#they are trying to rectify the situation on their end

[mattluvsmarni]

Fanfiction Truth

Summary: You knew Matt for as long as you can remember, but what you didn't know is how he'd react after catching you reading fanfiction about him.

Warnings: smut with a plot, p in v, making out, slight humiliation, swearing, unprotected sex.

A/N: This is my first fic on here. Idk how i came up with this i just thought imagine if his s/o in the future were to see the things that are written about him and ofc my mind went to filthy places. anyways i hope this fulfils ur expectations, enjoy lovlies!!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You lay on your stomach aimlessly scrolling through Pinterest for the last 3 hours, you adjust yourself, sitting upright , and shaking your arms to let the blood flow again. you and Matt were supposed to hangout but he's running late. you pick up your phone to check if matt has texted– nothing. You find yourself thumbing through posts trying to stay busy.

You come across a post reminding you of a comment section about matts fanfictions. You drop your phone to pick your laptop up again, search his name in tags, and scroll judging by titles until you find one. 

as you read, you can feel your eyes slightly watering and the light coming from the screen suddenly being a bother, 

Her and Matt are in a club. 

The lights are low, they’re intoxicated, his hands on her hips, not an inch of space between they’re bodies, they’re moulded into one.

 her head thrown back, he's breathing in her ear. 

his hands running up and down her body. 

you sit back, your thighs pressed together. this is matt, your matt, the matt on his way to innocently hang out with you right now. and this is what you’re doing? You stare at the screen for another minute contemplating your choices , but you're already wondering what's going to happen next. 

he snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. 

she can feel him growing in his pants. 

she can feel her arousal soaking her panties, as she tries to squeeze her thighs together while continuing to grind and sway, 

 He's teasing, toying with the hem of her skirt. She tightens her grip on the material around his biceps, as her nails dig into the skin of his around her waist.“Matt, please” she breathes.

“Please what” he teases

“I need you, please.” 

‘“In any situation your manners are still in use, such a good girl aren't you?” he coos.

“For you? Always.” she admits, spinning around to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Yeah?”, He chuckles, “you’re going to have to hold out for me until we’re home though.” he mockingly pouts, smoothing his hand down your back to lightly squeeze your ass.

This was getting you all hot and bothered. you’d be lying if you said you weren't imagining present day you and Matt. 

Matt and you unintentionally ended up at the same college, after he made your early school years more horrible than it already was. Now being ‘older and wiser’ which he claims to be he finally grew a pair leaving him with a want to rectify his history with you . This includes hanging out from time to time, trying to form a healthy friendship, and seeing where it goes from there. 

but reading that and always having nothing other than your fingers to help you get off. Makes everything you just read sound so perfect. You’ve had your fair share of fantasies when it comes to Matt. Seeing it all spelt out and in front of you made you in need of something real. You just wanted to drop to your knees in front of him, and beg to please him. Have him laugh in your face, call you pathetic, and shove his dick down your throat. 

"Fuck" you whisper shout, running a hand through your hair, your thoughts were out of control. You slam your laptop shut. pacing around your room, up till your movements are interrupted by a notification on your phone. 

Matt:

I just pulled in 

You:

omw!

After taking a minute to exercise your breathing. You slip on your slippers running down the stairs, the buzzer goes off right before you can hit the button.

Letting him in, you notice the bag of snacks in his hands before looking up at him to see that small, but genuine smile. He pulls you in for a quick hug. "Sorry Chris needed me to take him to eat before I came over."

You can't even look him in the eye and he's apologising for running late. "no, no you’re good, come on up." you exclaim, shaking your head of all unwanted thoughts.

-

lying on your backs facing each other. you guys fell into a chain of laughs and good conversations with your playlist playing in the background. "I'm glad to finally have you sitting here listening to my music."

"Stop acting like I hog." he gasps, "I let you play music."

 With a quirk of your eyebrow, he quickly adds, "sometimes."

"name one time." you insisted.

Turning his head in the other direction. He tries to pretend he's in thought when really, he's trying to hold back a smile. 

"Mhm exactly" you strongly emphasise, "I'll never understand why though my taste is significantly better than yours."

"yeah?" He argued

and that one word took you back 2hrs, reminding you of what you read earlier.

You sat up clearing your throat, "yeah."

"Let's not lie to ourselves."

"Denial is the sickest disease" rolling his eyes at your comment. He goes to gather all the trash into a single bag, Brushing you off with a distasteful grumble.

-

"Can we start looking for a movie to watch?" He asks

"Of course! start looking." you call out on your way out to grab a soda for the two of you.

You walk back into the room to Matt and inch away from the computer screen, his eyes quickly moving from one side to another. 

"Here" you chuckle, handing him his drink

"Who needs movies when we could just read these" he suggests.

Every bone in your body goes rigid. You completely forgot to clear the tab. "Wait, hold on, give me a second." you frantically try to reason, lunging forward in an attempt to take it out of his hands.

But he’s quick to drive it out of your reach.

"No, you wait, and give me a second, I'm almost done." he says, bringing a finger up before your face to punctuate his words. 

A wave of embarrassment washes over your entire body, you sit back trying not to look anymore suspicious. Your pursuit at trying to stay unbothered fails the minute you start to think about what part he's reading. 

Matt seems so invested and you’d give a million bucks to know what was going on in his head right now. The only sound between the two of you was the music now lightly playing. He continues his scrolling, smirking for a split second, now you’d also kill to know what drove that reaction out of him.

You can hear the pounding of your heart, as he finishes up closing the object of your demise to look up at you. You avert your eyes, taking sudden interest in your feet. 

“I've always heard of these but never got around to actually reading one though.” he says finally breaking the silence 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth not knowing how to respond.

"Why were you reading them anyway?" he questions, inching closer to your place at the edge of the bed.

"I saw a comment section on it the other day" you're 100% sure it's visible how hard you’re breathing.

"There's no need to be embarrassed. I'm just surprised. It's not something I expected from you." he assures. 

"What’d you think of it?" he asks, placing a hand on your unclothed thigh, and smiling triumphantly when he hears your breath hitch. 

"I didn't get to really read it" you say lying through your teeth.

"Come on we both know that's a lie he says with a look of disbelief. ‘It's written all over your face, you’re telling me you didn't imagine me and you in that club." He asks, trailing his hands up your thigh . 

"Because I did. It was you who I imagined wearing a flimsy little black dress. Under colourful lights. It was your body that was backed up against mine." he says, and you can feel his breath on year neck.

Your eyes flutter closed as you angle just right for him to mark. 

He brings his lips to your neck leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses.

You couldn't bring yourself to care how evident your need for him was anymore. Not with that confession of his. Not when he was touching you the way you’d only dreamed of in the company of yourself.

"I want you to let me have my way with you, have you under me. For you to be begging me to let you finish." he says, his hand now almost right where my body needs him the most.

"Or I could just back off completely. And continue to be your plain old buddy Matt."

"Your pick sweetheart." He threatens, removing himself from you. 

"Matt!" you instantly whine at the loss of warmth. Quickly reaching for his hand to place it back on your thigh, 

"the first option" you huff out. 

He chuckles, slowly bringing his hand up to your clothed clit pressing his finger to it tracing along the wet patch that's gathered and I forgot how to breathe. 

His touch is light and barely there but i still can't will myself to breathe. I wish he'd give more and as careless as it makes me, I want it. 

"tell me. What exactly was the first choice again?’"He begins moving in a slow and tangible circular motion. 

you open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a jumbled cross of a gasp and a hum.  

He slows down his movements even more. coming up to pinch your nipple through your shirt. "I asked a question."

"Have your way with me until I'm begging you to let me finish." you rush out, throwing your head back, and bucking up your hips looking for more friction. It was embarrassing that you were already losing it and he’s done nothing.

“You don't have to tell me twice” picking back up his speed. A barely there whimper escapes my lips.

He's leaving more kisses all down to where his teeth skim the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. Marking all along your skin.

 he finally dips a finger inside your underwear. Seeing for himself how much of an effect he’s actually had on you. 

“So fucking wet like I knew you’d be.” His cock twitched against the constricting material of his pants as you audibly moan at his words

Inserting a finger. You throw your head back from the sudden relief as he works you perfectly. Your body had a mind of its own in this moment, moving with his fingers.

“Yeah go ahead and ride my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel.” He growled into your ear

Pressing his thumb to your clit as he curled his fingers in you, and that was all you needed to come undone all over his fingers.

Watching you try to catch you breath and the way your lips were still parted had him bringing his fingers dragging them across your lips to spread your wetness along them

You made direct eye contact as you darted your tongue out to taste yourself, that small action alone did so many things for him

Tempted, he licked his own lips reflectively mirroring your actions. 

Overtaken by his temptation he smashes his lips against yours, your hands fly to his hair taking advantage of your surprise he’s quick to slip his tongue into your mouth tasting you like he was a starved man you moan into the kiss as he brings you up to straddle his lap.

The kiss was hungry and fast eager to satiate the want you both were obviously feeling he was gripping your hips to help you move in circular motions as you grinded down on him you’ve never felt so in need of something more than you were right now he felt the same it was written into his lips and the way it aggressively moved against your own. 

Your patience was wearing thin. And his dick was begging to be freed. Your fingers reached down to press on the button of his jeans then to look into his eyes for any signs of disagreement. There wasn’t any. “I don’t want to finish on anything other than your dick right now.” you admit as you go to unbutton his pants.

“Fuck” he curses, halting your movements by quickly flipping you both over so that his chain was now dangling over your face. He wasted no time reconnecting your lips, only pausing to pull your top off and making quick work of your bra. 

His lips moved down swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple “Matt” you breathed, as your body melted completely into his touch. “Please” moving over to give the other one the same attention “I know baby, I know” he assured

Leaving a path of kisses all the way down to the waistband of your shorts. “Up” he spoke. Lifting your hips so he could get rid of your shorts and panties. Next came his shirt and finally those cockblocking jeans.

His pants and boxers now a pile of nothing on the floor. He started slowly stroking his member, aligning it with your wet and ready entrance, amused at the moan you let out when he had barely pushed it in yet. “Quit the teasing.” you whined

 He pushes himself in “holy shit you're tight”, he grits out and you immediately clench around him causing a groan to escape his lips.

You felt light-headed by the amount of pleasure you were feeling at the moment.

Matt. Right here, was everything to you right now. It was something that was gonna be inked into your brain forever.

With a roll of his hips and the arching of your back he was buried deep in you, and it had you seeing stars.

Matt loved the position he had you in where he could see every single reaction he pulled out of you. "exactly where i wanted you" he says with each thrust. "and you're taking me so, so well."

The tip of his dick continuously meets the sweet spot inside you, sending you closer to the edge

"oH OH" you quietly moan

"Come on don't hold back, i wanna hear you" he grunts, "is this what you imagined when you were reading those filthy things about your friend?"

you moan in response. he continues his merciless pace, as he brings a thumb to your clit.

"Fuck, fuck matt i'm close." you warn just as you feel the nearing of your second orgasm.

"go ahead baby, cum for me" his thrusts and thumb both gaining speed

as if your body was waiting on his permission, your vision fades to black while you feel your body arch off the bed as you let yourself go

"fuck yeah" he moans, his movements getting sloppy as he paints your insides white

you both lay there after he collapses next to you and pulls you in after you've both caught your breaths

"so am i staying here tonight" he questions breaking the silence

you can feel his chin moving on top of your head as he speaks, "no we can't remember that was established."

"I think it's a little too late to be talking about not crossing lines, considering you just let me fuck you." you could just imagine that smug look of his right now feeling all proud knowing he's got you

"fine just this once" you sigh in defeat

"yup just this once" he mocks as he gets up to your bathroom looking for a towel to clean you both up.

"i'm serious" you demand loud enough for him to hear only smiling to yourself now that you're out of his sight.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A/N 2: That pic of Matt on the tour bus will always have me in a chokehold.

#sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[greyphitus]

Hey guys

There's a post going around about something called the "Invertebrate Studies Institute" needing help. A few comments made on the post made me curious, so I checked it out and it seems sketchy to me. (ETA: the post's OP is now aware of the situation and is trying to rectify things on their end, and are ok with my post getting more exposure. Read the notes for more info too!)

The institute is a startup and the owner has displayed misogynistic behavior. He made a company and received "$1.3 million in research grants from the USDA and Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation" in 2011, but there aren't any research papers listed on the ISI website more recent than 2012 (sources: ISI website, People Behind the Science podcast transcript, All Things Bugs LLC webpage). It's possible his research is still a work in progress, but I would expect to see some genome sequencing work at the least since that seems to be a major focus.

Also, it's possible to ship frozen specimens in dry ice and have them be fine. Even stuff for molecular work and genome sequencing. So the inability to get help from other research groups, to where they're asking for a local freezer plug-in, is a bit weird to me.

Some screenshots below the cut, didn't screenshot everything since it's mostly just text, but I did cite the sources if you wanna read them yourself.

Not sure what the overall point is of this post is besides "seems sketch to me" but I saw a lot of people worrying on the initial post so I wanted to at least mention this stuff.

Comments from the tumblr post which sparked my initial concerns.

Screenshots from the LinkedIn link, with the initial contact and follow-up legal threat.

Screenshot from the ISI website talking about their facility and "initiative" (I noticed a lot of the wording on the website sounded like they hadn't done significant research, which also gave me pause).

And, for fun, the CDC guide on shipping frozen specimens.

#not photos #invertebrate studies institute #making my own post cause I don't want to signal boost the misogynist startup sorry #FYI OG post's OP is now aware of all this and does not support the scientist in being a shitbag or anything like that #they are trying to rectify the situation on their end #they just wanted to save the frozen science bugs

[unproduciblesmackdown]

reading the end of hiagb made me realize that when following along live i'd read a lot more of it than i thought and it's fun that it's overarchingly how a nut and a bug launched into space b/c of being sick of the world & into a temple at the edge of time & not-actually-infinite versions of themselves re: every [alternate timeline based on different choices/possibilities] can coexist in the same world with every bug tasked w/launching every nut back to the temple for reasons re: maintaining things and all the looping is disrupted by one bug who dated their nut and another bug whose quantum leap error was rectified by being teleported into another nut. the One System Error in an iterative process, one organic Idk Things Just Went Differently This Time As They Always Could've But Maybe Otherwise Virtually Never Did And That's Enough "that's / [one is] all it takes" vs "it's all the same / what's the diff" loops. no rules

#i think the especial endzone / finale aligned w/my being offline for like 5 mo's.... #as well as how reading along had made it like ''ok it's been Years so i don't remember all the stuff from having not reread it'' lol #also the bug whose quantum leap error was rectified by their living in another nut's head trying to run interference to keep both alive.... #and in the middle a lot of small Episodes. i felt like i got the ending here better than i did re: back lol #it also reminds me that [idk there could be a lot of Layers of larger/smaller worlds within worlds again] #And [weird really specific ass off the shits situations could be literal] as they were here. scratching my head abt the links b/w abigails #slightly scratching my head abt events here too but that's fine. like oh no there could be details better strung together than w/e i manage #my Win while coughing up blood trying to spontaneously speak to kc green was to announce i read ''hiagb'' phonetically. heeyaghbuh. #i mean it was overall fine i'm sure lmao sweating one's like [oh jeez. couldn't play it cool & ''winningest off the cuff exchange w/a rando #that anyone could ever have'' achievement] like ah it's whatevs. awkward being on either side lol we do what we can #i also never decided whether to think of ''crange'' as like hypothetical carefully pronounced ''orange'' or like ''strange'' #end up reading it as the latter. never ended up thinking of emerson bartender as a particular gender though i think they're vaguely A Guy #some more uhh grounded panels featured here lmao. not representative of the usual elevation. or is it??? #a bit but not in all ways. there are like a half dozen sphincter related points #anyways i'm shouting out the concept of the just one that goes differently. one little glitch in the mundane system (both/all are you)

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The falling | joel miller x f!reader, 5k

Summary: It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything. You're falling. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone. Or you catch Joel cheating on you. The world comes crushing down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST. That's it. Ok, bye. But seriously, angst, a whole lot of angst, alternated POVs, husband!joel, wife!reader, cheater!joel, married couple, Joel fucks another f!person, reference to sexual activity but nothing too detailed, as I said before-ANGST, excessive use of the word fuck, Joel is kind of a dick on this one, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Let me know how you feel about this lost little puppy, I know he sounds arrogant and awful, maybe I can rectify that, on a second part. If you're interested in a closure for these two, hit me in the comments! Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

| next

It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything.

Everything dear and loved and cherished and so close to your heart. Your heart itself.

You still can’t decide if it’s liberating or torturing, to have that exact moment burned in your thoughts like a Polaroid.

But the pain is real. The pain is excruciating. It spreads like vines through your whole body, starting from the pit of your stomach in the form of a bile you try to hold back, moving to your heart’s agonizing clench, licking to the ends of your numb limbs which remain obstinately immobile. It feels almost like floating, but not exactly.

You’re falling; you’re still falling as if there’s no luxurious, expensive floor underneath your feet, holding you surprisingly still up. You wait for the landing, the crush, unmoving, unblinking, not quite breathing. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone.

Your designer’s tote bag, another unnecessarily extravagant gift from your husband, drops from your hands to the floor with a loud thud.

Joel’s thrusts stop immediately and he turns his head to look behind him, while he’s on his knees, balls deep in a female body on all fours. His eyes shut tightly in something you’re not sure how to interpret, dropping his head between his shoulder blades and his palms squeeze the hips of the female body he's holding, until his fingertips go white.

And you’re just standing there, on the threshold of your bedroom, taking in the scene. It’s weird how the mind works under stressful situations. Is the absurdity of the reality that keeps you calm? Is it your brain’s reaction to protect you from collapsing? Are you shutting down right now?

You feel your eyes unable to move around and at the same time you see clearer than ever, as if you’re looking through a wide-angle lens.

You notice all of the stripped clothes, which they don’t seem hastily taken off, the way they pool on various surfaces of the room; they took their time undressing each other.

You notice the crystal tumbler of a half finished liquid, Joel’s whiskey, on his side of the nightstand; they took their time having fun.

You notice the absence of a condom on Joel’s cock as he removes himself from the female hole he was buried deep, all splayed out for him and now you; they took their time before, it seems, there is an intimacy there. This is not a stranger, this is not a first time.

Joel is calm, collected even, as he stands to his full height, grabbing his pants from the floor next to the king sized bed and putting them on. Calculated, steady movements, he looks like he’s trying to stay in control of the situation, diminish it to something else. You pray he doesn’t go down that path.

You look behind him, the female body’s gathering itself into a ball, sitting on your bed now, hands hugging it’s knees, trying to protect its nudity. Your eyes roam her form until they settle on her face. Oh, you know her. She looks -hm, there’s a mosaic of emotions behind her eyes, which are surprisingly bold to look back at you. You see shock, you see fear, you see.. satisfaction?

“Darlin’” Joel’s approaching you, crossing the ridiculously big room, with a steady pace.

His chest is heaving from the effort to regulate his breathing, he’s sweaty, his muscles all bulged from the interrupted fucking, his curls -your curls, fuck, that hurts- damp. He’s so handsome in all his disheveled form. He looks like your Joel.

Imaginary flashes of her fingertips combing through his hair are passing through your mind and you feel your esophagus contracting, a sense of a burning hot liquid moving up to your mouth. You swallow it down.

He reaches to touch your arm, don’t you dare, is all you mutter lowly, still without moving a muscle as if you do, the world will come crushing down. It already did, didn’t you get the memo? Your voice feels foreign to your ears, your tongue feels rough like sandpaper. He obeys.

When does this falling end?

“Baby-”, he tries again, while he steps forward, a condescending tone to his voice, like he’s addressing a toddler.

“Don’t-”, you roll your eyes in your head, god, he smells so good, even with the sweat someone else poured out of his skin, he smells so fucking good. He smells like your Joel. “Don’t come any closer.”

“This-” he exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as if it’s an unnecessary effort to explain, as if you should understand; of all people, you should know, “this doesn’t mean anything-” his hand gesturing between him and the female body, “she doesn’t mean anything.” You should understand, baby, you should know.

And for the first time her eyes leave yours and land on the face of the deceiver. If this wasn’t happening to you right now, you would take pity on her pained expression. You almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Does she know that?” you ask him, your eyes never leaving her tangled form on your bed.

Joel snaps his head to her direction, narrowing his eyes in warning, “Yes, she does.”, his voice comes out strict and final, signaling there’s no room for doubt. He doesn’t sound like your Joel.

“I need you to leave.”, you breathe barely audible, your eyes still on her face; now she doesn’t know where to look, the rug pulled out from under her feet from the man she had inside her minutes ago.

His gaze is cold and indifferent, as if everything is her fault, looking still in her direction. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, the empathetic part of your brain feels for her.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out, what are you waiting for?” he snaps at her.

“Not her, you.” you whisper, it’s impossible to speak louder, all of your energy powers your two standing feet.

He turns to look at you, shocked, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“Wh- what are you talking about, sweetheart?” he tries to reason with you, “We need to talk, to-”

“Joel-”, you try again and thank god he’s interrupting you, you don’t have the strength to negotiate right now. Let the dice roll. It’s all fucked, anyway.

“This is my home; I’m not leaving.” he simply states, shaking his head from side to side, staring at you expectantly.

“You’re right. This is your house.” you acknowledge, coming to a painful realization. “Everything is yours; you own everything, don’t you?”, you smile sadly, crouching down to collect you bag.

You turn on your heels and leave the residence formerly known and felt as home, behind you.

Alarm system disabled.

Joe’s hairs are rising on the nape of his neck, when he checks the alarm app notification on his phone, thinking you came back home.

It’s been an awful month without you, without being able to contact you. He knew where you were of course, he could not for the life of him leave that information escape him, but he didn’t pressure you with an unexpected visit, he knew better.

It’s been a month. That’s plenty of time. You took your time and now you’re ready to talk. You have to be, this can’t be the end of this relationship, this marriage.

He presses your number and hits call. Fuck, he’s still blocked. Maybe you forgot to unblock him, it’s ok, it doesn’t mean anything.

He checks the house’s cameras. Shit. That’s not you. What is she doing there? What the fuck is going on? Alright, he’s going back to the house.

He stands on his feet, right in the middle of a meeting with the board and just leaves them. There’s a distant muttering of where does he think he goes, what happened, what’s gotten into him, this is important for the upcoming deal, but he pays no mind to them.

He needs to talk to you.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got everything you need,” Maria facetimes you, showing around your closet via her camera. “I’m loading the suitcase to the car and I’m out of here.”

“Thank you Mar-”

“MARIA?” Joel’s voice travels through the space from the ground floor, up.

“Shit, shit, shit, what am I gonna do?” Maria whispers to you turning the call to voice only.

“Just take the suitcase and leave, it’s ok, I only got personal stuff if that’s what he’s worried about. Let him check if it comes to that.”, you try to calm her down.

“Ok, ok-” Maria grabs the handle of the suitcase and moves to leave the walk-in closet.

“Hey.” Joel comes through the door to the bedroom taking in the scene. He hasn’t set foot in this room for nearly a month now.

“Hey.” Maria sounds pissed on the line.

“What are you doing here? Where's Tommy?”, Joel’s face frowns in question. “Tommy's not my keeper, his my partner. My husband, not that you would know what that means, apparently.” Maria just shrugs and moves to pass him by.

“What are you doing, what’s going on here?” he insists, blocking her way.

“I’m just collecting som-”

“How is she? Is she ok?” his voice softening when he asks about you.

“Oh, please, Joel, how is she? Really?” Maria scoffs at him. “She doesn’t want to see you, Joel or hear from you, that’s how she is.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much, thank you.” he mocks back. “Is she on the phone, can I just talk to her?” he extends his arm to reach for the phone. “Over my dead and cold body.” Maria says, pressing the phone on her chest.

His eyes are raging storms, his nostrils flaring with quiet rage. He takes a deep breath “Can you please ask her if I can talk to her, just for five minutes?”

“Why don’t you call her, Joel?” Maria taunts him, emphasizing the pronunciation of his name.

Joel just stares back at her, unfazed. Maria doesn’t move a muscle, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. Well, she did move one muscle.

