#just keep telling it. keep telling it. keep yourself going in the hopes the end will make sense.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Just A Prank

Franco Colapinto x Fem!reader

minor angst and a lot of fluff

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F1 and 2 Masterlist

The day began like any other. You and Franco had both slept in, rare and cherished moments of rest squeezed between the constant hum of his career as a Formula 2 driver. Lately, every moment together felt extra special—his season was nearing its end, and with it, the uncertainty of what would come next loomed ever closer.

That morning, you both lounged on the sofa, Franco’s head resting comfortably in your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his messy dark hair. You could feel the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body leaning into yours. He seemed unusually relaxed, but you could also sense an underlying tension—like he was holding something back.

“Do you want to go out for a walk later?” you asked, trying to pull him out of his pensive silence.

Franco looked up at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’d rather stay like this for a bit longer,” he murmured, leaning up to steal a kiss. “Besides, who knows when I’ll get the chance to do this again.”

“Franco, don’t be so dramatic,” you chuckled, but his words stirred something inside you. You both knew the competitive nature of racing, the constant push to perform, and the slim chances of moving up to Formula 1. He’d been hoping, of course, but you could feel the weight of the uncertainty. It had been pressing on both of you, silent and unspoken.

As the day wore on, you found yourself nestled in the little routines that made life with Franco feel so complete: cooking breakfast together, debating which show to watch, laughing over silly inside jokes only the two of you understood. The hours passed, and you found comfort in his presence, a sense of home you never thought you’d find so soon in life.

Then, in the early afternoon, Franco’s phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet, and he tensed immediately.

“Hold on, amor,” he said softly, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the screen. “It’s my boss… I need to take this.”

You watched him slip into the next room, closing the door behind him as he answered. You felt your heart rate pick up, your mind running through a million scenarios. You knew he’d been anxiously awaiting some news about next season, but he hadn’t said much—always downplaying it, always acting like it was no big deal. Yet you could tell it mattered to him more than he let on.

Minutes ticked by, each one dragging longer than the last. You strained to hear snippets of his voice, but it was muffled behind the door. Your stomach churned with nerves, and you hugged a pillow to your chest, wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

Finally, he emerged, his face unreadable. You searched his expression, looking for any hint of what he’d heard, but he just sighed, walking toward you with a faint smile.

“So…” he said, plopping down beside you, trying to look nonchalant. “Looks like next season… they’re, uh, bringing someone else in to replace me.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest. “What?” you whispered, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Franco, no—there’s no way! You’ve been amazing this season! Who would they possibly bring in that’s better than you?”

He shrugged, looking away, his face somber. “Apparently they want a different direction or something.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, your face heating as you struggled to keep your composure. “I’m sorry, but that’s insane. You’ve worked so hard, Franco. You don’t deserve this! It’s not fair!”

Franco bit his lip, struggling to contain a grin. You were too furious to notice.

“I’ll call them,” you continued, clenching your fists. “I’ll go down to the paddock myself if I have to and demand answers. They don’t realize what they’re giving up.”

“Y/N,” Franco interrupted softly, his voice trembling slightly with laughter, “it’s a joke.”

You froze, trying to process his words. “A… a joke?” you repeated, blinking in confusion.

He laughed, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace, his whole body shaking with laughter. “Yes, cariño, a joke! They didn’t replace me. They actually… called me up. I’m going to F1.”

For a second, you couldn’t speak. Relief and shock hit you in equal measure, a tidal wave of emotions threatening to spill over. You blinked, your mind racing to catch up. “Wait, Franco, are you serious?”

He nodded, his eyes shining with excitement, a look you’d never seen before. “I am. I didn’t want to get my hopes up until I knew for sure. But yes… I’m moving up to Formula 1.”

“Franco!” you gasped, grabbing his face in your hands as the reality of it set in. Pride, love, and pure joy swelled in your heart, and you leaned in, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to his lips. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “So… do you still want to go to that fancy dinner? I think I could use a celebration.”

You didn’t need any more convincing. After changing into something special for the occasion, you spent the rest of the evening out together, every laugh and glance shared over the candlelit table a reminder of the journey you’d both been on together, and the exciting path that lay ahead. It felt surreal, like a dream you both dared not wake up from.

The restaurant was perfect—a quiet, candlelit spot with a warm ambiance, the kind of place where you felt like the world outside melted away. It was just you and Franco, tucked into a cozy booth with glasses of deep red wine glinting in the soft light. You both had eyes only for each other.

As you sat down, Franco took your hand, his fingers warm and familiar as they laced through yours. He began tracing soft, invisible circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, a simple gesture that sent gentle shivers up your spine. You caught yourself smiling, wondering if he realized just how much these little touches meant to you.

“Who are you most excited to see on the grid?” you asked, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. You knew he had a few favorite drivers, people he looked up to and couldn’t wait to work alongside. The mere thought of him among the ranks of those he admired filled you with pride.

“Ah, I can’t lie,” he said with a grin, leaning closer. “It has to be Alonso. To think that I’ll be racing alongside him… It still doesn’t feel real. And Verstappen, too—I’ve watched them since I was a kid, you know? To be up there with them, fighting for positions on the same track…” He shook his head, a little awestruck, and you could see the light in his eyes, that spark of a dream coming true.

You squeezed his hand, feeling his excitement wash over you like a wave. “It’s everything you’ve worked for, Franco. And you deserve it more than anyone.”

He gave you a bashful smile, a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I’d never have made it here without you, Y/N. You’re my biggest supporter, and that means the world to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, brushing his cheek softly. “It’s just… I’m so happy to see you finally getting what you’ve dreamed of. It’s going to be incredible, Franco.”

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm of talking about the future—where he’d be traveling, who he’d meet, the circuits he was most excited to race on. He laughed as he recounted stories of watching past races as a kid, how he’d imagined himself on those tracks, feeling every turn and straight as if he was already there.

“To celebrate,” he began, leaning back with a mischievous smile, “we should travel somewhere just for us. No circuits, no media. Just the two of us, like old times.”

Your eyes lit up. “Like a real holiday?”

He nodded. “Exactly. We could go somewhere quiet, off the grid. A beach, maybe. Just us, some sunshine, no worries.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, a smile spreading across your face. “After your first race, we’ll sneak away and have our own little victory tour.”

Franco laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a date, then.” He raised his glass in a toast, and you clinked yours against his, both of you laughing, a gentle warmth in the air as the wine brought out the color in his cheeks.

As he sipped, he looked at you thoughtfully. “What about you, Y/N? This is going to be a huge change. Are you ready for all the travel, the media, the madness?”

You felt his fingers lace through yours a little tighter, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. You took a breath, holding his gaze. “Franco, I’ll follow you anywhere. This is your dream, and I want to be there to support you every step of the way. I’ll be right there, cheering you on, reminding you to eat, helping you decompress after every race. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his face softening, his eyes full of that love that had been there from the beginning. “I’m the luckiest guy alive, you know that?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice caught as you noticed something over his shoulder. At a table just across the room, seated side by side with familiar expressions of pride and warmth, were your parents. They were dressed for the occasion, looking right at you with knowing smiles, raising their glasses in your direction.

“Wait… are those… my parents?” you whispered, glancing back at Franco, utterly bewildered. “What are they doing here?”

But when you turned back to him, Franco was no longer in his seat. Instead, he was down on one knee beside you, his warm hand still holding yours. In his other hand, he held a small, velvet ring box, his face a mixture of nervousness and undeniable love.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet steady. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special. You’re my best friend, my rock, and the reason I’ve been able to dream as big as I have. I can’t imagine facing any of life’s twists and turns without you by my side. I want to spend every lap of this life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the enormity of the moment crashing over you. You could feel the warmth of his hand still holding yours, the love in his gaze steady and unwavering. You could only nod, whispering, “Yes, Franco. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The restaurant broke into applause as he slid the ring onto your finger. He rose to his feet, pulling you close, and you laughed through your tears, burying your face in his shoulder as the joy of it all overflowed. It felt as though time had stopped, as though the two of you were the only people in the room.

When you pulled back, your parents were there, wrapping you in hugs, congratulating you both. You looked back at Franco, his eyes never leaving yours, that same quiet joy radiating from him.

In that moment, you knew that no matter where this life took you, every twist and turn would be worth it because you’d be facing them together.

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yam!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[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

[stellar-haikyuu]

get well soon ☆ shirabu kenjirou x reader

synopsis: second-year reader has been shirabu’s classmate and academic rival since their first year. when reader overworks themselves and they break down during a test, shirabu is unexpectedly “kind.” details: academic rivals to friends/lovers, some angst, hurt/comfort, ~3.2k words, gn! reader. warnings: some descriptions of reader having low self-esteem and test anxiety :( also, this is long; i hope the time skips are clear.

Sometimes, you wonder how you ended up here. 

You were excited to finally reach the last leg of your high school journey after years of studying at Shiratorizawa Academy. 

Of course, you knew the climb would only get harder, but you had no idea the mountain would be this rocky.

Your goal was clear: consistently be at the top of your class, for at least two out of three terms every year. 

When you started your first year, the classes seemed pretty manageable. You didn’t think you’d have any trouble.

That was until your classmate, Shirabu Kenjirou, came out on top in the first term.

He didn’t say that much, but his scores spoke for themselves. Threatened, you pushed back.

You recited at least once every class. You volunteered to help your teachers. You made damn sure that you’d be congratulated for getting the highest test scores.

By then, you knew you had his attention.

An academic rivalry was not part of your plan; but for the sake of maintaining a competitive medical school application, you told yourself to accept it. 

And apparently, he has plans to apply to med school, too! Great!

Through sheer determination, you successfully beat him by the end of the second term. When you came home to your family for winter break, you proudly shared the news.

Come third term, everyone in your class knew you two were battling it out. Even the teachers caught on and reminded you two to keep the competition friendly.

Nobody would ever forget your pair work in social studies that ended in an impromptu debate about the Japanese economy. Your teacher just sighed and reiterated that your grade was shared, not separate.

Despite it all, you survived…only to end up tied with him in the class ranking. It was so unlikely, but somehow, the cumulative totals of your percentages were equal.

You had no idea how it made you feel, but you prayed to everyone and everything, hoping it would come to an end.

However, the day you walked into your new second-year classroom, you wondered if your wishes fell on deaf ears.

Sat in the front row was the sandy-haired boy with the infuriating bowl cut bangs.

You know it’s not like you, but you crave seeing the sour look on Shirabu’s face whenever you win against him.

It’s become second nature to send him a sickly sweet smile each time you get praised by a teacher.

You couldn’t help it, not when you found out he became the starting setter for Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team this year. 

Sports was never something you cared about, as you’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon studying. But, it irked you to see how well he seemed to balance his extracurriculars with his academics.

No, you even envied it—the training was no joke. Your friends tell you that it’s constant early morning and late afternoon training, plus a harsh coach. 

Yet, the guy comes into class acing his assignments, almost as if he hasn’t spent hours of his day throwing and hitting balls.

Just for once, you want to see him break.

You feel ashamed to think that way about someone, but sometimes, it seems easier to be resentful.

It didn’t help that he was constantly being congratulated by classmates and teachers because Shiratorizawa won the Miyagi Interhigh Tournament.

Internally, you were happy because it meant not seeing him in class for a while. But the more you thought about it…

He’s going to Tokyo for Nationals. He plays with a team. He has a life outside of academics. 

You? You’ve got nothing going on.

Your days all blend together: late-night studying, rushed breakfast, intense classes, library time, dinner, studying some more. Repeat.

Your roommate offers company, though they're equally busy, chasing their own dream of becoming a lawyer. 

