#they read it in a book they fell asleep on once

[rafelandia]

In the Middle of the Night (Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, little bit of cum play, unprotected sex

Summary: Rafe can't sleep. Luckily, the antidote to his ailment is laying in bed right next to him.

Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Rafe waking Y/N up in the middle of the night for sex. I am addicted to the trope of Rafe being an asshole to everyone except his girl, but this is more of a soft!Rafe moment than anything. If you enjoy, please give a like or reblog. And any requests for blurbs/one shots/etc. are always welcome in my inbox!

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Rafe would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the beach with nothing but the moonlight to guide him, hunker down in his home office and crunch numbers, read a few chapters in his current favorite non-fiction. There were dozens of outlets Rafe had conditioned himself to do when he just couldn’t fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes came insidiously creeping into his head.

There was something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Rafe couldn’t help but feel his boxers growing tighter the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and his hands found their way to her breasts. Rafe began gently kneading them in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got out of her was a shift in her bum on the mattress. A low rumble escaped from his chest at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Rafe always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his plush, pink lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touch as his kisses grew sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Rafe swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-moan half-groan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Rafe grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need you to wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Rafe, the Rafe that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and telling her that he was in the mood. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Rafe, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Rafe's arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Rafe repeated back to her in the same groggy tone. "Can't sleep?" she asked, a tinge of playfulness in her voice.

He gave no response - just a lazy smirk in return. Even in the darkness, Y/N noticed a flush rising up his neck and cheeks. He'd been caught.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his now painfully hard cock; the feathered duvet now pooled at their knees. Rafe hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to bliss when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, reveling in the way Rafe's brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?” he jested.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Rafe's hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Rafe's as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woke her. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste and mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Rafe held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty Kildare High School t-shirt of his that she slept in so he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second before they were intertwined again.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Rafe ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with his cold hands. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety, smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Rafe adored oh-so dearly. Y/N began to feel the wetness from her core pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands cradled his neck, snugly but not tightly as she kissed him, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Y/N," Rafe pleaded, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her. He needed her to do something, anything before he lost his whits.

She locked eyes with Rafe as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Rafe always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, Y/n bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in Rafe's arms with the way his tip was able to brush against all of the sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Rafe. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Rafe's toned stomach, the two of them yearning to reach their ends.

Y/n's bouncing soon turned to lazy, barely motivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable to continue. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped in a sauna. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was growing frustrated that she wouldn't be able to get them both there on her own.

“Rafe,” Y/N whined as she gripped both of Rafe's shoulders tightly, knuckles growing white from the hold she had on them.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Rafe's neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I've got you, baby,” he huffed, barely able to spit the words out between each manual breath.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and plunged back into her soaking cunt once more. Y/N cried out at the new angle of Rafe on top of her, watching his dainty, silver chain dangle inches away from her face.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," Rafe muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “You gonna cum for me first though. Right angel?”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Rafe caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with one of his strong, veiny hands, pressing it even deeper into her chest with his other arm pressed deep into the mattress to balance his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Your pussy's so perfect. Like it was made for me," Rafe moaned. "Gonna fuck you like this every night for the rest of my life."

His words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Rafe could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

"Need you to cum, baby. Need to feel it," Rafe was nearing his breaking point, but knew he couldn't be satisfied without feeling her clench around him first.

Unable to speak due to the way he was pounding into her, Y/N gripped Rafe's shoulders even harder than he was fucking her in response. This made Rafe cockily smile and only pushed him to fuck her more fervently and deeper. His hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung on her quickly, her walls spasming around Rafe's thick, pulsing cock. Y/N let out a sound akin to a high-pitched whine blended perfectly with a scream - it was so beautiful to him. Her orgasm came so suddenly that it caught Rafe off guard as well; he had but mere moments before he found himself filling her up with his warm, milky seed. It was so sudden and intense that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the plush, silky sheets.

They rode it out together, Rafe pumping into her slower and sloppier than just minutes before. Y/N was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation and he was quick to pick up on it. Rafe pulled out slowly, watching Y/N wince as her now-swollen heat contracted around nothing but emptiness. He ran his fingers along her pussy, collecting her wetness and his cum on his digits before gently pressing the mixture back into her core. She hissed at the feeling of him inside of her again and it made Rafe's dick twitch. He could easily go again, but he knew that she couldn't. It was intoxicating to watch her squirm. Next time he thought to himself. He loved to drive her crazy.

They both laid there, Rafe resting his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats return back to their resting rate. She twiddled with the clasp of Rafe's chain while he pecked soft kisses on her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

"I love you," Y/N sighed, her eyes beginning to close as she teetered the line of consciousness.

"I love you, too," Rafe was just as exhausted as she was. Finally.

When they regained their bearings, Rafe reached across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body. With caring hands, he cleaned the two of them, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have a presentation in the morning and you only wake me up to fuck when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Rafe, which while he would never admit, he adored.

She felt Rafe's laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

Rafe could go on midnight runs and read as much as he could, but nothing could put him to sleep as easily as this.

[cuubism]

now, this one got REAL. unfortunately. do you want some angst (+hurt/comfort +fluff)

cw burnout, depression, animal death

--

It started when Jessamy died.

Or.

Well.

Hob is pretty sure it started when Dream was a teenager, if not even earlier. But it comes to a head nearly fifteen years later, when Hob comes home from work and finds Dream sitting on the floor by the couch, Jessamy held in his arms. She is still. And Dream is equally still, equally numb, staring off into space.

Hob knew it was coming someday soon. Dream had had Jessamy since he was twelve, when he’d found her as a kitten by the side of the road and somehow convinced his parents to let him keep her, so she was not a young cat, and while her health had generally been good she’d been increasingly tired and wobbly lately. And cats didn’t live forever.

She looks peaceful, there in Dream’s arms. It isn’t a bad death for a cat, Hob thinks, to curl up in a patch of sunlight on the couch and just not wake up again. Not that that will make Dream feel much better.

Hob sits down beside Dream on the floor. Doesn’t say anything, but lays his hand on Dream’s knee. Dream just keeps staring off into the distance, one hand lightly stroking Jessamy’s fur.

“She didn’t come to greet me,” he says, eventually, when they’ve been sat there for some time. “She always comes to the door.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Hob says.

Dream sits there for a long time, just holding her. Later Hob helps him bury her in the garden, then Dream goes upstairs and buries himself under the blankets in their bed and doesn’t come back out for the rest of the night.

Later Hob will think, that was the first domino to fall. Even later, he will realize it wasn’t the first, but the last.

~

Dream was often seen as stoic. Unemotional. Hob thought so too, when he’d first met him. But he’d quickly come to learn that the real Dream was extremely sensitive and had simply learned to keep all of that inside and present a functional front to the world. And Dream was, indeed, exceedingly functional. Not just functional, Dream was brilliant. He’d graduated top of his college, and he’d gone to Oxford, and then he’d launched a tech company, and even published a novel on the side simply because he enjoyed doing it. When it came to standard metrics of success, Dream was one of the most functional and successful people Hob had ever met.

And Dream was crashing.

~

Hob comes home from work a bit late one day to find Dream slumped on the couch, face pressed into a pillow. The TV is on, but he doesn’t seem to be watching it. There’s a book on the table beside him, but he isn’t reading. He’s just lying there. Listlessly.

“You alright, love?” Hob asks, and Dream just shrugs one shoulder under his blanket.

“I fell asleep on the couch in my office,” he says, “so I came home.”

This immediately rings Hob’s alarm bells because Dream doesn’t do that. He doesn’t come home early from work. He barely takes a lunch break.

“Feeling ill?” Hob asks, perching on the couch beside him.

Dream shrugs again.

“Want some dinner?”

“I suppose.”

He’s barely looked at Hob. He’s not even budged from his sprawl on the couch. But when Hob gets up to get dinner, Dream reaches out, snags a hand in his sleeve, squeezes once and lets go.

Hob leans down to kiss his forehead, and Dream sighs.

Hob brings dinner back to the living room a half hour later, and Dream sits up with him and eats but barely says a word. He listens as Hob talks about his own day but barely contributes beyond brief answers to Hob’s questions.

After dinner he lies down with his head in Hob’s lap and goes quiet again. Hob is starting to get worried, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt. It could just be an off day.

Dream falls asleep in Hob’s lap, and then later gets up and goes to bed at barely 9pm despite how he’s normally a night owl.

“Dream?” Hob says, before Dream retreats to their bedroom. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am just tired,” Dream says.

Then he sleeps for ten hours and wakes barely early enough to get to his office on time. And doesn’t seem particularly concerned about it. Then again, Dream does own the company, and can hardly fire himself for being late. But he’s normally much more particular about it.

Then it’s an off two days. Then it’s an off week. Then it’s an off two weeks.

Hob comes home from work and, instead of finding Dream back on his laptop doing more work, or working on his novel, he’s just lying in bed with the covers over his head. Earbuds in, listening to music or an audiobook. I’m tired, he says when Hob asks. I don’t feel well.

Do you want to work on your novel? Hob asks. Usually cheers you up.

Dream’s novels are an escape from the stresses of his other work. He’d published the first one under a pen name so it would have no connection to his company or anything else about him. He’d been so proud when it hit the bestseller list.

No, Dream says. I don’t care. It’s meaningless.

Worry is starting to sit heavier and heavier in Hob’s chest.

Hob’s known for almost as long as he’s known Dream that Dream struggles with a latent, underlying level of depression, but it’s been well managed thus far and he’d thought Dream had found an equilibrium with it.

Apparently it was a much more fragile equilibrium than he’d realized, because now everything seems to have tipped and flipped over.

At first he thinks Dream isn’t doing anything about it. But then Hob learns that he is, and that almost feels worse, because now Hob doesn’t know where to even start helping him. Dream has already taken medication for years. He’s recently increased his dose and it’s done nothing. He already sees a therapist. He’s started going twice as often as he did before and still nothing seems improved. He hasn’t pulled away from Hob. He still curls up to him in bed at night, and lays on the couch with his head on Hob’s lap while they watch TV. He lets Hob drag him around doing things he thinks might cheer him, like walks in the park, feeding the pigeons, going to the botanical gardens to look at flowers. If Hob cooks something, he’ll eat, but he makes no effort to eat otherwise.

He goes, he does things, but he isn’t there. He’s checked out, distracted, and his smiles are hollow.

Hob watches him pick up books he would normally love, read one page and then put it down again. Watches him abandon the newspaper crossword puzzles he usually likes to do over breakfast after solving only one or two questions. Watches him get dressed in the morning, putting on his usual all-black attire with a mechanical precision that suggests he’s operating on autopilot and not thinking about it at all. He just doesn’t seem to care about any of it, and Dream normally cares so much about everything that it’s really starting to freak Hob out.

Hob asks him if he’s okay and he says he’s just tired. Hob asks him why and he says he doesn’t know. And the worst part is, Hob believes him. He doesn’t think Dream does know what’s wrong. It’s not just grief for Jessamy that’s doing it. Hob thinks it’s more that Jessamy was a tiny piece of a support structure that was far more meager than either of them realized, and now all the rest of the heaviness has come crashing down. That doesn’t mean Dream has the words for what any of that is, though.

Hob worries about him when he’s at work. He worries about him whenever Dream is out of his sight. He thinks about how relentless and intense Dream usually is and contrasts it with his current listlessness and he worries.

He thinks about Dream graduating university with honors while he built a whole fucking company in his dorm room and wrote the first half of a novel on the side, and he worries.

Dream had always made time for Hob then, too. And he always has since. Or maybe being with Hob was the sanctuary he carved out for himself amidst the whirlwind of all that he was.

Now more often than not Dream comes home and immediately collapses on top of Hob on the couch and doesn’t speak a word for a least two hours. Hob is just glad that, whatever’s going on, he at least isn’t fully isolating himself. He’s still coming to Hob for comfort, in whatever way he knows how.

The next time it happens, Hob messages Lucienne, Dream’s COO. In fact he does it from his phone while Dream is lying on top of him, and Dream doesn’t even notice.

Has Dream been alright at work recently? he writes.

Lucienne responds fairly quickly. She’s a bit of a workaholic, just like Dream. I am not sure he would want me sharing all his business without his knowledge.

Hob sighs. He supposes it’s fair that she’s protective of her boss. Lucienne. Come on. Please. I’m worried about him.

He seems tired lately, she writes, at length. And distracted.

Anything in particular going on?

No, if anything, we are in a bit of a slow down at the moment. There is not as much on our plates.

Odd.

Do take care of him, Hob, Lucienne adds.

Always will, Hob says.

He puts his phone aside, and pets Dream’s hair. Dream hums in pleasure, nuzzling into him. “Sweetheart. You want some dinner?”

“If you desire,” Dream says.

Hob’s not convinced he would eat anything at all if Hob didn’t push him.

“Come on, up, we’ll get something to eat,” Hob says, and Dream groans, but lets Hob maneuver him up, and sits placidly in the kitchen with the cup of water Hob pushes into his hands as Hob cooks. He is so placid, lately, in general. Hob is used to Dream being strong-willed and opinionated. It’s upsetting to see him passive.

All he can do for now, though, is take care of Dream as best he can. As he always does.

~

It hits a breaking point when Dream simply doesn’t go into work at all.

Hob is working from home that day, and doesn’t notice at first that eight o’clock has passed and Dream hasn’t left the house. At around nine he goes to make more coffee and realizes, suddenly, that Dream’s shoes are still by the door, his coat still hanging on its hook. So Hob goes to find him.

He finds Dream still lying in bed, not asleep, just sort of staring blankly at the wall, arms wrapped around himself. Hob lays a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, darling. You getting up for work?”

“No,” Dream says, flatly. “I cannot. I don’t want to.”

So Hob calls Lucienne to let her know Dream’s sick and won’t be coming in. He can hear her concern over the phone. Dream almost never calls in sick. If he gets something contagious, he just works from home instead of resting.

Maybe this is part of the problem. Maybe this is all part of the huge, looming cloud of pain that has apparently been covering Dream like a shroud for longer than Hob’s even known him without Hob ever truly seeing it.

