#I think this has all come on as I have been ill this past week now and my mental health is just catching up to my poor physical heath 🙃

[yoonivy]

gold rush; part 5.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. ramsay, aegon, and their friends. deepthroating.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

---

One night turns it into two and then three… and before Aemond knows it, three weeks have gone by and he still hasn’t told you what he should have told you weeks ago. 

(Or the thing that shouldn’t have even been a plan in the first place.)

It’s part selfishness of not wanting to lose you, and cowardice — also for not wanting to lose you. 

In his mind, the plan is already called off. If people get pissed off at him then that’s fine. All he knows is he is not going to do that to you. Not anymore. 

Besides, the plan was idiotic anyway. Aegon came up with it, so that tells you everything you need to know. The only reason Aemond got roped into it was because nobody thought Aegon could successfully court you to get even a single date. 

Now Aemond is glad he got convinced to carry out the plan instead because the thought of you with his older brother now makes him sick. Especially when he thinks about the text his brother had wrote in the family group chat last night that he had ignored but can’t get out of his head:

Aegon

— aemond is taking too long with the plan 😫

— maybe I should take over

— didn’t ____ have a crush on me before?

Daeron 

— IJBOOOOOOOOL 😶🌫️

He ignored the messages, not bothering to reply, but that doesn’t mean that what Aegon had said hasn’t been running around his head all night long. 

You used to have a crush on Aegon?! When was that?!

It’s impossible, a total fabrication and defamation of your character!

But still… it could be possible. 

Aemond is not completely blind to see that his older brother is pretty popular with women (especially those who don’t know him beyond his looks) , and growing up, he has had many classmates who had feelings for his brother (some even shameless enough to ask him if his brother was seeing anyone) — but to think that you would have fallen for his brother’s trickery and deceit even if it was just a stupid teenage crush?

It makes Aemond want to empty out the content of his stomach. 

Which is not much. Just coffee, black. Forgoing breakfast as he is currently waiting for you outside your apartment building to get brunch together. 

As he waits, he ruminates, trying to recall any indication of his brother’s statement as true. The more he combs through his memories, the more bothered he gets because can’t recall any. And not because there isn’t a moment that it might be possible (as much as he hopelessly wishes this was the case) but it’s because he never bothered to care or observe anything you did in the past so his memory is coming up empty. 

So what if you did used to harbor a crush on Aegon?

The thought makes Aemond ill. 

“Morning sunshine—-!” Your cheerful exclamation is immediately halted by the look of your boyfriend’s face when you get a good look at him. Still handsome like always but he seems to be unhappy. And rest assured, you can now tell the difference between his resting bitch face or if he is actually in a foul mood by now. 

You place a delicate hand on his upper arm, expression full of concern. “Hey, you okay?”

Aemond focuses in on you — on your pretty face that he has grown so truly fond of. The one face that he wants to see everyday and if he doesn’t, it would just automatically be a mundane or terrible day. The sight of you leaves him breathless, he nods slow, distracted. 

Then he bends to ravish your mouth. Needy. His fingers digging into your hips to pull you closer. Possessive. 

It’s a lot for eleven in the morning — not that you’re complaining!

“Wow… good morning to me,”  you say with a cheeky smirk when you pull away. Aemond seems brighter too, smiling softly as he looks down at you. 

It seems that whatever he was thinking about before you came is completely forgotten now. 

“So, where are we going?” You ask once in his car, pulling on the passenger seatbelt. 

“It’s this place that just opened,” he tells you, his eye on the road. “Helaena recommends it; their only other location is in King’s Landing and she goes nearly every week.”

“Oooh!” You perk up in your seat. “I trust Helaena’s taste so I’m excited!”

Aemond grins, then hears the telltale sound coming from his speaker that lets him know that someone connected to it via Bluetooth. 

“Also, I heard this song last night and thought of you,” you say just as a sweet melody starts to play. 

I’ve never known someone like you,

Tangled and lovestuck by you

From the glue

Aemond tries to bite down his growing smile as he takes in the lyrics. But when you flash your pretty smile his way, he cannot help but return it. 

Because it’s you. 

And that’s just how he is now. 

Crazy about you. 

Guess I’m stuck forever on the glue 

—- oh, and you… 

---

By the time you arrive at your destination, there is already a long line wrapping around the corner of the street to get into the new brunch place. 

You shoot a worried look towards Aemond — both brows rising as your eyes comically widen — but all Aemond does in response is smirk, cool and collected. 

He meets you at your side of the car, opens the door like a gentleman and offers out his hand for you to hold. You take it as you step out, and you walk hand in hand with Aemond leading you past the long line of people and all the way to the entrance.

You are a bit confused, seeing as how while you were looking at the menu on your phone during the drive, it said that there are no reservations and it’s first come, first serve. 

Before you can question it, he tells the hostess by the door his name and she greets the two of you with a warm smile and then calls someone from inside to show you to your seat. 

Guess this is one of the perks of being wealthy or having a recognizable name. 

“Helaena is friends with the chef so she got us a table,” Aemond explains when he notices your curious expression on him. 

Ah… makes sense. 

You hear disgruntled murmurings behind you while you walk in with your boyfriend. 

You recall times that you were in their shoes — watching glitzy and clearly very wealthy stride in places with or even without reservations while you were waiting for hours . But now that you’re with Aemond… your back straightens, holding your head high as you try not to feel like an imposter in your $14.99 thrifted dress. 

Then — as if feeling your slightly anxious energy — Aemond squeezes your hand and looks back with a sweet smile, leaning into your ear and murmurs you’re gorgeous. 

Your knees almost buckle, feeling like you’re both melting on the spot and drifting up to the heavens.

With your free hand, you grab onto his arm, the same one holding your hand, and nuzzle up closely to him with a gleeful grin rounding your cheeks. 

“We have two tables for you to choose from, Sir,” the host says, leading you and Aemond through the fully occupied restaurant. “There’s one at our outdoor patio on the roof, or—“

“Oh, Mondy~!”

Aemond stiffens at the sound of the voice, his hand clutching yours tighter. Still, he doesn’t dare look, and even somewhat turns away to seemingly block out and pretend he had not heard what he surely had heard and keeps walking. But you, on the other hand, slow your steps to peer around him curiously. 

What you see is his older brother, Aegon, sitting at a table, twiddling his fingers at the two of you with a strange and sickeningly sweet grin on his face. You stop — causing Aemond to do so as well, but not without the most frustrated and heaviest sigh — and you wave back slowly. 

“What a coinkydink!” Aegon exclaims, hands clapping together as he stands up and makes his way over. “Such a wonderful surprise!”

Aemond grimaces, knowing it was anything but. Helaena had accidentally messaged the groupchat with his siblings to ask about the time when he wanted to arrive at the restaurant, so he is pretty sure Aegon just bothered her to put his name on the list as well. 

“And ____, you are looking absolutely gorgeous — as always.”

Aemond’s grimace twists into a furious deep seated scowl when Aegon steps up and throws his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, yanking you towards him that you essentially had to drop Aemond’s hand from the shock of it with a soft oh falling from your lips. 

“C’mon! Join us!” Aegon exclaims, gesturing towards his table where their cousin, Vis, and the Cargyll twins were sitting. He snaps his fingers towards the host, an order to grab another chair for the table. 

Without allowing either you or Aemond to accept or decline on the idea, Aegon sits you down on the chair beside his. When Aemond tries to sit down on the empty seat right across from yours, Aegon shakes his head and points to the new seat at the head of the table — the one furthest away from you. 

Aemond opens his mouth to question and protest, but Aegon beats him to it, “that seat’s taken.”

Eyeing the leather bomber jacket thrown haphazardly on the seat, Aemond sighs in defeat and begrudgingly drops down on the one forcefully assigned to him.  

You make eye contact with your boyfriend, offering a tight smile as you notice his completely neutral expression before taking a hold of the menu to glance through, hiding the way you bite down your disappointment. You guess he is fine with this. So even though you had been anticipating this date with Aemond, to spend some quality time with just him, this is the least you could do for him. Aemond has been integrated into your friend group, it’s only fair for you to get to know his. 

Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend’s carefully calm expression is just his way of staying calm. Really, he desperately wants to throttle his older brother. This is the last thing he wanted. 

The cherry that tops the shit cake arrives when the person who had reserved the seat across from you finally comes back from wherever he had been hiding. From one of the layers of Hell, probably. 

“This beautiful day just keeps getting better and better!” Ramsay exclaims by way of announcing himself when he gets to the table. 

You are visibly disgusted when he crowds your space to hug you, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. You push him away when he doesn’t let go of you quick enough. All the bastard does is chuckle, like it’s so amusing how put off you are of him. 

Straightening up, Ramsay offers Aemond a shit-eating grin and a nod. “How’re you doing there, bloke?”

Aemond couldn’t hide his feelings anymore — especially after witnessing Ramsay’s dirty hands on you, even if it just barely grazed your back — now openly seething, his nostrils flared. 

“Great,” Aemond fumes, tone flat and discontent. “Just wonderful .”

There’s an infuriating comment at the tip of Ramsay’s mouth, but thankfully, the waiter arrives to pour you and Aemond water and to take orders. 

The guys barely looked at the menu, ordering whatever they fancy. (“Mimosa,” Vis tuts, without even acknowledging the waiter. “And hold the orange juice.”) Meanwhile, you calculate in your head the total of your order before politely asking the waiter for a stack of buttermilk pancakes ($23, the cheapest on the menu) with strawberry compote (an extra $5) and a glass of mimosa ($17) as well — to treat yourself, and because you know you’ll probably need it to make it through this brunch with Ramsay. This means you probably have to scavenge through your fridge for leftovers for the next few days until you get paid but it’s fine. 

After the twins introduce themselves to you, Vis directs the conversation to something that you guess they had been discussing before you and Aemond had arrived, seeing it sounded like his point was a continuation of a previous thought. Although listening intently, you don’t contribute to the conversation, only half understanding what was being said. Aemond, on the other hand, easily comprehends the subject of discussion and adds in his opinion. 

Leaning towards him as you tuck your hand under your chin, you hang onto every word that comes out of Aemond’s mouth. You can admit, Aemond can be a little pretentious at times (okay, perhaps more than sometimes), but maybe it’s because you adore him that he sounds highly intelligent and, let’s be real, fucking hot.

But what Aemond said clearly pissed Vis off, opposing his opinion. The latter scoffs, face going sour.

While the food starts to be brought to the table, Vis turns towards you. “What do you think about it?”

You don’t even realize he was speaking to you until he calls your name. You shake away your dreamy gaze of your boyfriend to glance questioningly at his cousin. He repeats himself with a vapid curl of his lips.

