and it almost definitely meant that I was not going to be given the elusive library card. She told us to put our heads down and rest our eyes as we had just finished the school-wide mandatory eye relaxation routine, and she will be walking around the classroom and putting the cards down on the desk of students who "deserved" the opportunity.

She then proceeded to place the cards on the desks of top students, the arts representative, the class representative, and those who generally did not cause trouble in class. I was dejected but there is nothing I could do. It made sense afterall, that the spot which could've been mine are to be given to someone else simply because they are better. I was bitter but there was nothing to be done. To my surprise however, my mishap earlier was somehow canceled out by my diligent sweeping of the floor (assigned chore) and I received a card in the end. All I could remember was that it's such an honor, almost comparable to a teacher praising you to your parents, and I proudly showed it off to my dad the second I got home.

It didn't occur to me until just this post that my earliest impression of a library didn't match with my experience at all. I loved to read and have been reading as a child, asking my dad to read the newspaper stories to me was our bonding time so perhaps I just took the fact that books are now free for me to borrow and read in stride. It didn't occur to me at all that children such as I who hasn't proved themselves yet were given free reign to use the school library as they pleased, and what a strange notion it is to realize it now.

I know my experience may not be uniform across China but I just thought I'd share it to give a more comprehensive perspective to op's experience.

...I had a guy come in today asking about how to get his kids library cards. I told him. He asked me how hard it would be for them to get them, and I said that all it took was their presence and his government ID.

He told me about how nice the system was here, where it was so easy to get a card; he said that there was a beautiful public library in Beijing that was top of the line and everything, but that the only way to access it was if you were a high ranking government official or a top professor or something. Instead, our library "serves the reader." His kids will be able to take chapter books home at no cost. He'll even be able to get books in Chinese here so that his native language skills don't atrophy.

I didn't even really know what to say, so I told him how to ask us to buy books for him that we don't already have so that he can still read them at no extra cost. I don't know how to shore up what it must feel like to know that there are books out there you can't read; I've always grown up with a good library nearby. It reminded me of working in my old library, though, where families who spoke Spanish were startled to find out we took any government ID with a formal address in town— even foreign IDs— so that their kids could get access to all of our titles in all the languages we offered.

Ah. Anyway, I hope you check out a library book with this thought in mind. I checked out the first volume of YJ98 today with that thought in mind. I didn't have to pay anything. I put it on hold, and there it was.

Edit: for those who struggle with reading comprehension; no, this patron interaction is not meant to represent the status of the Chinese public library system at large nor the country of China itself; this was my response to a random Chinese immigrant dad's anecdotal concerns as he expressed them to me, because the whole breadth of concern I'm responsible for while on desk starts and ends at recommending which library services would fulfill his needs. If you think he misunderstood or was lying about the status of public libraries in China, that isn't something I'm charged to verify before writing my thoughts and feelings about the patron interactions I was exposed through throughout my day. Expecting anything else is absurd.

Edit edit: Also, your library may not actually use Libby as the distribution method for their ebook collection. The best way to find out about how to access your library's ebook collection is to call them directly.

[endursent]

- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , angst if you squint(?) , gn!reader 】

【 characters; aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; might make more parts, who knows. also two one-shots/fics between gss chapters? in this writing economy? 】

【 word count; 3.303 | read on ao3 】

Aventurine;

You thought he’d be more agitated than this—usually Aventurine doesn’t stay still for long periods of time, always out and about, as if resting for too long or standing still raises the hairs on his neck as something rapidly approaches from behind him, unseen to anyone else.

  And yet now… he sleeps curled on the sofa in his apartment, you continue to scratch your head over the situation and how to fix it—you tried to ask Dr. Ratio, who you’ve only met once by chance with Aventurine, but he seemed knowledgeable, and you’ve seen some of his theses cited in arguments online…

  But all he replied with to your very concerned and urgent text message from Aventurine’s phone was; “lol”

  So you’re officially on your own, it’s bad enough that Ratio has rejected your plea for help and now knows about this, if it gets out to Aventurine’s coworkers…

  You sigh and plop yourself down on the sofa next to his curled form, yellow-orange fur swaying at your movements as he doesn’t even look up. For a moment, you’re a bit concerned… hopefully he’s still breathing.

  Reaching a hand out, one finger pointed straighter than others, Aventurine suddenly looks up—and closes his jaw around your finger. It’s a gentle hold, not exactly a bite despite the way it looks and the prick of his teeth. You blink at him, he slow blinks at you. “You’re so sleepy,” you note. Aventurine just licks your finger, letting go of it—though it was barely a hold.

  After having gotten what seemed to be a long-awaited proper rest over the span of two days, Aventurine seems to spring to life, not in the way he’s zooming all over the oversized apartment or knocking things over, he just seems very excited to see you when you come home from work—your partner might have turned into a cat for real, but your superior will NOT believe you—he sits on your thighs whether you’re on the couch, by the dinner table, kneeling to fix something under a shelf, anything. 

  He’s usually quite independent, so this somewhat clingy behaviour is surprising, but you don’t entirely mind, his fur is very soft.

  Aventurine didn’t even make a single sound when you bathed him after accidentally spilling some bolognese sauce on his back—he was wandering around your feet and nearly tripped you when you turned around. 

  Perhaps this temporary (hopefully) form has made him more confident in seeking the closeness to you he craves, the need for connection that he’s too reluctant to engage in most times despite being together for so long. 

Blade;

You squint your eyes open in the darkness of the night, why is it so hard to breathe suddenly? It woke you up, as if there was something hot and heavy on your chest.

  And there is, when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see large flame-coloured eyes staring at you. Blade’s pitch black fur blends into the darkness of the night, but his eyes do not—if you didn’t know better you’d think there were two eyes floating in front of your face, but the body attached to them is very much standing on your chest.

  “... what?” you mumble sleepily, why is he staring at you like that? He doesn’t do this normally… you think. Maybe… does he?

  No response—you’re not sure what to expect, it’s not like he can talk in this form. 

  He does this every night, to a point you’ve started laying on your side so he at least has to stand on the bed. One night, you even reach out and grab him, pulling him into your arms so he’s unable to stand and stare like that. You come out with scratched arms, but it was worth the somewhat peaceful sleep when he finally settles. 

  It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he’s always been in the corner of your eyes, sometimes waiting for you to finish what you’re doing, sometimes just standing there—not necessarily even looking at you or engaging with you in any way. He just likes to stand in the same room. 

