#that running away at that point was not the right thing to do

[aliosne]

One of my mother’s better Parenting Moments was when my older sister started stealing food. Not ideal behaviour at the best of times, but we were poor, and meals were strictly allotted, so eating food in a neurotic rush now meant it wasn’t there later. My mother mostly fell into the former camp for a variety of reasons, but somehow, this time she did different. She sat my sister down and they drew a contract.

The contract consisted only of “If you are hungry, you can ask me for a snack. I will say yes.” They both signed it. My sister stopped stealing food.

Quote unquote “bad behaviour,” particularly sneaky behaviour, is often about lack of trust. It is the adult’s responsibility to establish and uphold that trustworthiness.

If a child is anxiety-prone or HAS been abused, a lack of trust can also mean not knowing what will happen if they ever do something really bad. I know it’s a cloud that hung over my childhood, and I’m so glad OP’s parents found another way.

I love contracts. I think kids, with their pronounced sense of fairness, love contracts. I use them in my dealings with children today. 4yo and I have a contract that if something is safe for him to do (a kid job, not a grownup job), I will let him do it.

Bringing it back around, I think that’s something adults struggle with. I was talking with my family yesterday about how much covid has eroded my trust in people, in their investment in taking care of each other, in their willingness to suffer minor inconvenience to keep themselves safe, never mind others. A lot of us are dealing with similar lack of trust, whether or not their ideology and concerns align with mine. And so many of us are facing down states that are like abusive parents. If we do something really bad, or even something PERCEIVED as really bad, well. We know exactly what could happen to us.

Some of this is part of growing up. The world is not arranged to keep you safe, and bad shit can and does happen. But maybe it should be safer, more trustworthy. And there’s stuff we can do on a political level to encourage that, but it also starts with showing those most in our power that there can be a different way.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[solaceseven]

you storm out in the middle of an argument

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader

GOJO - the second you stormed out, gojo was right behind you.

you heard his footsteps almost immediately, quick and determined. of course, he wasn’t going to just let you go—not without a fight.

“leave me alone, gojo,” you snapped over your shoulder, picking up your pace.

“nope.”

you groaned. “i need space.”

“i need you to not walk around alone at night,” he countered, effortlessly keeping up.

you whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “i can protect myself.”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know you can. you’re strong, way too strong for me, honestly—i think about it all the time, actually, how you could probably throw me into the sun if you really tried—”

“gojo.”

“right, right, focus.” he exhaled. “i know you can handle yourself. that’s not the point. i just—please, come back home.”

you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. gojo loved your stubbornness—adored it, actually. but right now, he just wished you’d listen to him.

when you didn’t say anything, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “come on—don’t make me get on my knees.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would. right here. in the middle of the street.”

you rolled your eyes, turning to keep walking when you finally took in your surroundings. without even realizing it, you’d walked all the way to a 7-eleven.

gojo followed your gaze, then brightened immediately. “oh? a sign from the heavens?” he turned to you with a grin. “ramen?”

you sighed, and gojo, ever the opportunist, pressed on. “my treat.”

“you always pay,” you deadpanned.

“exactly! so, technically, i didn’t even have to say that—but i did, because i’m a generous and loving boyfriend.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “…yeah, okay.”

gojo beamed like you had just accepted a marriage proposal. “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you shot him a glare, but he just threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you inside like you hadn’t just been arguing minutes ago.

as he grabbed entirely too many snacks, sneaking extras into your basket with a shit-eating grin, you felt the weight in your chest ease just a little.

you weren’t done being mad at him—not completely. but as he stood beside you at the register, arms full of junk food, nudging you with his elbow like a lovesick fool, you realized—

yeah. you’d be okay.

GETO - suguru doesn’t stop you.

not because he doesn’t care—no, quite the opposite. he watches as you grab your coat, as you storm out, and he lets you go. he knows you need space, and he respects that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to find you.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the frustration from your argument still lingering, but eventually, you find yourself stopping by a quiet street corner. you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to steady your thoughts—

and then you hear it. a smooth, familiar voice from behind you.

“you’re really making me work for it tonight, huh?”

you whip around, only to see geto standing there, hands tucked casually into his sleeves, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

you glare. “how did you even find me?”

he tilts his head, amused. “you’re predictable.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “if you’re here to drag me home, don’t bother.”

geto steps closer, slow and easy. “i’m not dragging you anywhere.”

you raise an eyebrow. “then what do you want?”

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “you’re upset. i get it. but you know i hate leaving things like this.” he steps beside you, hands still tucked into his sleeves. “so, i figured i’d come find you.”

you don’t answer right away, staring at the ground. then, without warning, your eyes begin to sting. you blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but it’s too late—geto sees it instantly.

his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders vanishing in an instant. before you can turn away, he’s already in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks with the kind of gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to him. “don’t cry.” his thumbs brush lightly under your eyes, catching the first traces of tears. “look at me.”

you do, even though it only makes your throat feel tighter.

his brows furrow, guilt flashing across his face. “i’m sorry, okay?” his voice is soft, sincere. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you swallow hard, blinking up at him. “…you were being an ass.”

a small, breathy chuckle leaves him. “yeah,” he admits. “i was.”

you sniff, and he immediately wipes away another tear before it can fall, his touch warm and steady. “but i didn’t mean to be,” he continues. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

geto exhales, relief evident in his expression. his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“come home?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance away, mumbling, “still mad.”

“i know.” his lips quirk into a small smile. “you can be mad at me at home, too.”

a pause. then, finally—

“okay.”

he doesn’t say anything, just lets his forehead rest lightly against yours for a moment before taking your hand in his, squeezing it once before leading you back home.

NANAMI - the argument had left a bitter weight in your chest, one that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to. the walls of your shared home felt too tight, too suffocating, so you did the only thing that made sense—you grabbed your coat and walked out.

you didn’t have a destination in mind, just the simple need to move, to put some distance between you and the words that had been thrown too carelessly.

at first, you thought you were alone. but then, a few blocks in, you heard it—steady, familiar footsteps trailing behind you.

you sighed. “kento.”

a pause. “hm?”

you turned slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. sure enough, he was there. hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, but present nonetheless. he didn’t try to walk beside you, didn’t call your name or tell you to come home—he was just there.

“you don’t have to follow me,” you muttered.

nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie as he kept his pace behind you. “i know.”

and yet, he didn’t stop.

you didn’t push him away, either.

the night air was crisp, the streets quiet save for the occasional car passing by. you walked, and he followed. neither of you spoke. the argument still lingered between you, raw and unhealed, but for some reason, his quiet presence made it easier to breathe.

eventually, your feet carried you to the park. it was empty this late, just dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. you found yourself heading toward the swing set, your steps slowing as you lowered yourself onto one of the swings. the chains creaked slightly under your weight.

nanami hesitated for only a second before taking the swing next to you. he didn’t say anything, just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed ahead.

the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… there.

after a long moment, you broke it.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” your voice was quieter than you intended, but you didn’t correct it.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he let out a slow breath.

“yeah,” he said, firm, certain. “we’re going to be okay.”

and for the first time since the argument, you let yourself believe it.

SUKUNA - the door had barely swung shut before you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

you had barely made it down the front steps when a clawed hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

sukuna’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unrelenting. “where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, edged with something unreadable.

you didn’t turn to face him. “i need to cool off.”

his fingers twitched against your skin. “tch. you can cool off inside.”

you exhaled sharply, attempting to pull away, but he didn’t let you. his grip remained steady, grounding. “i don’t want to be inside right now, sukuna.”

“and i don’t want you wandering off alone.”

you finally turned, eyes burning with frustration. “i can take care of myself.”

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his crimson gaze. “i know you can.” his tone softened, just barely. “that’s not the point.”

silence settled between you, tense and heavy. the night air was cool against your skin, the world around you quiet. your breathing was uneven, your heart still pounding from the argument. you wanted to be stubborn, to keep walking just to prove a point.

but sukuna didn’t let go.

for a long moment, he just looked at you. not with anger, not with amusement—just quiet, unreadable intensity. and then, after a sigh that sounded almost reluctant, his grip loosened. his hand slid down to take yours, fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt less like restraint and more like holding on.

“come back inside,” he muttered. his voice wasn’t commanding, not like before. it was something else. something almost pleading.

you hesitated, still upset, still wanting to fight. but his hand was warm, solid, there. the fight had drained out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

after a long pause, you sighed, giving his fingers a small squeeze before turning back toward the house.

sukuna didn’t say anything, just followed beside you, his hand never leaving yours. when you stepped inside, he made sure the door was locked behind you, his movements slow, deliberate. neither of you spoke as he guided you toward the bedroom, the silence no longer suffocating but something quieter, softer.

the argument wasn’t over. you weren’t ready to let it go. but as sukuna’s grip lingered, steady and sure, you knew—

you two were going to be okay.

TOJI - toji doesn’t follow you. at least, not right away.

he watches as you storm out, jaw clenched, arms crossed, your anger still crackling in the air like static. he lets you leave, doesn’t call after you, doesn’t chase you down. he just sits there, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

but after a few minutes, he clicks his tongue, grabs his jacket, and heads out after you.

he knows you—knows you’re stubborn, knows you need space, but he also knows it’s late, and he’ll be damned if he lets you wander around alone.

it doesn’t take long to find you. you’re sitting on a bench at some quiet little bus stop, arms hugged around yourself, your knee bouncing impatiently. toji exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over.

you glance up when he steps in front of you, glaring. “go away.”

“not happening,” he says flatly.

you scoff, turning your head. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“good,” he deadpans. “cause i ain’t here to talk.”

you blink, caught off guard, looking at him. he just shrugs. “you needed space, so i gave it to ya. now i’m just gonna sit here and shut up.”

and with that, toji plops down onto the bench next to you, spreading his legs wide, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nah.” he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “go on. be mad.”

you are mad. but suddenly, it feels a little ridiculous.

the two of you sit there in silence, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. the weight of the argument still lingers, but toji’s presence, solid and unshaken, makes it feel smaller. like it’s not going to swallow you whole.

after a while, he cracks an eye open, side-eyeing you. “you done sulking yet?”

you huff. “i’m not sulking.”

“yeah, yeah.” he stretches, rolling his shoulders. “c’mon. let’s go.”

you hesitate. “i dunno…”

he stands up, glancing down at you. “i’ll buy you food.”

you squint. “bribery?”

toji smirks. “call it what ya want. just get up.”

you sigh, but when he holds a hand out to you, you take it. his grip is warm, steady, and when he tugs you to your feet, he doesn’t let go.

“where are we going?” you mumble.

“dunno.” he shrugs. “we’ll figure it out.”

and somehow, that’s enough.

[totalswag]

Hi, Hope you are doing well ! :)

Can you do a famous #singer!reader where she just broke up with someone other minor celebrity that was using her 6 months ago. Another male famous celebrity comes to her concert, wanting to check her out and ends up dating her ? (The famous celebrity could be Drew Starkey, Austin Butler,etc.)

locking eyes for the first time ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note thank you for giving me this request. this was so much fun to write. i'm using feather by sabrina carpenter for the "revenge song." request are open again.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after getting heartbroken by a guy you were talking to six months later you perform at your sold out show and meet drew starkey for the first time.

warning(s) betrayal, breakup, cursing, music, and dating drew starkey.

Six months ago.

You've been talking to this guy⎯he's been the spotlight for quite some time. You found out he was using you for more "fame" and recognition connections. This shattered your heart but confronted him about it⎯he denied it first then admitted at the very end before you kicked him out your house.

His dad is a producer in the music industry. You met at an after party one night and hit it off. He made you fall for him as if he casted a spell on you. He knew what he was doing the entire five months you were together.

"So all of this was a lie, Adam?" You ask, crossing your hands over your chest in disbelief⎯staring at him like he was trash sitting in front of you.

Adam runs his hands down his thighs, sighing, "Look, Y/N, I don't know where you got that information," he pauses looking around, "It's not true," his voice trying to come off convincing.

You scoff, sarcastically nodding, "oh okay, so, Josh, you, and the rest of the guys weren't hanging out and you didn't say you've been using me?" your voice raises, emphasizing using.

"Who told you that?" He questions you in an almost panicked tone. The look on his face said it all: he'd been caught. 

You nod, frustrated. "doesn't matter, is it true you've been using me?" Your voice rises, pointing at yourself.

"Yup," was all he could say.

You huff, "Dude, fuck you," chuckle, "Get out of my face and leave my house," and motion to the front door.

As the months continued to pass, you focused on yourself, surrounded yourself who those who bring you comfort, wrote music to let it all out on pen. You began to feel like yourself again.

Recently came out with a single for your music. This song is based on your experience with Adam. Let's be honest, he tried coming back with all these apologies to come back. You weren't having it.

You're on tour performing your new album and singing one of your popular songs⎯it's about what happened between Adam and you. Everyone knew about the breakup after they saw Adam with a new girl two weeks after.

The first show will be held at the Inglewood Forum. Tonight, your good friends are coming to support you. Madelyn, one of your good friends, will be joining with a few of her Outer Banks co-stars. You were taken aback by how many people were coming from your inner circle.

Madelyn mentioned one of her co stars, Drew Starkey, wanted to come see you perform after listening to your music. You've heard about him⎯good things.

After the show was over, you thanked your fans for coming out for the first show of tour, and cannot wait for the upcoming shows.

"Y/N, you did fantastic out there," Maddie grinned as you turned the corner where everyone else was waiting. 

"Thank you, mama; I'm glad you guys came to watch," you grin, moving away from Maddie and indicating to the rest of the cast. Drew Starkey stood out to you the most.

Everyone is having discussions while showering and changing. When you emerge feeling refreshed and clean, you approach Drew and introduce yourself. 

"You're Drew right?" You ask him abruptly, "My name is Y/N," with your hand out.

Drew turns around, amused to see you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Drew," he smiles, gently shaking your hand, "and you did an amazing job tonight."

Drew and you get to talking for a bit until you exchanged socials and numbers. You two began hanging out in private⎯getting to know one another. Learned so much about him and grew to form feelings for him⎯he felt the same way.

Two months later, Drew and you are happily together. Never felt this way about someone in a long time. Feels like he was sent to you for a reason. When you soft launched your relationship to the media, fans were nuts over it⎯even Adam.

Adam: so you're dating someone?

Y/N: and why do you care if you used me? goodbye.

Blocked.

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[lvnleah]

the boss | bug’s adventures.

The tactical analysis room was your favourite place to be before training. It was warm, full of voices you knew, and best of all, you got to run around and say hello to everyone before settling into Lotte’s lap with your daily smoothie.

You were only three, but as far as you were concerned, you were just as important as anyone else in the room. Maybe even more.

“Alright, who let the little troublemaker in?” Beth teased as you ran past her chair, your little trainers squeaking against the floor.

You stopped in your tracks and gave her the best glare you could manage. “I not trouble!”

Beth smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, really?”

You pointed at her accusingly. “You is.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Renee, standing by the screen at the front, just shook her head fondly. “I don’t know she any of you even try arguing. You know She always wins.”

You grinned and took a dramatic sip from your smoothie which was just like Lotte’s, but without the weird protein stuff. Just fruit. Because you were very clear that the other stuff was, in your words, yucky.

“Careful, bug,” Renee added, watching as you took off running again. “We don’t need any injuries before training!”

“I’m fast,” you declared proudly. “Faster than all of ‘ou.”

That earned some amused scoffs from around the room.

“Oh yeah?” Alessia grinned, reaching out to tickle your side as you ran past her. “Faster than me?”

You giggled, swatting at her hand. “Yep.”