After quickly acknowledging the staff who places your plate in front of you with a sweet smile and soft thank you, you think about how to reply. You like to think you are well read and also quite politically inclined (with Robb, Margaery and Meera as your best friends, it’s hard not to be), but you are not someone who spouts off things without being educated about it. And this — a certain trade route closing and the economic impact because of it — you are definitely not educated about. You do know about the conflict in the southern countries of Essos and economic crises there because of said conflict – but you hadn’t realized it affected Westeros as well. But perhaps you should have, knowing that some Westeros countries and politicians are the reason for the further destabilization in many Essos countries. 

Choosing your words carefully, you tell them exactly just that. You think your response was sound and good, sitting up straighter as you notice the glint in your boyfriend’s eye.

That is until Vis chuckles meanly and snarks, “You shouldn’t have said anything at all if it was going to end with no substance.”

Your stomach drops as you meet Vis’ challenging stare. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur meekly. “I guess you’re right…”

“I think what you said was perfectly fine,” Aemond tries to defend you, frustration dripping in his words.

“ Awww… don’t be so harsh on her, Vis,” Ramsay coos with an exaggerated pout. “She’s a Creative Writing major.”

The whole table laughs at that, save for you and Aemond.

“Genuinely curious, what are you going to do with a degree like that?” One of the twins speaks up. Erryk, you think, the one with the longer hair. 

You try to force a smile as you try to disregard the judgment in his question, your spirit lifting up slightly as you talk about something you are passionate about. “I would like to get my words out there. Publish a few books. Do some live performances…”

“What do you write?” Arryk asks.

“Oh, um, poetry!”

That earns a couple snorts and snickers. Inhaling deeply, your smile wavers, but you manage to keep it on.

“And if that doesn’t work out?” Arryk continues his line of questioning. “What are you going to do then…? Teach english? ”

He says it like it’s an unworthy cause, but you think of Professor Seaworth and how much you admire him. “I mean, I wouldn’t oppose it.”

“I’m sure it will work out. She’s wonderful at what she does and has such a beautiful way with words,” Aemond adds, and your heart swells, smiling gratefully at him. “She even has a few of her pieces published already.”

“Where?” Vis asks, skeptical. 

Aemond proudly names all the publications that featured your work. You're surprised he knows them off by heart.

“No one reads any of that,” Vis says with a roll of his eyes and Aemond’s hand tightens into a white knuckled fist. Your own sets down the fork you were just about to bring up to your mouth, your bleary eyes stay trained on your plate. You are not feeling very hungry anymore.

Meanwhile, Aegon is already on his phone and pulling up one of your work.

Without any prompting, Aegon begins to dramatically read one of your poems out loud, and the guys laugh after every line. You confess, it’s not your best work out there, but — did they really have to do this and laugh in your face? 

“I don’t know why you’re all laughing — it’s better than anything you tossers have said in your entire life,” Aemond says.

Vis puffs out a breath. “Oh, please… it’s juvenile.”

At this point, you feel like you are closing off, hardly really hearing anything anymore. It’s as if your mind is trying to save you from the humiliation. You don’t understand why they are targeting you so cruelly. Did you say something that made them dislike you so much?

It’s so baffling that you couldn’t even stand up for yourself when you usually would. You just sit there, mute. 

“It’s on par with his ex-girlfriend’s lyrics about him,” Ramsay comments gleefully. The others laugh and exclaim in agreement.

“No offense,” Arryk begins, glancing towards you as he says your name. “You seem like a lovely girl and all, but I’m surprised Aemond’s dating you—”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Aemond snarls.

“I’m just saying …!” Arryk throws his palms up defensively, shrugging his shoulders. “The last girl you dated was Myrcella Baratheon —”

… As in Luvie? The popstar?!

You throw a questioning look at Aemond but his glare is set on Arryk, looking like he is about to pounce.

“I think what my brother is trying to say is that it’s quite a — I don’t want to say it but… a downgrade , you know?” Erryk slides in. Then to you, he quickly adds, “Not to say that you’re a downgrade, but just — you know Aemond. He’s very arrogant and particular—”

“Stop talking,” Aemond demands. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See, sweetheart,” Ramsay smirks at you, playfully nudging your foot under the table. “This is why I never introduced you to any of them when we were dating. They’re assholes . Your sweet, little heart doesn’t deserve this.”

Aegon throws his arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t be offended, babe. It’s not that serious. This is just how we are! If anything, all this jest shows how much we like you! You’re practically part of the family now!”

You could not even bother to shrug Aegon off you. You just smile tightly at him, wondering if he is right. Your friends do joke around like this — but never to this hurtful extent. Are you just too soft for all of this?

Suddenly a loud screech resounds in the room of metal against the flooring, causing the whole group (and some of the other surrounding patrons) to shut up and turn to witness Aemond standing up in a breakneck speed, both his palms pressed on the table. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp when you notice how tight his body seems to be with tension, his whole demeanor dour and rigid.

Aemond flashes his vicious gaze at his older brother, flicking between Aegon’s widened eyes and where his hand is touching your shoulder. 

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Her.” Aemond coldly instructs. 

Aegon laughs, albeit nervously. “Calm down, Mondy,” 

Still, he follows his younger brother’s order and hastily slips his arm away from you. “We’re just joking around! The twins share a single brain cell between them. Vis has a flair for dramatics and is a debate pervert. And Ramsay is, well… Ramsay!” He takes a quick glance at the man he just spoke about. “No offense, mate.”

Ramsay’s blue eyes roll while he mutters a whatever. 

But their exchange is lost on you, your attention is solely captured by Aemond, holding himself in such a tall and regal manner, still standing there as if waiting for a more opportune moment to speak up. 

The time comes when the guys realize he hasn’t sat back down, and they all gaze up to where he stands at the end of the table. Aemond visibly unnerves them by how deathly silent he is and by the way his lips start to curl into a disconcerting smirk — the boys exchanging looks of concern amongst themselves. Then, even more so, when they notice his violet eye stare straight ahead as he begins to speak, “It seems that for once in your life, Aegon, you’re right.”

Aemond’s tone is a little too calm, but in a way that you know it is taking everything in him to level his voice that evenly. 

“ ____ and I are unfortunate enough to find ourselves amongst clowns on what should have been a beautiful morning.”

The boys throw in their objects and varied choices of what the fuck? but Aemond ignores them, continuing in slow drawl,  “I mean, take Vis for example. The only reason you care to learn about the state of the economy and the trading route is so you can have something to blame for your own failing businesses. Oh, excuse me, let me correct myself — failed businesses. How many of them have you had to file for bankruptcy again?”

Vis doesn’t answer, his expression just twists in contempt. So Aemond answers his own question, “It was all five, wasn’t it?”

Unable to help himself, Aegon chokes on a cough to cover up a laugh that just bursts out.

“Now, Arryk—” Aemond sharply glances sideways to the shorter-haired twin, then snaps to the other, “Erryk—” then back straight ahead, “Neither of you should be so comfortable about asking someone whether they are taking the right path to a successful future. Because if you ask me , what the two of you have dedicated your whole life for does not look to be working out. Not when you two are on the starting line-up of the university’s hockey team that has been on a three season losing streak, and will most likely stay that way as long as the two of you are on the team.” 

The twins have never looked so identical until this very moment. Their tense jaws roll while they both scoff at the same time.

Knowing that he is probably next on the chopping block, Ramsay sits back coolly as he folds his arms across his chest, chewing obnoxiously on a piece of steak with a smirk. “Do your worst, mate. I’ve already heard it all from my father.” 

Aemond lets out a humourless chuckle, head dipping in a nod to agree with him. “You’re probably right. But your father doesn’t even know the worst of it, does he? That you spend his hard earned money to buy yourself a recording contract, radioplay, and bots to boost your band’s social media engagement, and still your band has nothing to show for it. The only song people like of yours is the one with my girlfriend’s lyrics, and yet you were laughing at her poem earlier?”

You blink blankly at what Aemond just said. “What do you mean my lyrics ?”

You’ve never, ever written anything for Ramsay. 

Aemond tilts his head at you with adorable confusion, his expressive brows drawing together. 

“Your poem ‘bad astrology’ is also the lyrics for his song…”

Then it dawns on him the same time it does to you —

“You stole my work?!”

“You didn’t get her permission?!”

Ramsay’s eye twitches as his mouth flops open and close like a fish out of water. But he recovers quickly, his mouth stretching into its usual smarmy smirk. “Come on, babe, don’t be like that! You don’t remember letting me use your poem?”

This is what he is going with? Gaslighting? 

You let out a brief laugh of disbelief, a glare that could kill aimed right at Ramsay.

“First of all, don’t call me babe, or sweetheart, or anything like that ever again, you — you disgusting worm! And second — are you stupid ? I would never let you use my words for your shitty ass band! Why would I ever want to be associated with that ?”

Angered now, Ramsay spits out, “I seem to recall that you loved being associated with my bed, sl—“

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Aemond sneers, slamming his hand on the table. “You—”

Aemond stops himself when he sees the look on your face. 

The ire. The frustration. The mortification.

It’s not worth it, he thinks. As much as he wants to humiliate Ramsay further, Aemond needs to get you out of the situation — now. 

You are his priority. 

Aemond grabs his wallet out of his pocket and throws a couple hundred bills on the table, addressing the table, “You’re all a bunch of right sodding pricks.”

Then he rounds the table where you are and offers his hand out for you. 

You take it quickly with a tight squeeze and a watery smile up at your boyfriend, and then the two of you are off.

Although the mood is beyond ruined, Aegon grins at his newly humbled friends, leaning across the table to snatch the money Aemond had graciously gave. 

“Well, that was fun!”

---

As soon as the two of you step out onto the sidewalk, Aemond has you wrapped around his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to you softly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“‘S not your fault,” your voice is muffled, face buried into his chest. You’re not crying, at least not yet. You don’t want to either, none of them are worth your tears.

You pull away slightly, your fingers still gripping on the lapels of Aemond’s coat as you glance up at him. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Aemond’s voice breaks a little, his heart breaking from the tears rimming around your sad eyes. “I should have—” He sucks in a breath, shaking his head, disappointed in himself. “I should have done more.”

Then his gaze is on you again, remorse heavy in that violet eye. “If I had known that Ramsay had stolen your poetry, I would have told you. You know that, right?”

“I know, don’t worry,” you frown, still grasping with the fact that one of your favorite piece of writing is somewhere out there, in some shitty acid metal rock song. “At least I know now…”

Aemond glances back at the restaurant, his hand closing into a fist. He wants to go back in there and wipe that infuriating smirk off of Ramsay’s face forever. 

“Hey, look at me,” with your hand on his face, you bring his attention back on you. “I want to forget about everything that just happened, okay? I don’t care about any of them in there, I just care about you. I don’t want them to ruin this beautiful day that I was supposed to spend with you, Aemond.”

Because of the softness of you and your words, the tension that had overtaken Aemond finally dissipates. Relaxing from your touch. 

“The day isn’t over yet,” he reminds you, allowing a small smile to spread on his lips. 

You shake your head, returning his smile with a tiny one of your own. His head turns slightly to kiss your inner wrist. So comforting and sweet. “It’s not.”