When he puts his phone away and comes back Dream is still lying in the same position. Heart in his throat, Hob climbs into bed to sit beside him. “I told Lucienne you’d be out today,” he says gently. Dream turns over to face him, wrapping his arm around Hob’s thigh to pull close. That gives Hob some hope. That Dream still wants to reach out. “She was worried about you.”

Dream looks up at him solemnly. “And you?”

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time, darling. Talk to me.”

“I meant to go in today,” Dream says. “I have things to do. I suppose. But. I realized that I don’t care about any of it. I tried to remind myself how to care about it. But I could not remember. And so there was no point in getting up.”

“Perhaps you’re a bit stressed about it all,” Hob suggests, but Dream shakes his head.

“I do not feel anything about it at all. I think the company could disappear entirely in this moment and I would feel nothing but this... numbness. I ought to care. But I don’t. It’s meaningless.” He presses his forehead into Hob’s thigh. “I think it ought to scare me. But I don’t feel that either. I don’t feel anything.”

Hob breathes out hard. “Okay. Alright.” He pets Dream’s hair as he thinks. He doesn’t feel very equipped to handle this, but Dream’s regular therapy and meds don’t seem to be doing anything so he’s going to have to try. And if Dream’s regular routine isn’t helping then maybe it’s not his usual depression. Then maybe Hob can work out something to begin to help. “Maybe we need to take you on a very, very long holiday. So you can have a rest.”

Dream lets out a choked laugh, though when he speaks there’s no humor in it. “Hob. I think if I stop moving for that long. I will not get up again. So if you wish to have a functional partner, you may want to withdraw that suggestion.”

Hob feels his heart break in two. “What if I want an alive partner?”

“I am not planning to kill myself.”

“Recently it seems you’re well on your way to it, Dream.”

Dream is silent for a long moment, then says, voice cracking, “I am not trying to—”

“I know, I know, honey,” Hob slides down the bed to rest beside him, pulling Dream into his arms. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Dream cries, pressing his face into Hob’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my love.” They have been together since university. He’s seen Dream go through bouts of depression before. But he’s never seen him like this. Fracturing at the seams. It’s frightening. “I love you so much, do you know?”

“I know.” He squeezes Hob close. “I do know.”

“I don’t care how functional you are,” Hob says, making a clear mockery of the word, and Dream laughs weakly. “I do actually like you, you know. You. Not Mr Great Tech Innovator.”

Dream groans. “Please do not call me a ‘tech innovator’ or I may have to actually kill myself out of shame.”

Hob remembers when Forbes had wanted Dream to be in their thirty under thirty issue and Dream had refused because he thought it was ‘stupid and self-aggrandizing’ and because he ‘didn’t put in years of work for the purpose of being on the cover of an insipid magazine.’ Hob loves this stupid idiot so much.

Dream doesn’t do any of it for fame. Hob doesn’t entirely know why he does it. He think maybe pouring all of himself out is the only thing Dream knows.

“When’s the last time you feel you got an actual break?” Hob asks.

Dream thinks about it. “Year 10,” he says at last. “I spent the summer holiday doing nothing but reading. It was blissful.”

“Dream, that was fifteen years ago."

“After that summer I was always working somehow. Doing advanced class prep work. Then university prep.” He gives Hob a sly sidelong glance, and despite the heavy topic, Hob internally cheers to see a bit of his humor come back. “Needless to say, I was not spending my free time partying when I was in school.”

No, Hob knew that about him. Dream is practically incapable of having fun. Even one of his supposedly stress-relieving outlets, writing, he’s managed to turn into a side career as an author. And Hob knows that, unless one is a verifiable genius, one doesn’t earn the perfect marks Dream had all through school without sacrifice. Hob had gotten good marks, too, but Dream had always been a step above.

And he knows Dream’s parents had always demanded utter perfection. Whether they ever rewarded him for any of it, Hob doesn’t know.

“Hey, darling,” he says. “You’re doing a good job.”

Dream whimpers, pushing his face into Hob’s chest.

“You’re doing enough,” Hob continues. “You’re doing so well. I promise. It’s all okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” Dream says. He clings to Hob, wrapping his arms around him, slipping one leg in between Hob’s thighs. “So much.”

It would be easy to feel insecure around Dream’s level of success, except that Dream’s love for Hob is so obvious. To Hob it is, at least. Dream cares for him so deeply, in his way, and he never acts like he thinks Hob is lesser for not being someone Forbes is pursuing for their lists. If anything, Dream usually discounts his own success, and is, generally speaking, obsessed with Hob and everything Hob does.

This is also a visceral reminder of the costs of this type of success.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he says, rocking Dream in his arms.

“I have been feeling. Somewhat unwell, recently,” Dream admits. “Increasingly so. I suppose I ought to be grateful, in a way, that my mind forced me to shut down before my body did.”

Hob’s not sure he himself feels quite grateful about it, but he is glad Dream at least recognizes the problem.

“We’ve just got to send you to the seaside for your health,” he says.

Dream laughs, genuinely this time. “Truly.”

“Get you a little break. It’ll help, I promise. You’ve just been over-working yourself, hm?”

“I do not think it is my current level of work that is the problem,” Dream says. “I think. I have been running so long. I simply cannot anymore. Effort, itself, is not a problem for a marathon runner. But duration eventually becomes exhausting.”

“I know. It’s okay. Might need a bit longer of a break, is all.”

“I do not know how,” Dream says.

“You let everyone else at work take breaks, don’t you?”

“I used to not,” Dream says. “Not enough of them. Until Lucienne made it quite clear that I was being unfair to them. I was not trying to be. I was simply… used to my own work patterns and did not realize the strain it was putting on them.”

“But you changed it,” Hob says. “You can change it for yourself, too.”

“Perhaps,” Dream says.

“Hire someone who can do some of your tasks and then give yourself a little break. Go somewhere warm and sit on a beach and drink sugary cocktails.”

Dream laughs. “I don’t know if my brain is suited to that.”

“Exactly why you should do it.”

“Will you come with me on this… health retreat by the sea?” Dream asks, some humor back in his voice.

“Course. I’ll take a sabbatical and go with you. But also. Do you think you might want a bit of time to yourself?”

“By myself?” Dream questions. “I do have time to myself. I am already quite solitary.”

“I know. But. Do you think you’d want a bit of extended time to just do what you want to do?” It would hurt, to be away from Dream for an extended period of time. But he wants Dream to have that, that freedom to be completely unburdened, to have no expectations, if it will help him.

“Hmm.” Dream considers. “Perhaps a bit. But I like to be with you.”

“I like to be with you, too, my love. Think about somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. And we’ll go. Or if you just want to rest here, that’s fine, too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” Dream says quietly.

“I want you to be well,” Hob says. “More than anything, I want you to be well.” He kisses Dream’s forehead. “Besides if you don’t think I’m already imagining us on a beach—”

Dream laughs. “I see.”

“Come now, you want to see me shirtless, don’t you?” Hob teases.

“I see you shirtless every day,” Dream says dryly.

“Don’t you want to get extremely drunk and naked and fool around in a luxury villa?”

“What counts as ‘extremely’ naked?” Dream asks. “Taking off my skin?”

“Dream.”

Dream chuckles. “I do. That sounds enjoyable. I would like to leave my laptop at home and perhaps wander around a seaside village, drinking wine until I have killed all of my brain cells.”

“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it,” Hob says.

“Hob,” Dream says, serious again.

“Yeah?”

“What if I take a break,” Dream asks, quietly, “And then I cannot convince myself to go back?”

There’s true grief in his voice, but still Hob counters, “What if you take a break and you feel better?”

Dream smiles, faintly, Hob feels it against his skin. “Always the more positive attitude.”

“One of us has to.”

“But what if,” Dream continues, “I take a break and I learn that I never wanted to do any of it at all?”

This is a stickier question. “Why would you have done any of it, if you didn’t want to? You must have wanted to on some level.”

“I don’t know,” says Dream. “It is just what I’m used to.”

“Maybe you’ll want to again,” Hob says. “Maybe you won’t. Can’t we take it one day at a time?”

Dream lets out a long, aggrieved breath. “You are so nonchalant.”

“Thought that’s one of the reasons you liked me.”

“It is,” Dream says, sounding incredibly frustrated about it. “Yet I do not understand it in the slightest. You truly just… have faith that everything will work out regardless?”

“I have faith we can figure it out,” Hob says. “And that I’ll always have your back. That you’ll never have to work through it alone.”

“You are a wonderful partner,” Dream says. Then, “I would like to go out tonight.”

“You… would?”

Dream nods. “I would like to remember what it was like when we first met. And I feel sorely lacking in romance and I’m well aware it’s my own doing. I know it may not feel the same right now but I want to... try. And. I miss you. Will you take me out on a date?”

Hob is thrilled by this turn. “Of course I will. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can you also tell Lucienne I will be out sick this week and then hide my laptop and phone somewhere I will not find them?”

Hob laughs. “Alright, darling. Get some rest for today, hm? We’ll go out for drinks or something later. I have missed you. I’ve missed seeing you cheery.”

“‘Cheery’ may be pushing it,” Dream says, with a small smile. “However. I would like to have sex tonight.”

Hob bursts out laughing, not at the idea, but at the absolutely flat way Dream says it. He really does have a way about him.

“It’s been too long,” Dream whines.

It has been too long. “Oh, don’t think I’m saying no,” Hob says, and slips a hand up under Dream’s shirt to feel up his back. Dream laughs, snuggling closer to him. It’s so good to hear him laugh.

“Anything you want, anything that will make you happy,” he says. “I love you more than anything.”

Dream leans up to kiss him, long and sweet, then collapses atop him again, as he has nearly every day for weeks. Except this time it doesn’t feel quite so defeated. It feels like it could maybe be rest.

[sequinsmile-x]

Cinereous

After a well-meaning but hurtful comment from a stranger, Aaron tries to make Emily feel better about her grey hair.

-x-

Hi besties,

Now you might be asking yourself, how is it possible that Vic saw Paget post that thirst trap and managed to turn it into an emotional/hurt comfort fic? And you'd be right to ask and I have two words for you - seasonal depression!!

In all seriousness, she switched my brain off and I knew I had to write SOMETHING about her grey hair, and this is what came out.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: very sweet, please floss.

Words: 3.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily laughs as she encourages her daughter backwards from the bakery’s counter, her hand on Violet’s shoulder as she squeezes lovingly, tugging her against her side. 

“Vi,” she chuckles, smiling down at her as the 10-year-old looks up at her with wide, excited eyes, “The cakes will still be there when it’s our turn,” she says as they take a step in tandem as the line they are standing in moves, “No need to press your face against the glass.” 

“But I’m so excited,” she says, practically bouncing on the spot, “It’s Vi and Mommy day.” 

Emily smiles and tucks some of Violet’s dark hair behind her ear, “I’m excited too baby.” 

It was something she’d started way back when it was just her, Aaron, and Jack and Violet was still a tiny dot growing beneath her skin. Emily never wanted Jack to feel like she loved the baby more than him, or that her love for him would change in any way when she arrived, so she’d made sure she had a ‘Jack and Emily day’ once every other week to make sure he had her full attention no matter what. They’d go to the zoo just the two of them, or out to eat at Jack’s favourite diner. Aaron loved it, he’d wave them off with a hug and a kiss and welcome them home in the same way, his love for them pressed against their skin as he listened to Jack talk at him about their day. 

Their days continued after Violet was born, albeit slightly differently in those first few weeks. Aaron would take Violet to a different room, would snuggle with his little girl just a few rooms away in case she needed feeding, and Emily and Jack would sit on the couch and watch a movie together, or they’d bake cookies. It was a tradition that had grown with them as a family. Her days with Jack had slowly turned into ‘Jack and Mom days’ and her teaching him how to drive. They’d always do something just the two of them when he was back home from college, even if it was just going to a diner where they used to split a serving of pancakes because he was too little to eat them all himself. 

She’d started doing it with Violet too, and then Hazel when she came along two years later. Her daughters may look alike, carbon copies of her - except for the dark hair they’d once shared now she’d grown out her grey - but they could not be more different. Violet had inherited her sweet tooth, so a trip to a bakery was always a necessity before they headed home from the aquarium or the planetarium. Her excitement at having one on one time with her mother almost outmatched by being told she could pick whatever cake she wanted - no matter how much sugar was in it. 

Hazel was a little quieter, more reflective like her father and older brother and she loved going to the local library with Emily to pick out new books and take part in any programmes they were running. Even at almost 8 years old, her birthday just around the corner, Hazel loved snuggling with Emily in a chair, her fingers tangled in her grey hair as she fell asleep to her mother reading to her just like she had since before she could read herself. Emily soaked up every moment of it, well aware that in a few years time her little girls would rather spend time with their friends rather than her, a preemptive kind of grief threatening to fill her lungs at the thought of this part of her life being entirely over. 

“I’m going to get the red velvet,” Violet says, her bouncing side to side giving away her impatience at waiting in line, “What about you, Mom?” 

“I am going to get the chocolate I think.” 

Violet smiles up at her, “We should get Haze a doughnut. And Dad one of those croissants he likes.”

Emily nods, her hand on her daughter’s back as she guides her forward to the cashier, “Good idea,” she smiles at her, “Want to order?” 

Her eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically, smiling at the cashier who smiles back, “Can we please get a cup of Earl Grey, a lemonade, a slice of red velvet and chocolate cake to stay? And a croissant and a glazed doughnut to go?”

The cashier nods as she presses the buttons on the screen in front of her, “Anything else?” 

Emily shakes her head and takes over, “That’s it thank you,” she looks down at Violet, “Why don’t you go get a table and I’ll pay?” 

Violet nods and walks quickly, as close to a run as she can get without getting told to stop, choosing a table in Emily’s line of sight. She waves at her and Emily waves back, the usual mix of joy at watching her little girl grow up and sadness that she was no longer a tiny little thing curled up on her chest churning low in her gut. She turns back to the cashier, her card in hand to pay, and she catches the other woman’s eyes. 