Alessia gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Wow, just like that? No hesitation?”

“Nope.”

Emily, sitting next to her, snickered. “She’s got no mercy, Less.”

“None at all,” Alessia agreed. “I might cry.”

“You big,” you pointed out matter-of-factly, tilting your head at her. “You can’t cry.”

“Hey bug, be nice yeah?” Lotte reminded you, “It’s okay for anyone to cry, we need to be nice to everyone, okay?”

“I always nice, Mummy!” You huffed, arms crossed over your chest, “It’ okay to cry, Lessi!” You said, patting her knee. 

“Thank you for your permission, bug,” Alessia laughed, shaking her head. 

Lotte, watching from her chair with an amused smile, patted her lap. “Alright, Bug, come here before you actually take someone out.”

You made one more dramatic sprint across the room before clambering onto Katie’s lap first, because she always let you get away with things like stealing her hat. You plopped it onto your head, adjusting it until it sat just right.

“Oi, that’s mine,” Katie pointed out. “Yer’ a little devil!”

You crossed your arms. “Mine now.”

Katie smirked. “Oh yeah? And what if I take it back?”

You narrowed your eyes, gripping the hat tighter. “I’ll tell Mummy.”

The room erupted in laughter again, and Lotte raised an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do about it, Bug?”

You thought about it for a second before shrugging. “Dunno but you fix stuff.”

With that, you wiggled off Katie’s lap and made your way over to Leah, who lifted you easily onto her knee. “Oi, what about me little miss? No hello?”

You grinned. “Hi, Le.” Then, very seriously, you added, “Mummy’s smoothie is still yucky.”

Kyra burst out laughing. “Tell her again, I don’t think she heard you.”

You turned in your seat, looking right at Lotte. “Yucky smoothie!”

Lotte sighed dramatically. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

Emily leaned over, grinning. “What’s wrong with it, Bug?”

You wrinkled your nose. “It’ got bits and it’ green.”

Alessia laughed. “The spinach?”

You nodded furiously. “Yucky.”

Beth leaned in with a teasing grin as she tickled your stomach. “But what if that’s what makes Mummy strong, huh? Maybe you need some ‘yucky bits’ to get as fast as you say you are.”

You squealed. “No! I don’ need bits to be fast! I’m already fast!” You turned to Renee, who was still standing at the front, arms crossed and watching the chaos with a fond smile. “Tell ‘em, you the boss!”

Renee chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, I believe you, Bug. But maybe you should prove it, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up, and before anyone could stop you, you wiggled off Leah’s lap and bolted across the room, dodging between chairs and weaving past legs like a little whirlwind. “See? Fast!”

Lotte just sighed, watching you bounce on your toes, clearly ready to take off again. “Bug, come here before you knock someone over.”

You sighed dramatically, because everything you did had to be dramatic, but made your way back over to Lotte, climbing onto her lap with a huff. She adjusted you easily, one arm wrapped around you as she took a sip of her smoothie.

You wrinkled your nose again. “Still yucky, stinky too!”

Katie reached over, tapping your nose lightly. “You know, for someone who says they’re nice, you’re very passionate about Mummy’s smoothie.”

“I am nice!” you insisted. “I just tell the truth.”

Beth laughed. “Can’t argue with that.”

Renee clapped her hands once, bringing the room’s attention back to her. “Alright, enough distractions. You lot have training, and I’ve got things to go over.”

You sighed again, clearly unimpressed by the change in focus. “Boring.”

“Hey,” Renee scolded lightly, though her smile gave her away. “You like it in here, don’t you?”

You nodded, taking another sip of your smoothie. “Yeah. ‘Cause I get cuddles. I be the boss today?”

The whole room laughed, and Lotte pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Alright, little miss Sassypants, time to behave while Renee talks.”

You huffed but snuggled closer, resting your head against Lotte’s shoulder. “Okay… but after, I wanna race.”

Renee raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And who are you challenging?”

You grinned, eyes scanning the room before pointing directly at Alessia. “Lessi!”

The room exploded with laughter. “Oh, so first I’m not allowed to cry, and now you wanna embarrass me in a race?” Alessia laughed. 

You nodded. “Yep.”

Emily leaned in, grinning. “Better warm up, Less.”

You beamed, wiggling excitedly in Lotte’s lap. “I gonna win.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Alessia teased. “I might have to drink a special yucky smoothie to make sure I’m fast enough.”

You scrunched your nose in horror. “No, Lessi, don’t do it!”

The room erupted in laughter again, and Lotte chuckled, squeezing you tighter. “Alright, that’s enough troublemaking for now.”

You giggled, leaning back against Lotte’s chest, content as the chatter settled and Renee started talking again. You were a little whirlwind and no one minded your little personality. 

[mrs-kmikaelson]

helios

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x sunshine!reader Summary: Aaron thinks you're just about the most radiant person he's ever met. But then you fly too close to the sun, and all your light disappears. Warnings: grumpy x sunshine turned not sunshine, references to the greek myth of icarus and the sun god helios, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of abduction, heartbreak, complicated relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unresolved trauma, aaron is a bit of a jerk (with reason) Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | icarus (part 1) | part 3

a/n: part 3 otw (don't kill me; we can talk about the next part of the grey area later)

When you first met Hotch, you knew he was wondering why you'd apply for the BAU. Most people wondered why you'd work for the Bureau in the first place. To make the world brighter, you'd thought.

But now your world was so dark that it made you wonder what the point of any of it was.

Did it matter if you helped some people? Did you really help anyone? You used to think so.

Now you were on the other side of the equation, and it didn't seem that way anymore. You weren't the agent, just the victim. And now you wondered—could you ever truly help anyone? Or were they all just dead the moment they were taken?

You never stayed long enough to see the aftermath, what happened to the victims after the unsub was apprehended. You now wished you did. Did this feeling ever go away?

It didn't feel like that right now.

Nonetheless, you still found yourself sitting at the BAU round table, coffee in hand in attempts to remedy your lack of sleep. It didn't help much, but it made you feel like you were doing something. Lately, everything in your life felt that way.

You sat across from Spencer, between Emily and Derek. They were talking about this movie they saw; Reid was arguing about innaccuracy and statistical probability. They invited you to go, too.

No thanks, guys. I'm busy this weekend. You didn't elaborate further.

You remembered the look of disappointment that washed over Spencer's face, but he covered it with a smile. You reciprocated it the best you could.

Smiling felt harder.

"Hey, Y/L/N, you listening?"

You blinked, turning to see Morgan looking at you expectantly. "Sorry. What?"

"I said, drinks. After this case. It's all on the old man's tab." Rossi made a sound of protest in the background, but Morgan barely glanced his way, keeping his eyes on you. "You in?"

Your mouth opened, but you didn't know what to say. You were running out of excuses. This felt like a test—

"Let's start the briefing."

At Hotch's entrance to the room, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders despite the air somehow getting heavier. You trained your eyes on the screen, relieved that you wouldn't have to answer.

JJ started, "Baltimore's seen a series of child abductions over the past few months. Jimmy Porter was abducted from the mall a week ago." She clicked to the next slide. "His body was found dumped by the harbor 2 days ago."

Diving into profiler mode, you tilted your head at the picture. "Dumped is a nice way of putting it," you commented. "The positioning shows an ample amount of remorse."

"And he dumped the body where it could easily be found," Hotch built off your point. He usually did that. It almost felt like things were normal between you.

Please, Y/N.

You cleared your throat. "Have the other bodies ever been found?"

JJ sighed, automatically indicating you wouldn't like her answer. "Baltimore PD is sweeping the water as we speak." She clicked to the next slide. "Last night, Max Campbell was taken from his home while his parents were asleep."

Derek sat up straighter. "That's a hell of a risk to take."

"To go from abducting from common hunting grounds like a mall to one's own home is extremely unlikely. It shows an immense jump in confidence and victimology, going from victims of opportunity to a specific victim in a specific location," Reid said, making gestures with his hands. 

You tipped your head in his direction. "There must be something specific about Max Campbell that made the unsub take him without even cooling off."

Hotch nodded, agreeing. "We'll discuss this further on the jet. Wheels up in 30." 

You all stood up, grabbing your things. You were about to leave the room when Hotch called your name. 

"Y/N." You turned back, seeing his soft expression that was simultaneously devoid of emotion. "Could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

No. Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait. He already got his fill the night before. You had nothing more to talk about.

But you couldn't say that. You'd already said too much. So, you reluctantly nodded, waiting for everyone to file out of the room and ignoring the glances they shared.

Rossi closed the door on his way out, like he could anticipate that you wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation. You didn't know if you wanted to thank him for it or be angry at the assumption.

Most of your feelings were torn between extremes.

Sadness and anger.

Relief and intensity.

And as you stared at Aaron, standing there with stiff arms, hate and love.

He started slowly as if he was pacifying an unpredictable animal. "Y/N... I would like you to stay with Garcia for this case."

You involuntarily recoiled, shocked at the notion. If he was ashamed, he didn't show it. You scoffed. "What?" He opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in, taking a step forward. "Hotch, that's ridiculous. Child offenders are my specialty. Are you seriously taking me off this case?"

"I'm not taking you off the case," he reasoned. "You'll be more help here—"

"How?" A look of offense crossed his face, but you couldn't care less. Maybe you would've been more scared to go against Hotch before, but this was now. He'd never suggested something so ludicrous.

Emily called you yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. He trusted you on all fronts. This didn't feel like trust.

It felt like punishment.

Hotch's eyes hardened, giving you a look you'd never seen directed at you before. "Agent Y/L/N, as your unit chief, I am ordering you to stay here. Your input is valued; you will still contribute. But effective immediately, you will not be joining us in the field until a psychological evaluation deems you fit."

Another scoff left you. "Psychological evaluation? That's what this is about? All because I wouldn't fucking talk to you—"

"Watch your tone—"

"You have my doctor's note. I am physically and mentally capable for this job. You are not a licensed psychologist—"

His voice raised as he cut you off. "I reserve the right to make decisions about the agents on my team." He gave you one final once-over, like he was daring you to say another word, give him a reason to do something more drastic. You clenched your jaw, holding back all the words you wanted to let flow. That seemed to satisfy him enough. "You will stay here. End of discussion."

Hotch grabbed his briefcase and promptly left the room, not sparing you another glance as you just stood there, left once again by Aaron Hotchner.

Yin and yang, Emily had said. It almost made you laugh. The coin was flipped.

He was leaving you in the shadows.

— 

Derek passed by your desk as you were grabbing your things, getting ready to go to Penelope's bat cave. He raised a brow at you. "Hey, where's your go bag?"

Without meaning to, you sighed, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile on his face falter. "Sorry, I'm—" not mad at you, "I'm not coming. Bossman's orders." You threw in a smile, trying to smooth things over, but it came out more sarcastic than anything.

He stared at you in silence for a few seconds with that same look that everyone had been giving you since you came back. The same way you'd look at a pressure-activated bomb. Careful not to move too fast, press too hard, press in the wrong areas.

Derek seemed to decide that whatever he was thinking was worth saying. "Kid, you know he just wants what's best for you." Kid.

Were you not grown up now?

You pursed your lips before responding, "Yeah." It was sure as hell hard to see it that way when you were being benched, punished for something that wasn't your fault.

You couldn't help but think that Hotch would never do this to Derek. Or anyone, for that matter. It was just you.

Morgan sighed, but he left it at that, sensing the cut was too fresh. His eyes travelled lower. Silence again.

You knew what he was looking at. You resisted the urge to cover your stomach.

"Does—" he hesitated. Derek Morgan never hesitated. "Does it still hurt?"

You sharply inhaled. The scars had two months to heal. Sometimes, you could still feel the knife ripping into your body. Once. Twice. Three times.

You could feel it most times, actually.

The medications could get rid of the pain, but they couldn't get rid of the sensation of that knife in your body. Sometimes, you thought nothing ever would.

"I'm told it doesn't hurt anymore than it should," you said. Whatever that meant. Apparently, you were in pain paradise. This is the spot you want to be at, you doctor told you.

You didn't call bullshit when he said that, but Morgan looked like he might do it for you in real time.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Emily. 

"Are you guys coming?" Right after she spoke, her eyes darted between you both, asking you a different question with her eyes. Am I interrupting something?

You shook your head, giving her a smile that looked more practiced. No, you're not. "No, I'm not coming. I'll see you guys when you get back." You dodged any more questions by quickly turning around. Morgan could explain it to her if she asked. You didn't feel like answering any more questions, being treated like a ticking time bomb.

You just wanted things to go back to normal. Once they started treating you like they did before, then you could be the same as you were before.

You're not the same, Y/N.

Nothing was.

—

Penelope couldn't get through to you. You were quiet all day except to share your theories. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Until the bastard was caught.

Max Campbell was rescued. You weren't there to see it, but you wondered if it really made a difference. He was just a boy, so full of light.

Would that light ever come back to him?

You exhaled, running your hand over your face. Even though you stayed home, you were exhausted. You didn't sleep more than an hour at a time, but that wasn't much different from your new routine.

You were starting to see more of the moon than the sun.

When the team returned, you greeted them all with smiles. There, just like before. The only difference was that you didn't talk to Hotch.

He glanced at you, wordlessly telling you to talk to him, but you weren't gonna do that.

Rossi noticed the lack of communication between you. Everyone did, but he was the only one who'd say something about it.

Stirring his coffee in the break room, he started, "Aaron is... stubborn. But he's extra hardheaded for the people that he loves." Loves.

Your hand stilled halfway to grabbing the coffee pot, but you recovered quickly, grabbing it and pouring yourself a cup. You glanced side to side, checking to see if anyone was around to hear him and whatever he was implying. 

When you found no one else, you replied, "Okay." You weren't going to dignify that claim with any other response.

You knew Aaron cared about you; you'd be a shitty profiler not to know that. But love was a strong word.

Love didn't leave you all alone when you begged it to stay. Love didn't stay away from you while you were lying in a hospital bed. Love didn't interrogate you and make you sit on the sidelines when you didn't answer its questions. Love didn't make you feel so cold when all you wanted was to feel warm.

Rossi stopped pretending to pay attention to his coffee. You didn't meet his eyes. "Bellissima, you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

"Can you pass the creamer, please?"

"No." Finally, you looked up, meeting Rossi's passionate gaze. "It gets worse before it gets better. You have to let that happen."

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You didn't see how it could possibly get worse than this.

"You know, I don't really think I want this coffee anymore." You left the mug on the counter, exiting the break room and leaving the conversation altogether.

— 

"Hotch, please. The case is right here—"

"No."

"Come on, I'll be right by your side the whole time," you argued. A new case came in, just over in Montclair, and you were trying to negotiate your way into it. Two cases had passed where he made you stay in Quantico. It was becoming nonsensical.

You thought he'd crack by now, but he remained firm in his resolve, refusing to let you in the field until you talked about what happened. And "talking about it" was something you didn't want to do, much less with him.

His gaze had more heat than the sun outside. You could tell he was contemplating it. Even he must've been able to see how absurd this was, holding you back from your work when he wouldn't do the same to anyone else.

When it was him on the other side of this, he came back to work. He went into the field 30 days after being stabbed nine times. You only endured a third of that.

You thought back to that day. You'd rushed to the hospital and didn't leave his side. You visited him every day, keeping him company and updating him on your cases. You never iced him out the way he was isolating you right now. You never avoided him when you knew he was hurting.

If you talked to him—if you had that conversation—then that's what you'd say. You'd end up saying something foolish about the things you felt, feelings he wouldn't reciprocate. You'd reopen wounds you were desperately trying to close.