Letting your hand fall from his face, you intertwine it with his hand instead. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of promotion at Hot Pies this weekend,” you let him know about the diner close by campus that you and your friends (and now Aemond as well) are regulars at. “Bottomless hot chocolate.”

“Bottomless… hot chocolate ?”

You nod eagerly, an excited grin lighting up your face, making Aemond laugh fondly. 

“Well, we can’t miss that.”

“Nope! No, we can’t!”

His smiling lips pressed onto yours before he turns to go. But just when he pulls your hand to lead back to his car, you pull back, causing him to pause to glance back at you, puzzled.

You are not looking at him — not into his eye, anyway. Your gaze is downcast, on where your hand is intertwined with his. 

“Did you mean it…” you begin softly, uncharacteristically bashful. “... that you like my stuff?”

This time, it is Aemond’s turn to ease your mind.

Without a word, he shows you his phone screen. A habit he learned from you and your friends. Whether it’s to let him see a stupid TikTok, a funny text, or funny meme; you and your friends are notorious for sharing your screen. Aemond has a feeling that you all know each other’s lock screen passcode.

Brows drawing together in confusion, you blink prettily between him and his phone. Aemond grins, urging you to look with a nod of his head.

Your gaze narrows at him, confused and suspicious yet piqued, and so you take the phone from his hand.

On the screen, he has his phone gallery pulled up, in a folder titled: ___’s poems.

And that’s exactly what it was, a folder full of your poetry, screenshots from the different websites, social medias, and publications you had posted them on. You press on the latest one, and it’s dated back to two weeks ago. You scroll through and notice that each one had been favorited, indicated by the tiny white heart on the corner. The oldest picture was saved on the day you competed in the slam poetry contest.

“Aemond… what is this?” You ask, sniffing from the cold and perhaps something else.

Pulling his favorite scarf off his neck, your boyfriend takes a step closer towards you with the prettiest smile that makes your heart feel all warm.

“After watching you perform your poetry at the competition, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you on that stage,” You listen to his soft voice while you watch with him with watery eyes as he gingerly and tenderly starts to wrap the soft cashmere around you. “Your way with words is so captivating. They made me think, they made me feel, they made me see the world in a different lens. A better lens — one that is beautiful yet sometimes melancholic, but always so heartfelt and true. it’s just so…” Now that you are warmly bundled up by his doing, Aemond cradles your face in his hands and murmurs through his breathtaking smile, “ You .”

And then he is pressing a kiss on your lips that has you feeling faint, swooning like a lead actress in an old time movie. 

You part away from each other, but you lay your hand over his on your cheek to keep it there. Keep him close. After what happened and what he just told you, you feel so safe with him. 

“I…” he trails off as soon as he started, bashful all of the sudden. 

“What?” You question teasingly, a grin spreading on your lips as you notice the blush spreading on his cheeks. Knees bending and head tilting at an uncomfortable angle, you try to annoy him further, “Aemond, tell me . Tell me!”

He presses his lips together, as if regretting even opening his mouth in the first place. But then you look up at him with those eyes of yours and he can’t deny you.

“I reread your poems whenever I’m missing you.”

“…oh,” you say, straightening up slowly, face not betraying anything. Completely cool and perfectly chill. 

But your heart? 

Oh, it’s down bad . Downright horrendous. Absolutely helpless at this point. 

“I—“ you stop yourself, giggling nervously. Oh Gods, you almost said it. 

You feel it. You know you do. It’s undeniable at this point. 

But you want the first time you say it to be perfect. 

So instead you lean up to kiss his cheek, murmuring in his ear, “Thank you.”

Aemond turns his face, quickly capturing your lips before you could pull away. It catches you completely by surprise, but it was a nice one, judging by the way you hum happily as you nuzzle deeper into the kiss, your dainty fingers grasping onto his biceps. Hands on your waist, Aemond pulls you closer, but when he does, he feels your stomach rumbling — even through your peacoat.

“Let’s get you something to eat, pretty girl,” Aemond says, laughing when you peck his lips two, three — or five — more times when he tries to pull away. He returns your sweet kisses one last time with a cheeky smile and then he takes your hand.

Aemond tries to lead you to his car. But again, you stay rooted in your spot, tugging him back to you. Concerned, Aemond searches the way you are looking at him, eyes clear and curious, playful almost – unlike how it was watery and sad like it was before. Relief floods through him, and so he waits for you to speak.

“ So , um…” You play with his hand, just beating around the bush. He tilts his head in confusion, so you just come out with it, “You dated… Luvie ?”

Glancing away from you, Aemond squints at the sky, clearing his throat gracelessly. “Well… yes . Sort of, kind of… It was barely anything, actually.” 

“What?! Are you serious?! You have to tell me everything !” You exclaim in awe. How could your boyfriend keep this from you?! “How’d you two meet? Who asked who out first? What ... actually, don’t tell me everything . I don’t, you know, want all the gory details of you two… doing things…”

While you rambled, your boyfriend successfully got you into his car.

“We didn’t!”

“Uh-huh, okay. You dated Pop Base’s Hottest Woman of the Year and you didn’t do anything, mhm … So start talking, Aemond Targaryen.”

“Can we at least wait until we get to the diner? I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Fine… You better — but wait… does this mean you know Jacob Elordi? They’re best friends, you know! You should introduce me to him if you do…”

“Why do you want to be introduced to Jacob…?”

“ Huh. First name basis… I see… And no reason… no reason at all…”

“That face you’re making is adorable but I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t worry, silly . You’re still my number one crush… Jacob’s just my number two… minus point five. ” 

“What?”

“Whooo! Bottomless hot chocolate!”

Aemond joyfully laughs at your attempt to switch the subject, glancing over at you with so much fondness. 

You turn on Luvie’s Why to get a rise out of him, but as he listens to the lyrics, he finds himself bopping his head along with the music while thinking about you.

All the love songs tend to do that now.

a.t. 💗 🎵 crosswords ·  olivia dean

---

As painful as the brunch incident was, it might have been a blessing in disguise. 

Aemond has been doing everything to make it up to you — not that you were asking him to do anything. He was just doing it on his own accord. Little things to make you smile. 

Which is why Aemond finally agreed to visit his father with you. 

You’ve asked him casually a couple times before in the past, but he always declined with some excuse. You never pressed him to explain, realizing he must have a reason. But still, you knew how much his father misses him and the rest of his siblings so you always offered him a choice to accompany you if he ever wanted to. 

Today is that day. 

On the drive over, you can tell Aemond is uneasy just by a few subtle nuances. You can read Aemond’s mood pretty well by now.

Laying a hand on his lap, you say, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to go.”

Aemond’s eye flicks over to you for a quick second before it’s back on the road. “I want to. I just… I haven’t seen him in a while, so… I hope it’s not strained. I don’t want to put you between that.”

You hum, understanding. It has been a long time since Aemond visited his father – or talked to him – you don’t exactly know what caused the falling out but you are sure you stopped seeing Aemond or Aegon visit a couple months before you and Aemond started dating.

All you know is that Viserys is very tuned in and joyous whenever you talk about Aemond with him. Acting more like your girlfriends than the girls do, goading for you to tell him more, tell him mor e like the musical Grease. 

(You are still trying to forget about how a few days ago, you had been gushing about Aemond to his dad and even thanked him for encouraging you to go to that party that started all this. Throughout your spiel, Viserys had that knowing look on his face and you knew right then that he knew exactly how you feel about Aemond.

It’s so embarrassing. Love is so embarrassing. 

So again, you are trying to forget about that.)

Hoping that Viserys won’t bring any of that up, you offer your boyfriend a comforting smile and a light squeeze on his thigh. “I’m sure he’ll just be happy to see you.”

Aemond looks over at you again and instantly loosens up. There should be a study done on how easily you can disarm him with just a simple smile.

Aemond holds your hand tightly as the two of you step up to the door of his father’s home. Mostly to keep you from falling on the ice on the ground since you are quite clumsy, but he also needs you as an anchor to make him feel braver.

You let the both of you inside with your key, his father already knows that the two of you will be visiting.

Inside, you call his father’s name out while you rid yourself of your winter jacket and boots. You slip on your indoor slippers and grab the medical bag from the closet. Might as well do a routine checkup while you are there. 

Aemond watches you, looking more at home at his father’s house than he feels. It’s a little backwards, but he does know he is partly at fault. He hasn’t been back here since before this school year started and he’s been dodging all this father’s attempt to speak to him — only answering in stilted very brief texts or through his mother or Helaena. His father doesn’t even know the reason why Aemond became so cold towards him all of the sudden. 

It’s complicated. 

“Here, let me,” Aemond says after hanging up his coat, taking the medical bag from you. He actually stumbles a little when you hand it over fully, completely taken aback by how heavy it is. He stares at you for a moment in absolute awe. 

Gorgeous, intelligent, and strong. Aemond really did get so lucky with you. 

“What?” You question, and he shakes his head, looking down to smile to himself. 

The conservatory, of course, is where you find Viserys. But when Aemond steps into the room and sees his father sitting by the big windows, he freezes in shock, stomach dropping in unease. The sight of his father now shocks him greatly.

It has only been seven months since Aemond last saw him, and sure that might be more than half a year but Aemond didn’t think it was that long. Not that Viserys was the picture of health all those months ago, but this change is alarming. 

Viserys is incredibly frail and thin now, skin a slight jaundice, and almost completely bald with only a few spots of hair left. He is staring out the window, milky eyes serene yet sad.

It takes Viserys a moment to glance over when you call him, but when he does, his mouth breaks into a wide smile when he notices Aemond beside you. 

“My boy!” Viserys cries, voice hoarse and weak. “You’re here!”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, an attempt to keep down the bile and guilt threatening to spill out. His breathing shortens, hands clammy and shaky. He wants to turn and run and —

A hand slips to intertwine with his, soft and warm, squeezing his hand three times. He turns his head and meets your sweet gaze and easy smile, comforting beyond belief. As his breathing evens out and his hands become steady, your head tips towards his father, a silent question which he answers with a nod. And so together, you make your way towards the older Targaryen.

“Hello father,” Aemond greets, allowing you to take the medical bag from him so you scrounge through it while he takes his father’s hand to pay him respect.  

“I see you’ve been doing well,” Viserys says with a kind smile after Aemond gets on one knee to press the back of his father’s hand onto his forehead. 

Standing up straight, Aemond clears his throat again, blinking away the wetness in his eye while he nods. “Yes, I have been… How have you been doing, father?”

“I’ve been doing—” Viserys takes a pause to cough, a hacking sound that makes Aemond cringe, “— well, I could be doing better, if your lovely girlfriend or Samwell will allow me a sweet treat every once in a while.”

Your eyes roll without malice, pricking his finger to check his blood sugar. “Once your blood sugar level lowers then Samwell will let me know if you're allowed anything sweet. But until then… So rry !”

You flash him a toothy smile after you sing-song your apology that makes Viserys laugh. The older man exchanges a look with his son, one of shared fondness for you.

“Aemond, please catch me up! What have you been doing lately? How are classes going? I heard from ____ that you two went to a pottery class a few days ago, how was that?”

While you go through other tests and diagnostics to send to Sam, you allow them to catch up. Aemond was a little wooden with his answers at first, but as time went on, he became more comfortable. Especially when you would throw in a comment or joke here and there that would make the both of them laugh. 

In the kitchen, you and Aemond work together to make a quick lunch. You show him his father’s meal plan, Aemond humming in understanding as explain to him the diet and why the food you are making helps. Before you take the food back to the conservatory, Aemond presses a tender kiss on your lips and thanks you for taking care of his father. 

After lunch, Viserys challenges Aemond to a game of Cyvasse. Apparently, according to Viserys, Aemond is the only one who has ever come close to beating him. Aemond accepts, warning his father that just because he hasn’t been around, that doesn’t mean he is out of practice. Him, Jon, and Robb have a little competition going on some mobile game app. 

Despite said practice, Aemond loses the first two games they play. He didn’t go down easily, though. Both games were some of the most intense games of Cyvasse you’ve ever witnessed. You’ve seen Viserys play against Jon, the security boys (Grenn, Pyp, and Eddison), and Sam; and you believe that Aemond is the only one who has come closest to defeating Viserys.

You had not realized that your boyfriend is so competitive. After he loses the third time, he sets up the board again for another. 

This fourth game is going on for a while. The longest Cyvasse game you’ve ever watched, and yet, instead of being bored, you are sat, entranced with the back and forth of wit.

It wasn’t looking good for Aemond, your boyfriend rubbing his temple and sighing deeply during all his turns. Meanwhile, Viserys is sitting straight, serene, like everything is going to plan.

Viserys takes Aemond’s catapult off the board and you think it’s doomed. Judging by the way Aemond narrows his gaze on the board, scrutinizing every move he could make, he is probably thinking the same. 

But then suddenly, a smirk lifts the corner of Aemond’s lips.

Slowly, his lithe fingers pick up his dragon and he moves — his eye flashing across to his father, triumph in that lilac gaze, a watch this — knocking over Viserys’ king piece.

Your mouth gapes, stunned. Did that just happen?

You glance between them, hand over your mouth, still unable to comprehend it. It had looked like Viserys was winning from your terrible understanding of the game. Even Aemond looked frustrated just a minute ago. But now…?

Aemond won.

The room is still and silent. Viserys looks dumbfounded, eyes searching the board for where he went wrong.

And then, after a long pause, Viserys breaks into a hearty laugh and proud smile. “Well done, my boy!”

He beckons Aemond over, and when Aemond does, Viserys wraps his arms around him. Aemond startles, hesitant, but slowly and surely, his arms wrap around his father as well.

Aemond peers at you from over Viserys’ shoulder, and you exchange smiles. Then he lets his eye close, burying his face into the crook of his father’s shoulder with a content sigh.

Your hands itch for a pen and paper to immortalize this moment forever. 

a.t. 💗 🎵 talking to strangers ·  maisie peters

---

It is the perfect Saturday night.

Lights down low, your favorite romantic comedy movie on the television screen, food from your favorite restaurant scattered on the coffee table, and you are comfy on the couch, cuddling your favorite — Ghost.

Tonight, you and the direwolf are alone in the apartment, his owner out on a boy’s night . The same boy’s night that your boyfriend is also partaking on.

“So, Robb asked me to hang out with him and the other guys this Saturday.”

Aemond had tried to look cool and collected when he told you, but you could tell he was surprised and happy that he had been invited. It’s cute. You hope they’re having fun.

“But not too much fun. Amiright, Ghost?”

Ghost tilts his head from side to side several times, not understanding you. You giggle, hugging him closer.

You’re sure that the boys are just doing their usual bar hopping — with maybe a trip to the arcade or bowling thrown in. You just hope they don’t scare off or traumatize Aemond with their crazy escapades. 

Theon sent you a snap just 15 minutes ago, with all of them in their Uber, singing (screaming) at the top of their lungs to ‘Can't Take My Eyes Off You’ since you told him what movie you were watching. Even their driver — Tormund, per the caption on the snap — was singing along with them. All of them were clearly already wasted to some degree. Though you only see Aemond for a quick second, he looks like he is having fun too, which makes you happy.   

take care of my boyfriend or else, greyjoy 🤬

In which, Theon had just replied with:

*gulp* 🥴

You and the girls had a girl’s day earlier that morning as well, but it was much more tamed. Margaery treated you all to this fancy nail place where you can order drinks while getting your nails done. You got your nails painted a nice shade of red since the holidays are coming soon. You can’t wait to show Aemond, he always likes red on you.

It’s during the middle of The Princess Diaries when you hear the struggle outside your front door. You check the time on your phone – 2:03 AM – and assume it must be the boys bringing Jon home. 

Pouting that you have to leave Ghost’s warmth, you squeeze him tight before you get up to pad over to the door. It’s clear that whoever is outside is trying to fit the key inside the lock, but isn’t successful with every muffled curse word you hear. Peering through the peephole, you are greeted with Robb’s forehead, so you unlock and open the door.

“Oh, thank Gods,” Robb rejoices, accidentally dropping Jon’s carabiner that holds his keys onto the ground. When he picks it up, that’s when you see Aemond’s holding up Jon behind him. The latter is so drunk he can barely stand on his own.

“Whoa…” You lean against the door, arms crossing, shaking your head at the state of your best friend. “Bowling?”

Jon is notoriously bad at bowling and whenever the boys do their bowling drinking game, it’s the only time Jon comes home absolutely plastered. 

“Yup!” Robb proudly answers. “It was me and Aemond against Jon and Theon. Aemond and I won, clearly.”

“Clearly,” You say with a laugh. “Where’s loser #2?”

“He’s in the Uber, which I should get back to before he throws up all over it,” Robb says, handing you Jon’s keys. “It’s a Tesla, ____, and I can’t afford to pay cleaning fines right now after all the gift shopping I’ve done!”

“Alright, go, go!” You urge, and he gives you a quick hug and says his goodbye to Jon and Aemond — let’s do this again soon, lads! — before running off. 

“ So… I’m guessing you had fun?” You ask Aemond, opening the door wide enough for him to drag both himself and Jon inside, pressing a kiss on his cheek when he passes by. Aemond hums happily and nods. 

“ Uuurghhh… ”

“I wasn’t asking you , Jon. You obviously had too much fun. ”  

It was a two person job to take Jon to his bedroom and tuck him into bed, but you and Aemond manage. You leave some Poppyvil and a glass of water on his bedside table before you and Aemond leave him with Ghost climbing up onto his bed. 

Sitting at the kitchen table with your boyfriend, you talk softly between one another, telling each other about your day. You show off your pretty new set of nails, which he compliments, taking your hands and kissing each of your fingers. You laugh, realizing that although he isn’t as visibly drunk as Jon and Robb, he still is tipsy enough to do things that he usually wouldn’t do while sober. 

During his turn to talk about his night, he takes a pause to hydrate. You watch him with your chin in the palm of your hand, visibly swooning at the sight of him. He is so regal and beautiful, and all he is doing is drinking water. The pretty curve of his neck exposed while his pretty Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow. 

But then his head tips back to get what little is left in the cup, and your eyes snap wide open, awoken from your daydreaming. 

Because right there, on his left earlobe that was obscured by his gorgeous silvery hair until this very moment, is a small silver hoop earring. 

You gasp out loud, standing up from the chair swiftly while pointing at it. “What is that?!”

Aemond jumps slightly at your sudden exclamation, touching where you are pointing, then he laughs sheepishly as he remembers. So many things happened during the boy’s night that he almost forgot about it. “Oh, this…? Well, you see… the boys said they were all planning on getting one, and that I didn’t have to… But then Theon said that someone… well, nevermind — why? Does it look awful?”

You take a step towards him, fitting yourself in between his legs. Aemond naturally makes room for you, pleased to finally be so close to you after the whole day of being without.  

From this close, you are able to fully admire his new piercing. The silver matches well with his undertone, you think as you gently trace the curvature of his ear, careful not to touch the still sensitive lobe. 

He was already so unbelievably beautiful before, but now…

“Aemond, I’m sorry… I don’t think I can do this,” you say, voice low yet full of feelings, dramatic as you shake your head and your face crumples. Instantly concerned, Aemond quickly searches your face, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you toward him. He murmurs a soft and adorably confused darling, what are you…? but you continue, “I have very weak muscles. I can’t fight for my life. I mean, I’ll obviously try — I really will! But…”  

You place your hands on both sides of his shoulders, sensually massaging down towards his chest and up again. Aemond’s eye goes wide, taking a hard swallow. “I don’t know if I can win against everyone who’s gonna go after you now that you have that piercing. Like, you were already hot before, but now you are downright criminally hot. I can’t fight, Aemond,” you lean down, whispering sultrily into his ear, “What if I don’t win?”

You feel his whole body shivering, his hands on you clutches tighter. “You have no competition. You’ll always win with me.”

“ Yeah…? ” You question softly, smirking with glee.

Aemond takes your chin gently between his fingers and turns your head toward him. The way he is looking at you has your heart beating incredibly fast. There is that twinkle in his eye that lets you believe that you can trust everything he says to you, that he will never lead you astray. 

“Yes,” Aemond murmurs as he moves to hover his mouth over yours, his thumb tracing your jaw.  “It’s only ever going to be you.”

He closes the space between you, kissing you hard and slow. His hand wraps around your neck, causing you to gasp softly which allows for Aemond to slip his tongue inside your mouth. It escalates after that, Aemond licking in your mouth with a moan, prying away for a moment just to catch your mouth at a different angle. Breaking apart then meeting over and over and over again.  

Aemond tries to pull you into his lap, to get you going on his thigh like he knows you love to do, but you push away from him gently with a soft laugh. He pouts up at you, and you just shake your head.    

“I wanna do something for you,” you whisper to him, turning his head to the side to press a sloppy kiss on his neck, just under his newly pierced earlobe. 

“What—” Aemond cuts himself off with a choked groan, your knee rubbing over the growing bulge in his pants. His reaction has you giggling as you kiss down his neck.

His heavy lidded eye watches as you go down onto your knees, slow , with your hips swaying from side to side. Your hands are on his body the entire time, caressing down too. 

A dance just for him, and he is captivated by it.

When your knees press against the wooden floor, you make Aemond spread his leg wider for you. Rubbing back and forth along his thighs, you deliberately avoid where he really wants to feel your touch.

“I wanna make you feel good,” you say with a lick of your lips. 

Aemond squirms in his seat, clearly already pent up. “Sweetheart…”

This is supposed to be a treat, so you don’t tease him any further, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants effortlessly. Aemond lifts his hips, enabling you to pull his pants and boxer briefs down just below his knees, his length flopping up to his stomach.

You take him in your hand. Perfectly red nails wrapped around his flushed red, aching cock. 

It’s a pretty sight, and you believe Aemond thinks so too, judging by the way he twitches in the palm of your hand, the tip of his cockhead oozing pre.

As soon as you start to stroke him, Aemond moans out loud, causing you to stop immediately. Brows drawing together in confusion, he whimpers like a wounded puppy, but you just press a finger to your smirking lips. “You have to keep quiet, Aemond. We can’t wake Jon or Ghost up,” slowly, using his precum to make your movements smoother, you begin to stroke him again, “Can you keep quiet for me, baby?"

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, Aemond only nods. Keeping quiet like he just promised. 

Aemond is doing such a good job. Even when you start to play with his heavy balls — kneading and rolling it against your other palm — he doesn’t make a single sound. He is leaking profusely now, your hand dripping with him. 

Fluttering your eyes up at him, you lean forward to kitten lick his spend trailing down the back of your hand still wrapped around his cock, and Aemond has to close his eye and pray to not say anything. A praise for you bitten at the tip of his tongue.

Noting the way he is struggling to keep quiet, you pump his shaft a few more times before you squeeze him tight just around the base. This causes his hip to thrust forward, his fist flying up so he can bite down on his knuckles.

“Baby,” you murmur, and Aemond opens his eye gradually, peering down at you. His chest is expanding greatly, breathing heavily. Your head turns sideways, sucking and kissing along the thickest vein on his cock, then ending with a broad lick around his tip. “Guide me, okay? Want to make it feel so good for you.”

Aemond nods, resting his hand on the back of your head, watching as you lower your mouth to his cock. The sheer size of him used to intimidate you, but you’ve had him down your throat enough times now that you know you can take him quite well. 

Aemond shivers as your lips wrap around him, humming on your descent down. He tenderly tucks your hair behind your ear, getting a better look of himself disappearing inside your pretty mouth. 

As your hot saliva coats him, the way you are hollowing your cheeks feels too good. His hand grips tight onto the back of your head, unable to stop himself from pushing your head deeper down on his cock. Soon, his tip hits the back of your throat, and you gag around him but he doesn’t let up — he is not fully inside yet. You are not giving up either, tapping your finger on his thigh to let him know you are capable of taking more. 

He pulls you back a little, then he pushes you forward again, this time your nose is brushing into the hair around the base of his shaft and your mouth is stuffed full entirely of him. You swallow multiple times around him, your throat feeling the way he throbs and twitches uncontrollably. 

Then he lets go of the back of your head, grinning down at you, allowing you to do your worst. You get sloppy with it, drool dripping all over his cock as you deepthroat him until he is becoming even more and more sensitive, his release coming soon.

Aemond can’t hold back anymore — a loud panting moan falling out of his thoroughly bitten lips.

You glance up — and if you weren’t already choking on his cock or had tears in your eyes, you definitely will have now.  

The golden glow of shitty kitchen light serves as a divine halo around Aemond. With his head tipped back, mouth wide open in a muted moan, the silver of the piercing shining brilliantly — he looks like an angel. 

Aemond comes beautifully, he always does. 

You pull back enough for his cock to lay on your tongue, letting him shoot his load into your mouth. He softens on your tongue before you completely move away, and he watches as you swallow down his tangy taste without any complaint. Even wiping your messy mouth with a satisfied smile. 

Aemond pulls you up to him, and you sit to the side on his lap while your hands intertwine behind his neck.

“Your turn,” Aemond says as his heated mouth finds yours.

You shake your head, giggling as he kisses along your jawline. “Nuh-uh, I’m tired. It’s like 3 AM, Aemond.”

“But—”

It is frantic scratching on a door and whimpering that pulls the two of you away from each other. 

Alarmed, you meet each other's gaze.

Oh, no… You woke up Ghost. He is probably worried about all the noises he is hearing. Poor baby.

“Let’s let him out, calm him down, and then go to bed.”

“Right, Okay.”

“Aemond! Put your dick back in your pants first!”

“Shit, right!”

You laugh, kissing him while he does just that. 

a.t. 💗 🎵 heart out ·  the 1975

---

Aemond has been visiting his father a lot lately. At least three times a week. Most of the time with you but there were some days he actually went on his own. 

It’s strange, but nice. It feels like he is getting to know his father again. Repairing their relationship that his father had no idea was broken in the first place.

So when he gets a call from Viserys, asking him to come by with just him, Aemond gives him his word that he’ll be there after his last class of the day. 

The last class ended up being canceled so he arrives at his father’s mansion earlier than expected, pulling up at the same time as his father’s nurse, Samwell.  

“Hello Samwell,” Aemond greets with a nod, as they walk up the path together.

“Oh, hi Aemond!” Sam exclaims with glee. “It’s nice to see you around here again!”

“Yeah, it is,” Aemond smiles, helping Sam with the packages left out on the front door. While Sam unlocks the door, Aemond shifts from one foot to the other, pursing his lips to the side. “Can I ask you something?”

Entering the house together, and scuffing off the snow on the soles of their boots, Sam nods at Aemond. “Of course!”

Aemond takes a shallow breath. “How do you think he’s doing? Anything I should be concerned about?”

Samwell frowns, taking a moment to figure out how to say what he is going to say next. “To be honest, Aemond, he could be doing better. I’m actually here because the doctors are concerned about the numbers ___ sent us yesterday. They’re not so bad that it warrants an immediate visit to the hospital, but they are preparing a room for him to stay after his bi-weekly visit on Friday.”

Aemond hums, frowning. That doesn’t sound good. 

Aemond follows Samwell around to look for his father, but they don’t find him in any of his usual spots. The conservatory, the living area, the kitchen, his bedroom — all empty. 

It makes Aemond really nervous. Luckily Sam is there and he is more levelheaded. “Let’s split up. I’ll tackle upstairs and you check the other rooms on this floor, okay?”

They quickly get to work. Every room Aemond finds empty has dread running down his spine. 

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? 

“Found him!” He hears Samwell cheerily call from somewhere on the second floor, allowing Aemond to let out a breath of relief. 

Aemond climbs up the stairs, three steps at a time. He calls out, and when Samwell answers, he follows his voice. 

He finds himself standing in front of an open door to a room that he has only been into once before.

Because it’s Aemma’s art room, Viserys’ first wife. 

Inside, he can see Samwell already tending to his father, but Aemond stands there, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t forbidden for him to go in there, but it was a taboo between him and his siblings. And it seems that those made up rules are still ingrained in his head.

Because Aemma is the reason his father didn’t fully love his mother. Aemma is the reason his father didn’t love him or his other siblings. Aemma is the reason for the divorce. And Aemma is part of the reason for the will that he and Aegon found in the beginning of summer. 

At least that was what they were all made to believe.

“Aemond, get over here,” Samwell beckons him over. Aemond sees his father wave to him weakly, smile weak as well, and so he swiftly walks towards where Viserys is sitting in front of an unfinished painting on an easel. A painting that hasn’t been worked on for 27 years.

“Are you well, father? Should we take you to the hospital?”

Visersy shakes his head. “No, no… I am fine. But can you…” He shakily points to another chair close by, “... bring that chair closer and sit down for me, please?”

Aemond does as he is told, settling down on the chair right in front of his father.

“I have something for you,” Viserys begins. Meanwhile Samwell is busy around them, doing all the things necessary for his job, his father is used to it so he continues, “Do you see that box over there?”

Aemond looks over to where his father is pointing and spies a small dark blue velvet box on the ledge of the easel. 

“Can you grab it?”

Aemond reaches over, stretching out his arm and is able to grab hold of the box without moving from his chair. 

Then Viserys urges him to open it with a smile, and so Aemond lifts open the box and what he sees has his brows narrowing together, unable to comprehend why it is in his hands. 

It’s a ring — but that’s not what has him so confused. 

Aemond knows what this opulent sapphire ring is. There are too many pictures of Aemma Targaryen around the mansion to not know.

“This is the highly-coveted Targaryan engagement ring, it’s been in our family for thousands and thousands of years…  And I want you to have it, Aemond.” 

Glancing up at his father, still confused, Aemond presses, “But… why?”

“I hope you don’t find it disrespectful, Aemond. I know it’s strange to give you a ring that was the engagement ring that I gave to a woman that wasn’t your mother. But it’s a family heirloom, and I always knew it was going to be passed down to one of my children to give to the person that they fall in love with — and I hope I am not being presumptuous to think that you are in love with ___, and I’m not pressuring you to be—”

“It’s alright,” Aemond cuts him off with a soft smile. “I am… I am in love with her.”

It’s cathartic to finally say it out loud. Now that he has done it, he wants the whole world to know. 

He and his father share a look, his father appears to be so happy for him. 

But wait—

“You want me to ask her to marry me?” Aemond questions, eye widening in bewilderment. 

“No, no!” Viserys shakes his head, laughing. “Not if you’re not ready! You can do it whenever it feels right for you two — if it ever feels right… I know feelings can change, and all that…”

“I don’t think my feelings for her will ever change,” Aemond says, so sure of it. “But I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that yet. We both still have college to finish…”

Viserys nods, understanding. “I still want you to keep it. Even if you want to buy her a different ring, or how you youths these days don’t even find the point in marriage…” He stops to laugh, and even Samwell chuckles a bit,  “You can hand it down to your children.” 

“Thank you, father…” Aemond murmurs, glancing down at the ring. In his head, he imagines himself giving it to you during some grand gesture— and then another during a small one. Many different scenarios drift though his vivid imagination, and each one feels right. The ring on your dainty finger would look so right. It’s meant for you. 

“Just one condition…” His father holds out his shaky hand, and Aemond cocks his head, questioning. “I get to have a front row seat… and Samwell too, along with his wife, Gilly.”

Aemond laughs, nodding along as he takes his father’s hand to shake on it. “Alright. I think ___ will also agree to that.”

“Fantastic! Gilly loves weddings!” Samwell comments, overhearing the deal. 

Aemond and father talk a while more, until Samwell wraps up. 

“Okay, lunch time!” Samwell announces. “Aemond, would you like to give me a hand?”

“Of course.”

But the two of them don’t even make it out the door before they hear hacking and rough coughing behind them.

Aemond turns, just in time to witness his father falling, hitting his head hard against the floor. His body convulses after the impact, moving erratically. 

Something is not right. 

Aemond pales, blood rushing to head, feeling faint.

Is this really happening? This cannot be happening. 

Samwell rushes past him to attend to his father. 

Meanwhile, Aemond stands there and stares. 

Horrified and frozen.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

here's a question that has probably been asked before: how did you come up with you rewrites for the characters? all of the backstories you gave them are really interesting and, while I haven't read the originals in a long time, I think I like what you did more. I found your work only in the past couple days, but I like it a lot; your versions of the creeps feel the most like real people that I've found since my interest in them reignited. but yeah, love your work.

(also, I may show back up in your ask box, so may I be "embroidery anon"?)

Firstly, thank you very much!! I tried really hard to make them much more realistic/three dimensional instead of just “oohhh I like to kill people!!” Ya know? I’m glad that people like you over time have liked that aspect of them :)) Prepare for some rambling though-

As for coming up for their specific backstories, that’s a little hard to answer I think just because of how long it’s been since I started doing that. I’ve been into the creeps since I was 11 and I’m turning 23 in a couple weeks so, it’s been a long ride. The creeps grew up alongside me and I think for some of them their stories just sort of evolved in my mind over the years. I mean I’ve literally been in the fandom for longer than several creeps like Toby, Pup, Helen, etc.

The basics are just I’d look at the original story for most of them, decide what I think I could keep, and what I’d like to change. For a creep like Toby, I wanted him to still have a good relationship with his mom and sister, and I still wanted his sister to die, but for Natalie I made her brother an ally to her and someone she loves and trusts instead of one of the bad guys. But I mostly wanted to make the writing darker and more in depth, I wanted them to be darker and more realistic as people.

I also wanted different backgrounds for them, like Toby/Helen/Natalie coming from very rich and influential families, EJ in my canon growing up in a cult, Jason and LJ both being toys instead of just LJ, things like that.

The thing about rewriting them I think is that most of the OG stories are not… The best written stories ever? Most of them were written by preteens/teens and not the most realistic pieces of media. Like in Jeff’s, being burned by fire made his hair turn black and his skin turn white, which is not really how fire and burns work?? And then he went on to burn off his eyelids which also not a great idea? I’ve actually had people get upset that my Jeff has eyelids but like if he didn’t he would be completely blind and in literal agony because his eyes would be completely dried out. That’s not a great design imo, but it was also written by a child so like, that’s why.

Most of my designs just sort of pop into my head randomly though. I get an idea like for BEN I wanted him to be close to his mom, but I didn’t want her to still be living so I went okay, how do I expand on that? And that’s how I came up with my version of his story, with his mom dying young from illness and his father being abusive and resentful.

I wish I had a better way of explaining it but that’s just sort of my general thought process. I started to look at them more as individual characters/OCs instead of just the original lore, which I mean most blogs for the creeps these days have their own lore too. I don’t think my creeps are the best ones ever (except in my heart), but I also had a lot of fun writing them and coming up with their backgrounds. I got influenced a lot by songs and media and they just gradually came into fruition :) I’m glad they were good enough to reignite your interest.

(And also yes, you may take that anon name ^^)

[oatbugs]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[dreamlogic]

...

[the-20th-century-girl]

Woke up (after oversleeping waaay too much) from a dream, which I am now convinced my brain put together as a personal attack on me. It really had everything in it that I was worrying over, just to make me sad.

[ethereiling]

microdosing on self love by making myself strawberry shortcake and buying myself drinks i like and putting my favorite soup into smaller containers so i can eat it without being stressed abt it spoiling

[your--isgayrights]

It’s orvuto anon again, I stalled on your pinned post again — experimental neuroscience?? :eyes:

Yesss. I'm actually an undergrad neuroscience major... Like writing and art and stuff is just for fun, I wanna be a research neuroscientist one day lol.

[cannotgiveafuck]

My patience and emotional stability is at an all time low, like man, I haven't cried this much in a very long time. Anyway my pride stuff from target came in and i got some mcr merch on the way. A reward for my suffering. Also the new MCR song and Florence album on repeat.

[be-good-to-bugs]

UGH why does eating always make me feel like throwing up :/ that is the opposite of what i want

[cupid-styles]

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt. 2

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst.

See My Masterlist Here

Part One

Tonight was the night you were going to confess your feelings to Spencer. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, it was too painful. You were worried you would lose him when you told him, but you thought there was a good chance he felt the same.

You spent all afternoon cooking his favorite foods, planning for a night of cuddling and love making after you got the confession out of the way. When you were finished getting dressed, Spencer knocked on your door.

You invited him in, taking your seats at the table. You ate in silence, your nerves making your stomach hurt. “I have to tell you-“ “We should talk.” You spoke over each other. You smile, giggling with excitement. Spencer wanted to talk too. This is going so well.

“You go first.” You prompt him, smiling wide at him. “These past six months have been so fun. But I think our time together should come to an end.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry.

“I want to keep it professional at work. We can still be friends, we will just take the sex out of it.” He explains, studying your face. All you can do is nod as he rattles on about how the statistics of such a relationship show that the longer you did it, the harder it would be to end it.

You used to love hearing him spout a million facts about whatever topic he was talking about. But not tonight. “So what did you want to tell me?” He asks, serving himself more food. “Um, I was just going to tell you that book I ordered you came this morning. I thought you would be excited.” You rise from the table, retrieving the thick book from the counter and bringing it to Spencer.

“Thanks.” His smile breaks your heart. You can feel that your attempts to keep the tears at bay are failing. “Why don’t you take the food with you? I’m suddenly not feeling well.” You tell him, as you turn your back to get the lids for the bowls. You hand them to him, turning your back as the tears start to fall. “I’m going to lay down. Lock the door behind you.”

If he thought your sudden illness had anything to do with him, he didn’t act like it. Spencer was right about nothing changing. He was the exact same as he had always been with you, just without the sex.

Spencer was heartbroken. He didn’t want to end his sexual relationship with you. But he couldn’t put himself through the pain anymore. He spent all of his spare time with you. He couldn’t keep you off his mind. Things had changed a few months ago. He had bent the rules he set in place so he wouldn’t fall for you.

You had started spending the night and cuddling. Spencer had fallen fast and hard. But he couldn’t go through every day knowing you didn’t feel the same. So he had to end it, as painful as it was for him. It was no secret that you had been hooking up. But he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

Until two weeks after he called it off, he was so upset, he broke down and talked to Derek. He wanted to know all the details, but Spencer only told him the important information. “I have an easy fix for you, pretty boy.” Morgan smirked at him. Spencer leaned in, excited there was a solution.

“You know what they say, if you want to get over someone, get under someone else. You just have to sleep with someone and she will be the last thing you’re thinking of. Works for me every time.” Spencer cleared his throat. “Easy for you to say. I’m lucky she agreed to sleep with me. I’ll never find someone else so quickly, and I’m not sure I would want to.”

“I know someone who has been into you since she started here.” Derek boasts, nodding his head to the blonde at the coffee pot talking to Rossi. “Ashley?” Spencer squeaked, while Derek laughed.

Ashley Seaver was one coworker you could not get used to. She was impulsive, always throwing herself into trouble. You couldn’t stand her. Not only for how she acted on the field, but for how she looked at Spencer. She wanted him, and she didn’t care who knew it. She was all over him from the second she started working at the BAU.

She even knew that you and Spencer were hooking up, but she didn’t care. She used every opportunity to touch him or say something flirty, making eye contact with you the whole time she did it. Luckily, Spencer was oblivious. When you mentioned how she hung all over him, he said he didn’t even notice. He was too busy thinking about the case or the thing you did with your tongue the night before.

So you stopped being jealous. It wasn’t like you had any right to be. You and Spencer were just hooking up. If he wasn’t interested in her, then you would just let it go. The last time she tried anything had been a month ago. You were sick and she invited Spencer to go eat after work.

Spencer being the nice guy he is, accepted her offer. While they were out, he talked about you the whole time. She had told him to stop talking about you, that she was right there and she wanted whatever he was willing to give. He politely turned her down, but she was furious. She kept her distance from both of you since then.

That’s why you were confused when you heard her squealing and giggling, saying Spencer’s name as loudly as she could. You looked up from your mountainous stack of paperwork that you came in early to work on to see Spencer hugging her.

There was a vase of roses on her desk. “I can’t believe you got these for me! What a surprise! I knew you would come around!” She almost yelled, looking directly at you. Spencer took her hand in his, “I wanted to get you something before our date tonight, but I wasn’t sure I would have time to get them after work.” He explained shyly looking at her.

That little shit! Was he actually blushing? Was he seriously going on a date with Ashley tonight? And what is with the roses? He never once got you flowers. Did he call things off with you to date her? Seeing them together made you feel sick. Actually, the temperature felt like it rose a hundred degrees. You needed to get up now. You ran to the bathroom making it just in time to throw up.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @13430ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck

[bombuni]

contains: poly!ateez x gn!reader, soft ateez taking care of u, non-verbal and self-isolating reader, implied depressed/chronically ill reader

you: babies i think it’s better if you don’t come over tonight

joong: Everything ok?

minmin: but im hungry and u said u’d make dinner :(

woo: WE’RE HUNGRY!!! OM NOM NOM

you: just not feeling it tonight. sorry

You shut your phone off with guilt weighing in your heart. You had promised your boys a nice home-made dinner after a hard week full of non-stop practicing. You knew they’d been looking forward to it the entire week, the stress-free time they’d get to spend with you, but, there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been growing the past week and now it’s big enough to stop you from doing anything else but wallow in your thoughts. Now the guilt just adds to it.

There’s times when you don’t have energy for anything. Not even for your favorite people on Earth and it’s simply your body’s fault. At least you try to tell yourself that.

There’s no response to your last message and you sent it an hour ago. Usually you’d be suspicious about the lack of whining and bickering, but you’re just too tired to worry as fatigue fogs your senses. You’re set for a night of self-pity when your front door unlocks, myriads of voices barging in and breaking the calm of your apartment. You already feel a headache coming on as Wooyoung, like usual, argues about whatever hill he’s chosen to die on.

You want to get up to greet them, but somethings stopping you. The pit in your stomach almost weighs you down, your limbs too heavy to move now. You sigh and surrender to your body’s fatigue.

Seonghwa watches you with a sad look on his face. He knows all the tell-tale signs of your sad ruts by now, the most obvious of all being when you go out of your way to isolate yourself. It hurts him because he wants to help you, but he‘s not quite sure how to do it right with you.

“Sweet thing,” he coos quietly and lays a gentle hand atop yours, “how do you feel?”

His attention turns a switch on in you, feeling yourself melt against his soft touch and caring voice. You shrug, feeling a loss of words. You don’t really have any to describe how you feel. Or rather, there’s a boulder in your throat stopping you from even attempting to say anything.

Hongjoong and San walk over, the latter immediately scooping you up into his arms despite Seonghwa’s protests. Hongjoong leans over the back of the couch, carding his fingers through your hair and tutting at the state you’re in.

“You’re not getting rid of us that easy, you know,” he mumbles.

San looks right at you even if you won’t meet his eyes, trying his best to communicate the worry he has because he knows words don’t work with you when you’re like this. Seonghwa flicks San’s forehead, pulling a loud noise of protest out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to be helping in the kitchen?”

San responds by pulling you tightly against him and closing his eyes in bliss. Seonghwa grumbles something about disrespect, but walks away to help in the kitchen himself. It’s starting to feel a little warm with San’s irresistible need to touch you and Hongjoong’s eyes not once leaving your form. It gets unbearably hot when you feel Mingi’s lips against the crown of your head, Wooyoung doing the same and immediately jumping into gently scolding you for pushing them away.

Hongjoong wants to agree but he knows it’s not what you need right now. He shushes Wooyoung, “Did you take your meds yet?”

You shake your head. Yunho walks up to you, bending down to hand you your medicine with a kind smile on his face. He takes your hand in his when you swallow your pills, kissing each of your knuckles gently, as if he fears scaring you away.

“Here.” Yeosang passes you a glass of water. There’s eight pairs of eyes on you and you can feel each one. It’s like they’re watching a zoo animal on display and you’d laugh at the thought in any other circumstance.

Jongho stands across you, intently staring you down, “You know you can’t just expect us to leave you alone, right?”

San pulls your head into his chest and throws protective arms over you as if you’re a kid getting a scolding, “Don’t be mean.”

Jongho is about to retort before Seonghwa stops him, “Ok! Ok, what Jongho means,” he kneels down next to Yunho with a gentle expression aimed at you, “Is that we want to help you, sweetheart. And it’s hard to do that when you don’t allow us to,”

Yeosang scratches at his neck as he finds the words, “We know it’s hard for you to do that, but…”

Hongjoong continues for him, “We’re just asking that you try at least. Okay?”

You hesitantly nod into San’s chest and you feel him let out a sigh of relief. Wooyoung speaks up from behind you, “You’re hogging ‘em, Sannie,”

He shakes his head violently and hugs you tighter, “No ‘m not.”

Mingi grimaces, “You totally are.”

It’s all-out war again and your body shakes between theirs as each one tries to take you for themselves. San’s still got a good grip on you as Yunho, Seonghwa, and Jongho fight to pull him off of you. Wooyoung and Mingi stand back and argue with San, really the only thing they’re good for. Hongjoong and Yeosang grimace and watch the events unfold, only waiting to step in if they notice you get overwhelmed.

But you don’t. You feel warm and loved and happy, and there’s a bubble of laughter forming in your throat and surpassing the boulder that was stuck in you before. You’ll take it one step at a time, and they’ll take that step with you.

bom note: this is for the gays with chronic fear of being emotionally vulnerable. i tried to make readers issues as vague as possible for u. Also realistically i would not want 8 men all up in my space when im in one of these moods but it’s fantasy ok shhh

[mmurderhousewrites]

Rich Baby Daddy pt. one (sukuna x reader)

Summary: You're invited to a party by a close friend and end up bumping into someone from your past.

Warnings: none.

The mornings used to be your favorite. Waking up next to your hunk of a man. The sun shining through your bedroom windows. Oh how you missed those lovely mornings.

Now however, your mornings consisted of you waking up at the crack of dawn due to your crying 4 year old. bathing and clothing not only yourself but your child as well, making breakfast, and somehow managing to get to work on time.

Now on your days off, if you were lucky, Yuji, your son, would sleep in. And if god was somehow on your side that day, your baby daddy might even come pick up his son for awhile, giving you some free time. But those days were rare considering Sukuna is a business man.

Sukuna is the CEO of jujutsu tech, a huge electronic corporation. you had met him through your close friend getou and hit it off. Eventually you two moved in with each other and not long after that he got you pregnant.

Times have changed though unfortunatley. Sukuna is a very hard working man, so hardworking that he put his job before his own family. About a year after yuji was born you decided to leave after getting into a big argument with sukuna, taking yuji with you.

At first you stayed with your parents for a while before finding yourself a cute apartment in the city, it was a two bedroom 1 and a half bathroom. That's where you and yuji have been ever since.

You and your baby dad have had a neutral relationship ever since, sukuna of course always trying to get you to go back but times have changed and you are a new woman.

As of now it was about 1:00pm. You worked as a journalist in the new station in the city, not to far from your apartment. sitting at your desk, going through old news feed, your phone dings.

Looking over you see youve gotten a message. It was from Getou.

Geto: hey, theres some kind of party later a friend of mine is hosting. Wanted to know if u were interested in being my plus 1 ;p

You giggle to yourself. What a flirt. You could always drop yuji off to your parents for the night, after all they loved your little pink haired baby. And on top of that you could use a night out.

Quickly typing back to geto you respond,

Me: Sounds interesting.. Whats the dresscode?

geto: formal. I figure you might get a good story out of one of these rich folks huh?

Me: hmmm i think im sold suguru.

geto: great! ill pick you up at 8.

"L/N! I'm not paying you to text on your phone! I need a story!" You hear your boss, Mark yell from his office behind you.

You roll your eyes before collecting your things, standing up you head over to marks office. "The Richardsons are hosting a party tonight, i'm gonna see what tea i can find. I know the juliani"s are hiding something." You say leaning against the door frame.

"yeah well the Juliani's have a mind of their own."

"im gonna leave to go get ready." you say turning around, heading to the exit.

"L/N!" Mark calls out to you making you stop and turn to face him. "be careful. I don't need another Journalist coming up missing." You nod your head before leaving the building and heading to the parking lot.

It was true, the last journalist who went to investage the Juliani family, they turned up missing. In fact it was your coworker Nobara Kugisaki. Police reports were made out by her family about a week ago and nothing has come up.

you shivered as you walked to your car, the cold making it so you can see your breathe. Once you reached your car, a small 2020 Honda civic, you opened your door and put your bags in.

"Y/n" you freeze, hearing that oh so sexy voice say your name for the first time in what? months?

Turning around you find yourself face to face with the man you once loved, oh who are you kidding still love. He was wearing a long black coat and black jeans, his pink hair ruffled as usual and his tattoos just added to his handsome features.

"ryo- what are you doing here?" You ask, crossing your arms.

He walks closer to you, making you take a step back, leaning against your cars back door.

"i just wanted to see you." He says quietly, swiping a piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. You can't help but blush.

Pushing his hand away, you roll your eyes. "What are you really here for" you werent an idiot. Sukuna is a powerful man and busy one at that, there was no way he got out of work just to come see you.. especially considering he barely seen your son. But you couldn't be mad after all he was sending you checks every few weeks with at least 3,000$ on them.. so he was still providing for you and yuji in a way.

He chuckles, "I heard youre going to that party later with Getou.."

Was he serious right now? "What about it?" You question, eyebrow perking up.

"Don't go." He says darkly.

"Are you kidding me? What are you jealous? I'm a grown woman i deserve a night out once in a while!" You say before turning away and hoping in your car.

Sukuna leans against your window, so you roll it down. "Look kitten, if i were you i'd actually listen to your baby dad for once. It's not gonna be pretty" he smiles before backing away from your car.

You take this opportunity to pull out of the parking lot, making your way to yuji's daycare.

When you arrive at the daycare. You are first greeted by gojo, one of the daycare teachers and also getou's best friend.

"Well hello there Y/N! Here for yuuji?" Gojo asks, leaning towards you. "Its nap time right now so the children are asleep."

"Well unfortunately i'm going to have ti disturb his sleep because we have a pretty busy schedule for tonight" you laugh. "How have you been?" You havent really had a conversation with gojo in a while, you and him werent close, maybe because of how much of an extrovert he is.

"Im alriiight! I got a new apartment on 37th its a real beautyy." He drags on.

"Nice! Thats good to here" gojo pulls out his walky talky and yells loudly, "yuji has an early dismissal!!"

Next thing you know, theres a bunch of crying children in the next room over. What an idiot. You mentally facepalm.

Shoko, another daycare teacher comes out with yuji in her arms. He looks over to you and smiles.

After you get yuji and yourself situated in the car, you guys make your way over to your parents house. You had called them on your way to get yuji and of course they were more then thrilled to take yuji for the night.

Your parents lived anout 25 minutes away from the city so the drive wasnt too bad. Yuji was in his carseat playing on his ipad and minding his business.

"Mommy can i have 100$" your four year old says randomly. You cant help but laugh loudly.

"What do you need $100 for butt?" You ask, looking back at your som through the rear view mirror.

"I want a trampoline" he says, looking at you.

"You already have a trampoline at Nana's house and youre going there right now."

"But thats at nana's i want my own! My friend megumi has one at his house" he says, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah yeah."

After dropping your sin off to your parents, and making your way make home, you look through your closet trying to find a decent formal dress. You did have quit a few dresses considering you and sukuna would attend parties and other get togethers for business reasons.

Coming across a long black velvet dress you stop your search. This dress is skin tight and strapless, but has small diamonds adorned around the dress, making it sparkle just right.

Once you got dressed and finished your makeup, you put your hair up into a slick back ponytail, and added a little star charm clip to go with it. You looked absolutely gorgeous. Though your choice in heels would definitely make your feet sore after a night of dancing, looking good is what truly mattered. After all you were really only going to collect some dirt on any of the business men doing work with the Juliani's.

Tonight sure was going to be interesting.

[nereidprinc3ss]

better late than never

in which uni student fem!reader finally shares exactly what she's been worried about with spencer

18+ for pregnancy scare warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, reader doesn't want to be pregnant, age gap (unspecified) a/n: listennn lots of you guys asked for more spence x uni reader... but u didn't specify WHAT u wanted... so now we're fantasizing about pregnancy scares because we're all what?? say it with me!! MENTALLY ILL!!!!

For the fifth time, you have to restart the paragraph you were reading. For the fifth time, it doesn’t make any sense—words strung together like clashing beads on a dancing string, blurred together by the tears you’ve been fighting all day. Anthropology is by far the easiest of the six classes you’re taking this quarter, but suddenly completing this routine assignment feels like scaling a mountain. It is, of course, nothing in comparison to the catalytic source of your immense stress. The thing you’ve been trying to ignore for nearly a week, and as a result, have become more and more obsessive about. 

A flare of rage overwhelms you and you slam your laptop shut. Then as quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, cooling to desolation as you bury your face in your hands with a sob. You hear paper shuffling from the desk where Spencer has been silently working and you try to reign in your emotions, but it’s too late. 

“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches, slowing to a stop in front of your spot on the couch. “What’s going on with you?”

You sniff, quickly brushing the tears away with trembling hands. But your voice is thick and strained when you fruitlessly attempt to lie. 

“Nothing.”

When you refuse to look up at him, he kneels down in front of you. 

“Really? This doesn’t have anything to do with why you’ve been so quiet these past few days?”

Of course, he noticed. You were a fool for thinking he wouldn’t. Finally you break, looking to him for subconscious comfort. And he’s looking up at you so earnestly, with so much genuine concern in those puppy dog eyes, that the waterworks threaten to start up all over again. Your lip quivers. 

“I can’t tell you,” you squeak. 

“That’s a really scary thing for me to hear. Do you understand why?” His voice is calm, carefully grabbing your hand and bringing to his heart. “Because I need to know if something happened to you.”

You shake your head tearfully, looking down at where you’re weakly grasping the front of his shirt. 

“‘s not like that,” comes your reedy whisper. “Nobody hurt me or anything, I just—I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“I won’t get mad, I won’t,” he promises desperately, “right now I just want to know what I can do to make this better. I hate seeing you like this.”

A shuddering sigh forces its way out of your lungs. You suppose this is the kind of thing you probably should tell your boyfriend about, as petrifying as it may be.  

“I don’t know, I… I’ve just been freaking the fuck out because I’m worried I’m pregnant, and this would be the worst possible timing—like I know I want kids one day but I’m still in college and you’re like a real adult with an adult career and I don’t want to fuck that up for you and I know that even if I am pregnant I have choices but that’s still so scary and… and I don’t know.”

You’re expecting a long pause, punctuated by some berating and bemoaning, but it never comes. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Honey, this is exactly the kind of thing you tell me about,” he says, voicing your earlier thoughts. And he doesn’t even sound furious. You glance up, watching his visage swim beyond your teary eyes. “I am not mad. That wouldn’t make any sense. Do you know who’s fault it would be if you accidentally got pregnant?”

“Well—"

“Mine. So if this ever happens again, please don’t keep it to yourself for so long. I won’t be mad at you for something like this, ever.”

“But… you’re not worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, looking utterly unperturbed. 

“I wouldn’t be worried either way. But no, I’m not concerned that you’re pregnant. We’re really safe. The chances of you being pregnant are essentially negligible.”

“But I’m two weeks late.”

“That can happen when you’re taking six upper level classes,” he agrees, swiping your cheek with a thumb. “You’re under a lot of stress. I’m completely unsurprised that your body is reacting to it.”

A weight like a ton of bricks is lifted from your shoulders, but doubt still lingers. 

Spencer sees the hesitation in your eyes. 

“Would it make you feel better to take a test? Just in case?”

You nod gingerly, wrapping your hand around his wrist. He takes it in both of his, kissing the back before dropping them to your lap. 

“Okay. I’ll go get a couple. But I’m confident that you have nothing to worry about, and I’m usually right about these things.”

You take another deep breath, the last of the anxiety floating away with it. He’s usually right about everything. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your palm with his thumb and looking at you with so much love in his eyes. 

“Do you maybe feel like doing my homework for me?”

He smiles. 

“Nice try. Get it done and we can go out for dinner, okay?”

“Always worth a shot,” you shrug. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands. 

“And the answer will always be no.”

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Crinkled Polaroids

Ex-boyfriend!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Hi my lovelies, Lia here and I'd just like to say that this took so long and so much effort, I really poured my heart out on this one and I hope it goes well. Recently my biggest heartbreaks are the "What ifs", what if you two worked it out? Would things be different? Would Simon have the life you've dreamed for the both of you and the one he's been deprived of?

You might be asking me "Lia, what's up with all the angsty content recently, aren't you a fluff dedicated blog?" Well I feel ill, I just got off an extremely busy week and most of my drafts have been never ending angst because I lost ideas of a domestic fam with Simon but I still need to get something out for you guys okay? A random bedtime scenario written down at 3am and for the rest of my midnights during a photoshoot and exam week, what could go wrong?

I'm still waiting on what my beloved @connorsui's review has to say 👀

Disclaimers/Warnings: This is not proofread, also ANGST.

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000

A relationship with Simon Riley going south, at first it started great as most relationships do with several minor bumps due to his past but no big deal right?

But Simon distances himself, more than what's healthy and yes, you do give him his space but there's only little time until closing and distancing off for a while could turn into something like neglect.

Little things like "I love you"s, "thank you"s and every verbal affirmation that you used to think you could cling onto was now non-existent, it hurts but isn't as hurtful when he refuses to touch you.

Back hugs you give would only give you a cold shrug in return, kisses you left were on cold chapped lips that remain still. At this point, you were better off loving someone dead.. then again, aren't you already doing so?

The life you've imagined for the both of you cease to fade in your head as the true reality of the man you love sets in, that dumb idea your younger self who had rose tinted glasses had to actually settle down with someone in such a short period of time of a few years.

You felt so unappreciated, it seemed like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get him to see you. You felt cheated of the relationship you were supposed to have with him when you see others with the one you love and how he acts around everyone except you. You felt like nothing but a chore to him, an occasional fuck who cleans his home.

Then again, this is a broken man, you felt entitled to ask such a thing of him when he himself is also just healing from what his past had caused.

In Simon's eyes, he was doing you a favor, fucked up in his part thinking hurting you is the best way to save you from himself. It worked, that's what he wanted.. right?

So you leave, it was best for the both of you anyway right? Simon deserves someone who could actually make him happy and you deserve to feel loved in a relationship. Simon's life was a mess, truly, but he didn't realize how much more of a mess it was without you.

Coming home to an empty shell of a house, nothing to look forward to. He found himself almost on the brink of insanity, moving things all over his own home as if you were still there.

Always finding himself staring at that one wornout and creased polaroid of you and him, you were a silly one huh? A hobby of yours that left so much proof of your existence.

Begging him to be in a picture, bribing him with a kiss. Slightly smudged and distorted but still legible pen ink at the back as he flips the flimsy piece of thick, shiny paper.

Keep him safe for me, Ghost.

- Your favorite girl <3

You always thought of him as Simon and Ghost as just an alter ego, a mask that he needs to wear in order to stomach the violence that comes with his occupation.

You were the only one who can differentiate these two people. Tears started to form in his eyes but he blinks it away and shoves the polaroid back in his wallet.

He only started noticing changes when Johnny points out that he's become stone cold, a lot more silent, though he was known to be a ghost.. a shadow.. it wasn't like him to not even try to light up his mood with his dark jokes.

Everytime Simon thinks he gets over the pain, there's always one thing in that stupid house that reminded him of you. You weren't there but it sure felt like that you haunted every corner of the house and his mind.

Whether that'd be something you gifted him or an item of yours left behind, especially when the two of you shared moments with those items, oftentimes Simon tries to relive those, preserve his fading memory of your face.

This is what happens when the decisions you make have consequences on the one that your world revolves around.

A few years down this lane, nothing has changed for Simon, at some part of this never ending low point in his life he was under substance abuse.. alcohol to be specific, since to him it was easier. In concern of his captain, he did get help for it to which had progress.

Ghost kept it together, "today was a day to celebrate Gaz" he thought, blowing out the nicotinic smoke and flicking the ash off his cigarette after.. he knew Ghost's thing was more of a "let's drink and play pool in a pub" rather than a sit-down dinner kind of guy but Kyle insisted.

He thought about how awkward it was, although Ghost felt like he knew Kyle's family just from the lovesick fool himself who would never shut up, always finding a way to talk about his wife and their two kids.

After another puff, he throws the cigarette butt on the pavement and grinds the sole of his shoe over it, the soft hiss for the cigarette evoking, proving it was put out.

Simon walked a few blocks till stopping at the Sergeant's described location, his footsteps made smooth, satisfying taps on the wood floorboards of the porch and he knocks.

Price took liberty of being the one to open the door for Simon because the family was busy, Simon walked through the front door with ease, seeing Johnny somewhat interacting with a kid.

He was welcomed by the a cozy looking space, it was homey and clearly occupied, the shoes lined up on the shoe rack next to the door from the largest pair to the tiniest which was such a far contrast from his empty gloomy apartment.

The kid caught glimpse of Simon, they run up to him and take his hand to guide him into the living room as of to welcome him before bringing back their attention to Johnny and somewhat messing with his stubby mohawk.

The lieutenant observed his surroundings, the little toys and picture frames hung around the house, for a moment his heart drops to his stomach, he blinks thinking he must've been imagining things. Simon walked closer to it, he wasn't imagining it.. that was you, in a wedding dress, in the photo with Kyle.

You looked glowing.. as if you've never looked better in your life, that heart stopping smile on your face, the flowery bouquet on your hands. The green of stems highlight the precious metal band on your finger. Of all the people, places and time, why here? Why now? Why Kyle..?

For a few seconds, just a few when Simon thought his nerves and gut settled, he heard the sweetest voice that was all he knew.

He forgot what it sounded like, the effect it had on him, all too overwhelming for a man who tried desperately to run away from the consequences of his actions. I guess that saying that once you don't hear someone's voice as frequently, you start to forget what they sound like.

For once, the ringing in his ear is gone. Just your voice, all he needed, he closed his eyes for a few soaking in the fact that you're here. For a moment he forgets to take into account that you weren't his. You and Simon make eye contact, the smile on your face drops as soon as you realize who is in your home.. who your husband invited..

Dinner came around, you tried your best to stomach the food you made, every swallow was a challenge. You spent most of your time staring at the food below you, afraid to even spare a glance at Simon. He was as uneasy as you were, telling the group he had to go to the bathroom as an excuse to explore what you now view as your home. The place you built your family together with your husband.

Simon uses the stealth he was known for to sneak in all the rooms, starting with the closest, the kitchen. The pictures on the fridge were enough to catch his attention, polaroids were something he was all too familiar with. Photos of the kids littered on the cold metal box with magnets others were of you and Kyle.

Everywhere he glances was proof of the life you built, the life you could've had together if he hadn't taken you for granted. Simon returned to the table a few minutes later, you easily notice the sudden drop of his mood to solemn.

Constantly closing his eyes, the lieutenant's head was spinning, taking in the fact that Garrick was able to settle down with you in those few years, the same amount of time you'd been together and you both were never close to achieving what you had now.

The night ended with the mens' satisfied stomachs while you and Kyle play-fight about who gets to do the dishes. As all of them were about to leave, you gathered what little guts you had to at least try to talk to Simon as he's the last one out the door, away from the ears of your husband who's currently doing the dishes because the last thing you'd want is to ruin their friendship.

"Goodbye Si.."

Simon never thought he'd hear that nickname out of your lips ever again, he stopped, his feet felt like they were sinking on the ground. Before he knew it, Simon was back on your porch, squeezing you so tight. You tried to pull away but he only held tighter, head rested on your shoulder.

"One last, lovie.. please.." you sigh, your arms wrapping around him, you tried your best to sooth him as your palm runs up and down his back. You felt the sleeve of your shirt getting damp, Simon didn't cry often, but this was different. It wasn't silent at all like you were used to, he was straight up sobbing.

Simon pulled back slowly, you saw his puffed up and flushed face against his pale skin. You felt bad for Simon however what happened is what happened and you were content where you were no matter how much pain the past brings you.

Simon knows you're happy, he sees it, he cups your cheek with his hand. He was about to lean in and kiss your forehead like he always used to but he stops himself.

He wanted to be selfish, he wanted you again but he can't do that to Kyle and he knows this would only upset you so just like before, with a heavy heart he leaves.

Simon will forever let that sink into his heart, the only one he's ever love will forever be engrained in his mind. You will always be his favorite girl..