And while you see friends at lunch, you’ve started declining invites to go out, even on weekends. You can barely recall what the arcade or nearby cafés look like.

You always say you need more time to study. That you’re tired and want to rest. There’s truth to your reasons, yet you feel frustrated.

Unfulfilled. 

Pissed.

Why can’t I be like him?

Adding insult to injury, they release the first-term grade cards and class rankings. 

Just like last year, Shirabu took the top spot. You came in second, but only by a small, decimal point difference.

Something twists in your gut.

Normally, you do pretty decently in your mathematics classes, but it doesn’t mean you never struggle with the lessons.

The second-term curriculum seems to be out to get you though. Limits? Elementary Calculus? Where in the world would you need this kind of math in your life?

Lately, you’ve been observing Shirabu at the library on his free days. You wait until he brings out the math textbooks and worksheets, then time how long it takes him to finish studying.

It takes him about half the time it takes you. 

You’re not even surprised when he’s applauded for getting the highest mark on the lastest math test.

Of course. He has a way with numbers that I don’t.

When you receive your test paper, you stare at the red ink. You passed, but only by a few points. Relief and disappointment swirl inside you.

The teacher starts to go over the items that most students had difficulty with, but you don’t pay attention. You can’t, not when you know everything’s starting to fall apart.

For the first time in your life, you felt the danger of failure. It was terrifying.

You can feel Shirabu gazing at you, but you don’t look back.

He’s not important now. You need to survive.

If he starts wondering why you stopped going to the library, it’s none of his business.

A distraction is the last thing you need.

You stop talking to everyone, choosing to stick your head between your books during break.

You no longer recite in every single class. Once a day is enough to conserve your mental energy.

The weekends are reserved for a strict study regimen that gives you more time to study for math.

Your classmates whisper about you. They send concerned looks your way.

Some teachers ask if you’re okay, but you say that you’re fine.

You should be. 

You have to be.

Two weeks have passed, and there’s another stupid math test coming. Tomorrow, to be exact.

Your dorm room is silent. Your roommate has long fallen asleep on their desk, knocked out from working on their chemistry assignments.

It’s past midnight now, but you’re only halfway through the test coverage—partially, it’s also thanks to an English project draft that was also due tomorrow.

Your head is buzzing with anxious thoughts, worries that you’ll forget everything you’ve spent days studying.

I need to pass, I need to pass, I need to pass…

The numbers and symbols start to fly around the page. The steps starts to lose all sense of logic.

You don’t even register your eyelids drooping and the pencil falling out of your hands.

Fatigue is a tough thing to fight off. 

The next time you blink, it’s to wake up.

Both you and your roommate jolt at your morning alarms.

When did I fall asleep?

You groan and sit up, massaging a small cramp out of your neck. Your head has a lingering ache, you realize, as you wipe away a small amount of drool from the corner of your lips.

But you have no time to think about it. You need to get ready for the day.

The rest of the morning goes by in a haze. You pick up one of the energy bars on your bedside table. You feel like you can’t really eat anything more, anyway.

There’s a pit in your stomach. You suppose it’s hunger, test anxiety, or something else.

Whatever, whatever, I’m going to be late.

Your roommate gives you one last “good luck” before you both dash to your classrooms in the high school building.

Thankfully, all your morning classes were either entirely new lessons or reviews of familiar material. You cannot listen to anything your teachers are saying.

On your desk, your physics notebook is secretly opened. You try to review what you can, but it’s tough.

You feel like nodding off at any moment. The room feels hotter than usual, too.

When recess comes around, you’ve lost your appetite entirely. It’s an odd, contradicting feeling. You’re hungry and you know you need to eat, but you don’t want to.

Maybe you shouldn’t. You feel like you might throw up if you do. Lunch comes right after anyway, so you’ll wait until the nerves are gone.

It’s time. 

Your teacher walks into the room and you cannot believe that you’re about to take the dreaded test. Your legs can’t stop shaking. 

Somehow, the worst sensations are hitting your body all at once. Heat, chills, nausea, sluggishness, and some sort of brain fog.

You can’t even focus on the final reminders that your teacher is giving you. There’s some chatter from your classmates, but it’s all garbled noise in your ears. 

Every second feels like a century. The testing sheets make their way down each column, and you whisper one last prayer before your papers are passed to you.

Oh god.

Even though you’re staring directly at the page, none of the words or numbers register. The questions send a shiver down your spine.

How the hell do I do this again?

Breathe.

Breathe.

You’ve studied this.

You try to focus on the simpler questions first, to get them out of the way. You avoid reading the last few pages to give yourself some peace of mind.

You’re thankful that there are some parts with multiple choice questions, but your mind spins, trying to comprehend the conceptual aspects of your math lesson.

Your heart starts to pound wildly in your chest. You grip your pencil tightly as you attempt to solve or answer something.

You manage to come up with responses, but you get the feeling that there may have been something wrong in your computations. If there’s one thing you hated about mathematics, it’s how the careless mistakes result in a domino effect.

Whatever. It’s done. Next part.

You glance around the classroom, seeing nothing but your classmates working around you. Nobody seems to be struggling like you were.

Maybe they’re better at hiding it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

As you progress to the other questions, you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate and recall the steps. Nothing is surfacing to your memory. You feel like your skull is just stuffed with cotton.

What’s wrong with me?

The feeling is overwhelming. You look at the clock, realizing that you’ve already spent half the period on less than half of the questions.

I might not finish.

I don’t know what to do.

Nothing makes sense anymore. You feel like your insides are going to explode. Everything hurts. You feel like throwing up. It’s cold and hot and you don’t understand it.

I’m going to fail. 

The very thought brings your anxiousness to a peak. Tears fall from your eyes without warning. Your pencil drops to the floor as you hold your head in your hands.

It’s like a dam breaks.

It’s not long before you catch your classmates’ and teacher’s attention.

You can hear your teacher call out to you, but you don’t know what to to say. You register her coming closer, asking you questions with surprise and concern.

“Darling, what’s the matter?”

You can’t stop crying. Your mind runs a mile a minute.

You feel a cold hand on your forehead, and there’s a hiss that follows.

"You're burning up," she mutters, a crease of worry in her brow. "I think you've got a fever. You should go to the nurse. We can schedule a make-up test this week."

You sniffle and nod in response. The teacher takes your test booklet, giving your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before returning to her desk.

"Is there anyone finished? Kindly help them to the nurse if so," she asks, her voice echoing in the quiet classroom.

You don’t even realize who volunteers. You just want this to end.

There's a small tap on your shoulder. "Hey, let’s go." It's a voice you know all too well.

You look up to find none other than Shirabu standing over you.

Of course he's already finished, you think bitterly to yourself.

You muster a weak nod, feeling even smaller as he helps you pack up your things.

The hallway is nearly deserted, with a faint murmur of voices and the shuffling of distant footsteps. You’re aware of the sideway glances that a few students and teachers give you as they pass by.

Your cover your face with your hands; you’ve always hated what you looked like when you cry. 

And I just had to break down in front of him like this.

To your surprise though, you notice that Shirabu’s matching his pace to yours. Shirabu always walks quickly, often a few steps ahead of anyone else. But right now, he's walking just slow enough that, if you picked up the pace, you'd be side-by-side.

Is he only doing this because the teacher asked him? But she isn’t here to see him right now, so-

"What happened to you?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

You startle at his question, expecting this entire walk to be silent.

“I…I don’t know.” Your voice is still a little thick. “I couldn’t answer the questions at all.”

"No. I meant, why'd you go even if you were sick?"

“Oh.” You sniffle, embarrassed. “I thought I could handle it…didn’t know it would be this bad. Just wanted to show up.”

Shirabu goes quiet for a moment, before asking more questions.

“How long have you been feeling this way? Did you even eat or drink anything? You didn’t do either during recess.”

His questions catch you off guard. You can’t believe that he’s asking you something this personal. There’s no bite to his words. Just genuine curiosity.

“Uh,” you falter. You try to think back to yesterday and this morning. “Well, I…”

"You...?" He prompts, urging you to continue. 

“Um, I mean, I’ve been tired lately. Who wouldn’t be?” You mutter.

Shirabu raises his eyebrows.

Ugh, he won’t stop until I tell him.

“I didn’t really eat a lot yesterday.” You sigh. “Energy bar this morning. Water, I don’t know how much.”

You can see the gears turning as he processes your response. “So, you haven’t been eating, drinking, and resting enough. Surely, you would have realized this wouldn’t end well for you?”

Hearing him say it out loud suddenly makes you feel defensive. It feels like he’s about to counter your argument in a debate—a deliberate search for weak spots.

“Well, sorry about that, Mister Perfect."

“What?”

“I get it! I don’t have my damn life together right now!” You grit your teeth together in frustration.

"How will you practice medicine without taking care of yourself?" Shirabu responds.

Oh, you’ve done it.

“Why the hell do you care?” You snap. Fresh tears spring to your eyes. 

The both of you stop walking and a heavy atmosphere settles after your emotional outburst. 

Shirabu doesn’t respond immediately, which somehow makes you feel worse. You feel stupid for overreacting.

“Look,” he says quietly. “I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just that…you have to make it.”

Your head lifts up in surprise. “W-What?”

“You have to make it into medicine.”

“Why?”

“That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

“I, yes…” Your voice is soft. You’re not sure what he’s trying to get at. “But what’s it to you if I achieve it or not?”

“We need more brilliant doctors.”

That stuns you and you chuckle in disbelief at his words.

“Don’t mess with me. You can’t be so sure,” you mutter.

“I’m usually right about things,” he deadpans.

You glare at him, though a small part of you is thankful for that tinge of “normalcy” at a moment like this.

“Just...” He sighs, pausing to think. “I’ve never met someone that pushed to work this hard academically.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Hm. The feeling is mutual, Shirabu.”

There’s a few beats of silence before he continues. 

“You still feel that way now? Is that why you pushed yourself to take this test instead of resting?”

“Maybe…I don’t know,” you answer. Your brain can only take so much now. “But whatever. I get it—I’ve been making a lot of stupid decisions.”

“Then don’t make any more,” Shirabu says in a firm voice. He turns his entire body to face you, and his hands settle on your shoulders. “Listen to me.”

“Woah, what-”

“You better follow what the nurse says so you can recover.” He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Once you’re better, I’m going to help you with math.” 

He grip tightens for just a moment before he lets go. When his words sink in, you blink at him, bewildered. 

“I’m sorry, did you get hit in the head by a volleyball?”

“I’m serious,” he glares.

“Why are you doing this? You’re helping me?”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? I want you to make it.”

“...into medicine.” You whisper, completing his statement. 

Wait. “I want?” Didn’t he say-

“Yes.” He continues walking, but halts for a moment to look over his shoulder. “Come on.”

You follow. 

“And you plan on making it to medicine, too, Shirabu.” 

“Mhm,” he responds with absolute certainty.

As you both round the corner, the nurse’s office comes into view. You decide to ask the question forming in your mind before you lose the chance to.

“Are you saying that you want me to stick around?”

You brave a quick glance at his face, but the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

“I do.”

At some point, you drifted off after the nurse questioned you and guided you to one of the beds.

You vaguely remember Shirabu holding on to your belongings and lingering for a while before the nurse dismissed him.

“Hi, darling,” the nurse says, noticing you sit up. “Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yes,” you respond. Your fever’s gone down, according to the thermometer, though you still feel groggy.

“That’s good. I think you can go return to your dorm once you’re ready.”

You nod in response and you thank the nurse for her assistance. She moves to return to her desk, but then she stops.

“By the way…” She faces you again. “That kind boy from your class brought you some food from the cafeteria.”

Huh?

She points to the wrapped bowl on your bedside table. 