So you wouldn't.

You didn't say a word of what you were really thinking, sticking to the script. Please let me go. I'll be fine. I'll stay by you.

Eventually, he made up his mind. "Fine."

You could've nearly smiled.

— 

The case finished speedily. You captured the unsub and found the girl just in time. Happily ever after.

Hotch didn't seem to think so.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor, he was storming past you all, his footsteps thunderous against the floor. Garcia's smile fell from her face when she saw.

Without turning back, he called, "Y/L/N. My office, now."

You rolled your eyes, following him and ignoring the looks your colleagues exchanged. They did that a lot, lately. But everyone stayed silent, electing not to make commentary. It was smart, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

But you... you were the most fire you'd been in months. For the first time since what happened, you didn't feel cold. White hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting a fuse that no one could get rid of.

You slammed Hotch's door on your way in. He immediately turned to you, seething, "That was reckless and stupid—"

"It got the job done—"

He raised his voice. "You walked into the house alone, without backup—"

"I talked him down—"

"You could've died!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" you snapped. Your chest heaved as if you'd just run a marathon, phantom pains in your abdomen supporting your words. 

He glanced downward before meeting your eyes again. For a second, it was almost like you were looking at Aaron. It was almost like he was understanding. 

You got quieter, but your voice was no less firm. "It certainly won't be the last."

And just like that, Aaron disappeared. No longer your friend. Back to the prosecutor, the unit chief who took your words as a challenge. His eyes narrowed. "Yes, it will be." It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but he soon made it very clear. "Your gun and your badge, now. You're suspended for the next two weeks."

You took a step backward as if his words were a slap in the face. "What?"

Hotch didn't lighten up, his face completely impassive. "You are a danger to yourself, and I cannot allow you into the field in good conscience." He held his hand out. "Gun. Badge. Now."

You echoed, "You're suspending me?"

"Yes."

An incredulous scoff left you. He was suspending you after everything? When he had done the same and worse?

He was allowed to use his judgement and keep things to himself, but the second you stepped out of line, he wanted to suspend you? You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it.

In a split second, you made a snap decision. If he didn't want you here, then it wouldn't be on his terms.

You unholstered your gun and unpocketed your badge, shoving them in his chest as opposed to handing them to him. You didn't take your eyes off him once, maintaining your glare.

You hoped it burned.

"You're not suspending me," you rebutted, taking a step closer to him. Realization dawned on his face. "I quit."

Hotch's face morphed into something that almost looked like regret. You wouldn't stay long to savour it.

You spun on your heel, marching out of his office with him right behind you. The team, who no doubt heard small bits of your conversation, looked confused. You didn't stop for any of them.

"Y/N, this conversation isn't finished." He must've thought that'd get to you. His unit chief voice, big and loud. But your feet didn't stop moving.

With your back still turned to him, you retorted, "No, but I am."

You reached the elevator, pressing the ground floor and close button within seconds of each other. When the doors closed, Hotch's approaching figure was gone, replaced by your own reflection.

A shaky breath left you. The fluorescent lights in the elevator were blinding. It was brighter in there than it was anywhere else in the building. But when you got out to the parking lot, it was just dark.

Artificial lights. Not the sun.

They didn't last. They had switches; you could turn them off.

Your switch was flipped, too. For a second, you were hot and blazing, burning brighter than you'd ever burned before. But as soon as you left the building, that changed completely.

You were immersed in darkness.

And you were alone.

[liquorflower]

cw: bondage, blindfolds, teasing, dry humping, choking

requests are open btw. comments and reblogs are appreciated thank you

thinking about ceo’s satoru and geto and how they are invested into make you, the secretary, into their anti-stress toy.

having done their own company from the soil, and have success in it, gives them the right to treat you as they please

and it’s not like you were against it.

you mean, both are hot and all those subtle, gentle caresses in your shoulders would be escalating to something more vulgar, not even discreet. every time geto or suguru were talking about the great job you did organizing their meetings, schedule and praising the competent you are at what you’re doing, those comments were accompanied by a caress on your thighs, trying to go deeper. despite how much you yearned for them to go further, you would always take their hands apart, not for being prude or it was something forbidden, but because you loved teasing them

and eventually, they notice it.

and if you only knew how they were pissed off about it...

that’s when they started to plot a mischievous plan.

they called you to their office, which were rare times and it was something that surprised you.

and you should’ve known things would turn into this point.

each word about how of a bratty you’ve been, you thought delivering a skilled job saved you for having a reprimand?

satoru’s minty breath and expensive cologne permeated, alongside this question.

“i’m sorry i...” you muttered, his hand grabbing your cheeks squeeze them and then, a malicious grin decorates his face.

“look at him, geto. poor little thing now acts as if she doesn’t know what are we talking about. you think she deserves a punish?”

“oh, don’t be a savage. girl’s been good to us, only a wake-up call will be enough.” geto gets up from the seat and gets near to a drawer, taking out a thick red rope.

you gulp at feeling of what was going next.

they sitted you in one of the leather couch their fancy office had and out of nowhere, it seemed these guys already had experience making knots and they tied your arms behind your back, not before unbuttoning your shirt, taking of your bra and expose your shivered breasts at their touch.

suddenly, you couldn’t see anything anymore. everything was dark. you could deduce they were putting something around your head.

“aww, look at our little slut. if she can’t handle this, ‘m pretty sure she won’t be able to handle both of our cocks.” satoru joked, and with that, his hand got one of your hands rubbing your cheek against what you could tell it was his aching bulge, already twitching inside his pants.

“let’s see what she’s got there.” geto replied, kneeling and taking off your little panties, opening you legs.

the growing excitement of wanting to run away, to make a move is impossible and despite suffocate, you can’t close your legs. in fact, they are using another rope to tie it below your waist and with the long ends, tie knots around your bent legs.

all your hands are tied up from wrists to elbows, knees bent with the ropes, cunt wide open and geto making the most obscene slurps and teasing with his tongue the soft skin of your vulva and clit, while satoru, finally releasing his throbbing cock, grabs roughly the errands of your hair and shoves his girth into your needy mouth — the same as needy as your pussy.

[revelboo]

kissing waspinator on the forehead and letting him have lap nap

He just wants cuddles and a home

Worker Bee Pt 20

Waspinator x Reader

• “Wasp, sweetie, no. Stand up.” Exhausted and trying to scrub honey off of everything, you’re pretty sure you’re going to run out of hot water before you clean the mess up. It had taken forever to get him to stop his terrifying, giant wasp death curl and you’d fussed at him until he’d transformed and you could cajole him into the house. Then straight into the shower, reluctantly stripping down to join him since he had hurled honey and glowing stuff that looks suspiciously like the stuff he bleeds all over you. Now you’re alternating between begging, baby talking him, and swearing at him to try and get him to cooperate. “Waspinator,” you growl. And he’s whining as he slides down onto his knees again in the bottom of the shower and just sits there. Making this more difficult.

• “Waspinator bad,” he slurs, hooking his arms around you and pressing his face against you. Definitely feels bad as you try to make him get back up. “Bad.” That’s what everyone thinks. What they say. Waspinator bad. Stupid Waspinator. Whines as you give up and resume trying to clean him. Taking care of him even though he annoys you. Knows he does. “Trying,” he mutters miserably. Trying so hard to help you and he only gets in the way. Makes you angry.

• He’s face planted against your crotch, whining and mumbling and being extra pitiful. “What are you trying to do?” Aside from make you incredibly uncomfortable. Too tired to muster the energy to even be mortified at this point, you keep scrubbing him. The heat at least softening the dried honey, but honestly, you’re not sure if it’s helping or making things worse. “Because you’re not trying to help me wash you right now.” Making a mental note to throw away your little bottle of honey now that you know what happens if he gets into it, his head lifts and those big, purple optics stare at you. And it’s strange to realize you don’t find him as ugly or as unsettling as you had when you’d first met him. You’ve gotten used to him and while he’s definitely not winning any beauty pageants, he’s not truly ugly.

• “Always mess up. Ruin everything.” Arms tightening around you as he looks up at you, he isn’t sure what to say to make things better, because he always says the wrong thing. Does the wrong thing. Deserves to be punished, expects it, but you’ve yet to hit him. How long until you run him off? Until you get tired of him, too? “Want to stay with little friend.” Wants a home. To belong. To not be alone. Wants you with him and more than just annoyed tolerance, but even if that’s all you can give him, he’ll take it. “Want to stay.”

• Still drunk apparently and sounding so utterly pitiful you can’t hang on to the annoyance. “No one said you needed to leave,” you mutter, stiffening when he face plants against you again. Why does he have to unerringly put his face right there? “Wasp, remember the talk we had? About your hands and touching? It goes for your face, too.” Pushing at his head, you try to get him to move and he just whines at you, wings buzzing. And he’s stronger than you are, not budging unless he wants to. Shuddering as his mandibles shift against your inner thighs, you pray for patience. Remembering his claim that you two were now dating after dragging an azalea bush into the house and setting your microwave on fire. You’re going to have to try to explain dating better to him at some point, because he hadn’t gotten it.

• “Waspinator take care of little friend.” It’s a promise as you keep washing him and he hears your tired ‘sure.’ Wants to follow your courting rituals. Prove he can date you. Be a good mate. That you can rely on him. Trust him to guard you from any threat. Provide for you. And finally belong somewhere. Because he doesn’t just want a home anymore, he wants you in it. Wants you. “Try harder at dating.” And you say human words he doesn’t understand.

Previous

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

nanami is two seconds away from leaving.

he should’ve known this would happen. should’ve known. because when gojo says, let’s grab a drink, what he really means is, let’s make nanami’s life miserable for sport.

“so, you’re telling me,” gojo says, draped over the bar like he owns the place, “that in all the years i’ve known you, i have never seen you flirt with a woman?”

nanami exhales slowly. “i don’t see why that matters.”

“it matters because you’re pushing thirty and still single.”

nanami doesn’t react. because technically, he’s not single. but that’s a secret. a very well-kept secret.

it was your idea, really. something about keeping things professional, avoiding unwanted attention, whatever. nanami agreed because he values your privacy—and also because he likes having you all to himself, away from nosy colleagues and meddling friends.

one very specific meddling friend, currently running his mouth.

“good thing i’m here,” gojo continues. “i happen to be an excellent wingman.”

nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. “gojo—”

you, on the other hand, are having the time of your life.

you sit a few seats away, sipping your drink and watching in pure amusement as gojo continues his self-appointed mission: finding nanami a date.

“alright, what about her?” gojo leans in, nodding towards a woman across the bar. “she’s cute, right?”

nanami doesn’t even look up from his whiskey. “not interested.”

“tch.” gojo clicks his tongue. “fine. what about her?” he gestures to another woman, this one already eyeing nanami with interest. “she looks like she reads. you love that boring intellectual stuff.”

nanami takes a slow sip of his drink. “still not interested.”

you stifle a laugh behind your glass. gojo, however, is undeterred.

“okay, okay,” he says, scanning the room. “i will find you a girlfriend tonight.”

nanami sighs. “i do not need—”

“oh! her. final offer. she’s perfect.”

gojo points to a woman sitting at the end of the bar. tall, elegant, the type nanami might have considered—if he weren’t already taken.

“go talk to her,” gojo urges.

“no.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t want to.”

“ugh.” gojo slumps against the bar. “you’re impossible.”

you’re fully laughing now, covering your mouth to muffle the sound. nanami sends you a dry look, but you can see the slight twitch of his lips.

this has gone on long enough.

so, while gojo sulks and nanami drinks, you casually lean over and press a kiss to nanami’s cheek.

gojo chokes.

nanami, unfazed, simply sets his glass down.

you pull back, meeting gojo’s stunned expression with a smirk.

“he’s taken, gojo,” you say. “has been for over a year.”

gojo stares. “what?!”

you shrug. nanami simply takes another sip of his whiskey, looking more content than he has all night.

“you—you two—” gojo points between you, eyes wide. “this whole time?!”

“yes.” nanami says.

“and you didn’t tell me?!”

“no.” you say.

gojo groans, collapsing against the bar like he’s been personally victimized. “i can’t believe this. my own best friend. my own colleague. deceived.”

“you’ll live,” nanami replies dryly.

gojo pouts. “i need a drink.”

“so do i.” nanami mutters.

you just grin, raising your glass in victory.

[neptuneiris]

Only You | Part Two

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

summary: time has passed, a new semester begins and the phantom memories of him come back to your mind on a specific day that makes you rethink your whole idea to let him back into your life.

words: 12.4k

previous part • my masterlist

okay before you read, i want to clarify one thing 😬 i know summer vacations were mentioned, but i came up with a last minute valentine's day idea so i will mention winter vacations now.

i know it doesn't make sense, it should make sense but i would have to change the whole first part, so this second part will be delayed. so please give me time to correct the first part, I will do it as soon as I can. i hope you don't mind and enjoy the chapter a lot 🙏🏽 thank you so much for reading!

AEMOND POV

The vibration of his phone makes him look away from his book.

The faint sound echoes in the library and with a serious look on his face, he immediately takes his fingers to turn off the device, not wanting to be disturbed now by whoever it is. Right now his projects have him so pressured and frustrated that he simply doesn't want any distractions.

But as he looks at the screen, he stops. And he reads the name of the person calling him: Cerelle.

She's not just anyone. So before he knows it, he quickly gets up from his seat and heads for the doors, picking up.

“Hey.”

He doesn't hear her immediate response, what he hears instead are whimpers and low sobs.

He pauses for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. He listens more carefully and she sniffles, letting out a small sigh only to cry again. Then he lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair, already imagining what's going on.

“Cerelle.”

He says her name in a low, soft tone, which makes her finally speak.

“I-I… I'm sorry,” she says in a shaky, low, vulnerable voice, ”I know you're probably busy and I didn't want to bother you. B-but…” her voice breaks.

She needs him.

He clenches his jaw tightly, annoyed, frustrated but mostly worried. He hates when she's like this. He hates seeing her and hearing her cry. He hates when he knows she's like this, again, because of his idiot brother.

“What happened?”

She sniffles and cries again, failing to form words at that moment. And then it's the signal for him, to go back inside the library to go get his things.

“Can I see you? P-please?”

“Don't worry. I'm on my way.”

She lets out a sigh. Maybe of exhaustion or relief. He doesn't know. He doesn't really care as he quickly heads off campus, car keys in hand.

“Thank you, Aemond.”

The drive to Cerelle's house feels longer than it really is. It's not the first time she's called him in that state, crying with a shaky, broken voice. And he also knows it won't be the last.

When he arrives at her house, she receives him at the entrance and immediately hugs him, clings to his strong body crying disconsolately in his arms and he holds her instantly.

He always does.

It doesn't even need to be said, he already knows, because he's heard that story many times before. It's nothing new. Yet he hates it.

He hates how Aegon makes her cry to the point of turning her into this, a heartbroken mess with his cruel tactless words and empathy-less behavior. And he finds it harder and harder not to lose control.

But he doesn't do it for her. Because she asks him to just hold her and not leave her alone.

They both go up to her room in silence, where there is no one in the corridors except for a few figures of the employees slipping by.

They both lie down on her bed and Cerelle clings to him again, hugging him tightly and Aemond pulls her tighter against him, wanting to make her feel comfortable and safe.

He strokes her hair, a repetitive and reassuring gesture as he lets time pass. Her tears slowly soak his shirt, but he doesn't care. Until she speaks, her voice barely a whisper.

“You really weren't busy when I called you?”

He rests his chin on her head and makes a slightly tighter grip of his arms around her body.

