#this is long and i didn't mean for it to be

[mellozheist]

Rejection // Hermitcraft Animatic

I've been meaning to finish this animatic for so long

(trust me, I have way too many projects that I wanna do but didn't get to start lol There'll be many late moments soon to come in the form of animatics (I'm crazy))

I MISS YOU CLEO'S HC9 SKIN <3333

Youtube link

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body. 

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. “But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He’s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued.  Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

 "JJ!"

 "That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

 "Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey. 

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

*

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

*

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim. 

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

[yoyomomiko]

I love your writing so much aaaa (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ

I need the monster trio's reaction to reader calling them "husband", could be an accident or intentional I just need it pls!!!! ( T﹏T )

pairings: monster trio x female reader

cw: reader is referred to as "wife", mention of suffocating/drowning in sanji's part, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

wc: 1.3k+

— (a/n): tysm!! <33 i like writing for one piece characters so I love it when I get more requests for them >.< also, so sorry if this feels boring or short!! :(( -> m.list

— LUFFY

Luffy loves it when you introduce him to new people, but he's usually too distracted to pay attention. Until you call him your husband.

The moment the word leaves your mouth, his face lights up.

He repeats it INSTANTLY, grinning ear to ear. "Husband? That's me, right? You mean me?"

If you try to play it off and say it was a mistake, he ignores your protests and laughs. If he likes it, he likes it. And you're gonna keep calling him that, no matter what!!

He immediately starts calling you "wife" in return, but in the most casual way, like it's completely normal.

He doesn't fully understand what marriage means in a traditional sense, but to him, being your husband means you're his person.

If the crew hears about it, they all would have different reactions. Zoro snorts, Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, and Sanji almost faints in disbelief.

Luffy, however, is completely unbothered.

If you tell him later that you only said it as a slip up, he just smiles and says "But you could mean it, right?"

He doesn't let it go. He starts using it as an excuse to do things for you. "Husbands have to share their food."

*Cue him stealing from your plate instead*

He loves how you blush when he casually refers to himself as your husband mid conversation.

If you ever genuinely called him that again, he'd get the biggest grin ever and he won't stop talking about it for hours.

He doesn't care about official ceremonies or rings. If you called him your husband once, that's enough for him.

——— ☆

You were introducing the crew to a kind old shopkeeper on an island, someone who had been chatting with you warmly for the past few minutes.

"Oh, and this is my husband, Luffy." You added casually, not even realizing it until the words were already out. You meant captain, not husband. At least that's what you wanted to believe.

Luffy blinked, tilting his head to the side, before a wide grin formed on his lips. "Yeah, that's me, I'm her husband!"

Wait, what? You froze, stiffened, locked in place. Did he seriously just agree?

The shopkeeper chuckled, a warm smile glued to their lips. "Well, aren't you two adorable? How long have you been married for?"

You opened your mouth to correct them, but Luffy beat you to it. "Long enough!" He answered confidently, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You looked at him, eyes wide, stunned. He just grinned at you, completely unbothered. You sighed, deciding to let it go. For now.

— ZORO

Zoro is not the type to get flustered easily, but calling him your husband? Yeah, that'll do it.

He'd be calm on the outside, but on the inside, he's replaying that moment over and over again.

If you called him that in front of strangers, like introducing him as your husband to avoid weirdos, he'd immediately go along with it.

He doesn't see the need to correct you. If you called him that, then fine. That's what he is now.

If someone asked when you got married, he'll just say "None of your business." and move on.

He secretly enjoys watching you get flustered after realizing what you said, trying to cover it up and say it was just a small mistake.

"Didn't know you were that eager to make it official."

If Sanji overheard, it would be war. "YOU?! HOW DARE YOU–" "Shut up, cook. She said it herself."

He says "cook" as if it's a slur.

If you apologized later for the slip up, he would just simply shrug, saying that it's just some words, but the slight redness on his ears would say otherwise.

He wouldn't bring it up much, but if someone else called him your boyfriend or anything else, he'd correct them. "Husband." No explanation.

Zoro starts to lowkey like the title, but he would NEVER admit it.

He doesn't joke about things like this. If you seriously wanted to be with him in that way, he'd take it 100% seriously.

If you actually bring up the idea of marriage later, he's going to instantly agree.

He starts calling you "wife" just to mess with you!!

——— ☆

You were traveling through a town when an unfamiliar man started hitting on you. He was persistent, and you were quickly running out of patience.

Then, without thinking, you gestured toward Zoro. "Sorry, I'm here with my husband." You sighed as the man's gaze followed the direction you were pointing at.

You immediately regretted it. Zoro turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. The man scowled but backed off, muttering an apology before walking away.

You exhaled in relief, until you felt Zoro's gaze on you.

"Husband, huh?" He muttered, amused.

Your face burned, heart beat quickening. "I just said that to get rid of him."

The corners of Zoro's lips tugged upwards, forming a smirk. "Didn't mind it." He kept walking like nothing happened, leaving you flustered.

— SANJI

Sanji freezes completely the second you call him your husband.

For a split second, he actually imagined it. Being your husband. Starting a family. Then his brain shut down.

If you were introducing him to someone that way, he'd try to act normal, but would fail miserably. "Y-Yes, that's right, I'm her– her– her husband, yes–"

His heart would be racing.

If you called him that to avoid someone flirting with you, he'd immediately play along, but also fall deeply in love with you all over again.

If you told him later it was just a slip up, a small and meaningless mistake, he would dramatically explain the feelings he had in that very second. "For a moment, I lived in paradise."

He would start calling you "my wife" at every opportunity. "Oh, my darling wife, allow me to–" "Sanji, stop."

If someone else flirted with you after that, he's quick to place himself in the middle of you and the other person. "I'm her husband, thanks."

I swear bro this man is SO sassy.

Sanji would start daydreaming about an actual wedding. He also gets more protective than usual, standing a little closer, guiding you with a hand on your back.

If you genuinely meant it, he'd be the happiest man alive.

He swears to be the best husband in the world, treat you amazingly, kiss the ground you walk on.

Sanji will never, ever forget the moment you called him that. The moment you called him your husband. Those words remain imprinted in his mind, locked in a special place.

——— ☆

You were in a crowded restaurant, and the waiter was getting a little bit too flirty for your liking. So, without thinking, you immediately decided to shut him down, but not directly. "My husband will have the same order as me."

Sanji knocked over his glass of water, almost choking as he coughed severely. You turned to see him frozen, eyes wide, face completely red. You groaned, pinching your nose bridge. Here we go...

"Say it again, love." Sanji literally sparkled, practically glowing. His eyes held a childish shine, which you couldn't help but describe as adorable.

You sighed. "It was just–"

"Say it again."

You buried your face in your hands, already feeling your heart beat increasing. Gosh, why did he have to be so handsome?

"Sanji, stop." You mumbled, resting your chin in your palm, elbow propped up on the table.

"My darling wife, please–"

"Sanji I swear that if you don't stop this, I will hold you down underwater and watch you suffocate."

"I wouldn't mind that one bit. Dying by your hands is an honor, sweetheart." He winked, smiling as he leaned in closer, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

He drove you insane. But in the best way possible.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[syluslnd]

Hii can I request fluff where Sylus finds readers hidden art book and it has lots of drawings of him? Reader finds him in the middle of flipping through it and tries to snatch it but Sylus is literally taller than Mt everest so that didn't work out💀

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ 𝜗𝜚 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

You were in your art room, your art book spread open in front of you. Sylus stood behind you, his tall frame casting a shadow over the pages as he peered over your shoulder. You were flipping through the sketches carelessly, chatting about your latest projects, when suddenly—you froze.

There it was. A drawing of him.

It wasn’t just any sketch—it was a detailed, almost reverent portrayal of Sylus. You’d captured his sharp features perfectly: the curve of his smirk, the glint in his crimson eyes, the way his silver hair fell just so. It was embarrassingly good and worse, it was obvious who it was.

Your heart skipped a beat and you quickly flipped the page, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But Sylus was way too observant for that.

“Wait, sweetheart” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you said a little too quickly, slamming the book shut. “Just… old sketches. Nothing important.”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh? Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing!” you protested, though your cheeks were undeniably warm. You tried to scoot away but Sylus was faster. His hands shot out, grabbing your waist and pulling you back against him.

“Let me see” he said, his tone playful but firm. He reached around you, his long arms easily prying the book from your grasp.

“Sylus, no!” you squeaked, trying to wrestle it back, but he held it just out of reach, his grip on your waist keeping you in place.

“Sweetie, you’re being awfully defensive” he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” you insisted, squirming in his hold. “Give it back!”

Sylus chuckled, the sound low and warm against your ear. “Relax, sweetheart. I just want to see what’s got you so flustered.”

He flipped the book open, his eyes scanning the pages until he found the drawing. His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as he took in the details. “Well, well” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “What do we have here?”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Oh, really?” Sylus said, his tone teasing. “Because it looks like someone’s been drawing me and not just any drawing this is good,almost like you’ve been staring at me a little too much.”

“I haven’t!” you lied, your voice muffled by your hands.

Sylus laughed, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Sweetheart, you’re a terrible liar but don’t worry,I’m flattered.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face burning. “You’re not supposed to see that.”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head. “Afraid I’d find out how much you admire me?”

“I don’t admire you!” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Sylus smirked, leaning down so his lips were close to your ear. “Sure you don’t, sweetie. That’s why you spent hours capturing my perfect features, right?”

You groaned, trying to push him away but he didn’t budge. “You’re so full of yourself !”

“And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed” he shot back, his tone light and teasing. He flipped through a few more pages, his grin widening as he found more sketches of him. “Wow, sweetheart. You’ve been busy. Should I be worried?”

“Stop calling me that!” you said, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Calling you what?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Sweetheart? Sweetie? Darling?”

“Yes!” you said, though your protest was half-hearted. “It’s annoying.”

Sylus chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “You don’t mean that. Admit it,you like it.”

