#part of which is that I have to Justify every moment of my existance to an imaginary party who doesn't care and is never satisfied | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neptuneiris · 3 months ago

Text

Back To You | (One-shot)

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (friend with benefits)

summary: you're always there, hoping for more. to be more. to mean more and something real. but that's not what he wants, always drawing the line. until… you just can't take it anymore.

words: 19k

sorry for the delay and also sorry this is too long. i won't promise anything next time 😅 and please comment, i want to hear your opinions, a reblog is also appreciated guys.

my masterlist • next part

warnings: angst, sex content, heartbreak.

The first time you met Aemond, it was in the same way everyone else did and in his main way of making himself known to people: quiet, calm and reserved.

If you didn't have friends in common, you know you would never have been able to get close to him. But it was your small group of friends in college that brought you together with him; Alysanne, Sara, Cregan and Jason.

From the beginning, Aemond seemed to exist in his own orbit.

While the others fill the spaces with laughter and conversation, he preferred silence. He is like a constant shadow in the group, always present but not fully integrated.

He usually didn't speak much in topics of conversation, but when he did, his voice is quiet, soft and even soothing that it was almost hypnotic.

And maybe that was what first caught your attention. Something about the way he was, that unwavering distance and tranquility that wasn't arrogant, but almost… carefree.

You understand that he befriended Cregan in one of the classes they shared together. And it was Cregan who gradually included him in the group, at the same time that Sara was also including you.

You soon noticed that, although he was present at meetings and outings, there was a pattern in his behavior.

He talked more with Cregan and Jason, not with the same ease with which they talked to each other, but with a ease that he didn't have with Alysanne, Sara or you.

It's not that he was rude, when you addressed him a few times, he responded politely, but his tone was always restrained, measured.

And not only that, you also notice that as soon as someone tries to get too close, invisible walls rise around him, high and impenetrable. And his selectivity with the people he surrounds himself with, or talks to, becomes all too noticeable.

Even in the group chat Alysanne had created, he doesn't say much. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all.

He never initiated conversations or left casual comments compared to the others. And when he did write, it was only when someone asked him a question. Sometimes days or weeks would go by without his name coming up in conversation.

And, at least, at first… you didn't think much of him.

Aemond was just another presence in the group, someone with whom you shared moments but not necessarily a connection, let alone a friendship, at all. You just kept in mind that his reserved and carefree attitude made him different.

Although over time, you began to notice certain things about him that began to catch your attention.

The way he kept his distance even when surrounded by people. The ease with which he glided through life without worrying about fitting in or pleasing anyone. And the way he showed no interest in being heard or belonging.

He didn't show his emotions and it was hard to read. As well as it was hard to tell what he was thinking about, if he was thinking about anything at all.

That made him even more intriguing and that was the way he inevitably began to draw your interest.

Not because you hoped to change him or because you wanted to discover some secret hidden behind his distant attitude, but because, without even trying, he stood out from everyone else.

While the others sought validation in shared laughter and endless conversation, Aemond didn't care about any of that. And worst of all, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, every time you saw him, every time you suddenly heard his voice, you felt something twisting inside you.

At first, you justified it as simple curiosity. But curiosity doesn't explain the way your attention kept coming back to him.

How you found yourself looking for him at every meeting, how you waited for him to speak, even if it was just to answer a simple question, and how, despite his indifference, you began to realize that you wanted him closer.

It also didn't help with how incredibly attractive he is.

Despite the scar down the middle of his face and the eye he doesn't have, actually being a prosthetic, he is beautiful.

An accident, Cregan told you, when you asked him, to get a little more information about him. But that was all he told you and with a tone that made it clear to you that he didn't even know that much. So you didn't press the subject.

Not because you weren't curious, but because you knew that Aemond is the kind of person who doesn't talk about certain things with just anyone. And over time, that distance between the two of you began to bother you.

You wanted to get to know him beyond the few words he shared with the group, beyond the occasional comments he made. So, one day, you decided to try to get closer to him.

Try to break down his walls with you.

A difficult thing to do, considering everyone knows what he's like. But not impossible. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

You have an advantage, considering you both belong to the same group of friends. But you know that won't make it any less difficult, still, it's something in your favor. The problem was that you needed an excuse.

You couldn't just show up and talk to him for no reason. You needed something that would get his attention so he would talk back to you to keep him. But there was nothing. There was no specific topic, no common theme or shared class, nothing.

But you would find it. You had to.

Until one day, you saw a change in him. So slight and so small it could barely be noticed. Anyone else wouldn't have even noticed, but you did.

A change in his cold and disinterested attitude, which was suddenly colder and more disinterested. He was more serious than usual. He didn't speak at all unless the guys asked him something.

And his look… serious and even annoyed, with slumped shoulders and as if he was more lost in thought than usual. From the morning, when he arrives on campus with his usual air of indifference, you notice that change in him.

And on a Friday, as the day goes by normally, you can't take your eyes off him.

At lunch, the group gathers in the gardens for lunch, as usual, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Jason and Cregan talk about their usual anecdotes, Alysanne and Sara laugh and tease them and he… completely silent.

Sitting at the end of the table, he has only a bottle of water in front of him, which he sips from time to time. He does not join in the conversation and gazes off into the horizon, lost in thought.

But his tense posture, hard stare and clenched jaw, you notice all that. You want to talk to him. Ask him if he's okay. But you don't want to bother him. However, Jason notices it too and thankfully asks him.

“What's wrong, dude? Aren't you going to eat?”

You immediately watch them intently.

“I'm not hungry,” he replies simply and without emotion.

“And why is that? Everything okay with you?”

Aemond nods without saying anything else. He doesn't explain, and Jason doesn't insist. Neither do the others. They simply continue the conversation as if nothing had happened.

To them, Aemond has always been like that; reserved, quiet and indifferent. But you know there's more to it.

The minutes pass and you don't know what to do. You think about what would be the most ideal way to approach him. But nothing comes to mind.

Then he suddenly stands up and tells Cregan quietly that he will be leaving for his next class. He doesn't say goodbye to the others, just hangs his backpack over his shoulder and leaves.

And it's in that instant that you make a decision.

You don't know if it's a good idea. You don't know if it will work. And you hesitate, as you watch him walk off into the distance.

You could approach him, ask him if he's okay. But you know he'll most likely pull your back out before you can even try. So instead, you pull out your phone, unlock the screen, open the messaging app and start typing.

'Hey, are you okay?'

Simple. Subtle. Polite. You don't look at it the wrong way. In fact, it might work. Still, nerves wash over you, actually not so sure. But you finally take a deep breath and press send.

Honestly, you don't know why you thought he'd respond right away. Or that at the very least, his response would come in maybe ten or fifteen minutes.

By the time night falls and you're lying in your bed, rolling through your social media and no new messages, you begin to accept that he won't reply. And that he probably just ignored the message because he's not the least bit interested.

You sigh and put your phone aside, trying to push the topic out of your mind. But just as sleep begins to grip you, the vibration of your phone startles you.

You pick up the device quickly, a spark of hope lighting up your chest, only to have it shut off abruptly when you read his reply.

'Who are you?'

Embarrassment hits you so hard you feel heat rise to your face.

Disillusion and disappointment that he doesn't even have you in his contacts. You mean… you both belong to the same group of friends and you're both in the same group chat. And he doesn't have your number?

You bite the inside of your cheek, seriously considering not saying anything else to him and pretending this never happened.

But after staring at the message for a few long minutes, you let go of the humiliation and reply in the hope that he'll get back to you in a few minutes and not until tomorrow.

'I'm Y/N.'

A few minutes pass, at most three, but you feel them eternal. All is silence, until his next message comes through.

'Why do you ask that?'

You press your lips together, rereading the screen. It could be genuine curiosity… or it could be his way of making you feel even more out of place. But you don't take it back. Not this time and not anymore.

So you sigh, settle better in bed and decide to be honest.

'Well, I saw you really off today and I just wanted to make sure you're okay.'

The 'read' indicator almost to the second, makes your heart skip a beat. And you watch, expecting to see the 'typing' later.

But seconds pass and nothing. And you watch your screen more intently, as if that will magically make him decide to write you when you want him to. And when you see that he has left you on read, again the embarrassment invades you.

When suddenly, the ´typing´ appears and your heart skips a beat. And finally, his reply.

'I'm fine.'

Two words. Nothing more.

You bite your lip, reading the message over and over, not entirely what you expected and increasingly convinced that this is going to be harder than you thought.

It's not a closed response, but it's not an invitation to continue the conversation either. You could leave it at that. Decide that you did your part and that, if he doesn't want to talk, you can't force him.

But something in you is resisting. You don't want to leave it at that even though you know you're going to be disappointed and that this, his attitude, won't change overnight.

But at least you can be honest. So you write and send the message before you regret it.

'If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.'

And again, you wait.

Surprisingly, he reads your message within a second. However, disappointment again overcomes you when you read his immediate, curt reply.

'Thanks.'

All hope, anticipation and excitement evaporates from your body. You stand there for a moment doing nothing, thinking about what else to write him, wanting to be more sincere and show him that he's counting on you.

'I mean it. I'm here for you, Aemond.'

That's something you'd like to hear if you're not feeling at your best. Knowing that there's someone who cares about you and your well-being, too, would help a lot.

However, the minutes tick by and this time Aemond's reply never comes. Nor does it come all weekend.

You're hoping that at college maybe he'll reach out after the brief text exchange, even… thank you personally for caring about him, text him or something, you don't even know but you're hoping for something, anything.

But you had to know that he would remain just as distant and cold as always.

Disillusioned, you keep noticing that slight pain he seems to be stuck in but is trying to ignore every time you all get together, without anyone else noticing.

You watch him from a distance, attentive and hopeful, but disappointed that you are unsuccessful in every approach to him to initiate a conversation.

Even after the two of you spoke by message, he has no interest in talking to you in person. And he barely notices your presence, as if you weren't even there.

That hurt you, but you understood that it was about what's going on in his mind and whatever it is that has him so depressed, not because you were really the problem.

So during a meeting on campus waiting for the next class to start, everyone discusses their weekend plans.

“There's a party tonight at the Martell frat house,” Cregan announces excitedly, “It's going to be great, they always know how to make a good scandal.”

Everyone begins to agree to attend, sharing laughs and jokes about the last time they went to a Martell party, even Alysanne and Sara, already planning their outfits for the night, except for you and Aemond.

Parties aren't your favorite place, though you've been to several before and always manage to have a good time with help from the girls. And Aemond being quiet catches Jason's attention.

“You'll come, won't you?” he asks him as he gives him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

He shrugs, starting to take a cigarette from his pocket along with the lighter, not caring at all about the subject of the party.

“I don't know.”

Jason frowns, watching him blankly.

“You don't know?”

“Who doesn't know?” inquires Cregan instantly, listening intently and confused.

Jason points it out but Aemond nonchalantly lights his cigarette, while you watch the interaction of the three of them, but always focus entirely on him.

“But you always come over,” Cregan tells him just as confused as Jason.

“It'll be fun,” Jason continues, ”Besides, it's Friday night. What else could you be doing?”

“I don't really feel like going to a party,” he says, just as nonchalant as before.

“Oh, come on,” Jason urges, “We deserve it, you especially after the hell of projects we've had to submit. We need to de-stress.”

“And besides you'll be with us, what can go wrong?” says Cregan to him with his tone full of optimism, trying to convince him.

“Everything,” he tells him in his equally soft and low tone of voice as always, causing a chuckle between both boys.

“But it'll be fun, come on.”

He focuses his gaze on an unimportant point and you, listening to the conversation intently, feel that little spark in your chest lingering, watching him hopefully for him to say yes.

Then you decide to add your voice to convince him.

“You should come,” you say, catching the attention of the three of them, with your shy but firm look and voice, ”It might be a good distraction and it will help you clear your mind.”

Not exactly the best words but you try and feel your heart start to beat fast in your chest from nerves as you watch his eye meet yours.

But it doesn't last too long as Cregan speaks again.

“Yeah, dude. Let's all go together. I don't think you'll get bored but if you do, we can always leave early or switch parties, whichever is better.”

The three of them watch him expectantly for his response, to which he is a little overwhelmed by the attention. But he finally lets out a resigned sigh, feeling the weight of his friends' expectations, and nods slowly, lowering his gaze and refocusing on his cigarette.

“Fine,” he says in a low but determined voice. “But don't expect me to stay all night.”

The answer sparks a small celebration between Cregan and Jason, who pat him on the back and you avoid smiling big, pursing your lips.

“Great! That's all we asked for, mate.”

“It'll be fun, you'll see.”

Everyone else speaks again, except for him and you, as you stare at him for a brief moment, feeling the spark of hope grow bigger inside you.

Tonight may be the opportunity you need to reach out and create connection with him. Besides, it's a party, everyone will be relaxed and surely he will be too, so you can't miss the opportunity.

The night arrives and with it, the anticipation of the party at the Martell fraternity house.

As you approach the imposing house you notice the pulsating lights and vibrant music that can be heard from yards away, promising a fun and energetic night. With Alysanne and Sara, you see the groups of people talking and laughing at every corner, drinking and smoking.

And as you enter the house, the party is in full bloom, with everyone dancing and having a good time, with the smell of beer, cigarettes and even weed lingering in the air, causing Alysanne and Sara to quickly immerse themselves in the atmosphere, pulling you along with them very excitedly to where everyone is dancing.

The energy around you is contagious and as the minutes pass, you catch yourself laughing and dancing, where your worries momentarily fade away amidst the bright lights and pulsating rhythms, enjoying the moment.

Yet there is still that anticipation in you, that excitement as you look out the front door and in all directions, waiting to see him.

And in the middle of dancing with your friends, singing the songs of the moment at the top of your lungs and enjoying the energy of the whole party, just as your gaze briefly focuses on your surroundings, you finally spot a figure with silver hair moving through the crowd.

With a jolt in your heart, you focus your gaze and recognize Aemond.

He moves with a quiet grace, but his expression is a mixture of discomfort and determination. He weaves his way through the people, his gaze scanning the entire place, as if seeking a refuge or maybe a familiar face.

His posture and energy is oblivious to the frenetic energy of the party with his deliberate movements and nonchalant attitude.

And you continue to watch him, with the hustle and bustle of the party fading around you and focusing entirely on him.

You feel a mixture of relief and happiness at seeing him, relief that he has come and happiness that tonight you will finally be able to get close to him.

Aemond continues to approach the epicenter of the party, when on his way he finally meets Cregan and Jason, who greet him enthusiastically and hand him a drink almost instantly, integrating him into the atmosphere and enveloping him in their conversation.

Over drinks and cigarettes, as well as after some banter and laughter, Aemond finally begins to relax, though his movements are more restrained than the others. He would prefer less noise, but it is a party after all.

And you watch from a distance, seeing how the guys entertain him and integrate him into the party, noticing how his posture relaxes more and his expression softens, holding a bottle of beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other.

You know that now is not the time to get close, you want to let him find his own pace without pressure, so you stay in your place, enjoying the company of your friends and also the whole party.

Afterwards you join your friends for more drinks, they insist on taking pictures and videos together, you dance some more, go to get some fresh air because of how suffocated it is and when you look back towards the guys, Aemond is not there.

Cregan and Jason are there with some girls, but he especially is nowhere to be seen. You begin to feel a twinge of unease and start to move slyly through the crowd, looking for his familiar figure.

Until you decide to approach and ask for him or else you'll never be able to find him among all the people already at the party and the people still still entering the house.

“Hey,” you approach towards them, with a relaxed attitude, trying to look casual, ”Where's Aemond? I saw him arrive earlier.”

Cregan turns to you, smiling, while Jason blinks several times as if trying to remember.

“Oh, yeah, he went out a few minutes ago.”

“I think that way,” Cregan points to the backyard with a nod, ”Maybe he needed air or something, he said he'd be back soon.”

You decide to look for him discreetly, making your way through all the students, but the house is full, even more so than it was a few moments ago, with the heat and bustle starting to make you feel overwhelmed.

You think to yourself that he probably went to the bathroom, but minutes pass and being with the girls, you keep looking for him but he's nowhere to be seen.

And that's when you think about the possibility that he has decided to leave.

This leaves you with an empty feeling in your chest and you look around, letting out a long breath and inevitably already starting to feel disappointed.

You continue to scan the place in hope, but minutes pass and there is no sign of him at all.

“Hey,” Alysanne calls out to you, “What's up?” she watches you intently and with a soft smile on her lips.

“Oh… n-nothing,” you act casual, “I just need to go to the bathroom,” you point out, “I'll be right back, okay?”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, no, don't worry, it's fine,” you assure her instantly.

Again you make your way through the students and head towards the stairs, hoping to find an empty room or a space with fewer people, since you don't really need to go to the bathroom.

At this point you already feel too overwhelmed with the music and all the people that keep arriving, making it impossible to walk. So you just want to breathe and have some peace and quiet.

Fortunately the corridors on the second floor are not so crowded, there are people, yes, but nothing like down there and you try to open the doors, cautious of course, afraid of interrupting some compromising scene.

Until finally the last door opens and it's an empty room, clearly decorated with the personal touch of one of the frat boys.

You sigh and close the door behind you, stepping inside, barely hearing the sound of music up to here and all the chaos. You plop down on the edge of the bed, trying to calm your mind and feeling the tension in your feet give way after all that dancing.