“No,” he lies, his tone soft, knowing he would give up any commitment to be there for her.

She lets out a small sigh and inhales the scent wafting from his clean clothes and also from his cologne, so masculine and comforting. His fingers continue to trace soft patterns in her hair, while his other hand draws comforting circles on her back.

“Why am I not enough?”

She asks him, raising her gaze to his, tears streaming down her cheeks and a look full of doubt and pain.

He lowers his gaze to her instantly upon hearing her words and frowns slightly, not understanding how she could think such a thing, when she is the most beautiful and perfect girl he has ever met.

He shakes his head slightly, running a hand down her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

“Don't say that. You're enough. He's the one who's not worth it.”

His hand slides down her back in an automatic gesture, slow and soothing. She sighs against his neck, relaxing slightly and Aemond feels his own breathing grow heavy.

“I don't know why I keep doing this,” she whispers, almost to herself.

Something inside Aemond moves and something inside him ignites.

Hope.

Hope that she is saying that, because she has finally opened her eyes. Because she has finally understood, that Aegon will never change for her.

That everything she is going to receive from him, will only be a moment of comfort to again make it clear to her, with his cruel words, that everything is casual.

Has she finally changed her mind this time?

Has she finally had enough of the situation this time?

Will she finally choose and love him this time?

Hope, illusion, longing, everything is mixed up in him. Happiness, even. And she only ignites that spark in him more, by embracing him with a firmer grip. As if she's afraid he'll leave. But they both know he's not capable of it.

“Stay with me, please. I don't want to be alone.”

The plea strikes his heart. Aemond closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the anger, frustration and helplessness dissolve into the thick air of the room, to make way for all those positive feelings he's having.

“You know I won't leave,” he promises her.

He feels the tickle of her nose nuzzling the side of his neck and of her warm breath crashing against his skin in one of his most sensitive areas.

Aemond lets his nose sink a little deeper into her hair, inhaling of her sweet scent. And then, she tilts her head a little, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

He tenses instantly. He can't help himself.

His breathing becomes ragged, as his hand still on her back, clinging a little tighter.

“Cerelle,” he murmurs her name.

She continues.

Another kiss, firmer this time, just above his collarbone. Then another, moving up his neck, leaving him breathless. His whole body reacts to the touch, to her closeness, to the way she clings to him desperately, needing him.

And Aemond knows that, they shouldn't. That he, more than anyone else, should be strong. To remember that, when the moment is over, she will come back to him like the other times before. To his brother.

But her words and his thoughts, clinging to him that maybe there will be a chance after this, make him not want to stop. And they remind him, he's never been strong when it comes to her.

Then, in a slow movement, he tilts his head, seeking her face.

She looks up at him, her eyes still reddened, with traces of tears on her cheeks. But this time, there is something else in her gaze. Something that destroys him and revives him at the same time.

Desire.

He lifts a hand and slides it up to her face, carefully, devotedly. His thumb brushes her lower lip, and he feels the tremor in her skin, in her breath. And then, she is the one who closes the distance and Aemond surrenders. Surrenders as he has always done with her.

He reciprocates her kiss. He kisses her.

Slow, deep, taking his time. And she settles her body even more against his, pressing herself against him, needing this, him. Her fingers sink into his hair, deepening the kiss, needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to touch her everywhere and make her his.

And that's what he does, hopeful at all times inside him.

However, he shouldn't have let his thoughts let him get carried away. Because this is nothing new either. Cerelle repeats the same words over and over again at his most vulnerable moment, igniting hope in him. And in the end, there is no change and the pattern repeats itself.

As always, he is there.

It is here, in his arms, where she always ends up. But he knows it's not where she wants to. Because he's her fucking comfort, the temporary refuge.

And worst of all, he allows it, always. But deep down, they both know that, her words are worthless and eventually, she will come back to him. To his brother.

So the only thing he can do, is to hold her as long as he can.

He stays with her all afternoon and has the idea that she will tell him to stay like this for the rest of the day, just the two of them. But then one of the Baratheon sisters calls her and the party at the Martell house looks like a good distraction.

Aemond says nothing as Cerelle tells him they can spend another night together, so he just says goodbye and goes to his apartment, not being in the mood to actually go to any party.

But just knowing that she will be there has him getting ready to be able to spend more time with her. Not directly but to be around her, to see her and take care of her from a distance.

And the hope is still inside him.

The hope that her words have been real. That their moment together this afternoon has meant something. That she has finally understood and finally sees only him.

So he heads to the party and when he arrives, Aegon is already there, as are his other childhood friends. He greets everyone, doesn't really talk much, just has a beer, lights a cigarette and begins to relax, when his gaze inevitably begins to seek her out.

And when he sees her, she is beautiful.

Her figure, her face, her hair, everything about her is the only thing that stands out for him in the whole place. And when he sees her, smiling, talking to people, laughing and dancing… he can't take his eyes off her.

She's the one interesting thing, the one thing that shines the brightest, the one girl he catches his eye and who he could look at all day long without getting tired of it. He just wants to hold her, hug her, kiss her and never let her go.

She is perfect. She has been since they've both been kids.

But then, someone else comes into the picture. Someone catches her eye. Someone draws her in. Someone makes her disconnect from all the people around her to focus only on that one person.

Someone who is not him. It is never him.

Because it is Aegon. It's always Aegon.

The same guy who has made it clear to her multiple times that he doesn't want anything serious with her. The guy who has always made his intentions clear from the beginning, that everything to him is just casual, even drawing the line at every turn and the one who is hard on her to make her understand that he doesn't want her, not really, making her cry.

And yet… Cerelle has hope.

It seems like the fight they had didn't even happen. She keeps allowing him into her life. She keeps allowing herself to get involved with him like that, to hold on to the hope that he's going to change for her.

And then, they both disappear.

Something that does not go unnoticed by Aemond, because it is nothing new. For him, nothing is. In fact, it's another constant pattern in his life. And he sees it every time.

The two of them fight, Cerelle looks for him in tears, he comforts her because he can't afford to reject her and because he couldn't do that to her. Then he hopes that she will finally leave Aegon behind but she comes back to him and they fight again, making him see how the cycle doesn't end and repeats itself over and over again.

However, he has not gotten used to it. A snort leaves his lips as he watches the two of them walk up the stairs together, as he shakes his head slightly and averts his gaze, unable to believe this is happening again.

He clenches his jaw and takes a long swig from his bottle, with a serious look full of bitterness.

The constant ringing and vibrating of his phone catches his attention, annoying him. Irritated, he takes it out of his pocket, looking at it briefly without focusing on the missed calls he has and all the messages he hasn't read.

He only focuses on the messages he just received from Cregan.

Dude, are you coming?

We're all here.

He frowns slightly, having no idea what he is talking about. He also decides not to respond, simply puts his phone away again and then focuses on the stairs.

He doesn't know exactly how long it takes him to get a little distracted, unable to relax any longer knowing that in one of the rooms is her with his stupid brother.

Kissing her and touching her, making her make those sweet sounds that come out of her mouth that he has so often had her make for him.

The mere thought of the two of them together, like that, when it should be just him, makes him rage and make him clench his bottle tightly.

Until finally, Aegon emerges from one of the rooms, buttoning his breeches and with his messy hair. He stumbles a bit and has a smirk on his face, returning to the party as if it were nothing.

It's obvious he doesn't care about her, because that's all he's interested in, a quick fuck, leaving her behind like she's worthless.

Then Aemond heads to the bedroom, upset and annoyed.

He enters and sees her fixing her hair in front of the mirror. But as soon as he crosses the door frame, she immediately sees him through the glass and freezes for a moment.

Aemond watches her seriously as he closes the door behind him and leans against the wood, not taking his intense gaze off her.

Then several minutes pass, long minutes in fact, where neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other.

She is too embarrassed to say anything.

And he's an idiot for thinking, again, that she had finally understood that Aegon will never change for her. So he speaks first when it's clear she won't.

“Are you serious? After today, after he made you cry, you just come crawling back to him?”

She lets out a long breath, tired. Because it's a conversation they've had before, countless times. They always have it.

“Aemond—

“Why do you keep doing this?”

He demands to know, stepping in and walking towards her.

“Why do you let him hurt you again after proving to you over and over again that this is all he wants you for?”

She turns to him, looking at him seriously and guiltily. Of course, not for sleeping with Aegon. No. But for what happened between the two of them this afternoon and for him finding out, again.

“You don't understand—

“What don't I understand?” he interrupts her instantly, his voice serious and full of reproach, hurt, ”Are you really so blind that you don't see the reality of things? Can't you see that he won't change for you?”

His words make her gaze harden. And soon, she too uses a tone of voice similar to his, matching his temper.

“You don't know that.”

“The whole fucking world knows that, Cerelle.”

“This is none of your business.”

He parts his lips, genuinely surprised and confused.

“What?”

Cerelle falters for a second at the sight of his expression. But only for a moment, to again place a serious and firm gaze, watching him with some remorse as well.

But it's more the fact that she wants to make everyone around her, and herself as well, believe that she has hope with Aegon.

“Whatever happens between your brother and me… it is none of your business, Aemond.”

He watches her silently for a moment, incredulous. He shakes his head slightly with a small bitter smile, unable to believe what she is doing.

“It's none of my business, you say?” he repeats and watches her completely serious, ”So it's none of my business when you come looking for me after he makes you cry and ends up treating you like shit?”

That one hurt.

He sees it in her look as she finally drops her tough-girl armor. And that should have made him feel better, by proving her right, but the reality is that it doesn't. He hates seeing her like that, with her crystal eyes and her gaze lowered, saying nothing more.

He lets out a long breath and walks towards her, closing the distance between them. He lifts his hands and holds her face, watching her with all the adoration in his gaze. He watches her with love, with weakness and tenderness.

But also hurt, because she still doesn't understand. Because she doesn't see him the same way he sees her.

“Listen to me…” he says low and soft, stroking her smooth cheek with his thumb, ”I wouldn't make you feel that way. Ever. And you know it.”

Cerelle watches him sadly and remorsefully, shaking her head slightly to raise her hands and place them on top of his.

“Aemond—

“No, please, listen to me,” he interrupts her immediately, tightening his grip on her face, ”Why don't you just forget about him and try it with me?”

He tells her, no, begs her.

“Just…forget about him. You know we can work together.”

“Aemond, we've already talked about this—

“He's not worth it. He doesn't deserve you. But I do. I'd give you everything, everything. The whole fucking world if you ask me to,” he insists.

“Aemond—

“Please, just—

“You're not him!” she exclaims loudly, stopping him.

For an instant, Aemond stands completely still, as if those words have pierced his chest. His breath hitches and his lips part slightly.

He blinks slowly, analyzing her, looking for something in her gaze, some doubt or some hint that she is not meaning it. But there isn't.

The words get stuck in her throat, as Cerelle watches him with remorse and sadness as she notices his broken expression that he so desperately tries to hide, breaking his heart over and over again.

Then she purses her lips and lowers her gaze, as if she hates what she is about to say. But still, she says it.

“I know it's hard to understand. I wonder the same thing too, I wonder why I can't love you too,” she says exasperated, frustrated, ”Why do I keep doing this to myself. Why I can't choose you. But it's just… I can't help it and you…” she shrugs, shaking her head with a sad look, ”You're not him.”

Aemond watches her silently and finally his gaze recomposes itself, a serious and bitter look, the one he shows everyone. He clenches his jaw and releases her, taking a step back.

Then he laughs. An empty, bitter laugh. He shakes his head as he averts his gaze from her and runs a hand over his face before looking at her again, his gaze hard.

“Then do me a favor…

He says after, leaving the rest of what he wants to say up in the air as she looks at him caught between guilt and resignation.

“Don't come looking for me again after he tells you to fuck off again,” he finally says.

Cerelle closes her eyes for a moment, as if his words were a certain blow. Aemond steps back again, watching her, seeing what she is thinking and what she will actually do, just as he does.

“But you will, won't you?” his tone is bitter, mocking, but deep down it's just pure pain, ”As if I don't know what this is like. Us,” he points between the two of them with his finger.

He shakes his head in disbelief, with a restrained fury that threatens to boil over at any moment.

“I don't know why I'm even saying this either. Because we both know you'll be cruel enough to call me back…” he says, his gaze darkening. “And I'll be an idiot enough to be there for you again.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to protest, to say something, but she doesn't. She has nothing to say, because she knows he's right. So she can only say his name, in supplication.

“Aemond—

He lets out a hollow laugh, another one, in disbelief. Stopping her. And then he exhales wearily, his posture no longer one of fight, but of surrender.

“It's always the same thing.”

Cerelle's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't let them fall. She just watches him, with a pain that is not enough for him.

“I'm sorry.”

He shakes his head, with a crooked smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“No, you're not. You're not sorry.”

He doesn't let her say anything else. He doesn't either, because he's already tired and has nothing more to say.

So he simply turns around and walks out of the room slamming the door, annoyed, angry and clenching his jaw helplessly. But the truth is… he can't be mad at her.

Even he doesn't believe everything he has said.

Because he knows, just like Cerelle, that if she calls him, he'll answer and go to her to comfort her the second. Always.

And that's what makes him feel most upset of all. That he can't turn her away. He can't ignore her. He can't detach himself from her because he loves her, since childhood. But she's never going to love him back, because of his brother.

After that, maybe he should have gone to his apartment to get his shitty day over with. Or maybe he should have gone to clear his head somewhere else. He knows he should have gone somewhere else, except the pub.

You still remember it all too well.

You remember his touch, the feel of burning skin, his kisses, his breathing and the hypnotic way he held you under his spell.

So many moments in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room, in his bathroom and in your dorm room. Moments you don't think you can leave behind so easily, when all you want is to live them again. To experience that feeling again, even if it was just between the two of you.

But you also remember that night, at that party, when you found out about her.

A party at the fraternity of Aegon Targaryen, Aemond's older brother, which was at it's peak. The crowd moved to the rhythm of the music, which echoed off the walls, with the air charged with the smell of alcohol, perfume, cigarettes and weed.

Outside, in the huge garden, students gathered around the illuminated swimming pool, while inside the huge house the atmosphere was more tense and noisy.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter, with a glass of water between your fingers, feeling the sweat on your skin after having danced with Alysanne and Sara for more than an hour.

You caught your breath and rested your feet a bit, while they continued dancing through the crowd. You let out a long breath, looking around briefly.

Aemond was also there, with Cregan and Jason. The three of them had arrived at the party together. But, as it is always in public, he kept his distance from you.

You were used to it.

Or at least that's what you always told yourself in every situation like that when you realized it wouldn't be any different.

You bit the inside of your cheek and watched him from a distance. He was there, calm and relaxed smoking a cigarette with the guys. Like you, he was just watching the people around him as they talked to each other.

Nothing was new.

You looked away to grab your phone to check the time when a voice in your direction caught your attention.

“Y/N! How good it's to see you!”

Aegon, with a half-empty bottle in his hand and a cocked smile on his lips, told you that he's already drunk, but at least he could still hold his own.

“You want one? I think you need one.”

He told you as he stood next to you. He held something out to you and you looked at it, it being a brownie.

“Really?” you looked at it between amused and expectant.

“Come on! It's a party!”

“No thanks. I don't want to eat that,” you told him pushing it away with your hand.

“It's just a chocolate brownie,” he told you innocently.

”Weed more like it.”

He tried to convince you, when suddenly, his gaze focused on something in the crowd and his smile came hooked again.

“Oh look! My dear childhood friends.”