You didn’t respond, mostly because he was right. But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Sylus set the book down, his hands moving to your shoulders as he turned you to face him. “You know” he said, his voice softer now, “if you wanted to stare at me, you could’ve just asked. No need to be sneaky about it.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was racing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are” he said, his smirk returning. “Drawing me like some lovesick artist.”

“I am not lovesick” you said, though your voice wavered slightly.

Sylus leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Sure you’re not, sweetheart.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you, his lips capturing yours in a way that left you breathless. When he pulled back, his smirk was back in full force. “See? No need to be shy. I already know you’re obsessed with me.”

You swatted at his chest, though there was no real force behind it. “You’re the worst.”

Sylus laughed, pulling you into a hug. “and you’re stuck with me, sweetie. So you might as well get used to it.”

[vanillacoffeeology]

@kathleenisdaraptor letting me send voice notes ranting about politics when i get scared means so much to me. 2025 is so scary and she's stayed up so late on call when i cry. if we lived by one another id nevvvver leave your house EVER. also you has genuinely gotten me through so much of 2024, with my diagnosis, and my life is better with you in it. thank you for the calls, the love, the light you and @scqrletangel have given during some horrible weeks. truly you are my sister and bun is my wife.

i'll always be grateful for you listening to me when i needed to be talked down. meeting you through HOTD was the best thing to happen and i truly don't know where i would if i didn't have you.

@scqrletangel you are my wife and i love how we met, the memories we've had. staying on call with you and taking quizzes on dumb shit with my sister will be a core memory for years. being able to be there for your birthday(even if online) was so important to me. you are truly a blessing and i thank whatever gods or universe there is for giving me a wife like you.

i went through so much in 2024, getting sick and losing all hope for healing but we laughed, stayed up talking, and gossiped about men being dumb. we went through so much but got through it together. you are my best friends, witches together, also fellow sluts for aemond..

this is so long but i got so emotional cause i love you. ive loved getting to know you. im not the best replier in the world and im sorry for that but i never stop thinking about my girls. whenever i heard your voices i feel so safe and that is a gift

(for the whores)

the commodification of friendship is the most annoying thing to come out of the internet in ages. like actually i love to break this to you but you're supposed to help your friends move even if it's hard work. or stay up with them when they're sad even if you're gonna lose sleep. you're supposed to listen to their fears and sorrows even if it means your own mind takes on a little bit of that weight. that's how you know that you care. they will drive you to the airport and then you will make them soup when they're sick. you're supposed to make small sacrifices for them and they are supposed to do that for you. and there's actually gonna be rough patches for both of you where the balance will be uneven and you will still be friends and it will not be unhealthy and they will not be abusive. life is not meant to be an endless prioritization of our own comfort if it was we would literally never get anywhere ever. jesus.

[neptuneiris]

Back To You | (One-shot)

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

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

words: 19k

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

my masterlist

warnings: angst, sex content, heartbreak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Try to break down his walls with you.

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

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

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

But you would find it. You had to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You immediately watch them intently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Hey, are you okay?'

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

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

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

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

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

'Who are you?'

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

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

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

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

'I'm Y/N.'

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

'Why do you ask that?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I'm fine.'

Two words. Nothing more.

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

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

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

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

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

And again, you wait.

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

'Thanks.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don't know.”

Jason frowns, watching him blankly.

“You don't know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it'll be fun, come on.”

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

Then you decide to add your voice to convince him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It'll be fun, you'll see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to come with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then why? Why do you keep trying?

You don't even know.

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

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

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

And then your heart leaps with anticipation and surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is not gone.

He is here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"From Cregan and Jason specifically."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Either way?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And how far does either way go?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it's deeper and more demanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's how the dynamic between you began.

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

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

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

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

In public, however, nothing changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that, for now, is enough for you.

“Gods, Aemond.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can't speak, just nod.

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

“Oh, fuck! Yes, Aem—

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

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

The perfect scene to make his cock harder.

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

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

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

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

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

But you want more, more of him.

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

“Yeah? You want that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels good. So good, Aemond.”

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

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

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

“Oh Gods,” you moan, ”Oh yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aemond,” you moan.

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

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

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

Then, complete silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are you going?"

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

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

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

"Don't you want to stay?"

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you notice the little differences.

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

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

But at least he holds you.

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

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

You prepare breakfast for Aemond and yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

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

That makes you stop and look at him confused.

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

Surprisingly you don't want to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?"

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

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

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

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

My birthday.

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

"Like what?"

He puts on a small half smile.

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

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

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

"Yeah. Drive safe."

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

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

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

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

Until eventually you fell asleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Great," you assure him.

"Did you get any presents?" asks Sara.

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

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

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

"I haven't," says Sara.

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

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

So he did come to class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You also make sure of your lingerie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He maybe...?

No.

You immediately say to yourself, in denial.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally he arrives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What's wrong with him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The perfect opportunity!

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey."

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

"Are you okay?"

He frowns, as if your question is absurd.

"Yeah, why?"

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

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

"You did?"

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

"For what?"

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

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

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

"Fuck," he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I already told you I was busy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There you are!"

She exclaims, approaching with a huge smile.

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

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

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

You swallow hard, controlling yourself.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

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

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

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

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

And you... you smile too.

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

Don't cry. Don't cry now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean into the cake, closing your eyes.

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

And finally, you blow out the candles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Happy birthday, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously, you failed.

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

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

But clearly nothing ended there.

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

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

Y/N, please.

I didn't fucking mean it.

I'm sorry.

Can I talk to you?

Call me as soon as you can.

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

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

And you don't want that.

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

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

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

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

When Aemond also joins shortly after.

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with me.”

“Where to?”

“To Dragonstone.”

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

“Where are you going?” he asks Jason.

“Sunspear, with my whole family.”

“And you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

Shit.

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

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

“Oh really?”

“And why is that?”

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

What was he expecting after what happened?

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

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

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

And then, Aegon appears.

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

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

Everyone waves at him, even you.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“The vacations.”

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

“You? A break?” Sara asks him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cregan scoffs.

“I invited you, you idiot.”

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

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

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

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

“And how was that party?” asks Cregan.

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

Your heart stops for an instant.

Lannister.

That last name weighs on your mind like a rock.

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

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

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

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

Even Aemond had a good time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“See ya.”

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

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

Are you fucking serious?

How long are you going to keep this shit up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then, you notice something.

Or rather, someone.

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

Aemond.

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

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

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

“Aemond?”

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

You shake your head, not understanding.

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

And he finally speaks in his low, soft tone.

“No.”

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

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

“I asked Sara.”

You part your lips, confused.

“Why would she tell you that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are sick of this situation.

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

He feels more guilty and like an idiot than ever.

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

“I miss you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That's it?”

His face contracts slightly in frustration.

“Y/N—

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

But you knew you wouldn't make it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lets out a long breath.

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

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

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

He takes a step toward you.

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

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

He shakes his head.

“That's not true—

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

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

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

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

And there it is. You've said it.

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

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

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

Your words hit him unexpectedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Get out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he would ask you that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was never my intention.”

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

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

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

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

“Then leave.”

“Y/N—

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

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

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

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

AEMOND POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could he have been so blind? So selfish?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, it's too late.

thank you for reading!

[reikoinoue]

♡ tomorrow’s catch-22 ♡

caleb, sylus, xavier, rafayel, zayne

warnings + notes: manipulation, sedation, cnc (consensual nonconsent), read at your own caution ♡

i tried really hard to not write something for this banner, but there's been thoughts brewing in my head, despite me not being interested in obtaining this banner. so, this one is for all of you girlies out there who are super hyped for this event.

this is by no means close to canon, just my personal take on things ♡

radiation, contamination, chaos...

several years ago, an unprecedented disaster plunged this city into a lunatic abyss.

growing, mutating, losing control...

the prisoners in danger have long been excited.

is it deception, or a willing descent? driven mad by the contamination, they are...

"praedators."

the sounds of your footsteps echo throughout the facility as you flipped through the reports on your clipboard, eager to begin your assessment for the 5 praedators. admittedly, the prisoners had an almost wild look to them, further accentuating their masculine beauty. a part of you knew that you should keep your distance and complete your search for their respective activators within the allotted time-

yet still, you couldn’t deny the anticipation that courses through your veins at the thought of interacting with them. smoothing back your uniform, you stand outside the first cell...

[ he is an ambitious politician who is eyeing the entire city. ]

perses, the councilman, meets your gaze while donning a confident smirk, yet you knew that face all too well. he was once your childhood friend known as caleb, a man who once swore to protect you with his life now turned mad due to the contamination the city had succumbed to.

his magenta eyes darkened considerably with hunger now, with him fighting against the restraints placed on his wrists, clearly trying to reach you. he lets out a bark of your name, "this wasn't the reunion i was expecting, pipsqueak."

you maintain a neutral expression, coming closer to caleb as a predatory gleam was seen in his gaze. with each step that you take, you watch as caleb lets out a wince, his breathing turning even more labored, "you're in pain right now, correct? i'm here to help you."

your voice manages to soothe him, calming him enough that your former childhood friend stops fighting against his restraints. getting down on your knees, you caught the way caleb's breath hitches in response, eyes suddenly being eclipsed by darkness at the mere sight of you. as you assessed his body, you saw something glittering, settled on the base of his chest.

your gloved hand reaches out to take the dog tag in your hand, "this necklace i gave you, you still kept it?"

a flash of tenderness was seen in his gaze for a brief moment, but it was gone just seconds later, replaced by a defiance that made your blood boil in response. you grip at the pendant, earning a smirk from caleb, "what are you doing?"

you didn't answer him, choosing instead to shove it within his mouth, earning a grunt from him. "didn't i tell you before that you'd be more attractive if you shut up?" making quick work of examining his body, you trail your hands down his back, feeling him stiffen before letting out a gasp.

you immediately step away from him, feeling your eyes go wide when caleb manages to break apart his constraints, "since you chose to enter this room... you'll take responsibility for what happens next, right?"

you tremble, seeing the growing madness within his gaze as caleb takes slow and deliberate strides closer to you, his smirk growing by the seconds while stating, "what? scared? keep up this act of being all high and mighty, and you'll regret it."

before you could save yourself and escape from the confines of this prison, caleb already grips at your wrists, pinning you against a nearby wall as his fingertips dance around your center, tracing at your inner thigh as a wolfish grin spreads across his devastating features. "the path ahead is treacherous... so why don't we lose ourselves in each other?"

your gasp was quickly swallowed by caleb's searing kiss, with his large hands gripping at your sides as he quickly tears the leather skirt of your uniform off of you, leaving you in your lace panties. a low growl of satisfaction was heard coming from caleb when he kneels before you, sliding off your panties while chuckling at the moisture left in the fabric.

"you've always been needy for me, even now..." not wasting another second, caleb gets down on his knees before pressing his hot lips against your aching cunt, making you cry out to him as you delved your hands into his hair. you felt him slipping his tongue within your slick folds, collecting all of the moisture as your legs trapped him against you.

feeling your release quickly approaching, you arch your back against the wall-

yet before you could even cum within his mouth, caleb pulls away from you, placing a harsh bite against your swollen clit as you nearly cried out in frustration.

"oh, i don't think so... this will be my revenge for you disrespecting me so blatantly within this cell." he hoists your body against the wall once more, sliding down his leather pants as he revealed his cock to you. your mouth salivates at the sight, allowing caleb to spread your legs before impaling you with his cock.

you cling to him, sobbing from how full caleb was making you feel while he fucks you against the wall. he lets out a dark chuckle in response, "what happened to all that courage?" he asks you with another powerful thrust all while letting out a shuddering breath of your name. he hides his face within the curve of your neck while whispering within your ear, "are you doing this out of pity? then... when the night is over... will you stay with me?" he breathes in your scent before biting down against your shoulder, "will you descend into hell with me?"

with the way caleb was making you feel, you found it hard to deny him, knowing that you would follow him anywhere and everywhere with his cock buried so sweetly inside of you.

[ you better have your last words ready before this man knocks on your door. ]

his back was facing you, tartarus, the mysterious assassin, quietly waits within his cell (a cage, fitting for a madman like sylus). you place the clipboard to the side, adjusting your uniform before taking out the ring of keys. finding the correct one, you made quick work of unlocking the cage and stepping inside.

fastening the keys back on your hips, you call out to him, earning a dark chuckle from the madman, "how did it feel to watch me?"

his crimson gaze meets with your neutral expression, and when you take a step forward, sylus immediately began to pull at his restraints in an attempt to grab you, "you scared?"

you shake your head and spoke in even tones, "i'm only here to help you ease your pain. the contamination has already spread through your nerves."

sylus tosses his head back, letting out a harsh laughter, "oh sweetie, your idea of help is heartwarming. why don't you come closer, little bird? help me come outside the cage... come, just a little more."

you remain still, not daring to move an inch closer as you felt a bead of sweat running down your cheek, "when you approach your prey, you must ensure your own safety first. you taught me this, sylus."

“prey…?” sylus remains unfazed, with an almost amused expression painting his features. knowing that you had to swallow your discomfort and fear, you step closer to sylus and walk around his form, assessing his body for any signs of the activator.

you keep your eyes honed in on him, listening to his soft breathing and grunts a little too intently. you stop walking around him, eyes drawn to the middle of his chest when you reach out to him-

only to be stopped when you felt his hands gripping at your wrists, preventing you from touching him. "you...!"

unable to overpower him and reach for your weapon, you visibly panicked when sylus wraps an arm around your front, pressing you against the cage while preventing your escape. you struggle against him momentarily, yet visibly relax when his hands touch at the spot between your legs.

he traps you between his body and the cage, biceps coming around you keep your head locked within it. a whisper of your name (filled with a dark longing) was heard against your ear, and you found yourself powerless to sylus when he reaches down to slide off your leather skirt, managing to free himself from the confines of his own pants as the tip of his cock was felt brushing against your slick walls.

in one, powerful thrust, you were left gasping for him, hands gripping at the bars as sylus moves his cock in and out of you, basking in the way your walls gripped him tightly in response. "ngh, you missed me, didn't you? me and m'cock. you needed this, right?"

your soft mewls echo throughout the cage, making you see stars each time he sheathes his cock back inside of you. a thin trail of saliva manages to escape from your lips, making sylus chuckle when he grabs a hold of your chin, keeping you still before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he doesn’t stop his rapid thrusts when he hotly whispers within your ear, "now you'll never fly away, my little bird."

and when you could feel his tongue tracing at the shell of your ear, you knew that you were a goner.

[ danger often hides behind the softest eyes and the sharpest fangs. ]

as you step into hermit the ex-enforcer's cell, your eyes were met with an icy gaze filled with contempt. xavier kept pulling at his restraints, trying to get to you. "you tricked me, you trapped me here knowing what would happen...!"

you simply let out a hum in response, not denying his words of accusation as you stepped closer to him. you take a moment to assess his body, nearly jumping back when he violently pulls at his restraints. "why... don't you want to become like me?"

stepping closer to him, you grip at his hair, revealing his neck to you while pressing the tip of your nose against his skin, "relax, i'll let you go once you're back to normal."

xavier was restless when you pull away from him, using the palm of your hands to explore his body, your touch descending upon his muscular abdomen. you felt him inhale sharply, letting out a shuddering breath while telling you, "your hand is warm."

you continue to assess his form, hearing xavier's whispered phrases "do you hate me? do you think i'm a monster?" why did his words sound like he was trying to seduce you? his once icy gaze now darkened considerably with hunger, making your own heart pound rapidly in response. ignoring the familiar ache between your legs, you slowly got down on your knees-

only to see the prominent tent against the front of his pants.

you were left speechless at the sight, licking your lips while hearing xavier let out a series of amused chuckles, "this is your doing, so... what'll you do now?"

with a sigh, you brush back your hair before gripping at the front of his pants, pulling it down in one quick motion. his erection was settled directly in front of your face, lifting your hand to give his cock a harsh stroke.

"ngh!" xavier's groans echo throughout the cell each time you worked on pumping his cock with your hand, "this won't do... looks like i'll need to take care of this before continuing your assessment."

collecting the beads of precum that escapes from his tip, you use it as lubrication, feeling your walls clench with need at the sight. "ah, fuck, my hands are just making you harder. maybe i need to do more drastic measures...?"

relinquishing your hold on his cock, you take a step back and take off your uniform, stepping out of your panties while unclasping your bra. the sight of your nakedness makes xavier's cock grow even harder for you, with it twitching considerably, desperate to be buried inside of you.

stepping closer to xavier, you brace yourself against the chain-linked fence, guiding his cock toward your entrance with your free hand before sliding down on him. you both toss your head back at the sensation of his cock completely sheathed inside of you. you had began setting a slow and steady pace when xavier breaks free of his restraints.

his large hand now grips at your backside, pinning you against the fence as you were subjected to his cock continuously pounding itself in and out of your heat. "do you like that...?" his eyes were clouded with lust just then, rapidly pumping his cock as your breasts bounced in tune to his every movement, "don't be scared..." he tells you while hiding his face within the base of your throat, "it'll be over soon enough... then, you'll never leave me."

each time xavier slides his cock back into you, you found yourself losing all thoughts of coherency, willingly becoming dumb on his cock.

[ a praedator rose from the ashes. the entire city is but a playground at his disposal. ]

you stand outside of tamino's cell, the leader of flowin' fire's eyes glaring into you, as if challenging you to take a step forward and come into his cell-

if you dared to.

rafayel remained calm even as he was captured, not putting much of a fight as he kept repeating your name over and over again, denying anyone else the 'privilege' of assessing him.

so, given little choice, you marched directly towards his cell. upon seeing the determined expression on your face, rafayel gives you a smile.

"why so hesitant, princess? come on inside... have a chat with me."

just find the activator and get out of here. you repeat that single phrase like a mantra, using the master key to enter his cell. shutting the door from behind you, you look down at rafayel, convincing yourself that he was kept in restraints and would have no power over you-

as if sensing your turmoil, rafayel's smirk widens as he began taunting you, "what am i to you? a madman? a monster? or just a pitiful prisoner?"

"that's quite enough," you harshly hiss at him, getting down on your knees while placing a hand on his chin. he lets out a grunt upon feeling the pad of your thumb tracing at his bottom lip before opening it slightly. a flash of annoyance was seen in rafayel's gaze, "you're checking my teeth? there's a muzzle here."

i need to move closer if i want to find that activator. removing yourself from his lips, you stand back to your full height, coming around him as your eyes were focused on the spot hidden behind his long hair. just as you were about to part the strands, rafayel manages to stop you, pulling you directly into his lap. "what's this supposed to be? another plan of yours?"

your eyes go wide with panic, looking down to see that he had already torn apart his restraints and was now holding you against him. letting out a grunt of your name, rafayel frames at your face with his two hands, keeping you still before surging forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that takes your very breath away.

you writhe against his embrace, hands pounding against the front of his chest-

but to no avail.

feeling his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip makes you tremble in response, letting out an involuntary moan as you felt his smirk against your lips. "exposing your weakness to a monster... you lost, princess."

a devilish smile paints his expression when he pulls down your skirt and panties in one, swift motion, placing your naked sex against his thigh while whispering sweet nothings within your ear, "you're not allowed to leave me anymore, princess." he whispers hotly to you, dragging your wet cunt across his muscled thigh as you were given little choice but to cling to him.

losing all of your dignity, you eagerly grind your hips against his thighs, riding him while basking in his praise with your needy mewls and moans echoing throughout the cell.

[ nobody gets to walk out of his prison. not when they are alive, at least. ]

you take quick strides into the warden's cell, meeting galen's calm expression as you shut the cell door from behind you.

an unhinged smile spreads across zayne's features, clearly happy at seeing you even in this situation. "ah, so you've decided to come and see me again."

you step forward, pulling out a syringe filled with a glowing, almost deep amber liquid flowing inside of it. recognition flashes within his gaze at the sight of the syringe, "a frenzy enhancer? you're going to use it on me?"

"yes, the warden should be well-aware of how it affects the praedators." you step closer to zayne, watching as he pulls on his restraints while remaining tied to the chair. his eyes blearily met your gaze, allowing you to push his head back while revealing his neck to you. pressing the tip of the syringe against it, you push the thin needle within his skin, earning a low hiss from him as you injected the frenzy enhancer.

once the liquid was gone, you take a step back, tossing aside the syringe while watching him, fascination shining within your eyes. zayne struggles against his restraints, letting out a series of grunts while meeting your gaze, "stop holding yourself back... you need to do this and confront your true self."

he tries once more to break away from his restraints, "i don't know what i'll do to you. what will you do next... since you chose to remain in this cage with me...?"

you were ready to speak when the sound of something ripping apart causes your eyes to widen. now freed from his restraints, you had to run and seek some form of backup-

yet the sensation of powerful arms being wrapped around your waist stops you from moving forward.

"where do you think you're going?" he carries you back with him, settling back against the chair while pulling down his pants, allowing them to pool against his feet before quickly shoving down your skirt and panties.

not even waiting for your response, zayne harshly grips at your hips before forcing you down on his cock, the sensation of it all making you cry out to him. your back was arched against him, allowing the obsessed warden to move your hips up and down his erection. you felt your eyes slowly begin to roll to the back of your head, the squelching sounds of zayne fucking you echoing throughout the cell.

he rests his head against your shoulder, allowing you to bounce yourself on his cock, "you're not allowed to leave as you please anymore... from this point forward, you're mine."

and with how much zayne was filling you up with his cock, reaching places deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed, you fell into his sweet trap, allowing his corruption to spread through you with little resistance.

a.n. - oh mannn do i feel tingly and sinful while writing this 🫠 please excuse this unedited mess, i wrote this in a haze.

all stories are written by reiko; no plagiarizing, reposts, or translations are allowed.

[ghouljams]

Hi! I love your work. It always make my day better after a long day from work

I saw the Valentine’s asking with the 141 boys, and I also have another idea.

Like imagine a inexperienced!Reader that never had a Valentine’s Day, no lowers, no boyfriend nothing. Then she gets really excited for it since she and Ghost started dating, but then Ghost forgets.

Imagine the angst and Ghost’s reaction when he realizes he messed up.

*gritting my teeth* talk to your partners for the love of God

Neither of you having any experience with dating means flying blind and hoping Simon will catch but but so often he just... doesn't. You expect him to anticipate your needs, to think of the same things you do, to care about the same things, and he just doesn't. You're quietly excited for Valentine's day, coasting on the stories of others whose partners went all out, hoping silently for a bouquet and chocolates, but unwilling to spoil the surprise for yourself by asking. You watch videos of people dressing up, videos of decorating their partner's house, videos of heart shaped jewelry and lovey-dovey couples.

You're giddy when the 14th rolls around. Simon comes over right at 6 for your usual friday night routine, and you though you're disappointed not to see roses when you open the door, you tamp down your disappointment by rationalizing he must have something else planned. And he just... doesn't. You lay in bed next to him and listen to him snore as you stare at the ceiling. Nothing. You got nothing.

You get nothing the next day.

Or the next.

It's Monday when you get a text from Simon asking if Friday was Valentine's and you laugh bitterly to yourself that he either didn't know or didn't care enough to remember. You ignore him the rest of the day, and it's only when he knocks on your door after work that you find the strength to glare at him.

"You didn't say anything." He reasons out as soon as he's in your flat.

"You should've known." You spit back.

"Why the fuck would I know if ya didn't say anythin'?" He growls back.

"You didn't see all the hearts all over the place and-"

"Because I'm off base so often." He cuts in, rolling his eyes.

"I-" You stumble on your argument, before holding strong, "I wanted a Valentine's day."

"Then you should've said something, I'm not a fuckin' mind reader." Simon crosses his arms over his chest, and tips his head to look down on you. Something you've seen him do to recruits on the few occasions you've been able to see him at work.

"You should've known." He raises a brow, "You could've gotten me flowers, at least! Everyone does something for Valentine's day."

"Didn't do anything for me." Simon sniffs. Again you stumble on your argument. He takes your silence as a chance to deliver another devastating blow, "Guess we're both bad at this."

[valkyrien]

'Super old fics... like 2+ years'

But yes, absolutely, any comments on anything from any era are still comments and the desire to know what someone thought of one's work does not diminish simply because the work has existed for longer than a year or so. The idea that it would or should is a little absurd in the broader context of how fandom spaces work and evolve organically.

For one thing, just because a work has existed for longer than a year or so does not mean that this reader commenting now had any idea it existed prior to their finding and reading it now, and for another, had I as a writer wanted older works to vanish or become unknowable or un-commentable-upon, I would have removed them, stated outright within them that I didn't want comments, or locked access to them etc..

The very fact that my older works remain available to peruse and comment upon should tell readers that comments are still welcome, and I have not yet met a writer or artist who does not agree with this.

If we hadn't wanted our work to be approachable, we would have made it unapproachable. If we hadn't wanted to know what people who are viewing it for the first time now because they've only just found it feel about it, or if we wanted to limit the ability of repeat viewers of the work to eventually let us know their thoughts, we would have removed the option to comment or simply removed the work itself so that it could no longer be viewed much less commented upon. If we wanted to disavow or delete our older works, it would be gone. You only have to look at how many deleted bookmarks or orphaned works are on AO3 to know that.

This idea that commenting on 'older' work - often operating within a very, even ludicrously, slim margin for what constitutes 'older' at all - is somehow awkward or unwanted by the creator or seems 'weird' in some way is a fairly new conceit driven by the rise in younger consumers of fanart and fan spaces who very much do view their interactions with those works and spaces as a kind of consumerist behaviour on par with modern algorithm-driven social media interactions, and it's an immature approach to those interactions which reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of what fanworks and fan spaces are for and what they do and how the framework surrounding them functions.

Liking someone's work that isn't from this year is not the same as 'deep-liking' a picture on someone's Instagram or whatever that reveals that you've been scrolling back really far in their timeline or archive in a way that can be socially construed as 'awkward'. There is no workable comparison and yet this idea that it's more or less the same has very much permeated particularly younger fans' view of fandom interactions and led to a very offputting rise in, again, particularly younger people anxiously wondering and asking whether it's somehow wrong or unwanted or 'cringey' for them to interact with 'older' work, and the question itself is nonsensical within the wider structure of fandom.

If you pick up a book written seventy years ago, or look at a painting painted three hundred years ago, or watch a film made thirty years ago, and you enjoy it, and you tell someone about it, that's not weird.

If the creators are still alive and they see that you've reviewed or shared or praised their work in some public way they're not going to think 'Wow, what a cringefest, that thing came out/got made/was published so long ago, what a freak for having found it and enjoyed it now and talking about it, ew'. They're going to be pleased someone is still enjoying and discovering their early work and is making them aware of that enjoyment.

It's no different with fanworks just because they're often more directly accessible and the creators often are, too.

In fact, fandom creators are likelier to have more control over the accessibility of their works than other types of creators who license or publish their work, meaning fandom creators can at any time simply remove the work or limit access to it or reduce or restrict direct feedback opportunity on the work if they don't want to see or hear direct-to-creator comments directly aimed at their creations.

So if that fanwork is still up, and the comment option hasn't been restricted?

Chances are that creator is still absolutely open to receiving comments and would love to hear how you loved their work, whether it was made available seven minutes or seven decades ago. Sometimes you only vibe with a creator's early work, sometimes you only like that one Yu-Gi-Oh! phase they had back in '04, and sometimes you can't get enough of their massive Single-Pairing Covid-Era Hurt-Comfort series that began last year featuring two obscure characters from a sci-fi novel published before you were born. It's all okay. If you liked it, and you have the option, tell the creator you liked it. They're just going to love that you liked it. If they didn't want to know, you wouldn't have the option of telling them.

people who write fics. how do you feel about comments on super old ones you wrote like 2+ years ago

[sachinteng]

Syntax Error

After years of being asked about it, I thought I'd tell the story of my peculiar name, and explain what this little logogram I started using is about.

I don't look like my name should be Sachin. South Asian folks point it out to me all the time. If you don't know, Sachin is a Sanskrit name, and I am visibly not Desi, so people are often confused. People usually ask if I'm named after Sachin Tendulkar, the famous cricket player. And for a period of time my local Indian restaurant thought I was Indian and would give me free rice! Until they found out I wasn't and stopped. Very sad day.

So why am I named Sachin if I'm not Desi?

The name my parents gave me is 十晴. Specifically my dad. My father insisted on naming me. Spent months obsessing over it. But he never gave me an English name. And on the day I was born my dad was…asleep, didn't answer the phone which rang all day, and missed the entire birth. To this day my mother tells this story whenever I miss a phone call. So, when I was born they had no idea what to put on my birth certificate.

The pinyin translation for 十晴 is Shí Qíng. But my mom didn't know pinyin. The lawyer who drew up the paperwork for my birth certificate was Indian, and when he heard 十晴, he said, 'that sounds like Sachin. I'll just put that!' And my mother, tired and alone in the hospital, in a foreign land called Flushing, Queens, said okay. And who can blame her.

And that's how I got my name. In the most arbitrary, accidental way possible. My dad, after months and months of hyper-focusing on a name, fumbled it all right at the end. I wish I could say my name was meaningful in Hànyǔ at least but, my name is very strange to Hànyǔ speakers as well.

The character 十 means 'ten' as in the number 10. And 晴 means 'clear sunny skies.' It's the kind of word a weather reporter will commonly use in the forecast. Honestly, Ten Sunny Skies sounds like a Wǔxiá character. Like Eight Flying Lotuses or Five Poison Fists, or something. Not gunna lie, I prefer this explanation.

So my dad loves to tell this joke…about how his name is too hard to write. It has so many strokes in it that when he was in school taking tests it took him so long to write his name on tests that when he was finished writing it the other students already finished taking the whole test. So, when he has a child he's going to make sure to give them the easiest name with the fewest strokes possible.

And that's where it comes from. Some dinner party joke he liked to tell friends. Thanks dad.

My name has a different meaning to me now as an adult. Over the years many people have heard my name and said, 'Do you know the story of Hòu Yì 后羿?'

An old folktale says there used to be 10 Suns. They would cycle one at a time, because there can never be more than one sun in the sky at the same time. But, one day the suns got lonely, they wanted to see each other and broke the rules. All 10 suns burned at the same time. To stop the suns from burning the entire world down Hòu Yì, the legendary archer, shot the suns out of the sky and left just one, the sun we have today.

It's a fable about doing too much, not thinking about the consequences, and literally burning out. Something I relate to more than I'd like. I burned out hard a few years ago and recovering was a long, painful journey that I never want to repeat.

In the end, the last Sun loses all their siblings and has to carry the burden alone. But, if they'd just had patience and paced themselves, there would still be 10 suns across 'Ten Sunny Skies 十晴.'

[the-ladyrae]

I recently met a girl on Bumble, and I'm mad as hell about it because she lives less than half a mile away from me.

(Which I'm aware is like the opposite of a problem. RIP literally every other lesbian dealing with long distance. It is a privilege for me to be able to take a leisurely stroll to my gf's place [and there's a grocery store at the half way point of the walk so I can stop in and buy her flowers and snacks] and be there in no more than 15 minutes)

Anyway, I'm mad about it because I also loudly decry the effects dating apps have on human courting rituals. The comodification of intimacy to the degree of when people think of meeting someone now a days we don't think of going out to a bar, or dancing, or complimenting an interesting stranger in public. In most cases, we've actually begun to shun these things! The evolution of this in my mind began with the statement of "Women don't want to be approached in public." And for the most part, that holds true. We don't want to be bothered at work, where we have to be nice to you or risk getting fired. Or when we're out doing errands, grocery shopping, laundrymatt, whatever she's just trying to get some stuff done, leave her alone. Or at the gym, where the mindset is not really aligned with that activity. Or at the bar, we came together we leave together and keep an eye out someone might try to put something in your drink.

OK, wait, but back-up, I thought it was acceptable to approach women in social situations?

Well, it was, but doesn't that sound scary? You don't know that person that just came up to you and asked for your number. What if they're a serial killer, unlikely but wouldn't you rather have the opportunity to look into that first? Check their references so to speak.

I mean sure that sounds like a good thing, but how is this safer? I'm essentially doing what my parents told me not to my entire childhood, and meeting up with strangers from the internet.

Sure sure, sure, but this is different! We're providing a safe space where everyone is up front about who they are and their intentions! You can find exactly what you're looking for with all our magical filters (some might cost you a bit, but don't think about that yet). And then here's the kicker you can talk to them before you meet up in our messaging function, take an appropriate amount of time to learn everything you can and decide if this person is trustworthy enough to meet in person. That sounds nice doesn't it?

I guess I do like the idea of having a designated space where I know it's acceptable to approach an individual! And I mean how hard can it be to navigate one app?

Oh sorry I forgot to mention this part. It's not just one app there are like half a dozen major players that everyone kinda cycles through so you'll have to have all of them to play the field and increase the odds of you finding your one. And also because of the nature of us now giving you a haystack of options when you're looking for a needle you'll have to weed out like a dozen people at a time reality TV harem dating show style, while they do the same to you.

That doesn't exactly sound like a better system... But it clearly is, because of this system I met someone, didn't I? Well yes, but she lives half a mile away in the same neighborhood. We shop at the same grocery store, go to the same bars, have similar interests in general, and are both reasonably visibly distinct from a crowd (she's got bright pink hair, I'm a 6'1" femme who can't dress casual to save her life)

And we've both lived in this area for months without even noticing each other even though we're exactly each other's type. I don't know if any of that really made sense, but I think the point is that the dating apps are only fixing barriers to connection that they created. They are only solving problems they created, and we're paying them for it.

tumblr please stop showing me dating apps ads. i'll meet girls the old way; never

[etherealrin]

✧₊⁺ thinking about nerd!karasu...

nerd!karasu who wears heavy rimmed glasses whenever he's in class or studying. though he wears contacts most of the time and whilst playing football, he houses a firm belief that wearing his glasses make him a better student.

nerd!karasu who accidentally becomes your academic rival after placing above you one too many times in the test rankings. it pisses you off how he's so good at analyzing your facials, knowing exactly how to press your buttons. and he wasn't even a psychology major!

nerd!karasu who's in love with anthropology and can occasionally be found on weekends sitting in random cafes near campus. according to him, he's "people watching."

nerd!karasu who needs a matcha latte every morning or else he cannot function at the 9 AM lectures he foolishly thought he could wake up for when he was doing course registration.

nerd!karasu who despite being known as "studious" somehow has time to be the star player of your university's football team, and a full time gym rat. does this man even sleep?

nerd!karasu who is often caught at the convenience store at stupidly late hours. one time you witnessed him microwaving a buldak carbonara inside of 7-11 at 3 am. why were you there? to get a red bull (so you could continue your all nighter.)

nerd!karasu who's keenly perceptive; he knows when you're feeling down. if he's feeling generous that day, he'll ask if you want to grab pastries together (when you're in a bad mood he almost always pays.)

nerd!karasu who during midterm and finals season is too tired and locked in to gel up his hair so you're blessed with the rare sighting of his raven colored locks falling naturally down his face. his bangs get into his eyes and he has to shake his head to clear them.

nerd!karasu who has this infuriating (hot) habit of lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat in the too-warm lecture halls, giving everyone a glimpse of impeccable washboard abs. he winks when he catches girls staring.

nerd!karasu who's favorite subject is chemistry, which you happen to share with him. your professor had just assigned a month-long lab report that would total 20% of your semester grade, so you were really praying that your partner wouldn't be a complete bum. when karasu’s name and yours are called together, you're not sure whether to be relieved or distressed. on one hand, karasu was insanely smart. on the other, he was annoying, your number one competitor, and kind of beautiful. scratch that, he was majestic.

karasu wastes no time tracking you down after the professor is done, his smirk making you self-conscious.

"would ya look at that, sweetie. it's us two, again."

"yeah well, don't drag us down," you shoot back, rolling your eyes. you pretend he has no effect on you, that his deep eyes don't draw you in with a magnetic pull.

and maybe nerd!karasu had pure, academic intentions when he invited you to his room to work on the report. maybe he didn't mean to lean in too close, to flirtingly tease with you.

you're trying to type and he's making it impossible because he insists on "making sure you didn't mess up his pc settings." what that really entails is his hot breath on your neck as you attempt to finish up the document. karasu is staring shamelessly; you're trying not to think about any of it. you're in his room, sitting in his chair, with his things surrounding you—worst of all, he's way too close. every little spike of his purplish hair, you feel against your skin.

"you're turning red," he notes, peering at you through his black rimmed frames.

"maybe if you got off m- huh?"

karasu's pulling you in by the waist, expression unreadable and eyes shining with anything but the intent to do schoolwork.

"we're practically done now. i think that we should stop studying the reactivity of elements and start looking at attractivity instead."

a/n: karasu and his cheesy chem pickup lines…we've seen nerd!gojo but wb karasu!! even better bc imo this is so canon.

masterlist!!

[mariasont]

Murphy's Law - A.H

summary: you have spent your whole life thinking love was something that could be lost. Aaron has spent his whole life proving that the things worth fighting for don't go anywhere.

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: some angsty angst, self sabatoge, emotional vulnerability, miscommunication, self worth issues, hotch knows you better than you know yourself, hurt/comfort, happy ending ish

wc: 1.7k

You were staring at the liquid swirl in your glass, watching the way the light bent through it, like if you stared long enough, you could disappear into it, dissolve into it completely. It was sweating against your palm, ice melting, thinning, becoming something less than it was before. 

You were exhausted—an exhaustion that permeated your very bones and soul—moving into places you were certain sleep couldn't reach nor fix.

The case had been brutal and unfortunately for everyone involved, it was the type of case that didn't end just because the paperwork was filed. And you'd done what you always did when it got to be too much, you'd picked a fight with the only person who never fought back.

It was practically muscle memory by now, the way you pushed, the way you tested him, the way you all but begged for him to get tired of you. You took a sip and let yourself wonder if this was the time he finally did.

The whiskey tasted awful. You scrunched your nose at the aftertaste, the way it coated your tongue with something sharp and unforgiving. But you swallowed it anyway. It was his drink, and maybe you deserved the bitterness. Maybe you deserved the way it burned on the way down, the way it sunk heavy in your stomach. If he was tired of you, if this was the night you finally ruined it, then at least you could feel what he felt—at least you could know what it was like to choke down something that wasn't meant for you.

You could never figure out why he was with you, could never make sense of it, could never understand what he saw when he looked at you. Because all you could see were the cracks, the flaws, the thousands of ways you weren't enough. And Aaron? He was steady. He was level-headed, patient, impossibly good, and you were a mess of emotions. You were impulse and self-destruction, always bracing for impact.

You were temporary. And Aaron was the kind of man who deserved something permanent.

You felt him before you saw him. Of course he was here. Of course he came looking for you. You swallowed another sip of the whiskey and let the burn dissipate through your chest before he even had the chance to speak.

"You didn't want to go home."

It wasn't angry or accusatory. That made it worse. You didn't turn to face him, instead you rolled the glass between shaky fingers and let out a bitter laugh.

"What, am I in trouble?"

The second the words left your mouth, you hated them. Hated yourself. You weren't trying to pick another fight, weren't trying to make things worse. But it was like your body was moving before you mind could stop it, like some sick part of yourself wanted to see how much more you could destroy before the night was over.

Hotch sighed, pulled out the stool beside you and sat without a word. He didn't push, didn't ask, didn't even look at you right away. Instead, he reached across the bar, tapping his fingers twice against the counter.

"Water."

The bartender nodded, setting down a glass in front of him. He slid it toward you without a second thought, like this was something they'd done a thousand times before.

Which you had.

But before, you had been soft for each other. Before, the drinks had been sweet, your laughter even sweeter, your hands weaving in his tie as you pulled him down for a slow, unhurried kiss. Before, he'd touched your waist, guiding you toward him before giving you a water and whispering something against your temple like, you're trouble. And you'd grin, because you knew he didn't mean it, not really—not when he was the one who always indulged you, who always let you be trouble, who always looked at you like you were something precious.

Now, the gesture was the same, but everything around it had changed. Now, it wasn't about taking care of you at the end of a good night. It was the same notion, stripped of everything that used to make it feel like love.

"Thanks," you murmured. You took the glass, but you didn't lift it, didn't take a sip, just dragged a fingertip through the moisture, watching as it smeared beneath your touch.

And then you made the mistake of looking at him.

He looked wrecked. And not just tired, but more than that. Worn down in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with you. You were the same in that way. His jaw was tight, and his eyes lingered on you like he was searching for something—something he wasn't sure he'd find. He looked worried, and worse—so much worse—he looked hurt.

And that made everything burn. It made your vision blur at the edges.

You looked back down at your drink before you could embarrass yourself further, before the sting behind your eyes could turn into something real.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "You look like you're waiting for me to give up."

"Do I?"

It was weak and too quick. Flimsy and transparent. A question with a question. A classic misdirection, the kind of thing you had both watched suspects do a thousand times when they were caught, when the truth was too ugly to face head-on.

"When people are afraid of loss, they do one of two things," Aaron said and you could feel his eyes on you. "They cling to what they have, or they push it away before it can leave on its own."

You looked at him.

"You've already decided this won't last, so you're doing everything in your power to make that true. But the problem is—," he leaned in slightly and you could see the freckle under his eye clearly now, "you're treating your fear like a fact."

Your gaze flickered over his face, mapping out every detail like a blueprint. The tiny scar on his chin that you'd never asked him about, the exact shade of his eyes, the way his nose tilted just slightly at the bridge.

You wanted to memorize it all, because someday, this would be all you have left.

When he was gone—because he would leave, it was only a matter of when—you didn't want to rely on pictures. You wanted to close your eyes and see him, clear as he was now. Every part of him. Even the parts he didn't realize you noticed.

His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Stop being so nice to me!"

The words came out choked, tears stinging at your eyes before you could blink them away. You dug your nails into your palm, trying to get something under your control, but it was slipping through your fingers like everything else.

"You're going to get tired of me. You're going to wake up one day and realize I'm not worth it and—and you should. You should yell at me, you should tell me I'm too much, you should—," The tears spilled over now and you hated how blurry he looked. "Fight back, Aaron. Please just—just stop pretending like I deserve this, like I deserve you."

Hotch inhaled sharply, then stood, reaching for his wallet. He placed the bill on the counter—too much, but he wasn't about to wait for change—before finally turning back to you.

"Let's get some air."

You hiccupped, the sound breaking awkwardly in your throat, and you blinked hard. Everything felt like too much, your muscles too tight, your face too hot, the tears still falling despite your best efforts. You rubbed at your face with back of your hand, nodding, because you didn't trust yourself to speak.

You stood and glanced around for your coat and before you could even realize you didn't bring one, Aaron was already moving.

"Arms in," he said, slipping his jacket around you, his fingers barely skimming your shoulders.

He didn't give you a moment to process it. He just started guiding you to the door, like he already knew you wouldn't stop him.

The night air didn't bite the way you expected. It should have shocked you awake, made you shiver, but it didn't. You barely felt it.

Your body felt off, warmth thrummed through your limbs in way that you feel unsteady. You swayed slightly, and Aaron's hand came to hover near your waist, not quite touching, but waiting. Just in case.

He was frowning at you.

So, instinctively, you frowned back.

"You're acting like I don't know what I signed up for." You opened your mouth to argue but Aaron stepped closer before you could even form the words. "I know what I signed up for because I know you."

His eyes didn't leave yours.

"I know you overthink every single text before you send it. I know that when you're anxious you chew on the inside of your cheek until it's raw. I know you order the same three things at a restaurant because too many choices stress you out, and I know you hate when the cabinets in the kitchen are left open, even by an inch."

He took another step.

"I know you cry at commercials but try to hide it. I know that when you're upset, you don't want comfort, but you need it. I know that you think needing people makes you weak."

"But I also know you are smart and kind and stubborn as hell. I know that I love you in a way that is reckless and absolute. And I know—," he exhaled, standing so close his breath was mingling with yours. "that you are worth every single argument it's going to take to convince you of that."

It was too much. The way he knew you. The way he saw you. The way he spoke like loving you was a fact, an inevitability, something that could not be argued or undone.

A sharp breath shuttered from your lips, your whole body tightening like you could hold it all in.

But you couldn't. Because your chest ached. Your hands ached. Your heart ached. Your whole body felt like it belonged to him in a way you didn't know how to put into words.

So you did the only thing you could do. You closed the miniscule distance between you, your fingers grasping onto the front of his coat, pulling, holding, needing.

Because you didn't know how to say I love you so much it physically hurts me.

But maybe, if you pressed close enough, he would feel it.

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[roseate-felidae]

In rough order-

1. Roseate-pussycat. Literally pink cat, after an oc. Cats was/is one of my earliest special interests. Despite parents saying I could only get one when I have an annexe in the future.

2. Roseate-betcherrygah. Means pink budgie (parakeet for US). I had a parrot main special interest for years and owned budgies.

3. Roseate-lagomorph. My asthma didn't allow birds anymore, so I coped with rabbits for a long time. Became a special interest but could never fully replace parrots and cats.

4. Roseate-cavy/roseate-caviomorpha. My rabbits died of rhd2, wasn't allowed anymore for a while due to rhd risk. Tried to get into guinea pigs to cope. Didn't work out.

5. Roseate-budgerigar. Very Temporary. Tumblr thought someone else had Roseate-betcherrygah. Despite when i checked it was only me in the past. Tried really hard to keep birds with asthma. Never worked.

6. Switched back to Roseate-lagomorph. They kept me going. Until I broke down after coming to terms with this only being a temporary fix for my real love of cats and parrots.

7. Roseate-ailouros. temporary. Means cat in Greek. Temporary as thinking of new name. Finally was allowed a cat. Still best pet I've ever owned. Therefore, i didn't have to mental block cats to survive.

8. Roseate-felidae. Current and most likely final. I am finally happy with my animal companion situation after years of trying. Felidae is cat family.

Funnily how it started as "pink cat" and returned to "pink cat" in a different word.

The tumblr blog name changes represented my struggle to find the companion animal I needed (most of my people relationships strain due to my autism and I wanted unconditional love). That I needed for my mental wellbeing and motivation to keep living.

To think, I owned parrots, rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, and a fish. Been living with families' dogs, ferrets, hawks, pigeons, chickens, quail, canaries, goldfinches, tarantulas, snails, multiple fish species, shrimp, and frog. Thoroughly researched rats, mice, gerbils, degu, chinchillas, snakes, lizards, sugar gliders, hedgehogs, genets, wallabies, and horses.

Yet it was cats that were the right one, which I wanted from the very start. (Parrots sadly were not from asthma). I'm so happy I have Zoe, I just wish I had her years ago.

[ablobwhowrites]

Poppy playtime toy y/n idea?

I imagine just toy y/n who was made to go into home sweet home and like to think that y/n is like eclipse from security breach ruin dlc. But also like daiskue from mouthwashing.

Mostly based around to be in the home sweet home place of the playcare facility and would help kids fall asleep or feel safe as now being abandoned would try and help the player to find a way out. As many of the toys see y/n as a kind person as they where a worker at the factory but they didn't know what playtime was really doing. But poor poor y/n was the perfect subject for a new experiment as they where perfect, y/n that night was meant to take a their vacation with their family.

Their co workers liked y/n, always seen as a hopefully young spirit. A ray of sunshine walking around in the factory that anyone would feel happy around them. The orphans in playcare also liked y/n, always wanting to play games with him or tell more stories as y/n would always have the job of getting the kids to sleep and would tell made up stories to help them sleep or when one was to long would say that tomorrow they would hear the ending. The toys likes y/n's presents as well as bunzo always followed y/n around when they did yours for the , as sometimes they would have to take the tour guide shift when needed and would be great at it and after y/n would hope that they did a good enough jobs to get a promotion and when y/n was about to clock out, a co worker had y/n follow them and poor y/n didn't know what would happen next.

The project was finished, y/n was successful transformed into the newest addition to playcares cast. But it wasn't easy for y/n, they were scared out of their mind, curling up into corners as the people who y/n trusted were just monsters in y/n's eyes. They didn't know this is how they made the toys alive, y/n's colleague had trick them and turned them into this. The colleagues did feel bad as seeing once such a happy intern who was excited to help, now just trying to back away from them, swat them away from coming closer and the cries and screams where deafening, echoing through the cell y/n was place in after being turned into this was horrible to listen to. Y/n didn't participate in the hour of joy like everyone else did, they hid in their cell as they were still scared but after the hour of joy was over. Doey found y/n and he was mortified as seeing y/n so scared. (Also kinda imagining y/n's toy design kinda being tall and lanky like kissy and huggy but kinda like the puppet from FNAF but being modified to have like be more easily approachable and kinda like how some fanart makes puppet look all nice and friendly looking. Please know what I'm talking about, of not I'll show you guys a picture to see what I mean but please know the thing I'm talking about)

And being brought back to the safe haven to be checked on but y/n wants to help the other toys but doey wants y/n to stay in the safe haven so they won't get hurt but y/n never puts themselves first, they always try to put other first so maybe they will try to go out of the safe haven to help others who need to be in the safe haven more than they do.