“Your granddaughter is adorable.” 

A laugh catches in her throat, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she starts to correct her, but then her gaze catches her grey hair lying over her shoulder, a particularly light streak, almost white, standing out in the well lit bakery. It felt like a knock to her confidence, all the joy she’d found in not dying her hair anymore, in the way the grey seemed to drive her husband crazy gone in an instant. Turned to dust by a stranger who was trying to be nice but had somehow hit on her biggest insecurity when it came to being an older mother. 

It wasn’t lost on Emily that she was old enough to be the mom of some of the other parents at school drop-off. She didn’t care that she was on the outside or that she wasn’t in the strangely clicky group chats, she’d spent most of her life being an outsider anyway, but she did care more than she’d care to admit that it made her feel old sometimes. She loved her life, loved her children and her husband, and she wouldn’t change it or them for anything, but there were times when she wished she’d met Aaron a little earlier. That life hadn’t thrown everything it had at both of them before they had a chance to find each other in the wreckage of who they’d once been.

Right now, more than anything, she wished she hadn’t used the pandemic’s lockdown to stop dying her hair and grow it out.

Emily smiles tightly and nods, “Thanks,” she says, tapping her card to pay, “Can you bring it all over when it’s ready?” 

The cashier nods, “Of course.” 

Emily slips her wallet into her purse and walks over to Violet, slipping into the booth next to her. She tries to shake off the feeling, a lack of confidence she hadn’t felt since she was a teenager settling into her bones as she blows out a slow breath. 

“Are you okay, Mommy?” 

She looks over at Violet, sees the genuine concern shining in her eyes, and she nods, smiling as she slips her arms around her little girl’s shoulders and pulls her closer. She presses a kiss against the top of her head as she settles against her, “I’m more than okay, Vi. I’m here with you.” 

___

Aaron can tell something is wrong as soon as they get home.

Violet is just as excited as she always is, talking all about her one-on-one time with Emily as she passed him a paper bag with a croissant in it and Hazel a doughnut. Emily seems a little subdued, something hiding behind her smile that he knows she’s hiding from the girls but that he can see. They stopped being able to hide anything from each other a long time ago, so attuned to the other’s feelings their friends often joked that they must be able to read each other's minds. 

He knows better than to ask her about it whilst the girls are awake, so he doesn’t mention it. He simply lets his hand linger at her lower back a little longer than usual when they slip past each other in the kitchen, his smile soft as their eyes meet and she nods at him, her hand on his shoulder as she squeezes lightly. She purposely avoids him the moment Violet and Hazel are asleep and they both know it, but he lets her have it, knows that whatever is wrong she needs time to get her head around it first.

He marks some papers for his students, his two classes a week at the academy enough to keep his brain busy and to stop him from going crazy with nothing to do, and then he heads upstairs. He smiles when he walks into their bedroom, love and contentment settling in his chest when he sees Emily sitting up in their bed. 

He had loved a lot of versions of Emily over the years. He’d loved her even when she wasn’t his, when she was his friend and he thought that a future like this, his life, was nothing more than a pipe dream. He’d loved her as his girlfriend, then his fiancee and then his wife. He’d loved her when she was pregnant, lamenting the stretch of her skin and the ache that came with it. He’d loved her when she stood in their bathroom, her fingers glancing through her hairline, grimacing at the flash of grey in her roots before she’d stopped dying it a few years ago. He thinks this might be his favourite version of her though. All grey hair and fine lines and delightfully his as she sat with her glasses perched on her nose with her favourite book laid against her thighs. They’d lived a life together, and they had so much more to go, and on his good days, he could let himself believe that he deserved this. That he deserved her. 

“I’m just going to get ready for bed, okay?” He says, and she looks up at him, a tightness to her smile that had been there all evening as she nods.

“Okay, honey.” 

His heart aches as she looks back down at her book and he heads into the ensuite, sighing sadly as he closes the door behind him. He spots a bag from Emily’s favourite cosmetic store on the counter and he smiles to himself, content to look after her by putting her new things away until she lets him look after her in the way he wants to. He furrows his brow when he opens the bag, confusion washing over him when he pulls out one of two boxes of dark brown, almost black, hair dye. It was a brand she’d used for a long time, but one she hadn’t in years. 

She’d first mentioned growing her hair out when they were first locked down in 2020. They were both working from home, and the kids were all doing school at home, and any spare time she used to have to do things like top up her roots every few weeks slipped away. She’d mumbled that she was thinking about just letting it go grey one evening, looking at herself in the mirror, her exhaustion clear as she glared a box of dye that matched the one he was currently holding. The thought of it made his brain briefly switch off, the thought of his sexy, amazing, wife with beautiful grey hair making all the blood rush somewhere else before she cleared her throat at him, bringing him back to himself just in time to see the confused look on her face. 

Somewhere between his obvious reaction and her own desire to do it, she let it grow out. There were a few times she’d considered giving up, but he’d always encouraged her. Told her how good she looked and how much he loved her, and that if she really wanted to dye it again he’d help. She’d always smile at him and then kiss him, and any thought other than each other disappeared as they got lost in each other. 

She hadn’t mentioned doing anything to with her hair in years, and he feels his confusion turn into concern. He walks back out into the bedroom, box of dye still in hand, “I didn’t know you were thinking of dying your hair again.” 

She goes tense, cursing herself internally for forgetting to put the hair dye away, and she blows out a slow breath, her lips pressed together as she looks up at him, “Yeah. I…just thought about it today.” 

There’s something about the way she says it, the catch in her throat that he doesn’t miss, that has him walking over to her side of the bed. He sits down, his thigh pressed against hers, and he puts the box down on her nightstand, “Em-”

“It’s my hair, Aaron,” she says, harsher than she intended. She sighs, guilt flooding through her as she closes her book and puts it on the nightstand, her eyes catching the box of hair dye, “I can dye it if I want to.” 

“I know that, sweetheart,” he says, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of it somehow permeating the comforter and her pyjama pants, “But I also know that this hasn’t come from nowhere.” 

She sighs and shakes her head, her jaw tight with anger that wasn’t aimed at him as she chokes on a laugh, “It’s different for you, you know? Men get older and the world loves them for it. People see the grey in your hair and it makes you more distinguished. They see it in mine…” 

He waits as she drifts off, but when she doesn’t carry on he squeezes her leg again and hooks his thumb under her chin to encourage her to look at him, tears making her eyes shine from behind her glasses, “What happened?” 

“When Vi and I…” she swallows thickly, annoyed at herself for still being so upset all these hours later, “When we went to that bakery today, the cashier thought Violet was my granddaughter.” 

He sighs, his eyes drifting closed as he grasps her leg a little tighter, understanding and irritation on her behalf washing over him like a wave, “Oh, Em-”

“And I know it’s stupid to be upset about it,” she says, taking off her glasses so she can wipe away the tear that had slipped past her lashline, “She’s a stranger, she doesn’t know us. But I can’t stop thinking about it,” she shakes her head and laughs humourlessly, “How many other people see me with Vi and Haze and make that assumption?” She blows out a shaky breath, and it skips across his cheek as he shifts closer, one hand still on her leg as he wraps the other one around her back, “I’m their mom, Aaron. I fought so hard to be be their mom and…it just got to me today. That’s all.”

They lapse into silence for a moment before he leans forward and kisses her, the press of his nose warm against her cheek before he pulls back, “First of all, it’s not stupid to be upset about this. What do we always tell the kids?” 

She rolls her eyes lovingly at him, stamping a kiss against his palm as he cups her cheek, “That their feelings are valid.” 

“Exactly,” he says, smiling when she does, a bit of her slipping out from behind the sadness she’d been wearing like a mask all evening, “So your feelings are valid too. I’m sorry the cashier said that, and I’m sure if you want her to Penelope could find out who she is and make her life very inconvenient for a couple of days,” his smile gets wider when she laughs this time, her eyes sparkling for a different reason, “And whilst I may not be able to dismantle the patriarchy for you singlehandedly, I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, so if you want to dye it because you want to, not because you think you should, I’ll do it for you. I’ll open up my own little salon in our bathroom.”

She shakes her head at him, not able to find it in herself to be furious at him for being able to make her feel better in a matter of minutes, “You would make a very sexy stylist.” 

He leans forward to kiss her again, taking the opportunity to pull her hair tie out, letting her hair tumble down to her shoulders, giving him a perfect view when he pulls back to look at her, “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he smiles when she blushes, unable to look away from his intense gaze as the hand on her cheek holds her in place, “And thats true no matter what.” 

Her tongue licks her lower lip, chasing the taste of him lingering there, and the insecurity she’d felt all day starts to melt away. It’s replaced by love for her husband, for the way he made her feel gorgeous in an old t-shirt of his with not a scrap of makeup on her face, and all of a sudden the misguided attempt to be nice from a stranger doesn’t mean anything to her. She leans forward to kiss him, her hand hooked around the back of his head as she pulls him closer.

“Maybe you should remind me how much you like my grey hair,” she whispers against his lips, a smile breaking out across her face as he grips her tighter, his hand shifting from her thigh to her waist. 

Aaron smiles, his forehead against hers, a sense of victory washing over him for being able to cheer her up, “I can do that-”

He’s cut off by a knock on the slightly open door and pulls back from Emily just in time to see Hazel’s face appear around it. Her eyes are bleary and shining, her hair in disarray and her pjyamas creased, “Mommy? Daddy? I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, baby,” Emily says, opening her arms up as Aaron pulls back from her entirely, standing up to give his girls some room, “Come here.” 

Hazel doesn’t need asking twice, and she’s across the room in a second, smiling shakily at Aaron as he kisses the top of her head and says he’ll be back in a minute, disappearing into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. Emily wraps her arms around Hazel, stamping a kiss against her forehead as she snuggles against her, her presence in their bed for the rest of the evening an unspoken agreement between them. 

“You okay, Haze?” Emily asks, resting her cheek on top of her head, taking a moment to breathe in her shampoo. Hazel nods and reaches out for Emily’s hair, twirling it around her fingers like she had ever since she was small, a way of self-soothing she’d discovered as a toddler. 

“What’s that?” Hazel asks, purposely diverting any attention away from her nightmare by pointing at the box of dye still on the nightstand. 

Emily runs a hand up and down her daughter’s back, “That is hair dye,” she says, tilting her head to look down at Hazel, smiling when she’s met with the furrowed brow she’d inherited from Aaron, “It changes the colour of your hair.”

Hazel’s frown only gets deeper, “You’re changing your hair?” 

She blows out a breath and shrugs. After her conversation with Aaron, she was more sure she wouldn’t than she had been when she got home, but there was still a tiny bit of doubt lingering, “I don’t know.” 

Hazel sighs as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, “I hope you don’t.” 

The absolute conviction in her voice makes Emily laugh, “How come, baby?” 

Hazel shrugs and lays her head back against Emily’s shoulder, her focus on the hair twirled around her fingers, “It’s pretty already. You don’t need to change it.” 

It removes the last bit of doubt, the remaining insecurity slipping away at her daughter’s innocent comment. Her and Aaron’s love for her enough to warm her from the inside out. She kisses Hazel’s forehead.

“You’re right, sweet girl,” she says, kissing her forehead again, “It is pretty. I won’t change it, I promise.” 

She returns the hair dye the next day. 

[artbyfinnbrown]

Otto is the only member of Emilia camp who knows how to pay their taxes.

[kaleidoskuls]

people in wattpad comments are so fucking mean my god

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 210

Adjective: Scarce

Noun: Miracle

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Scarce: (especially of food, money, or some other resource) insufficient for the demand; occurring in small numbers or quantities, or rare

Miracle: a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency; a highly improbable or extraordinary event, development, or accomplishment that brings very welcome consequences; an amazing product or achievement, or an outstanding example of something

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

my brain is leaking out of my ears fam, these last two and a half weeks of school are going to be ROUGH

[fingertipsmp3]

Keep having recurring dreams that I’m in prison

[propelbottle]

sorry for being a downer y'all it's just been such a shit week

[strawberryloveyyy]

I just watched the ballad of songbirds and snakes and I'm not the same person I was when I entered the theatre

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically just two bookworms arguing about books and having a s3x right after

𝐚/𝐧: please read the note! so it's only a very short part of my upcoming fanfiction that has...25k words...i'm aware no one is going to read it all soo i'm publishing one of my favorite parts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

Maybe it was that one drink you had, but your legs seemed to take you in a certain direction.

You weren’t sure if Spencer was even home. But if you had nothing else to do, why not check? A short walk. You were a little desperate, after all, you didn’t have anywhere else to go. That’s how you justified it. You were going to him because you had no other option.

He opened the door, dressed in a wrinkled shirt, trousers, and a tie loosely hanging around his neck. His hair was in disarray, and you felt an urge to run your fingers through it and style it the way you wanted, but it would’ve been awkward.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?"

Surprised, Spencer shook his head.

"No... Actually, I was asleep."

"In those clothes?"

"I fell asleep while reading..." he explained, trailing off when he noticed your appearance. To put it modestly, you looked incredibly hot. For a long moment, his gaze lingered on your dress, visible beneath the open jacket and ending high on your thigh. "Very... nice dress. Is it... is it your mom's too?"

You chuckled.

"Can you imagine my mom, a school psychologist, in a dress covering half her ass?"

Embarrassed, Spencer raised his hands in apology and also chuckled softly.

"Sorry, I'm still half-asleep. Anyway... is there something wrong that you're here?"

"My mentally unstable ex-boyfriend of my roommate is lurking under our apartment.” You confessed bluntly “I'm a little scared to go back, and... I didn't know where else I could go."

It seemed like he was suddenly waking up quickly. He swung the door wide open, letting you in.

"Of course, come in. Is he dangerous?"

"He shows up every now and then and then disappears. It's like a lottery. Jude doesn't want to ever see him again, so we just pretend we're not here when it happens."

The inside looked just as you remembered. The lights were off everywhere except the bedroom, where he was probably reading. You allowed yourself to take off your uncomfortable shoes and set them by the door.