  Except now he’s perched on shelves, under sofas or chairs, looming behind a corner so you almost step on him.

  Over time, he becomes a bit restless, but other than hiding away in warm, dark spots… but as you settle into bed, he’s always ready and hops onto your stomach as soon as your back hits the mattress. 

  The other Stellaron Hunters’ reactions range from curious concern to finding it hilarious. Firefly mentioned they have two cat members now, Blade wasn’t very happy about it… the day after she offhandedly mentioned that she could barely sleep and felt like someone was watching her the entire time. You decided not to mention his habit. 

  Blade doesn’t quite follow you at your heel the entire time… but he does always seem to be in the same general area, as he always has. It’s a bit of a relief, you thought you might get lonely without his constant presence. 

  He sometimes doesn’t run off when you pet him. Sometimes. 

Dr. Ratio;

Ratio is appalled by this development, he hates it. He doesn’t have opposable thumbs, he can’t communicate properly, and you won’t stop pinching his ears. You’re lucky he doesn’t bite you. 

  He, in his infinite wisdom, developed a way for him to communicate with you. He may be a cat now, but his work doesn’t have space to halt for even a day! And so it’s up to you to continue it under his guidance, because he will not be seen like this by his assistants. 

  His way is quite funny, for complex explanations or lengthy dialogue, he will slap his paws on a holo-keyboard to type it out, but otherwise he presses buttons laid out on one of his workbenches for general commands. “Write”, “Open drawer”, “Fetch tool” (he then vaguely gestures which one), and even “Eat” and “Nap”.

  You asked him if he wanted to add a voice-over to the buttons so you wouldn’t just have to listen to a buzzer made to catch your attention, but he just stared at you blankly.

  You pinch and rub his ears, despite protests.

  To ensure subtlety, he demands you carry him in your bag in and out of the lab and past the reception… and you can’t in good faith deny that it’s adorable to see his head poke out of your bag and squint around to make sure the coast is clear once you’re outside. 

  Ratio had never imagined to hear as absurd of a suggestion as when you asked him if you should ask any of his Intelligentsia Guild colleagues about this, surely they can put their brains together and come up with a solution? 

  Absolutely not, he says, by knocking an empty coffee paper cup over. 

  You caught him staring longingly at his own bathtub and asked if he wanted to take a dip, you can wash him. The idea sounded good… until he stuck his purple paw into the soapy water and felt the spine-shattering feeling of his fur sticking together and immediately wriggled so aggressively out of your grip—startling you of course—that you both went tumbling into the water.

  He sat on his bed, towel under his body and over his back with a traumatised expression on his face for about forty eight minutes straight. Not even an offering of some nice cheese from the fridge brought him out of it. 

Jiaoqiu;

Different from the rest of the cast, Jiaoqiu has found himself in the form of an extremely furry fox, matched exactly to the colour of his hair. He’s so soft that you can’t help but run your fingers through it, messing up the direction of the coat and requiring Jiaoqiu to stand up and shake himself a few times to right it out. It comes to a point he will nip at your fingers if your hand comes too close.

  One afternoon, you’re wondering where he went off to—he has a chronic tendency to wander off, even in regular foxian form—you go into the pantry to see his tail swaying excitedly, half of his body disappearing into a woven bag of peanuts. Startled for a moment that he might not be able to digest that—you’ve never had to take care of an actual fox before—you hurry towards him and pull him out, holding Jiaoqiu up.

  He screams in such a disturbingly human way you almost drop him. Whether the scream was of surprise or protest is hard to tell.

  You stand in front of him, sat on the divan in your home and try to look stern… but the smile and closed eyes he makes even in this form is so eerily similar to how he normally would with his usual expression that it almost freaks you out. You shouldn’t be surprised, he’s basically just a furry version of himself… but it’s too close! 

  And he got away with it too, damn him. 

  Despite the pale pink fur, the tip of his tail and ears, his legs and paws are all dark, and you can’t help but hold them, stroke through the fur through the change of colour and Jiaoqiu—though normally not liking his tail or ears to be touched, in this form he seems to accept it… he can’t lie to you with turning his snout up, you see his tail sway when your hand comes close, despite how he would nip at them before—you’ve cracked the code, smooth the fur back down after ruffling it, and it’s acceptable.

  Don’t think for a second that you’re safe to indulge in any unhealthy habits or dumb decisions even though his “warning smile” is absent, he will bite your pants and pull so hard they might rip. You were about to be roped into some nonsense by Feixiao, seeing the perfect opportunity to borrow you for some “racing”, when Jiaoqiu comes running at breakneck speed, bites your pants, and effectively drags you away.

  Feixiao just watches with a grin. Good luck next time.

  He sulks a bit about not being able to do his job for such an extended period of time, he has a good sense of responsibility and doesn't like to sway from his sworn duties too much.

  Also, he can tell by the smell alone that the food you make for yourself in the absence of his skilled work is severely lacking in critical ingredients, and is also plated wrong. But that’s more of a subjective nitpick—maybe he’s just getting restless.

  He decides to hide one of your shoes and watch in amusement as you search high and low through the house the next morning. Sitting on the carpet with a foxy smile. 

Jing Yuan;

Jing Yuan is delighted. He plops himself down on you no matter what you’re doing, if there is no surface to curl up, he will lie down by your feet, or anywhere he can be touching you with at least a part of his body. 

  Raking your hand through his thick fur, you pull your hand back and it’s covered in white hairs, he sheds more than Mimi.

  You vehemently vetoed his decision to rename Mimi to Wave-Treading Snow Lion when it began growing and showing signs of not being a grimalkin like he suspected it was.

  Speaking of Mimi, you walk into the Seat of Divine Foresight and see the two of them splayed out by the massive windows, artificial sunlight bathing them in warmth as Mimi lies on the floor belly up… and Jing Yuan lies on Mimi’s belly, his own facing up towards the sun. You don’t dare disturb them—mostly because you worry that Mimi will roll over and crush poor Jing Yuan under it. 

  So you set the documents on his desk slowly and sneak back out, the Cloud Knights always present in the room stand still and try not to do more than whisper between themselves.

  If you thought Jing Yuan was sleepy before, you were in for a surprise. As soon as his hands turned to paws, he was lounging around as lazily as he could get away with, which was infinite in this form—perhaps this was the taste of retirement he needed, and it might convince him to go through with it… you hope. For his sake. 