Joel sighs exasperatedly “She blocked my number.”

“I wonder why that is.” Maria twists the knife, “I guess you have your answer, then.”

“Christ-” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “just- just ask her, please.”

Maria lifts the phone to her ear, rolling her eyes in frustration in the process. “Hey, Joel’s here, he’s ask-”

“Yeah, I heard everything.” you interrupt her, “No, I don’t want to talk to him.” Maria is shaking her head negatively at him as you talk, to pass the message.

Joel’s face goes cold and emotionless. “Well, tell her if she wants her belongings, she needs to come and get them herself.”

It’s been five weeks now and you can’t keep living in your best friend’s and sister in law's clothes. You’re gonna have to go and grab your stuff yourself.

Because it wasn’t enough what you’ve been through, what you’ve heard until you reached that goddamned bedroom door, what you’ve witnessed when you’ve entered, now he’s making you go back there to humiliate you. As you’re checking your calendar for your work schedule to decide on a suitable day, it hits you. You have Joel’s calendar on your phone, too. You always do, it was the only way to have some time together between his visits to work sites and board meetings and bussiness trips and fucking-behind-your-back, apparently.

And then you remember that day where you both stole some time off and decided to spend it cuddling with each other on the couch, talking nonsense and laughing at silly things and hugging and kissing and fucking all night long.

A brainstorm of thoughts run through your head instantly. How could he do that to you? He looked so happy in your arms. Maybe he was right, maybe it was nothing, maybe you should understand, you of all people, you should know. Do you need to do an STD test? How careless could he be? Where there others? Did he ever love you? Do you want to know?

Does it really matter?

You focus again on that day. He’d told you about a big deal coming up, one of the biggest in his career, if not the biggest so far and how important it was to the future of the company.

You searched frantically through his calendar until you found the date of the final meeting, the date where they’d seal the deal. Because there is no way they weren’t. If Joel wanted it so badly, he’d find a way to make it happen.

And you knew your husband, ironic as is sounds now. He was focused to a fault. He wouldn’t even check his phone that day. He’d done it every time since you were together. History indicated that he probably had other reasons, too, for not checking his phone in a timely manner, but you wouldn’t dwell on that. Not right now. Because now you had your chance.

That date was your chance.

Alarm disabled.

Joel’s phone is vibrating momentarily, not that he noticed, it was silent and tacked away in his jacket pocket, the jacket itself hanging on the back of his chair.

Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, he’s chanting in his mind, under all this calm and confident demeanor, he’s sweating inside.

This is it, this is it, this is it, he repeats like a mantra, watching his opposite CEO, Leo Marks, playing with the pen between his fingers. He’s inspecting the contract again and he’s so close, so close to what he wanted. The room is silent, the long table full of seated lawyers and consultants from both sides, holding their breaths in charged expectation.

Joel knows that Marks is going to sign. He knows it. He worked for it. He convinced him, he made his vision clear as day and he lured him in. This is it. He got this.

Then your face appears in his mind. No, not today, he can’t do this today. You will have to wait. Like you always have. Joel shakes his head slightly, as if to remove you from his thoughts. His fingers get itchy, he wishes he could just check on you. Yes, he just want to check on you.

Are you alright? Are you thinking about him? Do you miss him like he does? Do you stay wide awake at night replaying the same scene over and over until you feel physically ill? Do you know that he thinks about you? Did he show you at all that night? Maybe he should have appeared at your friend’s door out of the blue. Maybe you think he doesn’t care. All he was trying to do was give you space. Respect your boundaries. Let you work everything out.

Fuck.

He reaches for his phone. He doesn’t know why. He knows his number is still blocked. He checks every night, when he's too exhausted from the lack of sleep and prays he could listen to your voice, or the soft sound of your breath when you slept next to him. But he fishes it out of his jacket pocket, anyway and then he sees it.

38 minutes ago.

Alarm disabled.

Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled, the only thought repeated in his head. He immediately searches the cameras for you but no movement is recorded right now. Maybe you already left. His heart rate spikes, his temples feel the pressure of his blood pumping violently in his veins. Cold sweat pours out of his body.

He’s squeezing his eyes shut, mentally counting all the places without cameras inside the house. What if you are still in there and he just can’t see you?

Fuck.

Mark’s voice extract him from his thoughts, “Mr. Miller, everything looks in order as we agreed.”

Joel snaps his eyes back to him, slightly irritated, “Of course it does, your legal team already did a thorough check all these months to get us here today.”

“Yes, yes,” Marks laughs entertained, “I just wanted to look it over one more time, I mean, we really are going to…”

What if you’re still there? What if this is his chance? He could always try to reach you after the deal, convince you to hear him out. Yeah, he can do that. He doesn’t need to chase you down. He can wait a little bit longer, can’t he? He can have it all, right? He was the man that had it all.

A mail pops up on his phone, a compliment note from the management of one of both your favorite hotels in Europe, thanking you for choosing their establishments for your stay, once again. Shit. You’re fleeing the fucking country? Are you fucking serious?

“..Mr. Miller?” Marks insists.

“Hm?” his eyes are glued to the screen of his phone.

“I said, before we sign, I need you to walk me through it one more time.” he demands like a little child asking for its favorite bedtime story. “I mean, this is the project of my dreams. I need your reassurance that this is as important for you as it is for us, that it’ll be your only focus for the foreseeable future.” he looks at Joel expectantly.

His only focus.

For the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

“HONEY!”. Your blood runs cold in your veins to the sound of his baritone voice. Your hand freezes over the shelf with the t-shirts, not making a sound. You didn’t take that long, why is he here? Why isn’t he in his meeting?

Joel enters the bedroom but you’re not there. Fuck, you hear the curse running softly from his lips. You don’t move, you don’t blink, you don’t breathe.

He moves to leave and check elsewhere but then he stops. You hear soft steps and you see the door of the walk-in closet opening. His wide form blocks the light from the outside, his broad shoulders almost taking up all the space of the frame.

He looks disheveled, his baby blue shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, his hair a mess, like he kept combing his fingers through them. You don’t dare meet his eyes though. You keep your gaze as far as his chin goes, concentrating on the bare patch there. His sole presence electrifies you like he’s already touched you. Your whole body feels on fire and frozen simultaneously. God, you missed him.

“I was calling for you.”, he breathes out and you can feel his fear pulsing through his body. He’s scared you’re gonna run. That’s why he doesn’t leave his spot, blocking the door.

“I know.”

“Were you hiding from me?” his brows are furrowed in a seemingly pained expression from what your peripheral vision could help you understand.

“No, I just chose not to answer you.”, you lower your head, looking at your feet.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” you say hastily, but he’s waiting for a real answer. You breathe deeply, “It- it felt too domestic, you calling for me, me answering back, like how we were before.” He nods, biting his bottom lip. “What are you doing here, Joel?”

“In our house?” the edges of his lips are slightly turned up, his head tilting to one side.

“No, this is your house as you said yourself.”

“Darlin’, you know I didn’t mean it like that..” he sighs in regret, his head deepening in his shoulder blades in an effort to attract your gaze upwards.

“But you’re right.”

“I built it for you.” his voice soft, like it’s a secret mend to stay that way.

“Hm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his brows raise in genuine surprise.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“No, tell me.”

“You first.”

He looks perplexed, he forgot your question.

“What are you doing here, right now, Joel?”

“I got the alarm notification and.. it was the only way I could talk to you, honey..”

“But- your meeting-”

He searches your eyes, although you refuse to look at him, analysing your confused expression and it hits him. He smiles in understanding, nodding his head. “So, you chose today on purpose..”

You don’t respond, you keep looking everywhere but his eyes.

He laughs through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t drop everything to come and see you?”

“I really did.”

He gasps in disbelief, almost offended.

“Baby, look at me, please; look at me..” he pleads with you softly. You close your eyes as if in fear you would obey, your chin trembling from the effort to remain calm.

“Baby, look at me. I want you to look at me, now.” he presses in a more authoritative way. He thought he could order you around? Break you?

“No.” you shake your head.

Joel calls you by your name but before he has a chance to spit another soft command-

“I SAID NO!” you open your eyes, targeting them to his chest, tears spilling uncontrollably now. You can see from your periphery the look of shock on his face, because you never yelled before. Ever.

“Why, sweetheart?”, he retreats back to his soft side.

“Because that’s exactly what you want. And you can’t always get what you want, Joel, not anymore.” You can’t hold back your tongue now.

“Jesus Christ,” you grit through your teeth, “what do you want from me, hm?” your eyes keep dancing around his face but never on his eyes. He looks dumbfounded, his lips part slightly but you don’t wait for an answer. “What else do you want? Is this some kind of ego thing? You expected me to shout and break things and hit you and tell you to leave her and come back to me? Because your ego is safe, Joel, if that’s what you worry about. I didn’t leave you, you did that first when you went behind my back. So, you walked out on me and not the other way around. Happy? Ready to go on with your life?” You’re grabbing the shelf where your hand previously rested so hard, trying to steady yourself.

For the first time Joel is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t find the words to defend himself, to convince you about his feelings, to soothe you at the very least. He begins to have a glimpse of how he appears in your eyes right now. How much damage he’s done, even before that night. How much ground he lost over time.

“Darlin', I just wa-” he begins softly, almost like walking on eggshells, but your body visibly tenses, you jaw shuts tight, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Stop, just stop! Stop saying what you want! Stop making this about you! Don’t you see? You keep asking me for what you want! Have you stopped for a second, just a second, to think what I want? What I need? I don’t- I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“I-” he closes his eyes in distress, “I love you.” His last retreat. He’s trying anything that could help him. He doesn’t get it. He can’t. He’s not capable. But he used to be. He was the most empathetic person you knew. What the fuck happened?

Your eyes snap though the open closet door at his admision and on to the perfectly made bed.

His gaze follows yours behind his back and shakes his head once more in regret.

“It really didn’t mean-”

“Joel-” you warn him, “have some self respect and don’t say what I think you’re about to say. At least have the guts to admit exactly what you did, I’d appreciate it more.”

He exhales heavily, you’re not giving him an opening to fix this. You’re hanging onto every word he mutters. Not a single one of them is left unparsed and he's not used to that. He knows that if he does not control his anger right now, it's game over.

Heavy silence is hanging between you, each one lost on their thoughts.

“Do you know when you really lost me, Joel?”, you ask him eventually.

Half an hour ago he would swear he had all the answers, but now? Now he sees he’s in the deep, so he stays quiet, searching your eyes that still won't reach his, for answers.

“You lost me when you humiliated her in front of me.”

His face goes white, shocked, he can’t believe his ears. His mouth opens and closes but he makes no sound, how on earth does he respond to that?

“You still don’t get it, do you?”, you pinch the bridge of your nose exasperatedly. “You valued her enough to endanger our wedding, you valued her enough to bring her to our own house, to our bed, Joel; you valued her enough to fuck her raw, to let her know that you were unhappy with me, before I had a chance to realize it myself-”, Joel interrupts you almost panicked “I’m not un-” and for the first time your eyes pierce his in such an anguish that the words die in his throat. “-and then you just diminished her like she was nothing, just to prove a point to me. While she was naked, vulnerable on our bed. And trust me, this is not me defending her, she is as responsible for this as you, but you’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.”

Now he’s the one averting his eyes from you, looking down on his overpriced shoes, his demeanor defeated, this is not the Joel you know anymore.

“And what was the point, Joel? Hm? What? That she means nothing? Then why were you with her? Why did you choose her? Why did you spend your precious time on nothing, while I had to make an appointment to see you? That’s what you did with me, too? I mean nothing, too? Just a warm hole to fuck when convenient?” he snaps his head back to you, shaking it in denial frantically, his eyes blown wide and red from all the emotional stress you push onto him.

“But I guess I got my answer about a month ago, hm?” It’s one of those moments that epiphanies hit you as you speak uncontrollably, you just can’t stop your mind from running wild, your mouth from spilling bile, your heart from pounding so hard in your chest, your ears start to ring, your grasp on the shelf tightening even more for balance.

“And that tells me a lot about who you really are. It’s not just about the fucking, Joel, Jesus-, -for the brilliant man I know you to be, you’re stumbling through your blindest moment.”, you shake your head in disappointment, tears still running freely down your face, licking your jawline and falling like a waterfall to the carpeted floor. You feel so done, you find it pointless to explain any further.

“I- I don’t know you, Joel, I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did,” you conclude, “maybe you’re right,” you slowly nod to yourself, “and everything is my fault after all.” you whisper, not sure if you want him to hear that part.

He did. “I never said that it was your fault, baby. When did I ever say that?” his face is contorted in pain, “None of this is your fault, none of it, you hear me?” he wants so desperately to cross the fucking room and hold you tight, crush all your pain and insecurities and self hatred under an asphyxiating hug. He also knows that he won't make even two steps before you flee, or step back from him and he can’t for the life of him witness that. Because that’s how much he needs you. He prefers you standing there, where he can see you, where he can have you, even if you wither and die under the enormous trauma he’s putting you through.

“So stupid.. I was- I am so stupid..” you’re repeating to yourself almost deliriously, rubbing your fingers on your forehead.

“This isn’t you, sweetheart, you don’t talk like that, don’t- don’t do that to yourself.” Joel tries to bring you back.

“But this is you, isn’t it, Joel? The real you?” you bite back. “This isn’t me, really? How do you like the new me, Joel? Do you take pride on your creation?” you laugh bitterly at him. “Yeah, how you’d always call me? Polite little thing? Sweetheart?” you’re infuriated now, a rise fighting to explode through you. “How does it feel, Joel? To know you’re responsible for changing someone to their core? To know you had that much power over them?”

Joel’s shaking his head once again in desperation, hot tears spilling from his eyes, god, had he ever cried before? this is not a battle he can win, he sees that now. The damage is too great. What on earth was he thinking?

“Please, please honey, can we just take a breather, sit down and talk about everything?” he pleads with you, a last thread of hope shinning in his red rimmed eyes.

“Take a breather..” you mutter through your teeth, “you mean the breather you took while you were fucking someone else instead of talking to me?”, Joel shuts his eyes in defeat, there’s nothing he can say anymore. “I think you got it backwards, Joel.”

You take a steadying breath and command your legs internally to hold on a little while longer and move forward; clothes, suitcase, life left behind.

“Don’t contact me again, unless is via your legal team.” is the last bullet that hits Joel’s chest, right through his broken heart.

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[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (04/05)

Behind the Acceptance

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: there are new changes for you and Aemond, he wants to rectify himself for past mistakes and you get used to your new life with the father of your son present.

word counter: 10.2K (consider it as a christmas gift, love you all❤)

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I'M SO SORRY!

i know the wait has been too much and you don't know how sorry i am. i experienced stress during my last week of uni before leaving for vacation and i got a new job, which consumes my time and i couldn't edit or do any writing, but i managed to find small times to write and that's why it's taken me so long. i appreciate your understanding, really🥺

I would like to wish you all merry christmas and a happy new year, my best wishes to all of you and also to your families, have a great time and God bless you all beautiful people, you are amazing and truly thank you for so much🥰

now yes, enjoy!

warnings: aemond dad melting our hearts and that's it:)

When Aemond told you to please go back to work and stop running away so that the two of you could face all this together, you didn't quite understand what he meant by 'go back to work'.

However, the next morning after waking up and starting to prepare breakfast for Aenar, you received an unexpected call that answered your question.

It's an unknown number so you accept the call with some caution.

"Y/N speaking? This is Michelle Watson, from the Warner Bros studio production department," she says and your heart jumps.

"Hello?"

You speak on the other end of the line, holding your phone to your ear.

It's HBO, who Aemond is working with right now and where you left your job thrown after unexpectedly meeting him again.

Nerves soon set in and you hold your breath, already feeling ashamed for leaving the shooting set like that without saying anything to anyone and creating a complete circus the moment Aemond called your name in the trailer in front of everyone.

"Yes, she speaks," you reply nervously.

"We want to inform you that despite what has happened, we understand it and the circumstances that led you to leave unexpectedly during your working hours," she tells you in a soft and formal voice, "And we will expect you tomorrow without any problem to resume work."

You frown completely, hesitate a little and blink several times in disbelief, not quite understanding.

"I'm sorry… what do you mean by resuming work?" you ask, barely able to contain your own surprise and disbelief.

"Some conversations took place," she explains, "Mr. Targaryen was quite insistent on convincing the production team to reconsider your situation. He advocated on your behalf, explained the circumstances and your entire track record as an excellent professional makeup artist so that you could continue to work with us."

With your lips parted and your eyes wide open, you are speechless for a moment, staring at a spot in your living room with your heart pounding, definitely not expecting to hear any of this after everything that has happened on this day.

You didn't even expect Aemond to decide to do this for you after everything that happened with him and Criston.

And just when you were starting to worry about how you were going to pay the rent for this apartment and even started to make a schedule in your mind to go get a job somewhere else tomorrow or even today.

"So if there's no problem and everything is fine with you, we'll expect you tomorrow at 7:00 A.M."

Completely speechless.

You can't even control your own heart rate.

But in spite of that, you can't help but feel a huge relief run through your entire body, where you still feel overwhelmed by the generosity and gesture of trust they are offering you, but you definitely feel completely relieved and grateful.

"Yes, yes, of course," you hasten to say, trying to control your emotions, "I'll be there. Thank you so much."

They give you a few more details, you ask few more questions and finally end the call, which leaves you with mixed emotions as you silently contemplate that you still have this new possibility of a better life for you and Aenar.

But you also think about Aemond.

And you will also wait to see how Aemond's integration into your son's little life will be now.

You really appreciate this gesture, you know that only he can do something like this with his influence and connections.

And in fact it gives you the confidence that he will keep his word that no one else will interfere in your and Aenar's life, only the two of you will make the decisions.

Arriving at the recording set, you leave Aenar in the nursery and then you enter the corridors of the whole big production, which is buzzing with its usual atmosphere with its twinkling lights, technical equipment with the huge cameras, microphones and all the sets ready.

You honestly feel nervous knowing that tomorrow you and Aemond will be working in the same place again, like in the old days.

But that's why you try to be as prepared as possible and you won't let all kinds of personal matters interfere with your work.

And once you arrive, you take a moment, take a deep breath and push open the door, where that familiar atmosphere once again envelops you.

You don't even know why but your heart is pounding as you walk down the halls and every step leads you to your area, the makeup and wardrobe trailer.

You assume it's out of shame after what happened yesterday.

Unfortunately your entrance doesn't go unnoticed and as you close the door behind you as you walk just a little into the trailer, some curious faces turn to see you, including Jess, who stops her usual routine and rushes over to you, her eyes wide with surprise.

You hug her back gently, feeling relieved and less tense by the warm welcome from Jess who, even though the two of you don't know each other very well, she actually seems like a very nice person and her personality shows you that.

"Ah Y/N, what a relief to see you again!"

She exclaims with her tone full of joy.

"God, I thought you wouldn't come back," she says as she hugs you excitedly, providing you with some comfort.

"I'm so sorry about yesterday," you say with a regretful gesture and you both break the hug, "I shouldn't have left like that and you don't know how embarrassed I feel. I'm really sorry."

"Oh no, don't worry about it," she assures you instantly, making a nonchalant gesture, "That's all in the past. The important thing is that you're back and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it," she comforts you with a small smile, "We have a lot of work to do today and we need to get you up to speed right away."

Jess, full of energy, ushers you further into the trailer while you greet your other co-workers. Then she explains the day's itinerary precisely, pointing out schedules, wardrobe changes and other important details.

All the while you nod, thanking her for her guidance and trying to keep up. In the midst of all the preparations, the huge door opens again and Aemond is now the one who makes his presence known.

Your gaze meets his and you see the obvious and unexpected surprise in his eyes at seeing you again, but there's not much reaction from either of you as instantly the makeup artists call him over and guide him to start prepping him for today's filming scenes.

And Jess also takes your arm, guiding you to the back of the trailer where the dressing rooms are located explaining what you will be doing, forcing you to look away from him.

And you can only feel Aemond's gaze on you until he loses sight of you.

Jess continues to explain to you, but you can't help but think and wonder certain things, like if everyone here, even Jess, knows about you and Aemond... what you once were and that you have a child together.

The behavior of both of you yesterday was very obvious, that's what you would think if you were an expectant one, so surely there must be some speculation.

And at that moment you remind yourself that your priority right now is your work and that the personal should be kept out of your work environment, so you shouldn't even think about it.

Finally you focus on following Jess's directions, putting aside distractions and preparing for the day.

Jess leaves you alone to take care of her own work and you start with yours, where you spend about an hour still in the back of the trailer, where you check and prepare the costumes that already have to be ready for the scenes that will be filmed soon.

When in the middle of everything, you hear some footsteps approaching behind you and thinking it must be one of the other actors or one of your co-workers, you turn around and the first thing you notice is that silver hair.

Aemond enters this section of the trailer a little unsure, without saying anything, while you also watch him without saying anything.

He is ready to record his scenes with that scar on the left side of his face that his character has and he only lacks the costume.

Until finally he speaks first.

You knew that having a conversation with him again would happen soon, so you're not surprised.

But for a moment there is a tense silence and a slight nervousness and insecurity on the part of both of them, where a clash of emotions is reflected in each other's gazes.

"Hey," he says in a soft, low voice, taking a couple of steps towards you.

You try to smile a little in his direction, not knowing exactly what to say or what to do.

"Hey," you wave back.

There is an awkward pause before Aemond again takes the initiative, taking a few cautious and slow steps towards you.

You bite your lips and lower your gaze for a moment, as he puts a hand to the back of his neck and looks so insecure and nervous standing there, surprising you a bit, as that behavior in him is unusual.

He usually always has that confident attitude in everything he says and does.

"I'm glad you're back," he admits to you, his low tone full of sincerity, "It's good to see you around again."

His words and that friendly gesture take you a bit by surprise, and although you still feel overwhelmed by the unexpected situation, you appreciate the way he is leading in handling all of this to start working together for Aenar's well-being, leaving past tensions behind.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling that sense of relief in your chest again, "Oh, hum… and thank you for talking to production so I could come back," you say a little shyly but gratefully, "You didn't have to."

He lets out a scoff in a nonchalant and also absurd gesture, frowning slightly his nose and forehead.

"Please, it was the least I could do," he tells you softly and with a warm tone, "Besides, it was nothing. I was just afraid you'd decide not to come back."

You hum in understanding.

"I thought about that," you confess to him, lowering your gaze for a moment, "But things were going to be easier for both of us with Aenar if I came back here," you explain, "Still, it was a very kind gesture of you."

Aemond nods, his gaze conveying a mixture of emotions that reflect both relief to see you back here, understanding, and also regret for the past that still haunts him. But he doesn't let those thoughts invade him too much at that moment.

Again there is silence in between for a few seconds, when he speaks again.

"How is Aenar?" he asks in a voice charged with a mixture of happiness, nostalgia and longing for his son.

"He's fine," you say in a soft voice, "He's in the studio nursery. Mary takes very good care of him," you add, wanting to reassure him that his son is being properly cared for.

He nods slowly, humming in response, trying to hide the intensity of his emotions in his gaze.

"That's good, I'm glad to hear that," he replies, vulnerability in his tone and gaze.

The air between the two of you still lingers, charged with emotions that neither of you dares to express openly. However, taking advantage of the conversation, Aemond decides to propose something.

He just met him yesterday and can't wait to see him again, to be in his company.

Yesterday's hours were simply not enough. And knowing that his son is well brings him relief and a feeling he hasn't experienced before since he found out he is a father.

"If you want, I can pay for a trusted babysitter for him," he offers and this gets your full attention, "I'm just saying… so you don't always have to bring him with you to work," he says with a hesitation, his tone betraying his insecurity about his proposal.

You remain silent for a moment, not knowing what exactly to say, in fact processing the unexpected offer. And Aemond can't help but feel even more unnerved by your silence.

"I-I… I don't know," you murmur, hesitant.

This nursery in the set is at least in the same place as you and that gives you relief that whatever happens, you can rush to him right away.

The idea of a babysitter strikes you as a mixture of relief and concern.

In the morning you'd have more time getting ready to come to work and it wouldn't be as much of a burden on you, yet you've never left someone to take care of Aenar while you're away.

But leaving him at home and coming all the way here to work, that causes you hesitation, besides the fact that you have to know the person who will take care of your child perfectly, as well as have confidence in her, above all.

"Only if that makes you feel more comfortable," Aemond adds softly, "But if that's not what you want, that's fine."

You bite your lips, feeling uneasy at the thought of someone else caring for your son and having him away when you're working.

"And you know someone who might be trustworthy?" you ask attentively and still with hesitation in your gaze.

"Yes," he tells you immediately, softly, "Rhaenyra has an army of babysitters to take care of my younger nephews. I can ask her for help with that and I know she'll say yes," he assures you.

"And they are professional babysitters?"

"Yeah, yeah, Nyra is also very careful with the selection and the babysitters she has hired have years of experience and so far several of them have worked with her for a few years now."

And after a moment's reflection, you agree.

And as convincing as the information is, still a mixture of worry and resignation envelopes your body.

But you knew that sooner or later you would have to face the situation of balancing your job with the responsibility of caring for your little one, accepting the idea that you won't always be able to have him with you.

"All right," you nod to him, "But I'd like to do some interviews first."

"Yeah, of course. I'll take care of that, don't worry," he says softly, nodding to you and you nod back.

"Thank you, Aemond."

"You don't have to thank me, Y/N, it's for our son. And if he or you need anything, please just let me know."

Seeing Aemond so willing to be a present father and his desire to be involved in his son's life, to some extent relieves you and surprises you a little, clearly because of what happened at first when you found out you were pregnant.

But so far… he has really shown you that he wants to be present and without having Criston and all his team around anymore.

The slight tension in the air is felt again as you and he continue to navigate the terrain of this new dynamic, which feels a little weird and you feel very nervous, though you don't even know why, while he at all times seems unsure.

And in an attempt to diffuse the tension, now you're the one who speaks first.

"Okay," you nod, "And if you…" you try to say a little nervously and with some caution and insecurity, "If you want to go see Aenar at the nursery or even at the apartment, you can," you assure him with a soft tone, "I never said you couldn't visit him and I don't plan to take that right away from you."

Vulnerability is reflected both in your words and in Aemond's expression, who with his soft face and with his gaze full of various emotions, places a small gentle smile on his lips.

"I'd love that."

Your words mean more to him than you probably realize. That sincere gesture of openness on your part, Aemond deeply appreciates.

Just as he appreciates that the conversation has reached a level of understanding and cooperation that neither of you had anticipated, but that you definitely appreciate. It doesn't end there yet, though.

"Can I ask you something?"

You nod, with no problem.

"Sure."

"What will you be leaving work on when your shift is over with Aenar?" he tells you interested and attentive.

"Um… well, yesterday I took the bus," you explain, considering that just yesterday was supposedly your first day, "And I had already planned that if I finished late, I'd take an Uber. Like now in the morning I was running a little late and took an Uber," you reply, trying to explain your transportation routine.

In fact there is nothing wrong with moving this way, many people do it, besides you don't have many options.

But that's what Aemond doesn't want, he wants to make your life a little easier, especially since Aenar lives with you and he doesn't want to risk something bad happening to both of you one day with public transport.

"Well, if you want, I can take the two of you," he also offers without hesitation, "Or if it seems too much, I can ask my driver to pick you up and take you wherever you need to go, without problem," he assures you, "I just don't want you to move that way with Aenar or by yourself."

This new unexpected offer from Aemond also surprises you, that you even think about turning him down, telling him it's not necessary.

Mostly you see it from Aenar's safety side.

But his concern is genuine and also you know that then moving you will start to be a problem.

You know you can't afford Uber every day, the fares aren't exactly cheap and there are other needs you have to take care of, besides taking the bus late could be dangerous.

"Well…" you look at him hesitantly and a little embarrassed, "You won't have a problem with that?"

"No, of course not," he answers you instantly.

You nod in his direction, grateful for his consideration.

"Yes, it's fine and seriously thank you for this too," you can't help but say, "Sometimes transport is complicated."

"Don't worry, it's fine."

He is about to say something else when a third voice interrupts him, entering the same space as you.

"Yeah, I know, sorry, I'm already on it," he assures her instantly.

"Aemond, are you ready now?"

Enters one of your co-workers, watching him intently and instantly with concern at the sight of him still in his civilian clothes.

"For God's sake, why aren't you dressed yet? Your scene is going to shoot in less than fifteen minutes!"

"I'll be back in ten minutes. Hurry up, please," the worried girl says and hurries away.

You instantly at that moment decide that the two of you can talk later and hand him his clothes from the scene he'll be shooting soon and he thanks you, heading for one of the small dressing rooms quickly.

When he finishes putting on his clothes, you quickly help him look perfect for filming the scene.

"I'll be seeing you," he tells you before leaving and you nod.

"Sure."

And from that moment on, over the next few days, everything changes as much for Aemond as it does for you.

He kept his word to drive you and Aenar back home every time your shift ended. And if he was still filming scenes, he would send his driver to take you instead of him, also to bring you in the mornings.

The relationship is cordial and collaborative and while there is no romantic reconciliation involved, there is a determination to build a more stable and secure future for Aenar, as well as prioritizing his well-being above all else.

At work, too, the dynamic between the two of you changes completely. Communication is professional, as it should be, but in every interaction there is a complicity that seems to have evolved.

There is a quiet understanding, a new focus on cooperation and mutual respect that is taking shape.

Also Aemond kept his word to hire a fully trusted babysitter and while he took care of that, sometimes you found him in the nursery with Aenar, keeping him company and playing with him.

At first this caused you some noise and also confusion, since Aemond is under the public eye spending quality time with his son and doesn't bother to hide it, so you wondered if already everyone working here, also Aemond's co-workers, knows that he has a son with you.

Again that sight couldn't help but make you smile with a certain nostalgic look, watching the interaction of those two silver-haired heads in their own world.

But it made you feel happy to see your little boy laughing and playing with his father.

And if so, you doubt that it will come out soon, because working in this production of whatever position, there is a confidentiality contract for everything, even for the personal life of the actors.

But when the shooting of this show is over, everyone is probably going to know about it. Although it seems that Aemond doesn't even think about it and doesn't really care.

So you decide not to ask him anything about it and how Criston and his whole team is going to take it.

You honestly don't know what Aemond has done with him, what they have talked about and what exactly happened for him to leave you and Aenar alone.

And you don't want to know. You've had enough of him and everything he did to you. And fortunately you live in peace and feel safe to have Aemond on your side this time.

And before you can say anything, Aemond steps forward with a soft little smile.

When one day on your day off you find yourself making dinner while Aenar watches his favorite cartoon in the living room and you supervise him occasionally from where you are, there's a knock at the door.

You're traumatized with the thought that maybe it's Criston and something bad is going to happen, but when you open the door you find Aemond with a woman by his side.

"Hey."

"Hi," you try to smile, a little confused.

"Are you busy? I-I didn't know and thought I'd just come over," he says, "And I'd let you know but I don't have your number or-or something."

"No, no, it's fine, I'm just making dinner," you hasten to say.

"I came because I wanted to introduce you to Elinda Massey," he tells you, pointing to the woman next to him and she looks at you with a warm smile, "One of the babysitters Rhaenyra recommended to me to take care of Aenar."

"Oh," you nod, now understanding.

You watch Elinda and she radiates warmth and assurance in her gaze, instantly feeling comfortable with her presence.

"It's nice to meet you, Elinda," you say with a small smile, extending your hand to her.

"Same to you, Y/N," she replies, shaking his hand with yours, "Aemond has told me so much about you and Aenar. I'm very excited to meet him as well."

Aemond beside her nods, his expression calm.

"Elinda is professional and very experienced. I wanted to introduce you to her and thought maybe we could do a little interview together, just to get to know her and see how she gets along with Aenar."

You instantly nod again.

"Oh yeah, yeah, sure, come on in," you step aside, allowing them to pass, "Aenar is watching his favorite cartoon," you say as you close the door behind you.

Aemond instantly walks towards him, making a sound of surprise, catching his attention and Aenar instantly notices him, smiling big at the sight of him, his huge blue eyes lighting up and reaching out his little arms towards him.

Both you and Aemond know Elinda better and you realize that she is a woman who has all the necessary experience and training. Besides the fact that when she approaches Aenar, he instantly laughs and plays with her.

Aemond laughs and takes him in his arms, starting to leave a bunch of kisses on his huge chubby cheeks, making him laugh as he holds him against his chest and speaks to him in a honeyed tone.

And you again can't help but smile as you watch the scene.

There is still that feeling of worry in you knowing that you will have to leave Aenar in someone else's care.

But Elinda shows you so much in so few hours, she tells you about her experience, shows you letters of recommendation, first aid certificates, as well as other care and Aenar has fun with her.

Aemond stays a few more moments in Aenar's company, playing games and watching the cartoons he likes, while you finish dinner and cleaning the kitchen.

The three of you establish a work schedule for her, as well as you tell her some recommendations and observations regarding Aenar.

And once everything is ready and clarified, she leaves and Aemond tells you that he has already taken care of all the payment details with her.

Every now and then you hear how Aemond asks him questions in a honeyed tone and repeats the same expressions he does when he sees his favorite character on TV, and then both start laughing.

Those sounds, the sound of your son's laughter and also Aemond's expressions, unconsciously make you smile and you watch from the kitchen as Aemond makes funny gestures or faces to make him laugh and attacks him with a lot of kisses all over his face or tickles.

Then you walk him to the door once he is ready to leave.

And there the two of them make themselves comfortable on the couch, eventually Aenar falls asleep on Aemond's lap, his back and head against his chest. He cautiously gets up holding him gently and puts him to sleep, while you thank him.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot," he says stopping in front of the door and turns to you, "This is for you."

You see him take his wallet from his back pocket and inside it, he pulls out what appears to be a black card and holds it out to you. This catches your attention and also confuses you, taking the card with that confusion, not understanding.

And only when you take a good look at it in your hands do you realize that it is a bank card.

"It's yours."

He says and you frown more, then raise your gaze to him asking for an explanation.

"I can only send money to it, I don't have direct access. You'll get the PIN from the bank, tomorrow after the shoot, I'll take you to activate it," he tells you, "You know, it's in case you need money to buy something for Aenar or for you, whatever you need."

Then when you fully understand the explanation and the purpose of this, you start to panic.

"Aemond—

You try to say feeling the lump in your throat and your heart starting to pound.

"I know I didn't tell you about this, but please, I want to do it," he interrupts you with a pleading tone so you won't reject him or reproach him about it, "Besides, this is necessary. Sometimes I will have to travel to other cities for shootings or events and I won't be able to see you or him and I want to make sure you don't lack anything. So just accept it, please."

"But—

"Please," he insists.

This really seems too much to you and you have an idea of the amount of money the card must already have. And no… in spite of everything, you don't want to accept this and feel that you are taking advantage of him.

You watch him still with hesitation and worry on your face, tension hanging in the air as you and he stand in complete silence, saying nothing for a few seconds.

You look back down at the card in your hands and Aemond follows your gaze, both of you standing face to face.

And it just seems that Aemond reads your thoughts by the hesitation and insecurity on your face.

"If you don't want to use it to also buy things for yourself, use it just to buy Aenar whatever he needs," he tells you softly, "After all, I was going to do this sooner or later, wasn't I? It's my responsibility to make sure he doesn't lack anything and that's what I'm going to do."

You let out a long breath, beginning to feel less of the weight of the luxurious and clearly exclusive black card in your hands, with his words beginning to soften your chest at the mention of Aenar.

"Fine," you mutter finally, letting out a sigh and raising your gaze to him, "B-but I'll only use it for things that Ae-

This gesture from Aemond is a clear sign of concern and responsibility he feels towards you and his son. And you truly feel that genuine desire that he wants to contribute for the welfare of both of you.

You try to clarify but he quickly speaks up.

"Yeah, okay," he nods at you, "Don't worry. Just… use it."

You nod again.

"Thank you, Aemond."

A slight flicker of concern appears in his gaze and he quickly tries to be able to struggle to find the right words to be able to explain himself so you don't misunderstand him.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to—

"No, no, I don't think so," you tell him softly, with understanding, "This…" you look back down at the card in your hands and let out a sigh, "This is actually necessary and very helpful…. you really don't know how much I appreciated it."

He nods, his expression relieving a bit as he sees your behavior and also as you accept his support.

"Easy, it's okay," he assures you in a soft murmur.

"Also…" he starts to say with some nervousness but definitely more confident, "I wanted to ask you if you have social security for Aenar and you," he says with a serene expression, looking directly at you.

Again silence settles between the two of you but the air is different, calmer and less tense, feeling the mutual understanding.

And Aemond, after the two of you say nothing for another long few seconds, thinks it best to talk at this point about another plan he has in mind.

This also immediately catches your attention and you watch him warily, tilting your head to one side and starting to get an incredulous look on your face.

"You're not seriously thinking that—

"Y/N, please," he interrupts you, "This is no problem for me, really," he insists, "I just need to know."

"But—

"This is also important and I can pay for it."

"But it's a lot of money and I don't think—

"Do you really think I'll let you and Aenar go through life without being covered?" he asks you incredulously, "I can handle this. I really can."

His words continue to reflect that genuine commitment and you, despite your concern, feel something warm invade your chest, especially the gentle and willing way he is looking at you.

After all that has happened, seeing Aemond so determined to contribute to your son's well-being gives you a new hope and opportunity for Aenar's future.

The costs are too much, nothing you could really afford, not even for Aenar, since your salary was not much and had to cover other needs. You couldn't even afford it on your current salary.

You have always worked very hard to try to give Aenar everything he needs. Among them, paying for a social insurance for him, in case of anything.

But you could never afford it.

And that suddenly Aemond is offering it to you so easily, clearly because he can afford it, you feel somewhat overwhelmed and also feel that it is too much.

"And you're completely—

"Yes, I am," he interrupts you again, being very clear and honest with you, "This won't be any trouble, really," he assures you.

You want to tell him thank you, but the words get stuck in your throat. However, Aemond sees the gratitude is visible in your gaze, along with your concern and how you find yourself overthinking it.

So he just gives you a look of understanding and total reassurance.

"I'll be leaving. You need to rest. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

You let out a long breath, bite your lips and nod in his direction.

"Okay."

"Good night," he says softly as he opens the apartment door again.

"Good night. Drive safe."

Lately the days have been more… peaceful.

But as the days progressed, you realized that it was useless to feel that way because when you returned to the apartment, everything was absolutely fine. And also everything is easier when you transport yourself with Aemond's help or with the help of his driver.

Having Elinda as a babysitter, your mornings are easier and she does an excellent job with Aenar, so you have nothing to worry about.

At first you would leave home feeling horrible and your whole body tense, always alert to your phone and exaggeratedly paranoid.

Aemond also one day told you the same thing, that lately things have been quiet, even the recordings have not been heavy for him compared to other days or other jobs.

And for the same reason that he is busy filming, he hasn't attended any events or interviews, that happens rather after he finishes filming a new show or movie and there is still time left for that.

Aemond drives in silence and the soft background music on low volume fills the entire interior of the car while you watch the city through the windows and Aenar sleeps secured in one of the back seats.

So on this one day and for one occasion only, Elinda had an important commitment that she couldn't postpone, so she didn't show up for work and you didn't have any problem, since you can bring Aenar to the nursery on the set.

And now it is Aemond who is driving them home after your shift ended almost at the same time he finished filming his scenes.

He and you haven't talked much during the whole drive, only about work, but even so the silence is comfortable and you can't wait to get home to cook a nice dinner.

The cityscape soon transforms into familiar and somewhat… careless streets, as you approach to your apartment.

He parks in front of your building and watches you.

You know this isn't a luxurious area and there's a lot of detail to look at, but it's what you can afford right now.

And that's just what Aemond thinks as he looks around the neighborhood, hating to leave you and Aenar here when he can get you a much better place. But he knows you'll say no.

"Will you stay here any longer?" he asks you softly, "I mean, will you continue to pay rent?"

"For now yes," you nod to him, "I'm saving up to move to a better place, to an apartment in a different area and that's close to work," you let him know, "It's just taking time because of my paycheck."

Aemond stares at you intently for a moment, thinking and pondering your words, with a thoughtful look on his face, while you make sure you have all your belongings with you before getting out of the car and carrying Aenar.

And just as he is about to speak, a familiar sound interrupts him and his son's crying is heard throughout the car.

You follow him too with all your things in hand, walking over to both of them.

You quickly turn to him to attend to him, trying to calm him down, while Aemond reacts and quickly gets out of the car to open the door to the back seats.

It takes him a little while to unfasten the seat belts, but once he's finished he takes him in his arms and whispers comforting words in his ear to make him stop crying.

"Shh, my little one," Aemond whispers, holding him against his chest and stroking his silver hair, "Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he murmurs, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead.

You move to his side and run one of your hands over his wet cheeks, watching you for a moment with teary blue eyes only to close them tightly and continue crying.

"Either he wants to sleep in his room or he's hungry," you say, stroking his face to try to calm him as well.

"He didn't eat?" he asks you attentively.

"Yes, Mary said yes."

"Then he wants to sleep," he says, trying to wipe the dried tears from his cheeks, "Come on upstairs, I'll take him," he tells you and you nod.

All the while Aemond tries to comfort him until they reach the door of your apartment, but when he lays him down in his crib, Aenar cries more and he carefully holds him in his arms again, trying to soothe him while you quickly stop in the kitchen and prepare a baby bottle, hoping it will help.

And when you hand it to Aemond, he stands gently pacing around the room holding Aenar with one arm while the other hand holds the baby ottle for him against his mouth, hoping it will soothe him and he will fall asleep.

You take the bottle and Aemond carefully lays him down to sleep in his crib, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead to finally let him rest.

Aenar eventually calms down as he drinks from the baby bottle and watches with his blue eyes Aemond above him, who is still gently walking him around the room.

And little by little, wrapped in the safety of Aemond's arms, he falls asleep.

He sits up and turns to you, where you both look at each other without saying anything for a moment, sharing a silent connection.

"Thank you," you whisper to him.

"Don't worry," he says back to you in the same way.

Together you leave Aenar's room without a sound and gently close the door.

That night Aemond drives to his apartment with a new thought in mind, one of which is to always provide a better life for you and Aenar.

That's why, without telling you anything and taking advantage of the fact that it's your day off, he manages to leave the recording set early, he tells you to accompany him to the mall to buy new clothes for Aenar and you accept without thinking about anything else.

During the ride, so far you haven't questioned him about anything and that relieves him, but when you finally pay attention to the streets he is driving through, that's when your confusion appears and Aemond is thankful that you are about to arrive at the real place he wants to take you.

"I don't think there's a shopping mall around here, Aemond," you tell him confused, watching the streets carefully.

You realize that he is actually driving through a private residential neighborhood, with the streets lined with luxurious homes or rather mansions that would catch anyone's attention and you are clearly no exception.

And remembering your locations, you can tell that this neighborhood belongs to the Visenya Hill area, the most exclusive and prestigious area of King's Landing.

"Aemond, where are we going?" you look at him completely confused and questioning.

"I want to show you something," he tells you without giving you any more detail, generating more confusion and despair in you.

"But you said we were going to the mall."

"I know, but I lied to you," he says with some regret and you frown, "If I told you I wanted to show you a house where you can live with Aenar, you wouldn't have come."

"What?"

You inquire in your completely incredulous, serious and questioning voice, watching him with your eyes wide open.

"Surely you're joking," you tell him absurdly, shaking in his direction and watching him completely intently and seriously, really wanting to believe this is a joke.

"No, I'm not," he says letting out a small laugh, watching you for a moment to turn his gaze back to the road.

"Aemond," you start trying to warn him, serious.

"We're here," he announces out of nowhere, alerting you more fully.

You watch with your lips parted and completely attentive at all the windows, as the car comes to a stop in front of an impressive house, whose high ceilings and elegant white columns stand out in the neighborhood.

The front garden with the green lawn, a beautiful fountain and flowering bushes only make it stand out more, besides the elegant entrance, its huge windows and the dimension of the whole house that makes you continue to stare at everything with your mouth open.

In comparison, Aemond looks at the house with a hopeful expression and feeling genuinely happy and excited. But at the same time, he is worried about your attitude and what you will tell him about all this.

At first you refuse to get out of the car, still incredulous and surprised, telling him this is crazy, but Aemond makes you get out and also gets Aenar down from the back seats, instantly on this rare occasion preferring your arms instead of his father's.

"Aemond," you try to say, worried and still unable to believe it.

"Easy. Come," he tells you completely unconcerned, leading you to the entrance of the house.

You observe everything, unable to help yourself, as there is even furniture and everything looks too expensive but too beautiful at the same time.

You watch as he holds the fucking key in his hand and opens the beautiful, gigantic door for you, without giving you a chance to say anything else.

And as you enter, the entire interior of the house spreads out in front of you, illuminated by the daylight filtering through the windows and highlighting every majestic detail of the property.

The simple entrance is large with a crystal chandelier above you hanging from the high ceiling, the living room is spacious and there is also a small decorative fountain. Further on there is another living room that you can observe from the spacious and eye-catching kitchen.

And the entire upstairs also completely grabs your attention, having three huge bedrooms, the master bedroom being the largest of them all, each with its own bathroom and closet.

The bathroom down here is ridiculously large for a bathroom. The pantry is also a ridiculously large room for a pantry.

The garden is lovely and has a swimming pool which, according to Aemond, can be automatically closed off for Aenar's security. There is a laundry and drying room as well.

"It's perfect, don't you think?"

Aemond tells you slightly excited as you walk down the stairs behind him, with Aenar in your arms and who also looks at everything around him with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Work is nearby, my apartment is nearby and Elinda has come to this area to work before, so it won't be a problem," he tells you with that little smile, turning to you, looking with that gleam of hope compared to you.

He clearly expects the same reaction from you and even having already seen the house, you let out a sigh and look at him with a serious and confused expression.

"Aemond, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well, it's for you," he tells you, pointing to everything around him, still not seeing how much this is costing you, "It's perfect for you and Aenar. And a chance for him to live and grow up in a nice, spacious, safe place."

You are speechless for a moment, feeling that heaviness in your chest and your heart pounding as you press your lips together and briefly observe everything around you again.

"Everything will be taken care of by me, you won't have to worry about anything," he assures you softly, "Aenar's room is big, the kitchen is big, there are two living rooms and..." he shrugs, "Like I told you, everything is close by."

"Tell me you haven't already bought all this," you say slightly concerned.

And then all emotion from Aemond slowly fades.

"But why? What is it that—

"Aemond, this is too much," you interrupt him incredulously, shock in your eyes, "How do you think I'm just going to accept this just like that?"

He steps closer, with the slight concern in his gaze, trying to convey calm, but his eye reflects the urgency of his purpose.

"Y/N, please. I only want what's best for you and Aenar. Besides, you said you're moving soon and—

"Yes but to an apartment, not a house that costs millions of dollars," you tell him absurdly.

"Yes, I know, but—" he bites his lips, nervous, "I wanted to do this. I wanted to give this to you and Aenar," he says insistent, "A safe place in a quiet neighborhood, where you can also have your space without having to worry anymore."

You shake your head.

"But—

"Look, just..." he tries to find the right words, trying to work on your willing attitude for not accepting this, "Consider it, yes?" he insist, "You don't have to make a decision right now, for now I just wanted to show you around, nothing more," he says calmly, though you know that behind that calmness is an obvious longing.

"But it's just that this is too much and... no," you look at him with slight concern, "I don't need to consider it because no matter how much I think about it, my answer is no."

"Aemond, this..." you begin to say with restrained sadness, hesitating, "This won't change the past. This won't make it so I can forgive you," you tell him resignedly, "This isn't about me and Aenar, it's about Aenar nothing else and her well being," you tell him in a broken voice, "But this... this house... it's too much."

"Y/N..." he says, taking a couple more steps towards you, wary, "Two years ago, I was the worst shitty boyfriend," he says with sadness and regret, "I had to support you, be there for you completely, I shouldn't have let Criston talk me into his plans, accept in the beginning to hide you and hide my responsibility."