"Why don't you report it to the police?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Jude doesn't want to. And I don't want to do anything against her will. But I swear, if this happens again, I'll convince her. Or I'll do it myself."

"You should," he said, and suddenly a silence fell between you.

You weren't sure how to act. You'd barged in on him in the middle of the night, pulling him from his sleep. Not to mention, you hadn't seen each other since that conversation at the bar.

"Let me take your jacket," he said after a moment, as if remembering how to behave when hosting a guest.

You slowly took it off, revealing the full dress. Spencer momentarily let his gaze linger on it, but then he caught himself and turned away to hang your jacket. The glance didn't embarrass you in the slightest; if anything, you expected to catch him looking.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said, realizing you should probably apologize. It was only then that you began to feel a little awkward about the situation.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. And I'm glad I can help," he said, and once again, silence settled between you. Spencer placed his hand on his forehead as he realized you were still standing in the hallway. "Sorry, it's been a long time since anyone's visited, and I don't even know how to act... Do you want something to drink, or need anything?"

"I’m fine," you assured him, walking behind him into the living room. "I don't want you to act like I'm some important guest, Spencer. Or like you need to serve me."

"But you are an important guest," he replied.

A warm, gentle smile appeared on your lips.

"What were you reading?" you asked, leaning your lower back against the kitchen island, the two rooms connected as one. You glanced around the cozy interior, in soft, almost warm hues, where the darkness of the night blended with the orange light of the lamp. "Let me guess, some spine-chilling thriller?"

"I have spine-chilling thrillers every day at work," he snorted. "I was reading... Emma. Jane Austen."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"You fell asleep reading classic literature on a Friday night? Spencer Reid, what kind of man are you?"

"In a good way or a bad way?"

He stood across from you, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. Your eyes lingered on the first few undone buttons of his shirt.

"Of course, in a good way. Why would I judge someone for reading?"

"I don’t know," he shrugged. "Some people think it’s boring. And weird, especially on a Friday night. And what about you? What were you doing before your roommate’s ex showed up?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he nodded meaningfully toward your outfit. "Were you reading too?"

You lifted your chin high.

"Exactly. I was reading my favorite Shakespearean drama in my favorite dress. And those incredibly comfortable shoes I left by your door."

"That goes without saying."

"I definitely wasn’t at any club."

"I wouldn’t even suspect you of that."

"I was doing what any God-fearing virgin would do," you said, bursting into laughter at the absurdity. "Alright, alright. I’m getting carried away. Now I actually feel like reading something. But nothing too classic—I don’t have the brainpower for it. Do you happen to have any romance novels?"

I'm afraid not."

"Really? You have more books in your home than the library in my hometown, and not a single romance? I’m not talking about dark erotica or anything—just something subtle. Friends to lovers, polite sex..."

Spencer choked on a laugh.

"Sorry, but are you drunk?"

You were just horny. 

"Not a drop of alcohol has touched my lips. I'm just hyperactive. That’s what the night does to me."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"So? Aren't you hiding any sinful books in there?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly amused rather than annoyed by your persistence.

"You're welcome to look," he offered, gesturing toward one of the shelves. "But I’m not promising you’ll find anything like that."

"But if I do, you owe me a drink."

“And if it turns out I’m right, then what?”

You bit your lip, pondering. 

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You know, I won’t enter a bet unless I know what I get in return.”

“And what do you want?”

“A dinner together,” he replied without hesitation. “Or breakfast, if you prefer.”

“Deal,” you answered just as quickly. You weren’t worried about regretting it—your blood was buzzing too much for that.

He extended his hand for you to shake on it, sealing the deal. Instead of letting go, you held onto his fingers firmly and tugged him toward the bookshelf. He stood so close as you examined the books one by one, taking some out to inspect their covers to see if they suggested any hint of romance. When they didn’t, he let out a short laugh, his breath brushing against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t let it show.

“Spencer…” you started after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “It counts if the book has a romantic subplot, right?”

“No, it doesn’t count! We agreed on a romance. A full-fledged, contemporary one.”

“We didn’t say contemporary.”

“I assumed it was implied since I mentioned owning Jane Austen books. Pride and Prejudice is a romance, among other things…”

“Ha! So you do have one. I won!” You raised your hands high in victory.

“…But it’s also a social and domestic novel. Doesn’t count.”

You poked him in the chest with your finger.

“You don’t know how to lose.”

He glanced at the spot where you touched him, clearly trying not to smile.

“Maybe I just care a lot about that dinner,” he admitted boldly.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to look at him confidently, but it was hard to think and maintain eye contact with him at the same time.

“Or breakfast,” you murmured.

“Or breakfast,” he agreed. Realizing how close he was standing, he instinctively stepped back half a pace. “So, are you ready to admit my victory?”

You shot him a defiant look.

“Not a chance. I haven’t even checked all the books yet. I’m only about three-quarters through. Who knows what kind of BDSM might be lurking in the last quarter?”

“Seriously?” he asked with a sigh. “Okay, just look at me. Do I seem like the kind of guy who reads stuff like that?”

“Honestly, you look like the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias. But the one thing I know about people is that appearances can be deceiving. Still waters run deep.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re as stubborn as they come.”

“Maybe I just really want that drink,” you teased.

“I can make you one,” he offered unexpectedly.

“Seriously?” The suggestion caught you off guard.

Spencer shrugged casually.

“I don’t drink much, but some friends gave me a few bottles for my birthday.”

You hesitated, considering.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you admitted. You felt good, even without alcohol. “But I do have another request… Do you happen to have something I could change into? I won’t lie, this isn’t the most comfortable dress… though it’s absolutely stunning.”

He smiled softly.

"You’re right. And yes, I’ll find something for you to change into. Just… it’ll be something of mine."

Following him into the bedroom, you let out a small chuckle.

"You know, I didn’t expect you to have a closet full of women’s clothes. Plus, in my size. Although, who knows what girls leave behind at your place. It’s a tactic, you know? You leave a sock at a guy’s place to have an excuse to come back. Unless you didn’t like it, then you have to accept losing the sock."

He didn’t say anything, opening the wardrobe to find something appropriate for you. You’d been in his bedroom before and didn’t feel the need to look around; nothing had changed inside.

"Do you do this often?" he asked, inspecting a t-shirt. "Use the sock strategy?"

"No," you replied, shrugging. "I’m too straightforward for that. If I like it, I just go back and say 'Let’s do it again' Or I don’t leave at all. I’m a bit of a parasite too."

He chuckled at the comparison and finally handed you some clothes. You didn’t really look at them; you just needed something looser, something you hadn’t danced in for hours at the club.

"You know where the bathroom is, right?"

You confirmed and were about to head in that direction when you stopped.

"Wait," you said, turning back toward him. But then, you turned again, facing him with your back. "The zipper on the dress," you explained, pulling your hair to the front. "I could manage it myself, but I don’t want to risk breaking it. Could you…?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed after a moment, stepping closer.

He stood just behind you, reaching for the top of your back. Before he pulled the zipper down, there was a moment where he simply paused, unmoving. Your knees suddenly trembled, almost impatiently. Then, he tugged at the zipper, unfastening the dress, and the coolness and freedom teased your skin.

You could have said thank you and headed to the bathroom, but you didn’t. Something kept your body rooted in place, right there next to him, feeling the pads of his fingers on the lower part of your dress.

Even his breath, louder and irregular.

When you began to, slightly disappointed, assume that he wouldn’t do anything more, his lips found a spot on your neck, kissing it slowly. You inhaled deeply, your head instinctively tilting back, giving him more access, as if you had been waiting for just that.  He stopped for a longer time in this specific place, pressing on it harder, as you barely hold a groan. 

Your breath was given a free rollercoaster ride.

You reached your hand back, wrapping it around his head and pulling him closer to you. You felt him sigh directly into your skin, leaving another two hungry kisses on an exposed skin on your shoulder. God, why were you still wearing that dress?

You abruptly stopped, turning around and almost hitting the top of your head against his jaw. You didn't care about it, and the thought of apologizing never crossed your mind, just simply pushed him, planting a strong kiss right on his lips.

The clothes he gave you slipped from your hand and fell to the floor, but neither of you were concerned about it, as you were both too absorbed to care. You pushed him again, this time onto the bed, on which he sat, surprised by your suddenness. You saw red marks creeping onto the parts of the neck exposed by the undone shirt. 

"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," you said, shaking your head in a mock reprimand. He tilted his head to the side, unsure of where you were going with this, his fingers impatiently brushing your waist on both sides. "You lied to me."

Your hands grabbed his face, positioning just under his jaw and lifting it upward so you could find his lips right against yours. 

“I lied to you?”

"“That's right. You said you don't read romances. But tell me, how does someone who doesn't do that know such practices?”

“Practices?” he repeated again, surprised."

His gaze was focused solely on your lips to which he tried to get closer, but you hadn't allowed him to yet. 

"This whole unbuttoning of the dress. And then, the neck”

With your index finger, you traced along the skin on his neck

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He removed one hand from your waist and took your hand, the one you had been playing with.

“Did I like it?” you scoffed with a genuine laugh.“I’m like half naked now. Answer that for yourself”

Undressing was the element you hated the most. You became impatient and couldn't understand why your clothes couldn't just disappear from you, instead of threatening to burn your already overheated skin. Spencer didn't help, so slow in his movements. You had a feeling he was doing it on purpose. He probably enjoyed watching you struggle to untangle yourself from the dress. He waited a minute before helping you, effortlessly pulling it over your head.

Maybe slow wasn't the most accurate description.The way he touched his body wasn’t slow. It was like rationing a treat, breaking it into small pieces and savoring them one by one. Meanwhile, it gazed straight into your mouth, shouting, eat me!

It required incredible self-control and composure, but it resulted in something more than just pleasure. When he found himself right between your legs, his lips touching gently every single inch of your thigh and refusing to go further despite your pleas, you compared him to the previous guys you slept with. With them, on the other hand, you had to tell them to slow down, to do everything more carefully, and not to focus solely on their own needs.

“Does it feel right?” He asked, briefly lifting his gaze, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your back arched, probably enough of an answer, but you confirmed it with a soft moan.

"I'd rather you said it out loud. Does it feel right?"

"That's edging on sadism, do you realize that?" you whimpered, trying to release the tension by pulling at his hair.

He stopped again.

"Please, do it again."

It wasn't something he had to beg for.

The rest went similarly. You liked how his confidence and courage grew, but you also went wild when, at certain moments, the same gentle and sometimes awkward Spencer returned. It was a perfectly balanced mix.

"Can you talk to me more?" he asked over time, once he was already inside you. "I want to know how you feel about all of this." After those words, your forehead twitched slightly as you felt the onset of pain. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you whispered, accompanied by a faintly tired exhale.”A little. But it's normal I just didn't have sex for a while”

"No, it shouldn't hurt you. Do you want to stop?"

"Just... give me a moment."

He slowed down, almost stopping. You took a breath,pressing your forehead to his. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you in a hurry. After all, where to? Outside, the night still reigned, long and patient, winter’s grip holding steady. You liked having his face so close to yours, joining them together and not speaking. For the first time, you could truly say that you enjoyed the silence.

You had always considered silence overwhelming, incapable of calming the chaos that arose in your mind. You preferred moments of wildness, loud sounds, and fast pace, but it was in that silence, which fell then, that you found a peace filled with intimacy.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

"It's okay, I'm ready."

After everything, you simply lay facing each other, tangled in one another. Actually, you didn’t like that expression "after everything." After everything—after what exactly? Sex wasn’t just about the physical act; it also included the long moment before and the even more significant one after. It was precisely that moment after which revealed the true you both. How much you cared for each other and how much you meant to each other beyond the bed. That was often missing in one-night stands; the perspective of quickly disappearing from each other's lives and being forgotten somehow intensified selfishness in people.

Lying there, you played with the hair on his forehead.

"You know, they say this is the moment when people are the most honest with each other."

"Do you want to squeeze a few secrets out of me?" he asked.

"Just one," you said mysteriously, turning onto your back. Before that, you noticed his eyebrows furrow.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at you again.

"Which one?"

You pretended to hesitate before answering. You tried with all your might to keep the smile from appearing on your face, betraying you.

"I'm afraid that even now, you won't be honest with me."

"I'm starting to get worried."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to tell the truth. Give me your pinky."

"What?"

"A pinky promise, you fool."

“O-okay” 

Clearly surprised, he did what you asked.

"Now tell me the truth. You got any romance books at your place you're too embarrassed to admit to?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll find them," you teased. "I’ll get up right now and find them."

You pretended to get up, but he pulled you closer, preventing you from moving.

"You're not going anywhere."

i know some of you were curious about this fanfiction, so I'm tagging it.

@nightfullofparadox @bloodredrubyrose @lillaberry @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace and betrothed unable to wait until their wedding night to have sex??

Request: Jacaerys and his future wife fooling around because they are horny and scared they will die before getting married. I don’t want my boy to die without tasting the greatness of sex

How did this smut piece get to 2.2k words? 😳

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbating, fingering, p + v, 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I’m scared, Jace,’’ you confessed as you stood by the banister of Dragonstone castle, watching as Vermax and Silverwing flew together over the bay. Hopefully Silverwing will lay eggs when you and Jacaerys have children. ‘’The war is getting closer to us. Soon, we’ll have to get on our dragons and battle against the enemy. We…we might die.’’

Death was inevitable during a war. Especially one with dragons, as Rhaenys once said. Team Black had already suffered a couple of losses — Lucerys, Rhaenys, Ser Erryk —, but more would come. 

‘’The thought of what’s coming is terrifying, but we can’t let ourself be paralyzed by the possibility of dying,’’ Jacaerys said, his hand securely on the handle of his sword. He had taken the habit from Daemon, whom he looked up to in certain aspects. 

You looked down at your bare hands on the top of the banister. ‘’I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying without ever calling you husband.’’ 

A few weeks before the petition of Driftmark, you and Jacaerys had announced your betrothal. Rhaenyra had a feast in celebration, proud and happy that her eldest son would marry without any politics involved. The wedding should have happened in the summer, but the King fell to his illness and from there unraveled a series of unfortunate events that postponed the wedding.  