  Unfortunately, your partner is cursed with a perpetual disturbance of his naps, and a problem comes up in regards to an illegal trade of magically-charged artefacts—one of which having the potential to explode if handled wrong, which could hurt innocents during the exchange. He circles the Seat of Divine Foresight like he would normally in thought… except instead of his boots touching the ground in a rhythmic thump, it’s small paws padding on the floor.

  It’s cute—but then again, he’s always cute.

  Thankfully the problem is resolved due to the Cloud Knights having previously acquired knowledge of suspicious movements over the last weeks and are able to intercept the exchange.

  As a reward for his hard work, you make a big bowl of juicy fruits for him to dive into—though Mimi’s snout got in before him, and stole about half of it… you snooze you lose, dozing general. 

  Of course, he didn’t let you off that easy, cuddles were demanded with headbutts and loud meows of protest if you turned to do anything else, so you were stuck with two cats hogging your attention for the rest of the night, good thing you have two hands to scratch behind both of their ears at the same time.

Moze;

You thought for a moment he didn’t actually retain his senses, and had ran off somewhere, you dragged Feixiao with you to search the entirety of the Xianzhou Yaoqing… only to return home several hours later, exhausted and disappointed, to see Moze sitting on the kitchen counter with a fish in his mouth, tail swaying contently as he ate it off the bones.

  He would just randomly wander off and return at odd times, once you saw some blood on his paw and worried he had hurt himself, but no matter how you looked or poked and prodded, there was no wound. It must have been the capture of another fish or another… because, surely, Feixiao doesn’t have him doing work like this?

  You suppose it’s quite a good cover… no one would suspect a cat…?

  After locking him in your room for the workday to ensure he doesn’t go off somewhere, as you had asked an elder of the Alchemy Commission to come over and have a look at him, you came back with the old man to find the room empty.

  Given cat form, Moze has become the perfect escape artist—not that there’s much anyone can do to hold him down in his normal form. 

  Try as you might, it becomes somewhat of a game of you trying to keep him in one single place, and him disappearing like a leaf on the wind, only to show up later with a treat… usually for himself, but once he brought you a pouch of sesame balls. You hope he paid for it somehow, but you don’t hold your breath either.

  He sleeps exclusively by your feet, circles a few times and wriggles into a comfortable position against either leg that’s closer. You tried to get him to sleep closer to your torso or on your inviting arm, but he always stood up and returned to the spot by your legs after a few minutes. 

  One time, you were stroking his tail absentmindedly and accidentally pinched it only slightly—yet he still jumped into the air like you had just stepped on it with a loud yeowl, making you yourself jump as he suddenly sped off across the room and almost slammed himself into the door leading to the study.

  You decided not to play with his tail after that, he even left scratches on the floor with his hurried scuttling across the room. 

  You spotted Jiaoqiu trying to feed him some of the ‘concoction’ he was making, which Moze sniffed curiously at—but you’re fairly certain there are not many things in that broth that will settle well—or at all—in his kitty stomach, and thus you swoop in and feign extreme interest in Jiaoqiu’s dish. Of course, the foxian sees through you easily and smiles widely. “Ah, why don’t you try it then?”

  You got yourself into this position, and so, you resign yourself to burnt taste buds for the next few hours. It’s delicious as always, but your poor mouth… Moze rubs his furry head against your legs in comfort. 

Sunday;

He couldn’t believe it. Sunday stared at himself in the reflecting mirror of the Astral Express’ windows for about ten whole minutes after being brought back to it in the state he was in. His ears flatten to his head and he glares at anyone that tries to approach, he doesn’t want to interact with anyone like this!

  He flees to his room and stays under the bed for several hours before you manage to lure him out with some delicious smelling grilled fish. Sunday reluctantly pokes his head out to grab it—which is when you grab him. 

  He flails and meows, struggling and squirming as you pick him up and stand… only to coo at him and rub his cheeks with your thumbs, musing how cute he is.

  Cute?! This is a horror scenario! 

  Despite his displeased meowing and nibbling on your fingers when you try to pet him, Sunday eventually gives up when he learns that you just find his struggling adorable. Suddenly your staring when he gets annoyed with small things start to make sense. Like when he hit his head on the ridge of a table after bending under it to fetch a pen he dropped, and the brief surge of frustration and annoyance he felt—only for you to swoop in to rub his head and see if it hurt. 

  He sulks the entire time, he doesn’t like it one bit. 

  March asks him if she can put him in outfits like she does with Pom-Pom, and he strategically avoids her for several days. Not a chance. 

  Thankfully, despite you ‘tormenting’ him on the first day, Sunday does seek comfort in you… you’re warm, and somehow you know exactly where to scratch behind his ears and under his chin where he can’t quite reach well enough. 

  You almost pull him in and rub your face into his furry torso when Sunday kneads at your shirt when you lay down to sleep, but decide that watching him is much cuter. You get such cuteness aggression when he does the smallest things. He purrs when you massage his paws or draw your fingers all the way down his back—and get a fistful of hair while you’re at it—and eventually he starts to do it at the smallest gestures… Pom-Pom once brought up concerns to Himeko that they thought that the train might have a problem, some kind of motor malfunction.

  Turns out Sunday was napping in the warm engine room and purring so loudly that when Pom-Pom leaned close to his hiding spot, they thought it was the engine. 

  He doesn’t let anyone pet him properly except you, not because he doesn’t trust the rest of the Express members—trust is a strong word in any case—but because when he closes his eyes in comfort, he wants to open them again and see you stroking through his fur. Nothing personal, though March does take it a bit personally.

[alchemistc]

He's drunk when he sends it. Pissed because Buck won't just let this die. Tired of seeing his name flash across his screen, texts full of anger and sadness and hurt.

I suspect you've already met your last and it's not me he sends, and then turns off his phone and reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his top shelf.

---

If he'd been sober he would have known better. It's not even like it's been a pervasive thought - just an inkling at the start of things that seemed to be completely off base once he got to know everyone better, but looking back... He can see it. The built in life. The steadfast support. The knowledge that they'd always, always have each other's back. The kid who hero worshipped him.

The thing is he's fielding texts from Eddie, too, checking in and then circling around to being so goddamn judgmental that it's like they've coordinated their attacks to give Tommy no room to breathe.

He ended it to save himself from slipping so far under the surface he wouldn't make it back.

The fact that he's lost them both to his own fear is icing on the cake for the demon on his shoulder that keeps trying to remind him that once upon a time he'd fully thought Eddie and Buck were amicable exes.

---

He has to blink to figure out who's standing on his doorstep. The mustache is gone.