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

Shirabu bringing you food was already surprising, but what truly catches your eye are the pages of class notes held together by a metal paperclip.

You gasp once you read the sticky note on top.

These are notes from today’s classes.  Review them when you’ve recovered. Take your meds, eat, hydrate, and rest properly. Get well soon. - Shirabu

masterlist

karasuno fic event: stellar's stationery (ongoing)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 31

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,250ish

Summary: You and Logan continue to mend your relationship.

Warnings: mentions of sex, anxiety, panic attacks

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I enjoyed writing it! This is also the start of The Wolverine (2013) movie!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

You were awake before Logan, allowing you to stare at his beautiful body. The two of you had had a wonderful week, just focusing on the two of you. You only left the house to go into town and get supplies. It was nice in town. No one knew who you were, as it had been a long time. Logan didn’t hate going to town either. He constantly had an arm around you or his hand in yours. And if someone looked at you a way he didn’t like, he made sure they knew you belonged to him by pulling you in for a kiss.

Logan started work today. You didn’t want him to work, finding out that Charles had set you both up with a nice chunk of money. But Logan insisted that it would allow him to get his needed anger out on the trees and that the two of you would do better if you weren’t around each other constantly. You hated to admit that he had a point.

“Stop starin’,” Logan muttered, slowly waking up.

“Can’t help it,” you smirked, kissing his shoulder. 

“Yeah, well,” he opened his eyes and turned to face you. “Two can play at this game.”

You laughed. “It’s not a game, Logan.”

“It could be.” He pulled you into him, kissing your forehead. “I need to get up.”

“No… stay.”

He chuckled. “We’ve talked about this, sweetheart. I’m only working part-time, a few hours five days a week.”

“Still… I…”

“I know you’re nervous. I am, too… the last time we had a morning like this, in this house—“

“Victor basically killed me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen. I promise.” He kissed your lips softly, like he could seal the promise. “We have a plan. You’re not leaving the house. You’ll call me if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.” Logan could tell that you were growing nervous. “It’s alright. I won’t be long.”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Come on,” He flipped the covers off of the two of you and pulled you off of the bed with him. “Help me get ready.”

~~~

“Before you go, I need you to take these,” you said, pulling the dog tags from around your neck and placing them around his. “I’ll keep yours still, but I need others to understand that you’re mine.”

“Marking your territory?” He smirked.

“Something like that.” You pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Logan kissed you again before driving off. You stood at the door, watching as he disappeared down the mountain. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to calm the anxiousness that began to build inside of you.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you whispered to yourself.

You slipped back into the house and tried to busy yourself with unpacking more. With each minute that passed, you grew shakier, and your skin grew hotter. You had to stop touching anything due to the fact that you had started setting everything on fire. Eventually, you ended up standing in the middle of the house, staring at the phone on the counter. You knew that you could call Logan, and he would drop everything to come running, but you didn’t want to ruin his first day. A few tears sizzled down your cheeks as you came to the conclusion to just handle it yourself. You’d be fine. This was just a one-time thing, right?

~~~

Logan actually enjoyed his first day of work. It was nice to feel normal once again, and chopping wood allowed him to clear his mind. Logan did feel bad for leaving you, though, so he swung by a flower shop in town before heading home. He was excited to get home to you and spend the rest of the day holding you. As soon as he entered the house, Logan could sense that something was off.

“Y/N?” He called, taking off his boots and jacket. “Sweetheart?’

“In here!” You called.

He followed your voice and found you curled up in the corner of the couch,, book in your lap. His lips lifted into a smile as he came up behind you and leaned over, going in for a kiss. You laughed into the kiss. Logan broke from your lips and began peppering kisses over your face.

“I take it the first day was good?” You laughed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, giving the top of your head a kiss before jumping over the couch to sit beside you. He pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his nose into your face. “I brought you flowers.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.” He handed them to you.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Glad you like them,” he kissed your temple. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was… good.”

His brows furrowed as he pulled back to see you better. “Why don't I believe you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. You pushed the book open and tried to read it.

“Nu-uh.” Logan grabbed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table nearby. “Don’t ignore this… don’t ignore me.”

“Seriously, Logan, it was fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Logan…” You moved to push yourself off of Logan, but he quickly held tighter.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He kissed behind your ear. “I believe you.” 

You nodded. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get something started. Go clean up and meet me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulled you in for a quick peck before the two of you stood up together. You smiled at him before slipping into the nearby kitchen. Logan watched knowingly. Something was going on with you, but you weren’t willing to admit it yet. The two of you had moved here to work on your communication skills and other aspects of your relationship, though it was clear it would still be a long road.

Logan was quick to clean up and join you in the kitchen. He could tell that you were relaxing the more he was near you. The two of you teased each other as you worked together to cook dinner. After dinner, the two of you cuddled on the couch, reading until Logan began distracting you. The two of you ended up in bed, ravishing each other’s bodies.

~~~

That became a repeat for the next few weeks. Logan would go to work, and you would panic alone. Logan would come home, knowing that something was wrong, but swiftly distract you with something he got you from town. It was annoying you that you couldn’t fight off the anxiousness of being alone, especially as the weeks wore on. You knew that no one would take you away or kill you. No one knew where you were or who you were. But the old memories haunted you. You’d barely been near the cliff where Logan had buried you, and Stryker had dug you up. It was all so much, though you truly wanted to be there.

“I have a long shift today, remember?” Logan said as the two of you walked to the door. “I won’t be home until late.”

“Right,” you murmured, looking down.

“Hey.” Logan hooked a finger under your chin and guided your head to look at him. “I can stay home if you need me.”

“No, I’m fine.” You shook your head and gave his lips a peck. “I’ll have dinner ready for whenever you arrive tonight.”

“Love you.” He captured your lips for another kiss before heading to the truck.

“Love you.”

You watched until Logan had completely disappeared before heading back into the house. Today, the anxiety seemed to hit you worse for no good reason. As soon as the door was shut, your hands were trembling, and sparks were shooting from your fingertips. Your legs buckled beneath you as you began to gasp for breath. 

You needed Logan. You need to fess up and tell him the truth. You just had to get to the phone and hopefully not burn it when you did. Your trembling body wouldn’t allow you to stand, so you were forced to crawl, burning a path in the wood. With a shaky hand, you reached up onto the counter and knocked down the phone. As quickly as you could, you typed in Logan’s number. It rang once before Logan answered.

“Miss me already?” Logan joked but quickly stopped when he picked up on your labored breaths. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. You could hear the truck's tires as Logan turned it around. “I should have told you… I should have been honest…”

“I’m on my way back, baby. Stay with me.” It’s like he could see that you were going to lose consciousness. “Breathe, Y/N.”

“I’m—I’m… trying…”

“I know you are. I’ll be right there. Okay?” Your body gave into the darkness. “Y/N?! Shit!”

Logan drove speedily up the mountain, trying to get back to you. As soon as he could, Logan was out of the truck and racing inside. The air smelt of your smoke and Logan noticed the burnt trail into the wood. He followed it to where your body lay near the kitchen. There were small flames littered around you. 

Despite the heat of your body, Logan grabbed you from the floor and hurried you to the bathroom. He needed to wake you and cool you down. Flipping the shower on, Logan stepped inside, not caring that the two of you still had clothes on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, trying to cool you down. “Wake up.”

You groaned, slowly coming back to. “Lo… Logan?”

“I’m here.”

“Are… are we in the shower? Oh no! Did I set something on fire?”

“It’s fine. You stopped.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I should have told you from the beginning.”

“Yes, you should have. But I’m not mad at you. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

You nodded, wincing as some harsh water hit your eyes. “Do you think we could continue this conversation out of the shower?”

Logan chuckled. “Okay.”

~~~

After that day, you and Logan tried to never keep a secret that important from each other. Logan slowly helped you with your anxiety, making sure you had a routine to follow when he wasn’t home. When he was home, he made sure to be fully home with you. The two of you shared the chores, though most of the time Logan was trying to get you to rest and not worry about it.

Both you and Logan continued to have the occasional nightmares, but neither of you was bothered by the other’s nightmares. The two of you did what needed to be done to comfort the other.

Your relationship still had its hardships, but you and Logan worked hard on your relationship. Life became nice, almost easy in a way. There was a steady routine throughout your life that you learned to enjoy.

One day, years after you left the mansion, Logan came home late from work. He quietly entered the house and found you working away on dinner in the kitchen. A small smile took over his features as he came over and slipped his arms around you. You jumped slightly, letting out a squeak of surprise as Logan held a kiss to the side of your head.

“Hey, you,” you greeted with a smile, relaxing into him.

“Hey, you,” he repeated. The two of you moved your heads to meet for a kiss. 

“How was work?”

“Good.”

“Good.” 

You pecked his lips again before focusing back on dinner. Logan sighed, resting his head against yours as he remained wrapped around you while you worked. Logan was simply amazed with you and felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.

“Marry me.” 

It was a soft statement, not a question. It had you freezing in your spot. Logan gently guided you around to face him.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

You looked at him. All you could see was his seriousness and his unconditional love for you.

“Okay,” you breathed out.

“Okay?” He repeated, trying to make sure that you were sure.

“I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna question all my responses?” You laughed. “Or are you going to kiss me already?”

Logan’s lips attacked yours before you could tease him again. He quickly pulled you into him and away from the stove. His hands snaked down your hips to your legs and gripped onto your thighs. Without breaking from your lips, Logan lifted you up and turned around, setting you on the island.

“Logan,” you breathed out as he began to trail kisses down your neck. “I’m making dinner…”

With quick movements, Logan shut off the stove. “Dinner can wait.”

~~~

The two of you cuddled naked in bed after showing each other how much you love each other. Logan’s hands gently moved up your neck and slipped his dog tags off.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly.

“Gettin’ your ring,” he mumbled, focusing on opening the chain.

You watched as Logan carefully took the ring off of the chain before he placed it back around your neck. Then Logan took your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Slowly, he slipped the ring onto your finger.

“You still good with this ring?” He asked, genuinely worried.

“Logan,” you moved your hand to caress his cheek. “This ring will always be perfect.”

“You sure? I can always—“

“James.” You pecked his lips. “I love it… I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You two shared another kiss.

“Logan, I…”

“What, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really want to deal with planning a wedding… I don’t want to worry about anyone coming or decorations. We should just go to the courthouse.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “What about private vows right here, right now?”

“But I don’t have a ring for you.”

Logan chuckled. “Baby, I can’t wear a ring. My claws won’t allow it.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Your dog tags will be my ring.”

“Alright… what should we promise each other?”

“Well, I know what I’d promise you… Been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

“Tell me.”

Logan turned to the side and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a piece of paper before helping you sit up with him against the headboard. You felt like you could cry as the paper trembled slightly in Logan’s hands. He had written his thoughts—his feelings down. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Okay,” he breathed out, eyes focused on the paper before him. “Y/N… I never thought I’d experience something like this in my long lifetime. Let alone twice with the same person… I’m not good with words, but I made a list of promises that I intend to keep… I promise to be your partner in all things. I promise to protect you with my life. I promise to be by your side. I promise to love you with a fierceness that rivals me on the battlefield. I promise to embrace every moment with you, cherish our shared experiences, and find joy together. I promise to be your Logan, your James, your Wolverine until the end of my days. But I promise that the title I will wear the post proudly is that of your husband.” Logan looked up at you, eyes shining with love and tears. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You responded by leaning in and kissing him, trying to pour your feelings into the kiss. He eagerly kissed back.

“I love you so much, Logan,” you whispered against his lips. “And I wish I was more prepared—“

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart. As long as you’re here, that’s all I need.”

~~~

You and Logan didn’t care if your marriage was official or not. In your minds you were now husband and wife, which apparently led to more attraction to each other than before. Everything Logan did seemed to turn you on. 