The minutes pass and although you try to distract yourself with anything on your phone, again the disappointment invades you and so does the thought, without being able to help it.

You have failed to keep in touch with Aemond and at this rate, it seems you will never succeed.

He is quite an enigma, very reserved, indifferent to the attentions that many girls in college would long to receive from him and that is what confuses you.

You think of his brother Aegon, whose behavior is the complete opposite.

Aegon adores the attention of girls, his adventures are scattered all over campus and yet, Aemond is a mystery, so secretive that even a simple friendship with him seems out of reach.

And these differences between the two brothers only add another layer of confusion to your feelings for Aemond. You can't help but wonder why someone like him, so aloof and closed off, appeals to you so much.

He won't even give you the time of day, he barely acknowledges your existence when you're in a group with the guys, his gaze barely rests on you, and whenever you try to talk to him, he barely responds and then brushes you aside with an indifference that leaves you feeling completely invisible.

Then why? Why do you keep trying?

You don't even know.

You get up and start walking slowly around the room, trying to calm your thoughts, not really knowing what to do.

You think maybe you should go back to your dorm, since you really don't want to go back down there with all the people and the commotion. But you know that Alysanne and Sara are still enjoying themselves and you leave alone.

You sit back down on the bed and run a hand across your forehead, letting out a sigh, when suddenly, the bedroom door opens and you look up almost instantly.

And then your heart leaps with anticipation and surprise.

Aemond appears under the threshold, his eye meeting yours and you both stand for a moment motionless, saying nothing.

He scans your face and the room as well, while you continue to stare at him in surprise, definitely not expecting him to appear here at all. And there's something particularly in his gaze that tells you he's also looking for shelter from the party. When again his gaze focuses on you.

"I'm sorry," he says to you, in a low, unconcerned voice, "I didn't know anyone was here."

You say nothing for a few seconds, but force yourself to react.

"It's okay," you say quickly, trying to sound calm, "Don't worry."

Again the anticipation grows inside you, this time stronger, mingling with unexpected joy.

He is not gone.

He is here.

And that rekindles the spark of hope in you, which makes you strive to keep your expression relaxed and less surprised, trying to look completely casual and act normal.

A silence settles between you, one that is both awkward and full of potential, to which you try to speak but Aemond speaks first, taking a step back and with his hand still on the knob.

"Am I bothering you?" he asks, his gaze studying you.

"No, not at all," you reply immediately, your words coming out a little more hastily than you intended.

This instantly embarrasses you and you lower your gaze for a moment, clearing your throat.

"I mean, no," you say more relaxed and in a soft tone, "It's okay if you stay. You're not bothering me," you offer him a small, tight-lipped smile, "I guess you want to hide for a while."

He looks out into the hallway, seeming to consider your words for a moment, then lets out a sigh, again watching you and finally enters the room with soft steps, closing the door behind him.

"From Cregan and Jason specifically."

You let out a small chuckle under your breath, wanting to create that light and easy atmosphere between the two of you by being open and relaxed with him so as to get him to loosen up a bit more with you.

You remain seated on the bed, as he walks over to the window and begins to pull his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket along with his lighter.

With a deft movement, he lights the cigarette, where the small flame briefly illuminates his features before a ball of smoke dissipates into the room.

He opens the window and all the commotion outside is heard more clearly, but not enough for both of you to feel annoyed with it, feeling the night air come in to envelop you.

And you continue to sit, trying not to watch him too much, though it's impossible, he is Aemond Targaryen after all.

Still you search for something to say as he stands in a casual pose by the window, smoking and watching the night sky.

"Are you all right?" you ask finally, breaking the silence, your tone soft and gentle, not wanting to seem intrusive.

He nods, not watching you, with the smoke from the cigarette wafting around his face.

"Yeah," he replies in a distant tone, but you notice how thoughts keep running through his mind, "I'm fine."

You omit to let out a long sigh as you gently bite the inside of your cheek and watch him silently for a moment, thinking of something else to say.

Even he doesn't feel your gaze on him, where you silently admire his straight profile, his set jaw, the high cheekbones, the line of his nose, his lips... all his completely beautiful features and so ethereal.

And yet, all those beautiful features have a weight of sadness and tension, where you can see how a tide of thoughts cross his mind that seemingly only you can notice.

You see his barely-there frown and the tension in his jaw, lost in thought, with the cigarette slowly burning away between his long fingers.

You are torn between remaining silent or trying to break the ice surrounding it. You know that your words must be carefully chosen, not pushing but showing your genuine concern.

So you think your words through very carefully and finally decide to take a chance, hoping that your sincerity might do something, anything.

"I've noticed you've been... distant lately," you say, in a soft voice, "More than usual."

He doesn't respond right away, but you notice a slight tension in his shoulders. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly, his gaze still fixed on some point beyond the window, as if he's searching for answers in the dark.

Finally, he shakes his head and again responds without looking at you.

"It's nothing, just..." he is quiet for a moment, "Nothing that really matters to anyone."

Your eyebrows furrow slightly and you feel compelled to speak without thinking too much.

"It matters to me," you say in a soft tone, your gaze fixed on him, trying to let him see the sincerity in your eyes.

He slowly turns to you, finally watching you, his expression suddenly alert. There is a mixture of curiosity and anticipation on his face.

"And why would that be?" he asks you, his tone serious and slightly defensive, his frown showing his confusion, clearly not believing your words, "You don't even know me, nor I you."

The words that have come out of you so spontaneously now leave you vulnerable, but you can't back down. You feel a slight blush creep up your cheeks, but you try to stand firm even in your words.

"We're part of the same group of friends," you reply softly, your gaze fixed on him, trying to keep your composure, "We don't talk much, it's true, but I still care about you. Just like I care about everyone else."

He doesn't say anything to you right away. From a distance, he just stands there, watching you. The dim light in the room outlines the lines of his face in soft shadows.

You try not to look away from him, despite how overly intimidated and nervous you feel. And then, as if he is evaluating your words, he looks away and you see a small but visible smile curving his lips, to again raise the cigarette towards them.

"Is that so?" he murmurs and then takes a drag.

You find the scene hypnotic. The way he smokes. A simple action making him look so sexy.

And realizing you're making progress here, when you hadn't even seen him smile the way he just did, you decide to continue to be honest.

"I'm here for you Aemond, I mean it," you murmur, without hesitation, feeling the warmth of your own words. "Either way."

You watch him stare out the window for a few moments, taking another drag on his cigarette and then, he turns fully towards you.

His eye watches you with intensity and you see how there is an indecipherable glint. He tilts his head slightly, watching as he slowly sweeps his gaze over you, igniting all your alerts in you.

Still, you hold his gaze, despite the way he seems to evaluate you and make you feel exposed. He searches for the truth in your every word, as if he's waiting for you to take it back, to hesitate and consider what you're telling him.

But you don't.

Then, with the cigarette slowly burning between his fingers, with a nonchalant movement, he stubs it out against a piece of furniture in the room. And then, he moves slowly and precisely, towards you.

One step. Another step. And another. Each one filling the space between you until the distance is minimal. Until you feel his proximity and your skin bristles, before he even touches you.

Enraptured, you slowly raise your gaze to him as he steps in front of you. His knees brush lightly against yours and his fragrance envelops you, a faint mixture of cigarettes and his cologne that smells too good and intoxicating.

Your heart begins to beat quite hard and fast in your chest, not understanding what is going on. But you don't want it to end.

And being like this, in this way, makes everything even more interesting. You continue to sit on the edge of the bed, while he stands in front of you, looking at your face more closely.

The silence stretches and you see the curve of his lips lift slightly as he sees no hesitation in you. And when he speaks, his voice is low, deep and soft, infused with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Either way?"

His words aren't just a question. They are a challenge. A provocation.

And you don't look away, as you watch him with your big eyes, not backing down. And then, you nod.

The blue of his eye seems to darken with your response, as if you've ignited something inside him. Then, he lifts a hand and with exasperating slowness, directs it to your face and his long fingers brush your cheek.

Holding your breath, you watch him curiously and attentively, as he tests the ground, your reaction. And then his caress becomes firmer. His fingers run along the line of your jaw, slowly ascending to tangle at the base of your hair.

His thumb slides to the corner of your lips, tracing the contour with a softness that contrasts with the intensity of his gaze, while you have to remind yourself how to breathe.

"Then say it," he murmurs, leaning in just barely.

Your throat feels dry. Your lips part, watching him completely mesmerized and unable to believe this is really happening. Your words get stuck, because in this moment, with Aemond so close, with his touch igniting every part of your body, you realize there's no turning back.

"Either way," you assure him in a soft, slightly trembling voice.

"And how far does either way go?"

He holds your gaze, that blue eye burning and as if he can see right through you, something dangerous and exciting.

His hand on your face is firm, but his thumb keeps tracing slow circles at the corner of your lips, almost in a distracted, shuddering caress. He is waiting, testing you.

"As far as you need," you murmur, without hesitation.

He tilts his head and suddenly, his free hand takes your arm, making you rise from the bed as his hand on your cheek is firmer, keeping you right where he wants you.

"So any way I need?" he murmurs, a barely raspy, enveloping whisper that seems to filter through your skin.

He leans in, until you feel his nose brush against yours. And you close your eyes for a moment, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions he's nothing short of unleashing in you.

"Yes," you say in a whisper, trying to stand on your own two feet.

Suddenly his hand on your waist grips you firmly and tightly, holding you in his orbit with an ease that takes your breath away. There is no pressure, no urgency, just a silent possession that feels more dangerous than any words.

He leans closer to you, his face descending in a movement so slow it almost seems deliberate, as if he wants to lengthen the moment, as if he's enjoying the way your breath hitches, in how your lips barely part, in the way your pupils dilate as the space between you disappears.

His breath, warm with the faint trace of cigarette and mint, mingles with yours. Until his lips brush yours in a touch so ephemeral that it seems like an illusion.

A silent provocation. It's not an immediate kiss. No. He takes his time, brushing his mouth over yours torturously slow, as if giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him.

But you don't. Because you don't want to. Because you want him, so badly.

And when your body leans slightly into him, a sigh escapes your mouth before you can avoid it, needing him. And that seems to be all he needs, because then, you feel it.

His lips slide over yours with devastating precision, trapping you in a kiss that leaves no room to breathe. His hand on your cheek holds you by the back of your neck, while the hand on your waist pulls you closer to him.

He closes in a little more, tilting your face towards him as his other hand slowly slides down your waist, drawing you closer, eliminating any chink of space between your bodies.

The kiss intensifies as his tongue brushes against yours, soft, teasing, exploring with a patience and assurance that makes you shiver. Aemond does not rush. There is no desperation in his touch, just something darker, deeper, as if he wants to memorize your every reaction, every tremor of your body beneath his.

Then it's deeper and more demanding.

You have to cling to his shirt, to the folds of fabric between your fingers, because suddenly you're not sure you can stand without him.

And when he finally pulls away, just a little, just enough to look at you with that fiery blue eye, lips parted and breath hitching, you know nothing will ever be the same again.

"Tell me again," he murmurs against your lips, his forehead touching yours.

With your heart racing, you manage to hold his gaze and find the words to speak, when all you want to do is keep kissing him.

"I'm here for you, Aemond," you say, your tone soft, but confident, "Either way," you complete, without a hint of hesitation.

His gaze darkens. And then, he kisses you again.

And from that moment, that's when it all began. But only when you were alone.

There were no words about it, no questions, no explanations. The next day, Aemond behaved the same as always: serious, distant, impenetrable when you were surrounded by people.

There were no glances, no brushes, no hint that anything had happened the night before. But at some point in the night, he showed up. A short message.

A silent signal that gave way to the change in your relationship with him.

The first time you went to his apartment, there was no doubt or hesitation. He opened the door without a word and you walked in, feeling the warmth of his gaze following you closely. There were no words other than cordial ones and then there was no more preamble.

His way of touching you was firm, decisive, as if he had known you forever, as if he knew exactly what to do to make everything else disappear.

And in those moments, with his breath brushing against your skin and his hands roaming your body, you understood what this was.

It was just sex. But, surprisingly, there was something more.

Something that wasn't said out loud, but it was there, in the way his fingers lingered on your skin after it was all over. He wasn't asking you to stay, but he wasn't asking you to leave either. And somehow, that was enough.

That's how the dynamic between you began.

There were no explicit rules, but the boundaries were clear. The relationship was not based solely on desire, though.

When the two of you were alone, Aemond wasn't his usual self. He wasn't the cold, serious man everyone knew. With you, when the door closed and the world was outside, his expression changed. His barriers would crumble, if only for a moment.

There were nights when, after all, he would simply lie beside you, tangling his fingers in your hair in silence. He would tell you things he never told anyone, fragments of his mind that he rarely shared. And so did you with him.

It wasn't that he was affectionate, for Aemond is not that kind of person. But in the quiet of the night, when you were alone, he allowed himself to be something more than the impenetrable man everyone thought they knew.

In public, however, nothing changed.

He didn't ignore you, but he didn't treat you differently either. If you shared a room with others, he was the same old Aemond: observant, reserved, with an expression no one could read.

There were no signs of what went on when you were alone. It wasn't that he was ashamed of what you had, but he wasn't interested in letting the world know either.

And there were times when you wondered if this was enough for you. If you could go through with this, whatever it was, that existed only in the shadows. The doubt kept you up most of the night and distracted in your classes.

But then, there came the moments that made you forget those doubts.

When he had you against the wall or under his body, his mouth claiming yours with deep, electrifying movements, demanding and possessive.

There was tenderness in the small gestures, in the way he ran his fingers down your back after all, in the way he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear before kissing you again.

But all that only existed when it was just the two of you.

A delicate balance between what was allowed and what was not. A secret kept within four walls, where Aemond allowed himself to be more than just the man everyone knew. Where you are one of the few people he allows to see him as he really is.

And that, for now, is enough for you.

“Gods, Aemond.”

The sensation of his wet tongue exploring your pussy takes over every part of your mind and body. Your fingers grip his hair as your hips begin to roll into his face, unable to contain yourself and unable to stop the moans that escape your lips.

You let your head fall back against his pillow, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in pleasure as you feel his lips suck and lick your clit.

Your thighs rest against his shoulders, as his arms spread you even wider for him, letting him see all of you. He feasts, tasting his saliva and your juices, unable to get enough of you.

Your whole body writhes, having no escape from his grip, as your moans and the sound of his tongue working on you fill his room. When a suck on your clit especially makes you shudder, feeling the reach of your orgasm sooner than you expected.

“Oh my—fuck, I'm gonna come,” you gasp, warning quickly.

“Yeah?” he asks you, pulling slightly away from your pussy, “Are you close, baby?”

You can't speak, just nod.

Then you throw your head back hard, moaning as his tongue finds its way through all your wetness again and one of his fingers enters you, further stimulating the arrival of your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, Aem—

He watches you from where he is, still eating you, delighting in your expression and the way you squirm.

You bring both of your hands up to hold your breasts tightly, biting your lips and moaning loudly, feeling the heated pleasure hit you with intensity. He keeps sucking you, prolonging your orgasm, while you moan and see stars behind your eyes.

The perfect scene to make his cock harder.

He gives you one last kiss on your clit as you calm down and he moves up your body, bringing one of his hands to one of your breasts, cupping it and kneading it firmly.

His face leans toward you and he kisses you, letting you taste your flavor as he has so many times before. You feel dizzy, exhausted and overheated. But you know none of this ends here.

So you open your arms, embracing him as he makes room between your legs, never stopping kissing you.

“So pretty. So good for me,” he whispers against your lips with desire.

Hot and heavy, Aemond presses his cock against you, pressing it deliciously against your clit. You furrow your brows and gasp, still feeling the weight of your earlier, intense orgasm.

But you want more, more of him.

“Please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, ”I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? You want that?”

Everything about him is intoxicating, enthralling, dazzling and hypnotic. You don't think clearly. Much less in sex. So you just nod, needing more of him. Your pussy clenches around nothing and it frustrates you, so you grind your hips harder against his cock.

“Don't worry. I'm going to fuck you just right,” he tells you then leaves a soft kiss on your cheek.

Agitated, you watch as he removes his boxers and his hard cock slams against his lower abdomen. Big, pale and hot.

He reaches over to his nightstand drawer, grabbing a condom. He puts it on quickly and brings the tip to your folds, wetting it with your juices and slowly opening you for him.

The contact makes you shudder and you cling to his shoulders as he slowly begins to open you up. The sensation invades you almost instantly, intoxicating you, as he fills you to the hilt.

You watch him with your mouth open, as his eye bores into yours and he drops down for a moment to watch perfectly as the two of you join, hissing, staying still afterwards to give you time to adjust.

You've felt it many times before, it's not new, you can take it in completely. Yet it feels like the first time, every time.

And then, he begins his gentle back and forth, moving in and out of you slowly, at the same time burying his face in your neck, sighing as he feels your perfect pussy squeeze him.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps in your ear, sending shivers through your body, “Squeezing me so fucking tight. Feels so good. So deep in your pretty pussy.”

“Feels good. So good, Aemond.”

Then, he begins to penetrate you with steadier movements, deep and hard.