"If you meant who I think you mean, you're dumber than you look," Eddie says, and shoulders past Tommy before Tommy can even muster an affronted expression.

Tommy wanders after Eddie into his own kitchen, immediately annoyed that he looks more at home there than Tommy has felt in weeks. He'd gotten used to the loft - the space, the echoes, the lights of the city. The smell of his own aftershave on Buck's pillow.

They never spent much time here. The loft was closer - to Harbor, to the 118, to all the things in the city that tempted them out for a night. And staying at the loft meant he wouldn't have the echoes of Buck in every room, around every corner. (The echoes are in him, instead, and he still feels the absence like a lanced wound.) Tommy has always been good at making other people think he's good at putting distance between himself and them.

Eddie digs in a drawer, pulls out the bottle opener shaped like a cow and pops two tops. Holds one out for Tommy and scowls when Tommy wrinkles his nose at the Corona.

"Absolutely screw you if you think I'm driving halfway across town for you just to get the ones you like, right now."

Tommy can't argue that. He takes a drag and swallows. Stares. Is everyone else experiencing whiplash seeing him without the mustache? It looks fine but it'd taken so much fucking work to get used to it and now it's just gone. Clean shaven, an acre of skin he hasn't seen in months.

Tommy blinked and the entire world was different. Tommy freaked and the world changed.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie's eyebrows both lift, a frank Are You Fucking Serious look on his face that makes Tommy want to take him to the mats and have it out in the garage instead of over beers.

"Buck may be spinning his wheels trying to figure out what the fuck you meant but I know damn well what you were implying."

That seems unlikely. Eddie always seems to be the last person to have a single clue what was going on, with Buck scraping in just before him. It's a tight race.

He used to find it charming.

(He absolutely does not still find it charming, he tells his heart, and wonders if he could hire some tiny asshole gnome to go stomp around in an atrium or two and get it to stop doing what it's doing. Fucking traitor.)

"Do you actually believe that, or is it some dumb excuse because you're terrified of being happy?"

Oh, that's fucking rich.

Tommy opens his mouth to tell him exactly that but Eddie just steamrolls right by him. "You don't have to point out the hypocrisy, jackass. I'm well aware of my own issues. Thing is - you're like, almost right. Buck does make me happy. Next to Chris there's no one else in the world I'd rather have by my side, rain or shine, good or bad. I love him. He's my person."

Tommy rolls his jaw. It's not a vindication to hear it.

"Except I'm not gay, Tommy. And I don't want that. I never have. And neither does Buck, just in case that argument was about to hit the airwaves."

"How do you know?"

Something sparks in the back of Eddie's eyes. Understanding. Triumph.

"You want an itemized list or a demonstration?"

Which is when Tommy knows he's stepped into an absolute minefield. No markers. Just free balling his way through a conversation that could explode with even the slightest pressure.

Eddie's got his phone out.

None of this is ideal.

When he looks up, his eyes land squarely on Tommy, who would like in this moment to be able to curl so far in on himself he gets sucked clean through the other side. "First of all, Buck may have just been improvising his entire journey of sexuality but for once I was trying to get ahead of the curve so that whole starry-eyed newly not straight vision you have of Buck is bullshit. You let him pull you along by the shirt strings for months without pressing pause and then you freak out when he thinks his speed and your speed are the same speed?"

This is feeling a whole lot like an ambush, now.

"Did you ever even try to slow him down?"

Tommy has some choice words that aren't remotely appropriate to say to someone who is at least tangentially still his friend, so he takes another swig of shitty beer. God, this shit is awful.

"You wanna know how I know I'm not his one? How I know he's not mine?"

Tommy really, really doesn't. Honestly he'd like to kick him out.

"Because he went at our friendship at the same warp speed pace he took your relationship and it never fucking scared me."

Proof in the pudding, for Tommy. He's not the sort of jackass who actually thinks he can make a different judgement call on someone else's sexuality than the one they've made themselves, but come on.

"Shannon's been dead for half a decade," Eddie says, voice dropping so suddenly Tommy feels it like an icy draft. "And maybe one day I'll make my peace with that. Maybe one day I'll get out from under it. The point is I've lost them both and the loss wasn't the goddamn same."

"Buck came back," Tommy argues.

Eddie scoffs. Wrinkles his nose. "Jeez, he wasn't kidding about how weird that sounds." His phone buzzes on the countertop, and Tommy wonders what the hell that look on his face means. "Don't change the subject. I'm not here to talk you into anything. I'm just here to drink a beer with you and tell you how goddamn stupid it is to think that an uncertain future with Evan Buckley isn't worth every second of terror it causes you."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

Eddie tips the bottle against his lips. Swallows. God, why hadn't Tommy just pursued the self-proclaimed straight guy for a couple weeks before he scratched the itch somewhere else and kept a friend, instead?

"Maybe." Eddie tips his head. "Maybe I do, though. Maybe in the months and months you were invited to all my mopey nights in with Buck and all the crazy crap we end up involved in at the station and all the times you couldn't shut up about him when he wasn't around and all the times I got to see you falling ass over teakettle for my best friend, I learned a fucking thing or two about Tommy Kinard." He wags his head back and forth. "Maybe."

"Is there a point to this?"

Eddie tips his eyes to his phone, and it's probably too late at this point for the suspicion to begin to creep in.

"I mostly just came to confront you about your completely off base bullshit excuses, but there's actually a pretty simple solution to at least one of your multitude of issues, so. Now we're waiting."

Tommy doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"Chris is mad at you, by the way."

It's a distraction. It's fully a - "Why is he mad at me?"

"I should actually thank you, because it's the first time he's actively talked to me in months," Eddie continues, like Tommy hadn't asked a question. "He's pissed because Buck is sad and there's literally nothing in the world that gets a rise out of the Diaz boys like sad Buck."

"You can just say you're pissed at me and go, Eddie."

"Oh I'm angry. Don't think I'm not. Mostly I'm just sad for you. You had six months to get to know Buck and never thought to yourself 'hes going to love me and it's going to hurt' until he skipped too far ahead in the program."

And that's - kind of the final straw. He's let Eddie get his licks in. He deserves it, he knows he does. Honestly it's a little cathartic to hear - to know exactly what Buck has spent his time dissecting post-Tommy. "That's all I ever thought about. Do you think I didn't know going in? I tried to put a stop to it before it even started and he just doubled down! Do you think for a second I wasn't viscously aware that I was setting myself up for -."

No. He's not gonna say it. He's not giving that to Eddie when he couldn't even give it to Ev-Buck. When he couldn't give it to Buck.