It was a Saturday in the fall, and Logan was chopping down a few nearby trees, wanting to make sure you had enough wood for the winter. You stood in the doorway of the house, leaning against it, nibbling away at your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but check Logan out. The way his muscles moved as he swung the ax. The way his white tank top was just a bit too tight, so it allowed you to see his abs through it. Logan’s skin glistened with sweat as he worked. You were sure that he could feel you staring, purposefully moving in certain directions to keep your attention.

Suddenly, you came up with an idea. You slipped into the house and put on a new set of lingerie you had bought recently and then put on one of Logan’s flannels, buttoning a few of the middle buttons up. As quietly as you could, you came up behind Logan.

“Hey, handsome,” you flirted.

“Hey, sweethe—“ Logan’s voice stopped as he took a second look to actually look at you. “What are you wearing?”

You shrugged, coming closer. “Looked comfy.”

He eyed the lace peeking out of the flannel as he set the ax down. “That’s not what I meant.”

You came up and ran a hand down his muscular arm. “You know… you’re a real good-looking lumberjack.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, brow raising. 

Your hands slowly grazed up his arms until you could clasp them around his neck. “Oh yeah… like the hottest lumberjack around.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle as his arms came around to the small of your back. “Is that why you couldn’t take your eyes off me?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“Did my wife enjoy the show?” You whined at him calling you his wife. It always got to you, and he knew that. “Do you want me to continue?”

“No,” you rasped, shaking your head.

“Then tell your husband what you want.”

“I want to go to our bedroom.”

“And?”

“I want to have sex. Ah! Logan!” You were suddenly thrown over his shoulder.