‘’When the war ends and I sit on my throne, we’ll have a large celebration in the Red Keep,’’ the Queen had promised.

But you were tired of waiting. 

‘’Every night, as I lay in bed, I think of you and our life if there hadn’t been a war of succession. I would call you husband, my prince husband, and we would not be sleeping in separate beds across the castle. No one would be chaperoning us from afar and we would not get scolded for sharing ‘too long’ kisses.’’

Jacaerys put his hand over yours on the bannister, sharing the same feelings. He wanted to call you his wife and glare at whoever dared speaking wrong to you. He wanted to spend the evening alone in your shared chambers, eating cakes and talking about your day until one of you fell asleep first. He wanted…he wanted to take you to his bed and have a family with you. Not whilst the war was going. He could not deal with the stress of his pregnant wife going to battle on her dragon. 

A few days later, you were sitting in your settee, reading in your nightgown when you heard a light knock on the door. You raised your head from your book, and saw that a piece of parchment had been slipped beneath your door.  

Meet me when the moon is bright. Careful when you take the stairs, Ser Godric is keeping guard.

The message was not signed, but you recognized the handwriting. 

When you judged the moon was bright enough, you slipped a robe over your nightgown and quietly walked down the corridor to take the stairs to Jacaerys’ chambers. You listened carefully for any guards, not wishing to get caught sneaking to you betrothed’s chambers at the hour of the owl. It would make quite the scandal amongst the servants and the staff. 

You knocked delicately on the door and bit your lip as you waited, your stomach bubbling with excitement. Within a few seconds, the door opened and Jacaerys pulled you inside. 

The room was quite dark as the sun was asleep, only the fire of the hearth and a few candles on a table as sources of light. You noticed the small crumpled balls of parchment on the study, assumingly drafts of his message to you. It had to be not too suggestive, but also not too plain that you would not want to come.

‘’I didn't know if you were going to come,’’ Jacaerys said, his lips curved into a shy smile. 

He was wearing just a tunic and wool trousers. It felt strange to see him without his doublet and riding gear. His dark brown hair was messy and his cheeks flushed from what you could make from the light. He looked so different from the usual picture-perfect prince. 

‘’You asked to see me.’’ 

Jacaerys stepped closer. He raised his hand to stroke your cheek, then your hair, which he seemed taken by. ‘’I didn’t know your hair was so long. You always have them up in braids or pins,’’ he said, his tone soft with wonder.

A slight smile tugged at your lips. ‘’What is it that you wanted, Jace? I doubt you summoned me her to talk about my hair.’’ 

‘’I’ve been thinking. About us.’’ He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. ‘’The Gods have been unfair to us. So let’s not wait for them to bless and unite us.’’

Your brows drew into a light frown. ‘’Jace, what do you—’’ you began, but he stepped closer, his forehead resting against yours. 

He stepped closer, the fire in the hearth reflecting in his eyes. ‘’Do you love me?’’ 

‘’With all my heart,’’ you replied without hesitation, your eyes filled with sincerity. 

‘’Let’s not wait, then. I…I don’t want to waste our time together waiting for this damn war to be over to take you to bed.’’ 

Jacaerys placed his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against him, his grip loose, giving you time to pull from his grasp if you wanted it. But you didn't. 

Instead, you looked up at him and kissed him, closing the remaining space between you. You kissed him like you've done many times before, only this time you didn't have to pull away every twenty seconds to check if a maester, guard or the Queen was around. You’ll never forget the embarrassment you felt that day…

Jacaerys whimpered as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, and pressed you against him, desire spreading through his veins, hot like dragonfire. With less layers between your bodies, you could feel the warmth of his chest through your nightgown, and his...little friend stiffening in his trousers.

‘’Someone is excited,’’ you murmured with a giggle as you broke the kiss to plant a trail of kisses down his neck instead. 

He let out a low moan, tightening his grip on your hips. ‘’I cannot control it when you’re around. Especially when you kiss me.’’ Jacaerys captured your lips into another kiss, and tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower stomach. 

His hands grabbed and pulled at the material of your robe and nightgown, and you rolled your hips, igniting more of his dragonfire. Jacaerys moaned at the contact, louder than he intended. Your own cheeks turned red, realizing you were starting to reach an intimacy you had never breached before.

‘’I’m nervous,’’ you whispered, biting your lip as you thought of getting intimate. 

You placed your hands on Jacaerys’ chest, distracting yourself from your mind. His heart was beating fast, probably just as nervous. 

‘’We don't have to do anything if you don’t feel ready to.’’

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. ‘’I want to.’’ 

To prove yourself, you untied your robe and placed it on the back of the settee, right next to Jacaerys’ sword. The prince's breathing quickened, his dark eyes fixated on your fingers as you unlaced the ties of your nightgown, slowly unraveling the knot. You sucked in a breath as you pulled it down your shoulders, letting it slip down your body until it reached the floor.

Silence greeted your naked body, and you felt shy suddenly. You almost reached for your robe to cover yourself, but your betrothed sensed your uneasiness and stroked your cheek before taking off his tunic and trousers. He found it unfair for you to be naked while he was still clothed.

Once you were even, he guided you backwards towards his bed. The headboard had a large dragon engraved in the stone and seemed a little bigger than yours. The sheets were pale, and over top was a deep red blanket made of velvet to keep warm from the winds coming from the bay.

Jacaerys sat on the edge and, with an expression of fascination, he reached for your breasts. He made sure to be gentle, sliding his thumbs gently over your rapidly hardening nipples. ‘’By the Sevens, you’re beautiful,’’ he marveled, stars in his eyes. 

‘’I can say the same, my prince.’’ You pressed your palm over his chest, smooth and warm.

Jacaerys smiled, that one soft and genuine smile he reserved for you. ‘’I love you,’’ he said, his hands caressing your side in small, gentle circles. 

‘’I love you to— Aah,’’ you whimpered as his hand reached between your legs, stroking your slit clumsily. He didn't know what he was doing, and lacked finesse as he bumped against your clit at random moments, but it still felt amazing. 

He checked on you, wanting to please. ‘’Does that feel good?’’

‘’Yes.’’ 

His fingers were getting slippery from your arousal, making it easier to slide against your cunny. You’ve done it to yourself a few times, alone in your bed. 

‘’Can you put one inside?’’ 

Jacaerys’ fingers were a bit thicker than yours, and longer. 

He nodded. 

A breathy moan left your lips instantly, pleasure sparkling as your walls clenched around his middle finger. 

‘’Like that?’’ Jacaerys slid his finger out, then back in, repeating the motion as you grabbed his shoulder. 

‘’Yes. Again.’’ 

He listened to your needs, almost forgetting his own as his cock remained untouched against his stomach. It was engorged and painful. While one hand was busy pleasuring you, he wrapped his second around his cock and jerked himself. 

 You noticed and thought of helping him, but Jacaerys added a second finger and your knees almost gave out. The feeling was overwhelming, but you craved more. 

You pushed Jacaerys away, and clambered over his lap. His gaze met yours, equally filled with lust. With a nod from your lover, you reached down to grab his cock and lined it at your entrance, sinking down slowly, inch by inch. 

The intensity of the sensation had you gripping at each other, needing to anchor yourself to something. It was unpleasant at first, feeling a pressure and a stinging inside your intimate tunnel. You felt full in a way that was impossible to describe.

Feeling your fingers dig into his skin, Jacaerys kissed your shoulders and neck to sooth you, trying his hardest not to move by fear to blow too soon or hurt you. It was overwhelming for him too — the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him.

You rose up slightly, and then sank back on with tenderness. Jacaerys moaned deeply with you, his head dropping against your collarbone. He closed his eyes, his hands squeezing your hips as you moved up and down again, the pressure around his cock heavenly.  

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm, becoming one. 

When your legs fatigued, you let Jacaerys know and he moved you on the bed and laid you down on the rich velvet. He adjusted himself to the new position, his dark curls falling like curtains around his face as he thrusted into you with long deep strokes.

‘’Kiss me,’’ he demanded.

You complied, winding your arms around his neck and rocking your hips to meet his thrusts until you reached your high with a broken cry. 

Seconds later, Jacaerys pulled out and spilled onto your thighs, not wanting to deal with the consequences of having sex out of wedlock. 

The bed creaked as he collapsed beside you, breathing heavy. As if an invisible string was pulling you to him, you rolled on your side and clung to him, needing to be close after sex. You stayed that way for a long time, relaxing with your head on Jacaerys' bare chest. Your legs felt like jelly, still dizzy from the intense emotions and the overwhelming pleasure. 

You wished you could suspend time and stay there with him forever. But a soft yawn brought you back to reality.

‘’I must leave,’’ you said, feeling the tiredness catching you. It was difficult not to be lured to sleep when you were cuddling under the covers and Jacaerys’s hand was stroking your back gently.

His arms caged around you, protesting. ‘’Stay.’’ He nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled. ‘’It’s a command from your prince.’’ 

His tone was unserious, but it still made you guilty and sad to leave him. 

‘’I do not wish to leave and sleep in my bed alone, but I must be found in my own chamber when the maids come in the morn.’’ 

Jacaerys sighed, rubbing his face into your hair. ‘’I know,’’ he said, his voice a mixture of resignation and frustration. 

Reluctantly, his arms slowly unwound from around you and you peeled yourself from him, releasing a small hiss when you sat up. The septa had warned you about the pain after breaking your maidenhead. It wasn’t unbearable, only sensitive when you moved. 

‘’I didn't hurt you, didn't I?’’ Jacaerys immediately asked, his eyes filled with concern as he checked on you.

You shook your head and smiled, washing his guilt away. ‘’No. You were perfect, Jace.’’ 

He knew it was untrue. No one was perfect the first time. 

You struggled dressing back into your nightgown and robe, having to fight with Jacaerys’ lips trying to kiss you and his arms pulling you against him. You gave him a last longing kiss before slipping out of his chambers, promising to see him to break fast. 

—

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[gyeomsweetgyeom]

when the fratboy falls

fratboy!Jaehyun x tutor!reader

summary: Jaehyun is a fratboy with a notorious reputation for being a playboy, you have never heard of him. surely, he can use tutoring as an excuse to get close to you, right?

word count: 8.9k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol and weed, characters consuming alcohol, based on ages in this fic- underage drinking, mentions of sexual acts, a very brief scenario where a non-nct-fratboy verbally harasses/drunkenly flirts, confusing ages/age changes between members (just don't think about it :)), Americanized college described (I'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart) in order to avoid using y/n, uhhh I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: oh my god this feels like it's been a long time coming, I hope you all enjoy the origins of Jaehyun and Sweetheart and grow to love them even more! Feedback is appreciated! 

This fic is a part of my fratboy!jaehyun universe but can be read as a stand alone fic! (it’s the origin story)

dividers from plutism <3

taglist! @luv4jeno @vvx3 @mmjhh1998 @bluedbliss @soheendo

@lovesuhng @i4kt @johnjaesblog @sunghoonsgfreal @leemoonna

@cbgisland @yowmaman @cryingforjae @nanaissour @kongjjen

You should be in a club right now, you and all your friends should be getting drinks bought for you in the flashing neon lights of a crowded room. You should be dancing like the girls in all the college movies with your hands up, tangled in your own hair, and dancing to the beat of the music pulsing through the room. 

But you weren’t there! You were stuck in the godforsaken library being proactive by studying for your staggered midterms starting in two weeks. You hated your professors for giving horribly detailed study guides that actually required you to work on them this early on. It was as if they had all conspired to make them as detailed and long as possible and to make them span two weeks.

Your eyes were burning from staring at the screen in front of you, the books laid out around you had barely been touched since you found the information you needed, and your pencil was lost somewhere in the pages of your notebook where you had been taking notes. Right now, your fingers were itching to grab your phone and scroll through some sort of entertainment, but you knew you couldn’t. 

You’d been doing so well studying for a good- wow, almost 3 hours, until the rowdiest group of guys came in and started making this experience even worse for you. They’d come in about half an hour ago and had been the worst examples of library goers since they took their seats two tables away from you. 

“Those guys are such a pain in the ass,” your roommate, Ari, mumbled under her breath.

Your friend, Kira, shot a look in their direction and immediately rolled her eyes, “Frat guys, Nu Chi. I’m not surprised.”

You peeked over at the group of guys catching the Greek letters on various pieces of clothing worn within the group. The ‘ΝΧΤ’ was was patched onto some hats, hoodies, and t-shirts- the bright green of the letters made it easier to see. You trailed your eyes over the guys in the group. Some look like they’d just woken up, one was asleep, another two were actually studying, and one was looking right at you. 

Your eyes widened in surprise, you hadn’t meant to get caught staring. His handsome face fell into a smirk as you saw his eyes trail you up and down. Your face got hot and you snapped your head back to the half undone study guide on your screen. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How embarrassing!

Jaehyun smirked at your embarrassed state, biting his lip as he stared at your panicked return to your studying. Thank you Taeyong for getting this table. You were cute, messy hair, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. He liked cute. 

You tried as hard as you could to focus on the study guide in front of you but the heat of this guy’s gaze was distracting you. You peeked up again, catching his eye and feeling your face get warm once again when his right eye dropped in a wink.

You looked away quickly, facing your friends and covering your mouth from his view, “don’t be obvious, but one of those frat guys has been staring at me for the past 10 minutes.”

Both their heads turned at the same time, catching sight of the guy. Ari’s eyes widened as her head snapped back to you, “that’s Jung Jaehyun, bitch!”

You stared at her like she’d grown another head, “does he play sports or something? Am I supposed to know who he is?”

“He’s just one of the hottest guys at this university. My roommate knows like four girls who have slept with him and not a single one of them complained. Apparently, he’s pretty good in bed. You should get on it,” Kira explains in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t be gross, I don't want to be another notch in his bedpost or name on his roster. I’m not like that,” you sigh as you begin closing up the books spread around you on the table. 