Eddie looks victorious anyway.

"And for six months you thought it was worth it."

"For six months I was too much of a coward to stop thinking about it."

Eddie drains the rest of his beer. "I'm not gonna lie. You screwed up pretty bad. Like. Astronomically bad. Giving up your location in a firefight bad."

Tommy does everything he can not to wince.

"It's salvageable, though. If you want it to be. If there's anything I know about Buck it's that second chances are his bread and butter." He's been dancing around saying anything of substance about Buck's feelings, in all of this, but the hints are there. As if the bouts of angry-depressive texts from Buck weren't clue enough.

"And what if it's not what I want?"

Eddie's eyes dart to his phone one more time. "Then you can make it a clean break in about ... three and a half minutes."

Tommy nearly tosses his beer across the room.

[eternalender]

"We consume water to hydrate, and salt has a dehydrating effect, therefore it cancels out. We Technically can, just in small amounts because too much will make our bodies too confused to function and try to make us fucking die."

"Then what about capsaicin, or Caffeine, or even Menthol?!"

"Some people enjoy the burn Capsaicin gives, it's more of a joy thing, unlike Salt water which is just considered gross... Caffeine, only one of the things you mentioned I occasionally indulge in, actually gives us boosts of energy to do tasks, even if we do crash after, there's still energy going into what we were trying to.... Most of the time... Menthol I can't exactly tell you, I don't really participate in it... Ever... But from what I know it might seem nice at first, then people just can't stop... Some people are able to quit with help, but not often... Again more of a joy related thing."

"Why don't you participate in Menthol or Capsaicin, then, Medic Milo..?"

"Menthol might get me sick, and my lungs are already shitty, and Capsaicin just isn't my thing... Simple."

"If your certain... Could I possibly partake in any of them..?"

"No. Capsaicin would burn your receptors, Caffeine would send your brain into overdrive due to your species not being used to the weakest shit we currently have, never less the stronger kinds. And Menthol is considered a bad habit even if you are human and use it. Plus you are considered a small minor in your species so even if you could, it'd be recommended against due to certain laws even humans have."

"Aw... Have a good day Medic Milo!!"

“Let me get this straight about you Earthlings. You cannot drink water from the most abundant source on your planet because it is 3% salt, yet you can easily process various poisons like capsaicin, caffeine, and menthol, with no harm and even some benefits?” “The human body is weird, man.”

[parfaitblogs]

over the moon ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a bout of insomnia prompts the usage of your arguably overworked baking equipment. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. cliché flour fight into kissing... sorry... no i'm not. use of pet names. make out sesh (obviously).  word count: 1.4k a/n: also known as spencer and reader take on the margotlia bucket list for margovember!!! happy birthday to my lover @pathologicalreid!!! who has very quickly become my other half on this silly little side of tumblr. a prophet told me there are snickerdoodle cookies and a smithsonian date with our names on it in our futures ♡

"Honey, please tell me the light on in the kitchen is you getting a glass of water."

Like a deer in headlights, you're frozen in your beelined pathway between the fridge and the countertop of Spencer's kitchen, the carton of eggs in your hands preventing any attempt of a lie to him.

"Uh..." Your eyes lock with his, and he's visibly deflating upon spotting the pantry's baking ingredients arranged in front of you. "I'm just getting water?"

"I didn't realise you put sticks of butter into your water," he counters, voice meticulously picking apart your lie in front of your face. "Does that taste good?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure," he nods his head, his feet carrying him over to you behind the counter. "What recipe have you chosen to victimise today?"

"Snickerdoodle cookies," you mumble, as his arms wrap around your waist, and his chin sits on your shoulder, eyes peering at your phone screen that had the cookie recipe open. 

"Any particular reason?" 

"I couldn't sleep," you explain. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," he nods, and a beat passes where you mumble a quiet apology to him, before he's pulling away from you and picking up your phone. "Where do we start?"

It wasn't the first time you had baked instead of sleeping, and it certainly wasn't the first time Spencer had woken up to the sound of your hand mixer combining sugar and butter, or the oven timer dinging to accompany the smell of freshly baked muffins. In fact, he had become accustomed to not getting through an entire fortnight without at least one tray of baked goods taking up counter space. 

It was the first time he had offered to help you, though. He either accompanied you and watched you bake, or sat at his desk to get paperwork done (he said he should use the extra time spent conscious wisely). 

"You don't have to help," you're shaking your head, but he's already going to the sink to wash his hands. 

"You only slept for two hours before waking up to do this. I'd like to get you back to bed sooner rather than later," he answers, patting his hands dry. "I won't sleep until you do, anyways."

"Okay," you relent, staring at him almost stunned, before you return to the recipe you had up on your phone. "Um... could you combine the sugar and butter?"

Baking with Spencer Reid seemed to make everything a lot easier. Ignoring the obvious (the help an extra set of hands provided), his eidetic memory meant you could throw a step his way, and he'd know exactly what he was doing. Having asked him to add the eggs to his sugar and butter mix, he was already separating the yolk from the whites before you needed to say a thing.

"Have you ever stuck your hand into flour?" you ask him, and he lifts his head, eyebrows frowning together. 

"No. Why would I do that?"

"To know what it feels like," you say, dryly, though there isn't any malice behind it. "Have you never wanted to know what it feels like?"

"You can use context clues to figure out what it would feel like," he replies. "Correct?" 

"Spencer, you're entirely missing the point," you shake your head, and though he lifts his head from his sugar-butter-and-egg mixture to question you, he doesn't even remotely expect a large fistful of flour to explode across his chest. 

Then, you're laughing, and he's still battling with the initial shock of your flour attack for a few more seconds to laugh with you. But, when he does, he's almost mocking with it, and your face falls when he's putting his own hand into the container labelled flour, lifting it, and dragging his hand over your stomach. 

"Oh my God!" you say through a laugh, looking down at the smear of flour on your t-shirt. "Spencer!"

"Reap what you can sow," he retorts. 

So, you do.

You aren't too sure when the flour fighting gets more intimate. Somewhere between your fingers running it through his hair, and his hands landing on your ass, as he tugs you into him.

You're heaving, though the smile on your face is perfect, and he's certain he might be falling in love with you all over again. Cheeks stained in flour and all. 

"Hello," you sing, lifting your chin up to smile at him.

"Hi, sweet girl," he replies, ducking his head down to brush his lips against yours, and you pull a face at the faint taste of flour on them. 