“Took ya long enough, sweetheart. Do you think I was chopping wood for fun?”

~~~

It had been almost ten years since the two of you left the mansion and never looked back. Life had been a wonderful, amazing bubble. Full of love and laughter. And you knew, deep down, that sooner or later, someone would come around to pop that bubble. 

Logan was at work, meaning that you were alone at the house. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a knock sounded at the door. You were immediately on edge. You quickly grabbed the phone and called Logan.

“Sweetheart?” He answered almost immediately, already knowing that something was wrong.

“Someone just knocked at the door,” you whispered.

“What?” You could hear rustling on his end. “I’m on my way back now.” 

The knock sounded again. “Should I answer it?”

“No. Get to a place where they can’t see you. I’ll deal with it when I get there.”

“Okay, I—“ You spun around at the sound of your glass doors sliding open. A young woman waltzed in, sword on her back.

“Y/N?!” Logan began panicking over the phone. “Sweetheart?!”

“Who are you?” You asked the young woman as you slowly lowered the phone, and a fireball began forming in your free hand. “And what are you doing breaking into my house?”

“My name is Yukio, and I’m looking for the Wolverine.”

next chapter >

[hellsitedotcom]

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*·˚ AFTERMATH ft. Aventurine *·˚

words: ~1.6

This is a "continuation" of those First Kiss headcanons I made a couple days back! [Linked in my pinned post]

warnings/info: mentions of drinking, fluff? romance? idk how this works. [AO3 @.evefiction]

English isn't my native language!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Faint, golden light filtered through the blinds covering the bedroom’s windows, soft rays dancing their way toward your face, leaving a warm, tickling sensation anywhere they touched your skin, gently awakening you from a deep slumber. Instinctively, you moved to scratch your nose, hoping the itchiness would subside as you mourned the few more hours of sleep you could’ve had if it weren’t for the light rays. 

As you slowly opened your eyes, your mind took a minute to process its surroundings, the room you found yourself in an unfamiliar space you don’t remember visiting before. The walls had a foreign, bright color to themselves, the decoration somewhat unique – extravagant. You didn’t remember having ever been to a room like this, nor do you believe any of your companions would decorate their room in such a manner. 

You tried remembering what happened yesterday night, though only tidbits of memories floated around your head. Not to mention the throbbing headache making its presence known now that you were awake. You cursed under your breath, trying to shift around the bed you were lying in, when sudden pressure against your back and waist made you freeze.

‘’Stop moving around so much,’’ a groggy voice mumbled into your nape, its sound all too familiar, ‘’It’s too soon to wake up again.’’ You took a moment to process your new discovery, slightly tilting your head, only to find Aventurine lying behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist, face nuzzled against your neck. 

Your confusion only grew, brows furrowing as you tried to recall more memories while the man tried to fall asleep again. ‘’What are you doing?’’ you inquired, a little lost, ‘’And where even are we? More importantly: Why are you here?’’ You remembered going to a bar with him and, much to your embarrassment, remembered kissing him, but beyond that, your memory was foggy. 

A sigh escaped Aventurine’s lips, quietly complaining about being woken up before he spoke, ‘’We’re in my apartment. Yours was too far away, so we agreed you’d stay the night. Nothing else happened. We were both just tired, and I didn’t really want you walking all the way back alone when I know I have enough space here.’’

You just huffed at his response. ‘’That doesn’t explain your proximity,’’ you thought, though you found yourself almost…happy that he didn’t pull away. Careful not to inconvenience him, you turned onto your back, Aventurine’s grip easing the slightest bit at your movement. 

Tilting your head, you came face-to-face with the man, his eyes barely open, a smirk on his lips, ‘’Hey, sunshine.’’

‘’Hey yourself,’’ you muttered quietly, nervousness briefly taking over your expression as your gaze roamed over his face, ‘’Slept well?’’

‘’Like a baby,’’ he chuckled, moving his hand to brush strands of hair from your eyes. In the dim light, he looked ethereal, more at peace than you had ever seen the blonde man. ‘’And you?’’ his voice was gentle, fingers lingering on your cheek before he pulled away, leaving a burning sensation where he had just touched you, ‘’I hope this was to your standards.’’

Your mind was racing, telling you that you shouldn’t be here, that you should get up and leave. But, as you held the man’s gaze, losing yourself in the ocean of his eyes, you found yourself hoping this moment wouldn’t end. ‘’Listen, the Express doesn’t really have luxury beds,’’ you amusedly replied, your lips twitching, ‘’Besides, I think drunk me would’ve slept on concrete and been happy with it.’’ 

‘’I’ll keep that in mind for next time,’’ Aventurine sleepily laughed, ‘’But I think I’d rather have you sleep in an actual bed.’’ As he turned to stare at the ceiling, you found yourself unable to look away from him, a thoughtful expression on your face. 

This was…You couldn’t even put it into words. You weren’t really…friends, were you? But here you were now, lying next to each other without a care in the world. You were enjoying it even, missing his touch as he pulled away entirely, struggling to fight back the urge to reach for him. You did not want to interrupt the beautiful serenity of the moment, but you knew you eventually had to.

What were you even going to say? ‘’I’ve been meaning to kiss you for a while now’’? You couldn’t possibly admit that, could you? He was, ultimately, still a member of the IPC, and you were a member of the Astral Express. Even if there was a tiny chance that he reciprocated your feelings, there wasn’t really much you could do, was there? The way of the trailblaze didn’t really offer much room for…well, this. Or maybe you were just self-sabotaging again.

A sigh escaped your lips without realizing it, too lost in your spiraling thoughts to notice. Only when Aventurine called out to you did you return to reality, ‘’Is everything alright?’’

‘’Huh? Oh yeah, yeah,’’ you reassured, waving your hand dismissively, ‘’I was just thinking.’’ 

This made him shift to the side, facing you again. There was a hint of worry in his expression, hand coming to rest beside yours, barely touching your skin. ‘’Well, penny for your thoughts?’’ 

You could feel your nervosity growing, knowing that you’ll eventually have to talk about yesterday night, about getting drunk, about…kissing. Well, neither of you seemed particularly bothered by it in the grand scheme of things, but it was a conversation that must be held regardless. 

‘’It’s nothing, really,’’ you tried playing it cool, avoiding his gaze as you looked at your hands, ‘’I was just thinking about yesterday night. I guess I didn’t expect it to…well, you know.’’

‘’End up with you in my bed?’’ he teased, though you could notice the hesitance in his words, ‘’Neither did I, if it makes you feel any better.’’ ‘’To be honest,’’ he continued, chuckling to himself, ‘’I wasn’t expecting you to actually kiss me, either.’’

Surprised, you dragged your eyes back up to his face, ‘’You…didn’t? Why not? I thought that’s why you did it in the first place.’’ It never even occurred to you that there might’ve been a different reason behind his choice of wish, besides him wanting to tease you.

Aventurine yawned weakly, slightly turning away again, ‘’Honestly, I guess a part of me did it to see how far you’d go. The other was just selfish.’’ Then he met your gaze again, uncertainty flickering across his expression, ‘’I’ve been hoping for a moment like that for a while. I guess I never had the guts to just…approach and kiss you without an excuse.’’ 

‘’Why not?’’ The words left your lips before you could stop them, and while you did curse yourself afterward, you didn’t take them back. Expectantly, you stared at him, trying to ignore the butterflies terrorizing your stomach, ‘’I thought you enjoy taking risks?’’

‘’The risk of scaring you off wasn’t something I was…willing to take,’’ he carefully replied, reaching to caress your cheek, ‘’I didn’t want to risk losing you, which is weird to admit ‘cause I’ve never felt like this, but it’s too late to turn back now, isn’t it?’’

His fingers ghosted over your cheek, his eyes not leaving yours as you processed his words. ‘’But asking me while I was drunk seemed like a good idea?’’ you muttered, both confused and amused by his thought process, ‘’Have I ever mentioned how your mind works in fascinating ways?’’

The man just groaned, but you could see the smile form on his lips, ‘’I was feeling confident, okay? Figured I could just…play it off if you decline.’’ ‘’Besides,’’ he interrupted, fully facing you again, ‘’You were the one that actually ended up kissing me. So, you’re not much better than me.’’

‘’I lost the game, big guy. That’s why I kissed you,’’ you argued, chuckling, ‘’No other reason.’’

‘’Sure, sure,’’ he hummed, unconvinced as he leaned closer, ‘’I could tell from how you were kissing me that you only did it for the bet. That’s why you didn’t stop until the IPC called.’’

‘’You’re imagining things,’’ you just replied, unable to keep yourself from smiling, ‘’Wishful thinking, perhaps? Or do I need to be worried that you drank too much? Should I call someone?’’

By now, Aventurine's lips were practically ghosting over yours, just waiting for you to give him a reason to close the gap, "Might I remind you that you weren't drinking any less than me? I'm sure your friends from the Express would love to hear that story."

"Don't you dare," you playfully warned him, nose brushing his, "Unless you want me to text Topaz everything."

"You wouldn't."

"Do you want to find out?"

"...No."

"That's what I thought," you chuckled, smirking, "Now, are you going to kiss me or not?"

Aventurine didn't even wait for you to finish your sentence before pressing his lips against yours, your entire body relaxing under his touch. "You don't have to be anywhere, right?" he whispered, wrapping an arm around you as he pulled you closer.

"Nope," you hummed against him, hands gently cuping his face, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, anyway."

The man just smiled before kissing you again, all his emotions conveyed in the simple gesture, taking your breath away as you held his face, thanking whatever higher power blessed you with meeting him.

You wanted to laugh, remembering how only minutes ago you had dismissed the possibility of Aventurine feeling the same as you. Yet, here you were now, in his arms as he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

And as the sun rose higher, you two found yourself not letting go of each other, aware of the long explanation you'd each have to come up with for your friends and superiors.

[leavemurph]

sometimes i get so upset thinking what if hotch wants to come back cuz like jack’s in college and he’s home all the time, he’d need something to do?? and the fact that the writers still didn’t use this one excuse to bring him back to emily is just… ugh.

a few comments here and there about his life while he was gone, laughing with old friends who are still friends no matter what, teasing him cuz he tries to call his son and gets constantly ignored with the “dad, please, i’m busy”. then jj’s like, oh yeah, i get it, teenagers gonna be teenagers, and emily’s kinda feeling left out? but it’s cool. it’s just that time’s passing and she doesn’t have that for herself, which is strange, since she always thought she would. but then again, time sucks, this job takes so much, and yeah, maybe it’s too late.

no kids, nope, well, she’s busy. really busy. this thought keeps looping in her head, and a few situations end up making her rethink it, over and over—did i do this on purpose? did i avoid making any decisions that could’ve taken me down that path because, deep down, i felt like i didn’t deserve it?

hotch finds her in her office, asks if she’s okay because she seems so distracted all the time. of course, she doesn’t say anything, she’s not big on venting, but she does ask him if he ever thought about what it’d be like if they’d made it differently all those years ago.

he’s… confused at first, mostly because he’s not sure if this is her way of allowing them to talk about all the stuff they never said, couldn’t say, or were too scared to. so he asks, what do you mean? emily’s tired of dancing around it, they’re older now, more mature, there’s not much left to lose, so she just says, “you knew how i felt about you. that’s fine. i know how you felt about me.” hotch gives her a small smile, and she gets it. she really gets it. “i can’t believe i even considered going with you. like, a part of me really wanted to, so badly. i talked to you about work every day, told you things you didn’t even want to hear, didn’t care. and i kept hoping, hoping that one day you’d ask me to, or even just… i don’t know, say you missed me. my god, i would’ve dropped everything, run off into witness protection. with you. with jack.”

“emily.” hotch looks genuinely surprised, and maybe it’s because she’s holding back tears. “you had all these things here, things you built for yourself. look at you now.”

“right,” she mutters, waving it off with a comment about their previous case, because why get into that now? it’s a waste of time.

aaand…

they kiss for the first time on new year’s, in their natural habitat—at work, of course. everyone but emily is ready to party, but at midnight, hotch brings her a glass of champagne while she’s scribbling reports. she looks up and says, “are you guys going out? i’m gonna have to pass this time, i’m so busy,”

and he laughs because, “you sound like me ten years ago,” while gently coaxing her out of her chair. she tries not to freak out, laughing nervously, rolling her neck to release the tension from hours of sitting and staring at fine print. hotch brushes her hair back, studying her face, and she lets out a deep sigh, touching her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “a little nervous?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips. “still the same tell, huh? some things never change.”

“i really can’t go with you guys,” she insists, eying his lips, almost on the edge of feeling butterflies for the first time in over a decade.

“heard you the first time. so i’ll be your first new year’s kiss, and then i’ll get out of your hair.” okay, butterflies all the way down to her toes. she barely nods, just a slight movement, before he leans in and kisses her. it’s the best kiss she’s ever had, hands down. my god, she can’t stop thinking about it.

he literally left her to do her job and went out partying with the others. he’s learned to live more than she has over these years, and honestly, it’s not bad. it’s not terrible. it’s nice.

their relationship grows through little moments scattered throughout the season—tender touches, good morning kisses, emily jumping out of bed late, the looks they share. they talk about the moments they’ve lived, the times they wanted to say something and didn’t, or do something and held back. “do you remember that time we…?”

the first time emily faces any life-threatening situation, hotch’s immediate reaction when he sees her getting her cheek stitched up is: “that was really brave of you to do.”

“hotch,” she winces, frowning through the pain as the stitch hurts. “really?”

“okay, what, are you out of your mind? didn’t you wait for backup?”

“that’s much better, thank you. and, no, it’d be too late.”

“almost died,” he crosses his arms, and emily is doing everything she can not to bite her nails. “i’m gonna need you to marry me. is that okay with you?”

and emily’s like, “what?”

“you heard me right. i want you, and i want to do this, all of it. you’ve always wanted kids, and you’ve been thinking about it, don’t lie to me, and it’s not too late. and we’re gonna do it, you and i. there’s surrogacy, adoption… we can—”

yeahh…. so.

gimme gimme.

bye.

[kazumist]

EPISODE 28 ✦ PLEASE LOVE ME AT MY WORST

LOVE, MAYBE — A CHILDE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 1265.

fifteen minutes is almost up; am i about to die?

ajax thoughts wander to all sorts of places as he nervously checks and watches the time move on his wristwatch. as to why he agrees so easily to your request to talk to him—he doesn’t know either. it just felt… right to agree. 

he knows it would pain him to say no to you anyway.

perhaps it was just the small part of him that still hopes. that one little speck in him that hopes this “talk” would mend the rift that had formed between the two of you. it was probably stupid to have such expectations when he was pretty sure you were dead set on your answer to him before.

so it confuses him. why did you want to talk? did you want to just slap it in his face once again? no, you weren’t like that. you would never do something that mean. but that just leads him back to square one: why?

the sound of soft footsteps growing louder alerts ajax, and he takes a deep breath because he knows it’s you. yet he takes a glance to check anyway. there you were, standing before him as he gets the familiar feeling of being starstruck surging through him. keep it together, ajax. he warns himself. 

“hi…” you softly said. 

“hey.”

hey? who the hell says hey nowadays, ajax? get a grip! he mentally scolds himself, forcing him to pull out a tight smile to you instead to save him from his embarrassment. meanwhile, you thought otherwise of his reaction. oh god, he probably hates me. he never gives me that smile. it looks so forced. he probably just felt bad and forced himself to meet me out at this hour. your thoughts ran fast inside your mind as you fiddled with your fingers.

“uhm.. i wanted to talk—”

“so why did you want to meet—”

you both paused when you realized you both spoke at the same time. “you go first,” he insisted. but you gestured otherwise and told him, “oh, it’s fine. you can go.”

“i insist. ladies first?”

seeing as this would go nowhere if you just went back and forth like that, you took a deep breath. 

“i love you.”

for the whole day (and the additional fifteen minutes ajax gave you), you thought of many ways on how to approach childe with the topic of what happened before. yet none of those really started with “i love you." the best option you got after thinking so hard actually started with “i’m sorry.” the “i love you” part was supposed to be near the end of the whole monologue you had prepared inside your head.

ajax only stared at you, dumfounded at your words. “shit, sorry, i—that wasn’t how i wanted to start, uhm—” you let out a sigh, a slightly shaky one at that because of your mistake. don’t fuck up this one up and run away again, (name). you mentally took note. but then again, fuck that monologue you prepared beforehand. if you want to do this properly, then it’s better to do this as bare as your emotions could get, right?

taking another deep breath, you decided to speak up again before ajax could. “i’m going to be honest. i actually prepared some long speech that is supposedly transcribed inside my brain right now. but i definitely think i just forgot a good chunk of that speech now that i’m actually with you.” 

“i’m sorry, ajax. i let my fear get the best of me that day. i never wanted to tell you to go away; in fact, i know that i wanted nothing more than for you to hold me at that moment.” you let out a bitter chuckle at that. ajax watches you, listening to every word carefully. he takes in your appearance as well, and the slightly swollen and redness of your eyes were obvious enough for him to know your state as of late.

“i never wanted to push you away. and god, i feel so stupid and guilty for everything that i said that day. because i know none of those were true. well, i guess minus the part where i listed my flaws... because i know those were true in some sense—but i want to—no, nevermind that. i’m trying to change my ways.” you corrected yourself.

“i asked dehya and the others for some advice. and they were right when they said that you had a positive impact on my life and that i’ve never been this happy with someone else other than them. because i swear, you’re just a different case for me, ajax. you make me happy in ways i never thought anyone could bring me joy. when i thought i didn’t have anyone by my side, you were there for me.”

“and i feel so, so, so fucking stupid for shutting you away that day. because deep inside, i knew my heart wanted otherwise. my brain wanted you to leave me alone, but i knew my heart wanted for you to stay. for you to tell me that everything is alright.”

“i guess the main gist of everything that i’m saying is that i love you; i’m sorry. i love you, ajax. and i know i’m probably late, and that you probably hate me right now, and also how you probably just forced yourself outside just so you could meet up with me, but i love you. this whole thing is honestly still scary to me, considering this is the first time i have experienced this in my whole lifespan of eighteen years right now.”

“yet i still love you despite that. i’m sorry that it took me a while. and again, you don’t have to reciprocate it—i just wanted to let this all out. and like i said, you probably hate me—”

“am i allowed to speak now?” ajax.

“i—yeah, go ahead.”

“have i told you that i’m so proud of you?” he asks. you don’t know where he’s going with this. “you might’ve mentioned it once or twice in the past, yeah.” he chuckles at your reply. it feels like your walking on thin ice because you really have no idea if he’s about to drop a bomb right now about him rejecting you.

you don’t think you could handle that anyway.

“thank you, (name). i personally didn’t know what to expect with what you were going to say. but i  don’t hate you. i could never hate you. not now, not ever. hell, i knew that if i said no to your request of having a talk i would definitely regret it. and i’m proud of you that you managed to say all of that. learning how to communicate is a big step already, you know?”

ajax takes a step closer and you didn’t take a step back this time. you let him get close to you this time, fixing the distance that grew after you pushed him away. “and for the record, i love you too” he says, a bit more quietly, as if he really wants only you to hear those words coming from him. “that fact isn’t going to change anytime soon, silly.” 

“i’m sorry again. but i’m ready now. i’m prepared to take a risk in this whole thing they call love. so please love me at my worst, ajax.”

the night ends with ajax walking you home once again—but this time there wasn’t a single residue of the bitterness from before.

this time, it was filled with relief.

extra notes.

yayyyy!!! communication!!!!

i didn't expect for this episode to be so long. i was 700+ words in when i realized that it was going to be a bit lengthy.

taglist (open): @xianyoon @mitsvriii @kizakiss @kissingkzuha @aethion @phtogravi @ell1e2010 @esthelily @b4tm4nn @hcmay @ivvieene @morganadorodo @kaitfae @kentply @scaranthropy @kyon-cherri @kookiibun @kochothehoe @mekiiiii @ibyobi @iuspired @tetsuskei @kunikuzushis-darling @morgyyyyyyy @chluuvr @scaradooche @kissmiere @a1-ic3 @bubblegum-angelquartz @tiredjxnna @levlucs-kiru @angeilix @cerisescherries @saeskiss @a-talkative-corn @briluvspnk @kamisatoyato @bbysatoruuu @viviixoxosblog @bambisz @chemiru @eternal-dokja @bflyprincess @jamieexistss @monocerosei @enjisthings @jangyung @hahalame @cupid-spams @snzhrchy @ukinya @luciledreamz @bisatanica @bananasquash @almond-t0fu @thegalaxyisunfolding @jaguarthecat [1/2]

[sbnslver]

Heaven ˚➶ ｡˚ Taehyun

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ boyfriend! Taehyun x fm!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Summary: Who better to take care of you when your sick than your own boyfriend, well maybe if your boyfriend isn't Taehyun.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Fluff ! Warning! There is talk of pills (it's just cold medicine)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Author's note: Completely self indulgent since I have been sick for far too long. Also Over the Moon SOTY! (not proofread)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Masterlist

--

You wake up in the morning with a dull ache in your throat and the frustrating realization that you were struggling to breathe through a stuffy nose. You try to sit up, but as you move, your head begins to feel heavier, and every motion feels like it’s taking all of your effort. Every swallow makes your throat burn, and all you want to do is just burrow yourself under the covers.

The thought of getting out of bed seems nearly impossible now that the warmth of your bed is sucking you back into the land of sleep. You pull the covers up to your chin and close your eyes, hoping to sleep off the aches and feverish chill. Just as you're about to drift off, your eyes shoot open as you remember the day. You reach over to your bedside table and pick up your phone; it’s 11 a.m. You were supposed to be getting ready to go out with Taehyun. The both of you finally had a free day in your schedules, so you had planned a date. Just a picnic in the park, a way for both of you to relax and enjoy the outdoors. 

  You let out a groan of frustration. Of all the times to get sick, it just had to be now. You hold your phone in your hand, hesitating over the call button. You felt terrible about having to call Taehyun and cancel, especially since it was his idea in the first place; not only that, having to tell him you were sick was going to be a whole other mission on its own. 

Taehyun is the sweetest man on Earth; you love him with every fiber of your being. He’s kind, loving, and affectionate, and he always knows just what you need. However, he has just one minor flaw, and it’s turning into an overbearing, doting caretaker when you’re sick. It’s completely overbearing; refusing to leave your side, he insists on piling you up with blankets, spoon-feeding you endless bowls of soup, and not letting you skip a single dose of medicine. He even tries every home remedy he knows, fully determined to get you feeling better before the day ends. While you appreciate his caring nature, all you wanted to do right now was sleep in bed unbothered. 

With a sigh, you finally hit the call button, sitting up in your bed and breathing in quickly, trying to unclog your nose as much as possible and trying to sound as normal as you can. You clear your throat as you hear the sound of your lovely boyfriend on the other line. 

“Y/N? Is everything okay? We were supposed to be meeting up at 3, right?” Taehyun picks up a worried tone lacing his voice. 

"Yeah, I’m fine, Taehyun; it’s just..." You slowly drift off, hesitating to end your sentence. You let out a sigh and closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the worst. “I think I’m coming down with something. Nothing serious though, just, you know, a little cold.” You quickly add, “I think it just might be better for me to stay home. I don’t really want to get you sick.”

You hear shuffling on his end of the line and small grunts that you can only assume is Taehyun. “Baby, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” He says hanging up the call without giving you any chance to reply.

"No, Taehyun its-” you hear the line beep. Defeated you sigh and put your phone back down on the nightstand to prepare yourself. 

–

As you're lying in bed fighting hard to keep your eyes open, you hear keys jingling from your front door, and not even ten seconds later, Taehyun is at your side, his cold hand on your warm forehead. 

“You’re not burning up yet, but just in case, lets get you bundled up, hm?” Taehyun grabs blankets from your closet piling them on top of you tucking you in tightly to your bed. 

“Baby, I can barely breathe,” you laugh watching him frantically try and tuck you in. You free one of your arms and grab him, steading him beside you preventing him from leaving to retrieve more blankets. “Tyunieee– I missed you…thank you for coming over here; you really didn’t have to though.”

“Nonsense, you really think I’d let you be here alone? Besides, I missed you too.” He beamed down at you and bent over to give you a shy kiss on your forehead. Just as quickly, he clears his throat and looks away from you, crossing his arms looking around nonchalantly. “Now anyway, back to business. I know you still have medicine here from the last time you were sick; where is it?”

You let out a giggle at his antics, “Behind the mirror in the bathroom.”

He nods curtly and makes his way over. Once he returns, his hands are full of different pills and liquids, all promoting to cure colds and fevers. “Alright, are you ready?”

“Taehyun, is this really necessary? I swear I'll be fine if I just get some rest; really, it’s not that bad.” You whine grimacing at all the medicine that he threw down on the bed. “You being here is enough.” All you get in return is a disapproving look. You sigh and pout.

Taehyun runs out of the room and returns moments later with a glass of water. He sits next to you and opens the first bottle pulling out two orange pills. He grabs your hand and places the pills in the center of your palm signaling for you to put them in your mouth. You grimace and put them in your mouth and he hands you the glass of water. You take it, fill your mouth, and altogether swallow the water and the two pills. Before you can place the water down next to you, he’s already placing a cup with purple liquid in your hand. You give him a questioning glance. 

“It’s for your throat, it should get rid of the soreness,” he explains, holding the small cup out to you.

“I thought only little kids took liquid medicine.” 

“Exactly,” he laughs, pinching your cheek.

You begrudgingly take the cup and shoot back the foul tasting liquid making a disgusted face as the flavor hits your tongue. “Ew, that's so gross no matter how many times I have it.” You look at Taehyun with a pout on your face. You raise your arms up towards him. “Cuddle me?” You ask giving him puppy dog eyes and jutting out your lower lip.

He looks at you, his face faltering for just a second before he quickly straightens up and says, “Nuh-uh, there is still more to do.” He races out of the room before you can protest. “I’m making you soup.” He yells from what you can only assume is the kitchen.

The pout on your face deepens and you let out a dramatically loud huff of air hoping that he can hear it and you cross your arms. “C’mon Taehyun just come cuddle me,” you whine “I’m feeling miserable the least you can do is cuddle with me.”

You hear footsteps getting closer to your room, anticipating Taehyun to enter You quickly turn on your side away from the door and close your eyes. You hear an exasperated sigh. “You are such a handful,” he laughs and you hear him set down the bowl of soup on the table next to you as the bed dips and you feel his hand against your forehead. “You feeling okay?”

You nod in response. “You love me though,” You smile, eyes still closed ignoring his presence.

“That I do, now c’mon sit up so you can eat.” He grabs your arms and hoists you to a sitting position moving your pillows so you have something to lean against. He grabs the bowl and lifts the spoon to your mouth. “Open up.”

You stare at the spoon and back at him, reluctantly opening your mouth allowing Taehyun to spoon feed you. “I’m not a child.”

“What are you talking about? You’re literally my baby,” he coos giggling and offering you another spoonful. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You respond, mouth full of soup.

“You can tell me to stop, you know?”

You choke on your soup. The sound of his words leaves you hurdling into a coughing fit, unable to catch your breath and your eyes watering. “What?!” You exclaim.

He pats your back soothing your coughing fit. “I just mean if it bothers you when I take care of you, just tell me to back off. I know I can probably be overbearing but I just love to take care of you,” He admits sheepishly. You notice his ears turning a light shade of  pink and you can’t help the sheepish smile that graces your lips. 

You reach for his hand and give it a small squeeze. "Taehyun, of course I love and appreciate that you take care of me and I know that it can’t be easy dealing with me being stubborn. I really do appreciate it.” You tilt your head to meet his gaze hoping he can see their warmth. “I just worry that you’ll get sick.”

“Well even if I do, I know you’ll take good care of me.” He laughs, tension dissipating from his body. Taehyun continues to spoon feed you until there is nothing left. “Well I’m going to go clean up okay?” He gets up from his spot from the bed bending down bowl in hand to give you a light kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be a right back cutie,” He winks.

“I don’t think I look very cute right now,” you're getting drowsy now, the medicine from earlier is finally working its magic. “You better come back soon mister.”

He just lets out a laugh before returning to the kitchen. You hear the sink begin to run as you imagine Taehyun is washing the dishes. As he’s gone you sink further and further under the covers, your eyelids feeling heavier as each moment passes. Not long after Taehyun returns, stopping in his tracks at your bedroom , noticing your sleeping figure. A small smile adjourns his lips as he takes light steps forward. 