He says as he looks nostalgic at Aenar in your arms.

"And now that you've given me this second chance, I just want to make things right....I want to do what I should have done in the beginning."

Aemond's expression, although he himself tries to remain expressionless, still feels as if he has been hit hard in the stomach when he hears your words.

And all illusion disappears, as well as his enthusiasm.

He resignedly steps back, leaving a space between you and him, not wanting to overwhelm you any more than he already has.

He thought this would be a good idea, that by the time the three of you were here, looking forward to the idea of a new home, you would understand and accept.

But there are still many open wounds from the past and he knows they cannot be healed with these sudden gestures.

"I know, it's just that I-I..." he tries to say with his voice laden with regret and deep remorse," I didn't expect this... a house or an apology to just fix things," he says sincerely and with disappointment, "I just wanted to give Aenar stability and offer you a safe place for the both of you, give you a better life."

Silence envelops you both, dense and charged with mixed emotions.

Aemond tries to find some sign on your face, wanting you to see his true intention, longing for some small indication of hope or acceptance.

And you feel the overwhelming weight of responsibility and emotions inside you. All of this is tempting, though your heart is still scarred by past pain and also distrust. And you are torn between caution and the opportunity to give Aenar the stability he deserves.

Aemond remains silent, respecting your space and your time to process the situation. But the indecision in you is all too obvious.

"Y/N, I promise you that all this is for Aenar and nothing else," he tells you seriously and sincerely, "I promise I won't try anything, except to take care of him and make sure he lacks nothing," he insists, "At least stay in this house until he grows up a little more and if you still think it's too much, we can find a smaller place," he proposes.

His words are left floating in the air, while you continue to think too hard. His proposal echoing in your mind, plunging you into a sea of thoughts, with indecision.

Aemond seems to have put his heart on the table, but your emotions continue to struggle between caution and hope, as you cannot ignore the possibility of offering Aenar a more secure and stable life, which is all you wish for him since you could not give him that at the beginning.

And it is also what Aemond desires, that is why he is so insistent and you see his true intention to give this to Aenar, without any other intentions in between.

But is it right to trust him again? What if Criston and his team try to intervene again? This time they would do it more easily.

Maybe it can be different this time.

You honestly feel like you're taking a big risk by agreeing. It's a big bet to open your life and Aenar's to this new opportunity, but you also see how he's striving to give you something better.

And that's exactly what has you questioning and wondering: should I give this a chance?

"All right," you finally say in a soft voice with a mixture of nervousness, "But only for Aenar."

Aemond looks at you with surprise and hope.

"Really?"

You nod, swallowing hard and Aemond lets out a long breath, visibly relieved and then, avoiding smiling big, takes the house key from his front pocket and holds it out to you, to which you take it a little confused.

"Don't you have to give it to the real estate agent?"

"Actually, I already bought it," he says with a nervous but innocent gesture at the same time, scratching the back of his neck, "Well, I haven't paid the whole amount, but I've paid most of it. So it's yours."

Seven fucking Hells.

You can't help but think as you close your eyes for a moment and let out a sigh, unable to believe it.

The new house soon began to have that warmth the moment you started settling in with Aenar. Every room radiates a sense of peace and comfort that you haven't experienced in a long time.

The move wasn't difficult at all, the only thing you had to transport from the old apartment with the help of Aemond and his driver was your clothes, Aenar's clothes, her toys and her crib, nothing else.

The house already had furniture, beds, decorations and even televisions already installed.

The high ceilings allow natural light to flood in, while the white walls set off the black and gray furniture and Aenar toys, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Aemond builds Lego block forts together with him, buys him toy dragons, cars, stuffed animals and they both watch Aenar's favorite cartoon or movies, getting cozy on the shag carpet or on the couch.

Because Aemond's apartment is close by, his commitment is more accessible, so there is never a day that goes by that he doesn't visit Aenar.

Special moments between father and son are spent in the living room, where toys scattered on the floor become Aenar's playroom area.

Also some evenings the three of you have dinner together, where Aemond offers to feed Aenar and eventually the dining room fills with laughter and smiles as you focus on him.

The backyard also becomes a realm of adventure, where they both even plan picnics and invite you over.

They also both sometimes spend afternoons exploring with laughter and playing with the plastic cars on the lawn where Aenar imitates the sounds Aemond makes from a car.

The new house is filled with happy and warm moments, forming the perfect setting for Aenar to begin to grow up, having both of his parents looking after him.

The proximity of work and Aemond's apartment made the daily routine easier. The routes are short and convenient, allowing more time to enjoy time together.

And above all you definitely feel more at ease having Elinda taking care of Aenar while you are considerably closer to home from the set.

When one day at night, you had already received a message from Aemond telling you that he would be a little late to visit Aenar, as usual, and you replied that it was fine, even though tomorrow is your day off and you have no problem with sleeping late.

But the clock is almost half past eleven at night and you think he is not going to arrive, when just at that moment you hear the doorbell ring and you go to the door, checking from the IPad the cameras of a program that Aemond installed to record Aenar while he sleeps and also monitors in case of anything and so you can make sure he is okay.

And finally you open the door, watching Aemond carefully.

"I thought you weren't coming anymore," you tell him in a low, warm tone, but also worried.

Aemond nods, letting out a sigh.

"I finished later than I thought. It was a hard day," he tells you heavily.

You nod softly and understandingly, stepping aside to let him pass.

"Aenar is already asleep."

"Yes, that's what i thought," he says calmly, "But it doesn't matter, I won't wake him up, I just want to see him," he watches you with tired eye, "You should go to sleep too," he says as he places one of his hands gently on your shoulder, "I'll lock up and set the alarm when I leave."

Hesitation shows on your face for a moment, watching him intently and with a flash of concern.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry," he nods at you with a small soft smile, "Go get some rest, I'll take care of it."

"Fine, but anything tell me, no matter what it is, okay?"

"Okay."

With a soft nod, you both head up the stairs and down the hallway to the rooms, you wave goodbye to him before entering your room and he enters Aenar's room.

And once in your room, you cover yourself with your sheets and thinking that you would fall asleep the moment you were in the comfort of your bed, you suddenly stare at the ceiling for a long time unable to close your eyes and clearly unable to sleep.

He hasn't left yet, as you haven't heard that soft 'click' of the door or his footsteps in the hallway walking away.

You try to find sleep any way you can, but the thought that Aemond is still in the house is what keeps you awake.

And it's not because you don't trust him, on the contrary, you look at the time and feel remorseful and worried that he has to drive back to his apartment so late.

Minutes pass and suddenly you find yourself restless, sleep refusing to invade you. So with quiet steps, you approach Aenar's room, where the dim light of a night lamp reflects through the frame below the door.

Carefully and determined, you gently open the door, first peeking your head and then your body, catching the attention of Aemond who turns his head towards you, sitting near Aenar's crib and gently and very lightly stroking his hair so as not to wake him with a look of affection that does not leave his face despite the interruption.

"Can't you sleep?" he whispers to you, watching you with a soft gaze.

You nod softly, folding your arms as you look down at sleeping Aenar with palpable tenderness.

"It's late and I thought maybe... if you want, you can sleep here," you say with a warm tone but your hint of shyness in your voice is noticeable, as well as your hesitation to suggest such a thing.

It's no problem for you, it's just that he's never slept over before and you don't know what his reaction will really be to you proposing that, whether he'll say yes or no.

"And you're okay with that?" he observes you thoughtfully and softly.

"Yes, of course I am," you assure him completely nonchalantly, "It's totally fine with me."

He nods at you with a gesture, without wiping away his soft little smile.

"Thank you."

And then both his gaze and yours return to watching Aenar asleep in his crib. And Aemond resumes the smile of tenderness on his lips, again sliding his hand over his hair.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" he whispers with a flash of pride in his gaze.

You hum in assent, slowly moving closer toward them both.

"Yes, he is," you reply, gazing at your little one with indescribable love.

A brief silence envelops you for a moment, only hearing the soft hum of the spinning lamp projecting images on the ceiling, creating a peaceful low-light scene of animals and stars for Aenar.

This usually helps him sleep and also calms him down a bit if he wakes up crying in the middle of the night while you wake up and rush over here.

"For a while I imagined how he would looked like, whether boy or girl..." he murmurs in a soft, warm, low, wistful tone, "No matter what you decided to do when you left, I always thought about it," he gives you a meaningful look, guilt on his features and you nod, watching him with understanding.

Aemond clenches his jaw and looks at Aenar again, while you remember those days, where fear and uncertainty lived inside you every day.

You wish you had them, those happy moments that a new mom should experience, but that was not the case for you and yet... you cannot imagine a life without your little boy, it is impossible.

What is supposed to be happy news, was not happy for you and Aemond.

There was no single moment of joy at the beginning, when you learned of your pregnancy. Nor did you experience that feeling the first few months, when you ran away and went back to building a new life.

And Aemond feels the remorse most in these kinds of moments, when Aenar is asleep and he looks at him, not being able to believe and wondering over and over again how it is that from the beginning, he supported the idea of just getting rid of him.

And now he sees only him and cannot imagine a world without him.

Shame overcomes him, guilt also and he even wants to cry with anger as he thinks of all that you must have gone through, without his support, trying to make a living for you and his son, all alone in a new and unknown place.

And he knows that this, allowing you to be in Aenar's life, is a great opportunity that he doesn't deserve and yet you have given it to him.

"I know you said you can't forgive me but... someday can you? For how I reacted and for the decision I supported in the beginning?" he asks you, unable to help himself and needing to know.

His tone is charged with a mixture of regret and longing as you feel a pressure and a slight sharp pain in your chest at his words.

Silence stretches for a moment throughout the room, Aemond respects your silence and though there are many reasons why you should never forgive him for what happened, you still decide to be honest.

"I don't know," you whisper in a low, sad and vulnerable tone.

The words echo through the room, enveloping the space with palpable tension.

Aemond feels his heart pounding, filled with overwhelming regret. He lowers his gaze, unable to bear the weight of his mistakes and your words are like a dagger in his heart, but still, he understands you completely.

He nods with compression, letting out a regret-laden sigh, still gently stroking Aenar's hair.

"I understand," he murmurs with a tone of melancholy and fragility, as well as in his gaze full of pleading and remorse.

"Does your family know about him?"

And you with your sad eyes full of regret, you watch him out of the corner of your eye.

And you see all those emotions in him, all his thoughts reflected in his gaze, trying to stand firm and on the sidelines as he continues to watch Aenar.

You can't help but ask, trying to calm the atmosphere a little, though it's useless, as that slight tension is felt and also that physical and emotional distance from both your side and him.

"I've wanted to tell them, only Nyra knows but I asked her not to say anything," he confesses to you in a low voice, trying to speak firmly but the nostalgia is clear, "Even though I know my mother and siblings will be disappointed in me when I explained what happened two years ago, yes I have wanted to tell them," he nods, "But first I wanted to discuss it with you," he says looking briefly at you over his shoulder.

And now it is remorse that comes to you.

"Tell them, Aemond," you tell him firmly with a soft tone, "They deserve to know."

general taglist:

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys @cakescupcakesminicookies

next part:

@hypocritic-trash-baby

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #modern aemond #aemond targaryen angst

[flavored-soda]

Some BuckTommy head canons to get you through the next week without an episode:

Buck and Tommy spend the night at each other's place a lot. It's not out of lust (although sex is not off the table), but more out of not wanting to sleep alone.

When they do spend the night with each other, it's not uncommon for one of them to drop off or pick each other up from work. The first time Tommy picked Buck up from work, he was coming off a 24-hour. Buck's exhaustion was setting in and he didn't think anything of it when he kissed Tommy "hello" and took the coffee cup from his hand. Needless to say, he got an earful of teasing from the team.

Tommy let Buck set the pace when they first stated dating. Meaning he let Buck tell him when and what he was ready for. But once they had settled into their relationship some more, Tommy couldn't keep his hands off Buck. He always has to have a hand on his boyfriend's back, arm, shoulder, thigh, holding his hand, even just linking fingers. Just simple, soft touches to keep the two grounded.

Tommy truly noticed how low Buck's self esteem is when he went over to try to help rectify the situation between him and Eddie. When the started dating, Tommy made it his mission to try and boost his boyfriend's self esteem whenever he could. Between sending him little text messages throughout the day and telling him all his favorite little things about his boyfriend. Buck loves every second of it.

Buck says "I love you" first. Buck's leg was flaring up again and this time the pain was particularly bad. Tommy had spent the night at Buck's, and it was a good thing he did because Buck never would've told him otherwise. It was at the end of night, Buck's pain meds had just kicked in and he was feeling a bit loopy. They were laying in bed watching with a movie, though, Buck had been watching Tommy for at least the past 20 minutes. He was drifting in and out of sleep when he said. By the time Tommy reacted, he had passed out for the night. In the morning, Buck woke up to his alarm and a note from Tommy that said "I love you too, Evan. Have a good shift.❤️" To top it off, there was pancakes and bacon in the microwave.

Buck babysitting quickly turned into Buck and Tommy babysitting. Tommy loved watching Buck with Chris, Jee-yun, and Denny. Sometimes it would make him wonder what it would be like when they have their own little family.

i have so many more of these, lemme know if you want to hear more. also come scream in my asks about these ones!

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 #bucktommy #911 show #tevan #evan x tommy #evan buckley x tommy kinard #buck x tommy #911 headcanons

[ceijoh]

title: my wish is you 

summary: where his best friend is in love with him 

word count: 4k+ 

warnings/contents: angst, jealousy, insecurities, doubts, fluff (f!reader)

masterlist

You never once questioned your position in Atsumu’s life. You were his partner, his support, his home, the person he shares his weird jokes and thoughts with. 

You knew that he loved you the most, but you weren’t his first love. It didn’t matter to you, hell, you had your first love before Atsumu but he just wasn’t in your life anymore. However, it couldn’t be said the same for Atsumu. 

You knew their history; they were good friends in high school, became best friends in college and she’s stuck by him ever since then. She’s known Atsumu for longer than you have and that never bothered you. Relationships aren’t defined by time, they’re defined by feelings. You knew that they both held feelings for each other at some point but there wasn’t enough courage on either end to make it happen. 

Everyone thought they would end up together, until you showed up. You caught his attention right away.. There was something Atsumu felt that he’s never felt before. You and him just clicked on levels he wasn’t even aware of.

When he told you all of this, Atsumu half expected you to tell him to never see her again, which would hurt him but if he needed that for your boundaries he would. Though you never did. You understood their feelings, the situation they were both in, but she never tried anything, so why should you tell him to stop seeing her? Besides, he was with you, he chose you and not her to be with. 

He had enough courage to ask you to be his because even for one second, the thought of you slipping through his mind, he knew that he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. 

You were very neutral towards her, you tried to like her at the start of your relationship, you did for the sake of yours and Atsumu’s relationships but she never did. Or maybe she did try but it was the bare minimum. While you tried to make time to hang out with her, she always came up with the excuse that she was busy, however when it was Atsumu asking her it was always a resounding yes. 

You tried to turn a blind eye to some of her behaviours when you truly got serious with Atsumu. Calling him at night, the constant texts from her during the day, expecting to do the things she did with Atsumu before he got into a relationship with you. The way that whenever you three hung out together, or even in a group, she always made you somehow feel like the third wheel. Sharing the inside jokes that she and Atsumu have, the memories that you weren’t there to remember. It just hurt. 

--

You decided to bring it up with Atsumu one night, after dinner. Putting the last wet dish on the rack, you turned to him. Noticing your eyes on him, he placed his phone down and grinned at you. “Whatcha ya thinkin’ ‘bout, angel? 

Fiddling with your hands, you took a deep breath. “Remember when we first started dating, and how you told me that you and Sato-san had feelings for each other?”

Gone was the calmness Atsumu felt around you, and instead his heart picked up its pace. Where were you going with this? 

Noticing his change in breathing, you quickly rectified, “I know that you don’t have feelings for her anymore, ‘Tsum,” reaching over to grab his hand and squeeze it gently. “I just don’t think that she’s over you. Actually, I don’t think she’s ever gotten over you.” 

Now feeling at ease, knowing that you didn’t think of him being in love with someone else. “Does that bother ya?” At your glance, “Wait, don’t answer that!” 

Shrugging, “I mean I feel uncomfortable with her always asking for your time, cutting into our dates. I know she’s your best friend, ‘Tsum, but she’s just always there asking for your time. It seems like I can’t even go on a date with you because she somehow knows and calls you and interrupts us.” 

Atsumu knew you had a point but this was also one of his closest friends, “(Y/N), we just spent a lot of time together before, she’s just gettin’ used to it.” 

“It’s been three years, Atsumu,” you knew that he was going to defend her, you would have been shocked if he just took your word. “Do you or do you not remember what happened on our first anniversary?” 

Remembering back to the day, he did remember her texting him and calling him all day to remind him that they were supposed to have a gathering around Osamu’s place, something they often did. It just so happened that it fell on your anniversary night. The others were fine with it, knowing that your anniversary was more important than a casual night but she felt hurt. 

“No one that just sees you as a best friend does that,” you reasoned out. “No one gets hurt if you’d rather spend time with your partner than your friends.” 

Gulping you realised that this was probably the best time to let out all of the feelings you had about her. 

“It’s just every time we hang out with her, it feels like she’s the one that’s dating you and I’m just your friend. The memories that you share together with her, the jokes, I don’t have those ones that you always bring up when we’re around with your friends, Atsumu,” feeling the familiar prick of tears in your eyes, you quickly brushed them away, something Atsumu took notice of silently. 

“It makes me feel hurt, it hurts me. It feels like I don’t belong in this stupid little world that the two of you have together.” 

“I don’t have the years that she has with you Atsumu, I don’t have the memories of you falling over in front of the ice-cream truck, and how that started such a great summer. I don’t have that!” Gone was the rationality that you wanted when you started this conversation, instead the hurt, the isolation, the inferiority you felt around her was speaking. 

“I’m so worried that one of these days, you’ll wake up and feel like you made the wrong decision, that it was her all along, and I was just someone in the way of that,” noticing that you were crying openly, you brushed them away but it seemed like they never wanted to stop. Not able to speak anymore, you instead focused on your hands, tears still streaming down your face, a sniffle here and there. 

Feeling a wave of defence over his best friend, Atsumu sighed. “Look, (Y/N). I don’t think Michi is in love with me, okay?” He looked at you intently, “Yeah, she gets touchy sometimes and she brings up these memories but that’s the way she’s always been.” 

Flabbergasted that Atsumu just brushed your worries away, you scrunched up your brows. “Are you telling me that it’s all in my head? That her actions are just friendliness?” 

Atsumu didn’t say anything, which you took as confirmation. “What would happen if I did that! What would have happened if I did that with Genji?” At the sound of your first love’s name, Atsumu subconsciously grimaced. 

“How would you feel -as my boyfriend- if we hung out with Genj? The fact that I bring up all these memories that Genji and I share, that you weren’t a part of? How would you feel if I started hugging Genji longer than necessary, Miya?” You spat out. Yes, you were still hurt and angry but you thought your boyfriend would have at least pandered to your worries. 

The feeling of his heart clenching at the sound of his surname and your ex-boyfriend's first name in a sentence made Atsumu feel queasy. 

“I tell you that I’m worried that you’ll leave me for her, and you can’t even comfort me?” You spoke raising your voice, your nostrils flared and you clenched your jaw. “You were so willing to make up excuses for her, but you can’t even spare me some shitty words to comfort me,” scoffing you rolled your eyes. 

You mumbled something under your breath and stalked off without another word. Atsumu, feeling ashamed of the actions he just did, sat down on the couch. Never had you spoken like that to him before, relaying the conversation in his head, he knew that he rightfully deserved it. 

Why? Why did he feel such a need to make excuses for her? Why couldn’t he have just said the words he wanted to say? That he doesn’t care if they have a bunch of history together, his future only has you in it. He only wants a future with you and no one else. 

Walking into the bedroom, he expected to see you in bed curled away from him but all he saw was an empty bed. Panicking and his heart beating fast, did you leave? Where did you go? He quickly walked to the bathroom, sighing in relief when he saw your things were still there. Moving towards the spare bedroom, he turned the handle only to find out that it was locked. Something shattered within Atsumu when the door didn’t open. This has never happened. 

--

In the morning, Atsumu woke up, spread his hand out, ready to pull you into him. When he felt the empty space, he sat up, trying to get used to the sun, shaking his head. Where were you? When he remembered what happened last night, he clenched his fist and fell back into bed. 

Walking into the living room, Atsumu noticed you by the sofa, a coffee in your hand. His heart felt like it could crack in any minute, and he felt like shit. This was the first time in your relationship that you two decided to sleep apart and fuck, he never wanted that ever again. 

“Hey angel,” his voice was groggy, and he noticed that there was no breakfast. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “I just woke up. Had a shitty sleep.” 

Chuckling slowly, “Tell me about it.” 

You both shared a look, and Atsumu felt a little lighter. Walking over to the machine, he could feel your gaze on him. He knew he needed to sort this out now but with an important practice in a couple of hours, he knows he can’t. 

“I’m sorry about-” 

“It’s fine,” you cut him off sharply. “It was my fault to bring it up.” Finishing up your last sip of coffee, you placed it in the sink. “I have a meeting today, I’ll be late so there won’t be any dinner but you have plans with her don’t you?” 

You didn’t have to ask, it was their Tuesday night after all. Looking at your phone, you glanced back at Atsumu, “Actually, I’ll be in and out with meetings all day. Try not to text me, I probably won’t be able to respond.” 

Without another word, you walked up to your shared bedroom intent on getting ready as quickly as you can. 

Stunned at your cold and blunt words to Atsumu, something you’ve never done. Maybe in a teasing tone, but it was always accompanied by a smile. Just how much did he fuck up? 

It was thirty minutes since he last saw you, sitting by the couch sipping his coffee, looking through his phone. He heard you and looked up. Fixing up your blazer and moving quickly to the door, you looked at Atsumu. “I didn’t have time to make your bento today, but maybe she can, if you text her.” Without another word, the door shut. 

Whether it was a metaphor for your feelings with Atsumu, the man did not know. 

--

“Tsum-Tsum, where’s your lunch that (Y/N)-chan always packs?” Bokuto asked, noticing that his teammate just had some store bought pre-made lunch. 

Ashamed, Atsumu was quiet for a moment, earning looks from his three teammates. Hinata looked towards Bokuto and Sakusa who just shrugged in response, “Are you okay, Tsum?” 

Nodding quickly, Atsumu smirked and threw his arm around Bokuto, “Don’t ya worry Bokkun!” 

Tossing in a joke, Atsumu hoped his teammates would just let it go and not pay attention to the rising tension. 

--

“(Y/N) has never once missed making your lunch, even when she had a fever she still made something for you,” Sakusa’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Turning to the black haired man, Atsumu watched as Sakusa narrowed his eyes at him. “So, what did you do?” 

Plastering a fake grin on his face, Atsumu gave him a thumbs up, “Nothing, Omi-Omi! Don’tcha worry!” 

Blocking Atsumu’s sidestep, Sakusa glared the older man down, “I am worried because my friend is not responding to me.” 

“But I am responding to you.” 

“I’m not talking about you,” Sakusa snapped. It was weird for Atsumu, two people that he cared for a lot, who he’s annoyed until they’re red in the face but never snapped or raised their voice at him, just in less than 24 hours. “Iwaizumi-san says that she’s not responding to him either. Talk.” 

Atsumu sighed in defeat, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave without indulging Sakusa with the problems with you. He didn’t want to tell more people about this, he wanted to fix this as soon as he could, and he’d rather not have other people interfering. Realising it was too late, as Sakusa and Iwaizumi knew of your behaviour, and knowing that if they knew, your other best friends and his brother would definitely know, Atsumu knew he was in deep shit. And maybe Sakusa can give him some advice.  

“I mean, can you blame her?” He turned to Kiyoomi who was staring at him with distaste. “I mean, you basically told your girlfriend that her feelings weren’t genuine. That she was just making it up in her head.” 

“I never said those words,” Atsumu spoke angrily. 

Sakusa just shrugged, “You implied it though. By not acknowledging her feelings, you gave her the assumption that you don’t care about them. Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean that it’s not happening.” 

The younger man brushed off the invisible dust, and sanitised his hands, placing them in his pockets. He looked at Atsumu once. “You’re lucky that she didn’t break up with you,” Kiyoomi stated bluntly. “I wouldn’t fault her if she did.” 

--

Entering her house, something he’s done plenty of times, this was the first time it’s ever felt wrong. He could see her by the kitchen, she turned around giving Atsumu a beaming smile. He shouldn’t be here. This felt wrong. This felt like betrayal. 

“(Y/N) thinks yer still in love with me,” Atsumu began, no point in beating around the bush. Rubbing his face, tired of the day, tired of the fight, “But I said yer not, yer just sentimental.” 

Michi paused her movements, and turned around to face Atsumu. Heart beating in her chest, she tucked a piece of hair behind hair. This was it, this was the moment that she’s been waiting for. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Michi finally said the one thing she’s been dying to say, “But, Atsumu, I do love you.” 

Atsumu sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair, “Why now? Why now that I’m with (Y/N)?” 

“You knew, you always knew that we had something going on!” 

“And we never took a chance, did we?” Atsumu spat out. “That was both of our faults!” 

“We were supposed to end up together,” she mumbled, the confidence she had moments ago slowly disappearing. 

“We were kids,” Atsumu rebutted, fire in his words. “What I have with (Y/N), this is serious. This is what I’ve been wantin’ all along.” 

“We had that!” 

“We never did!” Atsumu was tired. He was tired of all of this, he didn’t expect this to blow up this big. “Maybe we had a taste of what could be, but what you and I had, does not and will never compare to what I have with (Y/N).” 

“I’ve known you for longer, Atsumu, I know you better than she could ever hope to,” she pleaded. “I’m in love with you, and I know that you’re in love with me. We were supposed to be together, it would have just taken longer.” 

Atsumu moved his mouth to say something, but all he could do was stare at her. He wanted to say ‘maybe in another life’, but the words couldn’t escape him. And he knew that if he said it, it would be a lie. In this life and any other lives that he has, the only person he wants to share them is with you. 

As much as Atsumu wanted to sit down and gather his thoughts, he needed this to get over as soon as he could. He needed to get back to you. 

“I know that I wasn’t ready back then, but now I’m ready for you. I’m here,” Michi glanced at Atsumu, at the man that she’s been in love with for the past decade. “I’m in love with you Atsumu and I want to be with you.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, there was his best friend, the person that once held his heart saying the words he once longed to hear. There was something disdainful in her tone, it felt wrong coming from her. It never did with you. It always felt right, like every time you said it a missing puzzle piece was completed inside of Atsumu. 

If it was a couple of years ago, Atsumu would have jumped at the chance but that was before you. Before you turned his whole world upside down and he finally realised what being in love meant. Just because Michi knew Atsumu longer, and she thought that she knew Atsumu deeper, everyone knew it was you. It was you that fit right at Atsumu’s side. 

You were the one that understood his moods, even before you began dating, you never once pushed him. You accepted how he felt and dealt with his emotions, and you were always there to give a hand if he needed or asked for it. It was the late night talks where he didn’t realise that he was already in love with you, it was the eagerness to see your face everyday. To talk to you everyday, to have those mundane and simple things that he despised before but then it was all he wanted to do, because he got to do it with you. 

It was the feeling of being complete with you. Michi completed him in a way that Atsumu knew, she fit into his world, she was best friends with him. But you were his world. You filled in spaces that Atsumu didn’t even realise were empty. The cracks that were filled with your laughter and soft kisses, the void that he ignored was filled with your soft whispers about the future. 

It never felt right until you. 

It’s always been you. 

With the lack of response, Michi bowed her head, “You’re choosing her, aren’t you?” 

Without a pause, Atsumu responded, “Yeah,” looking at her, Atsumu felt nothing. There was an air indifference surrounding her. “I’ll always choose her, no matter what.” 

Atsumu hopes that she understood what he said. Even if she begged, even if she pleaded for him to choose her, it would always be you. It’s always been you. 

Atsumu straightened his back, “I think this friendship needs to end, Sato-san. My relationship with (Y/N) will always be the most important, she’s the most important person to me. I’ve loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and will ever love anyone.” Taking a couple of steps towards the door, “And I can’t have anyone doubting that for her.” 

It took ten years for her to say what she felt, and it only took Atsumu a couple of minutes to destroy her life, and a couple of steps to walk away from her forever. Dropping to her knees, Michi sobbed knowing that she was too late. 

--

You were sitting at the dinner table, the dinner ready to be eaten at any moment. Looking towards the door once you heard it unlocked, you saw as Atsumu walked in, taking a deep breath and looking right at you. 

Closing the door, he hastily made his way to you. Tugging you out of your chair gently, he wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry,” mumbling the words into your neck over and over again, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around him. 

“I ended my friendship with Sato-san,” shocked at the words coming out of his mouth, shocked at the use of her surname and the formality, you moved yourself a little bit from Atsumu. 

“‘Tsum, what?” 

Repeating what he just told you, Atsumu looked you right in the eyes, willing to believe his truth. “I’ll always choose you.” 

“‘Tsum, you didn’t have to do that. You could have just not spoken to her for a while, you didn’t need to cut her out of your life.” 

Atsumu shook his head, “I never want ya to ever feel like I’m second guessing who I chose, and I know yer,” tapping the side of your head with his fingers, he smiled down at you. “Ya get into yer own head way too much. If she was around, I know you’d always be comparin’ or thinkin’ with that big brain of yers.” 

“But aren’t you sad?” 

“I am,” Atsumu said truthfully. “But I know that I’ll get through it, with ya around,” nuzzling into your neck he couldn’t help continue, “but if it was you.” 

Looking at you, you could see his eyes watering, “If it was you, if I lost ya for some reason, I don’t think I’d be able to continue.” 

Gently cupping his face with your hands, caressing the apple of his cheeks with your thumb, “You never have to worry about me leaving you, Miya Atsumu. I’m yours forever.” 

“And I’ll always be yers, now and forever,” placing his forehead to yours, Atsumu felt his heart be at peace for the first time since last night. “I want ya for longer than forever, angel.” 

Grinning, you moved yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on the couch with you, him on top of you. “I’m more than okay with that.” 

Pulling you into his lap, Atsumu held your hands in his, “I’m sorry,” was what he started with. Tightening his hands, “I’m so sorry I ever made ya feel like that. I don’t care if I have ten years worth of memories with her because that means nothin’ with the forever I want with ya,” Atsumu began. “Those memories were what I remember most when we were kids, those inside jokes are just that, inside jokes with her.  What I want is the jokes we’ll pass down to our kids, the stories that we’ll share to our kids. The memories that I’ll repeat and say to you before I say ‘I do’. All the memories that I had with her, angel, don’t compare nothin’ to one memory I have with ya.” 

“Miya Atsumu,” you started, you could feel your heart beating against your chest rapidly. You never expected Atsumu to stop being friends with her. You truly just wanted for them to take a break. 

You knew he’s loved you since you first met because you were the exact same. The way he filled your world with his brightness, the way he always made you feel like his priority above everything else, when he made you feel seen and remembered. Above all else, you felt warm and safe with him. There was no one but Miya Atsumu for you. 

“You’re a great big sap, you know that?” 

“Angel, I just bared my heart out to ya,” groaning, he pinched your side, a cheeky smirk on his face. “And that’s why yer saying to me.” 

“That’s my heart too, mister,” leaning forward you pressed a soft kiss to his chest. 

Grinning down at you, Atsumu knew that you could feel his heartbeat, and he didn’t care. Whatever he felt for you he wanted you to know. 

“Yeah, princess, it is,” kissing the top of your head. “It’ll always be yours.”

“Don’t make me choose between you and her.” 

“Why? Because you’ll choose her?” 

“Yeah. I’ll choose her.”

happy early birthday, miya atsumu, you absolute disgusting goblin (affectionate).

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu angst #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu one shot #atsumu imagine #atsumu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu

[libraryraccoon]

Kk so I am too lazy to write on my own but I have come up with a pretty good day dream scenario that you can write for ( I might also do it but maybe not).

But a police officer with a strong sense of justice goes to hell and starts trying to organize after spawning in one of the worst areas in hell, even the overlords are hesitant to go in there. But as they gain more and more power the area to clean up expands.

Their really not a bad person , one of the only reasons their there is because they had premarital sex . ( They banged someone's wife when drunk).

Was killed by the husband by a shot in the chest. Now resemble a fox because of their wit and inganuty.

( in sry if it's too specific but you can cut out anything u don't want)

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Message from Raccoon : I try to write a police officer!reader, but i'm pretty sure it's bad.

TW : Reader is in Hell 2 years before the series, 🟣 (one time mentionned), violence.

General Headcanon

In your lifetime you were a police officer, and a good one at that.

But unfortunately, one day you died and arrived in hell.

The person you loved was cheating on their partner with you. They didn't like it and killed you.

You are now in Hell.

Hell sorely lacked justice, but it's okay, you will rectify it.. :)

Vox didn't like you. Like, really.

He heard about you after you nearly beat Valentino to death.

Why did you beat Valentino ? Because he was a 🟣, forcing people to prostitute themselves, and more.

You also beat Velvette a bit because she created the love potions.

So yes, he didn't like you.

He start to hate you when you broke his head/tv when you saw him manipulating people..

It's hell ! What did you expect ?! Everyone manipulates !

A violent police officer. This is what you were.

You killed everyone who did things against your morals... in one month you killed more than the exterminators ever did.

Adam sees you as a sort of rival/person on his level.

Alastor find you entertained.

You were the only one in Hell with a moral, so you were interesting.

He also finds it very interesting that you manage to beat 3 Overlords and that 2 Overlords (Carmilla and Zestial) consider you their equal.

He wanted to come talk to you, but he decided not to after seeing you kill a demon with an angelic weapon because they were cannibals.

Compared to what you might think, he have a sense of self-preservation.

When you arrived at the hotel, as part of security, Alastor was a little scared..

Especially when you pointed your gun at his forehead, where the hunter had shot, killing him when he was alived.

Bonus point if you are a dog demon, he is really scared and wonders if you want to reproduce his death.

Husk love you and love the fact that you can scared Alastor, he live for seeing that man being your victim.

Niffty love you, she think you are a real bad boy ! RIP

You and Vaggie get along well, you both know that not everyone can be redeemed (looking at Alastor from a distance) and you know how fucked up Hell is.

But you help Charlie because some still have a chance to redeem themselves (looking discreetly at Sir Pentious).

Sir Pentious was afraid of you at first, but in the end he start to like you.

You always get him out of the worst situations, I can imagine that you saw Vox try to use his power on Sir Pentious when he was a 'spy', and you directly destroyed the watch by throwing a knife at it.

Sir Pentious didn't even notice you were here-

After that, a long conversation followed about why we should not harm the Hotel and its residents and avoid the Vees.

Sir Pentious thanked you very much for that by the way.

After that Vox received a little visit from you..

If it wasn't for Charlie stopping you from killing him, he would have died instead of just being injured/broken.

Vox spent a week in repair/hospital.

Angel Dust adores you.

Every time you accompany him to work, strangely Valentino gives him the day off..

Yeah, he takes you with him whenever you can.

Even if you hate the Overlords, you are one of them.

Overlord D/N (demon name), the Police Officer of Hell.

Carmilla loves it when you are at meetings, the other Overlords (*cough* Vees *coughs*) are always calm when you are here.

You 🤝 break into Lucifer's house.

Yeah, because well before the hotel, 3 days after your arrival, you break into Lucifer's house.

Why ? Because you found unacceptable that he didn't manage Hell and let the demons do all they want.

You didn't expect to find yourself faced with a depressed father whose wife left 5 years ago and who he no longer really has contact with his daughter.

You had to play therapist and friend.

Literally you were giving him therapy sessions in exchange of him letting you stay at his house.

You don't even have a degree in therapy.

Lucifer considers you as his lifeline. He clings to you for dear life, metaphorically and literally.

Hurt this man and the next day you will find his corpse-

Is this a healthy friendship ? No, but are you going to ignore this fact and pretend everything is normal ? Yes.

You have changed his point of view on demons, in the sense that some, not all but some, can be redeemed.

I headcanon that you repaired Charlie and Lucifer's relationship, and that before the series.

Greatest dad didn't happen, sorry everyone.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x gn reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel vaggie #vox hazbin hotel #valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #husk #husker #niffty #alastor #angel dust #hazbin hotel adam #Raccoon is writing

[p1nkshield]

Hi 👋 This is chapter four of the Estranged Uncle Au!

Just a warning there is mentions of cults and a scene that has Damian being Damian (AKA knife child) Please take care of yourselves! I hope you enjoy!

Clark was sweating buckets.

“I promise you I’m not in danger! This is all a big misunderstanding! Bruce isn’t even that creepy!”

Jazz rattled off several reasons.

“He has a cloyingly sweet public persona, his personal computer has extensive information on all of the local rogues in the area and all the adopted sons we’ve met look practically identical to both each other and you and Danny! Not to mention they all seem trained for combat! How is that not creepy?”

Okay from an impartial standpoint Clark could see how it looked like he was tied up in a cult.

“I swear if another fruitloop billionaire obsessed with one of my family members tries to adopt me I’m gonna wail!”

How specific!

“Wail?” Clark began to ask but was cut off.

“Are you tied up in a cult Clark? Because we can get you out if you are! I … uh know a guy who specializes in taking down cults.”

What?

“I promise you I’m not in a cult! The blue eyes and black hair is a coincidence and I am not in danger! Also what do you mean you know a guy who specializes in taking down cults!?!”

Danny squinted.

“Hold that thought. Everyone stop talking!”

Danny reached towards Clark’s shoulder and picked out a small device, no bigger than a grain of rice out of his cable knit sweater.

“No one who plants listening devices into sweaters isn’t creepy.”

He then promptly threw it to the ground and crushed it with his heel.

“That’s the end of the recording.” Tim said while cringing.

“Sleazy?!? Me? Sleazy? I did a back handspring on hardwood floors for them and they call me sleazy?!”

Dick thought that he could win them over. Was he too heavy handed?

“It’s probably because you fell asleep in the pico de gallo timber.” Jason joked as he inspected the weapons vault.

“What? Me?!? I was the only one who made any headway! I was just up late trying to track whoever was hacking us!” Tim defended.

“Well good news! You found ‘em! Let me know when they hack my library account seeing as the Big bad bat computer is being hacked by a couple teens.” Jason said dismissively as he took a flamethrower fuel canister.

Bruce was experiencing a new amalgamation of emotions. He was both incredibly embarrassed, incredibly amused and incredibly impressed.

How embarrassing that the bat computer was hacked! He put so much effort into the protection of his data!

But then again Clark must be beside himself trying to convince them he wasn’t in a cult and that was incredibly amusing. He even said all the things that people said when they were in denial about being in a cult!

This was absurd! The only way to describe this was absurd!

“Fools! All of you do not truly understand the gravitas of the situation! If they believe that we are indeed weapons dealers they may snoop further and compromise all of our secret identities!” Damian huffed his way into the view of his family.

“We’ll be alright Dami, Tim is reinforcing our defenses for the computer and we’re going to try and disengage for a while. If we keep on trying we might make it worse.” Dick ruffled through Damian’s hair despite many protests.

Damian tutted at this suggestion. They needed to approach the problem head on and quickly rectify the situation lest it spiral into a larger one. Perhaps if they suffered an accident.

“Damian! I know that face! That’s the face you make when you go off and try to rectify the situation by yourself!”

“That is not true Grayson! I was simply thinking about confiding in my companion about how tedious my science project is.”

“You promise you’re only going to engage in age appropriate activities like science homework and book reports?”

“I promise.”

"I'm choosing to believe you" Dick began to walk away before pulling another sour face. "...Sleazy?"

Damian checked his hidden blades one final time before encroaching upon this Daniel Fenton who had foolishly entered an alleyway. He deftly held a knife to the throat of his target.

"If you continue to snoop into my father's business I will not hesitate to cut you down!"

Damian was expecting to me met with fear and copious apologies. He was a fearsome and terrifying warrior after all.

"Are you trying to hold me at knifepoint on your tippy-toes?" The target said in the same tone that one would use with a kitten trying to jump a bit too high. They should be focused on the clear danger Damian was posing. Or at least the danger he was posing. Between the moment Damian looked at his feet and the moment he looked back up to find a very unperturbed Danny.

"Did your father put you up to this?" He asked.

"No! I acted of my own accord!"

"Well are there anymore ineffective threats you want to say?"

Damian was about to say something when his stomach audibly growled. Curses! He could not bring a meal in order to maintain secrecy from Alfred! Damian slowly looked up towards Danny's face. He has that look that Grayson gets before he does something annoying like ruffle his hair.

"Are you hungry?"

Damian did not dignify this question with an answer and began to storm off.

"I'm having some friends over, we can spare you a plate! My friend Sam chose the menu though so its vegan."

Damian stopped in his tracks.

"What is it that you are making?"

"Cauliflower gnocchi with cashew cream pesto."

"And this is taking place in Clark's home?"

"yep."

"Fine. But I will not be lenient with you because you've offered me a meal!"

Danny laughed and texted Sam

"Hey get another bundle of basil Im bringing a guest"

#estranged uncle au #dp x dc #Give clonk a moment to explain himself! #Damian Wayne thinks he is the best at solving issues quickly #Danny: We are having *fancy food you can eat* #Damian: ... fine. You may live a few more hours. #Also Alfred already knows what Damian is doing and where he is. He's just letting the punishment be him missing an Alfred-cooked lunch #Clark isn’t in a cult he swears! #tw cult mention #tw knife

[radioappleheadcanons]

Lucifer does the thing where he'll get angry at Alastor for something he did in a dream. It drives Alastor crazy because Lucifer's way of dealing with it is to ignore him and of course, Alastor hates it. But he has no idea what he's done so he can't figure out how to fix it. When Lucifer does finally snap at him about it, Alastor is ticked off because he is not apologizing in his non-apologizing way for something he didn't do. This just upsets the king more. It goes on for a while before Charlie corners Alastor and explains that for a man whom dreams are such a big part of him, both in that, he's a dreamer and that sometimes dreams aren't just dreams, it is very much so a big deal.

Vaggie, Husk, and Angel are all assigned to make Lucifer understand why Alastor is offended (Charlie made all three of them do it, under Nifty gaze). They are much less enthused and less in-depth but eventually, they manage to convince him that it's because Alastor was offended that he thought the redhead would do that. They end up taking it out and putting it behind them, though occasionally they still have tiffs over it. It's pretty fast to resolve though, because Lucifer will give Alastor the details of the dream and Alastor will assure that it won't happen. Or at least give the situation where he would do it.

This works well, at least until Lucifer finds a recording of Al and Vox singing Stayed Gone, which he takes great offense to because Alastor picking another 'rival' is something the man has assured him won't happen.

So, he was not happy about the fact that Alastor clearly had something going on with this other random demon. The others try to convince him that the TV Overlord isn't a threat, to which he responds that of course, he's not a threat. He's the bloody king sinners can’t be a threat to him. But that doesn't mean he can't be upset that Alastor lied to him. He's very huffy about it, and very snappy when it comes to the radio demon.

Alastor is very annoyed by this and demands to know what he did to earn this treatment. Only he keeps getting told that he should know and that the king refuses to speak with a lair. The others explain what happened and Alastor is horrified that Lucifer thinks he has something going on with Vox of all people. He immediately sets to rectify it. Only the one place where he has enough power to keep Lucifer there is his radio tower, and when Lucifer is trying to leave, they sort of wrestle and start broadcasting.

The Whole of the pride ring hears the radio demon assure someone, who is far away enough from the mic to not be clear or recognizable, but close enough that they know there's someone in the booth with Alastor, that "No I don't have any other rivals and why on earth would you think that?…….. Well yes, I did cut into the song the TV overlord was singing that it wasn't a rivalry thing it was him defending his honor and name! I've never started anything with him, only replied when he was attacked, and even then, it is always the bare minimum, can't so you see how little effort I put into the song?…….. You have nothing to worry about darling, you're the only one I consider to be worthy of being a true rival, please stop being angry and ignoring me……. It's horrible and it's not making you any happier either."

The voice gets a little clearer as Lucifer gets closer to the mic, to Alastor, and farther away from the door. It's then that he notices the on-air light and points it out. Alastor cusses, a first for many to hear, and ends it. The whole pride ring is in uproar trying to figure out who was in his booth with him. Vox meanwhile is fuming because excuse me? What do you mean we're not rivals? If anyone isn't a rival it's whoever this interloper is!

#radioapple #duckiedeer #💚 aka mine #hazbin vox #charlie morningstar #long post

[skzdarlings]

part iv: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 10k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit sexual content.

-

“All right, gang,” Jisung says.  “Final year of school together, you know what that means?” 

You and Felix are on your way to class when Jisung literally throws himself between you.  He hands each of you a print-out before you can answer his question or even say hello. 

“The Three Musketeers,” Felix reads.  “Peas in a Pod, Rule of Three…?”

“This is our final year as a best friend trio in the hallowed halls of high school,” Jisung says.  “And next year?  Who knows what happens!  Marriages!  Mortgages!  Babies!”

“Jisung, we just turned eighteen,” you say. 

“Which is almost nineteen, which is almost twenty, then we’re practically forty.”  He waves a hand around.  “The point is, this is our last opportunity to solidify a name.  For us.  For the group.  It’s necessary.” 

“Is it though?” Felix asks, squinting as he skims the sheet.  “BLT?  Who’s the bacon?” 

“I am, obviously,” Jisung says. 

“Why is that obvious?” you ask. 

“How is it not obvious, Lettuce?”  Jisung says, scandalized.  “Anyway, we can workshop the names.  This is just to get the ball rolling.  I expect results by lunchtime tomorrow at the latest.”    

Jisung continues his endearing but admittedly inane blather, at least until Hyunjin comes sauntering up the hallway like it’s a catwalk, then he just frowns.  Jisung has never warmed to the popular pretty boy and Hyunjin does not seem particularly inclined to rectify any bad impressions.  He is astoundingly self-confident. 

People move out of his way.  Some girls downright swoon if he deigns to cast them even a fleeting glance.  You can’t really judge any of them seeing as you were the same when Lee Minho still roamed these halls.  You are not totally immune to Hyunjin either, though your attention is somewhat scattered these days. 

You look at Felix. 

He is re-reading the class schedule for this year, mumbling reminders under his breath.  His hair is a sunny yellow blonde and freshly trimmed to frame his face, thanks to your help.  He was cutting his own hair which made sense, not just logistically but stylistically, seeing as it was often a shaggy mess.  You have taken to helping him so it looks a little neater. 

You look at the fuzzier hair on his nape, recalling how your fingertips pressed there as you tipped his head for a better angle.  

Your eyes meet when he looks up, but you are drawn apart when Hyunjin claps him on the shoulder with a greeting.  They sat beside each other for most of their first year and formed something of a friendship – only something, because the plucky, likable Australian transfer student is a fabrication.   

You once told yourself you would never fall for the schoolboy routine, that you would always remember his real identity, but you never considered what might happen if you cared for the real him anyway. 

“Heeey Fee-lix,” Hyunjin says in an emphasized, overly friendly way.  He draws out your name with the same saccharine pleasantness, all while ignoring a scowling Jisung.  

Hyunjin leaves before anyone can reply, but Jisung still thumps Felix on the arm. 

“Traitor,” he says.   

“What?  He’s nice,” Felix says, exchanging an amused look with you. 

“You know, Jisungie, maybe you’d get along better if you stopped trying to trip him everywhere he goes,” you say, pointing to Jisung’s presently outstretched leg. 

Jisung stands straight.  “He tried to kill me,” he says. 

“Not this again,” you say.  “Jisung, he didn’t know about your peanut allergy—”

“He tried to put his nuts directly into my mouth,” Jisung says, then groans miserably.  “That came out wrong.”  He spins his cap to tug the brim over his eyes.  “Do not repeat that.  The last thing I need is freshmen writing fanfiction about us.” 

You and Felix pat his back in a consoling manner.   

Felix sits behind you in class, dutiful as ever.  You are unpacking your bag when Hyunjin walks in with his girlfriend of the week.   Rumours about Hyunjin are in never-ending circulation and he seems to help them along.  You have caught him in a quiet moment once or twice, curled up in the library alone or lingering after hours in the art room, but that quieter soul seems contradictory to his showman side.   Even now, he starts making out with his girlfriend in the middle of the classroom.  

You can’t help but stare, mostly because the brazenness is so audacious that it is impossible not to stare, but it also makes you think.  You have never kissed anyone, though you have entertained countless fantasies that spiral far beyond kissing, and while you know you are young in abstract way… staring at a happy couple your age makes you feel jealous, desirous, and a little ridiculous.  Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty… 

Felix clears his throat and you realize you have been staring too long.

Not only that, but Hyunjin is staring back, even with his mouth pressed against someone else.  It feels like flames erupt inside you.  You drop heavily into your seat and stare at your desk, swallowing hard.   When you chance a look, Hyunjin is leaning back in his own seat, smiling at you. 

Felix clears his throat again. 

“What?” you ask, sharp. 

“Nothing,” Felix says, casual. 

You roll your eyes.  He kicks your chair.  You turn around and knock his textbook off his desk. 

“That’s not nice,” he says. 

You stick your tongue out at him. 

As seniors, you are allowed to leave campus for lunch.  The three of you make your way to a nearby sandwich shop, one naturally packed with most of the senior grade level.  You crowd into a tiny booth, so cramped you are halfway sitting on Felix’s lap.  Your mood sours as you let yourself wallow in self-pity, thinking about how normal girls get to sit on normal boys’ laps and be excited about it. 

You are sulking into your sandwich, thinking about how you are going to die alone and miserable and unkissed, when a chair is suddenly drawn up to your table and Hyunjin sits beside you. 

Jisung’s mouth is stuffed full of ham, which you know because he drops his jaw despite all the food.

Hyunjin does not remark on it.  He smiles at you and you alone. 

“Hey,” he says.   He really is stupidly handsome.  Even up close, you see no awkward blemishes, not a hair out of place.  His uniform tie is a little askew from tugging but that’s it.  

Jisung kicks you under the table, probably because you are just staring blankly at Hyunjin. 

“Sorry, hi,” you finally say. 

His smiles widens.  He tucks a bit of hair behind his ear. 

“Hey, I won’t bug you and your friends,” Hyunjin says, ignoring when Jisung mumbles too late under his breath, “but I want to walk you back to school after lunch.  Alone.”

You are so unprepared for the suggestion that find yourself staring again.   He taps your chin to lift your head, still smiling. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

“Uh, sorry, yeah, yes!  Yeah, sure.  Okay.”  You aren’t even totally sure that is your answer, but it rolls out of you instinctively.  Just as instinctively do you whip a startled look to your best friend.  Jisung’s mouth is still hanging open.   “Umm…” you say, but Hyunjin is already standing. 

“Great,” he says.  “See you soon.” 

You watch him walk away.  Jisung speaks through the food in his mouth, chokes, swallows, then clears his throat. 

“What was that?” he finally says. 

“I have no idea,” you reply, completely honestly. 

You cannot compute this situation at all.  Your approach to most social interactions is to scowl.  Because of your father’s many stringent rules, you have never had an opportunity to be truly social.  You play an appropriate role at the functions he forces you to attend, but that entails sitting alone in a corner and sipping soda.  Growing up, you were not allowed to spend time at anyone’s house or go anywhere without supervision, so maintaining friendships was next to impossible. 

The only exception has ever been Han Jisung.  You sat beside each other in your first year and your miserable countenance coupled with his anxious demeanour meant that you spent six months not even talking to each other.  Then one day he mustered the nerve to comment on the weather, you replied accordingly, and somehow that opened a floodgate to unleash the goofy boy that would become your best and only friend. 

Your social experience is limited to that.  You are someone who sits with your best friend in a corner, staring at an unattainable pretty boy at a distance, but you have never had to grapple with the reality of one asking for your attention. 

You look at Felix, but he has drawn a somber mask over his face.  He pokes at his sandwich.  He can’t lecture you in front of Jisung but you know he has something to say.  A part of you wishes it was jealousy or any personal feeling, but you know it will only be a reminder about your father, that he wouldn’t approve of you running around with any unknown boys.  

When you leave the shop with Hyunjin, you already know Felix and Jisung will follow close behind.  Felix has no choice, but you are certain Jisung will require little convincing.  You pretend you do not see them trailing six feet back, partially obscuring themselves in the occasional bush, but Hyunjin naturally looks at them. 

“You’re not…” he says slowly.  “You’re not dating… one of them… are you?  They’re really—”

“They’re just my crazy friends,” you say in an embarrassed rush.  “Jisung is like my brother, ew, I could never – ew.  Ew.  Oh my god, ew.   And Felix—” 

You woke this morning with Felix’s face nuzzled in the back of your neck.  The distance in that big bed closed long ago now.  You only sleep apart when your father is home.  You also never talk about it, not that you could articulate your feelings anyway.  The intimacy and companionship provides more comfort to your soul than you could ever say.    

You swallow. 

“I’m not dating Felix,” you say.  “I’m not dating anyone.”  This thought prompts you to look at Hyunjin.   Rather ungracefully, you blurt the obvious question, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?  Why are you talking to me?”

He laughs into his palm.  You realize belatedly just how accusatory you sounded, especially considering his attention might be wholly platonic.  Embarrassed, you trip over your words, your tongue a suddenly clumsy thing.

Hyunjin just giggles.

“It’s okay,” he says.   “No one ever calls me out like that.  I like it.”  He bumps shoulders with you.  Wait, is he flirting?  You have no idea.  You stare at the ground with laser intensity.  He just giggles again.  “We broke up before lunch—”

“Wow, you moved on fast,” you say.  Dry remarks tumble out of you easier than anything else.  You bite your tongue, embarrassed again. 

Hyunjin still looks amused.   

“It wasn’t really serious,” he says.  “I’m looking for some with similar life experience, to be honest…”

You crinkle your brow and look at him.  His hands are in his pockets, his slouch casual, but you swear his eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

“I saw you,” he says.  “At that horse race thing.  This last weekend?  You were in the box with your dad, right?  Felix was with you too.” 

The horse race was an end-of-summer event your father sponsored, one of his community philanthropic efforts.  You spent the whole time frowning under a sun hat, only smiling when Felix muttered something scalding about a particularly overdramatic hat in the crowd. 

A crowd Hyunjin was apparently in. 

You have always known Hyunjin comes from money, but there is money and there is money.  The Hwang family might be rich but your father is powerfully wealthy.  You run in different circles.  You have never seen Hyunjin at any event so you would never even think to look for him.   They must be moving up in the world. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not even a dry retort. 

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says.  He touches your shoulder and your attention zeroes in there.  You can’t decide if you like him touching you.  An hour ago you were idly daydreaming about kisses and touches, but the reality is a different thing.   It took you a long time to warm to Felix, bit by bit, touch by touch.  Even those touches terrify you in their own way.  You are scared of needing them.  You do not know how you can simultaneously desire touch and fear it more than anything. 

Hyunjin uses a soothing tone, drawing your gaze away from his hand. 

“I get it,” Hyunjin says.  “You don’t want people to know you’re rich, right?  Honestly… I think that’s really cool of you.   My dad likes to show-off so I guess I kinda do the same.”  You glance at his brand-name leather satchel.  “Everything is about appearances to him.  It doesn’t even matter what’s true as long as everything looks the way he wants.  There’s an… image… for the family.  And I’m an only child so there’s expectations.  Maybe I’m not making sense.”

“No,” you say, your thoughts drifting to your own home life. “It makes sense.” 

“I thought maybe you and me could hang out—”

“I don’t really hang out a lot,” you interrupt.  You have been able to spend more time with Jisung now that Felix can accompany you, but it has been at cafes and other controlled locations.  You have not gone to any parties since your father beat Felix.  He has never hurt him as badly as that first incident, but he has struck him more than once.  You have not taken the risk. 

“Think about it at least,” Hyunjin says.  “Think about me.  I think we could be a good match—”

“You mean…”  It might be ungenerous, but you weigh his words and form a conclusion.  “If you date someone like me, it will get your father off your back?” 

He is quiet for a second, surprised, then he laughs again.  He finally drops his hand.  His next smile is a little lopsided but more genuine. 

“Maybe we could help each other,” he says. 

“I didn’t say I need any help,” you reply.  You cannot help the way you bristle, like a vulnerable animal rearing its defensive spikes.  “You don’t know me.”

“I know me,” he says.   “And I recognize… well.  Think about it.”  He looks behind you, his features scrunching with clear repugnance.  “I’m gonna go before your not-boyfriend pops a blood vessel.  Talk to you later?” 

You are still processing the whole exchange but you manage to nod.  He turns on a swift heel and struts ahead. 

You turn, expecting to find Jisung frothing at the mouth given Hyunjin’s departing words.   But it is Felix silently seething, Jisung just cringing beside him. 

Felix cracks his own neck, a couple sharp jerks, then he forces that empty smile onto his face.  

When you are settled in the car at the end of the day, you are not surprised his first words are, “You know I have to tell your father if you start seeing some guy, yeah?” 

“Some guy?” you say just as icily.  “You know his name.”

You have been on edge on all afternoon, discombobulated from the exchange with Hyunjin.  Felix has been unusually silent, so rigid and ungiving that he reminds you of that mysterious fourteen year old boy who barely did more than blink. 

But he is not that boy.  You are both growing.  You can feel the seconds passing you by, every aching minute that your life does not change from its stagnation, every moment of his own life that Felix has surrendered.

You want to jump out of the moving car.  You want to slide across the seat and bury your face in Felix’s neck, no matter that someone can see, and you want him to hug you back. 

You stay seated. 

“Do what you want,” you say with a sigh.  

He sighs too, resting his forehead against the car window. 

The house is empty tonight.   You can’t concentrate on homework so you shuffle down to the gym where Felix is practicing kicks.  You watch him, his nimble athleticism, the perfect arc of each high kick. 

One wall of the house gym is a mirror and your eyes meet in the reflection.  He holds your gaze for a moment, but then he goes back to counting under his breath, kicking again. 

“I thought you liked Hyunjin,” you say. 

He stops kicking.  His hands are taped up for boxing, so he diverts his attention there, slowly unweaving the tape while he catches his breath. 

“This has nothing to do with me,” he says.  “You know that, yeah, so I don’t know what—”  

“Don’t you want to date someone one day too?” 

He doesn’t look up.  He drops the tape on the floor and starts on the next hand. 

“No,” he finally says after a long pause. 

“No?” you repeat.  “You don’t want—”

“I can’t want anything,” he says with a mean bite.  “I have a job.  And responsibilities.”  The tape is too light to throw but he flicks it as hard as he can, shaking his head.  “Why are you asking me stupid questions?  You know how things are.” 

Yes, you do. 

You know what you feel when you look at Felix.  You have been friends with Jisung for years and his proximity has never induced the same feelings.  Bursts of heat find you at unexpected times, usually moments when your intimacy feels its most casual.   But you never have to think twice about why a crush on your bodyguard is a bad idea, because Felix always reminds you without saying anything.  When you get too close, his eyes go glassy with some remembrance and he swiftly pulls away.  

You know this does not stop him from thoughtlessly leaning into your touches.   He slants towards you with a certain kind of hunger, one you know is satisfied when you touch given how he sighs or relaxes.  Then, like someone so used to starvation that emptiness feels natural, he remembers himself and withdraws.  You wouldn’t care – or at least, you shouldn’t care – except it leaves you just as empty. 

You do not know the details of Felix’s past, but you do know that you carry a similar pain.  He recognized it at a glance, all those years ago, seeing past your bravado and calling out your fear.   We’re both scared, he said.

You see it now, in the tension across his shoulders, in the way he avoids your gaze.   The sharpness of his tone is a twin to your own. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “I know how things are.  You’re a pain in my ass and I hate you.” 

It is such an unconvincing lie that he finally lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror.   You look at each other for a long moment. 

You wonder what someone brave would say or do.  Maybe you would tell him the truth and fuck the consequences.  Maybe you would kiss him like you were experienced, like you were anyone but an awkward little girl with clammy hands and shaking knees. 

You turn to leave.   He sighs and says, “Your father said yes.” 

You freeze. 

“He likes the idea of Hyunjin,” Felix continues.  “He thinks he’s… appropriate.”

You remember Hyunjin making out with someone in the middle of the classroom, and you remember how he was once expelled for fighting.  You laugh humourlessly, the sound punching out of you.  You slap a hand over your mouth to contain it.   You suddenly feel like crying and you don’t know why, except that your emotions are in constant flux.

“You mean he thinks he’s rich,” you say. 

“I mean… he doesn’t… think it,” Felix says dryly.  “Hyunjin is rich.” 

Felix can move quietly even in military grade tactical boots.  It should be easy in his gym shoes, but he walks heavily as he comes up behind you. 

“Why don’t you sound happy?” Felix asks. 

You turn around and meet his gaze directly.  Your stare is heated, rife with all your mixed-up emotions, but he does not flinch or look away. 

“You’re an idiot,” you say.  “I hate you.” 

You have never fooled him with that proclamation.  He draws his lips into a thin line, just staring back at you for a moment.  When you turn to leave, he grabs your arm.  Sparks ignite under his touch, shooting all the way up your arm, tickling your neck, raising each hair.   It feels so different from Hyunjin. 

You look at him and he lets go, flexing his hand at his side. 

“I, uh, I want to show you… something.”  He pushes some sweaty hair off his forehead.  His deep voice seems lower, the sound scratching at the base of your spine.  Tingles run all the way up to your head.  

“Show me?” you say.  “Show me what exactly?”

“Self-defence,” he says, brow furrowed, like his train of thought was obvious.  “If your dad lets you go out with some guy—”

“With Hyunjin,” you say, rolling your eyes.  “The dumb gangly gazelle you’ve watched lumber all over the field in gym class?” 

“You should still know how to protect yourself,” he says. 

“Isn’t that what you’re for?” 

“I am going to guess you might be alone with him once or twice,” Felix says dryly, “unless you want to keep me in the room then too.”

The suggestion makes you feel hot, flushed with embarrassment.  You duck your gaze to the floor. 

“You’re being silly,” you say.  “I haven’t even gone out with him yet.  And I’ve never even kissed someone.”  Felix must know that, but admitting it feels different. You look up, feeling floaty and detached from your body, like you are watching yourself look at Felix. 

He clears his throat and looks away, snapping you back. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll practice another day.  But we will practice.” 

You know he means self-defence, but your brain supplies the image of kissing practice.  Your face must show that thought, maybe a sliver of panic in your gaze, because the tips of his ears turn suddenly pink.   He clears his throat again, shaking his head and turning away.   You leave quicker than you came, rushing all the way to the top floor to hide in your bedroom where you intend to mull over your day with maximum angst.

By nighttime, everything seems petty and stupid.  You are laying in bed on your phone when Felix gets back from his security check.  He says nothing, climbing into bed without even looking at you.  You just roll your eyes, done with the drama.  He looks over just in time for you to butt your head against his arm like a disgruntled baby goat.  His laugh is nothing more than a sharp exhale. 

It takes some coaxing, mostly in the form of whining, but Felix puts his arm around you.  Some of the shadows finally leave his face, a smile even daring to poke through. 

You fiddle with the neck of his t-shirt and he does the same with the ends of your hair. 

“Your father had an idea, by the way,” Felix says, “for a first date.” 

You groan, planting your face on his chest.  He laughs, a proper hearty sound.

“What, a picnic in the family dungeons?”  The sarcasm rolls off your tongue.  “Torture?  Flaying the guy alive? Chopping off his—” 

“Ouch.”

“I was gonna say limbs—”  You swat his chest. 

“Okay, okay, ouch, hey!”  He is still chuckling when you settle again.  He squeezes your arm. 

A moment of comfortable silence passes.  You resume your absent-minded fidgeting, twisting the loose material of his t-shirt around your knuckles.  You do not dare meet his eye when you ask, “I know what you said earlier but… if you could… what would you do for a first date?” 

His whole body goes stiff with tension, then he just exhales, a pitiful sound of resignation. 

“There’s no point in thinking about it,” Felix says.  “And I don’t know anyway.  What do people do on dates?” 

“Oh come on, you’ve been watching the dramas with me,” you say, keeping your voice light.  “You could have some ideas.” 

“Well, I don’t,” he says, not unkindly but firmly. 

“Fine,” you say.  You roll over so you are half on-top of him, a leg thrown over his.   You make a show of rolling your eyes, but his returned gaze is too soft for any real animosity to linger.   “For the record, I would plan an amazing first date if I didn’t have my dad – blegh – orchestrating the whole thing.”

“I believe you,” he says with a chuckle.  “I’m sure you would sweep Hyunjin off his feet, hmm?”

“Hmm,” you echo.  “Sure.”  You raise your head so you are peering down at him.  “I don’t even know what Hyunjin would like.  He’s pretty but he’s… I dunno… a liar or something.  Like he obviously just wants to date me because we’re both rich, but he wouldn’t admit it till I said it.  Who knows what other secrets he could be keeping.”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Felix muses.  “Deep, dark secrets… maybe… hmm… his hair routine?”

You laugh before you can stop yourself.  “Don’t be mean,” you say. 

“Uhh, I’m never mean,” Felix says.  “You’re the one who called him a liar.” 

“Or something,” you argue playfully.  He says ahh, like that differentiation mattered at all.  “Maybe he collects teeth from all his dozens of girlfriends.  Or their hair.  Maybe he’s a cannibal.” 

Felix sighs with theatrical exasperation.  “From hair care to cannibalism, really?” he asks. 

“Could be,” you say, trying and failing to stifle your giggles, especially when it makes him laugh.  “He might gobble me all up on the first date.” 

“That would be very rude,” Felix says.  “He should wait until the third date at least.”

“Oh, is that what a gentleman like you would do?”  You laugh.   “Maybe provide a written invitation to the event?” 

“Of course,” he jokes.  “If I planned on eating you, you’d be the first to know.”   

The double-entendre is clearly unintentional, smothering the giggly playfulness with a sudden heady air.  You both hear the accidental suggestion, and you both stare at each other, and you both take too long to say something so it turns awkward.  You become very aware of all the places you are touching, so aware that you cannot compel yourself to move thanks to sudden nerves. 

Felix reliably comes to his senses first.   He nudges you gently, forcing himself to laugh as he slides out of the bed. 

“Umm, sorry,” he says.  He shoves a hand through his hair, the blonde fluffing with his rough touch. “I just need to… uh… bathroom?  I’ll be... um, back.”

You return to your side of the bed where you curl into a ball of appropriately eighteen-year-old angst.  Your current state of peril has nothing to do with power-corrupt businessmen and their fragile egos, and everything to do with a boy in your bed.   You shove your face in a pillow and keep it there until he returns.   You do not look at him, still too riled up in the silent tension.    

You are convinced you will never fall asleep but it inevitably sneaks up on you.  All at once, you are blinking awake in the morning light.   You drifted closer to Felix in your sleep but kept your hands to yourself.  You are both laying on your fronts, faces turned to each other.  He sleeps so lightly that he wakes from the faintest shift in the cadence of your breathing.   

The sleepy quiet of morning has none of the awkwardness of late night silence.  It feels hazy and gentle in its golden breath, held long enough for your hands to meet between you.  It is the only place you are touching, fingertip to palm to knuckle and back again.  Your whole head goes fuzzy with tingles when he traces the pad of your palm.   

You think about the many romance stories you have surreptitiously read on your laptop, flipping between smut and homework.   In all those stories, it seems that when the hapless leads find themselves sharing a bed, they manage to entangle themselves overnight, always suggestively, always accidentally. 

You do not appear to have that kind of luck, that accident of circumstance where you are not responsible for your own actions.  Instead you are laying in the sunlight, lit up so brightly that there could be no mistaking intention, his dark eyes catching the light as he looks at you as if he knows what you are thinking. 

It has to be deliberate.  Nothing will change on its own.  

Is this combination of terror and desire normal?  Is it simply a matter of age and inexperience?  Or is it in indication of damage, something inherently broken in you?   When your fingers interlock, it feels wonderful.  It also activates alarms in your head, none of them equipped with an off switch. 

You close your eyes.  He breathes and you know him so well that you recognize him by that, by the way he inhales sharply, like he has suddenly remembered where and who he is.  You know it means he is about to pull away. 

Sudden, sharp, panicked adrenaline propels you out of your timid repose and into his arms.   It is not so different from the millions of times he has held you, except this time you are frantic and strange, your heart beating wildly as you hide your face in his neck and cling to him like he will float away if you don’t hold tight enough. 

It surprises him.  He has the skill to deflect an attack but he lets you barrel into him, taking your weight with little more than an oof.   For a moment, he does nothing, his arms open at his sides.  You feel his shoulder twitch. 

He says your name in sleep-rough voice, barely more than a whisper.  A reminder, scolding you but half-heartedly.  You know what he sounds like when he is mad, when emotion slips through the cracks of his careful facades.   This emotion is not anger. 

“Felix,” is your reply. 

His next breath shudders out of him, sounding almost painful.  Then the arm beneath you shifts.  He touches your lower back tentatively, through your t-shirt yet hesitating like the contact might burn skin.  Another breath, then his palm is flat on your back and he is rolling onto his side to face you.  

Your heart is leaping around like it is being electrocuted, sparks of electricity zapping to every extremity as his other hand curls around your bicep.  His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is open, nothing but another shaking breath passing his lips. 

You touch his face with trembling fingers, the very tips lightly brushing his temple.  You know, on some level, this is nothing deserving of alarm despite the cacophony still ringing in your head.  This is little more than an intimate embrace, fully-clothed and only barely touching each other. 

You are not even kissing.  With your adrenaline in the dregs, you cannot push yourself across that space.  Instead, you find yourself staring into his face when his eyes open.  You look at each other, forced to reckon with your proximity, looking at his mouth while he looks at yours.  There is no denying this could be a kiss, that it would require very little more than a lean.

His knuckles skim your side as his hand slips from your arm to your waist.  Your breath catches when he lays his hand on your hip, not moving or pushing but holding.     

Still such simple touches.  You wonder how other people can do more so easily when this alone is overwhelming.   

Your morning alarm is not due to ring for another twenty minutes.  There is nothing to disturb you.  You press your fingers into his shoulder.  This already has him tensing, then you scratch your nails along the nape of his neck, up into his hair, and it unravels him with a shiver, eyes closing and cheek pressing hard into his pillow. 

He wrenches away all at once, making a noise like it hurts to do so.   You feel dizzy as you stare at the indentation on his pillow while he swings his leg off the bed.  He doubles over, elbows on his knees, hands on his face.  He digs his fists into his eyes and scrubs hard.  He takes a minute to catch his breath.    

Eventually he stands.  He pauses like he intends to speak but then he just pivots into the bathroom.  The door shuts with a heavy click. 

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling.   You have no idea if he is coming right back, but you know this intimate moment has conclusively ended.  Your whole body is alight, the places he touched you still radiating sensation.  There is such a desperate pulsing between your legs that you can’t help but touch there, palm pressing hard to quell the incessant thrum of want. 

You really do not intend to do more.   You only just barely know the mechanics for touching yourself thanks to reading, but you are afforded little opportunity for discovery due to obvious reasons.   You do not know how fast he will return, but you doubt you have enough time to work it all out. 

You slide a hand under your clothes only to temper the worst of that wanting, applying pressure clumsily.   Your eyes close when you feel how ridiculously wet you are, far more than you have ever felt before.   Your mind then projects the unbidden image of Felix, wondering if he is on the other side of that bathroom door touching himself in a similar way.

It makes you gasp, turning your head, heel of your palm still pressing down hard inside your shorts.  You open your eyes just in time for Felix to step back into the room. 

He looks at you and completely freezes.  You have never felt more like a deer caught in the headlights. 

He turns and stumbles back into the bathroom, uncharacteristically clumsy.  You yank your hand out of your shorts and roll onto your front, shrieking into your pillows with a combination of frustration and embarrassment. 

What is my life, you ask yourself.   You really have no answer. 

-

The first date with Hyunjin is not a proper date at all.  Your father extends an invitation to Hyunjin and his parents, requesting their presence at another one of his good-press charity functions.  

This one is a silent auction and banquet in a luxurious hotel ballroom.  Despite the fact you attend the same school, you are formally introduced at the party, the whole charade making you feel like a ridiculous character in a historical drama.

You are already more than a little grumpy because Felix is not here, your father logically determining that his own security entourage was plenty for the night.  There is also the matter of Felix’s cover.  Hyunjin knows him as a student and your friend, not a bodyguard.  You will have to tell him eventually if this goes anywhere but—

That thought abruptly sends you on one of your overthinking spirals.  If your father intends to force this relationship along, you do not know if he will fire Felix rather than explain him, if one day you will suddenly go home and your bedroom will be empty, Felix gone without a trace and you with no way to contact him.   

Your throat strains with a choked back sob as you struggle to remember every little detail about Felix – the animes he claims he only watches because Jisung does, but that he definitely secretly enjoys, the horrified lemon-sour face he pulls when he accidentally drinks your coffee instead of his sugar-laden tea, the way he likes taking apart electronics and rebuilding them, his sharp mind, his goofy wit, his complete and total weirdness that he skillfully masks in public but drops at home.   That house could be full of people but if Felix was no longer there, it would feel horribly empty. 

“Are you okay?”  Hyunjin asks.  He looks resplendent in white, his dark hair a sharp contrast to his dress shirt and pants.  Other people are swooning at the sight of him.  You have not looked at him for longer than a few seconds at a time.  

“Sorry,” you say.  You take a swig of water like it’s hard liquor.  You try to smile but you can feel how crooked it is.  “Just… the parties are a lot.”  It is only a partial lie.  Your mind is somewhere else, but the parties are a lot to handle. 

Hyunjin smiles.  He props his chin in his hand and leans towards you.  “Good company makes them better, though,” he says. 

“Yeah.”  You look away again, staring out the window at the cityscape and thinking about Felix.  “It does, doesn’t it?” 

The ordeal is a success by your father’s standards.  You sit with Hyunjin all night.  You dance a few clumsy dances where you scuff his expensive dress shoes with your missteps.  You wander onto a balcony and he gives you his coat.  Beat for beat, moment by moment, it all goes perfectly. 

A moment that genuinely moves you is the only one your father does not care about.  Conversation between you and Hyunjin is stilted for a long while, then someone mentions one of the paintings up for auction and he lights up.  No one else acknowledges it, so you ask him about it.  You do not miss the warning look his father shoots him, but when you smile at Hyunjin like he is the most charming person alive, it placates him.

Hyunjin does not observe most of this.  Once you let him talk about the art, he cannot stop.  He becomes someone else when immersed in this subject, more animated, more open, much more sincere.  You could almost like this Hyunjin. 

You like him even more when he forgets his propriety and snorts at your derision for a few pompous assholes.  This party is crawling with creepy elites, only a few known to Hyunjin.  You catch him up on the latest high society nonsense, pointing out the affairs and scandals, as well as telling him which few individuals are somewhat more tolerable.

You are leaning against a wall, licking the icing off a cupcake, when he suddenly smiles at you, big and huge.  You choke on the sugar.  You feel hot under your skin, wondering if you were accidentally suggestive with your licking, but he doesn’t comment on that at all. 

“I’ve never known someone who sees people so well,” he says.  “Especially somewhere like this.  Everyone is a bit—”

“Off in their own world?” You share a giggle.  “I’m just bored,” you say, deflecting the compliment because Hyunjin doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  You do not see anything special in your observations, just your own loneliness as you sit back and watch the world go by. 

You don’t tell him that.   You distract him by pointing to another figure across the room, a well-dressed older man flanked by his own entourage.  You can separate the immensely wealthy from the nouveau riche by appearance.  The former are sleekly sophisticated at events like this, almost nonchalant in their presentation, whereas the latter overdress themselves to flaunt their wealth, as if they feel the need to prove they belong.  The former know where they belong. 

This man is undeniably the former. 

“You see that man over there?” you whisper, pointing discreetly with your cupcake.  “That’s Mister Miroh.   He is my father’s biggest competitor and most hated rival.  They are exactly the same person and trust me, that’s not a compliment.  They hate each other more than anything.”  You say this very casually then take a bite of your cupcake. 

“Huh?” Hyunjin’s brow furrows, making you laugh.  “If they hate each other, why was he invited?”

“Because rich people are insane,” you say.  “It’s just about keeping up appearances.  Yeah, they’re rivals, but that also makes them equals, so it’s bad form to neglect them in public company.”  Hyunjin nods here, clearly understanding.  You remember what he said about his own parents and appearances.  You must admit, it is nice talking to someone who understands you from his own first-hand experience.  “Also,” you say, “I’m sure it’s like that saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  If Miroh is here, then he’s not off somewhere disrupting my father’s business while his back is turned.” 

“This is exhausting,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head. 

“No kidding.”  You laugh again.  When Hyunjin looks at you with a dimpled smile, you smile back.  It feels friendly, not like his forced flirtatious grins earlier in the evening.  You like this Hyunjin more.  “You want some cupcake?” you ask, holding up the very big, very rich dessert. 

Hyunjin eyes it then shakes his head.  He tucks some hair behind his ears. 

“I’m supposed to be on a diet,” he explains, laughing at your expression because you cannot hide your horror.  “It’s not a bad thing—” he starts. 

“You are so skinny, a hard wind could blow you out the window,” you say, shoving the cupcake at him.  “You said I was good at seeing people, well, I can see you want the cupcake.  So eat it or I’ll push you off the balcony.” 

He looks around to see if anyone is looking but his parents are occupied with their own conversations.   He looks at you conspiratorially then acquiesces, finishing the cupcake in just a couple big bites.   You applaud and he shakes his head, laughing and spitting little flakes of cupcake.  It makes you laugh more.  He is in good humour the whole time, even if it takes a second to swallow all that cake. 

“What else do you see?” he says when you are both settled.  He is relaxed from all the giggling. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as you remember the cannibalism conversation, supposing he might not want to hear that precisely.   

“When you look at me,” he says.  He tips his chin as if striking a pose.  “Tell me my fortune.”

“I’m not a psychic,” you say, nudging his shoulder, but nonetheless you oblige and strike your own pose, a finger on your chin as you consider him.  “Hmmm.”  You look him up and down, the showman smile, the little crumb of cake on his lip.  “I think you’re very smart and very handsome,” you start.

“I like it so far,” he says.

Smiling, you roll your eyes.  “And,” you say, “I think you know your strengths and how to use them to make people look at you.  Or at least – to look at what you want them to see.”  You watch his brow furrow, his hand disappearing into the length of his sleeve as his fingers curl up.  “I think you have more going on than anyone knows,” you say.  “And I think those parts of you might be the best, and I’m sorry that you have someone telling you it’s the part you have to hide.”  His gaze is cast low at nothing in particular.  It seems to scan the floor thoughtfully.   You laugh to brighten the mood.  “Parents,” you say.  “Image.  Expectation.  Whatever.” 

“Yeah.”  He smiles at you again.  It is not one of his fake, smarmy grins, but it is not his carefree smile either.  It is polite, and it doesn’t reach his eyes, darkly reflecting a familiar sadness back to you.   “Whatever,” he echoes.  Then he stands straight and offers his hand, his face once more shielded with a showy, flirtatious demeanour.  “Wanna dance?” 

You do, and it pleases the parents, and the night passes.  You and Hyunjin share an amiable glance before going your separate ways.

When you arrive home, Felix is sitting in the kitchen reading a book for school.  He is not obliged to do the readings but he seems to enjoy it, certainly more than you.   You never thought you would be so happy to see such a simple sight, Felix at the counter with a book.  Fortunately, you are a smart enough to mask your enthusiasm around your father.   

You don’t have to worry because your father pays you no mind.  With your purpose evidently served, your father dismisses you for the night and calls Felix to his office for a debriefing. 

You step inside your walk-in closet to change clothes.  You frown at your dress, once more thinking about all those romance stories.  If the dress had a zipper, you would need help, then you could ask Felix to unzip it, and it would be an excuse to initiate contact without you truly propositioning him.  But the dress slides off easily, so you put on shorts and a t-shirt, then you are sitting in bed scrolling on your phone. 

You are in a good mood as you usually are when you get back from a party, happy it is over.  The energy you stored to endure the socializing can now simmer to a pleasant hum.  You are also extra happy to see Felix after dreading his demise all night.  Those worries seem silly now.  You will always need a bodyguard and Felix is reliable. 

Then you feel terrible for thinking that, because you should want Felix to go.  He should not be here at all, trapped with you in this nightmare.  Then you start thinking about Felix and his past nightmares.  If Felix disappeared without a trace one day, it would not be to freedom.  It might be to something worse again.     

Even though you feel uneasy, gazing at his empty side of the bed, you fall asleep before Felix returns.  You wake in the darkness to Felix leaning over you.  He carefully extracts your phone to place it on the bedside table.  You fell asleep awkwardly slumped, clutching it. 

You are barely awake, still half-dreaming about him disappearing, about what worse nightmares might chase him from your arms.  You wrap yourself around him completely, arms around his middle, head on his chest, leg curled around his, the totality of your embrace surprising him.  He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates in his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, settling as comfortably as he can with you twisted around him like an amorous vine. 

“Nothing,” you mumble into his shirt.  “Just missed you.”

“It was just one night,” he says. 

“Mmph,” is your sleepy rejoinder.  You reach for his hand and slap it onto your back, groaning.  He gets the message and strokes your back with a gentle sweep.  You start to doze again, snuggled and warm, then he clears his throat.  You recognize the sound as his warm-up to vocalizing something awkward. 

“I guess, uhhh, I guess things went well… with Hyunjin… tonight, yeah?” he says.  He clears his throat again.  “Your father gave me an itinerary for future dates and arrangements…” 

“I’m gonna blow this fucking house up,” you grumble.

He chuckles.  His touch is absent-minded now, a lazy caress as his attention strays. 

“Did he, uh, did he… kiss you?”  Felix asks.  His hand stops altogether, freezing low on your spine.  “Not that I—I’m just wondering.  Because of what you said before.  It’s, like, a big deal to girls I guess, right.  So I wasn’t sure—” 

“No, Felix,” you say, rolling your eyes.  “I’m still very unkissed and very pathetic, so don’t worry about my honour.” 

You lift your head to give him a withering stare, but his face is very close and he is already looking at you.  You have not spoken about the previous morning.  Every second comes rushing back when you meet his eye, when his gaze flickers down to your mouth for a brief but hypnotizing second. 

“You’re not pathetic,” he says, just above a whisper.  That ridiculous voice of his rumbles so low when he speaks this softly.  It’s like the sound is directly connected to something inside you, tugging when he speaks, waking up every sleeping nerve. 

“Sure,” you reply, at a loss for any other retort.  

His mouth is a perfect bow.  You look away from it, resorting to your natural expression: a glare, intensely and resolutely locked on his eyes. 

“Well, I’ve never kissed anyone,” Felix says, drole.  “Am I pathetic?” 

“That’s different,” you say, not meaning anything by it.  It’s an automatic response, meant to simply dismiss his very good point. 

But you feel him tense.  The silence feels heavy.  You belatedly realize how he might have interpreted that.  That’s different because you’re not a person like the rest of us.

You are trying to think of an appropriate apology when he gently moves you, shaking himself free of your embrace. 

“You should sleep over there tonight,” he says.  “Your father is home and I’m—  I’m.  I should be over here.  Anyway.” 

He turns over, putting his back to you.  Even though it feels like your whole head is on fire, you muster the resolve to slide closer.  Then you lean over and kiss his cheek. 

You flop onto your back and stare at the ceiling. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

You look at him but he hasn’t moved.  Your lips are tingling from that simple, stupid touch and you feel so ridiculous that you want to shriek.  You suffice to close your eyes, shaking your head like that will erase the last sixty seconds of your life.  You look at the ceiling again, face twisted up with pain. 

That falls away when Felix flips over.  He was so still and so quiet that it genuinely startles you.  You swear your heart stops when he leans over you with a determined expression, one you usually only see when he is working out hard.  Your stopped breath is a cluster in your throat, your voice tangled in it.  Your mouth is open and eyes wide when he cups the back of your neck and lifts your head. 

Your heart starts all over again, pumping so fast that you are scared it will leap right out of your chest. 

He leans down.  He kisses your forehead for one second, two, three.  You count it.  Your fingers curl up.  Your eyes feel huge.  You look at him when he pulls away, his expression morose.  He does not meet your gaze. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says. 

He lays your head on your pillow and rolls away, his back to you once more. 

You fall asleep on opposite sides of the huge bed, so close and so far.  Your sleep is fitful and uneasy and you keep waking to check if he is still there. 

It is very early when you fully wake, the pale blue of morning only just seeping into the gloaming.  It is a quiet hour but despite its gentle ambiance, you are woken with a fright.  You settle when you realize it is just Felix grabbing you.   He crossed the bed to gather you into his arms, mumbling an apology but nonetheless wrapping himself around you. 

You realize he had a nightmare.  He has not had one in a while.   Your back is to him so you reach around to pat him consolingly. 

You shiver when he exhales, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck, but you do not linger on the sensation.  The previous morning and all its stirrings are far from mind now.  He is upset so you comfort him, simple as that, letting him wrap his arms around your middle and rest his head against yours.  Your thighs sit neatly against his, bodies slotted together neatly,  like it is the most natural place to be.    

“Can you, uhh, just…”  He clears his throat.  “Can you talk… to me… please.” 

Felix does not like to talk about his nightmares but he does like a distraction.  You are the same.  There are times you wake in a fit and he speaks in a soft voice to lull you back to rest.  Your voice is not as unique as his, lacking the deep dulcet colour, but he seems to like listening anyway. 

You tell him about the party, all the frivolous details and gossip.  Two women wore the same dress, what a scandal, someone dropped a pearl earring, what a loss.   This couple broke up, that couple is having an affair.  Miroh was there and predictably austere the entire night—

Felix was beginning to relax but he tightens his grip when you mention Miroh. 

Your voice trails off. 

Your father has many enemies but Miroh is his only true rival.  You are not directly involved in any business but you pay attention to your father and his work.  You know about the political bribery and the underhanded dealings and the illegal trading.   You know Miroh is the same except he is also a military man, that he has dark connections and turns a profit on some very backward schemes.   Of course, your father depicts his rival as a worse villain than himself, so it is hard to say precisely what Miroh does, but you know the look of a bad man regardless.  

You have suspected for some time that Miroh played a part in Felix’s dark past.  You do not know what or how or why, as you have never pushed Felix to tell you, but you know Felix well.  Your father has many enemies and Felix is always alert, but Miroh receives extra vigilance.   Every trace of your companion will disappear before your eyes, replaced with an emotionless soldier.

You feel all that tension in his body now.  He is holding his breath. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask in a small voice.  It is a vague admittance to your suppositions.

A little tension leaves his body with a humourless laugh, the breath bursting on your neck. 

“No,” he says.  “Not… not right now.” 

“Okay,” you reply.  There is a moment of silence.  Your heart is beating hard, his pounding as fast, his chest pressed against your back.  You shift in his lap. “What do you want then?”

That laugh again, a little more pained.  Then he sighs. 

“I don’t know,” he says in a rough voice.  “Just… distract me.” 

Just like that, the energy shifts, at least inside of you.  You know very well what would distract him, having witnessed the other morning just how to rattle your bodyguard.  The recollection alone has you flushed with heat, embarrassed and nervous and exhilarated all at the same time. 

It has always been hard for you to do the simple, normal thing.  You cannot smile for a long time, you cannot make pleasant small talk, you cannot kiss the boy you like.  But the difficult feats, the outlandish actions, those you have always done with ease.   You argue with your terrifying father, you break out of cages, you throw yourself into dangerous situations with little sense of self-preservation. 

You cannot turn and sweet-talk him.  You cannot lean over and kiss him.  You cannot smile and implore him. 

You can stare ahead through the pale light, warm with memory and fantasy alike, and slide your hand down between your legs.  With a little swivel of your hips, you press against his lap.  The effect is remarkably instantaneous, the adrenaline of his fears seemingly diverting course at the merest suggestion. 

He makes a choked noise, then his hand is overtop yours.  You always forget how strong he is, all that hidden power and dexterity.  He clutches your hand with ungiving control, down between your legs, over your shorts, preventing you from going further.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, his stern voice as affecting as a touch.  It makes you whimper.   

His hips shift.  His baggy shorts do little for modesty and you can feel him twitch with interest, stiffening against your backside.  You try to move your hand but he pins your wrist and says your name warningly. 

“I won’t touch you,” you whisper.  “You don’t have to touch me.”

“Other people are home—”

“Then stop talking and be quiet,” you say.  It is always easier to be brazen when you are arguing or asserting a point, so when he releases your hand, you slide it into your shorts without a second thought.  It is only once you’re there that you realize you don’t really know what you’re doing.  Your belligerence only takes you so far. 

Then Felix breathes a surrendering sigh.  He squeezes your hips with trembling hands and rolls away, onto his back.  You spill onto your back too and look at him.  You feel vulnerable and uncertain until he closes his eyes and touches himself through his shorts.  The sight makes it easy to stir a reaction under your clumsy fingers, watching his hand cup and stroke the shape of himself through his shorts.  You slip the other hand down there too, spreading yourself to your own exploratory touch.  You press and rub and circle, your heartbeat thundering erratically when he opens his eyes and looks at you. 

Your lips part but you withhold all noise, breathing hard into the dark as his hand dips under his waistband.  His eyes are cast low to where your own hands move under your clothes, your fingers moving more frantically than his lazy stroking. 

When you finally find a place and pattern that feels right, your breathing gets heavier, a soft whine slipping into your exhale.   His reflexes are quick as ever.  His arm slips under your head and curls around your neck, hand covering your mouth to catch the surprised yelp that passes your lips.

“Shh,” he says.

And for some reason that takes you over the building crest.  Your body curls, tight as coil even while a white heat unravels inside you.  You gasp into his palm, eyes closing, swallowing down your own sounds.   

You are still twitching with aftershocks when you grab his hand with your very wet fingers.  You are not thinking about that, you are still hazy and powered by instinct, prying his hand off your face. 

But he realizes it.  He makes another choked-up sound and looks at the closed door, his breathing coming out hard through his nose.  He pulls his arm back, closes his eyes.  His hand, wet with you, just hovers for a second. 

You watch him.  His mouth is open and his eyes are closed and his hair is falling in a messy sweep around his handsome face.  You are slow in your approach, giving him time to open his eyes, to see your own hand near his face.  

He exhales sharply and his eyes close tight.  He grabs your hand and pulls it to his mouth, your own sex pulsing with renewed interest when he licks across your fingers then lets two curl into his mouth, just resting on his tongue.  He finishes a second later, shoulders hunching and face screwed up, freckles dancing like a dark constellation. 

You bring your shaking hand to your own lips, tentatively kissing the fingers he had in his mouth.  He blinks his eyes open slowly, gazing at the ceiling for a second then looking at you.   When he sees you, your lips pursed against your fingertips, his mouth opens and closes with some unspoken thought, desperate to vocalize.   In the end he swallows it down and closes his eyes.   He nods sharply. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice ragged.  “Thank you.  Sleep.  You should…  You should.  Um.  I’ll just—”

He shakes his head and rolls out of bed, then darts into the bathroom.  The shower starts.   You look at your clock and see you have more than an hour to your alarm. 

You lay your head on your pillow but you do not fall back asleep.   

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Less Talk | Part III

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

You’re watching Jake so grimly that he almost wants to give you a hug. But, the next moment, you let out a heated sigh and shake your head irritably. “God, Jake, nothing happened,” you say, as if he’s the one who’s shown up at your doorstep unannounced in the dead of night.

He gives you a stony look that, unfortunately, you don’t see because you’re no longer watching him, so his efforts go completely unnoticed. “If nothing happened, then why are you here? Past midnight. Crying.” To his chagrin, the tone of his voice is far too vexed to emulate the indifferent attitude he means to preserve.

You lick your lips and sniffle. “We had a fight,” you say.

Jake stares at you impatiently, waiting for you to look back up. When you don’t, he says, “You fight with everybody.”

This makes you look. He’s dreadfully satisfied with peeving you – the only satisfaction you’ll likely ever give him. “It was a big one, obviously.”

Jake studies the expression on your face, trying to gauge whether or not you’re hiding something. “Where is he?” he asks, feeling like he needs to punch something. And soon.

You take a long time to respond – so long that Jake almost poses the question for a second time. “I don’t know,” you finally say.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

You shrug, your lips beginning to tremble anew. “He just left.”

What Jake experiences at the sight of the fresh tears filling your eyes is abhorrent. The simultaneous desire to alleviate your pain and beat the living shit out of Mustang offsets his entire world in a way that puts your well-being at the top of his priority list. Hell, he doesn’t even have a priority list. You are it. And with this absurd notion weighing on the ever-growing vortex of his newly discovered emotions, he resolves to tell you just what he thinks of your idiotic boyfriend. “Well, he’s obviously a moron,” he says curtly.

You glance up at him again, less angry than before. “He’s a lot like you in that respect,” you say with a hint of a smile.

Jake scoffs and, before he can stop himself, says, “I would never walk out on you.”

You stare at him for a moment before lowering your gaze awkwardly.

Jake cringes, realizing that he could have said just about anything else and it would have been better. Moreover, in his attempt to rectify the situation, he blurts out this obnoxious tidbit: “You’d never let me hear the end of it.”

You roll your eyes but then you bite into your bottom lip and your eyebrows lift inward. You glance up at him woefully and say, “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Jake watches you carefully, wondering why you’d care what he might have to say on the matter. He tries to determine what his response might be before deciding if he’s going to be honest. On the one hand, you are that bad. On the other, when it comes to you, bad takes on an entirely different connotation. “You could be worse,” he responds vaguely.

You stare at him miserably. “You can’t stand me,” you remind him.

Jake nearly laughs; that’s how absurd he finds your statement. “Well, that’s more or less mutual, is it not?”

You nod slowly.

“In any case, it’s hardly relevant since I’m not your boyfriend.”

“But what does that say about me?” you ask. “I piss off everyone around me. You said it yourself, I just can’t shut up.”

“Why should you?” he says, his anger flaring despite his every effort to control it. His response seems to catch you off-guard because you blink up at him sharply. “I just mean, who cares if you piss someone off? That’s not a you problem,” he reasons, although he’s painfully aware of just how much he’s contradicting his every complaint where you’ve been concerned.

“Well, it’s kind of my problem if my boyfriend hates me,” you say, your mouth finally relaxing into the beginnings of a smile.

Jake cocks his head to the side and purses his lips. “I don’t know,” he says. “Sounds like you just need a new boyfriend.”

You scoff and turn away. The moment your back is to him, Jake shuts his eyes and passes a hand over his face with a silent sigh. He watches you travel the length of his living room and unplug a fan that isn’t turned on. “You shouldn’t keep your electric appliances plugged in when they aren’t in use,” you mutter absently. “You’re wasting energy.”

Jake rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How much energy does a table fan waste when it isn’t even on?”

You shrug, glancing over your shoulder. “How many electrical devices do you currently have plugged in that aren’t ‘even on’?” you ask, using air quotes to emphasize the final two words. “It adds up, thereby increasing your carbon footprint. Imagine everybody lived as carelessly as you do?”

Jake grins broadly. “The horror.”

You nod without the tiniest bit of amusement. “My thoughts exactly.”

Jake watches you resignedly, not at all surprised that you’ve found yet another reason to reproach him. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

You eye him suspiciously, as if you don’t quite trust that he won’t poison your food.

“We’ve got some leftovers,” he says, nodding toward the kitchen through the corridor. “Have you eaten?” You consider his offer at length as though he’s proposed a shotgun wedding rather than a pot roast. “Come on,” he says, waving you over as he makes his way into the hallway. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about my cooking.”

…

“This is surprisingly good,” you comment as Jake pours you a glass of wine.

Jake chuckles. “That might be the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You lick your lips and smile up at him as he takes a seat across from you at the table, popping the cap off a beer. “Your turn,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows.

Jake sneers and then guzzles half his bottle in one gulp. He sets the beer down to find you watching him expectantly.

“You can’t think of anything?” you ask incredulously.

Jake runs a hand across his chin, watching your smile widen at the thought of him having nothing decent to say about you. Ironically, he can’t think of a single thing that isn’t nice, which is truly agitating him. He racks his brain trying to come up with at least one negative quality because something about you drives him absolutely crazy.

You sigh, returning your attention to your plate. “It’s fine, Seresin,” you say. “Don’t think so hard, I know you aren’t accustomed to it.”

“That,” Jake says, leaning into the table as he points a finger in your direction. “That sharp sense of humor.”

You raise your eyebrows with a laugh. “Oh, you think I’m joking?” You tilt your head sympathetically, but your smile remains.

Jake meets your gaze with an affectionate smirk, silently listing off every other ‘nice’ thing about you, including, but not limited to, the sound of your laughter. He swallows uncomfortably when you don’t look away, unsettled by the unrest in the pit of his stomach that churns every time your eyes meet. He tries to regulate his breathing before it becomes apparent that you’re actively rattling him.

The creak of the front door interrupts the obscenely prolonged period of mutual eye fucking contact. You glance toward the corridor while Jake disconcertedly rubs his eyes.

“Y/N?” Bradley says, walking into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” You sigh, setting down your fork and reverting to your previously dejected state.

“Don’t tell me you guys had another fight,” Bradley says jadedly. He glances over at Jake with a grave expression which Jake means to completely ignore.

“He stormed out,” you say, sighing into your half-eaten plate. “I think I really ticked him off this time.”

Jake gives Bradley an unimpressed look when the latter starts thrusting his head around to indicate that Jake should add something to the conversation. Jake takes another gulp of his beer.

“He shouldn’t be taking off,” Bradley says when Jake remains silent. “I don’t care how angry he is.” He looks to Jake for approval.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Why are we still talking about this dumbass?”

Bradley eyes him pointedly. “Didn’t realize you’ve already discussed him,” he says, glancing between you and Jake.

You pick your fork back up and start stabbing at the meat on your plate.

“How was the rest of your evening, Rooster?” Jake asks, avoiding looking directly at him.

“Pretty good,” Bradley responds, and Jake can hear the glee in his tone without even seeing his ridiculous grin. “Yours?”

Jake aims a disdainful scowl in his direction. “Bradshaw,” he says. “You look tired.”

Bradley holds back a laugh and then turns to you. “Y/N, do you want to talk?”

You look up at your best friend with a weary smile. Your gaze slips to briefly glance at Jake before you shake your head at Bradley. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”

Bradley gives you a hug and heads for the stairs, pausing momentarily to throw Jake a final, cautionary look before heading to bed.

“I should go,” you say once Bradley leaves.

“You sure?” Jake asks. “You haven’t criticized my dishwashing skills yet. I bet I use too much water.”

You give him an amused look as you rise from your chair. “Recognizing the problem is the first step.”

He recognizes the problem alright; it’s standing right before him. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” you say musingly. “In this case, I would say action.”

Jake nods, getting out of his seat. “I could use some of that, for sure.”

Your gaze lingers on him as you let out a soft laugh. You’re an entire table length away and yet he can feel the force of your presence as though you were pressed up against him.

“You could stick around,” he offers casually. “We could watch a movie or something.”

You continue studying him brazenly. “I’d probably ruin it for you.”

He laughs. “We could watch something I already don’t like.”

You smile back at him. “Haven’t you done that enough for one evening?”

Jake doesn’t altogether know how to respond without making it painfully obvious just how much he doesn’t not like you. “Yeah,” he says finally. “So, what’s another couple of hours?”

You’re watching him thoughtfully which makes him almost hopeful that you might agree to stay, but then you respond with, “Maybe another time.”

He nods, keeping his eyes trained on yours. “Another time,” he agrees. But as you head for the door, he decides to try another tactic. “Should you be driving after having that wine?” he asks.

You give him a flat look. “I had half a glass. If that.”

Jake shrugs slightly. “It was a big glass.”

You roll your eyes. “It’ll be fine, Seresin.” You reach for the doorknob.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if, for once, he came home, and you weren’t there?” he asks.

You look at him sharply. “He won’t be home for hours.”

Jake gestures at the open living room. “We have several fine couches. Take your pick.”

You sigh, evaluating his pitch. “No,” you say finally. “He’s already so mad at me. If I stay here, that’ll be the end of our relationship.”

This outcome sounds just dandy to Jake, but he can see the worry in your expression, so he pulls on the door and holds it open for you, following you out onto the porch to walk you to your car.

“Drive carefully,” he says once you’re seated, leaning down to peer into the car as you buckle your seatbelt.

You nod. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for the company,” he responds.

You chuckle. “Yeah, about that… sorry I imposed on your evening.”

“Yeah,” Jake agrees with a smirk. “That was kind of rude of you.” When you laugh, he adds. “No, but really, I don’t mind. Come over anytime.”

You gasp at him to simulate shock. “And subject you to my numerous opinions?”

Jake’s grin widens. “I’m getting used to tuning you out.”

“So, what exactly is it that you gain out of my company?” you ask with raised eyebrows as you start your engine.

Jake raps on the hood of your car a couple of times before responding. “I just don’t want to deprive you of my company.”

You snort. “That would be a tragedy.”

Jake lets himself admire your laugh for several seconds before straightening his back. “Have a good night, Y/N,” he says, and then he shuts your door.

You pull out of the driveway and stop your car on the side of the road. Jake watches curiously as you step out of the car. He approaches you slowly, his eyes drifting up and down your figure involuntarily. He blinks to reorient himself, exhaling sharply as he comes to stand before you. He slips his hands into his pockets to avoid the temptation of using them to pin you to your car and then running them along the curves of your body. You’re looking up at him with a sheepish expression, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s up against in this very moment. “What’s up?” he says sternly; employing exaggerated masculinity to help assuage his crippling desire to kiss you.

Instead of responding, however, you stretch up onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck. In his shock, it takes a second for Jake to loosen his rigid stance; to remember that his hands are still safely tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He draws them out slowly, holding them cautiously on either side of your body, wondering just how catastrophic it would be if he were to reciprocate the hug. “You really helped me tonight,” you say softly, your breath warming the crook of his neck.

He lets out a weak chuckle that dies the second it leaves his lips because, at that moment, you press your cheek into his shoulder. His hands close gingerly around you. He’s barely holding on, but you feel just right in his embrace. Like the dip in your waist belongs between the palms of his hands. “Glad to be of service,” he mutters, his voice a little rough as he attempts to process this turn of events.

You detach yourself from his grasp and give him a friendly smile. So friendly, it nearly kills him. “Maybe I can return the favor someday,” you say.

Jake stares at you, trying to come up with at least one favor you could do for him that isn’t sexual in nature and drawing a complete blank. “Maybe,” he says uneasily.

“Anyway,” you say. “Sleep well.”

You flash him one last smile before climbing back into your car while Jake takes several steps back, wondering how the fuck he’s going to sleep at all after having experienced that.

Read Part 4

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@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@dempy

@lanie-k

@clancycucumber230

@littlebookbengal

@zbeez-outlet

@the-winter-marvel33

@potato-girl99981

@phantomxoxo

@flashyourgreeneyesatme

@thenewdaysalreadyhere

@abaker74

#hangman #jake seresin #top gun #jake seresin imagine #glen powell #hangman fluff #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #hangman x you #top gun hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #jake seresin series #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman angst

[etherealyoungk]

bf!hoshi scenarios <3

happy hoshi day <3 here are a few little bf!hoshi scenarios for his bday <3

bf!hoshi who you remember was so nervous on his first date with you. he fumbled with his words and was a nervous wreck. but you just look so pretty?? he lost all his train of thought the moment he saw you. he bought you flowers on your first date and you're trying not to burst into a smile because this is the first some a guy has brought you flowers and you're heart is squealing with happiness. but hoshi thinks that maybe you don't like the flowers, and he tries to rectify the situation. "oh did you not like them- i didn't know which ones you'd like- i'm sorry i should have-", only for you to cut him off by saying that you loved them and you beam up at him. he laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck and he's relieved you liked them. he really wanted to make a good first impression on you ><

bf!hoshi who would absolutely and completely be WHIPPED for you. his heart would be filled with so much love for you <3 and he's such a passionate lover. he's always finding some way to make you smile, whether it be telling a lame joke or complimenting you until you're a shy mess. your laugh is music to his ears and he absolutely adores it. sometimes he'll sit thinking about you with a goofy smile on his face. you are quite literally his world, you meant so much to him, and is just so so grateful to have you in his life. he'd be protective of you but only because he loved you so much - you meant the world to him and he hated seeing you go through pain. his heart would break if you cried. he loves you so passionately, so wholly, he's not afraid to show his love for you.

bf!hoshi who would follow you around like a lost puppy on mornings when you had to go to work early but he didn't want you to leave yet, so he'd always walk you to the bus stop no matter how many times you told him you could go alone. so you'd walk hand in hand as you'd go to the bus stop together and he'd wave you goodbye as the bus left, horanghaeing with the sweetest smile as he waves buy to you.

bf!hoshi who would know if you were upset or sad, understanding rippling through his eyes, coming to comfort you immediately. he'd give you the sweetest cuddles as he asked you if anything was wrong and if you wanted to talk about anything, he was here. he never forced you to talk if you didn't want to, respecting your boundaries. if you were having a bad day, he'd be able to tell immediately because you don't greet him like you usually do and his smile slowly drops from his face. he glances over at you, thinking maybe you didn't hear him but you're lost in your own world, buried under the sheets on the couch, trying to read a book to get mind off things but it doesn't seem to be working. he gently comes over to you, a small frown on his face as he sits on the empty part of the couch as pokes your leg gently, making you finally look up at him. he won't ask any questions as you adjust your position and end up snuggling in his arms, burying your face in his chest as he pulls you closer. he kisses your forehead and asks you what you've been up to all day and if you were okay.

bf!hoshi who would come to bother you for attention. if he was feeling tired or just meh or bored, he'd waddle over to wherever you were. he doesn't even say anything as he scoops you in his arms and sits beside you, holding you close, or comes and lies on with his head on your lap as he looks up at you with a goofy smile that has you smiling as well. he'd love when you play with his hair and he'd eventually fall asleep sometimes. you love squishing his cheeks and maybe once when he fell asleep on your lap while you were studying, you took a pen and drew whiskers on his face while he slept soundly, completely oblivious. you sneak in a few pictures too and when he stirs awake, he asks you why you're smiling so much.

bf!hoshi who is just wholly and completely in love with you. he'd love holding your hand, whether it be walking together, or a reassuring squeeze of you were nervous and anxious. he'd always make sure you knew how much he cared and loved you and would never ever want you to doubt his love for you. he'd love to tell you super funny and cheesy pickup lines even if you can complete half of them before gets to and is all pouty is disheartened because "i spent the entire day searching those up and you knew every single one of them and also would be like, "how do you even know all of those, have guys flirted with you alot 🤨"

bf!hoshi who gets jealous a little too easily and ends up being clingy. you think it's because he just wants attention but you soon realize it's because he'd jealous and you find it so cute. he'd holding your hand and pulling you closer to him as you talk to this guy, who was clearly trying to flirt with you. finally pulls you away and kisses your cheek, making sure the guy sees you so he knows you're taken. is mumbling about how you're too pretty and that you should do at-home dates instead (as a joke). he'd love to take you out to new cafes and restaurants and explore new places with you, trying new food and giving food reviews to each other, it would be so wholesome <3

bf!hoshi who would have the most squishable cheeks ever. like he could be talking to you about something and you just grab his cheeks and squish them, giggling out loud when you see his confused expression. "y/n!", he drawls out, his cheeks still squished, his lips puckered and you peck his lips before crashing into his arms for a hug. "you're so cute", you say, pulling back as you look at him and he grins widely. "i'm cool, not cute", he corrects. "you're cool and cute", you tell and he just gives you a look and pecks your cheek.

bf!hoshi whose pout is so freaking adorable. when he's confused or just blank he goes pout and it makes you :( every time. (his pout is so cute i'll cry)

bf!hoshi would kinda panic and be a little clumsy and clueless if you were sick or weren't feeling too good. he'd just frown when you refuse to eat anything he presents to you, saying you're not hungry. but he's not having it. he will then finally make you some chicken soup or porridge and feed you telling you he made it with love as he holds the spoon to your mouth with a pout, waiting for you to take a bite. "it's dripping with love, babe please try it, one bite :( ", he coaxes and you do. it's surprisingly not so bad and you gobble up the rest because it turns out you were hungry. he'll clean up the kitchen (which was a...mess) but then he's coming over to cuddle with you only for you to push him away. "no we can't cuddle you'll catch my cold!", you exclaim and he just steps back with a pout and decides to sit by the edge of the bed like an abandoned puppy who's not getting attention. "i won't catch your cold hm", he says looking at you but you shake your head. "nope, you're sleeping in the other room tonight hoshi im sorry", you say as you blow your nose. he'd so dejected and now he wants nothing more than to cuddle you. but when you wake up with a coughing fit in the night, you don't even know when hoshi came but you feel his hands on your back as he gently rubs your back, trying to help ease you. he's coming back with some warm water and you're too tired to complain about how he's scooping you in his arms and settling next to you. only managing to mumble out a "you'll catch my cold". he shushes you telling you not to worry about that.

bf!hoshi who would want to slow dance with you in the living room because your date night got canceled since the rain decided to crash your plans. so here you were, in the dim light slow dancing with hoshi. you're shy smile softly as you try to sway and not step on his feet in the process. the patter of the rain blends in perfectly with the slow, soft music playing, and hoshi looks down at you with the fondest smile, so entranced by you in that moment. it's like he's fallen in love with you all over again.

happy hoshi day <3

taglist: @joshuaahong @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @daisycheols @rubywonu @fairyhaos @wheeboo @icysungho @nyang3racha @wqnwoos

reblogs/feedback is appreciated!

#okay i might have gotten a little carried away with this #happy birthday to my tiger <3 #happy hoshi day! #skye's writing #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen x reader #seventeen soft hours #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt drabbles #svt soft hours #svt scenarios #svt x reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi fluff #hoshi scenarios #hoshi drabble

[brain-rot-central]

ok so has anyone made a list of things that Astarion said that had a different meaning than first thought?

For example, if you tell Astarion when you first meet that you’re Baldurian as well, he says they must not be in the same social circle. With the way he talks and dresses it seems like he’s implying you’re lower class, but later it becomes clear you’re not those petty criminals or brothel goers that he targets. (And there’s the separate “of course it’ll turn me into a monster” line that becomes obvious later.)

He reveals he fears breaking his nail to the dryad, and it seems shallow but we learn he’s traumatized by digging himself out of his coffin, and the year he endured being trapped inside a coffin and desperately scratching and breaking his nails off as punishment, which is also why he refuses to dig anyone out like Nere.

Also, he mentioned he targeted brothel visitors, and at first it sounds like he just waited outside those establishments for victims, but then if you visit the drow twins he mentions he never thought he’d be on the paying end, plus if you choose one of the twins then Astarion says you have a type for elven prostitutes. And if you really think about it, considering how Petras’ lines are similar to Astarion’s, it wouldn’t be weird to imagine Cazador forcing them to work at a brothel for a few years as training…

Some of Astarion’s lines have a lot to unpack

Many things Astarion says are doublespeak. It's a common coping mechanism used by trauma survivors to "make peace," in a way with what they went through. It's not until you've played through his whole story that you understand that, and honestly it breaks my heart. He has a lot of self-depreciating language. Little quips here and there where you realize he's not only commenting on the current situation but himself, as well.

The monster line in the beginning gets me the most, because he follows it up with, "What did I expect?" For the first time in 200 years, he's able to stand in the sun without burning. He's grappling with that entire realization while also readjusting to there being light and color in the world, and probably was looking at the whole Nautiloid experience as something slightly positive... only to learn that no, this is not something positive. In fact, it's horrendous, because if it's not rectified, he'll become a grotesque monster, worse than he already is. And idk, that guts me. He has this small glimmer of hope for the first time in two centuries, all to realize that it's a giant farce.

But, Astarion is also stubborn, so he holds onto this small glimmer of hope to see if there's a way he can work the tadpole to his advantage. So that he can continue to walk in the sun. Once he realizes that Cazador's compulsion has been interrupted due to the tadpole, he doubles down on wanting to keep the tadpole and control it.

Astarion's story is such a beautiful portrayal of what being in survival mode feels and is like. You're so entirely desperate to make it out of your current situation that you would quite literally give anything and everything to obtain it, even if it means burning the entire world down around you.

The elven prostitute line made me laugh when I first heard it; I knew he was referring to himself and trying to make some light humor about his past, but it's also heartbreaking to realize he sees himself as one. He hasn't yet taken the grace with himself to distinguish between being forced into that line of work vs who he actually is. The lines are still blurred.

I can't think about the intricacies of his background/personality too long, because it all feels way too familiar to me. To know even a smidge of the despair he probably felt for years and the constant mental and physical struggle he endured (there's even disordered eating/food insecurity in his back story too and no one really talks much about it; Cazador purposely kept all the spawn near-starving as a form of control).

Our boy was severely abused and neglected and I really just want to give him a fucking hug.

#astarion #trauma tw #i mean i totally get why he burns down the palace post game #i probably would too #like how could you not want to do that #neech's speeches #answered

[emblazons]

So (because I cannot go three seconds without noticing new little things that tell the wider story in this show):

Let’s talk about how the music that plays during the S3 Byler fight is the exact same music that plays during the S4 conversation Mike & Dustin have with Lucas as they walk to class after the pep rally—

—and how that parallel gives us insight not only into how Mike (and his devotion to Will) has evolved between seasons 3 and 4….but also how The Duffers are evolving Mike as a character in the wake of the "conflict" of forced conformity they introduced in S3.

To start: here are snippets of both scenes where “Not Kids Anymore” plays, both in Season 3 and Season 4.

Now, even though Mike is present in both scenes, it’s not entirely obvious why these things would be parallels, given the radical difference in tone. That said: when we look at these scenes in their wider contexts, we see that they are both exploring the exact same issue, only with Mike on opposite sides of the convo each time—

—namely, whether or not its worth it for Mike to embrace conformity, given that there are behaviors/roles he is meant to fill when trying to keep up with being normal/growing up...and "society" says that DnD / nerdiness (and a refusal / lack of desire to participate in performative relationships) stands entirely apart from that.

Let me see if I can explain.

First: these things are parallels because they are asking us to compare the Mikes in each situation—to notice how he took Will’s words to heart, and decided on some level that Will was right, not him. How do we know? Because in the time between these two convos (aka the rain fight and then the first few episodes of S4), we learn that Mike has made a point to address and rectify all criticisms Will had of him & his behavior during the rain fight.

As of the very first episode of S4, we are shown that Mike is 1) paying attention to both the party/DnD the way Will criticized him for not doing (to the point of calling out Lucas for not prioritizing it the way he now wants to)—

—2) he is focusing on keeping closeness with Dustin (even to the point of judging Lucas for not doing the same), because Will accused him of ignoring Dustin as readily as he ignored him—

—and 3) he has entirely stopped "swapping spit" with El (to the point of removing her from a hug at the airport, kissing her on the forehead...and then never kissing her again lmao) while letting his relationship fall apart without much of a fight…right before apologizing to Will for letting El get in the way of their time spent together in the first place.

Basically: even though he is still struggling in many ways to defend himself from being bullied/being an outcast by hiding behind his relationship with El (the same way Lucas is with “being popular” and basketball), we can see that Mike has made clear strides towards embracing the sides of him that aren’t conformist, which is reflected in all of his decision-making in Will's absence.

Though Mike is getting older and the party “aren’t kids anymore,” them paralleling these scenes is showing us that Mike, at least on some level, has realized that growing up is not at odds with embracing the things he enjoys & his various identities, whether that be through playing DnD—

—wearing clothes he chose on his own—

—or willingly choosing closeness with Will over the performance of relationships with girls (the same way Will already had in Season 3, and Dustin reflected as well).

Now...this isn't to say that he's entirely succeeded at the task, given how many times we see him fumble through actually implementing these changes/revelations in himself, whether with clothes (hello 'shitty knockoff'), embracing his actual interests, or even letting himself want to admit he wants to be with/around Will and not El—

—on top of the fact that I've already talked (many, many times) about how the journey of "feeling like you lost" the Duffers took us on had Mike ending up in a position where "conformity" temporarily wins, how that plays into his relationship with El versus Will, and why it matters for his character even outside of his queerness.

Still: I think this parallel in particular is important to understanding his character because it rules out any idea that Mike is somehow oblivious rather than intentionally working through to the changes happening in himself, whether they be in regards to him re-choosing DnD, making decisions about his clothing for himself...or wanting to be closer to Will / not participate in "liking girls," which is what he gets projection-mad at Will about during the rain fight.

tl;dr: Mike has realized on some level that he wants to be more like / closer to Will than his S3 "conformity" self—and the war we see on his face throughout the season in conversations with Will has a lot to do with that, among other things.

This musical parallel in particular draws attention to the fact that there have been changes happening within Mike that he sees and recognizes—he just "lost" like every other character this season, aka failed at walking into a more secure sense of self / out of his "conformist" relationship in its entirety...which we'll resolve in S5. :)

#byler #anti mlvn #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler core #this could have gotten SO MUCH LONGER and I know I'm gonna do a companion piece on lucas right after this but lmao I had to START SOMEWHERE #like? one day I'm just gonna have to write a fucking book on mike wheeler because I have SO MUCH TO SAY LMAO #my st commentary #st parallels #stranger things #st music analysis

[angrylesbianstereotype]

Feelings on Amma and how desperate she is for affection? She occupies my brain constantly but I’m not smart enough to talk about her.

*Rubs hands together like an uggo little housefly* I have sooo many thoughts okay so Amma is an abused child whose choice of coping mechanism for said abuse is to try and make believe some sense of control over her situation by pretending that she is in a symbiotic rather than abusive relationship with her mother, that she and her mother have a mutual understanding whereby Adora gets to uhh umm straight up poison her, but in exchange must shower her with the love that Amma knows, deep down, isn’t really there. Amma wants this compensation for her suffering, and the only currency of any value to her is her mother’s love, and the only consolation she has is that she might someday get to be a beautiful, perfect ghost, like Marian. That maybe someday, Adora will kill her, and she will have secured herself the best case scenario for a women in Wind Gap, which is to be perceived forever as the feminine ideal without the possibility of disgrace always looming overhead (similar ideas of The Dead Girl being society’s underlying feminine ideal, the inevitable outcome of the expectations placed on women and girls, were also explored in Gone Girl). We see Amma’s relationship with both her mother and Alan reflected in her relationships with sex and boys, in that she lets older boys sexually abuse her and tells herself she’s the one using them, and that these transactions are just that, transactional, the only kind of love she knows, and the boys largely inconsequential. And her dollhouse, her fancy, needs to be an exact replica of her mother’s house because it allows her to exercise control over an environment she otherwise has no real control over. Adora striking up friendships with Ann and Natalie was a breach of contract that had to be rectified, and so when murdering Ann and Natalie only ends up elevating them to the lauded status of Dead Girl, and they receive more attention than ever, Amma is beyond furious, and receives Camille with some measure of warmth because she is primed to find a new mother if the old one can’t keep up her end of the bargain, though she can’t rule Camille out as competition. And while she most certainly felt antipathy toward her victims, her romanticization of death is what really enables her to kill without remorse. After all, what she wouldn’t have given to be Marian, loved by her mother, loved by everyone, forever, without ever having to bleed for it again. Because nobody in her life loved Amma enough to help her until Camille, and by then it was already too late. And she doesn’t stop killing even after she knows it won’t get her the outcome she wants, because she needs to feel it again, that power over another person, another child, another girl. Amma has never felt less like a helpless victim, less like those murdered girls, in her whole life. Which just makes the whole thing that much easier.

#a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort!! #sharp objects #amma crellin #camille preaker #adora crellin #abuse tw #murder tw #sa tw