Your finger lifts up to brush his lower lip, face growing concentrated as you brush the powder off it. "You've got a little... something..." 

"Do I?" he asks, condescendingly, and you're firmly nodding your head. 

"Yep. This is why I bake alone, Spencer Reid," you tut. 

His eyebrows raise. "I don't know if I want to even try to prove you wrong."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Duly noted. Anything you do recommend?"

You pause. "Kissing me might help in my journey of forgiving you for this mess."

If he's got any plan to defend himself, it crumbles beneath the words of your request, and his lips are stretching into a smile. 

"I'll do whatever I can."

His lips have a film on them from the brushed away flour, making them softer than they usually are, as he presses them against yours. Hands that were once resting almost teasingly on your ass lift to your hips, and your own drop to the countertop behind him as you lean into him.

As you usually feel in your slow moments like this with him, you feel your heart soar, your head tilting to the side as you accomodate his face being so close to your own. 

Arguably, his favourite thing about kissing you for longer than half a second, is the mewls and hums that leave your lips. Never too much to prompt anything more, but instead just enough to tell him just how much you enjoy kissing him. A feeling that is entirely mutual.

As soon as it starts, it's over. Which can't really be true, for you are panting when his head pulls away from yours,  and he's got that glassy look in his eyes that always makes your body warm. 

"We need to go shower," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. 

You want to decline, just to stay standing right there in the kitchen with him, the urge to keep kissing him almost overwhelming. But his fingers have lifted to brush against a patch of flour on your neck, and you're surrendering at the feeling. 

"Okay."

Thus, forty-five minutes and one unreasonably long shower later, you were standing back in the kitchen, a bowl with cinnamon and sugar in front of you. Spencer's t-shirt hanging off your body — after you had expertly coerced him into letting you wear it — and a fork in your hands as you whisk the two toppings together. 

He's sitting on a stool on the other side of the bench, stirring the dough together after you had complained it was too thick. He argued it was supposed to be. 

Heading over to Spencer once the cinnamon and sugar was combined in a bowl, you mumble, "Okay. 'm tired," your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

"Yeah, weaponising that flour probably exhausted some energy," he muses, letting go of the wooden spoon to wrap his arms around you. "We still need to bake these, though."

"Cookie dough is yummy too," you retort, hand reaching out to pinch a piece of the dough. 

"Cookie dough isn't safe for you to eat," he answers, catching your wrist before you can get ahold of any batter. Upon seeing your pout, combined with the tired look in your eyes, he relents, letting you pick up a small piece just to eat. "How about we put this in the fridge, and we bake them tomorrow?" 

"I like that plan."

"I thought you would."

Helping him with the clean up consisted of you putting the dough in the fridge and cinnamon sugar in the pantry, and him doing... everything else. He didn't seem to mind, though, and his hands found their place on your waist as he walked you back towards the bedroom. 

"C'mon, sleepy girl."

He laughs at your incoherent grumble towards the name calling, letting you drag him back into the bed adorned with wrinkled sheets. 

"Thanks for baking with me," you say, voice layered with your exhaustion as you're curling up next to him. 

"Thanks for attacking me with flour."

"And I'd do it again."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[babybratzmaraj]

When we getting yo spin on Aaron Pierre frenn 👀👀👀

the time has come. YOU SHALL BE BLESSED

Any Time, Any Place

Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond

You as Yourself

Summary: You just had to fuck around and find out on this one particular night, the same night you and Terry go out!

Warnings: Possessiveness up the ass, breeding kink if you squint, rough sex, size kink, established relationship, im missing some but my coochie is rawring.

A/N: Now listen, ik you asked this like 2-3 months ago, but i told you it was coming! megan! um i thank ms big bertha for helping me finish this, i owe her one😏

This man, this man is something else. You and Terry went to his former military friend’s homecoming party! The vibes were great and everyone was nice to you! even got a ‘I see you nephew’ from one of the older ones.

But something about his glare, his hands feeling on you in public and more sultry in private, his kisses on your cheek leaving you flustered, too flustered to even finish the conversation with some of his friends. But you managed, tonight was a good night! The vibes were good, the music was amazing, even got new shit to add to your playlist! Your hair was dyed, fried, and laid to the side, the curls bouncing with every move you took, and the wind having the right amount of umph to blow it correctly, felt like a Disney princess. Too much of a princess, it wasn’t long till you two were pulled up behind a family dollar with your legs in the air, his eyes looking like what boiling water would feel like.

The whole night he was giving you glares, was to warn you, the hands that traveled your body, were to warn them, the private kisses were to remind you, but you didn’t pick up on nothing, poor you, you didn’t know! You were just enjoying people being friendly.

“I’m sorry!” you managed to cry aloud, his hands at the perfect spot to hold you in place, the faint but still strong scent of Gin tainted his lip, his strokes matching the mighty smell.

“I bet you are ma, but I can’t have you being friendly to these niggas.” he said ever so sweetly, slowing his strokes to match his tone, the feeling of feeling him twitch inside you drove you mad, the kisses he gave you trailing onto your neck once you couldn’t keep contact.

“I wasn’t trying to be niceee,” you tried to plead your case with tears of pleasure stinging your eyes, threatening to fall but it’ll mix well with the sweat that ruined your hair, it wasn't the only reason though. “Then what were you?”

You attempted to answer his question, jarring your lips to fix up a sentence, but you were too slow.

Terry slammed into you continually, each and every slam and thrust he gave you found a new place to dig out. His eyebrows furrowed as he lingered for your answer, knowing good and Christ juice you couldn’t answer. this nigga was evil.

He slammed into you once more resulting in you screaming, staying still in an attempt to not cum inside you, but you just looked too exquisite at this angle, the soft white light emitting from above shined across your face, your eyebrows scrunched, and your mouth permanently ajar.

“You can scream but can't answer? I said,” he began to repeat, slowly rocking his hips into you. “I don't know!”

“At least you're honest, that shit ain't cutting it.” He told you, maintaining his pace exactly where and how it was. His tone is mean yet delicate, his eyes still burning into your skin leaving different patches of hotness until your whole body warms up again.

“This my pussy right?” You nodded, “And Nobody will ever get it right?” you nodded your head obediently, “And nobody’s gonna take what's mine?” his voice nearly going primal, his pace quickening at the idea of someone attempting to take what was his.

“Nooooo,” You slurred on your words, drunk off his loving, high off this moment, rolling your eyes back to see your own little sky with stars with a biggg shooting star as your orgasm washed through you, your body jerking around violently as Terry held you steady, giving you two more pumps before sliding out, leaning back to watch you melt further into the backseat.