“I know, I’m just saying it could be fun for you. Don’t let him use you, you use him,” Kira offers with a smug smile.

You chuckle, gathering your things, “whatever, I’m going back to the dorm. If I read another word my brain will melt into mush. I’ll see you guys later.”

You stood from the table, your arms full of the books you’d borrowed so you could take them back to the front desk. You heard a chair scrape against the floor as you left your area and passed by tables of scattered peers also studying or at least attempting to study.

“Here, let me help you with those,” a deep voice came from behind you.

You stopped, turning your head to see that it was Jaehyun, the guy from the table. “Oh, it’s alright. Thank you though,” you smiled politely while continuing your journey to the librarian’s desk.

“Hey, child development books. Now that I think about it your pretty face did look familiar. Do you you take it with Professor G on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2? I’m Jung Jaehyun,” He explained as he walked with you. Clearly, he wasn't at all put off by you dismissing him.

“That class has like 200 people, how would you recognize me?” You asked Jaehyun, sending the librarian a kind smile in thanks before telling him your own name as you walked toward the doors of the library.

Jaehyun walked with you, holding the door open for you, “I never forget a pretty face. But hey, listen, I gotta say I’ve been struggling quite a bit with all the materials we need to know for the midterm. You always answer questions and Professor G compliments your work, would you be down to help me study? Like a tutor?”

You came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs outside the library. You bit the inside of your lip, contemplating whether or not you should help him. On one hand, you really understood the material and you would be more than capable enough to help him, and you had some time. On the other hand, did he really need help studying or was this one of his methods for getting you alone so he could work his charm to get you in his bed? “You don’t even know me, I’m sure there’s someone you know in the class that can help you.”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens quickly, “But I know you know the materials. Come on, please.”

You shook your head, he was cute, you had the time to help him, but your pride was getting in your way. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Any other girl would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him, time alone with him. You were different, making him work for it. And he knew you wanted him. He saw the way you’d been checking him out. He looked at the trees, his eyes brightening as an idea hit him, “how about this. If you help tutor me, I’ll let you and your friends in to every Nu Chi party for free for the rest of the semester.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “but I’ve never even been to any of your parties. We’re not usually the party type.”

Geez you were making this almost impossible for him, “fine. You and your friends can still get into the rest of the parties for free and I’ll connect you with some of my older frat brothers who can help you with any other class you need help with.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “Do you have a math guy? I really need help in stats.”

Jaehyun, let out a quiet breath of relief, “Yeah, Doyoung is a computer science major or something. Even if he’s not, he’s a genius and there’s about 4 other guys who could help you. We’re not all idiots, you know?”

“Just you?” You smile at him teasingly. 

He chuckles deeply, “yeah, just me. So yes? You’ll help me.”

“Fine,” you drag out playfully, “I can find you on instagram to set up the meeting?”

He nods handing his phone to you so you can follow yourself. You hand his phone back to him, “I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

The next time you see Jaehyun is at 9:48 on the following Saturday. You’ve been sitting in a study room nervously adjusting and readjusting the position of your laptop, then your notebook, then your pencil. Your coffee sits untouched beside your phone, face up to see if, and really when, Jaehyun will decide to message you and cancel. The session was supposed to start at 9:30, but there had been very few people walking through the door. None of which were Jaehyun.

You’d decided you would give him 10 more minutes and then you’d leave. You had better ways to be spending a Saturday than waiting in a study room alone like a mega loser for some guy you barely knew. A guy that was just trying to get in your pants no doubt.

With 2 minutes left you began to pack up your things. You knew it was too good to be true. Why had you even begun to think he was actually interested in studying? With the way he’d been undressing you with his eyes, there was no way he wanted to actually study with you. You were such an idiot! He was probably fast asleep, hung over, in his bed with a poor girl he’d managed to trick into sleeping with him. If you could even calling it tricking her- he was actually a good looking guy, charming, likable, and persuasive. Ugh! Why were you thinking about him like that?! 

You closed your laptop and slid your chair out, reaching for your bag when finally the door to the study room opened.

There stood Jung Jaehyun, red cheeked, tired looking, and out of breath, “I slept through my alarm. I’m hungover as a motherfucker right now, but I’m here. Did you just get here?”

You were frozen, “I’ve been waiting for almost 20 minutes. I was packing up to leave.”

“How are you not hungover? Last night was a major rager.”

“I didn’t go to the party,” You told him quietly, almost shyly. You pulled your laptop out again and pulled up the necessary tabs for the material for today.

Jaehyun stared at you confused, a slight hint of wonder, and another hint of admiration. “But I gave you free entry for the rest of the semester. You and your friends. I can think of something else to make this more worth your while.”

You deadpanned, “I’m not sleeping with you Jung Jaehyun, have some respect. I’m doing you a favor.”

Jaehyun flushed, his mouth falling open silently. He shook his head quickly, almost in worry, “that’s not what I meant. God, I’m sorry. I just meant that since you are doing me a favor and you haven’t exactly used any of what I offered to your advantage, maybe you’d want something else more your style. You can still have access to my smart bros, but maybe you want some food instead of the parties? A couple of the ladies in the dining hall love me and they give me food for free. I can pass that along if you want.”

You bit your lip, contemplating your answer, “It’s fine, the parties seem cool. I mean- I’ve never been to one, but I didn’t want to leave the wrong impression showing up hungover.”

Jaehyun flushed, suddenly very interested in the screen in front of him, he was embarrassed. Of course he made a bad second impression. He was the idiot that showed up hungover! “Should we get started?” he asked. It was clear you cared about school or at least doing well and wanted to make a good impression even when he was obviously thinking with his dick. Now, he felt like a total dick.

You nodded and began explaining what you had planned for this session. You had planned for the two of you would complete part 1 of the study guide, only a handful of questions and you’d review the slides used by the professor to help Jaehyun with anything he had trouble with. 

Jaehyun began to zone out after the third level of the hierarchy of needs. His eyes were zeroed in on the plastic cup on the opposite side of the table. The writing was mess but he could make out the order, a chai latte, oatmilk, a double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup over ice. He’d never had a chai latte but it sounded really good. He wondered if the ice had melted own and ruined the coffee from making you wait so long. He did feel bad about that. He really didn’t mean to oversleep. He was proactive, he’d set an alarm for 9 o’clock, just enough time to shower, throw up, and walk to campus to meet you in the library. But at some point in the party last night someone had offered him a shot and as Social Chair, he couldn’t refuse. Well, he could, but he wasn’t known to unless it was his weekend to be sober and it wasn’t. Nu Chi Tau had a reputation to uphold, a reputation he upheld with pride. 

“So in the final level of the pyramid we have self-actualization, what this means is…” he heard you say, then he got distracted again. This time by you. The way your mouth moved to form the words, your lips looked soft, he wondered what kind of lip balm you used, what flavor it was, did they taste like that chai latte- WHAT?! Who was this voice invading his head?! What was this about unity and understanding you were saying?

He tuned into what you were saying, again, hoping his brain would allow him to stay focused, “since this is the highest level, not a whole lot of people ever get here. On the study guide make sure you add a note about only 2% of people ever reaching this level. I wouldn’t put it past Professor G to ask a question like that on the midterm.”

Jaehyun’s pencil scratched against a loose sheet of paper you’d let him have. “This is probably a really bad time to tell you I also forgot my laptop. Do you mind if I use yours, next time I’ll bring it. I promise.”

You sighed deeply, sending him a light-hearted glare, “Here. Let me know if you need help answering any of the questions. Let’s try to have part 1 done before we meet next time, some time during the week, if that works for you?”

“Yeah, maybe we can do Thursday before class and then we’ll see each other on Friday at the party?” Jaehyun asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

You bit your lip, mulling over his offer. His stare was intense, he was mentally crossing his fingers that you’d say yes. And god, why did you look so cute biting your lip?!

“Hey, I’ll be your personal host for the night. You obviously won’t have to drink if you don’t want to, I know all the areas that have more free space if you get overwhelmed, and I will see to it that you get back to your room safely. I promise you’ll have a safe and good night. That’s a Nu Chi Social Chair guarantee,” he pledged, complete with a hand over his heart.

You rolled your eyes, he was such a dork. “Fine, but don’t show up late to the next study session or else I'm dropping you. You can fail for all I care.”

Jaehyun feels his heart skip a beat, not only would he fail the class without your help, he’d also fail you and for some reason that sounded worse. He was definitely going to show up on time.

True to his word he’d even gone as far as showing up early on Thursday. He had completed part 1 of the study guide, and even flagged some areas he needed help with. You had been thoroughly impressed, even a little surprised. So to keep your part of the bargain you were standing outside the Nu Chi frat house with Ari and Kira. The party was already in full swing. The music was so loud that you felt the bass beneath your feet on the road across the street. 

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for this since our first semester to come to one of these parties!” Ari clapped excitedly.

You turned to stare at her with a look of pure confusion, “you did. Literally the first weekend here at school. You came to the dorm that night and told me you had no interest in men after a man gave you the ‘amateur DJ special,’ but you kissed a girl after and claimed to have fallen in love.”

“So I came out to you twice? Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked in shock.

Kira groaned, “both of you shut up. Let’s go.” She grabbed your arm and led you and Ari into the chaos.

Upon entering, a wave of musky funk hit your nostrils. A nasty concoction of weed, alcohol, sweat, beer, and BO. There were people cheering in the center of the hallway playing beer pong, a crowd of people grinding in the living room to r&b music, the sliding door to the back yard was open and showed people doing keg stands before flipping into the pool. This was just above and beyond. Every other frat party in town had crowded living rooms with beer being sloshed around in plastic cups, but this was a full on experience. It was as if they had seen every college movie with parties and brought them to life. You might never admit it, but you were even a little impressed.

You all moved through the bodies to the kitchen to get yourself some drinks and you looked around to observe those around you. The kitchen was strangely more empty than you thought it would be, but the party had been going on for almost 2 hours so maybe people were already too drunk to care about getting more alcohol. There was a couple making out in one corner, a group of girls sipping on seltzers all gathered around a phone, and a few drunk people snacking on some chips.

You sipped on your drink, not even noticing that someone new had taken stance beside you, “hey, I’ve never seen you around here before. You a freshman?”

Your face turned into one of poorly-concealed judgement while you studied him. He looked like a freshman himself, probably fresh out of the womb. He had cute chubby cheeks, wide eyes, and a shaggy hairstyle that made him look younger than he likely was. You laughed as you thought about his tacky line and turned to him with raised brows, “I’m in the middle of my fourth semester here. Are you a freshman? You look like you just left 8th grade, little guy.”

He scoffed, huffed, and rolled his eyes, “I’m in my second semester, I’m not some first semester loser. I’m not some kid. I’m actually almost 19. In 3 weeks.”

“Congrats,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink, “what’s your name?”

He flips his hair back with some weird swagger taking over him, “I’m Haechan, I hold the Nu Chi record for longest bender. Six whole days.”

Your eyes widen in shock and you almost choke on your drink, “that can’t have been healthy.”

Another guy stands beside Haechan with a can of beer in his hand, “it wasn’t. He also spent ‘six whole days’ in the hospital right after. You can’t keep bragging about it without providing more context. Normal people get concerned, not impressed, bro.”

“God! Mark! You kill the vibe every time I try to make my move!” Haechan yells before turning to you and speaking softly, “you should come to my birthday party.” 

The two continue bickering and you make your way back to your friends to refill your cup. An unfamiliar arm slings around your and Ari’s shoulders. You had expected it to be Haechan, a harmless kid, or Jaehyun who you knew and had promised to be your guide, but instead it was another guy completely. He smelled awful, a sick mix of weed, sweat, and Axe body spray. 

His words were slurred and he was clearly using you and Ari to stay upright, “Ladies, what brings you beauties to this shitty party? You know, Alpha Sig throws better parties, we got one goin’ on tomorrow night. You ladies should come by. You’ll get front of the line access, especially you.” He tugs Ari closer to him.

Ari cringes and tries to pull away from his hold, “you have no idea how much that turned me off. Go away, you smell like a preteen boy.”

“I can be your boy,” he slurs, his hot breath hitting her face. She wretches and dry heaves with the scent of his breath.

“Tyler, what the fuck are you doing here? You know you’re fucking banned. Get your ass out of here, and take any of your brothers that snuck in with you,” you hear Jaehyun’s voice. It’s surprisingly loud and stern. He speaks with confidence and command and you hate that it makes you question how you see him. He was just hot before but now he’s even more attractive, protective, and strong. Shit, what was in this drink?

You feel a sense of relief at the sound of the familiar voice. Tyler turns and begins arguing, his words barely comprehensible before a taller guy in a Nu Chi Theta shirt drags him out of the house. 

Once he’s out of sight Jaehyun turns to your small group with a much more relaxed voice, “I’ve been looking for you girls all night. Come out back, it’s way more chill. I had a pledge in charge of keeping an eye out for you, sorry he sucks.”

You all follow him out of the crowded house to the backyard and past the keg stands and to a small circle of benches where it is way calmer. These must be the older members of the frat hang out. Jaehyun smiles and introduces his brothers and they all apologize for Tyler’s behavior. 

Taeyong the frat president and Jaehyun’s Big, Johnny the Vice President, Doyoung the secretary, and Yuta the treasurer, which he was quickly explained he was forced to take up the role.

“I swear, the pledges get more and more useless every semester. The last good set was Mark and Haechan,” the one who had been introduced as Taeyong sighed.

Jaehyun goes to argue after rolling his eyes, but your snort interrupts him. Jaehyun turns to you as if to ask what was up. You shake your head, “Haechan tried to hit on me in the kitchen. Then Mark came in and they started arguing,” you explain.

Jaehyun laughs with a nod, taking a sip from his drink, “sounds like them.”

You all make conversation for a couple hours, laughing and getting to know each other. They share crazy party stories, embarrass each other with the occasional scolding to party-goers who are getting too rowdy out back or inside. They complain about their classes and upcoming finals, and in turn you and your friends complain about your own. You’re even able to make some connections for help with stats like you needed or the opportunity to look at some other member’s notes from similar classes. 

Yuta turns to you with a look of realization on his face, “hey, were you in the library about a week ago?” You nod and he continues with a smug smile, “you know, you’re like a living legend around here. You really knocked Jaehyun down a peg, first girl to ever not fall for his charm. Now, he’s actually studying. It’s amazing!”

You don’t see it because Ari suddenly falls from the bench, but Jaehyun punches Yuta’s shoulder with bright red cheeks. You and Kira help Ari up and begin saying your goodbyes, promising Yuta that you want to continue the conversation.

Jaehyun follows you guys out. He opens up the side gate and takes the brunt of Ari’s weight while you all walk back to your dorm building, which thankfully isn’t far. 

Ari nearly stumbles into a bush outside your building and plays it off with a, “I was getting you your favorite flowers, sweetie!” She pushes a crumpled pink azalea flower into you palm and you thank her while getting her upright and steady.

You and Jaehyun walk her into the lobby and from there Kira leads Ari into the elevator and she sends you a tipsy wink which is impossible to ignore. 

You flush with embarrassment, shes’s so obvious. “Thanks for walking us home, but you didn’t have to do that. You have a party to return to, Mister Social Chair. There’s probably some girl you had your eye on tonight, you could have missed your chance.”

“It was my sober weekend anyway and I promised to be your guide. No one else but you held my attention tonight,” he shrugs, “I just hope Tyler didn’t discourage you from coming to any future parties. Or even Yuta.”

“I got a personal invite to Haechan’s nasty 19. Plus, I think the brothers of Nu Chi would love to have a living legend in attendance, I’ll be there,” you smile while tucking the crumpled up flower behind your ear to distract yourself from his offhand admission of you holding his attention

Jaehyun feels his heart beat a little faster. It had to be the single beer he had earlier, or were crumpled up flowers always this pretty on girls who teased him? Was it the flower or could it be your teasing? He blinked a few times, forcing his brain to work for one of its intended purposes- speaking. “That one will be smaller. I’m not sure about calmer, but smaller for sure. Before that though, we have a couple more study sessions right?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, we need to finish off parts 2 and 3 of the study guide. The midterm is two Thursdays away, so let’s try to meet this Tuesday after class.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have notes and everything.” He salutes you like a dork. 

You snort out a laugh, which he automatically files stores as a sound he likes hearing and wants to hear again. “I’ll see you in class.” 

He leaves with a wave and his hands shoved in his pockets. He walked back with a nice pep in his step. The stars looked brighter, he felt a giddiness he hadn’t felt in years. It was weird, but he liked it. He wanted to feel it more often. When he got to the party, he went right back to his room, alone, ready to bask in his new, light feeling. He liked this feeling, he wanted to feel it all the time.

You enter your room to find Ari passed out on the floor under a blanket from your bed and Kira happily cuddled up in her bed. You send Kira a raised brow, “your room isn’t even that far away.”

“Hey, I worked hard to get her here. I deserve this,” she huffs, setting her phone aside before she sends you a mischievous grin, “you and Jaehyun, huh?”

“Kira, I’m tutoring him. That’s all,” you sass back while changing into your pajamas.

She huffs out a humorless laugh, “sure, because Jung Jaehyun walks girls back to their dorms all the time.”

“He’s a frat boy but he’s not an asshole. We don’t even know he’s never done that before. You’re starting shit, Drunk Kira.”

“All I’m saying is, everyone else has gotten an Uber home or a pledge to walk them home. He didn’t even sleep with you and you got a personal escort while a party was still going on.”

You pull the sheets over your head, hating how you’re already over thinking an action that should be the bare minimum. She laughs drunkenly and you’re glad she can’t see the blush she’s put on your cheeks.

On Tuesday, you get to class before Jaehyun, like usual. You won’t admit you’re now keeping an eye out for him… but you are. You place your phone on the desk and pull your notebook out of you backpack and open to where your notes left off. 

Someone takes the seat right beside you as your brows furrow, watching a dried azalea flutter out onto the floor from your notebook. 

“Wow, another one. Ari wasn’t kidding when she said there were your favorites,” you head Jaehyun’s voice as he places the flower back on your desk.

Your face still shows confusion, reading the pink glittery note from Ari in your notebook. ‘Sorry for making you drag my drunk ass back home :( forgive me sweetie’. You chuckle, “Ari’s version of an apology. Sorry, hi. Do you always sit in this row?”

“Hell no, I usually slip in about 30 minutes late and find a spot in the back. Today, I’m hoping that your smartness radiates off you and I absorb it. In other words, whenever you copy notes, I’m going to copy notes,” he ultimately simplifies.

“Geez, no wonder you need tutoring for this class. Do you have a paper? Pencil? Laptop? Something to take notes?”

“I’m not dumb,” he states, pulling out a singular sheet of paper and a pen with no cap. God, he probably has nothing but those 2 things and a protein bar with his laptop in his backpack right now. He’s like a kindergartner. All you can do is sigh before Professor G starts going through the slides of the day and lecturing. You can see him from the corner of your eye writing when you writing and fiddling with his pen, twirling it through his fingers. You try to suppress a smile, you’re a little proud of him right now. Just a little bit.

After class finishes you both make your way to the library and you force yourself to ignore the looks being thrown your way. In reality no one is really looking at you, more like looking at the infamous campus celebrity following you to the elevators. 

Getting to the study room is easy enough with nearly every girl’s eyes on your study buddy making you feel anxious and self-conscious. Jaehyun doesn't seem to notice though, and goes about getting out his laptop as normal. For the first few minutes of your session you both input new material into the study guides. Then you get into his confusion on the questions.

You begin to explain some ecological something he had flagged and all Jaehyun can think is, “why does child development have so many shapes?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth opening to respond before you burst into a fit of laughter, using your hands to muffle the sound. Jaehyun smiles at the sound, something about you is growing on him, making him feel things he hasn’t felt since his high school girlfriend. Fuck.

You smile, simplifying this theory for him before you calm down. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, “of course.” He finishes up typing his notes, writing them in the way you explained because you made it so much easier for him to understand. 

“Why are you taking a child development class? This doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“It fulfills one of my general requirements. My first and second choice were filled up, and Taeyong is an education major. He convinced me to take it, so here I am.”

“So you do have someone else to help you study…” you trail off, “why ask me? Taeyong is probably more knowledgeable about this than I am.”

He clears his throat, looking away from you, “he’s really busy. Making lesson plans and making us act like students.” He doesn’t want to tell you that it was because you were cuter and prettier. That when he first met you he wanted to sleep with you, but now you make him feel feelings he’d buried deep, deep down. Plus, Taeyong was actually very strict when he tutored Jaehyun. He didn’t let Jaehyun get distracted, snapped in his face, corrected all his work too closely. He scared Jaehyun when he was in teacher mode.

“Okay, one more question. So you told us on Friday that you had a pledge keep an eye out for me, Ari, and Kira. How would a pledge know what I looked like?”

Jaehyun blushes, his cheeks feel hot, he starts mumbling, “gave him a general description of you or whatever.”

You lean in, poking his cheek, it’s soft, “you’re lying. Did you make him stalk me or something? Did he stand outside one of my classes? This has been haunting me.”

He laughs at your exaggeration, “haunting you? No, he didn’t stalk you or follow you. I uh, I sent him a screenshot of one of your Instagram posts.”

You tried and failed to suppress a smile, your own face getting hot now, “so you have a picture of me saved on your phone? Which picture did you pick? I have some pictures of me at the beach-”

Jaehyun perks up, “really? I haven’t seen those yet. Are they recent?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens Instagram. 

You snatch his phone from his hand, “don’t make it weird, pervert. I was just starting to like you. Seriously though, which picture was it?”

He shakes his head with a smile, “it was a picture of you with Ari and Kira, so he knew what all of you looked like. Is that a good enough answer? Give me my phone back.” He’s choosing to save you the embarrassment by ignoring the fact that you had just admitted you liked him.

You slide the phone back with your eyes narrowed, assessing him. “Fine. Let’s finish part two, we only have a few questions left.”

When you see him next, it’s one week before the midterm. You’re sitting in your usual seat in the auditorium with your notebook out waiting for Professor G to come in. Ari is texting you about some cute guy she saw. Kira is sending you memes about dogs. Your phone has all your attention.

Jaehyun comes in, five minutes early, making his way down the aisle to the empty seat beside you. He smiles awkwardly and apologetically as people move their backpacks out of the way and send him enamored smiles.

He plops into the seat beside you unceremoniously and loudly. You send him a look that shows him you are far beyond unimpressed by his lack of decorum. Then he sets something on your desk. 

“What is this for?” You ask with your brows raised. 

He shrugs, keeping himself busy by pulling out whatever he needs to take notes. “It’s a flower, sweetheart. Isn’t it obvious?”

“I know what it is, asshole. Why is it on my desk?” You ask bluntly. From anyone else ‘sweetheart’ would be condescending, but you like hearing his voice say it. Ew.

“I was walking to class and it flew in front of my face. I stomped all over it, danced on it, spit on it, and then I thought it would be nice to give to you.” He answers with a casual shrug of his shoulders, his eyes locked on the huge projector screen while everyone waits for the professor to set up the slides.

You push his shoulder playfully, preparing to reply but class starts. He lied again. The flowers don’t fly off anything because the bushes they grow on are too low to the ground. He didn’t stomp on it because it was perfectly in tact. It was round and the color was vibrant with no wilted petals. He had picked it just for you. 

You study him in your peripheral, a soft look on your face which you’re glad he can’t see since he’s busy taking notes. You force yourself to pay attention, tucking the flower behind your ear before catching up on the slides you’d missed.

Jaehyun catches a blur of pink, out of the corner of his eye he can see you tucking the flower behind your ear. He feels himself blush, and suddenly isn’t so mad that he took the long way to class just to find you that flower. They might be his favorite flower now too.

It’s the Tuesday before your child development midterm and Jaehyun is waiting for you in the study room he’s booked. Class was cancelled today, it was the least Professor G could do after giving you all so much material to cover. It was 10:16 and Jaehyun was feeling weird. You were always early or at the very least on time, and you weren’t here yet. He scrolled through your DMs to be sure you had both agreed to meet at ten, and there it was, ‘See you at 10 :)’ 

He was busy typing out a message to you when you came into the room. You were panting, hair a mess, and an oversized, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. You looked just like you did the first time Jaehyun saw you and felt his breath hitch in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My 9 o’clock class ran over, because there was a surprise essay addition to the midterm. I didn’t think I was going to take all the time the professor gave us because I studied all night for this midterm and I knew what I was doing, but the essay threw me for a loop. I’m an anxious test take as is so the essay ruined all the calmness I had built up and-” your ramble is cut short. 

Jaehyun places his hands on your shoulders. He squeezes them lightly, “Breathe, sweetheart.” He makes a show of breathing in and out until you nod, showing him you’re fine. 

“Sorry, I feel bad for running late. Are you good? Have you been waiting long?” You ask in a much more relaxed voice.

Jaehyun waves you off with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “I’m good. I only have a few questions for part three so this won’t take up much of your time and you can get back to your place and relax. But now I’m wondering if I should give you this…” He holds up a familiar plastic cup, the contents looking like the perfect shade of brown you hadn’t consumed this morning. Your mouth waters and you reach for the cup, but Jaehyun pulls it out of your reach. “Promise me, the caffeine isn’t going to make you more anxious. I don’t want to be held responsible if you have a panic attack later.”

“Please, Jaehyun,” you whine, “I need coffee.”

He smirks, handing you the cup and watching as you take a drink from the straw eagerly. Your brows furrow in confusion. You expected some vanilla latte, or a caramel coffee of some kind. Instead, you taste your usual order. You taste your iced chai latte with oatmilk, double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup.

“Did Ari tell you my order?” You ask with pure curiosity.

“I remember your order from our first study session. It’s actually really good.” He tells you casually, taking a long drink from his own straw.

“You remember my order from our first study session almost two weeks ago?” You can feel your heartbeat getting faster, and it’s not the caffeine. 

“I was tired and hungover, and you were talking about the pyramid thing and my brain couldn’t focus. So I focused on your cup instead. Are we studying or what?”

“Alright, yeah. Thank you, for waiting and for the coffee,” you reply.

He smiles at you, a soft smile that some part of your brain interprets as an affectionate smile for some reason, “no problem.”

You both get through the study guide, flipping through notes and making it easier to understand. 

Before you know it, the study session is over and the midterm comes even faster. 

Jaehyun sends you a wink, holding his knuckles out for a fist bump. His voice is a quiet whisper as the rest of the class gets the test and gets started, “you got this, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart soar, you want to get up and do a happy dance. There’s just too much giddiness in our body right now. Instead you settle for, “you too.”

This was supposed to be a smaller party? The music is louder, you can hear people shouting, cheering, and the sound of people jumping in the pool. Now the card you brought feels dumb. You barely know Haechan anyway. Why did you come?

“I can hear your thoughts, sweets. We’re already here, we’re going to have a good time. Let’s go,” Ari tells you. She knows you too well. 

You don’t argue and let her and Kira guide you into the house. It is smaller, it’s less crowded than the first Nu Chi party you came to, but still full. There’s more room to move around the party, it smells less like BO and thankfully, no sign of anyone from Alpha Sig. 

Ari leads you all back to the kitchen, a familiar routine of starting your night with some alcohol. Jungle juice probably. Some kind of mix of alcohol and juices that will give you an awful hangover if you drink enough of it. 

“You came!” A voice screeches before someone embraces you. “I knew, Mark hadn’t ruined my chances. God he’s an idiot, but you came, for me.”

“Get off her, you little weirdo,” you hear Jaehyun before Haechan is pulled off you. Jaehyun holds him by the back of his shirt and Haechan tries to fight it. 

You laugh, reaching in to hug Haechan, he’s a cutie. “You invited us, I also,” you grab the card you’d set on the counter and hand it to him, “got you this.”

“For me?!” His eyes light up.

“It’s just a gift card. I wasn’t sure what you liked but I don’t like to show up on people’s birthdays empty handed. So uh, happy birthday,” you smile awkwardly, leaning in to give him another quick hug.

Jaehyun grunts, pulling Haechan back when he snakes his arms around you for too long. Haechan begins to whine and argue but quiets down when Jaehyun sends him a look of warning. Jaehyun loops an arm around your shoulders, “Ari and Kira are already out back, come on.” 

You let Jaehyun guide you out of the house again, let his arm fall from your shoulders to your waist. You like him being so close, wrapped around you like this. You like him being protective, a little possessive, and shit- you think you might like him. 

The same guys greet you in the same spot as last time. This time, Yuta and Johnny are drunker than the last party. “It’s Sweets!” Johnny cheers and you shoot your friends a blank look. That was a nickname from them, so he’d obviously gotten it from them. A nickname you felt neutral about in your small group since it was kind of cute. You were unsure of its origins but you were almost certain it came from a late night snack run you all made during your first hang out. Everyone got their own snacks that night, but you were the only one to leave with an armload of sweet snacks. 

“It’s nice to see you again. With Jaehyun,” Yuta smiles mischievously. 

Jaehyun’s arm drops from your waist and you miss the warmth it provided, the feeling of security, safety. You take a drink of the cup in your hand, hoping that the alcohol will help distract from the weird empty feeling you suddenly have. You sit beside Kira and join the conversation, letting the stress of midterms leave you while you vent and listen to everyone else rant about the tests, projects, and professors. 

You eventually come to the bottom of your cup and get up, offering to get anyone else a drink too. Taeyong joins you on your way back to the kitchen. You reach for the ladle in the giant bowl of jungle juice, already feeling a slight buzz from your first cup. Taeyong stops and chats with some people on the far side of the kitchen. A group of girls come into the kitchen and begin talking while grabbing beers. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of weird to be here and not be hit on by him you know? It’s been pretty consistent at every party. Tonight I was going to finally give in,” one girl sighs.

“Girl, I think that ship has sailed. He’s been seen with the same girl for a few weeks now. I tried to hit on him at the last party and he shut me down completely,” her friends responds.

“You’re lying, bitch. Jung Jaehyun tied down? There’s no way!” A third girl exclaims after choking on her drink.

Suddenly you want to choke too. Your throat tightens up and fuck- you’d been so stupid to think that you could be anything special to him. Why would a guy like Jung Jaehyun go after you when he could have anyone else? It’s not like you had ever shown him you were going to give into his flirting, of course he would be done with you now. He asked you to tutor him, you had tutored him and he got what he wanted. It makes sense that he got what he wanted, not the sex, and had someone else that matched him better than you. Why would he have wanted anything deeper than tutoring and maybe friendship with you?

Your hands start to shake and tears fill your eyes making everything hard to see. You leave your cup on the counter and turn to walk out of the kitchen, out of the house, away from him. You want to go home and forget you ever fell for Jaehyun and forget that you were ever stupid enough to think he could actually like you back. Fuck!

You make your way through the living room and out the front door, feeling only a sliver of relief when the fresh air hits your face again. You feel someone grab your wrist and go to pull away, but it’s Taeyong. He looks concerned as he studies your tear filled eyes. “You’re not going home alone like this, just- wait here, I’m gonna go tell the guys that I’m taking you home,” he instructs. You nod, glad he didn’t ask any questions because your throat feels tight. If he were to ask you anything else you knew you would burst out into tears.

There’s no one out front as you wipe your tears. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you exhale. You were fine. It was all going to be fine. You were fine before you even knew who he was, and you were going to continue being fine now, after him. 

You can hear the side gate of the house open and shut, it must be Taeyong. You walk down the front steps and make it halfway to the gate before stopping, it’s not Taeyong. It’s Jaehyun and he looks worried. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks, looking the slightest bit distressed.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heels, not even gracing him with a response. You can make it home alone. Ari and Kira have your location, you’ll text them when you get home. It’s not even that far. It’s fine. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Just- talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, his hand wrapping around your forearm and turning you to face him.

You wanted to make this a clean break. You just wanted to leave and forget you ever met him. Leave and forget you ever fell for him, but since he’s asking. “Why didn’t you tell me? Huh?”

Jaehyun’s brows pinch together trying to figure out what you’re talking about, had one of the guys told you that he liked you. Those fuckers, fine, he could confess now, “Look, I’m sorry they told you. I was trying to gather the courage and make sure my feelings were genuine before I told you. They are, of course, but I don’t know- it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way for anyone and I was nervous.”

You can feel the tears coming back, “And she knows how you treat other girls? She knows that you walk them home, get the flowers, memorize their coffee orders, and introduce them to your friends. You could have at least been honest with me! I told you from the beginning! I told you from the very beginning I wasn’t going to sleep with you. All I asked for was your respect, but I won’t be the girl you cheat on your girlfriend with. I deserve more than that. I don’t even know the poor girl, but she deserves more too.” You hadn’t even realized you’d gotten so close to him. Your finger was touching his chest and you breathed heavily, a few tears escaping your eyes.

His hand came up to hold yours, pulling your hand away from his chest while keeping your hand in his own, “At the risk of sounding like a dick, who is she?”

You pull your hand out of his hold, before throwing them up in frustration, “your girlfriend! Jaehyun, you have a girlfriend you didn’t tell me about! I developed real feelings for you and you have a girlfriend!”

“You like me back?”

“You’re not listening! That doesn’t matter! You’re a major fucking asshole and your girlfriend deserves better than you. Fuck you!”

He steps forward, cupping your cheeks which makes you freeze. It was the last thing you expected him to do. You try to move way, wriggle out of his hold, but he keeps his hold, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I like you. sweetheart, I like you.”

Your breathing falters, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit, “but there were girls in the kitchen. They said you were tied down and seen with the same girl all over campus and you turned one of them down when she hit on you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t very well make me look good to the girl I liked if I was sleeping around with random girls, would it? sweetheart, you were the one I was seen with. Didn’t we study together a few times? I sat by you in class, I walked you home, I was with you at parties. Any of this ringing a bell or should we get you to the emergency room?” He asks with a playful smile.

“You like me?” 

He laughs, it’s loud, unabashed, and happy, “yes, I like you! I have a crush on you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt since I was in high school with my first, and only, girlfriend. I like hearing your snort, I like seeing your smile, your laugh. I like how kind you are. I like when you wear your comfy sweaters. I really like when you put flowers behind your ears. I like that you make me feel giddy and warm and liked and flirty and playful and I can be myself around you. I want to be smarter for you. I want to be around you more. I think you’re beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. I just- I like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, if that wasn’t obvious. You’re cute and funny-“

“We get it! Kiss!” You hear Ari and Kira yell. You look over Jaehyun’s shoulder and catch them watching you along with the frat officers from the side of the house.

Jaehyun sends you a look as if to ask, if it was ok. You nod minutely and tilt your head up. Your eyes fall shut when his lips meet yours. His lips are soft as he kisses you tenderly. You can feel all the pent up affection you’ve both felt for each other through the kiss. His hands cup your cheeks and yours rest on the back of his neck, holding him close. You lose yourself in the feeling of his lips against your own, fighting back the urge to smile. 

He pulls away and your eyes flutter open, staring into his eyes that match your adoration and excitement in the moment. He presses his forehead against your own, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “so, want to make the rumors true?”

Your face furrows into one of confusion, the rumors? He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips which makes you melt. “Wanna tie me down, sweetheart?”

“Kinky,” you wink, which makes him laugh out loud. A deep happy laugh, which makes you embrace him closely, “of course I do. As if my temper tantrum over you having an imaginary girlfriend didn’t make it obvious.”

“Good,” he smiles. And it is good, great even.

“Simp!” Johnny and Yuta yell, before one of them drunkenly belches.

Jaehyun laughs, hooking his arm over your shoulder to lead you back to the party. So what if he was a simp? Who wouldn’t be for you?

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

 Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all. 

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again.  Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke. 

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him. 

You were his family after all.

[sonolynn]

Thou Shalt Not Covet.

summary | Aemond loved her first, and it would be Aemond who loved her last.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Fem!Reader

tags | infidelity (cheating), cussing, alludes to smut, mentions of drinking, whores etc (normal Aegon things), typical Targcest, jealous and possive Aemond

w.c | 1.2 k

note(s) | This is my first Aemond fic! I haven't read the books, and have only seen the show so if Aemond is ooc then I'm sorry!

______________________________________________________________

She was his. By the way of his mind she belonged to him. His brother, first to everything and last to nothing, got everything Aemond wished he had. The iron throne, the crown, her. The marriage between her and Aegon was strictly political; there was no love, no affection between the two. If Aemond was honest with himself he liked that, liked how her affection could be saved and harboarded for him only. 

Aegon had his spoils. He had bastards, he had whores, he had wine. He did not need her, nor did Aegon particularly want to have her. But Aemond did. 

Because of Aegon’s particular disdain for his wife, the times that she was left alone and in the confines of her chambers were more than not. On these nights, Aemond would find himself climbing up the stairs, his hands shaking slightly, and his mind racing as the guards opened the door and let him enter his niece's chambers. 

______________________________________________________________

“Uncle.” Her voice rang out over the fire in her chambers, and Aemond felt his heart rate pick up. She held a book in her lap, no doubt trying to wrap her mind around the philosophies written into the texts. Aemond felt himself shiver lightly, the sound of her voice seemingly always doing things to him. 

He said her name softly, and he smiled to himself as he walked over to sit next to her. She smiled, her hand wrapping around his and her voice soft.

“How do you fare?” That is how all of their nights began. The light conversation of “how do you fare?” eventually led to her bed. 

Aemond’s eyes caressed her skin, his hands worshiping her body as his voice sung praises of her victories over his mind, soul, and body. He would not ravish her like his brother did, no. He would worship and glorify her body before him as if she was a temple, he would exalt her pleasure to the highest of highs before he even thought of his. Aemond treated her like a goddess, and she was reminded of this every time her name fell from his lips and his seed spilled inside of her.

When he would finish he wouldn’t leave her to clean up on her own, or fall asleep. He would kiss her body softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back as she came down from her high. He would hold her until she fell asleep in his arms, and in the morning he would wake, admire her body and her face that still shone in the glow of intimacy, before he would dress and leave. 

______________________________________________________________

She liked the garden. She, truthfully, adored the garden. It was, she thought, the only place where she would be free from listening to the moans of Aegon’s whores and the drunken laughs that would escape his lips. 

She found solace in the way the leaves swayed in the wind, the way the sun shone lightly through the cracks of the trees. But, what she truly waited for was Aemond. Once his duties were done he would come into the garden, and they would walk, and talk with one another for what felt like hours. 

On this particular day, the two walked and talked about nothing in particular-just how both of them liked it. But, a pair of seething eyes followed the two as they walked. Angered and betrayed, Alicent turned and walked away.

______________________________________________________________

When Aemond entered his chambers later that night, he was met with the burning gaze of his mother. His face remained stoic, and he slowly started to take off his belt that held his sword. 

“Mother. I did not expect you.” He spoke, his face illuminated by the fire as he sat in a chair, getting comfortable. His mother stood, standing in front of him as she glared down into her son's stoic expression. 

“You do not hide it well.” 

“I do not know what you speak of, mother.” 

Alicent gave Aemond a look, seeing straight through his stoic expression and hardened gaze. 

“You know what I speak of. You covet what is rightfully your brothers-” 

“Rightfully?” At these words, Aemond stood, glaring down at his mother with a complexed expression. “She is not rightfully Aegon’s. She is not rightfully the crowns-”

“She is his by law,” Alicent got right into her son's face, her hand pushing against his chest as she spoke. “By the law of the seven kingdoms she is his! You cannot parade around the castle, promenading as if you are an enthralled teenage boy courting a noble girl! She is married-” 

“You do not think I know what she is, mother? You do not think I see the ring she wears, or the name she bears now as a continuous tie to my brother?” The pain etched into the cracks of Aemond’s voice were subtle but not unnoticed. The way he spoke of his brother's wife with so much undignified and raw emotion made it clear to Alicent what he truly felt. Despite herself she sympathized with her son, trying to take his hands in hers as she spoke. 

“I understand, Aemond, how you feel. But you cannot go about so shamelessly coveting your brother's wife-the queen!” 

Aemond roughy pulled away from his mother, a sharp look hidden behind his amethyst  eyes as he spoke. 

"Do not speak to me as if my sorrows where your own!" Aemond seethed, pulling back a few paces as he glared at his mother, “Aegon is no husband! He may be my brother-my closest kin but he does not know how to properly care for her as I do. I know her mother, I know her wants, her desires, I know her more than Aegon has ever even tried to comprehend so damn all the gods and fuck Aegon because I would soon rather feed myself to Daemon’s dragon then let a man like Aegon sew his seed into her and ruin the beautiful women that the gods have given to me!”

The words coming out of her son’s mouth shocked Alicent. She never knew him to be so passionate about something-someone-so fiery as, gods be good, his brother’s wife. 

“Aemond she was never yours-” 

“She was,” his voice dropped and he stepped closer to his mother, breathing down as he glared, “The gods gave her to me, they made her for me! Her body was made to fit with mine, her soul was mine to know! Mother, it was all for me! But you? You are the one who gave her away to my brother. You are the one who took her from me.” 

Wishing for no more of this, Aemond turned, feeling himself breaking a little as he went. He knew he would never be hers, that she would never truly be his. 

______________________________________________________________

“You are troubled tonight.” 

She knew him better than he knew himself. Aemond’s head rested on her lap, her hand gently stroking through his platinum white hair. He breathed out slowly, his thumb idly stroking her knee. 

“I am thinking, sweet girl.” 

“I know that you are thinking, I just wish to know what it is you are thinking about.” 

At this he went silent. He knew no matter what lie he told her that she would always know the truth between the lies. So, instead, he sat up slowly and he gripped her cheek, kissing her softly. As if the words would be lost, and the meaning behind them burned. He made love to her like she was truly his, like she was his wife. As if..she wasn't even able to be coveted.

______________________________________________________________

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.