#who in the modern stories has anything close to that

[coyotelip]

au, where pandora and regulus became best friends only after his death.

(including some jegulus and pandalily. this is like a fic concept, but I don't feel like writing anything, so I just want to share this idea with you. enjoy!)

Pandora comes from a family of modern witches and because of this, almost no one wants to have anything to do with her. She is a strange student who wears maxi skirts made of ten different pieces of clothing, carries a trail of herbs and jingles every amulet she wears.

of course, Regulus, as the mayor's son, did not want to get close to her during his lifetime. when he died, it turned out that Pandora was the only one who could see his disembodied spirit, which remained wandering the earth.

It's a friendship that shouldn't have happened, but with a little bit of effort, all the barriers between them disappear. finally, there's someone to whom Pandora can tell about her crush on Lily Evans.

she spends hours and hours experimenting to determine the limits of Regulus' existence here on earth. can he leave the city? can he touch things, feel heat or cold? can the rest of her family see him?

she digs into his story so much to understand what exactly keeps him here, why his spirit cannot rest?

In the process, he reveals his biggest secret - his crash in James Potter. Pandora is delighted, and she doesn't let him get away from the topic until she convinces him to write him a letter. Pandora writes by herself, because of course Regulus cannot hold a pen the way he did when he was alive. he gives her a dry and emotionless text with reluctance, but she adds color to it and paints it much more emotionally.

Regulus can't stop her when Pandora puts the letter in James' locker. in fact, deep down, he doesn't want to. Regulus boldly uses his power to be there when James finds the letter, but he doesn't read it right away, hiding it and taking it home. the remnants of his morals prevent Regulus from following it and breaking into James' room, no matter how much he wants to be there.

the first letter is followed by the second and third.

the situation takes an interesting turn when Sirius suddenly approaches Pandora. he is clearly unhappy and asks her in private, rather aggressively, what she wants. he has noticed her sneaking letters to James and intends to stop her because he is not interested in her.

Sirius' hot blood gets the better of him and he touches Pandora. not firmly, just puts his hand on her shoulder and tries to corner her. but this is enough to anger Regulus, and without realizing it, he shouts out an angry "don't touch her" and tries to push Sirius away.

Sirius' head jerked up and he... looked straight at Regulus without seeing him. his brow furrowed and he looked confused, but after a moment he looked back at Pandora, "What did you do?". Pandora just stares at him in confusion and gasps for air, not knowing how to explain it. Sirius quickly disappears without waiting for her.

seeing how their little game of writing notes for James has taken such a heated and unpleasant turn, Regulus finally recognizes how pointless it is. so instead, he promises Pandora he'll find a way to get her with Lily.

but to their surprise, Sirius comes back. he follows Pandora, but he doesn't look angry, rather concerned. he comes and asks not to play with him - it's cruel to play tricks on his brain using his dead brother.

and so Pandora is determined to find a way for Sirius and Regulus to talk for the first time in years. she is certain that this is what is keeping him stuck to the earth. honestly, at first she thought it must be his hidden crush and letters to James would help.

but now Pandora is sure that brotherly love is sometimes worth much more than romantic feelings.

[twilights-800-cats]

Spiderleg being an absent dad and neglectful partner painted him rightfully so as that kind of crummy coworker/coparent that you have to deal with day-to-day, and I miss that kind of background characterization so much in modern warriors lol

[pucksandpower]

Unfinished Business

Ghost!Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you arrive in Monaco expecting a once-in-a-lifetime vacation and you certainly get one — a fairytale romance with a Monegasque Prince … from the late 19th century

The gentle hum of a luxury sedan fades as you and your three best friends step out onto the sun-drenched streets of Monaco. The air is thick with anticipation and the salty tang of the Mediterranean. Your eyes widen as they trace the elegant facade of the Palais Grimaldi, its pale stone walls gleaming in the afternoon light.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Mia breathes, her voice tinged with awe. “An all-expenses-paid trip to Monaco? It feels like a dream.”

You nod, unable to tear your gaze from the intricate architecture. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures,” you murmur.

Zoe hefts her designer luggage. “Well, ladies, shall we see if the inside is as impressive as the outside?”

As your group approaches the grand entrance, a smartly dressed concierge greets you with a warm smile. “Welcome to the Palais Grimaldi. You must be our contest winners. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“That’s us!” Olivia chirps, practically bouncing with excitement. “I’m Olivia, and these are Mia, Zoe, and Y/N.”

The concierge, whose name tag reads ‘Philippe,’ bows slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your suite.”

As you trail behind Philippe through opulent hallways adorned with priceless art and glittering chandeliers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve stepped into another world — or perhaps another time. The weight of history presses in around you, whispering secrets from centuries past.

“The Palais Grimaldi has quite a storied past,” Philippe explains as he leads you up a sweeping marble staircase. “It’s been home to Monaco’s ruling family for over 700 years.”

“700 years?” You echo, your mind reeling at the concept. “That’s incredible. Has it been a hotel for long?”

Philippe chuckles. “Oh no, mademoiselle. The palace only opened its doors to the public a few years ago. It’s still used for official state functions, but the family decided to share its beauty with the world.”

Mia leans in close, her voice low. “I bet these walls have seen some scandalous things over the centuries.”

“More than you can imagine,” Philippe says with a wink. “If these walls could talk ...”

As you reach the top of the stairs, a long corridor stretches before you, lined with ornate doors. Philippe stops before one and produces an old-fashioned key with a flourish. “Your suite, ladies.”

The door swings open, revealing a space that takes your breath away. Soaring ceilings, silk wallpaper, and antique furnishings create an atmosphere of timeless luxury.

“Holy. Crap.” Zoe’s usual composure cracks as she takes in the opulence. “This is insane.”

Olivia immediately flops onto one of the plush sofas. “I’m never leaving. You’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming when the week is up.”

You wander to one of the tall windows, mesmerized by the view of the sparkling Mediterranean. “I can’t believe we get to stay here for a whole week.”

Philippe clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to settle in. Your luggage will be brought up shortly. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.”

As the door closes behind him, your friends erupt into excited chatter.

“Did you see the size of that bathroom?” Mia gushes. “The tub is practically a swimming pool!”

Zoe is already examining the ornate writing desk. “Look at this. It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment.”

You run your hand along the silk-covered walls, feeling a strange thrill as your fingers trace the intricate patterns. “It’s like stepping back in time,” you murmur.

Olivia bounces on the bed, giggling. “Well, I for one plan to enjoy every modern amenity this place has to offer. Who’s up for raiding the mini bar?”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirlwind of unpacking, exploring every nook and cranny of your suite, and planning your itinerary for the week ahead.

As evening falls, you find yourself drawn back to the window. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of pink and gold. The principality below comes alive with twinkling lights, promising endless possibilities.

“Earth to Y/N!” Mia’s voice breaks through your reverie. “We’re thinking of heading down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. You in?”

You turn from the window, smiling at your friends. “Absolutely. Just let me freshen up a bit.”

In the bathroom, you splash some water on your face and reapply your lipstick. As you study your reflection in the ornate mirror, a strange sensation washes over you — almost as if someone is watching. You shake your head, dismissing the feeling as jetlag-induced imagination.

Rejoining your friends, you make your way down to the restaurant. The maître d’ leads you to a table with a stunning view of the moonlit gardens.

“I propose a toast,” Zoe says, raising her glass of champagne. “To friendship, adventure, and a week we’ll never forget!”

You clink glasses, the bubbles tickling your nose as you sip. As your friends chatter excitedly about their plans for tomorrow, your gaze drifts to the gardens below. For a moment, you could swear you see a figure in old-fashioned dress moving among the hedges. You blink, and the apparition vanishes.

“Y/N? Hello? Anyone home?” Olivia waves her hand in front of your face.

You snap back to attention. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking what you wanted to do first tomorrow. Beach or shopping?”

You consider for a moment. “Actually, I was thinking about taking a tour of the palace. I’d love to learn more about its history.”

Mia grins. “Ooh, good call. Maybe we’ll run into a handsome prince.”

You laugh, but something in your chest flutters at the thought. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

As the evening wears on and the wine flows freely, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the palace and its centuries of secrets. By the time you return to your suite, a pleasant exhaustion has settled over you.

You bid your friends goodnight and curl up in your luxurious bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets cool against your skin. As you drift off to sleep, the last thing you see is the moonlight streaming through the window, casting ethereal shadows on the walls.

In your dreams, you wander the halls of the palace. Everything is hazy, like looking through frosted glass. You turn a corner and come face to face with a young man dressed in 19th-century finery. His eyes, a startling shade of green, seem to pierce right through you.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out. A profound sadness radiates from him, tugging at your heart. You reach out, wanting to comfort him, but your hand passes through him like smoke.

You jolt awake, heart racing. The room is bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn light. You sit up, running a hand through your tousled hair.

“What was that?” You whisper to the empty room.

As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, you can’t shake the feeling that your dream was more than just a product of your imagination. Something about this place, about that mysterious figure, calls to you in a way you can’t explain.

You slip out of bed and pad to the window, watching as Monaco comes to life below. Whatever secrets the Palais Grimaldi holds, you’re determined to uncover them. Little do you know, this is just the beginning of an adventure that will change your life forever.

***

The Monégasque sun beats down relentlessly as you and your friends lounge by the hotel’s exclusive rooftop pool. The glittering Mediterranean stretches out before you, a canvas of blue punctuated by gleaming white yachts.

“Now this is what I call a vacation,” Mia sighs contentedly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.

Zoe nods in agreement, not looking up from her book. “I could get used to this kind of luxury.”

You smile and close your eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of the sun and the gentle lapping of the pool water. But there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake off.

Olivia notices your furrowed brow. “Y/N, what’s up? You look like you’re solving world hunger over there.”

You hesitate, unsure how to explain the strange occurrences of the past few days. “It’s nothing, really. I just ... have you guys noticed anything weird happening in the palace?”

Mia perks up, always ready for gossip. “Weird how?”

“Well ...” you start, then falter. How can you describe the way your hairbrush moved across the dresser on its own? Or the whispers you heard in the empty library? “It’s going to sound crazy, but I think there might be something ... supernatural going on.”

There’s a moment of silence before Olivia bursts out laughing. “Supernatural? Come on, Y/N. I know you’ve always been into that ghost hunter stuff, but this is a five-star hotel, not a haunted house.”

Zoe looks up from her book, her expression skeptical. “Are you sure you’re not just jet-lagged? Or maybe it’s all that rich food we’ve been eating.”

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. “I know how it sounds, but I swear, strange things keep happening. Last night, I saw a man’s reflection in the mirror, but when I turned around, no one was there.”

Mia sits up, suddenly interested. “Ooh, was he hot?”

“Mia!” Zoe admonishes, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.

You sigh, realizing how ridiculous you must sound. “Never mind. You’re probably right, it’s just my imagination running wild.”

But as the day wears on, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Every shadow seems to hold a secret, every creaking floorboard a whispered message.

That night, as your friends snore softly in their beds, you find yourself wide awake, staring at the ornate ceiling. The moonlight filtering through the curtains casts eerie shadows on the walls, and the silence of the night seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

Unable to bear it any longer, you slip out of bed and into a robe. Your bare feet are silent on the plush carpet as you make your way to the door. You pause, hand on the doorknob, heart racing. Are you really going to do this?

Taking a deep breath, you step out into the dimly lit hallway. The palace is different at night, the opulence muted, shadows deepening the corners. You walk aimlessly, letting your instincts guide you through the maze-like corridors.

As you round a corner, a chill runs down your spine. At the end of the hallway, you see a figure. It’s only for a split second before it vanishes around the next bend, but you’re certain it was the same man you saw in the mirror.

“Wait!” You call out, breaking into a run. You turn the corner, but the hallway is empty.

Breathing heavily, you lean against the wall. “I’m losing my mind,” you mutter to yourself.

“I can assure you, mademoiselle, that your mind is quite intact.”

You whirl around, heart leaping into your throat. There, standing before you, is the man from your dreams and glimpses.

He’s of average height, with wavy dark hair and piercing green eyes. His clothes are old-fashioned — a tailored suit that wouldn’t look out of place in the late 19th century. But the most shocking thing is that you can see right through him to the painting on the wall behind.

You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The ghost — because what else could he be — holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Please, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

His voice is gentle, with a slight accent you can’t quite place. Despite your terror, you find yourself oddly calmed by his presence.

“Who ... what are you?” You manage to whisper.

The ghost bows slightly. “I am Prince Charles of Monaco, at your service. Or at least, I was Prince Charles. Now, I’m not entirely sure what I am.”

You blink, trying to process this information. “Prince Charles? But that’s impossible. The current Prince of Monaco is Albert.”

Charles smiles sadly. “You are correct. I’m afraid my time as prince was cut rather short. I died in 1894.”

“1894,” you repeat, feeling light-headed. “So you’re ... a ghost?”

“It would appear so, yes.” Charles looks down at his translucent hands. “Though I prefer to think of myself as ... temporarily disembodied.”

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you feel a laugh bubbling up in your chest. “Temporarily disembodied? That’s one way to put it.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with amusement. “I find a touch of humor helps in most situations, even death.”

You shake your head, still struggling to believe what’s happening. “Why can I see you? Why now?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Charles admits. “I’ve been bound to this palace since my death, unable to move on. Most of the time, I’m invisible to the living. But occasionally, someone comes along who can perceive me. You, mon chérie, seem to be one of those rare individuals.”

You take a step closer, fascinated despite your lingering fear. “So all those strange things that have been happening ...”

“My apologies,” Charles says, looking sheepish. “I’m afraid I got a bit ... overeager when I realized you could sense me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Well, mission not accomplished,” you say dryly. “I’ve been terrified for days.”

Charles’ expression turns contrite. “I am truly sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to interact with anyone. I forgot how alarming it might be.”

You study him closely. Now that the initial shock has worn off, you’re struck by how young he looks — no older than his mid-twenties. And there’s a sadness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“How did you die?” You ask softly.

Charles’ face clouds over. “That, I’m afraid, is a rather long and complicated story. One that I’m not entirely sure I understand myself.”

You’re about to press further when a noise down the hallway makes you jump. Charles holds a finger to his lips and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you to a hidden door behind a tapestry, revealing a narrow servants’ staircase.

“Quick, in here,” he whispers.

You hesitate for a moment before ducking into the passageway. Charles follows, closing the door behind you. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the wall, you can barely make out his ghostly form.

“Why are we hiding?” You whisper.

“The night guards,” Charles explains. “They wouldn’t take kindly to a guest wandering the halls at this hour. And I’d rather not have to explain why you’re talking to thin air.”

You nod, seeing the logic. “So ... what now?”

Charles gives you a mischievous smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, since you’re already up and about, how would you like a private tour of the palace? I can show you things no living guide knows about.”

The sensible part of your brain is screaming that this is insane. You should go back to your room, crawl into bed, and pretend this was all a vivid dream. But the adventurous part of you, the part that’s always longed for magic and mystery, is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Lead the way, Your Highness,” you say with a grin.

Charles’ smile widens. “Please, call me Charles. I think we’re a bit beyond titles at this point.”

He starts up the narrow staircase, and you follow close behind. As you climb, Charles begins to speak in a low, melodious voice.

“This palace has been the heart of Monaco for centuries. Every stone, every timber holds a piece of history. There are secret passages like this one crisscrossing the entire building — escape routes, trysting spots for illicit lovers, hiding places for treasures.”

You emerge from the staircase into a small, circular room at the top of one of the palace towers. The view of Monaco at night is breathtaking, the city a glittering jewel box beneath a canopy of stars.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, moving to the window.

Charles stands beside you, his presence cool but not unpleasant. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Even after all these years, it still takes my breath away. Well, metaphorically speaking.”

You turn to look at him, struck by the wistfulness in his voice. “It must be hard, watching the world change around you while you stay the same.”

Charles nods slowly. “It is ... challenging. But it has its compensations. I’ve witnessed history unfold, seen my beloved Monaco grow and flourish. And occasionally, I get to meet fascinating people like yourself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and are grateful for the darkness. “I’m hardly fascinating compared to a ghost prince.”

“I beg to differ,” Charles says softly. “You saw me when no one else could. You followed me up here without hesitation. That takes a special kind of courage and openness to the extraordinary.”

For a moment, you’re lost in his intense gaze. Then you remember that he’s, well, dead, and clear your throat awkwardly. “So, um, what else can you show me?”

Charles seems to shake himself out of a reverie. “Ah, yes. Follow me. There’s so much to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur of hidden rooms, secret passages, and Charles’ stories. He tells you about the palace’s construction, about the triumphs and tragedies of the Grimaldi family, about the small, everyday moments that history books never record.

As the sky begins to lighten with the first hints of dawn, you find yourself back in the hallway near your suite. You’re exhausted but exhilarated, your mind whirling with everything you’ve seen and learned.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, a note of reluctance in his voice.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. My friends will be wondering where I am if I’m not there when they wake up.”

Charles nods, then hesitates. “I ... I hope this won’t be our last conversation. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “Of course not. I still have so many questions. Like how you ended up ... you know.”

“Another time,” Charles promises. “For now, sleep well, Y/N.”

As you watch, his form begins to fade. Just before he disappears completely, you could swear you see him wink.

You slip back into your room, your mind racing. As you crawl into bed, you wonder how on earth you’re going to explain any of this to your friends. But one thing’s for certain — your vacation in Monaco just got a whole lot more interesting.

***

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. You stand on the balcony of your suite, outwardly admiring the view, but your mind is elsewhere. Your friends’ voices drift out from the room behind you.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mia calls. “Are you coming to dinner or what?”

You turn, plastering on a smile. “Actually, I think I’ll skip it tonight. I’m not feeling very hungry.”

Zoe frowns, concern etching her features. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all week.”

“I’m fine,” you assure her quickly. “Just ... taking in all the history of this place, you know?”

Olivia rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Only you would come to Monaco and spend all your time geeking out over old buildings instead of hitting the beach.”

You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

As your friends file out of the room, Mia lingers behind. “Seriously, Y/N, is everything alright? You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”

For a moment, you’re tempted to spill everything. But how could you possibly explain Charles? “I’m fine, really,” you insist. “Go enjoy dinner. I’ll see you later.”

Once they’re gone, you wait a few minutes to ensure the coast is clear. Then you slip out into the hallway, your heart racing with anticipation.

You make your way to the library, which has become your usual meeting spot. As you enter, you see Charles materializing near the fireplace, a warm smile lighting up his translucent features.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greets you, his voice as smooth and rich as aged whiskey. “I trust you’re well?”

You can’t help but smile back. “Better now,” you admit, then immediately feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, you know, because ... history and stuff.”

Charles chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah yes, the fascinating history and stuff. Shall we delve into more of it tonight?”

You nod eagerly. “What do you have in store for me this time?”

“I thought we might explore the east wing tonight,” Charles says, moving towards one of the bookshelves. “There’s a passage behind this Voltaire that leads to some rather interesting places.”

As he speaks, Charles reaches for the book, his hand passing right through it. A flicker of frustration crosses his face.

“Allow me,” you say softly, stepping forward to pull the book. The shelf swings open, revealing a narrow passageway.

Charles bows slightly. “After you, mademoiselle.”

You enter the passage, Charles’ cool presence right behind you. As you walk, he begins to speak, his voice low and melodious in the confined space.

“This passage was built during the reign of Prince Charles III — my grandfather,” he explains. “It was meant as an escape route in case of invasion. Monaco’s sovereignty was often threatened in those days.”

“But not anymore?” You ask, ducking under a low-hanging beam.

Charles sighs. “Monaco’s position is more secure now, but it wasn’t always so. In my time, we were constantly navigating a delicate balance between France and Italy, trying to maintain our independence.”

You emerge into a small, octagonal room with windows overlooking the sea. Moonlight streams in, casting everything in a silvery glow.

“This was my private study,” Charles says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “I spent many hours here, dreaming of what Monaco could become.”

You turn to him, curious. “What kind of dreams?”

Charles’ eyes light up with passion. “I wanted to modernize Monaco, to bring it into the new century. We were so dependent on the casino for revenue — I wanted to diversify our economy, improve education, and implement new technologies.”

“That sounds incredibly progressive for the time,” you say, impressed.

Charles nods. “Some thought too progressive. There were those who resisted change, who wanted to cling to the old ways. But I believed — I still believe — that progress is essential for survival.”

As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in by his enthusiasm, his intelligence. This isn’t just some stuffy old royal — this is a man with vision, with dreams that were cut short far too soon.

“What stopped you?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression clouds over. “Ah, well, dying tends to put a damper on one’s plans.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” Charles interrupts gently. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

An awkward silence falls. You move to the window, looking out at the moonlit sea. “It must be hard,” you say eventually. “Watching the world change around you, unable to participate.”

You feel Charles move closer, his presence cool at your side. “It has its challenges,” he admits. “But it also has its joys. I’ve seen Monaco grow and flourish in ways I never could have imagined. And now ...” He trails off.

You turn to look at him. “And now?”

Charles’ gaze is intense, making your heart race. “And now I have the pleasure of sharing it all with you.”

You swallow hard, acutely aware of how close he is, ghost or not. “I ... I’m glad,” you manage to say. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Charles.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Nor I you, Y/N. In life or in death.”

The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotions. Then Charles clears his throat (do ghosts need to clear their throats?) and steps back.

“Come,” he says, his tone lighter. “There’s much more to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a whirlwind of secret rooms and hidden treasures. Charles shows you a concealed vault where the crown jewels were once kept, a forgotten ballroom with faded frescoes on the ceiling, even the old dungeons deep beneath the palace.

Throughout it all, Charles regales you with stories — some historical, some personal. You learn about the political intrigues of 19th century Monaco, about Charles’ childhood pranks, about the hopes and fears he had for his country’s future.

As dawn begins to break, you find yourself back in the library, reluctant for the night to end.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, echoing his words from your first meeting.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. But I don’t want to go.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Nor do I want you to. But your friends will worry if you’re not there when they wake.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be here,” Charles promises. “I’m not going anywhere, after all.”

As you watch him fade away, you’re struck by a realization that both thrills and terrifies you. You’re falling in love with a ghost.

The next few days pass in a blur. During the day, you go through the motions with your friends, trying to show enthusiasm for the beaches, the shops, the nightlife. But your mind is always elsewhere, counting down the hours until you can see Charles again.

Your friends notice, of course. How could they not?

“Okay, spill,” Mia demands one afternoon as you all lounge by the pool. “Who is he?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What? Who’s who?”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re obviously sneaking out to meet every night. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you coming back to the room at dawn.”

“I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammer.

Zoe puts a hand on your arm. “Y/N, we’re your friends. You can tell us anything. We’re just worried about you.”

You look at their concerned faces and feel a pang of guilt. You hate lying to them, but how can you possibly explain the truth?

“It’s not ... it’s not what you think,” you say finally. “I’ve just been exploring the palace at night. It’s quieter then, easier to imagine what it was like in the past.”

Your friends exchange skeptical looks.

“Right,” Mia says slowly. “And this has nothing to do with the ‘supernatural occurrences’ you were going on about earlier?”

You force a laugh. “Of course not. That was just my imagination running wild. I’ve just been ... really into the history of this place, that’s all.”

Olivia shakes her head. “If you say so. But Y/N, this is supposed to be a fun vacation. Don’t spend the whole time with your nose in a history book, okay?”

You nod, grateful they’re not pushing further. “You’re right. I’ll try to be more present.”

But that night, as your friends sleep, you find yourself slipping out once again, drawn to Charles like a moth to a flame.

He’s waiting for you in the library, a book hovering open in front of him. As you enter, he looks up with a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Ah, Y/N,” he says warmly. “I was just refreshing my memory on some of Monaco’s more obscure laws. Did you know it’s technically illegal to wear stiletto heels in the palace?”

You laugh, some of the tension from earlier melting away. “Seriously? Why?”

Charles grins. “Apparently, they damage the floors. It was enacted in 1898, four years after my ... departure. I always wonder about the story behind laws like that. What outrageous incident prompted such a specific prohibition?”

You settle into a nearby armchair, tucking your legs underneath you. “Maybe a scorned lover stabbed someone with a stiletto?”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “My, what a violent imagination you have. I was thinking more along the lines of a clumsy debutante wreaking havoc on the ballroom floor.”

“Boring,” you tease. “My version is much more exciting.”

Charles chuckles, the sound warming you from the inside out. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Your mind is a constant source of fascination to me.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh? How so?”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering slightly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. “You see the world in such a unique way. You’re not bound by the conventions and expectations of my time. It’s ... refreshing.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply softly. “You’re nothing like I would have expected a 19th-century prince to be.”

Charles’ smile turns wry. “Ah, but I’ve had over a century to adapt and learn. Though I must admit, much of modern life still baffles me. Perhaps you could explain to me the appeal of this ‘Instagram’ your friends keep mentioning?”

You laugh, launching into an explanation of social media that leaves Charles looking both intrigued and mildly horrified. The conversation flows easily from there, jumping from topic to topic with the effortless rhythm you’ve come to cherish in your nightly meetings.

As the hours pass, you find yourself moving closer to Charles, drawn in by his warmth (metaphorical, of course — he’s actually quite cool to be near) and charm. You’re acutely aware of every movement, every fleeting expression that crosses his face.

At one point, Charles reaches out as if to touch your hand, then seems to catch himself, pulling back with a flicker of frustration crossing his features.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Sometimes I forget ...”

You swallow hard, your heart aching. “It’s okay. I ... I wish you could too.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken longing. Charles’ eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the impossibility of your situation crashes over you like a wave.

“Y/N,” Charles begins, his voice rough with emotion. “I-”

But before he can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching the library.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Hide behind the curtain.”

You scramble to conceal yourself just as the door opens. Through a gap in the heavy fabric, you see a security guard sweep his flashlight around the room.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the beam of light passes inches from your hiding spot. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging, your legs shaky with leftover adrenaline.

“That was close,” you breathe.

Charles nods, his form flickering with agitation. “Too close. Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting you in these situations. If you were caught ...”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, don’t say that. I don’t care about the risk. Being with you, learning about you and your time — it’s worth it.”

Charles’ expression softens, a mix of affection and sorrow in his eyes. “You’re extraordinary, do you know that? But I fear ... I fear I’m being selfish, keeping you to myself like this.”

You take a step closer to him, wishing more than anything that you could take his hand. “You’re not keeping me anywhere I don’t want to be.”

The words hang between you, charged with meaning. Charles opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it again, conflict clear on his face.

Finally, he says, “It’s nearly dawn. You should go, before your friends wake.”

You nod reluctantly, knowing he’s right but hating to leave. As you reach the door, you turn back to look at him one last time.

“Charles,” you say softly. “I ... I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

He smiles, but there’s a sadness in it that tugs at your heart. “I’ll be here. I’m always here.”

As you make your way back to your room, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. You’re falling hard and fast for a man who’s been dead for over a century.

It’s impossible, it’s insane, and yet ... you wouldn’t trade these moments with Charles for anything in the world.

But as you slip back into bed, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, a nagging doubt creeps in. How long can this go on? What happens when your vacation ends? And most troublingly of all — what aren’t you seeing in your infatuation with this charming ghost prince?

***

The musty scent of old books fills your nostrils as you hunch over a stack of historical tomes in the palace library. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You’ve been here for hours, your friends long since departed for a day of sunbathing and shopping.

“Find anything interesting?” Charles’ voice makes you jump. You look up to see him materializing near the bookshelf, a curious expression on his translucent face.

You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. “Nothing concrete yet. There’s frustratingly little information about your death in these official histories. It’s always just ‘Prince Charles died tragically young’ with no details.”

Charles moves closer, peering at the book you’re reading. “Ah, Gustave Saige’s ‘Monaco: Ses Origines et Son Histoire’. A rather dry read, if I recall correctly.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it might have some clues.” You hesitate, then ask, “Charles, why don’t you just tell me what happened? How you ... died?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “I wish I could. But the truth is, my memories of that time are ... fragmented. I remember tensions rising, arguments with the council, and then ... nothing. Just waking up like this, bound to the palace.”

You reach out instinctively to comfort him, your hand passing through his arm with a chill. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.”

Charles gives you a sad smile. “It’s been my reality for over a century now. But I must admit, your determination to uncover the truth has given me hope I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

Your heart swells at his words, even as a pang of guilt hits you. Are you really doing this for Charles, or for yourself? The thought of him finding peace and moving on fills you with a complicated mix of emotions you’re not ready to examine too closely.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you turn back to your research. “Well, if these books aren’t giving us answers, maybe we need to look elsewhere. You mentioned arguments with the council. Were there records kept of those meetings?”

Charles’ brow furrows in concentration. “Yes, there would have been. Minutes were always taken. But they would have been considered sensitive documents. Not something you’d find in the public library.”

You lean forward, excitement building. “So where would they be kept?”

“There’s an archive room,” Charles says slowly. “Hidden behind the throne room. It’s where the most confidential state papers were stored.”

You’re already on your feet, shoving books back onto shelves. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Charles holds up a ghostly hand. “Not so fast, Y/N. That room has been sealed for decades. It’s not somewhere a tourist can just wander into.”

You deflate slightly, but your determination doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll have to find a way in after hours. You can get me there, right?”

Charles looks conflicted. “I could, but Y/N, if you were caught ...”

“I won’t be,” you insist. “Please, Charles. This might be our only chance to find out what really happened to you.”

For a long moment, Charles studies your face. Then he sighs, a sound tinged with both resignation and admiration. “Very well. Meet me here at midnight. I’ll show you the way.”

The hours crawl by as you wait for night to fall. You make a show of going to bed early, claiming a headache to avoid your friends’ plans for a night out. As the clock strikes twelve, you slip out of your room and make your way to the library.

Charles is waiting for you, his form glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Are you sure about this?” He asks one last time.

You nod firmly. “Let’s do it.”

Charles leads you through a maze of corridors and hidden passages. Your heart races with every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that might be a security guard. Finally, you arrive at an ornate door hidden behind a tapestry.

“This is it,” Charles whispers. “The archive room.”

You reach for the handle, but it’s locked. “Damn,” you mutter. “Any ideas?”

Charles frowns, concentrating. “There used to be a spare key ... ah!” He points to a small crevice in the intricate woodwork. “Try there.”

You feel around and, to your amazement, your fingers close around a small key. With trembling hands, you insert it into the lock. It turns with a satisfying click.

The door swings open, revealing a room packed floor to ceiling with shelves of documents. The air is thick with dust and the smell of old paper.

“Where do we even start?” You whisper, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.

Charles moves to a section near the back. “The council records from my time should be here. Look for anything dated 1894.”

You begin sifting through stacks of yellowed papers, careful not to damage the fragile documents. Minutes pass in tense silence as you search.

Suddenly, Charles’ voice cuts through the quiet. “Y/N, over here. I think I’ve found something.”

You hurry to his side. He’s pointing at a leather-bound ledger. You carefully open it, coughing slightly at the dust it raises.

As you scan the pages, your eyes widen. “Charles, this ... this is incredible. It’s a record of council meetings leading up to your death. Look at this entry from two weeks before: ‘Prince Charles continues to push for radical reforms. Concerns raised about stability of the principality if plans proceed.’”

Charles leans in, his face a mix of emotions. “I remember that meeting. It was ... heated. Keep reading.”

You flip through more pages, your heart pounding as the story unfolds. “There’s more. ‘Prince’s proposed changes to casino regulations deemed unacceptable. Alternative measures must be considered.’ Charles, this sounds like ...”

“A conspiracy,” Charles finishes, his voice hollow. “They were plotting against me.”

You reach the final entry, dated the day before Charles’ death. Your blood runs cold as you read it aloud. “Situation untenable. Drastic action required to preserve Monaco’s interests. God forgive us.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as the implications sink in. Charles turns away, his form flickering with agitation.

“They killed me,” he says softly. “My own council ... they murdered me to stop my reforms.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “Charles, I’m so sorry. This is ... it’s unthinkable.”

Charles is quiet for a long moment, then turns back to you with a determined expression. “We need to take this ledger. The truth needs to come out, even after all this time.”

You nod, carefully closing the book and tucking it into your bag. As you do, something catches your eye. “Wait, there’s something else here.”

Behind where the ledger was sitting, you spot a small leather pouch. You open it carefully, gasping as several folded papers and a small object fall out.

“What is it?” Charles asks, moving closer.

You unfold one of the papers with trembling hands. “It’s ... it’s a letter. From you.” You begin to read aloud:

“To whoever finds this, I fear my time may be short. I write this in haste, knowing that forces within Monaco seek to silence me. My efforts to modernize our beloved principality and free us from our dependence on gambling have made me enemies in powerful places. If anything should happen to me, know that it was not an accident. The proof of their treachery is contained within these documents and the vial of poison they intend to use. I pray this never sees the light of day, but if it does, may it bring justice and push Monaco towards the future I envisioned.”

You look up at Charles, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. “You knew. You tried to protect yourself.”

Charles nods slowly, his own eyes shimmering with ghostly tears. “I ... I remember now. I wrote this the night before ... before it happened. I must have hidden it here, hoping someone would find it.”

You carefully gather up the documents and the small vial, adding them to your bag with the ledger. “We have to make this public, Charles. Your murder, the cover-up ... people need to know the truth.”

Charles looks at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You’re right, of course. But Y/N, you must understand what this means. If the truth comes out, if justice is served ...”

“You might be able to move on,” you finish, your voice barely a whisper. The thought sends a dagger through your heart, but you force yourself to continue. “That’s ... that’s a good thing, right? It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering near your cheek as if he could wipe away your tears. “It is. But I find myself reluctant to leave, now that I’ve found something — someone — worth staying for.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles, I ...”

Before you can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Behind that cabinet.”

You scramble to hide, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure it must be audible. The door to the archive room creaks open, and a beam of light sweeps across the space.

“Hello?” A gruff voice calls out. “Is someone in here?”

You hold your breath, pressing yourself further into the shadows. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging from your hiding spot, legs shaky with adrenaline.

“That was too close,” Charles says, his form flickering with agitation. “We need to get you out of here.”

You nod, clutching your bag with its precious cargo close to your chest. “How do we get back?”

Charles leads you to a hidden panel in the wall. “This passage will take you directly to the guest wing. Hurry, before the guard comes back.”

As you step into the secret corridor, you turn back to look at Charles. “What happens now?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression is a complex mix of emotions — hope, fear, sadness, and something that looks a lot like love. “Now, mon chérie, we bring the truth to light. Whatever comes after ... we’ll face it together.”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. As you make your way back to your room, your mind races with the implications of what you’ve discovered. You’ve found the key to setting Charles free, to bringing him the peace he’s been denied for over a century.

But as you clutch the bag containing the proof of his murder, you can’t help but wonder: at what cost? The thought of losing Charles, of never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh again, fills you with a grief so profound it takes your breath away.

As you slip back into your bed, the first rays of dawn peeking through the curtains, you know that the hardest part of your journey is yet to come. You’ve uncovered the truth, but now you face an impossible choice: keep Charles with you in this half-life or set him free and lose him forever.

***

The golden light of a Monaco sunset streams through the windows of your hotel suite, casting long shadows across the room. You stand before the mirror, adjusting the elaborate 19th-century gown you’ve rented for the evening’s ball. Your fingers tremble slightly as you fasten a delicate necklace, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Charles’ voice comes from behind you. You turn to see him materializing near the balcony, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your heart aching at the sight of him. “I wish you could really be there tonight, dancing with me.”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering in the fading sunlight. “As do I, ma chérie. But I’ll be with you in spirit, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as tears prick at your eyes. “Always with the jokes, even now.”

“Well, one must maintain one’s sense of humor, even in the face of ... impending departure,” Charles says, his light tone belied by the sadness in his eyes.

The word hangs heavy between you. Departure. In just two days, you’ll be leaving Monaco, returning to your life back home. The thought fills you with a grief so profound it’s almost physical.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you blurt out, the words escaping before you can stop them. “I could stay. I could find a job here, an apartment. We could-”

“Y/N,” Charles interrupts gently, “we’ve discussed this. You can’t put your life on hold for a ghost.”

You turn away, blinking back tears. “But what if I want to? What if being here, with you, is the life I want?”

Charles is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “My dearest Y/N, you cannot imagine how much I wish things could be different. But I am tied to this place, to this half-existence. You have a whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities and adventures. I won’t let you sacrifice that for me.”

You whirl back to face him, frustration bubbling up. “Shouldn’t that be my choice to make?”

“Perhaps,” Charles concedes. “But it is also my choice to refuse to be the anchor that holds you back. You deserve so much more than stolen moments with a specter.”

The truth of his words cuts deep, even as you want to rail against them. You slump onto the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling the weight of your elaborate costume.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

Charles moves to sit beside you, the mattress not even dipping under his non-existent weight. “Nor I you. But perhaps ... perhaps this is why we found each other. Not for a lifetime, but for this moment. To bring truth to light, to right an old wrong, and to experience a love that transcends time itself.”

You look up at him, struck by the depth of emotion in his ghostly eyes. “When did you get so wise?”

Charles grins, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Well, I have had over a century to work on my philosophical musings.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as a tear escapes down your cheek. Charles reaches out, his hand hovering just above your skin in a gesture of comfort.

“Come now,” he says gently. “Let’s not waste our last evening together in sorrow. You have a ball to attend, and I, for one, am eager to see how the modern world interprets the grandeur of my era.”

You nod, standing and giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “You’re right. Let’s make tonight a night to remember.”

As you make your way down to the grand ballroom, you can feel Charles’ presence beside you, a comforting coolness in the warm evening air. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as you approach.

You pause at the entrance, taking in the transformed space. The ballroom has been decorated to recreate its 19th-century splendor, with crystal chandeliers, elaborate floral arrangements, and guests in period costumes whirling across the dance floor.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“Indeed,” Charles agrees, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Though I must say, some of these costumes are rather ... creative interpretations of the fashion of my time.”

You stifle a giggle as you spot a guest in what appears to be a mash-up of Victorian and Edwardian styles. “Well, not everyone can have a ghostly fashion consultant.”

You make your way into the crowd, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Your friends spot you and wave enthusiastically.

“Y/N! Over here!” Mia calls out. “You look amazing!”

You join them, smiling as you take in their costumes. “You all look great too. Are you enjoying the ball?”

Zoe nods enthusiastically. “It’s like stepping back in time. Can you imagine living in an era like this?”

You feel Charles’ amusement radiating beside you. “Oh, I don’t know,” you say airily. “I think it might have its charms.”

As the evening progresses, you find yourself swept up in the festivities. You dance with several partners, all the while acutely aware of Charles’ presence, watching from the sidelines.

During a lull in the music, you manage to slip away from the crowd, finding a secluded alcove near one of the large windows.

“Having fun?” Charles asks, materializing beside you.

You nod, a bit breathless from dancing. “It’s wonderful. But I wish ...”

“You wish I could truly be here,” Charles finishes for you. He holds out his hand in an old-fashioned gesture. “Well, my lady, may I have this dance?”

You glance around, making sure no one is watching, then place your hand over his incorporeal one. As the music starts up again, a slow, romantic waltz, you begin to move together.

It’s a strange sensation, dancing with a ghost. You can’t feel Charles’ hand on your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, but somehow, you move in perfect synchronization. For a few precious moments, it’s as if the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the music.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Charles’ eyes widen, then soften with an emotion so deep it takes your breath away. “And I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible.”

As you gaze into each other’s eyes, lost in the moment, a sudden chill sweeps through the room. The lights flicker, and a murmur of confusion ripples through the crowd.

Charles stiffens, his form becoming more translucent. “Something’s wrong,” he mutters, looking around warily.

Before you can ask what he means, a commotion breaks out near the center of the ballroom. Guests are backing away from a spot on the dance floor, pointing and gasping in shock.

You push your way through the crowd, Charles right behind you. As you reach the cleared space, your blood runs cold. Three ghostly figures have appeared, dressed in outdated formal wear, their faces contorted with rage and fear.

“Impossible,” Charles breathes beside you. “It’s them. The council members who ... who murdered me.”

As if hearing his words, the three ghosts turn towards you. Their eyes widen in recognition as they spot Charles.

“You!” One of them snarls, his voice echoing unnaturally in the stunned silence of the ballroom. “How are you here?”

Charles steps forward, his own form becoming more visible to the shocked onlookers. “I could ask you the same question, Lord Beaumont. Or should I say, murderer?”

A collective gasp runs through the crowd. Hotel staff are rushing about, trying to maintain order, but everyone’s attention is fixed on the supernatural drama unfolding before them.

“We did what was necessary,” another ghost, a portly man with a walrus mustache, blusters. “You would have ruined Monaco with your radical ideas!”

“Ruined?” Charles’ voice rises in indignation. “I was trying to save our principality, to secure its future beyond the whims of fortune and gambling!”

The third ghost, a thin man with a pinched face, sneers. “And in doing so, you would have destroyed the very thing that made Monaco unique. We couldn’t allow it.”

You find your voice, anger overcoming your fear. “So you murdered him? Your own prince?”

The ghosts turn their baleful gazes on you. “And who are you to question the affairs of state from a century past?” Lord Beaumont demands.

“She,” Charles says, moving to stand beside you, “is the one who uncovered your treachery. The proof of your crimes has been found.”

A murmur runs through the crowd. You see hotel management huddled in a corner, speaking urgently into phones. In the distance, you can hear police sirens approaching.

“It doesn’t matter now,” the portly ghost says dismissively. “We’re long dead, beyond the reach of earthly justice.”

“Perhaps,” you counter, your voice stronger than you feel. “But the truth will be known. History will remember Prince Charles as the visionary he was, and you as the small-minded murderers who cut his life short.”

As you speak, a strange energy begins to build in the room. The three ghosts start to flicker, their forms becoming less substantial.

“What’s happening?” The thin ghost cries out, panic in his voice.

Charles steps forward, his expression a mix of pity and righteousness. “You’re facing judgment at last, gentlemen. Your unfinished business is complete. The truth is out.”

With a howl of despair, the three ghosts begin to fade away. In moments, they’ve vanished completely, leaving behind a stunned silence.

As the implications of what’s just happened sink in, chaos erupts in the ballroom. People are shouting, phones are out recording, and security is trying desperately to maintain order.

But you only have eyes for Charles. His form is starting to shimmer, becoming more translucent by the second.

“Charles,” you gasp, reaching for him. “What’s happening? Are you ...”

He looks down at his fading hands, then back up at you with a sad smile. “It seems my unfinished business is complete as well. The truth is out, justice, in some form, has been served.”

“No,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Please, not yet. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering just above your cheek. “My dearest Y/N, meeting you has been the greatest gift. You’ve brought light to my long darkness, and given me peace I never thought I’d find.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you sob, your heart breaking.

“Nor do I wish to leave you,” Charles says softly. “But perhaps this isn’t truly goodbye. I don’t know what lies beyond, but I do know this — a love like ours transcends time and death itself. Somehow, someway, I believe we’ll find each other again.”

You manage a watery smile. “You promise?”

“I swear it,” Charles vows. He leans in, and for the briefest moment, you swear you can feel the ghost of a kiss on your lips. “Until we meet again, mon amour.”

And with that, Charles fades away completely, leaving behind nothing but a lingering chill in the air and the memory of a love that defied all boundaries.

As the commotion swirls around you, police and hotel management trying to make sense of what’s happened, you stand still in the center of it all. Your heart is breaking, but there’s also a sense of peace, of completion.

You touch your lips, still feeling the echo of that impossible kiss, and whisper to the empty air, “Until we meet again, Charles.”

In that moment, surrounded by the trappings of a bygone era and the chaos of the present, you know that your life has been forever changed. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it with the strength and love Charles gave you, carrying his memory in your heart until, somehow, someway, you find each other once more.

***

The Mediterranean sun bathes Monaco in a warm glow as you climb the steps to the Palais Grimaldi. Five years have passed since that fateful summer, but your heart still quickens as you approach the familiar facade. You adjust the strap of your messenger bag, filled with research materials for your graduate thesis on 19th-century Monégasque politics.

As you enter the palace, now partly converted into a museum, you’re struck by how much has changed. Plaques and displays line the halls, detailing the history of the Grimaldi family. But your eyes are drawn to a new addition: a whole wing dedicated to Prince Charles and his progressive vision for Monaco.

You pause before a large portrait of Charles, your breath catching in your throat. The artist has captured his piercing green eyes perfectly, that hint of mischief in his smile that you remember so well.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” A voice beside you says, startling you from your reverie. “How much history these walls have seen.”

You turn, a polite response on your lips, but the words die in your throat. Standing next to you is a young man who could be Charles’ twin. The same wavy dark hair, the same chiseled jawline, and most strikingly, those same intense green eyes.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. “Charles?” You whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

The young man looks at you curiously, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, yes, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Have we met before?”

You blink rapidly, reality reasserting itself. Of course this isn’t your Charles. It can’t be. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, you just ... you look remarkably like someone I used to know. I’m Y/N.”

The young man’s smile widens, and he holds out his hand. “Charles Leclerc. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that runs through you at his touch. “Leclerc? As in the Formula 1 driver?”

Charles nods, looking slightly sheepish. “The very same. Though today I’m just a tourist like anyone else, enjoying a bit of home between races.”

“Home?” You ask, intrigued despite yourself.

“Born and raised in Monaco,” Charles explains. “Though I admit, I haven’t spent as much time in the palace as I perhaps should have. It’s quite fascinating, especially this new exhibit.”

You nod, turning back to the portrait of Prince Charles. “It really is. The prince was quite a remarkable figure. His ideas were so ahead of their time.”

Charles steps closer, studying the portrait. “You seem to know a lot about him. Are you a historian?”

“A graduate student,” you explain. “I’m here on a research grant, studying 19th-century Monégasque politics at the International University of Monaco.”

Charles’ eyes light up with interest. “Really? That sounds fascinating. I’ve always been interested in history, especially the history of Monaco. It’s a small place, but it’s played such an outsized role in European affairs.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “It really has. Prince Charles, in particular, had some revolutionary ideas about diversifying Monaco’s economy beyond just gambling. If he hadn’t died so young, who knows how things might have turned out?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “Yes, his death was quite tragic. And mysterious, from what I understand. Wasn’t there some recent discovery about the circumstances?”

You nod, your heart racing as you remember that night five years ago. “Yes, documents were found that suggested he was actually assassinated by members of his own council who opposed his reforms.”

Charles shakes his head, looking troubled. “How terrible. To be betrayed by those closest to you, all for wanting to make positive changes.”

“It was a different time,” you say softly. “Change is always frightening to those in power.”

Charles nods thoughtfully. “True, but it’s also necessary for growth. Monaco has come a long way since then, but I sometimes wonder if we couldn’t be doing more to realize Prince Charles’ vision.”

You look at him in surprise. “That’s ... that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking in my research. The prince had ideas about sustainable development and diversifying the economy that are still relevant today.”

Charles grins, and for a moment, the resemblance to your Charles is so strong it takes your breath away. “Great minds think alike, it seems. You know, I’ve been looking for ways to use my platform as an athlete to promote positive change in Monaco. Perhaps we could compare notes sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’d like that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m always happy to discuss history with someone who’s genuinely interested.”

“Excellent,” Charles says, pulling out his phone. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? We could meet for coffee and continue this conversation.”

As you input your number into his phone, you can’t help but notice a small charm dangling from it — a miniature racing helmet. “That’s cute,” you comment.

Charles looks at it and chuckles. “Ah, yes. It was a gift from my mother. She says it’s for luck, but I think she just worries about me on the track.”

The casual mention of his mother sends a pang through your heart. This Charles is very much alive, with a family and a life of his own. You have to remind yourself that he’s not the same person you knew, no matter how similar he might seem.

“Well, it seems to be working,” you say lightly. “You’ve had quite a successful season so far. Won your home race, if I’m not mistaken.”

Charles looks pleased. “You follow Formula 1?”

You shake your head. “Not really, but it’s hard to miss the news when you’re living in Monaco. The Grand Prix is quite an event.”

“That it is,” Charles agrees. “You know, if you’re interested, I could give you a behind-the-scenes tour of the circuit sometime. It’s quite fascinating from a historical perspective as well. The race has been run on essentially the same streets since 1929.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Are you always this charming with strangers you meet in museums?”

Charles grins, a mischievous glint in his eye that’s achingly familiar. “Only the ones who can discuss 19th-century political reform with such passion.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, in that case, how can I refuse? A tour sounds lovely.”

As you continue to chat, moving through the exhibit, you’re struck by how easy it is to talk to Charles. He’s knowledgeable and curious, asking insightful questions about your research and offering his own perspectives on Monaco’s history and future.

At one point, you pause before a display showcasing some of Prince Charles’ personal effects. Among them is a small, ornate pocket watch.

“Beautiful craftsmanship,” Charles comments, leaning in for a closer look.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you remember your Charles checking a similar watch during your midnight explorations. “It’s a shame it’s not working anymore.”

Charles tilts his head, studying the watch intently. “Actually, I think it is. Look closely at the second hand.”

You peer into the display case, and to your amazement, you see the tiny hand ticking away steadily. “You’re right! How did you notice that?”

Charles shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ve always had a thing for timepieces. Comes with the racing territory, I suppose. Hundreths of a second are everything on the track.”

You shake your head in wonder. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try to keep things interesting,” Charles says with a wink. Then his expression turns more serious. “You know, it’s strange. Being here, learning about Prince Charles ... I feel an odd connection to him. Almost as if I knew him somehow.”

Your heart races at his words. Could it be possible? You push the thought away, reminding yourself that such things only happen in fairy tales. “Well, he is your ancestor, in a way. All Monégasques are connected to the Grimaldi family, aren’t they?”

Charles nods slowly. “True, but this feels different. When I look at his portrait, it’s almost like looking in a mirror. And his ideas, his passion for progress ... it resonates with me in a way I can’t quite explain.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe some things are just meant to be. Some connections transcend time.”

Charles looks at you intently, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? That the past isn’t really gone, just ... waiting to be rediscovered.”

You’re saved from having to respond by the chiming of the palace clock, signaling the approach of closing time.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late,” you say, glancing at your watch. “I should probably get going. I have a meeting with my advisor in the morning.”

Charles nods, looking slightly disappointed. “Of course. But we’re still on for that coffee and circuit tour, right?”

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest. “Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Charles touches your arm lightly. “Y/N, I know this might sound strange, but ... I feel like we were meant to meet today. Like some force in the universe brought us together.”

You look into his eyes, so familiar and yet new, and feel a spark of hope ignite in your heart. “I know exactly what you mean.”

He smiles, and in that moment, you see not just the Charles of the present, but echoes of the Charles you knew and loved. “Until we meet again, then?”

The phrase, so similar to your Charles’ last words, sends a shiver down your spine. “Until then,” you agree softly.

As you walk out of the palace and into the warm Monaco evening, your mind is whirling. You can’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary has happened, that a promise made long ago is somehow being fulfilled.

You pause at the top of the steps, looking back at the palace that has played such a pivotal role in your life. As the setting sun gilds the stone facade, you allow yourself to imagine, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, some loves really are strong enough to transcend time and death itself.

With a smile on your face and hope in your heart, you descend the steps, ready to embrace whatever new adventure awaits. After all, in a world where ghosts can fall in love and centuries-old mysteries can be solved, anything seems possible.

And, as the promise of a new beginning beckons, you can’t help but feel that the best chapters of your story are yet to be written.

***

The sun-drenched streets of Monaco buzz with excitement as Sofia, a die-hard Scuderia Ferrari fan, makes her way towards the Palais Grimaldi. Her red Ferrari cap and matching team shirt make her stand out among the tourists, but she doesn’t mind. She’s here on a mission: to soak up every bit of Monaco’s rich racing history.

As Sofia enters the palace-turned-museum, her eyes widen in awe at the opulent surroundings. “Wow,” she breathes, spinning slowly to take it all in. “Talk about living like royalty.”

She wanders through the exhibits, pausing occasionally to read plaques or admire artifacts. But her mind keeps drifting to thoughts of sleek racing cars and the roar of engines. That is, until she rounds a corner and comes face to face with a large portrait that stops her in her tracks.

“No way,” Sofia mutters, stepping closer to the painting. Her brow furrows as she studies the face of the young prince depicted. “That’s ... that’s impossible.”

Just then, a tour group passes by, led by an enthusiastic guide. Sofia catches snippets of the commentary.

“... Prince Charles, one of Monaco’s most progressive rulers ...”

“... tragically died young under mysterious circumstances ...”

“... recent discoveries suggest he may have been assassinated ...”

Sofia’s head is spinning. She pulls out her phone, quickly pulling up a photo of Charles Leclerc, her favorite driver. She holds it up next to the portrait, her jaw dropping at the uncanny resemblance.

“Excuse me,” she says, tapping the tour guide on the shoulder. “This Prince Charles, when exactly did he live?”

The guide smiles, always happy to share historical tidbits. “Prince Charles ruled briefly in the late 19th century. He died in 1894 at the young age of 26.”

Sofia’s mind races. “And has anyone ever noticed how much he looks like Charles Leclerc? The F1 driver?”

The guide’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Ah, you’re not the first to notice that similarity. It’s become quite a popular topic of discussion lately. Some even joke that Leclerc is the prince reincarnated.”

Sofia laughs nervously. “Right, of course. Just a coincidence, I’m sure.”

As the tour moves on, Sofia remains rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between her phone and the portrait. It’s more than just a passing resemblance. The shape of the eyes, the curve of the jaw, even the hint of a mischievous smile — it’s all pure Leclerc.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice someone approaching until a voice beside her says, “Fascinating portrait, isn’t it?”

Sofia jumps, turning to see a young woman standing next to her. The newcomer is dressed casually in a flowing sundress, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Oh, um, yes,” Sofia stammers. “It’s quite ... striking.”

The woman smiles knowingly. “Let me guess. You couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to a certain Formula 1 driver?”

Sofia’s eyes widen. “You see it too? I thought I was going crazy!”

The woman laughs, a warm, genuine sound. “Trust me, you’re not crazy. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m doing some research here for my graduate thesis.”

“Sofia,” she replies, shaking your hand. “So, what’s the deal? Is Leclerc secretly a time-traveling prince or something?”

You chuckle, but there’s a strange look in your eyes that Sofia can’t quite decipher. “I’m afraid the explanation is probably much more mundane. Many Monégasques have some connection to the Grimaldi family. It’s likely just a case of strong genes persisting through the generations.”

Sofia nods, but she’s not entirely convinced. There’s something about the way you’re looking at the portrait, a mix of fondness and melancholy, that piques her curiosity.

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Sofia probes gently. “Are you a big history buff?”

You smile, turning away from the portrait. “You could say that. I’ve been studying Prince Charles and his era for my thesis. It’s a fascinating period in Monaco’s history.”

Sofia’s about to ask more when she notices someone approaching over your shoulder. Her eyes go wide, and she has to stifle a gasp.

You turn to see what’s caught her attention, and your face lights up. “Charles! I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Sofia’s jaw drops as Charles Leclerc himself joins you, greeting you with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. He’s dressed casually in jeans and an oversized hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, but there’s no mistaking that face — especially not when it’s right next to the portrait of his doppelganger.

“I had some free time between meetings and thought I’d stop by,” Charles explains. “How’s the research going?”

You launch into an explanation of your latest findings, and Sofia watches in fascination as Charles listens intently, asking insightful questions and offering his own thoughts. It’s clear this is far from the first time they’ve discussed the topic.

Finally, Charles seems to notice Sofia’s presence. “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Sofia manages to close her mouth, which had been hanging open in shock. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m Sofia. I’m a huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles grins, shaking her hand. “Please, call me Charles. Always nice to meet a tifosa.”

Sofia gestures weakly to the portrait. “I was just ... I mean ... has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like ...”

Charles and you exchange a look that Sofia can’t quite interpret. Then Charles turns back to her with a wry smile. “Once or twice, yes. It’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

Sofia nods, still feeling like she’s stepped into some kind of twilight zone. “Coincidence. Right.”

You clear your throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “So, Sofia, are you here on vacation?”

Grateful for the change of topic, Sofia launches into an enthusiastic description of her plans for the next week. As they chat, she can’t help but notice the way Charles and you interact — the casual touches, the inside jokes, the way your eyes continually find each other. There’s clearly a deep connection there.

At one point, Charles excuses himself to take a phone call. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sofia turns to you with wide eyes. “Okay, you have to tell me. What’s the real story here? How long have you two been together?”

You laugh, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. “Is it that obvious? We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. We met right here, actually, in front of this very portrait.”

Sofia’s romantic heart melts a little at that. “That’s so sweet! But come on, you have to admit, the resemblance is freaky. And the way you two were talking about history ... it’s like he lived it or something.”

You get that strange look in your eyes again, a mix of secrecy and wonder. “Charles has always had a deep connection to Monaco’s past. It’s one of the things that drew us together.”

Sofia’s about to press for more details when Charles returns, slipping his arm around your waist with casual familiarity.

“I hate to cut this short,” he says apologetically, “but I’ve got to run to a sponsor meeting. Y/N, we’re still on for dinner tonight?”

You nod, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you at eight.”

As Charles says his goodbyes and leaves, Sofia watches him go with a mix of admiration and lingering confusion. She turns back to you, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy,” Sofia starts, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “but is there any chance ... I mean, has anyone ever considered the possibility that Charles might be, I don’t know, the reincarnation of Prince Charles or something?”

You pause for a long moment, and Sofia holds her breath, half-expecting you to laugh in her face. But instead, you give her a small, enigmatic smile.

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” you say softly. “Sometimes, the past has a way of coming back to us in forms we least expect. Who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t?”

Sofia’s mind reels at the implications. “So you’re saying ...”

You hold up a hand, your expression turning more serious. “I’m not saying anything definitively. But I will say this: getting to know Charles — the Charles of today — has been like rediscovering a part of history I thought was lost forever. Whether that’s due to reincarnation, cosmic coincidence, or just the magic of human connection, I can’t say for sure. But I do know that it feels like a second chance at something extraordinary.”

Sofia listens, enthralled. It’s like something out of a movie or a romance novel. “That’s ... wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

You laugh, the sound tinged with wonder. “Trust me, I know the feeling. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

As you chat a bit more, Sofia can’t help but feel like she’s been let in on some grand secret. The way you talk about Charles, about history, about the strange twists of fate — it’s all so fantastical and yet, standing here in the shadow of that eerily familiar portrait, she can’t quite bring herself to disbelieve it entirely.

Finally, you glance at your watch and sigh. “I should get going. I’ve got to prepare for dinner soon. It was lovely meeting you, Sofia.”

Sofia nods, still feeling slightly dazed. “You too. And ... thanks. For sharing all of that. It’s given me a lot to think about.”

You smile warmly. “Just keep an open mind. You never know what kind of magic you might encounter, especially in a place like Monaco.”

As you leave, Sofia turns back to the portrait of Prince Charles. She studies it intently, trying to reconcile the historical figure with the modern-day race driver she admires so much.

“Second chances,” she murmurs to herself. “Who’d have thought?”

With one last look at the portrait, Sofia continues her tour of the museum. But now, every artifact seems to pulse with new significance. The weight of history feels more present than ever, intertwining with the present in ways she never could have imagined.

As she steps out of the museum and into the bright Monaco sunshine, Sofia finds herself looking at the city with new eyes. The sleek modern buildings and ancient narrow streets no longer seem at odds, but part of a continuous, living history.

She thinks of Charles Leclerc, of the mysterious Y/N, of a long-dead prince whose legacy seems to echo through time. And as she makes her way towards the harbor, where she knows the Monaco circuit snakes through the city streets, Sofia can’t help but feel that she’s stumbled upon a story far greater and more magical than any single victory.

With a smile on her face and a newfound appreciation for the mysteries of the universe, Sofia sets off to explore more of Monaco. After all, in a place where princes can become race drivers and love can transcend time itself, who knows what other wonders she might discover?

[kyseya]

Ancient Mummy

Imagine working as an archaeologist for a museum. However things hasn’t been going so well lately and there are hardly any visitors during opening hours. Sadly, you’ll be forced to close multiple exhibitions and if conditions are not met, the entire museum might have to shut down.

But by some miracle, a new tomb has been discovered in Egypt; undisturbed, unexplored and completely untouched by humans for centuries. It’s said to be the grave of an ancient king- a pharaoh- who was betrayed and murdered by his own cousin.

It’s the perfect opportunity! Maybe you’ll find something that can bring back interest and by extension, save the museum.

You go along with a few other colleagues to the site in Egypt. The journey was a bit tough but it was a hindered percent worth it. With avid curiosity you explore alone and with the others, the different things to find inside the tomb; artifacts and additional discoveries. It’s all very interesting. Wanting to save the best for last, you finally get an in-person look at the grave itself- the sarcophagus.

You have already heard the main tale of the pharaoh within, so you are a little surprised that there is more to the story than you previously believed.

Over the entire stone coffin were multiple hieroglyphs, each one helping and becoming a story together. Your collegue read some inscriptions and told you a basic summary of what it’s about.

Centuries ago there was a king. He had a wife whom he adored more than anything. She was provided with riches, glory and honour. There was nothing he wouldn’t accomplish for her. The people saw the care he held for his wife and therefore both respected and feared her as well, since any ounce of rudeness might end up with their heads spiked on a pole. It was a punishment fitting for those who dare disrespect his queen.

Unfortunately tragedy struck- a disease, more specifically. It took the lives of many and left whole villages empty. That hardly mattered to the pharaoh though, all his focus went to his ill wife; she, too, had been snatched by death. Up until the moment of her demise the pharaoh spent all day and all night at her side, attentively worrying about her needs. When she was gone he was ruined. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t even have the energy to clean himself. What was the point? His beloved was gone so there wasn’t really anything left for him.

It was after this that everything took a turn. It appeared that the king had enough with laying around and decided to do something. There were records of him behaving strangely- even by ancient standards- and drabbling in dark magic. He was later overthrown by his brother, who ordered him to be buried alive. It was quite the terrifying penalty go give one’s sibling. The brother didn’t want the darkness to spread out into the world from the old pharaoh, so he locked him inside the sarcophagus and sealed him far away.

What a tragic story, you thought. Well it was back in the old times and a lot of things were practiced then that aren’t okay in modern day. You suppose it wasn’t the most horrible incident that have happened.

It hadn’t been long since your colleague told you the backstory of the tomb and its inhibitor, but now the others wants to get to the good part and open up the stone coffin. You don’t think it’s the best idea in the world- of course something like this needs to be examined closely and so on, but there is something special about the tomb.

Ever since you’ve arrived, you have had a strange feeling following you around. It’s hard to explain. You feel almost drawn to the sarcophagus or perhaps it’s because it feels as if it is looking back at you. You tried ignoring it, however, the feeling came back stronger than ever the moment the others began preparing to open it up.

You should have told them of your concerns. If you did, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The first few seconds after opening it everything was fine. All was as it should be; people flocking around to see the discovery and fawn over it while being mindful of its fragility. Then it changed. Your colleague who had been the closest had suddenly been strangled by the thin, dirty arm belonging to none other than the ancient corpse that previously had been resting in death. Everyone was silent as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. It was only after she fell to the floor dead that people began panicking. It was hard to process what had just happened, after all.

There was chaos.

Folk ran around like chickens fleeing from a fox that’d managed to get inside the coop. In a way, that was exactly what was going on, though. You had watched as the mummified corpse sat right up and climbed its way out of the cold coffin. It stumbled on its bony legs and quickly found a cornered man and approached him. He screamed when the mummy grabbed ahold of his face and brought it before its own. The creature started sucking the life out of the man- literally.

The man who had previously been a healthy and active person was now shrivelled up like a raisin. His face was dry and wrinkled. He died soon afterwards, only a soft wheeze leaving his lips as he passed.

The opposite seemed to happen to the former-corpse, though. It attacked more and more people and for every kill, it appeared to revert to its original state- a man, pharaoh of an ancient kingdom. The flesh grew back and filled up in the right places and he seemed human again.

How can that be? He had been dead for centuries. Although, just about everything was pretty fucked up in this moment, so his make-over is the least important factor.

You backed into a corner. Your eyes followed the mummy’s every move, it was impossible to look away. There was hardly anyone left apart from you. The one person that was still there was getting attacked by the monster and it wasn’t long until they were reduced to nothing.

Now it was just you and the creature, and it appeared it knew that too.

It turned to look at you. The mummy had now completely reverted back into a man and he was nothing short of breathtaking(and very naked, but you tried not to think about it). It pained to to admit it but it was the truth. He was easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His long, dark hair flowed when he stalked towards you. Despite his outer beauty, you couldn’t forget what you’d just witnessed him do.

Trembling, you pressed yourself against the wall. “Stay away.” you weakly mumbled.

‘This is it. My time is over.’

You closed your eyes in fear and braced yourself for the pain that would undoubtedly come; only it didn’t. Instead of death, a hand grazed your cheek. It was a light touch, one reserved for something valuable and fragile.

A raspy voice talked, “…My love..it is you..”

You had no idea what he said, it sounded like an ancient language. You had studied hieroglyphs but did not know anything about what speech might’ve sounded like. You decided to be brave and slightly opened your eyes.

The mummy was staring at you, but there was no malice or hatred in his expression. In fact, the only emotion you could find on his face was amazement, shock and….love? No, that can’t be. This is not some ‘lovers reunited’ situation.

“How can this be? Death took you and left me all alone- not that I hold you accountable, of course. I know you would never seek to hurt me.” the mummy kept muttering to himself. “Perhaps….the magic worked after all?”

His face brightened and he smiled gently at you. Whilst he happily went on about something, you became more confused than earlier. What the hell was going on? He committed multiple murders in one swoop and now, suddenly, he is acting like you’re friends talking about your day. He isn’t even human! Or at least not anymore, not really.

You voiced this opinion weakly, “Ummm, could you let me go?” You tried pulling away from his touch, uncomfortable at his caresses.

His brows furrowed at your reaction. From the look of it, he didn’t understand you any better than you did him. He focused at the subtle way you attempted to peel his hand off your arm. You let out a yelp when his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you into his embrace.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, petting your hair at the same time. “Wife, why do you seem unhappy at my presence? I do not understand. Are you not joyous at our reunion? I love you so, I cannot comprehend any reason why you would not wish to see me.”

Even if you didn’t know what he was saying, you could hear the sadness in his voice. The pain and desperation. No! You couldn’t feel sad for him. He had murdured multiple of your colleagues, he’s evil! Although, why hasn’t he killed you yet? It’s very strange indeed.

The mummy continued, “I can sense things are not as they used to be. Things are different now. Although I do not know the extent of it. However I am most certain of one thing; I have miraculously been reunited with my love and I do not plan on letting you fall through my grasp again.”

He held you in an almost suffocating hug.

“I shall make you my queen once more.”

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 11

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 14 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You are deep in thought as you walk towards the ice hockey arena. Sukuna asked you to meet him there at ten for another private ice skating lesson. You can't help but grin because, yeah, you are certainly in need of more lessons. But it's a bit weird that he wants to meet up so late. You didn't even know the arena is still open at that time of night, but you won't question the guy who practically lives in the hockey arena. Plus, Sukuna is busy with his studies, hockey practice, and his insane workout schedule, so maybe this is the only free time he has this week.

In the end, it doesn't matter because who are you trying to kid? You would never say no when Sukuna wants to see you. Even if he knocked on your door at 3 a.m. and asked you to once again be his getaway driver for some prank on a rival team, you would grab your jacket and leave with him. You are down bad for your fuckbuddy, and you know it. And you will take every minute you can have with him for as long as it lasts.

Your grin turns into a bittersweet smile. You still can't figure out how Sukuna feels about you. Sometimes you think he likes you too. Like when he acted so jealous when Satoru tried to hit on you. Or when he smiles that rare smile at you and looks deeply into your eyes with that almost dreamy look in his maroon eyes.

But you don't know for sure. You could ask Sukuna, of course. Or you could confess how you feel. But the thing is, you are too scared. Too scared that you misinterpreted things. That you made more out of it in your fantasy than there really is. After all, it has happened before. Your mind is the mind of a writer. Someone who spends her life in her head. And maybe you once again mixed up reality with your fantasies.

So it's better not to do anything. Safer. Because you know that the moment you tell Sukuna you see more in him than your fuckbuddy, and he doesn't reciprocate those feelings, it will be over. And you aren't ready for that. Just the thought of losing him makes you drown in anxiety.

You reach the dimly lit small plaza in front of the hockey arena, and your heart jumps to your throat when you see Sukuna leaning casually against the closed entrance, smoking a cigarette while waiting for you.

He's dressed in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie under his equally black jacket. The glow of the cigarette he's bringing to his smirking lips lights up his angular jaw and his facial tattoos, and the light coming from the street lamp lets his pastel pink hair look almost like a halo on top of the bad boy's head.

Sukuna watches you with that cat-like and always slightly amused gaze, making your heart race like crazy. The effect he has on you is insane. You walk towards him with weak knees, feeling flustered and giddy, unable to stop yourself from smiling broadly.

Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette elegantly onto the ground and crushes it with his Nikes. He grins at you, greeting you with that sexy, velvety voice,

"Hey, princess."

Sukuna reaches out to ruffle your hair and laugh that low, rough laugh when you squeal and pat his hand away even while you smile at him and wish you could just grab his hand and hold it and never let go again.

Sukuna's hand brushes over yours and then glides down your back until it comes to rest on the small of your back to pull you slightly closer. Sukuna's eyes trail slowly over your face. He licks his lips when his gaze lands on your mouth, and for a moment, you think he will kiss you, but then he smirks his typical cocky smirk and jerks his tattooed chin towards the large glass door behind him.

"Let's go. You keep watch while I get us inside."

"What? I knew something was wrong when you said to meet here at ten at night! We cannot break in!"

Sukuna laughs, and his smirk grows even wider,

"Technically, it's not breaking in if I have a key."

He pulls a keychain in the shape of a tiger head out of his jacket and lets it dangle from his long, tattooed fingers, presenting you with a single key glittering lightly in the light coming from the streetlamp.

You raise a suspicious eyebrow,

"Did you steal that key?"

"Nah, our coach gave it to me. Believe it or not, I am a trusted team member. Let's just say that when he gave me the key, he said it was for emergencies, and it's debatable whether our private ice skating lesson counts as an emergency. But who cares? I wanted to have the arena all to ourselves. Also, I am the fucking star player of this team, so I should be allowed in here anytime I fucking want."

Sukuna winks at you, and you shake your head incredulously at his typical display of arrogance. But at the same time, you can't help but laugh, and your heart jumps at the thought that Sukuna planned this. That he wanted to be alone with you. A secret night in the hockey arena. Just the two of you. It's romantic.

Sukuna slings his large hockey bag over one shoulder and unlocks the door. He holds it open for you, like a gentleman in an old movie, making butterflies flutter in your stomach as you enter. The door closes behind you, and Sukuna's tall body bumps gently into you, his low voice close to your ear,

"We have to keep the lights off, though, because I don't want the janitor to come to check what's going on."

He grins at you and takes your hand into his much larger one, interlacing your fingers and giving your hand a squeeze. Holding it just like you wished he would only a minute ago. Sukuna's voice is laced with amusement when he adds,

"Don't worry, princess. I got you. I would find my way through this arena even blind."

You chuckle softly, excitement tingling in your veins, your pulse racing so fast that you are sure Sukuna can feel it where your palms are pressed against each other.

Sukuna leads you down the dark hallway that's only lit by the emergency lights. The hockey arena seems ghostly like this, too dark and too silent. It would be creepy if you were here alone, but with Sukuna by your side and his hand holding yours, you feel completely safe.

Sukuna finds his way through the nightly hockey arena with ease, proof of how much time he spends here, all those countless hours of training and hockey games and team meetings. He brings you to the player's bench without any accident, turning around to grin proudly at you as he tugs you towards him and gently but firmly makes you sit on the bench.

The huge arena seems a lot smaller tonight when almost all the lights are off. The only light comes from the LED strips fixed to the boards around the rink. They cast the ice and the first few rows of the stands into a fairytale-like soft half-light. It makes your stomach flutter. Being here in the nightly hockey arena feels so intimate as if you and Sukuna are the only people in the whole world.

You steal a curious glance at Sukuna. He is pulling his hockey skates out of his bag and puts them on with routined moves, his long tattooed fingers tying the laces so gracefully that you find it impossible to look away.

Sukuna turns his head to smirk at you, catching you staring at him instead of putting on your own ice skates. But before you can get flustered, Sukuna is already getting off the bench and on his knees in front of you with that damn sexy smirk on his handsome face. He holds out a large hand while cocking his head,

"Come on, give me your foot, princess. I'll help you."

You feel so nervous suddenly. It's stupid because you are used to doing all kinds of other things with Sukuna that involve being a lot closer to him with a lot less clothing, and yet this here feels so strangely intimate.

You slip out of your sneakers and carefully place one socked foot in Sukuna's hand. He smirks a lopsided smirk and puts the ice skates expertly on your feet, kneeling before you the whole time while carefully lacing them up.

He takes his time, working focused while being so gentle and caring, and you can't stop looking at him, how he, the star player of the hockey team, kneels before you with his pink hair and pretty, tattooed face. You're hit with such an intense wave of longing that it almost makes you sob. You want to tell Sukuna you love him, want to tell him how much he and all your shared moments mean to you.

Your lips open, but no words come out, and you close your mouth again when Sukuna pats your leg and grins up at you,

"All done. Let's get on the ice."

He gets up, towering over you again, so tall and broad. He looks intimidating with his muscular, tall build and face tattoos, but you know him by now. It's funny, but Sukuna is the person you feel most at ease with. Even when your heart is pounding like crazy, just at the feel of his warm, calloused hands wrapping around yours and pulling you up from the bench and into his arms.

You can smell his cologne, that fresh, sexy scent that makes your head spin with want. You bite your lip, grinning up at Sukuna as you make the first tentative steps on the ice skates, your hands clinging tightly to Sukuna's. His hold on you is firm and safe as he leads you carefully to the ice.

You are still wobbly on the ice skates and not really confident you will stay upright for long, but you don't have to worry, you realize. Sukuna doesn't seem to plan on letting go of you tonight. He has one strong arm around you while his other hand holds yours safely, his long fingers interlaced with yours, offering a comforting warmth even here on the cold rink.

Skating across the ice with Sukuna is fun, just like it was the last time. He moves as if he is walking on normal ground, so skilled and sure on his hockey skates that you can't stop marveling at how graceful he looks. He gives you instructions, his low voice soft in the silent arena as if he doesn't want to disturb the serene atmosphere. And you laugh as you let him pull you along and try to get a feeling for the ice beneath your feet.

You do the second round across the rink, and Sukuna slowly pulls his arm that was around your waist away. He is skating next to you, holding your hand while his maroon eyes are on you, carefully checking if you are able to keep the balance without the added safety of his arm around you.

And to your delight, it works. You smile and make a triumphant noise as you skate next to Sukuna, only holding his hand, and he laughs, looking at you with one of his rare, dazzling smiles.

There's a softness in his eyes tonight as he watches you. It makes your pulse race and feel giddy and full of adrenaline. But the problem is that you are so distracted staring at Sukuna that you lose your focus and slip on the ice after all, squealing loudly as you lose your balance and are about to tumble down.

But Sukuna catches you, his muscular arms instantly wrapped safely around you, pulling you against him, making both of you glide back a few meters from the impact of your body slamming into Sukuna. Your squeal turns into breathless laughter as you cling to Sukuna's hoodie, holding tightly onto him.

Sukuna raises an amused eyebrow at you,

"So eager to get all cozy with me, huh, princess?"

His low voice is warm, and his maroon eyes are too, that same beautiful smile lifting his lips again as he gently holds you, his large hands sprawling over your waist, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chuckle, telling him in what you wanted to be a joking voice but which comes out all breathy,

"Maybe I like being all cozy with the 6'3" guy who is always warm, even on this freezing ice rink."

God, I sound like an idiot!

You bite your lip, fearing you will say more, and end up accidentally telling Sukuna how much you want him to be more than just your fuckbuddy. A nervous laugh escapes your mouth, and you feel your face get hot, but Sukuna grins that irresistible boyish grin at you, looking very smug.

"Then you're really a lucky girl because I plan to keep you warm all night, princess. Come on, I'll show you something."

Sukuna turns you around so you are in front of him and steers you slowly back to the bench, his strong hands resting securely on your hips, holding you, guiding you, every touch of his strong fingers sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering like crazy.

Sukuna helps you exit the rink, his tall, firm body pressing against your back as he just lifts you off the ice so your feet are dangling a few inches above the ground and carries you to the bench while you giggle and smile.

Sukuna places you on the bench, not seeming to be out of breath at all from carrying you. But he eyes you for a moment with a strange look on his face, almost looking nervous, you think. He blinks and runs a large tattooed hand through his pink hair, averting his gaze and instead getting busy rummaging around in his hockey bag.

You watch him curiously, only to make an "Oooh!" sound when you see the surprise he prepared. Several boxes of his famous homemade snacks, two large thermal mugs, and a warm blanket. The last item Sukuna pulls out of his bag is a glass jar with a candle in it, which he lights and places on the bench one row before you, engulfing your little picnic space in soft, warm candlelight.

Your stomach is doing summersaults by now. All of this is so romantic! It makes you feel completely light-headed with all the thoughts running through your mind. This is what Sukuna planned when he asked you to meet him here at ten in the night? This doesn't feel like a regular ice skating lesson. It feels like a date!

You watch him carefully, feeling a bit shy as the implications of what this could mean fill your chest with giddy hope.

Sukuna grins at you and wraps the warm blanket around you, making things even cozier. And you smile and lean against Sukuna's broad shoulder, thanking him softly when he hands you a thermal mug with steaming hot coffee and a homemade muffin (the ones you told him a few weeks ago are your favorite).

You lift the blanket, telling Sukuna to join you so he stays warm, too. You both sip on your coffee and munch on the muffins, easily slipping into your usual camaraderie, joking around with each other and talking about your day. Sukuna brushes some muffin crumbs off your lips and tells you about his upcoming game and the current topic of his history research. And you lean comfortably against him, smiling when Sukuna wraps his arm around you while you tell him about the book you started reading this morning and the passive-aggressive insults your creative writing professor threw at people today.

You chuckle and sigh softly,

"Thank you for bringing me here. This is the first time today that I haven't felt anxious about my classes and my future."

And Sukuna smirks that hellishly attractive boyish smirk at you,

"Well, I'm glad that I'm providing you the same stress relief that you give me before my games. Look at us being the antidote for each other's stressful lives. We should drink to that."

You both laugh and hold up your thermal cups, clinking them gently, both grinning as you bring the cups to your lips and sip the warm coffee.

You stay like that for a while, leaning against each other under the warm blanket, sitting in comfortable silence while you gaze over the dimly lit ice rink before you. It feels magical.

Your heart is almost beating out of its chest, filled with such yearning that you think you will go insane if you don't do something about it. You slowly turn your head to gaze at Sukuna. Only to realize he is already looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his.

You think you can see fear in those beautiful maroon eyes. And you wonder if Sukuna feels the same fear that you feel. The fear of messing this up. The fear of losing what the two of you have. Maybe you aren't the only one who is scared of your feelings.

And yet you are here, just the two of you, in this romantic atmosphere. Not putting distance between you, but spending even more time together. Not running away from your feelings but running, or rather ice skating towards them hand in hand. Your heart flutters hopefully, just when Sukuna's low, velvety voice breaks the silence,

"I always enjoy being with you, no matter what we do. Whether we are talking about hockey or books or studying in the library, or having lunch together, or just talking shit while watching videos on my phone. I have never felt so close to someone before."

You gasp softly at the unexpectedly tender words. Tears well up in your eyes as you look up into Sukuna's eyes,

"I feel the same way. It's like I have always known you."

Sukuna smiles softly. He cups your face, his warm palm resting gently on the side of your neck while his thumb slowly caresses your cheek. A touch so tender as if he is scared to break you or disturb this soft atmosphere while he gazes deeply into your eyes.

You don't think anyone has ever been so gentle with you or looked at you that way. And out of all the people, it is him, it is Sukuna, the rough hockey player, the campus bad boy, who treats you with such gentleness.

"S... Sukuna."

Your voice is thick with unshed tears, but Sukuna shakes his head gently, low voice barely a whisper, raspy but full of tenderness when he says,

"No, let me say something, princess."

You nod, blinking to chase the tears away, and Sukuna continues in his velvety, low voice, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"I told you that ice hockey is my life. But that's only half the truth. Lately, you have become my life, too."

He gulps, making his adam's apple bop, and then adds in a soft but sure voice,

"I have never felt this way about someone before, and it scared me shitless when I realized what was happening. So I tried to suppress it. But I don't want to run from this anymore. I don't want to run from you when you are what makes me happy, and then I feel like I can't breathe when I imagine there could be a time when you aren't by my side. I didn't bring you here tonight to teach you ice skating. I brought you here to tell you I fell in love with you."

The whole world seems to stop. Everything around you disappears, and there is only Sukuna and you. Only the boy you love, and you. And everything is so perfect and easy.

Your tears finally spill over and slowly run down your face as you reach out to cup Sukuna's cheeks, too, caressing the tattooed lines on his high cheekbones as you smile at him, finally confessing how you feel about him,

"I'm in love with you, too. And it scared me also. I tried to pretend I didn't like you that way, but then you got injured, and it freaked me out so much, and after that, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I knew you meant a lot more to me than I had planned. But I didn't want to lose you if you didn't feel the same. So I didn't say anything. I told myself it would be better to have you as a friend with benefits than not having you in my life at all..."

"Come here, princess."

Sukuna wraps his arms around you, pulls you into his lap, and hugs you tightly to him, his lips brushing a tender kiss to your forehead,

"I've never been in a relationship before, but I will work my ass off for this. I want this to work. I want you and me."

For once, there is no teasing smirk on his beautiful face. It's rare to see Sukuna like this, all open and honest with you, not hiding behind a mask. His maroon eyes are earnest, burning with the same fiery ambition he has when it comes to hockey and his studies. It makes your heart throb, seeing how invested he is. Seeing how much he wants to have this with you.

You wrap your arms around Sukuna's neck and lean closer to him,

"That's what I want, too. You and me."

A soft smile plays around Sukuna's lips before he closes the last remaining distance between you and claims your lips in a slow kiss.

You sigh, melting into the kiss and into Sukuna's arms. He takes his time, kissing you slow and deep, making your head spin and the butterflies in your tummy go crazy with each tender flick of his tongue.

It feels like an eternity until both of you pull away, breathing heavily, lips swollen from all the kissing, eyes so soft as you look at each other, both wearing the same perplexed expression as if you both can't believe this is really happening.

You smile at Sukuna so broadly that your cheeks hurt, and he laughs that soft, low laugh and smiles at you, too, brushing a thumb over your grinning cheeks before he puts his hands on your waist and lifts you off his lap, gently placing you on the floor so he can get up, too.

He holds out his hand to you, raising an eyebrow and grinning that sexy boyish grin at you,

"Join me for another round across the rink, princess?"

You nod and take Sukuna's hand, letting him pull you to your feet and against his tall, strong body. You place a hand on his chest, getting on your tiptoes to steal another kiss before Sukuna leads you carefully back onto the ice.

It's different this time. Not so much an ice skating lesson, where Sukuna lets you get a feel for the ice, but rather Sukuna taking the lead, pulling you with him, holding you safely in his embrace, skating across the dimly-lit rink much faster and more graceful than you could ever hope to do on your own.

It's not ice skating, but rather dancing, you realize. One of Sukuna's arms is wrapped safely around your waist, his other hand holding yours, his long tattooed fingers interlaced with yours, as he spins you around on the ice as if you are the Ice King and his Queen, and the hockey arena is your ballroom.

It feels incredible. As if you are weightless and flying across a glittery ice floor surrounded by soft light. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's tattooed face, your gaze meeting his, and you see the smile in his eyes. It's only you and Sukuna. Only you and the boy you love and who loves you, too. Dancing in the nightly hockey arena. Sharing that magical moment in the place that is so important to Sukuna.

You let him spin you around without any fear, trusting him completely, knowing Sukuna will never let you fall. He already proved that the first time you met. He will never let you hit the ground. Those strong arms will always catch you.

You feel more tears run down your cheeks as you look up at Sukuna and smile at him, and he watches you enrapt, his cocky smirk replaced by a soft, wonderous expression.

"Why are you crying, princess?"

"Because I'm happy, baby."

You see how Sukuna's eyes widen at the use of the petname, and then his lips lift in a very happy and amused lopsided smirk,

"Baby? Hmm, I like it when you call me that. Make sure to do it very often from now on."

You chuckle softly as you nod,

"Sure, baby."

A second later, you squeal loudly because Sukuna makes another dance move, dipping you down while smirking his sexy, playful smirk at you. Your squeal turns into loud, breathless laughter that gets muffled by Sukuna's warm lips a second later. And he keeps kissing you, even while continuing to glide gracefully over the ice, not even needing to see anything.

You spend the whole night in the arena, just the two of you, alternating between dancing on the ice while laughing and kissing and sitting on the bench, cuddling under the warm blanket to keep warm while sipping coffee, talking about everything and nothing, joking around teasingly and stealing more kisses. Slow, deep French kisses that make both of you sigh softly into each other's mouth.

You sneak out of the hockey arena with the first hints of the approaching sunrise, walking to Sukuna's dorm while holding hands. You fall exhausted but happy into his bed. Your face comes to rest on Sukuna's buff pecs, your lips smiling against his tattooed skin as he wraps his strong arms around you and hugs you close to his warm, muscular body.

It's perfect. It feels so natural as if Sukuna and you have always been together as if it was always clear that things would lead to this, from the very first meeting in the hallway where you crashed into him, and his hockey reflexes and strong arms saved you from falling, only for both of you to end up falling in a different way. For each other.

THE LOVE CONFESSION 😭💗💗 I am so emotional! This is one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and for months, I have been daydreaming about dancing across the rink with Sukuna. Sighhhhhh I hope you liked it, too, and could feel the same magic I felt while writing it!

Also, please listen to the song "Black Coffee" by Nightly. It's the song that I imagine during the scenes in the hockey arena. It's a perfect song to describe Sukuna's and Reader's connection. I love them so much together.

Thank you so much to everyone who is still here reading this story and waiting for updates! It means so much to me that you are on this journey with Sukuna and me 💗💗

I hope the love confession could put a smile on your face!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

In the next chapter, we will see Sukuna and Reader officially dating and making their relationship public. Learning how to move from fuckbuddies to being boyfriend and girlfriend.

[heartsriki]

FLIRT ALERT! ⌇ 애인

An enhypen written one shot series!

꒰ CUPID’S CHAOS 🏹 ꒱ — HEESEUNG ⌇

— synopsis: You accidentally become the campus’s cupid, delivering love letters to everyone— no exception to the one meant for Heeseung even though you had the biggest crush on him. When he asks for help finding his secret admirer, You scramble to keep your own feelings hidden… until you realize that love letter was your own. ⌇ read!

꒰ SYMPHONY OF US 🎸 ꒱ — JAY ⌇

— synopsis: As music majors in college, You and Jay have always been seatmates in class—passing notes, sharing playlists, and teasing each other between lectures. But when you get paired for the annual Valentine’s Open Mic Night, your usual banter turns into long practice sessions, late-night coffee runs, and a song that sounds a little too much like a love confession. ⌇read!

꒰ CANDY HEARTS 🍦 ꒱ — JAKE ⌇

— synopsis: You and Jake are co-workers at a candy shop. While You are content by just doing your job, Jake has a habit of leaving little candy hearts with cheesy, cryptic messages for you every shift. At first, You think it’s just a quirky joke—until the messages start feeling a little too personal, and you begin to wonder if Jake’s sweet gestures are more than just fun and games. ⌇read!

꒰ OUR WHITE GARDEN 🐰꒱ — SH⌇

— synopsis: On Valentine’s Day, you discover a serene white garden where you meet Sunghoon, a quiet stranger who appears to visit often. As you talk amidst the flowers, a silent connection forms between you two, leaving you both intrigued and wondering if your paths were meant to cross. ⌇ read!

꒰ ONCE UPON A VALENTINE 📔 ꒱ — SN⌇

— synopsis: You and Sunoo have always been close, but your friendship has never crossed into anything more. That is, until you’re assigned to work together on a Valentine’s Day-themed literary project for your English class. The task? To write a modern fairy tale. As you two spend late nights brainstorming and writing together, the lines between your fictional characters and your real feelings begin to blur. ⌇ read!

꒰ VALENTINE’S CONFESSION 💌 ꒱ — JW⌇

— synopsis: On Valentine’s Day, Jungwon surprises you with a bouquet of flowers and chocolates, confessing his feelings after months of silence. As you spend the afternoon together, the quiet atmosphere turns into a heartwarming night. ⌇ read!

꒰ LOVE SOUNDTRACK 🎧 ꒱ — NI-KI⌇

— synopsis: Riki creates a playlist for you, each song reflecting your shared moments. As you listen, you uncover his hidden feelings and the confession tucked within the final track, leading to a sweet, music-filled moment where your love story plays out in perfect harmony. ⌇ read!

— Release order: oldest to youngest

Want to be tagged for a specific member or ot7? Comment! This is not my perm taglist! I’ll make one of those in the future! (Make sure your visibility is fixed)

you wont be tagged in fics that are already out!

All fics should be finished before February ends!

word count for each fic is 3k-8k

Do not steal my plots or banners!

A valentine’s month special :)

💌 ⌇ I just recently hit 200 followers which might mean nothing to some but I JUST started posting on tumblr so thats so crazy to me! Shout out to all my loyal rebloggers love you! I don’t usually do series esc things but i’ll try THANKS GUYS, and if this flops turn your head away-

[monster-effer]

Your New Hobby – Sylus x reader

Summary: You start reading fanfic but are being secretive about it, Sylus is curious, shenanigans follow. Content: fluff, mild smut mention, silliness, Sylus and reader are dating, reader is not MC, Toji (JJK) mention (~800 wc) A/N: This silly idea came to me while I was reading a fanfic on AO3 lmao

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You’ve picked up a new hobby lately and you feel a teeny bit embarrassed about it. While you usually yap about anything and everything to Sylus, your handsome boyfriend, you only read fanfics when he is not home. Mostly so you can squeal in private.

This is not a foolproof method. He has caught you a few times still awake at ungodly times of the night when he returns home from a business deal. There are usually curious glances thrown your way but he hasn’t pressed you on it. Yet.

It is 3 am.

You should be sleeping but you found the holy grail of fanfics a few hours ago.

Toji x reader Modern AU slow burn Rating: Explicit 30 chapters long

It is pitch black in the room with nothing but your phone’s screen illuminating your face. In the background, you have relaxing ocean sounds playing from your sleep song playlist.

You are sprawled out on the bed giggling and kicking your feet because you’ve finally reached the chapter where the characters have sweaty, filthy sex. As much as you love the build up and anticipation in slow burns, the rollercoaster ride of emotions this story put you through was exhausting. But all that suffering has paid off because this smut is downright nasty. Your mouth is hanging wide open as you read the heinous acts committed in this sacred text.

You are so locked into the fic that you don’t hear Sylus arrive home.

You also don’t hear him open the bedroom door.

Nor do you hear him sneak up behind you.

It has not escaped his notice how preoccupied you’ve been with your phone lately. At first, he thought you were researching for a new mission. But over the past few weeks he’s noticed your sleeping schedule getting more and more off track. This piqued his interest because you prefer getting a good night’s rest when you are able to.

So, can you really blame him for wanting to take a quick peak?

Sylus slinks his way towards the bed. He is surprised that you haven’t noticed his approach but plans to use your inattentiveness to his advantage. When he is close enough to see what has you so enthralled, the usually unshakeable Onychinus leader is sent reeling from the absolute filth displayed on your screen.

He hovers over your shoulder for a few minutes reading along with you. As you continue to scroll multiple questions pop into his mind.

Who the hell is Toji? And why does he have such a vulgar mouth? A headlock ????!?!?

Who knew his sweet girlfriend was into this type of reading material? After taking note of everything he read, he decides to have a little fun with you.

“What are you doing up so late kitten?”

You feel your heart drop to your ass and let out a high-pitched scream when Sylus’ voice breaks you out of your fanfic induced trance. Your heartbeat is thrumming against your ribcage as you swiftly put your phone to sleep and throw it across the bed. You roll over onto your back and sit up, so you are facing him.

“I didn’t hear you come home,” you reply shakily from the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“And I, didn’t hear you answer my question,” Sylus says with a smile as he begins to remove his clothes.

“I was…um…looking up a recipe.”

Sylus struggles to hold in a laugh at your terrible lie. “Really? At 3 am? And what were you planning to make?”

You fumble over your words a bit before you respond “Lasagna! Nothing like having it homemade right?”

While you were floundering, Sylus has stripped down to his boxers, ready to wash off the aftermath of a particularly bloody business deal. “Hmm, well I look forward to trying out this lasagna soon.”

You think you catch a twinkle in Sylus’ eyes before he turns away from you and strolls into the en suite bathroom.

You slump down into the silky sheets of the bed once he leaves the room. ‘That was such a close call,’ you think to yourself. Sylus has eyes like a hawk, so you’re thankful he didn’t see any of the delicious filth you were reading. You decide to play a game on your phone to calm your nerves while he showers.

After a few minutes pass the shower turns off. You can hear Sylus shuffle around as he dries off in the bathroom.

He comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist, using another towel to dry off his hair. While you don’t immediately look up at him, you can feel his eyes focused on you. Before you can ask if he needs something, he speaks.

“So, who is Toji and why is he putting ‘you’ in a headlock?”

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[riverfelloff]

ive seen so many people wondering how starkid makes such good straight couples (lautski, paulkins, etc), but i think we really need to talk about this.

in a lot of todays modern media, shows centered around straight couples are heavily focused on the sexuality of it. while they may take a few episodes to flesh out a small pining story, starkid takes that to a whole new level.

let's look at lautski for example; our first introduction (I KNOW HE WAS IN TGWDLM AND BF I DONT CARE HE WASN'T TRULY INTRODUCED UNTIL NMT) to pete and steph was nmt2's episode, 'abstinence camp'. sure, we know that sexuality played a big part in this episode, but if you pay close attention, you know that nothing ever actually happens between steph and pete, they get caught by lumberaxe and then boy jerry before they can do anything.

before then, though, we get a back story of them meeting, it's shown how steph likes him for his little quirks and oddities, and how pete is happy that someone took the time to get to know that about him. before they join showers, they talk for what feels like forever, going back and forth.

however, in nerdy prudes must die AND the guy who didn't like musicals BOTH, neither of the couples even kiss, they get close but they don't. even npmd which centers around two high school seniors over the course of a few months, not even a peck on the cheek. HOWEVER, in scenes like the summoning, we can see steph and pete both trying to hide the other behind themselves.

in tgwdlm, paul sends himself into the theater to go take down the meteor so emma has some hopes of a life.

while it's implied that they love the other in a romantic sense, it's never outright said, because you don't make romantic bonds in the situations they were in!! they made the romantic connections before the actual plot of the musical gets started!! they're so close and care so much because of the shit they went through together!!

the reason why we're so captivated by straight couples from starkid is that they don't have to be couples to show how close they are and how much they care, because at the end of the day the lang brothers know that a bond is deepest when it's pure. if you care for someone enough, you'd do anything to keep them happy, even if it isn't with you.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem Headcanons

Meet your (6) monster boyfriends!

Since the story will take a while to unfold, I decided to speed things up and properly introduce you to the characters. A little time skip to Reader becoming an onmyōji herself and renewing the bonds with the yokai men, this time at their request. They cannot bear the thought of separating from their darling and since she has reneged her life as a regular human being, someone has to keep her company. And so the days are spent exorcising evil spirits both in modern and feudal Japan, with a pack of demons following close behind.

[Main story] [Character Guide]

Content: female reader, monster smut, NSFW, obsessive behavior, reader is a monster hoe again but feigns mild reluctance

Kiritsubo

Kiritsubo is your very first yokai encounter and he almost immediately falls for you. He's always been at the receiving end of his master's wrath for not being able to use his powers, so much that even after Nakamaro’s ‘death’ he couldn’t sleep without being plagued by horrid nightmares. His back is covered in thick scars from the frequent punishments. You first begun to suspect his background when you jumped in to protect him from an incoming blow and he froze in terror, unable to look up and awaiting the anticipated discipline.

Needles to say that when he learns you're not like the previous onmyōji he becomes extremely clingy and needy. He can only rest if you're next to him and will often hug you for reassurance. You've shared a bed before there was any hint of romance, simply because he found your presence so soothing. That's not to say he relies on you for everything. In fact, he unlocks his nearly unmatched abilities purely out of his desire to protect you. He’s found his purpose in serving you, someone who showed him kindness when he needed it most.

As you go out into the world, he begins to question his exact feelings for you. An example of his intense musings: he's asked you, perplexed, whether he can kiss you like the people he's seen on the street. He's spent his entire life being trained by Abe no Nakamaro, so he struggles to understand how relationships work. He will be utterly oblivious to other people flirting with him (it happens every now and then, he is a handsome demon after all), but simultaneously worry that everyone is out to have you. He’s already very salty about the other yokai joining your side and will frequently remind them he was the first to accept you.

When you complete your transition as an onmyōji, the priestess warns you that you may no longer partake in any kind of bonding with your fellow humans. Kiritsubo, seated next to you, responds almost instantly with eyes sparkling in excitement: "Well, that doesn’t extend to yokai, does it? I can still make you my wife.”

Kiritsubo is very clumsy when being intimate with you for the first time, but it doesn’t take long for him to become rather addicted to the feeling. You often have to scold him to behave and in return he’ll be pouting and fidgeting until you finally give in to his pleading gaze. He’s very vocal and touchy and will leave you covered in scratches from all the pulling. Towards the end he’s a drooling mess, mumbling about how much he loves you and begging you to never, ever leave him.

Murasaki

Murasaki is very cold and sarcastic on the surface, but you soon realize he is the most caring and responsible of the group, always looking out for everyone and trying to keep them out of trouble. In fewer words, he's almost like a tsundere mother hen (he won't hesitate to put you in a headlock if you mention it, though). He goes along with your wishes and will politely listen to anything you tell him, but to others he remains stoic and even rude. You’re sometimes reminded of the preferential treatment when witnessing his aggressive way of dealing with his suitors, shooing them away with the utmost disgusted scowl.

“Huh? Why can’t I be nicer to others? Bold of you to assume my tolerance is not, in fact, a limited resource spent entirely on dealing with you.”

He's been your guardian from the day you met him. He taught you how to use a sword and how to properly cast spells and seems to have a solution for all your troubles. When you introduced the yokai to the modern world you assumed he'd struggle to adapt, but he was extremely quick to learn and is, to this day, accumulating knowledge at a dizzying pace. One wouldn't be able to tell him apart from a regular city dweller. Murasaki is the concrete definition of a jack of all trades, excelling in whatever he sets his mind on.

Given his status and skills, the other yokai have always been rather jealous of him, including Kiritsubo. Ironically enough, by the time Murasaki accepted his infatuation towards you, you'd already gotten close to Kiritsubo. Which resulted in a lot of unexplained jealous bouts from a yokai too prideful to admit he loves you just as much. (You eventually get him to confess and reach the agreement to distribute the wealth among workers.)

He will occasionally be in a good enough mood to share with Kiritsubo, but it frequently results in a bizarre competition between them as you awkwardly squirm underneath, overstimulated. More often he prefers to pull you aside after you've done the deed with another yokai and aggressively fuck you as a way to assert his dominance. "Oh, was he that good? Then why are you moaning much louder now?" He'll demand with a firm grasp around your throat. Sadly his extreme competitiveness extends to this area as well.

Suma

Among the yokai, Suma is the most easygoing one despite his intimidating appearance. Most evenings he’ll have a drink in hand, eager to chitchat and ramble by the campfire, with his relaxed laughter resounding across the place. He is very loud and blunt and will often need to be reminded of the colossal power imbalance between him and regular humans and demons. Although after accidentally dislocating your shoulder (he was terribly amused by your joke and gave you a friendly pat), he’s gotten much better at adjusting the amount of force he uses, especially with you.

You’ve only witnessed him serious on two occasions: first one is a recurring event, when he’s training alone. When you’re together, he’s always in a merry mood, letting you try out moves and spells on him and frequently praising you even after failures. His whole demeanor changes when he’s by himself, swinging the spear with a calculated, focused gaze that remains unperturbed until the end of his session. The second case is when you get hurt. Now, he does encourage you to fight, and your confidence in battle is what caused him to fall head over heels in love with you. He will immediately put a stop to it, however, if the opponent ends up harming you. Seeing your lips curl in pain is enough to set him off and send him into a full blown rage.

Suma is destructive in all the ways you can think of. Given his massive size, as much as he’d love to, having his way with you is not something that can happen spontaneously. Borrowing his powers can of course help your frail body to not immediately tear apart, but depending on how much self control he has (or lack of), you might end up needing urgent healing from Sakaki. Suma will be extremely apologetic for nearly fucking you to death, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. A more common approach is riding his hand, as one or two fingers are enough to make you dizzy. He’ll be satisfied just hearing your needy whimpers. He also adores watching you whenever you give him handjobs as your little, delicate hands struggle to hold onto him. You’re insignificant compared to him and yet you persevere, feisty and horny. His precious, tiny warrior.

Yuugiri

Yuugiri is by nature a manipulative, masterful liar, so it comes as no surprise that you had a hard time trusting him in the beginning. His habit of teasing you certainly didn’t help, as you could never tell whether he’s serious about something or not. Perhaps the greatest irony is that even when he tries to be honest, it comes out crooked. Such is the fate of a deceiving demon, although most people are only familiar with fox spirits. On his end, he loves that you’re so transparent and obvious, even occasionally naive. And so it took a lot of awkward pleading to convince you to renew a binding contract with him, given everyone was suspecting him of ulterior motives.

For Yuugiri, being part of such contract is the most vulnerable offering he could've given you as proof of his love. As your souls become connected, you can perceive his feelings in ways otherwise impossible to achieve. He willingly allowed you to be able to read his heart, and thankfully it worked. It was his last, desperate resort to get you to understand his affections. Do you finally see the earnest adoration he harbors for you?

He is the best choice if you're looking for a best friend to gossip with. He enjoys listening to your stories and pays great attention to every detail. He's also frighteningly vengeful, especially when it involves you. So if you ever complain about someone to him, know that he will remember it forever and will make sure to continuously get back at the offender in the worst possible ways and will only stop when you tell him to.

Now listen, I’m about to be quite crass but it is what it is: as a serpent demon he has a long, forked tongue and let’s just say everyone in the household can tell if he’s eating you out because it will be loud. It will be followed by the walk of shame, when you eventually have to come out of the room red-faced and sore-legged, with Yuugiri donning a devilish grin for the rest of the day. You always swear to keep it in next time, but within moments you’re tightly gripping onto his horns, mumbling his name in a feverish, drunken haze. Naturally, he can read you like an open book and this truth stands for more intimate matters as well. Leave it to Yuugiri to know what his darling likes best.

Sekiya

Sekiya has been fascinated with you from the moment you stepped into the ancient Tomb. To see the anxious, quiet Kiritsubo happily wag his tail after you and the stern, irritable Murasaki readily at your service…It was a sight most unfamiliar to him and he wondered how a mere human like you managed to whip them into this kind of submission. He refused to believe you’d be stronger than Abe no Nakamaro himself, yet after the battle - from which you emerged victorious - it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t fear or obedience coming from the two yokai companions. Just honest, unadulterated love. He felt his chest tighten with envy, all the resentment of being sealed in with an evil, hateful sorcerer finally erupting its way to the surface.

So when you offered him and Sakaki to join you (“What else is left to do among these ruins?”), he couldn’t agree fast enough. To think he, too, could be spoiled with the affections of someone like you. On the other hand, Sekiya is an insecure, nervous wreck of an overthinker and he felt like he couldn’t offer anything worthy in return. He’s a demon that casts barriers. Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t have Murasaki’s genius, or Kiritsubo’s raw power, or Suma’s brute strength…What use could you possibly find in him? Hence the constant need for reassurance. He will need you to pull him out of his melancholy every now and then, just a small nudge from the savior he so worships.

It’s an extremely rare occurrence, but Sekiya can get cheeky if his ego is stroked properly. So, for example, he’ll take advantage of the fact you’re both alone in the modern world and show you the handy usage of his barriers: a crowded intersection overflowing with people, and yet no one can see him greedily thrusting into you right in the middle of everything. It’s the high of sprawling you out in public without actually being seen. It’s also one of the reasons you no longer take him furniture shopping. Last time you asked him to help you pick a new table from Ikea and were confused by his requirement of it being “high enough”. Before you could ask for further explanations, the immediate vicinity started twirling into a blur and his heavy arm bent you over the surface. “Let me demonstrate”, he purred in your ear. Sure, no one saw you dripping with his cum, nonetheless scanning the items with your clenched legs and deep crimson face was humiliating enough.

Sakaki

Despite his gift to heal and revive, Sakaki is a terribly miserable demon, often plagued by gloom and death. He is especially receptive to negative emotions, and given your souls are connected, he is the first to detect any change in your mood. (You had to learn to block out the persistent throb of jealousy that tugs at your heart whenever the yokai is particularly insecure.) He takes great pride in the fact that he can understand your sadness better than anyone. The second you feel down, he’ll be right behind you: “Worry not, we shall suffer together. Such is the fate of lovers.”

The first time he joined you back into the modern world, you’ve perhaps mistakenly introduced him to classic literature you assumed he’d like. He indeed became infatuated with authors like Poe, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Shelley, Hoffmann. For the first time in his long life, Sakaki felt understood, and you’re glad to have played a role in his new interest. Yet you can’t help the shivers running down your spine whenever you become the target of his overflowing, renewed inspiration. Grim, ghastly paintings, deplorably obsessive poems…You’ve unleashed an authentic Romantic poet whose only muse is you.

He’s a master of eerie awkwardness, more so now that he has access to modern entertainment. You were excited when he asked you out on a picnic date, only to discover you’ve been taken to a foggy graveyard. He enthusiastically explained his choice: you can scout burial plots in case one of you dies (he’ll die with you, no worries), it is a stunning reminder that his love for you is eternal, and you might even find potential names if you ever want children. Another time, when you rented a boat during a sunny day at the lake, he cheerfully wondered how you’d look if you were to drown (still as beautiful as ever, he’s certain). Ah, but he does not dwell on dark things only. He recently took you to see the famous Cirque du Soleil and he was equally mesmerized by all the light and colors. It was Corteo: the story of a funeral cortège for a clown.

Sakaki does not like sharing and prefers to hang out with you alone, without the other demons. In fact, he’ll spend the day holed up in his room, writing or painting, or go out on lone walks if he knows you’re messing around with someone. He’d rather not hear anything that would cause him turmoil. The only exception is Sekiya, as they spent decades in isolation together within the sealed Tomb, and they both share a similar lack of confidence. In this case he won’t mind laying you on him and offering the above position to his friend, or casually joining your fun if he sees you together with Sekiya.

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part three

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), soft!joel, hallmark tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, angst (but happy ending is here), hurt/comfort, reader's sister is pregnant

WC: 12.4K

A/N: the final installment is here! I hope you enjoyed Joel shoved into a cheesy Hallmark story. Thank you to everyone who showed me so much love, you've all made me stupidly happy.

Series Masterlist

He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew he was just setting himself up for more heartbreak, but he couldn't help it. It was the first time in years that he had felt the touch of a woman, but it was more than that. It was the intimacy and the bond that came with having a partner that he craved more than anything. It was someone he could confess his deepest fears to, his happiest moments and his wildest dreams. Someone he could lean on when he was weak, when he needed support the most. For once, he wanted someone to make him feel safe and comforted. Someone to care for him and love him and be there for him, no matter what. He wanted to belong to someone.

So, he knew he shouldn't do it, but he allowed it, anyway, because he had so little. When he woke up early the next morning and saw you curled into his side, your face buried in his chest and your arm wrapped around his waist, he closed his eyes and let himself have the fantasy, just for a few minutes, of a world where you didn't live a different time zone away. Where it was just a typical Saturday morning for you both. He imagined the three of you going to breakfast before dropping Sarah off at soccer practice, then maybe you would beg him to take you to the home improvement store so you could pick out new paint and tile for the bathroom you wanted him to renovate. Then, after picking Sarah up, you would all go grocery shopping together. Sarah would come up with some dinner idea she saw online and you would help her pick out the ingredients while he pushed the cart and watched his girls try to sneak candy into the basket when you thought he wasn't looking. He liked to imagine you would all pitch in and help make dinner. Maybe each of you would be in charge of a certain part of the meal. Afterwards, you could all watch a movie together. He could enjoy a beer while you curled up next to him on the couch with a drink of your own. What was your preferred drink, anyway? He thought he saw you drinking wine the first night you met. He needed to find out. There was so much about you he didn't know yet, and he was desperate to know everything.

But when you woke up, you had other things on your mind.

That was how he found himself thirty minutes later deep inside of you again, coaxing out your second orgasm of the morning with your body sprawled out on top of him, whimpering into his neck while his hands guided your hips, rocking them back and forth until he felt your legs shake and he couldn't take it anymore. He rolled you over so you were on your back where he could reach the furthest depths of you, nudging against a spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head and chant his name over and over until you unraveled around him again, and only once he was absolutely sure you were satisfied did he allow himself to let go and empty himself into you. Because even though he wants someone to take care of him sometimes, he has no problem taking care of you like this, first.

"Can I make you breakfast?" he asked after he caught his breath. You laughed softly, your throat sounding a little sore and it made his chest swell with pride.

"I have a confession to make," you said, rolling onto your side and tucking your hands under your head to face him. "I'm not really a breakfast person."

He gave you a look as if you had just told him the worst news of his entire life, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"That's okay, sweetheart. I'm here now. I can change that," he replied with a grin, about to get up and drag himself out of bed when his phone rang.

"Must be Sarah," he said with a groan, reaching over and pausing when he saw the caller ID. He flipped the screen over to show you and your eyes widened in shock.

"My dad is calling you?" you asked, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around you. Whipping your head around, you quickly put the pieces together. "Oh my god, my phone's downstairs, they probably think I'm dead or something!"

Joel stood up and answered the call, spinning around to pick up his boxers from the floor and even though the moment was slightly ruined by your father, you still took a second to appreciate his fully naked body in the light of day for the first time.

"Hey, Paul," Joel said into the phone, yanking his underwear back on. "Yeah, hold on a second."

He held his phone out to you, and you cringed, gingerly taking it from him and putting it up to your ear.

"Hey, Dad," you said, trying to sound normal and not like your entire life was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

"Mhmm, yeah I'm so sorry, my phone died last night," you said, biting your nail and glancing up at Joel. He held up a finger and headed down the hall to go downstairs and find your phone, giving you a bit of privacy.

He went to the kitchen and saw your cell next to your purse on his table. When he picked it up, the screen lit up in his hand. He saw a few missed calls and texts from your dad and sister, a couple texts from a girl named Sydney and the most concerning of the bunch, one singular text from a Will. He froze, staring down at the phone, unblinking as his chest began to rise faster. You never mentioned your ex-fiancé's name, but something in his gut told him it was Will.

His thumb hovered over the screen, the urge to open and read it overwhelming him, but he quickly stopped himself. That wasn't the type of man he was. What he felt for you was real and intense and life changing, and he wasn't going to screw that up. In order to make this work, assuming you would want to make a long-distance relationship work, the foundation of it would have to be trust. So, he let the screen go dark as he turned on the coffee pot and trudged back upstairs to hand you your phone. You smiled up at him gratefully as you listened to your dad on the other end.

"Yeah, Dad, that sounds great," you said in a tone that clearly sounded like you weren't interested. Joel smirked as he walked over to his dresser, pulling out two clean T-shirts. As he bent over to find some sweatpants, he saw you pick up your phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as your thumb froze over the screen for a moment, just long enough to allow the shock of the name to set in before you pressed down on the text and dragged it to a red button that said 'delete'.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the grin from his face so you wouldn't catch on. You deleted it without even opening it. He took a deep breath as you wrapped up the call with your dad. This can work. It will have to work. You could do this.

"Sorry," you said, handing his phone back and giving him an embarrassed look. "God, that was so awkward."

"It's alright," he said with a chuckle, handing you a T-shirt and sweatpants. You raised an eyebrow as you took them and placed them on the bed.

"You think I'll fit in your sweats?"

"It's all I got," he said with a shrug and yanked on fresh clothes of his own. "You're more than welcome to walk around naked, if you prefer," he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

You hummed against his mouth before he pulled away to pick up the scattered clothes on the ground from the night before. When he bunched up the white T-shirt he wore underneath his button down, you stopped him.

"Wait," you said, and he turned around. You had your arm stretched out; his bedsheet still pressed against your naked chest. He reached over to hand you the dirty shirt, and you smirked up at him, dropping the sheet and exposing your top half.

His throat went dry as his eyes instantly fell to your chest, and he tried to ignore that familiar stirring below his waist as you deliberately took your time slipping his used shirt over your head. He remained frozen in place, barely blinking as you slid your legs out from under the covers and stood.

"I wanna smell you on me," you said by way of explanation, gazing up at him with eyes that were too soft and lips that were too swollen and fuck, you were too perfect.

You watched him from your seat at the kitchen island as he stood over the stove, expertly cooking eggs and bacon as if he were on autopilot, like he had done it so many times before, and probably did, but for Sarah. You took a sip of your coffee before padding up behind him, legs still bare in only just his used T-shirt, so you could wrap your arms around his stomach, resting your cheek against his back.

"Can I help?" you asked, taking a deep breath in, letting his scent fill your nostrils.

"No, baby, I got it," he said softly, turning his head to the side so he could try to see you hidden behind him.

You hummed and let your arms drop back to your side once it became apparent you were in the way, but he refused to say anything about it.

Picking up your phone from the counter, you sat back down to open all the missed notifications from last night and that morning. The texts from your dad and Cassie were similar, each wondering where you were and if you were okay but reading between the lines and noting the lack of real urgency in the tone, it seemed like they had both figured out where you ended up. With a sigh, you went to open the messages from Sydney.

Sydney: girl, tell me you checked insta

Sydney: can you believe that bullshit? what a fucking slut

You frowned, tapping out a quick reply to her as Joel plated your breakfast. You were about to open the app to see what she was talking about when he sat down next to you. The time you had with him was so short and precious, you didn't want to waste it scrolling on your phone or talking to people who never even bothered to ask you how you were doing after your breakup.

"This looks amazing," you said, eagerly picking up your fork. "Thank you," you added, hiding your mouth full of food behind your hand.

"Thought you weren't a breakfast person," he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Guess I worked up an appetite. Wonder why that is?" you teased, nudging your shoulder against his as he tried to hide the blush creeping up his neck. "You like to talk about my hidden talents, but you never mentioned that you were such a good cook," you said.

"Eggs and bacon ain't that hard," he said with a laugh.

"I would probably find a way to mess it up," you said.

"Well, I make it every Saturday for me and Sarah. Why don't you come by next week and I'll show you," he shrugged, not even realizing what he said until the words already slipped past his lips. It felt like you had been punched in the gut, the air leaving your body so fast it made you lightheaded. He paused when he realized that you wouldn't be there next Saturday and quickly dropped his fork to pull you against his chest after he saw the look on your face.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinkin'," he murmured into your hair.

"It's okay," you said quietly, doing your best not to cry. You had cried enough last night, and you had no interest in starting up again. So, instead, you pulled back and looked up at him with a sad smile before planting a quick kiss against his lips, then stood up. You collected your plates and brought them over to the sink, then turned on the faucet and picked up the sponge.

"You don't gotta do that," Joel said, jumping up to push you aside, but you wouldn't budge.

"You cooked, I'll clean," you said firmly, squirting some soap onto the plates. "You don't have to do everything, you know," you added when it became apparent he wasn't comfortable with you cleaning the dishes.

"Okay," he said quietly before reluctantly sitting back down, watching as you scrubbed the plates and forks before moving to the frying pan.

He realized that this is what it would be like. It was one thing to imagine it, because he could convince himself reality wouldn't be as good. That real life didn't work that way and could never live up to the absurd scenarios he tended to dream up in his head when he was in need of comfort.

But the silly little fantasy he had that morning was nothing compared to the real thing, and now that he's had it, he was terrified of losing it.

"So, I was thinkin'... work slows down in January, I could probably come up and visit you. I'm sure Tommy'll be fine with watchin' Sarah for a few days. What'dya think?"

He glanced over at you in the passenger seat of his truck, still wearing his T-shirt under your sweater but having found a better fitting pair of bottoms in Sarah's room.

"Oh! Yeah, that sounds great," you said, sounding surprised. "I don't even know where I'll be living, though," you added with a frown.

"Well, once you get back and figure it out, I'll book the plane ticket. I already looked, fares are low that time of year, lots of options," he rambled nervously, squeezing the steering wheel as his mind tried to work out the details.

"You already looked?" you asked him with a small smile, and he nodded.

"Yeah, looked last night after you fell asleep," he replied. "I know you're worried 'bout it, 'bout us, but we'll make it work, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," you said quietly, then forced a smile on your face when he gave you a concerned look. "I'm just really going to miss your cooking," you said solemnly, making him laugh.

You knew your options were limited and that this was the best choice. But you also knew long-distance relationships were hard, even for couples that had known each other for much longer than a few weeks.

Maybe you could each take a turn visiting the other every month. Maybe if you really try and put in the effort, talk to each other every single day, maybe it could work. But what was the long term plan? He couldn't move to New York, not when he has his daughter to think about. Would you eventually move back to Texas? Give up everything you've been working towards in New York, the life you built, just to end up back home? What would be the point in ever moving there in the first place? It had to all be for something, right?

He walked you up the porch steps, just like he did since that first night. Always so courteous and respectful. You dropped the bag that carried your dress at your feet, drawing your attention to the ridiculous outfit you were wearing. Your white sweater buttoned up over his oversized shirt, with Sarah's pink pajama bottoms and your high heels from last night.

"If this isn't a walk of shame, I don't know what is," you said, stifling a laugh. He grinned and glanced around.

"Better get in before the whole neighborhood sees," he said, tilting your chin up for a kiss. "Don't need everyone talkin'," he added softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" you asked hopefully, and he nodded.

"Yeah, Tommy's party," he reminded you. You nodded.

"Should be fun," you said.

"Yeah," was all he offered as a response, not yet making a move to go, clearly not wanting to leave you.

"You gotta get Sarah," you told him, finally forcing his feet to move.

"Yeah, okay," he said with a sigh. "Talk to you later?"

"I'll text you. My mom wants to decorate the tree today." You rolled your eyes, making sure the doorbell camera couldn't see, and he smirked.

"Go!" you told him, playfully shoving his chest back when he still remained firmly planted on the porch. He grinned and finally turned to jog down the steps.

"Alright, alright," he said, glancing behind him so he could watch you go inside. He still had that stupid grin on his face as he made his way to his truck, but it quickly faded when he heard your dad call out from the garage.

"Hey, Joel, got a minute?" Paul asked, wiping his hands with a rag and leaning against the door frame. Shit.

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, taking a deep breath before walking up the driveway where your father stood waiting.

"Hey Paul, 'bout yesterday-"

Your dad held up his hand and shook his head, silencing Joel.

"You don't gotta say anythin', she's an adult, I just need to make sure she's alright," Paul said, eyeing Joel up and down.

"I shoulda reminded her reach out, it won't happen again," he replied, looking Paul square in the eye.

"I don't just mean last night, Joel," Paul said, a little quieter now. Joel searched the older man's eyes, and then he saw it. The deep concern that only a father could have for his daughter. A look that Joel had noticed in the mirror more and more lately.

"You make her real happy. I can see it, and I am grateful to you for that," Paul continued. "But she's goin' back to New York soon, and it's got me worried, I ain't gonna lie to you. She's been through a lot lately, and she doesn't deserve -" his voice cracked, and he glanced down at his feet.

"Paul, I care about her. I really care about her, and I think she cares about me, too. I'm gonna do whatever I gotta do to make this work," Joel said, trying to offer him some reassurance. "Believe me when I tell you that I'm the only one who can end up gettin' hurt here."

Paul dragged his gaze up to Joel once again with a sigh.

"I don't want either of you gettin' hurt. You're a good man, Joel. I've always liked you. Martha's always liked you. I'm just askin' you to be careful with my little girl, yeah?"

"I hear you," Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I will, I promise."

"Good," Paul said, clapping his hand on Joel's shoulder.

"Listen, I gotta pick Sarah up from a sleepover, but I'll be back tomorrow. My brother's havin' a Christmas party at his house. Think he asked Cassie to come, too."

"Yeah, he invited us. I didn't get a chance to talk to him much at the party, but he invited us through Josh just yesterday," Paul said.

"Oh?" Joel replied, wondering why they got a last minute invite, but chalked it up to Tommy just being Tommy. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Joel let out a shaky breath as he walked back to his truck. He had to hand it to Paul: if the roles were reversed and it was Sarah in your shoes, he wasn't sure he would be so understanding.

Luckily for you, your mom was nowhere to be found as you hurried up to your bedroom and shut the door behind you quietly. It was bad enough your parents knew where you were spent the night, they didn't need to see the evidence on top of everything else.

You tucked Joel's shirt into the bottom of your drawer, not wanting to mistakenly wash it, but made sure to put Sarah's pajama bottoms in the pile of laundry you had to tackle today.

After taking a quick shower, you headed back to your room to check your phone. You knew Joel was with Sarah and you shouldn't expect a text already, but you were still disappointed. You couldn't get enough of him. He was on your mind day and night, consuming your thoughts and dreams at every turn. The logical part of your brain warned you it was just infatuation, that new relationships always brought a sense of excitement and passion. But your heart was telling you otherwise. You had deep and profound feelings for him. Feelings you never felt before, or you thought you felt before, but never did to this degree.

Even if you called him every single day, how could you go that long without his touch? You could barely get through an hour without it now. You yearned for him in a way you never thought possible; a way that made you feel like you could finally understand what Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë wrote about. You knew it sounded crazy, that your friends or family couldn't ever understand, but that was fine. It was something you could have just for yourself.

You leaned back into your bed, your hair still wet and wrapped in a towel, as you scrolled through your phone. Realizing you had been brushing Sydney off the past several days, you opened her text, rereading it and then opening Instagram to try to find out what she had been talking about.

You scrolled a while, realizing you hadn't paid much attention to social media the past couple weeks and missed quite a bit. You saw the standard pictures of your friends and coworkers partying, taking selfies at holiday parties, but nothing stood out to you. With a frown, you swiped back to her text.

You: I couldn't find anything on insta, what are you talking about?

You waited a few minutes, flipping back to the app to scroll again before getting a response.

Sydney: did you see Chris's pics from a few nights ago at tunnel??

You typed in his name in the search bar and began swiping through his pictures. You found the ones where he was at Tunnel, but again, you had no idea what she was talking about. Before you could ask, she sent another text.

Sydney: 4th and 5th pics, zoom in, behind him and Jess

Finding the pictures, you pinched your screen and gasped. There, in the background, was Will and your friend, Melanie, with their tongues down each other's throats. The very same Melanie you were bunking with until you found a new place to live. You couldn't see her face in the fourth picture, but when you zoomed in on the fifth one, they had pulled away slightly and it was obvious who it was.

Will had texted you last night and you deleted it. Now you wondered if he had texted you to try to do some damage control over these pictures. The thought infuriated you. These people clearly didn't give a damn about you, they only wanted to ease their own conscience, and you weren't going to let them.

Sydney began to send a whirlwind of texts after, but you hardly responded to any of them. What were you going to do? How could you go back and continue to live with Melanie after what you just saw? Was she the girl he was seeing the whole time? You never bothered to ask when you found out, you didn't think your friends would betray you like that, so you didn't care.

Angry now, you opened up a text to your sister and began furiously typing.

You: are you free tomorrow? We need to look for apartments for me asap

With a groan, you put your phone on silent and slid under the covers. Maybe Sydney would let you stay with her. She didn't have a huge place, but if it was only for a couple weeks and you had a place lined up before you got back, maybe she wouldn't mind.

You glanced at the mirror one more time, fixing a few loose strands of hair and checking your teeth before snatching your purse off the table, shoving your phone inside, and heading down the stairs where you could hear Joel in the kitchen talking with your parents.

Your mom was wearing one of her patented, unironic ugly Christmas sweaters, and it seemed as though this year she managed to rope your dad into it because he had a reindeer on the front of his that looked like one of the eyes was perilously close to falling off.

Joel turned to greet you with a warm smile, choosing to wear a much more normal off-white V-neck sweater with a pair of dark jeans. He pulled you into a hug, murmuring in your ear how beautiful you looked in the dark green knee length dress you picked out.

"Where's Sarah?" you asked him.

"She's been at Tommy's all day, wanted to help him set up," he explained.

"You ready to hit it?" your dad asked, looking down at his watch. You nodded, looping your arm through Joel's as you followed your parents out the front door. It was much colder than you were expecting, the bitter wind taking your breath away as Joel jogged ahead to start the truck. Your mom veered off towards their SUV, and your dad turned to you.

"See you there," he said, his breath clouding in front of his face in little puffs.

"Yeah. Hey, how'd mom get you to wear that ridiculous thing tonight?" you asked him with a teasing lilt to your voice as you pointed to his sweater.

Your dad chuckled and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

"Sometimes people do crazy things for the person they love, Buck."

Your dad headed over to the driver's side of his SUV, leaving you cemented to the ground as his words tumbled around in your head.

"All good?" Joel asked, his arm coming up to your shoulders, steering you to the truck and out of the cold.

"Yeah," you whispered, taking his hand so he could help you up into the cab.

You were always amazed how comfortable your parents were in unusual social settings. Even if they hardly knew anyone, they managed to make new friends within ten minutes of arriving. That's why it came as no surprise when they branched off from you and Joel after arriving at Tommy's house, first finding your sister and her husband, and then laughing jovially with an older couple you learned later were Tommy's neighbors.

Cassie waved to you from across the room, beckoning you over. You smiled and waved back as Joel slid your coat from your shoulders.

"I'll get us somethin' to drink, what'dya like?" he murmured, his hand falling to the small of your back.

"I'm all set, but thank you," you said with a smile. He gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head before heading off to the kitchen while you made your way across the room to your sister, giving her a big hug.

"Did you get my text?" you asked as you pulled away.

"Yeah, sorry. You wanna get together tomorrow and we can look?" Cassie asked, and you nodded.

"That would be great," you said with relief as Joel sidled up next to you, beer in hand.

"What would be great?" he asked, taking a sip from the bottle.

"I'm gonna help her look for apartments tomorrow," Cassie explained. Joel nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew you were leaving in a few days, but he tried his best not to think about it, too worried that he would waste what little time he had left already missing you.

"Dad!" you all heard Sarah's voice ring out over the crowd of people in Tommy's living room. A smile instantly stretched across his face as he turned around, his daughter's arms wrapping around his midsection and squeezing him tightly. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she turned to embrace you right after, once again complimenting your dress and hair. Cassie and Josh exchanged knowing glances before Joel introduced them to his daughter.

"C'mon, I want you to try the cookies I made," Sarah said, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the kitchen. Joel watched the two of you leave, his chest aching and his throat tightening at the sight of his daughter so happy.

"You okay?" Cassie asked, startling him.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as he realized Tommy had come over to talk to Josh about what sounded like football.

"You're not a very good liar, Joel," Cassie said with a smirk. Joel gave her a surprised look and chuckled.

"No, reckon I'm not," he replied, taking another sip from his beer. His eyes met yours when you turned around in the kitchen and took a bite from a sugar cookie, tossing him a wink that made him smile.

"Do you love her?"

Joel nearly choked on his beer, his head swiveling back towards Cassie in surprise.

"Bit soon for that, don't you think?" he finally managed to say.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question," she said with a glint in her eye. Joel felt his heart hammering in his chest. Of course, he loved you. And apparently, it was very obvious. But still, he struggled with an answer, not sure how much to tell your sister. When a couple minutes passed and he still hadn't thought of anything to say, Cassie's eyebrows pinched together.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reading the pain on his face. He sniffed and shook his head.

"It's alright," he replied, but his voice cracked, so he took another sip of beer to help distract from it.

"Dad! Do you wanna try one?" Sarah asked from the doorway, holding out a green sugar cookie in his direction. Joel forced a small smile and nodded before muttering excuse me to Cassie and headed over.

He plucked the cookie gingerly from his daughter's hand and took a bite, nodding to her and smiling as he chewed.

"Real good, baby girl," he said after he swallowed.

Sarah grinned mischievously as you approached, sliding your arm up and rubbing his back affectionately.

"She did a good job," you said, nodding towards the cookie. Sarah took a few steps back and looked up.

"Oh, no," she said, her tone flat, implying sarcasm as she pointed above your heads. "Guess you better kiss."

You both looked up at the small bundle of greenery wrapped in a little red bow pinned to the doorframe. You bit your lip and tilted your chin back down, raising an eyebrow at him.

He sighed and rolled his eyes as if it were a great burden, but he couldn't keep his mouth from turning up into a smile as he placed his beer and half eaten cookie on the table behind you so he could gently cup your jaw with both hands. You lifted your face up and let your eyes flutter closed when his lips brushed tenderly against your own, and just like the first time you kissed, all the noise surrounding you faded away. The only thing that mattered in those few moments were the two of you and the love that clearly burned so brightly that it drew the attention of Tommy and your family.

Your parents exchanged a sad glance and looked away right as Joel pulled back and gave a small kiss to the tip of your nose, then reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides.

"Adorable," Sarah said with a grin. You turned to look at her as she held up the screen of her phone, showing you the picture she sneakily took. You felt your cheeks flush as you gave her a playful shove, making her giggle.

A few hours later, Joel drove you home, with Sarah humming to herself in the backseat of the cab while she scrolled on her phone. His hand interlocked with yours as he drove, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles while he steered the truck with one hand.

"Can you come over on Christmas?" Sarah asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"She's gotta spend Christmas with her family, baby girl," Joel said, his eyes shifting to the review mirror to look at her.

"Actually, we exchange gifts tomorrow," you told him. "We've always done our presents on Christmas Eve. But I'm sure you guys want to do your own thing-"

"No," Joel said quickly, cutting you off. "We just have Tommy over. If you're free, we'd love to have you."

"Are you sure?" you asked him quietly, but Sarah's voice piped up from behind you.

"We're sure," she said confidently, making you chuckle.

"You heard her," he said with a grin.

"Alright then, that sounds great, thank you," you replied as he pulled into your driveway.

"I'm just gonna walk her up, okay?" Joel said over his shoulder, and Sarah just nodded, staring down blankly at her phone.

"I hope she didn't put you on the spot. If you aren't comfortable with it, I understand," Joel said as he led you up the steps.

"Not at all. If anything, I thought I would be intruding on family time," you responded when you reached the front door.

But you are family he thought, refusing to say it outloud.

"You're never intruding," he said earnestly. "We tend to start early, though. Maybe I can pick you up tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't that be weird for Sarah?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

"I'll figure it out. I'll sleep on the couch or somethin'," he said reassuringly.

"Okay," you said, giving him a shy smile and tugging your lower lip between your teeth. He reached out to swipe his thumb lovingly over your cheek before pinching your chin and pressing a kiss against your lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then," he murmured.

You watched as he jogged down the steps, his breath lingering in the cold air behind him. You lifted a hand to give Sarah a wave and stepped inside when your phone went off in your purse. With a frown, you lifted it out and when you saw the text, you blushed.

Joel Miller: Miss you already.

"Hey Buck, you in here?" your sister's voice said from the other side of your bedroom door.

"Yeah, come in," you told her, sitting up in bed but still staring down at your phone will a goofy smile on your face.

When Cassie walked in with her laptop and saw your face, she rolled her eyes.

"Lemme guess," she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. "Joel?"

You didn't reply, still staring down at your phone as you tapped out a text.

"Hellooo?" Cassie said loudly, waving a hand under your face. You blinked and looked up at her.

"What?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No, sorry, I was just texting Joel," you said, the grin coming back. "What did you say?"

"Nevermind," Cassie replied, shaking her head. "You ready to look at apartments? I did some research this morning and I found a few you might like, and they are really affordable."

"Oh, yeah?" you said, finally dragging your attention away from your phone, curiosity getting the best of you. "That's fantastic because you'll never believe this one."

You sat back and told Cassie about Will and Melanie, her jaw dropping at the end.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" she exclaimed, and you shook your head.

"Nope. And you know, he had the audacity to text me trying to explain himself? I deleted the first one without reading it but the asshole actually texted me today, wishing me a Merry Christmas and oh, by the way, sorry I've been fucking your friend."

"What did you say?" Cassie asked, letting the laptop boot up on the bed next to her.

"Nothing. I just blocked his number. And I'm going to block Melanie, too, once I get back and get my shit from her place. Sydney said it's okay if I stay with her for a little bit, so I hope you found some decent options," you said, nodding towards the computer.

"Lemme pull them up," she said, moving the laptop towards her and taking a few minutes to pull up the sites she bookmarked, then she swiveled the computer to face you, watching your reaction closely. You narrowed your eyes at the screen and frowned, glancing up at her.

"These are in Austin," you said slowly.

"I know," she said, inching towards you on the bed. "I think you should stay, Bucky."

"Cas-"

"I saw you last night. Everyone saw you guys last night. And even if we didn't, it's so obvious to all of us-"

"Who? Mom and Dad?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, Mom and Dad. And Josh. And Tommy. And probably even Sarah. Why are are you doing this to yourself?"

"Doing what? Going back to my home and my job? I didn't realize that was so irresponsible," you said sarcastically, growing more agitated.

"What home, Buck? Your home is here, with us. With Joel and with Sarah. And you know it," she said, crossing her arms.

"I'm not fighting with you about this. I'm not just going to give up and move back because some guy dumped me," you said, standing up from the bed.

"Would you give up and move back if another guy loves you?" she asked, stopping you cold.

"What?"

"He didn't tell me, but it's so obvious, Buck. C'mon, you see it, right?" she said, more gently now.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"Look, if you're not going to help me look for a place, can I at least borrow your computer? It's a lot easier to do it that way than using my phone."

"Fine," Cassie said, standing up and walking to the door. "But you're right, I'm not going to help you ruin your relationship with a guy who's actually fucking perfect for you. If you want to be stubborn, go right ahead."

"I'm not ruining my relationship with him, we're gonna do long-distance, and-"

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with that," she said over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

When you saw Joel pull into the driveway later that evening, you rushed out the door, tossing a wave to your family over your shoulder. He frowned and jogged up to you, taking the duffel bag from your hand.

"Why didn't you let me come to the door? I wanted to say Merry Christmas to your folks," he said, following you to the passenger door.

"I was too excited to see you," you confessed, peeking inside and confirming Sarah wasn't in the car before turning around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "Sorry," you added with a smirk, nipping lightly at his lip.

"I'll forgive you," he said with a grin, then yanked the door open to help you up. He tossed your bag on the seat behind you before getting behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway.

"Is Sarah excited for Christmas?" you asked him as you looked out the window. He loved that you always thought to ask about his little girl.

"Oh, yeah. She loves Christmas. Especially since we're supposed to get snow tonight," he said.

"I heard about that, might be a lot."

"That's alright, we got nowhere to be," he said with a wink. "I can make us all breakfast in the mornin', Tommy'll be by around ten, we can do presents and watch movies. Or whatever you want. That's just what we usually do. Are there any traditions or anythin' you like?"

The excitement in his voice was palpable. This was going to feel like a real Christmas for the first time in years. Not that he didn't enjoy holidays with his daughter and brother, but something always felt like it was missing.

"All of that sounds perfect," you said with a smile.

When you entered Joel's house, Sarah came bounding up to you for a hug before you could even get your coat off.

"I'm so excited! We're gonna have a sleepover! Dad said we can stay up late and watch movies and set up sleeping bags in the living room next to the tree - come here, let me show you!" She dragged you across the room, and you tossed a laugh over your shoulder at Joel who was watching with a smile from the door.

Sarah fell asleep sometime during The Grinch, after the three of you had hot chocolate and the leftover cookies she had made for Tommy's party. With a contented sigh, you sleepily reached over and wrapped your arm around Joel's waist and buried your face against his neck, falling asleep just like that while he finished watching the movie alone, the smile refusing to leave his face.

"Wake up!" Sarah shouted, making you both jump out of your skin.

"What's wrong?" Joel asked groggily, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. Then he smelled your shampoo and felt the warmth of your body against his and his heart melted as the night before came flooding back to him.

"It snowed, Dad!" she said. "Come on, I wanna build a snowman and do snow angels."

"It's early, honey, gimme a minute," Joel groaned, and he felt you trying to muffle your laughter against his chest.

"I'm gonna go wash up and change so we can go outside," she said, excitedly skipping up the steps.

"Jesus, you'd think she was eight years old," he mumbled, rolling on his side to wrap his arms around you tightly.

You burrowed into his chest deeper, the heat from his body washing over you and causing you to feel unbelievably relaxed, even if you were sleeping on the floor with an old sleeping bag as a mattress.

"Merry Christmas," you whispered, planting a soft kiss against his throat.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he said in return, his voice so deep and thick with sleep that it made your knees weak.

He leaned down and captured your lips with his while his fingers got tangled in your hair. He let out a satisfied groan when you let his tongue slip past your lips, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Joel," you said breathlessly, pulling back. "She'll be back any second."

"Sorry. You're just so fuckin' pretty in the mornin'," he said with a grin. "Can't help myself."

After Sarah got ready, you and Joel took turns getting dressed and manning the stove. Once Joel made sure you were all full of pancakes, eggs and toast, he told Sarah she could go outside and take pictures while the two of you stayed behind to clean up.

Once again, you insisted on doing the dishes after he had cooked most of the meal. It was difficult for him to get used to that, but he put up less of a fight this time and let you do it, knowing that you were just trying to take some things off his plate. He reasoned that it was what he had wished for all along - someone to help him and care for him - so he might as well let it happen. He was in too deep at this point, anyway.

"The hell, you couldn't shovel me a damn path?" Tommy's voice boomed from the front door.

"That's what Sarah's for, why don't you yell at her?" Joel said with a grin as he pulled his brother into a hug. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, brother," Tommy replied, slapping him on the back before making his way to you across the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, little lady," Tommy said, picking you up and spinning you around, the same way he did with Sarah at her recital. You giggled, and Joel could see in your face that you were surprised. You gripped Tommy's shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek when he finally put you down.

"Merry Christmas, did you eat? We still have some food left over," you said, pointing to the counter where the food was wrapped up in foil. When he heard you say we, it made Joel's stomach clench. Why on earth couldn't he have met you sooner?

"Don't mind if I do," Tommy replied, pulling a fork from the drying rack and grabbing the plates.

"Okay, Uncle Tommy's here, can we do our gifts now?" Sarah asked, rushing inside through the sliding glass door, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold and her tight brown curls carrying in a light dusting of snowflakes.

"Let him eat first, baby girl," Joel said, but Tommy shook his head, shoveling in a forkful of pancake.

"Go ahead and get started, I won't be long," he mumbled around the food in his mouth.

You and Joel brought your coffee into the living room and watched her excitedly open the gifts he had put under the tree, some of which you recognized as your own handiwork. He slung his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder. You leaned into him, bringing your knees up to your chest and your mug to your lips as you watched Sarah with a warm smile. Already, this was the perfect Christmas, and it had only just begun.

Sarah picked up a flat rectangular gift and read the tag before handing it over to you, and then going back to holding up the clothes she got.

You furrowed your brow and smiled when you saw it was from Joel, then turned to look up at him.

"It's nothin' really," he said with a shrug, but you could tell he was nervous. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy enter the room, picking up Sarah's gifts one by one to examine them.

You set your mug down on the coffee table and opened the package, your hands pausing when you began to recognize what it was. Hurriedly, you ripped the rest of the paper off and flipped it over. Tears sprung to your eyes as you looked closely at the wooden picture frame he had made for you. Hearts, snowflakes, stars and moons of various sizes filled each and every inch of the wood. All of them painstakingly carved by his patient hand. You ran your finger over the wood, marveling at how smooth it was, before you even thought to look at the picture itself. Inside the frame was a picture of the two of you at Sarah's recital: you in your red dress and him in his dark red dress shirt. Your eyes were closed and his lips were pressed gently against your forehead.

He cleared his throat, growing nervous the longer you stared and didn't say anything.

"It's not a big deal, just-"

"No, it is a big deal," you said, turning to him with tears in your eyes. "I love it." I love you.

"Yeah?" he asked, finally allowing a smile to spread across his face. "Tommy took the picture and the idea just came to me."

"It's perfect," you breathed, looking back down at it in wonder. "Thank you so much."

You continued to stare at it, looking closely at and admiring each symbol he marked in the wood when you remembered your gift.

"Oh, wait!" you said, jumping up from the couch to paw through your duffel bag. You pulled out a card in a red envelope and handed it to him with a smile.

"You didn't have to do anythin'," he said, but ripped open the envelope eagerly anyway.

"It's actually a gift for both of you, if you want," you began nervously, getting Sarah's attention. Joel opened the card and saw two plane tickets for a five day trip to New York. He looked up at you in shock and glanced at Sarah before looking back down.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, getting up to look over his shoulder. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"We're going to New York City?!"

"If you want," you repeated, biting your lip. "I thought you could both come visit me for a few days next month. I picked the end of the month because Tommy said you won't be working," you glanced up at Tommy and he smiled. "But if you want to pick different dates, we can do that, too. They're flexible tickets."

You realized you were rambling now. Joel's eyes were still glued to the tickets in shock, and you were worried you might have overstepped.

"Dad! We're gonna go to New York City!" Sarah squealed, shaking his shoulder and yanking the tickets from his hands. His eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

"They are fully refundable, too," you continued, suddenly feeling sweaty. "No pressure, I just thought-"

He reached forward to grip the back of your neck, pulling you forward and crashing your mouth onto his. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but you managed to get your bearings and return his kiss. He pulled back and pressed his forehead affectionately against yours.

"Thank you," he whispered. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome," you said with a smile.

He couldn't believe you thought of bringing his daughter with him to visit. His chest ached, seeing how wonderful you were with her, how caring and sweet and thoughtful and all the things his little girl needed and wanted but never got from anyone besides him and Tommy.

After the excitement died down, Sarah dragged you all outside to play in the snow. Insisting on building snowmen and taking tons of selfies because, as she said, it never snows this much in Texas, we need to memorialize it.

When it got too cold for you, you slipped back inside to make lunch, watching from the kitchen window as the three of them had a snowball fight, and laughing when Sarah nailed Joel square in the back of the head with a huge snowball.

The three of them finally came back in, filling the kitchen with a blast of cold air so crisp you could smell it. After they shrugged off their coats and gloves in the hall, Joel snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his freezing cold face into your neck, making you giggle and shriek. You tried to squirm away, but his grip was too tight.

"Warm me up, baby," he murmured into your neck, and you threw your head backwards as you laughed, your fingers trying to pry his hands off you.

"Oh, I love grilled cheese," Sarah said, eying up the sandwiches you had just plated as they walked in the door.

"I don't know how to make much, but I can make a mean grilled cheese," you told her, finally escaping Joel's grasp so you could join them at the table.

Joel couldn't remember the last time anyone cooked for him. Sarah tried a few times but ended up needing his help. He appreciated the thought and effort she had put into it, but it wasn't the same. He knew it was just a sandwich, but the fact he was able to sit down and have a warm meal without having to do it at a restaurant made it so much more meaningful to him.

The four of you spent the afternoon watching Christmas movies, drinking hot chocolate and eating leftovers from Tommy's party. You leaned up against Joel, his arm around your shoulders while you all watched Christmas Vacation, a beer in one hand while his other hand mindlessly played with the ends of your hair and all he thought was this is better than I ever could have imagined.

When the sun began to dip below the trees and the snow melted enough where his truck was visible again in the driveway, he reluctantly took you home, but only after you promised Sarah you would see her once more before you flew back home.

"Are you working tomorrow?" you asked him when you reached your front door.

"Yeah, but I can come by after," he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Okay," you said quietly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down your face. "Thank you for today, I had a really great time."

He nodded and took a shaky breath in.

He wanted to tell you. The words were sitting right at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it. He knew if he did, you would never leave. So instead, he wordlessly stepped forward and gave you a soft kiss, his lips wrapping around your lower lip and giving it a gentle tug as he pulled away.

"Sleep tight," he murmured, the tip of his nose nudging your own. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

You watched him walk slowly down the steps and head to his truck, your eyes stinging and your chest tight as you bit your lip. He turned back to give you a wave before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Only when his taillights disappeared down the street did you allow the tears to finally fall.

Joel pulled up to the job site early the next morning, spotting Tommy's truck already parked along the street. He glanced quickly at his phone to make sure he didn't miss a text from you before pulling on his gloves and walking up to the building.

"Hey," Joel said to Tommy when he walked in, then shrugged off his coat.

"Hey. Cold one out there today," he replied, taking a sip from his thermos. Joel grunted in response and kept his gaze focused on the tools in front of him. Tommy watched him for a moment before speaking again.

"So, tomorrow's the big day, huh?"

"Yep," was all Joel said in response.

"What time's her flight?"

"Morning. Ten or so," he replied, still not looking up.

"Hm," Tommy said, taking another sip of coffee. "You don't look so good today."

"Huh?" Joel asked, finally turning around to furrow his brow at his brother.

"You look a little under the weather. Maybe you oughta go home," he said, tilting his head to the side. It took a moment, then the realization dawned on him.

"Oh," he said, looking around the half built store, his fingers flexing at his sides, clearly thinking it over.

"Just go, Joel," Tommy told him.

"Yeah, but-"

"This can wait. Just go be with your girl," he urged gently. "I can handle things here today."

"Okay," he said, grabbing his coat and throwing it back over his shoulders. He turned around to thank him as he got to the door, but Tommy waved him off.

"Get goin'."

Joel grinned and flung the door open, jogging back to his truck and pulling out his phone.

Joel Miller: You awake?

He took the porch steps two at a time, his finger hovering over the doorbell before deciding to rap his knuckles against the door instead. He tapped his foot as he waited impatiently, then straightened up when he heard the sound of the door opening.

You peered around the door looking like you had just woken up, although you had claimed you were awake when he texted you fifteen minutes ago.

"Joel? I thought you had to work?" you asked, stifling a yawn.

"Anyone home?" he asked, ignoring your question and looking over your shoulder.

"No, they went shopping and then they were going to my sister's house after to help put together the crib," you told him, stepping back so he could enter.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" you tried again as he quickly slid off his boots and coat.

"Yeah," he said, providing no more information.

He took a step forward and leaned down to press his lips against yours, his hands skirting up your sides and resting on your jaw. You brought your hands up to grip his shirt tightly, tipping your head back and opening your mouth, deepening his kiss with a moan.

"So, you're home alone?" he clarified a little breathlessly, and you nodded.

"Why don't you show me the guest room?" he murmured, breathing deeply and giving you another quick kiss.

"Didn't you build this house?" you teased but took his hand to lead him up the stairs anyway. He swatted your ass playfully and you giggled.

"Yeah, but you make every room look better," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Such a sweet talker," you told him with a smirk as you reached the top of the stairs.

"Like what you've done with the place," he said without even looking around. Instead, he kicked the door shut and pulled you against him, his mouth latching onto your neck. You sighed and tilted your head back, giving him better access as you walked backwards towards the bed and pulled him down on top of you.

"Will you and Sarah come see me tomorrow morning before I leave for the airport?" you asked suddenly, making his lips freeze on your throat.

"'Course we will," he said, leaning up and brushing the hair away from your face. You searched his eyes for a moment, pressing your lips into a thin line as you tried to steady your breathing. The rawness and vulnerability he saw made him weak.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, and pressed a kiss against your forehead. "It'll all be okay."

He heard the words come out of his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to believe them. It didn't appear that you did, either, but you still nodded before dragging his face down to kiss you. He dipped his tongue past your lips, and you lifted the hem of his shirt up. He broke the kiss briefly, just long enough to tug the shirt over his head, then his mouth was back on yours while your hands roamed over his warm chest, trying to memorize every single detail of his pebbled skin while he was still here.

You lifted your hips, and he tugged your pajama pants down, leaving them in a heap at the bottom of the bed, then making short work of your shirt, leaving you almost completely exposed. His eyes raked up and down your body, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. He tried not to think about this being the last time you would be together like this for at least a month, but the suitcase in the corner of the room kept catching his eye.

So, to distract himself, he frantically pulled down your panties and settled his shoulders between your thighs. Before you even knew what was happening, you felt his tongue between your folds and you gasped, fully not expecting that, but you recovered quickly, your fingers finding their way to the top of his head, gripping the dark curls there as your hips rocked against his face.

You whined and arched your back, his coarse facial hair adding just the right amount of friction to your most sensitive spot to send you tumbling over the edge, gasping his name over and over until your body went lax.

He crawled up your body, planting soft kisses along your hips, stomach, breasts and shoulders until he reached your lips. The taste of yourself on his tongue was dizzying. It should have felt obscene, but it was the exact opposite. His taste and scent mixed with your own created something intoxicating, something indescribable that you wished you could keep and carry with you whenever you were lonely and two thousand miles away.

"Love the way you say my name," he mumbled against your mouth, his fingers working on the zipper of his jeans. Your breath caught in your throat when he shed his pants and underwear, the sight of him sending a tingle down your spine.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked you, his palms squeezing your thighs. You hadn't realized it, but your body tensed up once you were reminded of his size. His gentle touch helped you relax while his hips nudged your legs apart, and you nodded.

"C'mere," you whispered, and he fell forward on his elbows so he could hover above you. You pinched his chin with your fingers and tugged him closer, brushing your lips softly against his, never wanting the moment to end.

He reached down between your bodies to line himself up, hooking your leg around his waist in the process. When he pressed forward, you let out a moan so soft and sweet that he needed to pause and clear his head.

"Fuck," he whispered as he eased all the way in. You had your lower lip tucked between your teeth and your chin tilted up to gaze at him, swallowing a whine as he rolled his hips, making you feel impossibly full. His eyes drifted down to where you were connected and his jaw went slack, watching in a trance at how beautifully your body accepted him.

"Joel," you gasped, trying to get his attention.

He looked up at you, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his breath coming in sharp pants.

"Roll over," you told him. He grinned and did as he was told, pulling you on top of him, his hands resting on your hips. You stilled for a moment as you adjusted around him, the angle far more intense, before you started rocking back and forth, then bouncing lightly, tipping your head back with your eyes slid shut.

God, if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he ever saw. Watching you lose yourself on top of him, chasing your release and moaning his name. It felt so surreal, he almost pinched himself. Then he felt his stomach tense and a familiar burning at the base of his spine and he knew he didn't have long. He sat up, one arm circling your waist, the other bracing his weight behind him, and he began to thrust upwards, matching your rhythm, his mouth open and hovering over yours as he waited for your body to warn him you were close.

"Joel!" you cried out, your face twisted with pleasure and your breath ragged.

"C'mon, baby," he urged, his hips snapping faster now.

You collapsed onto him, your cries muffled by his mouth as your climax washed over you and he finally let himself go with a loud groan of relief. His hips slowed and your eyes opened to look at him while you caught your breath.

He fell backwards, his arm no longer able to hold him up. You rolled off to the side, your head tucked into his shoulder and the pessimistic part of you wondered if that would be the last time, if either of you were strong enough to survive a long-distance relationship.

You swallowed roughly and looked up at him, only to find him staring at the suitcase in the corner of the room.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, and he quickly tore his eyes away to give you a smile.

"'Course I am," he said, rubbing your back reassuringly. But what he really wanted to say was please don't go.

You gave your mom a big hug, swaying back and forth as your dad put your luggage in the back of Cassie's car.

"Take care of yourself, Bucky," your mom said, giving your forehead a kiss.

"I will, Mom," you promised. You turned to your dad, who had made his way back to your side.

"Alright, kid," he said, pulling you into his chest roughly. You grinned and wrapped your arm around his sizable midsection. "Call me when you land, alright?"

"Sure thing," you said, pulling back.

"And I mean call, don't be textin' me, I wanna hear your voice," he said sternly, and you nodded.

You heard a car coming up the driveway and your chest squeezed tight. Your mom must have seen it on your face because she gave you one more hug and whispered encouragement against your hair before she ushered your dad back inside.

"I'll be in the car," Cassie mumbled. She was still annoyed with you, but she wasn't the type to be cruel about it.

You heard a familiar voice call out your name and you turned around just in time to catch Sarah's embrace.

"I can't believe you're really leaving," she said sadly against your shoulder. You looked at Joel as he slowly walked up behind her.

"I know, but it's been so much fun. I want to thank you for everything. I had such a great time with you," you told her, pulling back. "I really mean it, okay?"

"Yeah, me too," she said with a smile. "And I'll see you again in a month, right?"

"Right! It's not that long, it'll be here before you know it," you told her, the lie slipping right past your lips.

She finally stepped back, looking at her dad and then back at you before telling Joel she would wait in the car.

You looked up at him, the tears welling in your eyes now, unable to hold them back any longer.

"Don't cry," he whispered, pulling you close. He closed his eyes and felt you sob quietly against his shoulder, your fingers gripping his coat so tightly, like you were afraid to let him go.

"I stole your shirt," you said, your voice muffled. He chuckled and shook his head.

"That's alright, sweetheart, it's yours," he said.

Stepping back, you looked up at him. You could tell he was sad but trying to be strong for you, and for some reason, it broke your heart. Joel spent so much of his life being strong for everyone else around him, it wasn't fair.

He knew if he asked, you would stay. But that wouldn't be right. As badly as he wanted you to stay, not only for him, but for Sarah, he couldn't do that to you. He wouldn't put that choice on your shoulders and risk you making a decision you would eventually regret and hold against him. So, he let you go. Only this time, he hoped that history wouldn't repeat itself and you would come back to him.

The drive back home was quiet. The radio was on, but neither of them really heard it. Sarah stared glumly out the window while Joel tried his best to keep it together, telling himself over and over that the long-distance thing would work. If it failed for other people, it was because they weren't as strong or devoted. He knew what he felt, and what you had together was worth fighting for.

"Are you still going to take me to Katy's?" Sarah asked. Joel blinked and looked over at her.

"What?"

"Remember? We have that science project together, we need to have it done before end of Christmas break," she said, and he nodded as it began to come back to him.

"Yeah, sure. I can drop you off on my way home," he said quietly.

Sarah looked at him for a moment in silence, worry etching her face.

"Maybe I should stay home today," she said, but Joel shook his head.

"I'm fine, I should meet up with Uncle Tommy, anyway. We're behind on a job."

"Dad," Sarah said, and he turned to look at her as he approached a red light. "You're not fine."

Joel's mouth opened and then closed, unsure what to say.

"Why didn't she want to stay?" Sarah asked. Joel swallowed the lump in his throat.

"She's got a life in New York, baby girl. I can't ask her to stay."

"You didn't even ask her?!" she exclaimed, twisting around in her seat to glare at him.

"'Course I didn't ask her-"

"Dad!" Sarah screeched, and Joel jumped in his seat.

"Calm down! I'm tryin' to drive!" he yelled as he pulled down Katy's street.

"Did you tell her that you love her?"

Joel frowned at her as he pulled into the driveway.

"How did-"

"Oh my god, Dad! You are hopeless!" she said, exasperated. She opened the door and slid out of the seat but turned back to him before she shut the door.

"Go get her, Dad."

Joel was a cautious man. He was responsible. He had a level head and kept to himself. He wasn't a risk taker, he didn't speed, and he definitely didn't dramatically chase down women in airports, yet today he found himself doing exactly all of those things.

He had parked his truck in a spot he was very certain he shouldn't have parked in as he raced into the building, his eyes flicking across the departure screens before heading up to the counter.

"How can I help you?" a young, blonde woman asked, giving him her best customer service smile.

"I need to speak to someone on one of your flights, it's an emergency, and she's gettin' on a plane in-" he yanked his arm up to look at his watch. "Ten minutes. I need you to call the gate and ask them-"

"Sir, I am so sorry, we can't do that," the woman replied, cutting him off. Joel squinted at her name tag and looked back up at her.

"Teresa. Please. I am beggin' you, please pick up the phone and call the gate."

"We cannot hold up a flight, sir. Can't you just call her and ask her to-"

"I tried! She ain't pickin' up, she probably has her phone off already for the damn flight," he said, his heart hammering in his chest as he rubbed his palms aggressively over his face.

"If you buy a ticket, you can get past security and maybe you'll be able to reach the gate in time," she said quietly. He looked up at her, his eyes filling with hope.

"I'm not supposed to tell people that," she added softly as she typed into the computer. "Don't make me regret it."

"Thank you!" he whispered, pulling out his wallet and paying for the cheapest ticket they had. Once she handed him the ticket, he took off running towards the gates.

"Good luck!" Teresa called after him, leaning over the counter.

He checked the board ten times. Gate 52. He was sure of it.

He ran up just in time to see the plane backing away from the building, the door sealed shut. He stood there, his forehead resting against the window as he watched your plane leave.

What a stupid idea. He never should have done this. What was he thinking? This is real life. Of course he wouldn't catch you in time, and even if he did, you wouldn't have stayed. It would have just put you and him through more pain, and for what? Just so he -

"Joel?"

He swore in that moment, all the air left his body. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He thought he imagined it, that he was so far-gone that he was blurring fantasy with reality. But when he finally turned around, he saw you actually standing there, clutching your carry on in one hand and your phone in the other, tears streaming down your face.

"I couldn't do it," you whispered, your lower lip trembling.

"You stayed," he said in disbelief, his voice cracking as he rushed over and pulled you into his chest. You didn't leave me. You didn't leave Sarah.

"Why?" he asked. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he furiously wiped it away, still clutching you against him.

"The whole ride here, it felt like I was leaving a piece of me in that driveway, and I just kept asking myself what was I even going back for? What was left for me, besides my job?" you sniffled into his coat before continuing. "I guess sometimes people do crazy things for the person they love."

He pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, his mouth crashing down on yours. You dropped your carry on and wrapped your arms around his neck, your tears mingling together as both of you refused to break away.

"I love you, too," he said, finally stepping back but still holding onto you as a wide smile spread across his face.

You giggled and tried to wipe some of the tears from his cheeks.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he asked. "I tried callin' you, I couldn't get through. I thought you were on the damn plane."

"I was on the phone with my boss. I told him I quit," you said with a grin. "I had this whole speech planned, but all I managed to get out was I needed to stay in Texas. We are still working out all the details, but long story short, they offered me a fully remote position."

Joel was convinced the smile was never going to leave his face.

"Take me home, Joel," you told him. He pressed one more gentle kiss against your lips before draping an arm around your shoulders, picking up your bag, and leading you back the way he came.

As you walked out of the airport, the rest of your luggage unfortunately on its way to New York City, he realized that his fantasy was actually coming true. He had everything he could ever want. Everything he ever dreamed of became reality right before his very eyes.

He finally belonged to somebody who would be there for him and his daughter. Somebody who loved them and chose them and didn't abandon them.

And now that he had you, he was never going to let you go.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywuanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin @daddy-dins-girl @jessthebaker @seratuyo @wh0reforbucknasty @paleidiot @misstokyo7love @runningmom94 @mandoisapunk @marantha @missladym1981 @mybworlds @hologramgrlluvr @txtattoostark @jay-mach - if you are crossed out, it won't let me tag you

[jj-one]

A MODERN LOVE STORY.

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

when your tinder date who was supposed to be just a hook up becomes your boyfriend within a week.

pairing: han jisung x f!reader genre/tags: pwp, smut, fluff, jisung is such a gentleman, fingering, oral (m receiving), piv, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), major size kink, slight daddy kink (not surprised), jisung has huge dick, jisung cums on readers face, i think that's it Imk if i missed any o_0 words: 4.5k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Dating apps were never really your thing, you’ve always been an “old fashioned” kind of girl. You’ve secretly dreamt of meeting your lover in a grocery store or bumping into them at a library where you instantly fall in love. Unfortunately, you can’t be delusional forever, your Prince Charming isn’t going to just come knocking for you at your doorstep. Unless…you find someone who can come to your doorstep but through an app, Tinder. You decided to give it a try and see what all the hype was about after your best friend Ryujin raved about all the hot guys she was meeting— and banging.

You often found yourself quite jealous of all the good sex she was getting, she could have anything she wanted all at her fingertips. You were always horny and looking for the next toy to play with but you decided maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to try and find a cute guy to hook up with and relieve some quick stress. You may be old fashioned but you weren’t too uptight to have a hook up once in a while.

You downloaded Tinder for once in your lifetime and wrote in all your info, chose your best photos, and made a silly little bio. Your bio was just ‘looking for a fun time, need someone who can break my back, not my heart’ you know it super lame but most guys like corny shit like that anyway. You swiped for ages and ages, barely giving anyone a right swipe because you were way too picky. They had to be top tier in the visual department even if they were just a one night stand, you’ll always have standards. You were getting tired of swiping and just about to call it a night up until you swiped on the next profile. His name was Han and he only lived 2.5 miles from you.

As you were scrolling through his profile, you couldn’t stop thinking how hot he was, his hair was blonde, and he always wore the same cross necklace in his all photos. You read his profile some more and saw that he has a dog named Bbama and you smiled at how adorable his dog was. You instantly swiped right after seeing the dog pics and you couldn’t believe you matched with him already. Your heart kind of skipped a beat for a second and you closed the app immediately. You didn’t think he’d be so quick to match with you and you wanted to message him but your pride got in the way. You figured he’s way too fine to even message you back, he probably gets floods of messages from girls asking. You decide to play it cool and not say anything, instead you took a screenshot of his profile and sent it to Ryujin.

She texts you back a couple minutes later and says she thinks he’s really hot, you’re glad she approves but you’re not surprised that she wouldn’t. You go through his profile again and see that he has his Instagram linked to his Tinder, you go to his Instagram account and continue your stalking spree. You see a bunch of pics of his dog, food, and mostly outdoorsy stuff. You didn’t figure him to be the wilderness type of guy but he was, he’s been hiking all over different mountains and has photos of him at the very top. You were in awe of how fearless this man was, you were swayed already by how he presented himself.

Your phone buzzes with a new notification.

‘Han sent you a message’ Tinder alerts you of 2 new notifications from him. You open the messages immediately, a huge grin plastered on your face as you read what he said to you.

‘Hi y/n’

‘What’s your favorite food?’

‘I’m taking notes on where I need to take you on our first date’

That was very smooth but also straightforward, you liked him already.

‘Pho, I could eat it everyday’

‘You’re already planning our date? lol’

You sent the messages and texted Ryujin straight away, telling her how much of a success this was already going. She tells you how much she was right all along and how you’ve been missing out this whole time, you just giggle at her shenanigans.

You get another notification from Tinder and it’s from your favorite new guy already.

‘Yes, how could I not? You’re a 10/10’

You smile to yourself when reading at that comment, you never really saw yourself as a perfect 10 but if someone this highly attractive sees you that way then you must be a smokeshow. Han sends you another message,

‘I can pick you up tmrw at 5? Dinner is on me babe so no need to bring a wallet ;)’

You bit your lip at that last sentence, who would’ve known someone this sexy could be your sugar daddy AND fuck buddy? Ok well maybe the sugar daddy part was just a joke. It definitely turned you on knowing that he’s willing to spend his money on you without you feeling guilt about it though.

‘See you at 5 <3’ you reply to him.

The very next day you’re in the car going to your date with Han. The moment you laid eyes on him there was a lustful nature that came out of you. You didn’t even think it could be possible but he looked even better in person, the pictures didn’t do him justice whatsoever. His jawline was insane, it was sharp and looked absolutely perfect from his side profile. His hair was a little messy but in a really cute way, he had a small silver stud in his ear and wore his cross necklace like the one in his photos. You couldn’t believe it was really him in your driveway, he had to be the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. He wore a plain black T-shirt with baggy jeans and converse, he looked effortlessly cool. He was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other was playing with his radio. He was trying to get the Aux cord to work properly but it just wasn’t cooperating with him, he decides to just leave it alone.

“So uh.. anyway is this your first Tinder date?” He asks trying to break the awkward silence.

“Yeah, actually it is,” you tell him “I’m not the hugest fan of dating apps but I decided why not give it a shot.” You say as your shrug your shoulders.

“Ah I see, well you met me so that’s a good sign so far right?” He asks with a goofy grin on his face, you couldn’t help but giggle at his quirkiness.

You talk for a bit more in the car and get to know each other, as you’re getting nearer to the destination he comes to a stop into a parking lot. He gets out of the car first and opens the door for you on your side.

“M’lady,” Han says in a funny voice, taking your hand in his as you get out the car. You’re loving his silly and fun energy so far, it’s definitely bringing your mood up as you had no expectations for how this would go.

The date ended up going extremely well, you both couldn’t stop laughing and cracking jokes together. Everything felt super lighthearted and easygoing with Han, you felt like you could say just about anything with him, feeling like you’ve known him for much longer than a couple of hours. He bought so much expensive meat for the both of you at the restaurant and the pho was fantastic. You’ve never been to this particular restaurant before as it was a bit too out of your price range, you were surprised when he told you he ate here frequently. You wanted to ask him what he does for a living but you don’t want to seem rude. You ate as much as you could and he definitely ate way more than you, lightly making fun at the way you eat. You do eat pretty slow so you aren’t shocked by the way he’s noticing that already.

You like the way Han eats because he stores food in his cheeks like a squirrel, usually that action would give you the ick but with him you find it quite endearing. Once you both finish eating at the restaurant he takes you to a pier where there’s pretty lights near the water. It was a nice day to go out on a walk so he grabbed your hand and led the way down the path. You guys talked so much for hours about any and everything, you talked for so long that you ended up watching the sunset together, then looked at the stars. When you looked down and noticed that you’ve been holding hands with him this whole time, but you didn’t want to point it out to Han incase he’d let go.

You’ve spent a total of only 5 hours with this man but you really do feel as though you’ve known him your whole life. He was so fun to talk to, handsome, and literally the sweetest person ever, it made you question how someone this perfect could even be single. You really couldn’t wait any longer for him to end up in your bed tonight and that’s exactly what you planned to happen. As the night progresses you ask him if he wants to come back to your place for the night. He looks surprised yet obliges and drives back to your apartment. It was pretty late at night and you only had your tiny lamp in the kitchen on, so you couldn’t see much of where you were going. You turn around to face Han who’s been staring you up and down this whole time.

You didn’t even have much time to take off your jacket before Han’s lips were all over yours. His hands roamed all over your body and yours were now tangled in his messy blonde hair. He startles you for a second when he picks you up and lifts you onto the marble kitchen countertop, not breaking the kiss once. He bites down on your lower lip slightly, making you gasp so he can easily slip his tongue in you. His movements were gentle and he kisses you so passionately, one of his hands comes up behind your neck and the other is stroking the apex of your thigh. As you both pull away from kissing, he stops to stare at you for the longest second.

“You are so beautiful y/n,” he says, stroking your hair and tucking some behind your ear, then he kisses your ear and licks it. He continues peppering a few more kisses downwards and to your neck, beginning to suck lightly, causing you to let out a quiet moan. He leaves a couple small hickies around your neck and kisses your lips once again. You tug at his T-shirt and motion for him to take it off, he does as he’s told and removes it from his body. You get a faint look at his chest since it’s a such little bit of light in the kitchen, from what you can see however, he looks perfect. When he comes closer, you can feel his rock solid abs, you know he works out but you weren’t expecting him to be this fit.

You go back to making out for awhile and his hands are now laid on your chest. He cups both of your boobs in his hands and kneads them through your thin shirt, he realizes this isn’t enough for him so he slides his hands underneath your shirt. He ran his fingers against your nipples and starts to pinch them lightly, making you moan directly into his mouth. He groans when you bring your hand lower to his pelvis, trying to locate his belt so you can tell him to take it off. You finally reach something you presume to be leather and you grab it, bringing his body closer to you in the process.

“You want me to take this off huh?” Han asks, pointing to his belt but all you see is his erect dick print through his jeans.

You nod your head profusely, “yes pleasee, right now!”

He grins at you while slowly taking off his belt, throwing it down on the floor and now he’s stroking his cock through his pants. You hear him groan a little bit as you can see him palming himself, wanting to take him in your mouth so bad.

“Let me give you head,” you say almost desperately, you didn’t mean for it to sound so needy but you really wanted— no needed his cock.

“Okay,” he says smiling back at you, “sounds great to me.”

You get up from the kitchen counter and now position yourself on the floor, on your knees. You never pictured yourself to be the one sucking a random guy off Tinder’s dick but hey, things just so happen to turn out that way. You unzip Han’s pants and gently pull them down, he was wearing pink supreme boxers and you expected nothing less from him. You pull down his boxers too and his erect cock springs up out of them like a slinky. Eyes growing wide in awe as you couldn’t wait for his giant, thick cock to go into your mouth. You start to stroke his length and realize that one hand won’t be enough to do the job, you have to use two to get a good firm grasp around it and even then it’s still a few inches off.

You contemplate how you’re even going to fit all of him into your mouth but you think of the consequences later. You continue pumping his cock with your hands and he moans lowly under his breath. You lick the tip of his cock and he winces a little, that must be his sensitive spot. You suck on the tip and guide your mouth to slowly take in more of his cock, keeping a suction-tight grip on him as you keep lowering your head. You get to a point where you start to physically choke and gag on his cock, your saliva was getting everywhere now, all over your chin, your chest, his cock, and some even spilled on the floor. You know you have to be a good girl and take all of him but you never had someone this big before.

“You have such a nice dick,” you blurt out while taking a break, wanting to please him more than anything.

“Thank you baby,” Han smiles down at you while you bring his cock back into your mouth, this time breathing through your nose you have a better chance at taking him all. You were successful and managed to get most of it inside your mouth, maybe just a couple centimeters off. You kept at it, sucking his cock like your life literally depended on it, shooting your head back and forth making you feel dizzy.

“Mmm yeah… that’s it baby… just like that-” Han moans out for you with his eyes closed shut and head thrown back, you’re making him feel so good right now.

“I think I’m gonna cum y/n…”

You continue what you’ve been doing for the past 15 minutes or so, sucking his cock at an even faster rate. You look up at him and give him a sultry look with your eyes, you need to feel his cum all over you.

“Please cum on my face daddy,” you tell him, you used to let your ex cum on your face all the time and you were craving for that kind of thing at the moment. You keep deepthroating him and making gagging noises in the process, wanting him to know just how hard you’re working for his cum. He lets out a long moan and keeps saying he’s about to cum, you tap his dick on your tongue so you can get a taste of his load shooting out and then… you suddenly go blind. Han’s load comes out so fast that it got everywhere, causing some of it to get into your eye. You couldn’t see for a bit and rubbed your eye, feeling a thick, sticky substance on your left cheek. Han’s cum was now painted all over your face, some even got on your shoulder and landed on the floor. You smiled at how much cum you caused to come out his dick, feeling awfully proud of yourself.

You get up from your knees and start kissing again, he brings you back to the counter you were originally sitting on and he toys with the waistband of your skirt. He pulls your skirt down and begins rubbing your pussy through your underwear, dragging his fingers along your slit and teasing you. You whimper as you buck your hips up, wanting to feel his fingers on your clit. He finally moves your panties to the side and starts rubbing his middle finger against your swollen clit.

“Damn, you’re wet as fuck…” he says, looking at your glistening, wet pussy. He circles your clit and spits on it, mixing your juices with his saliva. He then dips his finger inside your hole, you let out a moan as he starts pushing his finger in and out. The sound of his fingers going in your wet pussy sound so dirty yet so blissful. He kisses you as he keeps fingering you, spreading you open with another finger. You’re such a moaning mess and it’s all thanks to Han’s wonderful fingers. You were arching your back at the sensation you were feeling, his thumb is now rubbing your clit while two of his fingers are still inside. You wanted his cock so badly, but you were going to have to ask nicely for it.

“I need you…” you whine to Han, you don’t know why you were too shy to say what you needed the most though.

“Need what baby?” He asks with his fingers still deep inside your sopping cunt, you were aching for something bigger and it’s making you go crazy.

“Your cock… need your cock, please!” You practically beg at this point for it. Han’s smile grew wider as he saw how needy you were already acting for him.

“As you wish pretty girl,” he says, taking his fingers out and licking the juices off of them one by one. He takes his cock in his hand and rubs it along your folds, he feels how soaking wet you are and it’s already enough to make him want to burst. He doesn’t think he’s a fast cummer (is that a word?) but for you, he’d nut instantly. He slides his thick, long cock into your little pussy, making you audibly gasp in pain and pleasure.

The size of him is enough to make you want to never be able to walk again, but you think once he’s done with you he’ll be leaving you permanently bed ridden.

“Just relax baby, you can take it all trust me..” Han assures you as he continues to slide his length inside, your wetness mixed with the sounds of his dick makes for the perfect porn audio. Your legs were spreading wide open and rested on his shoulders, he was taking nice and slow strokes at first. He wants you to become more adjusted to his size, he’s finally able to get all of himself in. You look down at your stomach to see a giant bulge, his cock was so big that he practically took up half of your torso.

“Ready baby?” Han whispers in your ear, asking for the okay to start thrusting deeper into you. You nod as you were finally getting used to him, he goes a little faster and starts to build a steady pace. His cock is hitting the back of your walls nicely and you feel every inch of him inside you. The cross necklace he was still wearing dangled over you, which was pretty ironic for the sinful act you two were committing at the moment. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he moves deeper into you, stretching you out like the little whore you are. You feel yourself growing wetter with each thrust and he’s grabbing your waist tightly with both hands.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good… my god..” Han says moaning, his eyes are closed again as he keeps fucking your tight pussy. You took his cock so well, you were so proud of yourself.

“Your cock feels amazing daddy,” you whimper out to him as you continue moaning his name, feeling like you’re about to cum already. Han’s breath becomes more irregular and his strokes are getting messier, you can tell he’s reaching his climax as well.

“Let’s cum together.” Han coaxes, holding your hand while fucking into you, his cock fits all the way inside without hurting you now and all you feel is immense pleasure. You nod your head in agreement with him and focus on reaching your high. A wave of ecstasy washes over you as Han hits a certain spot in you, his dick is so big that it can reach little places you never felt before, it’s an incredible feeling. Your head swings back as you feel your orgasm approaching, you let out a few curse words and catch your breath. Han feels his release coming too and quickly pulls out, he pumps his cock for a little bit with his right hand and watches his load shoot out onto your stomach. He lets out an erotic groan as he finishes off his last bit of cum and strokes his cock a little more.

“Fuck that was the best sex I’ve ever had..” Han says while panting, grabbing your face to pull into you a breathless kiss.

“Yeah, that was definitely amazing,” you respond after pulling away, smiling at his first impressions of you.

It was now midnight and you were both exhausted, you two were too fucked out to do anything else and Han was way too tired to head home that night. You didn’t mind Han staying over at your place, to be honest, it felt pretty normal. As you both got into bed he gave you tons of forehead kisses and cradled you to sleep, his embrace felt safe and protecting. You never wanted to leave his presence and neither did he.

It was the early hours of the morning and the sun is beaming on your face through the sheer white curtains. You wake up to a familiar smell coming from your kitchen, it was the smell of eggs and pancakes cooking. You put on some clothes quickly to head to your kitchen, you see Han in nothing but his underwear cooking you breakfast. You looked at the clock and saw that it was only 7:04 am, how is he already awake at this time of the morning? You make your way on over to him and give him a chaste kiss, telling him good morning. He finishes up cooking and grabs some plates for the both of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes right now, your Tinder date that you just hooked up with last night is now cooking you breakfast. You want to feel like you’re living in a dream but the more you keep blinking the more real this situation feels.

“Ready to eat babe?” Han asks, handing you a plate full of food. You nod, still trying to process everything that’s going on but you don’t want to keep questioning it. You sit at the table with Han and eat your food. You both talk as though everything is normal, still making little jokes with each other like yesterday’s date. The food he made was pretty good and you were wondering what other hidden skills he may have been hiding. You’re now questioning what could be wrong with him since he’s so perfect, why hasn’t someone like him not been snatched up yet? As you finish eating you head back upstairs, Han follows you.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him, turning around to face him in confusion.

“Im just following where you’re going,” he admits sheepishly.

“But why?” You genuinely want to know why he’s considered still being here and isn’t fleeing after finally getting what he wanted.

“I want to stay here for a while,” he says while looking away at something else, he was a bit shy to ask if he could stay over for another day.

“For how long?” You ask, wondering if he’s serious about his infatuation with you.

“I- I don’t know, can I just stay for one more night? Please y/n?” He holds your hand, gently caressing and rubbing it.

You feel conflicted, on one hand you want someone you can feel connected to on a deeper level but the other hand is making you want to keep this relationship as no strings attached. You sigh as you see the glint in his eyes, his eyes were all it took for you to give into him.

“Okay” you say, he smiles as he hears your swift response. He presses a soft kiss against your lips and lets you lead the way back to your room.

Four days have passed and Han is still staying in your apartment with you. You decided you didn’t actually hate his company and that it was just the fear of commitment that made you reluctant. Han was different though, he brought a side out of you that no one else has. He brings you flowers, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, listens to your problems/needs/wants/desires, shuts up when he’s supposed to, and does anything you say at the drop of a hat.

He’s the perfect guy for you and you met him on something you wouldn’t have tried if it wasn’t for your best friend. You’re still in shock by how you and Han are basically in a relationship now, I mean who stays at someone’s house for almost a week if they weren’t falling in love? You should be happy yet you’re nervous, you’re nervous about telling Ryujin, what if she thinks you’re moving too fast? You didn’t tell anyone about this “relationship” yet since you’ve never rushed into things this quickly with someone.

Han was a great person and you knew that with every fiber of your being, you just didn’t know if others would see that through just a few days of talking. You know you’re going to have to do it at some point since you’re actually thinking about getting serious with him. Han has been nothing more than amazing to you and if everyone else doesn’t see that then they’re crazy, you can’t convince everyone to like him but you start to feel as though it won’t be an issue for him. You think he’ll fit in just fine with everyone in due time ♡

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Point of View: the Biggest Thing You're Missing!

Point of view is one of the most important elements of narrative fiction, especially in our modern writing climate, but you rarely hear it seriously discussed unless you go to school for writing; rarely do help blogs or channels hit on it, and when they do, it's never as in-depth as it should be. This is my intro to POV: what you're probably missing out on right now and why it matters. There are three essential parts of POV that we'll discuss.

Person: This is the easiest part to understand and the part you probably know already. You can write in first person (I/me), second (You), and third person (He/she/they). You might hear people talk about how first person brings the reader closer to the central character, and third person keeps them further away, but this isn't true (and will be talked about in the third part of this post!) You can keep the reader at an intimate or alien distance to a character regardless of which person you write in. The only difference--and this is arguable--is that first person necessitates this intimacy where third person doesn't, but you still can create this intimacy in third person just as easily. In general, third person was the dominant (and really the only) tense until the late 19th century, and first person grew in popularity with the advent of modernism, and nowadays, many children's/YA/NA books are written in first person (though this of course doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't write those genres in the third person). Second person is the bastard child. Don't touch it, even if you think you're clever, for anything the length of a novel. Shorter experimental pieces can use it well, but for anything long, its sounds more like a gimmick than a genuine stylistic choice.

Viewpoint Character: This is a simple idea that's difficult in practice. Ask yourself who is telling your story. This is typically the main character, but it needn't be. Books like The Book Thief, The Great Gatsby, Rebecca, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the Sherlock series are told from the perspective of a side character who isn't of chief importance to the narrative. Your viewpoint character is this side character, the character the reader is seeing the world through, so the main character has to be described through them. This isn't a super popular narrative choice because authors usually like to write from the perspective of their most interesting character, but if you think this choice could fit your story, go for it! You can also swap viewpoint characters throughout a story! A word of warning on that: only change your viewpoint character during a scene/chapter break. Switching mid-scene without alerting the reader (and even when you do alert the reader) will cause confusion. I guarantee it.

Means of Perception; or, the Camera: This part ties the first two together. If you've ever heard people talk about an omniscient, limited, etc. narrator, this is what they mean. This part also includes the level of intimacy the reader has with the viewpoint character: are we in their heads, reading their thoughts, or are we so far away that we can only see their actions? If your story is in a limited means of perception, you only have access to your character's head, eyes, and interpretations, where an omniscient narrator sees through all characters' heads at once. (This doesn't eliminate the viewpoint character--most of your writing will still be in that character's head, but you're allowed to reach into other characters' thoughts when needed. You could also be Virginia Woolf, who does fluidly move through everyone's perspectives without a solid viewpoint character, but I would advise against this unless you really are a master of the craft.) Older novels skew towards third person omniscient narration, where contemporary novels skew towards first person limited. You also have a spectrum of "distant" and "close." If omniscient and limited are a spectrum of where the camera can swivel to, distant and close is a spectrum of how much the camera can zoom in and out. Distant only has access to the physical realities of the world and can come off as cold, and close accesses your character's (or characters', if omniscient) thoughts. Notice how I said narration. Your means of perception dramatically effects how your story can be told! Here's a scene from one of my stories rewritten in third-person distant omniscient. The scene is a high school football game:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” She shivered; the wind blew in. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, stuttered there, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” She met his eyes, which he pulled away. “You don’t mean that," Piper said. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” The cloth of Carmen's uniform caved and expanded under Piper's fingers.

With distant-omniscient, we only get the bare actions of the scene: the wind blows in, Piper shivers, the cloth rises and falls, Carmen points, etc. But you can tell there's some emotional and romantic tension in the scene, so let's highlight that with a first person limited close POV:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” Frost spread up from her legs and filled her as if she were perforated rock, froze and expanded against herself so that any motion would disturb a world far greater than her, would drop needles through the mind’s fabric. A misplaced word would shatter her, shatter him. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, thought better, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” “You don’t mean that.” She spoke like a jaded mother, spoke with some level of implied authority, and reminded herself again to stop. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” Piper felt the cloth of his waist cave and expand under her fingers and thought: is this not confidence?

Here, we get into Piper's thoughts and physical sensations: how the frost rises up her, and how this sensation of cold is really her body expressing her nervous fears; how she "thought better" and put her arm around his waist; her thought "is this not confidence?"; and how she reminds herself not to talk like a mother. Since I was writing from the close, limited perspective of a nervous high schooler, I wrote like one. If I was writing from the same perspective but with a child or an older person, I would write like them. If you're writing from those perspectives in distant narration, however, you don't need to write with those tones but with the authorial tone of "the narrator."

This is a lot of info, so let's synthesize this into easy bullet points to remember.

Limited vs. Omniscient. Are you stuck to one character's perspective per scene or many?

Close vs. Distant. Can you read your characters' thoughts or only their external worlds? Remember: if you can read your character's thoughts, you also need to write like you are that character experiencing the story. If child, write like child; if teen, write like teen; etc.

Here's another way to look at it!

This is a confusing and complex topics, so if you have any questions, hit up my ask box, and I'll answer as best I can. The long and short of it is to understand which POV you're writing from and to ruthlessly stick to it. If you're writing in limited close, under no circumstances should you describe how a character other than your viewpoint character is feeling. Maintaining a solid POV is necessary to keeping the dream in the reader's head. Don't make them stumble by tripping up on POV!

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (08/10)

The Revelations

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: unfortunately the trip to Dragonstone is over and you and Aemond define the relationship, however some surprising and unexpected news awaits you at home.

word count: 7.7k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

surprise! i guess hehe

It's not a secret why I stopped updating the story, but if you don't know, basically writer's block and also some issues in my personal life, but finally here it is, what everyone has been waiting for!😙

I didn't give notice or anything because I wanted it to be a surprise and I have no idea if the story will be well received again but… I have no intention of abandoning it, I plan to finish it because I know that some of you want it, so enjoy the new chapter and I promise I won't take so long with the next one🙏

after all we are getting to the end!

Last night in Dragonstone.

It has definitely been a great experience for you, you had a lot of fun, you did amazing activities you haven't tried before, you learned about Old Valyria and you like this feeling every time you are with Aemond.

And since it's the last night at the castle, Aemond invited you and Alysanne to watch a movie in his room with his friends. The plan would have been different, but a storm was reported for the early morning and no one is allowed out until the morning you will return to Kings Landing.

So that's what you're doing now, watching a horror movie, which isn't really scary, lying on the couch on Aemond's chest, both of you cuddled up and with blankets over you, keeping warm.

Every now and then you watch the huge windows, watching the lightning reflect in the night sky to the horizon and raindrops fall against the glass, nothing heavy yet but you know it will rain harder in a few hours.

Aemond's arms get tighter around your body, gently caressing your lower back with one of his hands as you feel his nose nuzzle the side of your cheek, feeling his chin against the side of your forehead.

You let out a contented sigh and snuggle closer against his chest, enjoying his warmth and closeness, as well as his scent mixed between rich detergent and his cologne.

“Are you cold?”

His soft, low voice makes you raise your gaze to him as he secures the blankets wrapped around the two of you.

“No, I'm fine.”

“Well, if you change your mind, tell me and I'll give you some of my hoddies.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Is my weight bothering you already?” you inquire amused.

“That's not what I said,” he instantly defends himself.

“Oh no?”

He slips one of his hands between your bodies, cupping your jaw gently but firmly enough, making you lean into him as he watches your lips.

“I'm just trying to be nice, love,” he says in a low, husky tone.

And you let him, leaning in, unable to stop watching his lips either.

“Such a nice boy you are.”

Aemond brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and pulls you closer to him if possible and catches your lips with his.

And you sink so deep into him, not being able to get enough, tilting your head and deepening the kiss further. Your lips mold perfectly to his and he takes the opportunity to in one smooth glide, his tongue meets yours in languid caresses.

You gasp softly into his mouth and move your hand up to the nape of his neck, stroking his hair, as his hands slip under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your lower back with his fiery hands that send electric shocks and bristle your skin.

It's soft, delicate and tender.

Then he's the one who slowly pulls away, with a small grin, brushing his nose against yours. When suddenly, Alysanne's voice breaks the spell.

“Hey!”

The two of you turn your heads and she along with Aemond's other friends watch you.

“Have you two stopped making out like cows? You won't let me listen to the movie, I can hear the sound of spit all the way over here."

The blood rushes to your cheeks, laughing in embarrassment, hiding your face in the crook of Aemond's neck who laughs too, feeling his chest vibrate at the sound, hugging you against him.

"I'm sorry. We got a little excited."

"Well, don't.’’

His other friends laugh too as he and you exchange an amused look and he returns to have your head resting on his chest to continue watching the movie.

Unfortunately the next morning comes quickly and you find Alysanne ready to board the ferry back to King's Landing.

She's talking to you about something that happened between her and Cregan on the beach after she finished her surfing practice when you notice Alys in the distance with her group of friends, not at all discreetly talking to each other as they watch you out of the corner of their eyes.

The whole time you were in the castle or on the beach you didn't even notice their presence and now you don't know what they must be talking about, but honestly you don't care.

So you ignore her and all her friends.

Then Aemond shows up ready with his suitcase and by the time the two of you are in the same place together, neither you nor he will leave each other's side.

Much less on the ferry back to King's Landing, which is totally peaceful.

He and you can't help but touch each other all the time. The two of you hug, laugh, there are gestures, caresses and you let yourselves be carried away by this different complicity that you have developed during the trip.

You even take photos and videos together to keep as memories as the ferry rocks gently in the waves and Aemond wraps his arms around you, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

For the return journey you've chosen an overly summery blue dress, so he can't help but gaze adoringly as the sunlight reflects off your entire figure, looking absolutely beautiful.

And even though his clothes are simple, that damn silver chain and also those sunglasses he's wearing is more than enough to have you drooling over him.

And that's exactly one of the reasons why you can't stop touching him.

Between more kisses and laughter, the two of you lose yourselves in your own world, oblivious to the stares of the other students and especially the stares of Alys and Floris.

Until you finally disembark at King's Landing and everyone boards the buses.

This time you finally take a seat next to him and both continue your complicity, sharing AirPod's together and using each other as pillows, hugging each other.

When the whole trip is officially over the buses pull into the school car park and all the students start to get off. Then you wait until you can also take your suitcase from the huge compartments below.

"So…" Alysanne approaches you, "Shall I drive you home? Cregan already won you the passenger seat as soon as he found out I brought my car."

"Oh… Cregan?" you say with a mischievous look, "The same guy you said you didn't know whether to take him on a date with?" you scoff.

"Oh come on, you told me to accept," she reproaches you, causing you to let out a giggle, "Besides I already told him I'm not looking for a serious relationship and he said he's totally fine with it."

You look at her slightly surprised and excited.

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah," she nods, with a small smile on her lips, "So I'll drive you then?"

"Oh no, thanks, Aemond will drive me."

"Okay," she grins mischievously at you, starting to walk away, "Then have fun."

"You too with Cregan," you look back at her.

She gives you a pouty face and you laugh softly, organising all your things.

"Well…" Aemond now approaches you with his suitcase in hand, ‘Are you ready?"

"Yes," you nod with a small smile.

He helps you with your suitcase as well and together you head towards his car, where once during the drive, neither of you say anything, yet there is no tension and no awkward silence, only the moderate volume of music from his Spotify playlist.

You know that the two of you have to talk about what happened and you know that Aemond knows that too, otherwise he wouldn't be so quiet, but neither of you dares to talk about it first.

And you don't know if that's good or bad, but thinking about it and finding yourself in this position, you don't feel it's a bad thing. Yes, that moment was unexpected, so was everything that came after that wasn't just pretending, but it felt real.

Every gesture, every look and every touch felt real. And this new closeness with Aemond, far from causing uncertainty, brings you a calmness that envelops you and makes you feel to some extent happy.

However, you know that when you get home, you'll have to talk about it.

You try not to think too much about it for the rest of the drive, trying to distract yourself with the music, but inevitably you feel the time passing quickly and finally the car stops in front of your house.

You let out a low breath and unbuckle your seatbelt at the same time as you throw a quick glance at Aemond, who returns it almost instantly and seems to hesitate for a moment to say something. But again, neither of you say anything and you get out of the car.

He helps you again with your suitcase by taking it out of the trunk while you wait patiently for him and notice how he is incredibly serious, as if he is organizing his thoughts.

Then when the suitcase hits the ground and you pick it up, you can feel his gaze and also his nervousness, as if he is trying to find the right words. But you don't give her a chance to start speaking, as the words come from your lips without thinking.

“Just tell me that what happened wasn't simply pretending.”

You tell him, seeking clarity in his gaze, to which he seems momentarily taken aback by your frankness and your words, processing them. You see a glint of uncertainty in his eye, but almost instantly his expression softens, showing you honesty.

“No, it wasn't for pretending.”

He finally replies, his voice firm and sincere. And you can't help but feel a huge relief sweep through you, watching him hopefully and wanting to confirm his words.

"What happened was real, Y/N. I wasn't pretending, or trying to act. I was enjoying being with you, being myself."

And there it is, his statement confirming what you had felt throughout the trip, that genuine connection that emerged between the two of you.

“Really?”

He smiles softly at you as he sees your face, taking a step towards you and tilting his head towards you.

“I wanted to talk about it earlier at Dragonstone, even on the bus but… I didn't want to ruin anything.”

You see his eye twinkle as he watches you and even notice how he wants to say something else, but doesn't know how to express everything he's feeling, just the same way you do.

At least you know he's being honest and clear, which is why you feel a calmness and a clarity that fills you after hearing his words.

“I wasn't pretending either,” you admit, feeling more open to expressing your own feelings, “And I'm glad to know I wasn't alone in feeling that.”

He nods, understanding what you're saying, not failing to notice that twinkle in his eye.

“I'd like this to continue,” he tells you, his voice soft but determined, “I don't even care about the contract anymore, I just… I want this to be real.”

A warm flush of heat runs through your chest and you smile softly, a little shamed but completely thrilled, not quite believing that this is really happening.

“I want the same thing,” you reply with conviction.

He smiles warmly at you and without expecting it, he leans toward you, takes both of your cheeks in his hands and leaves a soft kiss on your lips. You are surprised, but you kiss him back, feeling a smile form on your lips as you do so.

Then finally Aemond says goodbye with a smile, telling you he'll see you at school and you nod, thanking him for bringing you home.

You both kiss again and you head towards the entrance of your house feeling lighter and with a sense of excitement and happiness, unable to stop smiling the whole time.

You remember all the moments at Dragonstone and what just happened, which completely intensifies that feeling. And you know that Aemond is probably feeling it too.

And once in your room you start unpacking and organizing your clothes, you think about everything and how this with Aemond will totally change.

Before, what was just pretending to be in love will now be real. It won't make a difference in front of everyone at school, but for both of you it will.

The rules that you both had agreed upon in the beginning have lost their meaning, you don't need to think about them anymore, because you know that what you feel for Aemond is real and the best thing is that it is reciprocated.

And that's what excites you, that there will be no more acting as you imagine spending time together, talking, laughing and sharing moments that will no longer be tinged with pretense.

And that's all you think about as you organize your things, the smile never fading from your face, as your phone beeps softly, lighting up the screen with a notification that interrupts your reverie, but the feeling of joy stays with you.

You think it's Alysanne or even Aemond, which mainly excites you and makes you keep your smile, but as you pick up your phone and look closely, you notice that it's a message from an unknown number.

'Silly little thing.'

That's what you read and almost instantly you frown, not understanding its meaning. Then curiosity drives you to open the message, and what you see in the chat makes you lose your smile completely.

You feel all that feeling from before, all the nice things you were feeling, just slowly fade away, with surprise, confusion and disappointment washing over you.

A huge lump settles in your throat and with your lips parted you look at a picture of Aemond and Floris apparently at a party, kissing.

A knot also begins to settle in your stomach that you can't help, beginning to feel the whole unpleasant sensation through your body as you continue to stare at the photo and your hands begin to shake.

The photo also has the day and time at the time it was taken, and you realize that this happened at the party he invited you to after the two of you had that little argument as you tried to end the fake relationship and he disagreed.

At that time when he invited you, you preferred not to go with him and told him to have fun.

And he didn't mention any of this during the whole time together at Dragonstone, although of course he wouldn't… but he could have since nothing had changed between the two of you at the beginning of the trip.

This is why Floris was acting delighted and hopeful around him.

This is probably why he took the first step to apologize to you, all out of guilt and wanting to make amends. And at the time telling you wouldn't have meant anything but now with everything that happened… of course it means a lot that he kept it from you.

And knowing all this, with all the pieces falling into place, a wave of mixed emotions wash over you, with tears starting to want to escape your eyes.

But not wanting to cry, being a feeble attempt at wanting to stand your ground, you put your phone aside and disconnect from social media, with the feeling of sadness and betrayal in your chest.

For the next few days you completely ignored Aemond.

It wasn't easy, especially when your feelings for him are strong despite what you found out. And you know that ignoring him is not the long term solution, but for now it's the only thing you can do because of how hurt and betrayed you feel.

Until the inevitable Monday arrives, where Aemond texts you again asking if he'll pick you up for school, to which you take a moment before replying with a simple and cold 'no need' and nothing more.

You were tempted to skip school for a day or two, mostly because of anxiety and sadness. And the thought of seeing Aemond, of facing him, seemed too painful. But you knew you couldn't avoid it forever, especially since the two of you share several classes.

But when you got to school you made up your mind to stand your ground, you have no idea how but you have to try, at least until you could process your feelings and face the situation. So you prepare yourself mentally.

Or so you try.

The bustle of students coming in and being in the parking lot surrounds you and makes you feel slightly overwhelmed and anxious, but you know you can't stay out here as long as you need to since classes will be starting soon.

So you enter the building with a slight determination.

Each step to your locker feels like an eternity as you watch everything around you, attentive and intimidated. As the seconds pass, you're at least relieved to see that no one is watching you, which is a good sign, since they don't know about the photo, yet.

But that's not what makes your heart start beating too fast. It's the anticipation of seeing Aemond, running into him by accident, because then you have no idea what you'll do, let alone what you'll say to him.

That's why you look around, alert and once in your locker, you quickly grab your books, adjust the strap of your backpack and head to your first class, repeating in your mind that you'll be fine since luckily you're not sharing this class with him.

But on the way, you do run into Alys and her friends in one of the hallways.

You try to keep your head up so you don't look weak and cowardly, but the sadness and humiliation you feel is too much and you just can't, so you hurry past them, trying to avoid any kind of eye contact.

However, their gazes follow you, shallow and mocking looks, all at the same time as you hear the whispers and giggles between them in the distance as you walk away, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

And thinking that would be it, just as you turn down a hallway to make them lose sight of you, you run straight into Floris, who just like you stands frozen for a moment, both of you staring at each other.

Your eyes widen slightly at the unexpected encounter and your breath catches.

She looks at you with an expression you can't really read, but you don't stop to analyze it either. So you quickly lower your gaze and keep walking, trying to keep your composure and not let the tears escape.

You don't know if it was her who sent you the picture or if it was Alys with her friends, but that doesn't matter, you still feel the humiliation of remembering how they saw you in Dragonstone completely in love with Aemond and like a naive fool not knowing what had happened at that party.

And once classes start, you can't concentrate at all. Your mind keeps coming back to the image of Aemond and Floris kissing.

You want to find a possible solution, to think that it's probably all a mistake, that maybe it's an old photo, but the more you think and analyze it, it can't be possible.

The date coincides with the party he invited you to after the dinner with his family and that little argument you both had, you also saw that he posted pictures with his friends on Instagram and his outfit is the same as the one in the picture.

There is simply no justification.

Again tears threaten to flow down your cheeks, but you force yourself to hold them back. You don't want to cry, especially not here in the middle of class where everyone can see you and eventually the gossip will disperse, creating more drama when they find out about the photo too.

You watch the time on your phone, hoping to go home soon, but you're also faced with Aemond's unread messages. They keep piling up, as the last one he sent you was eight minutes ago, but you don't read anything and delete the notification.

The rest of the classes you avoid certain people at all costs, you even don't attend the classes you share with him, you know that not having assistance later will cost you but in these moments you don't care and you hide in the bleachers.

Alysanne didn't come to school today, you thought that with her help everything would be easy after explaining her everything that happened, even telling her about the fake relationship, which is not even important at this point.

But when you texted her to ask where she was, she told you that she woke up too late and didn't make it to school on time.

So you hide out during lunchtime as well.

Aemond's messages kept coming, but you continue to ignore him, wishing the time would run faster so you could go home soon. But ignoring him doesn't make you feel good either, not at all.

You feel an emptiness in your chest, a mixture of sadness, confusion and betrayal that won't leave you alone. You wonder how you got to this point, how something that started as a simple act has become so real and complicated.

And despite everything, you can't help but remember the moments you shared with Aemond at Dragonstone and even before the trip.

But when the last bell rang, finally ending the school day, you felt an immediate relief and your thoughts were put on pause.

You quickly grabbed your things and were the first to leave the classroom, also the halls, then the building and finally the school, heading towards the bus stop.

Your phone vibrates more at that moment but you ignore it, knowing that Aemond is probably looking for you, trying to talk to you, but you manage to run away in time.

And the next day, you repeat the same routine with the same goal in mind; to avoid him.

He hasn't stopped contacting you, but you ignore every message and call, feeling a mixture of sadness and determination at every moment.

You continue to skip the classes you share with him, avoid the busiest hallways to minimize the possibility of an encounter and the cafeteria as well.

You honestly feel like a ghost roaming the school, all while every vibration of your phone is a pang of anxiety that you continue to be willing to ignore, unwilling to face his questions, his explanations or whatever he has to say.

You don't even know if he knows you were sent that photo. You'd rather he knew, so things would be easier or else he'd just be out to get you for wanting to know why you've been avoiding him and you have no idea how to confront him about it.

Just now you take refuge in the library, which gives you a break, trying to study and do your homework in peace. But in the middle of it, you hear footsteps approaching towards your desk and you quickly raise your gaze, alert.

Fortunately, it's just Alysanne.

“May I know why your boyfriend has been texting me like crazy asking me if I've heard from you?” she asks confused, taking a seat in front of you, watching you intently.

Your heart shrinks at the word 'boyfriend', definitely not expecting to hear this and a little chagrined you lower your gaze, biting your lips, where you are slowly filled with the need to clear things up once and for all.

“What? Did something happen?” she asks you worriedly as she observes your reaction and sad look.

“He's not my boyfriend,” you say quietly, broken and with your sad look, ”He never was.”

Alysanne frowns, clearly bewildered and watching you more intently than ever.

“What are you talking about?”

You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words and that little bit of stability before you get it all out. And with a deep sigh, you decide to be honest.

And before long, you spend the next few minutes telling Alysanne everything from the beginning. You tell her about the contract, the reasons behind it, Alys, the dinner with her family, the little arguments and what happened at Dragonstone, which was real to you.

And you also tell her about Floris, that party and the photo you received, with your sadness and the pain clearly evident in your voice.

Alysanne listens to you silently throughout, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding as she takes in every detail you say, but in the end she maintains an expression that you can't really read at all.

And when you finish, her gaze doesn't tell you much and you fearfully expect a not-so-good reaction.

“Well…” she lets out a long breath, “I wasn't expecting any of that,” she finally says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I'm sorry, Alysane,” you say, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from her, ”I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It was silly from the beginning.”

She looks at you with a mixture of empathy and surprise.

“No Y/N, you don't have to worry about me.“

You look at her slightly confused and fearful.

“You're not upset?”

She lets out a small chuckle under her breath, shaking her head.

“Why would I be?” she asks you blankly and you remain silent, really not having an answer, 'I mean, you're lying to everyone, not just me,” she explains, unconcerned, "I'm a little offended, yes," she admits, "But I understand it's a complicated situation."

You're surprised by her response and understanding, so you can't help but feel relief coursing through your body at still having Alysanne on your side.

“Thank you,” you tell her sincerely, giving a small sad smile, “I just didn't want you to feel betrayed.”

“Betrayed? Please, not at all,” she says incredulously, "At least not the way you feel about Aemond," she says with a more serious tone and her worried expression.

You lower your gaze, shake your head and let out a long breath, bringing one of your hands to your forehead.

“I want to believe that what happened at Dragonstone was real, but that picture…” you say sadly, "He said it was all real to him too but… I don't know," you get frustrated.

Alysanne places a hand on your arm in a supportive gesture, watching you sympathetically.

“Hey,” she says softly, wanting to get your attention and it makes you watch her with your sad eyes, ”I understand you. And you shouldn't talk to him if you don't want to. Besides you don't have to decide anything right now,” she assures you, "But eventually you will have to talk to him and you know it," she tells you honestly, ”You can't keep hiding from him forever.”

You sigh, knowing she's right, but you still feel insecure and hurt.

“I just want to understand what happened, why he didn't tell me,” you say sadly, ”But on the other hand I just want it all to be over so I don't end up more hurt than I already am.”

“Then just ask him to tell you what you need to know, after that no one will owe anyone any explanations. But if it's easier for you to just end it all, you can make that decision too, and no one will judge you for it,” she assures you, gently squeezing your arm, giving you some comfort.

The warmth of her support gives you a respite in the midst of the turmoil. And you realize that having someone who understands and doesn't judge you is invaluable at times like this.

Even if the answers aren't clear, her presence makes you feel less alone.

“Thank you, Alysanne,” you murmur, sincerely grateful.

She stays with you, advising you, while you ask her for help in knowing what you can do, what exactly to say to him if you decide to talk to him or how to end it all, making notes in your mind.

Then she talks to you about trivial things to distract you and make you laugh a little to lighten the load you're carrying, until the two of you head off to your next class.

You're running late.

Your father drive you to school today but your alarm didn't ring when it was supposed to, so now you're just running to your first class of the day, hoping the chemistry teacher will let you in.

However, the irony of fate.

Maybe being late was your purpose to finally face what you've been avoiding, as in the middle of almost running down the hallway, as you turn towards another, you come face to face with him.

You stand completely paralyzed, feeling your heart stop before it begins to beat frantically, where surprise is evident in your gaze, as Aemond's gaze lights up as he finally sees you, but confusion begins to invade him in the midst of all his emotions.

He seems as surprised as you and in the midst of all that he is feeling, a fierce determination comes over him.

And you seeing the resolve on his face, the finally understanding of what is happening, you feel a wave of panic wash over you and without a second thought, you turn and start to walk away from him as fast as you can.

'Y/N,' Aemond's voice calls out to you, urgent and full of anguish, but you refuse to look back.

'I can't.'

You think with the pain in your chest and your hands beginning to shake.

“Y/N!”

Your steps become faster, almost stumbling in your haste to get away from him, hearing his equally hurried footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, please wait!”

You don't wait. You don't even see him. You just want to walk away, but Aemond doesn't give up easily and he certainly won't now that he's finally seeing you.

“Y/N, please,” his footsteps quicken, trying to reach you, his voice more insistent, full of urgency and concern, ”Please, we need to talk.”

You know it, but right now you can't.

Tears threaten to stream down your cheeks as you walk faster, with your thoughts being a tangle of conflicting emotions, where every fiber of your being wants to escape and run away from the pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

But Aemond is having none of it anymore.

“I said wait,” he tells you just as desperately but more firmly, unwilling to let you go.

And finally, in one swift and decisive move, he reaches out and grabs your arm, forcibly stopping you with his firm but gentle grip, placing himself in front of you so as to prevent you from running away.

Biting your lips, you watch him for a second before lowering your gaze, seeing the desperation and confusion on his face.

“What?”

Is all you can barely say in a low murmur and shaky voice, straining to keep your composure, not daring to look at him, as his beautiful blue, piercing eye desperately searches yours.

“What?” he repeats in confusion, not understanding, ‘That's all you're going to say?’ he say incredulously.

“Aemond,” you call out wearily, "I don't want to do this," you mutter sadly, trying to dodge him, but he quickly blocks your path again.

“What's going on?” he demands to know, confused and desperate, ”I haven't heard from you, I was worried.”

You clench your jaw, staring at an unimportant spot in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” you say emotionlessly.

He watches you even more uncomprehendingly, his frustration growing by the second.

“Yeah, I can see that now, but you're ignoring me and I don't even know why,” he says incredulously, noticing how you avoid his gaze at all costs and lets out a bitter little laugh, "You can't even look at me," he says with his voice tinged with pain, ”What happened?”

You feel lost in your thoughts, caught between sadness and confusion. You don't even know how to begin, how to explain to him the whirlwind of emotions you've been feeling since you saw that damn picture.

You don't even know how to explain that to him.

Your mind fills with conflicting images: the moments at Dragonstone, the warmth of his hugs, the tenderness of his kisses, and then, the devastating image of him making out with Floris.

“After Dragonstone I thought everything was going great, you… you seemed great,” he says blankly, shrugging his shoulders, "Even after I dropped you off at your house and we talked, everything was fine and I don't—" he lets out a sigh, "I don't understand anything," he gestures defeatedly with his head.

You take a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to sort out your thoughts, when his voice brings you back to the moment.

“Can you at least look at me?” he asks in a sad, defeated tone.

'Can you?'

All that comes to your mind just being near him is that picture of him and Floris. You even think you're overreacting but… he should have even told you before the whole hot tub thing happened.

So with a painful effort, you finally look him in the eye and confront him.

“Were you with Floris at that party you invited me to after dinner with your family?” you ask, your voice barely audible, but laden with firmness and expectation.

Aemond freezes, his eye widening in surprise, definitely not expecting this. And that's when he knows.

He understands everything now, your behavior, your attitudes, the fact that you've been ignoring him, everything. And he can really blame you? He's really in a position to demand answers after what happened between the two of you in the hot tub?

And it's not even a question with an answer, because the answer you already have, he knows it by looking at your serious and hurt face, just waiting for the confirmation that will end up breaking your heart completely.

“Y/N…” he tries to speak, but doesn't know exactly what to say.

“Just answer me,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, ”You were with her?”

He doesn't answer.

Even after he opens his mouth to speak, words seem to fail him and he says nothing, searching for a justification that doesn't seem to come. The guilt on his face is evident and the desperation to try to fix what he has broken is reflected in every line of his expression.

And all that coupled with his silence is the answer.

You feel a lump form in your throat and your eyes begin to fill with tears. You don't know what to say or what to do, with the pain and confusion in your eyes more evident than ever.

And seeing your whole expression, Aemond feels it like a dagger in his heart, trying to find a way to ease the pain he has caused.

“Y/N, let me explain. It's not what you think—

“You kissed her,” you interrupt him, your voice breaking.

“It didn't mean anything—

“I saw the picture.”

“Y/N—

You fall silent and suddenly… you don't hear anything anymore.

Aemond's voice distorts, like an echo drifting away, as you finish processing everything that's happening.

Memories of Dragonstone mingle with the image of Aemond and Floris kissing, both on the bus, in the jacuzzi, on the beach, at the aquarium, on the yacht, again on the bus and finally at your house, creating a whirlwind of emotions that takes your breath away.

Aemond takes a step toward you with his hand extended, wanting to touch you, to hold you, but you take a step back, avoiding his touch at all costs.

“I kissed you,” you say in a broken voice, ”In the hot tub.”

“I know,” he immediately says urgently.

“I didn't pretend.”

“I know, I know Y/N, just please listen to me—

“After what happened in the hot tub, you should have been honest with me,” you interrupt him again, with anger and hurt mixed in your voice and tears starting to slide down your cheeks, ”Now I don't know what to believe. I don't know if all that meant anything to you.”

“Of course it meant something to me, Y/N,” he tells you desperately, his voice heavy with sincerity. “It meant more than you could ever think.”

“How do you expect me to believe that?” you inquire, your voice breaking.

He looks at you desperately, searching for the right words he can't seem to find.

“It was a mistake, I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Then why didn't you tell me?” your voice rises with a mixture of pain and anger.

Aemond opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and frustrated, he doesn't know what to say, how to explain himself, holding a hand to the back of his neck and shaking his head.

“You and I weren't really dating at the time, Y/N,” he tells you in an attempt to justify himself, his voice barely a whisper, “And I didn't think you and I would make it this far.”

You shake your head, looking at him as if you can't believe what you're hearing. Aemond lets out a long sigh, closing his eye tightly for a moment, only making the situation worse.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—

“And you've already forgotten about that?” you inquire and just as broken as before, ”The contract?”

He lets out a sigh, not knowing what else to say or what to do.

“Y/N—

“We agreed not to be with other people,” you remind him slowly and clearly, with the bitter tone in your voice, with the tears in your eyes and the pain in your gaze, “And even though it wasn't real, in their eyes you cheated on me.”

“I swear it didn't mean anything Y/N, I don't—

“And they saw at Dragonstone how delusional and naive I was with you after that.”

“I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose you!” he finally admits to you, firm, desperate and worried, ”After what happened between us in that place… I didn't want to ruin it.”

You shake your head slightly, feeling your emotions overflowing.

“That's not justification.”

“It's the truth,” he insists, ”And I was wrong, I know. I should have told you and I'm sorry,” he exasperates, "But I swear that kiss with Floris was a mistake. And everything that happened between us was real to me, every moment, every kiss, everything was real to me Y/N," he tells you with intensity and sincerity in his gaze, ”It was and I wasn't playing with you.”

You stare at him without saying anything, because you don't know what to say and because even though Aemond is honest, still hearing that hurt you.

He tries to make you understand at that moment with everything he can that he is being completely honest with you. But then thoughts come over you, still with tears running down your cheeks.

You think of her, of Floris.

You think about everything Alysanne told you the two of them had before she decided to go on exchange, about the relationship and the complicity the two of them shared and still share.

And suddenly, the realization hits you hard.

“You still care about her,” you say with a lump in your throat.

Aemond watches you for a moment uncomprehendingly, not understanding what you say, but as you both fall silent and he watches your face, he knows what you are implying.

“Floris,” you clarify, “You still care about her,” you repeat firmly.

And he doesn't say anything.

He just watches you there not knowing what to say, with desperation and pain in his gaze. He opens his mouth to protest but can't say anything, his expression betraying him, until eventually his gaze falls to the floor, unable to hold yours.

That silence is all you need to confirm your suspicions and the weight of betrayal falls harder on your chest again.

“It's not like that, Y/N,” he tries to explain.

“That's right,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “That's why you didn't tell me. Because, deep down, there's still something between you.”

He looks up, the desperation in his gaze more than evident.

“Y/N, please—

“If this whole thing between us was really real to you, if it really meant that much, you would have told me,” you say, your voice breaking, each word hurting you like a stab, ”You would have been honest.”

“You don't understand,” he tells you in exasperation, reaching his limit, running a hand across his forehead, ”She was there for me when Alys and I broke up after a very ugly fight. She listened to me, kept me company, gave me advice,” he explains desperately, "And obviously it hurt me that she left, obviously I missed her, Y/N. And those feelings won't go away so easily, we both have history," he says incredulously, ”But if I assure you that kiss was a mistake Y/N, it shouldn't have happened and I'm sure she knows it too.”

His words pierce through you, a sharp pain settling in your chest. And you don't say anything, because you don't know what to say. You don't even know if you have to say anything about it.

But the reality is you don't.

You understand that his relationship with Floris is something that existed before you, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less, it doesn't ease the pain you feel and it definitely doesn't erase the image of that kiss in your mind.

Because that means there will always be a part of him that belongs to her, just like Alys. And this is exactly why you can't help but feel as if you're competing with her past, when you shouldn't be.

And finally, you look up, where Aemond sees in your eyes a painful resolve.

“Then I guess what happened between us was also a mistake.”

Aemond watches you in complete surprise, his eye widening in concern, his heart beginning to pound.

“No, no, Y/N, not that, I would never—

“It shouldn't have happened,” you interrupt him, firm with your statement, "Because believe it or not, if Floris hadn't gone on exchange, you and her would still be together," you say bitterly and sadly, ”She would have helped you with making Alys jealous and none of what happened between us would have happened.”

Aemond takes a step toward you, despair painted on his face.

“That's not true, Y/N. Don't say that. What happened between us was real, what I felt was real,” he insists, ‘But Floris and I… it's complicated," he says with frustration, ”But I don't care about her anymore the way I care about you, I can assure you that, because I want to be with you, I really do.”

Do you believe him?

You're not sure.

Right now you don't know what to believe, let alone what to do, to which Aemond steps forward, taking your hand, wanting to fix this because he doesn't want it to end, at least not like this.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I'm so sorry, Y/N.”

You swallow hard, shake your head and with your free hand wipe the tears from your cheeks, to which he watches you worriedly, hating to see you cry.

“Me too,” you say in a mumble with your lowered gaze and hoarse voice.

You make him let go of your hand and looking at his face one last time, full of regret and despair, you turn and start to walk away.

And he of course reacts immediately.

“Please, Y/N, don't walk away. Let's talk about this. We can fix it.”

But you feel there is nothing more to say. You've heard his words, you've seen his despair, but you don't stop even with tears streaming down your cheeks.

He tries to make you stay with the anguish in his tone of voice, he asks for your forgiveness again and tries to fix everything, but all you want at that moment is to walk away and that's exactly what you do, leaving him behind.

Even though you couldn't concentrate later in the whole school day, with your mind constantly taking you back to all that has already been said, finally classes end and you get home.

Yet you had to avoid Aemond at all costs after the conversation you both had, as well as his calls and messages only increased, making your whole day worse.

And now finally in your room you can have that break.

You're still feeling down and you're thankful your father is still at work or else he'd have to watch you wiping away the tears that involuntarily fall down your cheeks at every turn.

You try to distract yourself by watching movies or series, which works, but your mood is the same and the feeling of sadness in your chest won't go away, as well as that accompanying feeling of emptiness.

You let out a long breath and lying on your bed, you distract yourself on social media, Instagram, Tiktok, whatever. Then you log on to Facebook and scroll aimlessly through your feed, reading every news and every shared post or photo.

When suddenly an announcement appears from the official Facebook page of Citadel University.

“Attention future students! The application process for new admission as well as the entire scholarship process has been finalized. Results will be sent to students soon. Watch for the mail and thank you all for your preference!”

You quickly sit up in your bed, looking at the announcement confused and surprised, with a new wave of anxiety hitting you.

This is what Aemond should have done, get you into your dream college as part of the contract, including the scholarship.

But then why didn't he tell you?

Uncertainty and fear begin to invade your mind, so you quickly open your email, assuming that news must have reached you that you got in, as he promised.

After all, you gave him all the documents and your personal information to work on your application, phone number and email included, so you should get that email soon, right?

You browse through everything you find, feeling that every second that passes increases your anxiety, checking your inbox, the spam folder, updating everything at any second, attentive and alert. But as time goes by, there is nothing.

No mail from Citadel University arrives.

Then another realization comes to your mind at that moment, with the knot in your stomach and disbelief in your gaze as you stare at your cell phone screen, unable to believe it.

The absence of news can only mean one thing: Aemond didn't keep his part of the deal.

That's why he didn't tell you anything.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @urmomsgirlfriend1

[racoon3lizabeth]

Art critics at work

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

summary: remus already loves his work as a history teacher. but he loves it even more when he accidentally stumbles upon the new art teacher.

warnings: talk about mental health and death ish? and just a lot of fluffy cute stuff. modern & muggle au.

notes: hiiiii!! i just want to tell you all that it’d be really cool if you all sent me requests for how you’d like the story to go or small details and so on. basically anything you want me to add in the next chapters. AND ALSO!! i’m a beginner writer. i never once stated I wasn’t, this is just for fun! :)

remus lupin x fem!user

When Remus grew up he wasn’t like other kids. It sounds very naive, but it’s also very true. His father Lyall struggled with depression ever since he was a teenager. It was good for a while, at least that’s what Remus was told. But when he had just turned five his father got fired from his job. Lyalls only reason to go to work was to earn money, which resulted in worsening his own mental health.

Then when Remus turned six he suddenly only had his mother.

Ever since then he promised himself to never get a job he didn’t absolutely love. He never wanted to make someone go through what he watched his mom endure. So after almost five years of hard work and late nights of studying he successfully became a history teacher at twenty six years old.

***

The last few weeks have been nothing but hectic for Remus. Not only was he bedridden with the flu for a week, needing to get a substitute which he later learned didn’t do his job properly, he also missed out on a lot of information when he was sick. Causing him to all of a sudden have a huge pile of work. For some reason his colleague and best friend Sirius hadn’t felt like he needed to tell Remus about the fact that the school had finally hired a proper art teacher.

Sirius is that sort of cool music teacher that all of the students love. With classic rock band t-shirts, tattoos and incredible guitar skills. So perhaps it’s not exactly his fault, but still. Remus would have appreciated a heads up.

That’s exactly how Remus found himself walking through the halls of the school, strolling towards the arts classroom. Nodding his head in greeting to the students who kindly waved to him. His students are one of the reasons he really wanted to pursue teaching. Because when he was their age he would’ve wanted someone who paid attention. Who truly cared about his education. Sure, some are a bit difficult and hard to deal with. But those are also the ones who are going through the most.

The fact that their school hasn’t yet hired a new art teacher is a very nice convenience for him whenever he needs to print out paper and assignments for his students since he absolutely hates the teacher's lounge, always has ever since he started working. Small talk just isn’t for him.

He opened the heavy door which automatically closed behind him with a loud thump. Immediately stopping in his pace when he notices something very out of place. He was just there for the printer but ended up in a much different situation.

“Uhm,” he trails off. Inspecting the unfamiliar woman who’s standing with her back turned to him by the whiteboard. “Hello?” He questions, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

You can’t help but rapidly turn around as Remus breaks the quietness of the empty classroom. Eyes widened in shock. You had been too caught up in your own world to notice the door opening and then closing. “Hi,” you reply, eyes flickering over his face as you’re caught off guard. Shifting on the balls of your feet.

“Hi,” he repeats, for some reason needing to clear his throat once again. Though it’s probably just because of the flu he had last week and not the incredibly alluring woman in front of him. At least that’s what he tells himself. He doesn’t enjoy the fiery hot pink flush that quite quickly spreads over his cheeks. He doesn’t even know this woman who could potentially have broken into the school. He hasn’t got a single idea that you’re the new art teacher.

“Are you allowed to be in here?” Remus questions, his chocolate eyes observing her cautiously.

You blink, narrowing your gaze as he observes you. “Yes?” Your brows knitting together. “Are you allowed to be in here?” You echoed. Slightly confused as to why this man, wearing a dark green sweater with the white collar from his shirt sticking up from underneath and black dress pants, just comes into your classroom interrogating you unannounced.

“What?” He asks. Completely baffled as a scoff stumbles out of his lips. “I work here, of course I’m allowed to be here.” Remus argues. Threading his right hand through his sandy brown hair.

You manage to raise an unimpressed eyebrow, eyes narrowed. “I work here too.”

That’s when it clicks for Remus. It was about time they got a new art teacher after all.

“You’re the new art teacher?” He guesses, his cheeks turning even more scarlet. His eyes flashing with self depreciating amusement. He had just out of nowhere attacked this poor new teacher who’s just trying to get used to a new job, students and environment. Honestly, he blames it all on Sirius.

But honestly, you’re not very bothered. He looks very sorry with his lost puppy dog eyes and cheeks getting redder for every second. “Yeah, I’m y/n.” Reaching out your hand, offering him to shake it. Deciding that introducing yourself might lighten the mood just a tiny bit and possibly save him from further embarrassment.

His lips curl into a lopsided smile, giving you a firm although gentle handshake. “I’m Remus,” he smiles, retreating his hand. Already missing the warmth of your skin. “History teacher.” He adds, pushing up his glasses that had started to slip down his nose. Fuck! He’s wearing his nerdy reading glasses? Why didn’t he leave them at his desk?

His words make you beam, eyes twinkling with excitement. “So you must know a bit of art history then?” You assume. Happy to know that there might be a possibility of having just met someone who you can ramble about art with.

“Hmm?” He hums, putting the glasses on the top of his head. Hoping that looked a bit more dignified and not like the extremely smart history nerd he unfortunately (or fortunate for you) is. “Oh yeah, yeah.” Remus finally answered, nodding. “I know all about… Picasso.” He hesitates, internally slapping himself for being so caught up with his thoughts.

An involuntary chuckle escapes out of your lips. Quickly developing into a full blown laugh. “I’m so sorry,” trying to get the words out between your fits of laughter. “I’m so so so sorry.” you apologise desperately over and over.

The corners of Remus' eyes crinkled, chuckling softly. “No it’s alright.” He reassures. The beautiful melody of your laughter ringing through his ears. Never having heard something so exquisite before. “That was all on me.” Brushing it off with a dismissive hand.

The nervous shifting on the balls of your feet and the way you anxiously fiddled with your fingers has now entirely stopped. Completely caught up with your new colleague. “Good,” you nod, your eyes meeting for only a few seconds before they both dart away. Remus suddenly found the whiteboard extremely interesting when you decided to check out the floor just one more time.

The silence that followed wasn’t just excruciating, it was completely horrifying and it thickened for every moment that passed by.

“I’ve got a class in ten minutes,” Remus acknowledges and tilts his head a bit to the side, breaking the silence.

You nod once again. Feeling so incredibly confused. You’re always very talkative but suddenly the words are lost on your tongue. “I prefer Dalí.” You confessed out of the blue.

Remus' head turns, looking away from the whiteboard and onto you. “I’m sorry?”

“The painter.” You told him with a cheeky smile.

“Oh,” Remus breathes. Today really isn’t his day. He just manages to humiliate himself constantly. “I don’t know why I said Picasso.” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Eyes glancing back up at the woman, his cheeks becoming more like a tomato once again.

—————————————————————————————————

tags: @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl

[sapphiressmoke]

Outlander IV

Summary: She doesn’t know how it happened but they were calling to her to come closer. Touching it was never suppose to uproot her life and transport her somewhere she never thought she could see and witness. She has to try her best to survive if she wants to get back, right?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen X Modern!Reader

Characters Mentioned: Criston Cole, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Helaena Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen

Warning: Vulgar language (ass, whore, cock) mention of sexual acts briefly

Word Count: 3.9K

Previous

a/n at the bottom 🫶🏻

With the moon passing over Kings Landing, Aemond did not dare to take his eyes off of you as you slept. The young prince didn’t think you came to realize that you were in his room, but nonetheless, it didn’t matter to him. Anyone would say it was improper for an unwed lady to be sleeping in a man’s room but they didn’t know the full story. Well, neither did he but he wanted… No he needed to know you were safe. He watched as you chest raised with each breath and then deflate once you breathed out. Breath in. Breath out.

He had this fear that if he, himself, fell asleep that maybe you would disappear. Every so often, he would walk up to you to just study your face. The candle that burned next to his bed illuminated your face perfectly. He saw how your long lashes laid against your upper cheek, how your lips were slightly separated when you breathed out, how your eyebrows creased just slightly… Every little thing about you was perfect. You stirred for a moment as Aemond brushed a piece of your hair out of your face. He would shush you back to sleep, as if trying to sooth a crying babe.

Suddenly, the air in the room shifted and Aemond felt the hairs on back of his neck rise. “You must protect her.” A voice spoke behind him. Aemond stood up abruptly, turning to try and see who had entered his room.

He walked a few steps ahead, keeping your sleeping figure behind him so he could keep you out of harms way. He unsheathed his sword and looked around to see if he could spot anyone in the surrounding area. “Who goes there. How did you get in here.” His voice boomed, commanding.

A glowing violet eye shimmered in the darkness, a glimmer of blue went and gone “All is well Aemond, at ease.” The figure walked in the shadows but never steps out to reveal himself. “I come with a warning.”

Aemonds eyes followed the eye hiding in the darkness, ready to attack if needed. He watched as the figure stared at you with a longing look. Despite not seeing the perpetrators face, the eye held strong emotions. “What could you warn me about? Show yourself.” He tried to not yell as he did not want to wake your sleeping figure behind him.

“Your own downfall will be your anger and ego. Those who are family will try to put you down and take her away.” The voice explained gently, calmly, as if trying to not scare an animal in the wild. “Hold her close to your heart and do what your gut tells you to do.”

He dropped his sword to his side, still keeping a strong grip upon the leather of the hilt. “And what is that suppose to mean? You don’t even know anything about me.”

He watched as the figure stepped out of the shadows, the face first appearing to be a man with a stoic face and short hair silver hair, wearing the conquerors crown, then morphed into a softer featured man but still sporting the short silver hair until the last face was his. His hair was untied and his eyepatch seemed long gone. “We are you.” The rest of his body stepped from the shadows and walked towards the bed to sit next to you. “Life is cruel to those who love with big hearts. We are familiar with heartbreak. It wrecks you from the inside out. Every soul is bound to another and some may get lost along the way but they are always bound to find one another. She has found her way back to you.” Aemond watched himself sit next to you, they were both watching you sleep peacefully. “You must be careful with who you call family because they will try to use her to their advantage. Keep her close.” His hand skimmed over your cheek before he stood up and looked at Aemond. “You love her greatly and she loves you greatly. Don’t take it for granted.” And with a blink of an eye, he vanished from Aemond sight.

He stood there in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. He knew he has seen those faces before and would this mean that there were such things as reincarnations? Was he apart of a greater story than he was aware of?

“Aemond? Are you okay?” He hadn’t realized that had woken up while he was lost in his thoughts. He turned to see that you were sitting up while your right arm held you up, your eyes still full of sleep and your hair disheveled.

You couldn’t quite see his face in the dark but you could see that something was bothering him deep within his mind. He strides before you and stroked your head. “Yes, yes I am Y/N. I’m alright. How are you feeling?”

You felt him place his hand against your forehead, searching for any heat. You took his hand by the wrist and placed it down. “I feel alright. My head feels a bit heavy but that’s all.” You played with his fingers, trying to figure out what to say. “What are you doing up? Have you slept.”

“Of course I have.” He lied straight through his teeth and you knew it. “A noise from the hall woke me up not too long ago.”

You laughed softly. “You are a terrible liar, Aemond. You are still fully dressed and you have your sword scabbard still attached to you.” You watch Aemonds gaze fall to his hip and you could only imagine that his cheeks were red from being caught in a lie. You scootched over a couple of inches and patted the spot next to you. “It seems to still be late in the night so I request that you undress into your sleep attire and join me in the bed for the rest of the night.” You smiled a bright smile that he could not refused.

“I-It’s improper.” He stuttered. He wanted to accept but he knew that it was wrong to lay with a woman when he and she was unmarried.

You thought back to your history lessons of royalty family and you remembered learning that everything was improper before marriage. No touching, no sleeping together, not even being alone and this must be breaking every rule that the prince was taught. “If we do not touch, would it still be improper?” You asked.

He looked at you and sighed. If you were a sin testing him, he would gladly accept it. “Fine.” You turned over so your back was facing him as you let him undress. You heard the sounds of laces being untied and hooks being let go. You felt the bed dip in as you assumed he was removing his boots. By the end of the undressing, he was left but just in his chemise intimate clothing. You turned over to face him when you felt him lift the sheets to go under. “You know, you’re on the side that I usually sleep on.” He jested when you finally faced him. “But I don’t mind sharing this one time.”

He felt your gaze looking at his face. More specifically his eyepatch that still laid upon his face. You went to grab the leather strap to take it off but Aemond was quicker to grab your hand and bring it back down towards the mattress. “Not yet. I can’t.” He shook his head. “It is not a pretty sight that I am ready for you to see.”

You brought his hand to your lips and placed a simple kiss on the skin of his knuckles. “I will not rush you, Aemond. I will gladly look at your one beautiful eye for now.” Despite knowing you for less than 48 hours, he has felt more love with you than with anyone else in his life. His heart felt as if it was tied to hers and wherever she went, he must go. “I hope this isn’t too improper for you, Aemond. I don’t want to cause you too much stress.”

It was his turn to play with your fingers as he tried to figure out a way to respond. “Despite was the Faith says, I do not care in this moment nor ever while you are here. What happens in here is for us only. Now, hush up and close your eyes. It’s time too sleep.”

You feigned offence with a small gasp. “It is not me who lied about being asleep this whole time. You must close your eyes and find sleep yourself, young prince.”

For the next part of the hour, Aemond and Y/N spoke about nonsense while never letting go of the hand that they previously held.

‘We are you’ were words that plagued the one eyed prince for the rest of the night.

We are you.

A knock on the door was what woke up the young princeling from his sleep. He rubbed the sleep from his eye to try and fully wake himself up. He heard you stir next to him as you dug yourself deeper into the pillow, trying to stay asleep for as long as possible. When sitting up in the bed, he bent down and grabbed the pants that he previously wore and pulled them then striding towards the door. He pulls open the heavy doors to be greeted by Ser Criston. “Good Morrow, my prince.” The Knight bowed. “Your mother, the Queen, requests an audience with the Lady Y/N. Alone” The knight peered into the room to see you sleeping in the princes bed still. He cocked an eyebrow at the scene but stayed quiet.

Aemond nodded, looked back at you and then back at Ser Criston. “Of course… Let me wake her and I will bring her.”

The Knight shook his head. “I’m sorry, Prince Aemond, but she requests the audience to be alone with her. She requests that I bring her up myself, the Queen advises that you must have greater things to tend to.”

He looked back once more upon your sleeping figure and sighed. “Okay… Okay. Give me five minutes and I will get her up. Did mother tell you what she needed?” The knight shook his head saying no. What would his mother possibly want with her? He closed the door behind him, leaving Ser Criston on the other side of the door. He approached your side of the and started stroking your exposed cheek. “It’s time to wake up, Y/N.”

You groaned and raised your hand to Aemonds lips, shushing him. “5 more minutes please. Shhh.”

A smile played on his lips. He took your hand in his and placed it back down on the bed. “I wish I could give you more time but my mother… The Queen… She’s requesting an audience with you, alone.” You head snapped up at the statement he made. He brushed your hair behind your ear to have a better look at your sleepy face. “I’m not sure what she needs but Criston, the knight that was with me when I found you, is outside the door waiting to escort you.”

You slowly sat up in the bed, your mind was racing at the thought of meeting the Queen. Was she going to banish you back to the forest? Question where you came from? You had no idea how you could answer that question. ‘Oh yes my Queen, I’m from, what seems to be, the future and I have now travelled to the past. It also seems that your sons ghost guided me to the stones that brought me here.’ She would certainly think you were insane and send you somewhere.

“O-Okay.” That was all you could muster. “I guess I will put the clothes on from yesterday and go. Yes, that’s the plan.” You shakily stood up from the bed and all Aemond could do was watch you. He felt the stress role off of you but he didn’t know how to protect you from this.

Those who are family will try to put you down and take her away. Hold her close to your heart.

Alicent watched her father sit in the chaise in her room as she paced the floor, picking at her cuticles. “This could mean so much more for us, Father. This could help our cause of putting Aegon on the throne as the rightful ruler.” She continued to ramble on until Otto butt in.

“My dear daughter, please explain what you mean.” He demanded.

Alicent stopped her step and stared at her father. “The girl! She was found by being guided by the White Hart. Ser Criston can vouch for this, father.” She took a seat next to Otto and placed her hands in her lap but continued the picking. “We all know the symbolism behind the animal

is royalty and it appeared to her and Aemond.”

“And who is this girl?”

Alicent took a deep breath before continuing. “We have no idea. She was found at the Stones of Many a Moon being guarded. There is something about her and she will be our key.” The Queen took her fathers hands in her own. “We must treat her as one of us, as if she is family. Whatever she wants, she must get. Same goes for Aemond. We need them on our side. We need them happy.”

Otto looked at his daughter with a pleased look, knowing that what she was saying was right. “You are right my daughter. They are the key to success for the realm. We will treat her with respect but we must keep a close eye on her.” He tapped her hands and proceeded to place them on her lap. “I’ve heard she has roomed with Aemond last night.”

“I heard the same… It’s highly improper but if it is what they want, they shall receive it. The news of her becoming must be kept within the council. It must not reach the ears of Rhaenyra. She will try everything to take her.” The Queen thought back to her childhood friend but quickly shook the thought away as the doors to her chambers proceeded to open.

Ser Criston Cole bowed before introducing you to the room. “My Queen, Lady Y/N has been brought as requested for an audience.” The Knight made eye contact with the Hand of the King before nodding his head towards the elder man who took to his feet and left the room to leave the two of you alone. You couldn’t help but notice the look that the man and Alicent shared with each other. As if they could speak telepathically.

Alicent stood up and walked towards you and brought you into a quick hug that you couldn’t even return from the speed. “Lady Y/N, I hope you are feeling much better.” She took a look at her Kings Guard and thanked him for the service and to wait outside the door.

You weren’t sure how to react to the sudden affection, causing you to stumble over your words. “Yes yes, thank you, Your Grace. The rest was quite needed.” You smiled at her. You remembered seeing her quickly at the campsite. The longer you stared at her, you more you could see that her eyes held emotion the same way Aemonds did and facial manoeuvres were quite similar.

You felt her grasp your hand and guide you over the lounge area to sit with her. “Please, when it is just us two, call me Alicent. Drop the formalities.” She smiled, still grasping your hand. Her thumb grazing over your knuckles.

“If that is the case, please call me Y/N. Drop the Lady, it makes me feel higher than I truly am.”

“Of course, Y/N.” The Queen continued to smile but there was more meaning behind the smile that she let on. You watched as her deep eyes eyed you up and down, looking b at what you were wearing. “I see that you are still in Aemonds garb from yesterday. It seems that you have no clothing here… I shall request for a dressmaker to come for measurements for you at once.”

A sudden wave of uncomfortable took over you. You weren’t use to be getting doted on, especially by a mother figure. Your mother took care of you, yes, but she could not find the time to sit down with you and just talk. “I can’t accept that. Are you sure, your Gra- Alicent.” You corrected yourself.

All she could do was give you a motherly laugh, basically saying that she would do what she needed for you. “Of course, sweet girl, I can’t have you running about in my sons clothing.” She gave your hands a light squeeze. “If you need anything and I mean anything, you come let me know. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

A small smile played on your lips played in your lips but your eyes kept fleeting back to the door where you saw the older man. Was he the king? “The man who was here just before, was he..?”

“The King? No.” She shook her head and a solemn expression took over. “That is my father, the hand of the king. Currently, his grace is bed ridden as he has been sick for quite some time now but I assure you that once he is up for some visitors, Aemond and I shall bring you to meet him. He would be very pleased with you.” Perhaps meeting you, hearing how you were found would surely persuade the sick king to change his mind of the heir. He himself believed prophecies and symbolism more than anyone. She held your hand tightly, scared that letting go would put the green cause 10 steps back from where they were heading. “Now, let’s talk about dresses.”

Perhaps she was the mother you always dreamed of but to her, you were just a pawn in her game.

Aemond roamed the halls of the Red Keep, his mind continuing to play out what he had seen last night. He knew the faces he saw were familiar, he must have seen them depicted somewhere before in his studies. The words said by himself kept playing through his head ‘Those who are family will try to put you down and take her away. Hold her close to your heart.’ He hadn’t realized that he walked towards his sister room until he heard her soft spoken voice call him. “Aemond.”

He turned his head towards the open door to see Helaena embroidering as the twins played on the floor. “Helaena.” No matter the mood, just seeing his older sister made him smile. Perhaps it was because it was her innocence and kindness he admired or the way she was soft spoken but he always smiled. He entered the room and took a seat next to her. “How are you, sister?”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m quite alright. The twins are eager to fly out with you.”

He loved his niece and nephew and would protect them any cost. They had been asking at least once a week to fly out on their dragons but the Dragon Keepers have agreed that they are not quite there yet. “Has Aegon not offered to bring them on Sunfyre?” As the questions rolled off his tongue, he thought that he already knew the answer to that. “Nevermind. The time will come for their turn to be in the sky.”

She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked up at him. “Time is suppose to move forward but it seems that it chose to move back this time. Time can be stalled by greed.”

He looked down at his sister, trying to understand what she was trying to tell him. He knew she would have moments where her phrases would make no sense to anyone but herself. “What do you mean?”

“Time is being kept in place by emerald. Cut the cord and let time move freely.”

The silence that was left after her voice was broken by the booming voice of their elder brother. “Aemond! There you are!” Aegon stumbled into the room, his own legs causing him to trip here and there. At the sound of his voice, the twins nurses had decided to take the twins out of the room, muttering something about the twins needed time outside. “If I heard correctly, you have soaked your cock in a whore!”

Helaena could feel the tension beginning to rise already at his words. “Aegon, please stop.”

Aegon came up behind Aemond, placing his hands on his younger brothers shoulders and giving them a harsh squeeze. “Come on Helaena! Have some fun. Our dear brother here has had a stick up his ass for such a long time. Getting his cock wet will definitely lighten him up.” Aemond started to tense under the words of his brother. “It may not be a proper whore, from what I’ve been told though. I’ve heard that you had to go deep in the woods to find her. Was she tight? Did she gag and spit all over your cock? She must be good since you brought her back here and have her sleep in your room!” Tick Tick Tick. “Maybe when you’ve had enough, you can pass her over to me for some fun.”

Tick.

Aemond stood up faster than anyone could see and had his hand wrapped around his brothers throat. “If you speak of her that way one more time, my hand will be my sword and your head will be rolling on the floor… dear brother.” At the end of his sentence, Aemond pushed his brother backwards, causing him to fall down and cough from the pressure on his throat. ��I’m sorry, sister.” He gave a quick nod towards his sister and rushed out the room to try and control his temper.

He rushed towards his mothers quarters, hoping to find you and just be with you as you were the only person he wanted to see in this moment. As he rushed towards the stairs, he thought he heard a voice from the Gods themselves call out his name.” Aemond!”

He looked up and the biggest smile reached his lips as he practically skipped steps to see you. It seems that you were being escorted back to his room after speaking with his mother. “Y/N.” He grabbed your elbow, allowing himself to feel grounded. He looked to your behind left to see his mothers loyal knight. “Ser Criston, I can take her from here. Thank you.” He heard the cornish man say ‘you’re welcome’ as he bowed and headed back towards the royal quarters. “It is weird for me to say but I missed you in your absence.”

You brought your arm up to squeeze his hand. “I can say the same.” You both stared into each others eyes, not bothering about the world around you.

SOO we are introducing more lore to the story. If you know who Aemond saw… shhhh he doesn’t know. I have such plans. Next chapter, I’m going to dive into more of the readers adaptation to this time period since it’s only been one day since she’s been found. We can also already see what’s brewing with the Hightowers.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

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[sapphire-writes]

Season’s Greetings

summary: You call Aemond to cheer him up during finals.

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

can also be read as an Our Last Summer universe oneshot

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, dirty talk, phone sex shenanagins, sort of exhibitionism, masturbation, mutual masturbation, language

word count: 1.7k

note: oh CUM all ye faithful for I have written another smutty little fic! appreciate all of you who stuck around despite my writer's block! happy holidays and a slutty new year!!!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

divider credit @/strangergraphics

Citedal University is uncharacteristically quiet this late at night as half the campus has returned home for the holiday break. The last few students who were unlucky enough to have a final scheduled at the end of the week remain hunched over their textbooks; scattered throughout the library and other rooms throughout campus.

Aemond Targaryen currently sits in a secluded corner of the library, a steaming cup of tea next to the stack of textbooks he’s been pondering for the past few hours. He’s one of the only students left at this hour, if not the only student—tucked away in the back corner of the second floor where he's unlikely to be bothered. 

He removes the blue light glasses that rest on his nose, rubbing his temples trying to relieve the dull throbbing that had begun behind his eyes. The sound of soft jazz reverberates through his airpods as he closes his eyes. He needs to stop soon or the pain will get worse. But Aemond has never been one to back down from anything just because of a little pain. 

He’d kept his phone on do not disturb for the majority of his study session, but took the chance now to glance at any missed text messages. Though it’s been months of dating, he still feels a warmth spread through his chest seeing who has texted him.

There’s no message in response. Aemond watches as three dots pop up then disappear. Pursing his lips he waits. A moment later a picture appears instead. 

It's his girlfriend.

Not just his girlfriend. His girlfriend in his bedroom in King’s Landing. In bed.

In his bed. 

Aemond sits up straighter, a shiver rolling down his spine right to the base of his cock. It’s been almost two months since he’s seen her, not since the end of October had they been able to connect in person. A mix of classes, internships, and other obligations had simply gotten in the way. The anticipation of an uninterrupted Christmas holiday had been all Aemond could focus on.

Aemond pauses his music, calling her. She answers after the first ring as though she’d been waiting in anticipation for his call.

“Hello?”

“Baby.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

Aemond’s mouth goes dry at the flirtatious tone, the soft feigned confusion at his call.

“I am, yeah,” he agrees, sitting back in his chair, the wood groaning as he does so, “Till someone distracted me.”

“Oh no,” she says, and Aemond closes his eyes, picturing the perfect pout that’s undoubtedly on her face, “How very rude. Distracting Aemond Targaryen from his studies.”

“A paper, actually,” he playfully corrects, “On the relationship between faith and reason during the wars of conquest.”

She moans at that, long and exaggerated. 

“Gods I love it when you talk nerdy,” she teases, voice rough, “It’s very sexy.”

Aemond bites his lip, shaking his head slightly and glancing around him. The library is silent apart from when he speaks, he hasn’t seen another student in a few hours. 

“Are you alone?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” she confirms, “Everyone’s gone to bed. It’s very late, after all.”

“I’m surprised you’re still up.”

“I was missing you.”

“I miss you too baby,” he says, closing his laptop and removing his blue light glasses, resting them on top, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” She says, “It’s been so long. Too long really.”

“I agree.”

“It’s been painful, without you,” she says with a sigh, “I ache for you, Aem.”

His heartbeat speeds up at that. He lowers his voice even more before continuing to speak.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she murmurs, “Right now especially. Gods I wish you were here next to me. In bed.”

Aemond takes another glance around him, wetting his lips. No one’s here, he’s sure of it. 

“What would you want me to do?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“Well first, I’d like you to kiss me,” she begins, the smirk evident in her voice, “I miss that mouth of yours. In more ways than one.”

“Cheeky,” he comments, and is rewarded with a giggle.

“I’d want you to kiss me,” she continues, her voice low, “Kiss me everywhere. My neck, my breasts.”

“Fuck me,” Aemond curses, long fingers tapping on the table. 

“I could if only you were here. I’m so wet Aem,” she purrs into the receiver, “I’m wearing that set you bought me. You remember?” He’s so hard he can’t stand it; paper forgotten he starts to palm himself through his jeans to relieve some of the immense pressure. “The red bralette…the matching panties.”

“Fucking hell,” he stifles a moan.

“Helaena put me in the guest room,” she continues, “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So I came in here instead, I hope you don’t mind.” Her tone is teasing, he can practically hear her smile. 

Aemond squeezes his eyes shut as her breathy voice continues,  “Remember our first time?” she hums, recalling the memory. “You ate my pussy so well Aem. So slow, and soft. Just the way you know I like it. Gods, that tongue of yours,” her words turn into a groan, “No one has ever made me feel like you do.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, “You’re fucking driving me crazy.”

“I just miss you. I miss your hands, baby. Your fingers especially.”

“Yeah?”

 “Mhmm. The way you hold me…squeeze me. How they feel inside of me.”

“Fuck.”

“Gods…..mine don’t feel as good.”

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Mhmm.”

“Fucking hells. Listen to me.”

A soft giggle emits from the other line. “Okay.”

“Are you fingering yourself, baby?”

“Mhmm.”

“How many?”

“Just two.”

“Oh, baby. You need to add another finger for me.”

“It’s too much.”

“Touch that pretty little clit for me, and add another finger. Gotta get you ready for me baby.”

He waits for her to do so, listening to every pant and moan she exhales. Palming himself through his jeans is no longer enough. Aemond reaches for his zipper and slowly, agonizingly slow, he pulls it down to free his cock. 

He moves quickly, releasing himself from his boxer briefs and fisting his cock firmly in his hand. His underwear is wet with precum as he tugs himself hurriedly. They’ll have to be quick. There’s no way in hells he can get caught like this. 

“Fuck. I’m so full.”

“That’s my good girl. How’s that feel?” he keeps his voice low as he asks, keeping his hand moving at a steady pace. 

“It’s so good. Not as good as you.”

His cock is pulsating in his grip, twitching at the sound of her words.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Please hurry,” she whines, “I need you so badly.”

“Oh, baby. When I get there you have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”

The line goes silent for a moment and Aemond can’t help the smirk that appears on his face. He can picture the scene on the other end of the phone so perfectly; her so close to the edge, pretty face scrunched up in pleasure. Eyes widening with surprise as he takes control. 

“What?”

“You think you can call me, distract me during finals, touch yourself in my bed, and go unpunished?” he clicks his tongue, “You’ve been a very naughty girl.”

“Aemond…”

“I can’t have a naughty girlfriend, now can I?” he asks, keeping his tone light; the underlying threat of what’s to come when he gets home all he needs. 

“No.”

“And you respond so well when you’re taught a lesson, don’t you?”

He hears her inhale a shaky breath and his cock twitches in his hand. Tightening his fist he strokes himself faster.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” she practically purrs.

Aemond muffles a groan, the familiar tightening at the base of his spine growing stronger as he jerks himself off. 

“You close baby? I know that pretty little pussy must be desperate to cum right now. Gods I wish it were your perfect cunt wrapped around my cock right now. Or that pretty mouth of yours.”

He hears her whine, can picture her spread out on his bed—his bed, while he’s so far away.

“Gods Aem, I’m so close.”

“Yeah? Me too baby, me too. Go on and come pretty girl, I wanna hear it. Let me hear my perfect girl fall apart.”

He can tell when she does, her breathing more labored, those pretty moans elongating into a desperate cry. He can picture it perfectly, her falling apart because of him as she had done hundreds of times. His girl, all his. 

“Oh that’s it, baby, just like that, that’s a good girl,” he praises her through it, almost unable to stop himself. It’s only a moment later he’s spilling himself on his hand, struggling to muffle the moan that escapes him.

The line is silent for a moment before he hears the rustle of movement, followed by a giggle.

“Seven hells woman,” Aemond says, reaching for the box of tissues that are thankfully placed on the table, undoubtedly meant for tearful students. 

“You enjoy yourself?”

“You’ll be the death of me,” Aemond grumbles, quickly cleaning himself up and zipping his jeans.

“And in the library of all places,” she says, followed by a soft tutting sound, “You’re a bad bad boy, Aemond Targareyn.”

Aemond smirks, slightly shaking his head at that. 

“I miss you,” he admits, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

“I miss you too baby,” she tells him, voice full with emotion, “So hurry back to me.”

Aemond closes his textbooks and laptop, preparing to leave.

“Just one more,” he assures her, “And then I’m all yours.”

She happily hums at that, “You’re always mine.”

“Very true,” he agrees, grabbing his bag, “It’s late, I should let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be waiting,” she assures him, “Right here, in this position if you’d like.”

“I’d say just how I’d like you but I’m in public.”

“What’s stopping you? You just jerked off in a library.”

Aemond barks out a laugh as he continues to leave, making his way out of the warmth of the library and into the cold. It’s begun to snow, a soft dusting illuminated by the lamps that light up campus. 

“I love you,” he tells her. 

“I love you too. Good luck on your final.”

One more final. And then he’s home. And then he’s with her. How it has been since last summer, and how it always should be. 

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