When you came to, you looked down to see Terry slowly stroking himself, “Knees.” He commanded, your knees buckled as you could hardly move but you obeyed, perking your ass up in the air, teasing him a little.

His hefty hand landed on your cheek a few times, each time leaving a pleasurable sting behind. You heard him shuffle behind you, lining himself up with your entrance, swiping your pussy with his dick making you clench over nothing.

“This your dick right? Show me.” Terry insisted, pushing only the tip driving you madly in love.

You slid down on him with ease, a guttural moan fleeing the two mouths as the feeling of being together again, feeling the chemistry oozing off of each other, it was something that couldn’t be replaced.

You grabbed a hold of the driver’s seat as you threw your ass back onto him, arching your back some more, the clapping intensified times ten.

“Fuckk,” Terry cursed lazily as he fucked you back, giving each cheek a little smacked turning that spot more redder, caressing the right one as the left one was left to die, that asshole!

You felt Terry's presence grow closer as his chest rested on your upper back. His left hand snaked around to keep your face to his as he attacked your lips, the taste of gin deepening your taste buds as you savor the flavor of him, moaning into his mouth.

His left hand released your face, kissing your back before pinning your face down onto the seat, his right hand placed in the small of your back, bending your back in a way you didn’t think it could bend.

He moaned deeply, his languidish strokes reminding you of one thing: This pussy was his and to never let another nigga think he has a chance. Truly, you learned from this experience but will try again when you recover from this in 7-10 business years.

You felt a familiar sensation forming in the pit of your stomach, Terry sensed this and evilly went deep, hitting all new spots as he damn near bottomed out in you. “I want you to cum on this dick and I want you to cum now.” but little did he know you were waiting on his approval.

You erupted into a screaming, shaking mess, the sounds of squelching and slapping of skin drowning out the music.

Terry gave you three sharp thrusts before nutting in you, painting your walls like you were a canvas, and it created a beautiful scene. Terry collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily into your ear feeling accomplished that he was able to go through with his ‘Punishment’ beating the last score of 3 to 7.

“I love you,” Terry said innocently, kissing you gently, whimpering as he slowly pulled out of you. “But Don’t do that shit again.”

You flopped onto the backseat as you stuck up a thumbs up, your arm flopping back down as you heard him laugh.

Fin ♥️

Youve got Mail!📥 @megamindsecretlair @theebaddesttt @thecapodomme @henneseyhoe @planetblaque @kindofaintrovert @blackerthings @harmshake

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

[mirandawright]

The first fantasy I had of you...

(oh Internet, hold my beer. I am so good at objectifying Spencer)

You are walking towards me, intently rolling up the sleeves of your dress shirt as you keep your gaze focused only on me. The folds are neat and crisp, using your starched cuff as the guide, your deft fingers working the fabric perfectly despite never looking down at your work. After the folding is done you push it up your arm so it rests neatly at your elbow. One.. then the other. It shouldn't be this sexual to watch someone roll up their sleeves, but here I am, trapped like a deer in headlights. Holy hell.

Your gait is determined, predatory, even. I take a step back as you advance and swallow hard, my breathing becoming rapid as I realize I'm your target. I take another step back. You're much closer despite my feeble attempt to retreat and I can feel my brain get fuzzy as I am drawn into your liquid amber eyes. I blink so slowly at you, physically unable to look away. Shit.

With the distance between us ever-shrinking, I reach a hand out behind me, daring another shaky step. I take in everything. Especially, you. You're freshly shaved. Your shirt is precisely tailored to your lithe frame. You matched your belt to your shoes. Your pants are my favorite office slim-fit mid-rise that do absolutely nothing to hide your cock as it thickens as your long and purposeful stride continues for me. You're chewing gum. Shit, shit, shit...

My frantic hand touches the cool wall behind me and I realize I'm not breathing. I plaster my back against it as you take your last step and finally close the gap. Your left arm shoots out, and you splay your large hand on the wall next to my ear; your right-hand retreats to your pocket to stroke your hardened cock. Your entire body looms over me, and suddenly, I'm aware of myself.

I'm wearing flats, you're towering over me. My dress is barely office appropriate as my full tits sit high on my chest, perfect for you to look down upon. The hemline of my skirt brushes the middle of my thighs, but as the heat from your eyes bores into me, it feels so much shorter. My hair is down, tosseleld from playing with it as I write and work my cases. I have my reading glasses on and I am not wearing a stitch of makeup. With no makeup to hide behind, I can feel my face flush with desire as I pray I don't turn the same shade of garnet as my dress. I'm fucked.

Instinctively I arch my back against the wall, pulling my left leg up so my foot sits flat against it, taking considerable length from my skirt. The harder I arch into you, the closer you are to my offered breasts, threatening to spill from their cups. All it would take is a single finger to pull my dress down and free them. The weight of gravity under your gaze has tripled, and I am astounded that I haven't dropped to my knees before you. I finally manage a breath, and my chest heaves, and instantly, you read everything my needy body is saying.

A coy smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as the flustered sight of me pleases you. But you're not going to acknowledge that now; the only thing you're going to give me is total fucking dominance, and that's exactly what I want from you. You lean in so that our faces are inches apart. "Hey, girl," you say, lifting your chin, and the smell of your spearmint gum washes over me. "Hey, Spencer," I manage, barely audible as the heat between our bodies is a nearly unbearable force against my chest. I slide my leg down the wall so I can squeeze my thighs together to help soothe my throbbing clit.

Nothing gets past you. Your eyes give me the up and the down and I know you're enjoying this. My brain is betraying me by shutting off with each passing second. Soon the desperate cum slut will be in control and I might end up on my knees after all. "Where's your lunch?" I hear myself ask. Nailed it. Was that the most interesting thing I could have said? Why didn't I ask what you were having? How was that going to keep you here longer? I'm an absolute embarrassment and I've undoubtedly ruined this perfect moment at the...where the fuck are we? The printer. You have me up against the wall next to the fucking printer at work. Where anyone could see us. The thought of getting caught is thrilling, it's like pouring gasoline on a fire.

I peer up at you while I bite my bottom lip, and give my thighs an extra squeeze. I'm making an absolute mess of my panties, and if I can't keep my legs closed, my arousal will run down them for sure. To my amazement, your beautiful eyes grow wide at my question and a hungry smile cracks your face. You remove your hand from the wall and place it firmly on my hip to steady me, taking your foot to sweep my legs open so that I can no longer protect my throbbing center.