(anyways hope you guys like this idea but if I'm not, I'm just yapping away and promise to do more of the new home sweet home au stuff and other stuff to but if you guys like this, than please don't be shy and request your ideas for any stories or y/n's. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Peek-a-boo?

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive content MDNI

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Felix live on the topmost floor of your buildings - apartments facing each other, with long windows giving a glimpse into each other's lives. And then one day, everything changes.

Clueless Masterlist

Every evening, Felix saw the most beautiful girl in the window opposite to his. You lived in the apartment facing his, in the building opposite to his.

He didn’t know he believed in angels, until you showed up at that damn window, all soft light and effortless grace, and he became a devout believer. But those floor-to-ceiling windows in your bedroom seemed to be your favorite place because he saw you there a lot. Looking so peaceful as the breeze kissed your skin and the city lights illuminated your face.

He told himself to stop. That you were just a stranger. That this window obsession was not normal human behavior. But every time you stretched by your window or gave him a soft smile, Felix felt blessed.

And then, it happened. 

It was a normal night. Felix had just finished a shower, steam curling around him as he stepped out, a white towel hanging low on his hips. He was drying his hair with another one. 

Completely normal. Until it wasn't. 

Because of course, God had favorites and Felix definitely wasn’t one of them, apparently. You were standing by the window as usual. Your eyes met. Felix didn't even know what had happened until it was too late, and the towel around his hips was already on the floor.

For a solid three seconds, you froze. You didn’t mean to look. You really didn’t. But it happened so fast that your poor, innocent eyes bore witness to everything.

A choked sound clawed its way up your throat. Your hands flew to your face as you spun on your heel, bolting so fast from the window that Felix swore you left behind a cartoon dust cloud.

And Felix? Felix quickly covered himself with the towel in his hand, his heart pounding so fast. 

"NO. NO, NO, NO, NO"

---

Felix: GUYS I’M MOVING TO ANTARCTICA. IT WAS NICE KNOWING Y’ALL.

Chan: What? 

Hyunjin: What did you do?

Minho: Leave your key under the mat.

Jeongin: Wtf happened? 

Felix: I FLASHED MY NEIGHBOR.

Felix: MY WINDOW GIRL. MY ANGEL. THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. SHE SAW EVERYTHING.

Seungmin: define everything

Felix: Everything everything. 

Changbin: bro what do you mean you flashed your neighbor??

Jisung: Oh Lord 💀💀

Felix: MY TOWEL FELL. SHE WAS RIGHT THERE. OMG. 

Hyunjin: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Chan: Oh my god.

Felix: AND NOW I HAVE TO FAKE MY DEATH AND ASSUME A NEW IDENTITY. OMG.

Hyunjin: You just gave your crush an exclusive, VIP, free-of-charge viewing of your whole ass body and you think you're suffering??

Felix: YES I’M SUFFERING??

Jeongin: Nah bro I think she’s the one suffering.

Felix: I AM GOING TO CRY.

Minho: Pack your bags.

Seungmin: It was nice knowing you. 

Felix: I’M NEVER SHOWING MY FACE AGAIN.

Hyunjin: Imagine running into her 😁

Felix: SHUT UP.

Changbin: Bro ur gonna have to move.

Felix: I KNOW.

Jisung: Idk man. she might’ve liked what she saw. 👀

Felix: HAN JISUNG I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS.

---

You were disintegrating. No. Worse. You were ascending. No. Even worse. You were being violently ejected from the mortal plane.

Because you had just seen your hot, ridiculously beautiful neighbor - on whom you had the biggest crush - completely utterly naked.

Your soul had left your body the moment his towel hit the floor. It was probably somewhere in another dimension, floating through the galaxies, forever lost. 

And his eyes - those big, brown, Bambi eyes - had gone so wide, so shocked, so horrified. Oh your heart did weird flips. You were never recovering from this. Ever. 

Felix had spent the entire night buried under his blankets, contemplating his life choices while the boys absolutely tore him to shreds over this incident. 

He had spent the entire next morning aggressively gaming to forget everything (it didn’t work). He had spent the afternoon avoiding every single window in his apartment. 

And yet. And yet.

When the evening rolled around, when the sky turned a dusky shade of orange and the city lights flickered on… he couldn't help it.

He looked. He had walked into his bedroom, and his eyes fell on the window, and he took a peek. His brain told him no. But his dumbass heart said yes.

And there you were.  Beautiful as ever. But your face? Murderous. You were arguing.  

Your phone was pressed to your ear, your free hand waving wildly as you went off on whoever was on the other end of the call. Your brows were furrowed, your lips moving rapidly, and your whole body was tense. 

Felix froze. And Felix was turned on. So damn much.

How did you look this good while yelling at someone? How did you manage to be so breathtakingly hot when you were this angry?

And unfortunately for him, you turned and looked straight at him. 

Felix panicked, and flinched. Instead of playing it cool like a normal human being, his reflexes betrayed him in the worst way possible. He was just trying to run, but tripped over his own feet - legs tangled, arms flailing.

His entire body went crashing onto the floor. For a second, he just lay there, praying you didn’t see that.

But of course you did. The phone was off your ear, and you were looking at him with concern on your face and Felix just wanted to die. 

---

Felix: I JUST FELL FLAT ON MY FACE. 

Felix: IN FRONT OF HER.

Felix: SHE WAS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME.  

Felix: I AM NOT OKAY.

Hyunjin: LMAOOOOOOO

Jeongin: HAHAHAHAHAHAH 

Jisung: At this point, I don't even know how you do this. Repeatedly. 

Seungmin: Hold on. HOLD ON.  

Seungmin: You got caught staring at her AGAIN?

Felix: IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE.

Minho: You are an embarrassment.  

Felix: I AM IN DISTRESS.

Felix: SHE’S SO HOT WHEN SHE’S ANGRY I WANT HER TO YELL AT ME.

Minho: Yongbok. This is not how I coached you.

Jishng: Oh please. This is exactly how you coached him. Striptease and simping. He did just that.

Hyunjin: Omg, LEE KNOW?!

Minho: 😑

Hyunjin: Do you need me to send an ambulance?

Jeongin: No, he needs a one-way ticket to the underworld at this point.

Seungmin: SHE HAS SEEN YOU BUTT-ASS NAKED AND NOW SHE’S SEEN YOU FACEPLANT INTO THE FLOOR.  

Seungmin: Wow. You're even worse than Jeongin at this point.

Jeongin: Excuse me, my girlfriend will Osotogari you into another dimension if I say so. 

Seungmin: Try me.

Jeongin: 👊

Felix: Why am I like this 😩 Why does God hate me?! 

Minho: He doesn't hate you.

Minho: He’s just trying to humble you. 

Felix: I AM HUMBLE ENOUGH.

Jisung: Are you though. 

Hyunjin: Just confess at this point bro wtf. 

Felix: CONFESS WHAT??? 

Jisung: THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HER. 

Felix: I DON’T EVEN KNOW HER.

Chan: Bro.

Minho: You know the exact times she gets home every day.

Jeongin: You literally talk about her all the time. Jisung: AND YOU JUST ADMITTED YOU THINK SHE’S HOT EVEN WHEN SHE’S ANGRY.

Felix: Bye. 

You had resisted Jennie’s invitation at first. Because it's already a trap that your best friend lives in the same building as him. But you were not going to run into him after the two disastrous days you've had.

“No. Absolutely not.” You said, shaking your head.

Jennie's face was so close to the camera, you could literally smell her through the screen. 

“Why?” Jennie asked. "Why are we on video call? I live right next door!"

“Because the hottest man I’ve ever seen lives there, and I -”

Jennie squinted. “Uh huh. It's never stopped you from visiting before. You’re lying.”  

“Am not.”  

“You are. Spill.” 

“I might have accidentally seen him naked -”

“EXCUSE ME?” Jennie shrieked. 

You waved frantically, trying to talk over her shrieking, “NOT ON PURPOSE!”  

“WAIT, WAIT -” She pointed at herself. “You saw a naked hot guy and you didn't tell ME?!”

You sighed. “Yes.”  

Jennie’s jaw dropped.

“WHY HAVE I NEVER MET THIS GUY?!?”  

“I'm hanging up!”

“Oh my God, chill! SO VIOLENT.”  

“I am not running into him. You can come over anytime you know.” You said, glaring at her. 

Jennie rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, come on. What are the odds you’d run into him?”  

You hesitated.  

Jennie had a point. You wouldn’t randomly see him, right? 

---

Fast forward to now:

You sprinted for the elevator just as the doors were closing, because you weren't going to climb ten floors to Jennie's apartment. 

You barely made it. And the second you stepped inside, you locked eyes with him.  

HIM.

You felt every single one of your brain cells exit your body. And he didn't look any better. In fact he looked seconds away from climbing the walls like a feral animal. You had never seen a man so close to death before. 

But your mind? Your first thought? Oh. He actually looks nice in clothes. Like you've always seen him in pyjamas, or hoodies (or absolutely nothing). But he actually looked so good in his jeans and black t-shirt and the leather jacket. 

Ok, you needed to leave. Immediately. So you turned, trying to make it out before the doors closed. It was funny how they slid shut right on your face. 

The silence was even worse. Crippling and suffocating.

---

The doors slid open on Jennie's floor, and you were about to step out, but there stood Jennie.

Why the hell was she standing there? 

Her eyes immediately landed on you.  Then on Felix. Then back to you. You don't know what she saw on your face, because her eyes narrowed.

“IS THAT HIM?!”  

You jumped and slapped your hand over her mouth. 

“SHHHHHHHH.” 

Jennie’s eyes screamed, as if to say, “OH MY GOD IT’S HIM” 

The elevator doors closed again, and Jennie said, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME HE WAS THAT HOT?!”  

“JENNIE WHAT THE FUCK?!”  

“Oooohh, you like him!” Jennie smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You swung you bag at her and she escaped narrowly with a squeal. 