He kneels down next to you and his cool hand settles against your forehead. You flinch slightly before returning back to your peaceful sleep breathing soft and even. He frowns slightly at the warmth, a pang of worry pulls at his chest, finger lingering as if his touch alone could somehow relieve you of the fever. Reluctantly he pulls his hand back and his gaze falls upon your features. He takes his hand against and lightly traces your face. Along your nose, eyelashes and eyebrows. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear eyebrows knitting them together in worry.

“Please get better soon…I hate seeing you like this,” he sighs. He gets up from the floor and moves to the other side of your bed quietly slipping in under the covers. He moves ever so slightly as to not wake you and slowly wraps his arms around your figure. Instinctively you move so that you nestle on his chest taking in his scent.

“I’m here… and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, almost as if reassuring himself. “I’ll stay right here with you.”

Minutes pass, and he finds himself listening to the soft sounds of the night, the faint rustling of blankets as you nestle closer, his own heartbeat steadying as he holds you. He finds himself slowly drifting to sleep, his eyes growing heavy as the room fills with the warmth of your shared breaths.

Just as he’s about to fall asleep, he feels your hand shift slightly, curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him even in sleep. A small smile forms on his lips, and he leans down to press another soft kiss to the top of your head, whispering, “Sleep well. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[cherubcameron]

I love you, I’m sorry

Rafe x Sofia

Authors note: this might be a little meta, but reader is in this. She’s not romantically linked to either Rafe and Sofia in this one. So this is almost like an au where she’s just Sofia’s pogue friend. Can yall tell I really like the whole singing thing.. also I won’t lie to yall. My mental health has decline by a lot so here’s something that’s helping me cope.

You’d been surprised when Sofia had told you; she quit. You’d been even more surprised that she had told you that Rafe told her too. You’d told her that was a terrible idea. That rich guys like Rafe would end up fucking her over and she shouldn’t be financially dependent on him. She hadn’t listened.

A rapid knock was heard at your door. You went quickly towards the door. You opened it, seeing a crushed Sofia.

She had told you everything.

You hadn’t realize how deep it’d all been. But now you were with her on the beach. Trying to distract her from all that had to do with Rafe Cameron. You’d brought your other friends. Hoping that’ll cheer her up. But to no avail, she sat on the beach blanket; quiet.

“Ay amiga! I know it hurts now. But you’ll heal from it eventually.” You say, holding her hand. She looked towards you, furrowed brows and a frown.

“I just— I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. He told me he hates when people break his trust. And I did the worst thing possible. I’m such a piece of—

You stopped her before she could continue. Your hand on top of hers.

“You can’t beat yourself up for it. Even though, was it excessive? Yes, but it’s already been done. You can’t keep hating yourself because you were hurt by his words. You acted out of hurt.” You say, trying to console her.

Her head falls to your shoulders. “I’m still an idiot. I should have known it was a swindle. The whole thing felt sketchy. Now Hollis is dead and Groff ran away with Rafes money.”

You give her a sympathetic look. “It’s like, no matter how hard I try. I always make dumb decisions that hurt the people I care about most. I let my anger get in the way.” She continues. “He did so much for me and I threw it all away. If he never forgives me. I don’t blame him.” She looked down at the ground, a frown on her face.

A Karol g song starts to blast through the speakers and you looked down at her and smile.

“Dame tiempo/que no estoy mi mejor momento.” (Give me time, that I’m not at my best) You start to sing, Sofia looking up at you, a sad smile on her face.

“Y mientras me curo del corazón/Hoy salgo pa'l mar a aprovechar que hay sol/Está bien no sentirse bien, es normal, no es delito” (And while I heal from the heart/Today I go out to the sea to take advantage of the sun/It's okay to not feel good, it's normal, it's not a crime)

Tears start to roll down her face as you continue to sing. Your hand now in hers. You sway a little as you sing. Unaware of someone approaching you two from behind.

“No necesito más/Solo amor, dame tiempo/Yo me sano con tu compañía/Esa paz que me das” (Don't need more/Just love, give me time/I heal with your company/That peace that you give me) She finally is back to eye level with you. She sings along with you. You nudge her, making her smile.

Someone clears their throat, you and Sofia breaking apart. Turning to see who it is. Your eyes widen as you see who it is. Rafe. You turn to see Sofia then back to him.

“I’ll leave you two… alone.”

(Sofias pov)

Sofia looked at Rafe as he sat down beside her on the sand. Rafe looked back as her friend walked away. He turned back to Sofia.

“So..” Rafe starts.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs, it comes out of her quickly. He turns to her suddenly, his expression unreadable.

Then he sighs.

“Why did you do it?” He asks coldly, he looks towards the ocean. The waves rolling out towards shore. It would have been peaceful, had it not been for the tension between them.

“The deal with Hollis? It was stupid and it’s just going to make you more mad.” Rafes face hardens, his jaw ticking.

“I’ll be more mad if you don’t tell me. Tell me why? I deserve to know that much.” He looks at Sofia intently, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know how to begin.

“My dad had came to me, asking for my help. He’d— he’d asked me to help Hollis nudge you for this deal.” Sofia sighs, her eyes looking towards him. But he’s still watching the waves roll out, kissing the shore before rolling back in. “ I told him no, originally. That I wouldn’t scam you like that. That it was dishonest.”

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh yeah?”

Sofia face screws up, “Yes Rafe, I wasn’t going to do that to you. But then. But then I heard you with Ruthie and Topper.”

Rafe finally turns when he hears those two names. His brows furrow.

“That just because we hooked up didn’t mean that made me your girlfriend. That you wouldn’t live with a pogue… how you have standards.” She says, now being the one who turned towards the ocean. Unable to look him in the eyes.

Her friends had gone towards the water now. Making sure to give them privacy. —Silence engulfs them. The sounds of the seagulls, people laughing, and the waves crashing can only be heard.

“I didn’t mean that.” He says, “I just— when I have something. I don’t want people to ruin it and I just didn’t like how she spoke to me. I was being defensive. But I didn’t mean it.”

Sofia scrunches her eyebrows. “It still hurt to hear, Rafe. I-I know I messed up. I only did what I did out of anger…”

Rafe is silent for a while, he rubs his hand across his face. Biting his lip, which she wasn’t used to seeing.

“I just need time okay.” He finally says.

“Time?”

“Time to forgive you. I know I broke up with you so fast. I should have let you explain yourself. But it’s not like you were dying to say anything.” He says bitterly. Their eyes finally meet. It feels almost like the first time it ever did. Without her betrayal. When things were fresh. She would do anything to go back to that.

He’d been so kind. She didn’t think someone like him would ever notice her. But he did.

“I love you, I’m sorry Rafe.” She whispers, his face can’t settle on an emotion to feel.

“Just give me time.” Sofia nods, placing her head on his shoulder. He lets her. Both of them watching was the waves settles. Smoother than the crashes it had been.

Taglist

@lostsyren

[sf1enjoyer]

~A dream come true~

Part 1 of a LN series: New Start

Word count:2112 words

Themes:fluff, friendship, love

@fishyfishersticks

You have been dreaming of getting into F1 even though you were a girl and a lot of people around you told you that this sport was brutal,that you wouldn't be able to get to F1 but here you were, signing your contract with McLaren. You've been into their visor and they finally gave you the opportunity once Daniel's contract was over. You were over the moon and of course, you immediately passed the news on to your parents and friends who were all so proud of you.

You were looking forward to working with a team with such a history and to meeting your teammate Lando Norris. You knew he was a nice guy and that soothed your nerves knowing you won't have a teammate who breathed on your neck for every mistake. After the driver lineup has been announced, you got the chance to go to your first free practice. You were nervous, really nervous. Daniel tried calming your nerves, reassuring you that it'll be okay. It was your first drive for this team and in an F1 car and panicking didn't really help, so you kept trying to calm your nerves with motivational quotes:

"Come on Y/N it's going to be fine. The last thing you need is to crash so just stay calm... it's not your first time driving.."

You were getting dressed into your fireproofs they gave you and the McLaren racing suit. You'd be lying if you said the suit didn't suit you and just imagining it being yours next year gave you a spark of hope and reminded you that they signed you because they saw something in you.

Like you usually do before an important race you plug a bit of music into your earbuds to help you relax. You were distracted and didn't hear the soft knock on your door, and then the footsteps of someone entering. You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around in such a panicked manner that your earbuds almost flew out of your ears.

"Jesus Christ! Can you not do that?"

You talk and then you see him.

Lando. With his goofy grin just looking at you.

"Easy there. Sorry for startling you but I just wanted to come in and make sure you're okay. I saw you were pretty nervous earlier"

*Your gaze softens a bit, your heart rate slowing down after the previous jump scare*

"I- Yeah..yeah I'm fine thanks. I calmed down a bit since then."

He nods slightly and replies

"That's good. I wanted to tell you that there's no pressure 'kay? It's just a free practice and it's your first one. No one will take your head if you aren't the fastest. You got this yeah?"

He gave you a reassuring smile and a pat on your back, which surprisingly helped you

"Yeah, you're right.. thanks."

"Welcome to the team newbie. Good luck!"

He says as he leaves and soon after you come out of your driver's room, all suited up and a bit more sure of yourself

You do your warmup, get into the car, insert your steering wheel and prepare yourself

Once it's go time you try to get a feel of the car at first, not going too fast. After gathering the courage to hit the gas you give your all to get a good lap since Hungaroring wasn't a track foreign to you. You often drove there on your sim and you enjoyed it since you've had a few F2 victories there.

You ended the practice coming in p 12

Not too bad, but not too appealing either when you had high standards.

After you get out of the car you get congratulated by your future team, telling you you've done a good job.

12 out of 20 wasn't so bad , right?

You couldn't help but still be a bit disappointed, thinking you could've done better but it is what it is.

Lando walks up to you, hair a bit messy from keeping it in the balaclava and the helmet

"Good job rookie. You did well, see? Don't be so panicked next time" and just as quickly as he came to congratulate you he left.

From there the season passed quickly. You attended more free practices, improved your time and overall your confidence of being part of the team in the upcoming season grew.

You made friends and got really close with one of the team engineers, Mia. She was a sweetheart and you guys became best friends quickly. You needed her she helped you and vice versa.

You've also grown closer to Daniel, Lando and many other drivers on the grid. This environment soon felt like home, getting along with everyone and even receiving advice from the older drivers, especially Lewis. You weren't the first rookie to be a victim of his advice and you can't complain since he was a huge figure in your career and he knew what he was talking about.

The current season quickly passed, you were attending more free practices, improved your time and finally, it was your time to shine. Time to prove that you worked hard to be here and that you were offered a contract for a reason.

Here came your first race of the 2023 season. Bahrain Sakhir.

After a smooth qualifying, you managed to somehow shoot a p10 on the grid. Surprising even for yourself.

Lando walked up to you about 30 minutes before the race

"How are you feeling new girl?"

"Nervous."

"You'll be okay. You were good in qualifying. The top then for your first quali is really good. You've got talent so don't waste it scaring yourself with what-ifs, alright? You'll do fine"

"Thank you, Lando."

Lando was the talkative type. Always hyped you up when you needed it and lightened the mood with his stupid jokes. You appreciated that. People say he has a small interest in you but you never believe that. He barely knew you. What excited you though, is the fact that Mia was your engineer. It felt good to have a familiar and trusted face guiding you.

You got dressed, warmed up, got in the car and you were moved towards the grid. The formation lap was just a warmup, the stress growing and once it was lights out you blocked anything else out and focused on driving.

Mia talked to you through the radio, guided you throughout the race and called the pit stops.

You had a decent start, gaining a position in turn one and later in the race overtook Esteban Ocon. The pace was good and pit stops went smoothly. With those two positions lost due to the pit stop, you pulled through and finished on the 9th.

You wished to step on that podium, and have people cheering for you but it was too early for that unless you were some secret formula one god,which you weren't so you took the result and kept working hard to climb higher. Your teammate occupied a respectable p3 and you were happy for him, watched him step on the podium designated for his place, Charles taking p2 and Max p1. After the champagne celebration, the drivers on the podium went for the team celebrations and photos. I was pleasantly surprised to see my name on that small board and a +2 underneath it, marking the fact that I scored two points on this race, on my first race. I was congratulated by the team, and Lando approached me as well.

"First drive and already delivering in style? Color me impressed. You did so well on track Y/N."

"Thank you, Lando. Oh and congratulations on your podium mate" I say as I pat his back

"I appreciate it. I was thinking of going for dinner with Max, Charles and Carlos. Wanna come?"

"I don't know..I mean it's your night, don't wanna ruin the fun"

"You aren't running anything, I swear."

You contemplate for a bit. Dinner wouldn't hurt right now and it's not like you were going with people you didn't know.

"Okay. Can I bring Mia though?"

"Of course. She's welcome to come. I'll be at your door at 7 just so you know if you decide to come"

"Okay. Count me in"

You quickly call Mia, make sure she wants to come and then you quickly go get ready in your room, calling your friend over

You decided to put on some flared jeans, and a white button-up that fit your body and made your chest pop a bit more, but it was subtle. You put on jewelry, do your hair, put on makeup and chat with Mia during the process.

Mia looks at you a chuckles softly

"Who are you trying to impress? I haven't seen you dressed this fancy since I met you" she teases you

"No one, just thought it was about time I showed off my closet, no?" You joke

"You look good. Keep doing it Y/N."

And just as Lando said, you heard a knock on your door at 7 pm. Not a minute more, not a minute less and you open the door.

His face lights up slightly and takes in your appearance

"Trying to make an impression I see. You guys look lovely" he compliments both you and Mia. You walk downstairs with him, meeting Max who brought Kelly, Charles with Alexandra and Carlos alone since Rebecca was busy. You shared your greetings and then left the hotel and headed towards the restaurant.

When you got there, you sat down, and ordered your food and there couldn't be a Max win without some drinks so you ordered wine as well.

You had a good night, laughed a lot and ate well and now you were tired as hell. All you wanted was to sleep for a whole day if it was possible. Mia distanced a bit from the guys and you followed her since she said she had something to tell you.