I let out a little moan, knowing that if I'm too loud we're fucked. Those glorious light gray dress pants are showing me every fucking inch of you how you're feeling, all 8 of them, to be exact. Another whimper as I see how far down your leg your cock goes, the fire in me raging. Knowing that if we're interrupted I'd rip someone's head off. Bringing your right hand out of your pocket, two of your lovely, slender finders expertly find their way between my pussy lips, pushing my panties below them right before you enter me. I'm going to hyperventilate. Don't you dare fucking stop.

"You're wearing it," you say, looking me dead in the eye as you slide your fingers in, then back and deep. My hands are off the wall, running down your chest as I curl around you. You suck a surprised breath through your teeth as you discover just how soaking wet I am. You deliberately pump your fingers several times, and your grip on my hip has become a vice. You close your eyes and clench your jaw as you finally withdraw from me and I make the most pathetic sound in the world. We both know we can't keep going, but I would rather get hit by a bus than have you stop.

Still in total disbelief, I watch as your hand leaves the comfort of my core and you bring your fingers to my mouth. Eagerly I open, sticking out my tongue as you offer me your middle finger and I don't hesitate to suck it clean. Before I can stop you or protest, you quickly snatch your hand away, preventing me from continuing to your index finger as you bring it to your mouth and suck. Holy fucking shit, Spencer. I'm a quivering mess and I look down at your cock and notice that precum has leaked out and has left a wet spot on your pants. You follow my gaze and say, "Nailed it," to which we both burst out laughing.

The printer finished God knows how long ago and I'm hoping we were able to use most of the noise to cover up my involuntarily reaction to your touch. You grab the stack of documents from the printer and hold them down to hide your massive erection and growing stain. All you say to me before you turn and go is, "Meet me on the patio in 5 minutes; we're taking your car". I'm reeling but I scramble back to my desk to get ready to head out. I begin searching my desk, where the fuck did it go? All I need to do before lunch is drop a copy of my crime report on my boss's desk. How did I lose something I just got up to.....print. Fuck. Spencer!

objectifying spencer is my full time job at this point

[cherryredcheol]

shots, sugar!

tldr: just drink the shot? tf? a/n: i'm sorry i've been MIA. grad school literally sucks so bad. part 5 of this (does not need to be read in order)

“hyung~” mingyu was drunk, beyond drunk, and seungcheol knew exactly what he was going to ask of him before he even turned around with that dopey smile on his face, shot glass in hand. 

“no.” seungcheol was blunt, setting a hard limit. 

mingyu pouted, “you don't even know what i was going to ask.”

seungcheol gestured to the shot in the other man’s hand, “you were going to ask me to drink that for you since you keep losing these dumb games jeonghan is encouraging. and i’m not taking shots tonight, especially not yours. I don’t want to wake up with a hangover.”

mingyu’s pout deepened, “you really won’t take this for me?”

“nope.” seungcheol made sure the “p” sound really popped to drive his point home. 

“cheollie~” you were drunk, beyond drunk and seungcheol had been keeping an eye on you while you drank with his members. it seemed jeonghan had moved onto another innocent victim in his trickery and had set his sights on you. you’d lost a few drinking games in a row, downing shots one after the other and it sounded to seungcheol that you were at your limit. 

upon hearing you call for him, he came up behind you, warm hand on your waist. “yes, baby?”

you turned around and held out the small glass of clear liquor, “take this for me?”

seungcheol smiled, grabbing the shot glass and downing it, no problem. 

your eyes lit up, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, snuggling in closely to him. “cheollie, you’re my hero! jeonghan has been making me take shots all night because i keep losing these stupid games but really i think he’s doing it on purpose and he keeps changing the rules. it’s unfair cheollie. so i called you over here to tell him to knock it off. everyone is scared of my big, buff boyfriend.” 

he laughed, holding you tighter, “let’s talk to hannie, yeah? your big, buff boyfriend is here to protect his baby.”

[ssentimentals]

Hii can i request mingyu + hurt prompt #34? Thankssss

hi sweets! thank you for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

hurt prompts: 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?'

someone is caressing your hand. it's a nice feeling to wake up, especially when you know who is responsible for said action. mingyu's face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes and you smile a little. mingyu doesn't smile back and memories of last night rush in, reminding you why you're waking beside him and not in his arms. before panic rises, you remind yourself that mingyu is caressing your hand gently now, so everything can't be that mad.

'morning,' you whisper, afraid to talk in a normal voice for some reason.

'morning.' mingyu repeats and clears his throat. 'slept well?'

you don't really remember how you fell asleep; probably knocked out from crying and fighting. arguments with mingyu were rare but whenever they did happen, they sucked all the energy out of you, leaving you drained and exhausted. truth to be told, you don't even remember coming to the bedroom, so mingyu probably carried you here once you fell asleep in the living room.

'not really,' you reply, not feeling rested at all. 'you?'

he shakes his head. when you first started dating, you both promised each other to never go to bed angry, so what happened last night is an exception of sorts. 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?' mingyu asks quietly, voice muffled by the pillow.

your mouth opens but nothing comes out. to your horror, you don't even remember about which things mingyu is talking exactly - a lot of stuff was said yesterday and not all of it was said due to anger or frustration. but mingyu is sensitive, always has been in a much more delicate headspace than you, so you tiptoe around the question, looking for the right answer while also staying honest: 'any of the mean and angry words - no. i love you, gyu, i'd never actually mean any of those. but what i said about the whole thing, like in the beginning, what made me upset in the first place.. yeah, i meant that. i stand by it even now.'

mingyu doesn't say anything at first. he just stares at your hands, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking about your answer. you both treasure honesty the most, so he knows you're being sincere. 'okay.' he settles for in the end, taking a deep breath. 'i also didn't mean everything i said after we moved from the kitchen to the living room.'

you smile and hesitantly interlace your fingers together. 'i know, gyu.'

he nods again and squeezes and when he does that, you feel like you can breathe again. if mingyu is not declining physical contact, if he's still here then you two can work it out. 'we don't have to do it now,' you say, not wanting to get up. 'we can just lay here for a while.'

sigh that mingyu lets out on this is full of relief. 'yes. yes- yeah. please.'

you both move in sync, slotting your bodies together until it's impossible to tell where one ends and another one begins. 'sleep a bit more for now,' mingyu whispers, holding you tight. 'i'll be here when you wake up.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini