#it makes me so sad that i can't even pretend it never happened

[coquelicoq]

incredibly moved whenever someone tells me that i'm an easy person to be around when they're going through some shit. there's nothing more sacred to me than sitting with someone through death and grief and loss, things that i can't fix or do anything about except be there and let them feel their feelings without having to pretend to be chipper or hopeful or cheeruppable. i can't pretend to feel what i don't feel, which makes me weird and awkward in so many interpersonal situations, but i think it's also what makes people feel comfortable sharing this stuff with me, because they know that i won't judge them and they don't have to perform for me. i feel so lucky when i can provide that for somebody. i wouldn't trade it for anything.

[lesbianuhaulindustrialcomplex]

google how do you politely and kindly say "bestie if you just keep refusing to talk to us and work this out we will have no choice but to end this living situation and move on"

[literaila]

keeping secrets

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and satoru avoid each other

warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)

last part | next part

*

year four.

"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter." 

satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head. 

"he didn't give you anything to sign?" 

"not recently." 

you sigh. "i don't think he lost it." 

satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?" 

"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?" 

his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that." 

"well, can you help me look for it?" 

satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it. 

you snort. 

but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there. 

and, admittedly, things have been a bit off. 

you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).

honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek. 

and... it shouldn't be weird.

no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do. 

but it's weird. 

it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther. 

and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back. 

and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should. 

but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.

it's not like satoru made you. 

if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place. 

you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine. 

"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.

you try to ignore it, really. 

"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin." 

"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him. 

"i didn't tell you about that?" 

"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--" 

he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good." 

"there's no way she's good." 

"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital." 

"what?" 

satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that. 

not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever. 

"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles. 

but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it. 

so, yeah. things are fine. 

*

"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.

the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in. 

you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'

"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job." 

"again?" 

you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease. 

it falls flat. 

"did he get in trouble?" 

"i don't know," you shrug. "probably." 

honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days. 

it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--

"when's he going to be back?" 

"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..." 

megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?" 

you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home." 

he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression. 

megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?" 

you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?" 

he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge. 

maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long. 

just, you know, forever. 

*

"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you. 

most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude. 

"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin. 

seriously, why is it so cold in this house? 

"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.

he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired." 

"he said that two years ago." 

satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to. 

but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?" 

"sure. what's up? megumi do something?" 

"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..." 

"meeting?" 

your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party." 

"on friday?" 

"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean. 

i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--

satoru hums. "what about the kids?" 

"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it." 

satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume. 

he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel. 

you just know it. 

"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?" 

you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week? 

how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there? 

"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night." 

"megumi hates guy's nights." 

satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there. 

like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you. 

he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse. 

it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.

"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--" 

"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you. 

"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure." 

he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining." 

"okay." 

"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything. 

and it's not okay. 

*

the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step. 

it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse. 

it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.

"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?" 

"we were--" 

"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride. 

your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?" 

"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long." 

"that's great." 

"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition." 

megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment. 

you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.

you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that. 

you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?" 

"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?" 

you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick." 

he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension. 

as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry. 

because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it. 

but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.” 

“i knew you’d say no.” 

you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”

“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“ 

“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger. 

just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.

how can he stand there and act like you're a team? 

“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.” 

“i don’t care!” 

satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.” 

“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.” 

“secrets? i’m not—“ 

you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.” 

“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.” 

“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.” 

“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.” 

his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi. 

this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu. 

“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.” 

“like i said, he’s fine.” 

“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”

you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--

“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?” 

you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“ 

“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.” 

“i would never—“ 

you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.” 

“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up. 

you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?” 

“well, no, but—“ 

“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.” 

the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him. 

you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you. 

satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?” 

“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“ 

“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“ 

“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!” 

he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care. 

“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?” 

you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.” 

“you think i don’t know that?” 

“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.” 

satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched. 

you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.” 

“that’s not what i said.” 

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“ 

“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“ 

“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!” 

“what?” 

“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?” 

what about me? you don't say. 

“i didn’t bring him for me—“ 

“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“

“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“ 

“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?” 

he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.” 

“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.” 

“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.” 

you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it. 

all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--

but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?” 

“this isn’t about us."

“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.” 

“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself. 

clearly, you've struck a nerve. 

“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.” 

“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”

“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”

satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you. 

“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.” 

he shakes his head at you. 

“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?” 

“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“ 

he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue. 

and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter— 

fine. you will too. 

“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.” 

satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?” 

this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else. 

“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“ 

“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you. 

he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks. 

“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“ 

“and you have? what about what you want him to be?” 

“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“ 

“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.” 

you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.” 

you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care. 

satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--" 

"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"

"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“ 

“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.” 

satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue. 

and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started. 

but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air. 

you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization. 

but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going. 

he walks out the door, slamming it shut.

you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care. 

but after a minute, he doesn't return. 

and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru. 

pretty sure. 

but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away. 

and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened. 

you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about. 

you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back. 

are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again? 

you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy. 

should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back? 

is he going to come back? 

the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear. 

maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds. 

but it feels like an hour. 

"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you. 

you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now. 

but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids. 

so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water. 

you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache. 

you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart. 

megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have. 

you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this. 

god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything? 

how could you make another mistake? 

"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life. 

"where did gojo go?" 

"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk." 

"is he okay?" tsumiki asks. 

"are you okay?" megumi follows. 

"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break." 

"from us?" 

your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good." 

megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats. 

"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--" 

"when is he going to be back?" 

you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything. 

"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready." 

"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried. 

"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?" 

they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay. 

but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home-- 

this is why you shouldn't have moved in--

this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul-- 

"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist. 

he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could. 

theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard. 

your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete

but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together. 

you can't cry, but you really want to. 

*

satoru's entire body feels different. 

he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences. 

he misses you. 

it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe. 

because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating. 

you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word. 

he doesn't want this, this thing to be real. 

denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.

and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough. 

but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you. 

it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.

he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say. 

he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough. 

he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be. 

but those words feel too rotten to say aloud. 

so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again. 

you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along. 

but he doesn't want to do that. not to you. 

and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it? 

it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it. 

and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition. 

there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately. 

and he sees you, lying in bed. 

and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open. 

there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone. 

you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him. 

and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore. 

but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry. 

it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen. 

he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle. 

and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. 

immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated. 

satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this? 

should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest? 

but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave." 

satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more. 

he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there. 

your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.

he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive. 

"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul. 

"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't." 

"i can't lose you too." 

he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry." 

"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't." 

"you don't have to." 

"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave." 

"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever? 

there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time. 

so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it. 

"i'm not going anywhere," he answers. 

and, just for tonight, it's enough. 

he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[mysticworks]

One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader

Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings

S Y N O P S I S:

Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. Lando, worried about the implications on his career, urges you to pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child. Word count: 1.5k

[ Drop a comment to be tagged in part 2 ]

A beam of sun in your eyes pulled you out of your slumber.

Sore. Head pounding. A deep ache in your lower stomach.  

It took you a few seconds to realise that this wasn't your room. The unfamiliar sheets, the duvet much thicker and heavier. There seemed to be so much room across the mattress, stretching out in its emptiness. 

Then every memory from last night came tumbling through. 

After a launch party of the new 2024 season, you’d found yourself a little too lost in the celebrations, Lando right beside you in fits of giggles and dances. 

You'd always had feelings for Lando, ever since you joined the PR team during his rookie days - the working time together bonding into a quickly growing friendship. Yet something had always stopped you from taking it further.

And so when Lando placed his hands on your waist last night, his face inches away from yours before your lips finally collided - every rational thought was thrown out the window. 

The heat of the party. The excitement and psychedelic blood rush. Climbing into Lando’s car. Your legs, entangled. His whisper of sudden hot, breathless confession. Your heart pounding in reciprocated emotions. Your hands in his curl, his... 

You shot up in bed, last night now a vivid image.

Lando was sitting across the room, on his computer, headphones flung around his neck. His eyes flick away from the computer screen at your sudden movement, coming to rest on you, and he draws in a long breath.

You felt the air leave your lungs. How did he manage to look so gorgeous even in the mornings? 

“How are you feeling?” You blinked at his break of silence, words not quite making it out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m…” Raking your fingers through your curtain of bangs in an attempt to collect your thoughts, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the pounding headache too.” Lando shrugged, sighing, before powering down the screen and in a swift motion making his way across the room, over to you. 

Awkwardness suddenly overcame you and you did everything to avert your gaze from his. 

This proved pointless as he sat himself in front of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You could feel the warmth radiate off his body, his finger coming to rest under your chin as he forced your eyes to meet.

“Are you okay?” There was a sadness in Lando’s eyes, one that didn’t quite match the gentleness of his voice. You mumbled a reply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks - his face was so close - forcing your heart to respond with a quickened beat.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last night.” Your brows found themselves furrowing at his words.

“Sorry?” 

“We shouldn’t have…” He raked his curls, shutting his eyes tight for a brief moment, as if pained to say the words. 

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, “We shouldn’t have done what we did y/n.”

You felt something stab at your chest. “I don’t understand, Lando, I like you, you like me, we’ve known each other for years…what’s…what’s the - ” 

He didn't give you a chance to finish. “I can’t risk having…I just can’t risk a relationship right now. We can’t - ”

He pauses, gaze softening as you feel your eyes well up, but you’re determined to keep a stoic expression on your face.   

It didn't help that Lando was looking at you with such an intense look in his eye, his hand cupping your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you saying we can't date?”

You felt your voice betray you, a single tear spilling down your cheek. Lando used his thumb to wipe it away, taking in a shaky breath. 

He looked away. “Please. I’m sorry.” His eyes were almost telling you to stay, now also welled with redness, but his words said differently. 

You felt the world collapse. Your breath hitched. A tremor shot through your limbs as you scrambled out from Lando’s bed. He got up too from his seat, standing limply in the centre of his room.

It was then you realised you were in his clothes, his loose tee reaching your knees, a pair of his joggers clumsily worn over your legs. You paid no heed, now eager to just leave. To run away and hide. 

Never had rejection been so cold. It was almost like he’d used you. A part of you wanted to scream at him, throw things and ask him “why,” yet you felt as if life had been sucked out of you. 

One of the best days of your life had been merely hours ago, before turning into a nightmare. 

“Y/n…” You’d only just reached the door, but his call made you stop in your tracks. There was a shameless hope he’d changed his mind. 

“Here. It’s cold out.” 

He held out one of his hoodies, passing it to you in a gesture to take it. 

You did. Curt and refusing to meet his gaze, before turning around stiffly.

And without another word, you left his apartment, refusing to look back.

----------------------

You weren’t sure when you got home, drenched from the rain that came gushing down along the way. 

You weren’t sure of much…only that your relationship with Lando was over. 

Over before it had even begun.

Climbing out of bed the next day was the worst feeling. With no energy in your limbs, you called in sick to work, refusing to face anyone at the McLaren office, but more importantly, avoiding Lando. 

You stayed in bed, too exhausted from crying to move. 

It wasn’t until a week later that you finally showed up at work. The pain seemed to have subdued; now replaced with forever changing moods. At times you were down in the dumps, exhausted and tired - your head slightly foggy - other times, irritable and angry. Yet you ploughed on at work, ignoring the sleepless nights and restless evenings. 

Avoiding Lando at work was near impossible, and yet you managed. Only speaking to him when absolutely unavoidable through email, or putting on your best corporate voice. 

Eye contact was avoided altogether, even when he craned his head to catch your gaze, you turned away. 

That was a satisfaction you refused to give him.

At 2 weeks it seemed the restless nights had been replaced with exhausted ones, a full night's sleep still leaving you fatigued and nauseous in the mornings. You blamed the sickness on heartbreak. 

Lando watched you more often now, sitting in the lobby of your office during lunch breaks. You turned down the blinds and shut him out.

-------------------

The realisation came, 6 weeks post heartbreak. A quick glance at your calendar told you you’d missed your cycle. The nausea, tiredness, mood swings all made sense now - each jigsaw piece coming together to fit the puzzle. 

Although the fear of raising a baby alone rose in your throat, you were determined to do it. You knew Lando had a right to know. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you refused to give him that.

Perhaps you were running away.

Perhaps this was your revenge.

Your resignation made sure he’d never know. 

L A N D O 'S P O V:

They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.

I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.

I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away. 

It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. 

I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.

And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.

Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance. 

There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile. 

He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over. 

“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.

Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient. 

He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place. 

“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”

The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.

My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.

They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.

It was over.

I was one day too late.

Taglist: @hc-dutch @racinggirl @aileeincomplexity @kravitzwhore @eringaitskill @adoreyou-ido @landoslutmeout @queenofmanydreams

[daenysx]

hi bby, could i request jealous modern!aemond?😊

i tried my best but i feel like everything was better in my head, i hope i managed to get things right with the words <333 thanks for requesting

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

-aemond needs to get you back.

cw; kinda like exes to lovers, jealous!aemond, aemond being an idiot and he's sorry for that, criston cole in his own warning, reader's shorter than aemond, mentions of alcohol, kissing, aemond being desperate to get you back, also he's a sad fool and he accepts that, suggestive towards the end but nothing descriptive, title is a hozier lyric

wc; 2k

i'll crawl home to her

aemond likes to think he's good at controlling his emotions. at least he can keep his face neutral, he doesn't let people know what he thinks.

that turns out to be a lie, though, the moment he sees a guy behind the bar stool you sit.

he relaxes his fists. you're not his girlfriend. he has no right to feel jealous over your affections. who's that guy, anyway? how can he be bold enough to talk to you like this, leaning to the bar with his arm almost wrapped around you? aemond hates the idea of someone being braver than him. he fucking despises the idea of you giving a smile to that- that asshole.

"you okay?" cole asks, his glass almost empty in his hand. he follows aemond's gaze and, boom. just like he guessed.

"of course, i'm okay." aemond replies, coolly. there's no logical reason behind his real emotions.

"if you keep staring like that, she will notice."

aemond turns to him sharply. his gaze is burning, almost feels like crying or something worse than that. "i'm not staring."

"if you say so." cole shrugs. he's got worse problems than dealing with aemond's jealousy to be honest. he knows aemond will never admit what's happening in truth.

"do you- do you know who that is?" aemond asks, not that he thinks cole can actually know a random guy at the bar. he tries to fill the stupid silence between them, change the subject after that, storm out when he finishes his drink. he despises the pathetic situation he unwillingly put himself into.

"do i know the guy who's flirting with your ex-girlfriend?" cole pretends to think. "um- no, i don't actually."

the mention of you burns his chest. it's because of the whisky, he tells himself. keep your cool, keep your cool. don't let them know anything.

"it doesn't matter, anyway." he says, feeling like a desperate fool.

"no, it doesn't." cole agrees. aemond can sense his mocking, his tendency to talk boldly tonight. cole isn't like that usually. "because you are not together anymore."

"we're not."

"because you let her go." cole continues, takes a sip from his glass. "it was quite stupid of you if you ask me."

"i didn't ask you, cole."

"no, no, but just- what were you thinking when you decided to break things off with her, hmm? what was the motivation behind it?"

"you're going too far."

"i'm not." cole says. "you just can't face with your own decisions."

"fuck off." aemond stands up, getting his jacket. "you don't even know what you're talking about. didn't ask your damn opinion about my love life, did i?"

"just admit you failed, aemond. lost the one good thing about you." cole speaks calmly after him. "you'd do all of us a great favor."

aemond walks away. there's no need for drunken arguments tonight, he's certainly not in the mood for discussing his past decisions. he can't help a brief look on your seat, though. you're not there. he didn't see you leaving, he can't see your jacket or that sparkly purse you love so much. the guy stays where he is, chatting with his friends. where are you?

"oh!" someone shorter than him almost collapses with his chest. "aemond?"

aemond wishes you to not look so pretty with that smudged eye make up and- his fucking favorite color on your lips. what kind of strength should he have to not kiss you against the wall when you're looking at him through those glossy eyes? he takes a step back, an apology ready on his lips.

you beat him through it. "sorry." you say, blinking your pretty eyes. "didn't see you there."

"no, it's okay." he collects himself before doing something stupid. "i was walking too fast."

you nod, your purse in your hand and your jacket thrown on your shoulders. you don't look drunk, maybe just tipsy. turning your back to him, you keep walking your way, out of the club. running into your ex-boyfriend shouldn't stop you from going home.

aemond thinks of the guy back there. you're not together with him, are you? he's not with you right now, he doesn't call a cab, and you don't look like you're waiting for anyone. that must be a relief. it doesn't feel like it, though. aemond is certain anyone who sees you would fall for your charms, that guy was no exception. all the hypothetical men get into his head. fuck them all.

"are you alone?" he asks you, foolishly. you nod. no words for him. why would you bother?

"i can- my car is over there if you-"

"i don't want anything from you, aemond."

okay. he deserves this. he knows he deserves this.

"it's late." he says. "i know you don't want anything to do with me, but i can at least-"

"i said no." you cut him. "you don't have to pretend to care."

you start walking in the cool breeze of night air. it feels nice on your face. aemond follows you like he's lost, like he doesn't know where to go without you. "can we talk?" he asks, his voice is softer than the last time you talked. "please?"

"there's nothing to talk about." you tell him, looking at him briefly.

"i made a mistake." he says like he's pleading. the alcohol gets him, his lips move on their own. he keeps telling himself he won't regret anything he tells you right now. he's not drunk, that means they are all real. "i made many mistakes. letting you go was the worst of them."

"that sounds like an interesting story." you say, sarcastically. "would you like to continue? i'm sure people on the street will enjoy your freak show."

he has no explanation for this but your attitude turns him on.

"i saw you with that guy." he says.

"you really should stop talking now." you say. "you're being pathetic."

"no, i-" he can get on his knees and beg. he's cursing his past self, cursing his stupid decisions. "please."

"please, what?" you get angrier each second. this is not a game you'll be playing with him. "do you realize how stupid you sound?"

"of course i do." he answers with a slight pout. "i just need you to see- to understand how terrible it makes me feel, to- to see you with another guy and not being able to do anything about it-"

"no need to be so selfish." you say, calmly. "i'm not your anything. you cannot react like this every time we run into each other by chance."

"i regret it." his legs can give up any second now. he begs for something divine to help him out of his misery. "i regret everything i did. i never should have let you go."

your heartbeat gets quicker with anger and adrenaline. the fact that you're still hopelessly in love with him does nothing to calm your nerves. he doesn't deserve your love. you will not accept anything he says until he proves he's worthy. you try to control your breath, stop your hands from shaking. he has no right to do this, you remind yourself.

"it's too late." you say. "you don't deserve to get everything back after you let them go like the way you did."

he looks at you so sweetly, you have to swallow and look away. he's fond of that attitude of yours, how you put yourself first after he hurt you, and his chest tightens with the loss of you there but he can't help a wave of affection towards your frowny face and your crossed arms. there's his girl, you're still there, still present with your anger and precise words. he would to anything to get you back.

"i know." aemond agrees, slowly. "i promise, i know- and you're right, whatever you decide to do, you're right."

"are you trying to fix us just because you saw me with another guy?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"no, of course not. not only because of that." he says quickly. "i wanted you back since the first time you walked out. i just didn't have enough courage to talk to you."

"so you're admitting you were being stupid and acting like coward?" you challenge him with two things he hates the thought of being the most.

"it was stupid of me to break up with you." he says slowly. he's gonna have to be a big boy for this. "i was only trying to protect you from my family and- and myself, but i acted cowardly."

"i can protect myself." you say. "i don't need you to decide for me."

"i know that, sweetheart." he smiles. it's a tiny move on his lips, he's always so fond of your independent nature. "i apologise for not speaking things clearly."

it's your turn to smile. you take a step towards him, he stays still. the top buttons of his shirt expose his neck nicely, the chain you got him hanging there. he never let you go. he was only being an idiot. you think you want him back. he can fix his own idiocity by himself, but you want him back.

"what do you want?" you ask with a kind voice like you're teasing. you're not teasing, not in the least but he doesn't know that, does he?

"i want you to be my girlfriend again." he says, straightening his posture. his shoulders are high, his neck long. he feels like a dragon ready to fight for you. "if you'll have me."

you push him softly against the wall behind him and cup his cheeks. he accepts the kiss greedily, changing positions so that your back is against the wall. he makes a rightful mess of your lipstick, his hands on your waist and on the back of your neck. you close your eyes. his scent hits your senses so well, your hand goes to his shoulder to pull him closer.

you break the kiss. "you cannot do the same thing again, okay? you cannot leave me and come back, you cannot think for my place and make my decisions when it comes to you and our relationship."

"okay." he says, his eye closed and his lips following your mouth. "i promise."

"good." you say, pull him for another kiss. it's only been two weeks but you missed him. he feels safe like this, and familiar with his body pressed against yours against the wall of a club. the darkness of the night covers you, your sparkly purse is the only thing that can be seen from a distance.

aemond kisses you like he's been out of breath for so long. he's been a desperate fool for days but now it's over. everything gets clear when he gets you like this, his mind free of worry and anger, all those devilish thoughts that bother him. he's content with his place, he doesn't have to pretend he's okay. it's all real.

"by the way-" you start saying between two lovely kisses. "that guy back there already has a lover named charles. you didn't have to worry about him anyway."

aemond laughs and it's a real laugh, not one of the fake ones he has to throw into aegon's or cole's face. you smile and he kisses your cheek. you hold his hand, he squeezes your fingers.

"i like your dress." he changes the subject, leading you to his car. "is that new?"

"of course it is." you answer, cheekily. "my boyfriend decided to be a jerk for no reason and i had to keep myself busy with something."

aemond had no idea the night could turn into something amazing when he first agreed to come here with cole. he can't keep his hands off you, kisses you against the car this time. he's gotta find a way to make up for the time he made you lost. kissing you and getting you your favorite drink on the way home might be a good start.

he gives you a silent promise to atone his sins between your legs in the following hours.

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (09/10)

The Consequences

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: things get complicated, you and Aemond's relationship ends and despite finding solutions, nothing can repair the damage to your ruined future.

word count: 8.3k

previous part • series masterlist

fortunately it didn't take me as long as last time and finally here it is hehe🙏😚

I really hope you like it a lot and remember that we're not far from the end, so I'm looking forward to your comments with your opinions. thank you very much for reading beautiful people!❤

You want to believe it's all a misunderstanding.

You couldn't sleep all night. Anxiety and worry consumed you like never before, waiting and checking your mail every moment hoping to see if anything would arrive, but nothing.

Your whole night was summed up in thinking about possible catastrophic scenarios, although they were not possible after all, since that is what is really going to happen because at this point there is nothing you can do because the college applications have already passed.

That's why you checked your email every moment, almost on the verge of tears, thinking about what the fuck you're going to do, how you're going to go to college and why Aemond didn't keep his end of the deal.

There was the urge to text him and even call him in all your desperation and confusion, ask him what happened, but you decided to wait until the next morning to ask him in person to get clear answers.

And that's what you're going to do now.

You don't even know if you are right but there is no other explanation when things are too clear. And you can't help but feel the pain of betrayal burning in your chest, with the anxiety consuming you and the need.

You finally arrive at the school, where without thinking of absolutely nothing, you start searching for Aemond through all the hallways, with determination and rage mixed inside you.

Your eyes frantically search through all the students as you walk quickly and make your way through them all, ignoring their stares at you as you don't care at the moment, you have a goal in mind.

And along with that goal and what you have to do now, still your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more painful and confusing than the last.

After all the moments you both spent together, both real and pretend, every laugh, every gesture, every kiss, it all seemed so real and so genuine.

But now… it all felt like a cruel illusion.

And to have to accompany it all with this, it's just unbelievable.

You finally see him in the distance, it's not hard to make out his distinctive silver hair, with his figure walking towards the doors leading to the huge backyard of the school, talking to some friends.

Anger and sadness intensify as you see him looking so calm, as if nothing is going on, made worse by the fact that he won't try to contact you either to let you know anything about the university, or even give you the news himself, anything.

You clench your fists and muster up all your courage before reaching for him, feeling completely hopeless.

“Aemond,” you call out to him, your voice tense and cutting.

He turns to you at the call of your voice, his expression changing from surprise to slight concern in an instant. His friends continue walking and he remains standing, as you walk towards him.

And you don't even give him time to speak, as you immediately raise your phone, showing him the college's Facebook ad on the screen.

“What is this?” you ask him, demanding explanations, confusion and pain reflecting in your eyes.

You feel your voice tremble, but you stand your ground, holding his gaze with a determination that belies your vulnerability.

He watches the screen and you see the worry spread further across his face, followed by a nervousness that runs through him from head to toe. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words seem caught in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he says in a barely audible whisper, leaning toward you and with sorrow in his gaze, ”I-I didn't want you to find out like this.”

The knot in your stomach tightens even tighter as the worry and anxiety intensifies, watching him without understanding.

“And what does that mean?”

He looks to all sides, noticing the number of students surrounding you who begin to watch you both curiously, whispering amongst themselves.

“Come,” he says softly as he places a firm but careful hand on your shoulder and guides you into one of the empty classrooms, away from the stares.

You don't argue with him because you don't want to draw attention to yourself either, but as soon as he closes the door behind you, you feel the pressure in your chest intensify and you immediately turn to him, the need for answers burning inside you.

“You didn't talk to your grandsire or your sister?” you ask, your voice trembling between anger and the anxiety you're trying to contain.

He looks down for a moment, swallowing hard. His silence hangs heavy in the air before he looks up at you, his eyes showing a mixture of weariness and regret.

“Yes, with my grandsire,” he states to you, "But I'm still working on it," he confesses with his tone infused with a sincerity that hurts you more than you expected.

You feel your breath catch and you watch him in shock, with your lips parted and hopelessness all over your gaze, trying to process what he just said. The hopelessness is reflected in your gaze, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration that you struggle to hold back.

“What?” you manage to say, your voice cracking in disbelief.

He takes a step toward you, his eye fixed on yours as he tries to remain calm, though you can see the tension in the way his hands move, as if he's searching the air for the right words.

“Listen,” he begins, your tone softer and almost pleading, ”It's not entirely true that the whole admissions process is over. There are still… possibilities,” he says nervous, ”And I promise you that I've already sent all your documents to my grandsire. I just need a little more time to be able to convince him, and I will, I swear.”

He tries to convince you, observing you completely honest and sincere in what he is saying, but you no longer believe in him.

His words are like a desperate attempt to calm you down, to reassure you that everything will be okay. But distrust grows inside you with a sharp pain that spreads throughout your chest.

You watch him, looking for some sign to give you hope, some spark of certainty you can cling to. But all you see is uncertainty and nervousness, insecurity, because even he doesn't know if he will get you in.

You think about the announcement, how the university has already sent out all the emails, both acceptance and rejection. Then reality hits you like a slap in the face, and suddenly you understand.

“You… you got in?” you ask in a breathy whisper, though deep down you already know the answer.

He doesn't answer you right away, as instead of words, all you get is his look, a mixture of pity and embarrassment that only confirms it.

“Yes but you'll get in Y/N too,” he quickly insists, his voice desperate to convince you, ” You don't need to worry about anything.”

How easy it is to talk when he is the one who certainly should not worry about his future.

And finally the tears find their way, unable to control them any longer. You press your lips together tightly, trying to keep your composure, but the pain and frustration are too intense.

Aemond stirs restlessly, hating to see you cry. His hands tense, wanting to reach out and be able to hug you, but he restrains himself and watches you with concern.

“Y/N—

“ You don't even know if you'll be able to get me in too,” you interrupt him in a cold and distant voice, laden with bitterness with the feeling of betrayal and disappointment in your chest, “I trusted you, that's why I didn't apply to other colleges,” you look at him hurt and annoyed, “Now what am I supposed to do? The time for applications has already passed. I can't apply anywhere else because this, your promise, should have been settled long ago.”

Your words echo in the air, and the reality of the situation settles between the two of you like a barrier. He is affected by your words and falls silent, not knowing how to respond.

Worst of all, you know that he really wanted to help you, that his intentions were sincere, that's what you really want to think in the midst of all this.

But did he really want to help you in the first place?

If that was really his intention, then you wouldn't be in this position right now, in this situation that should never have been allowed. And you also remember Floris.

The tension is palpable and you feel the lump in your throat tighten even more and you look at him with pain.

“You used me,” you say with your voice cracking and barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, his gaze full of despair.

“No, it wasn't like that,” he tries to correct with his pleading tone as he takes a step closer to you, “That was never my intention Y/N, you know that.”

You pull away from him, increasing the distance between the two of you, tears gathering more in your eyes and this time you make no effort to hold them back.

“I know because of what happened with Floris,” you say bitterly, ”And the worst thing is that I did like you.”

Your words leave him speechless for a moment, his expression marked by a mixture of regret and pain. He reaches out a hand toward you, as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you abruptly pull away.

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“There's nothing to explain,” you cut him off, unable to bear to listen to him any longer.

You feel something inside you crack and he seems to notice your change, to which he doesn't know what to do.

He tells you something else but you no longer listen. The broken promises, the destroyed trust, it all piles up on your shoulders, making you feel smaller and lonelier than you ever felt before.

The pain on his face is evident and when you finally decide to walk away, Aemond tries to stop you, tries to remedy the situation, but you don't even hear him anymore, you don't even see him, it's as if he is suddenly invisible and you leave him behind with pain and bitterness branded on your chest.

All because you realize that he, his promises, his words, were never worth it. And now you're paying the consequences of your future ruined by an absurd contract you should never have accepted in the first place.

You feel as if the world has fallen on top of you.

All the way home, you feel a mixture of intense emotions overflowing and the only way you can get them off your chest is to cry.

You are thankful that your father is still at work or else you would have had no idea how to explain your visibly pitiful state to him. Besides you don't even have the courage to really tell him what's going on.

But all is probably not lost.

Anxiety, despair and frustration wash over you as you sit in front of your laptop. But it also invades you and you cling to hope. You want, desire and yearn to find a solution, one last chance to not lose an academic year, so you open the browser.

Your fingers move quickly over the keyboard, as you search the admissions pages of other universities.

You visit one after another, hoping to find one that is still accepting applications, one that might have a deadline extension. But as you read and watch, that hope fades.

The words ‘admission perido has ended’ are repeated over and over again on every page you visit.

You try a small college in another city, then the only two available in your own city, but in all the answers are the same. Time has run out. The deadline has passed and there is no way to reverse it.

Frustrated, you hold your hands to your head, feeling the despair and anxiety growing inside you. And unable to help it, tears well up in your eyes and finally the situation crushes you.

With a loud sob escaping your lips, you collapse in your chair, feeling completely helpless, hopeless and like a fool.

You don't understand how you couldn't take precautions, have a backup plan B in case Aemond's plan failed, apply to even the city's public university, but none of that crossed your mind at all.

How are you going to explain this to your father? That you didn't apply to other colleges because you trusted a guy's word to get into Citadel in exchange for making his ex-girlfriend jealous?

Even the situation, thinking about what you were doing all that time instead of applying to other colleges makes you frustrated and angry at yourself for being such a fool.

And yet, you still hold on.

The next morning, your spirits still low, you head to the office of the school's coordinator, Mrs. Turner, with this last spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to resolve this with her help.

Mrs. Turner greets you with a friendly smile, though her face reflects some concern when she sees the expression on your face clearly tired from lack of sleep and swollen from all the crying you've done.

“Miss Y/N, what's wrong? Is everything all right?” he asks you, inviting you to sit down.

You waste no time and explain the situation to her. You decide to omit certain details, especially everything to do with Aemond and his promise. Instead, you opt to say that, due to a family problem, you missed the date for applying to colleges.

“Well, I understand that some universities do a second round of application, but you're mostly private universities in the city.”

“Only private here in the city?” you ask nervously and with a slight illusion.

“Yes,” he nods at you, “Maybe you could make an application for a scholarship.”

You bite your lip, feeling the frustration begin to take hold of you again and the illusion disappears.

You know that, while a scholarship might help you cover some of the costs, it won't be enough. You will only be offered a partial scholarship, and even then, the costs of a private university would be unaffordable for you and your father.

With the scholarship you had applied for at Citadel, you would have had most of your expenses covered, as long as you maintained a good grade point average. But you were rejected.

“No, I-I… I can't afford private college,” you admit as you look at her in desperation, ”Are you sure there's nothing you can do at the public university? Maybe send in a special request or something?”

She looks at you with some pity and disappointment.

“I'm sorry Y/N, but I'm afraid that's not the way things work,” she tells you in a soft voice, “Unfortunately, at most universities, once the admissions deadlines have closed, there's nothing we can do.”

You're not even surprised because you were definitely expecting something like this. Nor do you feel anything, just…emptiness and bitterness.

Mrs. Turner maintains her compassionate look as she continues to speak, trying to soften the impact of the situation on you.

“Y/N, I know this may seem discouraging, but I want you to know that all is not lost. Losing a year before entering college is not the end of the world,” she says in a reassuring tone, ”You can use this time to get a job, gain experience, and prepare an even stronger application for the next cycle. There's no rush, and many people find that taking a year off allows them to better focus on what they really want.”

But you know what you really want.

You want to study law, have a professional career, graduate and work at something you really like where you earn enough money to help your dad, give him a better life. That's what you want.

But you ruined it all by agreeing to a dumb contract, by believing his words and by not backing yourself.

You know her words are meant to calm you down, to offer you a positive outlook in the midst of the storm of emotions flooding through you. But, at this moment, these words offer you no comfort.

All you can think about is how your plan, your future, has crumbled in front of you.

You nod slowly, not wanting to seem rude or ungrateful for his attempt to help you. But inside, you feel misunderstood. You know Mrs. Turner only wants to help you, but the despair and fear of the future you now face keep you from seeing the bright side.

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” you say with an effort to keep your voice steady, ”I appreciate your advice.”

She gives you a warm, though still concerned, smile as you rise from your chair.

“If you need to talk more, or if there's anything I can help you with, feel free to come see me, okay?”

You nod once more, thanking her for her kindness and time before leaving the office.

Once outside, the hustle and bustle of students filling the halls of the school envelop you and you quickly make your way to your locker.

You open the door with automatic movements, barely aware of what you are doing as your thoughts invade you. With trembling hands, you put away the books and notebooks you won't need for the next few classes.

As you go through the motions, the pain and frustration begin to build. And when you least expect it, tears begin to slide down your cheeks silently.

You try to control yourself, pursing your lips and wiping your cheeks, but your emotions are too intense to be repressed. When suddenly, laughter reaches your ears.

You watch out of the corner of your eye and see Alys and her friends walking almost in front of you with mocking voices and laughter, full of undisguised contempt.

You have an idea what specifically amuses them about you, you know they must have sent you that picture of Aemond and Floris, but you also feel their laughter as a cruel mockery of your already desperate situation.

Still you can't help but feel embarrassed and angrily wipe away your tears with a sharp gesture.

Rage runs through your whole body, for everything. And your tears, though stopped for the moment, still threaten to return. You hurry to put everything away and slam the door shut to finally walk away.

You walk quickly down the hallway, wanting to get away from all the people, when as you turn down a corridor, you come face to face with Aemond, Aegon and his friends.

The impact is almost physical, but both you and they stop abruptly to avoid the blow. And as soon as you realize who you have in front of you, you freeze for an instant.

Just when your day couldn't get any worse.

Aemond, with his silver hair and imposing figure, is the first to notice you. His expression instantly changes from surprise to concern as he sees the traces of tears on your face.

And although he doesn't say anything right away, his gaze is intense, full of worry and guilt.

The tension in the air becomes palpable, because both you and he have no idea what to do, what to say or how to react. But you, feeling the pressure of the stares, feel trapped and instantly have the urge to walk away.

But first, Aemond takes a step towards you, trying to close the distance between the two of you and your eyes meet his, charged with a mixture of desperation and hope.

“Y/N,” he calls your name.

And before he can say anything else, you don't let him and quickly move away.

Desperation drives you to dodge him, also the fact that you can't stand to be in his presence, which you do but Aemond reacts immediately and follows you.

He calls your name with an urgency that makes his voice echo down the hallway, leaving his brother and his friends behind.

“Y/N, please stop, he needed to talk to you,” he urges you.

His hand reaches out to yours in an attempt to stop you but you continue walking quickly.

Maybe it's the look you both have or it's the unusual attitude you're both having around each other that starts to get people's attention. But you don't care since all you want at that precise moment is to get away from him.

“Please, Y/N.”

And then his hand takes yours, stopping you and you turn to him, your face flushed with tears and anger inside you.

“Let go of me,” you tell him in warning in a cold, cutting voice, ”I won't tell you again.”

The scene definitely draws more attention and some students begin to murmur and watch you both very intently, but the whole whirlwind of emotions makes you lose sight of the awkwardness of the situation.

You really don't want to deal with Aemond right now. In fact you don't even want to have anything to do with him anymore.

And Aemond seeing that, your attitude and coldness, the fact that you can't even stand to see him and the fact that you are being terribly honest, hurts him, really hurts him with a sharp pain in his chest, but he insists.

“Please, just for a few minutes. I need to explain—

Completely losing patience, showing the intensity of your pain and frustration, you release yourself from his grip in a sudden movement that draws more attention from the students and the situation becomes an unwanted show.

“Leave me alone,” you warn him through your teeth before turning and walking away with quick steps.

And thankfully he doesn't try to stop you again.

Everyone is looking at you and everyone is looking at Aemond as well, but you quickly find refuge away from all the stares, taking no notice.

However, you should have expected that little show to go around like plague throughout the school accompanied with the new rumor that Aemond Targaryen and his previously invisible girlfriend have broken up.

And honestly… you didn't even care.

To this point, technically he and you have ended whatever the two of you had, so you don't care to either affirm or deny it, you just don't make a big deal out of it and let people believe what they want.

Besides, how could you care when there are certainly more important things like thinking about your now ruined future?

News you have the confidence to share with Alysanne after all the drama involving you and Aemond, since you two are all anyone talks about in the entire school.

“That fucking idiot,” Alysanne mutters in disbelief, "Just when I thought what he did with Floris was so low but this… I mean, are you kidding me?" she stares at Cregan, incredulous, ”This is so much worse.”

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your forehead as you close your eyes and simply let your body try to relax. It's uncomfortable because of the hard metal beneath you as you lie on the bleachers but you still try.

“But he said he would try to fix it, didn't he?” asks Cregan in a cautious tone.

“And you believe him?” reproaches Alysanne incredulously, "I wouldn't and Y/N shouldn't either," she observes you, ”He had all this time to do something about it, even to be honest with you and tell you ahead of time that he wasn't going to succeed in helping you. Then you would have had a chance to apply to other colleges but no, he preferred to stay silent and enjoy the acting and all that it provoked in his stupid ex-girlfriends.”

And put like that… everything that happened sounds so much worse.

But you know she's right.

While the whole school is whispering about your ‘breakup’ with him, you can't help but feel that there are much more important things at stake, things that Aemond never understood or tried to understand.

And Alysanne seeing your expression and you basically not reacting because you're thinking about the future and how incredibly fucked up you must feel, lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you.

“I know it's a stupid question but are you okay?” she asks you in a warm and concerned tone.

You let out a sigh and take a moment before answering, not watching them and not taking your hand off your forehead.

“I don't know what to do,” you say in a low, emotionless tone.

Alysanne grimaces and looks at Cregan who also returns the same expression; they don't know what to do to make you feel better and relieve that huge weight you're carrying.

College is a big deal, both of them would also feel the same way if they were in your place, that's a fact. But by the same token they are not in your situation, they don't know what to do to cheer you up because, what could they possibly do to even help you? Nothing.

“I'm just thinking about how I'm going to tell my dad.”

You confess finally, withdrawing your hand from your forehead and fixing your eyes on the gray sky above you.

“I'll have to lie to him, tell him I applied but all the colleges rejected me,” you say regretfully, “Now I'm just left to look for a job and do that until I can apply next year.”

Alysanne and Cregan exchange a look.

“It's not a bad plan,” she tells you, trying to cheer you up, “In fact, a lot of people of our age don't go to college after graduation and do exactly that, get a job and apply until the next year or until they're sure of what they want to study.”

“Yeah,” Cregan agrees, "Besides, my family has several businesses in town, I could help you get a job at one of them.”

You can't help but place a small smile on your lips, seeing the willingness of both of them in wanting to support you, however, they can see the sadness all over your face and the discouragement you feel.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it,” you say genuinely, "And I know it's not a bad plan but…" you sigh, feeling the frustration and sadness swirl in your chest, ”I know my dad, and I know that, when I tell him that I wasn't accepted, he'll be supportive… but I also know that he'll be very disappointed.”

That's what weighs on you the most, far more than anything else, going over the whole Aemond thing and also over you, your dad.

He has sacrificed so much for you, working long hours at a job that doesn't give him what he truly deserves. He earns enough to support you and the house, he has always made sure you both have what you need; food on the table, clothes and basic comforts.

But he never buys anything for himself and his own dreams have always taken a back seat. All so he can give you a chance to do something else, have a better life and now…you feel like you've failed him.

Cregan and Alysanne watch you silently, their faces reflecting the gravity of your words. They know there is nothing they can say that will truly ease your pain, but you know they are both here, offering you their support.

“Well, I don't know your dad but still, he's your dad and he loves you,” Alysanne tells you in a warm tone, ”He knows you better than anyone and I'm sure all he'll want is for you to be okay.”

“And I'm sure he's seen how you've tried your best and you can't take the blame for something that was out of your hands.”

You understand what they both mean and you also ponder your dad's attitude in your mind briefly, but still, you can't help but place a small bitter smile.

“Actually it was my fault because it was my decision to trust Aemond, instead of making sure I had other options to prevent exactly this,” you say without emotion, “And I also feel that… not only it hurts me to have to tell my dad, but also to feel this disappointment,” you explain, “I really believed that I would go to Citadel and that my life was going to follow that path I had planned for a long time. But now… I feel like that dream has been taken away from me again.”

Alysanne looks at you sadly, understanding the weight of your words and she along with Cregan, no longer have any idea what to say to you. And you notice this, so you watch both of them trying to keep a genuine smile on your lips.

“You know? I really appreciate you both being here for me… I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have you guys to talk to,” you tell them sincerely, ”But I think it needed some time alone.”

Alysanne looks at you uncertainly.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind, I can skip the next class to stay with you.”

“No, no, don't worry,” you hasten to say.

“I can stay too,” Cregan adds, shrugging.

“No guys, I don't want you to miss class for me, really,” you look at them sincerely, "I'll be fine, I just…" you let out a sigh, ”I need time alone.”

They both exchange a look and Cregan is the one who stands up first, stretching his arms out before looking at you with a mixture of understanding and concern.

“Fine but if you need anything, tell us,” he tells you with a soft voice and a warm gaze.

You nod in his direction.

“Yes, thank you,” you reply as you return a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Alysanne lingers a little longer, watching you with the same intensity as always, as if she wants to make sure you really will be okay before she leaves.

“I'll keep an eye out on you, okay?”

“Okay,” you tell her, feeling that simple gesture of support fill you with a strange mixture of relief and sadness.

She nods, smiling a little before walking away along with Cregan, leaving you alone on the bleachers.

And you stand there, thinking about everything and yet nothing, where you allow yourself to let out a long, heavy sigh. You look up at the sky, allowing thoughts to flow unrestricted.

The faint sounds around you envelop you, such as the soccer team boys training on the field and the entire cheerleading squad, as well as the faint, comforting sound of the leaves moving from the big trees along with the birds singing.

And even though you don't want to feel bad, the pain, the disappointment and the uncertainty about what will come next, it all hits you again in an unavoidable way.

And it all blends together in an emotional whirlwind that leaves you exhausted.

Time seems to stand still as you stand there, lost in thought. And you barely notice when someone approaches, as the sound of approaching footsteps barely registers in your consciousness.

And because you are absorbed in your thoughts, you only come out of your trance the moment a soft voice right next to you breaks the silence in your space.

“Hi Y/N.”

You raise your head almost immediately, definitely not expecting that and suddenly you see Floris standing next to you, watching you with a mixture of insecurity and regret.

You frown and look at her confused, not bothering to hide it, truly not understanding what she's doing here, talking to you.

And receiving no response from you, she looks down uncomfortably for a moment, fiddling with her hands as if searching for the right words before speaking.

And this is the first time you see her like this. You don't spend your time watching and analyzing her either but normally she always comes across as confident and sure of her whole persona, but now… you've never seen her so nervous.

“I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now…” she admits with her voice barely a whisper, sitting down next to you on the bleacher, though she keeps an appropriate distance, ”But I really want to talk to you.”

'Talk?'

You repeat in your mind, still watching her without understanding and unable to help but feel a pang of bitterness at the memory of all that has happened.

The truth is you don't want to talk, you already feel frustrated and tired enough without now having to deal with this and especially with her.

But for some strange reason, you don't say anything, you just watch her, waiting, keeping calm, waiting for her to continue. She seems to hesitate for a moment, but then takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the horizon.

“I-I… after what happened in Dragonstone…” she begins to speak cautiously, ”Aemond decided to cut off all communication with me.”

That nonconformity and that little ache in your chest comes up as you hear her name and you too look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze.

“He told me that what happened between us was a mistake and that you never deserved that,” she continues in a soft tone, ”I don't know if that gives you any kind of comfort, but I thought you should know.”

'Comfort?'

You don't know whether to laugh or cry but it's clear that none of this brings you comfort.

And she seems to be struggling with her own emotions, as you see out of the corner of your eye how her hands clench in her lap as if she's trying to control the trembling in them.

“And I'm not telling you this to justify myself, I know what happened at that party was a mistake,” she says emphatically, ”I shouldn't have gotten involved, let alone knowing that you were his girlfriend. That was…” she pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh, ”That was a big mistake on my part. I should have walked away from him the moment I met you, given you your place and respected you, but… I didn't.”

Her words fall heavy in the air and although part of you wants to lash out at her, another part of you feels so drained that you can't even find the energy to argue. Besides it's not just her… it's also Aemond.

“I was the one who was all the time looking for his attention at that party, you know? I was the one who had the intention of kissing him all that time, “she confesses, visibly embarrassed, ”I-I… I don't know, I felt so jealous when I came back and saw him with you. I-I guess I… still had feelings for him.”

You let out a long breath and finally speak bitterly.

“If he was the one who sent you to tell me all this to justify what he did and expect me to forgive him, it's not going to work Floris,” you warn her.

She shakes her head instantly, her eyes full of urgency.

“No, no,” she tells you immediately, ”He didn't send me to tell you anything, he doesn't even talk to me and barely notices me when we're in the same place. There's nothing really between us anymore Y/N,” she insists, ”It all ended when I left.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say or what to really think, also not having the slightest idea what to do.

Even if all of this were true, everything she's telling you, you don't care anymore. All of this just comes with the part where Aemond didn't deliver what he promised you. All of this is just more accompanying pain, but what does it really matter?

“I'm really sorry about what happened,” she murmurs in your direction after you say nothing, “I know my words won't change anything and I'm not expecting you to forgive me… but I wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry.”

You remain silent, jaw clenched and gaze lowered, with the silence still heavy, dense.

Her words echo in your mind, mingling with everything else you've been carrying. But what are you supposed to feel? Relief? More pain? Or both? You don't know.

And resigned to the fact that she won't find some kind of reaction from you nor will you say anything to her, she lets out a last sigh, accepting your indifference without a problem.

“And I also wanted to tell you that…I know that Alys and her friends were the ones who sent you that picture,” she confesses to you and you feel that sharp pain in your chest again, ”And you don't have to worry about them spreading it all over school. I made sure that doesn't happen.”

The lump in your throat tightens. Though his words seek to offer you some sort of comfort, they do not soothe the wound that has already been inflicted. It doesn't change what happened, nor does it erase the humiliation you felt.

But even so, there is something in her tone, in the sincerity with which she speaks to you, that disarms you a little, if only for an instant.

Finally she stands up, feeling that there is nothing more to say. She throws you one last look, full of regret, before turning and starting to walk away.

And you don't stop her, as you have nothing to say, when suddenly, she stops after only a few steps and this catches your attention, so you look at her in confusion.

Floris, still with her back to you, seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering whether or not to say what has been on her mind. When finally, he turns to you again, his eyes searching yours with an intensity you didn't expect.

“He really loves you, you know? Aemond.”

For the first time in the entire conversation you hold her gaze.

The sincerity in her eyes strikes you, but it's hard to believe those words after everything that's happened.

“When I came back from the exchange, something changed in him towards me. I don't know, he didn't see me the same way anymore,” she explains, "At first I didn't understand why, but when I met you, I knew," she confesses.

She pauses and seems to hesitate, as if choosing her next words carefully.

“The kiss…that kiss meant nothing to him, I know,” she finally confesses. “I saw him at Dragonstone, I saw how he looked at you… completely in love with you.”

You press your lips together and stare at a specific point, remembering those moments.

“And I also saw you completely in love with him too,” she admits in a soft voice, “I saw how you looked at him, with the same intensity with which he looked at you. And honestly… the two of you looked very happy together.”

This makes you feel exposed in a way you didn't expect, stirring a little in your seat, not knowing how to react.

The images of you and Aemond at Dragonstone, the times you spent together on the yacht, the hot tub, on the beach, in the castle and at the aquarium, when everything was fine and neither of you were faking it and it looked like everything was going to be just fine, all flashes through your mind.

“I saw all that, Y/N,” Floris continues, looking down in shame. “And that's why I accepted his decision to walk away from me. Because even though I didn't want to accept it at the time, I knew that what he felt for you was real. And what you felt for him was too.”

For a moment, you stare at her, not knowing how to respond or what to do, since you didn't expect to hear this either.

And you honestly can't deny the honesty in her words and in that it's probably true what she's saying, but you also can't ignore the pain that still burns inside you.

And so you simply nod slightly, as if you are accepting her confession even though you don't know what to do with it.

Floris looks at you one last time before turning completely around and continuing on her way, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the emotions you've been trying to contain.

You feel a surge of sadness mixed with a strange calm, as if there is nothing left to give. Everything that has happened between you, Aemond and Floris is still a complicated knot to untangle.

Now the silence that follows is heavy, but somehow, it also seems liberating.

Aemond POV.

With a folder in hand containing all the documents he needs and a determination all over his mind and posture, he barely observes all the people around him as he walks quickly through the hallways of the building, heading towards a specific office.

When he reaches the corresponding hallway, he slows his pace, cautiously observing his surroundings, making sure his grandsire is not nearby.

After so long keeping him waiting in the hope that he would do him the favor despite having already told him it would not be possible, he must have known that he will never really help him after all the favors he has done for him.

And that is precisely why Aemond has resorted to such measures.

But if his grandsire sees him here, he will immediately know what he wants to do and will not hesitate to kick him out of the building. That's why he has to be quick as the guards have seen him come in and so have all the people who work here.

And it's hard to go unnoticed when you have silver hair, which implies either that you work here or that you are the son, brother or nephew of the people who run the company.

So he quickly makes his way to the office, where he doesn't even knock on the door before entering, just walks in quickly to avoid being seen.

“Aemond?”

He looks at his sister and lets out a long breath watching her wearily, to walk over and take a seat in front of her.

“I'm sorry, my grandsire can't know I'm here or he'll kick me out,” he explains.

“Why? What happened?” she asks genuinely concerned, stopping what she was doing on her computer.

“Nothing, it's just…” he pauses as she brings a hand to his hair, ruffling it in frustration, ”I need you to do me a favor, Nyra. A big one.”

This gets her full attention and she nods slowly in his direction.

“What do you need?” she says to him with all disposition, watching him intently.

Your face, your words, all the moments that happened, whether good or bad, but most of all your hurt and broken face, the disappointment and how terribly sad you must have felt.

All of that is Aemond's drive to finally make things right and the things he should have done in the first place.

But it is not only that, it is also the fact that you no longer want to have anything to do with him, that you no longer want to be in the same place with him, that you can't stand his presence and that you don't answer any of his messages or calls, wanting to stop having any kind of contact with him.

All of that lets him know exactly how you felt about Floris and also about the fact that he didn't keep his promise.

And now he is willing to do anything, absolutely anything to be able to keep what he promised you. It doesn't matter if you still don't want to have anything to do with him, all he wants is for you to go to the college of your dreams.

But Rhaenyra's face after explaining and asking him for the favor, is exactly what he expected but he will still keep trying.

“You know I can't do something like that, Aemond.”

“You just don't have to say anything to him Rhae, please.”

She shakes her head.

“That's only worse. You know how hard it was for me to get him to agree to let me work here since dad died and I still have to put up with his bad treatment—

“Oh please, we all know it's only a matter of time before you and Daemon also get to run this company in addition to Driftmark and Harrenhal,” he interrupts her seriously, “You'll take my grandsire's job and send him to run only the Oldtown company.”

Rhaenyra remains serious for a moment, pursing her lips.

“It's the right thing to do and you know it. My father left this to me, to us,” she clarifies truthfully, ”And your grandfather took advantage to take it all and leave almost nothing to me.”

He lets out a long breath, bringing a hand to his chin.

“When you've finished your degree, you'll run Oldtown and if you want, we can spread out more locations,” she tells him in a soft tone, “Helaena can also run Highgarden and Aegon and Daeron can also help us if that's what they really want. That's what father wanted and I never once intended to take that away from you, your legacy, as your grandsire told you I would.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he tells her in a soft, sincere tone, understanding what she means.

The fight over the inheritance was always in the family ever since their father became ill. He never showed them love or even that he cared even a little for them, but at least he intended to leave them a large part of his legacy.

Neither he nor his siblings fought with Rhaenyra and Daemon for it, it was only their grandsire, who from the time they were all children put hatred towards them to her.

But eventually, both he and his siblings realized that Rhaenyra had other intentions and everything grandsire said was a lie. Rhaenyra didn't want to steal their legacy, she never did.

And now… they have all developed a strange but pleasant relationship with her. He more than anything has developed a respect, even an affection, for his older sister, because she wasn't the villain they had always been led to believe.

“Our arrangement with Citadel University was made precisely from the company in Oldtown, a company he will run until you have graduated,” she continues, “And if he already refused once to help you with that and finds out that I did, this strange peace I have managed to keep will be over.”

And the worst part is that she's right.

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those words.

If his grandsire finds out that she helped him behind his back, all the progress they've made to maintain family stability will shatter, destroying any chance of avoiding another conflict. And all because of a girl only he knows.

If it were a nephew, cousin or someone closer to the family nucleus, everything would be different. Nepotism is a common currency among wealthy and powerful families, like his, but in your case, you are a complete stranger.

That is precisely the reason why his grandsire refused to offer help him.

And now, Aemond is caught between the desire to repair the damage he caused in you and the fear that his insistence will cause an even greater rift in the family.

“Then I'll do it,” he says with conviction, sure of his words and Rhae looks at him surprised and confused, “Just tell me how I can get her into college. You don't have to get involved, I'll take it all on myself. I'll say I asked you for help and you refused. If anything goes wrong, it will be my responsibility.”

Rhaenyra lets out a long, deep sigh.

“Aemond—

She begins softly, but he interrupts her before she can say more.

“She deserves this,” he says, his voice lower but laden with sincerity. “It wasn't her fault. She did a favor for me on the condition that I would do this one for her. Besides, I've done a lot of things for my grandfather and the company, especially this company, so please Rhae, I really want to do this.”

Rhaenyra watches him for a long moment, her eyes searching for something in his.

The intensity in Aemond's gaze does not waver, for he is willing to take the consequences, to stand up to even his grandsire, if it means giving you a chance to repair the damage he himself caused.

“Even if I have to give up my own place to give it to her, I don't care, I'll do it.”

Rhaenyra blinks slowly, her mind struggling between logic and the desire to help him. Aemond rarely shows regret, and seeing him so willing to sacrifice himself for someone surprises her and reaches her deeply.

And finally, after what seems like an eternity, she sighs.

“What you're asking is a huge risk,” she admits, looking at him with a mixture of seriousness and empathy.

He holds his breath, his body rigid, as she seems to debate internally and he waits for a decision. And then, she turns to her computer, beginning to type, letting out a long breath.

“But don't be silly, I want you to study at Citadel too.”

The relief Aemond feels is almost palpable. A mixture of gratitude and hope takes hold of him, and his shoulders seem to relax for the first time since he entered the office.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Truly.”

“Just let me make a phone call and I also need her docu—

She doesn't finish saying the word as he, with a quickness that reflects his urgency, drops the folder with all the necessary papers in front of her on her desk.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, looking at the folder with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Sure,” she murmurs and opens the folder, letting out a small laugh, beginning to flip through the documents, making sure everything is in order "Well, this folder is quite complete and the grades are excellent,” she says in acknowledgement, "That's good because it will help us speed up the process."

Aemond allows himself to let out a sigh of relief, watching as Rhaenyra steps in to help him with this favor. And as she begins to make calls and coordinate the necessary details, he remains attentive throughout, beginning to feel more relieved than ever.

He knows this won't exactly make you forgive him, but at the very least, he's fixing the damage he's done to you so he can give you the opportunity you deserve.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @urmomsgirlfriend1 @saturnssrings @queen-of-elves

[chantiepie]

💞ESPRESSO💞 Yoongi +18

Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You are the complete opposite of Yoongi... And he can't get you out of his head.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation.

Words: 5k.

ko-fi ☕

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so

You liked pink, feeling the morning sun caress your skin as you went for your morning run. Your favorite coffee was with milk, you enjoyed pop music, your shoes were always soft and colorful, perfectly matching the delicate bows adorning your wavy hair.

Yoongi was the complete opposite. He preferred black. At night, he went out to drink whiskey, finding comfort in the smooth burn of the drink. In the mornings, it was pure coffee, without the addition of milk or sugar, just the invigorating bitterness to awaken his senses. Ink stained his skin, almost covering it completely, each drawing telling a story he kept to himself.

He couldn't understand where that attraction to You came from. He spent hours thinking about pink bows, something he had never done before. It all started three months ago, when you walked into the bar accompanied by some people he already knew. The moment your eyes met his, it was as if a magnet drew him to you. Throughout the night, even as he tried to disguise it, it was difficult for Yoongi to look away.

He mentally thanked his friend when he called his group to join them, even though there was no direct interaction between you.

After 10 minutes, he watched you, laughing at everything that was happening, engaging in lively conversations with the group.

After that encounter, things went from bad to worse for Yoongi. He was never one to get emotionally involved with anyone, preferring casual or no-strings-attached relationships. However, your presence stirred something within him in a way he couldn't understand. You were everything he avoided: outgoing, funny, sweet, the type of girl who seemed destined for a conventional life, marrying some heir who majored in business at Harvard and now works at a major Wall Street investment firm.

In that regard, he wasn't wrong. Yoongi, after that night, didn't make any advances since he discovered during the conversation that you were committed and that your boyfriend couldn't attend because he was tired, having recently been promoted. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think about you, even when he tried to keep his distance.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

The second time you guys met, during a game night, or as they call it when the real goal is just to drink, Taehyung asks about your boyfriend. Yoongi continues to pour whiskey pretending not to hear..You respond that he's not coming because he's been really busy lately and quickly try to change the subject by letting out your classic laughs. 'What a surprise,' Tae whispers while sending only an eye roll. You listen, ignoring afterwards. However, Yoongi realizes that something isn't right in your reaction.

During the small party, as he scans the room, most people are standing around smoking or chatting, and the lights are partially dimmed, emitting only a kind of light that slowly changes colors. He notices two shadows in a corner near the kitchen and quickly realizes it's you and Jimin talking. From the movements and body language, he can see your expression of disappointment, with a look of indignation that he can't ignore. It's not sadness, but rather a clear disappointment that hangs over you.

Min rises from the couch, deliberately ignoring the tempting gestures of the redhead seeking his attention. With determined steps, he crosses the room, passing by everyone without exchanging a word, and ascends the stairs towards the balcony on the upper floor of the house. His steps echo softly through the hallway as he approaches the open area of the balcony, where the night breeze welcomes him.

Upon reaching the balcony, Min takes a deep breath of the cool night air before reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He eagerly seeks nicotine, longing to find brief relief from the tensions surrounding him.

The glass door is open, inviting him to enter. He settles into one of the chairs, immersing himself in his own thoughts, when he notices someone approaching and sitting beside him. He recognizes the presence without needing to check.

"Can I have one?" The question is simple but loaded with meaning. Min needs no more than that to understand. Without uttering a word, he extends the cigarette along with the lighter, sharing the gesture in silent understanding

"Someone asked about you yesterday," Jungkook, a guy who recently started working at the same bar as Yoongi, said casually as the two of them organized the glasses to open the establishment.

Jungkook, the youngest among the staff, was still attending university, carving out his path for the future. The guy had moved to the capital in a rush, without having had time to plan properly. Now, he found himself dependent on his parents for expenses, which made him feel like a burden on his shoulders. Determined to become more independent and relieve the financial burden on his family, Jungkook began looking for part-time jobs or ones that were only on weekends, which led him to Hoseok, who introduced him to the opportunity to work at the bar.

The next morning was just another ordinary workday for Yoongi. As he organized the glasses, his mind wandered among the bar's tasks.

"Someone asked about me?" Yoongi asked, trying to disguise his interest, but his curiosity was evident in his tone of voice.

"Yes, it was a girl," Jungkook replied, grabbing more glasses to organize. "She seemed interested in getting to know you better."

A shiver ran down Yoongi's spine. Was it her? Was she finally showing some interest? He couldn't help but feel a mixture of hope and anxiety.

"Do you know her name?" Yoongi asked, trying to sound casual.

Jungkook thought for a moment before responding. "I think it was... Yuna? Yeah, I think that was it."

The excitement on his face quickly faded, turning into a bored expression. He remembered her, the redhead, she was very pretty, but his mind was already made up.

Jungkook noticed, but chose to stay silent about it, quickly changing the subject and focusing on Hoseok's birthday that would take place at the bar in a month.

I can't relate to desperation My "give a fucks" are on vacation And I got this one boy and he won't stop calling When they act this way, I know I got 'em

The third time he saw you... Well... He wasn't sure if he really saw you or if it was just his mind conjuring up your image. It was late at night, during his off-duty hours, and Yoongi was outside a liquor store, along with some customers who had become closer to him. The night was too hot to stay indoors, so he decided to accept one of their invitations to hang out. Let's just say it was just for drinking and smoking outside some liquor store downtown.

After many bottles, including one being accidentally dropped on the ground, he looked at a corner and there you were, or at least he thought it was you. You were wearing a blue dress that reached mid-thigh, adorned with a large bow of the same color adorning your hair from behind.

Suddenly, everything flooded back into his mind, as if a wave of memories hit him, turning into a tangled mess of soft colors, filled with smiles and shared moments, as if he were reliving a scene from a romantic movie. Among the flashes of memory, images of cute teddy bears and affectionate gestures emerged.

It seemed incredibly real, but it all happened so fast. He began to doubt his own sanity, something he had been doing for some time, and the idea of ​​going after to find out who that person was came to his mind. Under the influence of the adrenaline that alcohol provided, he began to seriously consider the possibility of acting, taking advantage of the fact that nobody he was with knew you. This propelled him to overcome his shyness and hesitation, especially in front of the common circle of friends you shared.

One of the friends, probably taller and louder, nudged him on the shoulder with a wide smile. "Hey, Min! What are you staring at so intently? If you keep frowning like that, you'll get more wrinkles."

Yoongi shook his head, trying to play it off. "No, it's nothing. Just... I think I saw someone familiar over there on the corner."

The friend laughed, patting the pale man's back. "Ah, okay, we get it. Let's focus on the bottles, alright?"

Yoongi just nodded, but deep down, the glimpse he had of the figure on the corner continued to echo in his mind, like a soft melody he couldn't forget.

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

"Please, Madonna is a queen," you declare to Jimin with conviction as you both enter the venue, amidst a lively debate about pop divas worthy of a Twitter thread.

"Not just a queen, she's a goddess, along with Cher, baby," Jimin backs up his argument.

The bar belonged to Yoongi, and it was a cozy yet stylish establishment tucked away in a trendy corner of the city. The entrance greeted patrons with a neon sign flickering with warm hues, drawing them into a world where music and conversation flowed freely. Inside, dim lighting cast a soft glow over plush velvet couches and rustic wooden tables, creating an atmosphere that was both inviting and intimate. The walls were adorned with vintage posters of iconic musicians and artists, adding a touch of nostalgia to the modern ambiance. Behind the sleek bar counter, shelves lined with an impressive array of spirits and liquors glimmered under the spotlights, inviting guests to indulge in their favorite drinks. As you and Jimin settled into your seats, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air.

The noise of the music in the bar was loud, but not loud enough to prevent Yoongi from hearing your voice as you entered the establishment. His eyes locked onto you, dressed in a pink dress that hugged your curves irresistibly, outlining each contour with elegance. The suggestive neckline added a touch of boldness, leaving anyone who looked at you drooling with admiration. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a delicately made-up face that exuded confidence and charm. You seemed like a vision of pure sophistication and sensuality, and a subtle hint of jealousy struck Yoongi, though it was something he would never admit out loud.

Finally, it was Hoseok's birthday party, and the bar was packed, considering he was so sociable, seemingly friends with half the city. Yoongi didn't know even 20% of the people there, but he had let his friend invite whoever he wanted as a gift.

As a way to not make it too obvious that he had a crush on you, Yoongi kept himself busy with party duties. He served drinks, helped set up with Jungkook and Taehyung, who, by some miracles, actually started to pitch in... More often than not, they ended up hindering rather than helping.

As they worked on the preparations, Yoongi occasionally cast furtive glances in your direction, observing your movements and conversations with the other guests.

He found himself looking at you again, chatting animatedly with Jimin. You whispered to each other and glanced around, seemingly engaged in a private conversation that no one else could hear. His attention was soon taken when the music stopped, and he saw the guest of honor for the night on the small stage used for live music nights.

"I'm glad everyone's here and I want to thank you all, but especially Yoongi," Hoseok pointed to the dark corner of the bar where his friend was busy making drinks. When Yoongi realized that all eyes were on him, he felt a warmth creeping up his cheeks. But what really embarrassed him was noticing that you were watching him with your big eyes and a smile that made your face glow. "He provided this exclusive space for us. This party would have been impossible without you, brother."

He definitely wasn't used to being the center of attention, and the sensation made him uncomfortable.

As the party was in full swing, a sweet pop song started playing, and that's when he noticed the commotion around him. You were closer to him, and he didn't know how that happened, but something slipped from your lips as you stared into his eyes:

"Oh, he looks so cute wrapped 'round my finger."

You put the straw to your lips and gave him a slight smile. Before he realized it, you had vanished into the crowd.

But this empty space didn't remain so for long. Jimin, the guy he always saw you with everywhere. Something Yoongi suspected at first until he realized, through social media, that besides you being really friends, the guy with the big lips and cute smile had a girlfriend who strangely looked a lot like him. Jimin also got closer to Yoongi a bit before you showed up. He was friendly, not always, but had an aura of a playful boy.

"You got the message, right?" Jimin stopped in front of Yoongi and said this with a somewhat arrogant smile on his face as he nodded toward the upstairs, which not ironically was where Yoongi kept a second home when he wanted to escape from the world or felt too tired to go to his luxury apartment. The older man returned the smile, not wanting to show that he was lost.

"What are you two up to?"

"Why would we be up to anything?"

"You know you're always involved in something, right?" Yoongi raised his left eyebrow slightly as he questioned.

"Are we communicating in questions now?" Jimin repeated the act.

Yoongi remained silent, just waiting for the next response.

"Uh, I'm just getting things done here," he spoke again, pointing to Yoongi's house with his head. Jimin was already pushing him towards the stairs, not allowing Yoongi to think things through. "I need you to grab JK's bag, he left it there."

"Why is his bag in my house?"

"I don't know, just go already."

Yoongi climbed the stairs, trying to go unnoticed, a bit suspicious about what was going on. As he entered through the wooden door, he found the place completely silent and everything in place, the small living room and kitchen were in perfect order, with no sign of anything suspicious. He decided to turn back and return, but before he could do that, a loud noise coming from the bathroom made him freeze in place.

"That's a heavy door," the unmistakable female voice reached his ears, and in seconds, he understood all the strangeness that had occurred downstairs. You appeared in the hallway leading to the bedroom, perfect as always, but stumbling a bit with your tall white boots, most likely due to the force of the door.

Yoongi quickly turned around trying to leave the place unnoticed, but when he tried to open the door, it was locked from the outside. He mentally cursed Jimin for whatever the hell he was trying to do. He turned his gaze to you.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, trying to get your attention. Your surprised expression gave away that something was wrong, but he could see a hint of shyness glimmering in your eyes.

"Yoo-o-ngi?" You cleared your throat, still a bit incredulous. "Is something wrong? I needed to wash my hands. You know? Drinks, dancing, spilled... Jungkook told Jimin and that you authorized me to come here because of the bathroom line... Um, that's it, I guess?" It was like a meltdown, you spoke hurriedly in seconds, Yoongi barely caught on. That nervousness had an explanation.

What Yoongi didn't know was that you were enchanted by his figure, the way he remained mysterious, his large and firm hands holding the whiskey glass... Yoongi was far from the type of guy you were used to dating and attracting, but people like him were your ideal type of guy, the one you imagined before falling asleep or when watching a romantic comedy. It wasn't just a crush, you genuinely had developed an admiration for him in this short period of time. His organization and the way he fought for his goals were like a moment of silence in the daily chaos.

It was difficult for you to find a moment to talk to him because it seemed like the only thing he knew how to do was work. Besides, it would be strange to show up alone at his bar, right?

But it was becoming complicated to hide when you two met. Most of your friends had already noticed your glances, you weren't someone who could pretend. Now, in front of him, alone in a place illuminated only by the moonlight, it was difficult to hide.

"Jungkook didn't warn you, did he? I'm sorry, I-I..."

"Y/N," Yoongi's voice echoed through the hallway, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes met in the dim light, sparking with palpable tension. You held your breath, feeling a wave of desire course through your body. Yoongi's intense gaze pinned you in place, as if you were ensnared in a spell. You could feel the electricity in the air, the attraction pulsing between them like an invisible current. Your lips parted, ready to form words that were never spoken, but the sound died in your throat. You couldn't decipher what he was feeling.

"Just shut up," that wasn't what you expected. "I think I know exactly what's going on."

The tone of voice used left you feeling flushed, it was embarrassing. You tried to ignore all the reactions of your body and began to think about the events. And when you realized the plot, all your eyebrows raised and your cheeks violently reddened in understanding.

Jimin had convinced you to make a move today.

"The plan is easy." He spoke with calculated confidence, as if conducting a masterclass. The images on the TV screen flickered, displaying a variety of suggestive outfits. "You throw him some charm, something subtle but not too subtle, it needs to be teasing but not overly, something like a discreet invitation," Jimin explained, sliding the slides skillfully.

"I'll choose the clothes that please me," you retorted, with a tone of disapproval.

"Your clothes already have a vibe of another reserved, so it's all right," he replied with a mischievous smile. "Continuing, second step: you'll touch up your makeup in the bathroom upstairs. You know how it is, at these parties the main bathroom always gets crowded. Are you understanding?"

"Yes, Professor Park," you replied, feeling somewhat frustrated. "But why do I need to touch up my makeup?"

"Think with me, Y/N," Jimin said, adopting a persuasive tone. "That will probably happen after a while. I want to make sure that, by the time he sees you and you talk, you look absolutely stunning." You trusted Jimin's guidance, even if the reasoning behind it didn't make much sense.

"So, I'll lead the conversation with him and keep him around. When you come back, you'll be ready. You'll throw the charm, disappear, and then come back triumphant," Jimin concluded, outlining the plan with unwavering confidence.

Your hand automatically hits your forehead. You felt a little humiliated, especially considering his strange reaction.

"Yoongi, what did he tell you to come up here?" You don't look at him, avoiding any proximity.

"Does that really matter?" He was in front of you, making it impossible to look away. He saw you biting your lips in a moment of pure impulsivity, and that aroused him to the true Yoongi, the guy who doesn't need to woo someone, he fucks without a care.

He leans towards you, his lips meeting yours. His lips were soft, but you could hardly feel them, due to the force with which he grabbed your waist with one hand and the other behind your head, pulling your hair slightly. Their bodies pressed against each other, seeking relief for the tension that had built up between them.

You moaned in the form of a sigh, and he let out a arrogant chuckle in the middle of the kiss.

"Y/N... We haven't even started and you're already moaning like this?" Yoongi didn't want an answer, but he leaned back slightly from your face, pulling your hair again, this time with force, forcing you to look at him. He took advantage of your stretched neck to lick it up to your ear.

"So needy," he put his tongue back into your mouth.

Suddenly, Yoongi returned to what he was before he met you. The arrogance was in the air. You could only moan and murmur.

When one of his hands slipped between your legs, you choked in the middle of the kiss, stopping in alarm, but that didn't discourage Yoongi, who continued to move his fingers lightly over your panties.

Your mouths were close to each other, but remained separated, so close that Yoongi could feel your breath hitting his lips. Some strands of saliva still connected you. The older man's movements began to get faster, his reactions were making you embarrassed, you were about to climax without him even having touched you properly. A finger slipped into your wet hole.

"Yoongi," you were in ecstasy, broken, looking at his face, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. You felt his breath close to yours, sighing, but without touching, it was a tease. Yoongi's hand slid to your jaw and held it firmly. He knew you were close by the pulsation of your pussy and the grip on his fingers.

"Yoongi... I'm going to cum, please don't stop, please," you whimpered as the tingling began from inside your belly, he kept up the pace; it was so wet there.

"Yes, fuck, cum on my fingers," that was enough.

And so you did, in small gasps and with tightly closed eyes, you melted over him, almost falling to the ground.

You barely noticed when he put you on top of the kitchen table and, with a gentle push, laid you down, pulling up your dress to your waist. Yoongi's large rings made contact with the warm skin of your belly, bringing more sighs.

Yoongi looked into your eyes asking for permission, receiving only a pleading look to continue. You threw your head back, completely lying down. It was only possible to hear the metallic sound of the belt being opened and a light sound of his pants falling to his ankles. Peeking, you came across the most promiscuous scene you had ever seen. Yoongi looking directly at your pussy still covered by panties, with his lips between his teeth, while he masturbated lightly. He grunted like an animal before approaching.

He pushes the panties aside and slowly slides into you, earning a dragged moan from you. He takes advantage of his position and, running his hand over the outside of your thighs, he pulls you closer, returning to vigorously swinging his hips towards you.

His breathing becomes heavier as Yoongi's gaze fixates on the action that is taking place. He is ignoring everything as if that were the only thing that mattered, just listening to the sound of their skins colliding.

"Don't stop," your voice comes out in a whisper, knowing that he is close to climaxing. The movements accelerate more than possible, and Yoongi's voice becomes a tangle of grunts and sighs until he buries himself deep inside you.

You feel every movement of his, every part of him inside you, an overwhelming sensation that makes your whole body tremble. Your breathing becomes heavy, your heart beats irregularly, and the heat between you is palpable, enveloping you in an intense aura of desire and passion.

The last thing you remember is him with you in the shower, bathing you while you played around like two idiots. The hot water running down your naked bodies, the laughter echoing in the small space of the bathroom. Shortly after, without even bothering to dry off, you both fall onto the bed, your bodies still wet, but your hearts filled with an intense and profound connection.

Jimin would be punished for lying.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Two men were inside a large black car parked in front of the bar across the street. The party had ended an hour ago, nearly 7 a.m., but they remained there for an important reason.

"Did it work?" The man with large eyes asks.

"Believe me, I don't give it five months for Y/N to show up with a grumpy mini-Min ready to cry on my shoulder," he says, taking another sip from the cold beer can, taken from Yoongi's special stock, but he knew he deserved it, as they had taken care of the place and closed after the party.

"Anyway, I hadn't even noticed... This... um... thing they have... Jimin, when you wanted to talk to me, I thought it was about Yuna," the other comments.

"Haha, that was a lie. She's obviously attractive. I just wanted to test him a little before leaving my best friend in his hands," Jimin says naturally, gesturing with his hand to support his own plan.

"Lie?" Jungkook turns his body fully towards Jimin, with his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his arms open in indignation.

Jimin puts his hand on his shoulder and follows his gaze to the second floor of the establishment.

"You know, a good cupid needs to ensure all possibilities." Jimin checks his phone one last time before leaving, and only one notification catches his attention.

"Your NETFLIX login is no longer available. Would you like to sign in with another account?"

A scream was heard throughout the neighborhood.

Hello everyone. Just popping in to let you know that next week I'll be posting the second chapter of Get This Man <3.

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-four | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | murder, getting away with murder, minor character death, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, fingering (f. receiving), hints of edging, blood kink if you squint, creampie, virgin! Coryo lossing virginity | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 the end

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 the last chapter! I probably won't do an epilogue, i am not entirely sure on it yet! But this wraps up their story!! I hope you guys liked it! Make sure to reblog and give ne your feedback!

beta read by an angel (TRUTH) @nowitsmissing

thank you to everyone who was on this journey with me... I love you guys!

masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus finds Lucy Gray near the hanging tree. It was nearly evening. Lucy Gray's eyes were red. Coriolanus ignored the pity he felt. Soon, Lucy Gray would join Sejanus Plinth.

“Lucy Gray,” he hissed, taking her attention away from the tree.

“You'll need to leave,” he said, his voice faking desperation, “to the North. Sejanus would have wanted that.”

“What about you?” Lucy Gray asked, “What about the Covey?”

“The Covey will live, Lucy Gray, you know that. They're strong. They're survivors,” he replied, “as for me, I wish to leave with you. I can't stay in the place that took my friend.”

Coriolanus' eyes quickly filled with tears as soon as he finished. “It's all my fault,” his lips utter, “if only I could have stopped him.”

Lucy Gray looks at him, her face stricken with grief. She doesn't say anything but lets the tears fall down her cheeks. She pulls Coriolanus into a hug.

“The Peacekeepers will look for me, I'll stay in the cabin for the night,” Lucy Gray said. There was a cabin, near the lake, over the fence of the district. Nobody ventures that far except the Covey. Coriolanus and Sejanus only found out about its existence due to their connection with Lucy Gray.

He remembered all the moments he spent there with the Covey. It would be a good place for Lucy Gray to perish. Around all the greens and the music of mockingjays inside the forest.

“I'll meet you there tomorrow in the morning with supplies,” he said, holding Lucy Gray's hand, even giving it a friendly squeeze. He was afraid he was overselling the act but Lucy Gray was too sad to notice how over-the-top friendly Coriolanus was acting.

Lucy Gray nods and turns to leave. Her legs were shaky as she walked. Sejanus and Lucy Gray had to keep their relationship a secret for obvious reasons. But everyone would point at her for the mayor’s daughter's death. It didn't end with Sejanus Plinths' death. It won't because the mayor is trying to root out every single rebel, and surely he won't keep alive the girl his daughter hated so much.

Coriolanus finds his way back to the base. It's night by the time he returns. He climbs up the stairs and walks down the hallway to reach your room. He knocks and waits for you to open the door.

You do.

Coryo tried his best not to get distracted at the sight of you. You were looking so pretty. You look beautiful to him all the time. “Hi,” he gasps out.

“Hey,” you smile, giving him space to walk inside the room. Peacekeepers knew by now that something was going on between him and you. They knew better than to gossip about it though. It was clear you had the power to do anything you wanted. And everyone knew not to mess with someone from the Capitol.

That is why Coriolanus knew even if he spent the night here. He won't get in trouble. He pulls off his Peacekeeper uniform and wears one of the big, oversized sweatshirts you bought from the Capitol. The softness of the fabric makes him shy. He felt like a boy again. It was a feeling he never thought he would enjoy. For a moment, he could pretend he was in the Capitol, in his home, before the games had ever happened.

“You look comfy,” you tease him, as you find your home in his arms.

“I am,” he murmurs, his lips kissing your temple.

“I talked to Lucy Gray,” he informs you, “You were right. She's going to the north and she'll stay in the cabin for the night.”

“Hmm,” you hum, as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft kisses to his pulse. Your arms around him, and his arms around you. Both of you caging each other. The heat of both of your bodies mingled into a pleasant warmth.

“Well, then my revolver will come in handy soon,” you whispered, a bit tired.

“They let you bring one here?” He questions.

“Special privileges,” you replied.

Any other day Coriolanus would feel jealousy pulling at his heart, a frown formatting on his face. Today, he just… didn't care. He didn't care that you had more benefits than him. He didn't care that you lived better than him.

You're his.

Could anything be better than that?

He doesn't think so.

“Typical,” he said, his head now on your shoulders.

“Uh huh,” you add, “Stay the night.”

“Of course, dove.”

You lay down on the bed beside him. His arm was thrown over your waist, and your legs tangled with him. You gently let your nails scratch at his buzz cut. He sighs, relaxing from your touch.

“Tomorrow is a big day,” you remind him, “We'll have to finish everything by noon and catch the train in the evening.”

“We?” He questioned.

“I talked with Dr. Gaul,” you revealed, a bit hesitant, “She wants you back.” You frown, “Don't let the news deter from our plan Coriolanus, it's important we leave no strings behind.”

Coriolanus blinks, trying to take in your words. A smile splits on his face. He couldn't believe this, he had thought he would have to wait for months before Dr. Gaul let him get back to the Capitol. Snow thought she would be petty like that. But you somehow managed to convince her otherwise. It was shocking, to say the least.

“I will go to the Capitol with you tomorrow,” he said. He repeats, “I'll go to the Capitol with you tomorrow!”

You giggled, “Yes, Coriolanus. You thought I would leave you behind? It took some… it doesn't matter. We'll have our happily ever after.”

“I can't believe it,” he whispers, his eyes shining with joy, even with the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes sparkling.

“You should,” you whispered, “now sleep, darling. It's a big day tomorrow.”

Coriolanus couldn't believe it. He pressed your lips against yours. “Thank you,” he lets out, “I love you.” Coriolanus takes your hand, and presses a kiss to your wrist, on the number tattooed on your skin. “I love you, my dove,” he whispered.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” you whispered.

Coriolanus pulls impossible closer as if he were trying to mold both of your souls together. “I am glad you're mine,” he said. He kissed your forehead. “You're mine forever,” he whispered, a hint of darkness, and obsession creeping into his voice.

It made you bite your lower lip as you heard the possessiveness in his voice. “I know,” you replied, “You're mine too.” You add, your voice muffled as your face was pressed into his chest, “Nobody can take you away from me ever again.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the morning, both of you quietly wake up in each other's arms. Coriolanus yawns, “Good morning, dove.” You hum something Coriolanus couldn't hear in reply.

It was so early that the sun had just begun to rise. However, he could hear the sound of rain. Coriolanus quickly gets out of the bed. He softly pats you on the cheek, smiling as you continue to fight the battle against sleep.

“See you soon,” he whispered, taking the revolver you had in your drawer and walking out of the room. He finds himself on his bunk bed, everyone else is sleeping, and he quickly begins to pack things inside of his bags. The supplies he told Lucy Gray about. When he is done, he briefly stops by in front of Sejanus Plinth's bed.

There was a box in which Sejanus Plinth kept his belongings. Coriolanus opens it to find letters, medicine, and two photos. One of Lucy Gray. Another was of Coriolanus and Sejanus, a photo taken from the time during the broadcast of the 10th Games. It seemed like yesterday.

Coriolanus Snow had no explanation for the tears that fell down his cheeks. Sejanus Plinth was dead. Snow had given Dr. Gaul the gun, and you made her pull the trigger. It's in her hands the blood of Sejanus truly was. Not on him nor you.

Coriolanus wipes his tears away. “She's coming soon to you, buddy,” he whispered to the picture. He wondered if Sejanus would thank him for his next actions, or curse him. Coriolanus doesn't think about it much, he leaves.

Soon enough, he reaches the cabin. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out. Lucy Gray opens the door, giving Coriolanus a polite smile. Lucy Gray lets him inside. He enters, looking around the old cabin he has been inside of many times. Coriolanus sets his bag down. Wondering about what he should do next. Should he wait for you? Should he take out the gun and shoot now?

Before he can decide his next actions, Lucy Gray pulls out a knife. “I think I’ll go dig up some Katniss since we got the fire going anyway. There’s a good patch by the lake.”

“I thought they weren’t ready,” he said. Katniss was another word for swamp potato. It grew around here, but just a few days ago Lucy Gray told him it wasn't ready for harvest.

“Two weeks can make a lot of difference,” she said.

“It’s raining,” he objected. “You’ll get soaked.”

She replied, “Well, I’m not made of sugar.”

Coriolanus lets her walk outside. It was a form of mercy, trying to give her some time to run. He knew that Lucy Gray's survival instincts were good. That was the only reason she had survived the arena.

But she won't be able to survive him.

Coriolanus follows her trail after a moment passes. She wasn't down the lake as she promised, but her footsteps were towards the forest. Coriolanus smirks as he takes the revolver out, and gets the gun ready for a shot.

“Let the hunger games begin,” he whispered, “may the odds be in your favor.”

Coriolanus continues to follow her trail quietly and quickly, using the training of being a Peacekeeper. His gun pointed in front of him, ready to be shot the moment he saw her. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out, his voice warm as if he wasn't going to murder, “Where are you? We need to leave soon.”

“Lucy Gray!” He turns when he hears footsteps and shoots, hoping not to miss. The shot met with flesh, the sound booming in his ear, much more overwhelming than the tap tap of the rain. He walks towards the body that is now in front of him. Red blood mixed with the rainwater on the ground, staining the greenery around them.

He shot her right in the chest.

Lucy Gray was dead.

She joined Sejanus Plinth in the afterlife and will spend the rest of eternity cursing Coriolanus. Snow couldn't find himself to clear. He felt relieved. No one can drag him down now. The only way for him was to climb the ladder and reach the peak. Coriolanus uses his feet to turn her dead body around. There was blood dripping down her lips, her dress red and her were nearly closed. She was nothing more than a dead body. Gone was the songbird.

Now it was time to get rid of the body.

He was grateful that the rain would cover the tracks. But he had to be careful as it was easy to slip and get hurt himself. He drags the body without any rush, he thinks of you, waiting in the cabin for him to come back. Both of you will go back to the Capitol. Snow will be together with his family, in the future you'll also become his family. Everything was going to be fine.

This was nothing but a simple stepping stone.

He could feel his arms getting tired but he continued to drag the body by her arms until he reached the edge of the lake. There was a boat. He wondered briefly if he should just take her on the boat and cross to the middle of the river to let her drown. But decided that it would be too much trouble, and pushed her to the river. A big splash occurs. And he could see Lucy Gray slowly but surely falling to her end.

Lucy Gray was gone from this world forever.

He throws the revolver into the river as well. The body would decompose in a matter of days. Everyone would think of her as a traitor. Even if the Covey comes to visit the lake again, they'll never know it's their beloved Lucy Gray's grave.

Coriolanus Snow reaches the cabin and opens the door to see you holding a Peacekeeper’s gun. The same gun he had used to shoot Mayfair and Billy Taupe. “Guess Spruce hid it here,” you grin at him. You were slightly wet from the rain, unlike him, he was soaking wet.

“Yeah,” he lets out, his shoulders relaxed, his face mirroring your smile. “We'll have to throw those in the lake too.”

You chuckled, “Let's not leave any stones unturned.”

Coryo couldn't take it anymore, the adrenaline was too much. “We won't,” he said, as he walked towards you until your back was on the wall. He takes the gun from you and throws it to the side. Neither of you flinch from the loud noise, the two of you too focused on each other instead. He closes the space between the both of you.

“But for now, I want you,” he adds, “No- that's not right. I need you, here.”

He doesn't wait for a reply. He crashed his lips to yours. You find yourself kissing him back. Your tongue exploring his mouth, he sucks at your bottom lip. Not caring that his teeth are digging into your flesh too harshly, that he's responsible for the coppery taste that occurs while you continue kissing.

“You sure?” You gasp as you break the kiss. A string of saliva connecting you both. Coriolanus doesn't reply, he finds his solace from the taste of your skin. He pressed his lips to your neck, sloppily kissing down your pulse. You softly moan, tilting your head to give him more access.

Coryo takes full advantage of that. He was going to claim you any way that he could. Carving his initials on your skin wasn't the only way after all. Cumming inside of you, giving your pretty red hickeys, the print of his fingers on your hips, even the soulmate tattoo you have on your wrist. All these are ways for him to fucking own you.

And own you he shall.

He bites onto your neck as if trying to tear out your flesh. He wants to consume you, soul and all. You cry out, your back arching. Your hips meet his, and he presses his hard bulge against you. He finds himself in between your legs. Your clothed cunt against his denim-cladded cock. You begin to grind against him, as he continues the assault on your neck.

The teeth mark he placed on your skin will remain for days. It will bruise on doubt. Coriolanus didn't have it in him right now to be gentle. He was too fucking drunk on you for that. All of his desires were rushing through, breaking his walls and overwhelming his mind.

“Fuck,” he curses as he realized his lips are red from your blood. His bites had broken your skin and now tiny droplets of blood were forming. He licks them all up and murmurs an apology. He pressed his lips on yours, painting your lips the same shade as his and making you taste yourself. His hips had slowed down the grinding against you.

He steps back and begins to undress. He lets his t-shirt and jeans fall to the ground. He takes his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. He grips the base of length, trying to control himself as he watches you follow suit.

He pulls you against him again and nods his head towards the floor. You understand his intention and lay down. He bites his lip, sudden nerves overcoming him. He doesn't know what to do despite the raunchy stories he has heard from his fellow Peacekeepers.

Is he supposed to hold your hand or your hips? Should he just push in? Isn't he supposed to prep you first? Or are you wet enough? Fuck… it wasn't the first time he was intimate with you. He hadn't gone all the way but he was familiar with your body. But most of the time he was overwhelmed with his desire to think about what to do or not to do. This time his mind was clear, he was focusing solely on you and he wanted you to experience nothing less of ecstasy from his touch.

“Coryo?” you question, bringing him out of his internal monologue. “Is there anything wrong?”

“I-” he doesn't want to admit, but he knows he has to, “I don't know what to do right now.”

“You can do whatever you like. I'll tell you if you mess up, sweetheart.”

“I know,” he sighs, his eyes on your tits, he licks his lips, “but I am-” He swallows, trying to explain, “I want you. I don't know how to take you. Everything feels like too much or too little.”

You sit up. You gently cradle his cheeks in your hands. “We have all the time in the world, Coryo. What do you wanna do first?”

“I-” He doesn't form a full sentence, instead he kisses you. His hand is on your nape and another trailing down your body as he softly nips at your lips. He dips down his hand in between your legs, he pressed his palm onto your cunt. He lets himself be coated by your arousal. His breath hitches as he feels your heat in such an obscene way.

“Oh,” he whispered as he pressed a single finger inside of your walls. “I missed this.” He remembers the night when he first felt your tight, slick walls like this. He was rough that night, a bit mean too. Coriolanus wasn't going to be the same today. He plans to worship you.

He begins to slowly thrust his index finger inside of you. His head on your shoulder, his lips kissing any inch of skin he could find as he continues to stretch you out with a single finger. Then he adds another one, he was met with resistance, but he pressed his thumb to your clit. That makes you gasp, your cunt squeezing around his fingers when his thumb begins to draw small circles on the bud.

“Relax, dove,” he whispered, giving you goosebumps.

He doesn't begin to move his fingers even when you whine impatiently, your walls twitching around his digits. Once he deems that you're relaxed enough, he begins to slowly push inside of your pussy, as deep as his fingers could reach. He was trying his best to get you ready for his cock.

His fingertips begin to press into your walls, trying to find that one spot that would get you drunk on him as much as he's drunk on you. He knows he found the spot when he feels your walls pulse around his digits like it had a heartbeat of its own. You gasp his name and he smirks. He whispers to your ear, “That's it, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan, “Faster!”

Coriolanus Snow obeys because he can never say no to you. He begins to fuck his fingers inside of you faster, slipping his ring finger inside of you as well. He thrusts his digits fast and hard, he groans as he sees your pussy stretched to accommodate his long digits. He keeps his fingers slightly curved so that with each thrust he would press into your g-spot.

“Fuck, fuck, you're so pretty.”

Coriolanus couldn't be sure if he was saying that to you, or your cunt. He continues to keep up his speed, the sloppy, wet sounds of your pussy louder than of the rain. Coriolanus could hear you moan his name as he feels your pussy get impossibly tighter around his digits before your walls begin to spasm all over, locking his digits in. He doesn't pull them out, instead, he continues to press hard onto your spongy pleasure spot until you whine his name.

Your juices were now all over his fingers. He didn't waste a second to taste them. He looks into your eyes as he licks his digits clean. He runs his tongue between the spaces of his fingers, making sure he doesn't miss a single spot. When he's done, you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, you find yourself in his lap, his back pressed to the wooden floor.

Your hand pulls at the dog tag he wore. You use the necklace like a leash, pulling at it like he's a dog you're commanding. You wrap your fingers around it, your thumb caressing the metal pendant. “You're mine,” you whispered in wonder, “You taste of me.”

Coriolanus nods, agreeing to whatever you say. He just wants you! That's it. Ruin him. Ruin him for everybody else forever! You have that power. Take it and use it, that's all he wants.

You raise your hips, taking his cock in your hand. You pressed his tip against your clit, you gasped as you slowly began to rub his cockhead against your pearl. His pre-cum coating your bud, and soon all over your cunt. You were teasing him every time you let his cockhead get near your slit, but you don't let him slip inside of you. He lets out a whimper when you do it again.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyan

“Please-” he whines, “stop teasing.”

“Make me,” you smirk.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyance as if in retaliation he kisses you roughly.

“Don't-” kiss, “Play-,” kiss, “With-” kiss, “Me.”

“Not when I have waited for you for so long,” he adds.

His fingers pressed into your flesh. He gets a hold of his length and pressed it to your slit. “Can I?” He asked you, he wanted your permission. He needs your ‘yes’ before he takes you as his forever.

“Of course, Coryo.”

He begins to push in his tip, his length slipping inside of you with ease. He gasps as he feels your warmth all over his cock. The feeling is so overwhelming that he has to stop midway to not cum right away. He squeezed the base of his dick before he continued to push inside of you again, slowly inch by inch. He breathes through his mouth, his eyes closed as pleasure fills every corner of his mind. You felt perfect.

“You feel so good,” he whines.

His cock twitched inside of your walls. He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to use pain to distract himself from the mind-blowing pleasure. Meanwhile, you clenched your pussy as if to see how much his cock had stretched you. The two of you gasped from the feeling.

“Fuc- ah!”

Coryo pulls out a few of his inches and begins to thrust in. You moan out, feeling pleasure in your veins and seeing stars in your eyes. Snow's hands were on either side of your head as he balanced himself above you. His dog tag dangles in front of your lips as his hips continue to move. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his cock even deeper into you. Coriolanus lets out a groan from the feeling.

“I won't be able to last long,” he admits, his cheeks getting red. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't help but feel ashamed about how heavy his balls were with cum ready to be released inside of you.

“You will,” you whispered your hand on his nape. You squeeze it. “You will last as long as I fucking want, Coriolanus,” you said to him, pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was messy and open-mouthed. Another hand of yours was on his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. You were marking him in your own way. With long, red scratches.

Coriolanus slows down, ready to please you however you want. You moan into his mouth and he eats the sound up. Coriolanus thrusts his hips faster, unable to truly control himself. How could he when you made him feel this good? He couldn't decide on the pace. He wanted this to last hours. He wanted to cum.

He kept switching between fast and slow until he found himself with his back on the floor. You are on top of him, your hands holding his hands above his head. “Be a good boy,” you said to him before you began to ride him.

You grind yourself against his cock, letting his cockhead kiss your spongy spot with each movement of your hips. Your arousal was coating your thighs and now it was on his skin as well. You were so wet and messy. Coriolanus loved it. You use one hand of yours to play with his balls. Coriolanus could feel his eyes rolling back.

“Don't- I-” he cries out in bliss when you squeeze his balls gently. You hush him with a kiss, your hips moving according to your will. You had set the perfect pace. It wasn't too much for either of you, letting the pleasure be prolonged.

He knew you were close with the way your push was contracting on his shaft. He knew you were close because your eyes were closed and fuck, you were cock drunk on him. He knew you were close because you had slowed down, and now rocking your hips back and forth. The hold you had on his hands had loosened. He breaks free without a fuss and places his hands on your hips.

He begins to push his hips up, fucking his cock into you. You whine, your eyes opening as you see him take control again. His teeth pulled at his lower lip, silencing his groans as he continues to fuck into you in this position. You use one of your hands to rub at your sensitive clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

You tense, your pussy tightening around Coriolanus’ cock. Your only warning was the moan of his name as your cunt begins to spasm around his dick. Coriolanus lets out a deep groan, his lower lip bloody from how hard his teeth dug into the flesh. He fucks you throughout your orgasm.

“Get off,” he whines, “I can't cum inside of you.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Coriolanus doesn't realize he's coming inside of you until he feels like jelly. He had stuffed you full of his thick, hot cum without a warning. But you had already stated you didn't give a fuck. So he supposed it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had you now.

Forever.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Hours later, you and Coriolanus find yourself at the train station. Ready to go back to the Capitol, once and for all. Commander Hoff had personally come to escort you both.

Coriolanus was about to enter the train. You were already inside. But Commander Hoff stops him, “Son.” Coriolanus stills, waiting to hear what Hoff has to say.

“Don't let her go. You don't know what she had to keep you safe.”

Coriolanus looks Commander Hoff in the eyes and nods. “I won't,” he promises, knowing damn well he will keep it with his life. Coriolanus gets inside the train after saying goodbye. He stops before he opens the door to the cabin you were sitting in. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to look at his wrist. He grins as he sees the scar reverted to the number most important to you.

It was today's date.

Coriolanus slides the door and walks to his future.

Coriolanus walks to you.

[lysil7777]

Yan! Dom! Fem! Reader x Sub! Boy

"P-please just.. just leave me alone!" James whimpered, tears welling up in his brown eyes, cheeks and ears flushing

"Aww what's wrong Jamie? Are you gonna cry? Did I hurt your feelings? Do you need your Mommy? You lean in to bite his ear and then whisper "I could be your mommy~"

Jamie hated himself for being unable to stop the moan that came out when you nipped at his ear and hated himself even more for letting you bully and harass him everyday.

When Jamie started college he swore things would be different from high school, he'd be more social, more motivated, and less shy. But 3 months later and the only person he talked to on a daily basis was you.

The first time you two met was in class, he'd braved up the courage to ask you for a pencil, he didn't really need one but he was trying to get out of his comfort zone.

You obliged but only after teasing him a bit asking what he'd give you in return, he got all embarrassed not knowing how to properly return your banter, and offered to pay you which you found very amusing. After a few more interactions you started to grow very fond of the nerd who sat behind you in Calc and before you knew it he was always on your mind.

The way he'd get embarrassed and look away from you when he didn't know what to say, the nervous habits he had when he was out by himself, how kind he was without anyone noticing, he was your adorable little specimen, for you only. And of course the best part was how naughty he could be, oh he was so innocent at the same time tho. You'd lost count of the number of times you'd watched him through his window, jerking it to soft domme porn, pet play, degradation, and dumbification, he was a pervy little nerd but the shame he felt afterward made you want to climb through his window and show him how much more depraved you were.

"What are you talking about y/n, I'm older than you that doesn't even make sense" he rambled looking anywhere but your eyes that were boring into his skull. God why did you have to be so close, why did you have to smell so good and be so pretty and-

His thoughts were cut off when you grabbed his chin and made him look at you directly

"I just think you're the kind of guy who needs direction, someone to help make those difficult decisions a sweet pet like you can't really decide for themselves, and why should you, that pretty little head of yours shouldn't have to worry about a single thing" you cooed squishing his cheeks together and making his lips push out

"I'm eighteen y/n, I can make my own decisions" Jamie argued or tried to through squished lips

At 5'3" you stood an entire nine inches under Jamie, but that didn't make him feel any less small in your presence

Letting go of his face you took a step back pretending to think for a moment "Alright then, I'll let you choose. Give me your number or get wedgied."

Jamie stood there dumb for a second, pants growing tighter and his skin warmer

"W-what?" He laughed nervously

Pulling his face closer to yours by the collar of his shirt you repeated your earlier statement to him in a slow demeaning manner, as if he was brain dead

"Give me your number or you get boo boo, oh no!" Your lips turned down in faux sadness

Jamie wasn't sure what to make of the situation, you usually weren't this physical with him, he was a little scared but mostly turned on. He didn't want to admit it but he had the teeniest tiniest crush on you and he blamed the stupid porn he'd been watching but he only looked into it because of you!

"I-I don't.." he paused

On one hand, he wanted to give you his number but on the other hand he'd never thought getting wedgied sounded so appealing

"You don't hmm~? Well, that just won't do. What happened to my big tough guy? Who was so strong and independent? Do you know darling? Ah, of course you don't. You're just as clueless as a little puppy dog and as cute as one too <3"

The new nickname shocked Jamie and caused him to audibly gasp, his hard-on fully visible now

"You can't j-just-aghhh"

You gripped him by his hair to cut him off

"Oh is puppy trying to give the orders now? What a silly little mutt you are, you really don't know how this works do you? The tent in your pants suggests otherwise but here you are telling me what I can and can't do with my property"

"I-I'm not yours y/n! A-and I'm not a pervert!!"

That first statement made your blood boil and you didn't even realize that you'd pushed Jamie down to his knees

"A good dog doesn't speak, a good dog gets treats and rewards but you're not being a good dog, Jamie. I know your tiny brain might not have comprehended it yet but you are mine, you're only mine. Who else is gonna talk to such a pervert hm? You were made for me, nobody else should ever see you like this, in fact, nobody ever sees you the way I do."

Before he could get a word out you pinned him to his position by placing your shoe on his clothed dick and reached over him to grab his boxers. Putting pressure on both simultaneously had him squirming and letting out the most sinful moans that made you wanna take him right then and there.

"Y-nnnnnnn" he whined, grinding up to help release some of the tension but each movement made the fabric between his ass more uncomfortable

"Shhh puppy, this is the punishment you've been given, I wouldn't be a very good owner if I didn't discipline my pet, you just gotta learn how to be good for me mkay? Don't you wanna learn how to be good and get rewards and pets and walkies~?"

All the new sensations made Jamie's head spin, his body felt like it was burning up from the inside out, his head was fuzzy, his dick was so much more sensitive than it had ever been while he was touching it and he couldn't place why the slight uncomfortableness of the wedgie made his parts throb even more, the whole situation was so intense poor boy couldn't fully wrap his doggy brain around it.

"I-I'm so close y/nnn, oh godd please, give me more! 'M so closeee" he panted not caring how pathetic he looked

"Already? Such a greedy pup for me hehe~ Have you learned your lesson, Jamie? Do you even deserve to cum against the bottom of my shoe?" You sang in a taunting manner pressing down even harder with your shoe

"I-, aghhhhh ohh yess fuck, YES! I'm yours y/n only yours! Promise! I'll-uggghh I'll be-hah hah- good! Just for you!"

"Atta boy! That wasn't so hard was it pup?" Finally letting go of his underwear you continued to let Jamie grind against your foot until he got to the edge

"M- boutta...cum!!" At this point, Jamie had grabbed your leg, chin resting on your thick thigh, eyes teary and glazed over staring up at you as if you were a goddess

Softly cupping his face you lifted it off your leg and removed any contact from his dick causing him to let out strings of breathy and high-pitched whines

You sat down and pulled him into your lap, gently wiping away the fresh fallen tears off his face

"W-*hiccup*why y/n, was so close...so close"

His protest died down with a stern look from you

"You'll be alright puppy, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you from now on, you are mine after all"

The rest of the evening was spent holding your new puppy, rubbing his tummy and flustering him with all the soft attention you gave him

He couldn't believe he got so lucky as to experience you, and as long as he considers being owned and expected to heed your everyword, he was lucky!

End <3

[steddiewithachance]

Vampire Pancakes

A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire

🥞🫐

No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.

Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.

Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.

Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.

"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"

Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.

"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."

So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.

Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.

Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.

Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.

He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.

🥞🫐

It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.

"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.

"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.

"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.

Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.

He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.

"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.

"Not even a little."

Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.

"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.

"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"

"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.

"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.

"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."

Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.

"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.

"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

🥞🫐

In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.

The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.

Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.

He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.

"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.

"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.

"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.

Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.

"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.

"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.

"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.

Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."

And it feels like things are gonna be okay.

[mcrslover]

MCR quotes for anyone who needs them:

"Kids would say they were going to kill themselves then they heard our music... it's our mission"

- Mikey Way.

...

"Reasons why mcr is good for you

juradsleigh:

Feeling like a rad vampire? Listen to bullets

Feeling angry? Listen to 3 cheers

Feeling sad? Listen to black parade

Feeling colourful and happy? Listen to danger days

Feeling like breaking up your band? Listen to death never stop you"

...

"This is for every kid out there... That dyed their hair a fucked up colour and can't get a job. They got a tattoo on their neck like Frank, and can't get a job. That does this because they fuckin' love this. This song is for every kid in the audience- even if you don't have fucked up hair or tattoos-every kid on stage, this song's about us, this song's about you, it's called The Kids From Yesterday."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Stop covering your children's eyes.

Everything is fucked up and pretending it's not won't make it any better. I'm tired of people praying for a change when it's up to them to get off their asses and make a change."

- Frank Iero.

...

"I spent most of my time in the back of the class, just drawing. My goal was to not get noticed in school, because spent so long not being noticed anyway or being treated as if I were invisible that I started to like it.

I've learned that it's actually not very lonely... It's like, you have less friends but the friends you have count more. I met a lot of people that weren't outsiders, or they were very popular, and they have a lot of friends but I don't know if they're the kinds of friends you would call up at 3 am to help you out or talk about being depressed."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Promise me, when MCR's gone, you'll do what it takes to survive. You're strong enough to do it without us."

- Gerard Way.

...

"All your quirks and all your problems, even your depressions, and your failures that's.. that's what makes you, you."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you or someone you know is severely depressed you need to fucking talk to someone! Your mom, someone in school, I don't give a fuck! Because suicide is fucking bullshit."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over, nothing is worth taking your life over"

- Gerard Way.

...

"If we never play another show again, just keep yourself alive."

- Gerard Way.

...

"We're outsiders, we're the kids who didn't get dates for the prom, we're the kids who were confused, who didn't fit in with the cliques, who weren't part of the in-crowd.

Growing up can be a very frightening and confusing time, and I think people look at us and see it's okay to be different. They see that there is a way other than what they're being offered. That you can stand out, that you can be creative, that you can be yourself."

- Gerard Way.

...

"gerard-hey:

I love MCR so much it's like they have a song for every situation. Feeling sad? Listen to The Lights Behind Your Eyes. Feeling frustrated? Listen to I'm Not Okay. Feeling Energetic? Listen to Na Na Na. Feeling like you wanna kick some ass? Listen to Destroya.

Feeling rebellious? Listen to Teenagers. Feel like you wanna break up your band? Listen to Fake Your Death."

...

"The difference we want to make is, number one, to let these kids know that they're not alone, that they're actually not that messed up, and that they can do whatever they want they can express themselves in any way they want without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. Really just get people to get over their stuff so they can live."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Whatever happens to you, no matter what, l'm always fucking there for you... Don't forget that. I don't give a shit if your boyfriend dumps you. If your girlfriend dumps you. If you're working a shitty job or can't get through school. If you can't get through a fucking Harry Potter book, there's nothing worth dying over. There's nothing worth taking your life over. I will always fucking be there."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you come to an MCR show, you're probably a little fucked up, and that's okay because we're just as fucked up as you. It's us against the world. And it's great because there's thousands of us in one place."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Someone doesn't like you? Fuck it.

Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn't get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it.

What matters now won't matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, 'Damn, I have it good."

- Gerard Way.

...

"You're going to come across a lot of shitty bands, and a lot of shitty people. And if anyone of those people call your names because of what you look like, or bedause they don't accept you for who you are. I want you to look right at that mother fucker, stick up your middle finger and scream

"FUCK YOU!!"

- Gerard Way.

...

"Real revenge is making something of yourself."

- Gerard Way.

❤️🖤❤️🖤

[xdinaryvamp]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 🩷 ` leehan "read your diary"!!

you and leehan have been bestfriends for years now. you were madly in love with him, but you keept it as a secret, to avoid ruining your friendship. from time to time, tho, you writed about him in your diary.

and as luck would have it, he read it.

genre : fluff, friends to lovers, a little angst, gn reader.

pairings : bestfriend!leehan × bestfriend!reader.

14 / 03

today i saw leehan for the first time in several weeks. he had curly hair, i rarely see him with his hair styled like that.

he was beautiful, i would have loved to caress them, but maybe it would have seemed too strange.

7 / 05

leehan came to my house today, my parents made him up, since he hadn't spent time at our place in a while. we went up to my room and watched a movie. one of those stupid ones, that are supposed to make you laugh.

i would like to write something about that film, but i don't remember anything. leehan was too close to me, i could feel his breath on my neck. i couldn't think of anything but him for the entire duration of the film.

i pretended to laugh when he did so, to not arouse suspicion, but i was completely lost in my own world.

god, my heart is still racing.

9 / 06

i tried to go on a date with a guy tonight. everything went perfectly, but all i could do was think about leehan. how do i get out of this situation?

24 / 08

i dreamed about leehan for the thousandth time last night. i don't want to go into details, because they embarrass me too much. but it felt so real.

as soon as i woke up i cried: i will never have in reality what i have in my mind, so i hate my heart.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“for how long?” leehan was seated on your bed, a notebook open in his hand, as he looked at you in shock.

the notebook was your diary, you left it on your sheets before going out.

you had just returned from the convenience store. your mother had told you that leehan had stopped by to say hello, and that he was upstairs waiting for you.

fear hitted you immediately, terrified that he might find the diary. and he did.

you remained frozen in place, the store bag still in your hand. you didn't know what to say, you rejected the idea that all this was real, that it was really happening.

“i asked,” said leehan, the diary still in his hand “for how long?”

you felt like crying. it had to remain a secret, that's what diaries are for.

how long? you couldn't answer. you couldn't recognize when you actually fell in love with him, maybe you had been all along.

you couldn't even understand his face. was he sad? disappointed? betrayed? disgusted? would this be the end of everything?

“leehan…” your voice sounded like a whisper, a part of you still couldn't force yourself to speak, “please forget everything, we can pretend like nothing happened.”

he finally put the diary down, and looked away from you. “forget everything” he sighed, running a hand through his hair “i won't.”

“leehan…”

“i don't want to.” he said, getting up from your bed, bringing his gaze back to you. “y/n” the look in his eyes was unreadable “why didn't you tell me anything?”

“our friendship” you could feel the palms of your hands getting sweatier and sweatier. “i didn't want to ruin it, you’re my best friend.”

“maybe i don't want to be your best friend anymore.”

your heart broke. deep down you knew, your friendship wouldn't survive this punch.

“can't we at least talk about this? please.”

“i like you too, y/n.” he said, finally the shadow of an emotion you knew on his face “i've been for long.”

“what?” this was a twist you weren't expecting.

“do we want to try to go to the next level?” he smiled, that smile that you loved and hated at the same time, because you knew what it meaned.

with all those questions, before, he had done nothing but tease you, as he always did. he was enjoying the moment.

you so wanted to punch him. “i hate you.” you said, punching him playfully on the shoulder. the tension was finally starting to disappear.

he pointed at the diary on your bed, still smiling. “i have proof that you actually don't.”

“i'm gonna burn that thing.”

“please don't” his laughter filling the room “it just became my favorite thing to read.”

thinking about the fact that if someone were to read my diary i could easily scream, go to another country, change my identity and then die. thank you.

[phillydilly]

Priorities

⊹♡— In which Charles and his long distance girlfriend get into an argument over her priorities

Part 1 , Part 2

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: arguing, angst

Charles had been counting down the days until his planned trip to London to visit his girlfriend, Y/n. They had been in a long-distance relationship for a while, and every moment together was cherished. Charles had meticulously planned the weekend, envisioning romantic strolls through Hyde Park and candlelit dinners at their favorite restaurants.

As Charles sat in the bustling Nice airport, his excitement was palpable. The engine-like roar of the airplanes outside seemed to echo his racing heartbeats. He checked his watch, anticipating the moment when he would finally board the flight to London.

Meanwhile, Y/n, a dedicated business manager at a prestigious firm in London, had been juggling her hectic work schedule with the anticipation of Charles's visit. She had managed to free up her weekend, or so she thought, ensuring that they would have quality time together.

Just as Charles was about to board the plane, Y/n's name flashed on his phone's screen. He smiled and answered, expecting her warm and excited voice on the other end. But the voice that greeted him was strained and filled with regret.

"Charles," Y/n began, her tone hesitant, "I have some bad news."

His heart sank as he clutched the phone tighter, "What's wrong, amour? Are you okay?"

Y/n sighed, "I've just been told that I have back-to-back meetings scheduled for the entire weekend. I can't believe it, but I won't be able to do any of the fun things you had planned."

Charles's excitement turned to frustration, and he couldn't hide his disappointment. "You knew I was coming, Y/n. We've been looking forward to this for weeks. How can you let work take precedence over us?"

Y/n's voice quivered, "It's not that simple, Charles. I have commitments, and my job is important. You know that."

Frustration simmered in Charles's voice, "I understand your job is important, but so is our relationship, Y/n. I've been looking forward to this weekend for so long, and now you're telling me it's all off?"

Y/n tried to explain, "I tried to rearrange my schedule, but these meetings are critical. I can't just bail on them."

Charles clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "So, what? I just drive back to Monaco and pretend like everything's fine?"

Y/n's voice trembled with guilt, "No, Charles, please. We can still spend time together in the evenings after my meetings. It won't be the weekend we planned, but we can make the most of it."

Charles felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He had been looking forward to this weekend with Y/n, a break from the high-speed world of Formula 1. "I can't believe you're doing this, Y/n. I thought we meant more to each other than this."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she pleaded, "Charles, please try to understand. I never wanted this to happen, but sometimes work just takes over. I love you, and I want to make this work."

Charles, his patience wearing thin, snapped, "Love isn't just words, Y/n. It's actions. And right now, your actions are telling me that work comes before us. I'll talk to you later." With that, he hung up the phone, his anger boiling over.

He walked away from the gate, his luggage in hand, and returned to his car. Charles sat in the driver's seat, tears threatening to stream down his face. The frustration and disappointment he felt were overwhelming. He had been so excited about spending time with Y/n, and now it felt like a dream shattered.

As he drove away from the airport, Charles's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The engine's roar provided a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart. He had never expected such a turn of events. Y/n had always been understanding of his career's demands, but now it seemed like she was prioritizing her work over their relationship.

Hours passed, and Charles's tears had given way to a deep sadness. He replayed the argument in his head, wondering if he had been too harsh on Y/n. He loved her deeply, and he didn't want to lose her, but she had really hurt him. He knew he himself wasn’t always available, but they had planned this for weeks, he felt that his frustration was justified.

Back in London, Y/n sat in her office, tears streaming down her face. She had never seen Charles so angry and hurt. She knew she had let him down, but the demands of her job were relentless. She had hoped he would understand, but now she feared she might have pushed him away.

Unable to focus on her work, Y/n picked up her phone and dialed Charles's number. It went straight to voicemail. She left a heartfelt message, "Charles, I'm so sorry for everything. Please, let's talk this through. I love you more than anything."

[rogueddie]

"You have glasses!"

Steve looks up, in time to see Eddie skipping out of his room. "Why were you in my room?"

"Being nosey. More importantly!" He holds Steves glasses up, almost victoriously. "You wear glasses!"

"No, I don't. I wear contacts."

"You wear- how did I not know this?" Eddie flops down next to him, waving the glasses in his face. "Put 'em on, will ya?"

"No?"

"Please?"

"I'm not putting them on. I wear contacts, I don't need glasses."

He takes them off Eddie, putting them on the side table and, thankfully, Eddie doesn't bring them up again for the rest of the night. And, optimistically, Steve thinks that maybe that means that he's fully dropped it.

Only the next time Eddie comes over, he finds the glasses again, like a sniffer dog. He's doesn't badger Steve to put them on, just puts them on a nearby table. When Steve tries to scold him, he gives his best wide, sad doe-eyes.

"I'm never going to put them on," Steve says.

"Never?"

"Never."

Eddie sighs, flopping down on so he's laying on the sofa, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. "I can't believe you would betray me like this! You have wounded me! It stings, Stevie, deep in my soul!"

Again, the next time, Eddie puts the glasses on a nearby table. He never says anything and, if Steve doesn't address them, then Eddie seems content to pretend they're not there as well.

Even when Steve does address them, Eddie is- as always- very good at matching the mood. He's usually teasing. Though the one time Steve had been genuinely annoyed, Eddie apologized. He said that, if he really wanted him to, he'd stop putting them out. And the next time he hadn't... so Steve teased him. Which started their little routine up again as though nothing had happened.

It makes Steve curious enough to try them on. He hadn't put them on since he'd tried the frames on, before the lenses with his prescription had been put in them.

They're not horrible. But he still hates how they look.

"Why don't you like your glasses?" Eddie finally asked one day, once their usual teasing had died down.

"I just don't." Steve shrugs. "I don't know. They look a little ugly."

"Hm." Eddie frowns. "What's your prescription?"

"Uh, I wrote it on a note inside the case, I think... yeah, here."

Eddie accepts the little paper, but doesn't hand it back. Steve doesn't notice.

A month later, Eddie knocks on his door.

"Eds," Steve greets, surprised. "I thought we were meeting at the Byers house?"

"We are," Eddie holds out a little present. "I wanted to give you these early."

Steve tuts, but accepts the present, stepping back so Eddie can step inside. He doesn't start opening it until they sit down in the living room.

"Wh- Eddie," Steve whines, holding the glasses case like they're a dead animal he doesn't want to touch. "Dude, no, come on."

"Just... look first. Please?"

He rolls his eyes, but opens the case anyway. He's surprised by the frames Eddie's chosen. They're not the kind Steve would have picked out for himself.

"Try them on? I won't look!" Eddie even throws his hands over his eyes.

"Fine. Stay here."

Steve is surprised by how much he does like them, once he puts them on. He only hesitates for a moment before taking his contacts out, so he can wear the glasses instead.

"Thank you," Steve says as soon as he steps back into the living room.

Eddie stares at him for a long moment. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"You look really pretty."

"Oh, ha, yeah, uh," Steve says, stuttering, flushing bright red. "Thanks. Um."

"Seriously. Fucking... jesus. Sorry, it's... you look good." Eddie shakes his head. "Merry fucking Christmas to me."

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Ok while reading ur teenagers series I kept imagining the reader as the little girl from the univers that got destroyed but in ur fics she happened to make it out. But I also can't stop imagining what would happen if reader found out that her Miguel isn't her actual dad. Cuz let's be honest that's totally somthing he would keep from her. So if ur up to it could u pretty please write something like that 🙏. Maybe include hobie's reaction to??

stop this is so sad

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬… 𝐩𝐭 𝟕

“You and your dad look nothing alike.”

You always got that, all the time. You questioned if you were even his sometimes.

“No, Lyla. I’m not gonna tell her-“

“She’s old enough. She deserves to know-“

Lyla was about to say something else when you walked into the room. You overheard it.

She’s been pushing Miguel since you turned 12 to tell you. He was always too scared to do so.

“Hey-“ Miguel turned to you quickly.

“What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if Hobie could come over?”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. I’ll see you later, there’s something wrong with Lyla or something and Margo needs me to come check it out or something.”

He was lying.

“Okay. Yeah. See you.” You said as he practically ran out the door.

You looked around his room, realizing you’ve never really snooped around in here.

He was up to something, so you decided to look around.

Hobie decided to help you, he had nothing better to do with his time.

“What do you think he’s hiding exactly..?” He asked, going through some files.

“Something. I just…. Don’t know what.”

He stopped when he saw a folder with your name. He handed you the folder.

Lord of scribbled notes, pictures of you when you were a child, but none when you were a baby. Probably about 4 or 5 in the pictures.

You held them up, and looked at them.

Hobie pulled out a document in the folder, that was hidden.

“DO NOT OPEN.” It said, so he opened it.

He skimmed through it, but stopped for a second.

“Y/n L/n, taken in by Miguel O’Hara when earth-712 was about to collapse, he arrived in time and couldn’t save anyone but the child. He now has legal guardianship of the child. This child may be considered dangerous, and must be under watch AT ALL TIMES.”

He stopped reading and looked at you, you gave him a confused look. He just handed you it to you.

You read through it, tears starting to form.

You looked back at Hobie, who gave you a sympathetic look. He went next to you, rubbing your shoulder as you started to cry into your knees. He held you while you did so.

“I just can’t fucking believe it- I’ve been lied to my whole life.” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m gonna go beat his ass.” He mumbled the last part under his breath.

You laughed at that for a second and went back to crying. It was quiet for a moment, he looked at you.

“C’mon, let’s get up.” He said, grabbing your hand and going to your room. You both sat on your bed for a while in silence.

“Thank you.” You sniffled, wiping your nose with your sweater. You laid down and he still sat down on your bed.

“It’s what I’m here for.”

You smiled slightly at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Do you need anything..?”

“No. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t” he laid down next to you, and held you. You turned on the tv.

“New season?” He asked, he didn’t know there would be one.

“Yeah.” You laughed.

“Alright then.” He got more comfortable, and so did you.

—————————————————

After an hour or two after that, you both fell asleep, the tv going on in the background.

It was late, About 10 pm. Miguel opened the front door. He sighed and took off his shoes, his mask was already gone, and he went into his bedroom.

“Fuck.” He mumbled as he opened the door to his room. It was a mess, and the one file he hoped you never saw was open, dark spots covering it which he guessed was tears.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He repeated it, cleaning up the files and mess, then looking into your room.

He only opened it a little, he knew you knew. He knew that Hobie would question him about it in the morning. He knew that you would hate him if you didn’t already.

He left and plopped down into his bed, suit still on. He looked at the pictures you had pulled out. Pictures of you when you were younger.

All of it would be gone all because he couldn’t tell you.

———————————————————-

Miguel did not sleep that day, he changed and stared at the ceiling the whole night. And even when the light shined through his window, he didn’t get up.

He only got up when he heard you both shuffling around.

“You got your stuff?” Hobie asked you. You were gonna stay at his for a while, just until you felt ready.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked, both of you turning to him.

“Away from you.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I was gonna tell you but I couldn’t-“

“You couldn’t? You lied to me my whole fucking life!”

“You have to understand, ever since Gabriella I haven’t known what love was, that was until I found you, okay? I love you. And you can hate me, you can go away, but I will always love you, because even if you’re not my biological daughter, you’re still my daughter. I raised you. And no matter what you do, you can’t run away from that.”

You stayed silent for a moment. Not knowing what to say.

“He’s not wrong, love. He’s your dad.” Hobie said, grabbing your shoulder.

You started to cry again, and went up to Miguel and hugged him. Tightly. He hugged you like he never wanted to let go.

Hobie smiled and Miguel looked at him then back to you.

“I love you.” You mumbled to him.

“I know.”

[bloodwrittenletters]

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE!

pairing . . . jason grace x fem!reader

the cassette playing . . . so american! olivia rodrigo

the letter reads . . . some headcanons about you and your cute boyfriend: jason grace!

warnings . . . none!

a/n . . . i literally can't write anything to save my life these few days, so jason grace headcanons! this beautiful blonde boy deserves more love.

✴ he's the type of guy who would ask "can i be your boyfriend?"

✴ even before you started dating, he would go OUT OF HIS WAY (and everyone else's) to give you what you wanted.

✴ learns an specific type of hair routine to help you.

⤷ would ask piper, hazel, or annabeth for hair care products or how to take care of your hair type.

✴ the moment you guys start dating, all of his closet is yours.

⤷ you eventually start to feel bad and tell him he can also wear your clothes if he wants, a week later you find him wearing your pink top.

⤷ "i got stuck, but i look way too hot in this... can you help me take this off?"

✴ everything he makes in arts and crafts, he shows it to you.

⤷ half of the time, it's jewelry for you. the other half is for percy and leo.

✴ if you ever get in a discussion with one of his bros, he looks like a sad puppy for having to pick a side. but he always picks yours.

✴ whenever he goes to new rome alone, he comes back with millions of gift for you.

⤷ that either made him think of you, or thought it would be something you like.

✴ has shared a playlist with you.

⤷ before he asked you out, he made three playlists. "songs that would be ours if we were dating. / songs that remind me of her. / songs about one-sided pinning."

✴ he was surprised when he found out you also had a crush on him.

✴ supports everything you do. (sports, hobbies, etc etc)

✴ this man will 100% have a shoe box of things you gifted him, going from a chocolate wrap to comfort him when he first came to chb to glasses with little lighting bolts.

✴ if someone hits on him / ask him out (didn't know / didn't care he has a girlfriend) jason has two options:

⤷ "no, thanks. although my girlfriend would love to be your friend, have you met her yet?"

⤷ "no. i'm deeply in love with my girlfriend, have you seen how pretty she is? i bought her this bookmark yesterday."

✴ never really liked valentines day or any other holiday since it wasn't celebrated in camp jupiter, but goes all out with you in each one.

⤷ dress up with you for halloween if it's something you want to do, fills every room with hearts and flowers and takes you out in special dates for valentines day, plans your chritsmas gifts months ahead.

✴ if you have herritage ( or are ) from a different culture, he would learn everything and more.

⤷ makes sure that he respects it and honors it. learning your home language, learning your favorite foods, learning your history etc etc.

✴ he burns an extra piece of food for your godly parent.

✴ helps you with homework / does it with you.

✴ loves doing double dating.

⤷ your favorite one has been hazel and frank. his favorite one has been percy and annabeth.

⤷ if the second one happens, you and annie feel like the third wheel of their bromance.

✴ he doesn't have a good relationship with his dad, and... his mom is dead, so he introduces you to thalia, apollo, and maybe hera. also with all of your other friends.

⤷ "guys, this is yn."

⤷ "are you forgetting that i've known half of them longer than you have? did your amnesia came back?

⤷ "the voices in your head are getting louder, my love."

✴ that man LOVES pet names. specifically the original ones he comes up with for you.

✴ he loves to gossip with you.

✴ he is SO FUNNY. we have to stop pretending he's not.

✴ for your anniversary he would probably make you a memory book of your whole relationship.

✴ "i love you, good night, dear."

⤷ "are you staying with me? isn't that against the rules?"

⤷ "screw the rules. good night, my love."

✴ you're one of the few ones allowed to use his sword.

✴ loves matching outfits with you.

✴ he said, 'i love you' first. it was an accident when the two of you were in the middle of fighting monsters, and it just slipped.

✴ has your initials in a chain around his neck.