You watched him slightly confused and amused, watching as he walked towards a group of people quickly, stumbling.

And simply because you had nothing better to do, you watched to whom he was going. And the recognition was almost instantaneous.

Alysanne told you about how Aemond or his family, rather, have friendships with people who are just as important as they are in the world of business management.

So you recognize the children of those important people, sons and daughters of the elite, the Baratheon's, Tyrell's and Lannister's. As Aegon said, his childhood friends.

You didn't think much of it, at first. Clearly he invited them to his party and they attended. Completely normal. However, someone caught your attention.

You watched as a girl from that group, tall, impeccably dressed, beautiful, with her bright red hair falling in perfect waves down her back and wearing a dress that fit her figure perfectly, after greeting Aegon, walked over to Aemond.

Normally you wouldn't have minded, she is his childhood friend.

But… you see how she approached him so naturally, with that confidence that only someone like her can have. She kissed him gently on the cheek and then said something to him, leaning slightly towards him and placing her hand lightly around his arm.

And Aemond did not pull away.

There was no look of discomfort, no expression of indifference or seriousness. In fact, he looked relaxed, even amused and attentive to the conversation. There was a half-smile on his lips, barely visible and one he rarely let show.

You felt a flip in your chest, something thick and warm that then settled in your stomach like a stone.

You had no right to feel this way. You knew perfectly well. He doesn't belong to you. He has never promised you anything. But still, that image turned your stomach in a way you couldn't control.

Something about that interaction felt different to you. Like there was a story there, something you didn't know.

Then Alysanne came to your rescue from that moment, taking you with them again to dance. You thought about staying where you were, but you needed a distraction. So again you joined the impromptu dance floor.

However, you couldn't help but look in their direction again, wanting to see everything. But it was impossible to see it because of the partitions of the house.

And when you had visibility again, Aemond was gone.

You searched the crowd for the next few long minutes but nothing. It was as if he had vanished. He wasn't with Cregan and Jason. Nor with anyone you knew. So you stood there, expecting to see him at any moment, but nothing.

Then, you saw Aegon, drunk and very happy, enjoying the party. And without thinking, you went to him, because he is the only one you can ask without him suspecting anything. You didn't want to be obvious with your friends. And surely tomorrow he would forget all about it.

“Hey, Aegon,” you grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him towards you.

“Hey, Y/N! What's up?”

“Hum… have you seen Aemond?”

“Aemond?” he repeated, dragging out his words, “Mmm… no. I don't think so.”

You were about to speak when he turns to a girl walking by, with that characteristic red hair.

“Hey T-Tyshara,” he grabbed her arm, stopping her, “Hey, tell me something…” he said, clearly drunk as that girl gave him an annoyed look as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my little brother, hm?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Who? Aemond?”

”Yeah, that one.”

She sighed, releasing from his grip.

“I think I saw him with my sister a while ago,” she said nonchalantly, ”I don't know. They left, I think.”

“What sister? Cerelle?”

“I don't have another one, you idiot.”

The girl left, giving him a look of displeasure, while you felt something inside you stop for a second. And then, Aegon let out a laugh, leaning against the wall so he wouldn't lose his balance.

“Oh, my little brother…” he said amused, ”He never gives up.”

You felt a sting in your chest and watched him completely attentively and slightly confused.

“What do you mean?” you asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

He watched you with a lazy smile.

“Oh come on. Don't tell me you didn't know. It's so fucking obvious.”

“What's obvious?”

He laughed again, shaking his head.

“Well… Cerelle's not ugly, you know? She's beautiful. But she's not my type. She's too perfect, always wanting to be the perfect girl. And she always wants to be close to me, which annoys me.”

You frowned, not believing for a second that he was talking about that girl… Cerelle.

“I've turned her down, many times. Though, of course, we've had our moments,” he said with a smile and meaningful look, ”But she wants more. And I… I don't like that,“ he let out a dramatic sigh, ”Oh but Aemond…” he smiled amused, ”Aemond adores her. He's been in love with her forever. And she… let's just say she accepts him, but she's never wanted him in the same way.”

Suddenly, everything around you kept moving. People laughing, drinking, dancing, having a good time. But you, you were disoriented. You watched Aegon intently, only listening to the echo of his words.

And Aegon kept talking, oblivious to the rigidity of your expression and your tense posture.

“He's always there, following her around like an idiot. And she, she just likes his attention,” he said nonchalantly, ”Anyway, too bad. I can't do anything for him.”

You didn't react. You didn't say anything. You just nodded and Aegon walked away, stumbling away, while you stood alone in a corner of the party.

In that moment you knew where Aemond was and with whom. In that moment you understood the changes in his attitude, why it didn't feel anything like before.

And even though logic told you that you should end everything, whatever you had with him and that you should stop it before you hurt yourself more… you didn't do it.

On the way back to your dorm, the pain was there, weighing on your chest. And after that night, things didn't change and you understood better.

Every time there was a party hosted by Aegon, the pattern repeated itself. Cerelle would appear and at some point in the night, Aemond would disappear and then so would she.

But there were also times when, in the middle of those same parties, when Aemond was distant and serious, and she would suddenly appear, something in his expression would change. His mood would improve. Her shoulders would relax, her gaze would soften just perceptibly.

You stayed in your corner, danced with the girls, laughed with the boys, kept your smile on your face and let the night go by without showing what you felt.

You kept telling yourself that you shouldn't care and that you can't claim him because he and you are nothing.

You are not special. You are not different. You are just someone who is there, when he needs you. When no one else saw him, when he could let his guard down without fear of being judged.

And yet, you didn't leave him. You didn't want to. You couldn't. Because deep down, a part of you still hoped that, someday, he would see you as something more.

But that day, it never came.

Until he asked you to go to Dragonstone with him.

It had been a long week. With exams and final projects due, neither of you had time to rest and see each other. It was a stressful few days, with a lot of worries and responsibilities. Until finally the two of you made some space and he visited you in your dorm room.

You had missed him. So much.

You had only been able to talk by text. Rarely did he or you call each other. And finally the two of you managed to release at least a little stress before returning to the stressful reality, which wasn't over yet.

So you enjoyed the moment of holding him, of his arms around your body pulling you close to him, giving you that peculiar and divine warmth that only he can give you.

Both of you are exhausted. And for now, you can only be like this, in each other's grip, in your bed. His fingers gently and slowly caress the skin of your shoulder, while you have your face buried between his neck and chest, inhaling his delicious scent that makes you feel protected and comfortable.

Just a few more weeks and we are finally done with this semester.

You had thought then, so you could go back to the routine of before, of you in his arms. Unless he… had plans for that winter break.

You opened your eyes and stared at a mole on his shoulder specifically, thinking about it. You didn't know if you should bring up that topic, but the doubt lingered in your mind and so did the curiosity. So you decided to ask him about it.

“Will you be leaving for the winter vacations?”

You asked softly, with your nose touching his jaw, looking at a specific spot in your room.

He didn't answer for a moment, while still continuing to make those invisible lines on your skin with his long, pale fingers.

“Hm… probably,” he said in a low, husky voice against your head.

His response should not have disappointed you. You know he deserves it more than anyone else. He kills himself to get the best grades and to maintain his excellent grade point average that he should enjoy a nice, relaxing vacation.

Yet it did. Because that meant you would only have him with you those last few weeks of the semester.

“What about you?” he asked you later, ”Do you have plans?”

“Mmm… no. Not really,” you confessed.

That must have surprised him, because all his friends would be leaving King's Landing. The only thing they had been talking about, was the winter vacations.

“Why?” he asked you genuinely curious.

“Maybe I'll visit my mom and siblings for Christmas and New Year's,” you said vaguely, not really having it prepared, “And I'll come back to spend the rest of the vacations here. But I don't know,” you ran your hands down his bare back, pulling your body closer towards him if possible, ”Where will you go?”

He let out a long breath, at the same time he brought one of his hands to your cheek and lifted your gaze to him, as he lowered his to you.

“Dragonstone.”

Your eyes met his, as his thumb stroked your cheek slowly and gently.

That electricity you felt when you were with him, in that moment manifested. Neither of you spoke anymore and his lips brushed yours, as he continued his caresses and watched you as if he wanted to memorize every faction of your face in his memory.

Your breaths mingled and you loved the way your bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly.

Then, he kissed you. Slowly and precisely.

You reciprocated the kiss, as his mouth moved over yours firmly, unhurriedly. One of his hands went down to your bare lower back, caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine, as you leaned closer to him.

You sighed against his mouth and wrapped your fingers around the base of his nape, drawing him closer to you, feeling that slight shiver run down his spine each time he exhaled against your skin.

Your lips barely parted for seconds before they met again, hungry, insatiable.

Aemond's lips slid to your jaw, then down your neck, marking a path with his warm, electrifying breath.

“Come with me.”

He said to you suddenly in a low voice, almost like a whisper against your skin, but clear enough for you to hear and open your eyes.

“What?” you said, thinking maybe you had misheard.

“Come with me.”

He repeated, never failing to mark your skin and never failing to make you sigh with every touch.

“Where to?”

You asked, your voice barely audible between your soft gasps. And Aemond didn't answer right away. Instead, he kissed you again, more intensely this time, before answering you.

“To Dragonstone.”

The kiss stopped for an instant. Not because you wanted to break away, but because his words left you momentarily breathless.

Dragonstone.

It wasn't just a vacation destination. It was his home. The island where he grew up, the place he always returned to when he wanted to get away from it all. And now he was asking you to go with him.

You couldn't move. You just watched him slightly surprised, definitely not expecting that. Instead, you were expecting him to take it back or tell you he didn't mean it.

But he just looked at you with the same intensity as always, with that indecipherable gleam in his blue eye. His hand went up to your cheek, outlining your jaw with his thumb, waiting for a response.

But instead of speaking, you kissed him again, smiling big against his lips. You felt happy, excited and illusioned because you had hope.

That must have meant something. Asking you to go with him, to that ancient and wonderful place, his home, must have meant something.

Even knowing about Cerelle, you had hope.

You have distanced yourself from your group of friends.

With the new college semester, things have changed a bit in your life.

Stricter teachers, more important and difficult subjects, more responsibilities and more pressures leading up to your graduation next year.

You still talk to them, in fact the group chat is more active than ever and you've seen them individually or in duos between classes to say hello and catch up a bit.

They still hang out in the gardens, as usual, even though most of them don't share many classes together anymore. You talk and see more with Sara and Alysanne, that's not changing at all.

The difference is that you don't share any classes with anyone and the times are more reduced between classes, except for some free hours in which you don't coincide with someone of them or the girls.

And when you say they… you don't include him.

He didn't come back to look for you since that day, when you came back to the city and he was waiting for you in front of your door. After you came back to make it clear to him that you don't want to have anything more to do with him, until now your wish has remained.

You have seen him a few times since then, from afar. Walking through the campus, you suddenly spot that distinctive silver hair in the distance blending in with the crowd.

But you avert your gaze instantly, not wanting to look any more than necessary even though it's probably Aegon. You just didn't want to know.

And you've only seen it once directly, days after the new semester started.

You were still having trouble finding your new classrooms. The directions were a bit confusing having not frequented other buildings you were used to.

It was raining. You remember it well.

And you were rushing up the stairs, already ten minutes late. When suddenly, as you turned to continue up the stairs, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw legs in front of you in your line of sight.

You raised your gaze to apologize, as the two of you would have collided because of your speed. But as soon as your eyes took a direct look at that distinctive, bright blue staring back at you, you froze.

It was him.

And he seemed just as surprised to see you.

However, he didn't move either. Nor did he say anything. He just looked at you.

It was like going back to that day, in your residence. The rain was still pounding on the windows of the building and the hallway was almost empty. Only the distant echoes of footsteps and voices filtered between you, but at that moment everything disappeared.

You swallowed hard, unable to move, with everything that happened hitting you like a wave of memories. Your chest began to rise and fall with deep breaths.

And he, he was looking at you in an intense, burning way.

It seemed as if his mind was working at full speed, as if he was choosing what words to say carefully. As if he knew that anything he said could break what little was left between you.

And then, that's when you saw it.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't frustration. It wasn't resignation. It was a silent, desperate plea.

Talk to me.

Tell me you really don't want me anymore.

Tell me you hate me.

Tell me something.

Anything.

But you couldn't.

A lump tightened your throat, the pressure of his gaze was too much. Your heart pounded and you didn't know what to do, with every memory invading without stopping your whole mind.

However, you didn't let your thoughts and memories block you any more than necessary.

Even though he was looking at you like that, you didn't let it affect you anymore and quickly walked around him, putting enough distance between the two of you to avoid even a brush and continued on your way, leaving him behind.

That was the last time you saw him.

But that encounter, only made you couldn't stop thinking about him for the next few days.

Fortunately you haven't run into him again. And you hope it never happens. Or at least not soon. You know it's best to just move on, let go of what you both once had and stick with as much of the good as the bad.

However, he has his moments.

Vague, unexpected moments when he comes back into your mind and you remember it all. Memories of what you both went through together. Though you always don't think too much about it.

It's not something you decide to stay with all day. Then you go back to your projects, your mind gets busy and you forget about it.

One day, though, you're suddenly thinking and remembering everything about him. Too much.

It's not something you think about in a few minutes or a few hours. No. That stays with you all day long. And you can't help it. The nostalgia, the moments, the memories, it all comes back to you.

You wonder at all the things that could have been different. Of what would have happened. Questions and illusions that keep you awake even at night.

And the next day, the memory of all that was and all that could have been, is present on Valentine's fucking day.

Great.

You think as you look around you with a serious stare at all those girls with bouquets of flowers in their hands, stuffed animals, balloons and details walking around the campus.

You didn't even remember and just today your mind reminds you of him too.

Fortunately you only have three classes today, two hours each. Honestly it could be worse, since your other days, except today on Fridays, start from nine in the morning and end until seven.

You think positively that your hours will pass quickly. You just have to pay close attention, keep your mind busy and the hours will fly by.

But of course, this day is not in your favor. The hours go by incredibly long.

Even some of your classmates enter the classrooms with beautiful bouquets of flowers and details. You also see boys with flowers in their hands, among other details that make you roll your eyes and groan internally.

Everything is so beautiful, so pretty and so ideal that you want to be one of those girls. You also want to be given a bouquet of roses.

But no. Today you are a spectator.

And when your classes are finally over, you feel a little pathetic walking across campus back to your dorm with your hands empty compared to the many girls around you carrying their gifts.

So you pick up your pace, wanting to get to your room as soon as possible not wanting to see any more of this.

You greet some girls you meet at the entrance to your dorm, both holding a rose in their hands and head towards the stairs, when a voice stops you.

“Y/L/N!”

You turn around and notice Miranda, the woman who works as the receptionist at this residence. You frown slightly and head towards her desk, as you rarely speak to her.

“Yes?”

“They left something for you,” she lets you know.

The frown on your forehead furrows further, confused.

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. It says your name.”

You shake your head slightly, since you don't get anything. And if you do, whether it's from your mom, which has been very few times, she lets you know, always.

So you wait expectantly and she finally lets you see it, lifting it slightly in the air to place it on the table in front of you.

Your breath catches the instant you see it.

With your lips parted, completely surprised and in disbelief, she hands you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. But not just any flowers. They are hydrangeas, your favorite.

White and purple, your favorite color, all together they make a beautiful flower bouquet for you.

You gently run your fingertips over their petals, admiring it and not being able to believe that this is for you. Even for a moment you think it might be a mistake, even though they are precisely your favorite flowers and colors.

But Miranda is right. There is a small card tied to the bouquet that says your name.