The air leaves your lungs, as you cling to his shoulders and hug him against you as you feel his warm breath against your neck each time he thrusts inside you again.

You whimper, feeling him keep up the steady rhythm, making you bite your lip at the delicious sensation that soothes the need you feel deep inside you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, ”Oh yes.”

His onslaught is faster and more energetic, penetrating you harder.

“That's it, baby. Wrap your legs around my torso,” he commands you in a soft, but firm, deep voice, full of lust.

And you do, desperate to feel him deeper inside you. The sound of skin against skin along with moans and gasps are all you hear in the room.

“Yeah, just like that,” he croons in your ear, ”Good girl. Just for me.”

All he gets from you is that you squeeze his cock harder. And he speeds up his movements, as he steals your breath with each thrust.

Aemond grunts and leans in a little, raising one hand to grab the edge of the bed's backrest for support to hit your exact spot with more precision and you whimper, arching your back at the delicious sensation.

He watches your every expression pleased, digging his fingers even deeper into the wood and with his other hand your skin, enjoying your pretty sounds that you make only for him.

“Aemond,” you moan.

Resting your head on the pillow and moaning without caring about anything else, you collapse. You tremble beneath him, your eyes roll back in your head, and you explode with an intensity stronger than your previous orgasm.

Feeling the way you squeeze him, he speeds up his movements, his thrusts faster and harder, reaching his own orgasm. He grunts and buries his face in your neck, grabbing one of your breasts hard as he cums inside you.

He curses, as he drops his body on top of you, breathing hard and his pulse too fast.

Then, complete silence.

Neither of you say or do anything. You both try to regulate your breathing and calm down from the high. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on your cheek, with his hand holding your face to then begin a brief trail of kisses to your lips. He kisses you deeply and finally leaves a last kiss on your forehead.

It feels like heaven and everything about him completely consumes you. It drugs you and floods you in the way you don't want it to stop. And you deeply wish time would stop so you can enjoy the moment forever.

But then, he gets off of you and lies down next to you letting out a sigh. And suddenly, coldness. There is no more affection or the warmth he used to give you.

You cover yourself with the sheets and watch him almost out of the corner of your eye. You want to get close to him, to hug him and have him make you feel safe and well cared for after the act of intimacy, like before.

But before you even try anything, he reaches over and takes from his nightstand a cigarette, lighting it. He makes himself comfortable in his own way and takes drags while staring at the ceiling or a spot in the room.

You bite your lips and look away from him, having no idea what to say.

The smoke reaches your nostrils and you both stay like that, existing, saying and doing nothing for a few long minutes. Then you see the time and it's late.

It's dangerous for you to go home by yourself, even in an Uber. And by his behavior, you doubt that he will tell you that you can stay or that he will drive you home.

You don't want to be later so you let out a long breath and without looking at him, you sit up with the sheets on your chest and start looking for your clothes.

"Where are you going?"

His question surprises you and catches you off guard instantly, so you turn to look at him a little uncertainly as you tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"It's late. I should be going."

He checks the time too and watches you with a frown.

"Don't you want to stay?"

"Hum... I don't know," you shrug, "You want me to?"

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, "You've stayed many times before."

"Yeah, I know, but... I don't know. I thought you didn't want me to stay this time."

He holds his frown as you watch him exhale smoke from between his parted lips, making a confused gesture with his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just thought about it," you shake your head, averting your gaze from him.

You feel his gaze on you as you bend over and pull on your shirt so you don't sleep completely naked. And he doesn't even tell you to wear his, like he used to a time ago.

He used to tell you that he loved seeing how his shirts looked on you and now... nothing.

"I'll drive you home in the morning. Don't worry," he tells you in that again nonchalant and... distant tone.

"Yeah," you murmur, turning to lie down next to him.

He lasts a few more minutes smoking his cigarette staring at the ceiling and nothing else, while you silently watch the features of his handsome face and the movements he makes with his hand and cigarette.

Finally he stubs out and throws what little is left of it in the trash, then turns off the lamp and begins to settle in next to you. He leans towards you, puts an arm behind your head and pulls your body towards him to sleep together, as before.

You place your head between his chest and neck as he wraps both arms around you and rests his head on yours, releasing a long breath to finally fall asleep.

For a moment, the action and the way you both are comforts you. His closeness and the way he holds you, makes you feel safe, comfortable, warm and makes those butterflies flutter in your stomach.

But you notice the little differences.

His touch is different, his nonchalant and distant attitude is transmitted through his movements and this... it felt like a mechanical movement, a movement caused by habit and almost forced.

It's like he has to, not because he really wants to. There are no little kisses or little caresses before bedtime while he holds you. Nothing. He doesn't make you feel the way he used to.

But at least he holds you.

And you settle for that, still with sadness in your heart and with the feeling that something has changed and you don't know what it is but, it gives you a bad feeling.

At least he's still doing these little things that used to make you happy. But... again, it's not like before.

You prepare breakfast for Aemond and yourself.

You woke up earlier than usual just so you could prepare a decent breakfast for him so he wouldn't go to class on an empty stomach.

You know that his classes start earlier in the day compared to yours and you have been listening to him take a shower for a while and now he is probably finishing getting ready to leave.

A few minutes ago you received messages from Sara asking you where you will celebrate your birthday tomorrow. You just had to tell her a place and she and the guys will take care of the rest.

You feel visibly excited about it. Although Aemond hasn't talked to you about any of that but... you are hopeful.

At that moment he appears down the hallway, ready to go to class, heading quickly towards the living room where his backpack is, shooting you a brief glance.

"What are you doing?"

"I made breakfast," you tell him, making him coffee the way he likes it.

"I don't have time," he tells you hurriedly, not even looking at you.

That makes you stop and look at him confused.

You shouldn't either, in fact, they are little things that anyone would tell you are unimportant but... you notice them and it sets off another alarm in you.

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" you ask him confused.

"No."

"But you always eat breakfast even if you're late."

"I can't now, Y/N. My first class is important," he tells you again with that coldness and almost... annoyance.

You watch him for a few seconds without saying anything. And then you watch all the breakfast ready in front of you as you bite the inside of your cheek, again feeling that bad feeling and discomfort running inside your body.

"Go get changed so I can drop you off at the dorm in passing," he tells you, "I don't have much time. We have to go now."

Surprisingly you don't want to.

Normally you would have accepted without even hesitating but now...you feel like you're annoying him and you don't want to do that with this too. Besides, he looks very rushed.

"Don't worry. I'll take the bus," you say without emotion, leaving everything on the table and heading towards his room to change.

"As you wish," he says behind you, unconcerned.

A sharp pain settles in your chest and you try to control yourself, not wanting to overthink things, even though you are already doing so.

With the sadness inside you, taking your time, you change and improve your appearance just a little. Normally you would have taken a shower here too but now you don't want to do any of that. You just want to go home.

You're barely finishing putting on your pants when you see him appear under the door frame with his backpack on his shoulder.

"Hey," he says to you in a surprisingly soft tone compared to a few seconds ago, "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"Huh?" you look at him confused and attentive.

"Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?"

You think about it for a moment, not expecting his question.

"Hum... no, not yet. In the night it's just the hanging out with the guys."

"Yeah, I know. But I thought we could do something the two of us before we go meet them."

And then, again that little hope appears and every ugly feeling from before is replaced.

My birthday.

You think instantly, feeling hopeful and excited. Surely he has a surprise for you and everything you were thinking before about his attitude and behavior, surely it's just because he has a lot to do regarding his classes and it really has nothing to do with you.

"Like what?"

He puts on a small half smile.

"Just be ready at six. I'll call you and pick you up."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure," you nod, smiling softly.

"Okay," he murmurs, "I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah. Drive safe."

He leaves and eventually so do you, it being a common routine where you know how to secure the door to his apartment when you're the last to leave.

Despite attending to your classes and work, you couldn't help but think of a thousand ways and things to do where Aemond will probably surprise you.

You didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. You texted him once you got to your residence and your day was almost over but he didn't respond.

Then you took a shower, finished some chores and watched a new episode of the show you are currently watching. Every once in a while you couldn't help but check your phone to see if you got a message from him or if he called you, but nothing.

Until eventually you fell asleep.

And the next morning, when you wake up, it's your birthday.

You get lots of messages and congratulations from your friends. Sara tags you on many Instagram stories wishing you a happy birthday. Other of your classmates also congratulate you and you spend part of the morning smiling and replying messages.

You FaceTime with your parents and family members you haven't seen in months. Even though the vacations are fast approaching, you've already made plans with Aemond to stay with him.

You receive more congratulations from cousins, aunts and uncles, you also talk to your grandparents and answer more messages from your friends.

Until you look for a specific person, there is nothing. Aemond hasn't texted or called you. The message you sent him yesterday he hasn't even seen it and that seems weird to you.

But the day is just starting so there is still plenty of time.

You also remember that he has something prepared for you this afternoon, so you look forward to whatever it will be. You know he will text or call you later.

You get ready and choose an outfit that makes it clear that this is your special day. You do waves in your hair and make your makeup a little more bold. Finally you apply lip gloss and head to campus.

You meet your classmates, they give you their best wishes, your professors also congratulate you on your birthday and your day is potentially going great.

Still, the hours pass and Aemond still hasn't contacted you.

That seems weird to you. But it's still early. So you follow the corresponding schedule of your classes and keep your mind busy for a couple more hours.

You finally get an hour's break and take a seat at one of the tables outside in one of the many gardens on campus. You pick up your phone and frown when you see that Aemond still hasn't texted you.

Confused, and just to put your mind at ease, you decide to text him yourself, asking if he's okay. But the messages don't reach him, confusing you and drawing your attention even more.

Either he has no signal wherever he is or his phone is turned off, which is very weird.

You tell yourself that surely he must be busy and will call you soon. You mean... he has to, right? It's your birthday and he has a plan for the two of you in a few more hours.

At that moment, you run into Jason, Cregan and Sara, who lock you in a tight group hug, congratulating you on your birthday and making a bit of a fuss.

"How's the birthday girl doing?" Jason asks you, smiling.

"Great," you assure him.

"Did you get any presents?" asks Sara.

"Mmm… yes, from some classmates," you reply with a small soft smile, "My mom also send a video with my little brothers. We promised to celebrate when I see them on vacation," you pause for a moment, hesitating if you should ask what's really on your mind.

But finally, you decide to do it in the most casual way possible.

"Oh and... have either of you seen Aemond?"

"I haven't," says Sara.

"I called him but sent me straight to mailbox," says Cregan.

"I think I saw him heading toward that building," Jason points out, "About two hours ago."

So he did come to class.

That's what your mind immediately thinks. But you don't understand what's going on with his phone.

"Yet he said he's going to the pub later," Cregan says.

"Yeah, that's where the whole group will finally be together," agrees Sara cheerfully.

Well, at least you know he's okay. And if he doesn't text or call you, you're sure he'll pick you up at your dorm like he said he would.

You linger for a few more moments chatting with the guys until eventually everyone heads off to their next class, hours pass and you finally finish your classes.

You quickly head to your residence to touch up your makeup and put on another outfit. You have exactly half an hour until six o'clock and Aemond arrives.

You put on your playlist of the moment and undecidedly start looking at all the outfits that are for the whole occasion. You don't know where Aemond will take you so you want to be prepared in case of anything.

You also make sure of your lingerie.

You recently bought a couple of new outfits and now seems like the time to break in a new one.

With Aemond it's almost a law that you'll both find the time wherever it is to obviously do... that. He's insatiable and goes crazy over every new outfit you put on and you really want to surprise him.

You finally finish getting ready and look at the time on your phone, it's exactly six o'clock. And excited, you wait for him.

Usually Aemond is very punctual. The time he says he will arrive, he arrives exactly at that time. But ten long, eternal minutes go by and he doesn't show up. And that really seems very weird to you.

Then fifteen, twenty minutes and he still doesn't show up.

If something got in his way, he would usually let you know. But you don't get a text or a call from him. So you decide to call him yourself.

Finally the call comes in and you wait for him to answer, relieved that his phone has a signal or is on, whatever happened. But he doesn't answer.

You call again, nothing. And again, nothing. Bewildered, you text him, telling him you're waiting for him. But nothing, he doesn't answer, doesn't tell you anything, doesn't even read them.

You start anxiously moving your foot up and down and call him a couple more times, but he doesn't answer. And that's what happens for over an hour, waiting for him to call you or say something, anything, but nothing.

Feelings of disappointment, sadness and anger wash over you. You plop down on your bed and continue to stare at your phone waiting for something, anything, with a bitter look on your face. But, again and as lately, nothing.

He hasn't even said happy birthday. He hasn't said anything at all. And the plan for both of you, completely forgotten.

When then, a terrible realization begins to dawn on you.

He maybe...?

No.

You immediately say to yourself, in denial.

He hasn't forgotten your birthday. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to you. He couldn't.

Frustrated, you let out a long breath as the thought begins to creep deeper and deeper into your mind. Not leaving you alone and wanting to convince you that's exactly what happened. Or else he would have responded to your message from this morning and you both would be together right now.

But you tell yourself that maybe something happened. Something he didn't plan for. Maybe something important and he can't communicate it now, but eventually he will.

You're sure he wouldn't do something like this to you, so it must be something unexpected and important.

You chase away all the negative things you're thinking and think about Cregan saying he's going to the pub anyway. You know that right there he'll give you an explanation and make it up to you, you're pretty sure.

So you wait for the time you agreed to show up at the pub with Sara, all the time still hoping to hear something from Aemond, anything. But nothing.

Finally he arrives.

His arrival completely steals your attention. You watch as he enters the pub with a completely disinterested and... resigned look on his face. As if he doesn't really want to be here.

This gets your attention even more but in front of the others, you hide it and don't immediately approach him, as if you haven't been waiting for him all this time.

Jason and Cregan literally rush towards him, while you sit there talking to Sara and your other classmates continue to talk and drink.

Sara is talking but you're not really listening to her, as out of the corner of your eye you watch him, talking to the guys with a tense posture and a somewhat irritated look on his face.

And after a few minutes, the guys practically drag him over to the table where you are, cheering him on.

The three of them take a seat, he specifically in front of you and all he does is give you and Sara a slight nod of his head in greeting and... that's it.

And that's the point where you finally don't understand anything.

He hasn't even said happy birthday to you. Nor does he give you the signal to both speak privately. He doesn't even seem to have your numerous missed calls and messages you left him in mind.

What's wrong with him?

He's looking all around, until the moment comes when, of course, he takes his lighter and his cigarette and doesn't even glance at you. He doesn't join in the conversation either. He doesn't really do anything.

And you start looking for the perfect opportunity to approach him and ask him to explain himself.

And you think it finally comes when he gets up and says he's going to get a drink, heading with dispassionate movements towards the bar.

But the bar is in plain sight and your drink is still full. So you start taking quick sips to finish it without drawing attention to yourself. Still, you watch him and are more confused when you see him with his back to you typing on his phone, waiting for his drink.

There's no way he hasn't noticed the numerous messages you've left him.

You don't understand why he hasn't spoken to you all day and why he seems to be ignoring you. You just don't understand anything.

And just as you're about to get up to go with him, he returns with drink in hand and a seriousness in his eyes that you haven't seen for a long time. So you last a long time at the table, talking to the guys, waiting for the opportunity that keeps not coming as time goes by.

You also talk to your classmates at the other table and from time to time you watch him, if not all the time, wanting him to look back at you but nothing.

He seems distracted, serious and irritated. Everything about him you can see and notice.

When suddenly he stands up without a word and you watch intently as he heads for the restroom.

The perfect opportunity.

From the tables where everyone is sitting, they can't see the small hallway leading to the restrooms. So you let a few small seconds pass, act all normal and casual, and finally get up and tell Sara that you will go to the restroom and will be back in a moment.

You do everything normal, although you don't really do anything inside the restroom, except stand at the entrance and listen attentively for the moment when the men's restrooms door opens so you can go out and bump into him.

And that's what you do the moment you hear the door open, hoping it's him and not someone else.

And to your good fortune, it's him. And he watches you the instant your figure appears in front of him, both of you stopping your steps.

"Hey," you say a little uncertainly, looking at him slightly confused and with nervousness creeping over you.

And he speaks to you with the most disinterested and cold tone he has ever addressed you with. His gaze cold and distant.

"Hey."

This confuses you even more and you decide to get to the point directly, needing to know what's wrong with him.

"Are you okay?"

He frowns, as if your question is absurd.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well... I haven't heard from you all day. I called you many times and left you several messages, but you didn't get back to me."

Aemond raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn't understand what you're saying and starts pulling his phone out of his pocket, seemingly unconcerned.

"You did?"

"Yes," you say, feeling more lost than ever, "I wait for you."

"For what?"

You stare at him incredulously and with all the bewilderment in your gaze, parting your lips.

"For what?" you repeat, not understanding, "Yesterday you said you'd pick me up at six. You didn't tell me where we were going and so I kept calling and texting you but you never answered. You didn't even let me know you weren't coming," you say looking at him confused, "Something happened or... you forgot?"

The change in his gaze is subtle, but you can see it. Something inside him softens, watching you silently, with realization. And upon seeing your gaze, he averts his gaze full of resignation as he takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face.

"Fuck," he mutters.

And you watch him the whole time, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"Sorry," he finally says, watching you and his voice deepens, "I forgot. I was busy."

You blink, watching him sadly and uncomprehendingly, frowning at him.

"You forgot?" you repeat in a mumble, shaking your head and shrugging.

"It wasn't intentional," he tells you in a more serious tone, "I was busy and I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you later, okay?"

But something in his words doesn't convince you, and you continue to stare at him with that look that begs for deeper answers.

"But why would you forget? Where were you?"

"I already told you I was busy."

"Yes but you were the one who told me that—

"I know," he cuts you off sharply, "And I forgot because, for the fourth time, I was busy. Now stop making a big deal out of it and stop whining like a little girl."

Pain flashes across your face as you take a step back, bewildered and surprised.

He has never spoken to you this way before. Nor has he ever behaved with you the way he is behaving now. You just don't understand. But then... again that thought comes to your mind as you watch him with your parted lips.

The realization comes and hits you to make you see the reality. And you watch it sadder and more confused than before.

"You don't even know what today is? Did you forget too?" you ask him with your voice cracking in disappointment and disbelief, "I-I... I just... I just wanted to know if you were okay and where you were. And I don't think it's fair that—

"Look," he says, interrupting you with a coldness and a look full of annoyance, "Just because we slept together doesn't mean you're my girlfriend Y/N, because you're not. Let's make it fucking clear to you once and for all and stop thinking you have the right to demand explanations from me that I don't have to give you. You're just a convenient fuck and that's all, do you understand?"

His words fall like a weight on your chest and everything around you seems to stop. Your breath catches and your throat closes as you stand there, not knowing what to do and unable to believe what you just heard.

You can't believe he, he, said that.

Not the Aemond who looked at you with that intensity that seemed to promise more, who always found a way to make you feel special, even if it was in the privacy of bed or in the shadows of your moments together.

But here he is, looking at you coldly and honestly, also with some annoyance, as if you were just another problem he doesn't need to solve, but to get rid of. And really meaning every word he says.

You don't say anything. You just can't. The lump in your throat makes it impossible for you to speak and tears burn in your eyes, threatening to fall.

You try to stand firm, but every second that passes is a struggle not to break down in front of him. When then, you hear Sara's voice.

"There you are!"

She exclaims, approaching with a huge smile.

"What are you doing? We're waiting for you. It's time to sing happy birthday."

You don't see it but the confusion in Aemond's eye appears when Sara mentions the word birthday.

And you nod, biting the inside of your cheek, instantly pretending that everything is perfectly fine and you weren't heartbroken just a few seconds ago.

You swallow hard, controlling yourself.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

She takes your arm and leads you along with her towards the table with the candle-decorated cake that all your friends together have bought for you.

Sara also makes sure to place your gifts around for pictures while you take a seat in the middle in full view of everyone and continue to hold your ground.

Aemond eventually approaches the table as well, you feel his closeness without even looking him, at the same time as everyone starts singing for you.

The room is filled with laughter and voices, with the hubbub of your friends singing a rousing and somewhat off-key version of 'happy birthday'. Sara is at your side, smiling radiantly, as the others raise their glasses, animated and happy.

And you... you smile too.

A wide, almost perfect smile that seems to fit the scene. But inside, you feel how every second that passes is like a knife pressing against your heart. An uncomfortable knot forms in your chest as you struggle to keep your composure.

Don't cry. Don't cry now.

You repeat yourself over and over, forcing yourself to keep up the facade. You know your friends are here for you, that they really want to see you happy, but all you can think about are Aemond's words and how he reduced you to something insignificant.

Your hands are tense, clenching the edges of the table as if that will keep you on your feet.

Your jaw aches from pretending so much, from holding back the tears that burn in your eyes. But, fortunately, you're doing a good job and no one notices.

However, you don't know it either but Aemond does.

He has come close enough to see your face. And although at first glance you look radiant, he knows you too well and something in your smile, in your eyes, tells him the truth and that smile is not real.

You don't see it, but you feel his gaze on you, so intense. As he purses his lips and continues to watch the scene, remorse hitting him with a force he didn't expect.

The last chords of the song echo as everyone applauds, cheering and encouraging you to blow out the candles. You take a breath, blinking rapidly to clear any sign of your emotions.

"Go on, make a wish, birthday girl," Sara tells you excitedly.

You lean into the cake, closing your eyes.

Your mind, treacherously, can't help but return to Aemond's words, again feeling the urge to cry. And yet, you make an effort to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, at least for now.

And finally, you blow out the candles.

Applause fills the space again, and you smile as everyone begins to surround you, offering hugs and warm words. When your gaze inevitably meets his.

He's still there, standing a little apart, watching you with a mixture of guilt and something else you can't quite decipher. He doesn't even try to come closer and you're grateful for that, because it's the smartest thing he can do now.

You look away from him and continue to thank them, doing the best thing you know how to do: pretend.

You laugh lightly at a comment from Sara, accept another hug, and even allow someone to smear a bit of frosting from the cake on your nose.

It all seems so normal, so perfect, but you know it's not.

Aemond is still there, motionless, watching you. And even though you try to ignore him, you can feel his gaze burning into you. He knows he has crossed a boundary tonight. He knows he's hurt you and you're like this because of him.

"Happy birthday, Y/N."

One of your classmates says to you as he hugs you. Then someone else hugs you and says the same thing, then another person and another.

But the voice you most longed to hear saying those words to you is absent and the emptiness it leaves weighs heavier than you'd like to admit.

But one thing is guaranteed and that is that you're fucking done.

After your birthday celebration, you went home earlier than you normally would have stayed to celebrate. But you just couldn't pretend anymore.

Aemond is the one who always takes people who live near him with him in his car. But this time it was Sara who did you the favor after telling her that you appreciated everyone's great gesture for celebrating your day but you weren't feeling well.

You received a couple of texts from him during the ride. Messages you decided not to read or you would end up crying with Sara in her car. So you stood your ground and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't cry for him once you got to your dorm.

Obviously, you failed.

As soon as you finished taking off your clothes to put on your pajamas and started removing your makeup, inevitably the first tears started to fall. And then, you were a complete mess.

You weren't helped by the fact that his texts kept coming. And you had an idea what they were saying, so the very pain and bitterness deep inside you made you strong enough to not read anything, turn off your phone and go to bed to sleep.

But clearly nothing ended there.

You expected that he would later try to talk to you, no matter what.

So you did what you had never done before when it was about him and what he sometimes did when it was about you; you sent him straight to voicemail and didn't respond to any of his texts for days.

Y/N, please.

I didn't fucking mean it.

I'm sorry.

Can I talk to you?

Call me as soon as you can.

I know you're mad at me but I needed to talk to you, please.

That and more similar texts is what you've been getting these past few days. Days in which you have fortunately managed to avoid him on campus. And not just him, your other friends too or else he'll intercept you with them and you won't have a subtle escape.

And you don't want that.

You don't want to be weak enough in front of him to listen to his justifications and forgive him so easily. What he did to you, what he said to you… is not worthy of forgiveness.

You never realized before how insignificant you are to him and how he truly sees you. You are not even a little bit special than you considered him to you.

But that what happened, it broke your heart but it has also opened your eyes. You know you won't be able to hide forever. You also know that eventually meeting Aemond either alone or with people would be inevitable.

Besides, your friends were already starting to notice it weird that they didn't see you around, so you meet up with them in the usual campus gardens and act completely normal.

When Aemond also joins shortly after.

Everyone greets him as normal when he arrives and he greets them back with his usual nonchalant and serious attitude. However, you don't greet him. You don't even look at him.

You take the opportunity to do one of your homework right there, participating in the conversation from time to time but without being involved, just accompanying them and nothing more.

He takes a seat in front of you, where you instantly feel his piercing, burning gaze. You feel him silently begging you to look at him, to give him a chance to talk, to not ignore him anymore. But that's what you do, you ignore him.

“And how are your vacation plans going?” asks Cregan.

Inevitably, you tense up at the question. And the memories come back.

“Come with me.”

“Where to?”

“To Dragonstone.”

You press your lips together and more purposefully pretend to be completely immersed in your homework, when the truth is you hear the entire conversation.

“Where are you going?” he asks Jason.

“Sunspear, with my whole family.”

“And you?”

“I'm going home, Winterfell,” Sara replies.

“Winterfell?” repeats Cregan confused, “ You didn't say you were going to the beach?”

“Nope. I'll relax in the cabins with hot tubs,” she says with a smug grin, “How about you?”

“I'll go to the beach, definitely. I'm thinking Runestone.”

They go on to talk about their plans, places and so on. When they ask Aemond and you particularly pay more attention to that.

“You haven't changed your plans? You're going to Dragonstone?”

And his quiet, soft, nonchalant voice is not long in coming.

“Yes.”

And you continue to pretend. Pretending that you're not listening, that it's not a big deal, and that you secretly didn't have the same plan to go with him. And you're so immersed in it, you didn't think about the fact that eventually you'd also be asked the same question.

“What about you, Y/N? You said you had plans too.”

Shit.

You try to look like the question hasn't caught you off guard. And you quickly compose yourself. You raise your gaze to them, all but him, and speak with a nonchalant attitude and tone.

“Actually… no,” you place a soft smile, ”I'm going to stay here.”

“Oh really?”

“And why is that?”

Everyone looks at you in surprise and bewilderment. But, specifically, a burning, piercing eye watches you with more intensity than before and with a annoyance you can feel through your skin. Betrayal and pain, even. And honestly, it bothers you, too.

What was he expecting after what happened?

You try not to let it affect you, pretend he's not even here. And you deliberately ignore him.

“Maybe I'll visit my mom for a week or two,” you explain calmly, “But I'll stay most of the time here. And that's okay. It's no big deal.”

The guys give you their opinion and invite you to spend the vacations with them, somehow not wanting to leave you behind. But you turn them down politely, thanking them for their concern and saying that what you want is some time to yourself. And they understand.

And then, Aegon appears.

His entrance is, as always, loud and carefree. He wears a wide grin and a mocking twinkle in his eye as he greets everyone.

“Ah, look at this boring group alone,” he says, plopping his body down next to you on the grass.

Everyone waves at him, even you.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“The vacations.”

“Oh yeah, I can't wait. I need a break from all this,” he says as he lets out an exaggerated sigh and everyone in the group watches him with raised eyebrows.

“You? A break?” Sara asks him.

“Sure,” he shrugs, ”I'm a student too.”

“You've been drinking and going to parties every day,” Jason tells him amused, “What break are you talking about exactly?”

Everyone in the group laughs, even you, except him.

Aegon tries to justify himself, but even he knows he's a mess. When suddenly, his gaze fixes on you, raising an eyebrow and placing a smirk as if something has suddenly crossed his mind.

“Hey, Y/N,” he nudges you lightly with his shoulder, ”it was your birthday, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod with a small smile, trying to keep your composure.

“Why didn't you invite me?” he asks, feigning indignation.

Cregan scoffs.

“I invited you, you idiot.”

“Oh, right, right,” Aegon replies with a carefree laugh, ”I'm sorry I didn't go. I had another little party. Aemond was there too, wasn't he, little brother?”

Aemond's silence is immediate and deafening. He says nothing, and that makes the atmosphere suddenly heavy, for you.

And something inside you twists. And you look down at your notebook, trying to control your emotions and everything you're thinking. But you can't.

A party. He was at a party, on your birthday.

“And how was that party?” asks Cregan.

“Oh, fun, as always,” Aegon replies with a light tone. “They were our childhood friends, the Baratheons, the Tyrells, the Martells, and the Lannisters.”

Your heart stops for an instant.

Lannister.

That last name weighs on your mind like a rock.

“Yeah, it was really fun,” Aegon continues with a smile, “Even Aemond had a good time.”

The sound of his scandalous laughter fills the air, but is suddenly interrupted by Aemond's cold, cutting voice.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The elder only shrugs with a smirk and raises both hands in surrender.

“Oh, fucking spare me. You know how it is with him,” he says while at the same time starting to get up, ”First he's fine and then suddenly he turns into fucking Maleficent, like at that party.”

He waves a lazy goodbye as the guys wave goodbye to him. And you get caught up in his words.

Even Aemond had a good time.

Now you understand. He forgot your birthday because he was with them, with Cerelle.

A pang of pain runs through your chest at the thought of what that implies, of what probably happened between the two of them.

And whatever it was, it didn't end well, because afterwards he went to the pub and he was so distant, so quiet, so cold and so upset that that's why he said those ugly words to you and treated you the way he treated you.

Otherwise, he would have stayed with her and you wouldn't have seen him on your birthday.

Still, the betrayal in your chest is palpable and growing bigger. He still showed up, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't forgotten you on your fucking birthday.

You press your lips together, trying to hold back the tears. You won't give him the pleasure of seeing you break. Not now, not here. Least of all when you feel his gaze on you, his gaze intent, fixed and more insistently on you now that you know.

With a new bitterness settling in your chest, you refuse to give him what he seeks. You keep your eyes anywhere but on him, resisting the storm of emotions that threatens to overflow inside you.

A few long minutes pass with the guys making any topic of conversation and that stare starts to bother you more and more, so you decide you've had enough and start putting away all your books and notebooks.

“I have to go now. I can't be late for my next class,” you let them know as you get up with all your stuff, ”I'll see you guys later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“See ya.”

You settle your backpack on your shoulder and with your phone in hand, you start walking away from them towards your corresponding building.

And as you walk away, a notification comes to your phone, followed by another. You stare at the screen and your breath catches for a moment, reading the texts, from him.

Are you fucking serious?

How long are you going to keep this shit up?

You scoff, shaking your head slightly. You don't even open the chat to let him know you've read it. And in fact, with a bitter look on your face and a new hurt feeling, you block him.

The first week of vacation, you went to visit your Mom in Highgarden.

It wasn't a difficult decision because you knew a few days away from Kings Landing would do you good. And being with your Mom and younger brothers you knew it would be just enough to keep you busy and spend time with all of them.

Sara sent you pictures and videos of her time in the mountains of Winterfell, enjoying big cozy cabins and fancy hot tubs.

For a moment you regretted turning down her invitation, but as you laughed and played with your brothers, you were happy to be with them after so many months without seeing them.

You also sent him pictures of your home, the lake in the garden, flowers and the big woods, as well as selfies of you and your brothers. Through the group chat, Cregan and Jason also sent pictures of their vacations, both of them at the beach and tanning.

One thing you noticed, inevitably, was the absence of Aemond.

He usually doesn't send messages or pictures of what he's doing. But you assumed he would when he was in Dragonstone, maybe even a picture or two. But nothing. Complete silence. Just like you.

You blocked him from social media too. He has no way of knowing what you're doing and where, just as you have no way of knowing about him. And it was a kind of relief you hadn't experienced about him before. It was good to breathe and not be on the lookout to recognize red hair near him.

And the more it made you realize how much better off you are without getting involved with him.

In fact, you stayed home for more than two weeks. You couldn't help it after your brothers asked you to stay with them longer. Until you finally let Sara know you were going back to Kings Landing the next day.

It wasn't a hard goodbye, but your Mom and brothers were sad. You promised to come back, like you do every year on the next vacation. And finally you get on that plane.

It's not a long trip, thankfully. And when you land, surprisingly it's raining. The weather is cloudy, cold and perfect for welcoming you in to watch movies curled up in your bed.

So you order an Uber and soon you're on your way to your residence, letting Sara know of your movements at all times, just as she keeps bragging to you about her days in those comfy cabins.

As you arrive, the rain is still pouring down and you run towards the doors with your suitcase in one hand and the other protecting your head, even though you are already partially wet.

You enter the building, shaking off the water, and climb to the second floor. With your keys already in hand, you start thinking about what you're going to have for dinner and what movie will be the first of your marathon.

But then, you notice something.

Or rather, someone.

In front of your door, sitting on the floor with his head slightly tilted down, there is someone. Surprise forces you to slow your steps and your breathing quickens slightly as you recognize him, even before he looks up.

Aemond.

He turns his head towards you and his one visible eye meets yours. His expression is a strange mix between seriousness and something else… something softer, more vulnerable.

His lips are pressed together and the raindrops that surely reached him glisten on the ends of his hair. For a moment, you stand frozen in the hallway, not knowing what to say or do, with the sound of the rain out there filling the silence between the two of you.

You don't know exactly how long it takes, that you swallow hard and finally speak, taking a couple of cautious steps towards him.

“Aemond?”

He doesn't say anything. He makes what appears to be a defeated gesture and rises from the ground, letting you see his profile straight ahead. He has the same look as before, with his hoddie's cap pulled up over his hair and he leans against the hallway wall behind him, looking at you and nothing else.

You shake your head, not understanding.

“What are you doing here?”

You ask him in surprise and confusion. And inevitably, seeing his state, you shouldn't but begin to worry about him. Has something bad happened to him?

“You didn't go to Dragonstone?” you ask him later as you remember, feeling more confused than before.

What is he doing here instead of enjoying his vacation at his family's huge, luxurious beachside mansion?

And he finally speaks in his low, soft tone.

“No.”

You frown, only with his answer creating more questions in your mind.

“And what are you doing here? How did you know I was coming back today?”

“I asked Sara.”

You part your lips, confused.

“Why would she tell you that?”

“You blocked me from everywhere, Y/N,” he tells you in a low, obvious tone, as if he had no choice.

Confusion and anger slowly begins to creep up on you. But you know you can't be upset with Sara, not with her. None of the boys know what you had with Aemond, they didn't even suspect it then and they certainly won't now.

Surely she saw it as a casual question, something insignificant, as if he had asked her about anyone else. So you can't be bothered. However, you begin to feel the awkwardness, as well as the slight sense of betrayal in your chest. And the bitterness.

“You haven't told me what you're doing here.”

“I need to talk to you,” he says, taking a step toward you.

“About what?” you ask him instantly, confused and with a defensive tone, clearly annoyed.

Everything you have done regarding him, blocking him, not speaking to him anymore and walking away, is more than enough to make him understand that you no longer want to have anything to do with him.

And you know he understands that, so why is his need to keep doing this? Asking for you and looking for you?

You are sick of this situation.

And Aemond, noticing this, your look, which you've never given him before, before your birthday, is not something he's used to. Neither is your tone of voice and the distance you keep from him, when before you always wanted to be near him, almost all the time.

He feels more guilty and like an idiot than ever.

He lowers his gaze, trying to find a way not to keep fucking this up, to be able to talk to you, to let him into your life again. Then, just like he used to be with you when it was just the two of you, he drops his strong walls and for the first time, he comes across in the most honest and sincere way to you.

“I miss you.”

Your body immediately tenses as you hear those two words come out of his mouth. His voice, lower and laden with a sincerity you didn't expect, cuts your breath for a moment.

Your first impulse is to want to laugh, not out of amusement, but as a bitter, incredulous reaction.

And without saying anything, you watch him seriously, waiting for him to say something else, something that would make sense of his presence here, in the rain, in front of your door. But he doesn't.

He just watches you, his shoulders slightly down, and that vulnerability that he rarely lets show in him.

And seeing that you don't react, that you're still watching him even in that way, in that way he's not used to, when before it was a tender and loving look, now there's none of that… he hates it.

So he hurries to speak again, to explain himself, to make you understand.

“I know I fucked up. I didn't mean to tell you all that on your birthday. You didn't deserve it and I'm sorry. I was an idiot,” he says, ”But I miss you and that's why I'm here.”

You shake your head slightly, watching him earnestly and attentively, while at the same time folding your arms, in an attempt to protect yourself from the wave of emotions that threatens to attack you.

He looks at you pleadingly and you look at him serious, disinterested, with the distance marked and the bitterness still inside you.

“That's it?”

His face contracts slightly in frustration.

“Y/N—

“If that's all, you can go,” you interrupt him, quickly pushing past him with your suitcase in hand and trying to get into your dorm room as fast as you can to leave him behind.

But you knew you wouldn't make it.

His hand immediately takes you gently but firmly by your arm, stopping you and turning you back to him so he can see your face and speak to you.

“No, that's not all,” he tells you instantly, “I-I… I want things to go back to the way they used to be.”

“And how were things between the two of us before exactly?” you inquire, taking a decisive step toward him, “You want to go back to the whole ‘no strings attached’ thing? To seeing each other in secret and me still just being your convenient fuck and nothing else? That's what you want?”

Your tone is a poison dart, and you see him recoil, as if your every word burns him. His jaw tenses, but he doesn't say anything right away.

“Say it, “you challenge him, taking a step closer, your eyes boring into his, ”Tell me it wasn't just that. Tell me it wasn't just… that I wasn't just—

Your voice cracks, and you hate that it does. Because even though you're upset, even though you want to stay strong, it's too much. He still affects you even more intensely than he did before.

He looks at you, his lips parted, as the rain continues to fall outside.

“That's what I thought,” you whisper at last, releasing yourself from his grip.

You hold the keys more firmly in your hand, avoiding shaking, to insert it into the lock of your door. But he, not wanting it to end like this, stops you.

“You never said anything. You seemed fine with all of it. Now why the sudden change?”

You close your eyes tightly, no longer able to hold back the tears in your eyes. The bitterness, the sadness, the pain, the betrayal, everything stirs inside you. It hurts you and there seems to be no end to it, because again you turn to face him.

And seeing the tears threatening to run down your cheeks, something in his gaze softens, not expecting to see you like this.

“Are you fucking serious?” you say to him almost in a whisper in a shaky, bitter voice, “After what you did, what you said, how do you expect me to be okay to keep being with you?”

He lets out a long breath.

“Y/N… you weren't just that. You never were. And I… I was upset that day. And I shouldn't have taken it out on you, I know that. But I promise you weren't just that to me.”

You shake your head, not believing his words for a second. Not anymore.

“The thing here is, your words don't mean anything to me anymore.”

He takes a step toward you.

“I didn't mean to… I didn't think that—

“That's the problem, Aemond, you never think of anyone but yourself,” you interrupt him in a harsh, annoyed voice, ”Everything is always about what you want, what's convenient for you.”

He shakes his head.

“That's not true—

“Of course it is,” you take a shaky breath and your words coming out softer, but no less sharp, “ And even now, after all, you don't understand how much you meant to me. Because I didn't matter to you, ever.”

No matter how many times he tells you that it was not so, you will not believe him, because he did not necessarily prove to you before something that can prove his words. There are no facts, there is nothing.

And that same bitterness, makes you finally be brave, speak up, get it off your chest. So you don't let him talk so you can get it over with once and for all.

“You know what happened?” you ask, ”I got feelings. That's what happened.”

And there it is. You've said it.

Those words you never said long ago so as not to scare him away from you, how you knew it would happen, without putting you and what you felt first. But still, without having said it before, you ended up with a broken heart.

The weight of your words falls between the two of you like an invisible wall, so palpable you can almost touch it. Aemond seems to freeze, his eyes anchored on yours.

“That's why things can't go back to the way they were, because, of course, that's not what you want. What you want is an idiot who is at your beck and call whenever and however you want her to be.”

Your words hit him unexpectedly.

And the change in his expression is immediate. All the vulnerability he had shown disappears from his face.

And once again you are in front of the Aemond everyone knows; the cold, distant, serious and inexpressive Aemond. His gaze, once pleading and remorseful, becomes hard and distant.

His jaw visibly tenses and you notice how his shoulders square, adopting that defensive posture you know so well.

“Don't say that,” his voice comes out low, strained. “It wasn't like that.”

“It wasn't?” you inquire, pursing your lips, ”You said I was just a convenient fuck. I'm sure you can find someone else, then.”

Every word comes like poison from your lips, and though it pains you to say them, you know they're true. You see it in the way his face contorts slightly, as if your words have hit him where it hurts the most.

But he maintains that typical attitude of his, that mask of indifference he has perfected over the years.

You wait for him to contradict you, to deny it, to try to justify it. But nothing. He says nothing. He just stands there, staring at you seriously, jaw clenched and looking like he's having an internal fight, struggling against his thoughts, not knowing what to do or what to say.

And you again press your lips together, having enough of this.

”Get out.”

And he finally reacts, lowering his gaze and letting out a deep sigh, pursing his lips and looking at you again with a serious look.

“I can't give you what you want, Y/N.”

“But you do want me to give you what you want,” you say firmly and curtly, “Because Cerelle didn't, right?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think about what you're going to say. But there it is, you've said it too.

His lips part, his whole body tenses, watching you in surprise and mild confusion, definitely not expecting that from you. And there, you leave him speechless, trying to understand how it is that you know about her.

And although for a second you look unsure about what you've said and regretful, you also decide that you're not going to keep quiet about it any longer. And you continue, with bitterness in your eyes and in your tone of voice.

“You forgot my birthday, because of her,” you say, each word like a dagger, ”You were late because you were with her.”

“How do you know about her?” he asks you instantly, his voice like ice.

You swallow hard softly, holding his gaze despite the pain it causes you.

Of course he would ask you that.

“I noticed something between you, when she went to the same parties as us,” you reply, “The way you looked at her, how your mood changed when she appeared and when you both disappeared,” you say with those moments replaying in your mind, still so present, “And then Aegon, drunk as usual, told me a few things.”

“What did he tell you?” he again asks you instantly, serious and thoughtful.

The rigidity in his body, the tension, is more evident now, as is the vulnerability and sadness in you as you talk about her. And you avert your gaze, with every word coming out of your mouth aching, but needing to say it all.

“That the two of you had a thing. That you're in love with her, but she's not in love with you.”

The muscle in his jaw tenses so tight you fear he'll break his teeth, his breathing grows heavier, and for a moment, you see a flash of raw pain in his eyes before the mask of coldness falls back into place.

“The worst part is that I've known that for a while now,” you continue, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts, ”I kept hoping I meant more to you than just your way of filling that void.”

For a moment, your mask of coldness cracks. But only for a moment. And you see a glimmer, of something deeper in her gaze. Guilt? Remorse?

But just as it appears, it vanishes. You notice how his hands open and close at his sides, a nervous gesture he rarely displays. His gaze again seems to search for something on the floor, before meeting your gaze again.

And when he finally speaks, his voice comes out lower, more controlled, as if each word is carefully measured.

“That was never my intention.”

It's almost as if the words hurt as they come out, as if a part of him wants to say more but doesn't know how. And you scoff, incredulous.

“Sure, you didn't mean to treat me as your second option and break my heart with every cold, disinterested attitude every time she came back to break yours?”

The silence that follows is heavy, laden with all the unsaid things between you.

“I can't give you what you want,” he repeats resignedly, watching you seriously.

“Then leave.”

“Y/N—

“No,” you interrupt him instantly, stepping back instinctively, ”I'm done here. I'm done with you. So leave. Don't come looking for me, ever again, do you understand? I don't want anything to do with you anymore.”

You are clear in your words. You're not playing games. You're not hesitating for a second. And you're being terribly honest.

Something snaps inside you, but there's also something starting to break free. There's no turning back now and you both know it, because this time, finally, you chose to put yourself first.

So you walk into your dorm room, while he stands in the middle of the hallway, not saying or doing anything else. And then you close the door.

AEMOND POV

There is something off… in the way you are no longer around.

It shows in the small details, the way you slowly disappeared from his life. In the way a message with your name no longer appears on his phone, nor a call.

In the way he was unconsciously so used to visiting you in your dorm or your going to his apartment. The way you used to fall asleep next to him in his big bed. The way you would make breakfast for the two of you before you went to class.

The way you both exchanged subtle glances when you were in a group with the guys or at parties. The way in secret encounters, stolen kisses in the shadows and passionate moments in his bedroom.

But there was also the way you always waited for him.

That's a thought that hits him with the force of a delayed revelation, something his own selfishness kept him from seeing before.

When he would ignore your texts or calls, when he wouldn't meet you, when he would cancel plans at the last minute, when he would disappear for days and barely be around, for her… for Cerelle.

Even on his bad days, after every fight with her, he would come back and there you were, without protest or asking for explanations. And then it was back to the usual routine; all secret. And casual.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. He looks at the clock on his nightstand; midnight. He can't sleep. His mind keeps him awake, because all he can think about, is you.

Since the day of your birthday, specifically, you've tormented his mind. Ever since he knew he fucked up, ever since you stopped answering his texts, calls, to ignoring him even when he was in front of you and leaving him behind, you haven't stopped rolling around in his mind.

He was supposed to be right now in Dragonstone, enjoying his vacation, like everyone else before the new semester crushes him with new difficulties, responsibilities and pressures.

But he decided not to go, because he couldn't. Because you were supposed to go with him.

He doesn't even want to admit how much that idea excited him. The two of you had made the plan, you were supposed to go with him. But when you canceled, without even telling him directly, it disappointed him in a way he didn't expect.

But he doesn't blame you. He can't. Not after what he did.

He's too proud though, too stubborn to accept it ending like this. He refuses to let you go, even when you've made it perfectly clear that you want nothing more to do with him. He can't help but seek you out, pursue you, unaware of the damage he continues to cause.

That's why he went looking for you. But he had already lost you, for a while now.

And he misses you. By the Gods, how he misses you.

He took you for granted, thinking you would always be there for him, even with his bad moods and his habit of taking it out on others, like he did on your birthday.

A growl of frustration escapes his throat as he brings a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes tightly.

The memory of that day haunts him like a curse. Not only did he ruin everything between you two, but he did it on your birthday. Your damn birthday that he forgot.

Guilt and regret flood him inside as he lies in his bed. And every memory, every mental image is a reminder of what he has lost because of his own stupidity.

How could he have been so blind? So selfish?

The silence of the night is deafening, interrupted only by the soft ticking of the clock and his own breathing. His eyes burn with exhaustion, but sleep refuses to take him.

Not when your voice echoes in his mind, repeating those words, “I kept waiting to mean more to you than just your way of filling that void.”

Suddenly, the silence is broken by the ringing of his phone. His heart violently flips in his chest, and for a moment, he thinks it might be you. His hands move with almost desperate speed to reach for his phone.

But hope dies quickly when he sees the name on the screen; Cerelle.

He stands completely still, watching the screen light up again and again with her call. And for the first time, something changes inside him. Instead of the usual anxious fluttering in his stomach when he sees her name, instead of that compulsive need to answer immediately, he feels… nothing.

Or maybe not nothing. He feels tiredness. A deep, overwhelming tiredness.

He knows exactly why she's calling. He can picture it perfectly, another fight with Aegon, tears in her voice, needing someone to listen to her, to comfort her. Needing him, not because she really wants him, but because it's convenient.

Because she knows he is always there, waiting like an idiot, ready to pick up the pieces his brother leaves behind.

“It wasn't your intention to treat me like your second choice? To break my heart with every cold, disinterested attitude every time she came back to break yours?”

The irony is not lost on him, he did to you exactly what Cerelle does to him. He used you to fill a void, to not feel so alone, so unloved.

The phone stops ringing, only to start again almost immediately. This time, however, he feels no hesitation. With a decisive move, he turns it off completely, cutting off the call and any chance of further messages.

He drops back onto the bed, his mind inevitably drifting back to you. It's as if he can't help himself, as if all his thoughts have a direct path to your memory.

He sees your face with a clarity that hurts him, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, how your nose crinkled slightly when something bothered you, the softness of your cheeks when you blushed, the way your hair fell over your face when you concentrated on something.

Your lips… the way they curved into a smile, how they felt against his, the taste of your kisses. Every detail of you is burned into his memory.

The silence of the night seems to taunt him, reminding him of all the times he could have done things differently, all the opportunities he had to value you as you deserved and wasted thinking of someone else.

He lost you because of his own stupidity, because of his inability to see what was in front of him until it was no longer there. For chasing an illusion with Cerelle while he had something real with you.

And now, it's too late.

thank you for reading!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #modern hotd #au modern #modern aemond #aemond one eye #aemond one shot #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x fem!reader

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arciam · 2 months ago

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Underrated JayVik moments/lines (2/∞)

"For what?"

(Previous line by Jayce: "I need to get ready.")

Ugh, if only the gays could communicate.

In this scene, Heimerdinger has threatened - sworn - to have the HexCore destroyed "one way or another". Since they are running out of time to find ways to save Viktor at this point and the HexCore appears to be the only viable option, Jayce immediately resolves - however conflicted about it he feels - to go up against his revered mentor by having him voted off the council. For Viktor.

However: from Jayce's quieting footsteps as Viktor asks "For what?", we can tell that Jayce didn't stick around to tell Viktor of his intentions.

If ever there was a moment that perfectly encapsulates how Viktor never gets to see the full picture of Jayce, the full scope of his decisionmaking... it would be this one.

For all the times Viktor feels betrayed and abandoned by Jayce (and rightfully so), he equally often doesn't get to witness all the other actions/decisions that show how ultimately, Jayce will always put him first.

He sees Jayce looking starstruck by Mel, but didn't see him looking at Viktor the exact same way only hours prior.

He is aware of Jayce leaving him to his own devices at the lab, but not of how Jayce fled Mel's bed to come see him before he could have even known Viktor was sick.

He hears Jayce speak disparagingly about the Undercity only after worrying about Viktor and where he had disappeared to for days.

He knows that Jayce broke his promise to destroy the HexCore, but not of the wide-eyed desparation with which he scrambled for any way at all to save Viktor.

He notices the blueprints for HexTech weapons, but wasn't there for the attack on the memorial service.

And of course, he has Jayce attacking him multiple times, but can't see how much Jayce is fighting himself tooth and nail every step of the way to do it.

In the end, it literally takes Jayce forfeiting his entire existence for the chance to stay by Viktor's side for Viktor to finally realise all the things he never saw.

(Disclaimer: none of this is to say that Jayce's decisions were all good or justified - gods no - only that it's more complicated than that. Nuance, my beloved.)

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/7½/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20

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#JayVik #Arcane meta #JayVik meta #Jayce Talis #Viktor Arcane #Arcane #Jayce x Viktor #Underrated JayVik series

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revelboo · 4 months ago

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love your stuff so much, you bless us day after day with such wonderful writing... and lately there's been moments of multiple bots daydreaming about making babies with their human mates and that really got my gears turning... that's my kink!! i can't help but want to worldbuild around justifying it!!

so i wanted to share my thoughts on how a transformer could babytrap his squishy lover: nanites build things, right? so if they repair the wear & tear of the human body, what if they can also take advantage of a partner with the necessary hardware for gestation if there's, ahem, enough regular injections of fluid... maybe it's an adaptation for colonizing and cyberforming other planets, breeding out the original inhabitants that way, or maybe it's an astronomical coincidence unique to human biology and this discovery shifts the entire tone of how cybertronians interact with them. which do you prefer?

I might have some ideas on that… Happy New Year

Everything Is Alright Pt 100

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• No longer restricted to feeling only your emotions or quick flashes of images, Soundwave can see you. All of you. And can feel you drifting through him. Avoiding him when he reaches for you. Denying him. Chasing after you, drawn desperately by the warmth and brightness of you, he’s aware of a duller, less distinct shape shadowing you. Knows it’s the vestiges of your existing bond with Starscream, the form enough like the Seeker even as it isn’t quite right. A different frame, but he recognizes that crackling animosity every time he almost catches you only to have you slip thought his servos.

• Drowning in Soundwave’s memories, his need, you’re dimly aware of Starscream yelling, his fury and worry lashing at you through the bond. Of Soundwave’s hips rocking against you, his spike stroking deep. Of him reaching for you again and again. Wanting to submit, but every time he gets close, a jangling, desperate terror you don’t understand sends you fleeing. Wanting him, but worried even though you can’t figure out why, feeling like you’re in danger even though you trust him.

• Your distress hurts him, that ungrounded fear of him tearing at his spark. Because you don’t really think he’d harm you, he can feel that. So why? That shadow of Starscream curls more firmly around you as he reaches again, unable to stop himself. And finally overtakes you, dragging your light to himself and claiming it, feeling Starscream’s bond prickle through him, all resentment, hate, and fear and he claims that, too. Knowing there’s no way to separate you from it. And both of you rush into him, seeing all of you and the Seeker even as you curl into yourself, trying to keep something hidden.

• Wanting nothing more than to relax into the warmth and belonging of Soundwave, that unconscious fear is still there, making you struggle as he coaxes at you. Wrapping himself more firmly in you, overwhelming you with his life. With flashes of memory and emotion until you submit to him. Feel him washing into you, nothing hidden or secret. And also feeling when he hesitates. His realization becoming your own.

• “You son of a glitch,” Starscream seethes, servos flexing. Unable to just yank Soundwave off of you because he doesn’t know what abruptly severing the bond will do to you. If it might harm you and unwilling to risk it. Then you make a noise, lips parting as Soundwave shudders and lifts up slightly, ending the connection himself. Stray tendrils of spark energy reaching as Soundwave closes the panels around his spark and gathers you to him. Watching you press your face into his neck as Soundwave stares at him, furious. “Give me my mate. Now.”

• Venting raggedly, Soundwave awkwardly sits up, keeping you in his lap as you lay against him, heart racing. Because what he’d felt, what you’d been unconsciously protecting? It shouldn’t have been possible. No more possible than spark bonding without a spark. Hand cupping the back of your head, he catches Starscream’s wrist when he tries to take you from him. Ruthlessly digging through the Seeker’s mind before letting go to send Starscream stumbling back, furious. Because the Seeker doesn’t know what he did. Has no idea. “Our mate,” Soundwave snarls protectively. Their mate who somehow has a very fragile, newly formed, and wholly impossible spark entangled in themself. Hand sliding against your spine as you tremble, he knows you know now. That you knew the moment he did through the bond. “With sparkling,” he says, because sooner or later, no matter how self obsessed and oblivious the Seeker is, he’s going to figure it out himself and he feels you cringe.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream #soundwave x reader #megatron x reader #idw soundwave #idw megatron

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minteagalaxea · 3 months ago

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steep (woo) | r. reigns

roman and quynh

genre: angst . fluff . smut (minors dni) content warnings: thigh riding . praise kink . mild sir kink . nb character (afab) . multiple orgasms . implied age gap (quynh is in their mid-twenties) . protected sex (quynh is stated to have the arm implant) word count: 4.45k inspiration: roman reigns' many barbs about missionary position against john cena . tea and boba obsessions songs: woo by rihanna (slowed and reverb) (x) . claws by kim petras (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "steep (xxviii reasons)" (x) . "steep (sand)" (x) note: thank you to @lov3rla03 and everyone who enjoyed the first one, so i hope you guys get to enjoy the journey quynh gets to experience and lets you guys get to know them!! they're one of my favorite ocs i've made (and i've made a lot lol)

at twenty-five, quynh learned the weight of building a life around a ghost—rightfully so for someone who was twenty-five, it wasn’t something they particularly enjoyed.

they loved john. of course they did. but it was tiring to know that when they had crafted a life, a career, and identity of their own outside of his shadow, was equally liberating and suffocating to know that they weren’t just connected to him in career, they weren’t connected to him in the slightest.

they corrected themselves as they sipped their tea as they read through the card for the night, noting which questions they were asking and to whom backstage as they did their round of pacing. it was somewhat liberating that they weren’t tethered to a clean-cut image that was so saccharine quynh’s stomach roiled violently just at the mere thought of it. but, he liked it, so they tried. they really fucking tried.

as they paced in the room, quynh realized that they should be angry with john. it was well within their rights to be. they did their part, calling and texting and sending photos to include him in their life, the moments they crafted. fuck, they even texted him and called him about their tattoo appointment, wanting him to share it with them and be there.

that text barely went acknowledged—quynh went alone, and that was when they really knew that they were living with a ghost for a boyfriend.

when they heard the door open, they looked at their lover and realized the title felt hollow, like an empty platitude to justify that they both used to be in love. and, with a hug, a kiss to his cheek, they said they couldn’t do it anymore. and he understood, kissing their forehead and wishing them well on the show; they did the same.

the shit thing was how their farewells were so easy: given how he relocated, it made it harder for them to miss him. how could they miss something that never really existed?

“you could mourn, you know?” quynh heard someone say as they started to prepare, slipping in a pair of colored contacts. silver, to separate from his blue and orange.

they peered up once they were on, affixing their gaze upon the other man through the mirror. “what do i have to mourn if there isn’t anything to mourn, roman?”

roman reigns—if quynh had to consider who they really built their career around, no matter how unintentional it was, it was him. they knew, as everyone did, and they knew that wwe was pushing him hard. so hard that they weren’t sure how he managed to get in the ring every fucking night and have the self-possession to not let it hurt his soul. except everyone figured out that there was a surefire way to get roman over without absolute question.

all it took was quynh interviewing him.

quynh knew that it wasn’t inherently as simple, but they always shared that same sense of intensity. and the way they looked at one another, body harmonizing and eyes smoldering as they let him bury his own grave with each question they asked and each silence prolonged. there was something about the tension, the unspoken dance, their natural dynamic, that seemed to have the wwe universe cheering and actually getting him over. not that the audience ever realized that they weren’t together. both had a healthy appreciation of one another, but knew what it meant if either were to ever entertain the fantasy when they were still with john up until less than thirty minutes ago.

except now they weren’t. and quynh thought that perhaps was scarier.

the two stared at one another through the mirror for a moment, silent as they pondered one another’s words in the mirror. quynh tried not to fantasize about the way his arm piece would look against the ones on their sides as their top rose while they started to work on their makeup.

roman offered a smile, one of those genuine ones beneath the smoldering intensity of his gaze, and wished them good luck, and they did the same. quynh tried to not consider how much more invested they felt with a man they were never with.

at (almost) twenty-six, quynh learned what it meant to miss someone that wasn’t a ghost, despite being far away.

roman looked…healthier. and that was good, given what he just fought. and yet, here he was, staring at them with a pallor that suggested he actually did see a ghost, except perhaps the ghost was them.

out of respect, quynh didn’t excessively contact him, preferring their meetups for boba when they were in town or a rare video call. casual and easy, they tried to be close to him, offering him patience where they could over the past four months. and they enjoyed learning about roman, the soul that was strong and gentle, sweet and bitter in equal measure.

it took them a moment to realize that roman hadn’t seen them quite as glamorous in a long while, sensual as they were deadly in their long legs and heels that put them just at his height. maybe it was a good thing they were attempting to kill a man who just came back from beating cancer, because it gave him one of the greatest reactions ever.

except nobody had to know how he took their hand when the camera didn’t notice, trying to ground himself in quynh’s iciness, their stoicism. the pallor might have remained as he stared, but both knew what their job was, and it was to give their audience the greatest damn show in the world with his return. quynh missed seeing him grind his eyes into theirs, onyx meeting whatever artificial color suited their whims. tonight was their normal color for once.

nobody noticed how they settled in the hotel bar together with drinks as they celebrated, both casual and intimate at once as they scrolled through their phone, responding to their artist about their appointment. “first one?” roman asked, voice warm and low and genuinely piqued.

quynh shook their head, swirling their grasshopper before they took a sip. “i got one a year back.”

“he come with you?” he didn’t need to name him—both of them knew.

“left me on ‘read’.” they weren’t sure why they didn’t sound as bitter; perhaps it was due to john’s own lack of them. their eyes lingered on roman’s own arm, a beautiful tapestry of his culture and took another sip of their drink, trying to not think too hard about how it contrasted and complemented their minimalist lines.

“i could come with you, if you’d like,” he offered, snapping them out of their introspection. quynh’s hand stilled, eyes heavy with scrutiny as they questioned his intentions. “i know you probably didn’t cry or anything, but i’d want to be there if you wanted mortal support.”

they blinked at him carefully, not wanting to set themselves up for disappointment, “day after tomorrow if you wanna come.”

quynh hadn’t expected for him to show up then, sitting sentinel throughout their session and providing copious amounts of attention to them as he watched the art take shape on their physique. they hadn’t felt quite seen like this before, and it made them feel acknowledged as he saw the art continue onto their thighs—heard the story behind the genesis of the piece from their artist. when the piece was finished, the heat returned to roman’s eyes as their artist applied the second skin bandage, admiring the masterpiece to their body with ferality. he looked at them through the mirror as their artist took more photos of their physique. the heat was unmistakable as they tilted their head in confusion.

“what was he like?” he asked them.

quynh considered the question thoroughly, attempting to find the words for a man they didn’t want to entirely badmouth.

yet, they couldn’t deny the heat in their eyes as they responded, “regular white meat babyface, i guess.”

“and i’m not, baby?” roman challenged with a smirk, one that brought heat to quynh’s eyes as they let themselves indulge in the timber of his touch, the velvet of his voice.

“you’re back now…i guess we’ll see if you can follow through on your ambition, big dog.”

at twenty-seven, quynh learned exactly how ambition turned a ghost into something physical, ferocious, and fantastic.

they had always liked roman just fine—they had no reason to deny the unfathomable amounts of chemistry and connection they had. yet, they had no reason to broach the territory beyond tenuous friendship and burgeoning want. not because of john, though the beginning certainly contained that, but they were both…complacent, they supposed. it wasn’t unwarranted, and the constancy of their dynamic was one they definitely valued and appreciated as the pandemic hit.

and then, roman returned at summerslam and destroyed braun strowman and the fiend with absolute vengeance that quynh hadn’t seen from him before. and he took a chair to braun strowman. and quynh, who had observed the entire match, commentated on the entire match?

well, they had never felt more heat stream through their veins when he met their artificially gold ones.

in quynh’s opinion, roman had never been more attractive to them, now that he was tapping into the ambition, the darkness, the power they always thought he tried to temper to make himself successful. and now that the brakes were off, and he was asserting what was his, taking without mercy, quynh felt their heart rate spike.

when roman took back his universal championship, they smiled with a feral want they hadn’t expected in themselves. they were starting to truly understand why roman looked at them so, and perhaps why things seemed to naturally work between the two of them, with each appearance to support them through their tattoo appointments (not that they ever needed it) and each interview and comment they gave him now that he was the head of the table, the tribal chief.

quynh quickly learned where the irony really lied—he took from others, but gave to them beyond measure. and it really started one night in his hotel as they fell back into their easy ways until he leaned up into them, forehead against theirs as he offered the smile of a jackal poised to pounce. “what was it like…being with him?” roman asked, and quynh wasn’t sure how to respond, or the context he even asked. the only additional hint it required for them to really decipher the context was his hands splayed on their waist.

“he preferred missionary,” they murmured dryly, ambivalent about it all, but not wanting to badmouth a man who they loved once a long time ago, dissonant as they pondered the reasoning. it was easier, given his exhaustion, and he wanted the intimacy they could provide in that way.

certainly, though, routine was the mother of complacency, and it did explain quynh’s revolving door of boba drinks they picked depending on their temperament.

“every time?” he asked, subsequent to a moment of silence. they nodded, and shrugged haplessly as they thought about it.

“it was easier.”

roman’s voice growled as he cinched their waist closer to him, “easy doesn’t mean good, baby.”

quynh nodded, a hand resting against his arm as their legs straddled over his hips, while his own roamed up to their halter-neck bralette, the crisscross cutout revealing the moment of ink on their sternum. “baby, why did it take so long?” he asked, “you know this ain’t something you can hide. you know we keep coming back to each other.” they knew, and they whispered exactly why.

“the beginning…we knew…with john, and we knew we were better than being dirty secrets,” they confessed, “but, i was waiting…you seemed like you were going through an evolution, trying to figure who you wanted to be. and the man i see now is the man i adore even more. i’ve always known what we could be, but we weren’t ready. we didn’t know who we were then. we do now.”

when roman bridged the gap, capturing their lips into a kiss that told them everything he didn’t say aloud, quynh knew that this was where they were meant to be as he lifted them to his bed, extricating their bralette and undergarments to have them straddling his thigh. flexing the muscle there, he let them set the pace, allowing them to rediscover human intimacy in a way that died down long after their relationship with john. maybe even because of him. roman, however, seemed hellbent on trying to reignite that spark in them as he murmured things. so many things and fantasies that dated back to the very first interview they conducted with him. things about how he wanted to kiss them, pin them against the wall.

“baby, when i came back in remission and saw your outfit?” he rasped with interest as he helped them bounce on his thigh at the pace they were finding they liked, “that silver hair of yours, that turtleneck? your leather jacket? your heels? fuck, i wanted to get you out of those right then and there, make a big statement on my return with you.”

part of quynh realized that this probably explained a large part of why roman’s gaze always lingered the way it did, like he was trying to respectfully undress them in his mind. not that they were susceptible to that type of energy now, and especially now that he made it so much easier with those fitted t-shirts over that tactical gear.

as their hips flexed on this thigh, they rested their face into the junction of his neck, whimpering in an almost uncharacteristic shyness as one of his hands brushed their pearl, pressing insistent circles to help them along. quynh thought their body was crumbling apart, bursting into seafoam, only for him to mold them back together.

maybe the metaphor is inaccurate—roman might just be more adept at helping them blossom and be devoured at the right time, like a master of fine and rare teas that they had been exploring at tea shops more recently.

yet, somehow, it didn’t matter as he whispered them promises of desire, stories of want, years of yearning that he could finally have them, the version of them unencumbered with ghosts and monsters and tannins that sucked the moisture from their mouth. it was enough for that wave of tension to crash over them and soak the fabric of his pants as he offered them a kiss and swallowed their gentle sounds with greed until their hips stilled. it was a fascinating paradox, then, one that sent their mind reeling and hazy in the most saccharine of ways as he held them close, pressing kisses that made the heat rise to their skin and dilation to their pupils.

“you okay if i fuck you now, baby?” he asked, running his hands along the new pieces along their waist and thighs with a small, playful smirk, “promise it won’t be missionary for the hundredth time.”

quynh leaned into him, a breezy sort of giggle as they assented, their artificial nails digging into his shoulders as he knelt, wrapping their legs around his waist as he rubbed his tip against their soaked folds, before helping them sink down onto his length and feel every stretch.

“better than missionary?” he teased, giving them a moment to adjust before allowing them to set the pace while he caressed every inch of their inked body in between fevered kisses. they didn’t respond, not verbally, punctuating their desire with slow, impactful slams down onto his sizeable girth, the airiest of mewls tumbling past their lips as they kissed, tongues tangling as his hips met theirs halfway and harmonizing with his heavy growls.

as they arched their back towards him and tilted their head back in bliss, roman took over the pace for them, matching their preferred rhythm while lavishing kisses and marks to the column of their throat; quynh held him close, claws sinking into his luscious locks to keep him affixed to their throat as his thrusts swept inside deep into them, imprinting their cunt to fit him perfectly as he dragged them to the precipice of euphoria.

it was with this that they came with a breathy moan of his name, letting him spill into their clenching tightness not long after, sinking his teeth into the junction of their neck just above their tattoo as their groan reached a crescendo, just enough to bathe the room with their desire as roman pistoned himself through both of their climaxes. whispers of his name flowed from their lips as quynh settled, craning their neck forward again to press their forehead against his as their breaths mingled.

as their voice came back to them, quynh’s eyes settled on the man beneath them, cupping his face as they finally decided to answer that question of his from earlier. they hadn’t remembered the last time they felt this powerful, this free, now that their ambition for an equal let them take as much as he was willing to give them.

quynh lilted, “better,” and they felt like they had finally blossomed into the creature they were always meant to be as they peered at roman with a breathless, blissful beam.

at twenty-eight, quynh learned that some ghosts, no matter how much they buried them, didn’t like to stay there.

john was back, of course he was. they weren’t sure how they felt about it personally, but they maintained their professional veneer. they weren’t sure how they could function without it, despite their body simmering into frustration, because of course john had to return now.

roman, as he always did, took it somewhat unpleasantly, though it wasn’t just for his own sake, much to their shock. because he was right: john didn’t change, no matter what hollywood wanted to portray him. however, the other part of it was the intrinsic knowledge of their relationship, and the snippets that quynh offered over the year of their relationship, their proper relationship as partners.

the fact that roman really had to use the missionary reference for john when delivering that promo made them sound like a borderline hyena backstage despite the audience jeering at the statement. though, quynh considered, a fair majority of it had more to do with the fact that they knew roman was trying to protect them in his own way, upset about the situation for them about john in a way they never really processed.

and when john cena hijacked the signing for that summerslam match? all because roman denied him his challenge for the universal championship?

they felt like they were a teapot of steaming water about to fucking explode.

roman told them he was going to deny it—that wasn’t the surprise, because they knew what the whole point was. roman had changed, evolved into someone with so much more than the initial reputation he had. and that had made them even more chilling on the microphone during their interviews with him than he probably expected, because he still knew them. more than they wanted to admit to themselves.

hence, the sense of vindication they felt when roman brought up how twenty years of missionary wasn’t enough for them evidently. quynh could only smirk behind their mug of tea as they blinked at him with a raised brow, safe behind their sage colored contacts and their almond-shaped press-ons, the perfect juxtaposition to the vivacity of john’s attire and roman’s monochrome. and the nebulous definition of their relationship on the screen enabled roman to rattle john so deeply, a lesson john had taught them about letting the appeal of their relationship, the on-screen will they won’t they parts of it, become the major draw of their thing. quynh loathed that they had to learn how to hide the true nature of their relationship with someone they loved so deeply to spare them both given how intertwined their persona was with roman’s.

when summerslam started, they let everyone else talk. there was no point for them to exert that energy towards something that they didn’t feel pertinent to the overall story, though they provided their own analysis of the situation in the way that would make sense to anyone else: john wanted to come back and take opportunities away from younger, more current workers. and they chose not to answer when cole asked them if they thought it had to do with them, providing context for others the potential jealousy john might be experiencing given how roman swayed their affections. everyone else could think what they wanted to about the matter.

yet, as they thought about the nature of their relationships with these things, they scoffed as roman nailed john with another spear after some superman punches after john tried to mimic roman’s signature move. quynh wasn’t sure if they wanted confirmation that he tried that after seeing their disinterested expression. and then roman looked at them as they leaned back in their chair, and he finished the job. corey also had to snark that roman worked devastatingly hard to earn quynh’s praise, praise that felt like an elusive prize for someone as dominant as he was.

so, they gave it to him, commenting that roman laid out an almost artful performance. john nearly glared at them for that, though they paid him little mind as they worked on commentating the loose ends of their feud. and the heat in roman’s eyes when he looked back at them as he walked away made their cheeks imperceptibly warm.

the smirk on their face from brock lesnar’s unexpected appearance and giving john german suplexes and a f-5 in immediate succession was just the icing on the cake to try and keep their ghosts away now that this was all over.

at twenty-eight (several hours later), quynh learned how to properly bury a ghost.

roman, for all his exhaustion, was determined to celebrate in his impatient sort of way as he kissed them, hard and intense but with considerable care as they leapt into his arms, his hands gripping their denim trousers before slipping off their leather jacket and the belt of their pants.

“you make it hard for me to do my job, baby,” he teased, voice raspy in his exhaustion as he managed to slip off their pants and leave them in their black turtleneck bodysuit.

their hair billowed in this face, soft and fluffy against his wet and denser tresses from his conditioner and water as their nails tangled into them. “does it matter since you won?” quynh rebutted, jovial and seductive in equal measure as they buried their nose into his neck, “can’t have a fighting champion that slacks off right, sir?”

he nearly ripped their bodysuit off of them, how they used that title like it was a weapon that made him bleed with pride for them, one used sparingly and with the full force of a freight train as he pressed them on top of his face, sinking them down onto his handsome visage with vigor. they took from him, cognizant of his exhaustion in this position as they rode his face with semi-reckless abandon, blossoming underneath his tongue like a moon-blooming flower as they mewled and whined and preened for roman over and over. his tongue delved in like a man starved in the desert, having finally found his oasis—an oasis willing to give him all the ambrosia to consume.

they weren’t sure how many times they came like that, but quynh knew that at some point, they felt a pair of eyes on them, a familiar pair that could easily discern by the sheer weight of his gaze. yet, they didn’t deign to give him more satisfaction beyond a view that he evidently couldn’t look away from. maybe it was ironic, then, maybe it could be attributed to roman’s youth relative to john, the fact that he never really stopped wrestling, and didn’t just return on a whim.

they also knew their lover well enough to know that he really wanted to spite john just a little more, while also bringing them to new precipices of pleasure as he took them from behind, their body arched deep as he took his time, letting everything about them melt into a perfect harmony and contrast, their complexions, their ink, the bodies telling a story of yin and yang as roman pulled moans from them and had their body writhe in inexorable ways with each apex of pleasure.

but the reality that they were being watched set quynh’s nerves ablaze, and not because it made them aroused. it was the fact that the ghost they wanted to exorcise wouldn’t fucking leave. and they wanted roman to hide them, to shield the type of vulnerability they had just started learning to give again. roman hadn’t broken a promise with them yet, and he understood what they needed as he held them close, helped them slide onto his length, meeting them despite his exhaustion, his stamina relentless as ever.

quynh was starting to forget what it felt like to have just a piece of silicon bring them pleasure on nights like these, nights where they couldn't have the closeness they craved more than anything else. roman always delivered on that aspect, their banter fluid as water and viscous with adoration as he felt the imprint his length made in their abdomen, the deepness he provided, as they begged. and with the impeccable timing of his favorite pet name, he spilled into them, deep inside their walls as he kept them close and worked through their nth climax. yet, their most favorite part was the aftercare, the way he always ensured their comfort as he kissed the shrine of ink along their body, especially their arm with their implant as they shied away from their intruder, wanting to hide the artwork that defined their journey without him, especially their first one on their sides.

roman helped them back up back to their feet, helping them affix their heels and hair before draping his hoodie over them and asking if they wanted hotpot for dinner. quynh also heard the scurry of john’s footsteps to try and recover some semblance of dignity, but they knew when they affixed their gaze onto him, eyes scanning as they always did as they reflect on the amount of barbs roman had left about missionary, him asking them earlier if their coupling position beat it out.

at twenty-eight, quynh learned that they became their old flame’s ghost with just a single word: better.

#roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x original character #wwe #og bloodline #the bloodline

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galacticlamps · 1 year ago

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ok I have A Lot of thoughts about the staircase confession (well really about Edwin's whole character arc, but all roads lead to rome) but for now I just wanna say that, yes, I was bracing myself for something to go terribly wrong when I first watched it, and yes, part of me was initially worried its placement might be an uncharacteristically foolish choice made in the name of Drama or Pacing or Making a Compelling Episode of Television but at the expense of narrative sense--

But I wanna say that having taken all that into account, and watched it play out, and sat with it - and honestly become rather transfixed by it - I really think it's a beautifully crafted moment and truly the only way that arc could've arrived at such a satisfying conclusion.

And if I had to pinpoint why I not only buy it but also have come to really treasure it, I'd have to put it down to the fact that it genuinely is a confession, and nothing else.

That moment is an announcement of what Edwin has come to understand about himself, but because it takes the form of a character admitting romantic feelings for such a close friend, I think it can be very easy, when writing that kind of thing, to imbue it with other elements like a plea or a request or even the start of a new relationship that, intentionally or not, would change the shape of the moment and can quickly overshadow what a huge deal the telling is all on its own. But that's not the case here. Since it is only a confession, unaccompanied by anything else, and since we see afterward how it was enough, evidently, to fix the strangeness that had grown between him & Charles, we're forced to understand that it was never Edwin's feelings that were actually making things difficult for him - it was not being able to tell Charles about them. 'Terrified' as he's been of this, Edwin learns that his feelings don't need to either disappear completely or be totally reciprocated in order for him to be able to return to the peace, stability, and security of the relationship with which he defines his existence - and the scale of that relief a) tells us a hell of a lot about Edwin as a character and b) totally justifies the way his declaration just bursts out of him at what would otherwise be such a poorly chosen moment, in my opinion.

Whether or not they are or ever could be reciprocated, Edwin's feelings are definitively proven not to be the problem here - only his potential choice to bottle it up - his repression - is. And where that repression had once been mainly involuntary, a product of what he'd been through, now that he's got this new awareness of himself, if he still fails to admit what he's found either to himself or to the one person he's so unambiguously close with, then that repression will be by his own choice and actions.

And he won't do that. Among other things, he's coming into this scene having just (unknowingly) absolved the soul of his own school bully and accidental killer by pointing out a fact that is every bit as central to his self-discovery as anything about his sexuality or his attraction to Charles is: the idea that "If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell"

So narratively speaking, of course it makes sense that Edwin literally cannot get out of Hell until he stops punishing himself - and right now, the thing that's torturing him is something he has control over. It's not who he is or what he feels, but what he chooses to do with those feelings that's hurting him, and he's even already made the conscious choice to tell Charles about them, he was just interrupted. But now that they're back together and he's literally in the middle of an attempt to escape Hell, there is absolutely no way he can so much as stop for breath without telling Charles the truth. Even the stopping for breath is so loaded - because they're ghosts, they don't need to breathe, but also they're in Hell, so the one thing they can feel is pain, however nonsensical. And Edwin certainly is in pain. But whether he knows what he's about to do or not when he says he 'just needs a tick,' a breather is absolutely not what's gonna give him enough relief to keep climbing - it's fixing that other hurt, though, that will.

Like everything else in that scene, there's a lot of layers to him promising Charles "You don't have to feel the same way, I just needed you to know" - but I don't think that means it isn't also true on a surface level. It's the act of telling Charles that matters so much more than whatever follows it, and while that might have gone unnoticed if anything else major had happened in the same conversation, now we're forced to acknowledge its staggering and singular importance for what it is. The moment is well-earned and properly built up to, but until we see it happen in all its wonderful simplicity, and we see the aftermath (or lack thereof, even), we couldn't properly anticipate how much of a weight off Edwin's shoulders merely getting to share the truth with Charles was going to be, why he couldn't wait for a better, safer opportunity before giving in to that desire, or how badly he needed to say it and nothing else - and I really, really love the weight that act of just being honest, seen, and known is given in their story/relationship.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #the case of the very long stairway #im sorry this really IS the short version of my thoughts i swear #i didnt want to get long and rambley backing everything up and mentioning everything else this forces me to reconsider #i just feel like i've barely interacted w this fandom and still seen quite a few odd duck takes on this moment imo #i dont think he wouldntve got the nerve to say it otherwise #(he was already going to! & if anything his new experiences in hell only cement that being the right choice)#and as much as i get what fear can do to a person i still definitely dont think he was resigned to staying in hell if charles reacted badly #i truly think he just couldnt keep it to himself any longer #the show is upfront about his escaping hell being a testament to his own strength rather than a lucky break of some sort #so i think even being on the receiving end of a rescue mission getting out still must take a lot of strength in this universe #and telling charles that definitely made him stronger/in less pain #so yeah totally necessary it happened where and when it did in my book #also i hope it doesnt sound like im being dismissive of anything charles says in this scene #but the way i see it those were all things they both already knew #so reaffirming them just adds to the idea that the act of Telling Each Other Things is what's so important here #rather than counting as a truly separate thing this conversation achieves #just my two cents

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amazingdeadfish · 6 months ago

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Blue and Violet Scenes/Ideas that never made the cut

Self Indulgent post ahead, but I kind of wanted to share some of the things that had been part of the early stages of BAV but were cut out when I finally started publishing! Most of this stuff was either cut out due to my interpretations of the characters naturally changing and/or I simply realized that these aspects simply could not fit the story I wanted to tell (or, they are just silly things I simply could not fit into the plot line. OR, I forgot about them and didn't remember these things existed until now 💀).

Starting off strong with a thing I actually wrote a segment for (an idea that was relatively recent compared to the ones down below): During Colours, Baihe and Macaque were meant to visit the ruins of her house and try and salvage any bits and pieces which might help them find her parents. In the end I had decided that, Baihe would have done that already before Macaque found her on the park bench. I just think that that moment between her and her old home should just... well, it's a moment that belongs to her. Something Macaque didn't need to bare witness.

Extra Info: This is where Baihe was originally meant to find the old photo of her, her parents, and Māo as a kitten. And... Macaque is there in the background. Stealing an air fryer that managed to survive the wreckage (this was in fact written into the draft of this segment).

Next is- well, it contains a bit of a heavy topic. It's about Mayor and LBD and... erm...

In the published version of TQFTSK. Macaque betrays the Chief and locks them in the Calabash and this inevitably leads to LBD telling Chief to cut off their hair. Originally, this was not going to be the only thing she would do.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about this concept, but basically, after Chief especially failed to get the key and 'let' Macaque escape, LBD would have had severe insecurities about the Chief being on their own and the idea that they would never be able to get anything done without her. So, she made them wear a collar. So that every time they didn't do anything right, the needles imbedded into it would dig into their throat and- well, it was basically torture. She would have called it 'necessary discipline'. Of course, the collar would not be visible to anyone. It only appears when it's 'necessary'.

But this was an extremely early concept that I threw away in the bin after realising that this was not what I wanted LBD and Mayor's relationship to be like. While the initial idea behind this was to really empathize the fact that LBD owns Mayor and is extremely controlling, the idea of a physical collar ruins that aspect of their relationship. It's a visual and painful representation of their relationship, sure, but it made their relationship too negative and, well, Mayor loves her. And I knew it needed to be important to at least give you guys some sort of reason and some sort of argument as to why that admiration and love would be justified. The collar was just too much, and it didn't fit LBD's character to do something like this.

Side Note: One thing I think subconsciously happened though, was the needle thing. LBD ended up killing Ling with tens of thin needles piercing through their body. So, not a collar, but the basic principle of needles being used for pain... remains. It may or may not be to do with the idea of 'stitching up a puppet to fix its mistakes'.

Moving on, a more silly one this time! Somewhere near the beginnings of all of this (all the way back when I had only planned to make TQFTSK and Colours), there was going to be one single chapter (in Colours) dedicated to the Mayor going through all the stages of grief (eventually I'd come to the conclusion that they needed a lot more than one chapter to do all of that lmao). As a part of their bargaining stage, Macaque was going to stumble upon them in a bar and- unfortunately, being the curious nut he is, decides to stick around and just listen to the Mayor drunkenly mope.

PSA: No, this would not have ended in drunk kissing. This was meant to end in a snotty nosed Mayor and Macaque promptly leaving after he'd had his bit of listening to their misery.

Another thing was that Mayor was meant to be able to see souls! This particular story feature eventually just evolved into Mayor simply being able to judge a soul by looking at their eyes (hence the whole, "eyes are the gateway to the soul").

Another Note: This whole idea was also meant to emphasize the fact that Mayor has no soul and, how whenever they look inside themselves, there is no colour and there is no soul (that is, until they get their soul back). But, well, I figured their eyes alone would be able to do all of that just fine without this ability.

Now, as ashamed as I am to admit, originally I had completely bought into the Baihe, Macaque, and Mayor family dynamic. So, in the beginning, this was what was going to happen.

But then I decided Baihe was not going to conveniently be an orphan or have shitty parents for the sake of this dynamic. No, no no no. She will have loving parents, character development, and she will be more than just a character to fill in the slot of 'the child'. Whenever I write Baihe, I always strive to not use her for the sake of developing Macaque and Mayor's characters. No shame to those who like this dynamic though, its a good one and it's so silly (I still like it to be honest).

Now, let me tell you that there are a LOT more unused concepts than this. It's really just a decent slice from a never ending pile of WIPs and shower thoughts scribbled onto a doc from all the way back in like... 2022-23.

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robinsegghead · 5 months ago

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Danny's Daycare Part 15

Masterpost

Jason didn’t enjoy killing per se. It wasn’t like, a favorite hobby of his or an addiction and he had to get his fix, but every once in a while there would be an asshole so completely deserving of a bullet to the brain that Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit of peace the moment they stopped breathing. Had he been a bit worried that Miguel and Santiago would hate him for killing their dad? Yes. But was ridding Gotham of one more child molester worth it? Yes.

After he’d pried Danny off of the body of someone he’d never seen before, he’d held the man close until his rage died down. He thought- well he thought he and Danny were different. Danny had some kind of explanation for how he’d come back to life and he seemed at peace with the whole kinda-sorta-ghost-thing but when Jason had first found Danny beating the shit out of another person, his eyes had looked… Lazarus green.

Jason knew for a fact that Danny’s eyes were blue (how many times had he gotten lost staring into them while the man raved about space or Gotham or some other special interest of his?). So despite not knowing the situation, Jason had fought Danny away from the man and held him close until what he assumed was pit rage went away.

He knew it was confusing, disorienting, to come out of an episode and instead of getting answers to the questions he so desperately wanted to ask (What happened? Do I need to kill this guy? Are you hurt? Are the boys hurt? Why are your eyes Lazarus green? Was the Pit Rage? Do you know who the league of Assassins are? What is your relation to them? how-), he told Danny to get cleaned up and checked on the boys.

It was both surprising and completely unsurprising that he found Santiago locked in a closet with Miguel crying in front of the door. He got the younger boy out in seconds and immediately had an armful of angry and scared thirteen year old boy. They only spoke for a few minutes before Danny had come back and he decided to give the family some time to talk.

But his eyes were BRIGHT green and he couldn’t shake the feeling that- was it just a dead person thing? That would make sense, right? His eyes glowed green but they’d always thought that was the Pit’s influence. But that guy- Phantom- his eyes had been green too. So three dead guys walk into a daycare with glowing green eyes- it was like the setup of a really bad joke.

No one asked him what happened to the kid’s bio dad which was good because while Jason was glad he’d stopped Danny from fully killing the bastard (Danny didn’t need to have another murder on his conscience, even if both would have been justified in his and most people’s books), he had no intention of letting the bastard get away alive. He’d looked into Miguel and Santiago when he’d first learned of their existence and the only reason he hadn’t killed their sperm donor then was because he was behind bars.

So he’d placed the man’s unconscious body on the fire escape outside the hallway and grabbed it on his way out. Once he was far enough away that the boys and Danny wouldn’t hear the gunshot and connect it to him, he put a bullet in the man’s head. He dropped the body in an alley near a police station and intended to call it a night before remembering he had to debrief with the bats.

Maybe it was his disappearing act or his short responses or something in the way he held himself, but for once B seemed to listen when Jason told him off.

No he wasn’t going to give B the card Phantom had given him- “Did he ask YOU to coffee? Didn’t think so, fuck off.”, no he wasn’t going to explain why he’d been trying to get a moment alone with Danny after the fight- “My personal life is none of your business, fuck off.”, and he definitely wasn’t going to explain why he’d left the daycare and come back to the cave covered in blood- “My personal business is none of yours, fuck off!”.

And after it all B had just let him. He pushed less than usual and not in the ‘afraid you’ll go into a pit rage if I push’ way but in a ‘you’re clearly not going to tell me so why bother’ way. (Maybe even a ‘you’re my son and I trust you to make the right decision’ way? Was that too much to hope for?)

He’d definitely confused the hell out of Duke with his questions but he just- he needed to get answers and he couldn’t rationalize getting them from Danny at the moment. He’d call Phantom tomorrow, tonight seemed too… forward. Especially since the ghost (King wtf) had essentially asked him on a date (that’s what was implied with the flirting and mention of coffee, right?!).

So if he had green eyes sometimes, and Danny had green eyes sometimes, and Phantom had green eyes, and they also were all dead at some point, then maybe there was a connection? And Duke understood that kind of thing way better than he did because the kid could see auras and shit so maybe he could tell Jason something useful. And he did.

Useful and entirely meaningless at the same time because what the fuck did it mean that they all had toxic green auras?!

He’d patrolled for a few more hours, contemplating what it really meant, what he should do, if he should ask Danny, and so on and so forth, until he felt out of his mind with questions. At some point he decided to call it a night and head back to his apartment to sleep. But he had so much energy still- nervous energy too- he hated nervous energy.

When he was feeling… feeling too much, he baked. Or cooked. Usually he made more than he could ever eat and brought the leftovers to the safe houses he’d let homeless kids live in or down to a shelter or something else like that. Tonight he had one goal in mind with the food he made.

So he baked. He made a pan of brownies, a tray of cookies, three dozen muffins, a pie of all things, and he cooked. He made a pot of stew, a lasagna, two different soups, vindaloo, and a breakfast casserole, and when he was done he packed up as much as he could carry and took it to Danny’s.

Sneaking into the apartment was easy, he’d done it often enough for the last couple of months and despite warning Danny that he needed to get better security, the man never did. He probably forgot honestly, Jason didn’t think he’d ever met a man quite as busy as Danny. Whether that was because Danny was actually busy or because he didn’t know how to delegate, he wasn’t sure, but he always seemed like- well like Bruce levels of busy. Like he had a job and a secret other job and also he took in random kids and helped everyone he could as much as he could and gave away every part of himself without a second thought.

So. No security system.

Jason put the food away, some went into the fridge while others went into the freezer, and noticed the apartment felt empty. It would be weird to check if he was in his room but he had a feeling he knew where the man was if not his own home.

Keeping the breakfast casserole and a plate of cookies, Jason swung around the building and landed carefully on the boys’ fire escape. Sure enough, when he peered through the window he found Danny being absolutely drowned in cuddles from Miguel, Santiago, and their cat, Curiosity.

(He’d never admit it but every time he stopped by to drop food off or check in, Jason pet the cats. What? They looked lonely and he wasn’t heartless. He’d been confused and worried out of his mind when he visited for the first time unable to find Curiosity- that cat always came running first so where the ever-loving fuck was he?! But he’d had to leave before finding the orange cat and vowed to find him the next time he visited.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t find Curiosity the next time either. He’d come so close to asking Danny where his fucking cat went ((Curiosity was the one who’d been sick when he first found them what if he’d died?!))- should he leave a post-it note asking about the kitten? But again, he’d gotten pulled away by vigilante stuff and had to leave without an answer.

It was only when he’d come over as Jason the tutor that he figured out Danny had given Curiosity to Miguel and Santiago and the cat was over in their apartment most of the time. He was relieved that the cat hadn’t gone missing or died, but now he’d need to stop by and find that cat in their apartment and how had he not noticed the boys had a cat he literally visited their apartment more than Danny’s at this point!)

He slid the window open easily and slipped into the apartment stealthily. None of the boys stirred as Jason quietly put the casserole in the fridge, with a quickly scribbled note on top, and the plate of cookies on the counter. After he finished he moved back towards the window but paused as he sat on the window sill.

Miguel mumbled something and pushed his face further into Danny’s shoulder and all three of them shifted slightly until their limbs were more entangled than they’d been a moment before and it was hard to tell where one of them started and the others ended. He didn’t know how they didn’t see it- that they were a family- he really didn’t. Danny corrected anyone who called him their dad, they corrected anyone who called them his sons, and yet here they were, cuddling after a traumatic incident where Danny protected them with everything he had.

(He didn’t think about how he and Bruce fit into the exact category he was placing Danny and the boys, he DIDN’T.)

Curiosity chirped and looked around suddenly, seeing Jason and offering him a yawn. That was his cue to leave. He… he didn’t want to, not really. Something about Danny had made him feel safer than anything else had in- in years. The twink he found standing over the body of his murderer, the guy who’d taken on twenty-five goons without a weapon because they’d dared to hurt Miguel, the man he’d pried away from a child molester only hours prior- this was a man anyone would feel safe with.

But Jason wasn’t used to feeling safe and slipping out of the window and grappling back to his own empty and suddenly very lonely apartment was familiar enough. He didn’t feel as safe here as he had in the run down apartment of a practical stranger, but he should. It was his home. He should.

He didn’t sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know how to tell him!” She shouted, hands gripping her hair tightly.

“Just tell him. It will all work out.” He responded calmly.

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she shouted back. “Easy for you to say! If things are going to turn out so well, why don’t YOU tell him? It was your idea after all!”

“It would not do well if I told him, he’d only be angry at me. He has a difficult time being mad at you.” Again, with a calm response.

“He’s not going to take it well- I wouldn’t and I’m literally him!” Dani reasoned.

Clockwork huffed. “You are not ‘literally him’, you are your own person and you have been for years. Do not diminish all of the hard work the two of you have put into being your own people. Tell him.”

“He’s gonna kill me! It’s not just him anymore- he’s got the boys to worry about you know this!”

“Tell him.” CW responded idly.

Face palming, Dani groaned. “I’m so dead.”

~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after Miguel’s explanation and panic attack, Danny convinced him to take a nap and spent the next few hours cleaning the apartment and putting things in order. He sent out another message saying the daycare would actually be closed for the rest of the week and he’d update the parents as soon as the building was safe enough to open back up. They were surprisingly understanding for people who were being inconvenienced in a big way.

After that he checked his email and reached out to three people who’d applied to the daycare to set up interviews. If all of them worked out he’d have three more full time employees, one who was old enough and experienced enough that he might be able to leave her in charge sometimes.

By one thirty he realized he didn’t know where his phone was and should really message Jazz and Dani about what had happened. Searching the couch cushions, he found his phone buried under where he’d slept the night before.

(17) Missed Calls

(38) Messages

(5) Voicemails

Well. Shit. Danny started with the voicemails, the first being from Jazz.

“Danny? I saw the news- are you okay? Are the kids okay? It’s all over the news- apparently some kids were out nearby and recorded what happened through the window? Oh my Ancients- call me back Danny!”

She sounded more worried than mad, that was good, he could work with a worried Jazz- and angry one? Not so much. An angry Jazz would tear him apart molecule by molecule until he was nothing but a puddle of separated atoms.

The next one was from Sam.

“Danny Nightingale what the actual FUCK-”

Tucker cut in. “Holy shit dude! Did you actually fucking TACKLE the Scarecrow?”

“Tucker! More importantly- did your clone tackle Scarecrow? Cause the recording got fuzzy after that but not so fuzzy we didn’t notice the GLOWING FUCKING PHANTOM!”

“Sam’s right dude, the cameras caught more than usual- maybe it was because they were farther away? Or just because your energy was being expended keeping a clone around? Not sure, but the videos show a vaguely humanoid vigilante flying around and kicking ass.”

“Call us back Invisio-Bill.”

Okay, so people being able to see Phantom wasn’t great, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. It wasn’t like he planned on going out as Phantom again- he hadn’t come to Gotham to be a vigilante and team up with the birds and bats. Valerie and Wes left similar voicemails to Jazz.

“Can’t even keep off the news as Danny, eh Nightingale? Let me know if you’re okay.”

At least Valerie’s message was teasing and not angry. Seriously, why were all of the women in his life so terrifying when they were angry?

“Dude! So Phantom’s back, huh? And you got to meet Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood? Seriously man- that’s- that’s wild! You know it’s pretty funny that that guy -Duke Thomas- works for you and was there that night because-” There was a loud honking sound cutting him off. “Oh shit, I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a hot date. Let me know you’re okay! Bye Danny!”

The last voicemail was from a number he didn’t recognize but with a Wisconsin area code.

He deleted it without listening.

The messages were similar to the voicemails, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Wes, Tim, Damian, Jesse, and a few others just checking in. Jason had messaged to cancel their tutoring last minute citing a family emergency- thank Ancients he’d canceled because Danny had completely forgot they’d had an appointment.

He deleted the text messages from the Wisconsin number he didn’t recognize.

He didn’t care to read them.

At some point people from Amity Park and his past life were going to find out he’d moved to Gotham and set up shop so to speak, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. Maybe after he’d been here for a full year, with an established ‘business’ and connections and friends and whatnot, but not earlier. Even then, he’d hoped the only people who would really notice were peopel who didn’t care that much.

Flash, Pualina, Kwan, people who would go ‘did you hear Danny’s in Gotham now?’ and then have a laugh and move on without reaching out.

He didn’t want to hear from Vlad.

He didn’t want to think about what it meant that Vlad was reaching out.

If Vlad knew where he was then they knew where he was ant that meant he wasn’t safe. Worse- it meant the boys weren’t safe around him. Danny had grown accustomed to his life being in danger at all times a long time ago. He’d grown used to it when lab equipment malfunctioned throughout his childhood, when he’d died, when his parents' security system started targeting him, he’d always known he was in danger at all times. But he was supposed to be the one stable and safe thing about the boys’ lives and he couldn’t be that if he had the GIW and the Fenton’s breathing down his neck.

So, knowing it was something he should have done a long time ago instead of banning ghosts from coming into Amity, Danny sent a text to the group chat.

Crime-Fighting, Night-Stalking Vigilantes

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne: Get in losers we’re going to take down the GIW

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne changed the group chat name from ‘Crime-Fighting, Night-stalking Vigilantes’ to ‘Operation Take Down the Plastics’

Chaos is typing…

TooFine is typing…

Cassandra is typing…

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue is typing…

The Midwest Princess is typing…

And with that taken care of, Danny shot quick responses to his Gotham friends before turning off his phone. He told Tim, Damian, Jesse, and any parents who’d privately messaged him, that he was all right and would be getting the daycare in order as quickly as possible. He messaged Duke to check in and let him know that therapy was included in all of his employees’ benefits and that the teenager should take full advantage of it.

Jason had first messaged to cancel their scheduled tutoring session and later (much later he noticed) messaged to ask if he was all right and if there was anything he could do to help him or the boys out. Danny apologized for not getting back to him sooner, thanked him for the offer, and returned it due to his own family emergency.

Setting his phone down he started planning how they’d do it. He’d need to talk to Clockwork and the rest of his council about how to go about getting the Justice League on their side. He could do it without them probably, but Danny had a strong suspicion that if he brought the Anti-Ecto-Acts to the JL’s attention, they’d get them abolished faster than any other route they took.

Except for war, maybe.

But Danny had overruled that suggestion years ago and instead banned Ghosts from Amity Park. He couldn’t stop them from coming through altogether or he’d be preventing many of them from their obsessions which was dangerous. It also wouldn’t really be fair to ban them from a place that might have once been their home.

He’d instead cracked down on their behavior. Any ghost who wanted to come to Earth needed to be approved by someone Danny had selected for that exact purpose. They needed to know enough about human culture to not cause chaos everywhere they went. Of course some of them *cough* Skulker *cough* didn’t listen to these rules and still caused chaos on some scale.

It wasn’t a perfect system but it was the best Danny had been able to do while also recovering from severe injuries and learning to be the King of the Infinite Realms. It had been a lot and he could admit that not all of his decisions had been winners.

“Danny?” A voice cut through his thoughts and he realized he’d been sneaked up on.

Offering Santi a smile, Danny moved his feet and offered the spot to the boy. “What’s up Santi?”

“Miguel’s bein’ weird.” He made a face. “What’d you two talk about after I left?”

Licking his lips, Danny tried to decide how much he should share. He didn’t want to break Miguel’s trust by revealing too much, but Santiao deserved to know that Danny knew certain things about their dad and oh god- was this what it was like to be a parent?! “We talked a bit about… about your dad and his feelings. Is he all right?”

Santi nodded slowly. “He’s… fine. Kinda… clingy. Din’t want me ta leave the room but not-” He considered his next words carefully. “Not for the usual reasons.”

Ah, yes. Danny remembered Miguel admitting to never leaving Santiago alone with Danny intentionally and why he did it. A part of him melted to know that Miguel wasn’t worried about that anymore. “Sometimes people need comfort but don’t know how to ask for it. Miguel seems like he might be one of those people.” Danny whispered conspiratorially. “I was like that when I was his age.”

“Danny?” Santiago started hesitantly.

“What’s up kiddo?”

The boy shifted uncomfortably. “Did Hood… Is- Is my…” He inhaled sharply. “Is my dad dead?”

There was something about the way he asked it that Danny couldn’t put his finger on. His voice was fearful, afraid, worried, and it was also hopeful, anticipating, relaxed and it seemed like he couldn’t figure out which set of emotions were his true feelings.

“Honestly, Santi?” Danny filled his lungs and let out a deep breath. “I don’t know.” He looked the boy in the eyes when he answered, unwilling to miss even a single microexpression. “Hood said he took care of him and I don’t know exactly what that means.”

The boy looked at his hands. “Red Hood kills.”

“Sure, but he doesn’t always kill.” Danny tagged on.

Santi squirmed as if deciding whether or not to say what he was thinking. Deciding to share his thoughts, the boy looked away from Danny. “He kills people who hurt kids,” Before Danny could respond, he whispered, “an’ rapists.”

Closing his eyes tightly, Danny pushed back the red that threatened to overtake his vision like it had the night before. He wouldn’t go there- couldn’t go there- not again. Hopefully they’d never have to see that piece of shit again. Ancients he hoped Hood had killed him.

“Yeah.” Danny felt his throat drying out by the second.

“Good fuckin’ riddance.” Miguel said from the hallway that led to their rooms.

Santi’s head whipped up to see his brother and they studied each other for a moment before Santi nodded once. “Good fuckin’ riddance.” He decided.

Danny wanted to sit in this moment, bask in the fact that these boys who’d been through hell and back were finally rid of their tormentor emotionally and physically and would be able to heal and move on eventually. But it would seem Hood had other plans for him as he felt the tug in his gut of a personal summoning.

“Shit.” He cursed. The boys looked at him, confused. “Sorry, sorry to ruin the moment.” Danny stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I want to tell you boys something but I don’t really have a lot of time so I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back, okay?”

“What?” Miguel frowned.

The tug in his gut was getting stronger and Danny wished he could ignore it but a personal summoning was pretty difficult to refuse. “Listen, I’m- well- I’m not a meta exactly, but that’s the quickest way to explain it right now and I have to transform and go meet someone who’s calling me right now. Don’t do anything crazy, stay in the apartment please, I should be back in a couple of hours tops, okay?”

“Uh…. Okay…?” Miguel shrugged, looking between his brother and his guardian.

With a nod Danny let the summoning pull him away and transformed before arriving in a shabby alley.

“I thought we were going to get coffee, eh sugar?”

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#danny phantom #dp x dc #fanfiction #danny phantom/jason todd #danny's daycare #dpxdc #batfam #Sorry I stopped updating #I'll be dumping a bunch of updates here now #for anyone who might only be reading this on tumblr

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