"Did you see the way Lando was looking at you all night?"

You raise an eyebrow, confused.

"What? He didn't look at me what do you mean?"

"Y/N I'm sorry to say this but you're blind as shit. He couldn't take his eyes off you." She elbows you and smiles slightly

"Okay and you're crazy.." you shoot back at her but in a joking manner, still not entirely believing her words about Lando.

But she was not. For the past months, Lando kept trying to get closer to you, inviting you to dinner from time to time with his friends and you eventually infiltrated into that group of friends. It was nice. Your career was going well, you had people to support you by your side. What else could you need?

As usual, you wake up with a good morning text from Lando. It wasn't new or weird. You thought it was sweet of him and you replied back after you woke up properly.

"Morning to you too."

"How are you feeling after last night's party?"

"Man don't even remind me. My head is going to explode. Good thing we're on break"

"You wanna go golfing one of these days?"

You raise an eyebrow at his question and really think about it since you rarely play golf and the truth is that you're shit at it. You still agree since your schedule was kinda boring and you needed to fill it out with activities

"I'm down but just so you know, I'm absolute trash when it comes to golfing"

"Don't worry Y/N, there's a start for everything"

"I know, I know. Who else is coming?"

"I was thinking just us two?"

Sure you went out with Lando plenty but this is the first time he's asked you to go alone. Just you and him with no other voice to bother you

"Alright. I'm okay with it. Tell me the time and I'll be there"

"We're going in pretty early so I'll be picking you up at 9. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good. 9 works for me"

"Well then it's a date" he adds a winking face at the end of the sentence and then plays it off as a joke

"Golf date between friends yep."

And that's when it started. Lando gave you more attention, wanted to spend more time with you and you've been told that maybe he fancied you the slightest bit. But what did you do? You never believed any of those words, always coming up with what seemed rational excuses for him wanting to spend that much time together.

[affableramen]

pantalone x stubbornly poor reader according to this beautiful request

angst with an open ending; romance elements; pathetic old man

dear anon, i hope you like the final result of this beautiful project. hopefully you won’t be angry at me for i altered the idea to my preference.

Pantalone is circling you around with long steps, but despite him wearing heels, his pacing also remains quiet. 

“I take it you did not expect me in your tiny shabby apartment today.”

“No, not at all, sir.”

You can call him ‘sir’ as much as you would like, but the both of you know how much of disgust you harboured to this insignificant rich man, who did everything in order to seem a perfect socialist, but only you knew how fake he truly was. But keeping the faces up you wouldn’t permit yourself simply looking at him in an offensive way, it would be improper. And it would be perilous too, considering the fact this man is right now in your home.

“Tell me, aren’t you tired of being used? Being helpless?” He stops right there, though his voice keeps on raising a tickling sensation against your neck. “Your destitution does no good to you, it’s sickening and makes you look ill. What I offer you…”

Pantalone turns to face you, his eyes half-lidded as he pronounces that:

“I offer you help. Escape your misery with just one simple action.”

“What action?” You ask him bluntly, sensing unevenness.

“One kiss shall it cost.”

“A kiss… to cure my financial issues? I highly doubt that.”

Pantalone leaned slightly closer, his eyes looking up and down your face—going all way from your eyes to you neck, that is covered with a thin, cheaply-looking teal scarf.

“You don’t believe me?” You close your eyes; his breath is found light against your ear.

He finds purchase in your hand.

“So destitute, yet so stubborn.” He takes your hand, and you let him, unwillingly though. He knows it, he sees the bewilderment in your eyes. You don’t know what to do, how to act and what to say. But Pantalone only brings your hand to his lips and kisses the top of it, his dry lips are unbelievably soft on your skin. There’s a light smile tugged on his lips, almost unnoticeable; though you see it, at such proximity how could you not?

“One. Single. Kiss.” His tone becomes quieter with each passing moment. “Just one.”

His eyes are hooded and he looks at you completely relaxed, yet at the same time his aura is uneven, unsteady and disturbing. He sucks on your hand, pressing his lips everywhere he reaches access to on your hand, before he raises his head and speaks with a particularly raspy voice:

“I can’t any longer bear seeing you drown in your tears, caused by financial struggles. All it will cost to get you out of your misery is one shallow kiss.”

Perplexed still, you do not understand the meaning of his decision. 

“Why just one? Pantalone, I don’t understand.”

“Because you are not even close to be fond of me, yet I have been madly in love with you for some time. I would not take the guilt of forcing you into something you’d do so unwillingly.”

“…you are?”

His eyes are deep and dark on you, but the concept of love does not frame within the banker, at least in your opinion.

“Nothing else shall I ask for, except a single kiss. Nothing else, my dear.”

You look down—he doesn’t understand the consequences at all. He must have been too rational of a man.

“You see, if I kiss you with this mood, it will only be a fake kiss. And the both of us will regret it.”

A frown takes over his expression, the usual icy glare returns to his eyes. 

“Believe me, Y/N, I won’t ever regret a kiss with you.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer a kiss from someone who is equally affected by you? What’s the point of kissing someone you don’t love?”

“That is not the question I can answer. Y/N, please, you’re making all of this sound more pathetic than it already is. I’m aware you don’t hold a single ounce of affection towards me, but let me settle your debts, all I ask back is a mere kiss. Doesn’t it make a good trade for you?”

“It makes a hideous trade.”

Yet you take a step closer to him. Pantalone studies your actions carefully, he does not miss a single chance to admire your pristine, unruined beauty. You place your hands onto his cheeks not exactly earnestly, more like this is but a torture to you. Pantalone responds to you, pushing himself slightly forward, his lips parted and his eyes shut. Only now you can notice how long his eyelashes are, and how his skin is imperfect despite all charming rich gentleman claims.

You force yourself to crash onto his lips, and he accepts it willingly, taking your lips first greedily back, and then shifting it more to the softer side. No matter how fake you call it, it makes his being glow of happiness and excitement. It is still a kiss from you, on top of everything else. His arm snakes aroung your waist, the other hand finding purchase in your hair. He doesn’t let a single moment go to waste and keeps kissing you deeply and passionately, you swear to feel his taste on your tongue.

You pull away the first with a confused and pensive look on your face. Pantalone’s expression is read like a book, you don’t need to be an experienced sort of lady to understand what that kiss meant for him and what effect it had on him. On your part, you don’t know anymore whether the kiss was fake or wielded true feelings.

Abruptly, Pantalone adjusts his glasses, pushing them onto his nose firmly and exhales quietly. His breath seems shaky, but his inner world is shattered.

“Money is yours. I shall not postpone my departure any longer. I’ve already abused the generosity of your home.”

He turns away from you and escapes the apartment. Your bank account is found filled with money, but you don’t give it much of your attention right now. With a trembling hand, you touch your lips. A blush spreads over your cheeks.

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Later at night, Pantalone overthinks the happened while smoking a pipe in his garden.

“This was the worst, but the most pleasant kiss in my life. I shall not forget it ever.”

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Cat's out the Bag Gen 1 pt.82

After grabbing a bite to eat at the station the cab dropped the group off at the end of the street near the Gratz house. Mercury waited outside to give them a hand with the kids and the bags. Adrianne flew into M's arms the moment she saw her.

Adrianne: Look Aunt Mercury, I can fly now!

M: My big girl! Oh my goodness, look at you flying. Look who else got their wings.

Crimson: Hi Auntie Mercury.

He said sadly, his wings hung limply at his back.

M: What's the matter buddy?

Crimson: I haven't learned to fly yet. Mommy says my wings aren’t strong enough.

M: Well, you're a year younger than your sister, so I'm sure by next year, your wings will be sooo strong that you can fly from Newcrest all the way to Ravenwood.

As M talked to Crimson and Adrianne, Venus and Ishtar used the distraction to make a mess.

Kason: Really guys? Now go inside and get changed so you can come back out and clean it up..

He shook his head dissappointed. They hung their heads as he walked them inside. M set down Adrianne and sent her and Crimson inside as well.

Kason came back outside where M lingered and kissed her cheek.

Kason: How was your day?

M: Better now, but good overall. How was the city?

Kason: Good. They moved Geekcon to the Art District. They were having some kind of festival it looked different than I remember.

M: That sounds like fun. I'm glad you took the kids. Did they have fun?

Kason: Aren't you interested if I had fun?

He teased.

M: I know you had fun. I just hope you behaved yourself. You and Peyton are trouble together at Geekcon.

Kason: All innocent fun I assure you love. I only like to get in trouble with you these days.

During their flirty exchange he realized now was the best time to tell her what he'd seen in San Myshuno, but he hadn't thought about what he would say so he started with simple part.

Kason: I saw Beckett there.

M: Really? That loser, he didn't say he was going to Geekcon. I guess that's not surprising, he does live in the Art District. Did you say hi?

Kason: I didn't get a chance to. He was there with Maidson.

M: Madison? Madison Miller?

She asked stunned. Kason nodded in silent confirmation. He waited for her to recover from the initial shock. She was quiet for a moment, he could see the information working in her brain and then realization crossed her face.

M: Madison is the mystery girl.

Kason: It would make sense. Why else would he be hiding her from you?

M: That's why he was annoyed earlier when I told him to invite her to the party. He didn't think he could.

Kason looked at her with a curious expression. It was the first time they'd talked about Madison alone. When they'd spoken with Takara she'd assured them that Madison was harmless and apologetic. It seemed to appease have Mercury at the time and helped rid her of any lingering jealousy or ill feelings for Madison, but Kason wasn't sure how he felt. He knew Madison hadn't helped Paris and she'd never meant to keep their friendship a secret from him, but her mistakes had almost cost him his wife. That wasn't something you just got over. He didn't hate her, but that didn't mean he had to be her friend either.

Kason: Could he have? Invited her I mean, if you'd known earlier?

She paused giving it some thought.

M: Yes. I know you were angry with her for not telling you about Paris and well, I didn't know what to think of her, but did she really do anything to hurt us intentionally? I trust Takara and she trust Madison. So if Beckett had told me that she was his date I would have been okay with him bringing her. What good would it do to make them both pay for Paris's mess. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable but I honestly think it would have been the right thing.

Kason hadn't thought he could love her more and then she had proved her compassion and forgiveness went beyond anything he could have fathomed.

Kason: How did we all get so lucky? I can agree, I was pretty hard on her without knowing all the facts. We all let Paris get in our heads and she got exactly what she wanted. The only person I trust with your safety as much as the people in that house right now is Takara. If she still thinks Madison isn't a problem then I can accept that.

M: I guess explains all his rambling earlier.

Kason: What do you mean?

M: Earlier, when he called me. I asked why they hadn't made it official, and Bek started acting weird. He said it was “complicated” and that “it was important that I like her”. He must think I hate her and won’t approve.

She started to take out her phone and dial Becketts’ number but Kason stopped her.

Kason: It's getting late and he probably won't want to talk about it now after seeing me. Give him a chance to get his thoughts together and you guys can talk tomorrow. I'll even go and start setting up early just so you guys have time to talk.

She fidgeted nearly giving in to the urge to call him right then.

M: You're right. Are you sure? No, you're right, I should give him some space. He said he wanted to talk in person...Right?

He smiled and led her towards the door.

Kason: Come on. I'll make you a cup of coffee and tell you about the trip.

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: If it feels like M didn’t fight the Madison situation very hard, it’s cause she didn’t. Madison was never the problem. She was a pawn in the game just like M and once Takara explained everything any ill feelings she carried towards Madison went bye-bye. Also, M is a people person, friendly and family-oriented and her original aspiration was friend of the world so it’s safe to say she’s pretty forgiving and wants to create peace between the people in her life even if it means having to deal with some uncomfortable situations.

Also, I know there's a lot of family dialogue recently but they haven't seen each other in so long It feels necessary to get caught up on their lives.

Last, I know I write the coffee line for Kason a bit. That's because Mercury has a crazy coffee addiction since she was in college and he's constantly making cups of coffee and leaving them in the kitchen I assume for her cause he never drinks them.

Poses: @starrysimsie Walkin' and talkin' & Hold me close

Build: @vellesa-well Central Railway station No CC

[bitchthefuck1]

Rewatching succession it really is wild to see Kendall and Shiv convince themselves over and over again that they can "fix ATN/Waystar from the inside" only to completely abandon their morals the minute it gives them a strategic advantage.

When they're on the outside it's an endless diatribe about how evil and rotten the company is to its core, but the second they get the slightest whiff of power they suddenly decide the problems are actually really manageable and that with the right leadership it could be a force for good, and like...the saddest part is that they genuinely seem to believe that.

[novelconcepts]

Van as storyteller. Van, with a miserable home life, a place where she has to raise herself. Van, who’s probably been telling herself stories to ward off the loneliness for years. Van, who sees stories as escape.

Van, who lands in the woods and starts telling stories aloud. Van, who has all these movies living inside her head, who lets them out to make everyone else feel less alone. Van, who takes a campfire dynamic and turns the dial to eleven, because stories are comfort, stories are safety, stories are home.

Van, who understands more than anyone expects expressly because of stories. Van, who sees the situation through the lens of a narrative arc. Beginning. Middle. End. Van, who watches the plot unfold, watches the twists and turns, and can’t stop telling the story aloud. Van, who knows all too well what kind of story they’ve landed in.

Van, who can’t stop telling the story now. Van, who sees the truth behind the tale. Van, who is finally done regurgitating the narratives that bring her comfort, who turns instead to the ones that will keep them alive. Van, who understands stories are sometimes the only way out, the only way to escape.

[littlemuppetmonsters]

I mostly dont care about retail/service workers being unprofessional or whatever but something about this pharmacy tech today having the gall and audacity to try and tell me what meds i should be taking with whilst not even taking her fuckin airpods out.........i felt some kind of rage ive never experienced before