But who gave this to you?

“Thank you.”

You say to Miranda, taking it in your hands and arms once you come out of your surprise.

And you quickly try to recompose your reaction, as you didn't want to look like a girl who has never received flowers in her life or who isn't used to such details on days like this.

But too late, you've already made the impression.

You go up to your dorm room and leave the bouquet on your desk. Having no idea who sent this to you. But then, a person comes to your mind.

Is it possible…?

No. Absolutely not.

The idea is ridiculous. It can't be. You only think about him because you haven't stopped remembering him for two whole days now and it just can't be.

And now seeing the little card, you don't want to open it.

What will you feel? Happiness or disappointment if it's not him? You don't know. And you don't want to find out.

But as you look at the card, curiosity and uneasiness only take over you more and more. You stare at it as if you could burn it with your gaze, nervous and unsure.

And once your patience is worn out, you finally take it and open it, simply reading it without further ado, wanting to know who it was.

When then, your breath catches again and your heart skips a huge beat.

I know it's too late now, but this was what I was supposed to give you on your birthday. I regret that day and the day you came back. I didn't express myself the right way and I didn't mean everything I said to you. I still think about you, all the time. Only you.

Your throat closes.

You read the words over and over again, surprised, wanting to make sure you're getting the message right, not getting it wrong.

But it's as clear as day. It's him. It's definitely him.

Your fingers squeeze the note, feeling the tremor in your hands and beginning to feel your emotions begin to invade you.

Your mind flashes back to that day, your birthday. To his voice, to his gaze. To the way every word he said to you tore you up inside. To the way you ended it all. And to the way he tried to get close to you afterwards. But now… this.

You don't know what's worse.

You return your gaze to your flowers, so beautiful and so perfect, with a sad look.

You once told him that these flowers are your favorite. Just once. And you thought he wasn't even paying attention to you. But this is confirmation that he did, he remembered.

I still think about you. All the time.

You close your eyes and drop heavily onto your bed, bringing a hand to your forehead and letting out a long breath, then stare at a blank spot on your ceiling, doing nothing.

He is still thinking about you. And worst of all, you haven't stopped thinking about him either.

But now, what should you do?

You sit up slowly, feeling the stiffness in your muscles, the restlessness in your chest. You look at the flowers again, their delicate white and purple petals spreading before you.

He still thinks of you.

Your mind repeats, but… what does that really mean?

He says he's sorry, he regrets, but is it enough?

Words and flowers can erase everything that happened? You should unblock him and thank him for the gesture? You should talk to him? But what is going to happen with Cerelle? He is choosing you but he is still going to keep her?

You don't know anything. And you don't know if you want to know.

Part of you wants to hold on to this, wants to believe that there's something still between you, something worth saving. But the other part, the part that still remembers the pain, forces you to stand firm.

You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair as your gaze returns to his note.

Maybe you should ignore it. You should pretend you never received it.

But the problem is, now that you've read it, now that you know Aemond is still there, in the distance, thinking of you… you can't pretend you don't care.

But you don't know what to do either.

Two weeks have passed.

Two weeks since you received the hydrangeas and that note that has kept you awake at night.

Two weeks in which your life followed the same course. Your classes, your projects, even outings with your friends have gone on as normal.

Two weeks in which you haven't made a decision. Or actually, you haven't been able to.

And every time you find yourself alone, your mind goes back to the same old question: what should you do?

But you never have the answer.

You know it's not an easy decision. And you don't want to take it lightly because you don't want to make the wrong one.

So you've put it off, telling yourself you need time. But that time has only led you to be thinking about him almost all the time. His memory is not just an echo in your mind, but something constant.

And oddly enough, you started seeing him more frequently on campus. From afar, never too close, whether it was in the hallways, in the gardens, common areas or leaving one building while you were entering another.

His silver hair always gave him away. But he didn't see you. That's the difference. He doesn't notice you. And you feel like the universe is mocking you by constantly putting him in your path.

You wondered if it was a coincidence. You wondered if you should do something about it all. And every time the doubt appeared, you ignored it, convincing yourself that the right thing to do was to move on so you could think better of it.

But in the end, you didn't make a decision.

And it seemed like you finally had, when you found yourself with your gaze fixed on the screen of your phone, staring at the 'unlock' button on Aemond's contact.

You thought about doing it, sending him a message or even calling him, giving him a chance to talk. But after staring at the screen for who knows how long, completely unsure and biting the inside of your cheek too hard, you'd get frustrated and put the device aside, really not wanting to make the wrong decision.

He hasn't looked you up since Valentine's Day either. He must have done it, right?

Who knows, maybe to try again to talk to you. But he didn't, because he knew you would probably reject him and not give him the chance.

You let out a long breath, feeling like this is all torture. You haven't been fully focused in your classes, you've fallen behind on some projects, you haven't prepared enough for your exams and… you don't know what the fuck to do.

Until finally, one day, sick of it all, you made a decision.

The decision wasn't sudden, but the moment you realized you couldn't avoid it anymore was.

You know it can end badly or it can end well. You have no idea which it will. But you will when you finally do something about it.

So you text Cregan, asking him what time Aemond usually goes to the library and he tells you without a problem. The library is the place where you know you're bound to find him, so once your classes are over around the time he's supposed to be there, you head over to him.

Maybe you should have texted or called him before?

Your nervous mind tells you as you walk, without stopping. You watch curiously as it is raining again, having no idea why it is always raining when something related to him is happening.

But you don't care.

You hold your coat against your body, protecting yourself from the cold, but nothing could protect you from the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Every step brought you closer to him, and with every meter you walked, the certainty of what you were about to do became more real. You're so nervous. You don't even know exactly what you're going to say to him. It's been so long since you last spoke to him. And yet, he still has this effect on you.

When the entrance to the huge library is finally only a few meters away from you, you feel like your heart is definitely going to burst out of your chest. But before you regret it, you push yourself to walk through those doors, knowing it's now or never.

You feel the immediate change in the atmosphere. The sound of the rain becomes a distant murmur, replaced by the faint rustle of pages and the occasional low murmur of students sitting at tables or between shelves.

You move among them, hands tucked inside your coat pockets to keep them from noticing that you're shaking. You slowly walk around the place, looking in every action, trying to find that silver hair.

Until you see him.

Obviously it's not hard at all. And again, you freeze, just watching him from a distance.

You can turn on your heels and walk away, pretend you've never been here and forget it, leave things as they are. He wouldn't even notice, because he hasn't noticed your presence and doesn't feel your gaze on him.

So that's the easiest thing to do. Avoid hurting yourself, protect yourself, in case this is a very bad idea.

But the truth is, you can't keep fooling yourself.

You really want to do this.

You want to clear the air once and for all. You can choose to continue if it's good for you and what you really want. But if not… then finally end it all as it should be.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs along with courage. You press your lips together, still having your gaze fixed on him. And then, cautiously, you take the first step, then another, another, and another. Until finally you are only a few feet away from him.

He hasn't noticed you yet. But you have no doubt he will soon. And you don't want it to be awkward, so you have to talk to him, call out to him. Nervous, your steps are a little slower, but sure, towards him.

You open your mouth, you're about to say his name when suddenly:

“Aemond.”

But you don't say it.

Someone else says it behind you.

You watch beside you and immediately that red hair appears in your line of sight, walking quickly towards him and catching his attention, as well as yours.

You stand still, watching as she walks towards him, with every plan you had in mind now simply forgotten. And then, he sees you.

He parts his lips, slightly surprised, you don't know if it's because of you or her, but his eye is fixed on you, watching as you had every intention of speaking to him, of heading towards him.

And then, just as surprised, he watches Cerelle too, right in front of you. Not understanding anything. But you do.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew it, but you convinced yourself you could handle it. But now, with her in the middle, as she has always been, you feel your heart sink in your chest and you suddenly feel very small.

Discomfort grows in your chest and suddenly your hands can't stop shaking, feeling clumsy and heavy.

And you don't want to stay here, watching as he's going to choose her, again.

You bite the inside of your cheek and try to control your overflowing emotions, staring at the ground, that you don't even realize he's looking at you.

And when you give him one last glance, you see his attentive expression, surprised and with something else. Something you can't figure out because your mind is too busy telling you to leave. And that's what you do.

You spin on your heels as quickly as your determination crumbles and walk away without looking back.

You walk through the library doors and the cold rain air hits your face, but you don't stop. You just want to go to your room, to forget all of this, to finally put it behind you.

Your heart pounds as you walk at a fast pace, hugging yourself in an attempt to find some solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions that consumes you. The skin on your arms bristles from the cold breeze that sneaks through your clothes.

And although it's not raining hard, the air is permeated with moisture.

Your gaze is kept low, avoiding anyone who passes you, concentrating only on getting to your residence. But as you move forward, you realize something: you can't leave on foot.

Not like this. Not when the rain is too heavy and there's no sign that it will pass quickly. And you don't even have an umbrella with you.

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. Maybe you could call an Uber or wait for it to calm down a bit. You don't have much choice, but you also don't have the energy to think of a better solution.

Then, just as you're about to turn in the direction of one of the coffee shops or with another of the libraries on campus in mind to wait and at the same time make progress on projects, a firm, familiar voice stops you.

“Wait!”

Your body instantly freezes, as if every fiber of your being instantly recognizes the soft, confident tone of his voice. The sound echoes through the air, dissipating any other noise around you.

You don't need to turn around to know who it is. You know.

His footsteps are getting closer and closer, you can hear it perfectly. And when you turn around, he's right in front of you.

Confused, you see how his gaze is fixed on you, with his spotless dark jacket, his backpack hanging from his shoulder and his relaxed but firm posture. He is actually standing in front of you. And your chest tightens with a mixture confusion and something else, something you can't quite name.

You don't understand why he's here, why he's not with her, why he's looking for you. And you don't get a chance to ask because he speaks again.

“Let me drive you.”

Confusion takes root in you more strongly, creating an uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. You blink, trying to decipher what's going on, trying to understand why he's telling you that, why he seems so determined.

He looks at you with the same impenetrable expression as always. And you say nothing, because you don't know what to say. Your lips part in an attempt to respond, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when, behind him, a figure catches your attention.

And then you see her.

Cerelle.

She stands in the distance, at the entrance to the library, her large, bright eyes fixed on Aemond, watching him with a mixture of confusion, despair and sadness. Her posture is rigid, her lips slightly parted as if she is about to call out to him, but she doesn't. She just stands there, watching him, waiting.

She waits for him to look at her, to turn and for him to come back to her.

But he doesn't.

And you don't understand.

Every part of you screams that this is wrong, that this shouldn't be happening, that he shouldn't be here with you when she's clearly waiting for him. So, without much thought, the question escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“But don't you have to go with her?”

The words hang suspended between you. Aemond blinks, but doesn't answer right away. He just watches you silently, his jaw tense, his expression indecipherable.

And you watch him intently, to watch her again and him again, with the silence dragging on too long. Until finally, in a low, soft, firm tone he speaks.

“Let's go.”

He doesn't answer your question. He doesn't look back. He just says those words, clear and decisive.

And that should be enough for you to refuse, to insist on an answer, to tell him you want no part of this. Not again.

But he's overconfident, as if he's making a decision, leaving her behind. And a part of you, the most vulnerable and desperate part, wants to understand what's going on. It wants explanations.

So you nod.

You say nothing more as he places a hand on your shoulder cautiously and gently, to begin directing you toward one of the parking spaces.

He opens the passenger door for you and you settle into the seat with the sound of rain hitting the windshield in the background. He starts the engine, the heater begins to fill the interior with warm, enveloping air, but the silence between you is almost unbearable.

The drive is short, just a few minutes as your residence is not far away, but every second feels eternal. Neither of you speaks. You don't even look at each other.

Until finally, Aemond pulls up in front of your building and breaks the silence.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Your gaze lingers on your hands, on how your fingertips trace invisible lines on your pants. You don't know where to start, don't even know if there's still any point in saying anything.

Still, you nod. But you don't fully answer his question.

“I thought you were going with her,” you mutter, without thinking too hard.

The tension in the car intensifies. Aemond says nothing. He doesn't respond. And for some reason, that makes your chest tighten even more.

And instead of answering, he simply points to your building with a slight nod of his head.

“Can I come up with you?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You look up at him, actually seeing him for the first time since he stopped you in the middle of the hallway.

And the only truth that resonates in your head is that you don't understand anything. You don't understand why he's here, why he's asking you this. But after a long second, finally, you nod.

And without another word, you both get out of the car and head to your dorm room.

Your door closes behind Aemond with a faint click. But the sound echoes in the air like an echo. Everything around you feels strangely quiet. The air is thick, charged with an almost palpable tension, and you can feel Aemond's presence behind you, so close that you can feel the warmth he exudes.

Nerves invade you and you move away from him, as if he burns you. You don't know what to do or what to say because the truth is that you still don't fully understand how you got here.

So long without seeing him, without talking to him and now suddenly, he is here.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You take off your jacket with a mechanical gesture and drop it on your bed. Aemond takes off his as well, leaving it on the back of your chair next to your desk.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, unsure, a little uncomfortable, and watch as he paces around your room, as if it's been a long time since he was last here.

When he suddenly focuses on the vase on your night stand next to your bed and a very small, barely visible smile appears on his lips.

“They're pretty.”

Her voice breaks the silence with an unexpected softness, too casual, trying to lighten the mood.

You follow the direction of his gaze and see the hydrangeas in the glass vase, still fresh and full of life, as if time had not touched them since the day he gave them to you.

“Thank you… by the way.”

He walks over to them, running his fingertips over the delicate petals carefully, while you stand at the foot of your bed, trying not to stare at him too much, then take a seat on the soft mattress.

Seconds pass, neither of you say anything and you don't understand what you are doing.

Then, he finally turns to you, with his soft gaze and speaks.

“You said they're your favorite, that night when we went to dinner, the hydrangeas.”

You don't say anything, you just watch him and nod slightly, you too remembering those days. But you definitely weren't prepared for what he says next.

“Your favorite color is purple. Your favorite animal is cats and wolves. Your favorite series is Stranger Things and your favorite movie is Maze Runner.”

Your breath catches for a moment and you watch him intently.

“You love the beach, watching sunsets, exploring hidden waterfalls, reading, and you love all the history of royal families, like the Tudors and the Romanovs. You want to go to Wales, to explore abandoned castles, London, Romania, Egypt and Versailles, to see Marie Antoinette's bedroom,“ he then says, stealing your breath, ‘”And you like The Weeknd, but also classical music and Taylor Swift,” he finishes.

You fall completely silent, your mind unable to process the amount of things he just said with such precision. You stare at him in surprise, feeling a lump in your throat that you can't explain.

It's not that these are secret facts about you, but you don't mention them that often either. Only once or twice. But you definitely never expected him to remember them.

You always thought Aemond wasn't someone who paid too much attention to details, at least not when it came to you. But here he is, reciting them as if they were etched into his skin. As if he knew you better than you thought he did.

He notices your expression and lets out a sigh, averting his gaze for a second before meeting you again with his clear eyes.

“I know you like the back of my hand Y/N,” he says in a soft, firm tone, ”The problem was… I didn't show that I was paying attention.”

Your heart beats painfully against your chest.

You don't know what to say, because this is a side of Aemond you've never seen before. Not the proud, cold guy who always seems unattainable, but someone genuine, someone who has actually been watching you all this time, even when you thought he hadn't.

But you can't be fooled by emotions.

Pursing your lips, you avert your gaze to your hands, feeling a pang of uncertainty prickle in your chest. You shake your head slightly, trying to rearrange your thoughts before speaking.