---

Felix: I WAS IN AN ELEVATOR WITH WINDOW GIRL.  

Jeongin: OH. MY. GOD.

Hyunjin: LOL 

Minho: WHAT ARE THE ODDS????

Felix: ZERO. THE ODDS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ZERO.

Chan: LMAO 

Jisung: Felix, this is destiny  

Hyunjin: Did you talk?

Felix: NO. I WAS TOO BUSY MALFUNCTIONING

Changbin: Did she say anything?

Felix: NO. She tried to escape but the doors won that round. 

Jisung: STOPPPP 

Hyunjin: NOT THE ELEVATOR BETRAYING HER🤣  

Minho: So much potential

Jisung: Ask her out, you coward. 

Felix: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP 

You felt bad. Because the poor guy has been repeatedly traumatized for no reason, and it felt absolutely unfair. So you decided to be mature about it. 

Your knees wobbled at the thought of talking to him face to face. So you had another idea. 

---

Later that evening, you sat by your window as usual (waiting). 

There he was. Felix walked into his room, stretching, and then froze when his eyes landed on you. You quickly picked up the little white board you'd ordered just for this (dramatic yes, but this was a dramatic situation). 

He watched curiously as you wrote something on it quickly, and held it up for him.

I’M SORRY FOR WHAT HAPPENED.  

Felix blinked, completely surprised. And his face turned a cute pink. And then he did something that made your heart flutter. He smiled. A soft shy one.   

Felix watched, his heart pounding so fast as you started writing again. Then, you held it up. 

DO YOU WANT TO GET COFFEE WITH ME?

Felix.exe has crashed. His crush, his dream girl, just asked him out.  

Felix scrambled. He looked around his room for something and came running back with a book and a marker. 

 YES. YES. HOLY SHIT YES.  

You snorted as you saw his reply. Then he wrote again. 

I’M FELIX.

You grinned, quickly scribbling back.  

I’M Y/N. NICE TO MEET YOU FELIX!

You watched as he smiled softly, his cheeks still pink.  

AND YOU. CAN I PICK YOU UP TOMORROW?  

Your stomach flipped. This was actually happening. Really really happening. You bit your lip, then quickly scribbled. 

7PM?

Felix beamed and nodded, with the biggest, dorkiest smile on his face.  

---  

Felix: HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

Hyunjin: WHAT WHAT WHAT?! 

Jisung: HE’S HAVING A STROKE I CAN FEEL IT.

Felix: SHE JUST ASKED ME OUT.

Changbin: YOU’RE LYING. 

Seungmin: LMAO

Jeongin: And and and?!? 

Minho: SHE WHAT.

Chan: SAY YES. SCREAM IT. 

Felix: WE HAVE A DATE. I’M DYING. OMG.

Felix: SHE JUST ASKED ME OUT THROUGH A FUCKING WHITEBOARD.  

Jisung: WHY IS THAT SO STUPIDLY CUTE! 

Hyunjin: NOT THE WHITEBOARD CONFESSION!

Jisung: EVERYONE SHUT UP. LIXIE HAS A DATE! 

Hyunjin: Gotta say, you have the best story to tell among us

Minho: And here I thought Hyunjin was the most embarrassing among us

Hyunjin: Obviously it was Jeongin for being thrown around by his girl

Jeongin: Well excuse you, Jisung nearly peed his pants when he wanted to ask HIS girl out

Jisung: Please. Guess who stripped for forgiveness? Um, not me? 

Minho: I DID NOT STRIP FOR FORGIVENESS!

Chan: Amatures. All of you.

Changbin: You didn't even know that your fiancee was literally carrying your child and ran around wailing that she didn't love you anymore. Oh my God.

Chan: CHANGBIN!

Seungmin: He's got a point, ya know

---

Felix was obviously so stressed. Because he wanted this to be perfect. And suddenly, everyone was giving him dating advice. And none of it was remotely useful. What's new. 

---

Changbin: Bro you gotta flex. Show her those arms. 

Felix: WHAT.

Chan: Yeah, mate. Roll up your sleeves, make the veins pop.

Felix: Omg  

Hyunjin: He'd literally pop a vein and then we'll actually have to send an ambulance. 

Jisung: Accidentally brush fingers when you pass her the coffee. Totally innocent. 

Minho: ALPHA MALE STARE. Look her in the eye. Don't blink. 

Felix: I’M GONNA GET ARRESTED.

Jeongin: Drop something, and pick it up slowly so she sees your back muscles.   

Felix: She has unfortunately seen way too much muscle to last a while 😵‍💫

Hyunjin: OK. SHUT UP EVERYONE. FELIX. JUST BE YOURSELF.

Jisung: YEAH. BE YOURSELF. BUT HOTTER. 

Felix: 🙄🙄🙄  

The date was in an hour. And Felix was barely keeping it together. His entire apartment looked like a crime scene, with outfits thrown everywhere, his hair was still wet from the shower.  

---

Felix: I'm so nervous, my stomach hurts

Jisung: It's a good nervous though? 

Hyunjin: You can do it, Lix

Changbin: REMEMBER. SHOW HER THE VEINS. 

Felix: OMG 

Chan: Don't worry, she likes you. You like her. It'll be OK!

Seungmin: Just be yourself, make her laugh. 

Jeongin: If you're nervous, just sit there and look pretty 🤷‍♂️

Jisung: NOOOO HE NEEDS TO DO BOTH. LOOK PRETTY AND BE CHARMING.

Felix : I’M SWEATING. I’M ACTUALLY SWEATING.

Hyunjin: GO WASH YOUR FACE RN. AND FIX YOUR HAIR.

Felix: I LOOK LIKE A DROWNED RAT.  

Minho: Great. You're ready.   

Felix: I AM GONNA THROW UP.

---

But he does go and get you some flowers and meet you at the entrance to your building. He was fidgeting, checking his reflection in his phone camera for the 100th time when you walked out.

Felix froze for a second because you looked like a dream. And for once Felix felt like the universe did love him. Because it gave him you. 

You grinned and held your hand out.

“Hey, Felix.” you said, and Felix quickly shook your hand, before giving you the flowers. 

“Thank you,” You said, and his entire brain short-circuited.

He was so fucked.

---

Felix: WE SHOOK HANDS. I’M DEAD. BURY ME.

Jisung: A HANDSHAKE??? YOU FORMAL ASS IDIOT. 

Changbin: BRO YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HUG HER NOT INTERVIEW HER. 

Felix: I’M IN LOVE.  

Hyunjin: OMG DON’T BE A SIMP. 

Minho: TOO LATE. 

---

The date was perfect.  Felix had never been this happy in his entire life. You were amazing - you laughed at his jokes, teased him mercilessly, and your eyes? It was on him the whole time. 

Felix was literally in heaven. 

You even let him walk you home.  Stood side by side in the elevator, unable to hide the smiles on your faces.  And then you stopped at your door and glanced at him, eyes sparkling with something mischievous.  

“Maybe next time,” you mused with a smile, “I’ll invite you in.”

Felix nodded dumbly - he would have nodded to anything you said to be honest - his entire body heating up. 

Next time. You said next time. You wanted a next time.

You laughed softly at how dazed he looked, and then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. A little too close to his mouth. A soft lingering kiss. 

And when you pulled back a little bit, Felix chased your lips with his - it was almost involuntary, like he had no choice but to close the small gap.  

And then his lips caught yours in the most perfect kiss of his life. Just long enough to drive him insane, but not long enough to satisfy the absolute hunger suddenly roaring inside of him.

When you pulled away, your breath fanned against his lips and your eyes flickered with mischief. You were both grinning like idiots, blushing so hard.   

You bit your lip, taking a step back and whispered, “Good night, Felix.”

He barely managed a choked, “Good night,” before you disappeared into your apartment. 

The second your door clicked shut, Felix sprinted.

---

Hyunjin: WHERE TF IS HE.  

Jisung: DID SHE KILL HIM? 

Changbin: FELIX ANSWER US RIGHT NOW.  

Minho: I'm so curious

Chan: OMG LET HIM BREATHE!

Jeongin: I BET HE'S HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE.

Seungmin: He's probably just walking home. 

Hyunjin: WELL HE CAN TEXT AND WALK. 

Jisung: WHAT IF HE PASSED OUT. LIXIE!! 

---

Felix stumbled into his apartment, collapsed onto his bed, and with trembling hands, grabbed his phone.  

---

Felix: GUYS. 

Jisung: HOLY FUCK HE’S ALIVE.  

Hyunjin: REPORT. IMMEDIATELY.  

Changbin: Spill. 

Felix: IT WAS AMAZING. WE KISSED. SHE SAID WANTED A NEXT TIME. WITH ME. OMG. 

Chan: Go Felix!! 

Minho: Details. Now. 

Jeongin: We need a play-by-play.

Felix: She kissed me on the cheek first. But then, I kinda kissed her on the lips.

Felix: It was so soft and sweet

Felix: Wait. WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS.  

Changbin: Because we are your emotional support animals.

Jisung: You what. 

Hyunjin: You chased her lips didn't you? 

Felix: HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT?!

Chan: How are you so weirdly accurate all the damn time Hyunjin?! 

Hyunjin: It's a talent Christopher 😎

Minho: You're ignoring the fact that your little boy chased her lips like a starving animal. 

Felix: I DIDN’T MEAN TO! IT JUST HAPPENED.

Seungmin: OUR BOY IS HUNGRY. 

Chan: Felix, do you realize what this means? 

Felix: WHAT.

Minho: YOU’RE GONNA GET LAID.

Chan: NO NO! OH MY GOD! I MEANT YOU SHOULD INVITE HER TO MY WEDDING AS YOUR PLUS ONE! MINHO!! 

Felix: I AM GOING TO PASS OUT.

Felix: GOOD NIGHT. 

Jisung: Bro’s gonna have good dreams tonight.  

Hyunjin: Spicy ones for sure. 

Felix: LEAVE ME ALONE.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @hanadulsetaad