“I-I… I didn't let you into my room so you'd think I'd still be her replacement.”

Aemond lets out a small, low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

You watch him instantly, completely serious, not understanding his reaction. But when he looks back at you, his expression has become more intense, more sincere.

“Haven't you understood?” he murmurs, his voice full of something you can't quite identify.

He takes a step toward you, then another, another, and another, narrowing the distance between you until he stands in front of you.

“I'm here with you because I want you,” he tells you firmly and clearly, ”I don't want her. I want you.”

The words fall on you like an unexpected blow, leaving you for a moment without air. Because even if you wanted to deny it, even if you tried to convince yourself that this was all a mistake, you can't ignore the way your heart races with his confession.

And worst of all, you know he's not lying.

He lets out a heavy exhale, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.

“I was an idiot,” he says, his voice low, almost hoarse, ”I wasted too much time chasing after a girl who was never worth it. And in the process, I hurt you…because she was hurting me.”

Something in his expression hardens, as if he hates to admit it. But then his gaze softens as he settles on you again.

“And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

Your chest tightens with a million emotions at once. Because you didn't expect this. You didn't expect him to say it so clearly, so bluntly, without the arrogance that has always characterized him.

But the fear is still there.

You fold your arms, trying to keep your stance firm, trying to remember all the reasons why you shouldn't give in so easily.

“I don't know if I can do this,” you mutter, in a low, vulnerable tone.

“And I don't blame you,” he says right away, ”But you want to know the truth? I got feelings,” he confesses, ”But I was letting myself be held back by her.”

Your throat closes up. You don't know what's worse, knowing that he had feelings for you or knowing that he put them aside for someone else who never reciprocated and simply wanted his attention.

And he noticing the whirlwind of emotions on your face, he moves a little closer towards you.

“And I fucked it all up,” he says almost in a lament, “But I want to fix it.”

Your breathing quickens.

You can't trust him. Not after all.

And yet…

“Y/N,” his voice calls back to you, low, raw, honest, ”I know the last thing you want is to trust me. And I don't expect things between us to go back to the way they were. I want to make things right now, with the formalities, titles and all. If you need time, I'll give it to you, no matter how much, I'll… I'll wait for you,” he promises, ”But only if you want me to.”

Silence.

Your eyes dive into his, searching for some trace of a lie, some sign that this is all just another empty promise. But all you find is sincerity. A raw, vulnerable sincerity you've never seen in him before.

This is everything you've wanted to hear from him. Everything.

To be reciprocated.

And now that he's finally telling you, you can't stop the tears from starting to form in your eyes.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. It's all too much. Too intense, too sudden. And yet, when you open your eyes and look at him again, something inside you begins to resurface.

Hope.

But not the hope of “someday,” no, but the hope that this, here and now, works. Because it's finally happening.

“Just you and me.”

You say it quietly, as if you're still testing how it feels to say it out loud, how it feels to let it out after holding it in for so long.

And Aemond nods without hesitation.

“Just you and me,” he repeats, ”Only you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe in him.

And when he holds out his hand to you, you take it.

His fingers intertwine with yours, warm, firm, as if he's reassuring you that this time he's not going to let go. As if he wants to show you that there is no one else, that there should never have been anyone else.

Because now, there is only you.

thank you for reading!

@almostpurplelady @fauxraven @targaryendestiel @bigsimpforremuslupin

[et6rnalsun]

SHARED BATHROOM — playgirl! reader

chris was already at the limit of any fucking tolerance he could have towards you. which, at the beginning of that unrealistic situation, was already little.

he really wanted to set the house on fire as soon as he knew he would have to share his bathroom with you. such a big space, endless rooms, and there wasn’t one for the guests? the answer was no, and for some strange reason, matt and chris gave that torture to him.

you didn't even care about that whole bathroom thing, but too bad you were so damn disrespectful.

chris had a specific time to shower in the evening, and he even made the sacrifice of talking to you to make it clear. so, that quiet day — after not seeing you at all, at 11 PM he approached the bathroom with his robe in his grip and already shirtless. his hand lazily rested on the doorknob, pushing lightly to get into the room. but it wouldn't open. it was locked. with a sigh of one trying to be patient with life that seemed to want to test him, he placed his ear close to it, clearly listening to the flow of the water running. absolutely fucking not.

he started banging on the door insistently, almost wanting to knock it down as frustration bubbled up in his veins like a powerful charge. he leaned against the wall, as he continued his actions all while waiting for her to open it. because yes, he knew she would.

in fact, at some point the water was turned off, he heard footsteps and you opened the door. “what the fuck did i tell you—“ his words died in his throat as his eyes automatically landed on his body in an instant. a measly towel was wrapped around your waist, intended to cover you even though it didn’t do that at all, not helping his imagination which was going crazy. the outline of your breasts were in plain sight for his hungry eyes, nipples painfully visible as they were pressed against the thin fabric. your hips were only further highlighted with the tightness of the towel, and god, he wanted to die.

“what?” you sassed him out, raising an eyebrow as you noticed how he froze. “you told me what, huh? this is my bathroom too, for now”

he ran a hand through his hair at your words, almost pulling at it in frustration. he forced his eyes to rise, meeting yours which were full of that usual defiance he hated so much. "i don't care. you can't act like you did nothin’, yeah? you know full well i use it now"

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, and his gaze fell again. your action only made chris sweat more, and he simply wanted to reach out and touch them until his fingers left a permanent mark on the soft skin. “too bad. i used it first, and you’re not dead. amazing, right?” your sarcasm was palpable, and to finish your little scene, you walked away, bumping your shoulder into his.

he was too frustrated. frustrated and with an erection that was pressing insistently against the crotch of the gray sweatpants he was wearing.

he slammed the bathroom door shut as he rushed into the shower, dropping his pants and boxers. the hot water that you had probably used a few minutes ago hit his face, and he immediately turned it to cold. he slowly ran a hand down his already wet chest, reaching his erect cock that hit his stomach fully. his thumb grazed the leaking head of it, and he let out a small groan as his back hit the shower tiles.

“fuck, fuck” he was jerking off while thinking about you. your body, your tits, your damn voice as you taunted him like that— “god” another strangled groan escaped his parted lips as he fisted his length faster, his head falling back with his eyes closed. with every pump, in his mind appeared that same night in which he had the opportunity of fucking you as he had long dreamed, and there was nothing else in the world that he wanted to do again even though he despised you more and more every second. you would have laughed in his face if you had seen him in that condition.

his pace increased as he choked out more sounds, trying to keep it all low. he felt his orgasm approaching, and came faster than he expected as he looked down at his aftermath-splattered hand. what he was most ashamed of. he couldn't keep this shit up.

TAGLIST. @wildfluer @waitforyrlove @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @sosasturns @zweigsangel @sturn777 @carvedtits @inspiredangel @sturniolossss @ilovedanielcaesar @jetaimevous @marrykisskilled @bluestriips @alesturniolos @rafespreciosa

[fancyfeathers]

Road to Hell

Yandere!Villain/League of Assassins Damian Al Ghul x Former Robin/Batwoman!Darling

Part three to The Fruits and Pomegranates

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

T//W- implied r*pe/n*ncon

Yandere!League of Assassins Heir Damian Al Ghul who's darling eventually runs away back to Gotham when she is rescued and every time he tries to get her back the Batman is always to protect his Robin, his father cares more about his little sidekick than his own son.

Yandere!League of Assassins Heir Damian Al Ghul who stalks hid darling like a predator for years, waiting for the right moment to snatch her back up, but he waits far too long.

Yandere!League of Assassins Heir Damian Al Ghul who watches his darling leave the name of Robin behind when Bruce dies, moving on to become Batgirl and the sidekick of Kate Kane, the Batwoman. Then eventually when Kate retires, she passes the mantle of Batwoman onto his darling, but along with that she fills the void that the Batman left behind, becoming Gotham's new Dark Knight.

Yandere!League of Assassins Heir Damian Al Ghul who also has a mantle to take upon himself, the role he was always meant to have, the role he was trained for, the leader of the League of Assassins.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who takes over the role his grandfather once held and in doing so finds himself bumping heads with his darling more and more often, but all he sees is when she was his, docile and compliant with his demands, all dressed up and pretty in the garden he had for her.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who grows more violent with his darling when they fight, his hate and love for her blurring the lines of reason which already barely exists from his use of the Lazarus Pits...

"Pathetic... to think the Dark Knight of Gotham left you to be his successor."

"Shut up."

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul whose final straw is seeing her reestablish the Justice League with all the new heroes who picked up the mantles left behind for them, and seeing her being all close with the son of the original Superman, Jon-El or better know as Jon Kent. The half kryptonian acting like a puppy around her, a golden retriever to her black cat.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who the next time he encounters his darling has nothing holding her back, already encountering her when she is worn down and fighting him at this point is futile, she is already not nearly as strong as her predecessor.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who kills his darling, a sword going straight through her gut, but still he catches her body when she falls, whispering to her as she slowly bleeds out that it is going to be okay.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who makes sure the Justice League knows she is dead, especially that half kryptonian she has wrapped around her finger. He single handedly sends the Justice League and the city of Gotham into mourning over their friend, colleague, protector, hero, their Dark Knight.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who never actually returns her body, but instead brings her with him back to a place where no one would ever find them.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who carries her body into the Lazarus Pit as he steps in himself, her body changed out of the suit and cape and into one of those pink dresses and flowers that he was always so fond of on her, the only thing that may not be considered romantic about this whole visual are the chains binding her arms and legs since it will take time to condition her out of what she has learned.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who realizes his darling will always fight back against him, even with everything he does to her over and over again, the marriage he forces upon her, the children he forces upon her to carry in her womb.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who in his rage, kills her over and over again and every time he just brings her back, hoping that is the time she breaks and eventually she does, but when she does she barely responds to anything, she is aware of what is going on around her but she just doesn't have the energy to fight any longer let alone the energy to act like the wife he wants her to be.

Yandere!League of Assassins Leader Damian Al Ghul who is left with an empty husk of his darling which is neither want he wants and what he does not want. He sees her sitting in the garden while Damian is training and when he is done he just sees his darling sitting there with their youngest little daughter tugging on her mama’s dress and then she looks up at her father with those eyes, her mother’s eyes, as he picks her up…

“Baba, when is mama gonna be better?”

“Soon my love, I promise you…”

[prettyboykatsuki]

ari what is every li’s fav position <3

i feel underqualified to answer this post but i will do my best since u ask lovely anon

sylus: im not a sylus girlie so don't hold me accountable if this feels wrong but i think he enjoys doing it like. against a wall while facing you. i don't think he likes fucking in a position where your face is even mildly obscured so he needs to be looking at you. he can't cum if he doesn't see you blissed out in pleasure first i dont think. just missionary doesn't feel right to me either. though spooning i can see... like front facing on your side. anyway

so i think doing it against a wall / standing is his favorite. when he does eventually get to fucking you he's strong enough to hold you up. he's ripped and some of your weight is against the wall so he holds you up like that and fucks you from underneath. he can hold you up like that for a long time too - usually until you beg him to fuck you more shallowly because you feel him so deep its starting to make your head spin. he's sweet and merciful and lets you down with a kiss. i think he probably opts to always finish in bed. i think sylus is down for everything but it absolutely has to end in extremely loving sex or he'll get kind of in his head. thats the vibe to me

caleb: prone bone no contest i dont care!!! its prone bone specifically too because he enjoys the closeness and how suffocating it is. caleb habitually fucks you in a way that leaves you both entirely exhausted and so absolutely unwilling to put in any effort. he likes prone bone because it's easy on you and it feels really comfortable for him to press his weight on you. he doesn't mind not seeing your face to the same extent but he does absolutely mind not being as close to you as humanly possible

so big prone bone fan. loves being able to have your bodies pressed together, slick with sweat - an arm wrapped around your neck so you can comfortably drool into his bicep as he focuses his all of his energy to fuck you while you lay there pinned under his weight. likes the feeling of crushing you and keeping you, the way your legs kick up and you let out a shaky cry because he's hitting you so deep. he would never tell you not to run from it bc he isn't into taunting you, but he does adore making you take it yk. likes making you feel good. usually puts a pillow between your thighs so you can rub your clit against something too. so thoughtful.

zayne: you already know its missionary. call it boring or call it cliche but it's doing to do it for him every single time. the eye contact most of all, the feeling of your legs around his waist. all of these things get to him indescribably and he simply loves nothing the same. he's also really into the proximity he has with your neck, shoulders and clavicle. that whole area of your body does something really weird to his brain.

however.... big believer in covert freak zayne so missionary with a lot of closeness is where he starts but the closer he gets to cumming the more he loses himself in it. it makes his strokes much more pointed when he gets like that. pulls your legs up until he's really locked into you and gives you the most aggravatingly deep, slow, measured strokes you've ever received in your life. you can feel the way he's deliberately stroking against your gspot (his dick is . perfectly angled for this) - and you're pressed so close your clit is rubbing on his pelvis and the friction drives you completely insane. it feels like he's bullying your pussy with how exact he's being. he's also insanely verbal. he really loves to talk you through it (silent poem card... u will aways be famous)

xavier: the bridge position. i don't know how to describe this pose so if you dont know . a link for u lol but his favorite position is basically him fucking you while you're doing bridges and he's standing on his knees between your legs. most of your weight is resting on your shoulders while your feet are flat. xavier holds you up to make it easier on you

xavier is a freak. like. well and truly. so i really dont think he's as picky about positions. that being said i do think this is his absolute favorite though it requires the most active participation. it reaches so, so deep from that angle and it hits a spot you could never hit any other way. it's a little hard to keep yourself upright but xavier is holding you right in place. the way he fucks you like this is merciless. his specific reason for liking it is because of the access it gives him to your clit. he likes seeing it slick and swollen, likes rubbing his thumb against it until you're crying and your thighs are shaking. trying not to thrash or drop back down because he'll just pick you back up like it's nothing and keep going.

rafayel: in a chair with you sitting in his lap, facing away from him. don't know if there's a name for this one. i thought about his i think the longest which is why it's at the bottom but i think this ends up winning for a lot of reasons. the main one being he really likes having his chin resting on your shoulder and getting that specific view from downwards at your body. rafayel is very into getting to admire your body.

rafayel likes being close to you but he's also into novelty. sitting in a chair with you in your lap gives him two things that he enjoys the most when having sex with you. the feeling of your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder - skin to skin with a nice view of yur body. but even more than that, he likes the access his hands have to every part of you. grinding yourself on his cock to your hearts content and being able to really feel you up. squeezing your chest, planing his hands down your sides, toying with your clit. feeling the way your pussy tightens up when he gets it right. he's an artist and prone to being tactile. he wants to experience as much of you as he possibly can and i think fucking you like that is the best way. loves telling you how good all of you feels. he's also kind of clingy so simply being able to wrap his arms around your waist and press his cheek to your shoulder... yeah. loves when you finally cum on his cock and you throw yourself against him trying to anchor yourself bc he can't pull out easily like that. yeah

uhm this was long. i tried to pick some more interesting positions. idk

[ncteenv]

17 things kim mingyu does

kim mingyu x fem!reader cw: 18+ mdni, smut, lewd language

he watches you cook breakfast for him. sits on the counter just keeping his eyes trained on you. but he also insists on cooking something for you, as well.

he’ll latch himself onto you from behind, walking around the room attached to your back until you’re complaining and threatening to kick him. and even then, he’ll drop his head to your shoulder and whine. “but i just wanna be close to you.”

he’ll do the laundry and wear your clean underwear on his head as a bandana.

he reach the things that are too high for you. you tell him you could have gotten it yourself and he’d put it back, further away, and amusedly watch you struggle to get it.

he bends with his hands on his knees to be eye level with you. it makes you flustered every time.

he flicks your forehead when you’re being annoying. you always hold the inflicted area and pout, to which he immediately kisses away to make up for it.

he threatens to take you over his knees more often than he actually does.

he uses both thumbs to swipe away the tears under your eyes after you’ve both had an argument. always whispers “i’m sorry, i love you,” repeatedly to reassure you.

he likes to wolf whistle at you, pulling his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, when he sees you wearing his favorite shorts you own. the ones that nicely accentuates your ass.

he likes to mix it up when kissing. the rhythm can go from quick, urgent and powerful to slow, soft, and meaningful then very wet and sloppy.

he breathlessly mutters “fuck me” as he drinks in the image of you, mind reeling with places he wants to touch, places he wants to mark up.

he hits his head on the headboard because he’s just so excited that you’re about to give him the most disrespectful, toe curling, sheet gripping, back arching, earth shattering, pussy, to the point where the tip of his cock does butterfly strokes in your womb.

he splays his fingers against your lower tummy, pressing slightly. you gasp and hold his wrist there. “you feel me right here,” he grunts.

he gets emotional mid-fuck and buries his face in your neck, whimpering out soft moans and broken “i love you’s.”

he’s always so apologetic during make up sex, whispering “please, please, please” continuously as he pushes himself deeper into you. you’re unsure if he’s begging for forgiveness or release. either way, you kiss his head to tell him it’s okay.

he sleepily runs his fingers through your sweaty post-sex hair, eyes half lidded and heavy.

he talks to you when you’re sleeping because he just wants to stare at you a little longer. likes whispering to you how gorgeous you are, pressing a single kiss to your cheek and hopes his message is sent. (it is).

[ditzydoefx]

For the valentines day fic, you could do something along the lines of reader doing a boudoir shoot or a pinup shoot for the solider of your choice. Like all the outfits/poses/props are specific to each person for example for soap one picture could be the reader in a kilt with nothing underneath, or for ghost like a human skull sitting between their legs, etc.

-🪼

Price's Pinup Doll ♡

Summary: You surprise Price for Valentines Day <3!

AN: So sorry this is late honey <3 I hope you enjoy!

You're sat on your kitchen counter, watching Price cook the both of you breakfast, absentmindedly playing with the tea bag that sits in your cup. It was still early, the sun still steadily climbing it's way to the highest point in the sky. You let your mind wander as the sounds of running water and sizzling pans fill the silence that stretch between you and your husband.

Your eyes stray over to the calendar, a date, February fourteenth circled in red ink, decorated with little hearts around the bubble.

"John." You turn to him, a cheeky smile appearing across your features.

"Yes sweethear'" His voice is still hoarse from sleep, and you lean over to press a quick kiss to his bare shoulder before talking.

"What do you want for Valentines Day?" There's a knowing lilt in your voice, you're sure you already have an idea of what he wants.

He looks over at you and smiles before turning his focus back to the pan.

"Nothing." You see him attempt to suppress a smirk.

You groan at him, playfully smacking his shoulder before slipping off the counter to stand behind him and press your body against his.

"John…" You whine. "I can't get you nothing! You say you want nothing every year, for every holiday!"

He laughs, deep and rich, turning his head awkwardly to place a kiss on your forehead.

"All I want for Valentine's day is for you to be happy." You bury your face into his shoulder blades, attempting to smother your ever growing smile.

"Come on love, breakfast is ready." You hum at him, letting your previous conversation end there.

Despite your husbands finality over Valentine's gifts, the idea of surprising him with something special never left your mind. You never buy him many gifts, mostly because he insists you don't, so when you do get him gifts, you always try and make them special.

After a few days of scouring the internet, looking at forums, blog pages, and one to many tiktok videos, you come across a boudoir photographer, and suddenly an idea hits you. John has only one tattoo, it's small and on the inside of his right ankle, and that tattoo is of you. More specifically, a pinup doll version of you, wearing his favorite set of lingerie. It would be perfect, John already has a few polaroid's of you in his wallet, the lighting is awful and they're horribly taken but he loves them, so why not give him something a little more professional?

You contact the photographer, Kelly, right away, asking about her pricings and last minute availabilities. By the grace of god, she had a last minute cancelation so she was able to fit you in. Her pricings were reasonable too, though you weren't too concerned with cost. The drive to her studio was only about an hour away, so with your booking scheduled, and the initial deposit sent, you were all prepared and ready for the photoshoot. John, thankfully, would be on base that day, so a little white lie about taking a day trip erased any questions he might've had about your absence.

When the day of your shoot arrived, you arrived at the studio with a few pairs of lingerie, all the pairs that John liked seeing you in the most, and a couple very expensive robes. Kelly had some props for you to use, but you also brought some things from home. His dog tags, the hat he never seems to be without (though this was his backup hat, the real one was safely on his head), and his jacket, the 141 insignia and his last name on the back. You told Kelly you'd like to incorporate all the props in some way but left the creative direction to her.

She was an absolute angel, easing your nerves, clearing up concerns, and overall making it a exciting and tantalizing experience.

When the photoshoot finished, she showed you a sneak preview of the photos. As you looked at each picture you could only chew on your lip to contain the excitement you felt. They were perfect and there was no doubt in your mind that Price would agree. Kelly let you know it would take a couple days to edit the photos and that you should get the physical copies in the mail a few days before Valentine's day.

For the next few days leading up to Valentine's day you were restless. It was extremely hard not to spill the beans to your husband, especially because it seemed he had some idea you were up to something. Nonetheless, you persisted, watching the mail like a hawk. After about three days, when you checked the mail, you saw the unmistakable custom envelope of the photo studio. You were esthetic, making your way back inside the house to see the freshly edited photos. They were even more perfect than they were before, and the best part was you only had to wait two more days to show John.

Two days pass quickly and before you know it, it's Valentine's day. You woke up to a specially made breakfast and a much to large pile of presents. You and John shared a meal and he watched you open your gifts before heading to base for the day. You'd decided to give him the pictures from your shoot before you left for dinner that night. He had reservations at one of your favorite restaurant, and the thought of teasing him before dinner brought a smile to your face.

When Price came home, you greeted him with a quick kiss before sending him off to shower and get ready for dinner. You were already mostly finished, you had showered, and gotten dressed, the only thing left to do was your hair and makeup. You did your hair up the way John liked the most and you even wore his favorite lipstick. You looked stunning, and you were excited to give Price his gift.

You sat on the couch in your living room as you waited, the photos safely tucked away in a more holiday appropriate envelope. You're buzzing with excitement, eagerly waiting for your husband to walk down the steps. After about ten minutes, you hear his footsteps making his way down the stairs.

"You ready love?" He asks, voice low and gravely, as he makes his way to the front door.

You hop up off the couch, hiding the envelope behind your back as you saunter over to Price. He lets out a breath, his eyes wandering over your figure.

"Fuckin' hell look at you love… Beautiful thing you are." He grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"You look quite dashing yourself John." You smile softly as his chest puffs out at the compliment.

He reaches for the door but you stop him, a smirk playing at your lips. You can see the confusion in his expression. He moves his hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek comfortingly as his head tilts to the side.

"Somethin' the matter love?" You nod, your smirk growing as you pull the envelope from behind your back.

"This is for you… I know you said you didn't want a gift but you know I couldn't give you nothing." Price shakes his head at you fondly, a small puff of air exhaling from his nose.

"Cheeky thing.. Suppose' you wan' me to open it now, hm?" You nod excitedly and he smiles, slowly and carefully opening the envelope.

As he pulls out the photos you can see his breath hitch, his eyes frantically moving from photo to photo.

"Christ love… This is-" You bite your lip, very proud at your achievement of making the big bad Captain Price speechless. "You are a fucking sight doll.." You smile.

"Do you like them? Did a whole custom photoshoot just for you…" He takes one last look at the photos before tucking them back into the envelope, his pupils blown wide.

"I love them sweethear'…" He grabs at your waist, his eyes zeroed in on your lips. "In fact I think m' hungry for somethin' else…" He attempts to lean in for a kiss but you pull away, smiling cheekily.

"Nuh-uh. Dinner John, we're going to be late. You can have dessert later" You throw him a sly wink before swinging open the door and making your way outside.

Yeah, this was going to be a great Valentine's day.

[autumnheartsprice]

bf!simon riley x medic!reader

im a sucker for anything tf141 x medic! reader so here we are

|no warnings really, mentions of heat stroke, fluff, angsty i guess but like not really at all? idk anymore. not proofread|

Well, how did the task force find out the medic was dating the Simon Riley?

Instead of hiring some random guys, the boys took it upon themselves to fix up the landscape around the base and tend to all the things that's broken throughout the past few years. It was a few weeks until their next mission, that was fairly easy too, so they took it easy and didn't force such a harsh schedule upon themselves.

It was the middle of the summer, the sun right above their heads as they were in a heat wave - but who knows the next time they'll be free to even do this? Gaz and Soap were picking weeds as Soap complained about the heat non-stop, Price was in his office doing paperwork, but Ghost was doing all sorts of tasks and working himself up.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes a small break to see who it was, only to see your name next to a heart as the most recent notification.

Y/N🖤: You better be taking it easy out there.

S.R.: Always, love.

He got back to work, sweating through his black clothes but continuing to work anyway. "Ay, L.T., you're looking a bit hot, why don't you go take a break?" Soap calls out while wiping a bead of sweat away from his forehead. "Nah, I'm good." He stubbornly mumbles back.

He ran out of water a while ago but was too occupied to go get some more. He was starting to feel nauseous but blamed it on only having a cup or two of tea this morning with nothing to eat. As his vision doubled, he shook it off and decided to take his gloves off as if it'd fully cool him off. Soap nudged Gaz to look over at him and they both watched him silently as he was acting differently.

Ghost gets up from his crouching position and gets a wave of dizziness, he opts for reaching out for the nearest thing to stabilize himself but it turns out he was way further than he thought and lost his balance.

As he fell onto the ground, slightly bumping the back of his head, the two were quickly up and running towards Ghost and trying to get his attention. He was staring up at the tall trees in a dreamy state and panting heavily. Soap pulls his phone out and quickly dials the medic, telling her what happened through a strong, yet scared Scottish accent and telling her to hurry.

The medic runs up to the kitchen and grabs a cold water bottle from the fridge and a clean rag before running outside to find Gaz and Soap crouching down next to Ghost. She unscrew the cap of your bottle and pours some onto the rag; she gently wipes the liquid onto his jaw and cheek before placing it on his forehead and hoping it'll cool him down through the fabric on his mask.

She pulls out a blood pressure cuff and thermometer and starts doing both at once. Ghost moves his eyes over to stare at her and reaches out to grab her thigh, "Mm baby.. you didn't.. you didn't need to-.. come out here.." He mumbles as soon as she takes the thermometer out of his mouth and check it, normal temp. "Don't try to sweet talk me, I told you to take it easy." Soap and Gaz give each other a confused look at the way the two talk to each other .

"My love.. I was going.. easy.. must've just.. lost my balance.." He's deliriously talking at this point. "Ay L.T., I told you to take a break because you looked rough. Working yourself like a dog out here." Soap argues.

Ghost watches her give him a 'I'm gonna fuck you up' stare and he groans. "Baby.. I'd never lie.."

"Really? You're going to say that while you're about to have a fucking heat stroke?" Her voice is harsh but it's hard to be mad at him while he's in such a state. "Love.. I'm sorry.. please don't curse at me.." He mumbles, gripping the fat of her thigh.

She sighs while pressing the rag into his forehead more to let it take its effect more. She convinces Gaz to help her take his hoodie off, and it reveals his arm filled with tattoos.

She moves him into her bedroom and opens the window to let some air come in. After replacing the rag with a colder one, he starts to get less delusional and forms more complete sentences. He cuddles into her and almost, almost, gets her to forgive him. "Baby, I'm sorry.." he mumbles into your chest. "You're stupid."

He sighs before replying, "I know, I know.. I can make it up to you later?" He suggests, earning a smack on the back of his head.

She texts the other medic that she can't finish your shift but it was almost time for nightshift to come in anyway. After hitting the send button, you get a notification from a new group called "???" with her, Soap and Gaz. The first text reading, "Soo... are you two together or what?" from Gaz. After replying yes, Soap states "Gaz, you owe me a 20 now."

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"WHY SEE THE WORLD WHEN GOT THE BEACH"

Synopsis: Reader life before going to Gotham

Sunshine and the shade of pine trees and leaves—these are things you cherished when living with your mom. Sure, the heat can become unbearable, and you sweat through your skin, but you couldn’t have it any other way. The beach is your favorite place to go when you were little, and it still is now. You'll never be too old for a sandcastle, or to destroy your mother at volleyball, or to splash salt water at your friends. You lived a comfortable life, and that's all you need. I mean, what’s so good about seeing the world? You have everything you want right here: a killer mall with every piece of anime and manga merch you could ask for, a plaza you can go to hang out with your friends. Some people say your life was boring, repetitive, sugar-sweet, but you could care less. You were comfortable; you were happy with your mom. Who cares for traveling? You have a beautiful beach, a place to gaze at the stars, places to go for hangouts, and house parties to chill at. Why would you ever want to leave? Why would you ever want to do anything else or be anything else? You always made fun of people who wanted to be famous because to you it was all crap. I mean, people knowing your name and face, your interests, making fan pages about you, stalking your socials—you just hated the idea. Maybe at one point you thought it was cool since your mom was famous, but you knew she’d rather spend her money on tacky clothes, long nails, and gold jewelry than model again, how the agency she worked with was toxic and treated their black stars horribly, and the lies on the big screen. But who could blame her? If you were that pretty, you'd spend your money on tacky stuff like that too. But you spend your money on other things that make your mother giggle. "Aren’t you too old for Legos?" But you quickly rebuttal, and she laughs, buying them for you anyway. But like you said, why would you give up a life like this for Gotham? The cotton candy skies, the grace on your face when the sun hits the horizon, the lights that showed the city like bright diamonds, the cool, crisp night air as you spend a night at your friend's place, throwing your head back as you feel the warm breeze hit your face in your mom's convertible as Destiny Child plays on an old CD, and you sing the lyrics with your mom. This is what you loved; this is what you enjoy. You'll sit by your outdoor pool at night, soaking in the water, letting your fingers wrinkle, and you'll have your mom yell at you for staying in the chlorine too long. She'll tease you about one day having gills, which always makes you laugh. She calls you a fish and forces you to take a shower. Every summer is for you, so would you go out to somewhere different? Sure, let's take a two-week trip to Mexico and let your mom ogle at the boys, then tease you for not having a partner. But you'll let her have her fun; you'll let her take her thousands of photos and buy hundreds of souvenirs just to show off to her friends later. Your mom doesn't know a lick of Spanish, but this top is hot pink and cute, and there's one in your size too, but you'll scream and run away from your villainess mother who will force you to wear it. But how could you be mad at her? She's your momma, and you'll take that photo and put it in a tacky seashell frame and have it hang in your living room. You'll either feel shame or fondness as you stare up at that ridiculous photo, but it's the thought that counts, and your mom put two thoughts into it. But this is the sweet life, the life you’d rather live with forever and ever, never letting it fade away. You'll never get tired of it, and you'll never want more because this is all you've ever known, and this is all you'll ever care for. It's like the country mouse vs. the city mouse—you never liked the country in the first place.